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The super known as Hazrat scowled at Roman Martin.
“I know it’s not what you wanted to hear,” Roman told him, “but your wife is here in Centralia on an S2 Visa. Which means she is your dependent. Because she is your dependent, and not here as an immigrant worker, she is not allowed to work.”
“But my wife is a Type III Class E, and the job she has is working with a science lab directly affiliated with the Centralian government.”
Roman, sitting at Kevin’s desk, sighed as a frown took shape on his face. He had been arguing with Hazrat for ten minutes now, and the guy just didn’t seem to get it.
There was nothing Roman could do for him.
It was out of his control—just like most, if not all, immigration-related laws.
Hazrat, who was clearly from the Southern Alliance, was used to a different way of government. Bribes, forgery, nepotism, privilege. It wasn’t that Centralia didn’t have these things, but the exclusive Southern Alliance was known for them.
It struck Roman as ironic that a rich man from the south would be arguing immigration with him; the Southern Alliance had some of the strictest immigration laws on record.
And Roman wasn’t stupid enough to think Hazrat wasn’t dangerous.
The muscular man was a Type II Class D. His records indicated that he could manipulate shadows into weapons, which was why Roman was keeping an eye on every shadow cast in Kevin’s cubicle office.
He’d already seen a few of the shadows tremble.
“I don’t think you understand how talented she is,” Hazrat said, his long mustache lifting back as he revealed his teeth.
“Sir, with all due respect, my understanding of your wife’s ability has nothing to do with her current visa status. If she wants to switch to a W visa, that’s fine, but she’ll need to do what’s called a Change of Status, which can take up to one year to process, and during that time she cannot work, period.”
“But if it takes a year, she’ll lose this job opportunity!” Hazrat’s nostrils flared. He was a light-skinned guy with tattoos and markings running along the sides of his head and down his spine. Not everyone in the South looked like this; from what Roman could tell, Hazrat must have had somewhat of a rebellious streak in his youth.
“I am well aware of that, but again—and I can’t emphasize this enough—this situation is out of my hands. There is no one you can appeal it to, and as I told you five minutes ago, you have two options: One, you can file for a change of status. This would mean she goes from an S2 Visa to a W Visa. Two, you could go back to the Southern Alliance and then come back on the correct visa. If you did this, you would have to go to the Centralian Embassy again, go through the entire application process of getting a W Visa, and come back that way. Personally, I suggest the second option, as it is faster and she could probably start working sooner.”
“But she wants to start working now,” Hazrat growled. Roman noticed the shadows cast by the books on Kevin’s desk start to grow.
“Intimidating me isn’t going to get you what you want; it will just end with you either going to jail or being forced to leave the country after going to jail,” said Roman, his voice firm. He wasn’t visibly scared of Hazrat, regardless of the man’s powers. “And I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news here, but all this information was made available to you when you came here on a Student Visa.”
Shadows from beneath Kevin’s desk tore through the wood paneling, sending pens, pencils and loose papers into the air.
The corner of the cubicle collapsed, causing some commotion as they also brought Kevin’s neighbor’s cubicle wall and Roman’s cubicle wall down. Every available shadow now floated in the air, barbed, occasionally stabbing at items around them.
Roman had already kicked over his chair at this point, and, realizing he was pinned, he kept both arms at the ready, poised to spring into action as soon as the opportunity presented itself.
Security was already on the way, evident by the siren that was going off.
“I will fucking kill you,” Hazrat said.
“Then do it,” Roman said, his fists in front of his body. He’d fought an exemplar before. It hadn’t been easy, and he’d ultimately lost, but after all the battles Roman had been in, he wasn’t the type to go down without a fight.
Besides, there hadn’t been a moment in the last few years in which Roman hadn’t been ready to die. And this wasn’t the first super who had blown up at him.
A tendril of shadow pulled back, and just as it was about to whip at Roman, Hazrat began choking. He fell to his knees, his face turning red as his eyes bulged.
Standing behind him was one of the security supers, her eyes white as she held her hand out.
Roman had to laugh.
Coco was a Type I class D, someone not to be fucked with. He should know; he’d helped do her paperwork for some relative she had in the North Alliance.
“You okay?” Coco asked.
“Yeah,” Roman said as his heart lowered from his throat back to his chest.
Just because he was accustomed to dealing with angry supers did not make him any less nervous when accosted. “I will, um, go ahead and get the paperwork for this filled out and bring it down for you to sign.”
“Okay, I’ll take him down to holding and we’ll go from there.” Coco grabbed Hazrat by the back of his shirt and dragged him away.
“Geez,” Roman said as he examined the mess.
They were going to need to get a new desk—that was certain. And looking over to his cubicle, he saw his desk had been partially destroyed as well.
As he’d done when this had happened previously, Roman began going through some of the debris, waiting for the cleanup team to arrive. He just needed to grab a few of the papers to file his report, and he was picking up the last of the paper when he noticed the shimmering end of a Hero Ticket.
Roman rolled his eyes.
He couldn’t believe Kevin was stupid enough to play this stuff, and having gone through his own spell of trying to win exemplar status, he knew just how big a waste of money it was.
Still, the Hero Ticket was there, and Kevin wasn’t going to be around to see if it was a winner.
So Roman slipped the ticket into his stack of papers, figuring he could check the number later.
