Zephyr is not typically a “moderate danger” hero, but things click together when he gets to the address: Moss’s warehouse home and workshop. Punishment then, for improperly evaluating a threat – and if he gets killed in the process, well, he’s an object lesson for the next recruit.
… Presumably he has some kind of secret escort to keep him from dying too easily; UCCD wouldn’t let him die over one mistake, right?
He restrains himself from trying to spot any hidden overwatch (they’d probably be invisible anyways) and follows his training. Quick circuit of the building to confirm no outside threats (there aren’t), binoculars to look through any available windows (a mess of machinery but he can’t tell what’s new), assessment of access routes (exterior doors are all chained shut, but the garage door is prominently cracked). He can’t fly (yet) to try any skylights and he doesn’t have the strength to force an alternative entrance, so it’s the obvious route for him, no matter how much the villain has planned for it. After a brief pause to limber up, he slips into the warehouse.
The garage door drops shut behind him, followed by a harsh spotlight illuminating him in the warehouse’s shadows. “Oh, good, they sent you again,” Moss—the villain, he chides himself—says over a cheap intercom. “I mean— ahem, mwahaha, hero! I have taken a hostage!” The spotlight swings to focus on a woman in civilian clothes, bound to a steel table by oversized leather straps. “If you wish to free her, you’ll have to make your way through…” A switch loudly sparks on—probably a large knife switch, classic mad engineering design—and the warehouse lights stagger into luminescence. Motors whir and machinery starts to thud as Zephyr takes in the sight of… an obstacle course? It looks a lot like a weird game show obstacle course, except with less padding. “… my Maze of Destruction!”
“Oh, help me, hero!” The hostage’s efforts to struggle against her restraints seem half-hearted, but maybe she just already knows she can’t get out. “Please, save me!”
Zephyr sighs, doing his best to evaluate the situation. The Mad Engineer Protocol Principle is to short circuit their designs through unexpected behavior. The easiest way to do that is to simply find or make an exit, but unfortunately the villain has a hostage; she may not be in immediate danger, but UCCD standards insist civilians cannot be left with a villain, in case that allows the villain time to affect their mind somehow. The training presentation had an entire slide about the Dr. Ferrosis Incident and the ensuing demise of Iron Justice. She has to be saved.
Fortunately, the villain’s Maze of Destruction is limited to devices targeted to terrestrial heroes, something Zephyr is, strictly speaking, not. He backs up against the garage door, takes a couple rapidly-accelerating steps, and then turns his wind powers into a superhuman leap, easily clearing the machinery below. “Aw, rude!” the villain opines as he touches down, more wind cushioning his landing.
“Sorry for the wait, ma’am,” he says, ignoring the villain’s words. Banter 101 was for journeyman heroes, not scout-classes like him. “I’ll have you out of here in a moment.” The straps unbuckle easily, and he scoops her into a UCCD Standard Rescue Carry (formerly known as the Princess Carry, until presumably some feminists in the office pointed out that was a terrible name).
“My hero!” she yells over the din of the villain’s machines. He does his best to ignore the way she’s looking at him through her lashes; he still has to find a way to get them both out, and besides, the UCCD Hero Handbook rather directly states that civilian-hero relationships shouldn’t be initiated during hostage rescues. “How ever can I repay you?”
Zephyr finds their escape in a button boldly labeled “GARAGE” next to the table; a quick tap with his elbow, and the warehouse door opens on the far side of the Maze. “Just doing my job, ma’am,” he replies, just before he makes another leap. She clings to his uniform as they sail over the random bludgeons filling the warehouse floor, and only slowly relaxes as he sets her down on the far side.
“Are you—” She pauses at the quaver in her voice, and takes a moment to swallow. “Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do to repay you, hero?”
“I-I’m quite sure, ma’am.” Behind him, the noise of the villain’s machines slowly dies down.
“Laying it on a little thick there, Willow,” the villain chimes in over the intercom.
“Sorry, boss!” the hostage calls back. Or— hostage?
“Hang on, ‘boss’?” Zephyr asks, incredulity slipping into his voice.
“Shit,” she mutters. “Sorry again boss! Game’s up!”
“Ah well, that’s how first times go.” On the far side of the warehouse, the villain steps out of their living space and onto the raised walkway surrounding the interior. Like last time, they’re wearing a graphic tee and jeans, one hand tucked into a pocket while the other holds the intercom’s microphone. They wave casually to Zephyr, then bring the microphone back to their mouth. “Hey, now that the schtick’s up, wanna play some Guilty Gear?”
Zephyr can only sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I have to go file a report,” he mutters, and walks out the open garage door.
It slams shut behind him, causing the hos— minion to yelp. Through the sheet metal, he hears the villain’s intercom: “Damn it, I forgot to turn off the laser tripwire.”
