side?” I drawl. “Why am I not surprised?”
“It’s worth thinking about,” he says, his expression turning thoughtful. “I could drag you in and make it look like I’m faithful, and then you can escape when he’s not looking—or better yet, have someone come in and ‘rescue’ you. I really should have done that instead of taking all this time to warn you,” he goes on. I glare at him. “Why are you naked, anyway?” he asks. “You have some extremely strange hobbies in that school?”
“I was sparring with a fire type,” I say, shoving down embarrassment. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m going to debut,” I say.
“What? You can’t do that!” he says, sounding honestly shocked. “The LAST thing you want to do right now is debut! It’ll just get Herold MORE interested!”
“I’m going to be an official Hall villain—not one like you,” I say, scowling at him. “That means I debut and the world knows about me.”
“It means Technico is using you as bait,” Shadowman snarls. He steps forward, reaching for me only to curse as the lasers hit his hand. I watch his skin heal, but it did some definite damage. He stares at it for a moment before glaring at me. “This isn’t the end of this conversation, boy,” he says, "just a strategic retreat.”
“You were planning on using me as bait, too,” I say as he starts to walk away. “You were going to throw me under the bus! At least if Nico uses me as bait, I’ll have backup!”
“But Herold will know EXACTLY what you can do—and that we’re related,” he says over his shoulder.
“I never asked for that relation,” I say.
“Too bad.” He’s gone before I can come up with a reply. My phone beeps and I let out a groan, realizing that I’m late for class. I don’t care, I decide as I head for my room. I didn’t do my homework, anyway.
***
Even if it’s supposed to be a more discreet restaurant, Picadillo’s has several people turn slightly to watch the two men walk past. The young woman leading them has a slight tremble in her hands as she motions them to a booth in the back. It’s somewhat separate from the rest of the diners, and Century notes that fact without even blinking. “Thank you, darlin’,” he says as he sits down and takes the menu.
“Picadillo’s is one of my favorite places for business lunches,” Herold says pleasantly as he makes himself comfortable. “It’s the perfect place to have a private conversation without it looking private.”
“I’m flattered,” Century says, his good ole boy act in full swing, “being brought to your favorite place. I take it you come here often?”
“Often enough,” Herold says, flipping through the menu briefly before putting it down. “Now tell me, Cen—ah, should I call your Charles?”
“Charles is fine,” Century says, staring at the menu as if actually looking for what to eat.
“Then tell me, Charles, how do you plan to stop me from running for president?”
“I’m going to blackmail you,” Century says. “I always feel a bit wary, getting Mexican this far from home—I’m pretty picky about my Mexican food.”
“I’m sure you’ll find it excellent,” Herold says. “And if you think threatening to tell the world I’m what you are, well, you can see how I can’t take that seriously. You in the game are so intent on secret identities that you won’t even tell who the villains are.”
“You really think that, do you?” Century says, closing the menu and looking up. “I will admit it’s true—for those that are playing by the rules. But you see, Senator, you’re not playing by our rules. And when you don’t play by our rules, there’s no reason why we should play by yours,” he says, leaning back in the booth and stretching his legs out. His knees bump against the bottom of the table. “You realize just how dangerous a position you’re in? If the norms find out that you—”
He
“It’s worth thinking about,” he says, his expression turning thoughtful. “I could drag you in and make it look like I’m faithful, and then you can escape when he’s not looking—or better yet, have someone come in and ‘rescue’ you. I really should have done that instead of taking all this time to warn you,” he goes on. I glare at him. “Why are you naked, anyway?” he asks. “You have some extremely strange hobbies in that school?”
“I was sparring with a fire type,” I say, shoving down embarrassment. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m going to debut,” I say.
“What? You can’t do that!” he says, sounding honestly shocked. “The LAST thing you want to do right now is debut! It’ll just get Herold MORE interested!”
“I’m going to be an official Hall villain—not one like you,” I say, scowling at him. “That means I debut and the world knows about me.”
“It means Technico is using you as bait,” Shadowman snarls. He steps forward, reaching for me only to curse as the lasers hit his hand. I watch his skin heal, but it did some definite damage. He stares at it for a moment before glaring at me. “This isn’t the end of this conversation, boy,” he says, "just a strategic retreat.”
“You were planning on using me as bait, too,” I say as he starts to walk away. “You were going to throw me under the bus! At least if Nico uses me as bait, I’ll have backup!”
“But Herold will know EXACTLY what you can do—and that we’re related,” he says over his shoulder.
“I never asked for that relation,” I say.
“Too bad.” He’s gone before I can come up with a reply. My phone beeps and I let out a groan, realizing that I’m late for class. I don’t care, I decide as I head for my room. I didn’t do my homework, anyway.
***
Even if it’s supposed to be a more discreet restaurant, Picadillo’s has several people turn slightly to watch the two men walk past. The young woman leading them has a slight tremble in her hands as she motions them to a booth in the back. It’s somewhat separate from the rest of the diners, and Century notes that fact without even blinking. “Thank you, darlin’,” he says as he sits down and takes the menu.
“Picadillo’s is one of my favorite places for business lunches,” Herold says pleasantly as he makes himself comfortable. “It’s the perfect place to have a private conversation without it looking private.”
“I’m flattered,” Century says, his good ole boy act in full swing, “being brought to your favorite place. I take it you come here often?”
“Often enough,” Herold says, flipping through the menu briefly before putting it down. “Now tell me, Cen—ah, should I call your Charles?”
“Charles is fine,” Century says, staring at the menu as if actually looking for what to eat.
“Then tell me, Charles, how do you plan to stop me from running for president?”
“I’m going to blackmail you,” Century says. “I always feel a bit wary, getting Mexican this far from home—I’m pretty picky about my Mexican food.”
“I’m sure you’ll find it excellent,” Herold says. “And if you think threatening to tell the world I’m what you are, well, you can see how I can’t take that seriously. You in the game are so intent on secret identities that you won’t even tell who the villains are.”
“You really think that, do you?” Century says, closing the menu and looking up. “I will admit it’s true—for those that are playing by the rules. But you see, Senator, you’re not playing by our rules. And when you don’t play by our rules, there’s no reason why we should play by yours,” he says, leaning back in the booth and stretching his legs out. His knees bump against the bottom of the table. “You realize just how dangerous a position you’re in? If the norms find out that you—”
He
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