"If you could do anything, anything in the world, what would you do?"

I pull my arms away from her, reaching for one of the pillows that aren't soaked in our sweat to put behind my head. Emma tries to hide it, but she curves her neck slightly so my hand doesn't brush against it. The trauma of our conversation won't be forgotten easily. Good. I didn't really notice the room much last night, but this is obviously not her room. It might not even be her house. The cream-colored drapes that perfectly match the comforter on the bed, the abstract paintings that just look like someone swiped at the canvas with different brushes randomly, and the way she kept stepping on spots of the floor that creaked. If she lived here, she'd know where to walk to avoid those. The walls are an off white that invokes images of fresh, untouched snow. Warm brown trim reminiscent of melted caramel frames each window. Not a single design choice matches her aesthetic or personality.

There's a drop of sweat trailing down her back, following the curve of it before disappearing below where the two of us are still touching. I might not have any real urge to satisfy desires, but my body is another matter. Last night's activities briefly flash through my mind, and the lack of space between us, coupled with her not moving from my lap, causes an understandable biological reaction. I thought she'd be in a rush to get away from me, but besides the slight flinch, she shows no signs of getting off of me. She's so focused it's like I'm not even here. Emma's silently mulling over my question, giving it the proper thought it deserves.

She could potentially become an ally. I wouldn't bring her to Quinstin, but Technologica is proof that having capable people spread about in the right positions can accomplish anything. She's a halfway point between Tuesday and Isaiah on the psychopath scale. Where Tuesday needs a tight leash and a steady hand, Isaiah only needs positive reinforcement and rewards to fall in line. Neither of those will work for Emma. She needs a different treatment, a different face. Charming but dangerous. Flirty but threatening. Just enough crazy to keep her interested and slightly afraid. I've shown her the stick, and now it's time for the carrot.

"If you wanted to repeat what happened to Nestor Falls, I could make that happen. If you want to just put this behind you and move on, that too can be arranged. What do you want to do?" I reiterated.

"I think I'd like to travel; see new and interesting places. Occasionally, I might want to do something more exciting. Is that possible?" Emma asked, tilted her head up to look at me.

"If you want me to finance your lifestyle, then we'll need a new agreement. You can live the rest of your life as a globetrotting hedonistic socialite on my dime, but you'll do jobs for me from time to time. It's only fair after all."

"You're offering to be my sugar daddy in exchange for me helping you occasionally? Sounds a little too good to be true, and it probably is. What kind of jobs do you expect me to do?" She asked, eyes narrowing dangerously.

Clever girl.

"I don't think I can technically be your sugar daddy if I'm younger than you. But-"

"You're younger than me?" Emma shrieked, interrupting me and rolling away from me to the other side of the bed. She's perched on all fours, and with the way she's arching her back, she looks like a cat. "I thought you were older than me."

"I never said I was older than you. You can't blame me for you not bothering to ask. I asked you before we did anything, and then you seduced me with your older woman charms," I joked.

She looks at me like I have two heads, but eventually she falls over laughing. She doesn't look too bad; there's redness around her throat that will form bruises shaped like my hands. There are a few blood vessels that burst around her eyes, but the dark bags will cover them up. She'll need to wear a turtleneck when we enact my plan. Those three are perceptive enough to notice and deduce where she got them. I hadn't noticed her dimples before, but now I see them. Watching her laugh has me grinning like an idiot as well. I'm who knows how far away from anyone I've ever known, but I'm so happy. Her contagious laughter infects me, and I slide down the headboard, bumping my head and laughing the whole time. With my newest emotion, I can't help but think of what that means for my future. Could I love Emma if we spent enough time together? What about Violet? I might wake up one day and love her. If I hadn't killed her, could I have reciprocated Maria's feelings?

"To finish answering your question from before, I believe in never having someone who works for me do something they wouldn't normally do. Unwilling participants aren't the best or most efficient kind of worker. In your case, I might have you infiltrate somewhere or kill people I need dead," I answered truthfully.

"There you go again, subtly hinting at what kind of man you are outside of this town. You're obviously a Cowl, rich, and have people who report to you despite being younger than nineteen. Maybe I should be asking you more questions about your identity. I'm becoming quite curious about who I'm getting into bed with," Emma said, crawling closer to me until she sits back down on my waist.

Face-to-face and with her on top looking down on me stirs something hateful inside me. I can see the face I'm making reflected in her eyes, and the quiver of her lip makes sense. Smothering the dark thoughts, I open my mouth a bit to show a glimpse of teeth and lick my top lip, emulating desire and hunger. Her shoulders drop as she relaxes, which doubles as a way to direct my attention to her chest. If this is to be the face I have to wear with her, then I will. She doesn't have to know about Nobody or Momentus Inc. No one knows about Zero or Six except Kai, and I'm in no hurry to tell anyone. I can play the part of a violent, mysterious playboy if that gets me what I want. Emma can go places for me, spread my influence without ever having to be there. I can make her into a little birdie that flies about, doing tasks for me. And if she tries to betray me, I'll clip her fucking wings.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"You can ask me three questions and I'll answer honestly. Anything that can be used to identify me is off limits, though," I offered.

"Oooo. You sure know how to make someone curious. I don't want to waste any of my questions, especially if it ends up not having an interesting answer. How does your power work?"

"Not a bad one. Five minutes of skin-to-skin contact allows me to remove a person's powers permanently," I answered, purposely pausing to build suspense. "And then I can give to another person via the same method. The transfer is permanent, and I am unable to use the powers I take."

Her eyes widen in understanding, realizing what that means for her future.

"You still have my power, but you're going to give it back to me in order to lure those people who brought you here because you want their powers. That would certainly explain why people would follow you if you can make Neuvohumans without any risks. Then if I worked for you, I would also get a power. That's not one of my questions; I'm just talking out loud," she added hastily. "You're not going to let me have my ability back, but I'd get a new one and a new life if I decide to work for you. You're like Satan offering dreams come true in exchange for my mortal soul. Damn, you've got me between a rock and a hard place."

"So I've been told. What's your second question going to be?"

"If you were me, what question would you ask yourself?" Emma asked.

Damn. She got me. I could be a hardass and refuse her, but I'm in a good mood, and it was a smart question. She's going to be an excellent piece to control. The best possible question would be: What is different about you? But I obviously don't want her to know what I really am, so she'll get the second-best question.

"If I were you and I only had one question left to ask me, I'd ask me what my long-term goal is," I answered.

"Then, for my final question, Eryk, what is your long-term goal?" Emma asked, batting her eyelashes.

"I want to plunge the United States, maybe even the world, into a race war between Neuvohumans and regulars. Creating an unprecedented number of trigger events, all while reducing the overall number of people, and creating an influx of powers for me to redistribute until the only remaining Neuvohumans are loyal to me."

Emma's shocked face is causing me to reach a level of exhilaration I've never felt before. Yes. Let it soak in. Understand my greatness and that I will reach heights no one has ever thought of. It isn't mania or delusions; I am the only one who could accomplish this, and I will. She finishes processing my declaration, and her face matches my level of excitement.

"I'm in," she purred enthusiastically.

"The only way out of this agreement is with one of us dying, and you'll find me very hard to kill," I said, giving her a sly smile.

"I wouldn't have any other way," Emma said, grinding into me.

"If we can't succeed here, everything we spoke about ends now," I reminded Emma as we finished preparing for the night ahead.

"I am well aware that death awaits me if I fail tonight, which is why I don't plan on failing," she responded.

"Then hit me."

She doesn't even blink, slapping me in my face hard. The noise echoes in the basement, and the tingly feeling spreads as I rotate my jaw. She holds a finger to her lips, thinking of the best way to attack me next. Her cold hand on my face does help with the sting of the slap. But she curls her hand in, the chipped white nail polish drawing my eyes to her fingers as the nails dig into my cheek. The real Emma, the calculating, blood thirsty schemer, takes the plan deadly serious. She was more than eager to sharpen her nails to sharp points for this. The pressure on my face eases for a moment as the nails pierce through the epidermal skin. Then she rakes her hand across my face, slicing my cheek, nose, and above my lip. The pain is immediate, and I roar as blood starts to leak out of the cuts. Emma doesn't flinch away or even react to my outburst. She picks up the hand towel she brought down here and wipes her fingers off.

"We're even now," she said.

"I didn't draw blood, and you really enjoyed hurting me," I said accusatorily.

"Guilty as charged."

The one-room basement isn't finished, the walls and floor are solid cement, and you can see the joists and boards in the floor above. The air has a stale taste to it, the kind that can only be found in places that don't have airflow, which suits my plan perfectly. The kitchen above had just as many chemical cleaners as the cabin, which are all spread out and ready to mix. It's airtight down here; there aren't any vents or holes. Totes of old clothes and mementos of whoever used to live here fill the small space. The rusty metal two-door cabinet had a couple of tools inside, like a weed whacker, shovel, chainsaw, and shears, until we emptied it out. The tools are upstairs in one of the other bedrooms, out of the way. Every smoke alarm is off, and the death trap is almost ready. Propane tanks are hidden in the four corners of the room. All that's left is to pour some putrid garbage out down here. Nine's senses might clue her into the trap before she's truly ensnared.

My helmet is off, but hidden inside my hoodie. She takes some rubbing alcohol to my face, cleaning the cuts out. I swear I can hear the sizzle as the liquid splashes my face. She at least has the decency not to smile at my pain. The black turtleneck she's wearing suits her and covers up the black and purple bruises from me choking her. Do or die tonight. I gave Emma back her power, so she's been heading her shadow creatures to surround the building where the others are. Turning a room into a chemical bomb isn't the safest plan I've ever had, and it is going to require me to be on my A game, but it is the cleanest way to wrap up this little adventure. All I have to do is escape the basement with everyone else stuck there, generate an explosion that'll spread deadly chemical combinations into the air, and rush down to steal Nine and Eleven's powers. I'll give Nine's power to Emma, and the regeneration should heal any burns she might have. Then I'll barely get Eleven and Forty-four out of the ruined basement, and the older woman will perish while we wait for extraction.

"Are you ready?" I asked.

"Yes. And before you ask, yes, I remember what I have to do. You better not leave me to die," Emma said, side-eyeing me.

Our deal was made. You're mine now, and I take care of my things.

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