Page 117 of Villainous Intent

The moment I’d pulled away from her and stepped outside the Playroom, the static had returned. The timer in the back of my skull had started ticking. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

I had to bring her here. I had to keep her within arm’s reach just to keep those numbers in my head from starting again.

She shifted. The sheets rustled, and a wave of her scent hit me. Sex and vanilla. It was a cloying, biological smell that had no business in my room. I wanted to wake her up. I wanted to crawl over her, pin her wrists to the headboard, and use her again. I needed to see if there was a limit. If I fucked her hard enough, if I buried myself deep enough, would the tether finally snap? Would it buy me five minutes of peace where I didn’t need to be breathing her air to think straight?

A soft, melodic chime cut through the silence. One hundred percent. Decryption complete.

The files populated my screen. Lab reports, surveillance footage, communications logs, all of them belonging to Solstice. The same Solstice that Dread had murdered at the Season Opener.

Now I really was interested in what was on the data chip. What had Solstice been doing to incur Dread’s wrath despite their alliance?

But the longer I scrolled through Solstice’s files, the more my disappointment grew. For all the excitement, there was nothing here I hadn’t seen before. Lab reports on stellar radiation absorption rates. Equipment requisition forms.

Solstice had been competent enough, I’d give him that. Methodical in his approach, thorough in his documentation. But there was nothing in his research that seemed worth killing over.

I grew bored to the point I almost decided to send the results to Dread without caring to look further, until one file caught my eye.

LU Project Warden.

My finger froze above the screen. LU. The League Underground. Now that was interesting.

The LU operated as the League’s black ops research division, taking on projects too controversial or dangerous for public knowledge. Even most League members weren’t aware of their existence. I’d only learned about them after “accidentally” coming into possession of some classified files, and even then, the information had been deliberately vague.

I opened the folder, suddenly much more alert. My pulse quickened as I delved deeper into Solstice’s notes. This was far beyond the trivial power amplification research most of the other files dealt with.

I scrolled through pages of molecular diagrams and genetic sequencing data. Solstice had been attempting to develop a compound that would temporarily suppress Trueborn Super abilities while simultaneously revealing their genetic markers. The implications were staggering. And very fucking dangerous to someone like me.

As it was, the League had my blood on file. I didn’t particularly care because that was business as usual when checking to see if someone was a good candidate for the Serum. I had taken the Serum all those years ago, since it does absolutely nothing to a Trueborn, but it was a necessary evil so that I could appear to be a Serum based Super.

There was no way of telling if a person was Trueborn with only their blood, which meant I was safe. But If they figured out a way to classify it by genetic markers, I was fucked. My implants masking my Trueborn signature would be rendered useless.

My eyes caught on a hyperlink embedded in the text: “Warden Historical Records - Classification Level Alpha.” I clicked it immediately, only to be met with yet another wall of encrypted data.

“Shit.” The encryption was several levels beyond what Solstice should have had access to. It would take time, perhaps days, to decode this next layer, but I had to know what was in those files.

Returning to the parent document, I continued through Solstice’s personal research notes. His writing became increasingly agitated as the entries progressed:

Day 217: Another request to interview a living Warden denied by the Syndicate. How am I supposed to perfect this formula without direct genetic samples? The historical data can only take me so far.

Day 231: Requested access to Warden identities. Denied again. The League Underground insists this project is “highest priority” yet refuses to provide essential resources. Hypocrites.

Day 240: Rumors suggest there are only two Wardens left alive. If the Syndicate would just grant me access to ONE of them, I could complete this work in weeks instead of years.

I paused, frowning at the screen. Wardens? I’d never heard the term used in this context. I scrolled back, searching for any definition or explanation, but Solstice wrote as if the reader already knew what Wardens were. Which meant I had a significant gap in my knowledge.

That was fucking unacceptable.

I pushed back from the terminal, frustrated. Solstice’s files had given me a tantalizing glimpse of something called “Wardens,” but little else of substance. Every reference led to encrypted files or redacted information. I could easily infer what a Warden was, clearly, they could neutralize Trueborn abilities, something current power dampeners couldn’t do, hence how Dread had been able to get into the League’s vault and steal the Hammer.

The only thing they could do to us at this point was give Trueborns the dampening serum, handicapping us so we were less godlike, taking away pieces of us to make themselves feel safer.

I needed more information and began searching deeper, my frustration mounting. Every single file encountered was marked with the same red classification tag: “Access Denied - Syndicate Clearance Required.”

I clicked on one anyway, already knowing what I’d find. A prompt appeared requesting biometric verification and a Syndicate access code. Even the metadata was encrypted. There were no creation dates, not even the fucking file sizes.

“Fuck,” I muttered, leaning back in my chair.

Fine. If the front door was locked, I’d find another way in. The Syndicate might control information flow, but they couldn’t erase every trace of something this significant.