Marcus was still reeling from the events of that night the next day. After he and Cassie had finally got off each other they’d gone back to cleaning. They didn’t say much to each other, but what they did say was insulting and rude. They’d gone right back to fighting. Marcus really didn’t know how to process that. It was late by the time they’d got the classroom fully clean and it had taken a lot of work. She’d snapped at him and he’d been short with her and they’d parted ways. He was glad the day was a saturday, so he didn’t have to see her in class. He didn’t think anything would change between them, but it still felt good to give them a couple days to cool off.

  True to form, his parents had barely noticed when he got in, and Marcus spent the rest of the time doing his visualisation practice, even distracted as he was by the thought of him and Cassie earlier. And then, for the second time in two days, he slept like a log. So he felt good heading towards the lair he shared with Construct, even sauntering through the daytime in his Hobgoblin form.

  He was less worried than ever - his eyes were incredible now. He glanced from side to side to make sure nothing caught him out from the peripherals, but didn’t catch anything. If anyone was following him, he was sure he’d have noticed. That Hunter had managed to find where he transformed had spooked him a little bit, but he was glad when he got to the lair and everything was as it seemed. Construct was watching his drone footage from the previous night, surveying Richmond Industries from afar and tracking the trucks that would come and go from the military installment.

  “I’m pretty sure most, if not all, of these trucks are decoys,” said Construct as Hob watched him.

  “And what would be the point of that?” asked Hob. “I get that you think they’re moving things through the canal-”

  “Through a second underground canal that they’ve dug,” interrupted Construct.

  “- right, okay, fine. A second secret underground canal. So they’re using the trucks to pretend to be transporting their merchandise somewhere, but in reality they’re sending it to a mysterious second location? Why?” asked Hob.

  “Well why do you think?” asked Construct.

  “Really?” sighed Hob.

  “I want to know if my train of thought makes sense by following yours,” said Construct.

  “Well that’s brave of you,” laughed Hob. “My first guess is that the company was either set up by or is being extorted by a Supervillain, but anyone who could penetrate that deeply is either locked up or in a different country…” Hob puzzled for a bit before it hit him. “Spaceman?”

  “I think so,” nodded Construct.

  “He’s got a lot going on nowadays,” said Hob. “So what’s the plan now? Call off the Richmond Industries hit?”

  “Absolutely not,” said Construct. “On the contrary, I want you to go in there and get captured.”

  “What?” Hob asked, unimpressed.

  “We need a line to Spaceman. A better one. And I’m willing to bet that a really excellent one is sitting there in Richmond Industries just waiting for the offer of a lifetime. Here are my problems. My current guy doesn’t trust me - keeps checking that I’m “down with the cause”. I’d rather have someone who knows we know high level secrets and can keep them. Secondly, my current guy doesn’t have enough power or ambition to really push what we have up the ladder. We can really have a fruitful partnership with Spaceman and I’m sure he’d agree. But if we can’t get to him, maybe one of his captains can see the sense of working out a deal with us,” said Construct, proud of his plan.

  “That’s a real dumb idea. Luckily it’s only my life you’re risking,” said Hob.

  “My thoughts exactly. Why steal what we could barter for?” smiled Construct smugly.

  He was right on that front, thought Hob. It was a very risky job as it was. This plan of Construct’s didn’t necessarily have a lower chance of success. Besides, if it was a Spaceman operation then they’d be messing with bigger forces than they’d bargained for. “What do we really have to trade them though? Surely not just a bunch of scanners we’ve robbed. Those are good, but they’re not breaking into a top-secret compound good.”

  “We barter,” said Construct, holding up a half-finished gizmo that he had been tinkering with. “With this.”

  “And what would that be?” asked Hob. “This time I’m not guessing.”

  “This is a prototype for something that Spaceman ought to be very interested in. I created it whilst working on your diving equipment - this is better. It’s essentially an oxygen trap - or really it’s a complex of nanotubes that diffuse tightly packed oxygen and carbon. Very good for recycling air and low maintenance too. You can strap on to your face or you can simply leave them lying around your enclosed environment. At a ratio of one per five metres cubed, it makes the oxygen last around sixty percent longer,” said Construct smugly.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “Well aren’t you clever? I can see myself selling it to him now - sixty percent longer breathing times or your money back,” said Hob. “And if your calculations are wrong he won’t be around to collect a refund plus Cape might give us a little something for knocking Spaceman off.”

  “That’s a bad way to talk about our future allies,” laughed Construct. “And my calculations aren’t wrong.”

  “So if I strap one of those to my face, how long before I conk out?” asked Hob, considering the logistics of the plan.

  “Well your lungs are smaller than five metres cubed, unless whatever you are has very strange anatomy. I’d say it should give you about 20 minutes of breathing time, fighting hard. We’ll put two on you, just in case,” said Con.

  “Cheers. Will I be fighting hard?”

  “Without a doubt. You’ll have to get there first, through the secret canal. You can bet there’ll be guards. Beating those up won’t hurt - it’s always good to bargain from a position of strength.”

  “Agreed.”

  “By the way,” asked Construct. “Did you ever manage to grow any gills?”

  “Afraid not. But I reckon those prototypes will let me stay underwater for longer than even you’d expect,” said Hob. He’d spent some of his visualisation time on picturing himself with larger, more efficient lungs. He felt himself holding his breath as he transformed and how his enhanced breathing capacity flooded through his chest. “Should make for an even better sell, eh? By the way, remember those Supers that I mentioned? The anti-vigilante squad?”

  “Of course,” said Con, guardedly. He suspected Hob was about to tell him some bad news. “What about it?”

  “I saw one of them after I’d left, the one called Hunter. Reckon he was following me. There’s a chance he scoped this place out while he was snooping,” said Hob.

  Con looked visibly less worried. “Phew. Thought you were going to tell me something crazy, like you’d just walked into the Super headquarters and massacred them all. Well no worries. This place is booby-trapped like an old Scooby-Doo episode. If he tries to get in, Hunter won’t know what hit him.”

  Hob laughed a wicked laugh.

  ______________

  The two villains didn’t wait until night fell. They figured that attacking during the daytime would be good - if Richmond Industries really was working a secret operation then it would actually be harder for them to kick up a fuss in broad daylight. If they wanted to scramble some heroes or drone teams it would be painfully obvious to everyone what they were up to. Somehow the Super League would find out.

  So if Hob and Con struck during the daylight hours, they knew Richmond’s counterattack would have to be hush-hush. They would send Hob in down the secret canal and have him find what was on the other side. Then he’d use his natural charisma and threatening blackfire to charm whoever was in charge into striking up a business deal. Then Hob would be on his merry way, and all's well that ends well.

  Of course, no plan survives contact with reality. First things first, they needed to figure out where the secret canal was. Con was no slouch when it came to scanning and tracking technology - the whole goal of the criminal Extrahuman duo was to build a scanner of their own, after all - but they were still struggling. They decided that Hob would simply have to go in whilst carrying Con’s equipment and with a bit of quick thinking and the scanners in closer proximity, they’d have the secret canal.

  In theory.

  All that was left now was to execute. Hob appreciated that Construct was like him - ready to change plans at a moment’s notice if an opportunity presented itself to them. Normally they would have spent an extra week or more doing reconnaissance but with everything going on it was better to just go for it. A poor plan violently executed now was better than a perfect plan perfectly executed later on. Hob also appreciated that Construct trusted him to take these risks. That’s what partnership was all about - not overly taking care of each other but pushing each other.

  These thoughts were running through Hob’s head as he dove into the water. He had found a public toilet near the canal, locked himself in a stall and quickly transformed back to Marcus to visualise a few changes and then shifted to Hob again.

  Now he still had his improved eyes and lung capacity, but he’d extended his feet length by a bit to make them more flipper-like and gave himself webbed feet and hands. He looked over his hands, amazed. He thought he had known them so well, and yet here they were as something completely different. Just what were the limits of his Hobgoblin form? How powerful could it truly grow?

  Hob had stashed his clothes in a bag and took out the diving suit that Construct had made for him. The two air recyclers - that Hob had taken to calling airsacs - were fitted to the suit and connected to a breathing apparatus. Sensing apparatus were threaded throughout the suit. It was fitted tight to Hob’s skin and it felt good. But it was strange to not cover up his Hobgoblin form - normally he hid it under layers of clothing. He flexed an arm in the bathroom mirror.

  “What’s the holdup?” asked Con in his earpiece.

  “Just ‘miring myself,” said Hob nonchalantly.

  “I’m sure you look beautiful. My drones are in position and every second counts,” said Construct.

  Hob laughed and walked out of the public bathroom. There was a scream on the street outside as someone took in Hob’s appearance. Rude. Hob grinned and handed his bag full of clothes to one of Construct’s drones that had hovered down beside him. It felt good to let the public properly see him!

  He made his way down to the canal and leapt. Water crashed into his face as he broke the surface but his streamlined body carved a path through it. It would take about five minutes to swim up to Richmond Industries.