Valiant was the greatest superhero in the world.

It wasn't a unanimous opinion- some cited Princess Vega, others Merlin, and a few other top-tier stragglers like Ouroboros, Johnny the Ape, and Doctor Sakurai. But it was clear he was at the top of the heap, if not necessarily on top of it.

He was an enigma in the public eye; he never gave interviews like other heroes; he never made cameos in popular media. He didn't even have a P.O. box for fanmail. It was like he didn't even exist.

But the chips were down and heroes were desperately needed, Valiant was always there, a Horseman of the Apocalypse, the eye of a hurricane of helpless dread. He drove his enemies before him without a fight, rarely having to even break into a jog. On the rare occasions he did have to actually fight, he proved himself the peer of Princess Vega, hitting like a train and enduring like a mountain, and always being the last one to leave a fight.

He was Valiant- fear was for other people.

Out of uniform, however, he was Silas Marinakis, a tall Greek man with bronze skin, copper hair, golden eyes, and a fondness for bowling.

"Oooh, gutterball," Dean said as Silas groaned. "You'll get there eventually." Dean Michael Donovan was tall, dark, and handsome, with broad shoulders, sharp eyes, and a bald head that gleamed in the right lighting. He lived his life with the sorts of good humor and high spirits that can only come from learning to live with the indignity of having three first names.

"I hope not, I've been liking bowling so far," Silas said.

"What, are you afraid that if you get too good at bowling, the alley owners are going to kick you out and ban you for life?" Dean asked.

"I like being bad at stuff," Silas said. "It's a welcome reprieve from being too good and successful at everything."

Dean rolled his eyes and made an extended rude gesture. "Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night."

Silas' phone rang. "See, this is a nice benefit of bowling. I can just stop in the middle of it to take a phone call."

"Work?" Dean asked. Silas had never told Dean what his job was, but after fourteen years of friendship, Dean had a pretty good idea nonetheless. Still, some fictions were important- Silas had never said what his job was, and so, neither would Dean.

"Heaven preserve me... goddamnit." Silas sighed at his flip phone- he didn't care for smartphones, and preferred a phone that could be thrown down eighteen flights of stairs and come away with only a single, solitary scuff to show for it. He flipped it open and hit answer. "Hey, I'm at the bowling alley, and it's still Saturday. Unless people are dying, my hands are tied."

"People are always dying, boss," Liquid Courage said. "Got a leak in your area from A-510. Someone came through."

"You're a smart boy, I'm sure you can handle it yourself," Silas said. "I'm just the best at what I do. That doesn't mean I'm the only one who's good at it."

"You know the rules, and so do I," Liquid Courage said. "A-510 is that horror movie shithole with the vampires and the werewolves and the mad scientists. The relatively-sane mad scientists from there agreed to a closed-borders treaty. With you as one of the signatories. You're the one who's gotta make the call on this, boss."

"Goddamnit, fine," Silas said. "Email me the information and I'll get back to you with my advice." He snapped his phone closed, and slipped it back into his pocket, sighing. "You see what I mean, Dean, about being too good and successful?"

"You're the only one who knows how to fix the printer, I take it?"

"I'm the only one who's trusted to fix the printer," Silas said, approaching their table and opening up his backpack. "Sorry, Dean, we're gonna have to put the game on hold for a bit. Not more than a half hour, but..."

"Hey, it's no big deal," Dean said. "For me, anyway. I'm starting to pick up on your philosophy- it's nice to have a break from kickin' your ass."

Silas snorted and pulled a beaten-up laptop out of his backpack, opening it up and turning it on. Almost immediately it began to make noises like a flock of angry geese losing a fight to a jet engine.

"Ugh, cheap piece of shit," he muttered, his fingertips growing uncomfortably warm.

"You can't buy a better one?" Dean asked.

"I only use it for work outside of the office," Silas said. "I don't want to make it any easier to do that. It's a bad habit to be in, and self-control starts at the store. Ah, crap, keep forgetting to put on the glasses."

"What do you mea-" Dean began, before frowning at the laptop screen. "...Silas, it's pure white."

"Security feature," Silas said, putting on a pair of cheap dollar-store coke-bottle sunglasses. "Normal screens have a polarizing filter in them, which makes them legible. This one doesn't, on purpose, so that it's only visible if you're wearing polarizing filters on your face."

"People buy polarized sunglasses all the time," Dean said. "Doesn't sound very secure to me."

"And how many people wear polarized sunglasses inside, besides weirdos like me?" Silas asked. "Ultimately, Deany-boy-"

"Don't call me Deany-boy."

"Fine. Ultimately, Phillip-"

"Fuck you."

"-you've just gotta accept that no security measures are ever totally foolproof," Silas said. "Besides. This stuff isn't that important."

In reality, Silas' laptop was an elaborate prop of his own design. It utilized top-of-the-line components, some of which he'd laboriously fabricated himself, to directly communicate with his telepathic implants, which he'd also built himself.

That was Valiant's real power, that he'd never bothered telling anyone- he built broad-spectrum psychic powers in the form of technological gizmos. Telepathic laptops. Telekinetic power suits. A helmet that projected, outward, an aura of fear and dread.

A brain implant that projected, inward, the complete absence of fear.

He was Valiant- fear was for other people.

"Alright, lessee here," Silas murmured, opening the email Liquid Courage had sent him. "Ah. Okay, yeah, that's a sticky situation."

A mad scientist from A-510 had come through a portal ten minutes ago. Most likely by accident- the poor girl seemed more confused and dismayed than anything, according to surveillance. Still, any breach was a problem. Mad scientists weren't terribly 'contagious,' as such, but vampires absolutely were, and while it wasn't clear if werewolves were or not- or what werewolves were actually like- there were very nearly zero possible answers to 'what are vampires like?' that wasn't a nightmare.

That it was merely a mad scientist who was deeply confused was, after all this, a deep relief.

Valiant considered the situation carefully, mulling it over. Actual, specific cross-throughs were rare; what was more common was some kind of low-level bleedthrough of supernatural energies, or some other poorly-understood mechanism, causing natives of this universe to awaken the sorts of powers or magics or whatever that were far more common, and more understood, in A-510. There wasn't terribly much communication between the universes, really; very little was actually known about A-510 and the peoples who lived there.

Valiant allowed himself a satisfied little smirk. Sometimes, two problems were the solution to each other.

He began to type up an email in response.

After carefully reviewing the information included, along with considering the broader context, I've come to a decision. Approach the mad scientist politely, courteously, and discreetly. Make no secret that we know where she's from, however, and offer her the department's hospitality while we sort out the situation. If asked, she has the options of staying here or returning to her home dimension, and should she choose to stay, she can further choose between a job we're offering or going her own way. Tell her that I'll be in tomorrow to discuss her options with her over lunch. I have a job offer to make.

She's an unknown, but she's an opportunity, not a threat. I say we let it ride.

He hit send, and the response was nigh-instantaneous.

Boss, we got a problem. I don't remember sending you this email.

Valiant's eyes dilated to the size of saucers as he continued reading.

I think our mad scientist managed to hack me and erase all the records of her(? I have no idea how I know that). On account she's seemingly from A-510, she probably knows how to hide from the authorities, and is going to be a stone bastard to root out if we go looking for her. This is why we're afraid of A-510, in case you've forgotten. At least it probably wasn't a vampire.

Valiant sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. After a few moments, he began typing up another response.

Well, that's my Saturday ruined. You can find people better than I can, so... start scanning again. I'm going to finish this game, make my excuses, and then come in for damage control. It'll probably be an hour.

Valiant sent his response, shut off the laptop, and put it away, along with the glasses. Silas zipped up his backpack and stood back up.

"Well, there's that fire put out for now," Silas said. "Now, where were we?"

"Princess Vega. It's Valiant. I hope this isn't a bad time," Valiant said, once she finally answered her phone.

"Nothing that can't wait," Princess Vega said, the sound of running water just barely audible in the background. "I know you better than you'd like; I assume this isn't a social call?"

"No, it is not," Valiant said. "A mad scientist came through from Universe A-510 earlier today. The one with the vampires and werewolves, if you'll recall."

"All these alternate Earths tend to blur together for me; this dimensionalism nonsense was never my forte. But I assume it's about to become my problem?"

"Not directly," Valiant said. "The issue at hand is that Austin's hero infrastructure is, overall, geared more towards research and development, superscience, that sort of thing. We have a lot of people... but also, nearly all of them have better things to be doing than participating in a manhunt."

"So, you're short-handed, and need to borrow some of my people?"

"Again, not quite," Valiant said. "Your daughter is already in town; she just graduated college here, and I'm given to understand that she intends to move back home sometime soon. She intends to go into law enforcement as well, doesn't she?"

"Ah, I'm beginning to see what you mean. Yes, I do believe I'll tell dear Veronica to stay a while longer."

"I'm glad we see eye to eye on this."

"It was bound to happen eventually," Vega said loftily. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm afraid my bath can't wait much longer."

Valiant hung up, and sighed. It was a common enough misconception that 'Princess Vega' was just a name. Unfortunately, it was a matter of public record that Valerie Vega really was a princess-in-exile from the Vega system, and had brought with her both a treasure-trove of advanced superscience and a renewed interest in monarchy.

There wasn't much that Valiant and Vega saw eye to eye on. He was grateful she lived in New England, nearly two thousand miles away from him. Distances didn't mean much these days, but at least it wasn't a distance either of them crossed very often.

Valiant sighed again, with more feeling. And now, because he had nobody else to turn to, he had to ask the Princess' daughter for help. He'd managed to go all these twenty two years without ever having acknowledged the girl's existence, but at long last, that streak was going to be broken.

"Liquid Courage, get me a stiff drink," Valiant said into the intercom.

"I'm an AI, not a bartender."

"Improvise."

He had Veronica Vega's email address on file, thankfully; he could only hope that she didn't share her mother's stubborn insistence on doing everything over the phone.

And after that... Well. One thing at a time.