Carter walked Manhattan for hours. His phone was dying, his feet hurt and the October cold had seeped through his jacket into his bones. But going back to his apartment meant facing the reality of his overdue rent and a sad, lonely life. Stealing wouldn't be the right thing to do. He knew that. But righteousness did not pay bills or put food in his stomach. His last meal had been a bodega sandwich at lunch, and his stomach was starting to remind him of that fact with increasing urgency. He found himself in Midtown around ten at night. The streets were still busy with theatergoers and tourists and people whose lives were not falling apart. Carter watched them pass, these people with their nice clothes and easy laughter, and felt like he was observing a different species. He was about to head to the subway when his phone vibrated again. Another text from Elena. This time it was not words. Just a photo. Eli, asleep in bed, clutching the superhero drawing he had made. Even in sleep, th

The Mercedes moved through Manhattan like a shark through dark water. Smooth and silent. Carter sat as far from Reginald as the seat would allow, which was not very far. The man's presence filled the space and it made Carter very uncomfortable. The partition between the front and back seats was up. The driver was invisible behind tinted glass. Carter could see the van following behind them through the rear window. Reginald had his phone out, typing something rapidly. Carter tore his attention away from Reginald and instead watched the city slide past outside. They were heading uptown, toward the park. The streets were cleaner and quieter here. The buildings were also taller. This was not his New York. This was the version that existed for people like Owen Grace. People who had never worried about rent or food or whether they could afford the subway. "Who the hell are you really?" The question came out before Carter could stop it. Reginald did not look up from his phone as he answe

Carter woke to someone shaking his shoulder. He opened his eyes to find Reginald standing over him, fully dressed, looking like he had not slept at all. "It's five-thirty. Dr. Mora is ready for you." Carter sat up and asked "Ready for what?" "The first procedure. Come along," Reginald replied. Carter was led downstairs, then down another flight into what appeared to be a basement level. But this was not like any basement he had ever seen. The walls were white and several beeping equipment lined the hallways. It looked more like a private hospital than a basement. They entered a room that looked an operating theater. Carter noted the surgical lights and a table in the center with restraints. A woman in scrubs stood by a tray of instruments. 'She must be the Dr. Mora Reginald was talking about,' Carter thought to himself. She had the kind of face that might have been pretty if it ever smiled. It did not smile. She looked at Carter the way a mechanic might look at a broken car. "S

About four weeks had passed since the Protocol installation. Carter stood in front of the full-length mirror in his room at the Grace Manor, barely recognizing the person staring back. The transformation was complete. His hair was blonde, swept back in the way Owen wore it in all his photos. Blue contact lenses covered his natural brown eyes. The surgical changes to his face had healed perfectly. His nose was refined, his cheekbones more pronounced. He wore clothes that cost more than he used to make in a month. A navy blazer, white shirt, dark jeans that fit perfectly because they had been tailored specifically for him. He looked exactly like Owen Grace. But when he stared into those blue eyes, he still saw Carter Hayes underneath. Still saw the con artist from Brooklyn pretending to be something he was not. The Protocol hummed quietly in his head, a constant presence now. He had learned to ignore it most of the time, to push it to the background of his awareness. But it was alwa

Carter's hands were still shaking when he reached his room. He slammed the door behind him and leaned against it, trying to catch his breath. The humiliation from Kane's class was still fresh, burning in his chest like acid. Seventy-two hours. Three days to build a social media empire from nothing or lose everything. A notification popped up on his vision, showing an I coming video call from Reginald. Carter swiped right to accept it and was immediately face to face with a frowning Reginald. "Sit," Reginald said, pointing to a desk chair behind Carter. "I'd rather stand," Carter said. "That wasn't a request," Reginald growled. Slowly, Carter sat down. "Do you have any idea," Reginald began, "how catastrophically you've failed today?" "Failed?" Carter's frustration finally broke through. "How the hell was I supposed to know about some quarterly evaluation? You trained me for three weeks on etiquette and voice coaching and Owen's history, but nobody—NOBODY—mentioned that I'd b