Dr. Kwame POV
The transition from the silence of the underground to the open highway was jarring. For the first forty minutes, the only sound was the rhythmic hum of the tires against the pavement and the occasional click-clack of Eve's fingers against his phone screen.
Inside the cabin of the sedan, the air felt thin. Adam drove with a terrifying, motionless precision, his hands resting at ten and two on the wheel. He didn't blink often. He watched the other cars we passed—minivans filled with families and rusted trucks hauling lumber—with the clinical curiosity of a biologist looking at a new species of insect.
"They look so fragile," Adam murmured, his voice barely audible over the engine. He was looking at a woman in a convertible two lanes over. "If I were to twitch the wheel just an inch..."
"Adam," I said, my voice a low warning.
"I'm just observing, Father," he replied, though that devious glint remained in his eyes. "The physics of it. It's fascinating how much faith they put in a few millimeters of steel and the competence of strangers."
"Hey, look at this," Eve interrupted from the back, shoving his phone between our seats. The screen showed a video of a street performer in Jorgen City. "People actually pay for this? The guy is just moving three cups around. I can see the ball in his sleeve from here."
"It's called entertainment, Eve," I sighed, rubbing my temples. "The world doesn't function on high-level energy manipulation and logic. It functions on wonder. Don't ruin it for them."
Eve scoffed, sinking back into the leather. "I'm just saying, if we're going to a city full of people this slow, I'm going to get bored very quickly."
As we approached the outskirts of Jorgen City, the horizon began to bleed into a skyline of glass and gold. This wasn't just any city; it was the financial heart of the continent, a place where the air itself smelled of expensive perfume and industrial ambition.
I reached into the glove box and pulled out a heavy, matte-black briefcase. Inside were six different titanium credit cards, each linked to offshore accounts that hadn't been touched in a year. The interest alone on those accounts could have bought the garage we just left ten times over.
"Don't worry about being bored," I said, catching Eve's eye in the mirror. "Today, you're going to learn about a different kind of power. One that doesn't require channeling energy."
"And what's that?" Adam asked, pulling the car into the valet lane of the Aurelian Grand Mall.
"Capitalism," I replied.
The Aurelian Grand Mall was less of a shopping center and more of a cathedral dedicated to excess. The entrance was a six-story arch of white marble and reinforced glass, with waterfalls that cascaded down the sides of the escalators. A massive chandelier, made of over ten thousand hand-cut crystals, hung from the center of the atrium, casting rainbow fractures across the polished obsidian floors.
As we stepped inside, the boys froze.
The sheer sensory input was a lot to take in—the scent of roasting coffee, the chatter of thousands of voices, the bright neon advertisements flickering on holographic displays, and the heat of so many human bodies in one space.
"So many people," Adam whispered. His posture shifted; he went from the relaxed driver to a coiled spring. I could feel the divine energy beneath his skin hum, reacting to the crowd. "It's... loud. Their presence is messy."
"Keep it under control," I whispered back, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Keep your energy internal."
I led them toward the "Diamond Tier" wing of the mall. Here, the floors were carpeted in deep crimson silk, and the security guards wore tailored suits instead of uniforms. We stopped in front of a boutique that didn't even have prices in the window.
The clerk, a man who looked like he had been carved out of a block of ice, looked us up and down. He saw my dusty boots and the boys' outgrown, raggedy hoodies. He started to open his mouth, likely to direct us to the food court, but I didn't give him the chance. I slid one of the black cards across the counter.
The clerk's eyes widened. He didn't even need to swipe it; the "Infinite" seal on the corner was enough. His posture crumbled into a deep, respectful bow.
"Welcome, Doctor. The entire floor is at your disposal," he stammered. "Would the young masters care for some sparkling water or perhaps a private fitting room?"
"Everything," I said, waving a hand toward the racks of Italian silk and reinforced carbon-fiber denim. "If it fits them and it looks like it belongs in this century, buy it. I want them in three different outfits each before we leave this store."
For the next two hours, I sat in a plush velvet armchair, sipping an espresso that cost more than a lab technician's daily wage, watching the boys navigate the world of high fashion.
Eve took to it with a frightening naturalness. He picked out dark, edgy pieces—trench coats that looked like shadows and boots that clicked sharply on the floor. He looked like a prince of the underworld. When he looked in the mirror, he didn't see a test subject; he saw the man he was becoming.
Adam, however, stayed with whites, creams, and golds. The clothes were elegant, almost regal. As he stood under the spotlights of the dressing room, the "divine" energy he carried seemed to make the fabric itself glow. He looked less like a teenager and more like a statue of a god brought to life.
"How much is all this?" Adam asked, looking at a watch the clerk had just fastened to his wrist—a piece of machinery with a tourbillon movement that cost as much as a luxury sedan.
"It doesn't matter," I told him.
"But surely there is a limit," Adam pressed. "Logic dictates that resources are finite."
I leaned back, checking the balance on my phone just for the sake of it. The number was so long it had to be displayed in scientific notation. "Adam, I spent thirty-six years perfecting the most powerful energy sources on the planet. I patented the cooling systems used in every nuclear reactor from here to the coast. In this city, I don't have limits. I have 'preferences'."
Eve walked out of the fitting room wearing a slate-gray suit that fit his lean frame perfectly. He looked at his reflection, then at me. "I think I like being rich, Father. It's much more comfortable than a glass tube."
"Don't get used to the comfort," I warned, though I knew it was a losing battle. "We're here for supplies, not just vanity."
As we left the boutique, followed by three bellhops carrying dozens of bags, I noticed Adam stop near the railing of the third floor. He was looking down at the main atrium, where a crowd had gathered around a fountain.
"What is it?" I asked.
"There is someone following us," Adam said, his voice dropping to that low, tectonic register. "Not a shopper. Their energy... it isn't 'messy' like the others. It's sharp. Like a knife."
I felt my heart skip. I had hoped we would have more time before the world noticed the doctor had come out of hiding. I followed Adam's gaze, but all I saw was a sea of faces.
"Is it a threat?" Eve asked, his hand drifting toward the pocket of his new coat, where I knew he was already forming a small, concentrated sphere of dark energy.
"In this suit?" Eve added with a smirk, though his eyes were cold. "I'd hate to get blood on the silk."