Chapter 234 Complication.

Chapter 234: 234 Complication.

"Yesssss, mistress," the Steves moaned in unison.

Vanessa looked around sharply, her white cloak swishing as she dropped into a combat stance.

"Using innocent civilians as human shields?" Vanessa demanded, her voice dripping with absolute disgust. "Have you no shame?"

"Not even a little bit!" Psyren giggled, her eyes flashing a brilliant pink. "Get ’er, boys!"

Absolute, top-tier villainy. And I wasn’t just saying that because I signed her paychecks.

I watched the Steves rush Vanessa, but they didn’t do it all at once. A good, professional henchman goes at the hero one at a time, moving just fast enough to get dramatically beaten down before the next guy in line steps up. It was tactically stupid, obviously, but this was a choreographed operation. You had to give the hero a wide-open runway to show off their power sets, and a mob of easily dispatched, brainwashed minions was the perfect vehicle. Give them matching suits, blank expressions, and fling them at the good guy. It gave the hero a readymade opportunity to throw some highly photogenic punches.

And Steve was an absolute master of his craft.

It was genuine art how he managed to make his own ass-kicking look so cinematic. As the boss, I was expected to provide the heavy dialogue and the actual boss fight, but henchmen had to carry an entire scene using only grunts and dramatic falls.

"Oof!" one Steve cried as a flash of Vanessa’s magic threw him across the room. He crashed perfectly into a catering table, a silver punchbowl landing squarely on his head.

"Argh!" another Steve shouted. He took a heavy swing from the butt of her staff directly to the stomach, followed by a crack to the chin that threw him cleanly onto his back.

"For the mistress!" a third Steve yelled, throwing himself at Vanessa, only to be blasted backward by a burst of white arcane kinetic energy. He hit the polished floor, skidding smoothly to a halt right at Psyren’s stiletto heels.

Beautiful. It almost brought a tear to my eye.

But now came the tricky part of the script. Psyren needed to make a dramatic exit, but we had to ensure Vanessa still looked like the undisputed victor. And that meant triggering the oldest trope in the book: Saving the Citizens.

"It’s over, Psyren!" Vanessa cried, aiming the glowing tip of her staff directly at the telepath. "Surrender now, and I’ll make it easy on you."

"Don’t put yourself out on my account," Psyren purred, casually tossing the glowing runic cube into the air and catching it. "I like it rough."

"Oooooh," the crowd breathed collectively.

This was exactly why bad girls were in such high demand for network television. Psyren didn’t even need the Steves or her psychic powers to get the crowd eating out of the palm of her hand.

Look good enough while holding a cursed artifact, and the public would let you walk over a bridge of corpses to reach your getaway car.

Time to yank the rug out from under them.

"Besides," Psyren continued, casting a wicked glance around the ballroom. "All these wonderful people would just love to die for me, right?"

The mood in the room snapped from thrilling anticipation to sudden, icy panic. "Uh..." someone muttered near the front.

"Sure you would!" Psyren cackled, spinning the heavy facets of the cube. "So say hello to my little friend!"

The red runes on the cube flared blindingly hot in Psyren’s hands. Gasps erupted from the crowd as she thrust it forward, spilling toxic red light into the room.

Because my localized magnetic field kept my brain insulated from Psyren’s telepathic tampering, I had absolutely no idea what kind of horrific illusion she was broadcasting into their minds.

But judging by the sudden, ice-pick headache that stabbed me right behind the eyes, the monster she was projecting must have been an utter nightmare.

The crowd shrieked in genuine, unadulterated terror, scrambling backward and knocking over cocktail tables to get away from the empty space in front of the stage.

Even Vanessa looked momentarily shocked, her eye widening at whatever phantasm Psyren had conjured. But she rallied quickly, planting her boots and gripping her staff.

"Idiot! Do you have any idea what you’ve unleashed?!"

"Not even a little! Have fun cleaning up!" Psyren laughed.

"Smoke machines," I murmured into my collar mic.

Instantly, the pressurized canisters rigged under the stage blew, wreathing the podium in a massive, blinding cloud of thick white theatrical fog.

Vanessa raised her free hand and began chanting rapid, guttural words of power. They were heavy, resonant syllables.

I could actually feel my molars vibrate from the volume of arcane energy she was pumping into the ballroom.

Massive shards of solid white light took shape in the air around her, angling downward toward the smoke-filled stage.

"Begone, demon!" she cried, thrusting her staff forward. "Depart from this realm, and return to the abyss!"

The shards cut through the air in a singing, lethal barrage, splitting the smoke with blinding flashes of holy magic.

They impacted the stage and detonated in midair like silver fireworks, raining down glittering motes of light.

The terrified crowd gave a massive, collective cheer, which signaled the invisible ’monster’ had just been vanquished.

As the smoke began to clear, the podium was empty. Psyren and the artifact were long gone.

And... scene.

I slipped away into the shadows near the catering doors as the hubbub in the ballroom rose to a fever pitch.

People were already crowding around Vanessa, clapping her on the shoulder and breathlessly thanking her for saving their lives.

Even better, a handful of those influencer-types were shoving their phone cameras in her face for live interviews.

Perfect. This whole sequence would be trending on every major platform within the hour.

Vanessa took it all in stride. She nodded and acknowledged the praise, keeping her expression appropriately grim and burdened with heroic purpose.

"Thank you for your bravery," she told a reporter, looking darkly toward the empty stage. "But I fear this nightmare has only just begun."

Nice delivery. She was going to make a fantastic A-list hero.

I smiled beneath my helmet, slipping quietly through the emergency exit. Steve would handle the cleanup and the catering bill, and the opening act was officially in the can.

The door creaked shut behind me as I stepped out into a quiet, deserted service hallway. I pulled out my phone, dialed quickly, and waited for the click.

"Heeeeeey, bossman," Psyren giggled through the line. "Did I do good?"

"Absolutely outstanding," I told her, leaning back against the wall. "Hit your marks perfectly. They’ll be talking about that entrance for a week straight."

"Aw, thanks, boss. I knew you’d love it! And when you get back to the lair," she purred, her voice suddenly dropping into a low, husky register, "I’d really love to collect my... reward."

"Oh, would you?" I said, grinning at the ceiling. "And what exactly did you have in mind?"

"Mmm... I’m sure you’ll think of something highly inappropriate."

"Damn right I will. I’ll... uh..."

I trailed off, the words dying in my throat. I suddenly realized I was no longer alone in the service hallway.

Vanessa had just pushed through the emergency exit doors. She stood ten feet away, leaning casually on her glowing staff, her head cocked with mild, deeply judgmental interest.

"Uh..." I managed.

"Oh, I bet you’ll just bend me right over the conference table, bossman," Psyren crooned loudly through the phone speaker. The very, very loud phone speaker. "Just completely ravage me. Make me scream your name like your bad little bitch."

"Uh, yeah. Great job today," I said rigidly, not breaking eye contact with Vanessa.

"Maybe even tie me up with Rhea’s new cable and spank me like a naughty little slut."

"Uh—"

"Are you gonna do that, bossman? Going to absolutely ruin your favorite henchgirl?"

"Yep, totally going to file that paperwork later. Okay, bye!"

I jammed my thumb against the end-call button and shoved the phone deep into my pocket.

"So!" I said, clapping my armored hands together loudly as I turned fully toward Vanessa. "Great job out there. You completely nailed the landing! Congratulations on a successful debut."

"Your employees seem incredibly... enthusiastic," Vanessa noted, her visible eye completely deadpan.

"Yeah. She gets... deeply invested in her character work," I lied.

"Hm." Vanessa glanced back at the heavy metal door she had just stepped through, clearly opting to ignore the sheer unprofessionalism she had just witnessed.

"The staging worked out well, though," I added quickly, desperate to fill the agonizing silence.

"It did," she admitted. She reached into a hidden pocket in her cloak. "Here."

Confused, I reached out and accepted the small slip of paper she handed me.

"My new phone number," she said flatly. "Though I still do not approve of this... elaborate theater, and I certainly do not trust you, I am willing to concede that you are genuine about your professional purpose here. If this line of communication makes our future work easier to coordinate, I will take your calls."

"Oh. Thanks. That makes the logistics a lot cleaner," I said, tucking the paper away.

"I suppose it does," she said, her lips twisting slightly as if the mere thought of cooperating with me annoyed her on a cellular level.

Well, whatever. She played her part perfectly, and I played mine. As long as we both held up our ends of the contract, we’d get along just fine. I didn’t need her to like me; I just needed her to hit her cues.

Because the absolute last thing I needed this week was another complication.