"Two."

Bitchy Traitor screams like she's the one about to get shot. Sy's body freezes, and he closes his eyes.

"Two and a half," Rika said, trailing off. It was all a test. I relax, leaning back into the couch.

"Not even a slight fluctuation. You don't seem to care if you die. I'm going to assume that threatening these two would create the same level of reaction. So what's your story then? What emotionally stunted you so much? Your friend's expression says there's more to you than a pretty face," Rika inquired curiously.

"I don't know what you're talking about with auras, but what Sylvester is thinking of is that I was part of a Cowl attack a half a year ago," I said, side-eying Sy.

Keep your goddamn face quiet.

"Oooh, and what happened? Did someone close to you die? I'm just so curious what caused the aberrant nature of your aura. Like it's fascinating how fucked up it is."

She's trying to figure me out, but there is no satisfying answer waiting for her. Nothing caused my emotionlessness state, but she's half right that the assembled nature of my aura is due to an outside factor. The good news is she can't tell I have powers. The bad news is she can point me out of a crowd. The Triad will be able to find me whenever they want, and my disguise will be completely useless. It's decided: Rika won't leave here alive. First thing I have to do is get Sy and Bitchy Traitor out of the room for me to murder these two. I'll entertain Rika for a little while and then arrange a way for the two of them to escape.

"You keep referring to my aura like it's a real thing. Are you a Neuvohuman?" I replied.

"Ding ding ding. Correct. Not that I was hiding it. The Cowl attack you were a part of, what happened?"

"My senior party was crashed by a bullied kid who triggered. He showed up and proceeded to burn the mansion where it was being held to the ground, as well as kill a bunch of his bullies. Ninety-seven kids died, and they dubbed it the New Farford Massacre," I answered sadly.

Rika's face splits in half as she shows me the ugliest smile imaginable. Like a cat who's caught the bird evading it for weeks, she looks so pleased with herself. Well, curiosity is going to catch up with this cat. Rika is under the impression that I'm a fun puzzle to understand, a traumatic mystery waiting to unfold, a problem that needs solving, but I'm not. I'm a bear trap attached to a landmine, and she's stepped on the pressure pad. She will understand the difference soon enough.

"Interesting, very interesting. That sounds awful, just horrible. I can't imagine what it felt like; it must have been quite triggering. It must have made you feel powerless and scared. Stressed out of your mind as people died around you, the smell of lives being snuffed out by flames. The charred remains of your classmates surrounding you. It sounds like quite a life-changing experience. That's what broke you," Rika said, nodding slowly.

I'm not broken. I'm NOT broken. There's nothing wrong with me. There's a sharpness to her accusation that does hurt me. Words have never harmed me, but the idea that I'm some kind of inferior product is getting under my skin. Maybe it's the alcohol in my system making her words hit me harder. Now, Sy is looking at me with pity in his eyes. Rika looks so smug, so sure that she's figured me out. Now she dies painfully. I smother the feelings inside me, crushing them and burying them deep down. I'll deal with them later.

"Ding ding ding, you got me," I said, mimicking her tone earlier. "Rika, I'm willing to stay and continue this conversation, but can you let these two go? I don't even know her name, and Sy is just a guy I met a few days ago."

"What an outstanding guy you are. Alright. They can go," Rika agreed.

Bitchy Traitor nearly jumps off the couch she's so desperate to leave. I've decided I'm learning her name, and I'm going to ruin her life. It will be the pettiest thing I have ever done, but she has jumped the ranks of my least favorite people in one interaction. Sy is much slower, looking into my eyes as he stands. He's searching for a reason for me to do this. The pity is gone, concern fills his eyes, and an unspoken question. I'm very sure, Sy. I know what I'm doing. I nod, and Sy starts to take his leave with BT. This isn't altruism. I just don't want you here for what I'm going to do to these two.

"I'll text you later, Sy."

"See ya, Eryk."

The door shuts behind them, leaving the three criminals alone. I'm going to need help to get out of here. Isaiah and Vivienne are both hot off their very impressive debuts. Busting a nightclub for drugs and underage drinking is too beneath them at this point. Also, it gives away that there must be someone behind them. The job doesn't fit either of the MOs. I need a different piece, one that would realistically fit the story I'm creating here tonight. I need a Cape. Aubrey would be the easiest pull, but she doesn't have the firepower necessary. Violet is a possibility, but that's a can of worms. There's no telling what will happen if she shows up here. It's time to activate Miles finally.

"You're quite brave to send your pals away. Now you're alone with a Cowl and a killer. Yeah. Carl, the man you've been insulting constantly, has a couple of bodies under his belt. So do I," Rika said. No, Vixen.

"Brave implies that I'm afraid. But I have nothing to fear from you two," I responded.

Hank puts his meaty, callused hand on my shoulder, giving it a threatening squeeze. Training with V hurts more than this. I forcefully shrug my shoulder to get his hand off me. Hanky grunts, and I lean my head back to give him a disinterested look. They have no idea who they're fucking with.

"Killers or not, that was strike one. And we're not playing baseball, so I won't wait for three," I said, keeping my voice even.

"What'd you say?" Hank asked.

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HE SPEAKS?

"And suddenly I'm even more intrigued about what your deal is. Was that a threat? Because that would be a mistake, we're both part of a very dangerous group," Rika said, her voice having a soothing effect on my simmering temper.

Hank relaxes, walking away from behind me to stand menacingly next to Rika. So she can affect people's emotions. Interesting. But pacifying my aggression won't prevent the violence I have prepared for you both. Nothing can save you, and no one will stop me. l lean back into the couch, playing the role of a placated young man, and revisit everything I saw when we first walked in: the large safe, all the artwork, the opulence and wealth on display. Xander is someone who understands the effect a room has on people. He's someone who carefully considered every piece of furniture in here to make himself and this nightclub, by extension, seem more legitimate. Every design choice made to subtly influence you into forgetting where he came from, where he started. Sound-proofing this back area from the club to further add to the separation in people's subconscious minds. The mental picture I took when we first entered, and that I've continued to add to as we've been in here, is telling me one thing. There aren't any cameras in this room. Rotating the ring on my finger, I switch it to pressurized stream mode. I carefully take my jacket off, putting it over my lap with the inside facing me. Neither of them notices as I remove the mask, keeping it hidden beneath the jacket. Only water, but it'll do.

"You mean The Triad? I'm not scared of them either," I said.

"Wait, what?" Rika asked, confusion and surprise all over her face.

I grab my mask and press it to my face with my ringed hand. The mask transforms instantly, and I blow into the helmet. A thin jet of water blasts out, and I turn my head, slicing off Hank's outstretched arm. His gun clatters to the ground as I throw my jacket at Rika's head. She realizes what's happened and starts to pull the jacket off her. My right hook smashes into her covered face, and she falls over on the couch. I walk around the piece of furniture and find Hank getting up. He's pressing the severed limb against his side to stem the blood.

I kick the gun away, sending it sliding across the floor, and take measure of the grunt in front of me. I've never been in a real fight, but Hank has if his deformed face is any indication. Vivienne and I have been training for months for just this kind of occasion. She trained me to be able to hold my own, not against masters of combat like herself, but guys like Hank. He makes the first move, clearly trying to take advantage of the size difference between us. But where Vivienne is fast, fluid, and controlled, he is slow, ungainly, and too angry to think straight. He swings at me, and I crouch to avoid the hit, transitioning into a leg sweep that knocks Hank on his ass. I climb on top of him and start punching him in his ugly face.

"You stupid, simple man. You thought you could fuck with me? NOBODY FUCKS WITH NOBODY!" I shouted as I pummeled his face.

He puts up his good arm to stop me, placing his hand right against my helmet. Moron. I activate the stream again, piercing a hole through his hand. The water combined with the blood makes his hand slip, and my helmet slices down his hand, through the wrist, and into the arm. Blood sprays over both of us as the two halves of his arm separate, dangling like wilted flower heads. Hank screams. I grab his head and bash it off the floor. AGAIN. AGAIN. AGAIN. AGAIN. AGAIN. Hank's screams are cut short as I crack open his head like a coconut. I give it one last smack before I climb off him.

My hands, my boots, my everything is covered in that motherfucker's blood. A whole outfit ruined. I walk around the couch, pulling my jacket off Rika. She's out cold, her nose slightly bent with a line of blood leaking from it. I look around the room for anything I can use to tie her up. It's already ruined anyway. My belt works perfectly, and I wrap it around her arms, pinning them to her torso. It has the unfortunate effect of making it look like she's propping up her breasts to make them look larger. She's light, and I carry her over to the office chair, dropping her into it. It's been a long time since I tortured someone, and this goes against something I once proclaimed. This is cruelty for cruelty's sake; there is nothing to be gained from doing this except that I think it might make me feel happier. But before we can begin. I place my bloody hand on her face and start stealing her power. Wiping my other hand on her clothes, I pull my phone out and call Vivienne.

"Hey, bossman. I'm at home watching one of those dating shows. I'm alone, so speak freely," V said.

"Hey, V. Sorry to do this to you again, but I need you to call Miles on your other phone and put both phones on speaker."

"You got it, Nobody."

I hear a phone ring a few times until Miles picks up.

"Good evening, Miss Vivienne. What can I do for you at this hour?" Miles asked.

"Nobody needs to talk to you," she responded.

"Sorry, I wasn't aware he was on the line. What can I do for you at this hour, sir?"

"Miles, I'm going to have Vivienne send you an address. It is for a nightclub run by the Triad. A few of their Cowls, as well as plenty of regular gang members, are there. Go there and wait for my signal. I want you to capture and contain every single member of the Triad here tonight. Wrap them up in a nice bow and leave them for the BNA to come pick up. Wear a disguise, use your Cape name, but don't be here when the BNA arrives. It's time to show Quinstin what a real hero is capable of," I said.

There's no response from him at first, but then I hear him cheering.

"I won't let you down, Nobody. None of them will escape. It will be perfect, I promise," he said.

"Aaaaaaand he hung up," V said.

"It's no problem; I trust in Miles. He won't let us down."

"You get into some more shit, Nobody? How do you keep running into Cowl groups?" Vivienne asked accusingly.

"I promise you both were entirely accidental. I am simply unlucky. I'll text you the location in a bit. I have to have a conversation with someone first."

"Wow, sucks to be whatever poor bastard pissed you off," Vivienne chuckled.

"Yes. It does. I'll talk to you later," I said.

"Mhmm, have a good night."

I shake Rika, but she doesn't wake up. My canister is empty. I need more water. Picking the gun up off the floor, I put it in the waistband of my pants and peek my head out of the office. The hallway is completely empty, and I walk into the bathroom to refill my canisters. I twist off both canisters as I enter the bathroom, which is also empty. It's a nice bathroom, with a floor-length mirror on one side. I look insane. Soaked is an understatement for what my outfit is. I'm drenched in blood. Soggy. I look soggy. It takes a bit for me to rinse all of the stuff off my hands, which are bruised from punching Hank. Fuck.

Inside me is Rika's power. A Mentalist/Manipulator ability to see people's emotional auras. Everyone appears to have multicolored auras, composed of a multitude of colors for every single emotion. A color grows bigger if someone is feeling it. It's no wonder I looked so weird to her. It also allows her to strengthen or weaken an emotion that someone is feeling at that moment. Not quite the control I assumed she might have. The personality piece is one that only time will tell if it causes me problems. Obsessiveness. Once I dry my hands and fill up my canisters, I'm ready to go dole out some punishment.

"It's Torturin' Time," I said, laughing hysterically as I strike a pose.

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