“I will eventually figure out why I can’t read you,” Paul Zhang said, after I finished my rotation with Phil and showed up at his apartment in VBC Tower.

“I promise I’m not doing anything,” I said. “Maybe I’m not real! That would explain a lot.”

Paul frowned and ushered me into his magnificent bachelor apartment, easily three times the size of mine, and that was just his living room.

Everything tasteful, but weirdly in black, with just a few accents in red. Black curtains, black tile, black furniture, perfect for a guy who loved to wear black clothes, obviously expensive clothes, but a black sport coat, black shoes, black slacks, and a variety of black dress shirts, always showing off a bit more of his chest than most guys did these days.

Paul did not do his briefings in the main room. He just sat me down on his couch and started projecting holograms between us, running some kind of secure system with gesture controls.

I had to verify with biometrics and recite a pass phrase in Chinese before they would even appear in my optics.

“This is Hector Moreno,” Paul said. “Drug dealer working for a metahuman dictator in some microstate that used to be part of Bolivia. The whole area has been claimed by Karla Lazo, daughter of a 20c drug lord who got powers the first time she had sex.

“Karla emits some kind of pheromones or has some kind of mind control aura that basically turns men into slaves. Which is kind of funny given what she looks like and how much weight she’s carrying around.

“But the most dangerous thing about Karla is that she’s fucking smart, and she knows how to run a business. She also knows who to bribe, and that’s why no normal law enforcement has been able to nail Hector, or any of her other people.

“I’ve been in a poker game with Hector for a couple months now, and I think I finally have something I can nail him on. I learned about the murder from reading his mind, and that’s not admissible in court, so I needed proof of what he did, and I finally found the murder weapon.

“Problem is, I found the murder weapon by reading his mind, visualizing the location and pulling it out of the river, and since I used telepathy to get it, the chain of custody won’t hold up.

“If we got a neutral arbiter, they might just ignore the old laws of evidence and put him away, but there’s no way we’re going to get a neutral arbiter once Karla hears about this.

“She knows he’s about ready to flip on her, so she’s gonna do everything she can to get the charges dropped. I’ve got a plan to get this murder weapon admitted in court, but I’m gonna need a distraction, and that’s you.

“You’re gonna be my bodyguard. You’re gonna start a fight with one of Hector’s people. Really ham it up and make it a show. And while all eyes are on you, I’m gonna sneak this weapon into Hector’s office and call in BPD.”

“You want me to help you plant evidence?”

“I’m not planting fake evidence. It’s real evidence of a real murder that I can’t use unless we make it admissible in court. We might be able to get it admitted if we found an arbiter willing to bend the rules, but I can’t bet on that. I need evidence that will get him the death penalty, so we can convince him to flip on Karla.”

Paul noticed my look of doubt and confusion and said, “But none of this is your concern. Your job is to piss off one of Hector’s bodyguards and start a flashy super fight that gets everybody to leave that apartment.”

“But won’t they get suspicious when you stay behind?”

“They won’t see me stay behind. They’ll see me walking right out the door after you.”

“Because of your…”

“Mental illusions. I can make people see what I want them to see, as long as it’s a small group in close proximity. I’ll be using my powers to obscure our faces and make it impossible to remember what we looked like after we’re gone.”

“I don’t like this, Paul, but it won’t do me any good to complain, will it? I’m guessing your assignments come from a lot higher up than Randy.”

“Correct,” Paul said.

“Can you read people’s thoughts, like what they say in their heads?”

“Most people don’t form complete sentences or even use clear words in their heads, except when they’re doing affirmations or deliberately composing something. And even if I could hear thoughts like that, it would be such a mess, it would be almost impossible to get anything useful from it.

“I just stand next to people, concentrate on them for a while, and I start to know things that they know. The longer I’m in contact, the more I can see, until I know shit you’ve never told anybody.”

“And you really can move shit with your mind?”

Paul sighed and stuck his hand out, slowly moving a beautiful antique vase from a side table into his hand.

“Don’t get excited,” he said like he had said this a thousand times. “I can only move about ten pounds. That’s why I don’t go on combat ops, and why I need a bodyguard for this.”

“Paul, wouldn’t it be better to use Jade for this? I’ve never done any covert anything in my life, and I’m terrified that I’ll fuck this up. Shouldn’t I go through spy training or at least watch a video from an undercover cop?”

That got a smile out of him. “Probably, but the game is tonight, and I’ve used Jade for so many ops, the bad guys are on to her, no matter how carefully I try to disguise her. You don’t look like a bodyguard at all, so that means you’re perfect. And your powers won’t show up on lidar or a metal detector.

“Just follow my lead and keep your mouth shut. If you can’t provoke a fight with words, just haul off and hit a guy and come up with a reason later.”

* * *

“But first,” Paul said, “We’ve got to get you some clothes. I can’t believe you wore your fucking Bluestar jacket to my apartment. Put that fucking thing back in your locker and don’t pull it out until you move to your next rotation.”

Paul saw me pout and laughed again. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna get you a much cooler jacket. Honestly, we need to get you a whole suit.”

“There’s no way I can afford…”

“Relax, Kovak, you’re on a DMA expense account for this one. I could buy us a fucking plane.”

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“Do I have to wear a tie?”

“Yes, but I’ll show you how to tie it. Well, my guy will show you how to tie it.”

* * *

Paul took me to a tailor in the expensive part of VBC Tower and an hour later, I walked out looking better than I ever had in my life. Paul wouldn’t let me get a tie in Bluestar blue, but he let me get one in navy, and a sky-blue shirt made from some expensive fabric I had never heard of. I even got a matching pocket square, and this place was so expensive, they called it something French.

Paul wanted to put me in a black suit, but the tailor said that was “lazy” and had me get one in charcoal instead. I thought charcoal and black were the same color, until I saw samples side by side.

Paul was looking me up and down, frowning as we left the store. “I made you look too good. I should have just grabbed you some cheap shit off the rack, but you need something for public appearances, and I won’t have access to this expense account forever. Besides,” he smiled. “I love watching new guys spend money.”

“So, I look good?”

“You look a million dollars richer and ten years older. Fuck, you look like you’re trying harder than me, but nothing to do about it now, we’ve got to get to a poker game three states over.”

“How can I be your bodyguard when you look taller and stronger than I do?”

“You’re not trying to look like a tough guy, you’re trying to look like a Newbury wizard, and you do. God damn, you really do. You’re single, right?” Paul said casually. “I can’t wait to take you out and see what you pull with that.”

* * *

I was definitely overdressed for a sketchy New Jersey poker game, but I had accidentally dressed myself like who I wanted to be, a proud young mage who had just “graduated” from Newbury Tower.

I kept trying to drag Paul into a discussion of my secret agent backstory, but he kept waving me off. “Anybody asks you any personal questions, just ignore them and try to look mean. Nobody is expecting you to talk, and people will get suspicious if you talk too much.”

Hector Moreno was a lot of fun, for a drug dealer. And he was a hugger. A short, stocky man who obviously did not use blockers, he had an enormous belly and an even bigger personality, constantly laughing and telling jokes for a group of four men already sitting at his poker table.

Paul sat down in the one empty chair, and I briefly panicked, realizing I had no idea where I was supposed to stand and no idea what a bodyguard was supposed to do.

I looked over and saw a gigantic bulky man, almost seven feet tall, looking stern and professional in the corner, and stood next to him like I knew what I was doing.

The man was clearly ex-military – barrel-shaped but not fat, with close-cropped black hair and a cheap suit. I had only had one lesson with Paul’s tailor, but I suddenly knew what a cheap suit looked like, and I felt vaguely superior in my new clothes. The big guy smelled like rubber tires and motor oil, like he had just been working on a car.

For the first hour, I just watched Paul work the table, happily chatting and telling jokes in a mix of English and Spanish, lots of weird inside jokes that didn’t make sense to me, even with Jeeves providing subtitles.

I had apparently been scanned for weapons as I walked in, and there was only one other “bodyguard” in the room. Presumably the other guys at the table were armed, but Paul had told me to pick a fight with a bodyguard, so I only had one option.

Everybody at the table took a break after an hour and kicked back to have drinks. The big guy seemed to relax a little when there were no chips on the table.

“Where’s the hot Asian chick?” he asked.

“No idea,” I said, trying to sound bored. “Client just told me I was filling in.”

“You’re too small and too fancy to be doing this job, so you gotta have powers. What can you do?”

“Magic,” I said, leaning into my new suit. “I use magic to make myself tougher and stronger.”

“You think you’re stronger than me?”

I looked him up and down, still trying to sound vaguely distracted and bored. “No idea, but that really doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t matter?” the big guy said, insulted. “You see this?” he said, holding up a hand covered in a black glove with weird hexagonal ridges on it. “I’m wearing a full nanosuit under this, DMA spy shit. The kind of stuff they give agents in Metahuman Response Teams. I don’t give a fuck what kind of powers you have, I could crush your head like a grape.”

And that’s when I decided to stall for time, trying to search Taltorak without using a verbal command, frantically searching for a spell in Xavier’s part of the book, using nothing but finger flicks.

“Maybe,” I shrugged. “But I’m fucking magic, I don’t have to be the strongest guy in the room.” He did not look particularly threatened by that, so I kept going, excited to use the supervillain origin story I had invented for myself.

“I stole some books from the secret basement under Newbury Tower. Learned a lot of cool shit before they kicked me out. So, if we have a disagreement, I’m not gonna stand in a parking lot and trade punches with you. You’re just gonna follow me somewhere quiet, and nobody’s ever gonna see you again.”

“What the fuck did you say?”

“I said I don’t have to be stronger than you. If you swing on me, I’ll just teleport you to the top of a mountain, and you and your fancy underwear can freeze to death.

“Nobody will ever find you, and no one will ever know what happened. Your boss will just assume you ran off. And then, fifty years from now, somebody will make it to the top of that mountain and dig your frozen ass out of the ice. Your kids and grandkids will be watching a history channel, and they’ll say, ‘That was your papa! He didn’t run off with a whore after all!’”

And that’s when he swung on me.

I guess the most surprising thing about that was that I ducked. I had my strength and wards up, but I ducked. I ducked, and it worked because this guy was slow, way slower than my training bot.

And then I decided whatever and punched him back. I didn’t want to break his neck, so I punched him in the gut, right in the strongest part of his nanosuit, just to see what it felt like. The material stiffened as I hit it, absorbing a lot of the impact, but enough of the force got through to double him over.

All the guys at the table were watching me, laughing and cheering like we were just a floor show. But Paul had told me to take this outside. I couldn’t get to the door without turning my back on him, so I decided to make a new one.

I charged up my artillery spell and created a new front door in the front of Hector’s shitty little office building, blowing out all his windows as a bonus. Then I picked up this big bastard and threw him out into the parking lot.

His suit made him really slow, while I was surprised at how fast I could move in mine. I was able to run up and kick him before he even got back to his feet.

He threw another big, slow punch and instead of dodging, I caught his hand. He roared and tried to push me over, but it was nowhere near enough. The suit made a high-pitched whining sound as a million tiny servos and force projectors tried to match my strength.

“Bad news, buddy. Looks like I am stronger than you, but that’s not your biggest problem today. Your real problem is that I’m also smarter than you, and I am well and fucking done with fighting fair.”

I grabbed the collar of his fancy nanosuit with both hands and used one of Xavier’s spells to turn the whole thing to gold.

The spell must have had a weird interaction with the hyperdense material, because the suit expanded and covered him in a blob of gold so thick, it must have weighed as much as he did; and to have it happen so suddenly, straining muscles that weren’t expecting it, Hector’s bodyguard went straight down and made a lovely pinging noise, proving that this stuff really was solid gold.

He squirmed and strained, and his face turned bright red, but he clearly could not move.

I knelt down beside him and said, “What’s your name, dude?”

“Fuck you!”

“Yeah, fair enough.”

I stood up and looked over at Hector and his guys, who had made no move to draw guns or interfere once they saw my aura lighting up their parking lot.

I popped my back and stretched for a second while the bodyguard huffed and strained, stalling for time until I saw Paul walk out.

The gold would turn back into its original material in an hour or so, but they didn’t need to know that.

“That’s easily a couple million dollars’ worth of gold there, guys, but it’s probably bonded to his skin. I guess you can try and cut it off, but it would probably be faster to use a torch.”

* * *

Paul laughed his ass off all the way back to VBC Tower. “I’ll give you this, Kovak, you do not fuck around when somebody asks you for a distraction! That story is gonna be everywhere by this time tomorrow. You better hope our disguise holds, or you are gonna get a lot of attention from a lot of bad people!”

“I’ve already got half of Hell gunning for me. Are South American drug lords worse than demons?”

“You don’t want me to answer that. Let me just hope the disguise worked and spare you the details, so you’ll still be able to sleep tonight.”

I walked Paul back to his apartment and he tried to shake my hand, but I shook my head. “Nice try.”

Paul laughed. “You’re pretty good under stress, Kovak. My kind of stress. And you do look fantastic in that suit.”

“Aw, I bet you say that to everyone you make an accessory to a crime. Tell Harry thanks for the suit.”

“I will. And I think I’ve seen all I need to see. I’ll sign off on your eval and send you to Randy in a couple days. But keep that suit clean, I think we’re gonna have a lot of fun together, now that I know you can keep your head.”