Subvector led us through the academy's labyrinthine halls, her pace a steady, no-nonsense march that screamed ‘retired professional who has seen it all and is mildly disappointed by most of it.’ The architecture was a mind-bending blend of ancient, probably-stolen stonework and hyper-modern reinforced alloy, a physical manifestation of the Alpha world’s identity crisis. It was like walking through a museum that had been retrofitted by a paranoid doomsday prepper. My kind of place, really, if I could afford the admission.

  As we walked, Subvector glanced at Mindy with a curiosity that felt more assessment than casual interest. “If you don’t mind my asking, wasn’t your alter ego on the highlights stream recently? That should give you some cachet. A real live supervillain put-down.”

  Mindy shrugged, a gesture that was equal parts modesty and genuine bewilderment. “He wasn’t really a hardcore, more of a kook. He was trying to turn everyone in blocks C and D blue. Ranted about how he would make everyone look like an alpha to end discrimination.”

  Kook. The preferred term for villains who are more theatrical than homicidal. It’s a fine line, often measured in advertising revenue and viewer engagement. I made a mental note to update my civilian Vilnet profile bio. ‘Jake Doyle: Certified Kook.’ It had a certain ring to it.

  Subvector laughed, a short, sharp sound. “Well, it was a good fight. What was he, a class four elemental? Devil-something?” I kept my mouth shut, practicing my best ‘just a normie scholarship student’ impression.

  It mostly involved looking mildly interested and keeping my hands out of my pockets. My power itched to analyze the stress fractures in the marble floor, but I told it to take a nap. The last thing I needed was to accidentally disassemble a historical landmark because I was bored.

  Mindy looked a little confused, her brow furrowing. “Diabolus Firetrap. I wasn’t actually sure. I mean, he had flames and could even use them to transit, and as a pressure-wave defense. That big fireball at the end? That’s a heck of a transit power. I’d put him closer to a class five.”

  “So he didn’t self-destruct?” Subvector asked, a note of what might have been genuine concern in her voice. It was weird. Cops and retired heroes weren’t supposed to care if the villainous help got away safely.

  Mindy shook her head. “Naww, it was transit. As much as I hate to admit it, he got away clean. I have reason to believe he’s alive and well, but his scheme was foiled, and I managed to freeze off the contaminated water until Public Works got there, and that was good enough to hit the highlights stream.”

  Subvector smiled a little, a faint, weathered thing. “Well, good that he’s alive. Monsters need to be stopped, but the kooks… I always have hopes for them. Besides, even with the armor, did you see that ass?”

  Mindy laughed, a genuine, unforced sound that was nice to hear. “Almost more of it than I wanted… we sort of got into a wrestling match near the end. He’s also stupidly strong, but I think that was just a side effect, not a secondary power, since there wasn’t any kinetic manipulation backing it up. He kept talking about how he was purified by fire, so I wonder if he figured out a way to use an element to boost his physique.”

  Molecular reinforcement, I thought, chewing on the inside of my cheek. It wasn’t that rough when I had the extra energy to burn. But I had been extremely careful… monkeying with your own physiology was a stupidly dangerous game, a one-way ticket to a cellular-level train wreck. Just figuring out how to increase my muscle and bone density without screwing up my oxygen delivery, blood flow, and nutritional balance had cost me more than one metabolic reset and a small fortune in cheeseburgers.

  Technically, if I’d flexed everything in the assessment, they might have slapped a class three body enhancer label on me. But if I’d shown all of that off? What would they have labeled me as? Class four? five? A walking, talking violation of their precious, predictable system? I could already feel the phantom weight of a BSA black-bag job.

  Subvector sighed, a world-weary exhalation. “I really hope he winds up here eventually, or on the right side of the law. We don’t have nearly enough men, and with an elemental physique… hell, I’d probably try to get him teaching something like that. We have way too many glass cannons right now, especially among the elementals. Not to mention…” she glanced over at me, a flicker of dry amusement in her eyes. “No offense, but even in the armor, you could tell he had an amazing body. I almost envy you wrestling with him.”

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  I chuckled, the sound feeling foreign. “Do you make it a habit to get all physical with supervillains?”

  She nodded, utterly serious. “Personal kinetic, no range, of course I do. I mean, I guess I could try throwing street signs and stuff, but in the end, I am a class four flying brick.”

  “That wasn’t what I was asking,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

  She nodded again. “I know, but if you are looking for PR, few things are as compelling as a forbidden Romeo and Juliet relationship. I sort of had something like that back when I was active, with a class three vigilante, but he was… too serious about being a vigilante. When he started killing people, I had to put him away.”

  The casual tone she used to describe dating a homicidal maniac was staggering. This was the world I was trying to buy into. A world where your girlfriend might have to arrest your alter-ego, and your academy head of security reminisces about her vigilante ex like he was a bad tattoo.

  “He started killing people? Like a Grimdark?” I asked, playing the part of the wide-eyed normie. It wasn’t hard. The wide-eyed part, anyway.

  She nodded as we stepped into one of the administrative buildings and waved to an older man behind a desk who looked like he’d been auditing souls since the Bronze Age. “Worse. He was a light elemental, lasers, and solid light constructs, although he couldn’t break the transportation barrier, which was why he was only a class three, but he had a thing about anyone abusing normals with their powers. I got his point of view, but he drilled a street-level hero for using his powers to stop a hostage.”

  She continued, her voice flat, reciting a well-worn horror story. “Some mentally unstable guy kidnapped his own daughter from her mother, and of course, a street shielder Tung-pow went in to capture him safely, but things turned ugly when the guy tried to throw his daughter off a roof. Razor, though, went nuts and drilled Tung-Pow right in front of the six-year-old girl. I wasn’t even there… I had to track him down and lock him up, which put an end to my adventurous youth.”

  “Do you always tell that story?” I asked, genuinely curious.

  “Yeah, I am over it, but I always figured if you can’t be a good example, you can be a terrible warning. Vigilantes and Supervillains can be exciting as bad boys, or bad girls if you are into that, but you have to keep your mind on the possible risks.”

  I nodded. A cynical part of me, which is to say most of me, piped up. “I imagine it could also be a hell of a PR fallout.”

  She nodded slowly, her gaze distant. “That’s why I had to go after him myself. It wasn’t really my job, I was in the Monster Hunters, but being connected with a cold-blooded murderer would have tanked my career as much as it broke my heart.”

  Mindy sighed deeply, her pizza momentarily forgotten. “I am so sorry that must have killed you.”

  We exited the elevator as she led us to a corridor of dorm rooms. “Not as bad as all that. If you decide to date alphas, you are probably going to have to get used to the fact that it’s going to mostly be flings. Fun for a short time, but there are so few males that there’s no real incentive for most of them, especially the handsome ones, to stick around. It’s best to get the romance out of your system and enjoy what you can get, or stick to normies instead.”

  I looked at Subvector, a flare of genuine irritation cutting through my carefully constructed apathy. “You make us sound like complete assholes.”

  She shrugged, a gesture of absolute, infuriating certainty. “It is what it is. You are likely to get a lot of attention, and there are some girls that just try to get a high score. I mean, there are wonder stories like Osprey and Ocelot, but you are a class six… If you aren’t gay, you are likely to have a LOT of people trying to get into your bed, both normies and alphas. I highly recommend getting used to being naked except for your mask.”

  I shook my head, the motion sharp. “Nope, not going to get used to it at all. I plan on staying away from any romantic entanglements until I am ready for a family, alphas especially, and being the community bicycle has zero appeal.” My heart gave a familiar, bitter throb. I’d already been someone’s starter bike, and she’d crashed me into a wall of financial and emotional ruin.

  She looked at me sympathetically, and her gaze was suddenly razor-sharp. “An Alpha already fucked you up, didn’t she?”

  My jaw dropped. My carefully curated mask of cynical control shattered. “Uhh…” It was the most intelligent response I could muster. So much for op-sec.

  She sighed and shook her head. “It’s not going to be a secret from security. Whoever she was, she’s going to get scrutinized very closely to see if she’s a security risk. The same with any family or close friends. We take op-sec and protecting your identity VERY seriously. Did she know you were an Alpha?”

  “She knew me as a normie. She knew I popped as a class two, but I didn’t exactly share my reg card, since I didn’t have one at the time. We’d already broken up by then.” I kept my voice level, trying to stuff the genie of my past back into its bottle.

  “You could save me a lot of trouble by letting me know her name.”

  I sighed deeply, the name like ash in my mouth. “Christine Freemont.” There was no way to get around the fact that even a casual poke into my past would find her.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Do you know her ID?”

  I nodded, my jaw tight. “Yep, but I won’t tell you. And I am not saying she was an alpha.”

  She nodded, a flicker of what might have been respect in her eyes. “Good.” And with that, she showed us into our rooms. The conversation was over. My past, however, felt more present than ever.