Chapter 14: The Curtain Falls

Harvey's office was a shrine to surveillance. On the far wall, a mosaic of glowing screens flickered, each one tuned to a different feed. But all of Harvey's attention was locked on the one in the center, the show.

On-screen, Sue's body moved with the group, their rhythm rising like a tide. The music built toward its inevitable crash, sweat glistening under the studio lights, until all of a sudden there was stillness. Every dancer froze in perfect unison.

And then Harvey appeared into the hallway, striding onto the set with his arms thrown wide as if he wanted claim the stage for himself. His voice, grand and booming, singing her praises as though she were a goddess he had just discovered.

Sue's chest heaved. Breath came in sharp bursts, not from fear this time but from the sheer force of adrenaline coursing through her. Hormones lit her veins like fire. An assistant hurried forward, placing a towel in her damp hands, offering a chilled bottle of water.

"WOO!" Sue cried, her voice ragged but triumphant. "Thank you, everybody!"

The room erupted in applause. She was radiant, glowing, her exhaustion almost holy. She turned to leave, but a sudden thought struck her.

"Oh!" she gasped, spinning back to the camera. Her eyes sparkled under the unforgiving lights.

For a breath, the studio seemed to belong entirely to her.

"In the meantime…" she whispered, winking, lips curling in a playful kiss cast straight into the lens. "Take care of yourself."

Then the lights cut.

The air itself seemed to quiver, charged with the raw, unspent energy of bodies pushed to their limits. It was as if the room had to breathe again, relearning calm after so much frenzy.

From the control booth, a voice rang out, sharp and final, "That's a wrap!"

Chaos returned at once, cheers, laughter, shouts of relief. Performers collapsed into chairs, hugging one another, stretching sore limbs, giddy with the freedom that followed effort.

And then, like thunder splitting the sky, came Harvey's ecstatic voice, echoing through the studio:

"Where is she?? Where is she??"

Sue slipped into the narrow backstage corridor, her heartbeat still drumming from the final moments under the hot studio lights. The air here smelled faintly of dust and floor polish, cooler than the stage but no less charged with electricity. She unscrewed the cap of her little water bottle, taking a slow sip, as if it could rinse away the adrenaline buzzing through her veins.

Her gaze caught on the oversized framed poster dominating the wall — her own smiling face, perfect hair, in bold lettering:

PUMP IT UP with Sue The first of many to come...

The words almost glowed in the sterile corridor light. For a brief, dizzying second, she felt suspended between disbelief and pride. It was her. She was the face on the wall. Not a dream, not a fantasy — a fact. The glisten in her eyes sharpened, threatening to spill over, but she forced a smile instead. There wasn't time to linger. She pushed forward, the weight of her varsity jacket swaying against her shoulder, sports bag bumping lightly at her hip.

The studio door slammed open, and the corridor's hush gave way to a burst of outside. Brilliant sunlight flooded her vision, so sharp and golden it felt like stepping into another world. Palm trees swayed lazily against a perfect blue sky, their reflection glimmering in her sunglasses. She breathed in the smell of asphalt baking under the Californian sun. Freedom of a new beginning.

And then—

"I'd be the happiest man on earth if I had the chance to work with you..."

The voice seemed to ripple through the air, freezing her mid-step. Familiar somehow, though she couldn't place why. Slowly, Sue turned. A man stood there with a smile so wide it almost seemed rehearsed, his hand already extended as if she were a prize he'd just won.

"I'm Craig Silver, from Craig Silver Management." He pressed a glossy business card toward her. "You have so much potential. We could make great things happen together."

Before she could answer, another man strode forward, cutting the air with his own eager introduction.

"And I'm Alan Weil, from Weil & Clark Management." His suit was sharper, his smile tighter. Another card appeared, thrust into her hand. "We'll take you all the way to the top."

And then, almost on cue, a third voice chimed in.

"Bob Haswell. H&H Management." The last card joined the others, his eyes scanning her like a commodity. "How come you've never been on our radar? We'd be perfect for you."

Three men. Three cards. Three futures. Sue stared at them, at their gleaming teeth and polished shoes, at the hunger thinly veiled beneath their courtesy. A laugh bubbled inside her chest that sounded incredulous and triumphant. For years she had fought to be seen. Now, all at once, they couldn't look away.

Her fingers brushed Craig's card first. She let her lips curve into a smile, just enough to brighten his eyes with victory. He leaned closer, already imagining the deal sealed.

And then , with deliberate calm, she tore his card into confetti-sized pieces. Craig's grin shattered into astonishment as Sue stuffed the fragments neatly into his breast pocket, patting it closed with a tap of finality.

Her hand hovered, then plucked another card at random.

"Nice to meet you..." she said, pretending to squint at the lettering. "...Alan."

Without waiting for their reactions, she turned on her heel. The sunlight caught her hair as she walked away, shoulders squared, her smile no longer for them but for herself.

---

Sue lifted the lid of the white box, her fingers trembling with anticipation. Beneath the tissue paper lay the prize she had been waiting for, sleek, supple, black leather that caught the light like liquid shadow.

Her lips parted in a smile she couldn't contain. Then she could only stare, the reflection of her own wide eyes mirrored faintly in the polished surface. Then she drew it out, the leather catsuit unfolding like a second skin awaiting her body.

She slipped one foot inside. The cool leather embraced her polished toes, then her calf, climbing her thigh with a slow, deliberate hiss. The sensation sent a shiver up her spine. It was not just clothing, it was a transformation, a merging of flesh and armor.

As the zipper slid upward, sealing her in, Sue felt the old self dissolving. The leather tightened around her spine, each vertebra swallowed by the casing until she no longer felt human but honed, aerodynamic, something designed for precision and control.

She shook her hair free, a cascade of gold spilling over her shoulders. Her reflection in the mirror caught her for a moment looking like a half goddess, and the sight made her chest tighten with something close to awe.

Her stiletto heels struck the floor in a steady rhythm, soft against the white carpet, sharper on the hallway's hardwood, then echoing in the tiled bathroom, until finally they found the bare cement of the secret room.

The rhythm stopped beside Elisabeth. The IV bag hung limply, nearly drained, the last drops sliding down the tube. Hours, Sue thought. Only hours until the switch.