Page 20 of Seductive Architect
“Can I get a photo?”
I had to remind myself that the HeroApp™ did plenty of good for the community. Heroes were winning the battle against villainy. The trade-off was that citizens collected us like trading cards. As he got closer, I touched my face, making sure my suit hid my identity. With a thought, the modulator in my helmet lowered my voice an octave.
“Anything for a citizen of Vanguard.” That sounded like a cheesy hero line.
Hudson all but squealed. He squeezed next to me, stepping on the henchman as he leaned in close. Arm wrapped around my shoulder, I went to wave for the photo. Sparks continued leaping from my damaged gauntlet. Great, now the whole world could see me banged up and no villain to show for my troubles.
He snapped the photo. “Thank you so much.” He glanced at the phone, an eyebrow raised. “You’re not listed.” Up to this point, I deleted all entries about me. I didn’t mind saving the day, but I didn’t want my hero persona to be common knowledge.
“Uhm, I’m new,” I lied. I felt bad, especially considering how honest he had been on our date.
“What do I call you?”
Shit. Janet and Drew batted around ideas for my codename. I had vetoed all of them. But as I turned to see employees emerging from the safety of their offices, I needed one fast. Heroes without names quickly discovered the public assigned the worst monikers. Mr. McStabby could try to rebrand as the Silhouette all he wanted, but it’d never stick.
“Failsafe,” I blurted out before thinking. Great. One chance, and I came up with Failsafe? That meant everybody would abbreviate my name as Fail. Not my finest moment.
“Failsafe… I like it.” He stepped back with a wave.
“Make sure to add it to your list.” Why did I say that? Part of me wanted my superhero identity to be on the same page as our date. Hopefully, this went in hisgoodcolumn.
His eyes narrowed. I recognized the look of a man trying to assemble the pieces. Getting close to him was dangerous. Unfortunately, this was my cue to run away. Connie attached the drone to my back, transforming into a jetpack. With another wave, I blasted into the air and out a shattered window.
“Stupid.” That’s how heroes got themselves unmasked. “Connie, tell Arthur I’ll be working from home the rest of the day.”
I flew toward one of the safe houses heroes used toswitch between identities. Then it’d be Route 17-A back home, and?—
“Sending email. Working from home while refreshing the HeroApp™ for the photos of Hudson.”
“Connie!” She wasn’t wrong.
“I’m not wrong.”
Dammit, she got me.
7
It had beenimpossible to concentrate since arriving this morning. Ricardo must have a construction crew on speed dial. I already had to silence talkative machines. I didn’t need more noise. Wandering the building throughout the day, I hoped to bump into a certain handsome mailroom employee. I resisted the urge to scour the security cameras… mostly.
I sat at my desk, spinning in circles as I stared at the code. Projected across the room, I studied the new feature Arthur wanted installed. Not only would heroes be able to locate a villain, but it would also offer the fastest route. If heroes were cars, mapping a path would be easy. But how did we solve for fliers? Speedsters? Or that one guy who could only teleport in bodegas? A simple feature required a lot of variables. That’s why he handed it off to me.
“You missed a semicolon.”
On the next revolution, Hudson breezed by. I slammed my feet, stopping the spin. As he entered, he stood in awe, jaw hanging open. When he reached out, his hand passed through the part of the code designed for flight paths. If Connie hadn’t made plans with her new beau, I’m sure it’d have been functional by now. The problem had been… a semicolon? I was about to swat away the project when I spotted the error. All day, the code fought me, crashing whenever it ran. I quickly added it, turning off the projectors.
“Curious,” I mumbled.
Hudson turned his attention toward me. “I was going to lie and say I had a package for you.” At the mention, my eyes drifted downward. I might be a recluse, but I would never turn down the opportunity to see how a man filled out his trousers. When my eyes returned to his, he had a smirk. “From the mail room.”
“Uh…” Quick, think ofanythingto say. “What brings you up here?”
“I had a craving.”
“Burritos?”
“Not exactly.” The smirk shifted fractions of an inch. That’s all it took to go from innocent to devious. Was this flirting? Did I respond with some clever comment about Mexican food? What about a quick joke about adding a little sour cream to his beard? Oh no, the easy one wouldbe a comment about coming for the taco and staying for the beef. Too aggressive? Or not aggressive enough? Did I want to be playful or let him know I’d be interested in him dropping his pants here and now? Oh! Oh! I could?—
“Do you normally overthink things?”
