For once, spending time with Clare turned out to be pretty fun. Because the new rankings are coming out at the end of this week, a bunch of my boosters figured I should have costume options for my first year in Pantheon U. I’m pretty stubborn when it comes to how my costumes look. Navy blue and gold are just my thing, but Clare had five files worth of costume variations and fabric options and spandex codes that would let my body react in fight situations differently. Need something to fight people like Frost and the Tundra Brothers? How about something a little thicker with heavy-set golden boots? Off into the Wastelands? It’s gonna get nasty really fast. How about something more survivor-looking, fixed with a tattered cape that doubles as a nose cover, and goggles that’ll stop irradiated dust from getting in my eyes. Between me and you, I nerded out for nearly five hours straight about this.

  And all for the very high price of nothing. Perks of being the best, right?

  In the end, we settled on five costumes. Ice-Sentry, Wasteland-Sentry, the black and gold variation of my costume, classic navy blue and gold with a couple of tweaks to the gloves and gold lining, and finally what I liked to call: The Sam Special. I’d been given free-range to design my own costume, a kind of special edition type of deal, and that bad boy is probably never gonna see the light of day, because I tore out the pages that Clare made notes about it on and kept them for myself. Smart, she’d said. Can you imagine its value? A collector’s dream.

  But I wasn’t really focused on how much someone would buy it for one day. That’s whatever.

  When I finally graduate from this place, it’ll be the costume I wear when I shake Vale’s hand and march right into Ultra Force HQ to take my spot right there at their steel silver table. Ultimate Sentry. That’s what I put its name down as, then folded each one of the pieces of paper and crammed them under my mattress for safe keeping.

  With that out of the way and Bud asleep on my bed, it was late enough in the day for the sun to decide to clock out. Clare left after showing me the new trick she’d taught Bud—a spin, a sit down, and a flip through the air for the price of a handful of dog treats. The dog listened to her way better than it did me, because when I tried, the little furball bit my fingers and stole the treats for himself before hiding behind Clare the second I snapped at him.

  “He’ll learn,” she had said, scratching behind his ear. “Not everyone’s obedient from the jump.”

  She told me she’d come around later with a bunch of draft reports I needed to study, as well as a few more supervillain debriefs from a bunch of attacks that have happened in Liberty City in my absence. ‘Kinda like fun homework,’ she’d said with a shrug. With that, Clare left me alone with the ball of energetic fur and a promise.

  Jason texted me a few minutes later saying: Still on for tonight?

  I sent him a picture of Patriot grinning and saluting in response.

  But what Ashley said was still in the back of my head. Carter must’ve spent the rest of the day wandering around school, being weird to people until they spoke to him, as if that would make him Number One. Which villains has he even fought? What records has he broken? I don’t see his Cape-Net full with All-American team selections, do I? Whatever. Mind games. And the Board wouldn’t actually tank my rank just because I’m not out there doing my sidekick activities, because that’s just ridiculous. How would washing a senior’s car or doing their homework make me a better superhero? If they want a docile nobody who snaps to attention every time they’re given an order, then they can go searching through Liberty State or West Miami U for a dog that’ll drop everything they’re doing and run into a burning building no questions asked. But, just to be safe, I’ll do this the smart way.

  I ditch the superhero costume for tonight and go with black jeans, black sneakers, and a blue compression top I would usually use for the gym. I hang around until just after midnight before I call someone I don’t want to.

  It rings once, twice, and on the third time, Hope picks up.

  “Hello?” she says. I can hear soft music coming from the speaker, too. “Who is this?”

  “Hey, Hope. It’s me.” Silence. “Sam. You know, the girl who sits next to you in class?”

  “Oh. Oh, wow. I didn’t think you’d actually call me.” I hear shifting, then she says, “What’s up? We don’t have any ethics homework this week. At least, nothing I’ve heard. So unless you’ve got a good scoop for me…”

  “I actually—” I put the phone away and quietly swear. Bud tilts his head, looking at me funny. I pick the phone up again, lick my lips, and say, “I was thinking that we should maybe read a couple of books together.”

  The silence that follows is nearly the death of me. I only hear my heartbeat for what feels like an hour.

  “Right now?” she asks.

  “Is that weird?”

  “I mean, it’s kinda late, and you also posted on your socials that rest equals a focused superhero.”

  I roll my eyes. “That wasn’t me. Clare—she runs my accounts—posted that. I’m a night owl.”

  “Most superheroes tend to me. You guys have really awful sleep cycles.” More ruffling. I hear a window open and the sound of a cat meowing before she speaks again. “But sure. The admissions building doesn’t close, mostly because of what I said—horrible sleeping habits and a bunch of young people hopped up on adderall and energy drinks equals not-so focused students.” I almost smile. “I’ll send you my address. Should I order pizza, or is this strictly a reading-books type of hangout? Which is also fine. I’ve got a lot of books. Probably way too many.”

  “Pizza sounds nice,” I say. “I’ll be there in…”

  I check my phone. Shit.

  Jason texted: ?

  I replied: I’m coming.

  “Give me thirty minutes.”

  “Thirty?” she asks. “Dude, I live, like, ten minutes away.”

  “I know,” I say, getting off the couch. “I’m gonna take the long route. You’ll blink and I’m there.”

  “Keep that promise,” she says. There’s something in her voice that’s gone soft. “I know superheroes and timing don’t usually mix. Oil and water, you know? And you can call me if you can’t make it, I’ll understand.”

  “No, no,” I say. Besides, I need hard evidence that I actually left school for a reason and turned up at her place. A Vanilla would be pretty good evidence of that. “I’ll be there. I’ll even pick up the pizza on my way, cool?”

  I can almost hear the smile on her lips. “Cool. See you soon, superhero.”

  Before I left school, I met Jason in the lobby. He’d looked at me funny in my all-black outfit, and I told him to just hand over what he needed me to send and I’ll be on my way. He handed me a manilla envelope, thick and definitely padded. I instinctively wanted to see inside of it and check what I was delivering, but I respected a ranked human enough not to hand a superhuman with x-ray vision something dangerous like a bomb. At least, I hoped Jason wasn't stupid enough to try something like that. He scribbled an address on a note and handed it over with a smile.

  “I owe you,” he’d said quietly.

  “Don’t mention it,” I’d said. “It beats being in school all the time. I feel like a tiger in a cage.”

  “I guess we kinda get so used to leaving whenever we want that it gets a little claustrophobic being here,” he’d said, pushing his hands into his pockets. “Side effects of growing up like superheroes, right? Now we’re all up at four in the morning and can’t sleep no matter how hard we try.” He shifted from foot to foot, scratched his head, and said, “You’re gonna meet a couple people tonight who’re a little bit of an acquired taste. They’re good people. Well, most of the time. God, I hope they are tonight. And if they start asking too many questions, tell ‘em to keep their mouths shut for now and everything is gonna be fine. Besides, it’s not that far away. Just down the block.”

  I looked at the address and frowned. “Dude, this is all the way in Landfill. You have friends in that dump?”

  “Yep,” he had sighed. “It’s a long story. Call me if shit hits the fan, alright?”

  “You got it, boss,” I’d said, gently punching his shoulder. “Oh, and tell Jordan I said hi.”

  He’d paused, then looked at me like I’d just revealed his secret identity.

  I tapped my nose and said, “I can smell her perfume on you.”

  “What the—” He’d sniffed his hoodie and quickly said, “I gave it to her because she got cold hanging out in my room. We aren’t— We’re not—” He sighed as I grinned. “Whatever. We usually all hang out in there, Syd and Summer too. You should come around once in a while. It’s not anything fancy, but hey, we’ve got board games.”

  “Yeah, you’d owe me big time if I had to come down to those floors just for board games, Jay,” I had said.

  And with that, I left him in the lobby, got my school-leave slip from admissions, and flew toward Landfill. That’s not its official name, but that’s what everyone who lives in Liberty City calls it. Landfill was a supervillain way back before mom even came to this planet. Allegedly, he was even a villain back when New York wasn’t a husk and a smoldering, radiation-filled hole in the ground. But when he died, whenever that was, his body began to rot, which meant all that plastic and iron, the gunk and the body parts and every ounce of trash attached to his body slowly sloughed off his flesh, leaving a section of Old-Port so foul and so irradiated that babies were coming out with mutations. Four eyes. Six arms. I once heard that a kid grew on the outside of his mom’s gut and fell off like bad fruit when he was big enough. Weird, I know. Kinda gross. But that’s Landfill for you—Mutant Metropolis.

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  Literally. That’s what the large neon red sign says above an old steel-mill factory. Through the smoke and the clouds of ash, Landfill slowly comes into view, punching down my throat and filling my lungs with air so vile I nearly puke in my mouth and swallow. My phone buzzes in my pocket, warning about how close I am to a Hazard Zone—as if I can’t handle everything Earth has to throw at me. The air stings and my eyes burn, but it’s only a few minutes until I feel reasonably fine again. The factories hum and slam and crush and groan, shaking the ground and making the smoke-filled alleyways echo like they’re in agony. I can feel the ground trembling underneath my feet as soon as I land on the edge of an old warehouse, windows shattered and graffiti covering its walls. Abandoned.

  Like most of Landfill tends to be. You won’t even be lucky enough to find a homeless person out here.

  The ones you find are gonna try to sell you parts of their body for food, probably because they can regrow them in a heartbeat. It’s the side of the city superheroes like me don’t usually stick our fingers too deep in. Why?

  Because mutants are a tricky bunch to play savior with, mostly because, well, they’re gross.

  And mainly because they’re stubbornly hard to kill. Have you tried to kill Gore before? Not gore, the meat kind, but Gore the villain? Try it out, even on Super Hero Smasher V he’s nearly impossible, no matter how high you stack your strength stats. Last anyone heard, he’s lurking around Landfill in this drug-filled daze, luckily too stupid to mount any kind of coordinated attack. For big and ugly, he’s all about his next bump of illegal narcotics.

  And fair enough, I am too sometimes.

  I’m young and invincible, sue me.

  But he takes the shit that the government doesn’t even know about.

  That’s all a problem for another time, though, because according to Jason, the people I’m meant to meet should be on this rooftop right now. As a superhero, you get pretty used to these. They’re like your second home. That’s why you find so many take-out boxes in such weird places, because a vigilante got hungry and decided to grab a snack at the very top of a cellphone tower. This place isn’t different. Beer bottles. Soda caps. A couple of old cigarettes and even a torn domino mask and a pair of ripped red gloves. I kick around for a while, whistling to myself and perching on the warehouse’s ledges. I pull out my phone to ask Jason where his friends are, but I get absolutely nothing in terms of service. I resort to playing a game until I hear the sound of heavy boots on stone.

  I must be the only person in a ten-mile radius that heard that. It’s a soft landing that echoes all around me, and I’ve got to actually tilt my head and search the smoke-filled gloom to find their shadow. I get nothing until—

  A figure is standing just a foot away. Suddenly there.

  One of those types, I think to myself, trying not to yawn. Vigilantes like doing that. I think it makes them feel all tingly inside because of how awesome they think it looks. I can do that, too, you know. Except a lot louder.

  Instantly stopping after moving at the speed of sound isn’t the swift swoosh cartoons make it out to be.

  “Yo,” I say, pushing off the ledge. It’s a girl. Wild white hair and a full-white face mask hiding her identity. Black lenses have been built into the face plate, and the rest of her gear is a grimy white, too. Scuffed boots and old knee sliders, uneven stitching in the fabric and the quiet smell of sweat soaking into the spandex underneath all that kevlar body armor. Human. Gotta protect your mushy insides somehow, so why not cram it all inside some hard plastic and hope that stops a superhuman from snapping your spine. “You’re here for the envelope? Took you long enough.” I pull it out of my waistline and nearly hand it over, then pause. I narrow my eyes. “Are you here for this?”

  She doesn’t speak. Just stares at me, breathing slowly, fingers twitching toward the katana on her back.

  I sigh from my nose and say, “Let’s make this easy, alright? I’ve got somewhere I need to be.”

  “Did you come alone?” Her voice is hoarse. Strained. A tight whisper through tighter lips.

  “Do I look like the kind of person who needs backup?”

  Silent again. This time for longer.

  A flash of brilliant violet light nearly blinds me. Literally. I’ve got really sensitive eyes, people, let’s keep the sudden entrances at night to a minimum for my sake. I blink the flashing dots of light away as a figure above me hovers slightly above the girl in white. For a second, I think she’s shining a flashlight directly at me, then I slowly realize I might’ve died and found out angels are real (yes, I know Jordan has wings, but she’s a jerk so that doesn’t count). A golden halo of fractured starlight quietly hums over her head, casting soft light over pure white eyes. A tiny golden star tattoo shines gold under her right eye, and the rest of her costume is a midnight blue and violet mashup. Cropped leather jacket pushed to her elbows, fingerless gloves and a figure-hugging body suit underneath.

  I’ve never seen either of these two in my life, which probably means they’re not important. What? The superhero industry is fast-paced, cut-throat. People come and go. Superheroes are mega stars one day and now sell self-help books because they’re has-beens two weeks later. The best survive. These guys? They look like the former.

  “Don’t worry about her,” Glow-Girl says, floating her way onto her feet. She’s taller than the girl with the katana, and the wind plays with her shoulder-length locs as she sticks glowing out her hand and grins. “Aurelia.”

  “You know who I am,” I say. “So are you guys here for the envelope or just like to hang out on roofs?”

  She laughs and says, “Isn’t that what most superheroes do, hang out in weird places all-night long?” She pats my shoulder like we’re friends all of a sudden and waves at the girl in white. “Thats Ivory. She’s friendly under all that silence. I swear. And she can speak, she just chooses not to so she can pretend she’s all tough and cool, but deep down? She’s a total softy.” Aurelia looks at me, arm now resting on my shoulder. “How come you’re not in costume? I was kinda looking forward to taking pictures with you, because the ones online kinda suck sometimes.”

  I brush her arm off me and say, “Listen, if you want better quality pics of me, pay up. Second, do you guys want this thing or not? I’m burning moonlight here and I kinda need to get somewhere before the nighttime ends.”

  Aurelia holds out her hand. “Fine, fine. Since you want me to be all professional about this.”

  I hand over the envelope, but not before pulling it away and staring at her halo. I can hear it humming. I first thought the light coming off made it do that, but this is something else. Aurelia is glowing a deep shade of purple herself, but the halo is spinning. Spinning so fast that it sounds like the throaty hum of the universe’s constant grinding spin, like she’s somehow managed to cram the entire Milky Way into a big golden head band.

  “What is that?” I whisper, nearly touching it.

  She steps back and holds up her hands. “Touch me almost wherever, just not there.”

  I raise an eyebrow and look her up and down. What kind of Supe has powers like that? Some kind of light construct? Those are pretty rare. Jordan’s mom can do that, but I’m not even sure Jordan can. And why is she still glowing? Does she just walk around like a glowstick all day long? New things make me…no, uneasy isn’t a good word, because that makes me sound afraid of everything. Curious. New things make me curious, because just when you think Liberty City can’t surprise you, here comes a girl with a halo whose entire body smells like the cosmos.

  But, and here’s a tiny question: why isn’t someone like this in Pantheon U?

  “Liberty State?” I ask her, folding my arms. “Someplace private?”

  “Huh?” she says, then blinks. “Oh! You think I’m… Nah. No way. Those places are really weird. Besides, I’m seventeen. I can’t go to college yet. Also because I’m broke, so I’m also not in high school. I kinda just am, you know?” She shrugs. “But hey, if PU is where your heart is, then who am I to stop you from being happy, am I right?”

  “Stop fraternizing with her,” Ivory quietly says. “She’s not our friend and she’s not our allie, either.”

  Aurelia sighs and glances over her shoulder. “You promised me you’d let me handle this one.”

  “By ‘handle’ I meant get the package,” Ivory snarls. “So get the fucking package and let’s go.”

  Aurelia flinches, then looks at me. “Trust me, she’s still nice somewhere in there.”

  “Tell me how your powers work, and then I’ll give you the envelope.”

  They both stare at me. I stare back.

  “Like…right now?” Aurelia asks.

  “Should I schedule an appointment?” I say.

  She scratches the back of her head. “It’s kinda simple. Not really that big of a—”

  “No.” Ivory steps in front of her, and now she’s in my face, almost so close I can see through the lead plates stopping me from seeing through her mask. Smart. Bet I can take it off before she can stop me, though. “Hand over what you’ve been given, and we can go our separate ways. Unless you’re willing to tell us what can hurt you, too.”

  “Why the fuck would I do that?” I ask. “Besides, I’m kinda un-killable. I chew green rocks for breakfast.”

  “If Aurelia tells you how her powers work, that’s just another way for you to figure out how to kill her.”

  I step back and put up my hands. “Woah. Relax. I don’t kill, and especially not other—”

  The blade is out in a heartbeat. Its edge grazes my throat. Neither of us moves. I stare at her, and she stares at me, my face shining off the silver edge. I hear the cords of muscle in her arms tighten as she grips onto the blade.

  “C’mon,” I say quietly, forcing a smile onto my face. Suddenly, all I can think about are the mounds of PR material I’ve crammed into my head over my lifetime. “How about we stay reasonable, alright? You don’t have to break your fancy sword across my neck just because you think we’re enemies. We’re Capes. We’re not meant to fight. Just think about how we’d look to any bad guys watching. United We Fight—Ultra Force, but you know their slogan, because who doesn’t?” She keeps staring. I do, too. Silence lasts for so long I can almost hear her katana sing, the metal so sharp it cuts through the smoke billowing across the warehouse roof. “So,” I whisper. “Friends?”

  Try to cut my throat open, bitch. I really, really fucking wish you try.

  Mostly because I want to see the look on her face when her precious sword shatters.

  It’s like when your average goon gets surprised when his run of the mill pistol shoots bullets that bounce off my chest. They usually start begging as soon as they empty the clip, like it’s an accident they unloaded on me.

  I don’t give them any quarter.

  Aurelia slides herself between us and smiles at me. “Well, this was really fun, but I think we’ll just get out of here.” Ivory doesn’t move, so close to Aurelia that her blade sits just over the glowing girl’s shoulder. “Right?”

  “Right,” I whisper, then smile.

  I hand her the envelope, no questions asked.

  She grins even wider and stuffs it into her leather jacket. “Thanks a ton! Now, if you’ll excuse me and my cool sidekick, we’re gonna get out of here. Oh, and tell Bandit that he’s right—you’re pretty awesome, even if you don’t seem to like being around people.” She gently punches my shoulder. I only now notice the five stars over her heart, glowing the same soft golden like the one under her right eye. “I’d teach you a handshake, but Ivory would probably blow her top, and that’s not what I wanna deal with tonight. So…see you around? Tonight was fun.”

  I wouldn’t call this fun, but sure, PR-Sentry smiles and punches her shoulder, too.

  She doesn’t even flinch.

  “Totally,” I say. “Hey, we’ve still got time. Quick handshake?”

  She beams.

  Ivory grabs her wrist, sheaths the katana, and glares at me. “Let this be the last time.”

  She unclips a black capsule from her belt, pops it open and throws it at the ground.

  And, you guessed it, they’re gone when the smoke bomb clears. It’s scented, too, which would make it a lot harder for me to track—ha! As if. Maybe for a lesser superhuman. But now I’m curious, and since I haven’t been impulsive for more than a few days ever since I got wasted and vandalized Alexandria’s statue, I check my phone and figure I’ve got enough time to figure out how a lowly ranked human like Jason even got into Pantheon U. If that’s the group he’d been running around with, being all friendly and neighborhoodly to the people of Old-Port, then it doesn’t beat to learn a little more about my supposed competition. I know Jordan. I know Red. And Sydney is, well, Sydney. She’s not got the cut-throat, ‘I wanna be the best to ever fucking run’ attitude that Booster Blitz had when he was in Pantheon U, and everyone else? That’s work for later, especially Carter. Jason? Jason is tonight.

  I hate to call it human hunting, but this is kinda what it is.

  Hope is just gonna have to hope a superhero keeps her promise.

  See what I did there? Hope is gonna have to…

  Whatever. I don’t sleep as much as I should.

  I inhale deeply and catch Ivory’s sweat in the wind, just a handful of blocks away from where I am. I’ll do a little bit of recon, snoop around Jason’s personal life, and be on my way—what? The police do this all the time, and now it’s weird when a superhero does it? I’m stopping a threat before it turns into a threat. It’s called being smart.

  Because that’s what you’ve gotta be if you wanna stay Number One: be smart, and be prepared.

  “Because if a human can be ranked, then anyone can take my spot,” I whisper to myself.

  And I just can’t let that happen. The embarrassment of a human taking my rank from me would kill me.

  Maybe I was wrong. A human outclassing me might just be my glowing green rock.