Soldier Boy sounded certain.
Ian nodded.
"Fine."
Soldier Boy said nothing more. He took the list from his pocket, glanced at it again, folded it, and put it back.
He turned and walked toward the other end of the street, his steps quick and steady. Ian stood beneath the streetlamp, watching his back gradually shrink in the night.
He did not call out to him, and he did not ask any more questions. Only after that figure had completely vanished at the end of the street did Ian withdraw his gaze and turn to look toward the Vought International building. The building was still burning, firelight spilling from the shattered windows and flickering in the night sky.
"Whoosh!"
Ian took off, moving so fast that in the blink of an eye, he was above the Vought International building. He slowly descended from the night sky, landing in the plaza in front of Vought International.
Firelight spilled from the shattered windows, flickering in the night sky and reflecting off the broken glass on the ground like a scattering of shattered stars. There were no police, no ambulances, no fire trucks in the plaza. There was only a group of Vought International employees gathered in the open space outside the side entrance, some in suits, some in uniforms, and some still wearing slippers.
They huddled together like birds driven from their nest. No one spoke. They only pressed close to one another, as if that would make them feel even a little safer. Someone noticed Ian landing—he dropped silently from the sky, without a sound or any fanfare. A young female employee saw him first. She pointed at the sky, her voice sharp, carrying a tension she could not suppress.
"Look! Another one! He can fly!" The crowd stirred. Some people backed