CHAPTER 148: VULTURES

The Ninth Department’s meeting room smelled like burnt coffee and sweat. Cloud Nine stumbled in one by one, their costumes shredded, smeared with soot, Warmonger’s chaos still clinging to them.

Hermes was already standing by the door with Aphrodite, waiting.

"Rough day?" Hermes asked, though the question sounded weak even to him.

Eris shoved past him, tossing her cracked sword onto the table. "Don’t start, Copy Cat. You saw the broadcast. You know exactly how it went."

Victorina collapsed into a chair, legs spread, tutu flopping like a deflated balloon. She fanned herself with a broken street sign she’d picked up as a souvenir.

"Girl, when I tell you that was hell? That was hell. Not the fun, drag-show-on-Saturday-night kind of hell either. The sweaty, losing-your-wig-in-public kind."

"...We tried," Vera muttered, slumping against the wall.

Her armor was dented, her black lipstick smudged, her dark unicorn gone.

She stared at her boots. "Didn’t matter. They just swooped in. Took everything."

Fiero kicked the table, denting the corner. "Bro, I had Warmonger cornered! Cornered! And then Mr. Sunshine floats in, flexes his pecs, and suddenly the crowd forgets we were even there. Like we didn’t just break our asses keeping people alive."

Cam was calmer, but his fingers twitched as they tapped on his wrist-cameras. He projected shaky replay footage on the wall: their team holding the line, only for Paragon’s arrival to erase all of it.

"We were making progress. Slowly. But Warmonger’s formation was cracking. If we had ten more minutes—"

"Ten more minutes and half the city would’ve been gone," Eris snapped, pacing. Her hair was singed at the tips, her jaw tight. "That’s their play. They wait until we’re at our lowest, then come soaring in like saviors. Vultures."

Victorina clapped dramatically. "Hero vultures! Oh girl, I hate those credit-stealing pussies."

"Eris is right." Aphrodite’s voice cut through quietly, but firm.

He hadn’t sat down, arms crossed, as though keeping a wall between himself and the noise.

"The Fiery Cross has made a career out of this. They only ever appear at the most public, the most visible crises. They wait until the cameras are rolling. Until the battle is nearly decided."

"And then they bask in the light." Vera finished grimly.

Hermes clenched his teeth. "They’ve been doing this for years, haven’t they?"

Cam nodded. "Since their founding. Their record looks spotless because they only engage when victory is guaranteed. Risk is calculated away. Their casualty rate is almost zero."

Victorina’s lips curled. "Because they let us get torn up first. And we’re supposed to clap for them afterward? No thank you, girly."

Fiero slammed his fists together, sparks ringing out. "And they’ve got, what, like—what—ten heroes total? Maybe less? And yet their tower makes ours look like a broom closet."

"It’s a hundred floors." Vera’s voice was flat. "For ten people."

"Not just ten." Cam adjusted his glasses. "Ten S-Class. Only S-Class. No exceptions."

Hermes scoffed. "And yet somehow they get the most funding from the government."

"Not somehow." Cam’s tone sharpened. "Rumors say they’re connected to half the officials in the capital. Donations, campaign backing, subtle endorsements. Fiery Cross smiles onstage, politicians smile back, the money flows both ways."

"Heroism as a business transaction." Aphrodite’s lip curled faintly. "No surprise there."

Victorina threw her hands up. "So we’re like the true veteran queens working nine-to-five, grinding it out, and they’re the pageant queens waltzing onto the stage with gowns bought by sugar daddies."

"Pretty much," Eris muttered.

Hermes’s fists curled so hard his nails dug into his palms. "Then why... why would Paragon even try for Golden Apple first?"

Everyone went silent for a beat.

Hermes knew his tone was too bitter, too raw. But the words were out now, jagged and sour.

"Fiery Cross is perfect for him. He gets to float above the rest of us, smiling down like a god. That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it?"

Somner had been quiet the whole time, perching at the far end of the couch. Now he piped up, his voice teasing. "Master, maybe... he didn’t want that. Maybe he wanted you."

Hermes froze, glaring at him. "Don’t start."

Somner only shrugged, curling his knees up to his chest. "I’m just saying what it looks like."

Victorina raised a brow. "Oop. Tea spilled."

Hermes raked a hand through his hair, jaw tightening. His voice cracked with venom. "Doesn’t matter what he wanted. What I’m saying is it’s a good thing I won’t have to force myself to work with him."

Aphrodite finally spoke, gentle but steady. "You’re jealous, Hermes. It’s fine to admit that. But don’t let the bitterness swallow you. You’ve already proven yourself. Don’t let someone else’s glory dictate your worth."

Hermes looked away, shoulders tense. "I know...."

The room sank into silence, heavy as smoke.

Then Eris slammed a hand on the table, making everyone jump. She pulled something from her belt pouch: a golden envelope sealed with a crimson wax cross. She tossed it onto the table like it was poison.

"Speaking of those bastards..." she spat. "They had the nerve to give us this."

Victorina leaned in, squinting. "Oh girl. Is that—"

"The annual Heroes Gala." Eris’ voice dripped with disgust. "That big parade they throw on their rooftop cross every year. Usually, they don’t invite Golden Apple heroes, since we’re their biggest competition. But guess what? This year, they did."

Eris recounted to them how the hero vultures handed out the invitation to her like a consolation prize.

***

The battlefield was still burning, civilians crying as rescue workers poured in. Eris was shouting orders when a shrill voice cut through the smoke.

"Yoo-hoo! Eris! Ohhh Eris, darling!"

Eaglette swooped down, pristine despite the chaos, her white hair perfect, her wings bristling. She carried a golden envelope between her talons like a smug messenger pigeon.

"You guys really tried out there, huh?" she chirped. "So brave! So inspiring! Of course, Paragon had to clean up your mess. But you know, that’s how teamwork be like sometimes, right?"

Eris resisted the urge to knock out her feathery ass right then and there.

"Anyway, the Reverend wanted me to personally invite you all to the Gala!"

She shoved the envelope into Eris’ chest, then fluttered off, cackling. "Wear something nice!"

***

Eris now crumpled the envelope in her fist, teeth grinding. "I’ll tear it to shreds right now."

Hermes reached out, grabbing her wrist before she could. "Don’t."

Her eyes flared. "Don’t tell me you’re considering it. That Gala is a joke."

"It’s an opportunity." Hermes’s tone was sharp, but deliberate. "They want us humiliated? Fine. Let’s walk into their den and show them we don’t scare easily. We don’t bow. We stand there, and...."

"We remind them who the true heroes are."