My dad's workshop was the greatest place in the whole wide world. He never let me go in unattended, it was apparently 'too dangerous' for an eight year old girl. But on evenings like this, where he was hard at work on his latest inventions, he was all too happy to let me sit and watch.

  I sat on my usual tall stool, beaming, while sparks of blue light flashed from the tools in Dad's gloved hands. His welding mask was pulled down, the steely surface glowing against the flash coming from the table. While his broad shoulders largely obscured much of what he was working on, I could see glimpses of it. A segmented metal tail, like that of a scorpion.

  My eyes roamed the room, across the shelves laden with Dad's creations. Jars full of marbles that glittered in the light, action figures and dolls who always met my eyes in passing, pogo sticks with robust springs, articulated army men who occasionally moved of their own volition, stuffed bears with scarcely concealed titanium claws.

  "Jess," Dad said, the blue flash subsiding. He did not look up from his work. "Be a dear and grab the hex screwdriver for me."

  I looked over my shoulder at the wall-mounted rack, where an assortment of screwdrivers and wrenches were planted in sconces that went from smallest to largest. I quickly grabbed the hex and tossed it, Dad deftly catching it without looking up. He didn't double check to see if I'd gotten the right one. He knew he wouldn't have to.

  "Thanks kiddo, you're a peach."

  My smile broadened. "You gonna let me do the finishing touches?" I asked, nearly bouncing where I sat. He’d turn me down, he nearly always did. But that lingering hint of ‘maybe’ as an answer always drove me to ask.

  Dad chuckled, tightening a few screws with practised finesse. "Now now. I wouldn't want to make you an accomplice."

  "But I can help! I've gotten real good at making stuff! You said I got the same gift as you and everything! An’ I gotta practice more to get as good as you!"

  An electronic bark echoed at my side, reaffirming my stance. I glanced down to the floor. Lassie was my masterpiece, and I knew she always would be, even if I had barely made a handful of inventions on my own by now. Her body was sleek, adorned with white plastic plates that gave a glimpse at the wires and servos beneath. The top half of her sloping head had an LED screen, projecting an image of two neon blue eyes that could emote as well as any real dog.

  Originally, Dad had tasked me with making Lassie and taking care of her to prove I could take care of a real dog. But it hadn't taken long for Lassie to grow on me, and she was now just... my dog. Simple as that.

  "I'm not doubting your skills Jess, it's just..." Dad turned from the workbench, raising his welding mask to reveal his face, Thin, with sharp angles defining his jaw and cheekbones. But his smile was broad and bright, and his emerald eyes glittered with barely contained mischief. He reached up, adjusting one of the drooping edges of his russet moustache. "Well it's complicated. If I were to get caught, you need to look as innocent as possible. Don't want you getting in trouble for being the daughter of a supervillain, yeah?"

  He hadn’t been caught yet, despite his many exploits, but that caution of his was a large factor as to why.

  He moved away from the workbench, wiping his hands in his smock as he went. The device he'd been tinkering with came into view: A robot scorpion that hoisted itself upright on its mechanical legs. It briefly scuttled back and forth, snapping the air with pincers that could crush solid steel.

  I pouted glancing down at my skirt. "They haven't ever caught you yet."

  "Guess not. And I intend to keep it that way." Dad reached over and tussled my hair, reddish locks falling in front of my eye. I grumbled, glaring up at him, but that just made him laugh. "The Toymaker has never seen the inside of a cell, and mark my words he never shall."

  Turning, he glanced to the rows of army men on the other table and loudly clapped his hands together. "Ten-hut boys! Get into formation and head for the pouch!"

  The rows of green soldiers, in unison, sprang to attention and saluted my dad. Then, in lockstep, they marched for the edge of the shelf. One by one they hopped downward, small parachutes unfurling from their backs and then collapsing back into place after they landed inside an open bag on the ground.

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  I couldn't help but smile. Dad's inventions just always excited me whenever they were in motion. Lassie, conversely, let out a small growl at the sight of so many small creatures in motion.

  "You figure you're gonna be on the news?" I asked.

  Dad shrugged. "All goes as planned? Probably not. Sidewinder's tip seems to be on the level, and we wanna try and be sneaky about this. Going in loud on a Klein Translational warehouse? Not a good idea. Remember what I told you, don't go picking a fight-"

  "Unless you're sure you can win," I finished, rolling my eyes. "I know, Dad. But how come you're working with Sidewinder and Red Hot for this? Those guys haven't been as lucky as you. They might drag you down and get you caught."

  "Ha, as if. Those fools just didn't have me watching their backs in the past." He reached for a duffel bag on the floor and made for the exit. The scorpion followed at his heels, his metal legs noisily clicking with every step. "I better get changed. Now, don't you go touching anything until I get back. The bears are gonna let me know if you do."

  One of the teddy bears leaned forward on the shelf, a garnet glow shining in his glassy black eyes.

  An irritated sigh slid past my lips. "I know." I'd only tinkered with stuff behind his back one time, and he never let me live it down.

  As he left, I turned to Lassie and stroked the top of her head. She leaned into my touch, the smooth plates of her head feeling pleasantly warm to the touch. She made a noise like that of a normal panting dog. "Looks like it'll just be you and me tonight."

  A small whining noise rose from Lassie's synthetic mouth, LED eyes blinking sadly up at me. I was usually excited when Dad went off on a job, but it didn't make me feel any less sad from his absence.

  Still, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited. Every time Dad came back to tell me a story of his newest adventures, his heists and fights against superheroes, I'd be obsessing over the details for days at a time.

  It was hard to believe there were folks online who called my dad a 'lame' villain. As if! They had no way of knowing he was like, one of the smartest Artisans in the world. They never got to see all the work he put into his profession, could never understand the passion and dedication it took for him to make it as far as he had.

  But, as Dad liked to say, there was no sense in getting mad about strangers on the internet. I had no doubt that some day, people would see Dad as one of the best supervillains in the world. And then, when I was his age, I'd be seen as ever greater.

  Maybe that was presumptuous, but I had decided as soon as my powers manifested that I would follow in Dad's footsteps and become a villain. It just sounded so much more exciting than being a superhero, much more liberating and adventurous.

  Live for yourself and those closest to you, why waste time caring for anyone else?

  Dad returned, the door creaking at his arrival, fully kitted out in his Toymaker costume. Heavy metal boots, a carbon fibre undersuit overlaid with patches of black and orange fabric, topped off with a segmented metal mask with glowing amber eyes that covered his whole face, and a headpiece styled to resemble a jester's hat. Dad, as far as I was concerned, had the coolest supervillain costume ever!

  I applauded, grinning at the sight of him. "Looking cool, Dad!" I know some of the kids at school thought I was weird for obsessing over supervillains as opposed to the Heroes Guild. They were stupid, of course, but that aside I didn't see what the issue was. Dad had never killed anyone, or done anything too terrible. Sure he'd rough up a cop or a superhero if he had to, but that was tame when compared to real bad guys like Phosphorous, or Punchinello. Anyone who was a fan of those guys was sick in the head and Dad assured me he’d never work with guys like that.

  "You figure?" he asked, the filter of his mask warping the sound of his voice. He raised his gloved hands, examining himself. "Honestly, I've spent so much time in the workshop these days. A whole lot of tinkering and staring at circuitry. Need to hit the gym more often, it's getting snug at the waist these days. That or I’ll have to head over to Trimpe’s and get it tailored." The scorpion skittered up his back and came to roost on his left shoulder.

  "Yeeeaaaah, but the padding in your suit covers up a lot of that."

  Dad snorted. "Smart alec."

  "Course I'm smart. I'm an Artisan."

  "That's not how it works, and you know it." Though his face was hidden, I could still see his shoulders shaking as he tried to suppress a laugh. "Anyway, it's about time for me to head out. I ain't gonna be here to tuck you in, so don't stay up too late checking the news. I'll be pretty cheesed if I come back to see you're still awake."

  "C'mon, when have I ever done that?"

  Dad stared at me silently, planting his hands on his hips.

  I sighed and rolled my eyes with all the drama a child could muster. "Okay, fine, I won't stay up too late. I'll watch until it gets to bedtime, and then I'll go to sleep. Promise."

  "Attagirl," Dad replied, giving me a thumbs up. "Might even get you a present. If you stick to your word."

  That sent a small spike of excitement racing through my body. Dad's gifts were often great, and it was a perfect opportunity to get access to some new materials to work with. Most kids were happy getting toys as presents. Me, I preferred being given the means to build my own.

  "I will, I will." I pushed myself off the stool and landed neatly on my feet. Lassie scuttled over to join me, her metal paws clinking at every motion. "Just gonna watch the news for a lil bit. That's all."

  And that night I did indeed sit down to watch the news. Though I lied about heading to bed like I promised I would. I stayed up well past my bedtime, utterly glued to the screen when the news reported on a superhero battle unfolding at a local Klein Transnational warehouse.

  Dad ended up on the news alright, but not through any fault of his own. Through sheer dumb luck, he and his crew were hitting that warehouse the same night the Fiend Squad were making a much more public hit on the place. And, in the process, they brought down a squadron from the Hero Guild to stop them. All three factions, caught in a chaotic battle being broadcast live across Argent City.

  A battle that culminated in an explosion that wiped the warehouse, and several surrounding city blocks, off the face of the planet. An event that became known to the people of Argent City as Bonfire Night.

  I watched with mounting horror, helpless, as the chaos of that battle ended up engulfing Dad and his friends. And all I could do was sit there as, on live TV, I saw my dad getting wiped out in a tide of fire that swept the entire warehouse away.

  In one fell swoop, my life had been shattered beyond repair.