False Gods | The Prime Archives #3 ✓

epilogue

Dressed in an all-black pantsuit with the top button undone, Victoria marched through the circular lobby of Mount Othrys—the new base of operations for the reformed Atlas—like she owned the place. Not a single strand of her silky black hair was out of place. The sound of her heels clacking against the grey quartz tiles overpowered the low chatter around her.

In a way, she did own Mount Othrys. Months had passed since General North had been stripped of his title as director of Atlas. Victoria had yet to be replaced. She was beginning to think her interim status would become permanent sooner than later.

Good, she thought. There was no one more qualified than her. She knew the DNA of Atlas better than anyone else. She wouldn't let it get corrupted again; not if she could help it.

She passed by the fountain in the center of the open-air lobby. Agents in mission gear, researchers, and suit-clad officials populated the spacious entrance hall. In the center of it all was a fountain. A massive statue, stretching to the ceiling, stood on a podium in the water—a kneeling titan with the world resting on his shoulders. The statue had been created by Bumi Devanagari, the recruit with the ability to control rocks.

Smiling, Victoria nodded at it and continued for the elevator.

She was on her way to her third meeting that morning. It wouldn't be her last for the day either. The constant meetings and proposals and press was no short of annoying, but someone had to do it.

With a sigh, she pressed the button to head to the fourth floor of the newly designed facility. As she waited for the lift to arrive, her earpiece crackled to life with a voice on the other end. Her brows furrowed.

"Director Shaw," one of her agents began, "you've got a visitor in your office."

A visitor?

"In my office?" She frowned as her entire body tensed. "Wait a minute, who let them up? You know everyone is supposed to get checked in at the front, right?"

"Er, yes, ma'am," they replied. "No one let them up. None of the security guards remembers seeing them. I'm not sure how they got in your office."

"Send a security team," she ordered. "I'm on my way."

"Already on it, Director."

Nodding, Victoria stepped into the elevator.

#

Upon arriving at her office, she instructed the group of security guards to wait outside. According to them, the person inside was just a teen—no older than twenty-one. She peered at him through the small window built into the door.

He wore khakis, brown loaders, and a white polo shirt. His curly brown hair was tied into a bun atop his head and his hands were clasped firmly around a stack of yellow folders. The boy had his back toward her as he stood next to her black desk.

She lifted a brow at him.

How the hell did he get in?

Victoria opened the door. The guards behind her bristled, their hands itching for the weapons clipped to their hips. Turning, she waved them down.

"Are you sure, boss?" one of them asked.

She nodded. "I've got a feeling he's not an enemy." She winked at them. "I'll shout if I need you."

She stepped into the room and cleared her throat. Strutting over to the chair behind her seat, she took another look at her visitor. He was a few inches shorter than she was and there was barely any muscle on him. If a fight were to break out, she doubted the gun holstered to her hip would be needed.

A curious look settled on her face.

Flinching, he turned to her. His golden complexion darkened slightly as his cheeks reddened. Smiling sheepishly, he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Er, sorry for the unexpected arrival. And for breaking into your office," he said. He was British. London, most likely. "But I need to make sure I saw you."

"You could've made an appointment."

"It's quite hard to get ahold of you."

She shrugged. He wasn't wrong.

"What can I do for you?"

Nodding, he approached her desk and dropped the folders before her. Each one was labeled something different and filled to the brim with files and photos. Victoria took a peek at the one on the top.

Her face scrunched as she peered at a hazy photo of a fight on a dock in what looked like the south of France. Light shot out their hands in the still image. Some of them wore civilian clothes while the others donned robes blacker than the darkest night.

Victoria looked back at the boy.

"What are these?"

"You deal with Primes. Superheroes."

She stifled a laugh. "I wouldn't exactly use that word."

"Semantics." He waved his hand. "Anyways, that's your world. But what if I told you there was something else. Something you wouldn't believe living right beneath our noses for thousands of years."

She stared at him, studying the excitement bubbling beneath his boyish features. Clicking her tongue, she examined the photo in her hand again.

"Go on."

He pulled a chair from a nearby coffee table and placed it on the other side of the desk. Before he started talking again, Victoria stopped him.

"What'd you say your name was?"

"Henri," he said, extending his hand toward her, "Henri Beck."

She nodded and urged him to continue.

"Magic exists," he told her. "Monsters too. They've both been here much longer than any of us have. There are people in this world who've been born with the ability to harness it, use it however they see fit. They live in hidden cities across the planet and among society like shadows."

"Magic?" Her eyes narrowed. "Monsters?" She laughed. "Seriously?"

Henri scowled. "I'm telling the truth."

"I'm sorry, but this all seems a little farfetched."

"So do people with superpowers."

Touché.

She let him resume.

"It's real, okay," he told her. "All of it." His face paled as an ominous look filled his brown eyes. "And something is coming. We need to prepare."

"Prepare? Prepare for what?"

He pointed to the folder at the bottom of the pile.

Victoria cautiously pulled it out and opened it, examining its contents.

And she couldn't believe what she saw.