#SuperViral, Ch 9: The Contagion of Collaboration Pt. 1

Alex Chen's superpower was being a human mirror, reflecting the abilities of others for his audience, but lately, he'd begun to fear that if he looked too closely, he'd find nothing behind the glass.

He stared at his editing timeline on his computer, letting out a sigh. The video was fine. It was charming. In it, he was sitting cross-legged in a park. A small, chattering squirrel was on his shoulder. Its frantic thoughts about acorns and predators filled his mind, which had borrowed the squirrel's consciousness. His guest, "The Nutcracker," a kind, strange Super with minor animal telepathy, was explaining the details of squirrel politics. The title card Alex had designed read: "I Spoke to Squirrels for a Day! (You Won't BELIEVE What They Said!)."

It would get a decent number of views. His loyal followers would call it "wholesome" and "fun." And it was, in its own way. But cool? Powerful? Another video in the growing collection of @OneForAllVids being the friendly, approachable, "gosh-golly-wow" Super-vlogger next door. Middle-tier. Safe. Wholesome. He scrubbed a hand over his face, the screen's bland light making his skin feel thin. He needed an edge, a taste of the raw power he saw in the top channels.

As if his computer had heard his desperate, silent prayer, a notification banner slid across the top of his screen, its icon a stark, private envelope. A direct message on Lens. His eyes widened. The username was simple, stark, and absolutely electrifying: @TheSyndicate.

A sharp, painful pulse beat in Alex's throat. He clicked on the message, having to steady his wrist on the desk to keep the cursor from jittering as he moved it to open the envelope. The Syndicate was a cultural phenomenon. They were a trio of Supers-Void, Pulse, and Whisper-who had rejected the polished, company-friendly image of hero agencies like the Windy City Guardians. Their videos, shot with a gritty, movie-like style, showed off their powers with an anti-establishment coolness that felt dangerous and real. They were the cool kids, the rebels, and their follower count was soaring into the millions.

The message was from Void, their charismatic leader, and it was surprisingly direct. "Alex. We've been watching your channel. Your style is unique, your ability to copy powers is impressive. You're more than a one-trick pony. We respect that." Heat bloomed across Alex's neck and ears. "We have a proposal. A major collaboration. Three videos for your BeamCast channel. You borrow the power of each of us for a day. We're calling it 'The Ultimate Power Swap.' Think you can handle something a little more intense than squirrels?"

This was it. The golden ticket. A lifeline thrown by the coolest, most ruthless pirates on the digital sea. It was an anointing. A chance to shed his "wholesome" image and show the world-and himself-that he could be powerful, that he could be one of them.

He immediately called his agent, Sarah. His voice was breathless with excitement. Sarah, who was always practical, was cautious. "Alex, this is huge, yes, but be careful. The Syndicate has a reputation. They're provocative. Their message is... intense. Some sponsors might get nervous."

"Who cares about sponsors, Sarah? This is about being relevant!" Alex shot back, already blinded by the possibilities. "This could put me on the A-list. Imagine the numbers! Imagine the content! I have to do this." He barely listened to her advice about contracts and creative control. He hung up and typed his reply to Void, his fingers flying across the keyboard. "I can definitely handle it. Let's do this."

The chosen filming location was an abandoned steel mill on the South Side. It was like a cathedral of rust and decay, which was The Syndicate's natural environment. Alex, feeling very out of place in his clean, bright vlogger-friendly jacket, met the trio as the sun was setting. The setting sun cast long, dramatic shadows through the shattered windows.

They were even cooler in person. Void (Marcus) greeted him with a firm handshake and a killer smile. His charm radiated an easy confidence. Pulse (Kira) vibrated with a contained energy, her gaze a physical weight. And Whisper (Leo) was disturbingly still, a silent observer whose quiet presence was somehow more intimidating than Kira's obvious intensity. Alex felt a desperate, almost painful urge to impress them, to prove he was more than some kid who played with squirrels.

The first video was with Void. "Ready to walk in the shadows, Echo?" Void asked.

"Born ready," Alex replied, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt.

For the camera, he explained his process. "Okay, so for the mimicry to work, I need to establish a temporary bio-kinetic resonance link. Basically… a handshake." He held out his hand to Void. As their hands clasped, Alex felt a strange, thrillingly cold feeling seep into him. It felt like stepping from a warm room into a deep, starless night. The shadows in the corners of the huge mill seemed to get deeper, to call to him. The power to Shadow Meld was his.

The "Urban Stealth Challenge" was a complete success. Guided by Void's expert advice, Alex learned to dissolve into darkness, to move across open spaces completely unseen. His form became a fleeting distortion in the air. He completed a series of tasks-planting a beacon, getting a hidden package, "tagging" a target without being seen-all while The Syndicate's high-end drones swooped and dived, capturing stunning, movie-like footage. Void was a perfect collaborator on camera. He offered tips, gave encouragement, and engaged in witty chat that made Alex feel like a natural part of their team. The video was going to be incredible.

It was during the breaks, however, that the first red flags appeared. They were small and subtle enough to be ignored. Huddled around a portable heater, with the cameras off, their conversation changed. They made fun of a well-known hero from the Windy City Guardians, Titan Tom. They called him a "corporate puppet" and a "big, dumb slab of muscle for the cameras."

Alex's chest tightened. He remembered being ten years old, clutching a Titan Tom action figure while watching news footage of the hero pulling survivors from a collapsed building. The way Tom had cradled that little girl, so careful despite his massive strength. Alex had wanted to be like that-powerful and gentle at once. The memory felt embarrassingly childish now, sitting here with people who saw the world so differently.

He offered a weak, non-committal chuckle, the sound hollow in his own ears.

Later, Void, while reviewing some footage, made a slick, cruel joke about a regular security guard they had easily passed. "Look at him," Void sneered. "Living his whole life in that little booth, thinking his little flashlight makes a difference. The fragility of them… it's almost sad."

Kira laughed, a sharp, dismissive sound. Whisper just smiled faintly, a chilling little curl of his lips.

A sudden sourness rose in his throat. The need to belong was a heat that burned away the unease. It's just talk, he thought. Top-tier talk. Get a thicker skin.

He forced a laugh, a little too loud, a little too eager, joining in their mockery.

***

The second collaboration was in a place that made the abandoned steel mill look like a public park. It was a private training center hidden in an unmarked warehouse. It was a high-tech playground of concrete, steel, and advanced robots. The feeling was immediately more intense. The air was charged with a low hum of electricity. Today was Pulse's day. Kira, her hair pulled back in a tight, practical ponytail, met him with a challenging grin instead of a handshake. "Ready to feel the juice, Echo?" she asked, her knuckles crackling with faint blue sparks.

As Alex held her offered hand, the power transfer was a jarring, violent change from the cold silence of Void's shadow power. It was like grabbing a live wire. A buzzing, wild energy surged through him. A metallic taste filled his mouth and a low hum resonated behind his teeth. But it was more than that-the world suddenly rewired itself in his perception. The walls became translucent, revealing shimmering rivers of copper and light flowing through the building's veins. He could see the electrical pathways like luminous arteries, pulsing with data. The drones lined up against the far wall weren't just machines anymore; they were constellations of power signatures, each circuit board a miniature galaxy of flowing electrons. He felt the heartbeat of the building itself, the thrum of transformers two floors down, the whisper of current through every wire and outlet. It was intoxicating, a feeling of raw, untamed power that made him feel dangerously alive. Void's power had been about disappearing, about becoming nothing. Pulse's was about pure, chaotic presence.

The video idea was simple and exciting: "Testing Super-Powers vs. High-Tech Security." The Syndicate had gotten a fleet of old but still working Kerberos security drones. These were tough machines designed to track and stop powered individuals. Alex's job was to take them down using Kira's Bio-Electric Disruption power. The first few tries were clumsy. Alex would send out a jolt, but his control was sloppy. The energy would spread out harmlessly against the drone's shielding.

"You're thinking too much!" Kira yelled from behind the safety of a blast shield. Her voice was sharp with impatience. "Stop aiming like some Texas Tornado trying to preserve the pavement. Feel it! Let it out!"

Her words, meant as an insult, hit their target. The comparison to the "official" heroes, the ones The Syndicate mocked as weak and useless, stung. He wanted to prove he was different. He focused on raw power instead of precision. The next drone zipped towards him, its red optical sensor glowing. Alex unleashed. A crackling arc of blue lightning erupted from his hands, a chaotic, hungry tendril that slammed into the drone, frying its circuits with a satisfying pop and sending it clattering to the floor, smoking.

"Yes! There you go!" Kira cheered. "More! Again!"

Fueled by her encouragement and the heady rush of destructive power, Alex grew bolder. He took down another drone, then two at once, laughing as they spun out of the air. He was no longer just borrowing a power; he was enjoying it. His on-camera personality shifted from curious vlogger to arrogant powerhouse, reflecting Kira's aggressive energy back at her, amplified.

"Last one!" Kira shouted. She activated the largest, most heavily armored drone in the fleet. "It's shielded for major electrical surges. You gotta give it everything you've got. Come on, Echo, give it some real juice!"

The challenge was impossible to resist. Alex gathered the buzzing energy inside him. He felt it build to an almost unbearable pressure. With a deep yell, he thrust his hands forward, sending everything he had at the advancing drone. A blindingly bright, thick bolt of lightning slammed into the machine. The drone exploded in a shower of sparks and metal pieces, a spectacular, movie-like climax. But the energy kept going. Overloaded and uncontrolled, a second arc of electricity lashed out from the explosion like a whip. It hit a massive electrical box on the far wall with a deafening CRACK!

The main lights of the facility died instantly. The huge space was plunged into near-total darkness. The hum of hidden electricity stopped. A moment of deep silence, then the dim, red emergency lights flickered on, casting eerie, ominous shadows.

Kira's sharp, barking laugh echoed in the gloom. "Whoops! Guess we blew a fuse," she said, stepping out from behind the shield, completely unfazed. "Good thing this place is off the city grid." She walked over and clapped him hard on the back, a gesture that seemed to claim him. "See? That's real power, Alex. You don't do that controlled, 'minimal-collateral-damage' crap the official heroes use. Sometimes you gotta break things to make a point."

Alex stood there. His hands were still tingling. His heart was pounding from the adrenaline. The acrid smell of ozone filled his nostrils. A blackout. Total destruction. The humming in his bones felt wrong now, a sick vibration.

But Kira's words, her validation of his "real power," were like a seductive poison. She was praising him for the very thing the Guardians would have suspended him for. He was being accepted for being dangerous. For the camera, he forced a cocky grin. "What can I say? The performance was shocking."

The success of the first two videos was incredible. They went hyper-viral, launching Alex's channel into a new level of fame. The comments section, once filled with "wholesome" praise, was now a different landscape-edgier, more aggressive. They praised his "raw power" and "killer instinct." "@OneForAllVids finally leveled up!" one comment read. "Yo, The Syndicate is way cooler than those corporate stooges at WC G." He was high on the success, the numbers, the validation he had wanted for so long. The faint, nagging voice of his own conscience was easily drowned out by the roar of his new popularity.

He met The Syndicate at a private, unmarked location in the financial district to plan the final collaboration with Whisper. The place felt like a high-tech bunker with reinforced doors and an air of quiet, serious purpose. The mood was celebratory. Void poured them all glasses of expensive whiskey, raising his in a toast. "To Alex," he said, his smile genuine and welcoming. "The most versatile Super on BeamCast."

Alex felt a warm glow spread through his chest, and the whiskey only intensified it. This was it. He belonged.

Void draped a friendly arm around Alex's shoulders. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone. "You've been great, Alex. A natural. You get it. You get that what we're doing here is more than just making videos for clicks. It's about showing people what real, unchained power looks like." He leaned in closer. "Tonight, we're having a small, private get-together. No cameras, no public. Just some… key supporters. Friends. People who are helping us build the future. We want you there. It's time you saw what The Syndicate is really about, beyond the curated content."

The offer was intoxicating. A look behind the curtain, an invitation to the inner circle. The ultimate validation.

Whisper, who had been watching the exchange from the corner of the room with his usual unnerving stillness, offered a rare, thin smile. "Consider it your final initiation, Echo," he said, his voice a soft, sibilant whisper.

The word "initiation" hung in the air. A cold spike of caution tried to surface, but the whiskey, the praise, the raw want-it drowned everything. He needed this. He was on the verge of everything he thought he wanted: power, relevance, and the respect of the coolest people in the room.

"I'm in," he said, a wide, eager smile plastered on his face, mirroring Void's. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

***