I still remember my father’s reaction when I told him I was applying to the Agency. His eyes lit up and his whole face brightened, suddenly alert and interested in the conversation for once. He immediately sat up in his chair, his chest puffing out as if he was already beaming about me finally living up to everything he thought I could be. As if the naive little kid who used to be so excited to follow in his every footstep had finally come home.
I still remember when I told my mother too. She didn’t even look up from her computer as she sat on the couch poking away at her online investments. She didn’t ask any questions. She didn’t lecture me on why it wasn’t a good idea. She just nodded knowingly, as if she had already heard from someone else. She definitely hadn’t—my parents don’t really make small talk anymore. It was only when I had passed the three rounds of interviews, the physical and powers exam, and had my suitcase out the door for Boston that she finally addressed it. She stood in our front doorway, her car keys dangling off one finger, and simply said, “Devonte…just stay true to yourself. A job is just a job.”
I remember nodding absentmindedly, her words drifting in one ear and out the other. I never really gave it a second thought; it all felt like such a long time ago—my parents' issues, not mine. To be fair to my past self, I had far more pressing things on my mind as I started my first real job and dove headfirst into three weeks of basic training on the other side of the country. And that was before I met her.
Unlike me, with my familial connections to get my foot in the door, she had been training nonstop and searching for a job like this since her senior year of high school. When I first met her, I was instantly attracted to that ambition, and also just how on top of everything she was, despite this job being new for both of us. That, well…and the fact that she was drop dead gorgeous. However, I got the first glimpse that there may be more to her than meets the eye on our second to last day of boot camp—the day I finally shot my shot and she stared at me for a solid five seconds before nearly rejecting me out of sheer surprise that I had asked her out.
Rough starts aside, things seemed almost fated in a way. Both of us had grown up in the Bay Area, and were still living with our parents when we had applied to work for the Agency’s San Francisco branch. Needless to say, soon after returning we fell fast and hard and moved in together after just five months. In my defense, it was the first real relationship for both of us—of course everything was going to seem picture-perfect—until it all fell apart.
But that felt like a long time ago now too. We had managed three months without seeing so much as a glimpse of each other at work, and it felt like I had moved on with my life. That was until the night that changed everything.
It all started with a long hard look at myself. Introspection? Unlikely—no, my reflection in a mirror hanging on the wall of an art gallery. Low effort? Maybe, but evidently the curators didn’t seem to think so, as every wall in this particular gallery was covered with them, the only difference being the trims made of various materials and with different intricate designs that I guess could be classified as art. But that’s what you get when you host your fancy gala at the bougiest art museum in Los Angeles—some of it is bound to be hit-or-miss.
In my opinion, however, this particular piece was looking quite dapper, sporting a well-tailored tuxedo with a hell of a statement piece—a deep blue jacket with lightning arcing across one side. The material had a sheen, changing shade from a dark navy to a sparkling cerulean depending on how the light struck it. Silver bolts of embroidered lightning wrapped the left half of the jacket and sleeve, like someone had taken a stormy night and weaved it into the fabric. Of course—being Agency issued—it was also double sided, the interior a standard all black wool for a more inconspicuous look.
I must emphasize that this was unusual for them though—the whole mission was. A last minute plane ticket to LA, no pre-mission briefing in either branch office, an assigned cover alias—Caleb Harter—and, most peculiarly, not a single piece of information about my partner. The only hint as to what kind of op I would even be on I had to glean from the form put on my desk inquiring about suggestions for a custom-tailored tuxedo—which, of course, I was happy to provide. In a way it was far more similar to what you would expect working for a secret agency to be like, at least compared to the operations I had been assigned so far in my short tenure.
Since I was young enough to understand, my father had described the Agency to me as some variation of “an assembly of the best of the best—disciplined to execute the most important work in the world.” My mother was not so charitable. In one of the few times I caught her in a mood where she was willing to even acknowledge it, she had called it “a place far too concerned with what we can do, not what we should do.” Both of them had started their careers here, being hired into the prestigious, yet secretive role of powered agents at the exact same level and role I was in now. From there, they had climbed the ranks to very respectable positions in their day, until my mother quit, and my dad finally retired just six months before I joined.
I had yet to make up my own mind about what I thought of the Agency, my experience so far having been quite different from what either of them had described. However, standing there all dressed up at the top of a skyscraper attending a fancy gala to complete an op I still wasn’t quite sure the details of, it felt as though perhaps this would be the operation that would finally flip me one way or the other.
My eyes drifted from my reflection for a moment to watch as a man in a suit with a wireless black earpiece passed behind me. I checked my smartwatch, also Agency-issued—a modified version of the top of the line model from the Japanese technology company, Kiki, produced specifically for us with the latest cutting edge features that had yet to reach the rest of the market. For now, however, I was only interested in the most basic of features. The watch’s screen blinked to life.
19:27:04. 90 seconds between rotations.
I glanced to my left as he continued his patrol around the room. The barely visible edge of a translucent ID badge bounced under his black jacket.
I turned my attention back to the mirror and the reflection of the point of interest behind me—an unmarked door in the gallery wall. Based on intel from our op’s technician, it should lead to the backrooms, and with it, the control room for the venue’s security system. Above the door perched a security camera whose head was on a slow swivel. On the wall just to the right was a black keycard access panel with a glowing red bar embedded in the top.
My mind formulated the outline of a plan. Thankfully, if there was one thing I had gotten a lot of practice at in my time at the Agency, it was finding my way through doors I wasn’t supposed to. I pulled out my Agency-issued phone and opened the utility app. The second guard on patrol through the gallery was now headed my way. I stepped in front of him.
“Excuse me,” I said, reaching out my hand to grab his attention. “Would you mind taking a picture for me?”
He blinked, clearly surprised by being addressed so suddenly, but didn’t refuse. I stepped closer and pointed at the mirror, dropping the phone to my side and hovering it as close as I could to his leg without grazing it, while channeling my best influencer impression. “I was hoping to get an introspective vibe with the mirror, so if you can try to frame me and my reflection too.” I held my phone up, swiping quickly out of the app and switching to the camera before dumping it in the guard’s reluctant hands. “Thanks.”
I strolled in front of the mirror, once again faced with my reflection. I ran my palms along my freshly cut fade, lining the stubby nubs of my curls in place before cocking an eyebrow and puckering my lips, shooting myself my best smolder. I stifled a laugh, trying to keep a straight face as I continued to pose for my very serious glamour shots. After what felt like a vain enough amount of time, I turned back towards the guard.
“Thank you,” I said sweetly. The other guard on patrol had now approached from the other side, causing the guard to practically drop the phone back in my hands before he rushed off towards the other side of the room. I buried my nose in my phone, as if inspecting the photos. My feet idly drifted me closer to the door and out of the vision of the security camera.
When the other guard had rounded the corner of a display, I jumped into action. I silently slipped off my jacket and inverted it, draping the inconspicuous black interior over my shoulders. I navigated back to the Agency app on my phone, and pulled up the RFID signal I had just cloned. I held my phone against the keycard reader. The light flashed green. I pulled the door open just a crack and slipped inside.
I was blinded for a moment by the brightly lit hallway, the fluorescent lights scalding my retinas compared to the dim gallery I had been in a moment before. The walls were an off-white color and the occasional chip in the paint and scuff mark indicated that I was now indeed in the backrooms of the venue that were not typically open to guests. My senses were on high alert, and my ears locked on to a faint, high-pitched humming noise that I could’ve easily mistaken for an early onset of tinnitus. I began to panic for a moment, regretting every time I had turned my music up one more click at the gym, before I turned in place, and realized that the noise was now only audible in one ear. I followed the humming noise down the hallway and around the corner, where I came to a dead-end with two doors.
As I approached the one directly in front of me, the humming grew ever so slightly louder. I examined the perimeter of the door, finding another black keycard reader. I held my phone up against it. The light turned off for a moment, then flashed red. I tapped to reselect the badge, checking that I was still using the right RFID signal, then placed it back against the reader. It flashed red again.
Of course it wasn’t going to be that easy.
I slipped my phone back into my pocket and peered around the corner behind me. The hallway was still empty. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, there wasn’t another guard in sight who might have had a keycard with access. I’m going to have to do this the old fashioned way. I placed my hand on the keycard reader. Just under my palm I could feel the steady pulse of the electrical current flowing through the device like a gently running creek. In truth, it wasn’t just in the panel that I felt the energy. It ebbed and flowed through the walls, from the lights in the ceiling overhead, and from the phone in my pocket and the watch on my wrist—it surrounded me on all sides, like it had for as long as I could remember.
My mother could sense charges in the air too, able to influence them to arc lightning from one place to another. My father was less of a manipulator and more of a generator—able to produce lightning even in a completely isolated room, electricity flowing just as naturally through his body as blood. I ended up with some combination of the two and ever since I was a child I could sense the world buzzing around me. But at this moment in time, my focus was on a single endpoint—the keycard reader in front of me—and on my hand, like two ends of a wire. I could feel the current lapping at my fingertips. Then the water stopped, and the tingle of a charge began to spread across my palm. I removed my hand to reveal the now dark rectangular light.
I grabbed the handle of the door and gently tried to turn it. It gave way for only a moment before locking in place. I placed my hand over the reader again, the tingle in my hand dissipating and the light reilluminating. I turned my focus to the other side of the door. I hovered my other hand on the rim of the doorframe next to the handle, feeling along the wall. Above the lock I could feel the faint pull of the atoms in my hand being attracted to a current, but I could also sense something else, something buzzing with potential—a battery. Its buzz went silent and the atoms of my palm began to vibrate. I tried the handle again, but the door didn’t budge.
A familiar feeling began to bubble up in my gut. Despite being almost a year and a half into the job, the nerves had never gone away—not for long at least. Just when you feel like you actually might be getting the hang of what’s going on, boom—the next mission throws you a curveball and suddenly you realize that you’re not actually on top of it and don’t know what you’re doing at all. But it’s your job—you were hired to be an expert on this. To find a solution. What if this is the time I can’t?
I removed my hand and the battery began to buzz again. I took a step back to look at the door again, my eyes scanning it for any more potential leads, but it was looking more and more like I was out of options. I leaned down, peering closer at the handle and noticing the crooked groove of an actual key hole. I swore under my breath.
I reached into the breast pocket of my jacket and felt along the inside with my fingers until they found something hard and jagged. I pried upward with my fingers, producing two long, thin pieces of metal—one had many tight, bumpy curves on one end, while the other was perfectly straight until three quarters down where it bent sharply at a ninety degree angle. My hands shook slightly as I inserted the bent end into the bottom of the keyhole and turned it until I felt resistance. Without letting up pressure, I aimed the other piece of metal towards the top of the lock and thrust it in forcefully, raking the jagged structure along the mechanism as I pulled it back out again. The lock was motionless. Am I doing something wrong? I could feel my heart begin to pump faster in my chest. I jabbed the pick in and out of the lock again. It still didn’t budge. A cold sweat had begun to form on my back. I really should’ve practiced this more outside of training. I shook my head, trying to clear my brain of negativity. I inserted the pick and raked the pins one more time. Suddenly there was a soft click and the turning tool began to move. A wave of relief washed over me. I pushed the door open a crack and peered inside. Thankfully the room was unoccupied. I swung it all the way open and stepped inside.
In the room sat a desk with three monitors, a mouse, and keyboard on it. Next to it, a tall rack of what looked like computer servers towered towards the ceiling. I shook the mouse to wake up the computer. The screen blinked to life, displaying surprisingly high quality video footage of the hallways and galleries in the museum.
I pulled up my sleeve and pressed a small rectangular cutout on the side of my smartwatch, which protruded outward with a click to reveal a small removable USB-C dongle. I approached the rack of computers and began to inspect the mess of wires and exposed circuit boards for a normal looking port. Finding none, I switched my attention to the monitors. I felt along the back with my fingers until I found small holes about the size I was looking for. I reached around, moving the monitor to insert the dongle into it, before rotating it back into place.
I waited a moment, then reached behind my ear and tapped the thin device attached there. It beeped and began to emit the familiar rushing sound of white noise—signal jamming. My heart skipped a beat. But then, after a moment, the hiss faded.
“We good?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
“I’ve got audio and video coming through, accessing the camera system now.” The voice of Jason, the tech for this mission who was two years my senior, reverberated through my skull. As much as I was relieved to hear a familiar voice, I could never quite get used to the uncanny feeling of the Agency comms that opted to use bone rather than air to transmit sound.
“Remember when we used to have to take out the guy sitting in here?” I quipped. “That’s got to be the one blessing given to us by our new AI overlords.”
“You’re going to fit in perfectly tonight.” Jason’s sarcasm hummed against my temple.
“I wasn’t planning on socializing, I’m on an op at the moment actually.” I watched the monitors, my eyes glazing over the many rooms of the museum and nondescript hallways running between them. The guards in a familiar mirror filled gallery continued to make their rounds, like little mice running circles in a cage. My finger tapped absentmindedly on the desk. “Are you sure I shouldn’t just unplug the whole thing?”
“Yeah, definitely don’t do that,” Jason snapped. “Talk about things that would set off alarms.”
“I know that,” I added quickly, a wave of embarrassment washing over me nevertheless. “It’s just takin’ you a bit longer than usual.”
“I’m only injecting a custom multimodal model into one of the most cutting edge security systems in the world, sorry it’s taking a few minutes.”
“A few minutes…” I chuckled to myself. “That’s why they pay you the big bucks.”
“When you get promoted to the next level, you’ll be paid the same amount as me,” Jason replied, unamused.
“Yes, but I was born this way. You went and got a college degree to do this.”
“I’m just stating facts—the L4 pay band is the same for both technicians and agents.”
“While you’re doing that…care to spare a few about my partner?” I asked, redirecting the conversation.
“Let’s see…she’s from another division, she outranks you, and hopefully she can tolerate your attitude, or I fear for your sake.”
“Don’t tell me…is it Jen from logistics?” I took my hands off the desk, standing up straighter.
“You wish.”
“Bruh, this would’ve been the perfect op to be on together,” I complained. “I’m all dripped out and everything.”
“This mission is perfectly suited to both you and your partner. Unfortunately, that’s the only criteria taken into account when making assignments.”
“It was a joke,” I shook my head. “I think we’ve established by now that dating in-agency is not the move.”
There was no response in my comms.
“...you still there? Jason?” I tapped the device behind my ear. Before I could say another word, motion on one of the cameras caught my eye. I whirled my head to look at it, recognizing the feed immediately. I watched as a woman came marching down the hallway I had just come from. “Someone’s coming.” I prayed silently that she was on her way to the gallery, but she pranced straight past the door I had entered from.
“Still not done yet,” Jason’s voice vibrated through my skull once again.
A pit began to grow in my stomach, sinking deeper and deeper with every step she took towards the end of the hall. Only one exit, I can’t avoid her—I’m going to need an alibi. I racked my brain trying to come up with a sensical cover story. Just a routine checkup. I got an alert that the system had shut down, updates or something. None of them sounded like I knew what I was talking about at all…if only I had more background on the security system. You didn’t know anything about the mission until you got here, you couldn’t have prepared any better. I tried to rein in my spiraling brain, but it was no use. You had the elevator ride up when you could've been researching. You could’ve asked Jason.
My eyes still glued to the monitors, all I could do was watch helplessly as the woman approached the door to the room I was in. It was too late now. I was going to be found and kicked out of the gala and be fired, if not arrested. I could see my manager now, taking me into one of the sterile white walled meeting rooms at the Agency to break the news that I was being discharged. I could see my father’s disappointed face when he inevitably found out. I could see my mother’s concerned look when I had to tell her I wasn’t going to be moving out anymore. I watched in slow motion as the woman pulled an ID badge out of her jacket pocket and moved towards the keycard reader. Then, in a split second, I knew what to do.
I moved silently towards the door and placed my hand approximately where the keycard reader was on the other side of the wall, feeling for the faint hum of the device through the concrete. I held my breath. The door didn’t move. I glanced back at the monitors. The woman was still standing outside the door. She held her badge up to the reader again. This time the door lurched, but stuck against the electric strike and I heard her curse faintly through the door. She stood there for a second, clearly displeased, then turned and stormed off back in the direction she came from. I lowered my hand, exhaling in relief and leaning against the wall. My career was safe. For now.
“You’re good to go.” Jason’s voice reverberated through my skull again. “You’ll be happy to know that I also changed the time-to-live on the backups in case they do a manual review of the footage.”
I pushed off the wall and tried to shake away the nerves of the situation I was in moments before. “Appreciate that.”
“Your partner has also finished her half of the setup and will meet you in the main hall.”
“How exciting,” I said, my words dripping with sarcasm, “I’ll be there in a minute.” I reached behind the monitor to unplug the dongle and inserted it back into my watch before looking back at the camera feeds. The hallway was still empty and I watched as the guards made another round in the hall of mirrors outside. I took a deep breath. Right as one passed the door, I bolted into action.
I exited the security room into the hallway, beginning to speed-walk back in the direction I came from. I slid to a stop in front of the doors I had entered through, pushing them open tenderly. A shaft of light spilled out beneath my feet as I slipped into the darkened gallery. I swung the door closed as fast as humanly possible, slowing it at the last moment so it latched with barely an audible clunk. Out of my peripheral vision I could see the guard approaching to my right, his head turned towards the middle of the gallery. I exhaled, but didn’t waste another second. I ducked around the side of the display in front of me and walked confidently towards the gallery exit.
Once in the main hallway I finally glanced back. There was no one behind me—I was in the clear. I slowed my pace, taking a moment to catch my breath. The halls of the museum were grandiose, with chiseled white columns that reached towards the extra tall ceilings. The marble tiled floors were barely visible beneath long saffron red carpets that stretched up and down every corridor.
I began to follow the faint chatter of people talking and the sweet melody of a saxophone that drifted through the air from the direction of what I presumed was the main room. The halls began to fill with more and more guests, who were standing and babbling excitedly with one another with colorful plates full of hors 'd'oeuvres and champagne glasses in their hands. My stomach growled in response, reminding me of my secondary, more personal objective tonight—sample all the fancy catering.
As I passed by a group of guests, I couldn’t help but ogle them and what they were wearing. I didn’t recognize any of them, but if they were here, they must be important…or, I guess, rich. One woman was giving discount Wicked Witch of the West vibes, wearing a tacky moss green dress with matching long gloves that stretched above her elbows. Another was a little more interesting, with a sandy velvet dress and matching fluffy stole that gave her the resemblance of a lop-eared rabbit. However, the man was the worst of the bunch, suffering from a depressing lack of creativity—simply clad in a standard black tuxedo with a pink rose pinned to the lapel that couldn’t even be saved by its clearly expensive tailoring job. I snorted quietly as I passed, unable to help from feeling slightly superior next to their rather unimpressive outfits. I tugged on the cuff of my sleeve to straighten it, only to glance down and remember I was still in incognito mode, making my outfit just as uninspired as the rest of them. I quickly lowered my head in shame and scurried past them.
As I neared the entrance to the main hall, the din of many conversations became a roar. Through the wide doorway at the end of the hall a rainbow of colors caught my eye as people mingled in a large room. Overhead large shiny metal letters hung from the ceiling spelling “Genesis.” I suddenly became aware that my hands were sticky with sweat, and I quickly wiped them on my pants.
In my defense, heisting the Genesis Gala was probably the single dumbest thing a person could do. The attendees fit into one of two demographics—rich, a.k.a. CEOs and Wall Street investors who could sue you into oblivion if you looked at them the wrong way, or world leaders who almost certainly were accompanied by private security details. Oh yeah, that and the occasional literal superhero. Because of that no one really knows what actually goes on inside, but given the invite list, you can probably guess; heroes network with corporate tycoons and investors who want to sponsor their new gadgets and gear, CEOs talk business with each other and pay off more government officials, and world leaders try convincing heroes to contract in their security or military—basically one big circlejerk of privilege, as the elites continue to network and make decisions that affect everyone else’s lives behind closed doors. So yeah, I’ll be the first to admit that the stakes of the mission at hand had me quaking in my dress shoes a bit.
Nevertheless, I intended on staying employed, so I ignored the panicked thumping of my heart and stepped forward into the venue’s main hall. My eyes were immediately drawn upwards to what appeared to be a giant hole in the center of the thirty-foot-high ceiling, where schools of glowing lights swam around in intricate patterns and vibrant coral stretched off the walls like a portal straight to the bottom of the ocean. Large rectangular tiles lined the edges jutting out at odd angles like the ceiling was in the process of being warped into another dimension. Even though I was sure there was no actual water, the hole seemed to shimmer—reflecting the lights of the room and scattering wavy patterns onto the walls.
I directed my attention to the rest of the room. The main floor was laid out to accommodate a large dance floor in the middle, which was surrounded by a ring of tall tables draped in black tablecloths. To my right was the exterior wall of the building, which was made entirely of glass and captured the stunning view of the darkened cityscape from fifty floors up as though it was just another painting in a gallery. Marble pillars were placed along the walls every so often, outlining the rectangular shape of the room and supporting the balcony to my left, including the two wide staircases that curved up to the second floor of the venue.
“I’m in position,” I said to Jason, raising my voice slightly to make sure he could hear me over the noise of a hundred different conversations happening simultaneously.
“Your partner is making her way to you.”
“Can you at least tell me what she’s wearing?” I asked. “What if I don’t recognize her? Do I even know her?”
“I’m almost certain you’ve met before.” Jason’s voice was decidedly unenthusiastic. “But for your information, Ms. Margaret Barnes is wearing a red dress this evening.”
I snorted to myself. “Her alias, I presume?”
“Indeed, Mr. Harter, and that’s all that should matter to you tonight.”
I leaned against the wall, left with nothing to do but wait. I quickly wiped my hands on my pants again. The secrecy of the op wasn’t exactly calming my nerves. I was chill with most people at the Agency, and I already knew it wasn’t Jen I was waiting for—what’s the worst that could happen?
I looked across the dance floor. My eyes glazed over the faces I didn’t recognize, until they were caught by one that was weaving through the crowd toward me. One that I could never forget. A chill ran down my spine as I made eye contact with my ex-girlfriend.
Fuck.
It was our last night in Boston that I truly saw who she was for the first time. After weeks of bonding during training and a building tension between us, we had our first date—a nice dinner at a bustling ramen shop with good reviews that I had found online. We had just finished and were walking back down Newbury Street towards the train station when I pointed at a geometric-looking skyscraper in the distance and asked if she could fly us on top.
She immediately stared at me like I was crazy. “What? No.”
“Why not? It’ll be fun,” I said. “I know you can carry me, I’ve seen the drills you’ve been doing with Stephanie.”
“That’s for training.”
“And this is for fun.” I said without missing a beat.
She turned away from me. “I just…have never done that before.”
I cocked an eyebrow at her. “You’ve never used your powers for fun?”
“...no,” she replied, turning back towards me, her cheeks now pink. Now it was my turn to look at her like she was crazy. “What can I say? It just never occurred to me before. I feel like they’re supposed to be used for more noble things, like saving people or whatever.”
I was taken aback at her point of view. I’m not sure I had ever considered not using my powers to do whatever I wanted. In hindsight, that was probably from growing up with two parents who were never shy about using their powers in daily life. “They’re your powers. Who says you can’t use them for your own enjoyment sometimes?”
She turned away again. “My mother, probably. If she were here, she’d be warning me ‘don’t draw attention to yourself.’”
“If it helps, you can think of it as helping me.” She cocked an eyebrow at me. I pointed my finger at the sky. “I want to see what this city looks like to you when you’re all the way up there.”
She peered at me out of the corner of her eyes, which were still filled with skepticism. “What if you fall?”
I smiled. “Then you’ll have to catch me.”
“That’s a lot of trust you’re putting in me.”
“You will catch me, right?”
She shook her head. “Of course.”
“Then I trust you.” Her eyes were on me, but I could tell she wasn’t looking at me—as I could practically see the gears in her brain turning as she mulled the situation over. “Ayumi Bauer, would you be so kind as to show me what the world looks like from your point of view?”
She shook her head, but a beautiful grin was now spreading from one ear to the other. “Only because you asked so nicely.” She slung her bag off her shoulder and slipped off her jacket, placing them squarely in the front of my chest. “Hold this.”
I watched as she spread her arms and they transformed into scarlet bird wings before my very eyes. Then I was wrapping my arms around her and we were sailing upward, headed straight for the building. We perched on the edge, letting our legs dangle off the side of the giant glass wall and soaking in the sight of the brownstones now sixty stories below us. In the distance the faint lights of Cambridge glowed from across the river.
“This is actually really nice,” she said. “It’s a great view.” She had put her jacket back on, but out of the corner of my eye I noticed her shiver. “It’s a lot colder up here when I’m not moving around.”
I reached behind me into the bulging white tote bag I had been carrying around all night and pulled out an emerald green throw blanket.
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Were you planning for us to do this the whole time?” Her lips cracked into a small smile that sent my heart fluttering in my chest. I flashed her one in return.
“The idea had crossed my mind, so I thought I’d bring it just in case.” I draped the blanket over her legs and she grabbed the top, pulling it over her shoulders and scooting closer to me on the ledge so we could share it. I hadn’t exactly expected my plan to go so well, but now that she was up here sitting next to me, with a beautiful view in front of us, my senses were on overdrive. Every place our legs touched under the cover of the blanket sent tingles through my body. When she looked up at me, our faces were now less than a foot apart. I wanted to kiss her right then and there, but I also didn’t want to potentially ruin what was already enough of a perfect moment.
“It’s wild to think we’re going home tomorrow—it feels like we just got here.” She turned to look back at the city. “It’s just so overwhelming. To finally be doing all of this.” The edge of her cheek sparkled with the trail of a single teardrop.
“Are you…crying?”
She glanced at me, revealing more cascades running down the other side of her face. “God, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She quickly wiped them away. “These past few weeks have just been a lot…”
“No, that’s okay…I get it. I was just surprised.” I took a deep breath. “I don’t know if I’m ready to do this all for real either.”
She sniffled. “I know I’m usually all cool and composed and unshakeable.”
“I mean, there’s nothing wrong with being emotional.”
“I can be a bit much though. It’s better for everyone if I keep it in check.”
I bit my tongue, withholding judgement at what seemed like obviously flawed thinking, instead probing to learn more. “Why is that? I mean, like, why do you feel like it’s better to keep it all inside?” Her eyes darted between mine, as if searching for something in them. I held her gaze, waiting patiently for her to speak.
“Not to sound like a broken record, but…my mom,” she said finally. “She’s always told me I’m too emotional ever since I was a kid. I have this one vivid memory, I must have been like four or five. I was standing in the kitchen, my mom was at the kitchen table, and I was crying about something I don’t even remember now—probably something stupid—but it had been like ten minutes straight. I was at the point where I literally couldn't cry anymore, and this whole time she hadn’t said a single word to me or looked up from the magazine she was reading. So I ran up to her, yanked it out of her hands and started yelling at her, then she finally looked at me, and she just said ‘no one will want to be friends with you if you act like this.’”
I was awestruck. “That’s terrible—I’m so sorry she told you that.”
She shook her head dismissively. “I don’t know, I’m not totally sure she was wrong. I feel like all I’ve ever done is lose friends by blowing up on them.”
“Okay, but you don’t do that most of the time, at least from what I’ve seen. Either way, I don’t think having emotions, even big ones, is a bad thing…that makes you human.”
“It’s just so second nature for me to internalize them now, sometimes I won’t even realize it. But I’m working on it—trying to at least. There’s just so many things to unpack that…I feel like I’m not even close to mastering it.”
“I feel like the fact we’re having this conversation right now means something,” I offered. “After you experienced all of that, being open like this with me anyway? I think that’s progress.”
She shook her head and looked down at her lap. I held my breath, waiting for her to dismiss my opinions once again, but then she said something else I wasn’t expecting. “I don’t know what it is about you, but I feel like I don’t have to think so hard about everything when I’m around you. I can just…exist.”
My heart glowed in my chest and I couldn’t help but smile. “I’m glad you feel that way.”
She looked up at me and her eyes met mine. Despite having shared many a tension filled glance before, as we looked at each other at that moment, it was like I was looking into her eyes for the first time. But not just looking—no, diving—into a murky coffee-colored universe speckled with constellations. It was unending, as if I could stare forever into the depths she held inside her. I’m not sure if I believed people had a soul, but if she did, I felt like I was staring straight into it right then and there.
I don’t know how long we sat there, but it felt like a blissful eternity to me before she spoke. “Don’t get too used to it though. I feel comfortable being really open right now, but the closer we get…I don’t know what will happen.”
I blinked, once again confused. “I’d like to think it’ll just get easier.”
“I hope so…but I’m just saying: I don’t have a great track record, so don’t hold your breath.”
The spark of a joke crackled in my brain. “But you’re so…breathtaking.” I grinned. She puckered her mouth in response, trying her hardest not to entertain my wit, but her eyes squinted and her smile shone through. “Okay,” I said, “we got some of your trauma, now can I tell you something fucked up about me?”
Her lips curled, revealing a small smile. “Yeah, go for it.”
“It’s not a competition, of course, but my home life isn’t exactly idyllic either. I may have thought it was back when dad and I used to be super close. He would take me to those ‘father-son teach-you-how-to-be-a-man camps’ where you pay to have a wannabe drill sergeant yell at you for a day while you crawl through the mud—and I was into it too. I looked up to him so much, because…well, I didn’t know any better at the time. But then when I was in middle school, the other side of that way of thinking reared its ugly head, and well…everything changed. My mom applied for this promotion to the level above him—I don’t know if she knew at the time that he had applied for it too, but it was a big deal, like, head of the entire division level—and when she actually got it, he lost it. It felt like every time they were in the same room for weeks after that he would start yelling and screaming about how ‘she had the audacity’ and how ‘she should be working less and taking care of my sisters.’ He never got over it and started talking about a divorce, and…well, now I get two Christmases.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes shining with sympathy.
“It’s cool. I didn’t really understand it as a kid, but the older I’ve gotten…I’ve only started to resent him more and more. For better or for worse, I think it’s gotten easier because of it.” I shifted under the blanket. “But the truth is…there’s still a part of me that’s afraid that after looking up to him for so long, I might turn out like him.”
“You seem nothing like him.” She smiled. “But I’ll definitely let you know if I think I’m going to get promoted just in case.”
I faked surprise. “Aren’t we getting a little ahead of ourselves? Who said we were going on a second date?”
She blushed. “I was hoping we would. If you’re still interested, that is.”
“I am.” I shot her a grin that quickly faded. “And thanks, I’ll take that heads up about a promotion.”
We sat on that rooftop talking and watching the tiny people and their toy cars winding through the maze of brownstones far below us. That was until they all disappeared, and we finally realized it was 3 A.M. and had to sneak back into our dorms to try and catch three hours of sleep before our final morning of boot camp.
As the girl of my nightmares strutted towards me across the navy blue carpet of the main hall, it felt like time still ground to a halt. Her curly, almost black hair bounced ever so slightly against her upright shoulders, her posture as good as ever, and the tendrils of her flame-shaped train licked back and forth at the ground below her. The top of her bright red dress had a trapezoidal shape, the fabric extending up to her neck where it met a pendant hanging from a gold chain—a golden bird with its wings fully extended to either side. A phoenix.
She stopped in front of me, her brown eyes flashing me an indiscernible look. I desperately wanted to avoid eye contact, but it was way too late for that. My jaw felt clamped shut and my back was drenched in an icy sweat. I forced my mouth open.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” she said, entirely nonchalant. As if it cost her nothing.
My heart had dropped into my stomach and proceeded to take a nice acid bath. I managed to wrench my vision away, trying to look at anything but her. All I saw was people. People everywhere. Can they tell I’m about to puke my guts out? My chest began to feel heavier and heavier. My eyes flitted around the room for an exit. At that moment I didn’t give a shit about some stupid mission—I wanted to be literally anywhere else.
I muttered some nonsensical excuse about “getting intel,” before dashing into the nearest hallway, desperately searching for somewhere not stuffed to the gills with one-percenters. I careened towards an intersection halfway down the hall, which thankfully had a dead end on one side. I walked toward the corner and faced the wall. My chest expanded, but it still felt like I couldn’t fill my lungs with enough air. I wrenched my phone out of my pocket and thrust it over my ear as a disguise.
“Am I on my own channel?” I barked, pacing back and forth, my body unable to keep still as my nerves went haywire.
“Yes,” came Jason’s calm voice vibrating in my ear.
“Whose brilliant idea was it to send me on an op with my ex-girlfriend?”
“You said in your review that things ended amicably. This shouldn’t be a problem.”
My face was now on fire. “I—I thought you were just talking about us both still working at the Agency, not being put on missions together! How could you possibly think this was a good idea?” I was moments away from putting one of my hands through the wall.
“The assignments for this mission came from the EAD.”
“What the hell is going on today? No paperwork, no briefing—now we’re here and you haven’t even told us what the hell we’re supposed to be—” I cut myself off as the sound of footsteps behind me caught my attention. I turned to see my ex rounding the corner and making a beeline for me.
“What is our objective?” she hissed.
“It’s above your pay grade as well? Surprising.”
She scowled at me and reached up to touch the comms device attached behind her right ear. “We’ve made contact, now what is our objective?” she repeated.
Jason sighed in my ear. “Ayumi Bauer, Devonte Harrison, you are currently on a tier 1 black op.”
A…what? I could feel my face begin to flush. I could recall the two-page spread in the handbook listing all the different tiers of ops, but only the beginning of the list was in focus, as I had only been assigned those of the lowest two tiers in my short tenure at the Agency. The other page was only a fuzzy mess in my memory; I probably hadn’t looked at it since basic training. “Okay…and hypothetically if I hadn’t read that section of the handbook in a while…what does that mean again?”
My ex’s eyes flashed in my direction. “It’s the second highest tier, only issued in dire emergencies where an immediate stealth operation is required to prevent cataclysmic threats. Details are on a need-to-know basis and assignments are made directly from the director or the executive assistant director level. In other words—it’s important.” With her last words, I could’ve sworn her back grew even straighter.
“I was only informed of the details this morning,” Jason added, “and now that you are both ready to execute, I am allowed to share them with you. You are at the gala to find and destroy a very dangerous weapon that we believe is going to have some kind of presence tonight. Over the past three months, a number of victims have been found across cities in Japan’s Kansai region with solid black eyeballs and their bodies in a comatose state—a condition from which they never recovered. However, what put this on our radar was a single large-scale incident at a prominent biolab in Osaka. I’m sending a video to your phone now, Devonte.”
I fumbled it out of my pocket and opened the Agency messaging app. I tapped on the new attachment from Jason. The screen expanded to show garbled black-and-white footage of what looked like a grown up version of a science classroom. Large islands with wooden drawers and black tabletops were covered in expensive looking equipment, around which huddled people in white lab coats and masks. Suddenly, the screen was filled with static, sweeping from the left side of the frame to the right, as if it had physically crawled across the camera lens. Then, just as soon as it appeared, the static retreated in the opposite direction, revealing a haunting scene. Motionless bodies were slumped over, their faces now planted on the tabletop, while others were splayed out on the floor next to puddles of dark liquid or clipboards lying just out of reach. It was like an eerie dollhouse left in a hurry by a child called for dinner.
“In just a few seconds, every single one of the nearly fifty occupants of this building’s fifth floor were afflicted with the same comatose condition and black eyeballs as the others,” said Jason. “All that was left at the scene of the crime were trace amounts of radiation found all over that same floor.”
“What does this have to do with the gala?” my ex asked.
“I was getting to that. We believe it’s connected to the Japanese hero Tsuyosugi. He was spotted at LAX yesterday, coinciding with the first sighting of one of these cases in America this morning. We believe he is in town to attend the Genesis Gala as this year’s special guest.”
I stole a glance at my ex. Her brow was furrowed and her eyes jittered as she processed this information. “Tsuyosugi—he’s the one that got his powers from a lab accident, right? Do we think someone is trying to assassinate him?”
“Not quite, the amount of collateral damage wouldn’t make sense for that. The connecting thread between all of these victims were ties to biotech companies, including employees of Tsuyosugi’s current and former company.”
“Do we think it’s some kind of bioweapon?” I asked.
“That’s the thing, we don’t know what it is…but the news of the attack today has already reached major news outlets, and once they connect it to the other incidents in Japan, we’re going to have a panicking public on our hands. Now is the time to justify the Agency’s existence.” He paused. “Your mission is to identify the weapon, destroy it, and escape the gala without being caught.”
My ex looked up, her eyes met mine and I had to suppress the urge to vomit right then and there. “We should get moving—scope out the venue and look for Tsuyosugi.”
I stared at her, whatever feelings of nausea I had quickly replaced by disbelief. “What do you mean, we? I’m not working with you. I don’t know what the hell they were on putting the two of us together on such an important mission.”
“We both passed the review,” she said, as though it were merely a fact and not the craziest excuse I had ever heard.
“What is it with y’all? I’m not insane. I’m not going to work with my ex.”
She looked at me steadily, her eyes gleaming in the warm light. “This isn’t another reconnaissance op—this is important. This is what we signed up to do.”
Under any other circumstances I’d be excited my powers were being put to use for something other than protecting the body of someone who happened to be born into better circumstances than myself, but at this moment I was finding it hard to focus on anything other than the cruel joke the universe was currently playing on me. This is surely the kind of mission people get promoted for…why did my partner have to be her?
“We told the Agency this wouldn’t be a problem,” she continued. “Even if it’s not how you interpreted it, you need to figure out a way to put your emotions aside so we can finish this op.” A shiver ran down my spine. In all ways besides their pitch, her words sounded eerily similar to something my father would say. I could almost hear his voice continue on, lecturing me about how life as a man is a struggle and how if you let your emotions control you, you’ll never be able to do what’s required of you to succeed. Except I’d rather be caught dead than being anything like him.
I shook my head. “The EAD may have assigned us this mission, but they aren’t here. What do they care what us inferiors do, so long as we get it done? You do your thing, I’ll do mine. Whoever finds the weapon first, just destroy it and radio over comms so we can get the hell out of here.” I swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump that had risen in my throat, unsure of whether it had risen there at the thought of working with my ex or attempting to finish this mission all on my own.
Her face was just as expressionless as before. At that moment, I hated how well she had learned to hold it all together. I couldn’t stare at her any longer. I broke eye contact and brushed past her, heading back towards the main room.
“Caleb, wait…” she called over my shoulder.
I snorted, refusing to turn around. She won’t even use my real name.
“Jason, put me back on my own channel.”
“Done.”
“This is a great way to retain employees,” I spat in the most sarcastic tone I could muster.
“Do whatever you need to do to get the mission done,” he responded. “If you fail—there may not be an Agency to come back to.”
I re-entered the main room, my senses greeted once again by the chatter of the crowd and pitter-patter of the live jazz band that was now playing on the main stage. A few guests were swaying on the dance floor, but most were mingling around the edges and on the balcony above. To my surprise, I didn’t recognize almost any of the faces in the crowd, most having only the vaguely familiar look of “you’re probably the leader of some country, but I’m too ignorant to know which one.” I crossed to the other side of the room before my attention was caught by the loud noise of someone tapping on a microphone to my right. My eyes shot to a woman in a black sequin jumpsuit that was now standing on the stage.
“Welcome, everyone, to the second annual Genesis Gala.” She paused, a smile plastered on her face and letting the crowd erupt in applause as if it had been written in whatever script she was reciting from. “Genesis is all about new beginnings. At this time that feels like a turning point in our world, we come together with optimism—to forge new relationships and celebrate the new opportunities that change can bring. But, before we kick this night off, we of course have to thank those without whom this event would not be possible…I’m sure you all know Kris Kane.” She gestured into the crowd. A well groomed white man whose face I recognized from the thumbnails of tech news articles proceeded to raise a hand and smile. I blinked, the surreality of seeing someone whose face I had seen a million more times than I’d ever wanted to catching up with me.
“He and Zenith have been so generous in sponsoring the gala this year, so I’d like to take a moment to thank him for giving us all this night of opportunity and celebration.” The room filled with polite applause. “I hope everyone is having a fantastic time so far, and if not…well, the night is just getting started.” She paused to laugh at her own joke. “Before I let you get back to it, I also wanted to introduce one more person. We are so honored to have a very special guest in attendance tonight—not that you all aren’t special—but he has come a very long way to be here with us. Even before gaining his powers, he was hailed as a hero by many for the numerous breakthroughs in medicine his company has pioneered over the last quarter century. Now he is also proudly seen as one of his country’s top superheroes, after single handedly saving nearly two thousand people during the Tōhoku earthquake and his involvement in the apprehension of hundreds of criminals. Hailing from the Hiroshima prefecture, everyone please give a warm welcome to Japan’s very own Tsuyosugi.”
A head at least a foot taller than everyone else rose in the midst of the crowd and began making its way towards the stage. As his ginormous form broke from the sea of people, my jaw detached from my skull and appropriately hit the floor as I took in his cartoon character of a build. He was wearing an emerald green kimono that must have been a size 3XL, and yet despite the garment’s size and flowing nature, it looked ready to rip in many places where it was pulled tight trying to enclose his muscular frame. He gave a small bow to the woman as she handed him the microphone, which looked like a toothpick in his massive hand.
“Good evening, everyone.” His voice boomed through the room, elongated and heavy with a thick accent. A man who had followed him onto the stage from the crowd stepped forward, also holding a microphone of his own. They made eye contact for a brief moment, before Tsuyosugi continued to speak, now in the elegant oscillations of the Japanese language. “今夜、皆様と共にここにご招待いただいたことを光栄に思います。世界中の美味しい料理を楽しみながら、美しいロサンゼルスで過ごすことができ、大変嬉しく思っております。” After he stopped, he turned to the man, who began to translate his words into English. “It’s great to be here tonight enjoying delicious food from around the world while enjoying beautiful Los Angeles.”
The pattern continued, Tsuyosugi speaking first in Japanese, then allowing his translator to address the crowd in English. “I feel so old—of a different generation compared to all you fresh faces out there. Even as things are changing, the fact that I’m still relevant enough to be invited as your esteemed guest…it gives me optimism for the future that we still value those whose hard work has brought us to this point. I’m excited to talk with all of you and discuss how we can make the world a better place. Let’s all do our best.”
“それでは…let’s have fun tonight!” Despite switching back to English, his Japanese pronunciation remained—the extra emphasis on his vowels only serving to give his words additional power. The crowd seemed to agree, erupting in genuine cheers as he pumped his fist in the air, a giant grin stretching from ear to ear. He turned to bow to the woman who introduced him once more before pivoting to bow to the whole crowd. As he stepped off the stage, people seemed to almost flow towards him like the tide rolling out to sea. If I thought I could get him to stop for more than a second between them all, I’m not sure I could help but inquire about his workout routine—not that I thought for a second his physique was achievable by anything other than a freak accident in a creatine factory.
The crowd came alive again with conversation and began to disperse, except for the mass of people still clustered around the man of the evening. Tsuyosugi continued to make his way through all of them, stopping for almost every single person who came up to him—bowing, shaking hands, or even occasionally pausing to say a few words to them like he was the pope. As he ascended from the sea of heads and began climbing one of the long curved stairways that led to the upper level, I noticed for the first time that he was being followed by an entourage of suited men. Two must have been security, as they were never more than a few feet behind him, despite their large frames being rather pitiful when standing next to him. The other two trailed quite far behind, and were presumably assistants of some kind, as they spent most of the time talking to each other or occasionally checking their phones.
A few stairs from the top, Tsuyosugi paused for a moment to talk to a redheaded woman in a cream colored pantsuit. She was holding a flute of champagne, which she hastily juggled so she could grab his outstretched hand, before quickly reaching up to brush her curtain bangs out of her eyes. Her eyes brightened and her lips fluttered quickly as they spoke. His head nodded downward many times in return, then he bowed at a deeper, ninety degree angle before turning and continuing up the stairs.
I eyed the foot of the staircase, planning a change in viewpoint, when something caught my eye. The last of Tsuyosugi’s entourage had reached the top of the stairs, and I watched as one of the assistants approached the woman their boss had greeted moments before. He briefly stopped in front of her, blocking her from my view, before resuming his ascent to the top of the stairs. The woman hastily turned away from my direction, but not before I saw a flash of something white in her hands. When she turned back around though, it was gone. She surveyed the room before her eyes met mine. In an instant I spun away from her, choosing to redirect my attention to the table of food next to me. A smattering of curries that made up nearly every shade of red, green, and orange made a gradient across the table, like a wall of paint swatches in a hardware store. My stomach once again made its presence known, protesting my earlier choice to forgo dinner and my lack of progress on my personal culinary mission. Despite knowing my ex was lurking around here somewhere, my nerves had calmed somewhat and I was quickly enamored by the display in front of me. The plating was exquisite too—each topped with a garnish that displayed exactly what ingredients were hiding beneath the steaming hot surface. I quickly slipped my phone out of my pocket and snapped a picture for future inspiration, before snatching a miniature ceramic plate and beginning to scoop spoonfuls of as many different options as could fit without them mixing too much. In the center I placed a conservative dollop of basmati rice flecked with cumin seed and one glistening piece of naan.
After I finished creating my masterpiece, I stole a glance back up at the top of the stairs. My eyes scanned the crowd and I picked out the tail of Tsuyosugi's entourage once again. The assistants paused in front of another guest and this time I was able to get a clear glimpse of a white package being passed between them. Is that the superweapon? My stomach rumbled again, as if responding to my question with a useless answer. I couldn’t wait any longer. I palmed the naan and scooped a generous amount of lamb vindaloo into my mouth. I chowed down, the buttery dough mixing with a quickly building heat and tsunami of flavors overwhelming the tiny town that was my tastebuds. I need to find out what’s inside those packages.
As I slipped a second bite into my mouth, my eyes were drawn to movement. The woman I was watching before began making her way down the stairs, a now empty glass in hand. I quickly scarfed the rest of my plate and followed her as she exited the room, dropping my plate on the tray of a waiter who swooped by me as I went, knowing there were stacks more waiting when I inevitably returned later.
I twisted through the interior of the venue, keeping a fair distance as I tailed the woman. With every corner I rounded, I held my breath, my eyes scanning the next corridor for a flash of her red hair or the glint of a silver water fountain—the heat from the rest of the curries I had downed had caught up with me. I had managed to keep pace with her until I finally turned a corner and my stomach dropped. All that lay in front of me was an empty hallway with the gaping entrances of two galleries on either side.
I walked forward, peering into the gallery on the left. My eyes dodged between a mix of ancient pottery and contemporary art, scanning for the cream color of the woman’s outfit in the dim light, but finding nothing. I swiveled my head to the other side of the hall. This gallery was filled with large elaborate models depicting different natural environments that looked straight out of a science museum, however with one peculiar difference—the animals that populated the displays were all constructed of unusual materials. In the middle of the left side wall, a polar, black, and grizzly bear all stared out from a tundra forest, their fur replaced with vividly colored bird feathers. Standing in front of them was the familiar silhouette of my target.
I stepped into the gallery, turning to stare at a crow made of obsidian that glared back at me with ruby eyes. As I slowly closed the distance between us, a commotion behind me caught my attention—the sound of regular voices cutting through the low hubbub. I turned to see a familiar girl in a red dress with her hand on the shoulder of an unfamiliar young man in a sky blue suit. My eyes were immediately glued to him, sizing him up and down. He was about the same height as her, with a slim build and a pale ivory complexion. His ruffled jet black hair was swept to one side in an off-putting early 2000s kind of way. Despite that, his thick eyebrows and well proportioned features made him undeniably attractive, and continuing to stare at him made a pit reopen in my stomach. Did she think so too?
I snapped out of my trance and quickly crept behind a wall display in the center of the room. I peered around the edge at them.
“I’m so sorry,” I could hear my ex say. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.” She had taken her hand off the boy’s shoulder and was now adjusting her dress. He took a small step away from her, then straightened his suit jacket, which I now noticed had some kind of design across the back—a thick red line twisted through puffy white shapes that must have been clouds.
“It’s my fault,” he stammered with a thick accent. “Sorry.” He bowed quickly, then scurried away.
My ex glanced around the room, regaining an awareness of her surroundings. I jumped back behind the wall, a shiver running down my back. Did she see me just now? Or has she been following me the whole time? Before I had a chance to spiral any further, my eyes caught a glimpse of a cream colored blur exiting the other side of the gallery. I couldn’t let her out of my sight again. I made a break for it, speed-walking past another display and slipping out the exit.
The woman had thankfully stopped again, now standing midway down the hallway talking to another guest just past a pair of bathrooms, whose original gendered blue signs were still visible through the white pieces of paper plastered on top that read “All-Gender Restroom.” Between them sat a glittering silver water fountain. I rushed over, thrusting my mouth over the spout and letting its cool relief soothe my smoldering taste buds.
I wiped my lips with the back of my hand before casually approaching, stopping to lean against the wall a good distance behind my target. I tried to look nonchalant, taking the opportunity to survey the rest of the hallway. Past the gallery, two suited security guards stood at the bend in the hallway watching either direction. A paranoid thought danced through my brain again and my eyes flashed back to the gallery exit, but there was no sign of my potential tail.
I looked back over at my target. She was still deep in conversation with the man with no sign of stopping. I pulled out my phone, giving in to my primal instincts for how to fill idle time. After a moment I could see the woman glance at me in my peripheral vision, presumably becoming aware of my presence. I looked up and flashed her a smile. She awkwardly looked back and forth between me and the man she was talking to.
“Do you want an autograph or something?” she asked.
“Oh…no, I’m alright.” I stood up straight, slipping my phone back into my pocket. I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to politely ask this guy to GTFO, but thankfully he seemed to get the idea, as he reached out to take the woman’s hand.
“I’ll leave you to it,” he said, smiling. “It was so great to meet you. I’ll have my people reach out about those tickets.”
“You’re too kind. Enjoy the rest of your night,” she replied warmly.
The woman directed her attention to me as the man walked away. I put on an endearing smile and opened my mouth to speak, only to immediately shut it as I realized I didn’t actually have a clue what I was going to say to her. If I only knew something about her, I might be able to start a conversation. She was probably someone famous, but no matter how many times my eyes scanned her face over and over, I was left with only one conclusion—she looked like every other white woman in the room. If only I had been paying more attention to her previous conversation. I need to say something. Anything.
“Tonight has been…great so far.” Not my best work.
“Mhmm,” she responded. Her eyes drifted away from me to look at something over my shoulder. She’s about to walk away…I need to keep her engaged. My mind was on overdrive, searching for something we had in common.
“Can you believe that Tsuyosugi is the special guest this year? He came from so far away to be here and he’s like…an OG.” I shivered. In my haste to get the words out, a bit of slang had slipped in. Luckily, the woman didn’t seem to notice, her eyes lighting up again like they had when she first met him.
“Ah, Tsuyosugi! Yes, it’s such an honor.”
“And to see him in person, I just couldn’t get over his…well, he’s massive!”
She let out a conservative, but genuine laugh. “It was a surprise to me too.”
“How tall is he? He must be like…6’8?”
She shook her head, a small smile spread across her face. “I’m not sure. Definitely much taller than me.”
“You’d think he’d be kind of intimidating, but he seems so nice,” I babbled on. “They always say ‘never meet your heroes’—and I thought for sure I wouldn’t even get a chance to—but he stopped and talked to me for a moment and I got to shake his hand and everything.” I put a twinkle in my eyes as I played up my fascination, but being careful to not go too over the top with it.
“I would expect nothing less of a hero like him.” Her posture had relaxed slightly. “You can see how much of an effort he makes to greet everyone who wants to meet him. He truly was so lovely to finally meet in person.”
“Was he handing something out?” I asked nonchalantly.
“I’m sorry?” Her voice was curious, but her gaze was cutthroat. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” She shifted, adjusting the right side of her blazer absentmindedly with her hand.
“I thought I saw one of his people handing stuff out and I was wondering if I missed out on a goodie bag or something.”
Her eyes narrowed and I immediately regretted my probing, nearly melting under the sheer intensity of her gaze. It had a ferocity to it, like she was about to cause a scene by accusing me of cutting in front of her in the grocery store checkout line.
“I must be mistaken, sorry,” I said, flashing her an innocent smile. I tried to keep the conversation moving past my blunder by quickly changing the subject. “His outfit was killer too—that emerald green? He has good taste.”
“Are you following me?” Her tone was sharp and accusatory now. She clearly was not going to let my comments slip by.
“I—” I was suddenly unable to form a coherent response with her staring at me. It felt like lasers were piercing into my skull and beginning to fry my brain. “No, I just…” I had to stop staring at this woman’s face.
Suddenly I felt something brush against my arm. I wrenched my gaze away from her to look to my right. My breath caught in my chest. My face was inches away from the only other one I would rather not see even more—my ex’s. Without looking down I could feel her nestle her elbow under mine, linking our arms together, and sending my heart fluttering at the feeling of her pressed up so close to me. My mind screamed to pull away, but I was too stunned to do anything but stare at her in dismay.
“Elizabeth Fletcher, right?”
The woman turned to look at my ex, her eyes now flickering with confusion. “Sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“I’m Margaret,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m just such a big fan, I had to introduce myself.”
Elizabeth’s face lightened a bit. She took her hand and shook it. “Margaret…?”
“Barnes. Soon to be Harter, but not quite yet.”
“Oh!” Her face brightened as her eyes flashed between us. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” My ex looked at me and smiled. My stomach churned like a cranked up stand mixer. How the hell does she know who this person is? And how is she acting like this is completely normal? I can’t tell if I’m about to kiss her or throw up.
I turned towards her. “I—I thought you were going to get food.”
“They were out of nigiri,” she replied. “I walk off for one second and you start talking to my idol without me?” I gave her a blank look. “I’ll take that as you were trying to surprise me with an introduction.” She stared at me expectantly, one hundred percent committed to this bit.
I felt lightheaded and my entire body was now numb and tingling. I wondered if I might just dissolve into pure electricity right then and there.
She cocked an eyebrow at me. “You don’t remember who she is, do you?”
“I recognized her, but…” I trailed off. If there was any truth here, it was that I had no clue who this woman was.
“I run the Spark of Tomorrow Children’s Home,” Elizabeth said, her tone stilted.
“The first powered orphanage in the US,” my ex added.
“There’s only been a few headlines.” The woman’s eyes had a tinge of disdain.
“Oh,” I mumbled. Maybe I really should know who she is. “That’s…awesome.” I was at a loss for more elegant words, unable to get over my surprise—I was expecting her to be the CEO of some hedge fund, not a person with actual contributions to society.
“It’s really all about the kids,” she said bashfully. “Every day I’m just so inspired when I see the amazing things they can do. It’s such a shame that so many aren’t able to live up to their full potential just due to their circumstances. They truly deserve the world, but unfortunately they’re quite costly to take care of with insurance and everything, and I always wish we could help more…” I got a creeping feeling in the back of my mind that this conversation had turned into a sales pitch.
My ex smiled sweetly. “But because of you, so many more will have that chance!”
“Well, when you put it that way.” The woman returned the look with a warm smile of her own. “And what area are you two in?”
“We’re in the private sector.”
“Powered contractors,” I added.
“Contractors?” The woman raised an eyebrow at me.
A sharp pain shot through my ribs as my ex jabbed me. “I’m in administration now actually. Just recently promoted,” she added quickly.
As soon as she said it, it was like a switch flipped in my brain. Suddenly, I was no longer struggling to find the words; instead they were coming faster than I could form them into cohesive thoughts. “Really?” I said, feigning shock. “You didn’t tell me that.”
She flinched. I licked my lips to hide the small smile creeping onto my face. “It was quite recent. How do you think we got the invitation for tonight?”
The words danced on the tip of my tongue with anticipation, like I had been waiting to say them my whole life. “When were you going to tell me?”
“I was waiting for the right moment. I don’t normally keep things from you.”
I snorted. “Even if that were true—why was this time different?”
“You and I both know why.” She glared at me, before gesturing towards Elizabeth. “Let’s not forget who we’re having a conversation with here.”
“Oh, you’re right! I’m sure she would have some lovely insight on our situation.” I turned back to the woman. “I’m sure Spark of Tomorrow has other executives, right?”
“Uh…yes, my husband and I run it together.”
“Then you would definitely understand. A relationship—a good one at least—is built on trust. That means being honest with each other, especially when it comes to the important things in…business.”
“That’s true,” Elizabeth replied slowly, clearly struggling to follow the conversation.
My ex’s face was now flushed pink. “But things don’t always go smoothly either, do they? There’s not always an easy solution to every problem. You also need to have patience and accept that you’re going to be a little uncomfortable sometimes—especially when things start to go wrong, you don’t just immediately give up.”
“I’m starting to think this conversation doesn’t involve me anymore,” Elizabeth interjected, her head tilted up slightly, as if she were turning her nose up at us. “You two have a nice night.” She turned and began to walk away from us.
I whipped my head to scowl at my ex and mouthed, “What the hell?”
She glared at me and, without breaking eye contact, blurted after Elizabeth. “Sorry, one more thing!”
“What?” The woman spun around, her eyebrows now scrunched so close together a mountain was forming between them.
“I—your blazer…”
“What about it?”
“The feathers—they’re such a unique touch and they really make the whole outfit pop…I just wanted to say I love them.”
“Feathers?” She blinked in confusion. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“On your back?” my ex clarified, a now equally puzzled look on her face.
She slowly reached forward over the woman’s shoulder. Her wrist twitched slightly and she drew it back, now holding a reddish-brown feather that was about a foot long. I stifled a smile that threatened to break my cover. She always was good at thinking quickly on her feet.
The woman stared at it in shock. “What is—oh my god, that is not a part of my outfit. I—I don’t know where that came from.”
“It looks kind of like the ones that were in the nature exhibit,” my ex said as she twirled the feather between her fingers.
“That’s so embarrassing. I must’ve backed into it by accident or something...”
“There’s a few more, do you want to…?” My ex motioned towards the bathrooms further down the hall.
Elizabeth nodded and began walking hastily in that direction. My ex quickly followed suit, grabbing me by the arm and yanking me along.
“Potential lead—right side of her blazer,” I hissed.
We entered the restroom to see her stopped in front of the wall-length mirror above the sinks. She turned back and forth in place, struggling to get a clear look at her back and getting more and more exasperated. “Where exactly were they?” She turned to look at my ex who was busy shooting me a look. She lifted her eyebrows, speaking something unspoken before quickly turning to Elizabeth.
“Here’s another!” She reached down behind the woman’s thigh. I watched as she flicked her wrist and another small red feather slid out from a flap of skin midway down her wrist.
I turned and peered into the mirror myself, taking the moment to adjust my bowtie which had begun to slant to one side. A flickering light in the corner of my vision caught my eye. The bulb directly above Elizabeth was now flickering. It blinked rapidly for a moment before fizzling out completely. This caught both of their attention as they stared up at the now darkened glass.
“What the hell?”
“That’s odd,” my ex commented.
Elizabeth shuffled closer to me, under a new lightbulb. She turned side to side in the mirror. “I’m not seeing any more.”
My ex stepped towards her. “I think I see one mo—”
FZZZZT! Suddenly, the bathroom was plunged into pitch darkness.
“Whoa,” I said audibly, instinctively reaching my arms out in space to steady myself. I felt my hand brush against soft material as I grazed what must’ve been Elizabeth’s shoulder. “Sorry,” I said into the darkness in her general direction. I waved my arms in the air, but the room remained pitch black. “I don’t think it’s motion activated.”
“Somebody hit the damn switch,” Elizabeth’s impatient voice echoed from my right.
I reached to my side, finding the marble countertop of the sinks. I let my hand glide along it, leisurely following it in the direction of the door. I felt a small tap on my shoulder. As if on cue, the lights hummed back to life. I was once again disoriented as my eyes adjusted to my now blinding surroundings. I was standing about halfway to the door, with my ex between me and the woman.
“That’s weird,” I said, scowling. “I didn’t even touch the switch.”
Elizabeth scoffed. “You’d think for an event like this they’d have nicer facilities.”
“Yeah, you’d think so,” I said, once again trying my hardest to suppress the smile creeping onto my face.
My ex turned back towards Elizabeth and examined her back once again. She held up one more small feather. “I think this is the last one.”
“And to think, I’ve been meeting people with my back looking like a barnyard,” she murmured to herself, pulling her blazer tighter over her shoulders.
“It happens to the best of us,” my ex replied.
“I should probably go make sure I didn’t damage the piece too badly. Thank you.”
My ex waved her hand in the air incessantly. “Oh, it was no problem at all! It was so great to meet you.” She reached down and adjusted the top of her dress.
“You too,” the woman said, obviously only half paying attention as she hurried past me and disappeared out the bathroom door.
We stood there in silence for a moment. The churning feeling in my stomach returned and for a moment I was thankful to be standing not too far from a toilet. Unable to stand the tension in the air any longer, I opened my mouth and said the first thing that came to my mind.
“Are you going to slap me or something?”
My ex shot me a look. “That wouldn’t be very professional.”
“So that’s what’s holding you back?”
“I just wasn’t planning on it. Why? Do you want me to slap you?”
“No,” I said quickly. “It just seems like what you’re supposed to do in this situation.”
She scowled and crossed her arms. “Well, I’m sorry I don’t exactly know what I’m doing either.” She exhaled audibly before her face softened again. “I think this would go a lot smoother if we worked together.” I opened my mouth to reply but she continued on, cutting me off. “The old fumble-in-the-dark trick…it’s a good one.” The bridge of her nose crinkled and the corners of her mouth twisted into a small smile.
Is she trying to butter me up? A fire flickered to life in my chest and adrenaline began seeping into my veins, my mind switching into fight or flight mode. If I could just end this conversation here and now, I’d be in the clear. Before she had the chance to say anything else, I launched into my response. “In any other situation, I’d agree—but partners have to be able to trust each other. This was my target, my trick…and my lead.” I held out my hand expectantly. “I didn’t need you to come and snuggle up with me.”
She didn’t respond at first, her chest rising and falling heavily. I braced myself for her next comeback. My synapses were firing a mile a minute desperately trying to predict what she was going to say next. “You were about to incriminate yourself before I showed up.” “And what was your big plan to steal this without me?” But she didn’t say any of that.
“I’m sorry if what I did back there was a bit out of line. That wasn’t helpful,” she said, her gaze dropping to the floor.
My heart skipped a beat. I was prepared for another fight, but she was…apologizing? My face felt warm and my tongue was twisted into a knot, unsure of what to say next.
She looked up at me. “I just really think you should take a second and think about this again. They’re asking us to destroy a superweapon that threatens the entire world—this is a chance for us to finally make a difference…and it's an op with director visibility. No matter how you look at it, this is bigger than however we may feel about each other.”
I mulled her words over in my head. They made sense on paper, but what trick was she hiding?
“I’m just asking for your help to get this mission done,” she continued. “We’re here because we’re both good at what we do, and right now that’s all that matters. Two agents working together to save the world; that’s all we have to be.” She paused, her eyes glimmered in the warm light. “This isn’t easy for me either, you know.”
I stared into her eyes, trying to pick out any indication of deceit. All I saw was a reflection of myself. I took a deep breath. “Okay.”
Almost instantly it felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. The lighting in the room hadn’t changed, but her eyes seemed to brighten. “Okay,” she repeated back to me.
I hope I don’t regret this.