Extra C is Secretly Overpowered-Chapter 41: Extra C and Syn Hotels

The engine screamed.

My bike tore through the asphalt of the city, weaving between the late-night traffic of Aversque Boulevard. The wind whipped against my jacket, finding every gap, chilling the sweat on my skin.

I didn’t feel the cold. I felt a burning, acidic heat in my stomach.

Anna.

He had said her name. He knew where she lived. He knew she was my roommate.

That crossed a line. In the story of Heaven Waits, Hell Grabs, villains usually targeted the main characters. They went after the heroes. They didn’t target the Extra C. They didn’t threaten the civilian roommate who just wanted to braid hair and bake garlic bread.

This wasn’t in the script.

I drifted around a corner, the tires screeching in protest. The neon sign of the convenience store blurred past.

I killed the engine a block away from Syn Hotels. I didn’t bother locking the bike. If someone stole it, fine. I had bigger problems.

I walked to the service entrance. The steel door. The keypad.

I didn’t need the code this time. The door was already unlatched. A slight gap, a sliver of darkness inviting me in.

"Expecting me," I muttered.

I pushed it open.

The hallway was empty. The velvet walls seemed to absorb the sound of my breathing.

There was no bouncer at the end of the hall this time. The heavy oak door stood ajar.

I stepped through into the Lounge.

It was different tonight. The hushed atmosphere of digital addiction was gone. The tables were empty. The screens were black. The waitresses were missing.

It was just the room. The low ceiling. The smell of stale perfume and ozone.

And in the center, at the high-stakes table, sat Nathaniel Reed.

He was alone. No rugby players. No muscle. Just him, a bottle of Blue Label, and two glasses.

He looked calm. Too calm.

"You made good time," he said. He didn’t look up from his glass.

I walked over. My hands were loose at my sides, but my muscles were coiled tight. I scanned the room. Corners. Shadows. Ventilation ducts.

"Where are your goons?" I asked.

"I gave them the night off," Nathaniel said. "This is a private conversation. Have a seat."

I didn’t sit. I stood on the opposite side of the table, looking down at him.

On the felt surface, between the whiskey bottle and his hand, lay my pen.

It was in pieces. The silver casing was unscrewed. The tiny microphone and the battery were laid out in a neat row, like a surgical dissection.

"German engineering," Nathaniel said, picking up the microphone with two fingers. "Or maybe Japanese? It’s high quality. Not something you buy at a stationery store."

"I have eclectic hobbies."

"Spying is a dangerous hobby, Abel."

He finally looked up. His eyes were tired. There were dark circles under them that makeup couldn’t hide. The perfect Student Council President looked frayed at the edges.

"Threatening people’s families is a dangerous habit," I said. My voice was low. "You mentioned Anna."

"I did."

"Don’t."

Nathaniel smiled. It wasn’t the charming smile from the posters. It was thin and sharp.

"Or what? You’ll hit me with a keyboard?"

He knew.

Of course he knew. He owned the company that owned the arcades. The report from Adrian must have gone straight up the chain.

"You’re the thief," Nathaniel said. "The one who dismantled my crew at Hit Parade. Sixteen men. Single-handedly."

He picked up the whiskey bottle and poured a second glass.

"I have to admit, I was impressed. Adrian is an idiot, but his men aren’t made of glass. You went through them like a hot knife through butter."

He slid the glass toward me.

"Drink."

"I’m good."

"Drink," he repeated. His tone hardened. "Or I make a call."

I stared at him. I picked up the glass. I didn’t drink. I just held it.

"What do you want, Nathaniel?"

"I listened to the recording," he said. "Before I smashed the transmitter. You heard everything."

"I heard enough."

"Then you know about the 15th."

"The Main Event," I said. "Four days."

Nathaniel nodded. He took a sip of his drink. His hand trembled slightly. Just a fraction.

"We are short-staffed," he said. "Gary... unexpectedly resigned from the race. And Mike... well, Mike had to be relocated."

"Kidnapped," I corrected.

"Relocated. He’s working off his debt." Nathaniel waved a hand dismissively. "The point is, I have holes in my operation. And I have a deadline that cannot be moved. Rooney is... exacting."

"So?"

"So, I need competence," Nathaniel said. "I’m surrounded by idiots. Rugby players who can’t think. Students who panic at the first sign of pressure. But you..."

He pointed at me with the dismantled pen.

"You infiltrated my operation. You planted a bug right under my nose. You took down an entire enforcement squad without getting caught. You are competent."

"I’m flattered," I said dryly. "But I’m not interested in a job."

"You don’t have a choice."

Nathaniel pulled his phone out. He tapped the screen and turned it around.

It was a live feed.

It wasn’t my apartment. It was the hallway outside my apartment door. A camera, likely hidden in the fire alarm or a peephole, showed the door to 404.

"I have a man in the building," Nathaniel said. "He has a key. And he has instructions."

My grip on the glass tightened. I wanted to smash it into his face. I wanted to drag him across the table.

But I couldn’t. Not yet.

"If you touch her," I said, "I will burn this entire place to the ground. And you with it."

"I believe you," Nathaniel said. "That’s why I want you on my side. Until the 15th."

He took the phone back.

"Work for me, Abel. Help me secure the Harvest. Ensure the transfer happens smoothly. Once the money is sent and the event is over, you walk away. I delete the footage. I leave Anna alone. We go back to being strangers."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then my man opens that door."

It wasn’t a bluff. I could see it in his eyes. He was desperate. A desperate man with power is the most dangerous thing in the world.

"What’s the job?" I asked.

Nathaniel relaxed. His shoulders dropped an inch.

"Crowd control," he said. "And security. The Main Event isn’t just a deadline. It’s a party. A gala. Here, in the Lounge."

"A gala?"

"For the Vangels investors. The Platinum members. And the... partners."

Rooney.

"I need someone to manage the floor," Nathaniel said. "Someone who can spot a cheat. Someone who can handle trouble without causing a scene. Someone who isn’t afraid to break a few fingers if necessary."

"You want me to be a bouncer."

"I want you to be a fixer."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a badge. It was black, with the golden wings of Vangels embossed on it.

Head of Security.

He slid it across the table.

"Four days," he said. "Starting now."

I looked at the badge. I looked at the dismantled pen. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

I was trapped. He had me in a corner.

But he had also just invited the fox into the henhouse.

He thought he was hiring a tool. He didn’t realize he was hiring a demolition expert.

"Fine," I said. "Four days."

I picked up the badge.

"But if anything happens to her," I leaned in, my voice dropping to a whisper. "If she even stubs her toe because of you... the 15th won’t be a gala. It’ll be a funeral."

Nathaniel swirled his whiskey. "I expect nothing less. Welcome to the Student Council, Abel."

I walked out of Syn Hotels.

The night air felt heavy, humid. A storm was brewing.

I got on my bike. I didn’t speed this time. I drove methodically.

I checked the mirrors. No tail.

I parked in the lot and took the elevator up. My heart was pounding in my throat.

I walked down the hallway. I scanned the ceiling.

There it was. A tiny, pinhole camera stuck into the plaster of the ceiling tile, right above the fire extinguisher.

I stopped. I looked directly into the lens.

I raised my middle finger.

Then I unlocked the door.

The apartment was quiet. The smell of garlic bread still lingered, faint now.

I checked Anna’s room. The door was cracked open.

She was asleep. Her breathing was soft, rhythmic. She had kicked the blankets off one leg.

She was safe.

I gently closed the door.

I went to the living room and sat on the couch. I didn’t turn on the lights.

I looked at the black badge in my hand.

Head of Security.

"What a joke," I whispered.

My phone buzzed.

It was Lia.

[Lialicious: I sent the audio to a contact. We’re looking into Rooney. Where are you?]

I stared at the screen.

I couldn’t tell her. Not about the threat. Not about the job. If the others knew, they would try to help. They would try to save me.

And they would get Anna killed.

I typed a reply.

[~: Home. Sleeping. See you tomorrow.]

I put the phone down.

I wasn’t going to sleep.

I had four days to figure out how to dismantle a crime syndicate from the inside, save a kidnapped student, protect my roommate, and not get murdered by a high school politician.

I lit a cigarette.

"Extra C," I muttered, blowing smoke into the darkness. "Secretly overpowered, huh?"

"Feels more like secretly screwed."