Chapter 14
2776words
The second I stepped inside, I heard them giggling. Their laughter was shrill, like glass being scraped, or the squeal of a dying animal... It was ugly, but fitting for them, you can say that's how rich kids laugh.
But the moment I walked farther in, their laughter stopped. Both of them turned, their eyes narrowing at me as if I had just smeared filth across their polished floor.
"Ew, dirt like you aren't allowed here," Olivia sneered. She stomped forward and before I could even say anything, she kicked me square in the stomach. The breath left me in a sharp sound I didn't want to make, and I staggered back, my body colliding with the doorframe before I hit the floor.
Sophia smirked, her finger pointing out toward the hall "You belong out there,"
I followed the line of her finger. Past the crowd of executives, past the orderly line of android attendants, through the glass... far away, almost hidden behind the shine of the district, was a single outhouse on the sidewalk.
An outhouse.
Better than the Underbelly's, at least. Those were collapsing boxes, reeking of filth, stained permanently with rot. The one here looked clean, efficient, even polished. But it was still just an outhouse. And worse, it was far away from the building. Too far. If Nathaniel saw me wandering out there, he'd drag me back in himself. And I had no idea where the elevators in this building even were. It's all a bit irritating, really.
"It's... far away," I muttered.
"Then change out here," Olivia snapped, voice shrill and venomous. "Because you're not stepping one foot in here. Besides, your kind is used to stripping outside anyway, right?" Her smirk widened, ugly. Then she slammed the bathroom door in my face.
The sound echoed in the hall.
I brushed myself off and stood up. This wasn't new for me. Just like I'm not allowed to use the bathroom here, the same thing happens at school. I've never been permitted to use the school bathrooms either. Every time I tried, someone would shove me out. So, I always ended up having to go outside.
People passed by, men and women in sleek uniforms, polished shoes clicking across marble, their android aides following in perfect rhythm. Their gazes slid toward me, sharp, lingering just enough to sting. They didn't need to speak. Their eyes said it all.
The boys' bathroom, then. At least it was better than changing out here.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The executive boys' restroom was too sharp, too clean. Walls of black stone, sleek panels threaded with faint gold light. Mirrors stretched across the walls like flawless pools of glass, reflecting back too many versions of myself. The sinks were slabs of dark metal, flat, cold. At the far end, stalls stood like sealed vaults, their steel doors glowing with scanners.
I tried the nearest one.
Access Denied! Executive ID Required!
Of course.
I tried again, holding my student ID to the scanner.
Beep! Unidentifiable!
I sighed. No stall. No privacy. Just me, the mirrors, and too much light.
I dropped my bag onto the spotless tile and began stripping out of my uniform. My reflection stared back, skin gray and flat beneath the sterile glow. My body looked like it didn't belong here, as if the room itself wanted to spit me out.
I glanced at my underwear. Stretched, thin, fabric clinging by threads. Nathaniel had told me to "look nice." Did that include underwear? Probably. But this was all I had. My bra wasn't strapless either. The straps would show. Which meant I'd need the blazer, even if it ruined the dress.
I pulled the black-and-orange dress from my bag. Mr. Or'dara's gift. The first dress I'd ever owned. I'd never worn one. My fingers brushed over the fabric. Hopefully it was enough.
I had just pulled it halfway over my shoulders when the toilet flushed.
My body froze.
Footsteps echoed.
"Well, well, well," a familiar voice drawled. "I was wondering who was in here."
I turned sharply toward the wall, my hair spilling over my back like a shield.
"Turn around."
"Are you deaf? I said turn around."
Silence. My jaw clenched. I didn't move.
Then his patience snapped. His hand closed on my shoulder and yanked me around. His smile widened as his eyes scanned me.
Disgusting.
"You know..." he stepped closer, voice low, "I've always wondered what you'd look like completely naked."
His words oozed filth.
"Take it off."
"...No." My voice came out flat.
The slap cracked across my face before I finished breathing.
"I won't ask again."
I stood still, but then it hit me, the pressure. His power crawling across my limbs, seeping under my skin. My muscles jerked against my will, my hands twitching toward the clasp of my bra. My body strained, fighting, but it didn't matter. He was stronger.
A grunt tore out of me as the pressure tightened, burning my muscles, prying my control away
The bathroom door opened.
The pressure vanished instantly. My arms dropped back to my sides. Andrew spun around.
Nathaniel stood in the doorway, watching him with cool, unimpressed eyes. He wore an ivory coat cut with sharp, angular shoulders, its panels moving like sculpted armor. The matte fabric shimmered faintly with smart fibers, cinched with a magnetic belt. A black synth-leather underlayer clung to his frame like a second skin. His boots gleamed under the sterile light, polished and reinforced.
"What are you doing?" Nathaniel's voice was calm.
Andrew stiffened. His confidence evaporated in an instant. "Nothing..." He shoved his hands into his pockets.
Silence stretched.
"Get out," Nathaniel said flatly.
Andrew left. No fight. No words.
Nathaniel exhaled quietly, then looked at me. His eyes flicked down, then up, impersonal. He glanced at my bag. "Hurry up and get dressed."
He turned his back but didn't leave. I wished he did but... I have no say in it.
I finished pulling on the dress, buttoned my blazer to hide the straps, shoved my uniform into the bag. My old shoes stayed. They were the only pair I had.
When I was done, Nathaniel turned. His eyes narrowed as he stepped behind me. I flinched when his hands touched my hair.
He twisted it into an updo, neat but simple.
Not much. Still pathetic looking," he muttered. "But better than before. Now hurry up."
I stayed still for a moment before finally following after him, after grabbing my bag.
Nathaniel walked to a counter where a receptionist was. He spoke to them in a low tone; they seemed afraid to say one wrong thing to him, as evident in their body language. Whatever they were talking about, the receptionist seemed to hesitate before handing over a key card to him.
After he walked back over to me, waiting for the other two girls.
Minutes of waiting, and Olivia walked out. She wore a light blue dress embedded with circuitry patterns that pulsed faintly when she moved. Her heels were butterflies, wings arching behind her ankles. Her hair flowed in waves, clips glittering like golden wings. Her makeup was meticulous, shimmering blues and pinks.
Then Sophia walked out, she wore an emerald pantsuit streaked with metallic threads forming jagged, chaotic patterns. Her heels were heavy, layered black obsidian. Crystal earrings glowed like peacock feathers. Her hair was braided tight, her makeup sharp.
And where Andrew popped out from, Andrew's suit shimmered dark red, reactive fabric glowing like volcanic cracks whenever he moved. A red ring gleamed on his finger, pulsing faintly. His hair slicked back perfectly.
They all were in impressive clothing, compared to the old fashioned dress that I'm wearing, I can't compare to them, not that I even want to.
"Let's go," Nathaniel said.
They followed. I followed too. Puppets. All of us.
We walked down a long hall and passed through three large double doors. Along the walls were old oil paintings of Nathaniel's family heritage and several holographic photos of his lineage. At the very end was the last holographic photo, him, his older brother, and their parents. He and his brother looked exactly like their father. I couldn't see their mother's face. It was glitching out. Clearly intentional.
Nathaniel stopped in front of the final door and let out a sigh.
Nathaniel stopped at the last door. He sighed. "Don't wander off." He opened it.
Inside: chandeliers blinding, tables crowded with polished figures, android butlers gliding through with champagne. The room glittered, too bright, too much.
Olivia squealed, rushing for desserts.
"Eeeeh! They have my favorite dessert, chocolate truffle layer cake!"
Sophia followed.
"Pfft. Girls," Andrew snorted with a smirk, hands stuffed in his pockets as he walked toward the drinks table.
"Children," Nathaniel muttered.
The lights dimmed slightly as a new track began playing, slow, rhythmic, and laced with artificial strings. People around the room paired off, moving toward the center where a few couples began to slow dance beneath the crystalline chandeliers. For some reason, seeing them dancing like that looks like ants to me.
I stayed at the edge. Arms crossed. I had no intention of joining them.
"Slyvian," Nathaniel's eyes cut to me. "Dance with me."
I didn't move.
His stare didn't falter. "Don't make me repeat myself."
Reluctantly, I placed my hand in his. He pulled me to his chest. My body is stiff. His hand pressed to my waist, the other guiding mine. I didn't return the gesture. My body remained stiff, unwilling, but compliant. Why does he want to dance with me? I never danced before.
I'll just try my best not to step on his shoes. As the music played, we moved in a slow circle. I didn't look up at him.
"You're not here to stand around and look pathetic," he murmured. "I need you to do something for me. You're going to steal something."
I said nothing.
"There's a vault in the sublevel beneath this building. The security system is designed to detect powered individuals. It scans for biological anomalies, power surges, and psionic emissions. Anyone with even the faintest hint of ability gets flagged before they reach the door."
He leaned in, his voice brushing my ear. "But you... you're empty. You could walk right in."
I tried to pull back. His grip on my wrist tightened, painful.
"You don't get to say no."
The pressure hit me, like static in my skull, a crawling weight. My chest tightened. My teeth clenched. He's using his powers on me... again.
"Just a reminder," he whispered. "That I could peel you open from the inside out... anytime I want."
The pressure faded, but the ache stayed.
"You'll do it. Or I'll let Andrew deal with you."
The dance ended. He released me. My wrist throbbed, bruising already.
Then silence swept the room.
The doors opened.
Everyone turned toward the massive double doors as they opened.
A tall man walked in, broad shoulders, grey-streaked hair, eyes cold, grey. The weight of his presence shifted the air.
Fester Le Crane walked in. His presence bent the air itself. Shoulders broad, hair streaked gray, eyes cutting cold. His obsidian suit glimmered faint silver like veins alive. At his collar, the Le Crane insignia gleamed sharp.
People bowed. Heads lowered. Silence deepened.
Nathaniel stood still. So did I. But... was I supposed to bow as well? I... guess.
But when I tried to bow, his hand grabbed the back of my neck and forced me upright.
"Stand straight," he ordered.
"Father," Nathaniel said, nodding once.
Fester's eyes didn't go to his son immediately. They scanned the room with a cold precision, taking note of who bowed deepest, who hesitated, who dared to peek up too early. Then they landed on Nathaniel and me, standing beside him, the only two still upright. His gaze narrowed slightly.
"Nathaniel," Fester said, his voice even and deep. "A word."
Without acknowledging anyone else, he turned and walked back toward the hall he entered from. Nathaniel followed, pausing only briefly.
"Stay here. Don't move. Don't talk. Don't breathe unless I say."
He didn't wait for a response. Not like need one.
After he left. I scanned the room. Cataloguing. My eyes looking at the wealthy, prominent figures. On the left, I recognize Chester Greene and his wife Katy Greene. Both can make black holes. Together, when they clap their hands to one another, they can make a bigger black hole. They are also the founders of the most famous stores for hero outfits. They have triplets, and they also go to the same academy I go to.
In the center of the room, I also see Miranda Hex, a single mother with four children, and a famous lawyer. Her husband died two years ago. No one knows who killed him, I'm sure she just kept it covered up. Miranda can put curses on people, and she also controls some type of black goop sentient that only she can control. She is dating Dr. Adrian Wolfe, my Management and Regulation teacher.
Erik Hitchcock and Ria Hitchcock, Andrew's parents. They own a famous bar in one of the districts. Ria can control storms, while her husband can control people like puppets; that's where Andrew gets his powers from.
Then... her.
I didn't recognize her.
She is young, late twenties maybe. A scar carved down her left eye. Hair bound in a severe bun.
Her dress wasn't silk or couture. It was tactical. Black segmented fabric with metallic mesh panels, catching the chandelier's glow. Angular, sharp, almost armored. Silver wiring traced her sleeves like circuits. Her boots, reinforced, heeled but ready to run or fight. Her jewelry, steel, functional, like disguised weapons.
She stood apart, posture controlled, glass of champagne in hand. She didn't sip. She only watched.
Her eyes swept the room, then found me.
It was precise. Dissecting. Like a blade beneath the skin.
She looked away after a moment, but the feeling stayed, needling under my ribs.
And then, she moved. Slow, deliberate steps, her reinforced heels clicking softly against the marble. She stopped in front of me.
"Hello." Her voice was calm, steady, without flourish. "My name is Ash."
I didn't answer.
"I know this might be sudden, but I work with the Special Armed Forces." She paused, watching me as if measuring every breath. "Your teacher, Mr. S'dala, put in a word for you."
She extended her hand.
I stared at it. Her fingers were steady, nails trimmed short, her palm calloused even from here. A soldier's hand, a hacker, not a social one.
The silence stretched until she let out the faintest hum of amusement.
"Not a hand shaker? Neither am I," she said, lowering her hand without offense. "It's just protocol. Proper greetings. Nothing more."
Her eyes lingered on me again. A soldier's gaze, not wandering, not dismissive, just fixed, like she was mapping me out, layer by layer.
I shifted my weight slightly, keeping my arms to my sides. "...What do you want?"
"Want?" Ash tilted her head, as if considering the question too seriously. "I want to see if S'dala's judgment is as sharp as he thinks it is. He speaks highly of you. Says you're... adaptive."
Her lips barely curved into something that could be mistaken for a smile.
Adaptive. I suppose that's one word for what I'm going through.
"I'm not interested of this conversation," I said flatly.
Her brows raised, but her expression didn't break. "Not interested yet. That's fine. Interest can come later. Observation comes first."
She lifted her glass slightly in a mock toast, though she still didn't drink.
"Enjoy the party," Ash said, her tone low, almost amused. "Oh, and I just want to say... not all eyes here belong to your enemies. Some are just... waiting."
Waiting? For what?
Her gaze held mine, calm but sharp. Then she set her glass down on a passing tray, as if ending the conversation.
"I do hope S'dala is right," she continued smoothly, "and that I'll see you at our base. I'll see you around, Blackbird."
I stood there, silent.
Blackbird.
Did Mr. S'dala give her my last name? No one really says it. Hardly anyone even remembers it. But she did.
Her voice echoed in my head long after she'd already went back into the crowd.
Maybe I'm just overthinking.
...Or maybe I'm not.
