I could barely sit still in the hours before meeting with Eden. At two o'clock, Catherine’s driver called to inform me of his arrival.

I changed into the best clothes I could find and pulled a beanie down over my head to hide the wound. The entrance hall lay deserted, though Toye’s riotous laughter erupted from somewhere in the common area. I gave him a wide berth. The exit parted with a whir, and I stepped into the basement car park where the driver waited in a small SUV.

Everything was fine and dandy. Save for one problem.

“Why are you here?” I snapped at Alewo.

The tech whiz stood near the car in casual clothes. A ridiculous pair of shades hung like a billboard on his face.

“Good afternoon to you too,” he said. “Kabash ordered me to go with you. Something about moving in pairs.” He hoisted his backpack. “Plus, I have stuff to do outside the base and neither of us can drive.”

I crossed my arms. “You want me to believe you can pilot a mecha without knowing your way around a car?”

Alewo scratched the back of his head. “I can't drive legally. Not in civilian disguise at least.” He frowned. “What's with you anyway? Why are you so stuffy today?” And then his eyes widened. “No way! You have a date?”

A honk from the car interrupted my rebuttal.

“We drop you off wherever you are going,” I said, pulling the backdoor open, “and pick you when I am ready to return.”

“Nuh-uh,” Alewo said, scrambling in from the other side. “Kabash wants us joined at the hip.”

“I'm not going anywhere with you.”

“I'll take a separate table. I won't interrupt your date.”

“I didn't say it was!”

Alewo recoiled from me.

I raked a hand over my cap. “Look, I don't want to screw this up, man. Go somewhere. Anywhere else. I'll pay you.”

“I don't need money,” Alewo said, pursing his lips. “It's almost like you don't want to be seen with me. Too geeky for your tastes?”

I suppressed a growl and slammed the door. The SUV’s leather seats felt cool to the touch, and a partition separated both halves of the car, just like the van.

“Lord Street, Royalton,” I said to the driver, then turning a glare on Alewo—“You better manage a separate table all by yourself.”

“Agapson Motors, then Lord Street,” Alewo said in correction. He grinned at me. “Your date is slated for three o’clock, yeah? Don't worry, I won't ruin it.”

I leaned against the backrest, biting my tongue. The SUV navigated out of the basement and exited the Council grounds.

“What do you do outside anyway?” I asked. “You get more permits than the rest of us combined.”

Alewo rummaged in his backpack. “Oh. I am building a new mini-mecha. I visit the site often to inspect its progress.”

I shot him a glance. “You don't build those in the workshop?”

Alewo snorted. “What? No. Machines of that complexity require an insane amount of effort. You'd need a few engineers at least, heavy-duty equipment, and a ton of gadgetry supplied by dozens of specialized factories.”

“Oh.” For some reason, I always imagined Alewo building his stuff with a hammer, blowtorch, and a heap of scrap metal.

He must have caught my disappointment because he grinned. “I built the first two models myself in the junkyard. Had my siblings’ help on the second though. Construction aspects aside, I want to share a few schematics with the Lead Engineer over at Agapson and get some feedback.” He pressed a stack of papers onto my lap.

I furrowed my brows. The papers contained a bunch of detailed construction plans. An egg. A quadruped. A vehicle that resembled a spider. “Are these all mecha?”

“And mech,” Alewo said, beaming. “They are still purely theoretical, but I am sure I can polish the intricacies within a week.”

A thought struck me. “Hold on. How much are you being paid?”

“Three-fifty grand a month. I hear it gets reviewed upward after one year.”

His salary was exactly the same as mine. “Where do you get the money to build all these then? A single one of these should run into the millions.”

“Hundreds of millions for some,” Alewo corrected. “And I don't build them with my money. The CAH foots the bill.”

My head did the thing where my vision swooned, and a landslide went off in my skull. Large sums of money tended to have that effect on me. “How are they so rich?” I asked, more to myself.

“Beats me,” Alewo said, shrugging. “But it's not like they get nothing out of it. They own all of my creations. And everything I conceive on paper belongs to them. Sometimes, they sell my patents to other organizations.”

“Hold on,” I said, handing the plans back to him. “Aren't you being shortchanged? You could become a billionaire all by yourself.”

Alewo wrinkled his nose. “Eww.”

“You don't want to be one?”

“No. Not really. You?”

Yes!

The tech genius laughed at my expression. “Money's not everything, my friend. Plus, I get access to the Council's knowledge in exchange. The CAH has existed long enough to amass an invaluable cache of ideas. I spent months struggling with electromagnetic levitation, for example. Couldn't quite get the oscillating field effect to scale. Then I joined the Council, and what do you know? They had schematics for safe mag-lev devices in their database.”

Alewo stuffed the documents back into his bag. “That thing I do with the omega vortex cannons? Learned from the Council. Gave me one way around the weapons agreement with the Federal Government. My progress with Automated Engagement Systems? Electrohydrodynamic thrust? None of that would have been possible if the Council hadn't purchased schematics from Tactus.”

That name rang a bell. “Tactus? That's the British Super, yeah?”

“The British Super.” If he had more room, Alewo would have hopped on his feet. “He's a Player-type, like me. But he specializes in automata and Artificial Intelligence. Freaking brilliant guy! Would you like to see some of his work?”

Uh-oh. A crazy glimmer had appeared in his eyes.

I made a placating gesture with my hands. “Maybe some other time.”

If animals could look crestfallen, Alewo would qualify as a baby Boerboel.

“What about you?” I rushed. “What do you specialize in?”

“Oh,” he said, wagging his tail. “I’m a mechatronics-based Fabricator, with some aero engineering knowledge on the side. Put me and AV together, and you could get a Super similar to Tactus.” He paused. “AV is a surveillance and programming expert. Though, seeing as he hasn't created anything stronger yet, I think AGI is a feat beyond even him.”

Outside, the SUV reached the Industrial Zone, named for the cluster of factories that had once been Newtown's lifeblood. A lot of those factories now stood like lifeless husks.

“Why did you choose the CAH?” I asked as the car rounded a bend. “Fabricators are, like, the most sought-after Supers. You don't care much for wealth. Okay. But what about influence? Entire governments would fall on their knees just to get you on board.”

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“I do this because I want to,” Alewo said, eyes hard.

“Because you want to?”

“Yes.”

Realization hit me. He was the one, wasn't he? The only member of the team who had been a vigilante. There had to be a story there.

“Besides,” he continued. “You don't follow the news, do you? Sure, Fabricators have caused our science to advance by decades. But we are also the most likely Supers to die prematurely. Someone powerful sees you bucking the wheel, they try to buy you or terminate you, so no one else can have you. Ash Crow, Eternal, Feng Shui Tai-pan. All great government-sponsored Fabricators who met gruesome ends in the last five years.”

A low-sloped roof came into view outside the windows. Agapson Motors looked much older than I'd assumed it would be, for an automobile assembly plant that dabbled in mecha. Its bleached PVC roofing and stained, peeled walls told of a manufacturer that had seen better days. Nevertheless, it wasn’t defunct. Heavy duty equipment blared from within its premises, and a row of parked trailers lined the perimeter.

“So, basically,” I said, “to survive as a Fabricator, you either keep your head low enough or you become so powerful no one dares to mess with you. Like Tactus?”

“That’s about it.” Alewo nodded. “Ever hear of the Cancer Wars?”

He didn't wait for me to reply.

“A duo of Players created a novel cure-all for cancer. It was thorough, affordable, and a hundred times more effective than old therapeutic options. Then they died. Because some pharmaceutical hegemony balked at the idea that their multi-billion-dollar cancer industry could be desolated in a single night. Desolated because someone thought cancer treatments shouldn't be any more expensive than asthma inhalers.”

“You’re sure that’s not a myth?”

“Hey now. It's all over the Leaks! Plus, the treatments are widespread these days anyway. They might not be as cheap as first intended but they exist. Can't stop science from marching on, I guess.”

“Huh,” I answered.

The car slowed for a check. A very professional squad of security men inspected the SUV for tricks, bugs and booby-traps. They were almost too professional, and the butts of electroshock shotguns peeked out of their vests. Agapson Motors was actually CAH, wasn’t it?

“I won't take long,” Alewo said, hopping out of the car once we got inside. “I was here yesterday. Just need to check their progress.”

I waved him off, glancing at my watch. The digital interface read twenty past two. I settled into my seat, letting the sounds of factory machinery wash over me. Now that the usual vehicular chitchat was over—no seriously, I needed to stop having them—my date with Eden approached, and I couldn't help feeling a little nervous. Eden was familiar. About as familiar as anyone could ever be with me. But we weren't exactly close. This was supposed to be a meetup between friends, but Alewo's words now played in my head.

Would it be alright to consider this a date? I couldn’t deny that I’d like that. Eden was a bombshell, but she was also a bag of mixed signals. The latter was the prime reason why I never read much into her actions. It would suck monkey balls to view her with romantic lenses now, when all she wanted in me was a friend.

I also had a superhero career to think of these days. One I barely managed to keep hidden from my family. Even if Eden and I dated—and that was a big if—how was I supposed to make it work?

I sighed and opened my browser. The Bastion's message boards were as busy as always, with the unrest up North commanding a huge number of posts, alongside the Council's activities in the South. I scrolled through the threads, bookmarking those that caught my attention.

Pro-now's speech was a popular one with many hot takes. The fight against No Light was another. One crisp video taken of the latter generated a huge amount of frenzy. A lot of the comments beneath it debated Newtown's superhero roster. One thread seemed dedicated to uncovering Pro-now's origins, and another read in bold: Dia Mater's not with The Twelve anymore? Why?!

I bookmarked it. That was one answer I'd like to know.

A bit more scrolling revealed that The Pacesetters now had a fan page—a fledgling website containing grainy images and names. A picture of me in the robot mask standing near Kabash was tagged ‘Kabash Jr?’ One shot of the Habakkuk trekking across the beach had the name Robotman filed beneath it.

A grin spread across my face. I had done this. Actively participated in threads arguing Supers and the stuff our local heroes got up to. Reading the posts from the viewpoint of an insider proved a little surreal. What would public reception be like after our proper unveiling? Would we get adoring fans like all of the other popular Heroes?

Alewo jumped into the car. “I'm back!”

“Well, that didn't take long,” I said, putting my phone away.

“Eh? It's five minutes past three. I thought you'd kill me.”

“Huh?” I checked my watch. The bastard was right. I rapped the partition and glared at Alewo. “I am so going to kill you.”

He grinned. “Yeah, yeah. Let's go see this date of yours.”

I kept my glare up. “I'm serious. I don't want you butting in.”

“I won't,” Alewo said, crossing his heart. “Where exactly are we going?”

“Well, there's this fun restaurant everyone talks about in Royalton. They serve Mexican.” Actually, no one talked about it. But I wasn’t about to admit I’d chosen the first spot I saw on the search results.

“Teen Basket!” Alewo said, grin widening. “I've been there once. They serve awesome food!”

“I thought you grew up in Kogi?”

“I did, but back when the base was a bunch of construction stuff, we spent more time outside than in. I blew my savings on foodie sprees.” He patted his belly. “If we are going to Teen Basket, then I am really going to leave you alone. Need to stuff my face. I mean, I love Obong’s cooking and yours, but she overdoes it on the spices and you add too little.”

“You can't even boil an egg properly,” I said.

“Hey, I have eight siblings. Someone else was always doing that stuff.”

“Eight?”

Alewo winced. “Yeah . . . Oh, look. What do you think of these pictures?”

An obvious diversion, but I had no reason to pry. If long-term stresses triggered Emergence, then it only followed that many young Supers were products of troublesome childhoods. I knew I was. Ava was too. Toye, Obong, and Alewo were probably no different.

I filed the info for later.

Teen Basket was as snappy as the name suggested. It was a compact restaurant with a low ceiling and clean tiled floor. Exquisite patterns, drawn in chalk, lined the walls and furniture. The waiters walked around in short ties and sombreros, and their trays sizzled with platters of steak, corn, and other vegetables.

A small crowd of diners waited for their meals at rectangular tables with Jenga towers or scrabble boards emplaced between them. Eden had arrived before we did, and she jumped to wave as we entered.

“Chetachi,” she yelled.

“Oh,” Alewo said, mouth agape. “Oh.”

“Make yourself scarce, dude,” I murmured.

“You suck,” he said, taking an empty table.

I sat across from Eden. I was barely in my seat when she leaned in for a hug.

“I thought you were camping in Lagos?” she asked, eyes glittering. “How come you're back so soon?”

“Had an errand,” I said. Had I always been aware of her perfume?

“What kind of errand? Started visiting prisons yet?”

“No. Not that. We had some work to do, and I tagged along so I could visit.”

“My dude, look at me.”

“Huh?”

Eden leaned in close. “You were avoiding my gaze.”

“I wasn’t.”

Her full lips stretched into a smile. She had on a simple sweater and skirt, and hair was done up in a messy ponytail. Yet, she managed to be the most brilliant feature in the room.

“You've changed so much,” she said. “What are they feeding you in camp?”

“It's only been three weeks. I'm the same as ever.”

“Not from where I'm sitting.” She frowned. “There's something different about you. Something I can't put my finger on.”

“Maybe I grew more handsome?” Oh. Oh, god. That was lame. I wasn't at my best today. Blame Alewo for putting weird thoughts in my head.

Eden snickered, jabbing a finger at me. “You aren’t half-wrong. The old you slouched and grumped about, but you aren't doing any of that now. It’s a miracle how a smile can transform even your passionless face.”

“Hey,” I whined.

Eden lowered her lashes. “I'm glad you texted me. I was wondering if leaving Pizzamania signified the end of our friendship.”

Friendship. Yes. That’s what we had. “It didn't,” I said, flicking her nose. “You know me better than that.”

Eden grinned. “Do I? I’ve never met this version of you, for example. Handsome, you called it?”

“Oh, let that yarn die already.”

“Never.” She grabbed the menu off the table. “Let's order some chow. I'm starving.”

I perused the choices and nearly fell out of my chair. My quick reflexes saved me the embarrassment. Was rice supposed to be that expensive? What the heck did it do? Grant superpowers? Ugh, I should have put more thought into this.

“What are you getting?” Eden asked.

“Err. Go ahead and choose for the both of us. I'm a bit confused.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Eden said. “You have entrusted your palate to the great and glorious me, connoisseur of foreign delights. I will not disappoint.” She signaled a waiter. “Let's go with something simple. Save room for dinner?”

“Yeah.”

I had missed talking with Eden. It was so easy to fall into her pace, laughing at her signature antics. I had been worried for nothing. Eden was Eden. And I was me. We had been that way for far too long.

The blue corn quesadillas arrived hot, and I dug into them while listening to her stories.

“Wait,” I said. “You no longer work at Pizzamania?”

“Left a week after you did,” she said, dipping a piece of tortilla in guacamole. “It just wasn't the same with you gone. Plus, Daudu's a fat bastard. I wish I told him that to his face.”

“You could have.”

“Not while he knows my dad. It would have been suicide.”

“I thought you were working because your dad told you to earn pocket money yourself. What would you do now?”

“Oh. I got a new thing going.”

“A new job?”

“You're not the only one with secrets.” She licked cheese off her fingers.

“I tell you everything.”

“Hah! I’ve spent six-day weeks with you for one year, dude. I know when you lie. You look people straight in the eye.”

I did?

Eden chuckled. “Before you bite your tongue trying to deny that—yes, I have a new job. I’m doing something I love now, and it doesn't creep into my study time.” She frowned. “You still plan on taking the National Exams, don’t you?”

“I . . . I don't know.”

Eden huffed. “Chetachi—”

“What kind of job is it?” I asked, tripping her mid stride.

“She is with our magazine,” a new voice answered.

A tall, swanky teen with cheekbones sharp enough to cut leaves stood behind Eden. He flashed a grin at me. “So, this is the boy you were so eager to meet?”

Eden’s eyes widened. Her gaze darted between the newcomer and me. “I t-thought you were going to wait outside. I'm not done.”

“I was waiting,” the newcomer said. “But then I got hungry. Also, it is looking to rain.”

“Who's this?” I asked Eden, even as the muscles tightened in my gut.

The interloper smiled down at me, confident in a manner I could never hope to match.

“Oh. He's . . .” Eden started.

“He’s a friend,” the interloper said. He adjusted the motorcycle helmet tucked beneath his arm and extended a hand. “Name's Oliver. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Chetachi.”