Unexpectedly, a barrage of flashing lights and questions followed my speech.

It’d been one week since the battle at Atlantis. I figured I could use this as an opportunity to announce Project: Tomorrow. I knew there would be adversity, that there would be negative reactions.

It was like I told Charles, I wasn’t naive. But I’d already had five calls from Elemental-based heroes and other powerful forces in the hero world. Articles were already being published, calling everything I’d done into question.

Granted, some were positive. I wouldn’t deny that.

And even the negative ones, some of them at least, they understood the idea–the need–behind the Project. But they were afraid of what it could become.

The old man’s visage popped in my head. Paragon. Charles had planted him there. Had planted the idea of me becoming like him there.

And now it just wouldn’t go away. Maybe that was the reason I came here. A small hotel at Atlantis, waiting at the empty reception area.

“This is getting ridiculous,” I muttered to myself, tapping my fingers on the counter.

“That it is.” I turned behind. Charles, smirking, was waiting for me.

“Charles.”

“Kent.” It was all so fake. The smile, the pleasantness. “I’d ask if you came to gloat but I know better.”

It was now my turn to smile, in spite of myself. After the second attack, and my article on the first, Charles Morris was quickly let go from Atlantis, even if it was the middle of the year. Mystic was now acting as the dean, until a replacement was found.

“I truly am sorry.” I found that this was more sincere than I’d expected. Charles Morris had never been a truly good and honest man. He had been secretive and moved through the shadows more than I’d like but he was always a source of comfort for me.

A friend I could turn to for advice. That was the Charles Morris I would miss. Not someone that would play God with the world as the man I saw in front of me.

“I know you are.” His smile changed. It looked almost genuine before it was replaced by a frown, covered by his beard. “And you should also know I look forward to the world you want to create.”

I clenched my fists. I looked at him, trying to figure out the true meaning behind his words. But there was nothing there. Charles Morris was always three moves ahead. Always in control.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Or at least he always tried to be.

But now that we had stopped Frankenstein and Paragon, I couldn’t let him. We had to act now, unite against the villains, and not waste time on infighting.

“What are you playing at?”

“Nothing,” he said with genuine–as far as I could tell at least–levity in his voice. “I fought, bled, and sacrificed so much to stop Paragon. Forty years, Kent. It’s a lot. I could probably find some way to land on my feet. Complicate things and maybe I would win. I would defeat you and the villains.”

“But you won’t.”

“But I won’t.” He had rolled past me at this point, going back to his room. “I’m tired. I realised this when the villains attacked. I took on what I consider to be a great burden in trying to fix the world. And now I pass it onto you, Kent. I’ll make my way to a small house my family owns in America and watch history unfold in front of me.”

“You didn’t fix the world,” I said. He’d ruined it. Ruined any chance of growth, or anything of the sort. He’d wiped a large part of history by wiping Paragon, and I wouldn’t let him forget that. “You stagnated it. You-”

“I did what I thought was right,” snapped Charles. “You can question me, you can judge me, but I won’t change my mind on that. Did I make mistakes? Of course I did. But I know for a fact that I kept the world going and you can’t deny that.”

I stood up straighter, a response in my mouth but I didn’t say it. There would be no point in saying it. Charles Morris was nothing more than a bitter old man. As much as I hated to say it, sitting here and arguing with him would be fruitless.

So I just took a deep, long breath, and turned away.

“Kent?”

Without even realising it, I had stopped walking.

“Twenty years ago, Crisis developed his suit and turned on his bosses. Unbeknownst to most, we actually captured him. I–and some of the other school heads–made a deal with him. In exchange for intel and services, we would allow him to continue and operate. Under our orders.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because he’s still out there and he was one of the few to remember things as they were.” He let out a deep sigh. “Because he’s been missing for a bit. Even though he was supposed to report after the Atlantis battle was done. ”

I turned back to Charles. He had a grave look on his face. An expression I had seen only when he talked about Paragon. I shuddered to think of what would happen. Of a threat born out of the mistakes others like me had made.

“I ask again,” I said, trying to keep my voice as even as possible. “Why are you telling me this?”

“He’s dangerous, and he knows everything. We’d filed his name as John Hawkley but that was just smoke and shadows. His real name is Georg Jensen.”

I stepped back. It couldn’t be. Jensen had been a friend to Charles. A pleasant man who had taught at Atlantis. Who had helped countless of young heroes on their path. I couldn’t believe he was a villain. I refused to believe it.

“Don’t mess with me, Charles.” I gritted my teeth, trying my best not to snap at the man.

“I’m not. He was paid handsomely for his jobs as Crisis. And he seemed to want to do some genuine good in his time as Jensen. I don’t know what goes through his mind. But I do know that he can be dangerous if he chooses to oppose us.”

I turned away from him once again. I couldn’t stay and keep my composure. I could only leave and search for Jensen myself. Do my job and find out the truth.

And pray that Jensen, with all his knowledge and influence in the hero world didn’t betray us all.