Extra C is Secretly Overpowered-Chapter 42: Extra C and Syn Hotels (2)

The blueprints of Syn Hotels were a mess of red lines and faded ink.

I sat in the corner of the library, the computer monitor casting a pale glow on my face. The file I had dug up from the municipal archives was old. It dated back to the original construction, before the scandal, before the bankruptcy.

"Load-bearing pillars on the north face," I muttered, tracing a line on the screen. "Ventilation shafts that bypass the main lobby. A service elevator that hasn’t been serviced in five years."

It wasn’t a building. It was a tomb waiting to be sealed.

If I couldn’t fight Nathaniel’s army, I had to use the terrain. I memorized the layout of the basement. The exits. The blind spots where cameras wouldn’t reach. I needed an escape route for Anna. For myself.

For the students being harvested.

"Architecture?"

I snapped the window minimized.

Lia stood behind me. She was leaning against a bookshelf, her arms crossed. She didn’t look happy.

"I thought you had detention," she said.

"I do," I lied. "Mr. Harrison let me out early to work on a... project."

"A project on the structural integrity of condemned hotels?"

Lia walked around the table and pulled out the chair opposite me. She sat down, her eyes boring into mine.

"You’re a terrible liar, Abel. I told you that already."

"And you’re nosy."

"I’m worried," she corrected. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You disappeared last night. You come back looking like you haven’t slept. You’re researching the very place we suspect Mike is being held. And you’re avoiding the group."

She reached across the table. Her hand hovered over mine, but she didn’t touch me.

"What did you find in that audio recording?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"Liar."

"Leave it alone, Lia."

"Or what?"

"Or you get hurt."

I stood up. I grabbed my bag.

"This isn’t a game anymore," I said, looking down at her. "It’s not blackjack. It’s not a fun little mystery for the English project. People are disappearing. Go back to class. Go back to being a normal high schooler."

Lia didn’t flinch. She just stared at me with that sharp, calculating gaze.

"You can’t do it alone," she said.

"Watch me."

I walked away. I could feel her eyes on my back until I turned the corner.

Pushing her away felt like kicking a puppy. But it was necessary. If Nathaniel knew she was involved, if he saw her on a camera feed...

I couldn’t risk it.

***

Lunchtime.

I didn’t go to the cafeteria. I went to the second-floor hallway, overlooking the atrium where the Student Council office was located.

I leaned against the railing, a carton of milk in my hand.

Below, I saw them.

Sebastian, Eric, Emily, Sarah, and Anna. They walked in a tight formation, looking determined. They were marching right into the wolf’s den.

They stopped at the mahogany doors. Sebastian knocked.

The door opened.

Nathaniel Reed stepped out. He was wearing his blazer, perfectly pressed. He smiled. It was the smile from the posters. Warm. Inviting. Concerned.

I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I could read the body language.

Sarah was crying. She held out the receipt.

Nathaniel nodded. He placed a hand on his chest. He touched Sarah’s shoulder gently. He looked outraged. He pulled out his phone, making a show of calling someone immediately.

It was a masterclass in manipulation.

He was comforting the sister of the boy he had kidnapped. He was promising to help find the victim he was currently exploiting. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

It made me sick.

I crushed the milk carton in my hand. Milk dripped onto the floor.

He was playing them. He was keeping them close so he could monitor them. And if they got too close to the truth...

He would harvest them too.

I saw Nathaniel glance up. For a second, his eyes scanned the upper floor.

I stepped back into the shadows.

He didn’t see me. But I saw him.

"Enjoy your applause, President," I whispered. "It’s the last one you’re going to get."

***

8:00 PM.

The suit felt like a straitjacket.

I adjusted the tie in the reflection of a shop window. It was black. Simple. Professional.

I wasn’t Extra C tonight. I wasn’t Abel the student.

I was the Fixer.

The rendezvous point was a loading dock behind a seafood warehouse on the edge of the port district. The smell of fish and diesel hung heavy in the air.

A black SUV was parked under a flickering streetlight.

Leaning against the hood was a familiar face.

Adrian.

The manager of the arcade. The man whose arm I had broken.

His arm was in a cast, strapped to his chest in a sling. When he saw me approaching, his face twisted into a snarl.

"You," he spat.

"Me," I said. "How’s the arm?"

"It throbs when it rains," Adrian growled. "I should kill you right now."

"You could try," I said. "But then you’d have to explain to Nathaniel why his new Head of Security is dead. And why you disobeyed a direct order."

Adrian clenched his good fist. He knew I was right. He hated it, but he feared Nathaniel more than he hated me.

"The supplier is late," Adrian muttered, looking away. "Supposed to be here ten minutes ago."

"What are we buying?"

"Party favors," Adrian said. "For the gala. High-end stuff. The investors like to... enhance their experience."

Drugs.

Of course.

"Here he comes," Adrian said.

A van pulled into the alley. It was beat-up, rusted around the wheel wells. It stopped with a screech of brakes.

The side door slid open.

Three men stepped out. They were big. Biker types. Leather vests, chains, tattoos that looked like they were done in a prison cell.

The leader, a guy with a beard that looked like steel wool, stepped forward. He held a duffel bag.

"You the money?" he asked.

"We’re the pickup," Adrian said. He nodded to a briefcase sitting on the hood of the SUV. "The money is there. Standard rate."

The biker laughed. It sounded like gravel in a blender.

"Yeah, about that," the biker said. "Price went up."

"We have a deal," Adrian said, stepping forward. He tried to look tough, but the cast made him look vulnerable.

"Deal changed," the biker said. "I heard who this is for. Vangels. You guys are making millions. Why should I settle for crumbs? Price is double. Or the bag leaves with me."

Adrian looked at me. He was out of his depth. He was a bully, not a negotiator.

I sighed.

"What a hassle," I muttered.

I stepped forward. I buttoned my jacket.

"The price is the price," I said.

The biker looked down at me. He sneered.

"Who’s this? The accountant? Go back to school, kid."

He poked a finger into my chest. A hard, painful jab.

"Double," the biker said. "Now."

I looked at the finger on my chest. I looked at the biker.

"You’re making a mistake," I said.

"The only mistake is—"

I didn’t let him finish.

I grabbed the finger. I twisted.

*Snap.*

"ARGH!" The biker screamed, dropping to his knees.

Before his friends could react, I stepped in. I drove my elbow into the biker’s face. His nose crunched. He fell back, clutching his face, the duffel bag dropping to the ground.

The other two bikers lunged.

I didn’t panic. I moved.

I sidestepped a clumsy punch from the second guy. I grabbed his wrist, used his momentum, and slammed him face-first into the side of the van. The metal dented. He slid down, unconscious.

The third guy pulled a knife.

"I’m gonna gut you!"

I looked at the knife. I looked at Adrian, who was watching with his mouth open.

I didn’t have time for this.

I walked toward the knife.

The guy swung. I caught his wrist. I didn’t use fancy judo this time. I just squeezed.

I squeezed until he dropped the knife.

Then I kicked him in the knee. It buckled backward.

He went down screaming.

Silence returned to the alley, broken only by the groans of the biker with the broken finger.

I picked up the duffel bag. I checked the contents. Bags of white powder. Pills.

I zipped it up.

I walked over to the leader. He was looking up at me through bloodied eyes. Fear. Pure fear.

"The price," I said calmly, "is the price."

I tossed the briefcase of money onto his chest.

"Keep the change," I said. "For medical bills."

I turned to Adrian.

"Put the bag in the car."

Adrian stared at me. He looked at the three broken men on the ground. He looked at me like I was a monster.

"You’re crazy," he whispered.

"I’m efficient," I said. "Let’s go. Nathaniel is waiting."

I got into the passenger seat of the SUV.

I looked at my hands. They weren’t shaking.

That was the worst part.

I was getting used to this.

I checked my phone. A text from Nathaniel.

[N: Report?]

I typed back.

[~: Secured. No issues.]

[N: Good. Tomorrow, we prep the venue. Wear comfortable shoes.]

I put the phone away.

I looked out the window as the city blurred by.

"Three days," I whispered.

Three days until the gala. Three days until the harvest.

Three days to burn it all down.