He turned to the voice and fought the instinct to hide the katana behind his back.
“Master Hanna,” he nodded.
“C’mon, Boy, what’ve I told you about the ‘master’ stuff?”
“Er… you have… but it’s easier said than done. I don’t want to run sprints… just in case.”
Kynnro wrapped their armor-clad around Hanna’s waist before he could warn her.
Eye widened, but Hanna lightly patted the Threnosh on the back.
“Friend Hanna, would you like a cybernetic replacement?”
The black patch over Hanna’s eye socket wasn’t held in place by straps, but by magic. That side of her face was covered in light scars. She had consented to having the damage repaired enough that her ability to chew and emote on that side weren’t impaired. What she kept was to remind herself of her duty.
She flipped the patch up to reveal a glowing orb of magic and technology.
“Sure, if it’s better than this one.”
“We will perform comparison tests.”
“I’ll add it to my busy schedule.”
“What’re you doing here mas— er… Hanna?”
It pained him to use just her name.
He could almost here her voice barking at him to go run.
“Escorting the loot,” Hanna gestured toward the many crates being loaded onto hover carts by fabricators while Watch members stared at everything with wide eyes. “Recoilless rifles and ammo mostly, thanks, by the way,” she nodded to Kynnro.
“For the council it is to secure a beneficial alliance. For me it is to aid friends.”
“Hanna, everything’s ready to go,” Basilisk approached.
Alin managed to place a hand on Kynnro’s armored shoulder this time.
“She doesn’t like hugs,” he whispered urgently.
The Threnosh held out an armored hand instead.
“Greetings, new friend, I am designated, ‘Kynnro’.”
The young woman took the proffered hand and gave it a firm shake.
“Nice to meet you. You can call me ‘Basilisk’.”
“I also offer you a cybernetic eye.”
Unlike Hanna, Basilisk didn’t conceal her magitech eye behind a patch.
Also unlike her mentor, she had every single scar on her face from before healed.
There were a few remaining, but those were ones she had taken in the years after she had earned her freedom from the vile slavers of the long-dead New American Republic.
However, not all scars were visible and those were often the hardest to heal.
“Sure, if it’s better than this one.”
The katana peeking over Alin’s shoulder caught her eyes.
“Really, Boy?” she raised a brow.
He sighed.
“It’s not for me. It’s for a friend.”
“Right, a ‘friend’,” Basilisk mimed quotation marks.
“What’s her name?” Hanna smirked.
Shit!
“I detect an increase to your heart rate and internal temperature,” Kynnro said.
“She’s just a friend,” he tried to apply what Hanna had taught him about regaining calm in a stressful event.
“Uh huh,” Basilisk nodded. “It’s totally whatevers giving a Threnium sword to ‘just a friend’.”
Air quotes again.
“Alright, time to go,” Hanna said. “Boy, I hope your ‘friend’ enjoys the gift.”
“Why did they make that gesture with their fingers?”
Alin had to explain what a ‘crush’ was and how it differed from the standard definition, which led to him having to explain his embarrassment, which led to more explanations.
The rabbit hole ended all the way down to a place where Kynnro joined the handful of people that knew about his crush.
A few friends.
His parents, not cause he told them, but because they just knew somehow. He had believed his dad when the old man had sworn there were no mind powers involved, that it was just obvious.
Kynnro eagerly helped him with coming up with a cool design for the composite hilt wrap and the composite scabbard, which involved pushing the fabricator’s ahead of their schedule to get that machine up and calibrated.
He spent his last week in Sacramento the same way he had spent his first seven when he would have rather played with the fabrication machines.
They made so many cool things.
Automated defenses systems by the dozens per hour.
The loss of ownership protections needed to be mitigated.
One fabrication machine was dedicated to producing the parts needed to make more of its kind.
By the time his dad flew the two of them back home, they had a fabrication machine packed among the many crates of gear.
“When will the Threnosh come down?”
“A month or two. They need to do the diplomacy stuff. Fight a few monsters, go through some encounter challenges. Got to build that rapport and show what they can do,” his dad said.
“Cool. I hope they enjoy their retirement. Should they be fighting?” He had concerns.
“Their trueskins make them physically combat effective to their last day. Mentally? Well, they’ll be the first to find out what it’s like for them to live to a potentially natural end.”
“So their council just kills them on their ‘expiration’ date?”
“yeah and that’s the exact term, well, at least how the universal translation system translates it.”
“Wow! That’s so messed up.”
“In their defense, they’re a genetically engineered species. The standard Threnosh simply dies on their expiration date. To the exact minute. It’s different for the so-called defectives. Before the spires and the trueskins, those like my friends never had the chance to emerge from their birthing creches. They were killed and broken down for their biological matter.”
“Yeah, I don’t know about allying with them.”
“Things have changed. The uniques are assets now, to varying degrees of what you and I would consider acceptable.”
“They wanted to experiment on them!”
“Just being an asset to someone doesn’t guarantee that they’ll treat you with the same respect and care that they’d treat themselves. It’s not that different from how humans do things.”
----------------------------------------
Los Angeles, California, 2046
The biggest surprise awaited Alin the next morning when he walked into the living room.
A small wrapped present sat on top of a huge wrapped present.
“Happy Birthday!”
His mom and dad beamed.
“Um… thanks,” he eyed the presents, not daring to hope that it was what he thought it was. “But, my birthday isn’t until this weekend,” he tried to act that it was whatevers, despite the urge to rush forward and tear the wrapping open like he was his little cousin.
Lera would’ve definitely forgotten her strength and knocked everyone out of the way en route to demolishing the artfully done wrap job.
His mom’s work.
She was good at that sort of thing.
There were ribbons tied up fancy and everything.
“Well, we’re going to have a lot of people for your surprise party,” his dad said.
“And we know you don’t like attention,” his mom said.
“So, we figured you’d rather open this without everyone watching,” his dad finished.
“Thanks…”
The first thing he did was hug his mom and dad.
“You haven’t even opened it yet. It might be something terrible.”
“I doubt it, Dad. I’m pretty sure you guys would never traumatize me like that,” he said as he pondered how to attack the gift wrap. “Mom?”
“Yeah, love?”
“Do you want to save the wrapping?”
“Nope… save the ribbons, though.”
“Got it.”
The paper tore beneath his powerful hands.
Never had they faced such destruction.
“Oh shit,” he muttered.
Two Threnosh crates stood in front of him.
Did he dare let the tingling hope in his heart ring louder than his hated morning alarm?
Naturally, he tried to open he smaller one first.
“Um… how do I open this?”
He couldn’t locate the latches.
How did the Threnosh open them?
He ran his hands over the crate and failed to find a seam denoting the lid.
After a moment he looked at his dad.
The Threnosh hadn’t done anything to open the crates, at least that he had noticed.
It was obviously opened wirelessly through their power armor systems.
“Oh come on,” his mom rolled her eyes. “Are you going to make him sweat? Look at his face!” she exhorted his dad.
“What? Problem solving is a crucial ability,” his dad shrugged. “So, Boy… how will you solve it?”
“How do I open it, Dad,” he said flatly. “Please,” he added hastily.
“Good choice. Actually, it was your only realistic one. I had them key it to your biometrics. Place your hand on the top, then look directly at it.”
He placed his hand on the metallic surface.
“Um… where do I look?”
“Your hand, don’t blink for a second or two.”
Faint light emerged from underneath his hand.
The cool surface warmed slightly.
There was a click and a hiss.
He pulled his hand away and jumped back like it was a hot stove.
It wasn’t pain or fear, or anything like that.
Well, fear, but fear in the sense of the desire to not get sprayed with glitter or water.
His parents liked to pull pranks.
It kept him on his toes and aware of potential dangers in everyday life.
At least that was what they had said.
The pranks sucked, but he had fun trying to come up with his own to get them back.
Things had cooled down on the prank war front over the past few years.
If he had been a bit more self-aware and introspective the unofficial armistice had begun at roughly the same time that he had gotten too cool for kid stuff and extra moody.
His dad laughed.
His mom punched his dad in the arm.
Nothing had come out of the crate.
He reached inside and pulled out a sleek, dull gray rectangle.
It resembled a closed laptop in dimensions, though it was a lot thicker. About as thick as two stacked volumes of the encyclopedia set they had in the library suite across the hallway. It felt like it weighed about the same.
“Uh… thanks… what is it?” he examined it.
Just like the crate there was a decided lack of any obvious features.
“Well, that’s a problem for you to solve,” his dad said.
“Jeez, love, give him a break it’s his birthday present, not a challenge,” his mom said.
“Alright, fine,” his dad floated a thin frame with two straps out of the crate and dropped it in front of him. “What’s that look like?”
“This,” he placed the rectangle into the frame, “goes in this,” a soft click was the only indication that something had happened, “and I wear it,” he slipped his arms through the two straps like a backpack.
The straps were surprisingly comfortable despite the weight.
“How’s it feel?” his dad said.
“Actually, pretty nice. No chafing and—” his eyes widened, “the frame just moved.”
In fact it had molded itself to the contours of his back.
“Okay, so, I’d rather you go through the manual on your own before activating anything, but your mom insists, so…”
His dad did something.
The pack grew warmer and soft mechanical sounds emerged from its former silence.
Whirring, beeping, humming… the kind of sounds where you knew some high tech super science-y stuff was popping off.
His gaze snapped to his reflection in the mirror.
The pack exploded outward.
“Try not to move, but really it doesn’t make that much of a difference,” his dad warned.
Dark gray strips of flexible material wrapped around his entire body.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
Followed by thin plates of dull gray material, which had to be Threnium, sliding over the undersuit, which is what it had to be, to cover most of his body. Only his bendy bits remained uncovered.
Even his crotch got protection, which he appreciated.
The helmet was the last part to slide around his head.
The HUD flared to life.
Words floated in front of his face.
“I have to read the manual. Where’s the manual?”
“You can read and listen to it in there. I also had one printed out,” his dad floated a thick book out of the crate.
“This is… this is so awesome!”
He couldn’t contain his excitement.
He rushed over to his parents for a hug.
Stopped suddenly because he realized he was in armor.
Hugged them when he remembered it was his parents.
He couldn’t hurt them.
“Now, don’t get too excited. Number one,” his dad held up a finger, “there’s a lock on its features. You’ll have to learn it inside and out.”
“There’s a test,” his mom added. “And number two, we’ll maintain parental override until you pass all the tests to our satisfaction.”
“Yeah, totally, tests, no problem,” he reached for the manual when his dad tapped him on the shoulder.
“Aren’t you forgetting one other thing?”
“Sh— crap! Yeah!”
The other wrapped gift.
The ribbons managed to survive his relentless assault.
A second crate stood revealed.
Much larger than the first
He placed a gloved hand on the smooth surface.
Nothing happened.
“Oh… right.”
He thought really hard until the cybernetic control system followed his command.
The crate opened up like a box, expanding in four directions until it was almost touching the ceiling. A little over 2 cm away according to the HUD.
Power armor!
Open and ready for him to back into.
“Go ahead!” his dad said.
It sealed around him with a hiss.
“Activate parental override. Lock movement,” his dad said. “Alright, seeing as how we don’t want you activating anything that’ll ruin our living room. I’m disabling everything aside from basic locomotion. Now, that doesn’t mean you can be careless. You need to adjust to the strength provided by the artificial muscles. Can’t have you accidentally ripping our doors off their hinges or stomping through the floor.”
“Yes, please don’t do that,” his mom said.
His dad locked a long list of features and capabilities.
“Okay, try walking. No sudden movements. Be deliberate. Imagine you’re stepping on a frozen lake.”
He gingerly stepped out of the armor’s berth.
“How heavy is this thing?”
“Why don’t you ask it?”
He thought hard.
“Current weight: 90 kg.”
“Oh sh— crap! It’s got an AI, like those movies?”
“Not nearly as advanced. The Virtual Intelligence is closer to a voice and cybernetic activated computer. It can’t think on its own or take independent actions. Basically, its a question and answer system. You ask and it’ll give you the information if it’s able to with the available data.”
He made several circuits around the living room.
“I think I got the hang of it.”
“Don’t think, know.”
He continued walking practice.
He was so happy that he didn’t even mind his parents watching him with huge smiles as if he was a baby learning to walk again.
“Alright, I think that’s good enough for now,” his dad eyed his mom.
Her eyes narrowed.
“You said no weapons until we agreed.”
“Yeah, but,” his dad whined, “just the one. It’s special. Means a lot to me.”
“Fine,” his mom sighed. “But our couch better not end up in two pieces.”
His dad walked to the berth and fiddled with something before showing him a gleaming object.
It was a thin object almost as long as his forearm and contoured just like a sword hilt.
“Like everything, this can be voice activated or cybernetically if you’re wearing the helmet, both helmets, although technically the undersuit helmet retracted when you got into the power armor. It’s programmable. Right now, only your mom and I can voice-activate it. Watch closely,” his dad pointed the hilt away from him and his mom. “Multi-weapon activate: Longsword.”
A thin, wire shot out of the hilt.
He would’ve missed it had the HUD not reacted to the sudden movement by highlighting it. Focusing his eyes on the wire kept it highlighted.
A bright flash of light momentarily darkened his faceplate.
When it cleared his dad held up a longsword of solid yellow light.
“They made this based on what they learned from Brightstrike’s trueskin.”
His dad’s somber tone dampened Alin’s excitement.
He knew the story well.
Brightstrike was a unique Threnosh that gave their life to free his dad from Mother Madrigal.
His dad hadn’t spared any details. He had told him how, in the grasp of the monster’s mindscape, he had killed Brightstrike.
It was a lesson that power wasn’t a guarantee of getting your way. That clean victories were what children wanted and expected. That experienced warriors knew the truth.
“Right,” his dad swallowed, “this is a multi-weapon. One of one. The first stable iteration. Part of your duties as its wielder is to test it and keep a detailed record of its performance, which you will give to the Threnosh on a regular schedule.”
His dad waved the lightblade, cutting and thrusting, moving through basic parries and counters.
“As far as capabilities? Well, it’s pretty awesome!” his dad grinned. “The hardlight weighs a fraction of Threnium. Ah, I know what you’re thinking. Swords need mass to cut, well, the hardlight edge is about as thick as a molecule. It’ll slide through most things like a hot knife to a stick of butter that’s been sitting on the counter all day.”
“Which is why you can’t use it until you’ve mastered it perfectly,” his mom warned. “It’s too easy to cut yourself or a friend in a fight.”
“It’s got an automatic safety feature that’ll shut it down if it touches your armor. Plus, Threnium can slow it long enough that you’ll have a few seconds to not cut yourself,” his dad said. “Honestly, you’re biggest challenge is unlearning your techniques,” his dad wiggled the blade around blindingly quick. “See, how’s anyone going to block or parry this? Plus, you can do this… deactivate.”
The lightblade vanished.
His dad thrust the hilt.
“Activate.”
The wire and the lightblade shot out.
“Someone has to be really good or has a good automatic defense Skill to avoid getting stabbed with that. But…” his dad grinned, “that’s not all. Multi-weapon activate: Axe.”
The light winked out.
The wire shifted in a blink of the eye, taking the shape of a single-edge battleaxe. The light formed around the wire into a fully-fledged axe.
“I got a question,” he pointed at the hardlight forming the shaft, “is that safe to touch?”
His dad demonstrated by wrapping a hand around it.
“There isn’t a dangerous level of heat, unless you choose, but that drains power faster and overheats the wire. It’s got limits. Break them long enough and you break it. It’s replaceable, but that takes time and you won’t get that in the middle of a fight.”
“What else can it turn into?”
His dad went through a surprisingly large variety of melee weapons.
Even two-handed polearm-style ones.
“It’s set to shut off by default when not physically held,” his dad demonstrated by floating the hilt with telekinesis. “You can change that… eventually… when me and your mom say. Oh… and you can customize all the commands. Add words, remove words, anything really. I’d recommend using word combinations that you can say quickly, but aren’t likely to say during a normal conversation.”
He nodded.
Secret activation words would be smart.
It’d help against people with spells or Skills that could copy his voice.
Then again, that’d mean he’d need to change them after every use.
He resolved to rely on silent cybernetic activation over verbal unless he had no choice.
“Well, that’s about it,” his dad deactivated the multi-weapon and slid it back into the berth. “There’s a whole bunch of weapons, defense and mobility systems, but none of that until you’ve mastered basic and complex movement.”
“No unsupervised training, either,” his mom warned, “at least for anything dangerous. Only with your father and maybe your aunt.”
“I know, Mom,” he said.
Restrictions didn’t bother him.
Just wearing the power armor was awesome.
“Oh, yeah, forgot about the balloons,” his dad said. “They’re in your room. Why don’t you go let the helium out?”
“Huh?”
“Your first test.”
“Easy!” he grinned.
“Without popping them,” his mom said. “One hundred percent perfect before you can move on to the egg tests.”
“How many tests are we talking here?”
“As many as we—” his mom regarded his dad.
“What your mother says.”
“Decide,” his mom finished.
“Yup, the armor stays in here until you pass the tests, then we can take it outside to really let you move.”
“No problem. I got this. Give me an hour.”
It took days and his mom went through nearly her entire repertoire of egg-centric dishes by the time he passed.
On the plus side that was good for his protein intake and his baked goods intake, which was a minus for his sugar intake.
----------------------------------------
“Damn, dude, when I turned sixteen I got a license and access to an old car,” Uncle Eron said as he poked and prodded the undersuit. “An old station wagon at that.”
Now, just to be clear his uncle hadn’t asked Alin to put it on. No one had. He simply wore it almost all the time. Just to break it in and really get a good feel for it.
“Threnium’s good crap!”
Lera drew a fist back.
“Can I try?”
He thought about it.
“No!” his uncle and aunt echoed each other.
Lera pouted and settled for poking.
His cousin was eight-ish, but he found himself stumbling to one side.
“Careful, Lera,” his uncle warned.
“But he’s in armor,” she whined.
“Yeah, but the sliding door is glass and you don’t want to break your grandparents’ house do you?”
“No,” she flounced off.
“This is just the emergency suit?”
He demonstrated by retracting the undersuit into its pack.
“Damn! That’s so cool! Just like the movies! Where’s the main suit?”
“At home. I can’t take it out by myself yet.”
“Learner’s permit,” his uncle nodded.
He didn’t get it.
“Alright, well, I’m off to do some pest control. Lera, be good, listen to Auntie Rayna and Boy.”
“Pest control?”
“It’s a secret,” his uncle waggled his brows, pulling at the red welt running from his forehead down to the side of his mouth.
It had been a shock to see the visible wound. It had been much worse when his uncle had arrived shortly after his dad had brought Lera and a few witches.
Something about the Wild Hunt and a Duchess of Summer Days.
Details hadn’t been forthcoming.
His uncle stepped into the backyard and disappeared into the sky.
Alin activated his undersuit and continued to review the manual.
He muted the voice and read on the text version in his HUD.
“Lera, stop pouting. You already have armor,” his aunt said.
“But it doesn’t do all the cool stuff!”
“Lera, you need to be on your ‘A’ game if you’re going to help me on my quest.”
Lera perked up at the reminder.
He had gotten it too.
500 Universal Points to help their aunt determine the truth in the content of some kind of ambassador from the old country’s words in the council meeting.
It sounded simultaneously boring and exciting.
“How much was it?” Lera said.
“My power armor? I don’t know,” he answered honestly.
What he didn’t share was that he was pretty sure it was way more than 500 points.
“Hey, kids, Rayna,” his aunt’s husband came down the stairs, armed and partially armored for his duties as a Captain in the SCSDF.
“Sup, Uncle Fed,” he bumped fists.
Lera did the same and Uncle Fed winced theatrically. “Hands of stone!” he exclaimed. “Getting stronger every time I see you!”
“I can break stone!” she beamed. “But, Dad and Mom get mad when I punch stuff. So, I can only do it during training,” she pouted.
“Sucks, but fair. Think about it. That random stone you punch, well, it might belong to someone or you can use it for something.”
“Like what?” Lera challenged.
“Walls.”
Lera nodded.
“So, it’ll be okay, since I’m making the stone smaller and easier to lift.”
“I guess it depends on what the specific wall needs. Anyways, I wish you two intrepid heroes good luck on your Quest,” Uncle Fed kissed Aunt Rayna on the cheek. “See you guys later!”
“Okay, you two, huddle up,” Aunt Rayna beckoned. “Quest review. Lera, go,” she pointed.
“I have to listen to target’s heartbeat and tell Boy if it goes faster or slower when you ask him questions.”
“Good. Boy, go.”
“I record Lera’s observations,” he held up a small notepad and pen, “and provide… additional support,” he sighed.
Which was basically keeping Lera focused on her task and making sure his young cousin remembered to use her quiet voice.
Truly, it was a Quest for the ages.
The council hall was going to be filled with truth gems, spells and Skills.
Their aunt figured that it wouldn’t hurt to let Lera practice her superhearing since she might pick something up through the countermeasures the ambassador and his people undoubtedly had.
“I’ll locate a secure location from which to observe.”
Which was in the back of the meeting hall.
“Spy! We’re spies!” Lera grinned.
“Yeah and spies shouldn’t be noticeable.”
“I can do that,” she glared.
“Prove it.”
That’d do it.
At least for a few hours.
His cousin loved showing people they were wrong.
“I will!”
“Good, I’m counting on you,” his aunt said.
Aunt Rayna pulled them into a gravity bubble as soon as they stepped out of the house.
She tended to default to a zero-gravity environment when carrying passengers in a casual, non-combat situation. It was the most straightforward way for her to avoid issues for the passengers.
Lera cackled with glee as she windmilled her arms and kicked her legs, sending her into a spin.
Alin remained as motionless as he could in a standing position after retracting the undersuit into its backpack form. Experience had taught him it was the best way to avoid looking dumb by spinning upside down or like a cringey kid.
City hall was the old city hall from the pre-spires days.
He smelled the ocean to the west since it wasn’t that far.
“Beach,” Lera murmured.
“Hey, remember the Quest,” he warned.
“I know!” she scowled.
“Just checking.”
They followed their aunt up the steps and into the building.
Lera strode with chest held high, while he couldn’t help but duck his head and hunch his shoulders at all the eyes focused on them.
Okay… most of the focus was on their aunt, but he couldn’t help it.
She led them to the main meeting hall and stopped at the door.
“You guys got this. Remember, Quest objective aside, do not do anything to draw attention. Lera, concealment check.”
Lera rolled her eyes as she pulled a small gem from her dress pocket, tugged the gold necklace around her neck and displayed the woven twig bracelet around her wrist.
“Good. If anything happens…”
“I have to listen to Boy,” Lera sighed.
“I’ll armor up, activate the alert and get her to the safe zone,” he said.
“Good. I’m heading to the back. Find a seat and remember, buddy system. The two of you are tied at the wrist. If you need to use the restroom use the staff one. The guards know to let you through.”
The wait was terrible.
He wanted more than anything to get back to reading the manual, but he instead had to listen to the steady staccato of Lera’s shoes hitting the back of the chair in front of them.
As the hour of the council meeting’s start drew near people slowly began to fill the hall.
He had been to a few of these things before over the years.
His parents had said it’d be good to observe and see what sorts of careers were available.
As he grew older he realized that shadowing his aunt and others had also given his parents alone time.
An involuntary shudder climbed up his back.
“What’s wrong?” Lera’s eyes snapped to him like a hungry tiger cub.
“You’ll find out when you’re older.”
“People do that when they get scared.”
“Yup,” he didn’t elaborate.
The first hour of the meeting was the absolute worst experience of his life.
“Sooooo boring…” Lera let out a long breath.
Thankfully, she remembered her spy voice so it came out as a whisper.
The older lady a few seats to their left smiled.
He returned it with a shrug.
One by one residents stepped up to the podium and complained about something or another.
The mayor or one of the other council members would… blah, blah, blah… and the next person would come up to complain about something else.
“Why is he complaining about beach week?” Lera whispered. “That’s dumb, beach week is gonna be fun. Dad’s gonna let me surf his old surfboard!”
“I’m with you on that.”
The man finished his complaint by calling out the fact that beach week was actually two weeks long.
“That’s so dumb.”
He could only nod in agreement with his cousin.
They had heard the adults talking about the event.
It was two weeks long so that everyone would get the chance to enjoy at least a couple of carefree days at the beach. This was mostly for the sake of the rangers stationed elsewhere and had ops scheduled.
“Oh… it’s him! The target!” Lera hissed.
A gray-haired man in a dark suit and tie stepped up to the podium.
“Get ready!” her small fingers gripped his arm like a steel vise.
“Careful. You break my arm and I can’t take notes.”
“Oh, sorry,” she winced.
“It’s fine. Get ready.”
The ambassador introduced himself as representing the rightful government of the country.
What followed was a speech expressing joy at knowing that their citizens lived and thrived in the face of the apocalypse.
He counted the word ‘citizens’ repeated at least ten times in the short speech.
Mayor Alba with her perfectly-styled blond hair and tanned skin contained within a smart suit that pulled his eyes downward—
Focus! he chastised himself shifting in his seat for comfort.
The notepad on his lap was like unto a shield to protect him and others.
Mayor Alba opened with a short welcoming greeting.
Then the verbal battle commenced.