Chapter 3
ANNIE
The dark clouds hanging over Chroma bay couldn’t decide if they wanted to commit to rain or just brood about it.
Every neon sign and holographic ad blazed against the hazy atmosphere, turning the city streets into the perfect backdrop for the fight between Dread and Obsidian.
Normally, I’d pause to appreciate the view, but we didn’t have time for that since Havoc tended to be perpetually late for everything.
In a few minutes, the entire zone would be on lockdown and if we didn’t reach our perch for the fight, we were out of luck.
Typically, fights of this caliber were held in one of the city’s designated arenas, surrounded by power-dampening fields and reinforced to withstand battle. But today, Obsidian and Dread would be duking it out, right in the heart of the Circuit District.
Havoc and I hurried toward the VIP entrance to the towering glass high-rise, the Alliance’s cordoned-off sanctuary reserved for Heroes and their entourages. I could already taste the overpriced, mediocre catering waiting for us on the observation deck.
“Bishop!”
I winced and turned to see an Alliance official shoving his way past a row of heavily armored security guards. He wore the expression I dreaded most, the unmistakable Annie, we need a favor face.
He stopped in front of us, panting slightly. His eyes darted from Havoc down to me and his brow furrowed in immediate disapproval. “You aren’t in uniform?”
I wore fitted jeans and a comfortable white silk blouse, my hair actually down and falling past my shoulders for once.
“I’m off today.” I flicked the guest badge around my neck to emphasize the point, though it should have been pretty fucking obvious since I wasn’t in uniform. “Is there a problem?”
I already knew the answer. And I knew whatever problem he had would inevitably become my problem.
“We’re short a trainer,” he said, wiping sweat from his forehead. “And we have a junior Keeper who can’t go solo yet on a clash of this size. Everyone else is assigned, and with your experience—”
I wanted to say, Hell no. I’m exhausted. I deserve at least one fight where I can just watch without documenting every sneeze and muscle flex. I wanted to stand behind the reinforced safety field, drink a beer, and watch two Supers try to beat the shit out of each other.
“Absolutely, I can do that,” I said because I’m fucking incapable of setting boundaries with the Alliance.
Beside me, Havoc let out a low growl of irritation.
The sound was accompanied by the faint, ozone scent of his power flaring.
He didn’t bother arguing with the official or me.
He just shot me a look and launched himself into the sky.
The force of his pissed off takeoff rattled the nearby barricades as he flew up toward what should have been our vantage point, leaving me behind on the ground.
Great, I’d have that to deal with after the fight.
The official gave a shaky breath, clearly relieved to have the intimidating Hero gone, before gesturing to a terrified-looking woman hovering awkwardly behind him.
“Annie, this is Stephanie Novak.”
Stephanie looked like she’d rather be anywhere else in the universe. She was petite with mousy brown hair pulled back in a severe bun that screamed “please don’t notice me.” Her standard-issue Keeper uniform was too big for her, and she clutched her tablet like it might try to escape.
“Hi,” she squeaked.
“You’re assigned to the north observation point, Harrington Tower.”
“Perfect,” I said with my brightest professional smile while the official thrust a tablet and badge at me. “We’ll head there now.”
I kept the smile plastered to my face as I guided Stephanie toward the small Alliance transport platform hovering at the edge of the security perimeter.
“Have you been on one of these before?” I asked as we approached.
Stephanie shook her head, her already pale face losing what little color it had left.
“They’re perfectly safe,” I assured her, stepping onto the platform first and offering my hand. “Just think of it as an elevator without walls.”
She took my hand in a death grip as the operator nodded at us. Then we were rising into the air, the ground falling away beneath us.
Once we reached the Harrington Tower observation deck, I looked up to see who else would be sharing the observation point with us and froze.
Cipher.
He stood on the opposite side of the observation deck.
There was something about him that immediately triggered an alarm in the oldest, most lizard-brained parts of my anatomy. His black suit hugged every muscle, the subtle glowing accents tracing the broad expanse of his chest and his powerful thighs.
I knew I should look away. I needed to look away, but I was paralyzed, pinned in place by a gaze I couldn’t even see behind his mask as his head turned toward us. The rooftop felt like it had become a cage with a starving tiger, and the lock had just clicked shut behind me.
“Ms. Bishop? Are we supposed to go over there?” Stephanie’s thin voice yanked me back to the present, but the sensation of being hunted lingered, prickling hot and sharp across my skin.
“What?” I blinked, forcing my vocal cords to work. “Yes.”
Oh shit. I had to cross the rooftop. I had to stand near him.
This was exactly why masturbating to League members was a terrible life choice. I knew I would run into him eventually. Chroma Bay was a sprawling metropolis, but the upper echelons of the Super world were contained within a claustrophobically small circle.
The probability that he would fight Havoc some day was pretty high considering both men were the stars of their respective organizations.
My stomach churned with a sickening blend of dread and desire.
I would have to stand near him, dutifully logging property damage and power usage, all while remembering exactly how many times I’d come thinking about his hands wrapping around my throat.
The ache of emptiness throbbed between my legs, my own vagina mocking my professional mask.
I forced myself to take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of impending rain, and finally noticed the other League members occupying the space.
Menace stood right beside Cipher, gesturing animatedly as he talked.
He was shorter by almost a foot and significantly less physically imposing.
His unremarkable features blended into the gray atmosphere, but I knew his file.
He had a reputation for being dangerously clever, compensating for his limited power set.
He was the kind of guy who would stab you with a compliment while calculating the exact monetary value of your organs.
A third member stood apart from them, arms crossed, looking pissed about something. I didn’t recognize him.
“Follow me,” I said to Stephanie with what I hoped was reassuring confidence rather than the growing panic I felt. It was time to be Adult Annie, who definitely didn’t have a Villain kink.
I led her toward the Alliance-marked section, keeping my eyes fixed on the horizon like the Villains were just uninteresting pieces of architecture. Nothing to see here. Just a Keeper doing Keeper things.
My inner thoughts were far less composed: Don’t look at him, don’t look at him, don’t look at his arms or his mouth or—
“So we just stand here with them?” Stephanie whispered incredulously, eyes wide with alarm.
“Neutral observation point,” I explained. “Both sides are free to use these positions. We ignore them, they ignore us. It’s in the rule book.”
Ah yes, the rule book. My personal bible. If only it had a chapter on “What To Do When You’ve Fantasized About A Villain You’re Now Sharing Airspace With.” That would be helpful right about now.
“Are you sure this is safe?” Stephanie’s voice wavered as she eyed the edge of the observation point.
I climbed onto the ledge, the wind battering against me and pulling at my shirt, but my feet remained firmly planted.
“You have three lines of safety between you and the ground,” I recited, having given this speech to nervous rookies countless times.
“First, your shoe anchors keep you secured to the building. Second, your uniform contains emergency repulsion technology that activates automatically if you fall. And third, the entire combat zone is surrounded by safety fields that will catch anyone who enters their perimeter without proper clearance.”
I extended my hand to help Stephanie up. “Trust the tech. It’s never failed a Keeper yet.”
“Are you sure about that?” a grating voice called from behind us.
I caught movement from the corner of my eye and tensed. The League member, the one I hadn’t recognized, was approaching us with the casual swagger people adopt when they think they’re way more impressive than they actually are.
I ignored him.
“What’s wrong, Keeper?” he sneered, stopping a few feet away. “Forgotten how to talk?”
“I didn’t think your question required a response,” I replied in the monotone Keeper voice I reserved for Supers who seemed likely to cause trouble.
It was deliberately flat, devoid of any emotion that might provide fuel for their antagonism.
“The safety systems are Alliance and League certified and maintained daily.”
I could feel Stephanie trembling beside me, and the last thing I needed was for her first field experience to involve a confrontation with this asshole.
“That doesn’t answer whether the technology has ever failed,” he pressed, taking another step closer.
Why the hell did some shitheads think they were being clever with these sort of gotcha questions? Like I hadn’t been trained to handle this exact conversation a thousand times.
“With the triple redundancy, there have been zero fatalities in eight years. Keepers are safer up here than crossing the street.”