I walk into the gladiatorial sphere of debate known as Ethics 101. I'm the first one here, besides Professor Armol, of course. He's at his standing desk, typing away on his laptop. The raised center of the room now features a circular pad with six segmented arms, each ending in spikes, that hold a digital interface sphere. What does he need the projector for?

I take my seat in the middle, where I usually do. It shows initiative, but not eagerness. When there are only ten students, it isn't really possible to stay unnoticed. Add to that who sits next to me, and it's basically impossible for me not to attract attention. I enjoy Professor Armol's class; it's fun, and I like the debates and discussions. My green over-the-shoulder bag contains my laptop and the notes I'll need for today's topic.

The effects of the Bystander Clause. The Bystander Clause is a part of the Neuvohuman Accords. It was put into law that a Neuvohuman is not required to intervene in a dangerous situation if it will result in danger to themselves or, in the case of Capes, the loss of their secret identity. A very controversial topic he's prepared for us today. There are groups still lobbying to get this clause removed from the Accords today. Many people believe it is the duty of those with powers to protect those without, but why should civilians who didn't ask for these powers be forced to risk their health and life stability for strangers? The professor said to be ready to present for either side, and I'm prepared for both.

There are fifteen minutes until class starts, and a few students are starting to trickle in, including Violet, who spots me and waves. There goes any thought that things would be different or awkward after her confession—a welcome change to deal with a stable woman coming on to me. Tuesday is a horny basket case and Maria was broken before I knew her. She takes her seat to my right and gets her laptop out of her bag.

"I still can't believe you take physical notes, my wrist hurts just thinking about it," Violet said.

"That's just your lack of discipline talking. Practice makes perfect. Also, I'm just wary of entrusting all my notes to my laptop. That's why I write them here and then type them up later. The repetition makes it easier to remember. What do you think of today's topic?" I asked.

"I'm not telling you," Violet said, sticking her tongue at me. "The moment I reveal which side I'm hoping to get, you're going to start getting ready to pick it apart."

"I am quite the dastardly character in your story, aren't I?"

"Yeah, I'd definitely call you a villain," Violet remarked.

"Don't you mean Cowl? Villain is such an antiquated term, and shows an inherent bias."

"You're already doing it, and class hasn't even started. UGGH," she whines, putting her head on her laptop.

The last couple of students run in as the seconds until class start tick away. The professor seems happier than usual, nearly overflowing with energy. His curls, which are usually tied up, hang loosely, jostling as he moves around. Even his eyes seem decades younger, and the sharpness of his gaze is evident of something going on. What is going on with him? He's never been this energized before. Maybe Violet knows.

"Hey, what's up with the professor?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

"There's something going on. He's brought his laptop and a digital interface sphere today, but he wouldn't need that for our current topic," I answered.

"He probably just has videos to show us related to the Bystander Clause," she responded dismissively.

"Not just that. He's wearing his hair down, and he's never done that before. Also, his pants are dirty, and the shirt beneath his cardigan isn't tucked in. He seems manically excited about something, but I don't know what it is," I said casually.

"Since when did you become such a detective?" Violet joked.

"I'm just observant of people and have a keen eye for detail," I delivered dryly.

"Thank you for correcting me, those would obviously be terrible qualities for a detective to have," she snarked.

"Am I detecting a hint of sarcasm?" I countered.

Our relationship might actually be easier to manage now that her feelings are out in the open. People are such complex creatures; based on my brief meeting with Virtue, I assumed that Violet might react poorly to my refusal. But she didn't, and I have one less potential issue to plan for. I no longer have to carefully plan out my words, be wary of how things are interpreted, or avoid hanging out with her if the others aren't around.

"A detective and a comedian? You're really the complete package. And about Professor Armol, it could be a multitude of different things. We don't know anything about his personal life, well, I don't, but maybe you do, Mr. Keen eye for detail."

She's right. Despite my enjoyment of his class, I know nothing about the man. Does he have a partner? Is he gay, straight, or somewhere else on the sexuality spectrum? Does he have children? Even his likes and dislikes are complete mysteries to me.

The time for class to start has passed while Violet and I have been conversing. The professor is still at his desk, focused on his work. The rest of our classmates are also talking, but the chatter slowly quiets as people realize class isn't starting.

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"Professah Armol, is class happening today?" Penny asked.

The way Penny asked him may seem rude or disrespectful, but that's just the way she speaks. Penelope Soppitt, Nineteen, from Augusta, Maine. European descent, with the northeastern accent very present in her speech. I don't believe that an accent reveals anything about a person's intellect, but I am glad that New Farford doesn't share that accent. Penny doesn't know where I'm from, and for that, I can be glad. She'd probably say New Fahfud. Penny has long, brown hair that falls past her waist, a wide forehead, and is very thin. It seems to be coincidental; she doesn't show any of the other traits that eating disorders carry. Besides her somewhat abrasive way of speaking, she is unremarkable. She is also a fence sitter, adverse to taking any hard stance in the class. She's too worried about upsetting someone.

"Ah, yes. Apologies, I am trying to get a stream going to the projector. Today's planned topic has been postponed. There is a press conference that will be starting shortly that will be a monumental event that will significantly impact the sociopolitical landscape of the entire world. Well as long as I can get this damned projector working," Professor Armol answered animatedly.

"I'll help you get it set up, I'm pretty tech savvy," Devonte bragged sarcastically.

"Bro joins a tech subreddit and suddenly thinks he's the third coming of Steve Jobs," Shayne said loudly, his eyes rolling.

Devonte Thomas and Shayne Whitman, the only other pair of friends in the class besides me and Violet. They both grew up in Holyoke and have known each other their whole lives. Both are decent human beings, even if they can't let an opportunity to roast one another pass. Just like Isaiah and Tuesday. Devonte starts checking things on the professor's computer and the cables coming out of it. The professor's answer does interest me. What is he referring to?

"What's the press conference about?" Violet asked.

Thank you.

"How many of you are familiar with what has been going on around the Persian Gulf the last few years?" He asked.

No one answers, and the professor sighs.

"Patriotism can become nationalism when the people choose ignorance over education. There is no excuse for putting one's head in the sand willingly. If our country is ever going to counter the correct belief that Americans only care about themselves, then you need to expand your outlook to a more global scale," Professor Armol lectured.

With everything I have going on, I don't have time to think about much more than Quinstin. Professor Armol has proven to be a wise man, and it would be foolish to reject his advice. Still, I am unaware of whatever he's referring to in the Persian Gulf.

"Over the last five years, a political group emerged in the Middle East, challenging the status quo. They're known as the Court of Princes, and they quickly became very popular amongst the people. The reason for this is that their leadership is composed of ten powerful Neuvohumans. Today, there will be a press conference where they will address the wider world for the first time. The ten of them do not wear costumes or disguise their identities in any way. They've grown from a small movement to a power bloc that cannot be ignored," he continued.

"Professor, I figured it out," Devonte said, as the projector started up.

It flickers for a second, but the feed stabilizes, showing a desk of analysts and political commentators. They're in a newsroom with NRCMSNC in bold letters behind them, sitting on raised chairs around a pentagon table. Several cameras are going, as the POV switches between the five members of the table. Each angle change is accompanied by a name card appearing beneath the person. The host for the group is Launa Dorino, a journalist turned political talk show host. Then there's Malik Abdullah Nadim, a journalist who's been following the rise of the Court of Princes. There's a pair of analysts, one economic and the other political: James Mathas and Robyn Simone. The final member of the panel is the most surprising; it's a Heroes' Union Cape named Chronicle, who leads a team in Ontario. I don't know anything about him, and Ontario is so far away that it isn't relevant to me at all. His costume is a teal blue suit with white leaves etched on it. He's wearing a silver mask covered in blue swirls that shows off his stubbled chin but covers his upper face. What power do you have?

"We are just minutes away from the first official address by the group known as the Court of Princes. We have a fantastic panel of guests to really break down what we're about to see today. Forgive me, gentlemen, but Chronicle, as our resident Neuvohuman, would you mind giving your thoughts on the group?" Launa asked.

"Sure, Launa. The ten members of the C.O.P. are all pretty essential for what they're attempting to do. Unlike the majority of the world's Capes and Cowls, they do not have a codename. Well, not in the way you would assume. The ten of them each occupy a Seat, based not on what they can do, but on their contribution to the group. You have the Seat of the Earth, Seat of Conflict, Seat of Commerce, Seat of Growth, Seat of Clear Skies, Seat of the Champion, Seat of the Future, Seat of Stillness, Seat of the Visionary, and the Seat of Direction. I'll be honest with the rest of you, a lot of what the group can do isn't known. But they are helping the poor, the famished, and the lost; that makes them alright in my book," Chronicle said.

"Even though by the law of the Accords, they would be considered Cowls? As a representative of the Heroes' Union, are you saying that the Union supports the actions of the Court?" Robyn Simone asked with a predatory smile.

"Fucking vultures," Violet whispered disdainfully.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"She's purposely misinterpreting his words as a gotcha moment. The Heroes' Union has it hard enough as it is without ungrateful scavengers like that trying to trap Capes," she spat.

Clearly, that hit a nerve. Is it Robyn specifically, or just those like her? I know her parents are both Capes and in the Heroes' Union. Maybe they had something like that happen to them. I realize I don't know who her parents are, and there really isn't a way to find out. I should've looked it up when I still had the database.

"Ms. Simone, Chronicle was kind enough to join us in the studio today as a Neuvohuman rep, not as a member of the Heroes' Union. Do not turn this panel into a circus in an attempt to generate clicks and clips," Launa warned.

"Ms. Simone, I'd like to correct you on something you just said. The Court of Princes is not Cowls, and it is inflammatory and disgraceful of you to insinuate it. They work toward the future of all Muslims and the betterment of the Middle East as a whole. They have defended themselves when pushed to, but have yet to seek out violence of any kind," Malik Abdullah Nadim said calmly.

Things seem to be heating up between the panelists. If their aim was to generate interest, they have done so very successfully. There is an energy amongst the panel. They're all avoiding talking about something. It's plain as day on their faces, everyone except Chronicle is nervous. But why? The press conference hasn't happened yet. Maybe there have been rumblings of whatever the conference is about already. As if the universe is responding to my thoughts, Launa touches her earpiece, listening to her producer.

"It looks like the stream is starting up. We'll go live to that now," Launa said as the screen transitions.

What do they have to say?

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