As I dropped to the floor, I raised my arms and flung my head back, imagining myself a gymnast sticking a landing. Sparks and metal bits showered my long black hair.

The guard threw his other hand back for a punch. “Intru—umph!”

I jabbed his mid-section, which was level with my face. My fist crunched his metal-plated abs and compressed his stomach a few inches. He keeled over. His head lowered within my reach. I kicked up as high as I could. The sole of my beach sandal peeled down like banana skin as my toes stabbed past the guard’s chin and into his head.

I cursed as my thigh burned. Must’ve torn some muscles. It had been ages since I stretched my leg head high.

Blood rolled down my calf as I wildly shook to get my foot loose from the guard’s jaws. I had intended to send him flying and bury him into the ceiling like in those cartoons, not get gore stuck between my toes.

I pulled my foot free, kicking away the guard against the walls. He was still alive. Somewhat. I only destroyed the lower half of his face.

The guard convulsed as he crawled away, gurgling in his blood while trying to call for help. I briskly walked beside him and grabbed his hair. Then I stabbed a finger deep into the crown of his head. My index finger penetrated his skull, and I felt the mushy brain beneath. He struggled. He fell silent. This was like I shot his head, I supposed.

I let him go, and he fell to the floor, unmoving. Blood spread from beneath him, reflecting the pin lights above like stars in a red sky.

“This feels so… routine…” I sighed, glancing at the door I came through. It had swung shut. I couldn’t hear any sounds from the other side. The first guard was probably still out there, wandering, shit-brained. Whiny and Backup didn’t follow me. Some friends they were.

At the other end of the hallway was another door. No sign that anyone was coming out because of the commotion.

I knelt on the floor and wiped my foot with the guard’s suit. My torn hamstring had healed. But my right beach sandal was ruined, drenched in blood, with its straps snapped off. Deen gifted this pair to me for the trip. Not being sentimental about it, but I did find them cute and comfortable. And what was I going to wear going back to my room?

Some Cinderella dilemma. Oh, that rhymed.

I took off both sandals and dangled them from my fingers, walking barefoot down the hallway as I dusted scraps from my hair.

My cheek brushed cold steel when I pressed my ear against the door with another stupid ‘BM’ engraving. I couldn’t hear anything. I gave it a slight shove. Wasn’t locked. What’s the worst that could happen?

I pushed it open.

Another pair of guards flanked the entrance. They were chatting in hushed tones as I came in, definitely not expecting anyone. I glared at them with the air of an important person who should be there. The two raised their aug-arms but didn’t attack. No way they knew every VIP around here. They had to assume anyone who came this far was on their side.

Would they risk a bitchy rich person making a scene?

About five yards ahead was a glass wall, probably bulletproof, sectioning off Big Marcy’s office from the rest of the room. It was like some zoo enclosure. Four people were inside.

Sitting on the guest armchair was the old man with a cane who entered before me. And that must be Big Marcy behind the curving black table wide enough to carry a buffet. He looked all big, bigger than any of his guards, and Marcy-looking in his pure white getup—definitely, Big Marcy. A stretch of a window gazing out the dark ocean framed his bulk. Two more guards stood at attention by the bookshelves on either side of the windows. One was a generic gorilla in a suit. The other piqued my curiosity—he wasn’t tall or muscular, his clothes hanging from an average guy’s frame.

His left sleeve was cut off from the shoulder. It wasn’t to mimic some rapper’s fashion sense; it was because his left arm wouldn’t fit in it—a scythe-like blade, reminding me of a praying mantis with vents lining the spine that emitted soft puffs of dark smoke. The blade itself hummed a purple glow.

Looks like I’ll be fighting an Adumbrae. Weird that his appearance didn’t stay human like the rest of the 2Ms’ Adumbrae clientele. Might be in his contract to look scary beside the boss.

My eyes traveled from the blade up to check if this guy truly appeared intimidating. Overlapping plates like a giant insect’s exoskeleton covered his upper arm and shoulder before the suit hid the rest of his mutations. The left of his body was corrupted, evident from his suit straining to cover bumpy parts on that side. His face even had a mask clinging to its left half. Purple veins crept from under the mask to the caramel skin of the uncovered right. He looked fresh out of high school, seemingly too young to be a guard.

He looks familiar… My eyes flicked back to the guard’s blade arm—also familiar—and returned to his face. “Ramon?” I whispered. “The pizza delivery guy?” Vanessa had told me they got him on their side.

Our eyes locked.

He jerked back in shock. He pointed at me with his right hand, mouthing something I couldn’t hear through the glass wall. Big Marcy turned to Ramon, then to me. The grandpa in front of the table continued talking and gesturing, but Big Marcy wasn’t listening.

A flicker of recognition. Big Marcy didn’t yell or reach for a gun or anything, instead regarding me calmly as he leaned back in his chair. Was Big Marcy telling me to wait my turn?

So, what now? I shrugged and stepped forward.

The humanoid mountain on my right blocked me. “The boss is busy for the moment,” he rumbled. “Please wait outside, little miss.”

Little miss? If he said ‘cute miss,’ it would’ve been way better.

I pushed away thoughts of killing him. I was getting too trigger-happy. Big Marcy was supposed to be an ally—for now—and I had already killed one guard back there. Would Big Marcy mind that?

“I have to talk to Big Marcy because…” I raised my beach sandals. “I’m looking for something to replace these.”

The guard’s brow arched at my beach sandals, his aug-eyes glowing red as he scanned them. He must’ve detected bits traces of blood because his expression suddenly changed from befuddlement to alert mode. He stretched an arm that reassembled into a gun, tearing his sleeves, and pointed it at me.

“Intruder! We got an—!”

Beep. A loud voice reverberated from unseen speakers all around.

“Wiggins, do not attack her.” Big Marcy’s mouth was moving. He nodded at me when I looked at him. The echoing voice went on, “She is an important guest.”

The guard reluctantly lowered his hand. He pulled his lapel to his mouth. “Got it, boss. Sorry, I wasn’t aware she was coming.”

“Neither was I,” spoke Big Marcy like a revelation from the heavens. “She did not set an appointment. At any rate, she is here. It would be unbecoming to turn her away. Treat her fittingly.”

I pointed at myself, then at Big Marcy. “I want to talk,” I exaggeratingly said because I didn’t know if he could hear me.

“Bring her here, Wiggins.”

“This way, miss,” said the guard, bowing low but still taller than me.

Standing right in front of the glass wall, I got a closer look at Big Marcy’s old guest. I’ve seen him before.

He was Mr. G-Something Tussel, former chairman of Green Knoll Conglomerate. He was a guest speaker at Cresthorne Law once, talking about his life as a lawyer in the world of finance. I was amazed that he looked a decade or two younger than his supposed age of ninety-eight. During his talk, he mentioned that his secret was eating fresh vegetables from an organic farm.

Law school, surprisingly a hotbed of gossip, came up with wild rumors about Mr. Tussell’s longevity. The nonsense ranged from harvesting babies for stem cells to eating Adumbrae remains. If Mr. Tussell was here, fiction might not be far from the truth.

Ramon ran to the glass wall as if we were friends that hadn’t seen each other in ages. He was dapper in a suit, though really young for me. I was a mature and sophisticated lady. Heh.

I couldn’t hear what he was saying. He turned back to Big Marcy.

“Boss, are you going to let her in?” asked Wiggins into his lapel. “Should I check her?”

“Not unless you value your life,” Big Marcy replied. “I am letting her in because she will enter anyway. Go back to your post, Wiggins.”

“Got it, boss.”

Part of the glass wall swooshed into the floor, revealing a rectangular opening.

“Erind! Is that really you?” Ramon rushed out, arms wide open. “Vanessa told me about—”

I instinctively recoiled.

Ramon blinked. He glanced at his monstrous blade arm. Retreating to Big Marcy’s office, he tried to hide it behind his back. “Sorry, I look like this…”

“What are you talking about, Ramon?” I said, intentionally mentioning his name and rolling the ‘R’ into a purr. I reached out and patted his plate-covered shoulder, feigning a bit of hesitance. “I’ve seen you this way before, and I didn’t have any problems with you last time, did I?”

“No, you didn’t.” He looked at me with bright eyes—on the right was his regular black; on the left was a purple eyeball peering through the hole in his mask. “But I just thought—”

“I was surprised you came out to hug me. Like, what’s up with boundaries and stuff?”

“Boundaries?”

“I don’t think just charging a girl with a hug is okay, do you?”

He nodded. “I guess not. Yeah, sorry for doing that. Doing it right out of the blue is—it’s not like we’re close or anything of the sort.” He continued nodding, mumbling more to himself than me. “What the hell was I thinking? We barely talked. You were asleep the entire—”

“How about you invite her in, Ramon?” Big Marcy called. He had sat patiently, waiting for Ramon and me to chat a bit before interrupting. Did he want us to get close? Surely, he knew that Ramon liked like me.

“Yes, sir,” Ramon said, bowing. He really was on their side.

It wouldn’t be a surprise if Big Marcy planned to use Ramon as a honeytrap to bind me to his side. Firstly, gross as fuck. Secondly, two could play that game. I could try to get Ramon to my corner.

“Again, sorry ‘bout that, Erind,” said Ramon, waving for me to enter. “I missed you—No! That’s not what I meant to say. Yeah, I missed you. But I’m happy that you’re here. That’s why I…”

“I understand,” I said, touching his monster hand again. Let him dream of acceptance. I was kind enough to give him that fantasy. Stringing guys along was such a high school hobby of mine.

“Ah, you’re not wearing your glasses? Watch your step. You might bump into the glass wall. I sometimes accidentally do that.”

Oh, yeah. Before leaving my room, I had my Domino mask, so I didn’t wear my fake glasses. A hassle keeping up the charade of having eye issues. Did I need to continue it? That face was supposed to be for law school.

“Please take a seat, Ms. Hartwell.” Big Marcy gestured to a chair opposite the old man. The bigger half of the 2Ms tried to put on an amiable face, but he still looked like someone who wrestled bears for a living. “Would you like some coffee to perk you up? It is late.”

“I’m fine,” I said, sitting down. Wow, this seat felt super cushy. Expensively cushy.

Should I crouch to appear smaller? No. Timid Erind-face had no place here.

I sat tall, arms confidently on the rests. I was the Adumbrae that trashed the 2Ms and Tea Party bases—I am the boss. It’d also be advantageous to pretend the Adumbrae had huge sway in my mind to keep Big Marcy on his toes. Like dealing with a wild animal, he’d never know what to expect.

“Tea, then?” Big Marcy asked. “Freshly squished lemonade? Or perhaps, just water? I promise there will be no poison in it.”

I smirked. “If there was, it better be strong enough to hurt me.”

“We can try. Mister will be interested in such an experiment. I believe you have met him?”

Standing behind me, Ramon said with a concerned voice, “Sir, you promised…”

“I am jesting, Ramon. I guarantee Ms. Hartwell’s safety; that was my promise to you, after all. However, it might be too presumptuous of me to say that. Circumstances show Ms. Hartwell does not need any help.”

“Right, I’m a strong independent woman.” I grinned at Ramon behind me as if sharing a private joke. It was a horrible night—probably day, already—with Domino being a pain at the helm. Nothing like doing some manipulations to entertain myself.

“Yes, sir.” Ramon kept his eyes on me, though talking to Big Marcy. “She sure can take care of herself.”

“By the way, Ms. Hartwell.” Big Marcy gestured at the old man and his fancy cane. “Let me introduce you to Goddard Tussell of Green Knoll. I believe you two have not met each other yet?”

So, Goddard was the G-Something I couldn’t recall—a funny-sounding name. I nodded at Mr. Tussell. He was visibly perplexed at the sudden entrance of a random girl in the middle of his sinister meeting with Big Marcy. But Mr. Tussell had enough experience in his decades on this earth to know something was up, and he should observe before reacting.

“Actually, I’ve met Mr. Tussell before,” I said, crossing my legs. My bare feet had to tiptoe to reach the tiled floor, which didn’t add to the scary image I wanted to portray.

“You have?” Big Marcy questioningly inclined his head.

“Maybe ‘met’ isn’t the right word.” I turned to the old man, innocently smiling. “Remember when you visited Cresthorne for a talk last year, Mr. Tussell? I’m a first-year law student there. You gave an inspiring speech.”

“Thank you, young lady,” he said with a clear and calming voice. “I do remember that event. I may be pushing a hundred, and my faculties aren’t what they used to be, but my memory can still hold up. And that’s why I’m here to see if Marcy can help this old man suffering the travails of age.”

“Sincere apologies for the disruption, Mr. Tussell,” Big Marcy said. “But Ms. Hartwell is a guest I cannot turn away.”

“There seems to be more to you than meets the eye, young lady,” said the old man.

I didn’t say anything and stared at Big Marcy to prod him. Only superheroes announced themselves. Other types of main characters leave it to the side characters to behold them in awe. This was the rare occasion Deen wasn’t here to steal my limelight, and I wanted to savor it.

“This is Ms. Erind Hartwell,” announced Big Marcy as if I was entering the ring. “A true Adumbrae!”

“A true Adumbrae?” gasped Mr. Tussell.

“Indeed, she is,” said Big Marcy. “She is not part of the organization. Neither an ally nor a friend. Rather, an acquaintance that visits us when we least expect.” Big Marcy’s temples tensed as he spoke. “Her link to the world beyond is not artificially induced. As you can see, she displays a high level of control, with no visible mutations.”

I nodded to acknowledge his words, closing my right hand to conceal the crystals on it.

Fascination added more wrinkles to Mr. Tussell’s face. “I can’t believe I’ve spoken to a true Adumbrae. Granted, it was a speech to an audience, but I was in your presence, nonetheless.”

“She is quite a terrifying Adumbrae, Mr. Tussell,” continued Big Marcy. “You may have heard of some of her exploits. For one, the destruction of Eve at La Esperanza was the aftermath of her battle with the BID.”

“Oho!” The old man nearly jumped off his seat. “Terrifying, indeed. An honor to meet you, Ms. Hartwell. I hope to add more years to myself and witness your displays of power.”

“You might change your mind if you were there,” said Big Marcy.

“There’s something I don’t understand, Marcy. You say she’s not your ally. But she protected your holdings from the BID?”

“Protect? Not so, Mr. Tussell. A three-way battle occurred at the crater that was once Eve. It is complicated to explain, but I can say Ms. Hartwell was hungry that night and went out looking for food. We cannot stop her. The BID failed as well, proven by her presence here.”

“Is she an enemy?” A frightened Mr. Tussell faced me, gripping his cane tighter. “Are you going to eat us?”

“Nope,” I said. “The buffet on this cruise is delicious.”

Big Marcy roared in laughter. “I should thank the chef, then.”

“It’s also useless to worry about getting eaten, Mr. Tussell,” I said. “No one can stop me if I want to eat this entire ship. Best enjoy the cruise and not worry about it.”

The old man threw an alarmed glare at Big Marcy.

Big Marcy shook his head. “Be calm, Mr. Tussell. It is merely Adumbrae humor. She would not have paid me a visit if she wanted to consume us. Clearly, she wants to discuss something. You will not mind her cutting in line, will you?”

“No-not at all,” Mr. Tussell stammered. He groaned as he pushed himself up using his cane. “I… I’ll wait outside. Grab me a drink.”

“Thank you. This will not take long. Oh, and one thing.”

“What is it?”

“Keep Ms. Hartwell’s presence from my brother. You can surmise Mark is not too pleased with Ms. Hartwell here.”

“I understand…”

“If you do that, you will have a friend in Ms. Hartwell. She might not eat you if she changes her mind about the buffet.”

Mr. Tussell feebly chuckled, almost coughing, as he shuffled through the glass wall.

“Now…” Big Marcy leaned forward, forming a hill of muscles on his table, steepling his fingers adorned with multiple gem-encrusted rings. “Where were we?”

“We’re on a cruise ship,” I said, grinning broadly.