Chapter 16

Iron Nadya

Annie moved through the apartment like she owned it.

Within moments she was pulling frozen meals from a freezer drawer, and minutes later they were settled in front of the holo with hot meals and cold drinks.

Annie flipped through channels until she found an overacted drama involving aliens and a psychic corgi. She talked over most of it while he ate, pointing out plot holes and retelling past character arcs. Finally, she highlighted the betrayals that led to the corgi’s death, only for it to revive in a burst of light and save the day.

Alexander mostly listened. There was something oddly comforting about her running commentary. Maybe it was just the chance to sit together, enjoying something normal without the looming threat of death.

She found borrowed clothes that didn’t fit either of them and they took turns using the bathroom, giving each other space without awkwardness. It was easy to forget how little time had passed since they’d met. He didn’t know how Annie felt, but she had quietly become family to him.

Probably the repeated near-death moments.

He was certain her competence and willingness to throw herself headfirst, sometimes literally, into a fight alongside him had something to do with it.

“Our things will wash and dry overnight,” Annie said as she emerged in oversized clothes and flopped onto the couch.

She waved him toward the bedroom. “You’re taller. Couch sucks for tall people. Besides,” she added, tugging at a blanket she’d grabbed earlier, “I’ve probably got more couch experience than you.”

He didn’t argue. The bed was firm enough to remind him just how exhausted he was. He lay back, closed his eyes, and let his mind drift.

Sleep came quickly.

The next day passed quietly.

The camera pinged his implant every time someone entered the building, and Alexander patiently reviewed each clip before relaxing. No bounty hunters, no supers. Just peace and quiet, with a little sunlight cutting through mostly drawn curtains.

No need to test their luck.

They had agreed they needed some gear. His contribution to the list was spare clothes and food. Annie’s list started with multitools and medkits and ended with breathing masks, water purification tabs, and a whetstone. For my sword, she had said seriously.

They’d agreed to shop later that night at the MegaMart next door. Annie had insisted she could slip through a crowd in the daytime, but she’d eventually conceded to his argument that minimizing risk mattered more.

Still, they hadn’t spent the day idle.

Annie showed him a simple fitness routine. No equipment, just bodyweight movements and control. Enough to teach form without draining too much energy. It wasn’t a good time to risk being found exhausted because of a workout.

He wasn’t half bad once he stopped overthinking his posture.

The day blurred into snapshots. Annie sprawled on the couch for more episodes of the psychic corgi, mumbling insults and snorting at absurd scenes. Between episodes, she’d draw her katana and bounce around the room, sparring with invisible enemies.

Alexander spent hours browsing advice forums on improving powers, losing more than he cared to admit on conspiracy threads and personality surveys claiming to match people to powers.

It was when he checked the bounty board that he saw it.

Annie’s bounty had risen. Fifty thousand credits, bolded and flashing red. Same photo, same description, but now marked violent and dangerous.

And linked beneath: Unidentified Male Accomplice.

He opened the listing. No name. No photo. No confirmed powers. Not even a public history. Just a price: twenty thousand credits.

Wait a sec… is that meant to be me?

He groaned.

“What’s wrong?” Annie asked, glancing over.

He pinged her implant with the update and waited.

A snort a few moments later. “I’m winning!”

He groaned again.

Alexander flipped through channels with growing restlessness. Annie had left for the MegaMart to put together their “go bags,” and he’d been checking every ping from the camera as residents trickled home.

It was a news report that dragged him back to reality.

“… residents were shocked yesterday when a local businessman, Frank Vitale, was arrested on charges of aiding and abetting a superpowered fugitive. Authorities have not responded to requests for more information, but residents believe it is connected to escaped fugitive and bounty target, Annette Sheridan. Rumors of a Class R escapee persist, with one resident claiming he overheard an outburst from city-registered superhero Flashpoint at the scene.”

Alexander forgot to breathe.

“Frank Vitale faces up to twenty-five years in prison and has been remanded to police custody pending trial. His lawyer had this to say—”

The screen cut to the steps of a police station. An older man in a gray suit filled the frame.

“I’ve known Frank for more than half my life, and these charges are ridiculous. He is being held purely on the premise of superhuman involvement. Their case hinges on evidence that, by their own admission, they haven’t even reviewed yet.”

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“There you have it, Jess,” the camera panned back to the earnest young reporter. “And it’s not the first time this department has faced complaints of skirting the law in superhuman cases.”

Alexander turned the holo off and sat there, staring at nothing.

This is all my fault.

The implant pinged once. Then again. Then several more times in rapid succession.

He frowned and pulled up the recordings. Armored officers filed into the building one after another. At the rear came a single caped superhero: a heavily armored woman with a long blonde ponytail, serious expression, and muscles for days.

Can we catch a fucking break?

Alexander stood and reached out with his senses, straining them.

Dozens of devices: holos, tablets, computers, implants. He filtered them away until one caught his attention, thrumming with activity near the end of the hall by the elevator. Unlike the fuzzed-out feel of bounty hunters, this one was exposed. He pulled on the sense, forgoing finesse, and fed a copy of the stream into his own implant.

A woman’s voice, old and shaking. “… absolutely certain, officer. That fugitive, you know? The redhead from the prison break with metal arms. She’s staying on level five.”

A man’s voice followed, commanding and decisive. “And you’re sure she’s in room three?”

“Oh yes, sir,” she replied. “She used to live there many years ago with her parents and sister, before the parents died in that terrible accident—”

Alexander cut the feed. They didn’t have Annie yet, or they’d be hunting him. Which meant she was either still in the MegaMart, about to stumble into a police cordon, or already in hiding.

She knows about the camera. She knows I’d be alerted. Which means she’ll wait for me… but where?

He was on the fifth floor. One elevator, one stairwell. Emergency fire escape at the end of a long hallway. He’d be spotted immediately.

He checked the balcony. From this side, everything looked clear. No uniforms or flashing lights.

They’re keeping their presence quiet.

He thought it through. Annie would likely wait near the car, as it was the only other location they might consider a place to regroup. The problem was how to reach her. The only way out was the balcony, and that meant climbing down five floors at a time when he couldn’t even afford another twisted ankle.

Alexander slid open the glass door and stepped out onto the balcony. As he did, he felt new signals enter the hallway on five, confirming the officers were already closing in. He looked over the edge. Each balcony sat neatly beneath the last, with the same waist-high railing.

He dashed back inside, slung Annie’s katana over his shoulder, and went looking for the hat. Finding it in the bathroom, he ran into a problem. He couldn’t tuck it into his clothes comfortably, and hanging it from the sword’s hilt would result in it falling off.

That left only one option.

With a sigh, he set the ridiculous thing on his head.

This is my life now.

Avoiding the mirror, he returned to the balcony. He swung a leg over the railing and lowered himself, fingers white-knuckled on the cold metal. One hand shifted down the vertical bar, the other following quickly, leaving him dangling over five stories of empty air. His boots scraped uselessly at the gap above the balcony below.

No time. Swing, release, grab. Don’t think, just move.

He kicked forward hard, legs arcing out, then back. On the return swing, he let go. Gravity pulled him down in a blur. His hands slammed against the next railing, fingers slipping for a moment before locking on. His shoulders wrenched under the weight of his body, ribs colliding with steel. Pain burst across his chest as he dragged in a breath.

No pause. He swung again and dropped to the third floor.

The impact rattled through his arms. He almost lost his grip, palms burning, fingers straining, but he clamped down until his joints screamed.

And then he sensed it. An officer rounded the corner below, the feel of his implant giving him away despite the plainclothes look. The police implants all felt similar, and starkly different from those the residents were using.

Shit.

The man whistled as he strolled directly beneath Alexander, casually peeking into windows. He was moving painfully slow.

Alexander’s arms burned. Sweat dripped down his face, and every second stretched. The implant claimed it had only been twenty seconds, but his body swore it had been a couple of minutes at least.

At the pace the creepy officer was moving, he wouldn’t last.

Closing his eyes, he reached for the officer’s implant. He didn’t push through its defenses, though he got the sense he could have. Instead, he used his own implant to generate a comms signal, matching everything but the content to the message he’d listened in on earlier. He had the implant generate a quick call for backup, scrambled it for good measure, then used his Technopathy to spoof the origin and sent it.

It was a simple idea, but he knew immediately it would require practice before he could add it to his repertoire of tricks.

Thankfully, the officer below stiffened and took off running around to the other side of the building.

Alexander continued dropping. Second floor. Then first.

Finally, feet on the ground, he glanced around to confirm it was clear, then bolted for a nearby building, and the car parked a block beyond that.

While he ran, his implant chimed, indicating a notification. He pulled it up.

[ Veritus Praxis Neuroadaptive Noetic Implant: Series 1 – Ascensus ]

Endurance + 1%

Focus + 1%

Technopathy — Output + 1%, Adaptation + 1%

Congratulations, Alexander. Continue your Dream.

He stumbled as he read the words. He couldn’t help it, the implant was patting him on the back for his accomplishments. And implying that he’d… grown stronger somehow?

Turning onto the street where they’d parked twenty hours earlier, he let out a sigh of relief. A mop of ginger hair peeked over the hood of the car, eyes fixed on him.

Annie stood, relief and happiness flashing across her face. Then her head tilted back, happiness changing to a squint of confusion.

He felt it the same moment she cried out. “Alexander! Look out!”

He dove right, shoulder slamming the road as asphalt exploded, blasting in every direction. Shards cut into his skin before he could even register what had happened.

He rolled, and staggered to his feet.

At the center of a new crater knelt the caped and armored woman he’d seen earlier, fist pressed to the ground.

He glanced up and back toward where he’d come from.

Did she just fucking leap from the apartment building?

He stared, slack-jawed.

Annie charged.

Her fist swelled to three times its size as she leaped across the road, punching the hero in the jaw and sending her spinning through the air. She flew several meters before crashing into the ground and sliding across the pavement.

Alexander snapped out of it, sprinting for the car. Annie turned and bolted after him, panic now written across her face.

He commanded the car to start and open its doors. Sliding to a stop, he threw himself into the driver’s seat, Technopathy pulsing with commands that sent the hovercar launching forward before twisting into a slide just long enough for Annie to dive into the passenger seat.

Doors slammed shut as the hovercar tore down the street, the hero shrinking behind them.

They breathed a sigh of relief a moment too soon.

The woman crouched, then launched skyward. White armor caught the streetlights as she arced, then fell toward them.

“Alex—” Annie started, but he was already yanking the wheel.

The car skidded down a side street, rubble bouncing off its rear as the hero crashed into the road again right where they’d just been.

“Who the hell is that, Annie?!”

“That’s Nadya Morozova… also known as Iron Nadya,” she sighed, almost starstruck. “Isn’t she just amazing?”

Then she turned to him and did a double-take.

“My hat!”

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