The Vanguard meeting went exactly how I expected it to go.
Marcus Vane was a mountain of a man stuffed into a suit that probably cost more than most people's cars. He had the kind of handshake that tested your bones and a smile that never quite reached his eyes. His office on the forty-third floor of the Vanguard Tower looked out over a different slice of Century City than my father's view, but the message was the same. Power. Money. The illusion that the person sitting behind the desk controlled something that mattered.
"Rome D'Angelo," he said, gesturing to the leather chair across from him. "The man who knocked Nolan Traore unconscious in front of half the hero industry."
"I prefer 'the man who won his match,' but sure."
Cheon and Mera flanked me as I sat down. Mera had ditched the hat and coat, her red skin and horns on full display. Marcus's eyes lingered on her for a moment too long before returning to me.
"Your companions are welcome to wait outside if they'd prefer."
