Chapter 43: Feed Wichita (Patreon)

[A/N]: Hey all! Hope you're enjoying! This arc is nearly completed and we'll be moving into Part 3 in a few chapters (next week I believe). Can't wait to start diving into some mysteries that have been rattling around in my brain for months!

Just a heads up, I'll be traveling this weekend and that may delay Friday's chapter. But fret not, I'll be working hard to get it to you on time, just wanted to warn you of the possibility.

And finally, thanks so much for supporting! It's bringing me closer and closer to making this a full-time career (and achieving my dream). Appreciate you all so much.

Enjoy!

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Space split, forced apart by his aura. The sensation was intoxicating—and a bit terrifying. As much as he was getting used to the magic of auras and the System interface, there was something surreal about feeling the fabric of existence part at his command.

But he wasn’t going to let that stop him. He continued pulling apart the edges of space, ripping a hole wide enough for a fist to fit through. The demand on his aura felt light at first, but increased at a dizzying pace. His connection felt strained, increasingly distant as he tried to push more and more aura into the rend in the air.

Something was wrong.

He snapped his eyes open and was momentarily struck dumb as he looked for the fist-sized portal and found…nothing. Reaching through the connection in his aura, he realized that the thread connecting him to the tear was distant, well out of physical reach.

Then he saw it, his small cut through space flashing in the distance, well back from where Vladimir was propelling their stone berth. The portal had remained static in space, even as they continued moving, leaving it behind them.

He felt like a complete idiot as he released the connection, letting the portal snap shut as his aura reeled back toward him.

Of course it would remain static, dummy. He shook his head in annoyance at himself, then glanced around to see if anyone had spotted his embarrassing display.

Thankfully, the others were engaged in quiet conversation in a tight circle, clearly not paying any attention to him or Silver at his side. As for his grandfather though, the bearer of the Physical Singularity couldn’t help but feel his fledgling attempt at cutting through space. When Terry looked over, Silver’s brow was arched and he was clearly doing his best to bite his tongue.

Terry sighed, shaking his head at himself. “You don’t have to say anything, I’m an idiot.”

His grandfather chuckled and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s only natural to wanna test out your new abilities. Especially something as rare as portals. But as you’ve discovered, space don’t like it when folks play with her. You gotta woo her, coax her open, ask for permission ‘fore you ent—”

Terry whipped his head around, finding himself distinctly uncomfortable with the budding metaphor. Silver snorted at his look, holding a hand up in apology.

“Just lightening the mood.” The twinkle in his eyes dimmed, his lips setting tight. “But jokes aside, portals are to be respected at all times. Never, and I mean never, enter a portal if you’re not damn sure the other side’s clear. Line of sight is a must until you’ve got a feel for it. Think back to my little run in with Skipper. Bastard teleported me into solid rock. Anyone else woulda been mashed potatoes.” He leaned in, his tone deadly serious. “Always know your exit point. Always.”

Terry swallowed, feeling his grandfather’s intensity through his eyes and voice. The lesson resonated and he resolved not to play around with the Skill without some very strict guidelines.

Not to say he wasn’t going to experiment—he had to. But on solid ground, in clear line of sight, and absolutely not with any part of his own body. Inanimate objects only for the foreseeable future. It put a bit of a damper on his dreams of zipping around Wichita like a natural Traveler, but not trapping any of his limbs—or himself—in that inner space took priority.

“Exit point,” he replied. “Got it.” He glanced over to the group of Elementalists nearby. He hadn’t noticed before, but they had a stack of crates that he had missed in the excitement of the face off with Vladimir. Supplies to get the farm started, he hoped. “I’m gonna go try and make friends. Wish me luck.”

Silver looked over toward the Elementalists, then turned back with a shrug. “Suit yourself. I’ll be here.”

Terry nodded and rose to his feet. Tristan, Flore’s apprentice, spotted him first and subtly interrupted their conversation to direct their attention over. He felt a little bit like a spotlight had been cast on him, but he tried to remind himself that this was his team. Though he wasn’t familiar with the feeling, he was the boss and he needed to demonstrate a bit more confidence and ease than he was used to.

“Hey guys,” he said with a friendly wave. “How’s everyone feeling about the mission now that you’ve had some time to talk?” He noticed Vladimir glance over from the corner of his eye, but didn’t return the look, keeping his focus on the others.

Instinctively, they turned to Flore and she bit her lip before forcing a smile on.

“We knew what we were signing up for,” she replied. “At least, we had an idea it would be something related to our abilities. We…we are happy that it seems to be for a good cause.”

Her hesitation was palpable.

“But?” he prompted gently.

The smile faltered and she glanced at the others briefly, feeling their expectant eyes on her. “Not a but, exactly. There has been…some talk about working for Emperor Necroton. The rumors on the Internet haven’t exactly been kind.”

Terry’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Oh, I see.”

Flore quickly held up her hands as if she was worried she had offended him. “I’m not saying we won’t do it or anything. We’re just…” She trailed off, looking around for help.

To the surprise of them all, it was Vladimir that spoke. “They’re worried Necroton will kill them when the job’s done,” he replied with a matter-of-fact tone. “Snip the loose ends so word doesn’t get out.”

Flore’s eyes narrowed in annoyance, while the others shared desperate looks, as if Vladimir had just sunk their chances of getting out alive.

Terry felt a bubble of macabre humor rising inside him. It wasn’t that he could fault them for being afraid—the Emperor scared even him sometimes. It was more so that they still seemed so ready to march into what they saw as certain death.

He felt an involuntary smile forming and did his best to suppress it. But he couldn’t hide it entirely and the others noticed.

“Are you…smiling?” Alan, the Water Elementalist, asked, his tone incredulous.

Terry put a hand to his mouth and held his other up in a calming gesture. “No,” he said through his palm.

Tristan turned wide-eyed toward Flore. “He is smiling! I knew it, we’re dead!”

Terry snorted through his palm and desperately shook his head when the others just grew even more wide-eyed. A panic ran through the lower ranks and they backed up as one, leaving Flore on an island by herself. Unlike the others, she was eyeing him with a furrowed brow, clearly not giving in to alarm like the others.

Sensing that he was watching a herd about to stampede, he bit his lip—hard—and forced himself to take the situation seriously.

“Guys, please!” He held his hands up now, doing his best to look calm and confident. “No one’s going to kill you.”

“Your bodyguard implied otherwise,” Flore replied with a cool tone. “If we didn’t follow your orders.”

Terry looked back to see Silver’s eyes closed, but couldn’t miss the pleased smirk on the man’s face. He face-palmed, turning back to the others with a more serious expression.

“He was exaggerating, seriously.” He looked toward Vladimir, who was watching him far too closely. “I need you guys, okay?” He sighed. “But if you’re that afraid for your lives, then just drop me and Silver off in Wichita and head back to the Market. I’m sure Terraform would be happy to send others in your place.”

Tristan shook his head wildly. “He’ll kill us if we return without even attempting the job!” he proclaimed hopelessly, his eyes turning frantic as he looked at the others. “We’re dead no matter what!”

Silver’s voice barked from the other side of the platform, causing them all to jump in surprise.

“Oh, Jesus save me. Enough!” He was on his feet now, approaching with a measured pace. He held one hand low, as if he were nearing a spooked animal. “Everyone calm the fuck down, will ya? No one’s gonna kill y’all unless you do something really stupid.” He cast a dark look toward Vladimir. “Like attack the prince, for example.” The Earth Elementalist didn’t hold his gaze, looking down in submission. “Now, we already done had this conversation, but let’s run it back for those of you who’re feeling skittish.” It was Tristan’s turn to wilt under the man’s gaze, though Silver let him off the hook with a sigh. “Anyone not willing or able to grow some damn fruits and veggies to feed starving folks, raise their hands.”

The looks of panic eased a bit and they all shared hopeful looks as the realization hit that they wouldn’t be murdered for the any perceived slight.

Then, Tristan raised his hand, eliciting a gasp from the others and causing Terry’s brow to raise in surprise.

“Put your hand down, Tristan!” Flore hissed.

Tristan looked at his own hand in shock, as if it had betrayed him, then cast a horrified look toward Flore.

“No! No! I wasn’t-I didn’t mean—” He took a step back in obvious terror. “I just had a question!”

“You’re not a school boy, son,” Silver scolded. “Just spit it out.”

Tristan blanched under the man’s stare, his shoulders bunched high as if to hide. “Sorry, I was just wondering if we’ll be growing meat, too? I-” He withered under the shocked looks of his fellows, but powered on through sheer lack of sense. “Uh, I’m only asking cause I started this new carnivore diet and can only eat meat…” He trailed off as Flore growled something under her breath. Holding up his hands, he shook his head. “Know what? Don’t mind me, fruit and veggies sound great.”

***

When they approached Wichita from below, Terry had them stop well away from the surface. Any sort of seismic disturbance could very easily be spotted by wraiths passing through the earth or nearby supers with an affinity for the ground.

Rather, with Silver’s permission, he had the man utilize his teleport abilities to ferry them from the underground into the warehouse. While Terry was nervous about his own teleport Skill, he knew his grandfather’s mastery of space was leagues above his own poor understanding.

The seven of them passed through the portal, requiring a few trips to collect all of the equipment crates they’d brought with them. Vladimir was the last one through, closing off the tunnel behind them for a significant distance to hide any evidence of their passage. Should they need to return to the Market, they’d retrace their steps, as the Traveler’s system Terraform had setup was compromised with Skipper’s betrayal. But for now, Terry didn’t see any immediate need to leave the tunnel they’d opened exposed.

Once all the gear and people were inside the warehouse, Silver let the portal close. The ceiling lights had turned off—presumably on a timer or some other mechanism—so the warehouse was dark. The newcomers’ breathing was elevated, their feet scuffs echoing audibly as they began to panic. Terry understood the feeling and didn’t blame them one bit—there was a time shortly after Shadow’s attack when he would have fallen into a full-blown panic attack in these sort of conditions.

A brush of wind signaled Silver’s departure and a second later, the lights slammed on with a thud. Alan, the Water Elementalist, yelped and even Vladimir couldn’t hide the look of fear on his face before Terry spotted it. He masked it with a scowl and Terry gave him the dignity of pretending like he hadn’t noticed.

Silver was back in an instant, a second rush of wind following his arrival.

Tristan eyed the man with open awe. “Traveler and Duelist?” he muttered to himself, though his voice echoed loudly. “Lucky.”

His grandfather chuckled at that. “I started out as an Elementalist, kid. You could transition too, potentially.”

Tristan gasped, the realization clearly flooring him. Flore looked between the two of them in obvious disapproval, but to her credit, didn’t suck the winds out of Tristan’s sail. Instead, she turned to Terry expectantly.

“So, any guidance or should we just start unloading?”

Terry shrugged, feeling a bit inadequate for the role—even if he’d chosen it. “You’re the experts, I’m just the guy providing the warehouse,” he said with a wave toward the space. “Whatever you think is best works for me.”

Flore nodded approvingly, clearly ready to take orders, but pleased that Terry had the good sense to let them do what they did best.

“Alright, then,” she said, assuming command easily. “Let’s start by getting those racks built.” She indicated a space nearby. “Let’s start there. It’s close enough to the office to be visible, but not so close—”

She cut off as Peter cleared his throat. The plant-whisperer—as Flore had described him—hadn’t so much as uttered a word since they’d met, so Terry was just as surprised at the others when he interrupted the woman.

“Excuse me,” he said, his voice low. “But maybe we should pick a team name first?” He looked around shyly, his eyes never lingering on any one face for long. “Every superhero team needs a name.”

Vladimir rolled his eyes, but the others took on an air of excitement.

“He’s right!” Tristan added. “I’ve never heard of a superhero team without a name!”

“Duh!” Alan punched the boy lightly in the arm. “How could you have heard of them if they didn’t have a name?”

Tristan took on a quizzical expression, like his brain was working overtime to connect the logical dots of that statement. After a moment, he nodded with a vibrant expression, snapping his fingers toward Alan.

“Hey, that actually makes sense! Then we definitely need a name!”

Silver chuckled behind Terry, but that didn’t dampen their enthusiasm in the slightest. Vladimir, on the other hand, took the opportunity to rain on their parade.

“We’re not a superhero team,” he said with a harsh tone. “We’re just a bunch of glorified farmers.” He turned away dismissively and began unpacking the nearest crate with force.

The mood seemed to deflate, but that had been the first sign of enthusiasm amongst the group since he’d met them. Vladimir had taken it, but Terry wanted it back.

“I agree with Peter,” he said, forcing some cheer into his voice. “We need a name. Who’s got suggestions?” He looked between the five of them, ignoring Vladimir who continued to unpack his crate.

Peter, Alan, Tristan, Flore, and Katie shared quizzical looks, each of them seemingly waiting for the others to go first.

Tristan, in his youthful enthusiasm, took up the gauntlet.

“How about Team Grower?” He cast a lecherous look around the group. “You know, grower, not show-er? Cause we’re growing things. It’s a play on words—”

“I don’t get it,” Katie said with furrowed brow. “What’s a show-er?”

Alan laughed into his fist, while Peter looked off in embarrassment. Tristan, on the other hand, seemed to have no shame.

“You know, Katie, like some guys are show-ers and some are growers—”

“It’s a penis joke and a bad one at that,” Vladimir replied. He dumped a pile of metal rack pieces on the floor with a loud clang. “Will you grow up, Tristan? We’re in a supervillain’s kingdom, taking orders from his grandson, with an S-ranked Duelist ensuring our good behavior. Your infantile humor is going to get you killed one day—and probably sooner rather than later.”

Terry whirled on him, his face burning with heat. “As your bad attitude will for you. If you’re gonna just shit on everyone and everything, go be by yourself.”

Vladimir eyed him with undisguised hate, his dark eyes narrowing as they burrowed into Terry. Then, they traced up toward where Silver stood with crossed arms and his face smoothed, like a switch had been flipped. “Whatever you say…boss.” He bent over, stacking a pile of metal rack pieces into his arms before marching away.

Terry watched him start assembling the pieces out of earshot, wondering if he could have done anything different to have made an ally of the man. Flore stepped forward, her voice low.

“He’s not used to taking orders,” she explained softly. “He’s an exiled noble—a prince himself, once upon a time—and he’s been having a tough time adjusting to life as a super for hire.”

That piece of the puzzle did help him make a bit more sense of the man. But still, the guy was a dick.

“Thanks for the context,” he said, keeping his tone easy. “Truth is, I’m making this up as I go. I know I shouldn’t say that, but it’s true. I…could really use your guidance and help with the others.”

Her eyes were wide with surprise, quickly replaced with a thoughtful expression. “You know, you’re not what I expected,” she said after a moment.

Now, it was Terry’s turn to be surprised. “Oh? What did you expect?”

She shrugged, a wry smile on her face. Then, she looked around to see if Vladimir was paying attention; he was angrily slamming pieces of rack together, creating a racket that echoed throughout the warehouse. She subtly nodded back toward the man. “That. I was expecting something more like that.”

Terry snorted, enjoying the feeling that he’d won her over—at least a little bit.

“I could see why you’d think that. Fact is, I’m sure the Emperor would prefer if I acted more like him.” He shrugged. “But this is who I am. Just a kid doing the best he can with the privilege he’s got.”

She nodded, her eyes lingering on Silver for a moment, who simply flashed her a friendly smile. She returned it—a bit hesitantly, but all the same, a smile was a smile. He could see the path forward, a way to chip at their understandable trepidation to form the nucleus of a team that could do real good.

Sure, they wouldn’t be saving cats from trees, apprehending bank robbers, or fighting off supervillains. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t make a difference.

Katie, the nutrient specialist, called out to gather their attention.

“Flore, Pri—er, Terry. What do you think about…Wichita Farming Force?” The four of them looked expectantly toward Flore and Terry, as if they’d come to some agreement.

For Terry’s part, he found the name uninspiring and a bit cliché. But he didn’t really care either way, so long as the team were happy—well, as many of them as could be happy, considering Vladimir was still hate-building a rack in the distance.

Thankfully, Flore had a bit more aesthetic sense than her team.

“Um, great idea, but maybe we can keep brainstorming?” she suggested gently.

Alan visibly deflated—clearly the name had been his contribution—but the others shrugged and continued on, throwing about increasingly bizarre names that had Terry cringing.

He pulled up his Quest while they debated, examining the details, feeling the deadline that seemed far away, but was really incredibly close considering the timelines of farming.

His eyes locked on that Quest name, a flash of intuition striking him.

“Hey, guys?” he called out. They turned in obvious surprise, waiting expectantly for him to speak. He took a steadying breath, eyeing them all with serious intent. “How about…Feed Wichita?”