“What is that?” Kali asked, her voice a gravelly rasp as she rubbed sleep from her eyes. The holographic display flickered to life in her dimly lit bedroom. Princess Pixel only called at this hour if it was something significant, and ‘significant’ in their line of work usually meant ‘catastrophically exploding.’

  “I was keeping an eye on your new pet project,” Pixel chirped, her avatar—a neon-haired anime girl—spinning in a chair. “He’s using a disconnected, air-gapped system to peruse, get this, the old Serenoid files from the ‘97 invasion. He’s going through them like I go through a database, but he keeps making these little excited noises. And before you ask, I double-checked thermal—none of the girls are under his desk. He really is just that excited about xenopictographs.”

  Kali sighed, reaching for a glass of water. “Is he able to translate them?”

  Pixel’s avatar shook its head. “I don’t think so. Not unless he has a linguistic gift we don’t know about. But that would make a grand total of seven nearly disconnected abilities. I’ve been running database correlations, and I still can’t find a common theme. It’s maddening.”

  “What’s the list so far?” Kali asked, her operational mind kicking into gear despite the hour.

  “Temperature control, electric control, Tinker-like creation, physical enhancement, perfect recall, short-range teleportation, and healing. All of them technically Class Four or below individually, but remember Graviton’s file was similar… a single ability with a monstrous talent for modification. Any brilliant insights from the master strategist?”

  Kali took a sip of water. “One. Molecular control.”

  Pixel’s avatar froze, its eyes widening comically. “Seriously? That’s a top-tier god power. It’s still apparently weak, but the potential… we might need to step our timeline up. Do we have our asset in position?”

  Kali allowed herself a thin smile. “She’s in. But besides the armor and the healing trick, he’s not sharing much with the team. He’s paranoid. Rightfully so. Did you finish the deep dive on the ex-girlfriend?”

  Pixel nodded, her avatar resuming its spinning. “Yep. One Christine ‘Crystal’ Freemont. The Flare’s newest darling. They actually dug up a marriage license, would you believe it? He tried to claim he was under some form of mesmerism—which tracks, given her light-based powerset—when she and his cousin executed a hostile takeover of his company. But an ‘independent’ verification service, one owned by a shell corporation tied to her agent, confirmed that signing over ten percent of his voting stock was all his own idea. Officially, it’s just a story about a boy who was stupid for a pretty face.”

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  Kali’s smile turned icy. “That certainly explains the trust issues.” Her comm unit buzzed softly on her wrist. She glanced at it and her expression tightened. “The Maxwells are getting agitated. Adrian is making noise about throwing his weight around. The Academy is stonewalling, but…”

  Pixel’s avatar leaned forward. “If I need to start messing with their networks to slow them down, I need to start now. Otherwise, we’ll be playing catch-up.”

  “No,” Kali said firmly. “Stay in the clear. Maintain surveillance only. We already have our asset on-site; she can handle initial interference if Adrian tries something direct. It might even provide a perfect opportunity to see his power under pressure. If more… physical intervention is required later, that won’t be your problem. Just keep watching him.”

  Princess Pixel smirked. “Right. Because no one will ever notice the legendary Kali showing up to personally stomp one of the Farmer Families into the dirt. Planning to live up to your namesake? Or should I tell our asset to try a more direct approach? From what I see in the Academy’s social traffic logs, a lot of girls would jump at the chance to get closer to him. Hell, based on the security footage, I’d probably jump at the chance.”

  Kali shrugged, a gesture that promised violence. “I doubt it will be necessary. But it has been a while since I had a satisfying fight. As for getting under his desk, don’t offer that lightly. Your reports indicate he’s in desperate need of a competent coder. Sending you in might become a strategic necessity if we need to secure his tech. Keep me updated. I need at least two more hours of sleep before I have to go be polite to the Coopers.”

  Pixel snickered. “Righto. I’ve got alerts set for his vitals and the campus security feed. Oh, and I saved the security camera footage from when he walked from the shower to his room wearing not even a towel. For, uh, analysis purposes. Should I send you a copy? You know, for the file.”

  Kali sighed, ending the call. “Only alert me if he’s in legitimate, immediate danger. Or if the Maxwells make a move I can’t ignore.” The screen went dark.

  Alone in her room, Kali allowed the smile to fade. She didn’t need to see the footage. She already had a very complete file.

  In her dorm room, Abigail Snow—Catalog—pulled the blanket over her head and let out a silent, frustrated scream into her mattress. The flirtation had been too obvious, the blush too real. She’d gotten the data to him, which was the mission, but her control was slipping.

  Dammit, she thought. This op is most likely burned.