As moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across their dorm room, Valerie and Fiona sat on their beds with the Dean’s gift boxes in hand, anticipation sparking in their eyes.

“What do you think is in this box?” Fiona murmured, her fingers already slipping under the lid.

Valerie shrugged, grinning. “Only one way to find out. Let’s open them.”

Fiona’s eyes widened as she lifted the contents from her box—a pristine white supersuit with sleek purple accents. Its design was modern yet functional, with metallic panels protecting vital areas.

“Oh my god, this is exactly what I wanted!” Fiona’s face lit up as she examined it.

Valerie’s grin grew. “Well, what are you waiting for? Try it on!”

As Fiona slipped into the suit, it fit her like a second skin, moving with her seamlessly. She activated her invisibility, practically vibrating with excitement. “Hey, Val, try using your infrared vision. Can you see me?”

“Easy,” Valerie said confidently, her eyes glinting red as she scanned the room. But to her surprise, Fiona was invisible, blending perfectly into the room’s temperature. “Wait… I don’t see you. Hold on—try moving.”

“Okay,” Fiona’s voice sounded somewhere across the room.

“I’m sure you’re still in the same spot… wait, where’d you go?” Valerie said, baffled.

“Right behind you!” Fiona popped back into view, laughing. “This suit is amazing!”

Valerie chuckled, shaking her head. Then, she turned to her own box, the curiosity and excitement building. She pulled out a black supersuit, trimmed with intricate gold plating on the chest, shoulders, elbows, and knees, with matching golden gauntlets and boots. She turned it over in her hands, admiring the weight and durability.

“There’s a note here,” she said, unfolding a small piece of paper. “‘The entire set is bulletproof, fireproof, self-repair technology…’ Did you get one of these notes too?”

“Let me check,” Fiona replied, her grin widening. “Ooh that’s why! Mine says it also adapts to my powers. I think they’ve thought of everything.”

The two spent the next few minutes admiring their new gear, exhilarated by the possibilities. Just as they began to relax, there was a tapping on their window.

They opened the curtains and looked up, surprised to see Kian floating outside, gesturing to his own suit—a dark, fiery red with metallic orange accents, engulfed in his fire, without burning the fabrics. He struck a pose, smirking as he gave them a thumbs-up, then flew off into the night, clearly enjoying himself.

Valerie rolled her eyes, laughing. “Well, looks like someone else is happy with their upgrade too.”

Fiona laughed along.

“So... should we wear these under our clothes every day?”

Fiona didn’t hesitate, already tucking her suit under her jacket. “Absolutely. You never know when trouble might hit. Besides, it’s not every day we get something like this—might as well use it.”

Meanwhile, back in the Dean’s office, a different kind of preparation was underway. The room was dim, the only light coming from the soft glow of a monitor displaying a live map with tiny blinking signals.

“The suits are online,” Dean Thorne said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. He leaned back, watching the blips representing Valerie, Fiona, and Kian. “We can track them now. One less thing to worry about. Professor Kohn, I want you to monitor everyone who interacts with them.”

Professor Kohn gave a cautious nod. “Understood, sir. But… are you sure we should track them like this? If they find out, they’ll lose what little trust they have left in us.”

Thorne waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve made sure the tracking devices are embedded deep within the fabric. Even if they search, they won’t find them easily.”

Kohn hesitated but finally replied, “As you wish, sir.”

Thorne's gaze remained on the monitor, a calculating look in his eye. “Good. This way, we can find out if the Futoroganti is actually targeting them or not”

—

Morning came softly, blending with the hum of campus life as Valerie and Fiona moved through their classes. Today was packed with last-minute details about tomorrow’s Gala, but for Valerie, it was all starting to feel a little… hollow.

“Every class today, it’s all ‘Enter gracefully, smile bright, reassure the crowd.’ What did I tell you, Fi? This whole thing is just a glorified circus act,” Valerie muttered, shaking her head as they walked down the hall.

Fiona nudged her, unable to hide her grin. “Okay, maybe you’re right, but still! We get to fight real monsters tomorrow. Real monsters! You’re not the least bit excited?”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Valerie shrugged. “Not really.”

Fiona grabbed her arm dramatically. “Don’t be such a killjoy, Val. Just pretend to be excited, for me. Please?”

Rolling her eyes, Valerie grinned, putting on an exaggeratedly cheerful voice. “‘Oh my god, Fi, I am so excited for tomorrow! Can’t wait to wave at a bunch of people I don’t know!’” She waved her arms with mock enthusiasm.

Fiona laughed, punching her lightly on the shoulder. “Oh, come on.”

But mid-laugh, Valerie’s expression changed, eyes flickering to something in the distance. She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Keep talking like normal, but… someone’s watching us. Don’t look back. Just… act casual.”

Fiona’s smile faltered, and her face paled. “Creepy, Val. Are you sure?”

“Positive. I can see them, a few rooftops back.” Valerie’s gaze barely shifted, but she was certain.

Meanwhile, on the top of the tallest building on campus, the two shadowy figures watched Valerie with keen interest. The woman turned to her companion with a smirk.

“Just as expected. She noticed us, didn’t miss a beat. She’s sharp, Boss.”

The man beside her gave a satisfied nod, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. “Yes. She’d be a powerful ally. But we can’t get close—not with those tracking devices sewn into their suits. They’d be onto us in minutes.”

The woman crossed her arms thoughtfully. “So what’s the plan, then?”

He looked toward the glint of sunlight on Professor Thomson’s office windows. “We target the weakest link. Let’s pay this, Professor Thomson a visit.”

The woman smiled, the expression as sharp as the edge of a blade. “Now, that sounds like a plan, Boss.”

—

The garage was silent as Professor Thomson stepped out of his car, the distant sounds of crickets muted behind the thick, isolated walls of his mansion. He hit the switch, illuminating the garage in a harsh, sterile glow. One glance at the security monitor told him the gates were locked. Satisfied, he made his way through the silent house, the vast rooms feeling emptier than usual.

In the kitchen, he poured himself a glass of water. Just as he raised it to his lips, he felt it—the unmistakable prickle on the back of his neck, a deep, instinctual sense of unease. Slowly, he scanned the shadows gathering in the corners, thick and heavy, despite the lights. The silence had an unnatural weight, as if the house itself was holding its breath.

Without another thought, he turned on every light he passed, his footsteps growing quicker, more erratic. He finally reached his office, fumbling with the lock on the door. Inside, he hit the switch—nothing. The lights refused to turn on.

Heart pounding, he felt his way to his desk, his hand shaking as he reached for the drawer where he kept an emergency flashlight. A voice, low and chilling, echoed through the darkness.

“Professor Thomson…”

He froze, cold sweat breaking out along his spine. His voice wavered. “Yes… yes, I’m… I’m here. Who are you? Show yourself! I’m… I’m a superhero, damn it!”

A laugh, dark and humorless, echoed around him. “Not much of one now, are you? Your powers don’t work in the face of fear, Professor.”

“I’m not afraid,” he snapped, though his voice betrayed him. Just then, he realized, to his horror, that he had indeed lost control over himself. His pants were wet.

“Seems like you are,” the voice sneered.

Professor Thomson swallowed hard, his hands trembling. “What… what do you want?”

There was a pause, then the voice spoke again, each word like the edge of a knife cutting through the darkness. “We want your cooperation. Miss Nordin, your… beloved student. You don’t want her to be in that school, do you?”

He swallowed hard, attempting to regain his composure. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a professor; I care deeply for all my students.”

The voice laughed, low and menacing, as a blade made of shadows pressed against his neck. “Spare me the lies, Thomson.”

Thomson’s bravado crumbled, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Alright, alright! Yes... yes, that Nordin brat. I want her gone. She’s an arrogant, crude, ungrateful peasant—she doesn’t belong here, tarnishing our prestigious halls. I don’t even know why the Dean admitted her. She’s a waste of this university’s resources.”

“Then we have a proposal,” the voice said, the blade digging in just enough to make his pulse jump. “Give us the access codes to tomorrow’s Gala, and we’ll ensure Miss Nordin won’t be troubling you… ever again.”

A thrill ran through him, pushing aside the fear. The thought of seeing that insolent look wiped from her face, of her being someone else’s problem—no, of her being no one’s problem, ever again. It was all he could wish for.

“In… in the drawer,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, gesturing to the desk. “Take it. Take whatever you need. Just… just don’t let them trace this back to me.”

The shadows shifted, withdrawing from him, the blade disappearing as if it had never existed. The room grew lighter, the air warmer, as if whatever darkness had filled it was retreating. In the light of the restored lamps, Thomson fell to his knees, breathing heavily. A laugh, unhinged and elated, escaped his lips.

He was free. Valerie Nordin’s days were numbered, and he would be the one to witness her fall.

—

Valerie rubbed her left ear, grimacing. “Whoa, urgh… my left ear’s ringing.”

Fiona looked up from her phone, concern flashing across her face. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Valerie waved it off and flopped back onto her bed, scrolling through an article.

But Fiona wasn’t done yet. She nudged Valerie’s shoulder, her face alight with glee. “Yo, Val, check this out!”

Valerie barely had time to react before Fiona shoved her phone in her face. A video was playing—footage of her and Kian from the recent fight. The title blared: ‘Half-Naked Heroes Save the City from a Maniac!’ It was going viral, a million views, comments pouring in every second.

“Oh, come on! What kind of title is that?” Valerie groaned.

Fiona snickered, reading through some of the comments. “‘Is this a fight or a strip show? Either way, I’m here for it!’”

Valerie’s eyes widened. “No way…”

“Listen to this one.” Fiona kept scrolling, grinning. “‘Are they saving us… or seducing us? Asking for a friend.’”

Valerie slapped a hand to her forehead. “I knew it. I knew it!”

“Oh, it gets worse.” Fiona stifled a laugh, reading on. "Are they saving the city or auditioning for a bikini calendar?”

Valerie groaned. “Please tell me there’s at least one comment about how we saved the city?”

Fiona’s laugh turned into a giggle fit. “Let’s see… Oh, here’s one: "They’re the Pervert Brigade!”

“Pervert Brigade?” Valerie groaned, flopping back onto her pillow. “I swear, if they start coming up with some ridiculous name…”

“Oh, they already have,” Fiona said, stifling a snort. “Pervert Dragon. That’s the top comment.”

“WHAT?!” Valerie sat bolt upright, her face flaming. “Are you serious? How does that even make sense?!”

“‘Cause, you know,” Fiona smirked, “you kind of melted the ice like a dragon, and… well, I think the rest is obvious.”

Valerie’s jaw dropped. “Unbelievable. Can we get this taken down? Report it, or… or hack it or something?!”

Fiona laughed, shaking her head. “How? It’s everywhere! Hey, at least you’re famous now.”

Valerie covered her face with a pillow, muffling her frustrated yell.