The career fair was louder than it had any right to be.
Banners hung from the gym rafters: POLICE, FIRE & RESCUE, ENGINEERING, MEDICINE, MILITARY, TECH START‑UPS, COMMUNITY COLLEGES. Tables lined the walls, adults in polos and suits handing out brochures and pens like they were rationing futures.
Morgan moved through the crowd with practiced detachment, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning more for capes than careers. If Cecil had a presence here, it would be subtle—recruiters with bland names and too‑sharp eyes. He avoided anything that smelled like "federal" on instinct.
He was halfway between a "Local Trades" table and a "STEM Opportunities" banner when he heard her laugh.
Amber.
He glanced over.
She stood near a display for a community activism nonprofit, pamphlet in hand, talking animatedly with an older woman who looked delighted to have a teenager that actually cared. Beside her were familiar silhouettes: Mark, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets like he didn't know what to do with them, and Eve, arms folded loosely, gaze flicking around the room.
Of course they're here, he thought. Futures day for the soon‑to‑be‑traumatized.
He could've walked away.
He didn't.
"Another stone on the board," he muttered to himself, and angled his path in their direction.
He timed it so he arrived just as Amber finished her conversation. She turned away from the table, tucking the pamphlet under her arm—and nearly bumped into him.
"Oh—hey," she said, recovering quickly. "Lincoln guy."
"Morgan," he reminded her, smiling. "I also answer to 'the objectively correct football fan.'"
She rolled her eyes, but there was a spark of recognition there. "Right. The anti‑hero from the visitors' stands."
"Still my preferred alignment," he said. "You guys scouting careers in saving the world, or just here for the free pens?"
"Free pens, obviously," she said. "System's broken, but I'll take its stationery."
"Relatable," Morgan said.
Mark's head turned at Amber's tone. "Oh—hey, man," he said, stepping closer. "We met at the game, right? Morgan?"
"Yeah," Morgan said. "Good memory."
He nodded to Eve. "And you must be the legendary Eve who mysteriously vanishes from class whenever something dramatic happens on the news."
Eve's eyes narrowed, just a fraction of an inch. "We've had a lot of 'dramatic' lately," she said carefully. "Hard to keep up with it all."
"Yeah," Morgan said easily. "This city's got, like, a quota."
Amber hid a smile behind her pamphlet.
They drifted together in that awkward teenage orbit where no one had quite decided whether this was a group conversation or three separate ones.
"So what are you looking at?" Amber asked, nodding toward the floor in general. "Any future plans, or are you still in the 'please don't ask me that' stage?"
"Oh, I'm firmly in the 'I refuse to die in a 9‑to‑5' stage," Morgan said. "But the system demands I pick a box, so I'm browsing."
"Any boxes look appealing?" she pressed.
He shrugged. "STEM's familiar. I'm good with numbers, like chemistry, don't hate physics. Maybe something there. Or something with…strategy." He thought of Go boards and contingency plans. "But I'm not signing anything in blood at sixteen."
Amber nodded like that made sense. Mark looked vaguely lost.
"You?" Morgan asked. "Got it all figured out?"
"Not even close," Amber said. "But I'd like to do something that doesn't make me complicit in…all this." She gestured vaguely at the banners, the recruiters, the whole machine. "Or at least lets me push back."
"Sounds like activism," Morgan said. "Or journalism. Or law. Or supervillainy, but in a Robin Hood way."
She snorted. "I'll keep my options open."
Eve had been quiet, but her eyes hadn't left him. There was a weight to her gaze, like she was trying to feel around him with more than just sight.
"You're not from our school," she said. Not a question.
"Lincoln," he confirmed. "I'm the foreign exchange student from the land of underfunded lab equipment."
"You just transfer in?" she asked.
"Recently," he said.
"From where?"
"Another school," he said smoothly.
She gave him a look. "Specific."
"Yeah, I'm trying to break the record for vaguest answers at a career fair," he said. "I think I'm doing pretty well."
Mark huffed a laugh, tension easing from his shoulders. Amber's lips curved, but Eve wasn't mollified.
"You always deflect like that?" she asked.
"Only when people I've just met start digging like they're doing an intake interview," he said lightly. "Do I need to see a warrant, Officer?"
Amber stepped in, expression sharpening. "Eve."
Eve glanced at her. "What?"
"You're interrogating him," Amber said. "At a school event. It's weird."
"I was just asking questions," Eve said. "It's not a crime."
"Yeah, but your 'curious' face looks like everyone else's 'I'm about to vaporize something' face," Amber said. "Give the guy a break."
Morgan held up his hands slightly. "Hey, it's fine. I get it. Stranger danger in the age of supervillains."
"That's not—" Eve started, then cut herself off. She looked at him again, more cautiously now. "You just…don't feel like a normal transfer."
He felt his spine stiffen, just a hair. "What's a normal transfer feel like?"
"Less…aware," she said.
"Of what?" he asked, voice still mild.
"Of…all this." She gestured at the room, but her meaning was broader. "Most people are either impressed or overwhelmed. You look like you're…taking notes."
"I am," he said. "I like taking notes. Helps me not get crushed in the gears later."
Amber shifted closer to him, just enough to be noticeable.
"Maybe he's just observant," she said. "That's allowed."
Mark looked between them, then at Eve, clearly picking up on the tension even if he didn't know why.
"Okay," he said, lifting his hands a little. "How about we don't turn the career fair into a cross‑examination? We get enough stress outside of school."
"Mark," Eve said, exasperated.
"I'm just saying," Mark said. "Not everyone's hiding some huge secret."
Morgan almost laughed at that, but didn't.
Instead, he took a breath and shifted the subject himself.
"I get that you're protective," he said calmly, looking at Eve. "World's a mess. People with powers—you know, hypothetically—have to be careful who they trust with info. But I'm just a guy who got suspended his first week at Lincoln for throwing a bully into a locker. Not exactly S‑tier supervillain material."
Amber blinked. "You did what?"
He winced internally. Right. She hadn't heard that story.
"Exaggeration," he said quickly. "He hit me first. I pushed back. Lockers lost the argument. Administration freaked out. End‑of‑story."
"Okay, now I like you more," Amber said.
Mark's brows rose. "You…threw someone into a locker?"
"Gently," Morgan said. "Relatively. Look, I'm not trying to be mysterious. I just don't love being interrogated by someone I've technically met twice."
Eve's jaw worked, then relaxed. She exhaled through her nose. "Fine," she said. "I'm…sorry. Old habits."
Morgan nodded. "Apology accepted. And for the record, I'm not offended you're suspicious. You should be. Of everyone."
Amber shot him a look that said careful, you're getting too real.
He let some of the edge drop from his tone. "But maybe do it with fewer laser eyes next time."
Eve snorted despite herself. "I don't have laser eyes."
"Yet," Morgan said under his breath.
Mark stepped in with the kind of earnest, slightly bumbling charisma that made people underestimate him. "So, uh, careers," he said. "Any of you actually find something that doesn't sound like a slow slide into existential dread?"
"Jury's still out," Amber said, grateful for the pivot. "I was thinking maybe social work, or nonprofit organizing. Something where I get to yell at systems and maybe move the needle a little."
"Or a lot," Morgan said.
"Or a lot," she agreed.
"What about you?" Mark asked him. "You mentioned STEM."
"Yeah," Morgan said. "I like science. Physics, chem, that stuff. Might go that route. Might not." He shrugged. "Kind of depends on whether the world's still in one piece by the time we graduate."
"Dark," Amber said.
"Accurate," he replied.
They drifted toward another set of tables together, a loose cluster.
Morgan felt the window closing. If he wanted her number, he had to ask without making it weird, without stepping on whatever undefined thing existed between her and Mark yet.
"So," he said, catching Amber's eye when the others paused to look at a "Local Colleges" display. "We keep bumping into each other at events with bad food and worse lighting. Universe might be trying to tell us something."
She smirked. "Like what, exactly?"
"Like we should make it easier," he said. "In case I ever need someone to text me when the system needs yelling at."
She cocked her head, considering. "You asking for my number, Lincoln?"
"I am," he said. No stammering, no hedging. "Worst case, you ignore my messages and I spend the rest of the year pretending it was a hallucination."
That got an actual laugh out of her.
"Hand me your phone," she said.
He produced it immediately. She typed quickly, then passed it back. A second later, his screen lit up with a text from an unknown number:
This is Amber. Now you can't say the universe didn't try.
He saved the contact, a tiny knot he hadn't realized was in his chest loosening.
Eve watched the exchange with a thoughtful expression, but didn't intervene. Mark noticed a beat too late, eyes flicking between them, something unreadable in his face.
Time to disengage, he thought. Don't overplay the stone.
"Well," Morgan said, tucking his phone away, "I should get back. My school's bus leaves early, and I'd hate to miss my ride back to the land of dented lockers and superior football teams."
Amber rolled her eyes. "You're never going to let that game go, are you?"
"Statistically? No," he said. "Take care of yourselves."
He nodded to Mark and Eve. "Nice seeing you. Try not to let any recruiters sign you up for lifelong servitude."
Mark gave a crooked smile. "I'll, uh, keep that in mind."
Eve's gaze softened just a fraction. "Stay out of trouble, Morgan."
He smiled faintly. "No promises. But I'll try not to start any."
He walked away, weaving back into the crowd.
Behind him, he could imagine the conversation starting up again—Amber defending him with a well‑placed comment, Eve admitting she might have come on too strong, Mark scratching his head and wondering why the air suddenly felt heavier.
Another stone on the board, he thought.
He didn't know yet whether he'd just created a minor variation in their lives or nudged the whole timeline a few millimeters off its original track.
But he'd gotten her number, he'd survived Eve's probing without giving himself away, and Mark had stepped in to keep things from spiraling.
Small victories.
For now, that was enough.
They watched Morgan's back disappear into the shifting crowd of students and recruiters.
For a beat, no one said anything.
Then Amber blew out a breath. "Well, that was weird."
Mark glanced at her. "Weird how?"
"Weird like you interrogating him," Amber said, turning to Eve. "At a school event. In front of the anti‑college army and the free‑pen cartel."
Eve bristled. "I wasn't interrogating him."
"You were absolutely interrogating him," Amber said. "That was your 'I am seconds away from building a detention field around this person' voice."
Mark frowned slightly, looking between them. The air felt thicker, like the room's background noise had dipped an inch and left their conversation exposed.
"He's not normal," Eve said, lowering her voice. "You felt that, right?"
"I felt you grilling him," Amber shot back. "What, because he goes to a different school and doesn't want to recite his life story, that makes him suspicious?"
"That's not what I said," Eve replied. "I just—he's…alert. Like he's clocking exits and people, not booths. That's not how regular juniors act at a career fair."
"Have you met regular juniors?" Amber said. "We're all anxious, we just show it differently. Some people stress‑eat nachos, some people stress‑flirt, some people stress‑plan their entire escape route from the system."
Mark rubbed the back of his neck. "Okay, can we…dial this down a notch?" he said. "It's just a guy at a fair. We don't need a background check."
Eve exhaled, shoulders dropping a little. "I know," she said. "I know. I just—lately, everyone we meet turns out to be something. Alien, robot, secret agent, clone—"
Amber's expression softened, but she didn't back off entirely. "Yeah. I get that," she said. "But that's not his fault. And it's not exactly fair to jump straight from 'quiet kid' to 'possible threat.'"
"I didn't say threat," Eve protested.
"You didn't have to," Amber said. "Your whole vibe said, 'What are you hiding and should I be worried about it.'"
Eve winced. "Okay. Maybe I came on too strong."
Mark blinked. "Wow. Did you just…admit that out loud?"
"Don't get used to it," Eve said dryly. Then, quieter, "It's just—something about him sets off my…sense."
"Your sense?" Amber echoed.
"My…whatever," Eve said, gesturing vaguely. "I pay attention to patterns. He doesn't fit."
"Or he fits a pattern you don't recognize yet," Amber said. "Look, he told you what happened at his school. Bully, fight, suspension. That's not 'mysterious supervillain.' That's half of every hallway story ever."
"Half of them don't throw people into lockers hard enough to remodel the hallway," Eve said.
"Fair," Amber admitted. "But also, have you seen the stuff that happens at Mark's school?"
Mark held up his hands. "Hey, leave my school out of this."
Amber gave him a look. "Your school has an actual body count, Mark."
"That was one time," he muttered. "And it wasn't—okay, not the point."
He glanced toward the entrance where Morgan had gone, then back to his friends. "I mean…he seemed okay," Mark said. "Sarcastic, yeah. Paranoid, a little. But not…evil."
"That's a low bar," Eve said.
"It's also not wrong," Amber said. "And for the record, I kind of like that he's aware. Most guys just flex or try to impress you with how much they don't care about anything."
Mark felt a tiny twinge in his chest at that, something he couldn't quite name. "Do you…like him?" he asked, then immediately wished he'd phrased it differently.
Amber shot him a sidelong glance. "I like that he doesn't roll over when someone pushes him," she said. "And I like that he didn't fold when Eve went full 'I have questions.' That doesn't mean I'm picking out wedding colors."
Eve smirked. "So you admit I went full 'I have questions.'"
Amber sighed. "Yes. You did. And I get why. But maybe we can save the third degree for people who actually glow ominously."
Eve's shoulders relaxed another fraction. "Fine," she said. "I'll…dial it back next time I see him."
"Next time?" Mark repeated.
Eve shrugged. "City's not that big. And he's clearly not just going to stay on his side of the river."
Mark looked around the gym—at the booths, the recruiters, the clusters of students, the occasional banner that looked a little too polished for a regular school event. A few months ago, he would've chalked this whole conversation up to nerves and teenage drama.
Now, with everything he'd seen and everything he hadn't told Amber yet, the air between them felt heavier. Not bad, exactly. Just…weighted. Like there were more variables in play than anyone wanted to admit.
"Okay," he said, forcing a smile back onto his face. "Truce? We stop psychoanalyzing the kid from Lincoln and go back to figuring out how not to end up in a career we hate?"
Amber nodded. "Deal."
Eve sighed. "Deal."
Amber bumped Mark's shoulder lightly. "And for the record," she said, "you're not 'most guys,' either."
He blinked. "Uh. Thanks?"
"Don't make it weird," she said, but there was warmth in her eyes.
Eve watched them both, thoughtful.
Another stone placed, she thought.
The board was getting crowded.