A contract of servitude

Lucian held the document confirming he had passed the test and followed the signs to the administration building to pay his fees.

Godolkin's administration building was much quieter than the training hall. The marble floors were polished to a shine, and photographs of graduates from past years hung on either side of the corridor. Queen Maeve wore her armor, A-Train crouched in a starting stance, and The Deep struck a pose with an endless ocean behind him. Gold lettering beneath the photographs read: Godolkin's distinguished alumni, Vought's pride.

The payment office was on the third floor. Lucian pushed the door open and went inside.

At the front of the line stood a fat white man in a golf polo, his belt squeezing a roll of flesh around his belly. His daughter stood beside him, blond and tall. Every now and then, a few motes of golden light rose from her fingertips, as though someone were scattering glitter into the air.

"My baby's definitely going to Crimson Earl College," the fat man declared loudly. "Performing arts. She'll endorse beauty products and earn ten times the tuition in a year. This lousy loan won't mean shit."

His daughter rolled her eyes without answering.

Behind the fat man stood a Black mother and son. The mother was on the phone the whole time, speaking very quietly but very quickly. "Yes, seventy-seven thousand, and that doesn't include housing. I know, I know, but Kelvin's powers will get him into the performing arts college without a problem..."

Lucian leaned against the wall and counted the cracks in the floor tiles. Seventeen minutes later, it was finally his turn.

Behind the window sat a woman around fifty, with short gray-brown hair and red-framed glasses. She looked up at Lucian, her gaze lingering for a second on the bruise at his temple and his faded T-shirt before moving away. She lowered her head and typed, the screen's light reflecting off her lenses.

"Name?"

Seriously? I'm in America, and they still won't read the information right in front of them? They just have to ask all over again. He grumbled inwardly as he answered.

"Lucian. Assigned to the Lamplighter School of Crimefighting. I just passed the test."

"Annual tuition is seventy-seven thousand dollars. Housing and insurance aren't included. Cash payments only."

"I'd like to apply for a student loan."

Only at those words did the woman, who had remained impassive until then, show a little enthusiasm. She pulled two sheets of paper from a drawer and slapped them onto the counter.

"Two kinds of loans. Federal student loans and Godolkin's special private superhero loans. Take your pick."

"What's the difference?"

The woman pulled two contracts out from under her desk and pushed them toward him. One was blue, the other black. She spoke quickly, with the practiced fluency of someone who had recited this countless times, every syllable running into the next.

"The federal option. Interest rate of 5.5 percent. The repayment term is your remaining years of study plus up to fifteen years. Interest accrues normally while you're enrolled, but you don't have to make payments. Repayment of principal and interest begins five years after graduation."

Lucian opened the blue one. Its densely packed terms were much like the ordinary college loans he had once considered applying for. Nothing out of the ordinary. After quickly finishing her introduction to the federal loan,

the woman tapped the black one. A gold-stamped eagle emblem gleamed on its cover. Beside it, a line of small print read: Superhero Special Development Fund.

"Godolkin University's special private option. Interest rate of 9.2 percent. A fixed fifteen-year repayment term. Full interest accrues while you're enrolled, and repayment begins after graduation."

"That's almost double the interest."

"That's right." The woman leaned back in her chair and delivered her tempting pitch. "But risk and opportunity always go hand in hand. Take a look at the terms below. If you make the top ten in the college's hero rankings while enrolled, all interest accrued during your studies is waived. If you make the top three, all interest is wiped out. If you maintain your ranking through graduation and go to work for Vought International, not only is all interest waived, but your principal is cut in half. If you make it into The Seven, both interest and principal are waived."

She pulled a brochure from the drawer and pushed it toward him. It showed a young man in uniform smiling brightly. Beneath him were the words: The Deep, Kevin Moskowitz, Godolkin class of 2015, member of The Seven.

"Every year, people think this is a scam," the woman coaxed. "But every year, people really do climb to the top. If you want to become a superhero like them, you have to believe you can do it."

Lucian stared at the interest rate.

Well, damn. Designed specifically to fleece college students with dreams.

Seventy-seven thousand a year, 9.2 percent interest, fifteen years. This wasn't a fucking loan. It was a contract of servitude. These eighteen- and nineteen-year-old brats had nothing in their heads but becoming heroes. Sign a contract like this, and they'd probably spend their entire lives working for Vought after graduation. All interest waived? The Seven? They'd be incredibly lucky to get even one out of ten thousand students into that team over several years. Vought was trading empty promises for a roomful of contracts of servitude.

Even if someone actually joined The Seven, they'd be happier still. A living advertisement. The principal and interest would just count as advertising expenses.

They won either way. Like Qin Shi Huang grabbing a power pole-an emperor getting shocked, winning until they went numb.

He reached for the blue contract.

"I'll take the federal-"

"Wait." The woman suddenly spoke, tapping the last page of the black contract. "Read carefully before you choose. Pick the special loan, and your file automatically goes to Professor Brink's office. Only those students can enroll in Crimefighting Class."

Lucian's hand stopped in midair.

He lowered his head and looked at the line of small print beneath her finger. It wasn't printed large, but it was clear enough, tucked between the default clauses and the explanation of late fees.

Crimefighting Class.

In his memories of his previous life, this course was Godolkin's only real trump card. Not some worthless class teaching you how to pose or cry for a camera.

It was a practical combat class that really taught you how to kill, how to survive, and how to dispose of bodies. Queen Maeve, A-Train, The Deep. Everyone in The Seven who had come out of Godolkin had taken this class.

Godolkin University was divided into two colleges. Students with combat-related powers were assigned to Lamplighter, while everyone else went to Crimson Earl College. The other majors included hero ethics, villain psychology, superpowered stage performance, and media and public relations.

They sounded glamorous, but in reality, they just packaged students into products and fed them into Vought's marketing assembly line. Study those subjects, and your best prospect after graduation was becoming a local hero in a second-tier city, filming commercials for Vought, or, failing that, becoming a villain psychology consultant who sat in an office writing reports.

But Crimefighting Class was different. It was an elevator that could take you straight to The Seven.

Lucian withdrew his hand and pushed the federal contract back.

"I'll take the special loan."

The woman raised her eyebrows, looking entirely unsurprised by his decision. She took out a pen and pointed to several places on the contract.

"Sign here, here, and here. The last page is the risk disclosure. Read it carefully. The interest rate is 9.2 percent. If your payments are overdue, Vought has the right to pursue your hero license and endorsement income."

Lucian took the pen and signed his name in sweeping strokes.

Watching Lucian sign, the woman finally smiled. She fed the contract into the scanner, then pulled a temporary campus card, a textbook list, and a thin freshman survival guide from her drawer and pushed them across the counter.

"Textbooks aren't cheap. Crimefighting Class requires additional protective equipment. You pay for that yourself."

Lucian took the items and stuffed them into his pocket.

"There's a physical fitness reassessment next week. Don't be late. Your dorm assignment will be emailed to you as soon as possible, so keep an eye on your inbox."

Lucian stood and slipped his bank card back into his pocket.

"Thanks for the reminder."

He pushed the door open and stepped outside into the glaring sunlight in the corridor. Queen Maeve still looked down at him from the wall, her expression stern, as though inspecting a fresh recruit.

Lucian walked beneath her photograph, thinking, I'm winning until I'm numb too. Whichever loan he chose, he had no intention of paying it back. If anyone asked, the Empress Dowager had already paid.

He had indeed chosen Godolkin's special loan to establish contact with Professor Brink. With his powers, he could soon reach the top ten or even number one, then use the university as a springboard to make contact with, or even join, The Seven. By then, he would have a hand in Butcher's side of things and a connection with The Seven, all on Vought's dime.

"Winning twice. I'm winning until I'm numb too."

And the explanation for his growing stronger was simple: his powers had awakened and strengthened later in life.

There really were methods and examples of that in this world. Golden Boy, for instance, had used his younger brother Sam's blood to improve his physical abilities and increase the temperature of his flames.

People came and went across campus. Someone flew past at low altitude, stirring a gust that tousled a girl's hair. Someone else spun a fireball in his hand as he walked and fooled around with his girlfriend, sparks spattering onto the lawn and burning little black spots into it. Dull impacts came from the distant training grounds, as though someone were slamming their body into a wall, again and again.

The plan had officially begun.