October 17, 2022
The floor number on the elevator’s display panel ticked upwards as Maddy ascended the downtown office tower, but they didn’t watch it; they were too preoccupied by their phone, again reading comments and replies to the interview. There was a sizable contingent who believed they’d really stuck it to OH, somehow, and an even larger group who were having fun thinking up ever-more-elaborate synonyms for ‘pick-me bootlicker.’
The Hero grunted, irritated, before stowing the device in her belt pouch. She stepped out to the 21st floor and approached the front desk, where a red squirrel with an undercut sat in front of an improbably large flat screen display. The receptionist raised a cautious eyebrow, and sniffed impatiently.
“Good morning…? Can I help you?”
Maddy recoiled a little, put off by the standoffishness; they smiled nervously and raised a hand to chest level to give a small wave. “Um, hello? I’m Heartforce, with Ontario’s Heroes. We heard there was a break-in, and wanted to offer assistance?”
The receptionist squinted, typing something without breaking eye contact with the superhero standing awkwardly in the lobby—or indeed making any kind of facial expression whatsoever. “Someone will be with you shortly.”
“Ah! Thank you,” Maddy mumbled. “‘I’ll just, uh… I’ll sit down, then?”
The squirrel shrugged wordlessly and sipped a can of coconut La Croix in a vaguely intimidating way. (At least, Maddy felt vaguely intimidated, as they sat down on the nearby bright violet leather settee. It was extremely uncomfortable, and they wondered if that part was also supposed to be vaguely intimidating.)
The sheep-bear waited. She wanted to look at her phone again, but restrained herself. She continued restraining herself for another forty-five minutes before she started to fish it out of her belt pouch—at which point she was startled by a ping to her earpiece, and promptly fumbled the phone to the ground. She sighed. “Go for Heartforce.”
Caleb Hagen’s voice growled into her ear. “Status report, Heartforce.”
“Nothing to report, sir! Still waiting to meet with someone—”
He made a noise of uninterested displeasure, and the signal cut out. Maddy picked up the phone, rolling their eyes.
A few seconds later, a door to her side opened and two figures walked through with purpose. The first was a thin, ageless-looking blue anole in a square-shouldered tangerine pantsuit that hung fashionably loosely from their lanky frame; from reading the mission brief, Maddy assumed it must be Rin Gorgoni, the CEO of five years. They were accompanied by a compactly full-figured fallow deer femme in an understated pastel skirt and cardigan ensemble.
The sheep-bear stood up to offer her hand for shaking, and did a double-take when the CEO continued walking past her, directly into an elevator. They briefly made eye contact with the Hero as the doors closed, coolly staring daggers at her, without saying a word.
The deer, who had stopped near Maddy, tapped her on the shoulder. “Hi there,” she said in a polite but oddly short tone, peering skeptically through cateye-framed glasses. “Grace Dunlop, she/her. I’m afraid Mx. Gorgoni and the rest of the board are very busy, but my schedule has an opening, so I can discuss the incident with you right now, if you like. Come along this way, please.”
The doe swiped something to a sensor—Maddy didn’t see what, but assumed a concealed employee badge—causing the door to unlock with a heavy click. Holding it open behind her, she motioned for the sheep-bear to follow down the broad glass-walled corridor. After a few moments making their way through a field of mauve-walled cubicles and what appeared to be a particularly lavish boardroom, the two came to a door signed LEGAL. Inside was what did, in fact, appear to be a legal department, as well as a large corner office with G.E. DUNLOP, CHIEF COUNSEL on the nearby nameplate. She urged Maddy to sit, and closed the office door.
Maddy sat bolt-upright in the Scandinavian Modern guest seat. The lawyer, for her part, slid comfortably into a high-backed executive chair and leaned forward. “Can I offer you anything to drink? Coffee, tea, soft drink? Please, feel free,” she said, gesturing to a glass-fronted minifridge and nearby Keurig machine.
“Um. Water would be nice?”
The older woman nodded at them and, again, gestured to the minifridge. Maddy sheepishly rose to her feet, briefly perused the selection to find a green glass bottle of Perrier, and opened it before sitting back down.
“So,” the deer began with an inquisitive mien, “Why are you here?”
Maddy sipped at her Perrier and hoped she was sufficiently charming. “Thank you for seeing me, Ms. Dunlop! As I told your receptionist, Ontario’s Heroes learned about the break-in last night. Given the vital, confidential and high-profile nature of Helical BioSpectra’s work in the biotech sector, I’m here to offer whatever assistance you might find helpful…?” She paused briefly, before solicitously adding “…I’m Heartforce? I’m pretty new, just hoping to do my part with my talents…”
The lawyer smirked behind tented fingers, violet eyes betraying clear amusement. “Oh, I know who you are. I saw your interview with Xtra, too! How’s it been to be ‘Toronto’s first trans superhero’ since then? Or really, ‘Toronto’s first government-backed, officially-out trans Hero, who’s still a Hero, for the moment,’ I suppose?”
The sheep-bear froze, unused to civilians who weren’t slightly awed by their presence. Although, actually… between the receptionist, Mx. Gorgoni, Ms. Dunlop, and several passers-by in the corridor, they’d been getting an awful lot of unimpressed looks since they’d arrived. And attitudes verging on hostile, even. The Hero was starting to feel like something was just a bit off. “Um…”
“Anyway! It’s Maddy, right? Please, call me Grace.” The deer paused briefly. “And just to be clear—in case these antlers and volunteering my pronouns weren’t enough of a tip-off—I’m trans too. So why do you think I’m asking why you’re here?”
“I, uh… I’m not sure what that has to do—”
She rolled her eyes in mild exasperation. “I’m asking why you’re here, because the incident happened twelve hours ago, and we didn’t report it to police; they only showed up because our landlord called about a trespasser in the common areas,” the full-figured doe snapped. “When we declined their help, the cops were happy to—if you’ll pardon the expression—fuck right the fuck off. We’re privately held and self-insured, so we didn’t need to make an official report for insurance purposes. As you said yourself, our work is highly confidential, and our leadership values privacy. This wouldn’t appear, prima facie, to be an incident so unusual or potentially hazardous that it requires the attention of capes like yourself, and we’ve also already completed our own investigation. Given all that, what makes you think HBS is in need of your services?”
They were unnerved by the deer’s gaze; she seemed to see right through them. They were, admittedly, also somewhat relieved to have confirmation of the suspicion they were talking to another trans woman, even one who dismissed her as just another ‘cape.’ The two factors didn’t quite cancel one another out, and the Hero was left still feeling slightly anxious. “Well, I…” Maddy cringed, looking to a small deskside ficus to avoid eye contact. “...You completed your investigation already? You’re sure there’s nothing I could do to help?”
HBS’s chief counsel cocked an eyebrow. “Quite sure, thank you. You’re not here to help us; you’re here because—among other things—your handlers thought it might result in earned media, and push the shitshow over that interview out of the news cycle. Am I wrong?”
“I’m not sure what you—”
“We have a very good reputation with the community, between our philanthropy with LGBTQ2+ causes and our dedication to patent-breaking the meds struggling queer and trans folks desperately need. We also have a nonbinary CEO who people don’t say ‘eat the rich’ about, because they publicly take a very modest salary, and at every possible opportunity they shame their industry peers for not doing the same.” The deer spun her chair a half-rotation towards the window, and looked down to the traffic on University Avenue. “You, personally, could use our help; being associated with us would give you more credibility as a trans Hero. We don’t need your help, and frankly, being associated with you is neutral PR at best for us. Probably a negative, all things considered. Have you considered why that is?”
The two sat in silence. Maddy hoped that the deer would answer her own question; they didn’t like it hanging in the air. Eventually, she did.
“You’re a cop, Heartforce. I’m sure you don’t like thinking of yourself that way; the Xtra piece made that clear. But whether you like it or not, you’re in law enforcement, and work hand-in-hand with the TPS, OPP, RCMP, CBSA, CSIS…you’re still upholding the systems that oppress your own community. Foucault had it right, don’t you think? Government-based Heroes are all about ‘hierarchical observation,’ ‘normalizing judgment’ and the ever-present ‘examination,’ just as much as any of those other law enforcement agencies. And the thing about being a queer cop is that your own people have very good reason to presumptively distrust you, no matter how good your intentions.”
“I’m… I’m making a difference. From the inside,” Maddy said, unsure why she felt the need to justify herself to the calmly dismissive older woman.
“I’m sure that was the sales pitch. Do you think they’ll really let you be more than a token, though?”
“Ms. Dunlop—”
“—Grace, please.”
“Grace. Please. I understand why you’re hesitant,” the sheep-bear pleaded. “But I have a gift, and—I think—a responsibility to use it for good. That’s how I was brought up. I’m sure it’s not what you’d do if you had my powers, but isn’t it positive for the public to see trans superheroes, and not just villains and criminals?”
Grace pursed her lips, bleat-sighing disappointedly. “Maddy… watch this, would you?” She turned to her laptop and tapped something out on the keyboard, humming to herself. After a moment, she turned it around to show her guest. The screen was frozen on a scene of what the Hero recognized as one of the HBS corridors. Except, Maddy quickly realized, it wasn’t paused; a shadowy figure slipped by alongside one edge of the video. The timestamp read 11:21 PM.
The lawyer raised an eyebrow. “Notice anything?”
“…No? You clearly had an intruder, and I don’t understand why you don’t want anything done about it?”
“Just keep watching,” the deer said archly. She slid back in her chair, tenting her hoof-nailed fingers, expression unreadable.
The figure crept back into the frame, clearer this time. The intruder was clad in dark grey and matte black tactical gear, but was still unidentifiable, head entirely concealed by a hood. Then, they pulled it back and craned their neck over their shoulder, peering up at the camera with a satisfied sneer. It was a brown rat. It was a very familiar rat, one she’d met with just hours before. It was Neal Salton. Fucking Slider.
Maddy narrowed her eyes and clenched her fists against her muscular thighs, rage rising up from deep within her. “What. What,” she seethed through gritted teeth.
Grace scrubbed the video back to pause it on the rat’s clearly-captured face. “I told you,” she said mildly. “We completed our investigation. We know exactly who broke in—the Ontario’s Heroes operative Slider—and we know that he didn’t meaningfully do anything. He thought he disabled our security system, and then rifled through some desks and knocked over a recycling bin; just enough to leave evidence of a break-in, such that the police would get called, OH would hear about it officially through your information-sharing protocols, and someone like you would have an excuse to come knocking at our door this morning.” She met Maddy’s gaze with a sympathetic expression. “Given your reaction just now—and, I’m sorry, but it’s true: a general lack of investigative subtlety—I’m satisfied you had no idea until just this moment.”
“But that’s—”
“Yes, it is.” She again let the moment linger; the sheep-bear’s skin crawled with discomfort. “I’m not going to tell you it’s impossible to deepfake something like this; of course it isn’t. But this is real; I bet you can think of some way to verify it on your own, too. And, frankly, I don’t need to justify anything to you? You showed up on our doorstep unannounced.” After a pause, she continued, with a faint note of genuine concern in her voice. “I don’t think they trust you, Maddy. If they did, don’t you think you’d have been in on the whole plan here? Whatever it is?”
They fumed, teeth gritted, and looked out the window. The round central courtyard of Grange Park was visible in the distance. “I don’t… why aren’t you more upset about this?”
The older woman shrugged noncommittally. “We have the situation well in hand. No actual harm was done, and the PHL, the police, and our industry competitors all being what they are, it’s not in our strategic interest to take this public right now. So, how fortunate for me that you just happened to stop by, offering to ever-so-helpfully snoop around, hmm?” She cleared her throat, and then reached over to close the laptop. “I think we’re done here. By all means, please pass on that we’re not terribly impressed.”
“Um. Thank you,” Maddy mumbled. The ground felt like it had shifted (figuratively) under her feet, much as she’d (literally) applied her powers to Slider earlier.
“Any time,” the deer said unctuously, grinning as she stood up to usher the sheep-bear out of her office. “Lovely to meet you, Heartforce. Have fun with your bosses, eh?”
Maddy sped her motorcycle back towards the OH facility in Mississauga, continuing to seethe at…whatever was going on.
Ontario’s Heroes maintained multiple facilities in the Greater Toronto Area, but this, commonly referred to as OH Lakeview, was one of the most extensive. It was located beneath the waterfront site of what had once been the WWII-era Long Branch Arsenal, with parts reaching as far as the long-demolished Lakeview Generating Station. The site was technically confidential for security reasons—with OH customarily refusing to confirm or deny the existence of any facilities beyond their official suite in the Ministry of the Solicitor General’s downtown office tower—but the Hero had quickly come to learn that it was a widely-known ‘secret’ in the industrial neighbourhood.
Turning off Dixie Road, Maddy slowed and clicked a tab on her headset. As a loading bay door opened for her, she pulled into the nondescript warehouse that served as the secured entrance and parking garage for the facility.
They hit the Yamaha’s kickstand, stowed their helmet, and proceeded to the elevator. Several sub-basements lower and a brisk walk later, they made their way to the director’s office. Nodding at the guard as he swiped his keycard to allow the young Hero access to the executive wing, they proceeded to alert his secretary (an elderly, perpetually unamused mourning dove named Lola) of the need to meet immediately. She squinted and clicked her tongue sourly, but waved Maddy in.
Hagen turned away from his computer monitor as the sheep-bear entered, removed his headset, and crossed his arms impatiently. “Well? Out with it already! Report, Heartforce, I’m a busy man!”
“Is there anything else I should know about the HBS break-in, sir?”
Hagen’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not a report, Oakes. What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I, ah, was able to review the evidence, and it appears that the intruder may have been, um… one of ours…?”
The Director took a deep breath and stared them in the eyes. “How in the fuck did you come to that conclusion?”
“Well, there was video, and—”
Hagen’s eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared in rage. “Goddammit, Slider,” he fumed.
Maddy boggled. “You… knew it was Slider, sir?”
Hagen growled, a deep, threatening rumble. “HBS is a Korps front, Oakes. This was a need-to-know op, and you didn’t need to know yet.”
“No! Are you sure? They were a little rude to me, but I don’t think anyone I saw there looked like a supervillain…”
“That’s the point of a ‘front,’” the wolverine snapped. “The plan was to give you an excuse to make direct contact. You’re one of their types, and I just gave you a hard time. A well-deserved one, I will fucking remind you. They’d be sympathetic about the bad press you’re getting and the leash I put you on, and assuming you didn’t shit the bed again, they would eventually try to recruit you, and you’d accept… but as a double agent,” he leered.
Maddy, for her part, was quietly horrified. She tried to mentally brush off her boss’s grumbling about whatever ‘their types’ meant; the generalized phobic sniping seemed less urgent, for the moment.
“It would have worked better as a slow burn with a more substantial public profile, and if you didn’t know it was a setup—more organic that way, and you’d have had an easier time getting through their telepathic screens—but Salton had to make a fucking soup sandwich out of covering his tracks,” Director Hagen grunted, pondering. “We can still do something with this, though. Scratch the Team B plan, you’re going to go to the Infirmary right away. Doc Gallant has an experimental, new and improved psi-blocker formulation he’s been working on, to protect you from the mindfuckery. I’ll have Lola clear my schedule for a strategic briefing next Monday—”
“But that’s not what I signed up for! I don’t want to be a spy, I want to help people…”
Hagen stared her in the eyes, and spoke at first with terrifyingly calm intensity. “Madison Skylar Oakes. Listen very carefully to me, you ungrateful little pissant. You would not even be part of this organization if not for your father’s good name, and your usefulness as a… a mascot for the God-forsaken wokeness that’s taken over this country; it got the Premier’s office off our back about profiling for six whole months, just to pass along we were keeping you in our back pocket as a prospect.”
The Hero gasped. She… she knew that there was some cynical PR element involved in her rapid rise, sure, she was supposed to play ball and be ‘Heartwood II’ in all but name…
“I knew Roger,” the Director barked. “He wasn’t the best or the brightest, but Jesus, that was a Hero you could point at a soft target and just watch him charge in and win. That was his strategy; he’d win. He’d never get bogged down in this bleeding-heart shit; he knew that there are white hats and black hats, and if you’re not ready to shoot it out with the black hats, you’re a liability. Like Sunrise,” he sneered.
As the wolverine worked himself into his trademark rage, he became louder and louder, until it was a bellow that shook the coffee in the PHL-branded mug on his desk, and made Maddy cringe with every word. “Get your head right, Heartforce. You want to contribute to the public good? You want to ‘help people?’ Then you’re going to do whatever I bloody well tell you to do. If I tell you to infiltrate the Korps, the next words out of your mouth should be ‘How many tasteful snapshots of the stomach-churning reefer-den hypno-slave orgies can I surreptitiously take for you, sir!’”
Maddy nodded their head, furiously, and again fought back tears.