Chapter 15: Aftermath Allies
The abandoned classroom on the third floor of the psychology building had become their temporary headquarters—a place where dust motes danced in afternoon sunlight and the lingering scent of old textbooks provided an oddly comforting backdrop to planning revolution.
Landon sat cross-legged on the floor, his back against a radiator that clanked intermittently like an old man's bones. The migraine that had been building since yesterday's lockdown finally showed signs of receding, leaving behind the familiar hollow ache that followed any major use of his abilities.
Quiet moments like this used to be peaceful back in Ohio. Before powers, before death, before any of this madness.
He traced absent patterns on the dusty floor—infinity symbols and spirals, the same mindless doodles he'd made during boring classes back home. Back when his biggest worry was whether he'd pass calculus, not whether his friends would survive the night.
The irony wasn't lost on him. He'd gained more power in the past few months than most supes accumulated in years, but he felt more powerless than ever. Every ability in his arsenal, every death he'd endured, and still he couldn't protect the people who mattered from the consequences of his choices.
Marie entered carrying a paper bag that filled the room with the smell of Chinese takeout—sweet and sour pork, fried rice, that particular grease that somehow made everything better. She'd changed clothes since the lockdown, trading her usual jeans for dark cargo pants and a fitted jacket that made her look more like a soldier than a student.
"You look like hell," she said, settling beside him and unpacking containers with practiced efficiency. "When's the last time you ate something that wasn't pain medication?"
"Yesterday. Maybe." Landon accepted the offered chopsticks, though his appetite remained a distant concept. "You didn't have to—"
"Shut up and eat." Marie's tone brooked no argument, but her eyes were soft with concern. "You're no good to anyone if you collapse from malnutrition."
The food was better than he'd expected, though everything tasted slightly metallic—a lingering effect from the system's latest interventions. Marie ate in companionable silence, occasionally glancing at him with that particular expression she wore when she was trying to figure out how much truth he could handle.
"They're calling us terrorists on the news," she said finally, setting down her chopsticks. "Campus insurgents with ties to foreign extremist groups."
Landon snorted, nearly choking on a piece of pork. "Foreign extremist groups? What, did they think I was secretly Canadian?"
"Don't joke." But Marie's mouth twitched with suppressed amusement. "This is serious. They're painting us as threats to national security. Emma's parents are getting death threats."
The humor died in Landon's throat. Emma—sweet, brave Emma who'd kissed him in a sewer tunnel and told him he wasn't a monster. The thought of anyone threatening her family made his hands clench into fists.
"We need to end this," he said quietly. "Before more people get hurt because of me."
"Because of Vought," Marie corrected firmly. "They made their choice when they turned our school into a police state. You just gave them the excuse they were looking for."
[MIGRAINE FADING: GUILT'S HEAVY, SOFTIE.]
The system's observation was accurate, if unwelcome. The physical pain was subsiding, but the emotional weight remained constant—a stone in his chest that seemed to grow heavier with each passing hour.
Marie watched him with those dark eyes that saw too much, understood too little. She knew he was lying about the extent of his abilities, but she trusted him anyway. The disconnect between her faith and his deception was becoming harder to bear.
"I've been thinking," she said carefully, "about what happens next. After all this dies down."
"Assuming we survive it."
"We will." Her certainty was unshakeable, a pillar of steel wrapped in velvet determination. "But then what? Do we go back to pretending everything's normal? Attend classes and play at being good little supes while Vought pulls our strings?"
The question hung between them like a challenge. Landon could picture it—the aftermath, the return to routine, the slow erosion of purpose that would follow any victory they might achieve. Would they become the very thing they were fighting against?
"No," he said finally. "There's no going back. Not for any of us."
Marie nodded as if she'd been waiting for exactly that response. "Good. Because I've been talking to Luke about connections he might have. People who've been fighting Vought longer than we have."
The Boys. She was talking about The Boys, though she didn't know their name yet. Landon's meta-knowledge painted pictures of what lay ahead—Butcher's brutal pragmatism, Hughie's desperate heroism, the bloody path that led from corporate rebellion to outright war.
"That's dangerous territory, Marie. Once we go down that road—"
"We're already on that road." She gestured toward the window, where security drones still patrolled like mechanical vultures. "The only question is whether we walk it alone or find allies."
Before Landon could respond, Andre strolled in with his characteristic swagger only slightly dimmed by recent events. He carried coffee in paper cups and wore a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Brought caffeine for the revolution," he announced, distributing drinks with practiced ease. "Figured we'd need all the help we could get."
His coffee was perfect—strong enough to wake the dead, sweet enough to hide the bitter aftertaste of everything they'd lost. Landon wrapped his hands around the cup, letting its warmth seep into fingers that had been cold since the lockdown began.
"How's the mood out there?" Marie asked.
Andre's expression sobered. "Mixed. Half the student body thinks we're heroes. The other half thinks we're psychopaths who ruined their shot at Vought contracts."
"And faculty?"
"Scared shitless. Brink's been asking questions about your 'survival skills,'" Andre said, making air quotes. "Might want to keep a low profile for a while."
Landon laughed, sharp and bitter. "Low profile. Right. Because that's been working so well for me."
"Hey." Andre's voice carried unexpected gentleness. "You did what needed doing. Don't let anyone tell you different."
The support was genuine, unconditional in a way that made Landon's chest tight. Andre had every reason to resent him—the magnetic supe's own ambitions had been derailed by association with Godolkin's most wanted student. Instead, he was here, bringing coffee and camaraderie like they were still just friends hanging out between classes.
[ANDRE'S YOUR BRO: KEEP IT TIGHT.]
The system's assessment felt like benediction and warning combined. Friendships forged in crisis could be stronger than steel, but they could also shatter under pressure. Landon had seen it happen before—loyalty tested until it broke, allies becoming enemies when the cost grew too high.
But looking at Andre now, seeing the easy familiarity in his posture and the genuine concern in his dark eyes, Landon chose to hope. Maybe this time would be different. Maybe the bonds they'd forged were strong enough to survive whatever came next.
"So what's the plan?" Andre continued, settling into a desk chair with liquid grace. "Besides hiding in empty classrooms and eating Chinese food?"
Marie and Landon exchanged glances—a wordless conversation that spoke of shared purpose and unspoken trust. They were leaders now, whether they'd asked for it or not. The weight of that responsibility sat heavy on both their shoulders.
"We organize," Marie said simply. "Build a network. Find allies. Make sure this isn't just about us anymore."
"And then?"
"Then we tear Vought's whole fucking system down," Landon said quietly. "From the inside out."
The words felt like a vow, a promise made to the friends who'd chosen to stand with him and the innocent people caught in the crossfire of corporate ambition. He meant every syllable.
Andre grinned, magnetic fields dancing around his fingers in spirals of possibility. "Now you're talking my language."
The evening light streaming through the classroom windows had turned golden when Emma finally appeared, looking flustered and excited in equal measure. She carried a notebook filled with careful planning and a backpack that jingled with what sounded like borrowed supplies.
"Sorry I'm late," she said, sliding into the space beside Landon with practiced ease. "Had to dodge three security checkpoints and a very persistent hall monitor."
Her presence immediately changed the room's dynamic—warmth where there had been tension, hope where there had been grim determination. Emma had that effect on people, Landon had noticed. She made spaces feel safer simply by occupying them.
"Please tell me that's not a detailed plan to break into the dean's office," Marie said, eyeing the notebook with suspicion.
Emma's innocent expression was worth framing. "Of course not. This is a detailed plan to break into the administration building. The dean's office is just a happy coincidence."
Landon felt laughter bubble up from some deep place that still remembered joy despite everything they'd been through. "You're completely insane."
"I prefer 'creatively ambitious,'" Emma replied, settling against his shoulder with casual intimacy. "Besides, someone needs to keep you boys from brooding yourselves to death."
Her warmth against his side was an anchor, grounding him in the present moment instead of letting his thoughts spiral toward darker futures. The scent of her shampoo mixed with coffee and Chinese food to create something uniquely theirs—the smell of sanctuary in chaos.
"About our date," Emma continued, her voice taking on a teasing note. "I was thinking somewhere romantic. Maybe the abandoned lab on sublevel three? I hear it has lovely mood lighting if you don't mind the occasional electrical fire."
"You want to have our first official date in a place that might explode?" Landon asked, though he was already mentally cataloging which of his abilities might come in handy for emergency evacuation.
"Where's your sense of adventure?" Emma grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Besides, after everything we've been through, a little mortal peril practically counts as foreplay."
Andre made a choking noise that might have been laughter or horror. "Jesus, you two. Get a room."
"We're trying," Emma replied sweetly. "It's just that all the good rooms are under surveillance."
[DATE'S ON: DON'T BE LATE, ROMEO.]
The system's advice was unnecessary—wild horses couldn't keep him from that date. Emma had somehow managed to find light in the darkness, hope in despair, romance in revolution. If she thought their situation called for clandestine meetings in potentially explosive laboratories, then that's exactly what they'd do.
"You're serious about this," he said, studying her face for any hint of uncertainty.
"Dead serious." Emma's expression softened, sincerity replacing playfulness. "We don't know what tomorrow brings, Landon. All we have is right now, right here. I want to spend that time with you."
The simple honesty of it hit him harder than any grand romantic gesture could have. Emma wasn't asking for promises or future plans—just presence, attention, the gift of shared experience in whatever time they had left.
"Okay," he said simply. "When?"
"Tomorrow night. After the security shift change at eleven." Emma's smile could have powered the city. "I'll bring candles. You bring whatever passes for your sense of humor these days."
Marie cleared her throat pointedly. "While you two plan your explosive date night, maybe we could focus on not getting arrested in the next twenty-four hours?"
She was right, of course. But looking at Emma—brave, brilliant Emma who wanted to have their first date in a danger zone because it was the only privacy they could find—Landon felt something shift in his chest. Not just the weight of responsibility or the burden of leadership, but something lighter. Something that might have been hope.
They were still trapped, still hunted, still fighting odds that any reasonable person would call impossible. But they weren't alone. They had each other, and maybe that was enough to tip the scales.
The sun continued its descent toward the horizon, painting their makeshift headquarters in shades of gold and shadow. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, fresh dangers, impossible choices. But tonight, they were together. Tonight, they were planning dates and revolutions with equal enthusiasm.
Tonight, they were alive.
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