Angelina Fernando Valenzuela.
The name drifted through his mind like honey, like a dream he'd had a thousand times and never wanted to wake from.
She was twenty-three years old and looked like she'd stepped out of a painting. Dark hair that fell in perfect waves past her shoulders. Olive skin that seemed to glow under the stage lights. A dress that was elegant and formal but somehow made her look even more beautiful. She moved with grace that seemed effortless, her expression was calm and composed even with thousands of eyes on her.
Finn had written her to be perfect. Had spent hours crafting her character, her appearance, her role in the story. She was supposed to be the kind of person who made everyone stop and stare. The kind of beauty that felt almost unreal.
And seeing her now, actually real and walking across that stage, Finn realized he'd undersold it in his descriptions.
She was the peak of everything he'd imagined. Every detail he'd carefully planned. The slight upturn of her lips that suggested she was always on the verge of smiling. The way she held herself with confidence but not arrogance. The intelligence in her eyes that said she was more than just a pretty face.
She was that one character an author created purely for themselves. The embodiment of desires and dreams wrapped up in a person who existed just to be perfect.
In the story, she would become pivotal. After her father's death during a major Swarm attack, she would take over as Defense Minister and completely restructure Bastion Seven's military approach. She would lead a regime that turned the tide of the war, making decisions that were brilliant and ruthless in equal measure.
But right now she was still her father's daughter. Still the caged bird who wasn't allowed to go anywhere without guards. The minister had made her into something precious and fragile, something to be protected at all costs even if it meant suffocating her.
Finn watched her take her place on stage beside her father and felt something ache in his chest. He'd written her knowing she'd never be real. Knowing she was just words on a screen. A character who existed to drive plot and look beautiful while doing it.
And now she was standing maybe fifty yards away, breathing and real and somehow even more perfect than he'd imagined.
"Dude," Peter's voice cut through his thoughts. "You're staring like a creep. Also, you're drooling."
Finn blinked and looked away. "I'm not drooling."
"You basically are. I get it though. She's..." Peter trailed off, apparently unable to find words. "I heard her father keeps her locked up like some kind of princess. She's not allowed to do anything without guards. Can't go anywhere alone. It's messed up."
Finn knew all of that. Had written all of that. The minister's overprotection. Angelina's frustration at being treated like a trophy instead of a person. The way it would eventually push her to take control after his death.
"We should go," Peter said. "I've got work to do and we're wasting time."
"Right. Yeah." Finn looked at her one final time before turning to follow.
They moved back through the doors into the exhibition hall. Peter immediately went to one of the display cases and pulled out a handheld scanner, running it over the equipment inside.
"What are you doing?" Finn asked.
"Mapping the tech. Getting readings on power sources and material composition. If I can figure out how they built this stuff, I can try to recreate it." Peter moved to the next case, his scanner beeping softly.
Finn watched him work, feeling restless. The ceremony continued in the main hall, the announcer's voice still audible through the open doors.
Time passed. Five minutes. Ten. Peter moved methodically from case to case, his scanner gathering data.
Then he stopped. Stared at one particular piece of equipment. A compact device that looked like a power cell but more advanced.
"This is it," Peter said quietly. "This is what I need."
"What is it?"
"Spark amplifier. Lets non-awakened people use Spark-tech equipment at full capacity. With this, I could power a dozen different devices." He reached for the display case.
"Peter, no."
"This is why we came here, Finn."
"You said you wanted to look. To map it out."
"I lied." Peter pulled out a small bag from under his jacket. "I came to take something. One piece. They have dozens of these things. They won't even notice it's gone."
"Are you insane? This is stealing from—"
"From people who have everything while we have nothing?" Peter's voice rose. "From heroes who get showered with gear and sponsors while we're stuck with scraps? Yeah, I'm stealing from them. And I don't feel bad about it."
"If you get caught—"
"I won't get caught. You're acting really weird about this, Finn. Since when do you care about rules?" Peter started working on the display case lock. "What's wrong with you today?"
Everything, Finn wanted to say. Everything is wrong. I'm not who you think I am. I'm the person who created this world and these rules and now I'm stuck living with the consequences.
But he couldn't say any of that.
"I'm leaving," Finn said. "Do what you want. I'm not part of this."
"Fine. Go. I'll find you when I'm done."
Finn turned and walked back toward the main hall. Away from Peter and his crime in progress.
'On one hand, he's kind of right,' Finn thought as he walked. 'The system is broken. The rich get richer. The awakened get everything while regular people struggle. Peter's just trying to level the playing field a little.'
'On the other hand, he's being an asshole. He dragged me here under false pretenses. He's risking both our lives for a piece of equipment that might not even work the way he thinks it does.'
Finn pushed through the doors back into the main hall, not sure what he wanted to do. Maybe just watch the rest of the ceremony. Maybe wait for Peter to finish and then get the hell out of here.
The crowd noise had gotten louder. Something was happening.
Finn moved closer to get a better view.
The announcer's voice boomed through the speakers.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for. Our newest heroes. The team that cleared the Sector Twelve nest last month. The team that saved over three hundred civilians during the Eastern Gate breach. Please give your warmest welcome to Bastion Seven's newest S-rank team..."
Music swelled and it was dramatic and epic. Those kind of soundtracks reserved for the most important moments.
"The Vanguard!"
The ceiling opened. Actual spotlights came down from above, creating a column of light in the center of the stage.
A ship descended through the opening. It landed on the stage and the doors hissed open.
Five figures stepped out into the light.
Finn was smiling. He couldn't help it. This was the kind of dramatic entrance he'd written a hundred times. The heroes arriving at the perfect moment. The crowd going wild. The cameras capturing everything.
The announcer continued, his voice rising with excitement.
"Leading the team, Marcus Vale!"
The first figure walked forward into clear view.
Finn's smile froze.
No.
No, that wasn't possible.
But the cameras zoomed in on the screens flanking the stage and there was no mistaking it.
Marcus. The same Marcus who'd shown up at his book signing three weeks ago. The same Marcus who'd smiled and talked about being a fan. The same Marcus who'd forced his way into Finn's apartment and held him prisoner for four weeks.
"Vanessa Bullion!"
A woman stepped forward. She has blonde hair. That same deliberate casual style.
"Joel Sterling!" The announcer called out.
The quiet one. The one who'd set up the IV lines and controlled his medication.
"Holy shit," Finn breathed.
Two more figures stepped forward. Names he didn't recognize. Faces he'd never seen before. But they didn't matter.
What mattered was that three of the five people who'd tortured him were standing on that stage being celebrated as heroes.
"Our country's saviors!" the announcer proclaimed. "The brave souls who risk their lives every day to keep us safe!"
The crowd roared their approval. Thousands of voices screaming their support for these heroes. These paragons. These fucking monsters who'd held him hostage and forced him to write scenes that destroyed his story.
Finn started laughing.
He couldn't help it. The cosmic joke was too perfect. Too absurdly, horrifyingly perfect.
They'd followed him here. To his world. And they'd become heroes, protagonists. The chosen ones with power and destiny and everyone's love and admiration.
While he was an extra. A nobody. A character who wasn't supposed to matter.
"Of course," Finn muttered, still laughing. "Of fucking course they're heroes."
The laughter turned bitter. His hands clenched into fists. He could feel rage building in his chest, hot and consuming. Veins throbbing in his temples. His jaw tight enough that he tasted blood where he'd bitten his lip without realizing.
Four weeks. Four weeks of hell. Of being drugged and controlled and forced to write while they smiled and called it help.
And now they were standing up there in the spotlight while thousands of people cheered for them.
His vision went red at the edges. Every muscle in his body tensed. He wanted to scream. Wanted to storm that stage and tell everyone what these "heroes" really were.
But he couldn't. He was nobody. An outer district resident with no proof and no voice that mattered.
So he just stood there, laughing and seething and bleeding from his own lip while the crowd celebrated his tormentors.
Then an alarm blared through the venue.
Loud and impossible to ignore.
Finn's laughter cut off. His head snapped around, trying to find the source.
The crowd's cheering turned to confused murmurs. The ceremony paused. Security guards started moving, their hands going to weapons.
Finn looked toward the exhibition hall where he'd left Peter.
He saw security personnel in tactical gear rushing through the doors. Saw people in formal suits following them, pointing and shouting.
Then he saw Peter.
Running. Sprinting through the back corridors with something clutched in his hands and two security guards chasing him.
"Shit," Finn breathed.
More security appeared. Coming from multiple directions. They saw Finn standing near the entrance to the exhibition hall and their expressions changed.
One of them pointed directly at Finn.
"There! The accomplice!"
"Wait—" Finn started.
But they were already moving toward him. Five guards in full tactical gear with Spark-enhanced weapons raised and ready.
/////////
Hey, if you're enjoying the story, please support it. Toss in a few power stones, leave a comment, and add it to your library. It helps more than you think and keeps me motivated to keep pushing out chapters.
Thanks for reading, and please keep the support coming.