Chapter 33 Showtime.

Chapter 33: 33 Showtime.

"Enjoying yourself?"

I turned my head to find Lacey gliding through the crowd.

She looked as stunning as ever, her body tightly bound up in a black dress that pushed up her firm breasts. Her red hair fell tumbling around her shoulders and her eyes were, as ever, masked behind those tinted glasses she always wore.

"Just getting a feel for the place," I said.

"And how does it feel?" she asked, taking my arm and guiding me forward.

"Feels good. Secure. I think it’ll go well," I said.

"I mean the party," she said, her lips shining tantalizingly with lipstick. "You know, if you were willing to join Razer, you could attend events like this all the time. I imagine a great many of our clients would be delighted to meet you. We could even give you a salary worthy of your abilities. Get you out of that cramped apartment."

"I like my cramped apartment," I said, maybe a bit too defensively.

"More than a mansion?" she asked.

Well, she had me there. But it was more than the apartment.

Looking around the party, I imagined what it would be like to attend events like this. Get paraded around at the beck and call of someone like Lacey.

Yeah, I’d get plenty of steady money, a mansion, but all those things came with chains.

I might only have an apartment and uncertain economic outlook, but I was free to live there, go where I wanted, do what I felt like.

The struggle for a decent paycheck kinda sucked, but it would be far worse to be the pet villain of some organization—again.

"Pass," I said, taking another drink as we rounded the marble sculpture, the light seemed to bounce off it perfectly highlighting the tiny dick. "But if you have more work for me after this, I’m always willing to hear it out."

"You’re such a troublesome man," Lacey said, even as she flashed a smile for some passing executives who waved hello to her.

"I am a villain," I said.

"Hmm. True."

"How’s your girl?"

"Mysteria? Oh, don’t worry about her," Lacey said, looking away. "She’s all ready."

I followed her gaze and spotted a young woman among a small crowd near the wall.

She was dressed in a showy dress with slitted sides. Maybe eighteen to early twenties, she had bright red hair that tumbled in curls about her shoulders.

A phone in hand, she was clearly livestreaming something, chatting and laughing among a bunch of other people doing much the same, soaking up the attention with all the intensity of a born celebrity.

I was a little worried. That kind of hero was generally pretty shit at their jobs. Treated it more like a fame machine than anything else.

However, I was grateful to see, Julia was near the girl, the visored secretary hovering near Mysteria’s shoulder and circumspectly keeping an eye on the new heroine.

"But enough about her," Lacey suddenly cut in. "Shall we take a look at the diamond?"

"Do I have a choice?" I asked, even as she steered me towards the stage.

"Of course," Lacey chuckled, leaning in close, her perfume so enticing I almost wondered if she got some botanical villainess to make it for her. "You’re a freelancer. You have nothing but choices."

I scoffed, but let her guide me to the stage. We moved in close, up to the velvet ropes to see it.

I had to admit, it was a beauty. The Ice Diamond was cut gorgeously and gleamed in the white pillar of light projecting down on it. A stone like that would be worth a fortune.

"That is a pricey piece," I said.

"That’s the idea," Lacey said. "Now, enjoy the event, Miles."

"Karl! How wonderful to see you. Looking as splendid as always. How’s the new wife?" Lacey cried, slipping from my arm to greet a fussy looking man with rangy dark hair and a slick suit.

I let her go, my eyes lingering on her ass only for a moment before returning to the diamond. But that didn’t hold me long.

I quickly slipped away, prowling about the room, seeing if anything was out of place, checking the massive clock on the sphere atop the reception desk. Nearly time.

Yet, as I wandered, I felt a curious sense of unease. Like I’d overlooked something obvious. That I didn’t know what that could be only made me more paranoid.

I spent what was left of the time checking the upper galleries, especially the balcony that surrounded the room, but nothing there. No snipers. No snoops. No nothing.

On the ground floor, the only thing I found suspicious was a couple making out behind one of the pillars.

Yet the sensation didn’t go away. And when you spent your days fighting superheroes, territorial villains, and vigilantes, you got used to trusting your instincts.

And mine insisted something was up.

As I stood on the stairs at the rear of the gallery’s main hall, wracking my brain for what I’d missed, a sudden chill went right up my spine like someone had taken a frozen knife and scraped it up my back.

I turned my head sharply, instantly picking out the cause.

He was an older man. His hair was platinum white, his skin shockingly pale. A thick beard hung down to his chest, his build surprisingly broad and powerful for his age, his face worn by wrinkles and rough as leather.

He wore a suit, but it looked strange and out of place on him. Like seeing a tie on a snarling timber wolf.

But it was his eyes that struck me the most. They were the darkest blue I had ever seen. Almost black.

And it was like he was peering into my soul.

My eyes met his, and I stiffened, forcing myself not to deploy my costume, the metal bracers rattling around my wrists and ankles. The man was holding a glass of wine, but he didn’t belong here. He was a man of power unlike the others in this room.

With a sudden booming, the clock struck ten.

Instinctively I looked towards the big clock atop the reception desk, and when I turned back the man was leaving, his back to me, his stride carrying him across the room brusquely.

I realized suddenly everything metallic within six feet of me was humming and hastily loosened my power’s hold on it.

This wasn’t my scene, I reminded myself. It was Glacia’s.

And it was showtime.

I looked up just as the skylight shattered.