"Ahem!"
The sound of Athena's sharp cough echoed through the room, making Lorna immediately stand up straight. She pressed her back tightly against the whitewashed wall, completely ignoring the layer of chalk dust that transferred onto her clothes. Her feet were aching more than ever; the tightly tied shoelaces felt like shackles, and her hard-soled shoes felt as unyielding as iron plates. She longed to kick them off and feel the cool, smooth floor beneath her bare feet—a habit she had indulged in countless times before, relishing the soothing sensation that spread through her body.
But she knew that was a pipe dream right now. Opposite her stood a pair of sharp, piercing eyes glaring at her with such intensity it felt like she was about to be wrung out like a wet towel. Athena's gaze seemed intent on squeezing every drop of guilt out of her. Unfortunately, guilt wasn't exactly an emotion Lorna was capable of at the moment. Her heart was pounding—not with shame, but with the nervous and mischievous thrill of getting caught. Her wide eyes sparkled with excitement, betraying none of the regret she should've been feeling. Luckily, she wasn't the only one facing punishment—her beloved older brother was standing right beside her.
She glanced at Solomon and stuck her tongue out at him playfully.
"You know why I put you in charge of Lorna's education, right?" Athena's stern voice directed its fury at Solomon first. As the older sibling, it was his responsibility to keep things under control. "Your recklessness is out of control, Solomon, and this time it came far too late and in the worst way possible. You should never have taken Lorna to do that, just as you should never have handed her a gun."
But I had so much fun, and I don't see what the big deal is, Lorna thought to herself. I've never done anything this exciting in my life! If we hadn't been caught, we might've been rich right now!
Solomon bowed his head, remaining silent as he endured his adoptive mother's scolding. He accepted full responsibility for their foolish escapade. In truth, he and Lorna were complete amateurs when it came to robbing banks. Their operation was less of a heist and more of a poorly-planned adventure. Everything they knew came from the internet, and even the location of the vault had been determined through a tracking spell Solomon cast on the bank's transport personnel.
Lorna, as expected, was a disaster from the moment they entered the vault. Instead of moving the cash as planned, she had thrown her arms in the air, screamed with glee, and dove headfirst into the piles of money. This stash, which belonged to AIM as part of its liquid assets, had been secretly transferred to this bank by Nick Fury. Solomon had learned about the money from classified S.H.I.E.L.D. files, thanks to Fury's assumption that Solomon didn't care about mundane wealth.
Solomon had intended to use the money to purchase the laboratory equipment Maya Hansen needed. However, watching Lorna roll around in the cash, using the vault as her personal playground, derailed his plans. She even went so far as to set up a small bonfire made out of U.S. dollars for roasting marshmallows.
The vault's thick metal doors ensured that no sound escaped, allowing Lorna's antics to go unchecked for a while. But Solomon had to admit that indulging her had been a mistake. She quickly became emboldened and started using spray paint to graffiti the vault walls. Solomon barely stopped her before she began defacing the stacks of money themselves.
"We need to get to work," Solomon finally said, snapping her back to reality.
"Can't we leave a little souvenir behind?" Lorna pouted.
"No, Lorna. We've wasted enough time already. Come on, pack the money into the bags, and—"
"Are we going to use the portal to leave? What about the flying broomstick?"
"Next time," Solomon replied.
At that moment, the vault's door creaked open. A bank clerk had arrived to begin the daily cash inspection. The unsuspecting employee froze in shock at the sight of Solomon yanking Lorna out of a pile of money. Lorna looked as though she was about to explain herself, but the words wouldn't come out.
"Are you here to join the pool party?" she asked innocently, blinking her wide green eyes.
"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!"
"If you could just calm down, we could handle this peacefully…" Solomon began, raising his hands in a placating gesture.
"SECURITY! SOMEONE CALL THE POLICE!!" the clerk screamed, bolting for the door.
"Fine," Solomon muttered, making a small hand gesture. The air shimmered, and rose petals seemed to drift from his fingers. The bank clerk collapsed to the marble floor with a dull thud, his gold-rimmed glasses clattering to the side.
"He's not… dead, is he?" Lorna asked nervously.
"No, just asleep. At most, he'll have a headache when he wakes up, maybe a sore nose. But I'm sure someone heard his scream. We need to move quickly." With a flick of his wrist, Solomon used magic to gather the scattered bills back into neat piles and pushed them through the still-open portal. On the other side of the portal, darkness awaited, with only faint lights flickering. Lorna couldn't tell where the portal led, but her adrenaline-fueled excitement made her overlook the detail entirely.
"Now that the vault door is open…" Solomon pulled out two masks and handed one to Lorna. She immediately understood and eagerly put hers on, grabbing the broomstick lying nearby.
"I'm ready!" she said, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
"Then let's go!" Solomon grinned.
"Go, Gryffindor!" Lorna cheered.
"You want to guess how many people saw you two flying out of the bank on that broomstick?" Athena jabbed her finger against Solomon's forehead, her annoyance palpable. Lorna giggled behind her hand, only to find herself receiving the same treatment. Athena poked her forehead with such force it seemed like she wanted to drill the lesson into her skull physically. Lorna closed her eyes and pretended to look remorseful, though her short, black-and-green hair bobbed mischievously with every poke.
"You're like an overgrown skunk that refuses to grow up!" Athena snapped.
Lorna, however, was no longer worried. She knew that as long as Minerva's punishment consisted of forehead pokes, the matter wasn't serious. When she had been caught pickpocketing coins from strangers, Minerva had punished her the same way. But if Minerva ever acted too calm, it meant the situation was dire. Lorna vowed never to let Minerva find out about the gun-stealing incident.
Solomon, on the other hand, was fully aware of the uproar they had caused on social media. The hashtag "#HarryPotterIsReal" had shot to the top of trending topics. Worse yet, the masks he had chosen for their escapade were Harry Potter character masks.
People in this era were fascinated by bizarre events, but Solomon wasn't worried.
"Relax. Everyone will just assume it's some CGI stunt or a new tech demo," Solomon said with a shrug. "Besides, internet attention spans last about seven days at best."
The bank couldn't report the theft because the money they had stolen was "nonexistent" on official records. As for Nick Fury, Solomon was certain the S.H.I.E.L.D. director would figure out who was responsible. But Fury had no evidence, and Solomon had no intention of confessing.
He'd bet on it.
"Boss! You're amazing! I love you!" Maya Hansen exclaimed, hugging a massive stack of cash. "We can buy all the equipment we need now! Just have your robots load this up. And for heaven's sake, get rid of those dark magic creature corpses—they're starting to rot in the freezers!"
"The equipment is your responsibility, Ms. Hansen. This money is yours to manage. There are a few hundred million dollars here. Contact your old connections—people who still accept cash transactions," Solomon said.
"What? You're not going to use online banking? How am I supposed to carry all this?"
"You'll manage," Solomon said, pulling out several silver briefcases. "Each briefcase can hold 64 cubic feet—1.81 cubic meters. One briefcase equals one hundred million dollars. Even when full, it won't weigh more than fifteen pounds. Oh, and this," Solomon added, producing an iron-colored ring from his pocket, "is for you."
"A gift? Perfect! I've had enough of plaid shirts. But if this is a proposal, I'll have to refuse. I wouldn't mind a fling, but marriage is a bit too much…"
"It's a defensive ring," Solomon interrupted her nonsense. "It'll enhance your defenses slightly. Don't get your hopes up, though—you'll still be vulnerable to bullets."
Maya clutched her chest and sighed with exaggerated relief. "Thank goodness. For a moment, I thought you were proposing."
"Enough talk. Get this place set up. We need to start the experiments."
"And the test subjects? I don't want to create a super-soldier that turns against us like some comic book villain. Also, where are those colleagues you promised me?"
"I've already picked your colleagues," Solomon said, nodding. He had long since made his decision. The group he had chosen was an ancient order of mages, scattered after Camelot's fall but still surviving in secret. Recently, B
althazar had managed to track them down. The group had integrated so deeply into mundane society that finding them had been a challenge.
Now, it was time to reclaim them in the name of the Heir of Excalibur.
"We're meeting your future colleagues soon. If they refuse to cooperate… well, you'll have some new experimental material, Ms. Hansen."
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