The ice-silver Bentley Flying Spur glided smoothly through the streets of South Mayvel, its powerful engine barely a whisper. An elderly chauffeur in a crisp black uniform with gold stitching gripped the wheel with white-gloved hands, every movement precise and practiced.
In the spacious backseat, Marvin Bliss sat relaxed, one leg crossed over the other. His tailored designer suit looked expensive even in the filtered afternoon light coming through the tinted windows. He radiated calm confidence.
A careful distance away on the same long seat sat Izzy, still in her black leather jacket and vigilante mask, visibly tense. Her fingers gripped the edge of the seat.
『What the hell am I doing? This guy could be a serial killer. I got in a random rich dude’s car.
『...But also, this is literally everything I used to draw in my notebooks. 』
She couldn’t shake the surreal feeling. This was the fantasy every powered teenager secretly dreamed about, getting discovered mid-rescue by someone important. It was never supposed to actually happen.
"You said you don’t have a hero name yet," Marvin said, his voice smooth and measured.
"I mean... I haven’t really settled on one," Izzy replied, trying to sound chill even though her voice felt tight.
"Don’t stress about it." He shifted slightly closer on the leather seat. "You’re in safe hands now."
Izzy’s stomach flipped. The space between them suddenly felt much smaller.
"This is my stop," she said abruptly.
Marvin raised a single hand. The driver pulled the Bentley smoothly to the curb without a word.
"Mind if I see your face, Miss Garcia?"
Izzy hesitated, then reached up and pulled off the mask and wig. Her short silver curls tumbled free.
"You’re young for a college student," Marvin observed, studying her openly. "You look exactly like someone this city would root for."
"Thanks," she mumbled, cheeks burning. She wanted to teleport out of the car immediately.
He slipped a sleek business card from his jacket pocket and extended it. "Call me when you’re ready to stop playing hero in the streets. I can make you famous. The right way."
She took the card. "Okay, sir."
"Marvin," he corrected with a small smile. "And I’ll take your number."
He handed her his phone. Izzy typed it in quickly and gave it back.
"I should go."
"Of course."
The driver was already out and holding the door open. As Izzy stepped onto the sunlit pavement, her phone began ringing, the cheerful ringtone she’d set for unknown numbers.
"That’s me," Marvin said from inside the car, his eyes tracing the shape of her body as she stood. "Don’t answer that."
『Unregistered. Powerful. Young enough to shape. 』
"Think about my offer," he called after her, voice carrying down the street.
"I will."
She started walking. The Bentley purred past her, windows reflecting the afternoon light. Marvin watched her through the glass until she grew smaller in the distance.
"Who’d have thought," he murmured, more to himself than the driver. A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face. "Real gold all the way down in South Mayvel."
On the sidewalk, Izzy stood still, watching the ice-silver Bentley merge into traffic and disappear around the corner. She turned the business card over in her fingers. The name and details were printed in clean, elegant lettering.
『Marvin Bliss. 』
She pulled out her phone and quickly searched the name. Results flooded the screen, articles, photos, official profiles. Her lips parted in a small, disbelieving smile. Then reality hit, and the smile slowly faded.
『The hero industry. For real. Ren is going to be crushed... We’ve talked about this for years. 』
She kept walking, the afternoon sun warm on her skin.
『But this is my future. 』
Her steps slowed, then stopped completely. Up ahead, a weathered wooden sign hung outside Justlyz’s dance and performance studio. The bold black letters stood out against the faded paint:
DON’T DIE WITH YOUR SONG STILL IN YOU.
Izzy stared at it for a long moment. For some reason, the words bothered her. She didn’t know why.
She exhaled, adjusted her bag, and started walking again.
***
It was already 3:00 PM. Students poured out of classrooms and scattered across campus like someone had kicked an anthill. Ren walked the crowded hallway beside Bishop, who always gave him a ride home.
"I texted Sophie," Bishop said, weaving through the sea of backpacks and loud voices.
Ren had zero interest in hearing about Sophia again, but dodging this conversation at the end of the day had become impossible.
"She asked if I wanted to be the sun in her life," Bishop continued.
Ren actually stopped walking. "Wait, seriously?" They stood in the middle of the hallway as people flowed around them. "That’s... good for you, man."
"Not really." Bishop’s face stayed flat. "Because I said yes, and she told me to stay nine million miles away from her."
Ren couldn’t help laughing. "Okay, that’s actually funny." Then the guilt hit him. "She’s mean as hell, bro."
"Heads up," Bishop muttered. "Noel and his crew."
Ren looked ahead. Noel Cavinel and two of his guys were cutting straight toward them through the crowd.
"I hate that dude," Ren said under his breath.
"Yo." Noel tapped Ren hard on the shoulder as he passed. "You seen Izzy? Been looking for her all day."
"Not really," Ren replied, keeping his voice even.
"When you see her, tell her Big N was looking."
"Sure."
Noel gave Bishop two casual slaps on the side of the head. "Fix your face, bro." Then he was gone, his crew trailing behind him like bodyguards.
Noel was the king of RavenHall, six feet tall, basketball starter, rich parents, black hair faded sharp on the sides. He’d awakened his powers junior year and registered with the Hero Body the same week. And lately, he’d been very obviously chasing Izzy.
Ren watched him disappear into the crowd. A few students moved out of his way without being asked.
"But for real, where is she?" Bishop asked as they kept walking.
"She’s fine," Ren said.
"Did you tell her though?" Bishop pressed. "You gotta grow a pair, man. Noel is moving fast."
"B. Not here."
"Come on," Bishop gestured around the noisy hallway. "Like anyone’s listening to us. Noel doesn’t lose, bro. You know that."
Ren sighed. "Fine. I told her yesterday. She said she’d think about it."
"You lucky bastard." Bishop grinned as they passed a group clustered around Pearl Noble, who was holding court about the latest hero drama. "She says she’ll think about it... then invites you over for a ’science project’ at her house when her parents aren’t home?" He spread his hands. "What more do you need, man?"
Ren fought back a smile. He hadn’t really thought about it like that.
"Stop it, bro."
They reached Bishop’s car, a small, beat-up red sedan squeezed between much nicer vehicles in the student lot.
"I’m just saying," Bishop continued as they climbed in, "everything’s about to change for you. And I’m happy for you, man. For real."
"Just drive, B."
Bishop pulled out his phone before he even started the engine, read a message, and broke into a huge grin.
"Sophie wants to meet me at the basketball court." He turned the screen toward Ren.
Ren’s face dropped. "Come on, B. That girl is straight-up using you."
Bishop tossed the phone onto the dashboard and shifted into gear. "Let me drop you off real quick and I’ll come right back."