Adam’s days fell into a new routine. Sleep. Attend class. Do his homework on the way to the foundation, and spend the rest of the day there. Shake hands. Try to remember names. Say encouraging things. Attend weekly meetings. Check boxes. Repeat.

  He knew he was doing more than he needed to. His father had told him to check on the foundation a few days a week, for no more than a few hours. But now Adam was the only Atlas around. The foundation was his responsibility now, and if he couldn’t do anything else to help his family, he’d do this. So he treated the foundation like something that would disappear if he went 24 hours without seeing it. Even though it was a state of the art facility ran by professionals, guarded around the clock.

  Adam told himself this is what he wanted. He wanted to be the dependable, down to earth Atlas, the one who cut checks for important people and related their lofty work for the common man. But then there was Rosewell, the other half of his life. It was easy enough to forget what kind of school it was in most classes, where he was learning math and languages and literature. But outside the classrooms, in gym or around campus, his peers would so effortlessly show their superhuman abilities. Flying from one building to another, conjuring something from their room, or doing exercises impossible for anyone else. There was less judgement than he expected, not being able to do any of those things. He generally felt liked by the other students, even the ones he didn’t interact with much. But still, the feeling of inadequacy lingered inside. No one expected him to be any sort of great hero. Coach Dixon hardly paid Adam’s weak strikes any attention during practice. Even the costume designed for him was just a practical adventurer’s outfit, much like the ones worn by his family out on their expeditions. He tried it on once before throwing it into his closet.

  Abigail was the one constant between his Rosewell and foundation lives. A role Adam wished was filled by Thalia instead. Adam went and found her one day, in an out-of-the-way storage space that she had commandeered into a workshop. The space was still filled with files, crates, and unused machinery, but in between it all Abigail had set up a sort of garage littered with her own devices. There was even a cot set up in the corner, with a reading light and some personal items around it.

  “Are you living out of my basement now?” Adam asked, picking up and examining a heavy wrench left on a workstation.

  Abigail looked over her shoulder and stood. She had been crouched beside a metal frame holding up what looked like some kind of tech-suit in a partial stage of completion. Loose wires hung out of coppery armor plates covering a dark brown weave. The suit was missing a helmet, one arm, and both legs. Bare patches on the suit revealed a complex network of circuitry underneath the surface.

  “Adam!” Abigail wiped her forehead, which was shiny with sweat. The tank undershirt she wore was stained under her arms and chest. A mechanic’s jumpsuit covered her legs and was tied off at the waist. “I didn’t think you’d mind. I spend so much time here, I thought I’d find a space for myself. And I’ve been using some resources here to design my next exosuit…”

  She wrung her hands. “Nothing that would be missed. Just scraps, really. And extra tools. It’s economical, repurposing the extras here instead of asking the school for everything…”

  She seemed worried Adam would be upset. He walked past her and examined the suit she was building. It was so much more than some bulky exoarmor. It looked intricate, one of a kind, regal, even.

  He turned back to her. “You’re building this out of materials we aren’t using?”

  She hesitated, waffling. “There may be a few materials that would have gone to other projects, but Dr. Madison felt my contributions earned me a few requisitions. I was under the impression that you had approved it…”

  Maybe he had. Either way, Adam wasn’t upset.

  “You’re going to use this as a superhero?” he asked.

  Abigail nodded as she drank from her water bottle.

  “That’s the idea. I’ve had designs for this since I was a kid, but never the resources. It’s all thanks to you,” she said with a smile. “The complete beta design should be complete by next week, in time for our first patrols. The suit they gave me at the school was… quaint, but I prefer making my own practical designs.”

  “It’s impressive,” Adam said. The shadows of ideas about powered suits and their uses swirled around his mind. This suit was clearly for Abigail and her alone though, as it should be. And it probably required her technopath powers to operate in ways he couldn’t fathom.

  Abigail changed the subject. “So, I hear you have a gala coming up?”

  There was some hopefulness in her voice. Adam crossed his arms as he leaned back against the worktable.

  “Uh, yeah. I do. NullCorp.”

  “Meeting Cyrus Null,” Abigail enthused. “Communications, energy, consumer electronics… I hear he’s a real man of the people. I could share with him so much.”

  Adam was sure she could. That was part of his concern. It made him feel like some awful upper-class snob to even think it, but he wasn’t sure Abigail had the level of tact required for these sorts of events. Her enthusiasm for work was great here in the foundation, but it might not translate well. Adam wanted to get some credibility for his own name, not just his family’s. For that, he had to appear professional. His other concern was that Abigail was rather two-faced. Around him, she was sweet and pleasant, clearly looking up to him on some sort of pedestal. But around campus, he had witnessed her other side come out. She could be dismissive and callous to others who took longer to do assignments or wanted to goof around instead of study. She took everything so seriously, and she wasn’t shy about hiding it around Adam. Apparently she thought he must be of a similar mindset. If it weren’t for that, Adam would probably think of her more as a friend, and suck it up and take her to the gala anyway. As it stood, he’d rather take just about anyone else.

  “It’s getting late,” Adam said. “I’m gonna head back to campus. You want a ride?”

  Abigail’s disappointment at not being invited was obvious. Adam wondered if she knew she wore her emotions so clearly.

  “No, that’s alright,” she mumbled. “I received permission to stay here on foundation grounds as long as I stay in contact. I’m gonna keep working on my suit.”

  “Alright, well I’ll see you around then,” Adam said.

  She picked up a tool and turned away.

  “Mhm.”

  A few days later, the night of the gala came. Rain pattered against Adam’s bedroom window as he changed into his black three-piece suit. He had recently had it updated for his constantly growing body. In the bathroom, he wetted his hair and combed it. Mismatched eyes stared back at him from the mirror. He sighed.

  Maybe he should have been less casual asking Thalia to come with him. Though he had to admit, a gala was a pretty terrible first date, especially for her. She used to get into so much trouble at them, running around the floor, sneaking away into back rooms, taking plates of hors d'oeuvres to the corner to feed her ravenous pubescent appetite. But she knew the protocols, at least. The two of them were from the same world. But where Adam was being sucked further into it, Thalia seemed eager to escape it. She always loved the actual dirty work more than the bureaucracy. She chomped at the bit since forever to inherit the wildstone, and now she finally had it. She always had a path before her to be a superhero.

  It would probably be better if Adam just put his feelings aside and didn’t hold her back. With his family business and lack of powers, there was just no way he could keep up with her in the long run.

  Adam left his room and went to the living room. Ike and Troy were sitting on the couch, playing a split-screen shooter on the TV.

  “WOO! Did you see that kill?” Troy rolled his shoulders. “I’m on fire tonight! Try to keep up, soldier!”

  “You’re stealing all my kills!” Ike complained. The controller flexed in his tight serum-enhanced grip.

  Adam stood in front of his roommates, showing off his look.

  “Whaddya think?”

  Troy glanced over. “Huh? Oh, cool man. You look swanky. What are you doing again?”

  “The gala?” Adam said. He had told his roommates about it multiple times.

  “Right, right. Is your hot sister gonna be there?”

  “What? Alexis? How do you know she’s hot?” Adam scoffed.

  “She hosts the Teen Advancements in Science awards every year,” Troy said, continuing to focus on the game.

  “Oh shit, that’s your sister?” Ike said, sitting up. “She is hot.”

  Troy gave a sly look over to him. “That green dress last year, with the leg slit?”

  Adam made a cutting motion as he backed away to the door. “Alright, I’m going, stop talking about this until after I leave.”

  “Hey, tell Alexis I’ll be legal in a year and a half, and I like rich older women!”’

  “No!”

  “I’d make a great brother in law!”

  A minute later, Adam stood outside in front of the door to dorm 3. Rain continued to drizzle lightly from the grey sky beyond the covered entryway. Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance.

  He had raised his hand to knock, but he hesitated in bringing it to the door.

  Asking Annabelle might have been a mistake. He was still internally trying to recover from Thalia’s quick dismissal, and had taken Lucy’s suggestion. Thinking about it, he wasn’t sure there was another option. The girls at Rosewell certainly were an eclectic bunch. Not that Adam was nearly full of himself enough to think that any of them would be inclined to accept an invitation from him. At least he knew Annabelle had a positive disposition towards him. He’d try to lightly impress upon her that she shouldn’t shapeshift into any of the other guests, and hope for the best.

  Not for the first time, he wondered if he should’ve just gone alone. Appearances were important, but perhaps it would be best not to mix his two worlds too much. Too late now, either way.

  He knocked on the door.

  A rhythmic beating sound that had been audible stopped, and a moment later Reagan answered the door.

  Adam stepped back. He had almost forgotten Annabelle also lived with roommates.

  Reagan stared at him. Her black hair was tied back, and she wore an exercise outfit. Black padded gloves covered her knuckles and the base of her fingers.

  “Hi,” Adam said. He tried to sound friendly, acutely aware that Reagan wasn’t on the best of terms with his usual crew. “I’m here for—”

  “Uh-huh.” She turned around and left the door open as she stalked away. Adam let himself in behind her. Reagan returned to a torso-shaped dummy standing in the corner of the living room, going back to a routine of strikes and kicks.

  Adam eased himself into a recliner. He wasn’t sure if he should go try to find Annabelle’s door and knock, but he had told her the time to be ready, so he assumed she’d come out when she was.

  Dorm 3 was a pretty sparce place. They had all the usual accommodations, but not much personalized. There were some novels on a small shelf by the TV stand. Some papers were splayed out on the dining table. A clock ticked away on the wall. Reagan continued to hit her training dummy. Adam started to feel awkard.

  “Y’know,” he said, trying to break the tension, “you and I are pretty much the only people here without powers, so…”

  Reagan paused and looked at him with disgust, warning him not to continue any further.

  “…so that means absolutely nothing,” he finished.

  Minutes ticked by. Adam alternated between checking his phone and discreetly watching Reagan dance through her swift and brutal combat moves. She definitely had training before coming here. He wondered what exactly brought her to this school. Plenty of teenagers out there trained in martial arts, but only one was brought to a school for superheroes. What made Reagan different?

  His glances lingered longer and longer. Up close, there was now something about her face that itched a part of his mind. A feeling gnawed at him, a feeling that he had maybe met her somewhere before coming here. That seemed unlikely. But the feeling didn’t go away under scrutiny.

  Reagan noticed his looks.

  “Something else you want to say?” she asked sharply.

  Adam ventured to ask, “do I know you from some—”

  “Adam!”

  Adam turned. Annabelle had entered the hallway. His thoughts of questioning Reagan were forgotten as he laid eyes upon his date.

  Annabelle looked so different from that night he had met her in the school overlook, and around campus afterward. He was expecting the kinda short, kinda pudgy, kinda dull-eyed girl who had been a familiar sight during the past few weeks. The girl in front of him now was anything but.

  Annabelle was still recognizable as herself, but she had gone through a total transformation. She was now tall and slender, with curvy hips, a flat stomach, toned legs, and a full chest all contained in a graceful black dress. A small purse looped over her bare shoulder, and black heels made her nearly Adam’s height. Her skin somehow no longer had an artificial luster, but now glowed with inner warmth. Her blue eyes were bright and alive too. Her curly blonde hair was held firm, but now actually visible as real strands of hair. She smiled at Adam with teeth that shined like pearls.

  Adam stood, not sure what to say for a moment.

  “Annabelle… you look incredible,” he managed to say. He meant it. He would have been perfectly happy to take out her usual self, maybe done up in a bit of makeup and a nice dress, but Annabelle was genuinely stunning. Even Reagan took a break to watch her.

  “Thank you,” she said, walking toward him. Adam’s cheek grew warm as she kissed it. She looped her arm around his. “I’m sorry about the delay. I hope I haven’t made us late.”

  “N-no, not at all,” Adam stuttered. He hadn’t expected his date to be part of his nervousness. He underestimated her.

  “Wonderful. Let’s be off, then.” She waved over her head as she led Adam to the door. “Ta ta, Reagan! See you.”

  They walked out together to the limo parked at the school’s loop. Adam felt stupid for not bringing an umbrella, but Annabelle didn’t seem to mind. He helped her into the back, and they left for the city.

  It grew darker as they traveled down winding roads. The feeling of butterflies in his stomach continued, especially because Annabelle’s flirtatious gaze never left him. She sat across from him and sipped the sparkling cider he had poured for her.

  “Thank you for joining me,” Adam said. It was hard to hold her look. “You really didn’t have to…”

  He didn’t know the polite way to indicate her complete transformation. He had no idea what went into it.

  “Oh, it’s no worries at all,” Annabelle said. Even her voice sounded more mature. “I was so giddy when you asked me to come. I wanted to look my best. It is a high-class event, after all.”

  “Right, well, thank you.”

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  Adam hoped he’d have the decency to be this gracious to her if she had come out looking like he had expected her to. He’d like to think he would be.

  Annabelle shifted in her seat. “So, how would you like me to be this evening?”

  “Hm?”

  Annabelle held up her arms. “I’ve never been to something like this before. Pose me. Should I hang on your arm all evening? Wander around, look for anyone in particular? Start some juicy gossip about the rising Atlas son?”

  She reached over and put a hand on his knee.

  “I want to be as useful to you as possible,” she said, making intentional eye contact.

  Adam tugged on his collar and rolled down the nearest window, letting cool misty air into the cabin. It was getting stuffy all of a sudden.

  “We don’t need to do anything dramatic,” Adam said, exhaling. “I just want to mingle, get to know some other players in the city, make connections. Especially with Cyrus Null. He’s been doing this a long time. I think he could be a good mentor for me.”

  “Alright. I’ll follow your lead,” Annabelle said, sitting upright again. “I’ll make the best impression possible. You won’t regret picking me for this.”

  It took another hour for them to make it downtown to the NullCorp tower. Adam could have ordered a helicopter to take them in a quarter of the time, but he didn’t like being ostentatious. They had plenty of time.

  Adam thought the least he could do was try getting to know his date better along the way. Annabelle answered his questions politely, but he got the sense she wasn’t her favorite subject. He got out of her that she was from Oregon, and that her dad was an inventor and her mom a chemist. There was an unspoken implication that they had something to do with Annabelle’s current existence. Her tongue flicked against her teeth after she mentioned them. Adam dropped it.

  Douglas pulled up in front of the NullCorp headquarters and opened the door for his young passengers. They stepped out together, onto a carpet that led into the entryway. Attendants guided them inside, to an elevator up to the building’s ballroom.

  Annabelle adjusted the straps of her dress and inspected her makeup in the shiny gold surface of the elevator as they rose.

  “You look perfect,” Adam assured her.

  She smiled.

  The elevator came to a smooth stop and the doors receded open. The pair stepped into an expansive room, filled with guests mingling with each other. Multiple tiers of balconies surrounded the room, more guests overlooking the main floor. Servers glided silently, carrying flutes of drinks and small bites of food. A bar covered much of the left wall, forming an L with a three-story window overlooking the dark Pacific City skyline. A fountain burbled in the center of it all.

  A red-vested attendant stepped forward to meet them as they came into the room.

  “Welcome. May I have your names?” he asked.

  Adam introduced himself and his guest.

  “Ah, Mr. Atlas. Again, welcome. Mr. Null was hoping to meet you as soon as you arrived.”

  Adam was pleasantly surprised. He was expecting to have to try to catch the host’s attention as some point throughout the night. He didn’t think he had made enough waves yet to be noticed, or any waves at all.

  “Lead the way,” he invited. He took Annabelle’s arm and followed.

  As they walked together, Adam basked in his surroundings. This was familiar to him, and comforting, in a way. Not because he was surrounded by the trappings of upper-class life, but because this was the part of being an Atlas he was most attuned to. The outfits, the donors, the politicians, and all the elbow-rubbing that came along with it. This was his environment, where other Atlases would feel out of place. Annebelle seemed to be taking to it naturally beside him. He couldn’t imagine Abigail or even Thalia grinning and bearing it nearly as well. She was the right companion for the evening after all.

  They were lead to a man in a white suit, facing away from them talking to someone else. The attendant touched his shoulder, and Cyrus Null turned around, smiling when he saw Adam.

  “Adam Atlas!” Cyrus stepped forward, taking Adam’s hand and shaking it vigorously. He was a decently-tall man, in his forties, with orange-red hair that wrapped around his face to form a light beard. He had a broad smile, with teeth that were crooked in defiance of his money. His eyes were dark blue, underneath thick eyebrows. Adam was familiar with Cyrus’ appearance, as likely most people were by now, but it was another thing entirely to meet him in person.

  “I’m so glad you could make it,” Cyrus boomed. He had a deep, rich voice.

  “Thank you for having us,” Adam said. He really did appreciate being invited into the inner circle of Pacific City magnates. For weeks, he had felt like he was at the controls of a massive machine with only a brief instruction guide.

  “Are you kidding?” Cyrus gestured to the party at large. “All this is for you. I needed an excuse to meet you, and these… various hangers-on would hardly let me do it alone.”

  “I’m flattered,” Adam said.

  Cyrus turned his smiling face to Annabelle. “And who is this enchanting young woman you’ve brought to my den of bloodsuckers?”

  Annabelle stepped forward and shook his hand. “Annabelle.”

  “Wonderful to meet you, Annabelle.” He looked between them. “Would you mind if I stole your date for a moment, Annabelle? I have some things I want to discuss with him that I’m sure you’d find quite boring. I promise I won’t hoard him the entire night.”

  “That’s perfectly fine,” she said.

  “Excellent.” Cyrus looked over his shoulder, and a girl around their age with the same color hair as Cyrus stepped forward. She wore a long white sleeveless dress. “This is my daughter, Susan. Sue, would you show Annabelle here around, maybe get her a drink?”

  Susan offered her hand. “I’d be happy to.”

  She lead Annabelle away.

  “Walk with me,” Cyrus said.

  Cyrus clapped an arm around Adam and led him away from the main crowd, up a flight of stairs to a smaller balcony.

  “I wish I had a girl like that on my arm when I was your age,” Cyrus joked as they ascended the stairs. “You should have seen me. A scrawny little pencil-necked ginger, tinkering with computers in my parent’s garage outside of Sacramento. No girls, no car, hardly any money… Of course, if I did have a girlfriend, I wouldn’t have focused enough to be here today.”

  Adam was familiar with his story. It was one he admired. Adam himself always felt like he wouldn’t be much of anything if he wasn’t sitting on top of the empire built by his family. Cyrus was a true self-made man. He started with software, then built his own company, then diversified into the premiere tech-businessman of California. He was known for being a fan and benefactor of superheroes too. All rumors of course, as any real support would be done behind closed doors.

  “What did you want to meet me for?” Adam asked.

  They reached the balcony, overlooking the city to the west, all the way down to the dark ocean.

  “I suppose I just wanted to take your measure, up close,” Cyrus said. He gestured to a server who had followed them up. “It’s easy to hear about the things someone is accomplishing, but it’s another thing to actually know them.”

  “Oh, I don’t think I’ve accomplished anything yet,” Adam said, bashful.

  “Nonsense!” Cyrus insisted. “Taking over an entire foundation at sixteen isn’t nothing. Not just anyone would be able to do that. And then there’s the school, of course.”

  Adam paused. “Wait, you know about the school?”

  Cyrus smiled knowingly. “Not officially. No one knows anything officially yet. But I have a network that keeps me up to speed on things. Especially when I have a history of being a… booster of the kinds of things that school is for.”

  He sat down in a padded chair and offered the one beside it to Adam. Adam joined him. The server returned with two glasses of dark liquid.

  Adam sniffed his when he was handed it.

  “Is this… whisky?”

  “My special reserve,” Cyrus said proudly.

  Adam hesitated. “I’m not old enough to drink yet…”

  “But you are old enough to be put in charge?” Cyrus countered. “You’re being treated like an adult. A little drink is fine, if you want it.”

  Adam cautiously sipped it. It burned, but he tried not to show it.

  Cyrus asked him how the foundation was doing. Adam did his best to paint a complete picture. It seemed to be going well in the day to day. Projects were progressing. Department heads seemed satisfied. Adam opened up and shared a bit of his feelings of inadequacy. Cyrus listened intently. He shared what wisdom he could.

  "They don't want to know you're afraid, Adam. We're the leaders. We have to project confidence, even when we don't know what we're doing. Some days I still feel I don't know what I'm doing."

  Cyrus sipped his whisky with familiarity and gazed out over the city.

  “I guess I also invited you here because I’m worried for you, Adam. I know your family, and I know you’re all no strangers to the strange, if you know what I mean. But you’re young and alone. There’s danger to all of this. And not from places you’d expect, either.”

  “What do you mean?” Adam asked. He did feel terribly young and alone. He’d take any counsel he could get.

  Cyrus studied him, as if weighing how much he could say.

  “The foundation, the school… In the business we’re in, nothing goes by without passing through BASTION’s hands.”

  “I’m well aware of that,” Adam said. “That’s bad?”

  “Well, depends on who you ask…” Cyrus said. “Some people, and we’re talking hypothetically here… might accuse BASTION of overreach. In the past eighty years, the agency has grown over and under everything in this country. Some people might even say that currently, the legislative, executive, and judicial branches of this country’s government are but three puppets on the fingers of BASTION’s director.”

  Adam had never really considered the size of BASTION critically before.

  “Even though you and I are both in the private sector, we don’t really have a choice about it, do we?” Cyrus asked. “Everything we make, BASTION gets first pick. They tell us what to work on. Entice us with funding. Put their agents on our meetings.”

  “They’re doing it all to protect us,” Adam said. He wanted to defer to the more experienced man, but what he was saying troubled him. His family always had a great working relationship with BASTION. “After Beacon City… I just figured we needed to consolidate our national resources now more than ever.”

  Cyrus swirled the rest of his whisky. “You’re probably right. It’s just the free-spirited industrialist in me lashing out. But personally, I’ve felt I’ve done more good work investing in individuals I’ve noticed promise in more than just blindly handing everything over to the state and hoping it goes to the right place.”

  “That makes sense,” Adam admitted. He thought about what Abigail was building in the basement on her own time.

  “I just don’t want you to be manipulated when you don’t know any better,” Cyrus said. “I’ve made some costly mistakes in my youth. I think you and I are similar. But you can avoid making those same mistakes. Especially with something like Project WATERSHED.”

  Adam’s brow furrowed. He had no idea what Cyrus was talking about. The project name didn’t sound familiar.

  “Project what?”

  Cyrus seemed surprised Adam didn’t know it. He scratched his ear.

  “You weren’t briefed on it? I figured it would be the most important thing to apprise you of when you started your position.”

  “No.” Adam leaned forward intently. “What’s Project WATERSHED?”

  Cyrus shook his head, dismissing the idea.

  “It’s really not my place to say. Just something your father confided in me about a while ago. If you weren’t told about it, it probably doesn’t exist anymore. Don’t trouble yourself over it.”

  “Wait, but…”

  If there was some dangerous project happening at his foundation, he had to know about it.

  Cyrus rose from his seat. “I’m sorry Adam. I know I said this was all for you, but truthfully there’s some others I need to meet with tonight. You should return to Annabelle. A girl like that shouldn’t be kept waiting. We’ll talk again soon. My people will be in contact with yours.”

  “I… okay.”

  Adam returned downstairs. Cyrus shook his hand again and was off. Adam felt more lost than he had before arriving. Did BASTION have his people working on some sort of project he didn’t even know about? He had to get back to the foundation soon and start asking around.

  He wandered around for a while, lost in the crowd and in his own head. Some time passed. He saw Annabelle a few times, but didn’t bother her to leave yet. It looked like she was having fun mingling. Eventually he lost sight of her again, and Annabelle found him before he could her. She looped an arm around his waist and pulled him in.

  “That daughter of his sure can talk,” she muttered into his ear, breath hot. “I think she assumed I’m rich. I guess my look is working.”

  Adam didn’t react to the flirty contact. Annabelle stepped back.

  “Are you alright?”

  No, he wasn’t. A man he looked up to and was excited to meet had just introduced a new dimension to his world that was already overwhelming. It felt like everyone at the gala was staring at him. He wasn’t feeling so gregarious anymore. If that was all Cyrus had to say to him tonight, he was ready to leave.

  “You wanna pick up some pizza and go home?” he asked his date.

  Annabelle smiled. “Sounds perfect.”

  In the limo ride home, Annabelle started to get fidgety. Two hot pizza boxes sat off to the side. Annabelle clacked her teeth together.

  “This might completely ruin the mood, but do you mind if I start disassembling myself?” she asked.

  Adam didn’t know what that meant, but he shook his head.

  Annabelle reached into her mouth and pulled out a set of fake teeth. She set them on her lap, then took contacts out from her eyes. Then, she pulled the blonde wig off her bare scalp, adhesive tearing.

  Her usual teeth and hair grew back in, uniform and plasticky. Her eyes were back to being dull and unfocused. She exhaled and filled out again into her chubbier body.

  “Ahh,” she sighed. Her head rolled over to look at Adam. “You’re probably wondering if I can shapeshift, why I’m not always a skinny bombshell.”

  “No,” Adam said. He did wonder a little.

  Annabelle took a pack of wipes from her purse and applied one to her face, rubbing off a layer of makeup. She must have covered all of her visible skin.

  “I don’t know how it works for other shapeshifters, but for me, holding a different form is like holding my tongue against the roof of my mouth. It’s not hard, but it does take some focus to constantly do it.”

  “Thank you,” Adam said. “You really didn’t have to.”

  She looked disbelieving at that as she wiped off her neck. “Are you kidding? Like I’d get invited to a night like this and not do everything I could to be on your level.”

  “…My level?”

  “You’re the most handsome guy I’ve ever met, Adam. I shot my shot with you that first night before I even knew who you were. And now that I know you’re rich and from an important family? I felt like an idiot. I thought you were just being nice talking to me for as long as you did, and you’d never look my way again.”

  She folded up her makeup-smudged wipe and shrugged. Now it was her who seemed to find it hard to make eye contact.

  “I was so flattered when you invited me out. Even though I know this isn’t a real date. I’d get to not feel like such a fake girl for one night, if I put a lot of effort into it. I could be someone worthy of you for awhile.”

  Adam’s heart broke for her. He hadn’t even considered what this was like from her perspective. Adam had all this influence, and he never felt its effects on the people around him. There had never been a power imbalance like this in his life before. He had only done these kinds of things before with Thalia, and others in a similar social standing. He had just used Annabelle.

  He thought about what to say. He could say sorry, or tell her truthfully how much more real she looked without all the makeup and effects. He could say that he owed her a better date. But Annabelle clearly wouldn’t believe it. She’d think he was only pitying her. No matter what he said, it was going to fall short.

  He held his hand out to Annabelle. She watched him, looked at his outstretched hand, and followed its invitation over next to Adam. Their legs touched as they sat on the seat together. Adam pulled a fresh wipe out and began at her shoulder, working it down her arm. He loosely held her wrist in his other hand all the while.

  Lights and shadows passed outside. The pizza cooled. Adam tried not to think about the outside world. He enjoyed the moment as it was with Annabelle. He didn’t think about the foundation, or his family, or his feelings for Thalia that may or may not have been misplaced. He focused on the motion of revealing Annabelle’s skin.

  He looked up at her. She looked at him.

  Then Adam did something for himself.

  He leaned in and kissed her.

  . . .

  The final gala guests left around 2 AM. Cyrus Null saw them out, smiling all the while. He made sure the inebriated guests had rides home, using his private fleet of cars and drivers if he had to. He had a meeting to attend, and couldn’t suffer any further delays. The front doors locked, and the staff began cleaning. He didn’t need to micromanage the process. He entered the private elevator that went directly to his office, punching in his special code and scanning his thumb and retina. The elevator shot fifty stories upward.

  His personal assistant met Cyrus at the entrance to his office. This was his private office, not the one he held everyday associates and guests in. Here, Cyrus’s true business was conducted.

  Ms. Kind, a harshly beautiful woman in sharp glasses and a crème suit, dark hair bound back tightly, handed Cyrus a dossier containing information gathered from the guests tonight. Audio transcripts, hacked phone information, everything he’d need to know his guests in and out. Cyrus glanced at it, but left it on his desk. There was only one guest who interested him tonight, and it was one he had a chance to speak with personally. It was time to report in.

  A hidden door behind his desk, also requiring a code and biometrics, led to a metal hallway and another door. Ms. Kind sealed the meeting room entrance shut behind her boss. He followed the cramped hallway to a room that didn’t exist on any floor plans. The second door closed, leaving Cyrus standing in darkness.

  Six screens glowed to life simultaneously, hanging suspended in the black void. On each, the silhouette of a different member of the consortium. Each received the veil of assumed privacy, even though Cyrus knew the identity of each. In every meeting he stood before the figures, the ones supposed to be his peers, like they were his judges and he was on trial. He knew they were scrutinizing him, searching for any flaws, any anger at the indignity of being held lower than the rest of them. He gave nothing away.

  The meeting began.

  “Cyrus,” Member 1 spoke. He was the shadow of a man on the screen most directly across from Cyrus. Thick, wild hair and strong shoulders framed his head. His accent was unplaceable. “We understand your night has been long and eventful. Did you accomplish what you set out to?”

  Cyrus opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by Member 4.

  “I should hope he did. A night of talking and sipping. One would not think it a monumental task.”

  The accent African, of Zutuana specifically. The woman’s voice was filled with pride and unrestrained condescension.

  Cyrus sneered, but kept his tone even.

  “Yes. I made contact with the Atlas boy.”

  “And?” Member 1 prompted.

  “I began the steps that may set him against BASTION to some degree. Whether it does sow division or not is not my primary concern. I’m confident he took the bait on WATERSHED. In his curiosity, or maybe paranoia, he’ll dig it up for us. His family truly left him sitting on a mountain of dynamite with no further guidance besides the school. Once it is in his possession, it will be in ours soon after.”

  “The school…” Member 3 mused. His accent British. “Rosewell, isn’t it?”

  “I would think you would know its name, considering your daughter is in attendance,” Cyrus sniped back.

  “Yes, Rosewell,” Member 3 replied. “I suppose its existence interferes with your own attempts at an academy for powered youths?”

  “On the contrary,” Cyrus insisted. He hated how he was always forced on the back foot in these meetings. The tests never ended. “The New Lords Academy welcomes any and all competition. My students will break these coddled BASTION wards. And with our spy on the inside in Rosewell, they’ll never catch us unaware.”

  “I’m sure…”

  “You have many spoons in many pots,” Member 2 spoke up. Elderly, female, Chinese. “I hope they do not boil over on you, Cyrus. There is a bright future for you in this organization. But only if you can keep what you claim is yours.”

  “This is a table for conquerors,” Member 4 agreed.

  “I will give you everything you ask for and more,” Cyrus declared solemnly. “North America on a plate. BASTION crippled, to be wiped out. True security and authority in the world. The age of so-called heroes is over. Now is the time for DOMINION.”

  He gave them what they wanted to hear. The other leaders of DOMINION were satisfied, for now.

  “Each of you, continue your projects,” Member 1 ordered. “I shall oversee your progress as I feel is necessary. Remember, we are an invisible hand closing over the earth. We shall protect it and guide it, in exchange for complete subservience. Do not stray from the path. We will reconvene soon.”

  The six screens blinked away, one by one.

  Cyrus reentered his office. Ms. Kind was waiting with a nightcap. He accepted it, slumping into his chair. His assistant began to rub his shoulder from the front, her buxom chest rising and falling in front of his face.

  “Short meeting,” Ms. Kind commented.

  “It always is. I’m the only one who needs to be held accountable,” Cyrus said bitterly. He sipped his drink. “Over a year of this, and they still keep me on a leash.”

  “They fear your genius unleashed, sir.”

  Cyrus chuckled darkly. “I wish that were true. The reality is they don’t fear me at all. They think I’m some fluke, a fire burning bright and short. A useful tool in the new world. They’ll discard me as soon as I’m used up.”

  “We won’t let that happen, sir.”

  “No, we won’t.” He grabbed his assistant’s ass and pulled her into his lap. She switched to preening his hair.

  “WATERSHED is the start of a new beginning. Once I have it, I’m going to leave those fossils where they belong: in the past. They think they’re going to share the world without me. I’ll show them there is no world without me.”

  “Nor should there be, sir,” Ms. Kind purred. “It’s getting late. Do you have any orders for me to relay to your school?”

  “Yes,” Cyrus said, staring out the office’s one-way window to Pacific City beyond. “It’s time to accelerate things. Tell them I want blood in the streets.”