>> Now Playing Mission Log #39
With a cascade of light and sounds, whirring arcade machines and swinging flashlights, the camera suddenly clicks back into focus where it left off, the young stranger approaching Lycus and Sebastian.
The view of him is better now, no longer obscured behind holotech projections of insectoid monsters. His hair is short and black, and his eyes are dark — but warmly so as they seek Sebastian’s attention. There’s a Martian sort of look to him, if faint. First generation or so.
The officers always said there wasn’t a difference between people whose Martian heritage showed stronger than others. Martian was Martian. Offworlder was offworlder. Whether or not he thought they really believed that… he wasn’t too sure.
“Don’t I know you from somewhere?”
There was an immediate, if subtle, shift of Lycus’s gaze between Sebastian and the newcomer. He couldn’t help but be aware of it, even if no one else seemed to be.
Sebastian raised an eyebrow, turning back to the game and getting ready to start it again. They had a long night ahead of them, and he had no intention of getting distracted, especially not in front of the others. “Don’t think so.”
The young man put a hand on his shoulder, keeping his attention. He had no idea what he was doing, what level of trouble he could get himself into here. The other members of the Hand remained playing their games and surveying the room, chatting to each other and some of the harriers around. To all else, nothing had changed.
But Sebastian knew without a doubt that all of them had clocked what was happening. All of them were aware. All of them were ready.
“No, seriously,” the man said. “I swear I know you. It’s Sebastian, right?” He indicated his chest. “Will. From Timber Creek High? You sat in front of me in Mrs. Pierce’s homeroom.”
He did. Sebastian was fairly certain he’d let Will cheat off his homework a few times, too. It had been a long time since they’d known each other well, but there was no convincing him of anything else. A string of curses rattled off in his mind, but he forced a blink. He’d have to play along, see if there wasn’t a way to ride this out without incurring too much suspicion.
The trouble with wearing a suit with a fake name on it was that people very specifically weren’t supposed to recognize you in it. Even now he saw Will clock the last name “Packer” on his suit.
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