ã€ŠDreadnought - A Superhero Novelã€‹


 é™‡Chapter 1é™‡

    There were two things Damian hated: spiders and history class. He had to sit through one of them at school and it wasn¡¯t the history class. He was sitting at the principal¡¯s office in everyday Damian fashion with closed eyes and Miss Fidel staring at him intently with her six eyes. Eight legs stuck out her back, wiggling forth without a moment¡¯s rest. Damian could swear she did it on purpose.

    She kept on lecturing him on how a young man had to behave and how what Damian was doing was un-gentleman-like, and how he had to conduct himself. Everyone other than future army employees needed to know that, in which case one needed to know how to best use their gift in a combat situation which Damian was honing at the moment. The war wasn¡¯t so cold and battles were fought all the time.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have to call your parents if I catch you one more time. Let me remind you, young man, I don¡¯t want to call any parents in September.¡± Said Miss Fidel, closing her eyes and slouching back on her chair. She clearly didn¡¯t have the energy to complain anymore and didn¡¯t want to waste the effort.

    ¡°I understand, Miss Fidel. It¡¯s just that they picked the fight this time, and I promise I¡¯ll try to keep out of trouble from now on.¡± Said Damian and closed his eyes as well. Shivers kept traversing his spine as long as he was looking at the woman. There was just something innately sinister about spiders.

    ¡°We¡¯d better hope you¡¯re a man of your word, or otherwise we¡¯ll have to take some measures, Mr. Edison.¡± Said Fidel and Damian nodded to her, quickly closing the door behind him and letting out a sigh of relief. Of course Damian¡¯s parents wouldn¡¯t even care. They sent him to a boarding school just for that, after all, getting rid of him in the process. In a formal way much like any other person in the empire would, they¡¯d say ¡®He¡¯s your problem now.¡¯

    He was finally outside, with a permission slip from the principal. Reflection time, maybe, and either way Damian didn¡¯t want to pick fights. He was just easily provoked. The boxing gym was for fighting. It was just that the delinquents wouldn¡¯t give him a quiet life. Damian had quite the bad name to himself in his younger days, and gave up on the study path early on in his life.

    The school building was a large U-shaped building, two stairs leading out both wings. Damian was walking out one of them, completely vacant of human life except a hurried girl holding onto her bag. It was this way during the school hours with the occasional shambling student who had overslept or had more important business to take care of than class. As for her hurried steps, Damian didn¡¯t have that good an impression on his classmates, always in a grumpy mood.

    If Damian remembered right, it was his classmate, a bullied one, pretty badly to boot. There was no one willing to piss off the ringleader since she was the beloved daughter of a gang leader. It was actually a wonder how having a gift made even the cops shut their mouths in disdain, especially one of the few who could fight and weren¡¯t in the army. The army paid well, after all. Seems like crimes paid better, but few people knew. For those few that wanted to stand up, some money slaps stopped them. That was just how things worked.

    She stumbled near Damian on the stairs and fell down to the ground, the contents of her bag spilling on the ground. The flustered girl hurriedly picked up the scattered pieces and put them in her bag, before proceeding into school.

    ¡°Zip your bag, that¡¯s what the zip¡¯s for.¡± Damian said, and the girl gave a quick nod before moving on.

    He had trouble making friends from a young age, the antisocial genes of his father, though he had no trouble with befriending thugs and some unsavory people. The fact was, no one at school hanged up with him since the other tough guys hated his guts for being on the other side, and as for the majority of the school, they hated him for being a tough guy like the other more delinquent-y bunch. That gave him an unapproachable aura.

    The school guard simply shrugged as Damian walked out. He had seen Damian jump up the fence several times and didn¡¯t mind, and said to leave with the main gate if he had to. A very cool guy on Damian¡¯s radar, since he was one of the few people he got along at school. He could skip as he wanted and his parents wouldn¡¯t bat an eye, being a fourth, unwanted half-orphan bastard child.

    The bus stop was a ways from the school, a mile or two. He didn¡¯t bother going there, since the downtown was where the school was located, or near, very near that some gangsters made trouble down the road at the bus stop. That was also where some of Damian¡¯s friends lived, bad guys by the standard but decent enough to not descend to crimes.

    There weren¡¯t many people who liked to pick fights in Downtown, since anyone could pull out a knife and the fight would turn into a death battle in a matter of seconds if something like that happened. Damian looked the part, and no one picked a fight with him, even with his school uniform that consisted of a rather comfortable black shirt with an insignia on the heart side, the second thing Damian liked about the school.

    He walked over to a shabby apartment building built in the eighties, meaning it was about seventy years old or more than that. There were graffiti all over the outside of the building, and piss and shit entered the nostrils first thing there. Thankfully, it was better inside homes though Damian couldn¡¯t see why people lived here. Some better than this were easily affordable with a small amount of money.

    On the third floor was a door with the number eight on it, and it was Damian¡¯s destination. He knocked twice, and knocked twice again after a small pause. It repeated several times before the door opened, revealing a short man with a bald head, Barry. He was the owner of the apartment where Damian and Co. hung out.

    ¡°You¡¯re early.¡± He said with a raised eyebrow.

    ¡°Had some trouble at school.¡± Said Damian and walked in.

    ¡°Can see that. The others aren¡¯t here yet, so let¡¯s play some video games or something.¡± Said Barry and closed the door behind Damian. Most of the games were outdated, but as the saying went ¡®old but gold¡¯.

    ¡°Sure.¡± Damian nodded and collapsed on the couch. It was something like a communal home where everyone practically lived before going home, or some just lived here, home runaways or the kind. The whizz of the disk spinning inside the console could be heard for a few seconds before it booted up, and the news channel changed to the game. The name ¡®Gamestar¡¯ was written on the screen and it booted up soon enough. It was a fighting game called Monster Hunters where there were a variety of hunter characters, a variety of monsters new and old, as in before Dawn old.

    Barry¡¯s pick was his usual: Dracula, one of the said old monsters. Damian picked his favorite as well: Graham, one of the hunters who always used a crossbow, which meant arrow spamming.

    ¡°Hey, that¡¯s a forbidden char.¡± Said Barry, his thick brows overlapping.

    ¡°You¡¯re using yours.¡± Said Damian with a chuckle, and cancelled his pick, choosing another character. It was called Werewolf and seemed to be the nemesis of Dracula as the trailers and lore made it out to be. ¡°So this way you¡¯re picking someone your size.¡±

    ¡°The new one? You haven¡¯t played with him before, have you? I honestly can¡¯t see how you would win.¡± Said Barry with a smile, and pointed at the bare-chested, violent-looking character of his opponent. ¡°And there¡¯s nothing like a wolf to that guy.¡±

    The fight started, of course after Damian skimmed through the controls. Barry¡¯s character healed for the same amount of damage it gave the opponent, and got an energy boost whenever its opponent fell to the ground, meaning it could practically outlast AND spam its skill, a red ball that had a pseudo-homing function.

    But when the awakening flame activated, Barry smiled and looked at Damian. ¡°You can awaken now, since there¡¯s no winning hope for you.¡±

    With a sigh, Damian did so and it was his turn to smile. The health rapidly jumped up and best of all, his character turned into a wolf and practically turned Dracula into rags with a combination of attacks and the skill which came in the form of another combo. The result showed as ¡®S¡¯ and Barry literally shoved down his controller at the table.

    ¡°What the hell is that? It¡¯s too friggin OP.¡± He said, and pointed at the posing Werewolf. ¡°You had less than a quarter of your damn health and it healed you up to full? I say bullshit, and I mean it. The game company¡¯s just too unfair.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s an old game, bud, they might as well be trying to break the game.¡± Said Damian, with a chuckle. Barry had no idea how that Dracula was unfair on very many levels from the fact it was the only characters that healed AND had another unique ability.

    The day was spent idly, until the others came, or at least one of them. It was Adam, the bulky guy. He had a bloody T-shirt and held his right biceps with his other hand. Clearly, he was injured and needed medical help.

    ¡°Those cowards. It¡¯s Richard¡¯s gang, they ambushed me and Simon. They got him.¡± Said Adam with a scowl, looking behind his back several times. ¡°Let me in.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°No way, you need medical help, dude.¡± Said Barry from the side.

    ¡°I can do the bandages myself. They¡¯re coming, let me in dammit.¡± Said Adam, sending a quick glance over his shoulder.

    ¡°No way I¡¯m gonna sit this out. I¡¯m going out, and I¡¯ll show them who¡¯s boss. Barry, get Adam to the hospital, quick.¡± Said Damian, clenching his teeth.

    ¡°His gang¡¯s got twelve people, and some small group¡¯s helping them. I admit it, you¡¯re a strong guy, even without your gift, but it¡¯s too dangerous.¡± Said Adam, grabbing Damian¡¯s forearm and letting the blood drip down his hand.

    ¡°I know what I can and can¡¯t do. Taking on some gang is nothing.¡± Said Damian with wide eyes, staring at Adam with his most trustworthy look possible. There was something within him that wanted to snap for a long time. He didn¡¯t have any reason to, or an excuse to for that matter. There was always an excuse, but that wasn¡¯t to get angry but to confine himself to the set standard of the people and live a normal life. Now that there was no excuse to make an excuse, he could truly be angry. Richard would regret it, he¡¯d make sure of that.

    He bumped into several walls, intentionally per say. It was for his gift, and he had to be as well prepared as possible. Ever since Damian could remember, his mother was an abusive one and he wasn¡¯t one to be bothered by it. Anytime he hit something, he¡¯d feel nothing and absorb the impact and store it, somewhat. He knew for sure after tanking a car crash at a fifty mph speeding one ¨Cnone were harmed, neither Damian nor the car. It was his safety function, automatically functioning his powers that kept the opponent from harm. If he wanted to harm the enemy, it was easy. Too easy.

    He could release it in an unbelievably strong punch, all at once, not part by part. Either way, with immunity to punches and knives leaving only superficial cuts, it was easy to force gangs down to the ground.

    Damian walked out the building with flames burning in his eyes, fiery flames of hell. That¡¯s what happened when he used his gift, and Richard was none the wiser after the last match. None of them could win. He had to make that clear, Richard couldn¡¯t win no matter what underhanded methods he used.

    ¡°Richard, this has gone too far. Last time I left you with a warning, this time I¡¯ll show you how futile resistance is.¡± Said Damian.

    ¡°Ohoh, last time all I remember happening is a slug fight!¡± Shouted Richard from behind his goons, a guy with golden earring on his ear and some golden teeth in his mouth as well. He was rich, and had many goons for that.

    There were twenty something weaklings there, and two¡­ three of the leaders were standing behind their minions. There were only two in Richard¡¯s gang, which only meant that another gang helping them was true.

    ¡°Sick ¡®im, boys.¡± Said Richard with a crooked smile, walking back.

    They pounced at Damian, all of them. That made it easy. He crashed at with all his stored kinetic energy at a poor guy¡¯s nose at front, a bulky guy at the front. He was sent flying back at his comrades, with his nose undoubtedly smashed into his skull. A boxer¡¯s punch with kinetic energy from three crashes at the wall was more than dangerous.

    Now it was time for normal boxing, without the dodging and guarding crap. Damian never had to care for that, earning him the name of Juggernaut in the ring. He was like a war god among humans, smashing his fists at one man after another, each hit sending them stumbling several steps. Then it was time for the big hit once more, with the stored energy from some dagger stab tries. They never penetrated his skin, and it gave him a lot of energy to work with. Pointy things did that.

    *BAM!*

    The next hit fell on another poor soul, this time on the abdomen of one. The recipient flew back several paces, taking several of his comrades when he was at it, blood leaving his mouth. That ought to have did some internal organ damage. The goons scrammed, all of them, dragging their five unconscious with them while leaving the others.

    ¡°Get back here, you dipshits. I¡¯ll hunt you down if you run on me this time!¡± Richard shouted with an ugly expression.

    ¡°Sorry boss, but no one messes with the Big D.¡± Said one of them, supposedly their leader-ish guy.

    ¡°I said we were facing a tough guy before, didn¡¯t I?¡± Hissed Richard.

    ¡°You never said it was Big D, the goddamn Dreadnought! You said we were fighting a strong guy, but you never said a monster!¡± Shouted the man and ran away with his goons, leaving only Richard and his trusty right hand with the new guy, dressed in a black robe like a cultist or the kind.

    ¡°Dreadnought? Is that your damn nickname or something? Thought you lived here.¡± Said Richard, throwing a look at Damian.

    ¡°I hang out around here, not live, you moron.¡± Said Damian, walking toward them.

    ¡°Goddamit, it costs a lot, make it count.¡± Richard said, and the robed person brought out a large metal rod that Damian knew all too well was a gun. But he thought there weren¡¯t any that worked anymore. ¡°Have a taste of Tinker-tech, Dreadnought.¡±

    It was dangerous, that was the only thing Damian knew. A blue beam appeared out of the rod, and just for a second, Damian was frozen with fear, thinking what would happen if he was hit with it. There wasn¡¯t time to dodge, or even react against it. Only now did he feel the terror of a Tinker-tech.

    The next thing he knew, the beam flew above Damian¡¯s shoulder, right next to his head.

    ¡°Damn it, you useless shit! Give that to me!¡± Richard shouted and pulled the gun from the robed man¡¯s hands, and in that timeframe Damian could turn his head just for a second to look at what was behind him. A fair area of the building had icing on it, and Damian was sure he¡¯d have frozen as well. For the first time, he feared for his life, and that meant panic.

    With panic, Damian dashed back to the apartment complex, looking out several times behind his shoulders. Fueled by fear and adrenaline, the rush was great and he had thankfully appeared behind the door and closed it behind it. A thud could be heard from the outside, most likely the beam.

    Tears streamed down his face, and Damian cried for the first time in a long time. He knew what it was like to fight, but fear a fight? No, not once in his life. In fact, this was the first Damian feared something other than a scolding and a spider principal.

    He couldn¡¯t stay here. He had to hide. And the apartment was the best place as any with a window facing the area where Richard stood with his gun. He didn¡¯t want to be anywhere near there, anywhere but there. That was the best idea he could find, and force himself to do.

    Adam and Barry had managed to get away to the hospital, or that¡¯s what Damian hoped. He had his own key and he used that to enter the house. It was empty. Richard was growling there, and kneeing the helpless robed guy in the head several times. Damian could relate, since the only guy who could stand up to his gang had escaped because of him. At least the only one who wasn''t law enforcment.

    ¡°Now we have only one more damn shot! All because you messed up!¡± Richard¡¯s shouts and curses could be heard even with the window open, as it wasn¡¯t more a piece of art than a mass produce failure in the socket there. Maybe, just maybe Damian could dodge and give that dipshit a taste of what happened.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have your whole damn family killed, and I¡¯ll force them down your throat!¡± Shouted Richard again, and Damian¡¯s brows furrowed. He was going to do what?

    ¡°Fuck you! You¡¯re not the boss of me!¡± Shouted the other one, in the robe, and a glance through the window proved that they had fallen out. The robed one had grabbed the gun, and pointed it at the other two: Richard and his lackey.

    Damian¡¯s eyes widened, both with glee and righteousness. Richard would get what he deserved. If only he could grab a hold of that gun, he could make the snobby idiot pay for his crimes rather than slapping cops with money.

    ¡°Get him.¡± Said Richard, and the lackey obeyed. He was his dog more than a lackey, but that was that. The freak¡¯s brain was small, but body and strength was not. Lifting a car was within its capabilities, and throwing it was also one of them.

    He opened the window, and jumped down the balcony of the third floor apartment. He absorbed the impact, both to him and to the ground, supercharged, electricity crawled around his skin, a red one. Lightning crackled on his body and a fiery red orb replaced his eyes. This was close to his limit, or at least that was what Damian theorized. It became painful the more energy he held, and it was hard to bear with this.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of the strong guy, you take Richard!¡± Shouted Damian, dashing toward Goon No.1, more a train than a human. He was Dreadnought, the king in the ring. All that fear, it was irrational, for his safety. Most likely due to this being his first time being truly endangered.

    The ray of frost ejected from the gun, and hit Damian¡¯s right hand. A deep chill filled his body, down to the very bone. It turned a blue color, a sickly blue. His gaze turned toward the robed man and he snapped. He had come to help him, yet he had betrayed his trust. Damian¡¯s righteous rage unleashed on Goon No.1 in the form of a charge. It sent him flying to a wall at the far end of the street, with a pat. The fiery orb never left Damian¡¯s eye, for he had endured an impact no less than what he had during the fight before. His body absorbed the impact his body would otherwise endure, and recycled it.

    The robed man dropped the gun and ran for the hills. Little did he know Damian was no stranger to running, chasing for that matter. In mere seconds, Damian found his way before the robed man, and kicked him in the gut for the satisfaction it offered.

    He fell to the ground, but the power hadn¡¯t yet been released. Much like how a karate practitioner broke planks and bricks, Damian broke the man¡¯s body with a punch at his guts, with all the weight of his body and the kinetic energy he had absorbed. Blood left his mouth, and Damian¡¯s eyes turned back to normal, still they glowed with menace and bloodlust at Richard¡¯s running form. Damian would pay him back.

    His right hand ached, more than what the power did. He could manage, but Damian could only imagine what would have happened had it hit his face. Would his brain freeze, or just the face? He had to get this frostbite treated, but the world wasn¡¯t so kind and destiny was a cruel mistress ¨C the police arrived, sirens blaring to their content. Someone had called the cops.

    Three police cars pulled into the driveway, and they saw Damian standing a fair distance away from several fallen thugs. He couldn¡¯t play the innocent either, as there were eyewitnesses. Simply telling them the truth wasn¡¯t good enough, he¡¯d be suspended as some gang member. Just telling them he went to protect his friends was the best story, so he picked it up.

    Red City was a harsh place, and the cops had to be good at seeing through lies. The context wasn¡¯t the problem now, the problem was lying and the context was simply the side dish more than anything. Damian wasn¡¯t really known for lying, but he¡¯d try.

    ¡°Sir, you¡¯re apprehended for being suspected of a group fight. Anything you say will be used against you in the courts, and I suggest you remain quiet. Those nachos are quite heated at their job.¡± The cop said and forced his hands behind his back, putting cuffs on them. Fighting the government wasn¡¯t the best idea.

    ¡°Officer, I think I may need to go to the hospital.¡± Said Damian. He had been apprehended here and there in the past, but not that many as to become well-known in the department.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± He asked with a smile, pulling down his shades.

    ¡°They had Tinker-tech.¡± Said Damian, looking at the officer, and nudged to his hand and toward the slowly melting trail of frost upon the building.

    ¡°A swelling? No, it¡¯s a frostbite. You do need medical help.¡± The officer said, and turned to shout at his friends checking in on the fallen thugs. ¡°It¡¯s a serious case. We¡¯ll drive him to the hospital to get him checked. Put them in cells overnight and don¡¯t let them pay out.¡±

    ¡°There you have it, kid.¡± He said, and shoved Damian into the car¡¯s backseat, and telling his partner to drive him to the hospital, not the normal kind, but the police hospital.

 é™‡Chapter 2é™‡

    Damian sat next to the doctor, his hand in some sort of machine that was supposed to deal with frostbites, third degree and lower. Thankfully, his was only third or something in-between the second and third. He wasn¡¯t the brightest when it came to medical knowledge, and Damian was quite aware of it. There was some idle chatter between the doctor and the police officer, and the doctor was somewhat interrogating Damian.

    ¡°So you said they used Tinker-tech?¡± Asked the doctor with a worried look. She was a woman in her late twenties, with a stern face that wasn¡¯t much unlike teachers.

    ¡°Yes, there was one. It did this.¡± Said Damian, the truth.

    ¡°Freezing? I haven¡¯t heard of this before. That might be a war weapon developed by the country, or bought from the black market. You know who used it?¡± The doctor asked.

    ¡°Yes, his name is Richard Smith.¡± Said Damian with a sigh.

    ¡°A Smith, as in the Smiths? Sorry, kid, we can¡¯t do anything about them. At least for now.¡± Said the doctor, and nodded her head. ¡°It¡¯s done, you can get your hand out.¡±

    ¡°I know. They basically own the place, after all.¡± Said Damian with a shrug. ¡°Though I¡¯d be happy to let his father know. Wouldn¡¯t approve of a several dozen thousand crescent weapon in his son¡¯s hands, yenno, parental worrying stuff.¡±

    ¡°Mr. Smith isn¡¯t the kind of person to do that. He¡¯d find you and have you arrested, without fail, if he finds out you upset his child. Richard, was it? Is he his fourth son, or fifth?¡± Asked the doctor with a perplexed look.

    ¡°He¡¯s an illegitimate son, not public, but a Smith nonetheless.¡± Said Damian, getting his hand out of the machine and nodding his head. The thing was good. There was only a small numb feeling tugging his mind.

    ¡°Then we can do something about that.¡± Said the doctor with a chuckle, and spoke into a microphone to come pick me up, most likely to the cops.

    The door swung open by the time Damian had finished putting on his brown jacket with a few bloodstains on it. It had seen its fair share of battles, and had endured. Some holes were there, due to what happened earlier this evening. More kinetic energy at a single place would jumpstart his engine, much like what turning the key did to a car.

    Two cops appeared from the door, and escorted him to a private room. It was much like the ones used for interrogation if media had it right. A long table, two chairs at both ends. A man in the latter part of his life, with greying hair and a few wrinkles on his face in a suit sat on one of the chairs. The two cops entered after Damian, and stood at both sides of him. There were electric batons at their waists, which Damian didn¡¯t think he could absorb the energy of. He was limited to kinetic, after all.

    ¡°Hello,¡± the person said, looking down at the paper. ¡°Damian Edison. As you might know, you messed with the wrong people and that led to you sitting here. My name¡¯s Edwin Smith, by the way. And I have an offer.¡±

    He was a Smith, and Damian was so screwed, or that¡¯s what he thought.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Asked Damian, looking behind his shoulders twice for each side.

    ¡°You were planning on joining the army, or is that wrong?¡± Asked Edwin, with a raised eyebrow.

    ¡°I was, and still am.¡± He said, and waited for the next question.

    ¡°Then I suppose you have nothing to lose here.¡± Edwin said with a smile, and turned to regard the cops. ¡°Could you two leave please, and turn off the mic when you¡¯re at it? There¡¯s something private we have to talk in here.¡±

    They left, and after a while that lasted forever, with Edwin still looking at Damian and some glances at the microphone before him, and Damian, he continued.

    ¡°Here¡¯s the deal. I hate my brother, he¡¯s a completely corrupted psychopath who¡¯ll lead our corporation to its downfall. This means I can get you off his radar, silence the bastard boy and get you a well paying government job, all to take revenge on my brother.¡± Said Edwin.

    ¡°All good for now. What¡¯s the details?¡± Asked Damian, looking at Edwin with interest more than fear now.

    ¡°This job is rather complicated. You might have heard of the superheroes from before the war, and you might have heard they fought evil. I want you to do that. Your gift is the best to instill fear and awe into criminals and commoners alike. Of course you aren¡¯t alone, there are three of your friends waiting at your new HQ and I¡¯m still recruiting.¡± Said Edwin, glancing at the empty window.

    ¡°You want me to become a hero? But I¡¯m just a high-school student, and I¡¯m going to the army after I graduate.¡± Said Damian.

    ¡°Yes, you can go to the army and protect the empire from the outside, but you can protect the empire from the inside if you join us. It¡¯s better than drafting at a young age, I assure you, the army is a nasty place for young¡¯uns, been there for more than a few years.¡± Said Edwin, looking at Damian with the top of his eyes.

    ¡°So you want me to be a cop?¡± Asked Damian with a skeptical look.

    ¡°Yes, but a more popular one that isn¡¯t afraid of offending gangsters. Government funded agency of superheroes that will protect the empire from all crime, including those of Red City and my brother¡¯s goons, of course my identity will be kept secret and I¡¯ll be giving inside information out to absolve crime in Red City.¡± Said Edwin with a sigh, and turned to look at the window again. ¡°Are you in on this, or are you in jail?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m in.¡± Said Damian and sighed. He had become some hero of sorts, even if he wasn¡¯t a war hero.

    ¡°That¡¯s just perfect. The pay¡¯s 10 thousand a month, sounds fair enough?¡± He asked again, looking at him with the top of his eyes once more.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    ¡°Yes, yeah.¡± Damian nodded his head. It was far less than his father earned, but his father was filthy rich so he had no complaints. In fact, he was rich now. He could buy not an apartment, but a house with that kind of money. ¡°Of course, I¡¯ll do it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s just great. Well then, should I count the members of Red Comets as four now?¡± He asked with a smile, placing a briefcase on the table.

    ¡°Yes, you can.¡± Damian said with a nod of his head.

    Edwin opened the briefcase, and Damian¡¯s eyes opened wide and jaws dropped.

    It was full of money.

    ¡°There¡¯s 50 thousand crescents in there. Your recruitment money. I¡¯m going to take care of Richard now.¡± Edwin said, and walked out of the room. Damian walked over to the briefcase, and sure enough, they were legit. The crescent moon shapes hidden on the piece of green paper with the First Emperor¡¯s face on it were there, and even if it was not legit, no one could recognize it either way except the person who created it in the first place.

    Damian stood there for a few moments, shocked and most of all, just plain shocked. He had somehow become a ¡®superhero¡¯ that was supposed to fight criminals and he was filthy rich. He¡¯d be doing what he wanted to do, though not in the way he imagined, and he¡¯d be getting paid for it. That was the best thing that could possibly happen.

    He closed the briefcase, and grabbed it. Damian was under the impression that he was in no trouble, and could go out of the hospital without much trouble. That appeared to be true, as he walked out the hospital with a healthy hand and a bag of money in it.

    They were in the part of city that wasn¡¯t downtown, and wasn¡¯t the center either, a grey area. There weren¡¯t many thugs here due to being close to the police department. Overall it was as safe as it got during the night in here. Damian thought of going to the dorms to stay the night, but decided against it due to the hefty amount on hand. Getting it in a bank would be most appreciated, and the closest one was several miles away. A look at the clock on the hospital¡¯s wall made it clear that it was still early, quarter to nine.

    The buses stopped at ten, and he had plenty of time on hand. Getting a bus ride to the center was the main issue now. The bus stop was near the hospital, a sensible choice. Injured people couldn¡¯t walk far. A girl around Damian¡¯s age sat on the bench with a large smile on her face. She chuckled a little, and looked straight at him.

    ¡°So you¡¯re the new one. Nice to meet you, I¡¯m Tina, one of the Red Comets. Cheesy name, I know, it¡¯s what the old man came up with. Anyways, you have anything else on mind?¡± She asked with a smile, and added after a small pause. ¡°Oh, right, you¡¯re going to the bank.¡±

    ¡°How did you-?¡± Damian asked, wide eyed, surprised for the umpteenth time in the last three hours.

    ¡°Can read minds, don¡¯t mind me, just surface thoughts though. Oh, and I can speak with you with my mind.¡± She said, and closed her mouth. However, her voice still echoed inside Damian¡¯s head. ¡°Hear me? It¡¯s awesome, right? What¡¯s yours? The old man¡¯s got to have a reason for choosing you.¡±

    ¡°Please, just wait a second. I have too much to process, and please don¡¯t talk as if gifts are the most natural thing in the world.¡± Said Damian, looking around. ¡°They might find out about yours if you keep blaring.¡±

    ¡°Everyone does, don¡¯t worry. I was a fake oracle thingy, you know, like telling people that their wishes will come true by reading their thoughts and wishes, like other idiots who say generic stuff, but mine were far more specific and I made a name for myself but the old man¡¯s offer was better than what I had before and rest is history.¡± Said Tina. She was a lively girl, too lively. As someone who hadn¡¯t had many conversations with girls except his relatives, Damian wasn¡¯t an expert in what girls were like, but didn¡¯t think that talking this much was natural. He wanted to think this was only her. If all girls were like that, he doubted he¡¯d be wanting a date anytime soon.

    ¡°What you want?¡± Asked Damian, rubbing his forehead.

    ¡°Just wanted to get to know you, like meet up and get dinner together. The usual. Maybe I could show you to the HQ so the old man doesn¡¯t get you by surprise.¡± Said Tina. The bus arrived, and she got on. The bus went to the bank, so it was a win-win for Damian. It was mostly vacant, and the pair took a seat at the far back away from everyone.

    ¡°What¡¯s the HQ and our teammates like?¡± He asked. There weren¡¯t many people that he called friend, and he knew each of them well enough to know they were decent guys, after all, hanging out with morons and killers was the last thing on his mind.

    ¡°One¡¯s an oracle here, one of us is a convicted murderer and the other is pretty much a ninja wannabe, like real ninja nerd.¡± She said, speeding through the middle part and placing emphasis on the ninja.

    ¡°Convicted murderer? You just low-key mentioned one of our teammates is a goddamn murderer?¡± Asked Damian, flabbergasted.

    ¡°Yeah, kinda. It was an accident, really.¡± She said, and quieted down, shifting toward the mental speech. ¡°His gift gives him invulnerability, super strength and agility and pretty much everything that a human has but far greater. Pissing him off is really dangerous, just so you know, and when he¡¯s activated his powers he has no control over it. Like he can¡¯t jump normally but jump as high as he can, he can¡¯t shout normally but yell as loud as possible, and you get the story with the punch.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s great, but horrible at the same time.¡± Said Damian, feeling a little sympathetic. He either had to use all or use nothing at all with his as well. ¡°So how strong and fast is he? Can throw cars around and dodge arrows?¡± He asked jokingly.

    ¡°Actually, it¡¯s not that strong. He can lift about two cars at the same time and even though he¡¯s fast, if he can¡¯t notice the arrow and move his body, he¡¯ll get hit, but that¡¯s not that bad considering he¡¯s a arrowproof and bladed weapons don¡¯t do anything. Some pre-Dawn weapons might¡¯ve hurt him, but you know the story.¡± Tina said. ¡°Dawn destroyed all of them, and wiped the memories of how they were made from the minds of every human being, only leaving some scraps of metal.¡±

    ¡°I guess that¡¯s great, except I can do that and maybe more.¡± Damian said with a smile. He felt like bragging, after all.

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t a bluff.¡± Said Tina with a raised eyebrow, more a statement than a question since she could in fact read his mind.

    ¡°It isn¡¯t.¡± Damian replied, since he believed so. Lifting wasn¡¯t his strong subject, but hitting hard was another story.

    ¡°Well, I suppose he gets to have a sparring partner of his own.¡± Tina said, her teeth showing in a vulpine smile. As blabber mouthed she was, Damian had to admit she was quite the looker. Not someone with an average face like his could afford, but this was business, not some relationship. ¡°Remember that ninja guy I told you? He¡¯s strong, I mean slash your neck in a split-second strong. Even he refuses to spar with a demon like him after he did once. Sorry, I sometimes switch haphazardly.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, but slash a neck in a split-second? That¡¯s straight bullshit over there.¡± Said Damian, looking at her.

    ¡°Not really a split-second, maybe a second or just a little more than that. Well, that isn¡¯t the point. He¡¯s strong enough to take out most gangsters, with or without gifts, and even he¡¯s scared of Comet.¡± Said Sophia.

    ¡°The team was named after him?¡± He asked, half in wonder and half in awe, or plain jealousy. He had to be the first member.

    ¡°Kinda. The old man came up with the name, then he named Hugo after that.¡± Said Tina, and asked after a while, pointing outside. ¡°Well, the Central Bank¡¯s where you want to be, right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, thanks.¡± Said Damian, and waved at her, only to see that she was following him. ¡°You¡¯re coming?¡±

    ¡°Of course. I said I¡¯d show you to the HQ, didn¡¯t I?¡± She asked with a smile. Damian couldn¡¯t help but nod, and decided it was as good a time as any to transfer the cash into a bank account.  After all, having so much on hand was wasteful, and paranoia gnawed at his subconscious every single second. It was the most money he had on himself at a single given time.

 é™‡Chapter 3é™‡

    If there was a teenage boy with 50 thousand crescent on hand, anyone would be surprised. The same applied for bank workers, but they knew money beat all, and knew to keep quiet. Anyone who made that amount could blimp them out of their regular life straight to heaven, mostly hell.  He put them into his credit card, almost empty after he was sent to the boarding school where he didn¡¯t really need to waste any money but had to either way.

    The a little-too-energetic girl metaphorically dragged him deeper to the city center, and straight to the central pavilion with the statue of a large man with a cape, both hands on his waists and a large smile on his face. Apparently he was some superhero, a great one, before the wars started. Chains hung around it, and benches pressed to them from all four sides with the lord¡¯s office to the north, some paces away.

    Night had fallen, the moon standing high in the sky, a full moon. Couples held hands and walked through the garden opposite the lord¡¯s office and cars sped around the pavilion. There wasn¡¯t much traffic this late, which was most likely past ten in the evening. The bank had closed when Damian left, after all ¨C it closed at ten.

    Damian sat on one of the benches, sipping a soft drink from the fast food chain close by, where he had  had his dinner. Tina held a fry in her hand and threw them into her mouth one by one. The lights lit up the night, on the lookout for any air raids. Not that it mattered. The empire soldiers were over-achievers, and wouldn¡¯t let any enemy enter.

    ¡°Where¡¯s the base you¡¯re taking me? It better not be some skyscraper.¡± Said Damian, and pointed all around. ¡°That¡¯d be too obvious.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re here.¡± Said Tina with a large grin, pointing downward.

    ¡°Wait, w-what?!¡± Damian shouted. He was having too many surprises in the last few hours.

    ¡°I mean what I¡¯m saying.¡± Tina said, and jumped up the chains, motioning for Damian to follow.

    She walked toward the statue, and clicked on a few places on the metal plate with the superhero¡¯s quote on it. As soon as she did so, darkness enveloped Damian and he found himself sliding falling down. The realization didn¡¯t have the time to hit him before he fell to the ground covered in a large soft pillow.

    He looked around, already too shocked to be even more. It was a mansion, looked like it. Fancy chandeliers hung from the ceiling of the room. The walls were black, and red lines traversed through it around the top. Two large wooden doors stood at one end of the room the size of around ten steps to each side. Tina was jumping on the pillow much like a child would on a bed, except she wasn¡¯t a child and the pillow not a bed.

    After a while, Tina stopped entertaining herself and sprinted toward the door, and opened them. On the other side was a room, enormous. The walls were still black, but one was adorned with a large computer screen depicting what could only be assumed as surveillance cameras around the city. There was a large table, large enough for an international meeting to take place, in the middle of the room with numerous chairs around it, though the littering pizza and fast food garbage took a lot from its glory. In the corner, with a small fence before it, was a gym. In another one, some beds and a shelf with what Damian assumed to be antibiotics.

    In his awe, Damian nearly fell down the stairs, not noticing they were there. His mouth opened agape, and looked around. It was truly worthy of a military base, at least that¡¯s what Damian likened it to. Two other doors stood on both walls without the screen, both steel, contrary to the wood of the other one.

    ¡°Tina, I told you not to use the pavilion again!¡± Shouted a man, from below the computer screen. ¡°The lord¡¯s gonna be angry if you abuse the emergency entrance like that.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, showing the newbie around. Had to make him surprised, and I forgot my ID at home.¡± Said Tina with a small bit of her tongue sticking out her mouth. ¡°He¡¯s the ninja I¡¯ve been telling you about. Seems like he can hold a sword in the public and no one would give him the weird looks, like seeing someone with a weapon, kinda. Oh, and dress like a ninja. No one would bat an eye, like you didn¡¯t notice him over there and don¡¯t care one bit he¡¯s wearing a ninja suit.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s half me anticipating it.¡± Said Damian with a shrug, and looked at the ninja that was so talked about. She was talking about him the whole time they were eating, except with telepathy than mouths. She was a real eater, and the personification of chitchat.

    ¡°Great. You¡¯re the, what was it again, Titan? Anyways, I¡¯ve been hearing about you a lot from the old man. Name¡¯s Clinton.¡± The ninja said, a man of color, also a teenager with a bald head.

    ¡°It¡¯s Damian, and the nick¡¯s Dreadnought.¡± Said Damian, shaking hands.

    ¡°You never shook hands with me.¡± Tina complained from the side.

    ¡°Yes, because we didn¡¯t need to. You already knew me.¡± Said Damian, looking at her grabbing a piece of pizza from the table. A really real eater. It was simply incredible how she could afford to eat that much and stay fit.

    ¡°Heard you can take hits. O¡¯Brien¡¯s gonna be real happy, I guess. Ever since I got beat down with a single hit, I wouldn¡¯t ever cross hands with that psycho. She¡¯s a complete monster, can see in sort of a slowed down manner when she¡¯s about to get hit and you know what, she¡¯s not gonna be hurt even if you hit him. Can take a car crash and the car got broken.¡± Said Clinton with a sigh. ¡°You don¡¯t have to push yourself. I can understand.¡±

    ¡°Wait, it¡¯s a she? Tina! You said it was a he!¡± Damian shouted.

    ¡°Surprise, surprise! I thought I¡¯d tell you after you got beaten, since she has so much muscle, wears a mask and doesn¡¯t have much of that. Thought you wouldn¡¯t notice. Clinton, you¡¯ve gotta be real fun at the parties.¡±

    ¡°You never let me in.¡± He complained.

    ¡°Just speak generic, for god¡¯s sake, if you don¡¯t know.¡± She countered.

    ¡°But you have telepathy!¡± Shouted Clinton, and shortly after fell to his knees on the ground, holding both temples. ¡°I was in the wrong, sorry.¡±

    ¡°I CAN SHOUT TOO!¡± She shouted back, and proceeded to devour another piece. Imagining that loud voice in his head yelling was painful, to say the least. Hearing her throw a temper tantrum inside the head might have been a little more than difficult to her parents.

    ¡°Shit, I apologized.¡± Clinton mumbled, and got to his feet. A slight chuckle escaped Damian. His friends were injured and he was somewhere with another bunch, possibly making friends.

    He walked over to the computer, maybe supercomputer, but the screen changed from its camera feeds to a red screen, with a red meteor¡­ comet inside a black circle outlined with red. After several buzzes, Edwin¡¯s face appeared on the screen. He seemed to be sitting in some sort of office, and had a tired expression on his face.

    ¡°Guys, Comet¡¯s rushed in alone again. Go help her, she¡¯s at 15<sup>th</sup> district fighting a gang¡­ Wait, is that Damian? How did you get there?¡± Edwin asked, this time Damian had the last laugh. Making someone surprised helped relieve some of his own frustration.

    He pointed at Tina, and Edwin visibly grumped, for the lack of a better word. Tina laughed loudly from behind the table, and they both stared at each other, for more than a minute. It was awkward, seeing these two in some sort of rivalry or the kind. Weird, even.

    ¡°What¡¯s with them?¡± Damian asked Clinton, the only possibly sane person before he noticed him putting a large throwing star on his back, two blades both short and long at both sides of his waist, and put on the mask covering the entirety of his face except the eyes. Disturbingly, he didn¡¯t look cheesy but completely natural in the all black outfit. The mask had the comet logo on the forehead.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°Don¡¯t mind them. They¡¯ve been playing that thing since they met like years ago, trying to enter each other¡¯s minds.¡± Clinton said, and Damian noticed himself nodding to it. The surprise in Edwin having a gift that entered minds was also rather disturbing ¨C completely ignored and taken for granted.

    ¡°Oh, I see. Edwin met her before you?¡± Damian asked, flexing his neck and muscles. He¡¯d have to fight again.

    ¡°Yeah, some months ago is my best guess. They aren¡¯t close like family, but kinda like friends.¡± Clinton said, walking toward the door to the right. ¡°You coming or not?¡±

    ¡°I am.¡± She said, with her mind.

    Clinton produced a card from his pocket, and placed it on a scanner near the door. It slid up, revealing a long corridor lit by old yellow lights. Pipes ran through one wall and the other had metal plating. The ninja started sprinting, not even waiting for Damian to get ready. He had no choice but to follow, since he had no idea what this road led to, or where they were going for that matter. The sound of a wheel turning came from behind, and Tina came scooting on a skateboard. She was awfully good at it, easily overtaking Damian by a fair margin.

    He sprinted behind them. Being a boxer, he was no pushover when it came to running and stamina. It was just that Tina was cheating and Clinton was like a professional athlete that specialized in sprints. After five minutes, he could feel himself losing breath all the while Clinton didn¡¯t even breath loudly. Maybe having both hands behind the back really helped, or maybe it didn¡¯t and he was just that good.

    There were also two things Damian noticed while blindly dashing against the duo. Tina¡¯s skateboard was moving far more than it should without her even adding momentum. In fact, the only time he had seen her using her legs was when she was overtaking him. The other thing was ladders, leading a fair bit above. It must be used by them to get to the surface is what Damian thought.

    Thankfully they stopped, and Clinton started climbing up a ladder. It was pitch black above, and surprisingly, they both started climbing. Tina wasn¡¯t dressed in her casual clothes, dressed in what could only be described as a tight-fitting black bodysuit, also with the comet logo, hers on her back. That led to Damian thinking when he would get his own if he understood how that worked.

    There was nothing too fancy about where they appeared in: a back alley, an isolated one. The darkness had settled, nothing too much happening. Red City was a peaceful place if you excluded the downtowns, the numbered districts were nothing short of as peaceful as a ghost town during the night. Nothing happened, and only the few named districts had any life at all. That wasn¡¯t to say there was no lighting. It was lit, all through the night, with streetlamps that had some thirty feet between them.

    If Damian recognized the place right, it was the 14<sup>th</sup> district, not very far from the 15<sup>th</sup>, but he wasn¡¯t looking forward to all the running he¡¯d do.

    ¡°Good luck keeping up, tough boy.¡± Tina winked at him, and followed after Clinton who¡¯d gotten a head start after getting up the first. However, the one thing Damian wondered was how Tina climbed up with her skateboard, instead of leaving it below.

    He was out of breath, Damian had to admit it, but he forced himself to move even if it was slow. There was nothing he could do. He was a normal person, after all, aside from not being hurt and being able to hit hard, just a normal teenager.

    Thankfully, the sound of fights could be heard from close by. Damian walked forward, without the need to look for the fight or try to catch up, his sole priority getting his stamina back before the fight, lest he fight like he had already fought four rounds or more. That¡¯s when the fights started to turn sluggish in the ring and things started turning desperate. Not that he fought in any official matches. They didn¡¯t allow gifted to get into tournaments and soil it.

    Someone was sent flying to a building, from a fair distance away, and crashed into it strong enough to make a crater. Then it was followed by another two. A figure wearing an all black bodysuit ¨C much like Tina¡¯s ¨Ca red cape twisting behind her back with the emblem of the Red Comets came flying majestically, ever so slowly. She was more an angel of death than anything else.

    One of the three men stood up, the only possible explanation being that the man had a gift of his own. Damian couldn¡¯t imagine a bona-fide normal person being able to tank a throw that could do that, let alone a punch. Hopefully thinking, he¡¯d be able to take three before he exploded. Exploding was a strong move, but pleasant? Damian would give a no to that any day other than the one he was dead in.

    The Comet was fast, closing the more than the sixty feet distance in no more than a second. If Damian had thought he was strong, then this made him humble. Now he felt just dumb for even bothering to brag against her. There was no way he was better than her, maybe technique, but nothing more. She didn¡¯t look the type to train, like the jocks who got buff with sports and the kind instead of real training.

    She grabbed the man by the collar, and stared at him from beneath her mask. It covered the entirety of her head, only a small hole at the back of her head letting her ponytail stick out. Her eye parts were covered with red goggles that seemed to glow in an eerie red, either her own doing or the goggles did that. While it did many bad things to hiding identity as a gifted, for intimidation it was one of the greatest tools that one could use. Just showing them how much anger and power you had in yourself was threatening, to say the least. Damian had used this tactic some times himself, and was well acquainted with it. It made the interrogated people visibly pale. That was how scary it was. He couldn¡¯t even imagine how it must feel like to have it be done by someone who could take his life easily, nothing more than a snap of the neck in her hands.

    Damian had unknowingly walked a little close to her, and she glared at him, or at least that¡¯s what he thought. No expression could be made out from beneath the mask, but everything about her look angry from her expressionless blank white mask. He threw both hands in the air.

    After a while, and maybe some words from Tina, she looked back to the man and pressed her face close to his. Her voice was harsh, but carried the elegance of a woman. For the first time since he had been rejected five years ago, Damian thought he had a crush on someone.

    ¡°Who do you work under?¡± She asked, clutching harder from his neck and holding him up in the air with it.

    ¡°I-I¡¯ll tell. Please¡­ let¡­ me¡­down.¡± He said, his face turning red from the strangulation. Comet did as asked, and let go, the man falling to the ground with a thump in a rather painful manner. Some bruises, most likely from the fight with Comet, started visibly healing. ¡°On the other hand, I won¡¯t die even if you try to kill me. Why would I tell you?¡± He asked, with a smirk. Even with his black suit in tatters, no injuries were on his body.

    ¡°Regeneration. That¡¯s a neat thing you have there. Let¡¯s see you laugh when my friend over there talks to you. This is for your own good. Just tell me, that¡¯ll save you a lot of trouble.¡± Said Comet, and turned to look at the fighting, or where the fight was. It had quieted down, and Clinton with Tina were walking toward the interrogating girl. ¡°Just please. We don¡¯t name her Psycho for a wordplay.¡±

    Damian could understand. If Tina took Clinton to his knees and made him apologize in a second, he couldn¡¯t even imagine what would happen if she did what she did for a long time, which he assumed was shouting telepathically. That was just evil. He actually hoped the guy would tell Comet that to save himself trouble.

    They arrived quickly, one on his legs and the other on a skateboard. Clinton had some blood here and there, but he wasn¡¯t injured. More surprising was that Tina had more blood on her. Damian was under the impression she was a bad fighter.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been telling you, don¡¯t barge in alone. We¡¯re a team, we move as a team.¡± Tina said, pouting. She had a mock angry expression on her face to go with it.

    ¡°I know, but some idiot tried to pick on my civilian identity. When I dressed up and found him, he was in this hideout and I just had to stop what they were doing.¡± Comet said, dropping to the ground.

    ¡°Aaaand, what were they doing again?¡± Tina asked, still angry looking.

    ¡°Drinking! In a bar! The bar was the hideout!¡± Comet shouted, more trying to justify herself rather than argue.

    ¡°And what if you picked on some businessmen hanging out, you moron?!¡± Tina shouted, pointing at Comet and then rubbed her forehead. ¡°How did you know they were criminals?¡±

    ¡°Because the guy that tried to hit on me was trying to brag. It was true. He was a member of the Smithy.¡± Comet said.

    ¡°He confessed yet?¡± Tina asked, the angry expression turning to a sweet smile.

    ¡°Yes. Yes, he¡¯s just about to confess.¡± Said Comet, and looked at the torn suited man with what would have been a smile if she didn¡¯t have the hard mask on. ¡°Aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Not a snowball¡¯s chance in hell. You ain¡¯t gonna be getting information outta me without taking drastic measures. If you¡¯re what I think you are, then you won¡¯t.¡± Said the man, and laughed maniacally. Snickered even. At that moment, maybe Comet gave up on him or she got angry. She just quieted down, and it was Tina¡¯s cue to start.

    She walked toward the man with a smile. No, that was an understatement. She walked toward the man with a grin, a toothy grin at that. She was the only one that hadn¡¯t covered her face, and due to that it was evident. Tina would enjoy extracting information out of him.

    ¡°Clinton, grab him. I¡¯ll question him back at HQ. The room¡¯s still clean.¡± She said in a sweet manner that anyone with a mother or sister knew to refuse. In the distance, Comet could be seen rubbing her forehead and most likely sighing. She had flown a fair distance above, and her figure didn¡¯t really show.

    ¡°Sorry, I have school tomorrow! See you later!¡± She shouted from the distance. It was only then that Damian remembered he had school as well. When entering the army, one had to have a degree. That meant anyone who wanted to be a soldier had to have graduated school, not with good grades, just graduate. That made him slack off most of the time, and it wouldn¡¯t be a news if he did skip class.

    ¡°Damn. I have school too.¡± Damian said. ¡°What about you guys? You not going to sleep early?¡±

    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t go to school and Clinton¡¯s dropped out.¡± Said Tina, more in her normal gear than the psychotic persona she had a few seconds ago. ¡°You can sleep in the infirmary if you¡¯d like. Getting to your home¡¯s got to be a hassle.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I live in a boarding school.¡± Damian said.

    ¡°I¡­ see.¡± She said.

 é™‡Chapter 4é™‡

    If there was anything in the dorms that could bother Damian, it was the damn dormitory alarm AKA super loud outdated music. He had came in at what could only be assumed one in the night. Due to not having a full night¡¯s sleep, and the damned alarms blaring too early on at seven, he was grumpy. Damian, as troublesome he was, liked to have a full night¡¯s sleep. The dorms sometimes didn¡¯t allow that, and forced him to get up early on. There wasn¡¯t even a five minute walk to the school, and classes started at eight and a half. However, having no friends meant that his grumpiness would go unnoticed.

    Classes slowly went by, not even bothering to take notes, Damian slept through them. The events of yesterday had taken its toll on him and it was only during lunch that he woke up from his slumber, to the sound of snickering. Annoying girls, though not as much as Tina. He almost felt like he could deal with their noisiness now, let alone nosiness.

    The girl that had bumped into him yesterday was being bullied, as always. Mean words were written on her board and the snickering happened to be those girls mocking her. Her name was Tiffany, if Damian remembered right. Ever since high school started, meaning two years ago, she was being bullied. Now he felt bad about letting her face all that alone. Even her family and teachers didn¡¯t give a damn.

    Fear was a strong tool.

    ¡®Might as well piss of her daddy¡¯s gang, I¡¯m a goddamn hero.¡¯ He thought, and stood up, slamming his palm on the table as hard as he could.

    ¡°That¡¯s just about enough.¡± Damian said, glaring at the ringleader ¨C Sophia. She was one of the popular girls. The kind boys couldn¡¯t say ¡®no¡¯ to and also the kind that teachers liked. If her charisma failed, Sophia always had a gang at her back which intimidated some of the so-called gangsters in the school, except they sucked up to her and tried to get into a big-name gang.

    Some whispers travelled around the classroom, most of them feeling sorry for Damian than commending his bravery.

    ¡°You girls might be going a little too far.¡± He said, after a small pause.

    ¡°Who do you think you are? You¡¯re just a strong boy, nothing like a gangster. My daddy¡¯s gonna make you sorry.¡± Sophia hissed. That proved it. She was a bitch.

    Damian¡¯s eyebrow twitched.

    He wouldn¡¯t antagonize a gang alone, but since he was a superhero now, AND had a team, he¡¯d just scoff at its face and take it down. At least that¡¯s what Edwin wanted him to do, since it was the right thing and his brother didn¡¯t like right things. That¡¯s the way Damian understood it and if he didn¡¯t stand up to a bully, he couldn¡¯t call himself a man, could he?

    ¡°Yeah, he¡¯ll make you sorry.¡± Other girls echoed, a so-called gangster with a ohawk and a mean look in his eyes walked over to Damian, and looked him up and down, clearly trying to pick a fight. This was one of the guys who thought acting tough would get him everything he needed. He trained out, maybe, with all the bulk, but fighting a gifted?

    Simply foolish.

    ¡°You don¡¯t pick a fight with Sophia, get it, shithead?¡± Asked the bully, patting on Damian¡¯s shoulder. This guy might be one of those sucking up to Sophia, or boyfriend. Didn¡¯t matter to the Dreadnought.

    ¡°You gonna do what? Tell your daddy like your hoe?¡± Damian asked back, smirking. These guys couldn¡¯t take words like these, and the moment this guy snapped, Damian could protect himself.

    ¡°You wanna pick a fight? I¡¯m already in the Red Band. I can get your parents killed before your eyes and you couldn¡¯t do shit about it.¡± He said, spitting at Damian¡¯s face. Things didn¡¯t go as planned.

    A hook connected with the bully¡¯s nose. This had happened many times before, but Damian would hurt him really bad. Worse than bad. He¡¯d get him in a coma. And of course, the bully was standing upright without trouble and had a nasty look on his face, ready to pounce on Damian.

    ¡°I¡¯ll shove my foot down your throat!¡± He growled and attacked. The mad swing could be easily dodged by the boxer, but he wouldn¡¯t. He¡¯d take it on, straight to the face, like a real man. Those words would apply if only Damian had been taking the hit on rather than absorbing it, which he couldn¡¯t. That was the way his powers worked. He¡¯d automatically absorb anything that¡¯d damage him, from insect bites to speeding cars. The stingers wouldn¡¯t be able to penetrate his skin, the biters also faced the same problem. The only things that could hurt him were spiders, somehow. Those things were evil.

    ¡°Was that all?¡± Was all the words Damian said, before he swung for real, sending both his stored power and a boxer¡¯s strong right. This time, the nose had been smashed in and some blood left his nostrils. Damian looked at the girls, and with as less anger as he could muster, said, ¡°Stop that.¡±

    ¡°My dad¡¯s gonna make you pay!¡± She shouted, tears streaming down her eyes.

    ¡°I¡¯ll see to that. Oh, by the way, what¡¯s the name of that gang? Red Cross?¡± Damian asked, as solemn faced as possible. It was more a mock than a question in truth, and she knew it.

    Sophia stormed away, tears in her eyes and her lackeys dispersed. She¡¯d probably fabricate some story and complain to the staff and most likely try to get me kicked out. And they¡¯d comply, since they were afraid of the gang. Of course that wouldn¡¯t happen tomorrow. Since Damian was sure as hell that he was going to hunt a gang called Red Band, send each of their members to the hospital, preferably a coma, and move on. Someone who spoiled her to such a degree had to be an arrogant piece of shit.

    Then he¡¯d see the snobby prick try to pick on anyone. Damian could skip class as he wanted to, considering he wanted to. And he wanted to today, and hopefully leave before the sellouts came and he got in trouble. Damian quickly grabbed his backpack and got it on his back. Aside from running away in time, Damian was worried about his pals. He was anxious about Simon and Adam.

    The school didn¡¯t have much security except some passing janitors and teachers, and sometimes the student council guys, as there was a fence outside the school and the only way to get out was to pass right through the guard¡¯s eyes. That was a fine line most didn¡¯t cross ¨C Damian wasn¡¯t included in that most.

    Exchanging a few small talk with the guard, Damian left the school complex and strode to Downtown. He just prayed Simon hadn¡¯t been messed up. When Adam had said they got him, it didn¡¯t sound one bit like a lie and that fear was genuine. The downtown was just as usual. The pungent smell of urine and feces hanging in the air, the graffiti-filled walls passing by and shady people passing each other by with little to no glance at each other.

    Some random thugs passed him by as he entered the apartment complex. He had his key, so he put it in, and thankfully it wasn¡¯t locked twice. They¡¯d lock it once if they were there, and lock it twice if they weren¡¯t. After a single click, the door opened and Damian found who he was looking for: Simon. He was injured, his left leg in a cast and placed atop the sofa¡¯s back. Aside from that and a bulge over his right eye, he was all fine.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    ¡°You got done in.¡± Damian said sarcastically with a smile. He was competitively playing against Barry, and Adam was cooking just as he always did.

    ¡°Yeah, they ganged up on us. Richard had hired some mooks.¡± Simon said, but Barry and Adam was rather surprised to see him, or that was their glad look.

    ¡°And you got busted, bro.¡± Said Barry, with a smile. Then turned back toward the game, and after noticing he had started to lose, he quickly tapped the restart button, ushering some complaints from Simon.

    Damian took a seat behind the table, next to Adam cooking what was supposedly dinner.

    ¡°So what happened at the police department?¡± Adam asked, stopping from his cooking endeavor, all with his left hand. The right was tied into a cast as well, but a plastic glove was plastered over it, protecting it from dirtying itself.

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s what I¡¯m gonna talk to you guys about. I¡¯m filthy rich, so who¡¯s up for pizza? The sky¡¯s the limit!¡± Damian said, throwing both hands to the air and flashing his credit card. He had fifty thousand. He could eat pizza everyday and not run out of it for two months, when he¡¯d be getting his pay. ¡°And we¡¯re moving. Barry, find a good apartment on the internet.¡±

    ¡°What the hell happened? Your half-sister and brother got into an accident?¡± Simon asked, raising his eyebrows.

    ¡°As far as I know, no.¡± Said Damian. They were his father¡¯s non-bastard children and would inherit all his money, which was enough to buy quarter a city. That was how he ruled a quarter.

    ¡°Wait, did it rain money yesterday or did it rain bricks and one miraculously managed to hit D¡¯s head?¡± Asked Barry, as unbelieving as Simon was. Since he didn¡¯t have much allowance other than daily needs like a few bottles of water, Damian could never really pay for his food and got them to pay. It was of course a surprise to them, a miracle even, that the freeloader was talking about moving out.

    ¡°I¡¯m serious, dude. Go look up an apartment, in the numbered streets. No more downtown. I got a job and my pay¡¯s too much I¡¯m literally throwing eight thousand crescent away.¡± Damian said with a grin.

    ¡°Ok, that¡¯s a little too far. Eight thousand? That¡¯s friggin more than my parents make a year.¡± Adam interjected from the side.

    ¡°Try me.¡± Damian said, turning to look at Adam with a smirk.

    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure your siblings are dead.¡± Adam said, ¡°But who are we to care? Let¡¯s eat till we blow up. Chance mightn¡¯t come again!¡± He said, throwing both hands up much like soccer players did after winning.

    ¡°Then that solves it. Order some pizza on the internet. I¡¯ll put in my card number.¡± Said Damian, taking a seat where Simon was playing against Barry. It was as if nothing happened yesterday, and everything that happened to Damian was nothing more than a dream. That Tinker-tech, Edwin and the Red Comets. It was as if everything didn¡¯t happen. But the money was in his card and he was tired last night. It had to be real.

    Everything was peaceful, just for one moment. Then Barry¡¯s phone started ringing. He picked it up and put it between his cheek and right shoulder as he continued to play.

    ¡°Damian? Yeah, he¡¯s here.¡± Said Barry, and threw the phone at him. Damian caught it, and noticed it was from a hidden number.

    ¡°Hello?¡± Asked Damian, and put it on his ear.

    ¡°Hello, Damian. It¡¯s me, Edwin. I¡¯ve been looking for you. The school said you left, and my best guess was where you were arrested yesterday. Am I correct?¡± He asked, from behind the phone. There was a sense of urgency in his voice.

    ¡°Yeah. What is it?¡± Damian asked again, turning to look at his friends.

    ¡°We need your help. The Smithy¡¯s caught Comet¡¯s parents and keeping them hostage. We need you, in other words someone directly unrelated to her to go and rescue them. Then Comet can go and take care of them, you following me?¡± Edwin asked.

    ¡°I got it. I¡¯m coming.¡± Said Damian, and looked at them for a while. ¡°I need to go. Don¡¯t take more than you have to. Here, the code¡¯s 4829.¡±

    Simon caught it, and Damian threw Barry¡¯s phone at him. It was his job, after all. He couldn¡¯t slack off. As he left the apartment, he noticed a black car in the driveway, vacant most of the time which meant this was Edwin. He dashed toward the car, and surely enough, Edwin was in the backseat with the window open to let Damian see him.

    He entered the car, and sat next to him. Edwin wore a black suit, and had shades on. There was a suitcase sitting between the two, and Damian jumped to the situation at hand.

    ¡°So what exactly happened?¡± Damian asked.

    ¡°Comet lost her civilian identity. Since she launched an attack at the Smithy yesterday, they were out for blood and kidnapped her parents. You know what the cops can¡¯t do. They can¡¯t get involved with anything related to the Smithy. This hasn¡¯t reached brother yet, though it will if you rescue them. Will you?¡± Edwin said, knocking on the briefcase. ¡°I need you to go solo. The costume¡¯s in here, along with anything you might need. I went out of my way to make it unique, to let them see you were working solo and not with the Red Comets.¡±

    ¡°They know about us?¡± Damian asked with a raised eyebrow as he opened the suitcase.

    ¡°Yes, of course. I told them. My job is informing them. I¡¯m their tracker.¡± Said Edwin with a straight face. ¡°Had to make them fear you. Let them see how terrifying you were. The best bet¡¯s letting the council take brother down and get me up, or they¡¯ll change cities. The former is highly preferable.¡±

    ¡°You become boss and no more crimes, right? At least from the Smithy.¡± Damian said looking at his costume. It was a stark contrast to what the Red Comets wore. It was electric blue, for the color, and had a white ¡®D¡¯ letter on the chest. There was no cape and nothing eye-catching, just the way Damian liked his clothes. There was also a belt of some sort, a pouch at the left side.

    ¡°Exactly. I¡¯ll absolve the Smithy and turn our resources to Smith Co. Secondly, the lord will inform the queen of your success and you will be operating on an Imperial scale. Thirdly, of course you¡¯ll be recognized as war heroes and given the government¡¯s pay along with mine. Sounds good?¡± Edwin said.

    ¡°It does.¡± Damian said, and took off his uniform and shirt and everything except his underpants, of course. He hastily put the costume on, and it showed some muscles through the thin fabric, tight-fitting.

    ¡°That¡¯s made from a fabric used in the military. They use it as vests under their uniform, so I thought why not use them as a costume.¡± There was also a mask that covered the entirety of his face with two holes that he could see through, and the face part was made from hard material, a nose sticking out from the otherwise featureless mask. ¡°They have two gifted. One of them can control machines from a distance much like he¡¯d do to his body and has a military-grade Acronym, meaning it doesn¡¯t have any safeguards in place. The other one is tricky. He can turn into something like a mist and travel through solid objects, and then he can solidify the mist to create weapons though only turn for a short time.¡±

    ¡°I see. I think I can take care of them, or at least do the rescue part.¡± He said, putting on his mask. The car sped around, and the driver joined the conversation.

    ¡°They don¡¯t know I¡¯m in the team, or wouldn¡¯t even care, so I¡¯m joining you.¡± Said Clinton from the driver¡¯s seat.

    ¡°You were there?¡± Damian asked, his mouth agape.

    ¡°Yeah. No one notices I¡¯m any different than normal if I don¡¯t want to point it out myself.¡± Clinton said. ¡°And call me Shadow when we¡¯re in costume. Have to protect my civilian identity. What¡¯s yours?¡±

    ¡°I suppose Dreadnought is good as any.¡± Damian said with a shrug. It was disturbing how natural he appeared as a driver, and how he didn¡¯t even notice even with Clinton in full ninja costume.

    ¡°I see. The plan¡¯s we get in and rough them up, like we don¡¯t even care about the hostages and act as if it¡¯s just a raid on the Smithy. We will happen to save Comet¡¯s parents, and they¡¯ll try to track us down. They¡¯ll fail since their tracker is sitting next to you. Well, you get the story. Pent up some stress and the mafia¡¯s as good as gone.¡± Clinton, err¡­ Shadow said. He had to correct himself, or Damian would mess it up and say the civilian name out loud. ¡°We¡¯re here. It¡¯s not far from here. Edwin¡¯s car, can¡¯t let them see it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine, but please tell me it¡¯s closer than yesterday.¡± Damian said with a sullen face. He¡¯d gotten tired and wouldn¡¯t have done much fighting even if he had the chance to.

    ¡°I¡¯d say about a quarter of that, or fifth. It¡¯s in one of the Smithy¡¯s hideouts in the numbered districts. Psycho is attacking another one of their bases. One of us will find her parents and save them.¡± Clinton said, stopping the car near a department store.

    ¡°Wait. Psycho means Tina, right? How is she attacking alone?!¡± Damian asked quickly.

    ¡°She¡¯s real scary behind that cutesy act. She can scream in people¡¯s heads, many people¡¯s heads. Yelling took me to my knees, you get what happens when she screams.¡± Clinton said, and just for a second, Damian got a migraine.

 é™‡Chapter 5é™‡

    It was mid noon, people filled the streets and overall, wouldn¡¯t seem to be a time for crime to prosper. However, that wasn¡¯t true in any sense. Crimes were everywhere from schools to even workplaces during the day, contrary to popular belief. It wasn¡¯t a fancy place for the rich, but was the best the middle-class could afford. The garage served as a platform that lifted up the complex up above ground level, and atop the platform plants filled the sidewalks, trees and flowers of many kinds. Children played around, some riding scooters and some riding bikes, all oblivious to the fact that two duct-taped people were held captive below them. Not in the garage, but below that, in the basement floor.

    The apartments were built by Smith Co., serving as a hiding place for the Smithy, a crime syndicate that had the entire city atop its palms and ready to squash it with one little thought. That wasn¡¯t true, turned out to be false, when they took the Red Comets into account. It had started about three months ago, their agents and members being found comatose at their homes and suspecting gifts at play, they turned on the defensive. In fact, most of their businesses had started failing.

    The boss was angry to say the least. He¡¯d pent up his anger on any of his subordinates that happened to be near him on a bad day. That was one of the reasons Carlito signed up for the job. Keeping an eye on, and most importantly keeping the Red Comets away, as they named themselves. He couldn¡¯t argue with that. That girl was a real comet. She¡¯d come crashing down the walls to the hideouts and destroy them one by one. All the bodyguards and hired guns couldn¡¯t keep up, or at least that¡¯s what would happen if they didn¡¯t have a Tinker-tech straight from the Dynasty theater.

    Being one of the senior and most loyal members, not to mention strongest and most amazing, Carlito had the ¡®right¡¯ to be at the boss¡¯s side at all times. Across the room, his friend and partner Timothy sat. Carlito didn¡¯t quite understand why exactly did the Smithy members wore suits even when not obliged to. There were, of course, a few who broke the norm and wore casual clothes like Carlito, but Tim wasn¡¯t one of them.

    Carlito could control any sufficiently advanced machinery in a fifty yard radius around him ¨C cars happened not to be that advanced. In fact, only robots were advanced enough, except military grade cars and the like. It was for that very reason that he brought a military Acronym wherever he went. It had to be put in a truck to transport, for the lack of anything else that could fit it. The model Carlito had was named CCHK, Close Combat Humanoid Knight.

    It was twice the size of a grown man, and as thick as three. There was a large sword worthy of the robot¡¯s size at its waist, and a shield rested on its other hand. Carbon steel alloy was used for the main body and it had one of the most modern power generators: Carbondiator, which absorbed CO2 and turned it into usable energy, meaning infinite energy though its fossil fuel tank had to be touched for it to function at maximum capability.

    ¡°Someone¡¯s coming. One of those costume children.¡± Said Tim, twirling a dagger made of what could only be described as smoke.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t we threaten to kill those guys?¡± Hissed Carlito, and turned to glare at the two duct taped people. They were both in their late forties, husband and wife.

    ¡°We did. The meteor girl is at the boss¡¯s place, about to be frozen.¡± Tim said emotionlessly. He had little to no emotion. Even after six years, Carlito still hadn¡¯t seen him smile or get angry. As if he had a poker face on at all times.

    ¡°Then who the hell is that brat?!¡± Shouted Carlito, rubbing his forehead and letting out a sigh.

    ¡°Must be unrelated. Who goes?¡± Tim asked, twirling his dagger around his fingers.

    ¡°I¡¯ll do it. Don¡¯t let me fall again.¡± Carlito said, and closed his eyes. The next thing he knew was he was in a completely dark place and his body felt a little more heavy. Nothing more than that, and he was in the CCHK.

    It almost felt natural after piloting it so many times. The first time he had gotten nauseous and the feedback was too much for him. That meant he¡¯d be taken back to his body with a headache. If he quit of his own accord, he¡¯d save himself from the pain and Carlito had learned to do that a month after he started piloting the CCHK.

    Carlito tapped on the truck¡¯s wall a few times, and the back was opened by two goons. The light didn¡¯t blind his eyes, an advantage of being in a robotic body. He walked out the truck, and he instantly noticed the running brat, except there were two. One of them wore black and the other a dark blue. Carlito smiled, at least mentally, a con of having a robotic body, drawing the blade.

    The body was sluggish, but one hit with the sword and anyone was torn into two. The blue ran straight into Carlito, only resulting in a mechanic chuckle escaping the CCHK¡¯s microphone. The sword fell on the boy, but it stopped. The sword couldn¡¯t move further ¨C it was stuck.

    ¡°What the hell.¡± The microphone sounded out in monotone, then Carlito felt a stinging pain in his gut. The feedback was painful, yes, but not too strong. Through the pain, he grabbed the boy by the shoulder. Then he noticed it, those eyes. They were crimson, much like the Comet girl, but it was crimson. It burned dimmer than hers, but it was all the more sinister.

    Then the boy smashed through his hand, and Carlito blacked out, appearing back at the room. A migraine hit him. He was no stranger to it, but this time it was during a job. It never happened before. Tim stood there, rather surprised that his partner came to clutching his head and throwing up.

    ¡°Your turn. That boy. He¡¯s a monster.¡± Said Carlito, and shakily grabbed a glass of water from the table. Drinking always helped ease this kind of migraine. The gift-induced kind. Except that glass wasn¡¯t water but alcohol ¨C vodka from the Federation. It was one of the luxuries that black market offered, which the Smithy took.

    ¡°He broke your toy?¡± Tim asked, still twirling his knife around. It was a karambit now, changed from the combat knife it was before.

    ¡°That¡¯s goddamn obvious! Get working. I¡¯ll be watching out for the hostages till boss sends the okay.¡± Carlito said. His vision was still shaky, but he managed to grab the crossbow and ready it. It was an ancient technology, really, but still better than a bow. Of course it couldn¡¯t compare to pre-Dawn, but the past couldn¡¯t be changed.

    ¡°Sure. Will do.¡± Said Tim, turning into that black mist and phasing through the walls. It was scary to think a knife was hidden in there, and he could slash the necks of just about anyone he passed through. Truly dangerous, and effective.

    They were currently in the basement floor, built as a shelter for disasters, but later transformed into one of the Smithy¡¯s bases of operations. There were eight armed men waiting at the door, all with crossbows in hand, ready to shoot in the slim chance Timothy happened to fail his job. He was a professional when it came to assassination and rumors were he served as a hitman before joining the Smithy as a sort of pension job.

    Carlito took a seat next to the two struggling hostages with fearful eyes. It was obvious they¡¯d be startled if some people abducted them from their workplace¡¯s doorsteps, which was the Smithy in this case. A television hung before the sofa they lay, showing a live feed of what was happening at the boss¡¯s place. There were far more people in there than here, as the Comet would be coming soon, peacefully this time around.

    ¡°Hello.¡± He said, ¡°First of all, sorry. This had to be done. Your daughter was a troublesome brat. She was breaking up into our hideouts, you see. We had to take drastic measures. No one picks a fight with the Smithy and walks out of it safely. No one.¡±

    Carlito¡¯s expression turned sour as he caught Tim sinking back onto the room, in his mist form. Something ought to have happened if he was retreating.

    ¡°There were two. That ninja-wannabe is fucking hunting me down!¡± Tim shouted, and in his frustration kicked the wall. ¡°He had a goddamn sword out in the public, for god¡¯s sake, and was throwing around knives like they were darts.¡±

    ¡°Then what the hell do we do?!¡± Carlito shouted back, looking around.

    ¡°We run. Pack them up. I¡¯ll try to distract them for a while.¡± Tim said, and phased through the ceiling again. In panic, Carlito shouted to the goons to pick them up and throw them in the car.

    Carlito entered the car, and started the engine. It was a mini-bus, enough for everyone to fit in. He started the engine, and took out his phone to make a call. The boss was rather strict about being reported of these things. It dialed for ten or so seconds, far longer than it should be, and the boss picked up. His voice was less angry as he said ¡°What is it?¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°Costume brats. They¡¯re coming in on us.¡± Said Carlito, looking behind his shoulder several times. The garage door opened and the boys threw in the hostages.

    ¡°Then kill the hostages, it¡¯s obvious. Threaten them with it. They¡¯ll stop coming if  you do, you moron!¡± Shouted the boss from the other side.

    ¡°Will do, boss. Where¡¯s our next location if it fails?¡± Carlito asked, still looking through his shoulder. Timothy fell through the ceiling again and started sprinting toward the car. The goons got in one by one, and Tim crashed headfirst into the minibus in mist form.

    ¡°Go to 19<sup>th</sup>, quarter of our force is there.¡± The boss said. ¡°She¡¯s here. I¡¯ll be counting on you.¡±

    The call cut off, and Carlito looked behind to see Timothy with an injury, holding his right shoulder with one hand.

    ¡°What happened?¡± He asked.

    ¡°Throwing stars happened. He ran around and waited for me to turn back and threw those things. He¡¯s damn good with it. I downed the other one, a stab below the ribs.¡± Said Tim, walking to the front and taking the other front seat. ¡°Are we going to 19<sup>th</sup>?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Boss told us to.¡± Carlito said with a sigh of relief. Having them on their tail wasn¡¯t his idea of enjoyment and was sure no one else would enjoy it.

    ¡°Well, bloody hell.¡± Said Tim, wincing as he tried to move his shoulders.

    The drive was calm, everything had ended and the costumed brats were left to their own devices. Then again, everything was safe and sound only three months ago, before those brats came out dressed outrageously, coming after them. The local government was easy to get along to. The lord was poor and needed a large amount of money to better the city. The Smith Co. offered help and before the lord knew it, he was indebted to them. The police was out of the question with that. The only trouble was the queen¡¯s guard finding out about this, so they hushed the authorities and the higher-ranked people with money from below them.

    The base at the 19<sup>th</sup> street was above a supermarket. Carlito left first, leaving Timothy to command the goons and bring the hostages. He¡¯d have to go and talk to them, or they might be mistaken for others. There were two factions in the Smithy. One followed the boss¡¯s orders to the word and the other were slightly ajar and were in for the fun. These guys at 19<sup>th</sup> were the fun faction, oblivious to some higher-ranked members. In other words, they were simply thugs.

    He walked into the shop, and noticed there was no one in. The shop owner was rather responsible and it was quite strange for her to not be here, at least without leaving one of the boys here. The stairs were next to where the drinks were, so Carlito grabbed a cold one, and popped it. His throat was parched. It was always like this when he had to take command. Carlito wasn¡¯t the most confident of people.

    ¡°1119S¡± Said Carlito. It was more where they were coming from than a code, actually. The first two digits meant where they were coming from, and the last two digits meant where they were coming to, the letter meaning what gang. It was some greeting method that was created some twenty years ago.

    There was no reply. Carlito knew it. They were slacking again, though he couldn¡¯t complain since he¡¯d take shelter here. There was some sort of moan coming from within. Those morons, they¡¯re having fun in the hideout?!

    Carlito almost shouted out in anger. They soiled one of the hideouts with sex?

    His pace turned up a notch, anger fueling it. He¡¯d report it to the boss and have them punished, or at least try to, or Carlito could even complain to the big boss. Mr. Erick wasn¡¯t really a crime leader-type and had one of his brothers take over it. He pulled the strings, and the boss turned the puppets by force. The only things he did with the Smithy was sponsor it, if you didn¡¯t count the black market deals he did. Carlito wasn¡¯t an expert in that field. He did the dirty jobs like kidnapping and silencing folks. But being one of the top dogs in the Smithy, he could potentially kick these savages out.

    ¡°Some brats took out our base in 11<sup>th</sup>. We¡¯re here to stay for a little while, under boss¡¯s orders.¡± Said Carlito, putting a cigar in mouth. If they were planning to be rude, there was no reason for him not to be. As he breathed out a lungful of smoke, he felt the remains of the headache disappear fully. The feedback was the one bad thing about his gift.

    The foul stench of iron was in the air, and just as he saw the silhouette of a girl in costume, an impossibly loud sound rattled his brain. Just as the headache had left, it came back several times stronger, more intense and most importantly without cause. The last thing he felt before he lost consciousness was his hands being cuffed behind his back.

    ¡Ö

    It was bright. Those were Carlito¡¯s first thoughts as he came to his senses. The stench of iron was still thick in the air and he could feel that his body was tied. He had seen this, and did this more than a few times himself. Carlito had been tied to a chair. This was a famous interrogation method, with lights blocking the eyesight of the interrogated person, blinding them to the where he was. This didn¡¯t work as well as expected since Carlito recognized this place as the 19<sup>th</sup> district base, and he had most likely been tied to the chair as a precaution than anything else.

    He felt around with his mind, tugging. There was an Acronym at the police station a hundred or so yards away, just beyond his reach but still within his sensing area. It was moving around, patrolling, most likely. Ais were built in them along with scanners to ensure they could recognize criminals and neutralize them. There wasn¡¯t anything advanced in their hands, just some crossbows with neutralizer rounds for arrows.

    Wet footsteps fell on blood, intentional, most likely. They were slow, steady and rhythmic, as if it was a method of mental torture. The footsteps grew louder with every passing second. ¡­10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16 It stopped at sixteen, then it started again, gradually growing quieter until it faded behind the noise of the city. ¡­6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, *SPLAT*

    ¡°Are you wondering what happened to your friends?¡± Asked a woman¡¯s voice, not defined enough to be a woman¡¯s. Carlito concluded it as the costumed girl.

    ¡°My partner¡¯s coming for you.¡± Is what Carlito wanted to say, but he noticed his mouth had been duct taped ¨C a cheap trick. There was something large in his mouth and it tasted disgusting.

    ¡°Tim, was it? The guy that turns to mist? Don¡¯t worry about him. He isn¡¯t dead, or worse depending on what angle you look from.¡± The girl said. It was a mocking voice, Carlito recognized it.

    ¡°Now you¡¯re probably wondering how I understood you from behind those tapes? Well, it¡¯s just that I can read your mind like an open book, or a messenger. Only surface thoughts, not the depths and secrets. That¡¯s why I want you to cooperate, you following me?¡± She asked. A gloved hand came to the light, and it pulled off the duct tape rather painfully. She then forced Carlito¡¯s mouth open, and pulled out something. It was yellow, and square ¨C a dirty towel.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± Asked Carlito, trying to hide his fear.

    ¡°I just want you to tell me who your boss is. Not the big boss. The small one, is that what you call him? Anyways, the one that directs the crimes. Tell it to me.¡± She said. It wasn¡¯t a question, more of an order.

    ¡°No way.¡± Said Carlito with a smile. He was familiar with torture techniques, though he didn¡¯t know what would happen if he was the one being tortured.

    ¡°You see, my friend, Comet, has taken care of the look-alike dissing her. Who¡¯s the real boss? She¡¯s looking for him, and she¡¯s veeeery angry.¡± Said the girl.

    Carlito paled.

    ¡°I want to know which one he is. Point him out.¡± Said the girl, pulling out a smartphone from her pocket and showing it to him. There were about thirty men dressed in suits kneeling on the ground. From what could be seen, their hands had twisted in wrong ways.

    ¡°No.¡± Carlito growled. ¡°I¡¯m a proud member of the Smithy and shall spill nothing.¡±

    ¡°Oh. The Smithy doesn¡¯t exist now. You¡¯ve seen what they¡¯ve been reduced to. Tell which one he is, or you can say goodbye to your manhood. In a painful way. I can just smash those balls, or I can burn them, or what would you say about electrocution? Heard it feels horrible. Oh, that¡¯s right. I¡¯ve watched that TV show about Dynasty torture methods. Cutting off pieces of your flesh, little by little, while you¡¯re alive. I¡¯ve been dying to try them out on scum like you. So how about you tell me now, or I¡¯ll have some fun and you tell me.¡± Said the girl. The light turned off. His eyes were blinded for a while until it adjusted.

    He could see the girl now. She was young, 16 at most. She wore a black skin-tight bodysuit and had long hair reaching her middle back tied into a ponytail. Unlike Comet, she didn¡¯t wear a mask and had a cheek-to-cheek grin on her face as she swung around her knife madly in the air. Corpses littered the ground around her, and some were still alive, squirming.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± Carlito asked with a scowl.

    ¡°I¡¯m with the Comet. You can call me Tina, or Psycho. Anyways, are you telling me or not? I¡¯ll give you ten seconds to decide. 10, 1, 0. Ok, torture it is.¡± The girl beamed, and put the towel back into Carlito¡¯s mouth, then the tape. ¡°I¡¯ll do it like this. I¡¯ll break all of your fingers first. So brace yourself.¡±

    *Crack*

    ¡°Wait, I¡¯ll tell.¡± Thought Carlito. It hurt far worse than the thought.

    ¡°Can¡¯t hear ya.¡± The girl said, and after giving him a vulpine smile, proceeded.

    *Crack*

    *Crack*

    *Crack*

    ¡°I¡¯LL TELL!!!¡± Thought Carlito, tears streaming down his eyes.

    ¡°Wait just a second, okay? Let me finish with your fingers, then your fingernails. And I¡¯ll start breaking your limbs one by one after that. You can say it after I¡¯m done.¡± She said.

    ¡°The boss¡¯s name is Theodore Maximus, the one with a blind eye.¡± Thought Carlito, as strongly as possible if such a thing could be done.

    *Crack*

    *Crack*

    ¡°Isn¡¯t there something else you should tell me? Like your other branches?¡± The girl said, and *Crack*

    ¡°There are bases in every district. I¡¯ll point them all out for you, please stop this.¡± Carlito begged. ¡°I¡¯ll tell where all the black markets are, just please don¡¯t do the fingernails.¡±

    ¡°Like this?¡± The girl asked, putting the knife into the space between Carlito¡¯s right index finger and the nail. ¡°Don¡¯t know, I kinda like it. Oh, look at those tears. You¡¯re literally bawling your eyes out now. Should I stop, or is there something else you want to tell me?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll give all the information you want. Please, no more. Everything from street gangs to syndicates. I¡¯ll spill everything you want me to.¡± Thought Carlito.

    ¡°Nah. I asked one of your friends over there. I¡¯m just doing this for the fun.¡± She said, her grin widening.

 é™‡Interlude 1é™‡

    Christian had enlisted into the army not even five months ago and he had the honor to join the prestigious Warhounds as their newest recruit. The elite squadron had lost its scout some time ago and were looking for someone with an acceptable gift. After some examinations, Christian was chosen. There weren¡¯t many with the ability to teleport, but if there were, they were the best messengers and scouts that anyone would ask for.

    They were camping on enemy territory and it was his duty to do the watching out for the team. The Empire had fought the Dynasty ever since the war started. The Federation chose neutrality, and the Kaiser¡¯s men along with the Republic had no interest outside their own continent. That only left the Dynasty and the United Empire fighting for the free land, intensely. Being from the north, Christian didn¡¯t understand the charm of this hot place filled to the brim with overly large critters.

    He took a sip from his canteen and decided to patrol the area. His teleportation, unlike many, would not move his body but create a new one where he wanted to be at and as a side-effect the old one would shatter not unlike glass, damaging anyone around him when the teleportation occurred. That also meant he could keep it up endlessly, no overuse fatigue and most of all, no limit to numbers if only he had the stamina. The distance, however, was limited to fifty feet. Any more than that, he had the feeling he wouldn¡¯t be there in one piece. Consecutive teleportation was more fool-proof and dependable. Except, it was more like running the distance. His molecules moving at hyper speed or something like that. The details were shady.

    There was a ruffle, ever so quiet, but still present. Christian hid atop the tree had been standing on. Surely enough, there was someone. It was a scout, shrouded in shadows. It was obvious this one was a stealth-type, mostly scouts but some were in charge of assassinations. Christian clutched his dagger, and breathed several times. He knelt down to examine a glass trail he Christian had laid, to mislead and most importantly distract any enemy.

    *CRACK!*

    The scout¡¯s head snapped to the treetop where the other scout had been hiding at, but a hand grabbed onto his mouth and a knife slid through his neck. Christian appeared atop the trees again. The smoke surrounding the figure dispersed slowly, revealing a feminine figure with glass filling her costume, a steady stream of blood leaving her throat to create a pool beneath her. It was a woman.

    Christian didn¡¯t like to kill woman. A pang of nausea hit him, but he held up. He couldn¡¯t leave any trace of himself lest they track him back. The glass was a unique case, as it was generated by a gift and thus other gifts couldn¡¯t get a read on it. He hated killing women, but she was from the Dynasty. He could justify his actions. Justification was enough to keep a person from hating himself on a battlefield.

    The camp was about two hundred yards away. After four consecutive teleports, Christian appeared back at camp, in the captain¡¯s tent no less. She was supposedly sleeping, slouched on her chair with crossed hands and the hat closing her eyes. But as soon as he appeared in the room, she fixed her posture and put the hat back on her head where it was supposed to be at.

    ¡°Report.¡± She said.

    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am. An enemy scout was found at the outskirts of the forest. There might be an enemy camp close by.¡± Christian said.

    ¡°Scout ahead. Find their base and report back.¡± The captain said.

    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡± Christian said, and stood up to leave. He couldn¡¯t just explode in the tent with his captain in it.

    The camp consisted of four tents, each tent except the captain¡¯s containing five soldiers. There were only twenty one soldiers in the special brigade, as that was enough to deal with and its number in non-gifted troops equaled 2000. Also this was one of the three gifted units that kept the war tipping to the Empire¡¯s favor. The Warhounds were in charge of infiltration, employing hit and run tactics more than anything else.

    As he walked to the outside of the camp and out of the forest clearing, Christian heard a get up command being given. He had little sleep, yes, but he had the honor to become vice-captain in such a short time and that knowledge alone revitalized him from a sleepy morning more than a few times already. Training and will beats instinct, that¡¯s what he learned back at training camp.

    He turned back the way he came, and travelled five times in mid-air to finally appear outside the forest. It was dark. Christian¡¯s eye had to be readjusted to the dark after coming in contact with light inside the captain¡¯s tent. The silence was suffocating. In the far distance, a trail of smoke could be seen. A trap? That couldn¡¯t be. They didn¡¯t know that the Warhounds were here.

    If there was one thing dangerous about the Dynasty, it was their border guard. The border was too far to their land for them to do anything. Everything would suggest they were getting an easy pass to make contact with the ruler of this place, or at least a chieftain if they were primitive. They couldn¡¯t be that primitive.

    Intrigued, and suspicious enough to not let the others check on it before him, Christian travelled once more. This time he did nine times, running out of breath. Each jump was the same as him jogging for ten minutes. After fourteen, meaning two hours and twenty minutes, even his soldier body ran out of breath for a while. The origin wasn¡¯t too far, another two jumps could cover the distance. However, Christian wouldn¡¯t do that. Running into enemy territory out of breath wasn¡¯t a good tactic.

    So he walked the distance, wary of any crawlies getting a jump on him. He¡¯d heard that Kaiser¡¯s place was even worse than this, with even more creepy crawlies. Last time Christian had fallen on one. It scared him. He wasn¡¯t fond of those things, especially if they were overgrown and was anything other than black and had hair.

    The sound of music was heard from the origin. It was alien to Christian. He had never heard of this tune, but enjoyed it. The instrument sounded to be something like drums. Slowly, but steadily he walked forward. Light permeated from below the ground, from where the music and smoke came from. There was a large bonfire, cooking what appeared to be a four-legged animal. Over two dozen people sat around, all Dynasty scums. They wore there in their foul red armor. The people of the land, black in skin, were forced to dance and play music.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    It disgusted him. He went all the distance in one fell swoop, 16 times. He was exhausted. His lungs stung. It didn¡¯t matter more than getting news of this back to the Warhounds. Christian appeared not too far away from camp where everyone was. Noticing his breathing, the captain¡¯s brows furrowed.

    ¡°Report.¡± She said. One word, but it meant so much: concern, fear, anger and a hint of disappointment.

    ¡°There¡¯s a camp some ways over there. Approximately 800 feet. The natives are being held captive by Dynasty troops. From the uniform, they appear not to be a special unit. Confirmed gifted: 1 deceased.¡± Said Christian. There seemed to be a nod of approval and Damian got to his feet.

    ¡°We¡¯ll be launching an attack. Not far away. No confirmed gifted. Let¡¯s show them the empire¡¯s made of steel and blood!¡± The captain shouted, the brigade following after her.

    At the front was Bruno. He was the heavy hitter of the group, and was most likely thinking of hogging all the spotlight himself. Christian wouldn¡¯t allow that. He¡¯d prove his worth to the captain. He had to. The next draft was coming up in two weeks and Christian didn¡¯t want to get kicked out. He had to be a Warhound.

    They arrived at the camp not even ten minutes after he appeared back at the camp. He had gotten his breath back and ready to fight. Of course they¡¯d have to warn them first, that was the Warhounds¡¯ honorary code. Never ambush an enemy, for they wouldn¡¯t be able to do anything if they had indeed chosen to pick a fight with the said group. It would incite fear, and it would bring glory to the empire.

    The captain grabbed a loudspeaker from the hand of one of the hounds and spoke into it.

    ¡°You are on empire grounds at the moment. Please leave, or we¡¯ll be obliged to use force.¡± Said the captain. ¡°In 10, 9, 8,¡± The Dynasty soldiers scrambled to their feet, pulling out their weapons. ¡°7, 6, 5, 4,¡± Then they pointed their bows up at the upper platform, at the captain. An incomprehensible set of words escaped their mouths, likely the fire command. That wouldn¡¯t happen so easily.

    Christian jumped down at the arrows¡¯ path, exploding into a glass rain in mid-air and appearing behind the soldiers. His daggers slit their throats one by one. No arrow hit him, only resulting in a glass shower befalling all who had the misfortune of being near him. He didn¡¯t let the natives get injured. If Bruno had attacked, they¡¯d be dead, soldier and native. And for glory, for acknowledgment.

    As he slit the neck of the last soldier, Christian looked up at the Warhounds. Their eyes glowed a steady red eerily in the dark. He hadn¡¯t proven himself enough. He had to do more. More accomplishments. More work. He had to try harder.

    Cheers escaped their mouths, and they raised their hands. A man in his prime years walked forward and looked at Christian with suspicious eyes.

    ¡°Who are you people?¡± He asked. His accent was strong, but his words could be understood.

    ¡°We are from the United Empire, here to offer salvation.¡± Said the captain from behind, dropping to the hole. ¡°Are there any leaders in your land?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Yes. We escaped Chigaru. He is king in the south.¡± Said the native. His speech wasn¡¯t sophisticated, likely the case of not always speaking the language. It sounded artificial, as if they were learning it just for such an occasion. ¡°We seek shelter in the empire.¡±

    ¡°Then the empire welcomes you with open arms.¡± Said the captain, and turned to look at the hounds. They knew the truth as much as Christian did. A hundred years ago after the cold war started, the empire was quite prone to kicking out all people of color, to both the Giftocracy and the free lands.

    Louise I was a fool. She was convinced that all non-noble bloods were a blight upon Imperial grounds and banished them. It was quite possible that these people were the descendants of them. Louse III, however, was a rather smart queen and suggested the assimilation of the free lands into the empire.

    She then turned back to the native and nodded her head.

    ¡°You can move out at noon tomorrow. It¡¯s a day and a half¡¯s distance away from here. You can make it in one if you hurry, but you don¡¯t look to be able to. Tell them Captain Quinn sent you. The border will let you in.¡± She said, and scaled the three meter hole with one jump. Christian followed, getting behind cover before appearing above ground. He was out of breath, again. One would think he¡¯d get used to it by now, but it was exhausting all the same after eighteen years of having it.

    ¡°We¡¯ll camp here for the night. Move it.¡± The captain said, the brigade followed orders.

    Christian had did his share, now it was a break time for him. Bruno ¨C Christian¡¯s rival ¨C sat on the edge, looking at Christian by making an U-shape with his neck. After a moment¡¯s thought he decided to talk to him. By far, he was the strongest of the Warhounds, he had to admit. At least in firepower. However, there were a few loose screws in his head when it came to socialization and teamwork. He was a new recruit, just like Christian. That meant they¡¯d be fighting in the draft to find who¡¯ll leave the hounds. Christian couldn¡¯t lose that. Not after coming this far.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Christian asked, unbuttoning his military jacket. It was black, for camouflage.

    ¡°About the draft. What do you think about it?¡± He asked back. Bruno was around Christian¡¯s age, but with tan skin and blonde hair, stark contrasts of bright and dark colors. They were different groups back at training camp but more or less heard of each other¡¯s achievements.

    ¡°Don¡¯t know. They say we¡¯ll fight.¡± Said Christian. Bruno voiced out his very thoughts.

    ¡°Are you? Don¡¯t get me wrong, but I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll be losing that. Utility is far better than firepower in single combat. How about we both decline?¡± Bruno asked. There was a slight quivering in his voice, and at that moment, Christian realized how alike they were. Both of them were fresh recruits who managed to get accepted into the Warhounds, and both strived to stay. ¡°Honestly, I don¡¯t even know if we¡¯ll be fighting. It¡¯s hard to find a scout like you, and well, big guns like me are lying all around the empire.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not true. Not just any big gun enters the Warhounds. Guns¡­¡± Christian said, his voice fading at the end.

    ¡°Those Pre-Dawn weapons?¡± Bruno asked.

    ¡°Yes. Think about it. What would our lives be if guns were there? We could die at a moment¡¯s notice, or before we even know it. Isn¡¯t that scary? Our intelligence and brutality?¡± Christian said.

    ¡°There was probably a reason it was invented, maybe aliens came, or something. It¡¯s better to have something to defend ourselves with than sit there like chickens and get slaughtered.¡± Bruno said.

    ¡°Yes, sure, but isn¡¯t it terrifying. We¡¯re so afraid of Tinker-tech but those guns are several leagues more horrifying than them. It¡¯s just strange¡­ How did we fight before? From a distance? Further than a bow¡¯s reach?¡± Christian asked. There were these lucid moments he turned into a philosopher much like this, and he was always melancholic in such a state.

    ¡°I suppose. The Immortal said that we fought two wars with guns, not a feud between nations like the Empire and the Dynasty, but a world war. Almost every nation fought. That¡¯s before the empire was founded and the nations were scattered, more than several dozen of them. The death count was in the tens of millions. Our battle sounds like a joke compared to that, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Bruno said, and chuckled. ¡°Oh, sorry. My father was a historian and he was sure to drill it into my head. Especially since I was guaranteed to join the army. My studies were a little¡­¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t everyone¡¯s?¡± Christian said. He could relate to him if he tried. Maybe that scowl he constantly had on his face wasn¡¯t intentional. Bruno was also a human. He could be reasoned with unlike the laws.

    ¡°I guess. A few geniuses are born and they¡¯re all Tinkers, gifted.¡± Bruno said, and looked down at the rejoicing natives and a sigh escaped his mouth. ¡°Poor things. Too bad the first queen was a tyrant.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Christian nodded his head.

 é™‡Chapter 6é™‡

    Someone being hurt for the first time would surely scream out. That¡¯s what Damian did when the mist-man stabbed a dagger to his shoulder and when the doctor bandaged it. It wasn¡¯t the evenly split pain that came with overusing his power nor the immense pressure that made him feel like he was being crushed that exploding did. No, it was a stab wound and it was Damian¡¯s first time bleeding. It had been a week, yet the pain hadn¡¯t fully subsided. Anytime he used his right hand, it ached. Thankfully, it got a free permission slip from the school. He could just skip, but doing so legally was the best thing he could wish for.

    He was sitting on the couch, looking at Barry play the new game he had purchased. It was a first-person shooter that had guns in it. Though how it was made and how it was used was erased, it wasn¡¯t the case with its image and what it did. Its shots could penetrate mostly everything and it was far faster than arrows in that the recipient had no chance to see where it was coming from. Just like that mist.

    The image was still clear in Damian¡¯s head. That mist that could penetrate his gift¡¯s power. It was scary to think of what could have happened if that dagger had been pointed slightly upward, near his neck. Would he die? Would he bleed out? Or would he live with the assistance of doctors?

    It had been three days since he had moved into a numbered district with his friends. There were some oppositions from Adam, saying it was unfair and such an expensive apartment couldn¡¯t just be gifted ¨C it was eight thousand crescents worth ¨C and it was named Damian¡¯s place. The usual hangout place changed from the shithole to this place and overall everything was perfect.

    The Smithy was abolished, and something called the ¡®council¡¯ decided that the Smith Co.¡¯s old boss was no good and Edwin got his rightful place. He even had something of a date with Comet AKA Elisa coming up tonight. It was as if it was the happily ever after of a story even though Damian knew it wasn¡¯t so. They¡¯d soon be operating on the Imperial scale, meaning they¡¯d be over four thousand square miles. It would be safe to assume that the superhero thing would be a full time job.

    ¡°Hey, ever thought about buying a new console?¡± Damian asked. With the furniture, the overall cost of the four room apartment was eleven thousand. That still left him with more than thirty eight. Basic necessities were just grains of sand compared to the desert that is his bank account. Of course there was no hurry to spend it all, but there were so many things he could do better.

    ¡°Don¡¯t. Do. It. You¡¯ve spent so much. Rest for a while. Make a saving, make investments, there is so much you could do with that but noooo, you¡¯re spending it all on useless stuff aimlessly. Goddamn it, if I had that amount of money I¡¯d be a millionaire in a year or two.¡± Barry said, pausing the game and turning back to look at Damian.

    ¡°Then you do now. Raise it, and you take half of what you earn. Deal?¡± Damian asked. ¡°Since I¡¯ll be busy with work and can¡¯t do much in the way of enriching myself.¡±

    ¡°Hey, hey, that¡¯s the best damn thing I¡¯ve heard from your mouth this whole month. The last time was you saying that we buy that new game.¡± Said Barry. A smile was plastered on his face as if he had heard the happiest news of his entire life.

    ¡°So, deal or not?¡± Damian asked. He didn¡¯t want to act like a rich snobby brat now, not after sixteen years. He¡¯d just be as he was and act normally. Money didn¡¯t change people, only show what was underneath. Damian admired those rich brats in a way. They didn¡¯t bother hiding their inner selves and let them out, except on courts and business.

    ¡°Of course it is. You can count on me, bro. I¡¯ll make you the richest Edison in the world.¡± He said. ¡°And when I become rich, I definitely won¡¯t forget the favor.¡±

    ¡°Those are some big words over there.¡± Said Damian. Edwin gave out the latest brand smartphones that still weren¡¯t on the market to the Comets after his promotion. It was great to have a smartphone, Damian realized. His mother wasn¡¯t rich enough to buy it and his father didn¡¯t care for him except keeping him alive in the streets.

    Elisa and Damian were texting. Clinton seemed to have made up some things and told her that Damian chased the Smithy¡¯s men over to where Tina was, and some other things. He was surprised, really, when a pretty girl with freckles around her nose and loose hair reaching her lower back came to ask if he was okay. Their only meeting before was during his first day, and Damian hadn¡¯t had the time to acquaint with her much before they met in the hospital.

    Damian: What time?

    Elisa: 4PM, Lord¡¯s office.

    Damian: What¡¯re we doing?

    Elisa: Don¡¯t know. Will decide there.

    Damian: OK, see ya.

    They¡¯d be meeting at the lord¡¯s office. There weren¡¯t many things to do there, but it was right there at the center of the city, from where they could reach just about anywhere in the city in the shortest time. The staples of dates were movies, dinner and a walk? Damian was a stranger to those things. He couldn¡¯t be said to be a social person, but not quite anti-social either. The kind that only spoke to strangers when they spoke to him. Quite an accurate description of his attitude, Damian noted.

    He had to dress well, but he didn¡¯t want to look desperate. At least that¡¯s what Adam said. ¡°Dress casually, but well.¡± Adam said, yesterday, the guy who wooed two girls, of course after breaking up with the former. That advice was indispensable. Damian didn¡¯t know what being desperate meant, but it¡¯d be pretty close to trying too hard. Not that he would. Damian was never the type to impress people, surprise them, yes, impress them, no.

    ¡°Dude, what do you think I should wear?¡± Damian asked. Being desperate would probably mean buying another set of clothes just for this occasion. Trying not to look desperate, he grabbed two shirts from the closet and jeans. He¡¯d wear the jeans, it¡¯s the best he had. As for the shirts, one was a black hoodie and the other the kind worn in an office. The choice was obvious after a moment of thought: the black hoodie. The office shirt would look desperate, or¡­ he didn¡¯t know. Either was he was more himself in a hoodie than in the other shirt.

    Barry didn¡¯t answer. His expression turned sour, and most likely he was just reminded he was the last of his group of friends that didn¡¯t have a girlfriend. Instead of looking at Damian the way someone looked at his benefactor and friend had disappeared, replaced with a look that said ¡®you are my enemy¡¯. With an expressionless face, he turned away to look back at the TV.

    ¡°Fine then.¡± Damian said, and walked over to the refrigerator. The kitchen and living room were joined, the fridge right next to Barry¡¯s room. He was a geek, and his parents didn¡¯t approve of it. Through the open door Damian managed to see some posters with cartoon characters, girls. There was a DVD player and a TV next to it on a small table. A body pillow with the picture of a blue-haired girl was lying on his bed, and without walking in, Damian knew there were dozens of comic books and cartoon DVD¡¯s aligned on his bookshelf.

    The fridge was right next to it, and he grabbed a milk, and drank straight from the glass. No one that came here drank milk other than him. One had a lactose allergy, one of them didn¡¯t like the taste and the other always drank juice or soft drinks.

    There was also a few biscuits lying on the kitchen table. Damian devoured them. Without Adam here to cook, Barry and he had to have instant noodles as lunch. It didn¡¯t fill the stomach. It was strange that people would take such valuable things for granted. For example, being unable to be hurt was such a normal thing that Damian had taken it for granted, and was surprised by how much an injury hurt. Then there was the fact Adam was the one who always cooked, meaning no one else had the reason to learn. Simon could cook, somewhat, but he was bad. Damian had allowance to eat out, so he didn¡¯t care to learn from a young age and Barry was just lazy.

    He glanced at his smartphone and noticed it was three and half. From his new house, it¡¯d take only fifteen minutes. Just to be safe, he¡¯d get there a little early. Putting on his clothes was no hassle. They fit him perfectly even after two years of use. He had grown early on in his life, and it had halted for a long while, maybe lifting weights did that, or it¡¯d have stopped naturally. Both his parents weren¡¯t tall people.

    October had come and a slight chill would set in no time at all. For now shirts could be worn, then people would have to wear jackets and then warm clothes. The weather forecast said it was 15 Celsius, nothing Damian wasn¡¯t used to. When it got below 5, it started to be cold.

    ¡°Cry all you want, but if you lie on the sofa all day and play games, you¡¯ll never get a girl.¡± Damian said before slamming the door shut behind him. He had always liked pressing Barry¡¯s buttons, since he was the kind to just ignore it. However, if you got under his skin, the reaction was too fun to not see.

    The new apartment was on the 15<sup>th</sup> floor, and there was a lift. It was as clean as it got, and thankfully no foul smell was in the air. He clicked on the down button on the wall. The left one of the two elevators was on the 18<sup>th</sup> floor, slowly descending. Being the closest to Damian¡¯s floor, it stopped by to let him in. Inside was a middle-aged man, dressed in office clothes. There was a blankness to him that Damian couldn¡¯t quite describe, the closest word being ¡®eerie¡¯. His eyes were there, looking at Damian, but as if they weren¡¯t actually looking at anything.

    Damian clicked on the first floor button. A blue line encircled the button, and the ground floor had been pressed. After a long half a minute, Damian walked out the elevator and the strange man was left back inside. He walked quickly, opening the door at the fastest speed possible. There was a feeling as if the man was following him. His quick steps turned into a light jog, and then running.

    He¡¯d arrive at the bus station in five minutes if he was running, ten if he walked. Hurrying was welcome, and he took the chance. He left the apartment complex through the stairs leading down to the ground below from the raised platform.

    Damian stopped to look at the place where the strange mist-man came from. It was right at this place that he had been stabbed ¨C hurt ¨C for the first time in his life. It was the best place around, after all. Even with the Smithy taking up most of its resources, Smith Co. was good at its craft, and made more money than it wasted. That also meant they did very much. Built several apartment complexes and imported technology from the capital.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    After a sigh, Damian continued down his path. There weren¡¯t many people passing him by, as it was a work day and most were at work. The bus station wasn¡¯t too different. Only five people stood there, waiting for a bus, including Damian. Pretty much every bus from the station reached the central pavilion where the lord¡¯s office was.

    The lords had ranks of their own. The Red City Lord was a Count, but everyone called them as lords of their city. Differentiating them was hard, as they had similar authority on their own grounds. Only at the queen¡¯s table did the ranks matter, when they wanted to discuss something and vote on it. Two Knights counted as a Baron, an Viscount two Barons, a Count two Viscounts and such.

    The bus was nearly empty, just as it did during mid noon on workdays. He took a seat right next to the door. He¡¯d be going merely two stations and that wouldn¡¯t take long. For the umpteenth time, he checked if his breath was okay and put a chewing gum in his mouth. She had phrase it in a way that didn¡¯t suggest it was a date, but only getting to know each other much like Damian did with Tina, but being prepared was the essence of date-esque occasions, or so said Adam.

    Having a smartphone meant accessing the internet from anywhere in the city. He made use of that and searched the internet for crime syndicates around the empire. There were two known organizations, which would mean they weren¡¯t the most dangerous kind but not the idlest: Damnation, a large group of anonymous criminals in London, and there was the Band of Brothers, an empire-wide organization consisting of the numerous bands in each city. Red City, of course, had the Red Band of which the daughter of the boss offended him greatly.

    Damian didn¡¯t like to be insulted, even more so by some moron who thought he was a tough guy. That thought process led him to thinking of what was happening to school. He had effectively skipped a week of school and had no idea what that hoe was doing. She looked like the type to bitch to her dad about every one of her inconveniences and let him take care of it. An idea appeared in his brain and he smiled, exiting the browser and opening the messenger.

    The Red Comets had a group chat where they talked mostly teenager stuff, and sometimes about the job. Since they were a government organization, there was no need to fear about being spied on by the said government.

    D: We took down the Smithy. What about the local band?

    Not even a few seconds had passed and Clinton joined the chat.

    Shadow: We need information.

    D: Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll lure them. Be at Fortuna High tomorrow noon. I¡¯ll call if the plan changes. I¡¯ll lure them there.

    D: @Psycho, you¡¯ll have to come. We need interrogation.

    ¡°Next station: Central Pavilion.¡± Said a female mechanic voice from the front of the bus. The drivers clicked on their station on their driver tablets and the voice announced what station the bus would stop next. It was convenient, greatly so, and helped him by shaking him off his phone. It was sometimes addictive, as if the phone was smarter than him. He¡¯d keep it under control, or try to the best of his abilities.

    Damian got off, and a cold breeze met him. It was getting cold earlier than expected. He¡¯d have to switch to his sweaters soon. There was nothing much to see except a new building being built next to the library. It wasn¡¯t used much, more a monument than anything else, with a miniature statue of a famous scholar standing before it. Security fencing protected the pedestrians from anything that might fall, and on it the words ¡®The Big Street¡¯ were written in a fancy manner, a picture of a pizza next to it.

    It was the local pizzeria. Damian wouldn¡¯t even think of dining in such an expensive place had it been before he got a job. The forty crescent pizza seemed so affordable now instead of his three days¡¯ worth of allowance. Maybe they could have dinner in another one of its branches  in the evening. A slight glance at his smartphone said that it was five minutes until 16:00. The lord¡¯s mansion, an old luxurious white building with three floors stood at the other side of the road.

    Damian saw the pedestrian light flash green from the distance and sprinted to the other side. It took several minutes for it to turn green, since it was the central road and traffic was heavy. The traffic lights were adjusted to those schedules and do so even if it was completely empty. And doing illegal stuff near the lord¡¯s office unless you were a member of the late Smithy.

    It was nothing compared to the training he did back at the gym. He appeared on the other side a few seconds after the light turned red. That could be condoned, or at least that¡¯s what Damian thought. Contrary to his expectation, there were some people on the central pavilion, walking around. A miniature version of the Big Ben, a very miniature one standing to the left of the lord¡¯s office stroke four times.

    Damian looked around several times, and noticed her sitting at one of the benches near the superhero statue. A wry smile appeared on his face. The statue was of his predecessor, donning an absurd name of Sir Red. Apparently she was one of the Louise I¡¯s twelve knights and was from Red City, thus the name. It was strange to think that someone called Sir London and Sir Paris existed at one point in time.

    As he walked to her, she turned to look at him. Elisa wasn¡¯t the most beautiful girl, but if she was placed on the meter between pretty and average, it¡¯d sway closer to the pretty than average. She wore jeans torn at the knees and a baggy white sweater. Pretty old fashioned, but there was a hidden charm to it.

    ¡°Hey.¡± Damian said, for the lack of any better word.

    ¡°Hey.¡± She said awkwardly. She had a sweet smile on her face and handed him her backpack. It was strange to think someone who could punch someone so hard that they smashed into a building would need a man to carry her bag, but he didn¡¯t resist and took on her baggage onto himself. Damian could possibly replicate it, but without the crater part. ¡°So how about we go eat something. I¡¯m ravenous.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± Damian nodded his head. ¡°How about Big Street? Never had the chance to eat there. Might as well try it, since we¡¯re rich and all.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that place. It¡¯s a little too high-end, isn¡¯t it?¡± Elisa asked after a moment¡¯s thought.

    ¡°We can afford it. Trying new stuff never hurts.¡± He said.

    ¡°Well, then it¡¯s just better to go to a fine dining restaurant. That¡¯s too suffocating, right? Turn around for a bit. Need something from my bag.¡± She said. He did, and after a moment, she produced a large piece of paper from the bag. ¡°I won a couple¡¯s ticket to that buffet everyone¡¯s been talking about. There was no one else to eat with, since Clinton¡¯s lifestyle is training and delivery food with a bit of justice thrown into the mix. Tina¡¯s busy buying her supplies for the next interrogation, and anyways they wouldn¡¯t allow two girls to come in with a couple¡¯s ticket.¡±

    ¡°Oh. What about your other friends?¡± Damian asked. Mostly as small talk and a small bit of curiosity. ¡°Like, aren¡¯t there any other friends who happen to be boys?¡±

    ¡°Not really. They usually get scared of me when they find out I¡¯m a gifted, and never come back. All the girls gossip around me and I was just thinking about going to the army to escape this shitty life. That¡¯s when Edwin appeared and brought me to Tina and Clinton.¡± Said Elisa. ¡°Oh, sorry. I might¡¯ve suppose melancholic. No use downing the mood.¡±

    Damian shrugged. ¡°I guess I¡¯ve had it better off. Being a strong boy helps, I guess.¡±

    ¡°Haha. It sure does.¡± She chuckled, and pointed south. A skyscraper with a glass exterior shaped like the quarter of a circle stood there. ¡°It¡¯s in there. Let¡¯s go. Hurry.¡±

    Elisa started running. She seemed to be trying hard not to be too fast, letting Damian keep up with her. She was just better than Damian at everything, except maybe physics. He had to learn it after he got his gift diagnosed. Apparently he could stop molecular movement and partly extinguish a fire or weaken it. He didn¡¯t quite understand it after ten years of studying it. Such a strange occurrence fire was.

    After a minute of waiting, the pedestrian light turned green and they continued their run. Of course Damian lagged a little behind due to his late start and maybe not-supreme physique. He could be proud because he had never seen anyone better than himself before. Now he just felt horrible after finding out not one, but two people who were better than him. First Comet and then that mist-man. It was a music to Damian¡¯s ears when he heard that the said person was thrown to jail. It wasn¡¯t a normal one, but the high-security kind that contained specifically dangerous gifted criminals. That is to be said, none have ever escaped the queen¡¯s dungeon. Even if they did, they¡¯d be slain on sight, and that made living in the prison no worse than outside a better option for the inmates. That also reassured the population of the empire, including Damian now.

    Elisa only stopped when she was outside the building¡¯s gate, and thankfully Damian was adapting to this high-running life by now. He had even started jogging even with his injury. The occasional ache when he moved it was reminder enough that he was still weak and he needed to train. That had to wait, though, at least the part that included his arms and punching.

    She waited for Damian to open the door for her, glancing at him several times, and so he did. Just as Adam said, they seemed to like when guys did this for them. Just as he did, a man walked out the door, and bumped with Elisa. She fell to the ground, and glared at the man. Unbelievably, the man didn¡¯t even wince or notice her, and walked straight past her.

    ¡°Hey, at least say sorry!¡± Shouted Damian. He wasn¡¯t the type to pick fights. It was just that the man provoked him. The said man threw a glare at him over the shoulder, and walked away. Damian noted that the man was similar to the one he saw in the elevator earlier that day: a blank gaze and a lifeless expression.

    ¡°Are you okay.¡± He asked, pulling Elisa up.

    After a moment¡¯s pause, she said ¡°This never happened before. This¡­ can¡¯t be. Was that man a gifted?¡± and looked to the road. The man had already got on the other side of the road and was walking toward through the central pavilion. ¡°I never fell when someone bumped into me. I don¡¯t know. I just-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that. Let¡¯s go in, yeah?¡± Damian asked with the best smile he could muster. He didn¡¯t want to lose a date.

    ¡°Yeah. I guess I¡¯m just feeling weak today. I tripped, yeah, I might¡¯ve tripped.¡± Said Elisa and a smile appeared on her face. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    ¡°What floor is it on again?¡± Damian asked.

    ¡°17 or 18.¡± Elisa said.

    The elevator faced the door, a customer-friendly choice, Damian had to say. He clicked the button up, and it immediately opened. The elevator had come down recently and no one had used it yet. Elisa walked in first, and clicked on the floor number. There wasn¡¯t much to speak about other than small talk, since talking about their plan to attack the Red Band might attract unwanted attention onto them.

    ¡°So, how old are you?¡± Damian asked, trying to start a conversation than knowing the answer to it.

    ¡°Will turn 16 in December.¡± She said.

    ¡°I see.¡± He said, and looked at the floor counter. An awkward silence reigned until the elevator landed on the 17<sup>th</sup> floor. The buffet wasn¡¯t there, but a fast food place. The smell of fried chicken filled the air. It slid up at 18 and there it was, the buffet. Many aromas mixed in and created one general nice smell that a decent diner had.

    Elisa walked up to the counter with the ticket and placed it on the table. A waiter looked it over, and asked. ¡°Couples?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Damian said in her stead, and took the opportunity to grab her by the shoulder. ¡°We are.¡±

    Elisa blushed, and nodded her head. The waiter then smiled and gave them a smile device.

    ¡°One hour, all-you-can-eat for at 50% the price.¡± He said.

    ¡°How much is it?¡± Damian asked. Adam said to pay for both. He wouldn¡¯t have trouble with that.

    ¡°It¡¯d be 50 crescent for two with the discount.¡± The waiter said, pointing at the buffets with the tip of his hands.

    ¡°Here.¡± Damian said and placed his card on the table. The waiter grabbed a card-reading machine and placed it on the table. He slid it through there and Damian entered his password. The receipt appeared from the machine and Damian handed it over to Elisa. He didn¡¯t keep receipts.

    ¡°Thanks.¡± She said, and walked over to the buffet ¨C a series of metal containers placed on tables, containing too many to count kinds of foot. Elisa grabbed two sandwiches, some fried chicken and a lot of rise. Damian chose a few slices of pizza and put in some gravy with a bit of rice on his plate. The duo took a seat at one of the window seats. They were mostly vacant as two people coming in was rare, thus the couples¡¯ pass. Seems running a business solely on celebration purposes was hard.

    ¡°Sorry about that. I just reacted the best I thought.¡± Damian said as he took a seat looking at her.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I suggested it anyways.¡± She said, putting a sandwich into her mouth, then another. It seemed that every girl in the Comets ate much as she finished her whole plate while Damian only had the time to finish his pizza slices. ¡°Sorry, but I have to eat more than normal. Super-metabolism.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Damian said. He should have known.

 é™‡Chapter 7é™‡

    It was early morning and Damian went through the trouble to wake up. He¡¯d watched a crappy action movie with Elisa and took their time to diss it as they watched before they went home. They split ways and went home. Aside from the problem with the strange man there were no strange occurrences. The strike on the Red Band would take place today and he had to go to school to provoke the girl more. Standing outside the classroom, through the window of the door, he could see that some more morons encircled the one he beat up some days ago.

    As he walked in, they dispersed and walked out the room. The hoe had a smile on her face as she looked at Damian. Too bad that smug face would turn to frustration, or even despair soon. If they¡¯d be operating on an imperial scale, then the Red Comets had to utterly annihilate all crime in their own city first. Only then they could move up to the larger pieces. As much as Damian hated to admit it, Red City was a rather small time city.

    The bell rung, the teacher never walked in. Instead, several armed men came in. The other students walked away, only leaving the hoe next to her henchmen with a crooked smile. Damian scowled. He could beat them up if he wanted to, but there was something highly resembling a Tinker-tech in one of their hands. Also, it¡¯d most likely reveal his status as a hero or get the Red Band on his tail. That was a good plan.

    He brought out his phone and tapped in Clinton¡¯s number. After a few beeps, he picked up, breathing heavily.

    ¡°I¡¯m in the middle of training here. What do you want?¡± He asked.

    ¡°Found the Red Band. Get to Fortuna High ASAP. Call the others.¡± Damian said and put the phone back into his pocket. He¡¯d planned the fight at noon, but they happened to be here before school started.

    ¡°I¡¯ll give you two choices. Kneel down and beg for mercy and I might let you live. Resist, and you die.¡± The hoe said, acting high and mighty.

    ¡°Quite the contrary. I¡¯ve been thinking of hunting you guys down for a while. The Smithy got done in pretty easily.¡± Said Damian, showcasing his teeth in a violent grin.

    ¡°Enough bluffing. Make your choice.¡± The hoe said, raising her hand. The henchmen raised the crossbows with it. The metal thing looked like a gun, but nothing like that still existed, Tinker-tech, or not.

    ¡°Shut your trap, you slag.¡± Said Damian. It was nice to use the grandfather language once in a while.

    ¡°Kill him!¡± She shouted. The arrows hit him and fell to the ground, harmlessly bouncing off his body. Underneath, he had worn his costume given by Edwin. The Tinker-tech was charging, and Damian wouldn¡¯t give it the luxury to complete. He smashed through the window with his accumulated energy and jumped down.

    The henchmen looked down the window, and Damian smiled at them. They hadn¡¯t had the time to recharge yet. Looks of disbelief were on their faces as they stared at him run off. Damian wanted to change and go back to fight them, but it was a job better done by people unrelated to him. He tapped on Clinton¡¯s number on his phone and called him again.

    ¡°Where are you? I found some members. They¡¯re on the second floor, in a class numbered 1-3.¡± Damian said.

    ¡°I¡¯m about there. Two minutes at most. Tina¡¯s next to me.¡± Said Clinton and the call ended. He chuckled. They got done in by their own trap. The concept of having to extract information from a teenage girl was rather disturbing for Damian. Seeing what Tina did with that fake blood and fallen mob, Damian theorized anyone not used to seeing dead people would be traumatized, and the torture too. Even a mafioso was sent to a mental institute instead of a prison like his partner. But if it was just another gangster, then he had no problem with it.

    It was a question of morals.

    It didn¡¯t take long for the henchmen to come out. The one with the Tinker-tech was first, his weapon loaded and ready to fire. A black ball appeared from the gun, travelling slowly. The air around it rippled and twisted. After a moment¡¯s thought, Damian picked the most logical choice possible: running for the hills. Whatever it was, being hit by it would be bad.

    A groan of frustration sounded from behind and Damian shot a look over his shoulder. The weapon holder was hitting the Tinker-tech with his palms, and he threw it down. The others arrived after him and loosed another round of arrows. That only let him gain more energy. He used it to jump over the fence. These tricks came flying to his mind when he thought of his physical weakness compared to Comet. She was fast, strong and could fly.

    He simply had to learn how to do such a thing with his own gift. He then realized he could imbue his entire body with kinetic energy to move it in mid-air or jump higher instead of simply punching things hard. That also meant he had the option to run away from dangerous people like that mist-man.

    A piece of concrete on the ground flew up and from below it appeared two figures that Damian recognized as Tina and Clinton, both in costume. Clinton rushed toward them with blade in hand. He was fast, even faster than Damian would be if he forced his body to move with the kinetic energy. Before they could reload their crossbows, Clinton had already cut the weapons in two. That sword was sharp, he had seen it, made from some strange steel. Apparently the harder metals weren¡¯t suited for forging a sword and that was the only viable choice.

    Then Clinton backed away, appearing next to Tina. She did what she did best: scream, mentally. They collapsed onto the ground and the fight ended there.

    ¡°Shadow, take one of them.¡± She commanded and jumped back into the hole. Clinton followed, shouldering one of them. For safe measure, Damian decided to go home, or it was just his procrastination. He didn¡¯t care, never did.

    ¡Ö

    The occasional scream sent shivers down Clinton¡¯s spine as he sat before his computer. It was in rare occasions that he wasn¡¯t training, eating, sleeping or fighting crime, but the situation called. Suspicious movements of people were reported by the Red City police and warned citizens to stay away from them during the night. Edwin said to investigate this case.

    The warning made it all too clear it wasn¡¯t the work of one of their acquaintance gangs. The Red Band was a large one, but not as influential as the Smithy, at least in here. Their destruction would only be a matter of time. With the feed of almost the entire city¡¯s surveillance cameras, it was easy to find out when and where they moved.

    From all around the city, people gathered near Highpeak, the one mountain that was in Red City. It was a tourist attraction, the one thing to see about the small city. Twenty something people just stood there before they went back to their respective homes. It had already repeated three times during the past three days, exactly at 1 o¡¯clock in the morning.

    Clinton¡¯s brows furrowed. This was definitely strange. After Edwin had managed to become the president of the corporation, the police have officially called in an alliance with the Red Comets and they had the right to request them to help with certain cases where their Acronyms were futile. This was one of those cases and Clinton received a note from the commissioner saying that they had to intervene with this. The people gathering there seemed not to care one bit about police warnings and one of those people shrugged off a car crash like it was nothing.

    There was nothing that suggested they were anything special, just average Joes and Janes that a person could find anywhere. There were some teenagers thrown into the mix. A frown appeared on Clinton¡¯s face, and he wrote back to the commissioner.

    We will do what we can. Please investigate further and provide us with further information. Thank you for your cooperation.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    The screams quieted down. She finally broke the poor man or he gave in. Which one, no one knew. They were in-between comatose and dead when she finished interrogating them either way. One who walks the path of evil had to be ready for an execution, after all. If they didn¡¯t have connections and were caught on the scene, they¡¯d be taken straight to the execution dock. They only died a more gruesome death. Nothing more, nothing less. Except they didn¡¯t die. Worse.

    He then continued to replay some of the feeds and one of them catches his attention. Instead of going to the Highpeak during midnight, one of them was held back by a train. He jumped into its path like it was nothing and had died. Gruesome, yes, but it was indispensable information.

    Clinton then sent another message at the commissioner.

    They do not fear death. Surveillance camera at the Peak Mall. A person jumped at a train without regard for his life.

    Then he stood up, did some squats and walked over to the table. There was a takeaway burger in there, cold now, but he didn¡¯t care about that. It tasted good either way. After devouring it, he proceeded to do his training. Training his body to this extent was hard. To grow, Clinton had to push himself to his utmost limit. If he could do five hundred push-ups, he¡¯d push it to five hundred and fifty the next day. After overworking himself to near death more than a few times, he had gotten this physique, after all.

    One hour of push-up, sit-up and pull-ups each. Then after that he¡¯d sprint through the long halls under the city with all his weapons stocked for another hour. After that, he¡¯d train his sword along with throwing weapons throughout the day. One reason he always did that was to become the first captain without a gift. There was none who could stand up to those with gifts. Thus he decided to dedicate his mind and body to become the first, before Edwin came to him.

    Tina was at his side and since it was good training for real fights, not to mention the pay for doing what he wanted to do, the job was accepted in a minute by him. Various gym utensils were provided by Edwin but he didn¡¯t truly use them much, except the pull-up bar and lifting and the dumbbells for some exercises he thought of.

    Tina walked out the room in a cheery mood. She always had that expression when she pent-up her stress.

    ¡°What did you find out?¡± Clinton asked, doing his push-ups. He¡¯d switch to wide-grip, knuckle, butterfly every one hundred repetitions, but always started the orthodox first.

    ¡°The Red Band¡¯s moving in to take the vacuum that the Smithy left. Almost all smaller gangs have joined up with them and they were planning to request the lord to legalize their crimes. They don¡¯t have many hideouts, just one at 7<sup>th</sup> district. They usually contact their members from a distance and their members don¡¯t have to assemble at hideouts, doing their petty crimes by themselves. You get the point. We raiding today or tomorrow?¡± Tina said, and then asked.

    ¡°Maybe today. What about Damian and Elisa?¡± He asked.

    ¡°Elisa¡¯s busy. Damian might be free. Who knows?¡± Tina said.

    ¡°We can¡¯t go in without Elisa. Who knows what they have.¡± Clinton said.

    ¡°Then we¡¯ll do it tomorrow, I guess. Can you get the guy to the police, pretty please.¡± She said with a wink. The girl tried to look cute, but she was a tyrant nonetheless. Straight from her manners to what she did. Everything about her shouted tyranny, and only multiplied by her gift. It was unfair, to say the least. With monsters like this on the loose, Clinton couldn¡¯t understand how he even planned to become an army captain. That in turn incited him to train even more rigorously.

    ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll do my jog with weights, then.¡± He said, and stood up.

    ¡°Thanks. Can you also get a pizza on your way?¡± Tina asked.

    ¡°Why not.¡± Clinton said and walked toward the left of the screen. There was a door blending to the wall perfectly there, and as soon as he opened it, the waft smell of iron hitting him like a hammer. Tied to a table was a man in his forties, with some blood dripping down. Not much, but enough to make a small puddle below.

    It was disturbing how far Tina was willing to go to psychologically terrorize someone. She even bought several gallons of fake blood that felt the same, looked the same and even smelled the same as the real one, except it was made chemically rather than organically. For extra effect, she knocked out people at their bases and drenched them in said fake blood to practically make the interrogated person wet their pants, or even soil it. It was effective, sure, but immoral. Having her as an enemy would prove a nightmare. She could read surface thoughts and create a telepathic link with someone to knock them out with her scream, or she could whisper to her friends.

    In the army they used something called a ¡®giftometer¡¯ to know what level of strength that recruits had. Edwin brought it here some time ago and according to that, Tina was a level 8 telepath, 2 points from the maximum. Clinton did have a gift, even though he never thought he did ¨C when he adopted his dream. In the army, they called it stealth. Apparently, his level was 5. This was a number high enough to be accepted as a captain of a minor squad or a scout of a larger one.

    Ever since, his determination had somewhat felled and training was more of an obligation than anything. That is when Clinton realized that he could become a captain of one of the 3 great squads if he truly tried. Anything was possible as long as people were willing to put their minds to it, Clinton was the embodiment of that. A bullied kid, or at least a rather weak one, he wasn¡¯t the type to be seen as army material, before he started to train. His veteran grandfather then decided to send him to the military, further cooing him into training more, giving him determination.

    ¡°Please, no! I told everything, I swear! Just don¡¯t!¡± The poor man said. Clinton sighed. This was his third time doing this.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. She¡¯s gone. I¡¯m here to help.¡± He said  and the blindfolded man breathed hard.

    ¡°I swear I don¡¯t know more than that! I have a family, please.¡± The man proceeded and Clinton sighed.

    ¡°We¡¯re getting you out of here.¡± He said, and shouldered him much like when he brought him here, still with the blindfolds. Clinton wouldn¡¯t let the enemy see what their base looked like, let alone letting them know where one of the entrances was. That was just inviting trouble. He swiped his card on the door and it slid open. His sprinting training then began.

    The police station was close by, and it wouldn¡¯t take even ten minutes to get there. While the other side was a tunnel that was built as a tunnel, this side consisted of the sewers. Clinton looked back at the wall of stone descend to the ground, hiding away the door to the Red Comets¡¯ HQ. It now simply looked like a dead end as was on the map of Red City sewers.

    The putrid stench of the sewers made it hard to do exercise, and he preferred to sprint in the other tunnel except on errands like this. True to his word, he arrived there in eight. It opened up to the basement of the local police department. Brushing away the cleaning utensils all around him, Clinton walked up the stairs and onto the reception. The middle-aged woman sitting behind the table looked over Clinton¡¯s costumed form and nodded her head, pointing to a door at the far end of the place. Strangely, no one looked at someone carrying a bleeding person over their shoulder, wearing a ninja outfit and carrying two swords at his waists.

    He kicked the door open and the police doctor told him to place the man on the bed.

    ¡°Also tortured?¡± The old man asked as he looked over him.

    ¡°Yeah. Broken, maybe. Injured, definitely.¡± Clinton said, pulling down his mask.

    ¡°Serves him right for being in a gang... Ah, sorry. My son was in the Smithy and he got punished for leaving.¡± The doctor said.

    ¡°I can relate.¡± Clinton lied. ¡°Am I free to leave now?¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course. I¡¯ll fix him up and send him to a prison.¡± The doctor said and waved him goodbye. Clinton nodded his head and walked outside the room, closing the door behind him.

    ¡°Hey, Shadow.¡± Said an obese man with a moustache over his mouth. His mostly grumpy expression wasn¡¯t present, or it was easier to describe him by no emotion existed on his face at all.

    ¡°Commissioner. What do you want?¡± Clinton asked.

    ¡°Can you follow me. We have to talk about something real quick.¡± The commissioner said and pointed up at the stairs. ¡°There is someone who would like to meet you upstairs.¡±

    ¡°Of course. I¡¯ll meet that person.¡± Clinton said, nodding his head.

    The commissioner led him upstairs, passing by some other police officers with blank faces. Maybe something to arouse such a reaction happened recently. The commissioner¡¯s name was Ronald. He was a good friend of the lord¡¯s, and agreed to help them by providing information only the police had access to. That was indispensable and they agreed. Edwin didn¡¯t interfere with matters like these, lest he reveal that he was supporting the Red Comets.

    Ronald walked into a room named ¡®Commissioner¡¯s Room¡¯, clearly his own. Sitting behind the desk, however, was a teenager a few years younger than Clinton, around thirteen. The age, however, wasn¡¯t the first thing he noticed about the boy. It was the hair, a pure color ¨C snow white without even an indication it was painted.

    ¡°I¡¯d like you to answer a few of his questions, if you won¡¯t mind, of course.¡± The commissioner said.

    ¡°I¡¯ll answer.¡± Clinton said.

    ¡°Well then, Mr. Shadow, may I ask what your real name is.¡± The boy said with a sweet smile.

    ¡°Why should I tell you?¡± Clinton asked back.

    ¡°May I know if you will tell me or not?¡± The boy asked again.

    ¡°Of course no.¡± Clinton said, and then everything blanked out.

    The boy chuckled, then laughed, then laughed like a maniac.

    ¡°Oh my god, I should thank those bullies.¡± He said under his breath, and pointed at his newest minion. ¡°You¡¯ll go and hunt down the rest of the Comets.¡±

    The Shadow nodded his head, and walked out.

    ¡°Ronny, go and bring in three boys. Their names are Brian, Fred and James. 25<sup>th </sup>school, 7<sup>th</sup> grade.¡± The boy said. ¡°By the way, make them believe they¡¯re really being arrested.¡±

    Shadow: Let¡¯s meet up at 11PM tonight 7<sup>th</sup> district, the tallest building. We will be attacking the Red Band.

    Psycho: Yay.

    Comet: I¡¯ll be there at 11:30

    D: Sure.

 é™‡Chapter 8é™‡

    Damian arrived just in time at 11:30. The 7<sup>th</sup> district was where he lived, and he had thought he could pull a last minute arrival. He could, but was almost late that it was literally last minute. A girl in a black body-tight suit lied on the ground, a puddle of blood beneath her. Damian¡¯s eyes widened and he looked around. She wasn¡¯t the type to fall easily. He had seen what she was capable of. She couldn¡¯t have just died like that. Damian knelt near her and shook her rigorously.

    ¡°Hey, Psycho, no Tina, wake up. Don¡¯t be acting sleepy. Wake up, please.¡± He said.

    ¡°No use. She is already dead.¡± A man said from behind him. Damian recognized this voice. It was Clinton, but a hollow tint was in his voice.

    ¡°What happened?¡± Damian asked.

    ¡°I killed her.¡± Clinton said and soon the sound of a blade unsheathing reached Damian¡¯s ears. Not even a second after, before Damian could even turn around, Clinton¡¯s blade reached his neck and Damian felt a surge of energy. ¡°But I don¡¯t think I can do so for you and Elisa.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Damian growled, his sight tinted with red and temper shortening with every millisecond.

    ¡°Because my king ordered me to.¡± Clinton said. Those eyes were just like the person in the elevator. They were blank, and face expressionless.

    ¡°King?¡± He asked.

    ¡°That is none of your business. I have taken Elisa¡¯s father hostage. Your friend Adam is also there. Fight Comet, or I kill both of them. I have sent a message to Comet saying so. Both of them shall die unless one of you do.¡± Clinton said, pointing at a surveillance camera hanging from a streetlamp. ¡°I will be looking. Don¡¯t even think about cheating.¡±

    He then sprinted away into a hole in the ground, most likely going to the base. The lid was left open as if daring him to go. Damian wouldn¡¯t. He released the residue energy onto the ground with a stomp. Adam was the first of his friends. There was no way Damian would endanger him. Then again, a parent was an important person to any person other than Damian who had a shitty experience with both. It was a hard decision. He couldn¡¯t throw the match since one of them had to die.

    It frustrated him, angered him. For the first time in his sixteen years of life, he snapped. He¡¯d defeat Comet and show Clinton what hell was like. He¡¯d show him what it meant to mess with him. Damian would take revenge, but first he had to win. Comet arrived at a little past 12, dressed in her superhero costume. It offered protection, and also served to protect her identity. Her eyes burned a bright through her goggles. It was her powers at work, Damian knew, but not technology.

    ¡°Have you heard?¡± Elisa asked. She sounded sad, but the helmet that covered her entire head didn¡¯t let her mouth through to show her expression.

    ¡°Yes. And I fully intend to win.¡± Said Damian, without fear.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I have to win as well.¡± She said, and descended to the ground. Without a second¡¯s delay, she jumped at him. The Comet was true to her name, impossibly strong. Damian¡¯s energy pumped up to maximum in one punch, and he returned one in kind, to her cheek. It moved her face a little, nothing more. Something inside Damian tugged against him fighting a girl, but his care for his friend overpowered it.

    She shouted, and sent another punch at Damian. It was an average punch, without training or form. The sheer speed and power, however, made it a terrifying attack. Damian leaned back, letting the punch through. Elisa then followed up with another swing. She took the time to pull back her hands before she threw a punch, making it easy to read. Damian didn¡¯t dodge. He took it.

    His eyes burned a crimson red again as he sent another attack, this time to her solar plexus. It was easy to hit her without a proper guard in place. The breath left her lungs, possibly having it done to her the first time in her life. Then he followed up with an uppercut under her chin with every muscle in his body compressing the force behind that punch.

    It wasn¡¯t enough to budge her.

    She groaned in pain, and Damian ran away, straight into a wall. Recharged, he walked toward the girl stumbling on her legs. Seemingly deciding flight was a better option, she took to the skies. Instead of fighting attacks from the front, it switched to fighting from every direction but the ground. She was fast, incredibly so in the air. She smashed into Damian with a flying kick, her superior strength and the kinetic energy of the flight compressed into a single heel of her foot.

    Damian didn¡¯t budge, all of the energy compressing .His energy container overflowed, and he exploded. A blanket of energy left his body, smashing away the girl with her foot still on his body. An intense pain filled his body, hurting every single cell inside him, even though Damian knew it did no damage he still abstained from doing such a painful thing. He groaned in pain and glared at Elisa.

    Elisa was lying on the ground, holding her feet. Her eyes had stopped glowing, meaning her power wasn¡¯t as active as it was before. Those impossibly fast punches would have to have be reduced in speed now, though she didn¡¯t look to be in any form to fight.

    ¡°Sorry. No hard feelings, Comet.¡± Damian said and smashed into a wall, instantly recharging himself. She glared at him, Damian could feel the sting. ¡°Please forgive me.¡±

    If the speed was reduced, so would the invulnerability. This punch ought to do something now.

    Tears left his eye. He really couldn¡¯t kill a person, at least not a woman, not a desperate girl trying to save her parents. But what must be done had to be done. It was either kill or get killed.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    He sent a punch with all his kinetic energy, aiming at her temples. But a familiar feeling washed over him, the power behind his punch weakening every millimeter it travelled, coming to a halt at Elisa¡¯s temples. A hand was on his arm, grabbing onto it.

    ¡°Damian, you aren¡¯t the kind of person to do this.¡± Said a boy, showing off his golden teeth ¨C Richard.

    ¡°What are you doing here?!¡± Damian shouted.

    ¡°Stopping you from killing another one of our teammates, as a Red Comet.¡± He said, and slammed his fist into his face. It had no effect, of course. ¡°Snap out of it, you moron! You kill one of your friends just because someone told you to? That way all the friends you can have are those idiots you hang out with!¡±

    ¡°They picked me up when I was alone. They are my friends. I have to protect them.¡± Damian said in return, hoping to justify his actions just a little bit. Justify trying to beat up a helpless girl.

    ¡°Adam, was it? He¡¯s safe. The other new recruit should have got the ninja guy by now.¡± Richard said. ¡°He¡¯s safe, so is your father, girly. Damn that guy. He killed that girl over there? Shit.¡±

    ¡°Why are you in the Comets?¡± Damian growled, wrinkling his nose.

    ¡°As your failsafe just as you are that girl¡¯s.¡± Richard said. ¡°And also, the other new recruit I said that got the ninja? She¡¯s also his failsafe. It¡¯s dangerous to have so many gifted working without any leader, or so said uncle. That psychic girl was the closest to that and she¡¯s no more, so he told us to come right away, even though I didn¡¯t really agree. Either way, I arrived just in the nick of time.¡±

    ¡°How did he know?¡± Mumbled Damian, and was pretty sure Richard hadn¡¯t heard him, yet he replied.

    ¡°He¡¯s got all the cameras at your base at home, and also he¡¯s in the group chat. It¡¯s obvious he¡¯d be looking out for you. We¡¯re still teenagers, na?ve and untrustworthy.¡± Richard said with a sigh. ¡°Just like you, but I¡¯m a little better off. Let me tell you as a former gangster, no, bad guy. There¡¯s no way he¡¯d let go any of the hostages. And you called me a moron, to boot.¡±

    ¡°B-but¡­¡± Damian stuttered.

    ¡°You see, we take hostages but we don¡¯t give them back. That¡¯s a rule of thumb, really. Girly, get up. Let¡¯s get you away from this moron. And Damian, you go and rest.¡± Richard said, and pulled Elisa up. ¡°So yours stops working when you¡¯re hurt? Then we¡¯re pretty similar.¡± He walked to the distance, leaving Damian alone.

    He stood there for a while, looking at Tina¡¯s cold body. The few tears falling from his eyes turned into a him bawling his eyes out. After an unknown amount of time, the sound of sirens filled the night and two cars pulled into the half-full driveway. Four cops walked out from their cars and stopped behind Damian.

    In a cold voice, one of them asked.

    ¡°Sir, you are apprehended for being suspected of murder. Anything you say will be used against you in the courts.¡± The officer said and Damian looked back. It was the same officer that caught him after the fight with Richard. His expression was blank, just like the one in the elevator. Damian clenched his teeth and slammed his hands on the ground. The others were much like the first, all expressionless. For the first time, he drew from somewhere that wasn¡¯t outside his body, or even corporeal. No, it was something different. A mix of regret and anger. They receded as his energy container filled to the brim.

    ¡°Violence against a police officer is high treason and the maximum penalty is execution.¡± The officer said.

    ¡°There, there and even there, you were there, with your goddamn expressionless faces. What the hell do you want?!¡± Damian shouted.

    ¡°We want you to come with us and be questioned.¡± The officer said.

    ¡°Then I fucking say no!¡± Damian shouted and slammed at him. He flew back, smashing onto his car and the glass cracked. Most surprisingly, however, the recipient stood back up, unbothered by the nose that had clearly been put to the same level as his skull.

    ¡°You are hereby arrested for high treason. Get him.¡± The officer said and the others obeyed. They tackled Damian to the ground, and Damian wanted to draw from that source yet again, but his anger had fled long ago, replaced by fear and uncertainty.

    Only then did Damian realize, he had relied on his gift too much that he had forgotten to take tackling into account, fighting only people without official training had made him bold to what techniques other than boxing were. He was lying on the ground with both hands cuffed behind his back in mere seconds. They threw him into the guarded backseat of their car and it arrived at the central police department.

    ¡°Who are you people?¡± Damian asked. Even faced against Tinker-tech, he had a choice. This time, he didn¡¯t. Helplessness showed itself to him.

    ¡°The police.¡± Said the driver.

    ¡°I know you aren¡¯t. I met you a few days ago. You didn¡¯t act like this then, and no one would change so much in such a short time. Who the hell are you? ¡­ I think something is happening. No, I¡¯m sure.¡± Damian growled.

    ¡°Silence him.¡± Said the driver and the one sitting in the spare seat opened the hard glass and fired his taser at Damian. He felt the electricity crackle through his body for a second, and he lost consciousness.

    ¡Ö

    The next he came to was on a bed in what appeared to be the infirmary. His belongings were all neatly placed on a table, and on a chair next to it sat a young girlish boy or a tomboyish girl with white hair reaching his shoulders. He had a police hat on his head and was toying with a taser in his hand.

    ¡°Where am I?¡± Damian asked.

    ¡°The police department. They brought you-¡± The boy said, but the ringing of his phone stopped him mid-sentence. Damian stumbled to his phone and first he noticed it was already 1 o¡¯clock in the morning and the second thing he noticed was it was Adam.

    ¡°Sorry. I really have to make this call.¡± Damian said, and the boy nodded his head with a smile.

    ¡°Sure, I can wait.¡± He said, humming a happy tune in his mouth.

    ¡°It¡¯s me, Clinton. Don¡¯t say no to him, please. Just run away now!!!¡± He shouted from behind the phone.

    ¡°Who are you to order me around?¡± Damian asked.

    ¡°If you don¡¯t want to kill Comet like I did with Tina, get the hell out of there. Jump out the window, or do something. Just don¡¯t say no to him!¡± Clinton half-shouted, half-growled.

    ¡°It¡¯s true. Get out of there.¡± Said someone who could only be Richard. ¡°Your friend is safe. I¡¯m here.¡±

    ¡°Would you be as kind to take a seat, please?¡± The boy asked, pointing at the bed he was lying on earlier. Disturbed, Damian nodded his head and sat down. ¡°Well then, let¡¯s get straight to the point. Could you tell me who killed the girl?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Cli-, the Shadow.¡± Damian said.

    ¡°Then would you be as kind to tell me his non-masked identity?¡± The boy asked with a smile.

    ¡°It¡¯s-¡± Damian stuttered, and remembered what Clinton said. Don¡¯t say no to him, please. ¡°Clinton.¡±

    ¡°Oh, thank you very much. Then could you tell who the Comet is while you¡¯re at it?¡± The boy asked once more.

    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know.¡± Damian said. Then something inside him steered and a feeling akin to nausea hit him.

    ¡°Aw, you lied. Well, don¡¯t worry, you¡¯re gonna tell it to me now.¡± Said the boy, and just as the strange feeling in his stomach reached his mouth, the name came out.

    ¡°Elisa.¡±

    ¡°Hahahaha. Now then, would you-¡± The boy said, but Damian jumped out the window, and using up all the kinetic energy he had, ignoring all the pain, he forced his body to move at maximum speed rivaling Comet¡¯s if not stronger.

    ¡°Oh, hell. I forgot to tell Shadow to come here at 1.¡± The boy said with a chuckle. ¡°Well, I have a feeling we¡¯ll meet again. Especially since I have the police under my command. Guess I¡¯ll catch the Red Band and recruit them as well. Need as much manpower as possible.¡±

 é™‡Chapter 9é™‡

    The Red Comets had all assembled outside of work for the first time. Richard sat next to Elisa on one long side, Damian at the other with other new recruit. It was a girl with blonde hair trimmed like a boy¡¯s, the same age as the others. She looked athletic, in a way that was different than Elisa¡¯s, as if she trained out and went through the trouble to work out rather than Elisa¡¯s perfectly chiseled, super-metabolism-assisted body that showed through her costume.

    Clinton sat at the end with a complex expression on his face. He bit his lips and slammed his head into the table.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m really sorry, but there was nothing I could do. I was just a prisoner in my body as something controlled me. Used my knowledge, my body and most importantly the trust Tina had in me to kill her. Not only that, I made you two do something horrible. Please, forgive me, Damian, Elisa. I won¡¯t repeat the same mistakes again.¡± Clinton said.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, buddy. I think we can work everything out if we cooperate.¡± Richard said, looking at Damian. ¡°How about you tell us what exactly happened to you.¡±

    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s still fresh on my mind.¡± Clinton said and closed his eyes. ¡°I was there to hand over the Red Band member Tina questioned. The commissioner was acting strange, I should have noticed. He brought me to a white haired boy and he asked me some questions. When I answered no to one of his questions, I suddenly blacked out and came to when I was kidnapping the hostages I took... I was conscious when I killed Tina, but I couldn¡¯t stop.¡±

    ¡°I think that¡¯s just about enough. What about you, Damian? You were arrested, right?¡± Richard asked, put both arms on the table and grabbing his palms with both hands. Then he put them before his nose.

    ¡°Yes. Clinton managed to call me at the right time.¡± Said Damian with a scowl.

    ¡°Thank god. Then you¡¯d have probably killed Comet if he gave the order. What are your theories, Clinton?¡± Richard then asked.

    ¡°The commissioner was investigating a strange case. People were flocking to Highpeak during the night. Elisa said she saw some people like them. They were being most likely controlled just like me. They assembled at 1 o¡¯clock, and the fact that I was freed at that time can¡¯t be a mere coincidence.¡± Clinton said and walked over to the computer. After some clicks, a video footage started playing. It showed several people assembling near Highpeak, as he said, and then another one showed them gathering near the central police department then. ¡°As you can see, they started flocking to the police department during the night because that boy was there. That would mean he was at Highpeak before. As far as I know, the only way is to beat him before he speaks. I might be able to do that. So can Elisa. The only problem is that the police, at least the ones at the central department, are under his control. They have quite a number of Acronyms and several military-grades lying around.¡±

    ¡°I can take the Acronyms.¡± Damian said. ¡°And there¡¯s also something else I have to tell you all. Clinton, Elisa, I¡¯m sorry. I had to reveal your identities. He asked.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine with that.¡± Clinton said. ¡°That¡¯s the least I can do for Tina. The best is murdering that brat!¡±

    ¡°You did what?!¡± Elisa shouted.

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t lie. No, I did  try to lie, but I felt like I was throwing up and the truth came out.¡± Damian said, still scowling.. ¡°And if I refused to answer, I¡¯d have become like Clinton.¡±

    ¡°YOU ENDANGERED MY PARENTS AGAIN!!!¡± She shouted and slammed her hand on the table. It gave in under her strength.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t me before.¡± Damian answered. ¡°It was Clinton. And since I didn¡¯t want to do that, I answered. Was that the wrong choice?!¡±

    ¡°I DON¡¯T CARE! I THOUGHT WE¡¯D BE FIGHTING CRIME! WE AREN¡¯T! WE¡¯RE FIGHTING PEOPLE!¡± Elisa shouted.

    Strangely enough, it was Richard who spoke.

    ¡°Calm down, Comet. You¡¯re right, we¡¯re fighting other people, but also, we are fighting evil. Think about it! We¡¯re the only people in the city that can stop this. We have to put an end to that person. I can see him at the palace demanding the queen to answer one of his twisted questions, with a horde of gifted and normals hypnotized just like Clinton was a few hours ago.¡± He said. ¡°I don¡¯t want that, and neither should you. You don¡¯t want someone like that ruling the world with an iron fist, do you?!¡±

    ¡°But I never thought this crime-fighting would endanger the people dear to me.¡± Elisa said, and started to cry. Damian could do nothing to comfort her, and Richard took on that role.

    ¡°You don¡¯t understand, do you? If we don¡¯t do anything, if we don¡¯t resist, then your parents will become an empty shell just like them. If you won¡¯t fight, you¡¯ll also become like them. We must do something. I can¡¯t speak for you all, but I sure as hell don¡¯t want my dear uncle¡¯s city to be ruled by a brat, let alone the empire.¡± Richard said, and stood up. ¡°I¡¯ll take up the mantle of captain. Clinton, Damian, you two are partners. Elisa, you go with Olivia. If any of your two teams get hypnotized, the other can stop them. It mightn¡¯t be true for Elisa and Olivia, so I¡¯ll take down Damian in case he gets hypnotized. And remember, anyone who is under his command loses all emotion, the ability to show expressions and doesn¡¯t shorten their words from we are to we¡¯re, or you are to you¡¯re, so pay attention to the small details.¡±

    ¡°What about your parents?¡± Clinton asked with wary eyes.

    ¡°I¡¯ll bring them to the base. They should be safe here.¡± Elisa said after a while of thinking. ¡°Sorry, Damian. It¡¯s just that I never-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t mind that. I should be the one apologizing.¡± He replied.

    ¡°With that the problem is resolved.¡± Richard said cheerfully. ¡°Well then, now comes the introductions. I¡¯m called Richard. My gift is completely stealing the power from any attack, be it projectile or punches, or anything for that matter. It stops working if I¡¯m hurt before I activate it, so don¡¯t count on me when things go south and we get ambushed. As for my hero name, how about Zero? That sounds fine.

    Next up was Olivia. She was most definitely Clinton¡¯s failsafe, meaning she could take him down if push came to shove.

    ¡°I¡¯m Olivia, an inmate.¡± She mumbled.

    ¡°No, no, she isn¡¯t. Her powers just went out of control, you see. She ran over someone.¡± Richard said with a forced smile. ¡°Uncle got information about her and decided to recruit her.¡±

    ¡°Y-yes. My gift is to move fast. I can see things in slow-motion if I try. But-¡± Olivia paused again.

    ¡°It can suddenly end and she might slam into someone, really hard. Her body can endure the impact, but not the other person. She can fight Clinton, is what uncle believed and she accomplished. She might also be needed in fighting off the white-haired boy.¡± Richard said.

    It was strange how fast he got their trust and even became the captain. A pang of jealousy formed within Damian¡¯s chest. Of course he wouldn¡¯t act on it. They were in a rather dangerous situation.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    ¡°Introductions are nice and all, but it¡¯s a race to minimize our hostages. Comet, you should get going now. They have the police on their side. Your parents mightn¡¯t know about the danger of interacting with them.¡± Damian said, and Elisa nodded her head.

    ¡°I have to get my friends in here, what about you guys?¡± Damian said, and looked around at the others.

    ¡°My mom¡¯s at work in Luxembourg and my grandfather is in Rhodes.¡± Clinton said.

    ¡°Don¡¯t care one bit about that shit. Either way, he¡¯s a branch manager in Dresden, the next city over.¡± Said Richard.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know my parents.¡± Olivia said.

    After several long moments, Damian noticed. All of them were talking about their parents and none even mentioned about their friends. He didn¡¯t know if he sounded strange to them, nor did he know to care about his parents. After all, he never felt love from any of them and they just provided him with certain things, nothing more, nothing less and both of them hated him to a degree. Then again, none of them had friends if you excluded money-crazed idiots that Richard had next to him, at least none that Damian was aware of.

    Gifted mostly never made many friends because they were feared by the normal populace except a few. That was true for Damian, who only managed to find the right guys when he was all alone. They were special to him, as far as to fight a girl that his morals was so high against. They were as close as people got to him, thus he couldn¡¯t leave them out there. The white-haired boy knew his identity, so he could track Damian¡¯s friends down if he wanted to. Damian didn¡¯t want to risk that.

    He took out his phone and tapped on Barry¡¯s number. He always had his phone near him, if not his pocket. He ought to pick up in a minute. After three rings, he did pick up.

    ¡°Hello.¡± Barry said from the other side of the phone.

    ¡°Hey, dude. I need you to come to H Plaza, right now.¡± Damian said garrulously.

    ¡°What do you mean, D. You are the one who should come home.¡± Barry said calmly. Damian¡¯s heart skipped a beat.

    ¡°Barry, please, just no. Knock that act off. It¡¯s not funny.¡± Damian said. His voice was calm as it was when he left, it wouldn¡¯t be strange if he was still keeping the act.

    ¡°I am completely fine, D. Come home. We need to talk.¡± Barry said.

    ¡°Bloody hell!¡± Damian shouted and cancelled the call. Next up was of Adam. He ought to be having fun out somewhere, hopefully away from Barry. Simon was injured and couldn¡¯t run yet. He couldn¡¯t have escaped Barry if he had been hypnotized.

    ¡°Please, pick up.¡± He prayed.

    No answer¡­ He waited until the mobile provider¡¯s no-pick-up signal clicked, and the call ended. He couldn¡¯t believe it. Adam could be in danger. Simon didn¡¯t have a phone.

    ¡°No, no, no, no, no. That can¡¯t be.¡± At least Adam had to be safe. He was just dating a girl and put his phone on silent mode. That had to be it. There was no way he¡¯d even meet the boy or get arrested for that matter. He wasn¡¯t too flashy to men. No, he was just released so he might have decided to spend the night in an internet caf¨¦. That was the only plausible answer, yes. The fear was simply irrational like with the Tinker-tech.

    ¡°Shit, goddamn it!¡± Damian shouted and gripped tightly at the phone. It didn¡¯t budge, let alone break, but it was enough to sate his anger. His nose and eyebrows wrinkled, the nails of his hand digging into his palms.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Richard asked from behind.

    ¡°My friends¡­ they aren¡¯t safe.¡± Damian said.

    ¡°I see. Don¡¯t worry. As long as we beat the enemy king, the rest of the board will give up.¡± Richard said, and tapped on his shoulder. ¡°And, yeah, I¡¯m sorry for hurting your friends. It¡¯s totally not because uncle told me to apologize. These are my sincere feelings. Take them to the heart.¡±

    As always, Richard¡¯s words were a mix of sarcasm and half-truths. It eased the pain somewhat. Now the only thing Damian could do was pray that the boy couldn¡¯t connect the dots and take them hostage. The least he could do for them was beat up that murderer.

    ¡°I¡¯ll murder that brat.

    ¡Ö

    Charlie stood before what was assumed, or rather known as the Red Band¡¯s hideout. The police were rather tight mouthed about these stuff. If only he could question his minions, it¡¯d be far easier. He could ask questions and get their answers whenever he wanted except before he took control. It was inconvenient, but Charlie could live with it. He wasn¡¯t like one of those spoiled, gifted idiots. He was born a normal kid just like any other and bullied just like any other non-gifted, though a little too much, pushing his boundaries everyday. One day the universe snapped around him and here he was, looking at his former torturers running into the base of the Red Band naked, with knives in their hands. They¡¯d do anything for him, including throwing away their lives. It was funny, really. They¡¯d have to do whatever he wanted even if they hadn¡¯t become his minions with a smart use of the language.

    The sound of shouts sounded from within, and Charlie snapped his fingers. More than two dozen military Acronyms rushed into the building. They held crossbows with bolts as large as the arm of a grown man, in other words, far greater than a bow. That wasn¡¯t their only weapon, though. The first ten had large swords in their hand that could easily slash any human, tough or not, in two.

    Behind Charlie, twenty police cars stood, with forty officers inside them. They were half of the officers that were at the Central Department. There were 21 departments in the city and overall, that¡¯d mean there were around a thousand and five hundred of them. Not that bad for a city with a population of thirty thousand, but still lacking if he wanted to rule the province, not to mention only three gifted were in the Red City Police.

    In the car behind him, on the driver¡¯s seat, was the commissioner. He was the boss of all the cops and he didn¡¯t have to brainwash everyone at all, just the leading bunch. If only he did so with the Smith Co.¡¯s and the Edison Company¡¯s directors, he¡¯d be literally grasping the city in his hands. Steady steps would all join together into a journey. Charlie would take baby steps and reach the top one day, before he turned 18. That was his newest goal in life ¨C taking over the empire. It would take a while, but he had time.

    ¡°Give me your loudspeaker.¡± Said Charlie and the commissioner stumbled out from the car and knelt down next to him, lifting the loudspeaker up on both hands. ¡°You finally learned it. Great. Now I can act like a king.¡± He then shouted back at the other officers. ¡°That¡¯s enough, stop the Acronyms!¡±

    The sound of shouts receded and he could only imagine what they were doing: trembling in fear, afraid of the police for the first time in their life. The lord¡¯s orders didn¡¯t reach them anymore, and as such, trash like these had to be cleansed or they had to swear fealty. That was the rule of the empire.

    ¡°Everyone of you scoundrels, come out unless you want the Acronyms to kill you all!¡± Said Charlie with a smile. ¡°This is not the police. I repeat, this is not the police.¡± He then added.

    After some minutes and some tugs from the Acronyms, the thirty something people inside came walking out. Last came their boss ¨C Sean. He was a gifted and a wanted criminal with a killing spree. It was a wonder why a manhunt hadn¡¯t been called on him if they didn¡¯t know how much funds the Band of Brothers had. Sean could make anything inorganic he touches become invincible, meaning he could make people¡¯s clothes invincible so they couldn¡¯t move or just make his weapon unbreakable. In other words, he¡¯d be the best gifted under Charlie¡¯s command. Two of the gifted at police worked for accounting which made the completely useless. The other one was a little better. It was a woman who could touch anyone she made paralyzed, mostly worked small time jobs with her great power. Charlie would fix that.

    The Acronyms all walked out as well. They were piloted by the ones back at the base as to not interfere if a fight broke out. Sean walked forward toward warily. The statement and the people were contradictory and that might have sparked an adverse reaction in him. Charlie understood that. While not being the brightest in the class, he was a tad bit older in the brain. The other children always seemed so childish to him and those stronger children picked on him. Such brutes.

    ¡°So are you the leader?¡± Charlie asked, taking a seat back at the car and nudging him to come forward.

    Sean nodded his head with a glare. It was a fit man in his thirties without a shirt, tattoos and scars filling his body alike. With that, Charlie could conclude he had went through his fair share of battles.

    ¡°Could you kneel down on the ground there? Our eyes don¡¯t meet.¡± Charlie said, pointing at a puddle. And of course, the sour expression on Sean¡¯s face disappeared and he became one of his minions. ¡°Now then, go and kill five of your men. Prove your loyalty.¡±

    Sean grabbed a rock from the ground and threw it at one of his men¡¯s head. He collapsed on the ground. Then he dashed toward them and grabbed one by the hem and slammed his head into the ground. Judo, maybe. The visibly shaken men of course trembled, only the visage of the Acronyms halting their retreat. Charlie snapped his fingers, and Sean stopped.

    ¡°That¡¯s just about enough. So, which of you wants to kneel before me? I¡¯ll just remind that not doing so will result in your death.¡± Charlie said, and the remaining twenty eight people knelt before him, just as subjects were supposed to do for a king.

    But it wasn¡¯t over. He¡¯d make them into his minions. Only that way, he could be sure in their loyalty.

 é™‡Chapter 10é™‡

    It was a cloudy day, the last rain of this year would most likely fall down today. Red City was silent. Few cars passed by, all of the police. The lord had called a curfew for the entire day. Traffic lights worked as normal with an empty road and the central pavilion was filled for the first time after the upheaval. They were fully armed, over thirty military Acronyms standing in a neat circle around the statue of the hero. The lord, of course, was interrogated. The emergency entrance was revealed. The Red Comets could see that from the camera placed in the hero statue¡¯s eye, and they were the opposite of calm.

    Elisa¡¯s parents were sitting next to them on the table as the Red Comets discussed their next action. Richard, being the best planner, took on that role. Clinton was operating on the computer, checking the video feed of several cameras. It was slightly suspicious that they had access to more cameras than the police did, but Damian could live with it.

    All of them were in uniform. Clinton in his black attire, Elisa in her Comet outfit without the helmet, Damian wearing his clothes with the D on his chest also without the helmet. Richard wore a black bodysuit much like everyone else¡¯s, but without any marks on there. However, he had a matching black mask with three white circles on it: two for eyes and one big circle for a mouth that let his lips be seen through it. Olivia was also in the same bodysuit, and was wearing Elisa¡¯s helmet with her hair tied in a ponytail.

    ¡°As you see, the villain is on the loose and has taken control of civilians and police alike. Since the lord called a curfew for the entire day, it is highly suspected that he is one of his minions as well. There is simply no one we can trust. My uncle, as a precaution or pure chance, has went away to Dresden, to meet father. That means we can get help if things turn south.¡± Richard said. His charisma was truly something. He managed to persuade Elisa¡¯s parents from making a big deal of it and just go with the flow.

    ¡°Clinton. You¡¯re the only one who¡¯s been controlled by him before. What is it like?¡± Elisa asked. With her parents here, she was a tad bit calmer and might have forgiven Damian about the beatdown.

    ¡°I lost consciousness for the first few hours and then I was fully conscious. I was doing exactly what I would do, or thought was the best course of action. Simply put, we act as if we¡¯re his loyal subordinates. I was even ready to throw away my own life and resort to dirty means.¡± Clinton said.

    ¡°Then there¡¯s the fact that he made me do something even without hypnotizing me. He asked me if I could sit down and my body obeyed. We can also say half-truths to buy time. I could say Clinton¡¯s hero identity instead of his name before he asked me to clarify.¡± Damian said, and Richard nodded.

    ¡°So it¡¯s safe to assume he can use wordplay to make us do things we didn¡¯t think possible. Can he ask us to kill ourselves, or can he only make his minions do that? That¡¯s the largest question we have. The fact that he didn¡¯t outright ask Clinton or Damian might be the reason why, but the problem is he was extracting information. That means that there is no concrete fact. What do you think, Mr. Harper? You¡¯re a doctor for the gifted, aren¡¯t you?¡± Richard asked.

    ¡°No gift should be able to affect this many people.¡± Said Elisa¡¯s father with a scowl.

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Richard asked.

    ¡°Gifts are first of all, just that, gifts. They aren¡¯t supposed to be too strong. It can affect fifty people, yeah, that¡¯s possible, and is the maximum for a psychic. But to fill the central pavilion? I don¡¯t think so.¡± Said Mr. Harper.

    ¡°Then what the hell is that white haired brat?!¡± Damian shouted. There were Barry, Simon and Adam in there. He just knew it.

    ¡°I reckon they called it Awakened. When I was young, I didn¡¯t have the funds to buy myself out of the army and I worked as a medic in the Gloryhounds. There were those white haired people at the Dynasty border guard. We got some of them in the army, but they were executed on the ground. No execution dock, no sentence, just a blade through their neck.¡± Said Mr. Harper.

    ¡°Awakened?¡± Richard raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Yes. Awakened. It¡¯s a national secret, but the situation calls.¡± Mr. Harper said. ¡°You said he was white-haired, didn¡¯t you? Then he must be an Awakened. No, he is an Awakened. There¡¯s no way for a gifted¡¯s body or brain to even function in such a way.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the difference. We just beat him up and we win.¡± Said Damian with a shrug.

    ¡°You don¡¯t get it, do you? Awakened are far stronger than you gifted, let alone school children. Even the Gloryhounds had trouble fending off three of them, with their number of twenty. They don¡¯t follow logic. Even their existence is a glitch in the universe!¡± Mr. Harper shouted. ¡°You might have taken out the Smithy. That¡¯s great, but they were only human.¡±

    ¡°Honey, you¡¯re being a little too pessimistic. They¡¯re gifted, specifically selected to form a team. They can do it.¡± Ms. Harper said.

    ¡°Clara, you haven¡¯t seen what those things are capable of. They¡¯re terrifying. You just haven¡¯t seen them.¡± Said Mr. Harper said shakily.

    ¡°A-awakened means that they awaken, i-instead of being born. D-doesn¡¯t that mean he is newly awakened? It only started recently.¡± Olivia asked, stuttering. She was either shy, or very unconfident in herself.

    ¡°Great point, Crash! Is that right, Mr. Harper?¡± Richard boomed.

    ¡°That is possible. But I¡¯ll request assistance from the military. You cannot simply handle them all alone, without adults.¡± Said Mr. Harper.

    ¡°Please do so, Mr. Harper. As for our defense mechanisms, the only way they can come in is with the emergency entrance, isn¡¯t that right? It should be fine if we block it. Clinton, Elisa, please put those gym utensils at the door. It opens inside, thankfully. We¡¯ll be able to keep our ground until help comes. That¡¯s the plan. If things do go south, we¡¯ll escape through the sewers or the hole. The door has locks on both sides, so we shouldn¡¯t worry much about being tailed.¡± Richard said. As much as Damian thought he was an evil piece of shit, he was smart. Or he wouldn¡¯t have hit him with that beam before. That was strategy on his part.

    As Mr. Harper looked at his phone for several long minutes while they blocked the entrance, he paled and spoke again. ¡°I can¡¯t reach them.¡±

    ¡°The reception should be fine in here. I called my friend some time ago.¡± Damian said, and pointed at his own phone. The reception was blank. Mr. Harper brows furrowed and he fixed his glasses.

    ¡°Jamming. Every lord has one for quarantines. They¡¯ve got the lord.¡± Said Mr. Harper.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°Jamming?¡± Damian exclaimed.

    ¡°J-jamming is interfering with, with wireless communications.¡± Olivia said, looking down in a guilty manner.

    ¡°So that¡¯s why.¡± Damian nodded his head, and looked toward Richard. ¡°What do we do?¡±

    He was grinning like a fool.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got an idea. We can beat him. If he uses words, we can also use words.¡± Said Richard with a maniacal laughter, drawing everyone¡¯s attention. ¡°We¡¯ll use words to defeat words. That¡¯s the one weakness he has. It¡¯s some sort of psychological brainwashing thingy where he can give us commands. If we use a twisted logic to answer him, this effect might be nullified. Sort of like how truth serums don¡¯t say it¡¯s a lie if the said person thinks it¡¯s a truth, but is actually a lie.¡±

    ¡°Words?¡± Mr. Harper looked at him as if looking at someone one sandwich short of a picnic.

    ¡°Yes. Let¡¯s say someone awakened to an impossibly strong brute. What could he do against someone who didn¡¯t care about that impact like Dreadnought over there.¡± Said Richard, pointing at Damian. ¡°That boy might be weak against words since he uses words, just as people who have armor are weak against armor. That comparison¡­ didn¡¯t work quite right.¡±

    ¡°What the bloody hell does that even mean?!¡± Shouted Elisa. She was scared, easy to spot with her strange temper tantrums all the time.

    ¡°Then ask me to stay put, kneel, or even anything. I¡¯ll show how we can possibly negate it¡­ This is a wild guess, but it¡¯s better than anything we have at the moment. We have to be the immovable object to their unstoppable momentum. We have to be idiots on which no words work on.¡± Richard said, grabbing her by the shoulders.

    ¡°I¡¯ll do it. I¡¯ve seen what he¡¯s capable of.¡± Damian said, patting him on the shoulder.

    ¡°Go on ahead. I can deal with it.¡± Richard said, still smiling.

    ¡°Would you be as kind to sit down?¡± Damian asked.

    ¡°If only I wasn¡¯t looking at the person I hate the most, and there was a chair under me, I¡¯d sit down.¡± Richard said, showing his teeth in a ferocious grin.

    ¡°Could you slit your throat?¡± Damian asked once again.

    ¡°Of course, I want to die but I¡¯m too afraid to do so. If you could help me, I¡¯d gladly do that.¡± Richard said, still grinning.

    ¡°Could you tell me what your plan is?¡± Damian asked, more frustrated at losing the brain game than happy with the countermeasure.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to, but sadly, I don¡¯t remember much of it. All I remember is us beating you down in a creative way.¡± Richard said, and turned to the others. ¡°Say cryptic answers with half-truths. They don¡¯t count as no, and as they say, half a truth is the best lie. I¡¯ll test it out. There is also another way. Plugging our ears. It¡¯s dangerous because we can¡¯t hear anything, but that¡¯s not big a disadvantage. Maybe even better than my guess just now. Put an headphone on your ears and listen to music as we fight. That could work.¡±

    The sound of a drawing blade sounded out and Richard¡¯s head slid to the ground, blood pouring from his open neck. Behind him stood Clinton, expressionless. He shook his blade clean and pointed behind him with his thumb. Behind him were two beheaded bodies, both Mr. and Ms. Harper lying on the ground. Elisa screamed out in anger and her eyes shone a bright red. It was unlike Damian¡¯s chaotic one, but more a machine¡¯s headlight.

    She grabbed Clinton¡¯s head and smashed it down into the hard concrete floor. His hand bent the wrong way and swung his blade for the last time at Elisa. It didn¡¯t draw blood, and his hand went limp to the ground. However, Elisa wasn¡¯t done. Tears streamed down her crimson eyes as she slammed her hands into Clinton¡¯s head continuously, reducing it into nothing more than a mush of bones and brain.

    Olivia fell to the ground and the contents of her stomach emptied itself on the ground. Afterwards, she tried to vomit several times over, but there was nothing left in it. Damian could only scowl in distaste and look around the room. It was impossible for the boy to have entered the room. The hypnosis had worn off at 1o¡¯clock before. There was no way he¡¯d be doing that if he couldn¡¯t answer another question.

    Then he noticed it. A cellphone lying on the table. Damian instantly knew the cause of Clinton¡¯s hypnosis. It was the cellphone. He ought  to have picked it up and spoke, or there was the possibility of a much more worse truth than that. Clearly enough, there was no call that came into it in the past day. It had to be a message.

    And if any message of his had that effect, it was simply terrifying to even think that he could do that. Damian didn¡¯t read the message. He might be hypnotized by it as well. That was the thing he wanted the least. He had to be smart and take down the brat. Or Olivia would just run away and Elisa would act irrationally. He was the only one who could take care of this situation.

    Damian wanted to say something to her, to make her stop, but no voice left his mouth. Her parents had died. He didn¡¯t understand it, but that ought to be painful. There was nothing he could do to ease her pain. He wasn¡¯t as charismatic as Richard. Like Richard¡­ If he had to be like the type of person he hated the most to defeat one of them, so be it.

    A smile appeared on Damian¡¯s face. Richard was always smiling. He was the villain that Damian knew best, so he¡¯d adapt that. He was also an arrogant prick. He¡¯d also adapt that. He was charismatic, so he¡¯d try to adapt that. He was a master schemer. That was one thing Damian couldn¡¯t copy. At least for now, until this brat was defeated, he¡¯d be a hateful bastard. Just for a little while.

    ¡°Hitting a corpse for a day won¡¯t solve your problems, but hitting a white-haired boy once sure will.¡± Damian said, still forcing a smile on his face. ¡°Olivia, get yourself together. If you¡¯re so guilty about smashing into someone innocent, then run over a thousand bad people. That ought to solve your problems, no?¡±

    ¡°WHAT DO YOU KNOW!!!¡± Shouted Elisa, and glared at him.

    ¡°Stop using caps lock. Turn it off. And I also know you can¡¯t beat me, so listen to me.¡± Damian said, and pointed at the ceiling. ¡°The one you can beat is up there, so let¡¯s get revenge for everyone.¡±

    Olivia nodded her head and for the first time, Damian noticed her looking straight at him instead of down or evading eye contact. She clutched her hands and her body straightened. Elisa¡¯s eyes still shone bright and clear. She cleaned off her tears with her wrists. Then she grimaced.

    ¡°I¡¯ll murder that shit!¡± She said.

    ¡°What¡¯s your hero name, Olivia?¡± Asked Damian as he pushed away the heavy gym utensils out of the door¡¯s way.

    ¡°Runaway.¡± She said. ¡°Call me Runaway.¡±

    ¡°Well then, Comet, Runaway, let¡¯s go. We¡¯ll win and show that boy hell, definitely.¡± Said Damian and kicked the door open, pointing at the large hole leading toward the hero statue. ¡°Let¡¯s show them what we¡¯re made of.¡±

    After some looking around, he found the switch. It was a small white button, a stark contrast to the black walls of the room. The ceiling opened up, and Elisa grabbed both of them and flew upward. She left the two of them on the ground and flew onward even higher. Then true to her name, she descended toward the edge of the pavilion.

    The Acronyms held large swords in hand that Damian had fought one of before, but some had crossbows. None of them were a problem for him.

    ¡°Runaway, go help Comet.¡± Damian said and she zigzagged through them as if they were slower than snails. He grabbed the sword of one of the Acronyms and smashed his hand through its head. Several crossbow bolts reached his body, all to no avail. None of them could penetrate his armor let alone his skin. But they charged him alright. The headless one fell, without its central control system, it was a metal junk.

    Dreadnought then unleashed his power on another one of the Acronyms. It raised its sword to defend itself, but his punch was too strong. His fist cracked right through the sword and reached its head, blowing it to smithereens. The force of several shots, each concentrated to a single point charged him far more than a dull sword¡¯s slash.

    His eyes tinted with red and released it instantly. Nothing they threw at him could even hurt him, and he slaughtered the mechanical humanoids easily. Within merely ten minutes, they had turned to large slabs of metal littering the ground, and Damian¡¯s glare turned toward the horde of zombie-like humans rushing at him. Thankfully, Comet grabbed him much like a bird would its prey and flew toward the glass skyscraper next to the pavilion. She then placed him on the roof next to Runaway, huffing and poofing.

    ¡°What happened?¡± Damian asked.

    ¡°The boy isn¡¯t here. Only his minions.¡± She said.

    ¡°What do we do? Those are like zombies, but smarter and stronger. They¡¯ll try to kill us. One of them even made Elisa fall with a bump. It¡¯s dangerous.¡± Damian said.

    ¡°We can follow them at 1 in the morning.¡± Olivia said. Behind her mask, Damian could guess there was a confident look on her face, but he couldn¡¯t be sure what lied behind the mask.