Aldric Blackwood stood near the window, one hand in his coat pocket, the other holding a glass of something dark. The skyline reflected off the window — distant fires still glowing in the industrial sector, the city still trying to make sense of the chaos from last night.

Behind him, Darius Vexley leaned against the edge of a long wooden desk, scrolling through a holographic display hovering above his wristband. The projection flickered, showing live readings from the same pod that sat hidden in the dark underground lab.

"Vitals are holding steady," Darius said, his tone neutral but his lips curved faintly. "Phase One is done. Neural mapping complete. His synchronization rate is at eighty-seven percent already."

Aldric took a slow sip, the faint clink of glass echoing in the quiet room. "And the consciousness imprint?"

"Stable. Memory threads are responding. Full compatibility expected by the end of the week."

Aldric turned slightly, the dim city glow catching his sharp eyes. "So in a few days… we'll have him."

Darius nodded. "Project Ascendancy will be complete."

Aldric exhaled — part relief, part satisfaction. He set the glass down and stepped closer to the desk, watching the pulsing vitals on the display. "Lucas Blackwood," he murmured, the name carrying both weight and history. "You'll finally finish what I couldn't."

"Or what you wouldn't," Darius added under his breath, smirking faintly.

Aldric shot him a side glance but didn't reply. Instead, he leaned back, eyes narrowing at the hologram. "Make sure no one catches wind of this. Especially not Xavier. Not until the prototype is ready to breathe again."

Darius folded his arms, his expression sharpening. "And what happens when it does?"

Aldric smirked, slow and deliberate. "Then… we remind the world who truly carries the Blackwood legacy."

The holographic screen flickered once more — and for a brief second, the image of Lucas floating in the pod appeared again, his eyes faintly opening before the feed cut to black.

After the academy ended, Xavier walked through the neon-lit hallway of the Midnight Club, the bass thumping through the floor like a heartbeat. The air was thick with perfume, smoke, and whispers—same as always. He passed the usual crowd, the ones who knew not to stop him when he was heading upstairs. Everyone knew the room he was going to.

He pushed open the familiar door, and there she was—Angel, sitting on the couch with her laptop open and a few holo-screens floating around her. The blue glow from the displays lit up her face, highlighting her focused eyes and calm expression. She barely looked up when he entered, fingers moving fast across the interface.

"You're early," she said, still typing.

"Had nothing better to do," he replied, shutting the door behind him. "Asked Oliver if he wanted to tag along, but he said he didn't wanna be the third wheel now that we're… whatever we are."

That got a small smirk out of her. "Smart man."

"Busy again?" Xavier asked, dropping into the seat across from her.

Angel smirked faintly without lifting her gaze. "Always. Someone has to keep your messes from becoming global incidents."

Xavier chuckled, stretching his arms behind his head. "So I'm your full-time job now?"

"Pretty much," she said, finally glancing up at him. "You've been trending all day again, by the way."

He rolled his eyes, leaning forward. "Me or my good-doings?"

Angel gave a low laugh and shook her head. "You sound proud of that."

"Not proud," he said, smirking. "Just stating facts."

For a moment, the air settled between them—quiet but charged. Angel closed one of her holo-screens and leaned back. "So… what's the plan tonight? You didn't come all this way just to tease me while I'm working, did you?"

Xavier tilted his head, that familiar smirk forming again. "Maybe I did."

Angel arched an eyebrow. "You're kidding."

He grinned, leaning closer. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

The faintest smile touched her lips. "It usually is. But somehow, you make it work."

Xavier leaned back, watching her. "You always say that right before something interesting happens."

Angel exhaled, eyes flicking back to her screen, but there was a hint of warmth in her tone now. "Then maybe you should stick around a little longer."

The music outside pulsed through the walls as the room dimmed under the city's shifting glow. Xavier smiled to himself, resting one arm along the couch. "Wouldn't dream of leaving. I am actually here to give you some payment."

Angel paused mid-gesture, her gaze lifting slowly from the screen. "Payment?" she repeated, suspicious but curious. "For what, exactly?"

He didn't answer. He just stood, closing the distance between them until she had to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes.

Xavier didn't rush. He let the moment stretch, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him, and not close enough to cross the line. Her eyes flicked up, caught in his, and he smiled that faint, cocky grin that always seemed to get under her skin.

"Xavier…" she started, but the words stumbled out, her concentration unraveling.

He let his hand brush lightly against the edge of the console, leaning in as if to inspect something, but really, just to watch the effect. Angel's fingers paused mid-action, eyes wide, chest rising just a little faster. The room felt smaller, the air thicker, like it had been compressed just for them.

"You're… distracting me," she said, voice almost a whisper, but there was no hiding the undercurrent.

"That's… the idea," he replied, letting his voice roll slow and steady, teasing. "I like it when you're… focused on me."

She turned her head, ready to shoot back some snark—but his eyes met hers, and the words died. The air shifted. Her pulse kicked. She closed the holo screen with a swipe and leaned back in the chair, staring up at him with that look she always got when her control started slipping.

"Fine," she murmured. "You got my attention. Now what?"

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