Page 20 of Infamous Heart

“Depth? The hidden lives of heroes?”

“Hidden,” he chuckled at the statement. “Why do they hide behind masks? If they were noble, they wouldn’t be hiding. The readers want to know who it is rescuing them. Not the media blitz put out by the Centurion’s public relations team, but therealperson behind the mask.”

There had been numerous attempts to reveal the identities of superheroes. Only a few months ago, a reporter leaked the identity of Ultra. The footage had gone viral and within hours, villains discovered her very human husband. They used him as bait to lure her into a trap. While she survived, he hadn’t. Since then, she and her daughter had gone into hiding. There were reasons, valid reasons, why heroes hid their identities from the public.

“I’m not saying they’re all bad, or even that they have something to hide. But shouldn’t we know if these vigilantes are convicts? Murderers? Law enforcement is powerless to stop them. The burden falls on the shoulders of the press.”

Damien moved to the front of his desk, close enough to invade my personal space. Leaning against the glass surface, my eyes were level with the buckle of his belt. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t interested in speculating if the man wore boxers or briefs.

I cleared my throat. “But what can a publication do to stop a person capable of flying through the sun?”

Damien nodded his head, as if he were agreeing with me. While I desperately needed a job, I was kicking myself for not doing more than flipping through his magazine and studying the photography and layouts. Stupid me for not reading the articles and getting a sense of his slant on superheroes.

“These heroes believe they’re untouchable, gods amongst men. Hell, some of them could withstand every weapon known to mankind. But thankfully, their vanity is their Achilles heel.”

“Vanity, sir?”

“Without their worshippers, they’re nothing. Why else would they be doing these necessary deeds? Every fist thrown, every bullet they deflect, it’s so the public bows down to them. We have essentially transformed ourselves into their devoted servants. Revelations makes sure that their hubris doesn’t go unchecked.”

There were plenty of deniers in the public. Every day the news showed a small group of everyday people trying to convince Legislature to ban superheroes. Without them, we’d have been enslaved by alien races, underworld demons, or that guy always turning children’s toys into weapons. As a planet, we were safer with them here, but I needed this job, so I kept my pro-hero point of view to myself.

“There should always be checks and balances,” I said. I believed it, and with enough time, I’m sure Congress would develop some sort of system to collaborate with superheroes, not work against them. Even now, the Centurions acted as governing body, ensuring that none of the top tier superheroes went unchecked.

“Griffin, we are that balance.” He pushed off his desk and lazily walked around my chair. As he crossed out of my line of sight, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Something about this man didn’t sit well with me, and it wasn’t his volatile exchange with Bossman yesterday.

“Unlike the Beacon, I don’t like the idea of designers working in isolation, nor the writers. If you’re interested in a position, I’ll want to see a full article package from you.” His hand rested on my shoulder, and I feared anything but a resounding yes might result in him attempting to crush my collarbone.

I let out a nervous laugh at the thought. Spending so much time in a world of superheroes, my imagination ran away. Damien Vex might be a blow-hard, or even a terrifying businessman, but that was it. The idea of such a high-profile man wearing a mask was borderline lunacy.

“A full package?” It was rare for designers to write articles, but on occasion we’d pitch in if the Beacon had been short staffed. If I didn’t agree to this assignment, there was a good chance I wouldn’t find another job. It wasn’t as if Vincent or Bossman were going to write me a glowing recommendation after the ultimatum I gave them.

“Do you think you’re up to the challenge, Mr. Smith?”

I took a moment to ponder the question. Did I think I was up to the challenge of writing, photographing, and designing a package for Revelations? I hadn’t written a news article in over a year, so the thought of developing a piece worthy of Revelations terrified me. Could I be more than a lowly graphic designer? I couldn’t handle another magazine destroying my confidence.

“Draft the article. If it has merit, and if it’s worthy of space in Revelations, we’ll assign a team to flesh it out. Unlike the Beacon, I believe in collaboration and partnerships.”

Sebastian Taylor.

My lip turned up as I recalled him talking about clawing his way out of poverty. As he described his successes, the pride he had in enjoying the finer things in life had been well earned. I might not be comfortable with his level of success, but perhaps it was because I had never tasted it before? If I could get my foot in the door at Revelations and make a name for myself as he had done, then perhaps it would leak it into other areas of my life.

“Mr. Vex,” I turned, losing count of the awards on shelves, back-lit to make them stand out. He stepped away, framed by the numerous accomplishments. Somewhere deep inside, I wanted a taste. The desire to be more than a junior designer, a lowly nobody unable to get a seat at the table.

“Mr. Vex,” I stood, holding out my hand, “you have yourself a deal.”

His grin was almost as devilish as his frown. I shook his hand, the strength firm, but not overbearing. He wanted me to know he was fit, and more so, that he was calculated.

“This isn’t a done deal. This is your interview, Mr. Smith. Don’t disappoint.” He let go of my hand and returned to his chair. Unfastening his jacket, he took his seat, hands crossed, pointer fingers pressed together.

“I’ll have Mr. Taylor contact you in the next twenty-four hours to deliver our style guide. Say goodbye to the Beacon. You’re about to become the person you were destined to be.”

And with that, our meeting was over.

9

“I thoughthe was going to break me in half!”

“You should be so lucky to get tossed around like that.” I glared at the cell phone. Obviously, Xander knew me too well. “You know I can see you giving me a death glare?”

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