Cars crowded the convention center, massing close and far. Supers in everything from their everyday gear to evening gowns and suits to finer, refined versions of their costumes walked the red carpet, smiling and waving at the paparazzi. Cameras flashed. Stretch limos unloaded their occupants. Glitz, glamour, and money shone, so thick they left a stench on the air.

Levi marched toward the red carpet, but Fira grabbed him by the arm. “We’re supposed to go in the back,” she muttered, pointing at the trade entrance, its concrete ramp stained with rubber and oil, the dingy metal door tucked up beside the trash bins.

Giving the red carpet a longing look, Levi chuckled under his breath, then nodded. “You’re right. This is a situation that calls for stealth.”

“It’s a situation that calls for obeying the rules.”

“Or is it a situation that calls for aplomb and gusto?” Levi wondered aloud, drifting back toward the red carpet.

Fira grabbed him by the arm, all but dragging him toward the rear entrance. “Stealth, it definitely calls for stealth.”

Levi shook his head, straightening and pushing away from her. “Supers these days have no taste, no taste at all.”

Pulling Levi after her, Fira walked up to the back door and knocked. A metal slat slid aside, revealing a pair of eyes. They squinted menacingly at her. “Who is it?”

“F-fira,” she stammered.

The eyes slid to Levi. He beamed and waved. “And Levi! Ahem. Night Sparrow.”

The slat clicked closed. Fira held her breath, tense with anticipation.

Levi glanced at her. “What are you so nervous about? If they don’t let us in, I’ll just walk in the front door. It’s that easy.”

“It is not that easy. You can’t just walk the red carpet,” Fira snapped, frustrated.

“Who says I can’t? They don’t even lock the front door! I could just waltz right on in,” Levi said, spreading his hands.

“Their bodyguards. Probably them, too. You’d get destroyed before you made it halfway to the door,” Fira returned.

“What if I ran reaaaaaally fast?” Levi argued, eyeing what little they could see of the red carpet from here.

“It doesn’t matter how fast you run—I can’t believe I’m having this argument,” Fira grumbled.

“You can’t?” Levi waggled his brows at her.

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She sighed. “I can, but I wish I couldn’t.”

The door creaked open. A burly man gestured them in. Levi bounded forward, pushing past Fira, who edged in behind him, shooting the man an apologetic smile.

Rather than glitz and glamour, they stepped into a large room that gave the vibes of a high school prom night done on the cheap. Paper streamers dangled here and there, and little clusters of balloons clung together in pillars, one arc marking the start of the dance floor-fighting pit-activities area, with a few supers dancing, trying out new attack moves on one another, or just goofing around with their powers. Dead ahead, a super gave a lecture to a mostly-empty hall of chairs, while a small, sad buffet table hosted warm finger foods and a big bowl of neon-red punch.

“Oooh, punch,” Levi murmured, eyeing the bowl. He licked his lips.

“Don’t spike it,” Fira warned him.

He gave her an injured look. “Me? Give away free alcohol? Don’t be stupid. That shit costs money. I’m hoping someone else spiked it.”

“It could be spiked with more than alcohol,” she muttered darkly.

“In that case, I really want to drink it,” Levi said, rubbing his hands together and licking his lips.

Fira sighed. She looked around the room again and shook her head.

“What? Is it not living up to your expectations? If you want the seventy-five-thousand dollar gift bag, you have to get invited to the real gala. This side’s the amateur hour, fun conference put together by the losers who can’t cut it, to give them something to do while the real supers suck each other’s dicks,” Levi explained.

“Don’t be rude,” Fira chided him.

“Why shouldn’t I be rude to the assholes on the red carpet? This side’s way more fun, anyways. That side, you sit in an uncomfortable chair in uncomfortable clothes while cameras take hyper closeups of every reaction and you can’t move or stretch or eat or fall asleep. This side, you can kick someone in the balls, if you really want,” he said, gesturing to the fighting pit, where a super with bull horns repeatedly kneed another super between the legs. “I know which one I’d rather do.”

“Get kicked in the balls?” Fira asked jokingly.

“I’m more a giver than a receiver, but if I must,” Levi allowed.

“So…you just came to enjoy the party?” Fira asked.

Levi shook his head. He waggled his finger at her. “I came to be your chaperone. Someone has to make sure you don’t get distracted by some handsome young superhero with a big dick.”

“I—Levi!”

“What? Oh, sorry. Lots of money? A good personality? A handsome face? What do you get distracted by?” Levi asked earnestly, looking up at Fira.

“I don’t,” Fira replied firmly.

“Am I barking up the wrong tree? Is it superheroines you prefer?” Levi wondered.

Fira rolled her eyes. “Levi. Why did you come here?”

“What? I’m not allowed to relax? I just came here to hang out with my homies.” Levi gave her an innocent look.

“Uh huh,” Fira said, crossing her arms.

Levi threw his hands up. “Alright, you got me. I came here to get puss—”

“Levi!” Crossbones came up behind him, clapping him on the shoulder. “Good to see you, kid. You doing alright? Hanging in there? And Fira! My girl. You did well out there last night. Keep up the performance like that, and you’ll be on the other side of this conference hall sooner rather than later.”

“What about me?” Levi asked, pointing at himself.

Crossbones laughed. He patted Levi’s shoulder. “If you work hard, anything is possible.”

Levi pouted. “You can just say no.”

Laughing, Crossbones released him. “Well, see you two around. Enjoy!” With a final wave, he vanished into the crowds once more.

Levi smiled. “Oh, I will. I will.”

“I don’t like the way you said that,” Fira muttered, mildly concerned.

“I don’t know why not. Ooh, fresh chickie nuggies!” Levi bolted over to the buffet table as a man in formal wear laid out a new plate of chicken bites.

Fira sighed, shaking her head, then followed after him, unwilling to leave him alone for long.