Chapter 19: Vought's Grip
The abandoned maintenance building beneath the quad had become their sanctuary by necessity rather than choice. Bare concrete walls sweated condensation in the humid air while exposed pipes dripped with mechanical persistence, creating a rhythm that might have been soothing if not for the circumstances that had driven them underground.
Landon crouched beside a grimy window, peering through glass thick with decades of neglect at the transformed campus above. Security drones swept the grounds in methodical patterns, their red scanning beams painting the evening mist in shades of arterial urgency. What had been Godolkin University twelve hours ago now resembled a military occupation zone.
They didn't waste time.
The lockdown had been swift and comprehensive. Within hours of the dining hall riot, every building was sealed, every student confined to supervised areas, every potential hiding place monitored by electronic eyes that never blinked. The message that had started it all was gone from the screens, but its echo reverberated through enforced silence and the hollow sound of boots on quad pavement.
"How many are still out there?" Emma asked from her position near the makeshift communications setup they'd cobbled together from salvaged electronics and Andre's magnetic manipulation.
"Too many," Marie replied, her voice carrying the weight of exhaustion and guilt in equal measure. She sat against the far wall, dark stains on her clothes marking where blood barriers had taken their toll. "Most of them probably don't even know why they're in detention."
The truth of it settled over the group like a shroud. Landon's rebellion had caught dozens of innocent students in its wake—people who'd been in the wrong place when his digital match hit Godolkin's powder keg of suppressed frustration.
Andre paced in the cramped space, magnetic fields dancing around his fingers in agitated patterns that made the pipes sing with harmonic vibrations. "So what's the play? We can't stay down here forever."
"We could try to get off campus," Emma suggested, though her tone suggested she knew the futility of it. "Find somewhere safe to regroup."
"And go where?" Landon's voice carried more bitterness than he'd intended. "This isn't just about Godolkin anymore. That message went viral before they could contain it. Every Vought facility, every corporate partner, every government contact they have—they all know someone's actively fighting back."
The scope of what he'd unleashed was becoming clearer with each passing hour. This wasn't a college prank that had gotten out of hand—this was an act of digital terrorism against one of the world's most powerful corporations. The kind of thing that made people disappear permanently.
What have I done to them?
His old life in Ohio felt like something from another planet. There, his biggest worry had been passing calculus and maybe working up the courage to ask someone to prom. Now he was crouched in a basement hideout while military-grade surveillance equipment hunted him and his friends like enemy combatants.
The weight of responsibility pressed against his chest like a stone. Every person caught in Vought's dragnet, every student facing interrogation, every life disrupted by his need to prove he could fight back—it was all on him.
Emma seemed to sense his spiraling thoughts. She crossed the small space and settled beside him, her warmth a contrast to the basement's perpetual chill.
"Stop doing that," she said quietly.
"Doing what?"
"Blaming yourself for Vought being exactly what we all knew they were." Emma's voice carried quiet conviction. "You didn't make them into fascists, Landon. You just made them show their true colors."
Her hand found his in the dim light, fingers intertwining with practiced ease. The simple contact anchored him, pulling his thoughts back from the edge of despair they'd been approaching.
"Doesn't change the fact that people are suffering because of me."
"People were already suffering. They just didn't have a name for it before." Emma squeezed his hand. "At least now they know they're not alone."
The sentiment was beautiful, but Landon wasn't sure he believed it. Good intentions didn't shield innocent bystanders from corporate retaliation. Noble causes didn't protect the people who got caught in their wake.
A soft chime from Andre's improvised monitoring station interrupted his brooding. The magnetic supe had rigged a police scanner to track security communications, though the encrypted channels limited what they could actually learn.
"Movement on the east quad," Andre reported. "Sounds like they're setting up some kind of processing center in the gymnasium."
"Processing for what?" Marie asked, though her tone suggested she already suspected the answer.
"Interrogations. 'Enhanced questioning techniques' was the phrase they used." Andre's magnetic fields flickered with barely contained anger. "They're going full Gestapo on anyone who was in the dining hall."
The news hit Landon like a physical blow. Enhanced questioning techniques. Corporate euphemism for torture, applied to college students whose only crime had been eating lunch when his message appeared.
This is what revolution looks like. This is what fighting back costs.
"We have to do something," he said, starting to stand.
Emma's hand tightened on his arm. "Like what? Walk up to the front door and surrender? That doesn't save anyone—it just gives them their primary target."
She was right, but the logic felt like acid in his throat. Hiding while others faced consequences for his actions violated every instinct he'd developed since arriving at Godolkin.
"She's got a point," Andre said reluctantly. "Much as I hate to admit it, we're more valuable as free agents than martyrs."
"Free agents who do what, exactly?" Marie's voice carried an edge of frustration. "Sit in this basement until they find us anyway?"
The question hung in the stagnant air like a challenge. What were they, really? A handful of students with questionable abilities and no resources, hiding from a corporation that commanded global reach and unlimited budget.
But as Landon looked around their makeshift sanctuary—at Emma's determined expression, Andre's restless energy, Marie's fierce loyalty—he felt something shift in his chest. They might not have resources or backing or anything resembling a conventional plan.
But they had each other. And sometimes, that was where revolutions began.
"We adapt," he said finally. "We learn. We find others who think like we do."
"And then?" Emma asked.
Landon's smile felt sharp as a blade's edge. "Then we show Vought that their grip isn't as tight as they think."
The words carried more confidence than he felt, but speaking them aloud made them feel possible. Maybe even inevitable.
[SHAPE-SHIFTING STABILITY: 75%. NICE DODGE, FUGITIVE.]
The system's comment made him blink in confusion until he realized what had happened. Without conscious thought, his features had begun shifting—jaw squaring, cheekbones broadening, hair darkening. His body's response to stress was becoming increasingly automatic.
He let the changes complete themselves, settling into a face that could pass unrecognized through surveillance networks and casual observation. It wasn't perfect camouflage, but it was better than advertising his identity to every camera on campus.
"That's still incredibly unsettling to watch," Andre observed.
"Tell me about it," Landon replied, his voice slightly different to match the altered facial structure. "But it beats the alternative."
Emma studied his new features with the kind of attention that made his chest tight with emotions he couldn't afford to examine closely. "I like your real face better," she said finally.
"Yeah, well, my real face is currently wanted for digital terrorism and inciting student riots. This one's just wanted for questioning."
[EMMA'S YOUR ANCHOR: DON'T LOSE HER.]
The system's advice was unnecessary but appreciated. Emma Meyer had somehow become his lifeline to humanity in a world that seemed determined to strip away everything human about him. Her presence reminded him that beneath all the stolen powers and calculated deaths, something worth saving still existed.
"So what's the first step of this grand revolution?" Marie asked, though her tone suggested growing investment in the idea despite her skepticism.
Landon traced patterns on the dusty floor—geometric shapes that helped him think, a habit from his old life that persisted despite everything that had changed.
"Information," he said finally. "We need to know what they're really doing here. Not just The Woods—all of it. The rankings, the disappearances, the whole system."
"And how exactly do we get that information while hiding in a basement?" Andre's magnetic fields sparked with impatience.
"We don't stay in the basement." Landon's smile turned predatory. "We go where they least expect us to be."
The plan that was forming in his mind was dangerous bordering on suicidal, but it had the virtue of being unexpected. Sometimes the best way to avoid a trap was to walk directly into it with your eyes open.
"You want to infiltrate their operations," Emma said, reading his expression with unsettling accuracy.
"I want to become their operations. At least temporarily." He gestured toward his altered features. "They're looking for Landon Vale, campus troublemaker. They're not looking for whoever this guy is."
Marie leaned forward, interest replacing skepticism. "You want to pose as security."
"Or faculty. Or administrative staff. Anyone with access to the information we need." The pieces were clicking together in his mind with satisfying precision. "Shape-shifting isn't just about changing faces—it's about changing identities entirely."
[CREW'S READY: REBELS RISING.]
The system's approval felt like benediction. Whatever else he'd become in this strange new world, he was still capable of strategic thinking. Still able to turn his accumulated abilities into tools for fighting back.
"That's completely insane," Andre said admiringly. "I'm in."
"You're not going alone," Emma added with quiet finality. "Whatever you're planning, we do it together."
"All of us," Marie agreed, her dark eyes burning with the kind of determination that had made her defend him to Professor Brink. "No more hiding while other people suffer for our choices."
Looking around their underground sanctuary at the three people who'd somehow become his everything, Landon felt the familiar flutter of undeserved loyalty mixed with bone-deep gratitude. They were choosing to follow him into danger they didn't fully understand, trusting him with their lives and futures.
Don't let them down.
Outside their basement hideout, Vought's machinery of control ground forward with mechanical efficiency. Drones swept the campus, security forces processed detained students, corporate executives planned responses to unauthorized resistance.
But in the darkness beneath their feet, something else was taking shape. Not just rebellion anymore, but revolution. Not just students anymore, but soldiers.
The war for Godolkin University had begun, and Landon Vale—whatever name he wore, whatever face he showed the world—intended to win it.
Even if victory destroyed everything he'd tried to protect in the process.
MORE POWER STONES == MORE CHAPTERS
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