Masks are Greater than Sunglasses [ COMPLETE ]

four - the council is not so cool

- Trey -

My stomach is still roiling as I stand in front of the double doors to the Council chambers. I tried to sleep last night, but I barely managed to shut my eyes before my alarm was beeping me awake. My thoughts just kept turning over and over on the possibilities. Would I get fired, would I go to prison, would I have to move to another city and change my name and ever use my powers again? Okay, even I know that last one is far fetched. If this were any other circumstance I would be ecstatic. I've always wanted to meet the council but not like this.

The chrome handles of the doors in front of me glint menacingly under the florescent lights. My heart pounds and I feel as if all the eyes of the League are on me as I stand with my back to the lobby. Even though at 7:30 in the morning, the place is almost deserted. Do I knock? Do I just walk through the doors?

As if sensing my thoughts, the doors swing open with a slight hiss, drawing me into the towering room before me. Some of my fear ebbs away as I stare around me in utter astonishment. The space is full of light and chrome, the floor sloping in an amphitheater style to the platform in the middle where five podiums stand, all empty. I glance around the rest of the room but it's deterred and aside from a door behind the podiums I can't see anywhere else to go. I take a step forward intending to make my way down, when I notice pedestals in a semicircle around the crown of the room. As I draw closer, a ring around the center of the nearest pedestal flares gold, illuminating the glass top and the object inside. A worn sheaf of papers loosely bound together, not looking nearly impressive enough for the display they're in. Words begin to bloom in the lower corner of the display as if written there by an invisible hand. I draw closer.

The Cline Pages - The original manifesto of the League. Fifteen year ago this document was written to establish the League relationship within law enforcement as well as the three pillars of Justice, Equality, and Acclimation that the Organization is founded on.

"Pretty cool huh?" The question echoes around the large room. I glance up, seeing a figure at the bottom of the amphitheater steps. He bounds up toward me, sweeping back the dark hair that falls into his eyes as he reaches the top. He gestures to the pedestals around us, "They're all artifacts from the Leagues history."

His brown eyes, so dark they are almost black, flick over me. I do the same, taking in his dark hair and eyes along with his tanned completion. Recognition shoots through me, startling me fully awake. It's Connor Warrick. Everyone knows who he is, the founder of the League's nephew. He's practically a celebrity to the rest of the world and even in the League he's famous, despite the fact that he's not a Super.

"Nice to see you, Trey." He grins, sticking his hand out for me to shake. I take it reflexively, my brain not quite able to understand what's going on.

"You're Connor Warrick." Even I can hear the awe in my voice and it makes me cringe. Connors eyebrow shoots up in surprise. I try to push the redness down from my cheeks and gloss over the mistake, hoping that we won't remember this conversation, "Sorry, I mean how do you know who I am?"

"Let's just say I'm friends with your partner," His grin morphs into a satisfied shirk. He crosses his arms, causing his left sleeve to ride up and drawing my gaze to the two dark lines circling around his upper bicep. "What is it that you call him LP?"

"How do you know him?" I ask absently, forcing my eyes back to is face and away from his surprisingly tone muscles.

"It's hard for me not to know people," Connor gives a one shouldered shrug, his eyes flicking away and then back. Little specks of gold from the lights around us are reflected there, giving his eyes an alluring sparkle.