Chapter 1 - Mason

With a sigh, I looked at my reflection in the small mirror of my dormitory water closet. I still looked like me, just less put together. And that was the point of the evening. Tonight I was not going to be Mason Templeton, son of Lord Quentin Templeton, Duke of Leeds. No, tonight I was just Mason university student. 

My inspection of this casual persona was interrupted by a pounding at the door. “Mason?! Come on, man! It doesn’t take that long to throw some clothes on.” my best friend and roommate Ashton Wilson shouted at me.

“Just give me a minute.” I sighed, running a hand over my hair, making it less put together than I prefer. I didn’t recognize the man looking back at me. I hadn’t shaved for the last two days in preparation for this. This black Sex Pistols tee, dark jeans with rips, and black sneakers significantly departed from the button-downs, khakis, and dress shoes of my regular wardrobe. 

The only thing about the outfit that indicated I came from money is the gold chain clipped to my belt loop leading to my grandfather’s gold pocket watch that I kept in my front pocket.

“Alright, let’s go then.” I greeted Ashton, stepping out of the water closet. Ashton looked bored, leaning against the wall, waiting, scrolling through something on his phone. Like me, he’d dressed way down for tonight. Wearing slightly filthy blue jeans, a long-sleeved green Henley, a pair of black and white sneakers, and a black baseball cap over his shaggy blonde hair, the brim partially hiding his whiskey brown eyes. “About damn time, mate.” Ashton pocketed his phone, grinning at me.

“You are far too excited about this.” I roll my eyes as we head off-campus. Neither of us wanted to take our cars, so walking to the dodgy end of Oxford to where these underground fights are tonight was. “You can’t honestly tell me you aren’t too.”Ashton had a spring in his step as he made his way through the streets.

"Okay...maybe a little,” I admit with a slight shrug. It wasn’t like we got to do such things back at our private school or our family homes, where our parents dictated our schedules. But our fathers did always ensure that included in our activities were ‘manly’ activities such as boxing. On our own, we asked for martial arts training as well.

Ashton laughed and slung an arm over my shoulder. “More than a little. You want to get into a fight as much as I do. I’m open about my need to hit somebody.” he teased, shaking me a little before taking his arm back. “Pipe down. You really shouldn’t be so vocal about things. The whole point is to not to get noticed, you buffoon.” I sighed, shaking my head at his antics. 

“We’ll be fine, mate.” he gave me his most confident smile as we made another turn. We were getting into the side of town that most people of our social status wouldn’t dream of entering.

Try as we might, we both knew we didn’t blend in. Sure, our clothes did, but our posture and the way we walked stood out. We chose to ignore the people glancing at us. Everyone was trying to estimate how much of a risk we were. After all, we were going to an illegal fighting ring. I didn’t expect to find honorable and good people there or along our route. Neither of us talked. We just kept walking.

“You get the feeling that someone’s following us?” I whisper to Ashton. I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was tailing us. The hairs on the back of my neck tingled as I felt eyes on us, and I could hear the scuffle of shoes trying to keep up. Whoever was following us was on the short side. “I got that feeling too. Whoever they are, they've been following us for a couple of blocks of now.” Ashton whispered back.

“I say we greet our shadow,” I responded. We didn’t discuss the plan. We didn't need to. We knew each other well enough that words would be a waste. It was like we were telepathic, always knowing what the other was thinking.

I was the son of a Duke and Ashton the son of an Earl, so we were used to people following us. But this felt different. This didn't feel like someone looking to get a photo of us ‘slumming.’ There was a tiny hint of danger in who was following us. At a busier area, I ducked away down an alley out of sight before using my powers to list myself onto a roof for a better vantage point, letting our shadow follow Ashton while watched from above.

As I finally got a look at our shadow, I was somewhat surprised by what I saw. It’s just a kid wearing ill-fitted dirty clothes and a dirty mop of short blonde hair. “Can’t be more than thirteen at best,” I mutter to myself. For a moment, I consider why the kid would be following us. Then the feel of my watch in my pocket reminds me. They must have noticed the gold chain on me and the gold watch that Ashton refused to take off.

But as I followed, I realized something. It was in the way our shadow walked. This kid...this potential thief...was a girl. Now what? I would need to recalculate how I handle this then. I mean, I wasn’t going to hurt the kid, even if it was a boy unless they did something wrong. But I do have a strict code of ethics. And laying hands on a woman went against that.  

I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for her. I have a sister around her age. But they had vastly different lives. Unless everything I could see about the girl was a ruse, she’s been living on the streets for quite some time. As she avoided a street lamp, I could see faint bruises and cuts on her face. But beyond those bruises, I also noticed something else. Something different. I could faintly make out scales under the dirt. Is she a meta-human too?

With those injuries, she must have gotten into a fight recently. Was it like where we are going? Or was it that she got caught by someone? Has someone hurt her because she stole? Or worse, had they hurt her for being a meta-human. Even if she weren’t like us, I’d be angry that someone would hurt a child. But to hurt someone just for how they were born boils my blood.