The first rule of vault-fighting? Never land crotch-first on a stack of gold bars. It hurts like the worst thing you can possibly imagine.
"Guh—!" I wheezed, rolling off the vault's treasure pile. My dignity would never recover.
Copycat gaped at me. "You're Kai Mercer? The real Portal Mayhem?"
I rubbed my bruised... everything. "Wow. I have fans. Terrific. Just so you know, I go by Paradox nowadays. Portal Mayhem is a mouthful, don't you agree?"
No need to reveal that Portal Mayhem was wanted for crimes to Space and Existence in over twelve universes, a lot more than the BEA was aware of.
Lydia's voice screeched in my earpiece: "MER-CER! I SWEAR TO—"
Static. Then silence. I could just picture her face right now, stuck between a vengeful snarl of fury and that sparkle of panic that came with things going terribly out of your way.
Copycat lunged for a duffel bag of cash. "This is my heist! Get your own felonies!"
I flicked my wrist. A portal swallowed the bag mid-air. It reappeared—dumping the money onto a passing police car outside.
"Oops." I grinned. "Guess it's our heist now."
--- —--- —-
[Five Minutes Earlier (In a Perfect World Where I Wasn't Screwed)]
The BEA interrogation room had one flaw: no snacks. Someone should've offered me the complimentary coffee by now. Or better still, chocolate waffles.
Lydia loomed over me, her glare sharp enough to cut steel. "You opened a portal in a secured facility."
I leaned back in my chair. "Technically, stress opened it. I'm more of a... portal facilitator. How about something sweet to keep my mouth busy?" I rubbed my flat stomach, plastering a sheepish smile on my face. "Didn't manage to grab lunch before my world took a drastic turn for the chaotic.*
Her fingers twitched toward her time-freeze device. "You're a menace."
"Menace. Rogue. Chaotic neutral." I waved a hand. "Labels, labels. Now, about that snack? I like my drinks icy."
A screen flickered on the wall. A man in a crisp white suit—Director Vance, according to his nameplate—stared at me through thick googles, a mane of a beard taking up half of his round face. "Agent Chen. Is he cooperating?"
Lydia straightened. "Sir, I strongly recommend null-cell detention—"
"Tut-tut." Vance smiled. "Mr. Mercer's unique abilities make him invaluable." He tapped a file on his desk. "Especially now that The Weaver is active again."
I blinked. "What is weaver?"
The lights flickered. The screen glitched—just for a second—showing something with too many eyes before resetting.
Lydia paled. Vance didn't react. But the tension was obvious in both. This weaver character was certainly a disturbing element.
"Your first mission," he continued smoothly, "is stopping this bank heist. Consider it a...probationary trial."
I nodded at Lyds. "She promised to pay my rent. No proof, no deal."
She huffed, her angry face more comical than demonic. "I never fail to keep my word."
"Too early to be talking about trust. You look cute when you're angry."
Lydia started towards me, probably to pluck out an eye. But her boss's voice stopped her.
"Done,'' said Dr. Vance, the knowing smile brightening. "Plus advance. All things considered, you won't need to go back to your studio apartment."
"Why?"
"All our recruits stay on base. Besides, I hear you have unfinished business with the vampire priest you evaded."
I pointed at Lyds. "She did it, not me. I was ready to suffer for my sins."
"You wouldn't have lasted a day on the job before your unfiltered mouth earned you a painful death."
I shifted on the seat. She wasn't wrong.
Dr. Vance leaned forward. "Back to the trial, tick-tock, time's of the essence here."
"Mind if I borrow your fancy belt?" I asked the room in general.
For the first time, Lydia the Grumpy smiled. More like smirked like the devil himself.
"No weapons permitted for Recruits-on-trial."
"It's a robbery. The other guy probably has a weapon or some cool ability that'll turn me into a chicken sandwich."
She licked her lips, daring me with her eyes. "I like mine spicey."
Dr. Vance wasn't helping matters. "We'll talk after you succeed in saving the day."
I groaned. "I hate trials."
--- —-- —-
[Present Time (Bank Vault Chaos)]
Copycat snarled and mimicked my portal gesture. A wobbly rift opened—dropping a single gold bar onto his foot, before flickering out.
"Gah! Why does yours work better?!"
I shrugged. "Natural talent? Charisma? Omega genes? Take your pick."
Alarms blared through the intercomm. SWAT boots pounded outside the heavy steel doors of the vault.
Someone had already taken notice of the two humans lounging inside a supposedly secure vault.
Lydia's voice crackled back to life in my ear: "—oot on your— [static] —COPYCAT IS A— [static] —CLASS 3 THREAT—"
I unplugged the device from my ear. "Sorry, Lyds. Time to go solo."
Copycat lunged at me. We crashed into a safety deposit wall, arms and legs tangled up in an all too personal struggle for my liking.
His mask slipped—revealing a guy barely older than me, around twenty, with acne scars and terrible eyeliner. Was that glitter on his cheeks or a trick of the poor lighting? He needed to fire whoever did his make-up.
"Wait." I squinted. "Are you sixteen?"
"Shut up!" He kneed me in the stomach. "I'm a criminal mastermind! The world trembles at my name!"
I wheezed. "You're a teenager with access to glitter. The world needs to adapt to your existence."
I felt the crackle of sparks, the one I've come to attribute with reality splitting to accommodate my portals.
But I wasn't doing anything. Even my occasional glitches were fortunately at rest.
The portal burst open beneath us, not shrugging out of nothing into existence, just exploding to cover the entire floor of the vault.
We got a second to stare at each other in horror before falling.
--- —-- —---
[Somewhere Worse (Probably Hell)]
We landed in absolute darkness. The kind of darkness that bred nightmares and worse-case scenarios. The air smelled like burnt toast and regret. An unholy combination.
Copycat whimpered. "I don't want to die. I'm too young. My branches have barely sprouted from my roots! I haven't even borne any fruits!"
"Relax, Copy–"
"Jason. My name's Jason."
"Oh, no Copycat business anymore?" I teased. NDE's have a way of changing people.
Copycat visibly shook. "Wh–where are we?"
My BEA earpiece fizzed: "—orry about th— [static] —PORTAL LOCKDOWN— [static] —SITU—"
I sighed. "Either a secret BEA prison... or the world's worst escape room."
A light flickered on. Well, the world around us lit up like Christmas, flashing every colour imaginable.
We were inside another vault.
Not just the ordinary vault from before. This one was made of pure energy, walls pulsing with weird symbols like neon signs etched into them.
Copycat gasped. "Is this—?"
"Yep." I patted his shoulder. "We just got portal-napped."
The walls shimmered. A figure stepped through—tall, faceless, its body fracturing reality like broken glass.
The figure rippled like glistening energy as it floated close, pulsing and alive with power.
It spoke in a voice that wasn't a voice:
"Kai Mercer. You are... unexpected."
I groaned. "Okay. What now?"
Things could only get worse from here.