I took a steadying breath, that familiar, surreal calm settling over me. Moving other people with me wasn’t ideal—there were reasons I rarely did it. The last time had been ages ago, back when Maggie begged me to show her what my ability felt like. We were younger, probably too reckless to think about consequences, so I’d finally caved and moved her just a few blocks away.

Maggie described it as “a gut-wrenching, reality-ripping jolt,” like someone rewound the universe and hit play before it was ready. She’d crumpled over afterward, vertigo hitting like a sledgehammer until she finally threw up. Ever since then, I’d been reluctant to use it on anyone—especially living things—despite Alan’s insistence on testing it out to support some theory he had. Without understanding the risks, the last thing I wanted was to cause harm or send someone spiraling into a mental blur.

But right now, I didn’t have much choice. Keeping it short and simple, I placed a hand on Owen’s shoulder, steadying myself for the move. Just a small jump, I reminded myself. Nothing complicated.

In a blink, my perception shifted. The world around us stilled, every movement suspended in time, muted and distant. Moving Owen with me felt different, like dragging a stick through molasses—or maybe more like hauling a mannequin through a swamp, only heavier and less cooperative. His frozen form resisted slightly, pliable but stubborn, as if his body knew it had no business moving like this. I guided him through the courtyard, gliding us past students frozen mid-gawk. Then, with a release of focus, I let the world snap back to speed.

We were now tucked away in a shaded corner, hidden but still close enough to hear the faint, building rumble of the crowd back in the courtyard. At first, it was just the distant chant of “Dave!” but then, as if someone had sparked a wildfire, a roar erupted. They’d seen us vanish, and the cheers swelled, echoing across campus in a wave of excitement.

Meanwhile, Owen staggered beside me, clutching his stomach, his face several shades paler than normal. For a second, he looked like he might tough it out, but then his expression twisted, and he turned away, stumbling a few steps before losing whatever unfortunate breakfast he’d had on the grass. It was the kind of funny you’d find in slapstick—not exactly heartwarming, but hard to look away from, like a kid wobbling off a theme park ride, regretting every decision that led up to it.

“Oh… my… god,” he wheezed after a moment, voice coming out nasally as ever, even through the shock. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, bracing his hands on his knobby knees as he tried to steady himself. “Did we just… teleport?”

“Not exactly,” I started, but it was clear my explanation wasn’t reaching him. His expression was shifting from shock to pure, unfiltered excitement.

“I… teleported,” he whispered, testing the word like it was the first time he’d heard it, his eyes widening in awe. Then, his face lit up with unrestrained exhilaration, and he threw his lanky, noodle-like arms into an enthusiastic superhero pose, one fist clenched, his other arm raised awkwardly, as if he’d only ever seen the pose in cartoons. “I teleported!” he burst out, nearly losing his balance in his excitement.

“Quiet down!” I muttered, clamping a hand over his mouth to stop him—only to regret it instantly, thanks to the lingering effects of his nausea. I yanked my hand away, grimacing as I wiped it on my jeans. Smooth move, Dave. Next time, let the kid shout.

Owen blinked at me, still too dazed by the thrill of what he thought was his first teleportation to notice my disgust. “I… I teleported,” he repeated, practically bouncing with excitement. “I mean, how else could we get here so fast? This is incredible!”

I fought back a smirk. “Yeah, you’re practically a magician now. But let’s focus—there are things we need to discuss.”

Owen nodded, though his eyes still sparkled with the thrill of his “teleportation” experience. He might have been a little worse for wear, but the excitement was enough to make him look like he’d just discovered superpowers of his own.

“Okay, okay,” he said, still grinning. “But for the record? I totally teleported.”

“Yeah, well, save it for the highlight reel,” I replied dryly. Shooting a glance over my shoulder to make sure no one else was around, I turned back to Owen, who was finally starting to calm down. “Now, let’s get some things straight. I’ve got questions, and you’re going to answer them.”

Owen straightened, his excitement dimming slightly under my serious gaze. He might not fully understand what had just happened, but it was clear to him now that this was only the start of a much-needed conversation.

I quickly reached into Owen’s jacket pocket, where I’d seen him fumbling earlier, and felt my fingers close around something small and cold. When I pulled it out, I held up a bright orange vial—the unmistakable, almost radioactive-looking color of Courage.

I arched a brow, letting the vial catch the light. “Seriously? You were planning to use this on that guy, Power Paladin?”

Owen’s face flushed a bit, though he didn’t shrink back. “Justice has to triumph over evil,” he declared, his voice barely wavering.

I sighed, giving him a light, half-amused bop on the head. “Knock it off, Owen. This isn’t a comic book. Take it from me—I know. If you’re going to dive into something, you need to think with a level head and weigh the consequences. Courage or no Courage, things don’t end well when you’re charging in blind.”

Owen’s eyes widened as he processed my words, nodding fervently as though he’d just received a profound lesson from a seasoned hero. “Got it. I’ll follow all of your training, sir! Every word. I’ll be the best hero candidate you can imagine.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

I grimaced, pinching the bridge of my nose. “No. Cut it out, seriously. I’m not a hero, and I’m definitely not training you. I’m warning you. If you think a vial of this orange magic potion is going to solve all your problems, you’re in for a nasty wake-up call.”

His hopeful expression faltered a little, but he continued nodding, hanging onto my every word like they were law. As I spoke, though, I couldn’t shake the odd feeling that I was channeling Dr. Shaw. The familiar phrasing, the no-nonsense tone—it all felt like something she’d say.

Great, I thought, stifling another sigh. Dr. Shaw’s rubbing off on me.

“So… were you following me? Looking for me?” Owen asked, his tone all seriousness, like he genuinely thought this might be some kind of grand superhero rendezvous. His eyes sparkled with an earnest excitement, the kind of look someone gives when they’re secretly hoping you were following them.

I rolled my eyes. “Let’s get this straight—I just happened to run into you, okay? I’m here to find out more about Courage and where this… drug is coming from.”

Owen’s face lit up like he’d just thought of the world’s best idea, his voice dropping to a low, confidential tone. “I could tell you… if you do something for me.”

“Sure, kid, whatever you want,” I replied, humoring him.

“Let me be your sidekick,” he said, grinning.

I blinked, half-laughing. “Hell no. Absolutely not. I’m not a superhero, Owen, and I definitely don’t need a sidekick.”

“Alright then,” he said with a shrug, maddeningly matter-of-fact. “I guess you don’t need to know where the drug’s coming from, either.”

I sighed, pressing my fingers to my temples. “Alright, fine. What if we work out some kind of arrangement?”

His eyes lit up, that same determined gleam I was starting to recognize. “Sure. Make me your sidekick.”

I shook my head. “I’m not making you a sidekick. I don’t need one—and you don’t even have powers, Owen.”

He straightened up, undeterred. “I don’t need powers! I’ve got… other talents.”

“Other talents?” I echoed, eyebrow raised. “Like what?”

“Well…” He scratched his head, clearly thinking fast. “I’m great with tech, I’ve got connections, and I’m basically top-tier at sleuthing.”

I let out a long, slow breath. “Owen, I’m serious. I don’t need a sidekick. But maybe there’s some other way we could—”

“Sidekick or nothing,” he cut in, standing his ground.

I groaned, giving in a little. “Fine… if the information you give me actually leads somewhere, then maybe there’s a—”

“Benji Stafford!” he burst out, grinning in triumph before I could finish.

I blinked, thrown by the abruptness. “And who’s that?”

Owen’s eyes widened, clearly surprised I wasn’t already aware. “Seriously? Benji Stafford is the senior science major here. Top of the class. He’s head of the bioengineering club and pretty much everyone in the ‘know’ crowd knows he’s got his hands on Courage. He showed up with it one day and gave out samples to a few club members. Said it was tested and safe.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Safe? And everyone just believed him?”

Owen shrugged, looking a bit sheepish. “Well, he’s a senior and the top bioengineering student. Seemed legit. Plus, he kept bringing more every week, always ready at the start of every Monday. People even started calling him ‘the wizard,’ since he’s practically dishing out Courage.”

“So, does he have flying monkeys too?” I replied dryly. “And how many cowardly lions are we talking about?”

Owen hesitated, as if doing a mental tally. “Well, at first, only a handful of us. But now? It’s spread pretty quickly. I’d say… quite a few people.” He paused, his voice dropping. “I don’t know where he’s getting it from, but he has more every week, and he’s making bank selling it to all kinds of people.”

“Of course he is.” I rubbed the back of my neck, thinking it over. “So, this Benji Stafford brings back a fresh batch every Monday? And no one’s questioning it?”

“Well, not out loud, anyway. Benji’s kinda… intimidating,” Owen said, lowering his voice as if Benji might overhear. “People just take what he says at face value. He’s got that serious look, like he knows what he’s doing.”

I shot Owen a look. “And what about you? Are you questioning it now?”

Owen gave me a sheepish half-smile. “I mean… yeah, maybe a little. But it’s hard to ignore the power that comes with it. I’m not saying it’s right, but…” He trailed off, clearly struggling to reconcile the allure of Courage with the reality of its mysterious origin.

“Well, sounds like this Benji’s the next step,” I said, taking a steadying breath.

Owen shrugged, glancing at his watch. “It’s Friday, so club stuff’s probably wrapped up by now. Benji’s not one for hanging around on weekends, so you’re not likely to see him until Monday.” He paused, a smirk creeping onto his face. “Unless you’re up for us stalking him all weekend…”

I stifled a groan. “First off, there’s no ‘us.’ Second, I’m not stalking anyone.”

Owen’s smirk faltered, though a hint of excitement still glimmered in his eyes. Clearly, the idea of an espionage weekend still had appeal.

Ignoring him, I took a breath, letting the facts settle as I fought off the frustration of knowing I’d have to be back on campus next week. “Alright, fine. Just… steer clear of any more of this drug in the meantime, got it? No way that stuff’s safe, even if you don’t feel any effects yet.”

Owen’s face twisted in disappointment, but he gave a reluctant nod. “If you say so, boss. But how am I supposed to reach out to you if something comes up? Like, if you need… my assistance?” He perked up slightly at the word, clearly angling for the whole sidekick thing.

I shook my head, shutting it down. “No need. If I need help, I’ll find you.”

He looked ready to argue, but as he opened his mouth, I turned and started to walk away, disappearing from his line of sight in a blink. Or at least, that’s how it would seem to him.

Already moving through a reality he couldn’t perceive, I glanced over my shoulder at Owen, frozen in the middle of forming his next pitch about ‘sidekick potential,’ his hand halfway raised in a determined gesture. I allowed myself a quiet, amused smile before moving out of sight, letting the frozen world slide past me as I slipped out of the courtyard.

Walking through the stilled campus, I let my mind churn over everything I’d just learned. Benji Stafford, Courage’s so-called “wizard,” and some kind of science major supplying college students with who knows what effects. Who was supplying him? And just how many were using it?

I kept walking, the city waiting just outside campus, as I decided to take the long route home. There was a lot to think about, but the first thing I needed to figure out was where I could go wash my hands.