Page 3 of Seductive Architect
Wyatt held out his arms, and Drew hopped up, carried away like a bride. I armed the rockets in my backpack. I paused, looking at the growing crowd of people. Having people gather in the middle of a fight was both the norm and annoying as hell. While we tried to save innocents, they had a knack for throwing themselves in the way of danger. Vanguard needed a PSA that said, “See a villain? Run away.”
The crowd of people held up cell phones, hoping to geta photo of the chaos. At this distance, I couldn’t speak with their devices, but I recognized the hum of my code. We were heroes, and they wanted to add us to their HeroApp™ catalogue. They all stood there filming instead of running. Trusting someone else to handle it. Typical. Trusting’s how you get killed. Arthur would give me slack when I told him how many people used his project to document superhero sightings.
“Huh.”
Amongst all the people, one man stood out, staring without a phone in hand. Much like a statue, he didn’t move, staring blankly in my direction. The rigid posture seemedoff. I had my visor snap a photo. He probably belonged to the C.I.A. or one of the unsanctioned organizations used to impede American liberties.
With the photo stored, I launched into the air. Time to return to base and sit through another Human Resources lecture. It’d only be the second one this week. At least Janet brought snacks for her lectures.
2
“No more fighting during lunch breaks,”we mumbled in unison.
Once we changed from our uniforms, we gathered in the Secret Identities’ break room to receive a tongue-lashing. While it had been upgraded, Wyatt insisted we use our old chairs. He claimed it made it cozier. We let him have it. At least now it had working appliances. Though I think we could all tolerate fewer motivational posters from Janet. “Kick them in the balls” wasn’t quite the right ethos for Arthur’s company.
Arthur held up his “Bestest Boss” coffee mug, a gift from Wyatt. “Orion. What’s the rule?” For a big man, he was the least intimidating man in the room. Wyatt looked like the cover model of Weight Lifters Weekly. Compared to Arthur, even Drew would win in an arm-wrestling competition.Arthur and I might be close in physique, but he had a softer personality. I’d bet on my dry wit each time.
“Why are you looking at me?”
“Connie said it was your idea.”
“I’m going to unplug her.”
Arthur continued leaning against the counter, grimacing as he drank his cold coffee. I took satisfaction that the microwave continued playing jokes on him. That’s what he got for not wiping down the interior after his lunch exploded. I might encourage this vendetta.
“Fine. No more heroics at lunch.”
“And?”
What else had I done? Alright, I might have convinced the printer to eat the paper. There was also the router dropping out during video conferences. Or was it the photo from the Christmas office party where he insisted on wearing the ugliest sweater known to mankind that kept popping up as his computer background?
“I wanthotcoffee.”
I grumbled. “Fine.” I waved my hand toward the microwave, withdrawing the vendetta. “You know, I’m thinking you?—”
Wyatt threw himself back in the chair, hands covering his face. “Not again.”
“No more conspiracies,” Drew said. “I love you, I swear, I do. You’re nice… ish. But Lizard people aren’t controlling the government.”
I snickered. “Of course not. They’re too busy with our satellite network.”
“The Church is not a front for an alien invasion.”
Wrong again. “Close. Inter-dimensional beings here to steal our resources.”
“The government isn’t creating super soldiers to replace heroes.”
“Okay, that one is right. And they are. I can prove it.”
“Can you?” Arthur asked, sliding his mug into the microwave. When he pushed the button to start, nothing happened. He turned, frowning. “Really?”
“What can I say? The microwave holds a grudge?”
Truth be told, Arthur wasn’t wrong. I had taken uncovering the truth and made it my identity. I could see things,dangerousthings. People went about their days as if there wasn’t another reality just beneath the surface. The whiteboard in my home had far too many incidents to be a coincidence. If they ignored it, that was on them. But I wouldn’t be caught by surprise.
“I had one conspiracy theory right.”
Arthur reduced himself to whispering sweet things to the microwave. No amount of love would get it to turn on. If he thought I was the stubborn one, he obviously didn’t talk to enough wronged microwaves. It would be weeks before he drank warm coffee.
