Taboo Online

Near the central platform, Red Hound was still speaking with several Bureau staff members. His fitted black suit remained perfectly pressed, and his tie sat neatly against his collar. He had not changed into armor, training gear, or anything that might protect him during a fight.

Whatever happened during the upcoming tests, Red Hound clearly did not expect anyone present to make him break a sweat.

"Do you think they’ll make us demonstrate our abilities immediately?" Lauren asked.

"Probably."

"I still don’t completely understand mine."

"Oracle’s Glimpse worked inside the game and in real life," Luke said. "You even shared a vision with me."

"Yes, but I don’t know everything it can do." Her fingers brushed the sensor near her temple. "Or how much I can use it before my head starts hurting."

"We’ll find out carefully."

She studied him with quiet amusement. "You sounded almost responsible just now."

"I can be responsible."

"Mhm."

Luke narrowed his eyes. That sound carried far too many memories.

Before he could respond, Red Hound finished speaking with the Bureau staff and headed toward their group. Two assistants followed him, each carrying a long equipment case.

Everyone straightened as he approached.

Luke had already felt Red Hound’s presence during the earlier briefing, but it became harder to ignore at close range. His broad frame, sharp features, and steady stride pulled attention toward him without effort.

The suit made him even more intimidating. Entering a training area without changing clothes suggested either complete confidence in his control or absolute certainty that no one there posed a threat.

Red Hound stopped several feet from the group and examined each pair. His attention lingered on Luke and Lauren a little longer than it had on the others.

Of course he remembered what happened at the café. He had questioned them himself, and there was always a chance he suspected they had hidden something.

Luke’s shoulders tensed, but Red Hound showed no interest in asking about the missing headsets. He crossed his arms instead.

"I hate the term ’hero,’" he said.

Several people exchanged confused looks. After the earlier briefing, no one had expected him to begin their training session that way.

"A lot comes with that word. People expect strength, courage, judgment, patience, and perfect control. You save ten people and lose one, and everyone asks why you didn’t save eleven."

His attention moved across the group.

"A famous hero can calm a crowd just by showing up. That same fame can turn one mistake into a national scandal. The people praising you in the morning might be demanding your resignation by dinner."

No one interrupted him.

Luke found himself agreeing despite his resentment toward heroes. He had always focused on their arrogance, their fame, and the way some of them cared more about appearances than justice. He had rarely considered what happened when thousands of people expected one person to make a perfect decision during a disaster.

"I don’t care whether any of you like the word," Red Hound continued. "I care what you do when someone depends on you."

He gestured toward the marked floor.

"This isn’t an agency recruitment test. I’m not here to decide whether you deserve a costume or a public ranking. I want to see what happens when your abilities stop behaving exactly as they did in the game."

One of his assistants handed him a tablet.

"Your questionnaires helped us identify the desires most likely to influence your powers, but don’t assume those desires are simple. People protect others for different reasons. Love, guilt, fear, even the need for control. Ambition isn’t any simpler."

After scrolling through the results, he looked toward Luke and Lauren.

"You two are a good example."

The rest of the group turned toward them.

"One of your dominant drives is protecting the people closest to you," Red Hound said to Lauren. "The other wants enough strength that no one can control what happens to him again."

His eyes shifted to Luke.

"Neither of you has only one condition. Your motivations overlap, and some are probably things you didn’t enjoy writing down."

Color returned to Lauren’s cheeks, and Luke quickly looked away.

Red Hound noticed without commenting.

"That overlap can be useful. Someone focused only on protection may hesitate when aggression is required, while someone driven only by ambition can forget everyone around him. A good pair covers those weaknesses."

He handed the tablet back to his assistant.

"Luke and Lauren, you’re first."

After stepping onto the center of the training floor, Red Hound faced them.

"You’ll spar with me."

Several people turned in their direction. One of the middle-aged men muttered something under his breath, while the younger woman beside him stared openly.

Luke’s heart began pounding.

Red Hound was not asking them to demonstrate their abilities against a target dummy or one of his assistants. He wanted them to fight him.

Lauren stepped forward before Luke could react. The uncertainty she had shown during the questionnaire disappeared as she faced the hero.

The difference in size between them was almost ridiculous. Red Hound looked capable of lifting her with one arm, while her hands were small enough to disappear inside his fists.

Lauren did not seem bothered.

She had no weapon and still did not know how reliably Oracle’s Glimpse would function under pressure. Even with medical staff watching, activating it could worsen her headache.

She took her place on the floor anyway.

Watching her move made Luke straighten. Lauren wanted to prove that her awakening was real. She wanted the Bureau to see that she could become the hero she had dreamed of being when she was younger, but the person she most needed to convince was herself.

Her daughters had followed the path she abandoned years ago. Now that path had somehow opened again, and she refused to retreat simply because the first person standing in front of her was terrifying.

Without saying a word, she had pushed Luke forward again. Lauren moved toward what she wanted even when uncertainty should have held her back, and he knew what he needed to do.

If she could step forward for the sake of her daughters and the dream she had once given up, then he could do the same for her.