The most surreal part of my new life isn't the fact that I'm human, that I get to be a Cape, or even that I'm more powerful than I could have ever imagined; it's that I'm rich. Growing up dirt poor really affects you in ways that aren't always noticeable. Despite having a bank account with high six digits, I'm still acting like I'm a homeless squatter living in a dilapidated toy store. I'm still buying cheaper foods in bulk, like rice and frozen ground beef, when I don't have to do that anymore. I even got a cheap one-bedroom apartment that I was staying in until the Super Secret Base finished.

Even now, my room inside the SSB is bigger than a three-bedroom apartment, but it is mostly empty and plain. It's moderately furnished but very minimal: a bed, a desk, and a small kitchen set are all I have in here. The trappings of poverty are hard to escape from. My mind is torn between still seeing myself as Phantasmo and the journey to discover who Miles Martinez is meant to be. The deep pit of self-loathing when it comes to my appearance is hard to shake. The man in the mirror doesn't match who or what I consider myself.

Maybe I should go to therapy. Clearly, my mental health hasn't recovered that much since he fixed me. My phone vibrates, freeing me from the cyclical effects of depression. Nobody. The man who changed my life forever. I doubt I'll ever be able to pay him back for what he's given me. But I'll try. The more time I spend around the others, the more I acclimate to their presence, even Tuesday. But talking to Nobody one-on-one is different; something about the man makes me nervous. I'm not afraid of him; I'm stronger than him by a large margin. Not that I don't think he has a million contingency plans waiting for someone to try and use one of his gifts against him. No, the nervousness I feel is more like when you're a freshman trying to talk to a senior. On missions, I'm able to put my anxiety aside. But here in my room, with nothing else going on, is a recipe for disaster.

"Hey, Boss. How's it hanging?" I asked, cringing at my weird greeting.

Why did I say that? I don't talk like that, and he's not some work buddy I can josh around with.

"Hello, Miles. Things are going well. Are you in the middle of something?"

Be normal. Don't be weird.

"Nope, just chillin' like a villain, you know," I answered and briefly considered if it would be an overreaction to fly straight into the sun.

"O-kay. I know it's late, but I'm going to be taking a Quickrail soon, so I wouldn't be able to call. The person who requires safe passage is ready and in position. When can you and Tuesday leave?" He asked.

"I'm free, and Tuesday is just in her room as far as I'm aware. Do you want me to grab her for this call?"

"No. You're the only one who needs to know the parameters of the mission. I need the two of you to head out to Waconia, Minnesota. The town has an inn where someone is staying. You two need to escort her back to Quinstin safely," he explained.

Treating the call like a debrief is doing wonders for my awkwardness.

"Alright, who's the person we're picking up? Are they going to come along willingly, or will there be difficulties?"

"Her name is Emma, and you aren't kidnapping her. She shouldn't give either of you any trouble. Miles, I need you to make sure that Tuesday doesn't talk about me; Under absolutely no circumstances should either of you refer to me as Nobody. Don't mention Momentus Inc., don't mention being Cowls, don't mention what you do or have done for me, don't mention my helmet or any of our plans. In fact, it would be better if none of you spoke to each other for the ride back. You two need to get there as soon as possible, and once you're there, have her pick out a vehicle and purchase it for her. The price doesn't matter; you'll be reimbursed. But there is one more thing I need to ask of you," Nobody said and his tone sounded grave.

"What is it? Whatever it is, I'll take care of it," I offered immediately.

"I doubt it will happen, but Emma might try to tell you both my real name. If that happens, call me immediately, and tell me," he responded.

"Just call you?" I asked, double-checking.

"After you call me, I will give you the order to kill her and annihilate any trace of her," Nobody said with the casualness of ordering a coffee.

I don't respond immediately, taking in the weight of his words.

"If you don't feel comfortable with killing her, then have Tuesday do it. But, Miles, you'll need to eradicate her body," he continued.

"I can do it. Don't worry about it," I finally responded, and my voice is steady this time.

I knew what joining him meant. I've been prepared for the day this would come. Why am I so calm about this? I've never killed anyone before. Deep inside, I know that I can do it. My conviction to repay him is real, and I won't waver here. I'll do whatever he wants, not just because of the huge debt I owe him, but because I want to. What Nobody is doing will ripple across the planet one day, and I'll be able to say I helped strengthen the waves.

"I believe in you. I know you won't disappoint me. The thought didn't even cross my mind," Nobody said.

He has faith in me, and I need to live up to that. If Emma betrays him, I'll scour her from existence.

I step out of the ride share and wave goodbye to the driver. Tuesday and I agreed to meet here at this gas station that's on the outskirts of Quinstin. There's an old Cadillac parked in front of the store portion, but I don't see any sign of Tuesday. I look at my watch as the wind blasts me in the face. It's almost 5 am, and it is freezing. Not that I feel it at all. A very nice side effect of my absorbing power is that having fire inside me keeps me from getting cold. I'm pleasantly warm at all times. That's why I'm standing outside in a thin windbreaker and jeans. I could probably wear swim trunks in the dead of winter.

A bell ringing draws my eyes to the convenience store as a heavily bundled woman comes out with a giant drink and a plastic bag of snacks. When she turns around, I realize it's my road trip buddy, Tuesday. She's wearing a giant puffy black winter coat, acid-washed leggings, brown work boots, and a beanie that is designed to look like a raccoon is lying on her head.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"Hey!" I shouted over to her.

She turns and smiles as soon as she sees me. Her outfit is the same silly style that she usually wears, even if it's a lot more toned down. Tuesday is an odd one, but her excitement is infectious, and I can't help but get swept up in her energy. I understand that she's insane, probably clinically, but she's fun to be around. Going on a road trip with her will be fun, a low-stakes adventure to bond with my teammate. She skips over to me, whistling a familiar tune. Without the outfit, she looks like just a regular quirky woman instead of a Cowl.

"Hey, Miles? I got us snacks for our trip," she said, showing off her haul of gummy bears, potato chips, and animal crackers.

"Thank you, but what about-" I started to ask.

"Dude, no way you think I would forget the bevvys," Tuesday said as a third arm sprouts out of her shoulder and grabs two drinks from her jacket pocket.

Of course, she remembered the drinks. She hands me one of the two glass bottles full of the rich brown nectar of the gods: chocolate milk.

"COCOA MOO," we both shouted, clanking our bottles against each other. I pocket mine, and she does the same. A little treat for later.

"So what'd Nobody say to you?" She asked.

"We're heading to Minnesota," I answered.

"Oh yeah, bud? We're going to Minney Soda?" Tuesday responded, using a hilarious accent.

"That's a good one; definitely keep that one in your bag of tricks," I laughed. "I'm going to fly us both there as soon as you're ready to go. We're meeting up with a lady in Waconia, buying her a car, and then driving her back here to Quinstin. Should be peaceful both ways, there won't be any opposition."

"Boo. Boooooooooo. Escort missions suuuuuuuck. They're only there to pad out the length of the game. I'm going to be so bored. Why does Nobody want us to get her? Does she have a power he wants?"

"Nope. He didn't tell me why we're getting her, only that we're not to use his name or talk about any of our Cowl stuff," I said, shaking my head.

My would-be road trip buddy's face splits into a Cheshire grin. Her irises transform, taking on a feline appearance. I know and understand that it's not really changing; it's her power affecting my senses. But it's still a cool effect. She's got a dangerous glint in her eyes, one that promises mischief and hijinks. Should I not have told her anything? Please, don't do anything to mess this easy mission up. I'd hate to have to put her in sky prison just to get the job done.

"My mystery senses are tingling, Miles. There is a scheme afoot, and you know what happened to the last puzzle that ran afoul of me," she said.

The memory of the Momentus Inc. game night is burned into my brain. Rorschach, being an absolute Rule Randy in Monopoly, made the already unfun game even worse. Vivienne and Isaiah's competitive streaks coming out in charades to the point of blows was shocking. So was literally every other person except me and Vivienne cheating at Go Fish. It's a harmless card game. What's the point of cheating? But the worst was Tuesday, getting frustrated during the 10,000-piece team jigsaw puzzle, and setting the puzzles and the tables on fire. Who knew she'd have so many lighters on her?

"You aren't setting anything else on fire. There is absolutely no reason you'd need to burn anything down. Nobody was pretty clear about his rules; don't test him on this, Tuesday. I have orders to kill the woman if she crosses a certain line," I warned.

"Oh, my dear sweet Miles, all you've done is make me more curious. You can't jerk my shit and not let me finish on your face, that's just impolite. Tell me what you know. Tell me. Tell meeeeee," she whined.

"No. You're good to go, right? Because I want to get going already," I said, changing the conversation.

"Uggghhh. You're such a tease. You're giving me mystery blue balls here," she complained, pausing to see if I would give in to her demands. "Yeah, we can leave. If you weren't my favorite, I'd have you whipped and stoned in the town square."

"Sorry, how about this, you can decide what kind of construct I make for us to get there? I'll honor any request that isn't obscene or inappropriate," I offered.

"Deal," she answered way too quickly. I've been had. "I want to ride a flying dinosaur. And that doesn't mean a pterodactyl, I want to ride on a different dinosaur that doesn't usually fly. Like a Tyrannosaurus Rex, but combined with a fighter jet, and it has a huge horn on the front like a unicorn. Yeah, make that. That'd be fucking SICK," Tuesday exclaimed.

That would be pretty sick. I nod my head, looking around to see if anyone is nearby. Tuesday covers her eyes with her hands, slowly widening the fingers to see through. Then more arms sprout from her body, creating layer after layer of hands to stop her from spoiling the surprise for herself.

Feeling the electricity coiling inside me, I let out a small pulse to disable any nearby cameras just in case. It's not a crime if it isn't permanent. Right? Then I send the light within me pouring out of my palms, twisting and turning to my mental commands. The hard part of Tuesday's demand isn't the creation of it; a Tyrannosaurus Rex fused with a jet isn't a hard image to conjure. No, the hard part is deciding how much of the construct is dinosaur and how much is plane. Eventually, I decide to make the dinosaur lie flat with its legs and tail behind it and replace the arms with wings. I create a cockpit big enough for just the two of us on the back of the creation, then transform the top half of the head and mouth into the front of a plane, with the bottom jaw and teeth remaining open and reptilian. I get rid of the feet attached to the giant creature's legs, replacing them with thrusters. A couple more sets of wings and one giant horn later, it is done. I tell her to open her eyes and Tuesday gasps.

"I present to you: the Tyrannosaurus Jet," I said, doing a little bow.

"AHHH. I FUCKING LOVE IT, DUDE! LET'S GO! LET'S GO! I WANT TO FLY FIRST!" Tuesday shrieked in joy.

"You know you can't actually fly it, it's just directed by my will," I explained.

"Would you tell a kid inside one of the race car carriages at the grocery store that they aren't actually driving? No? Then let me have this."

"Aye aye, Captain," I said, saluting.

"Come aboard, co-pilot, as we christen this great vessel in its first test flight," she said, climbing into the cockpit.

I follow her, dropping into the seat behind her. The canopy closes us inside, and I thin it out so we can see through the solidified light. Tuesday is practically shaking at this point, so I use the last bit of my stored light to create twenty-five buttons and switches in front of her. She grabs the center stick with her left hand and starts flipping all the switches one at a time with her right. The roar of the engine is so loud. She's using her power to make jet noises. Despite the loud engine, I can hear the tactile clicking and flipping of the fake buttons and switches. The smile on my face is so big it hurts. This is fun. At the end of the day, no matter how dark things once were or will get, these moments are what I need to focus on.

"We have lift off in t-minus 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1," she said, mimicking the voice of mission control. I cause the construct to shake before shooting us forward as fast as I can. "WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO."

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