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Stalked

Max gawked at himself in Stiletto’s mirror, unable to believe his eyes. He was invisible!

He peered closer.

No, “invisible” wasn’t quite right.

His body was shrouded in darkness, its form cloaked in the shadow of the statue next to it. He was nearly invisible, but not quite. He could just barely make out the faint outlines of his face. And when he wriggled his entire body, there was a ripple in the darkness.

But that was only because he was staring right at himself. A passerby probably would’ve overlooked him entirely.

“What . . . how?” he stammered, his eyes wide with wonder.

“That’s the potential I was talking about, Max,” Stiletto said, her voice a mixture of pride and mischief. “On your own, you’ve been trying to develop your powers for months. I taught you a simple camouflage technique in what . . . two minutes? Imagine what this school’s entire faculty of experts will teach you if you let them.”

He waved his hand in front of his face like a metronome, barely able to see it swish back and forth. Moving his hand out of the shadow made it reappear. But as soon as he pulled it back into the shadow, his hand was cloaked again.

It was bizarre.

But also exhilarating.

“What else can I do?” Max demanded, barely able to contain his excitement.

“Beats me,” Stiletto said. But the gleam in her eye belied her nonchalant shrug, making Max think she wasn’t telling the whole truth. Normally her eyes held sardonic amusement, like she was silently having a laugh at the world’s expense. Now they held a new look, one Max wasn’t used to seeing there. Anticipation, maybe? She looked like she was as excited as Max, but trying to hide it. “Maybe if you stop whining so much about the favor I did you in bringing you here, you’ll find out faster what you’re capable of.”

Max mulled that over. He still wanted to be a superhero. To help people. Nothing had changed that. But if Stiletto was right, if Prometheus could help him develop his abilities more quickly and effectively than a Hero academy could, maybe Prometheus was the place for him. At least for now.

Later, perhaps he could leverage the skills Prometheus taught him to transfer to a Hero academy. In the long run, Max still had his eye on getting a Hero’s certification, and graduating from a Hero academy was the only path to that. Being a Hero was already a risky gig, but operating without a Hero certification as a vigilante? That was slapping a target on your back twice over. Max would not just be fighting baddies but dodging the cops too, no matter how many kittens he saved from trees. Just look at Robin Hood—the dude did a ton of good, but at the end of the day, he had still been an outlaw. Times hadn’t changed much since Robin Hood’s day. Except for there being indoor plumbing now, thank god.

“I need to go to the infirmary,” Max said suddenly.

Stiletto arched an eyebrow. “Did being lectured to by Strategos give you a tummy ache? Can’t say I blame you. Happens to me all the time.”

Max shook his head. “If I’m going to stay at this school, I need to make peace with Malik. I can’t focus on training if I’m always looking over my shoulder, waiting for Malik to settle a score. I know guys like him—he’s laid up in a hospital bed and I’m not, so he’s not going to rest until he makes me spend some time in one, too. I’ve got to squash any beef he has against me before it sets like concrete.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Max got the feeling again that Stiletto was beaming at him behind her mask.

“See, Max, I was right—you do have potential. Your instincts are on the nose: it’s easier to avoid a fight than win one. C’mon, let’s go to the infirmary.”

Max shook his head again.

“You can’t come. There’s no way Malik will respect me if I bring a teacher with me. I have to go alone.”

Stiletto regarded him, a note of suspicion entering her eyes.

“Perhaps you’re right,” she finally said. “I’ll have to give you a password to roam the castle alone, though. Brand-new first years aren’t supposed to wander unsupervised. Ya’ll have a tendency to touch everything you see, even if it’s labelled ‘Touch this and unleash a zombie apocalypse.’ How’s my pronunciation of ya’ll, by the way? I’m fine-tuning my Southern accent.”

Before they separated, Stiletto had Max practice cloaking and uncloaking himself in the shadows. It only took a few minutes before he felt like he could do it again unsupervised. A few days of practice, and he suspected the process would be as second nature as shadow hopping.

Finally, Max wound his way through the castle alone, under strict instructions from Stiletto “to keep your hands to yourself and not pick up the first fork you find and shove it into the nearest outlet. You first years are hell in diapers until you’re potty-trained.”

As Max navigated the labyrinthine corridors of Prometheus Academy toward where Stiletto said the infirmary was, he couldn't help but marvel anew at the surreal blend of ancient and futuristic. The stone walls, cold and imposing with flickering torches, contrasted sharply with sleek, high-tech panels displaying holographic maps and schedules. Occasionally, he’d pass a statue that, upon closer inspection, was a robot standing guard. Max nearly jumped out of his skin the first time one of them moved, demanding his password.

In one alcove, a tapestry that looked like it belonged to Moses hung next to a digital display showcasing live feeds from various training rooms, where upperclassmen practiced using their powers. They were early birds. It being orientation week for the first years, most upperclassmen hadn’t returned to the school yet. With three-fourths of the student body absent, it was no wonder the sprawling castle was mostly empty. It felt like tramping through a haunted house.

This was the first time, Max realized as he walked, that he had been alone since meeting Stiletto in Rebel County.

Except he had a feeling he wasn’t alone. The longer Max proceeded, the stronger his feeling he was being followed. The feeling made the back of his neck itch.

Every time he glanced back, no one was behind him. And yet the unsettling sense of having a tail persisted.

Maybe he was jumping at shadows.

Or maybe, since this wasn’t a school for Boy and Girl Scouts, he should listen to his instincts.

Despite wanting to break into a dead sprint, he forced himself to walk at a normal pace down a long corridor, feeling like there was a bullseye painted on the back of his head.

But the moment he turned the corner, he hurried forward, crouching in the shadow of a trophy case. He went through the steps to cloak himself, feeling his skin tingle as the camouflage effect took hold.

He thought quiet thoughts, straining to listen for footsteps.

At first, there was nothing. Then he heard the distinctive lurching tread of a servitor approaching. It came from the direction Max was heading, not the direction he had come from. So it couldn’t be a servitor tailing him. Besides, he would have heard an android lumbering behind him.

Max would’ve been willing to bet money it was Stiletto following him. Despite her teaching him a new trick, he still didn’t trust her. Strange how someone impaling you with a sword didn’t inspire trust.

Stiletto’s motivations remained as murky as the shadow Max hid in. Why had she really brought him to Prometheus? Her claim of doing a good deed rang hollow. There had to be more, something that served her interests. If being at Prometheus also benefited Max, he suspected that was just a convenient byproduct of Stiletto’s true agenda.

Her following him now only deepened the enigma. But whatever her reasons, Max knew he needed to stay alert and cautious; in a school for supervillainy, he couldn’t afford to be anything less.

He held his breath, waiting.

The person who turned the corner in Max’s wake wasn’t Stiletto.

It was Strategos’ elderly secretary.

She paused, just feet away, close enough to touch. Her head tilted ever so slightly, as if sensing something amiss. Her eyes, enlarged by her thick glasses, were sharp and penetrating as they scanned the shadows.

Max’s heart began thudding in his chest.

For reasons he couldn’t explain, he was suddenly very afraid.