Ravi acknowledged Max’s raised hand with a nod, looking eager to do to Max what he had just done to the blonde speedster.

Max lowered his hand.

“I really gotta pee,” he said. “Where’s the bathroom?”

Ravi blinked in surprise, then barked out a laugh. He gestured grandly at their tropical surroundings.

“This is your lucky day, because you’re standing on the world’s biggest blank canvas. Take a page from Van Gogh’s love of yellow and sally forth to shower the island with your golden masterpiece.”

Max didn’t understand or care why Ravi was dragging Vincent Van Gogh into this. His bladder’s urgent demands made him hustle away from the other first years as Ravi continued to lecture them: “Fifth lesson of the day courtesy of your unconscious speedster friend: Don’t start a fight unless you’re certain you can win it.”

It was with an effort that Max stopped himself from breaking into a mad sprint as he separated from the others. The only thing more urgent than the need to pee was his need to escape this madhouse before he was frogmarched deeper into it.

But what good would running do? Where could he run?

The ocean? Despite all those Sunday school lessons his father had dragged him to as a kid, he hadn’t picked up by osmosis the fine art of walking on water. The jungle? A school advanced enough to deploy androids would likely have the jungle surrounding it rigged with more surveillance gear than Fort Knox.

Once he was a respectful distance from the others, Max unzipped and began relieving himself, thinking feverishly.

Mr. Tomlinson. That was how Ravi had referred to the tuxedoed blonde when he gave instructions to the servitors. Up until that moment, Ravi had acted as if he’d merely rolled out of bed to chaperone a group of freshmen, but his name-drop indicated a deeper level of preparation. The slip of the tongue indicated Ravi must’ve had advance knowledge of the first years he would be dealing with. Ravi struck Max as an intense striver who wanted to walk into every situation prepared. Max would be willing to bet the upperclassman had studied dossiers on each of the first years before coming to meet with them.

That would explain a lot: how Ravi knew Tomlinson’s name; why he had looked directly at Max when he asked if anyone else wanted to challenge him, knowing that Max, like Tomlinson, had been brought to Villains Island involuntarily; and why Ravi seemed to take a special interest in Damian, whose family was apparently a big deal in this strange new world Max had been shanghaied into.

One good thing had come from Ravi’s confrontation with the speedster:

Now Max knew for certain there was at least one other person who was here against his will and who wanted to get the heck out of Dodge.

Maybe there were others. Maybe if they pooled their knowledge, talents, and Unreal abilities, they could escape this damnable island and its Villain wannabes. Max would have to figure out who his fellow abductees were and get them all rowing in the same direction.

But Max knew he was no Spartacus or George Washington. Heck, he wasn’t even Katniss Everdeen or Luke Skywalker. He knew exactly nothing about how to lead a rebellion. But if he wanted to escape this place, maybe he’d have to learn on the job. He had read How to Win Friends and Influence People in the Rebel County Public Library, and sorely wished he had a copy of it now.

Max shuddered at the sudden recollection of Tomlinson’s mangled fist and crumpled body. He and the other conscripts would have to do all their plotting without Prometheus Academy finding out about it. An offer to attend the academy was apparently an offer one simply did not refuse. Then there was—

“What’s the hold up, Van Gogh?” came Ravi’s distant cry behind Max. “You must have the prostate of a 100-year-old man. Want me to send a servitor to hold your hand and johnson for you?”

“No, I’m good,” Max yelled back.

He zipped up again and trotted back to the group.

***

“Okay, that’s far enough,” Ravi commanded.

Ravi surveyed the first-year students, whom he had directed to a spot near the jungle surrounding the central mountain of Villains Island. Having walked behind them during their journey, it seemed Ravi’s earlier warning was sincere about not letting anyone behind you. This told Max more than he wanted to know about how cutthroat Prometheus Academy must be.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“The few of you who use your heads as more than just hatracks may have been wondering how we’re getting up to the academy,” Ravi said. “Well, wonder no more.”

With a theatrical flourish, he tapped a device on his wrist. The ground shuddered in response. Max watched with wide eyes as sections of the sandy beach began to rise, revealing circular silver platforms large enough for several people to stand on.

“Voilà,” Ravi declared. “Travel on a silver platter. Groups of five humans plus a servitor in each, please.”

Max wound up sharing a platform with Damian, Ravi, and two first years he hadn't spoken to yet—one a girl with lavender hair, the other a muscular dude with a snake tattoo coiled around his arm. Once everyone was situated, the platforms began spinning with a soft whir. The hum of the spinning sent tingles up Max’s legs.

Soon, the platforms spun so fast they were but blurs underfoot. And yet, somehow, Max and the others remained rock-still instead of spinning with the platforms or being flung off them. It was like standing underwater, but not getting wet. The other first years looked as mystified and awed as Max.

“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic,” Ravi explained. “Arthur C. Clarke told me so himself during an Occult Division seance last year. Hold onto your hats.”

Ravi clasped a railing that had risen from the platform’s perimeter, and the others followed suit. Max found himself clutching the railing so hard, his knuckles turned white.

In seconds, he was glad about his firm hold.

Smoothly and silently, the silver platforms shot upward like untethered balloons. The beach below rapidly shrank into a narrow white band encircling Villains Island, as the wind rushing past them carried the humid scents of salt and tropical flora. Max’s stomach churned with a mixture of exhilaration, trepidation, and queasiness.

He glanced sidelong at Damian, who looked captivated by the panorama unfolding below. The other two first years on the platform with them chattered excitedly. Ravi appeared relaxed but vigilant as he eyed Damian with unabashed interest, like a guy screwing up the courage to talk to a pretty girl.

Ravi sidled up to Damian. The upperclassman’s body language was noticeably different now than it had been with the other first years, like Ravi was suddenly a small dog sniffing around a much bigger one. He spoke in a low voice, but not so low Max couldn’t overhear. “I’m a great admirer of your father’s,” he told Damian.

“Thank you.” Damian’s voice was neutral, but Max could tell his former helicopter buddy had tensed up.

“I gotta ask about Moscow. Is it true? About what he did to the Duma?”

Damian’s voice was still carefully neutral, but his green eyes held the disdainful look of a successful banker who had just been asked by his shoeshine man how often he slept with his wife. “My father believes in discretion,” Damian said. “As do I.”

The hint of panic on Ravi’s face looked alien in a place where smug self-assurance normally resided. “Of course. I meant no offense.”

“None given, none taken.” But there was a note of dismissal in Damian’s tone.

Ravi took the hint, backing away with a chastened smile. His smug demeanor snapped back into place as he began berating the other two students for some imaginary transgression. Max had been indifferent about Ravi before, but now took an active dislike to him; Max couldn’t stand people who kissed up, but kicked down.

But Ravi’s behavior begged the question of just who Damian’s father was. The information could prove useful. If Damian’s dad was a bigwig in Villain circles, perhaps Max could leverage that to spring himself from this nest of vipers. Maybe he ought to be kissing up to the green-eyed guy too. And what were Damian’s Unreal powers? Thrown off-kilter by the strange new world he had been thrust into, Max hadn’t thought to ask Damian about his powers before now.

Later. In the meantime, Max would just try to enjoy the view. Rebel County, Mississippi had few attractions, and none of them compared to this.

The platform continued its ascent, piercing wisps of clouds. As they emerged above the cloud cover, the scene took Max’s breath away.

Before them, perched at the pinnacle of the mountain, was Prometheus Academy. It was even more awe-inspiring close up than it had been from the helicopter. The castle-like structure was bathed in a golden glow from the sun, its tall spires challenging the heavens themselves.

“Wow,” the girl with the lavender hair murmured almost worshipfully. Based on the look on everyone’s face, they shared the same sentiment. Even Ravi seemed humbled by the sight. The upperclassman nodded silently, as if acknowledging the castle’s grandeur.

Max’s eyes roamed over the structure, trying to make sense of its amalgamation of styles—Gothic arches here, Roman columns there, and even modernist glass structures peppered throughout. It was as if the place was a tribute to human achievement throughout the ages. The highest towers, with their glowing mystical orbs, pulsed like heartbeats.

The platforms transporting the students all stopped their ascent. They moved laterally now, toward the castle.

“Prepare for landing,” Ravi warned. Max’s grip on the railing tightened.

But there was no jolt, no bump—just the faintest hint of a whisper as the platform Max was on settled itself on a wide terrace connected to the castle’s main building. The platforms carrying the other students also touched down like landing feathers.

“We’re here, freshmen. Welcome to Prometheus Academy,” Ravi announced, his eyes twinkling with something that Max couldn’t quite place. Pride, perhaps. Or maybe schadenfreude. “This is where you’ll either become legends or cautionary tales.”

For all his resentment over being kidnapped and his skepticism about the academy, Max couldn't help but feel a strange sense of potential, like he stood on the edge of an abyss and was about to discover if he would fall or fly.

As he and the others stepped off their platforms, the castle’s giant doors swung open, inviting them into whatever dark mysteries lay beyond.