For a golden moment that seemed to last an eternity, Max was swept up in the excitement of kissing a girl.

He had kissed girls before. But it had been a while. And, of course, he had never kissed this particular girl before. First kisses were always something special, like an explorer planting his foot on a new land, eager to discover what fresh wonders lurked over the next hill. This uncharted territory in Max’s arms was soft in all the right places, smelled good, and her mouth tasted like peppermint.

Max’s gawking teammates, the Capture the Flag tournament, and all of Villains Island faded away.

His lips burning like he was pressing them against a rapidly heating stove finally brought reality crashing back down around him.

He shoved the Asian girl away, touching his throbbing lips gingerly. Gene, Gretchen, Koffi, and Ollie stared, looking almost as shocked as Max at the unexpected public display of affection. His head was buzzing, like flies were frolicking in his skull.

Yes, Max had kissed girls before, but he had never been tempted to punch one in the kisser afterward.

“What the hell?” he demanded of the Stealth Division student. “What did you do to me?”

With a Cheshire cat grin, the almond-eyed woman spun around, putting her back to Max. Her glossy black hair was coiled around her head in a crown braid, and her jumpsuit fit her muscular backside like a glove.

“Hold up some fingers,” she instructed, her voice calm yet assertive.

“What? Why?”

“It’s easier to show than tell. Just do it.”

Max was taken aback by the strange directive almost as much as by the kiss. But he complied, holding up two fingers.

“Two,” the girl said instantly, without turning.

Intrigued, Max tried again, this time with five fingers.

“Five,” she said promptly. It was like something out of a Las Vegas magic show.

Max held up a single finger, his middle one.

“One,” the student stated, still facing away. “And didn’t your mother ever teach you it’s rude to flip someone off?”

“Okay, how are you doing this?” Max demanded.

She turned to face him, a devious smile playing on her lips. “My name’s Molly. You asked what my powers are. I can see what others see.”

“You’re telepathic?” Max felt his face redden, embarrassed by the amorous thoughts that had flitted through his head during their fleeting kiss.

Molly shook her head.

“I sense what others sense, but I don’t read minds. I see what you see, hear what you hear, et cetera. I call it perspective shifting.”

Gene jumped in. “But what was that kiss all about?”

“My powers require intimate contact for me to imprint on someone. Don’t look so dismayed, Max. We’re not connected forever; the effect only lasts a couple of hours. Your jerk-off sessions will remain private, unless you intend to rub one out right here in the jungle. Though I hear that’s how Bigfoot spawned, so be careful.”

“Intimate contact?” Ollie leered at Molly. “Fancy imprinting on someone else?”

Molly looked at the Englishman like poo on the bottom of her boots had learned to speak.

“After those misogynistic things you and your smooth-brained cronies said about Gene during orientation? Not even if you were the last man on earth. And I was the last woman. And we needed to procreate to preserve the human race.” Molly’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Hard pass. Besides, I can only imprint on one person at a time.”

“So you just kissed Max to use your power?” Fists clenched, Gene took an ominous step toward Molly. “You . . . you . . . Jezebel! That’s assault! That’s way out of line!”

Molly shrugged, unfazed by the accusation.

“Like I said, it’s easier to show than tell. Besides, Max doesn’t mind. I saw through his own eyes the way he looked at my ass when my back was turned. Yes, Max—it’s real, and it’s spectacular. If you ask me, Gene, I did the guy a solid.”

Gene’s face darkened, like a storm cloud about to spit lightning. Max stepped between the two women before Gene’s impulsiveness made her do or say something to jeopardize the team’s chances of winning the tournament.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“It’s okay, Gene,” Max placated her. “Truly. No harm done. Besides, Molly imprinting on me gives me some new ideas on how we’re going to win this thing.”

* * *

Camouflaged in the shadow of a palm tree, Max lurked in the jungle’s thicket. His team’s territory was in the jungle; the enemy team’s territory was on the beach. Max almost wished the teams’ territories were swapped. There were so many bugs in the dense jungle, Max felt like they were eating him alive as they dined on his exposed skin. But he didn’t dare swat them away, lest he make a sound exposing his presence.

Within eyeshot of Max’s concealed position was the nexus of several trails, more game trails than well-trodden paths. The trails running east and west wound like serpents, curving out of sight deeper into the jungle. The trail running due north ended at the beach ringing the jungle. The trail running due south sloped gently uphill.

Max’s team had established their base at the southern trail’s terminus, a sheer rock wall that was part of the island’s imposing mountain. The team had raised their flag at the end of the trail. Max had chosen the location because it was as close to a cul-de-sac as his team had been able to find in the limited time they had to prepare. They had roped off the few gaps in the thick flora that lined the trail with reams of copper wire Koffi had conjured, making it so that taking the southern trail was the only ready way to approach their base. The only other option would be to blunder through the thick jungle, making enough racket to raise the dead, alerting the team to the approach of the enemy long before the enemy got too close to their base.

The klaxon signaling the start of the tournament had sounded less than a minute ago, but Max was already impatient.

Why hadn’t anything happened? Had he guessed wrong about the enemy team’s strategy?

The first team to capture its opposing team’s flag won the trip off the island. With a single grand prize at stake, that meant teams should go on the offense from the jump, optimizing for speed, trying to capture a flag before any other team could. Since Damian’s team included Edgar, the class’ only speedster, the obvious play would be to send the speedster into the jungle to scout the terrain, the enemy’s position, and maybe even capture the flag in a single super-speed strike. A guy like Ed could clinch the tournament for his team before the competing teams could even properly mobilize.

But Max was familiar enough with Damian to know his roommate wouldn’t want to make the obvious play because . . . well, it was obvious. Damian would assume Max would anticipate Ed being the tip of the spear, and further assume Max would deploy some sort of counter-measure to thwart the speedster.

And Damian was right. Max did have counter-measures ready.

So the obvious play wasn’t the smart play. Damian would advise his teammates against it. The problem Damian and the rest of his team faced, though, was Ed.

The speedster was simultaneously the other team’s greatest asset and its weakest link. Max knew from his scheming sessions with his fellow abductee that the senator’s son was spoiled, entitled, and didn’t like being told what to do. Also, he was as anxious to get off the island as Max was. Max was certain Ed would ignore Damian’s wiser counsel and bull ahead, overly relying on his super speed to capture the flag before any other team could.

If Max was right about Ed’s impetuousness, why hadn’t he seen the speedster yet? His super speed required a reasonably clear path. If Ed were to zip through the jungle, he would have to do it on these trails Max was watching. And yet he was nowhere to be found.

Had Max misjudged the situation?

There! Max’s heart leaped to his throat.

Ed zoomed up the trail leading from the beach. The speedster was a blur of motion. If Max had blinked at the wrong time, he might have missed him.

When he reached the nexus of the trails, Ed curved to the left, shooting off to the east. Kicked-up debris swirled in the blurred figure’s wake.

“He’s here,” Max whispered quietly, knowing Molly would hear him thanks to her link to him.

“No need to tell us the obvious, genius. Remember, Molly can see what you see.” Ollie’s whispered voice in Max’s ear nearly made him jump. Ollie was with Molly at the team’s base, defending their flag. It was tough getting used to the fact Ollie could throw his voice clean through the jungle to talk to Max as long as Max stayed in this spot Ollie had scouted out beforehand. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist until Edgar takes the trail toward us. That’s when the fun begins.”

Max kept his eyes peeled on the trails, not even wanting to blink for fear of missing the speedster. Max’s plan depended on the rest of the team getting advance warning of the speedster’s approach toward them. Otherwise, Ed would be too fast to stop him from snagging their flag.

Max observed Ed coming back down the trail. If Max hadn’t been camouflaged, Ed would’ve easily spotted him. He would have wondered why Max was standing here, seemingly loitering. It would have raised suspicions, even in the mind of someone as cocky as Ed.

Ed took the fork in the trail leading south, toward the flag of Max’s team.

Max’s pulse quickened. It was an effort to not sign a warning to Molly. But, as Ollie had pointed out, she saw Ed zoom toward their base at the same time Max had thanks to her perspective shifting.

Due to the terrain Max had chosen, fortified by Koffi’s strategically strung wires, Ed had nowhere to run except straight ahead.

Right into their trap.

It was probably Max’s overheated imagination, but he thought he could just barely hear faint cries in the distance. Or maybe he heard the tiny joyous cries of all the mosquitoes bleeding him dry.

“We got him!” Ollie shouted in Max’s ear, making him wince. “Thanks to your tip-off, Gene was ready for Edgar. She used her juju on his leg, weakening his Achilles tendon. The bloke spun out of control, tumbling ass over teakettle. I tagged him before he even stopped moving. Didn’t even have to whammy him with a sonic blast. He’s hobbling off into jail now. He’s out of the game unless his mates bail him out.”

There was a pause, then Ollie added grudgingly, “I’ve got to give the devil his due—this is a pretty slick plan you came up with.”

Congratulate me when we have the other team’s flag, Max thought, and I’m flying away from this blasted island.

But he didn’t say all that. Instead, he simply whispered, “Thanks,” assuming Molly would convey the sentiment to Ollie.

Throwing off his camouflage, Max shadow hopped away from his sentry point near the trails. He teleported through the jungle toward where Koffi and Gretchen awaited him near the beach.

Now that the other team’s most dangerous player was off the board, it was time to go on the offense.