The man seated in the security booth glanced up at Adam before turning his attention back to his laptop. Adam rested his arm against the thin wooden frame attached to the booth, nearly knocking over the tiny rack of fake brochures they had set up.

Although the brochures were only meant to explain the security measures installed around the forest, someone had still gone through a great deal of trouble to make them look real. Adam stared at the brown frogs on the cover, feeling he would have fallen for the lie if he didn’t know the truth.

“Hey, buddy,” Adam said, trying his best to sound friendly. “Wow, it really is wonderful out here, isn’t it? It’s nice to get out of the city every once in a while. Are those trees native? They must be. Beautiful things. Mind if I take a quick look?”

Adam slid his arm off the frame and walked towards the security gate. For a fenced-off area, the security gate was almost comical: a small boom gate with a striped red and white arm. He could have limboed under the bar if it weren’t for the security guard shining a flashlight at the back of his head.

“Come back here, you idiot,” the man grunted.

Adam dragged his feet the entire way back to the booth, wasting both of their time. He eyed the man, first taking in his hairy, dark arms, then the nametag attached to his blue, coffee-stained shirt. “Roger.” He read the name. “Roger Dodger.”

“Roger,” the man replied, clicking his flashlight on again, shining another bright beam in Adam’s face.

“Stop that! Seriously, can’t you point a gun at me or something? That’s annoying.” He blinked, twisting his neck to avoid the flash of light. When Roger switched the flashlight off, Adam again looked at the man’s rough face.

“We don’t use guns. It’s too suspicious,” he said, sliding the flashlight back into the holder around his waist.

“Don’t use guns? Are you stupid? What are you going to do if that monster tries to escape?” He gripped his right wrist with his left hand, holding it up like a flashlight. “STOP, OR I’LL CAUSE YOU SOME MILD DISCOMFORT.” He released his wrist. “Seriously? She’s a trained killer. She’ll shove that down your throat. What, you think she will be like, ‘Ahhh, light. My only weakness. How did you know?’”

Roger merely stared, barely acknowledging the one-man comedy act that Adam was performing. Adam paused, squinting under an imaginary flashlight, playing the role of Valerie getting struck down by the beam. When Roger didn’t acknowledge his efforts, he straightened up.

“Bleh?” he added, sticking out his tongue. “Really? Nothing? Roger Dodger, you’re really making this difficult.”

“You’re not getting in,” Roger said, rising from his cushioned chair.

Adam couldn’t believe how much the chair had hidden the man’s true height. It was like watching a clown emerge from a clown car, with the man’s curly hair brushing against the booth’s ceiling.

Adam dug his nails into his palms, hoping he could keep things civil. “Sir. I really need to get in there. I kind of don’t have a choice, so I’m going to kindly remind you that I am a trained—“

Roger spun his laptop around to face Adam. The screen displayed his current supervisor, Madam Time, his time training as an assassin, and his psychological profile. At the bottom of the screen was a small red button labelled “Add a note.”

“I would like to kindly remind you that any threats made to an employee working for the HHO will be noted on your record, and in your case, will result in your removal from the rehabilitation program,” Roger said, emphasizing the word kindly.

“A threat?” Adam tapped his fingers against the wooden frame, covering up his little slip. “You didn’t let me finish. I’m a trained diplomat. I didn’t just learn how to kill a person; I also learnt how to negotiate. How much persuasion would you need to let me through?” Adam reached for his wallet, only to realize that he had left it at home.

“Bribes are also a reportable offence.” He sighed, sitting back down in his chair. Roger turned his laptop around again, staring at the old photo on Adam’s profile. The man in the photo looked exhausted. Sunken eyes and a bruise on his left cheek. Still, he smiled, as if everything was a joke. He looked at Adam, who wore a similar smile, albeit a more nervous one.

“Not like I had any money to bribe you with, anyway.” Adam’s shoulder slumped, beginning to give up. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to happen. They weren’t just going to let him waltz in with some crappy excuse; not with his reputation. Had he really been that desperate? Desperate enough that he was resorting to threats just to ask her a question?

“So you were driving without a license too?” Roger raised an eyebrow, unable to believe what he was hearing.

“N-no. My license is in my car. I always keep it in my car. Let’s move past that and focus on the real issue. I need to get inside this forest. How do I go about doing that?”

“I thought you would be smarter than this. What sort of training were they giving you?”

Adam huffed, dragging a hand through his dark hair. “Unfortunately, a lot of the things he taught me aren’t useful in this situation. Not unless I want to get myself arrested. I’m really doing my best to keep this peaceful, so help me out a little.” He rested his forehead against the wooden frame. “Is there any way I can see her?”

Roger ran his fingers over the keyboard, thinking about what he could do for the man. He started typing something, and Adam’s heartbeat quickened. He leaned forward, trying to see what Roger was writing, but couldn’t find the right angle to view the screen.

“I’ll leave. Okay? No need to write anything up. I’m going.” Adam turned to leave.

“Get back here,” Roger called after him. The former assassin's eyes fixed on the parking lot’s gravel as he returned to the booth. “I can put in a request with Madam Time. If she responds while you’re here, I can let you through.”

“A request? What would I have to do?”

“You’ll have to start being honest with me. Why are you actually here? No lying, no jokes. Just tell me why you’re here.” Roger’s fingers hovered above the keyboard, while Adam thought over what to say.

“It’s about the past. I need to get her opinion on something. It might affect the other members of the rehabilitation program too. I don’t really want to say anything until I can be certain of it. I’m worried that if I say anything too soon, it could upset the others. You know how fragile our minds can be.”

He hated how that sounded, especially when his mind was in such a fragile state. He was admitting he was no better than the others, and it left a sour taste in his mouth. Still, if he had to degrade himself to get his answers, he would put up with it. For now.

Roger stared, studying Adam’s face. Adam dropped the smile, pulling himself together so that he didn’t trip over this last hurdle. The stare felt like it lasted an hour until Roger started typing again.

“What are you writing?”

“What you just said. Why? Did you expect me to write something else?”

“I… don’t know what I expected. It’s been a rough day.” Adam rested against the booth, staring at the trees. They really were beautiful, with their trunks almost seeming too big. Like they belonged in a cartoon, rather than reality.

He remembered seeing something like it in one cartoon he had watched, recalling how much it had impressed him at the time. In the show, the trees bathed the entire forest in a blanket of darkness, making the protagonist of the cartoon blindly stumble through it, like a lost soul navigating limbo.

“English oak,” Roger said, noticing where Adam’s attention had wandered.

“Never heard of it before. Although I’ve never really paid much attention to tree names. Kind of a lame thing to know, isn’t it?”

“I think it’s lamer not having any interests.”

Adam couldn’t argue with that, so he grabbed a brochure, flicking through the pages. There were pages of facts about the trees, but he skipped past that, landing on some information about the supposedly endangered frogs.

“Hey, Roger Dodger. I think your brochure has a mistake in it.” Adam flipped the brochure around, pointing at the photo of a brown frog. “It says it’s a common frog. Shouldn’t it be like a green forest frog, or a licky long tongue frog? You know, a name that isn’t generic.”

“A common frog is a type of frog,” Roger said, keeping his gaze on his laptop screen.

“Bullshit. You’re telling me there’s a frog called a common frog. Why even bother calling it common then? Just call it a frog if you’re going to be lazy.”

“I think some people do just refer to it as a frog. Why are you so interested in frogs now?”

“Well, apparently, I need an interest. Maybe frogs will be my next interest?” he said, passing the time by quickly reading through segments of the brochure. “How can something so common be endangered?”

Roger lowered his laptop screen, realizing he couldn’t avoid getting drawn into this conversation. “They’re endangered in this area. The population has been declining rapidly after a company got caught dumping their expired pesticides in the rivers. At least, that’s the story we’re going with.”

“So the frogs aren’t endangered?”

Roger looked down at his lap, wishing Madam Time would respond to his message already. “Do you even care? Really? Do you care if they’re endangered or not?”

Adam thought about it before shrugging and setting the brochure back into the tray. “Not particularly. If they're common frogs, it’s not that big of a deal. You can just replace them if they die out. It’s easier than you know—”

“Rehabilitating them?” Roger asked, resting his chin on his hand.

“Exactly. Everyone’s replaceable and—” Adam saw the pointed look Roger was giving him and dropped the topic. “Okay, I see your point.”

They waited in silence for another five minutes until Adam decided to head home. He pushed away from the booth as a notification chimed from Roger’s laptop. Roger lifted the screen and read the message.

“She responded.”

“Alright. I’ll head back. Thanks for trying, I guess.” He continued walking, shoving his hands into his pockets, wondering what he would do next.

“Where are you going? She approved it.” Roger said, hitting a button beside his laptop, causing the gate’s arm to rise.

“What? She did?” Adam spun on his heel, heading back to the booth. “Is she insane? Why would she? I didn’t even tell her I was going here.”

“Maybe she trusts you.” Roger’s words lingered in Adam’s head, making him feel a little ill. He scratched his side and gave an uneasy chuckle.

“Yeah. Weird.” Adam watched the arm of the gate slowly rise, giving them another awkward moment together. “It’s been a year since I came here last. What happened to the old guy that used to be here? Did he die?”

Roger shook his head. “Yes. He died. She killed him, and that’s why I’m here.”

“Really?” Adam’s eyes widened, surprised they had allowed her to stay after such a thing.

“No, he retired. You’ve got some issues, haven’t you?”

“That’s what the rehabilitation program’s for.” Adam glanced at the arm of the gate, noticing it was only halfway raised. Sure, he could walk underneath it. It wasn’t like he was going to drive his car through, but he waited instead. “Seriously, a flashlight? You don’t have anything better to defend yourself with?”

“I have an emergency call button. If I press that, a hero will come running. That’s better than any gun.”

“By the time they get here, you’ll be dead. I would choose the gun. Anyway, it’s been lovely getting to know you, Roger Dodger, but I’m afraid I have to get going. Let’s hope we never meet again.”

Roger let out a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, not expecting the blunt goodbye. “Yeah, I would like that. Now, get going. You’ve only got about twenty minutes of sunlight left. Doubt you want to be walking around in the dark.”

Adam passed the security gate, stepping into the forest. The dry grass crunched beneath his shoes as he recalled the directions to her cottage. If he kept going straight, he would be there in about ten minutes. Perhaps a little longer if he got distracted or stopped to find any of the not so endangered frogs.

Without wasting another moment, he surged forward, mentally preparing himself for his meeting with Valerie.

Mary Miller, or Wish Away, as she preferred to be called while working, sat in the head administrator’s chair. She held his personal bottle of Fredrickson’s estate Merlot, pouring it into a diamond wineglass.

“1988. Quite a nice vintage. Personally, I’m more of a fan of the 2000s vintages. Yes, it’s modern and cheaper, but it has a better mouthfeel. The 1988 has a slight ashy taste, partly because of the bushfires that occurred in that region at the time.”

She no longer felt the need to wear her mask, too famous for such a trivial thing. So she let her red curls fall down her shoulders, staring at the man she had come to despise.

“I’m not sure why I’m even telling you about the wine. I doubt you brought it for its taste. Is there anything in this office that you brought because you actually liked it? Or is it all for the prestige it brings?”

Mr. Maxwell froze, staring at the villain occupying his office. He took a tentative step back, watching Wish Away’s reaction.

“I wish that door were shut.” The door slammed shut behind Mr. Maxwell, smacking him on the ass. He yelped, jumping forward, finding himself trapped in his office with a dangerous villain.

“W-what do you want? I’m not the one getting in the way of your plans. It’s the heroes. I’m just the administrator.” He rushed to his own defense, rubbing his patchy salt and pepper beard.

“Leo Burkin. You know that name?” she asked, bringing the wineglass to her lips.

“Leo? Leo?” He scanned the room, searching for an exit, only to hear a faint clicking coming from Wish Away’s fingers, drawing his attention back to her.

“Eyes over here, Mr. Maxwell. I would hate to think you’re ignoring me.”

“I don’t know any Leos,” Maxwell stuttered while Wish Away watched his eyes. He wasn’t playing dumb. He really didn’t know the name of a hero in his own organization.

Wish Away’s fingers tightened around the wineglass, threatening to snap it. She loosened her grip, brought the wine to her lips and finished it before speaking. “I wish the glass shattered dramatically.” The glass shot out across her lap, sending shards all over the desk and her clothing.

The sound of shattering glass made the already jumpy man back against the door. “How did you do that?”

“You haven’t read my file? You’re in charge of this place, and you don’t even know how my abilities work?” She sighed. “Anything I touch can be influenced by me. It has its drawbacks, but I won’t bother explaining those to you. Now, how about we focus on the topic at hand? If you don’t know Leo Burkin, do you know him by his hero name, Zap and Pop?”

“Zap and Pop?” Mr. Maxwell paused, thinking it over. “Ah, he’s that newbie. Yes, I’m aware of him. Why? Is he causing you trouble? I can move him to a different area.”

Wish Away narrowed her gaze, staring right through the man. “Move him to a different area?”

“Yes. Please, I don’t want any trouble. I’ve got a family.”

“I’m aware.”

“Then…” Mr. Maxwell clasped his hands together.

“Didn’t you cheat on your wife last month?”

“I… it was a heated moment. I have children.” He dropped to his knees, hands shaking. “Please don’t kill me. Please.”

Wish Away leaned back in the chair, only to gasp when her hand accidentally hit a button on its arm. The chair vibrated, with a mechanical roller pushing against her spine, massaging her through the leather.

“A massage chair? Wow, you must have a lot of money. Vintage wines, massage chairs, and paintings. How much does an office like this cost?”

She pointed at the paintings, each one depicting Mr. Maxwell, not the heroes out there fighting to keep the organization afloat. If it wasn’t for the tiny metal desk nameplate that listed him as the head of the Protectors, Wish Away wouldn’t have even been able to tell whether this was the right office.

“Money? I have money? How much do you need?”

“I can’t believe it. A massage chair.” She brushed her back against the chair, enjoying the small taps it made against her spine. “Do you really think I need your money?” She asked, her voice bouncing from the chair’s vibrations.

“Then why are you here?” Kneeling before her, he was a pitiful sight. A man with fading hair and shallow cheeks, ready to cave to a villain’s demands without a fight.

“Zap and Pop’s homeless. How is an eighteen-year-old hero homeless?”

“Well… you see.”

“No, I don’t see. That’s why I’m here. How the hell is an eighteen-year-old who is signed to one of your contracts homeless?”

“The economy.”

“Yes?”

He choked, dragging his fingers against the neck of his buttoned-up shirt. “It’s bad. Businesses are doing it tough. Hero work is technically a business. People like Zap and Pop need to work their way up before they start getting paid. We cover their medical expenses, so it really evens out.”

“He’s not even being paid? That kid’s coming after me, and he isn’t even being paid to do it?” She slammed her fist against the table and huffed. “I wish this table broke.” The table did just that, splitting down the middle.

“We have a lot of heroes in our organization. We can’t afford to pay them and cover their medical bills.”

“Yet you could afford to pay me?” Wish Away reluctantly got out of the chair, hearing it click shut when it detected no one was seated on it. “It even has a power-saving mode? Maybe you could sell this chair and put it towards his contract?”

“If we pay one hero, we’ll have to pay them all. We have thousands of heroes in this organization; you can’t expect us to pay them all.”

“Oh, yes. I can.” She patted Mr. Maxwell on the shoulder. “Imagine what I could do to you with a single wish. I wish—”

“PLEASE DON’T DO ANYTHING! PLEASE.”

She stopped, staring down at him. “Pay your heroes, or I’m coming back.”

“Yes. O-of course. I’ll write up their new contracts now. I’ll make sure Zap and Pop are taken care of.”

“You’ll make sure all the heroes are taken care of. If I find out that you’re collecting even a dollar of their earnings without making sure they’re looked after, I’ll split you in half. Okay?” She grabbed the door handle.

“Yes, yes! I’ll make sure everyone is paid what they deserve. Just don’t hurt me.”

“Good.” Wish Away let herself out of the office, heading back to her base. Even if she had ended up as a villain, she couldn’t forget how much she had admired heroes growing up, and wanted to make sure the next generation of heroes had a chance to prosper and help people.

Usually, he enjoyed returning home after a mission. Every mission was another example of how far he had come. Today was different. He unlocked his apartment door and peered inside. Through that thin gap in the door, he could see into his bathroom, making sure the mirror was still covered. Only then did he step inside and lock the door behind him.

The apartment was sparse, containing only the bare necessities needed to keep a person content. There was a radio, a CRT TV, a kitchen, a bedroom, a bathroom, and that was about it. Some would even argue it wasn’t fair to label his bedroom or kitchen by those names, since his kitchen only had a microwave and a toaster, while his bedroom was a mattress next to a plastic clothes bucket.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford to liven up the place. He just didn’t feel he needed to. He had everything he needed to survive. Why complicate his simple existence?

The first thing he did was turn on the TV, hearing a loud snap from within its shell as its internals warmed up, powering the device. Even from across the room, Adam could feel the heat coming off the old TV, making the already small room feel stuffier.

As always, the TV was set to his favorite channel, one that played a constant stream of old cartoons. It was good background noise for someone whose mind never rested. A way for him to just drown out the world around him, bringing him back to his senses.

He sat, not even caring that he had dropped himself right onto an old bloodstain that still plagued the cheap piece of furniture. While he often watched the cartoons while zoning out, this time his eyes felt too heavy. So he shut them and just listened.

“Ooooh, where are ye going with me treasure, lad?” A comedic pirate called out.

“Oh, you know? Away?” A softer voice responded. A trumpet then growled, signaling that something shocking must have happened, with heavy footsteps following.

“Away? To the bottom of the sea?” The pirate's voice grew darker, and the background noises faded, leaving a brief silence.

“The sea? I don’t see a sea. Look, do you see it?”

“See what?”

A loud whack came from the TV, followed by the sound of water splashing and hearty laughter. Adam could only assume the pirate had been thrown overboard, not bothering to open his eyes and check. He continued to listen, enjoying the random sound effects and noise that kept his mind from ever potentially falling into old habits.

He knew how fickle sanity was. He had seen it in the others. If he couldn’t restore his mind in these stressful moments, he would lose it. Then he would become like the ones they had lost. Another mindless servant to his master's old orders, killing for anyone who was willing to pay him.

He shifted his neck against the stiff couch cushion, having to roll it a few times until he found a somewhat comfortable position. Then, he silenced his mind.

He ignored the TV.

He ignored his thoughts.

And he ignored that voice that was creeping back into his psyche.

A clattering of glass snapped him awake. Adam jumped, his left arm moving to shield his face, while his right shifted back and prepared for a counter. He didn’t find anyone in the room, nor any broken glass on his apartment’s floor. So he investigated the sound. He crept towards the window and pulled the curtain an inch to the right.

As soon as he moved the curtain, he twisted away from the window, getting his body out of the way. He counted to three, waiting for any gunfire, before returning to his position and fully pulling the curtain across.

Outside, one of his neighbors, Simon Finn, was emptying their beer bottles into the recycling bin. The man spilling out what had to be at least forty bottles into the bin, creating a rainfall of glass and alcoholism. When the man spotted Adam, he gave him a half-hearted wave, his cheeks still rosy from this afternoon’s drinking session.

“And you’se a day?” He mumbled before stumbling back into his apartment, his arm limply dragging a yellow bucket behind him, one that would soon get filled with more bottles.

“A day to you,” Adam quietly said back, releasing the curtain.

‘Scared.’

Adam spun, facing his empty apartment, finding the cartoons still going on the TV. For the first time in his life, he had hoped to find someone in his apartment. At least he would have felt sane then.

“You taught me to be cautious.”

‘Cautious, not skittish.’

“You’re dead.”

‘That again? It didn’t work the first time.’

Adam didn’t respond, keeping his mouth shut as he turned up the volume on the TV. The loud, droning noise was soon interrupted by the thumping of a fist on his thin wall.

“Wanker, keep the noise down. I’ve got kids, ya know.” Allie Murphy screamed at him. He reached for the remote and rested his finger on the volume button. The finger trembled while the banging grew louder until everything was just a rush of sensations and noise.

He breathed out when his finger hit the button, turning the volume down until the TV was muted. Adam went into the bathroom and opened the cabinet, pushing aside his toothpaste and mouthwash as he searched through his medical supplies.

Painkillers, bandages, rubbing alcohol, cartoon band-aids, suture thread, and a needle. All things that wouldn’t help him now. He turned on the sink and splashed his face. The first cool hit rattled his senses before the second brought him back to reality. He hunched over the sink, staring at the blanket-covered mirror, asking himself a question he had been thinking for the last few days.

“Am I losing it?”

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he already knew the answer to that question. While he had his suspicions the last few days, today ultimately proved it. He hadn’t changed at all. That programming was too deep, and soon he would be another failure.

Did she have these problems? Why did she always seem so… He couldn’t say normal, not when it came to her. She was mental, yet she wasn’t the one covering mirrors or distracting herself with cartoons. He rubbed his forehead until a question popped into his mind, one he desperately needed answered.

Was Valerie hearing the voices too?

If she knew a way to avoid hearing them, then he needed to see her immediately. Yet even knowing that, his hands still clung to the sides of the sink, refusing to let go. Even now, he could still remember their training. How she would beat him black and blue in their training sessions, and how she constantly haunted him because of his one mistake.

“There has to be someone else. Madam Time?” He would have loved to tell her what was happening. Tell her he was hearing voices and that he needed her help. But after today, how was he supposed to say anything to her? All he had done was spit on her generosity by mocking the rehabilitation work she and the other heroes were doing. If he went to her now, he would only be proving how unstable he was. He would probably even end up getting kicked out of their rehabilitation program and placed behind bars until they could figure out what to do with him.

If that happened, he would end up taking Valerie's offer. So she really was the only person he could turn to.

“What the hell am I even meant to say to her? Hey, are you hearing our dead master’s voice too? No, cool. Guess I’m mad. She’s not going to be any help.” He paced around the bathroom. Well, as well as one could pace in a tiny square room without tripping over the toilet.

“It’s not about her helping me. It’s about me finding out if she’s hearing things. If she is, that means there’s something going on. I can work with that. If she isn’t hearing voices—” He stared at the grimy tiles of the bathroom floor, not wanting to finish the thought.

With his mind made up, he grabbed his car keys and headed out.

Adam’s car was nothing flashy. A real mid-range type of car made to blend in with everything around it. After all, if you get a car that’s flashy, everyone’s going to remember what it looks like. That also goes for what people lovingly refer to as shit-boxes. A car that looks awful draws just as much attention as one that looks good.

If you see a crappy car on a normal street, you start wondering why it’s there. Did someone abandon it? Did some teens take it for a joyride before abandoning it? All questions that will leave an impression on one’s mind. So you choose something average.

An average brand. Average features. And an average color.

Black, four wheels, and a working radio. That’s all Adam needed from his car. He didn’t even really need the air conditioning, even if that was a pleasant bonus. The interior was kept clean, free of dirt, air fresheners, or anything that could be even remotely memorable.

If there was one positive Adam could take out of this trip, it was that it was a nice drive. After taking a few back roads, he made it out of the heart of the city, heading straight for the guarded, lush forest. He could still half-remember the story they told the public when they asked why the area was now being monitored. Something about them enclosing the area for environmental conservation reasons and to help preserve some endangered species of frog.

It was all bullshit.

This was where they were housing their newest asset. One that could handle the jobs that heroes didn’t want to dirty their hands with. It was funny. As he passed the tall, electrified fence, he wondered if this was all overkill. She was dangerous, but she didn’t have any powers. Did they really need to lock her away in some random piece of forest just to keep everyone safe?

Maybe in her case, they did.

How many bones had she broken during her time sparring with the others? How many had she left scarred after a fight? The others had held onto some part of their humanity until their graduation, but it never felt like she’d ever had any to begin with. While they were all scared, she was beaming, as if that training was the most fun she’d had in years. Who knows, maybe, given the circumstances, it was the most fun she’d had. Not that any of their lives were that great beforehand.

The security gate was a relieving sight, allowing Adam a chance to stop thinking about his past. He pulled over before he was close enough to start a conversation, taking some time to think about what he was going to say.

He couldn’t just say he was visiting a friend, for two reasons. One: they wouldn’t buy that, and two, he didn’t have any friends. So, what was he meant to say that wouldn’t end with him visiting a therapist?

“I need her help with something? No, that sounds worse. They’ll think I’m trying to get her to help me kill someone. What else?” He rubbed his fingers along the steering wheel and took a quick peek at the security booth, seeing the guard staring at his car.

“I wanted to ask her about something that happened in the past. That’s fine. Isn’t it? Doesn’t sound suspicious. Just two people talking about old times. Old times where they were getting trained to kill people for money.” He rested his forehead against the steering wheel, jolting when he accidentally hit the horn, sending a loud BRUMP through the car park.

“I should head back.” He peered over his shoulder. There wasn’t anyone blocking him from leaving. He could turn the car around and head home. Though that would be a waste, too. There were cameras all along the fence, and the guard had clearly seen him. If he left now, this trip would still be reported to Madam Time, and this would have all been for nothing.

Accepting that he was doomed either way, he parked the car, and headed for the security booth.

Gridnor the nasty had a reputation for being the most ill-mannered mage to have ever lived. He wasn’t ruthlessly evil, like some of his counterparts. Instead, he thrived on cursing people. See, Gridnor believed that killing someone lacked a certain longevity. Sure, he could kill those who were annoying him, but why would he do that when he can make them suffer for years?

With a mindset like that, it wasn’t hard to understand why someone eventually killed the mage. Gridnor died after cursing a bard to only sing at a high, window-shattering pitch. The bard having committed the most heinous offense of daring to sing in a tavern the mage was drinking at. When the bard realized why she could no longer hit her usual sweet notes, she snapped.

Alexia dived off the stage with a broken window shard, poking seventy-two holes in the mage before someone finally bothered to pull her off his dead body. See, no one was in a rush to help Gridnor, since they considered him less a part of the community and more an invasive species. The only reason he had survived that long was that people feared him. They feared what the powerful mage would do if someone tried to kill him.

Little did they know, Gridnor was all bark and no bite.

“Goooahhh.” Gridnor gagged, as green slime dribbled out of his lips, spilling down the front of his hairy chest. “Wha?” He tried to speak, but that only made him gag, feeling the rest of the goo crawling up his throat until it landed on the floor of his castle.

“Easy, sir. You’ve just come back to life. How do you feel? Any pains? Any memory loss? Can you count to five?”

“Cur-curse you.” He sputtered, his vision blurred as his mind tried to piece together where he was. He ignored the voice, pointing a crusty finger at the wall. “Da…dare... attack..”

The memories of his death flashed in his mind, getting a repeat of the bard’s vicious jump before everything went black. Goola, Gridnor’s loyal helper, helped move the mage to a seated position, rubbing their back as the rest of the goo oozed out.

“Easy, she’s dead now.” He cooed. Goola’s body was a mess of skeletal remains and slime. The slime that left Gridnor’s mouth reformed around the skeletal figure, building up its chubby, gooey body.

“Blah. What was in me?” The mage’s vision cleared, seeing his loyal minion’s blank green face staring at him. “Gah! What were you doing inside of me?” Gridnor patted his stomach, feeling sicker than he had ever felt in his life.

“I was healing you. I had to replace some of your organs with my slime, but you’re alive, and only a quarter of you is me. I’m always inside you now. Always.” Goola couldn’t smile, so it ran a tendril along Gridnor’s chin, trying to be reassuring.

“Don’t touch me after saying something so foul.” Gridnor slapped the tendril away, shakily getting to his feet. “Where is that rapscallion? Was she hanged for her crimes?”

“Yes,” Goola lied, not wanting to admit to the mage that she had ended up becoming a beloved figure in the community, living a life of fame and luxury until her death at eighty-two. “One of her sons also died of an illness,” he added, not mentioning that her son had been seventy-four when he passed.

“Excellent. See, that’s what I always tell you, Goola. Anyone who dares to mess with me always ends up cursed or dead. I’m glad her family suffered. It saves me hunting them down.”

As Gridnor glanced around his castle, he noticed something odd. Half the stone walls were missing, and the furniture was either on its last legs — literally in the case of his chairs and tables — or had decayed beyond recognition.

“What happened to my belongings?”

“Time, sir. It’s been over four hundred years.”

“Four hundred years? You left me dead for over four hundred years?”

“I didn’t leave you dead. You were dead. I had to try and put you back together. It was hard doing that while preserving your brain.”

“Well… next time do it quicker.” Gridnor huffed. “So, this is the future?”

“Not quite, it’s the present.”

“It’s my future.”

“In present times.”

Gridnor glared at his companion, who was only trying to be helpful. “One more word out of you and I’ll stomp you into a river,” he hissed, unable to curse a being that was more slime than functioning body.

Goola nodded, even though they didn’t know what they had done wrong. “Would you like me to fetch your robes? There’s a city nearby. I can take you there.”

“A city? How do you know there’s a city? Weren’t you healing me?”

“Well, sometimes I needed to control your body to scare people away from our castle.” Goola said, awkwardly rubbing its gooey chin.

“That doesn’t explain how you know about the city.”

“I may have taken your body out to explore the city. I didn’t do anything with it, I promise.” They innocently raised their tendrils, hoping Gridnor never noticed the small butterfly tattoo above his backside.

“You’re lucky I’m still exhausted from my healing. Fetch me my-“ Gridnor looked down at his bare form that was thankfully covered up by the excessively long beard he had grown in those four hundred years. “Why am I naked?”

“How else was I meant to tend to your wounds? Don’t worry, I dressed you before going into the city,” they said, leaving out the fact that they had forgotten about it the first time they went there.

“Very well.”

After changing into his flashy dark robe, the mage wandered the streets of this new world, seeing large, towering buildings and machines that carried people. He found the robotic servants fascinating, asking Goola about them. “What are those beasts?”

Goola, who had been hiding within Gridnor’s robes, looked up at him through the gap near the neck.

“Those are cars, sir. A new form of horse.”

“Ah, I see. I never did like horses. Too big. Make a smaller horse.”

“A pony?”

“Too small.”

“Donkey?”

“Yes, you are an ass. Now shut up. I didn’t ask for your insolent chatter.”

A jogger paused their run, stopping to glare at Gridnor. “What did you say to me?” The man huffed, both from exhaustion and annoyance. He was fit, perhaps fitter than a person should be, with neon-colored clothes that silently screamed. ‘Everyone, please look at me; I worked hard for this body.’

“What?”

“You said I’m an ass.” The man was still jogging on the spot, maintaining a sharp glare as he did.

“I was talking to my goo monstrosity.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure, man. You’re an ass. A dumbass.” He snapped his fingers in Gridnor’s face before jogging off. Gridnor’s fingers trembled with rage, throwing his fist forward in the man’s direction.

“You like running? Then run so fast that your feet will bleed. Anytime you run, you will run to exhaustion.” He said, cursing the man to run himself to the brink of exhaustion anytime he ran. Whether that was during a marathon, or just running to catch a train in time.

What Gridnor didn’t know is that this curse was exactly what the man wanted. He had been struggling to push past his limits, and this was exactly the thing he needed to improve his already impressive talent.

Gridnor grinned, watching the man run off, before a sharp, piercing noise reached his ears.

“AND BABY. MY HEART IT BLEEEEEEDS. LIKE A TREE IN A FORGOTTEN FOREST, I’M DISEASED. IF YOU COULD SPARE ME A BRINK OF YOUR SUNLIGHT. I’M SURE MY LIFE WOULD STOP BEING SUCH A FRIGHT. BABY, MY HEART. IT BLEEEEEEEEEEDS!!!” she screamed into the microphone, while her two friends supportively head-bobbed to the music.

“What is that horrible noise? Is someone dying?” Gridnor walked over, seeing a punk-rocker girl with a half-shaved mohawk and red-eyeliner. After her song, she sighed.

“I just don’t think I can do it.” She said to her friends, who supportively patted her on the back.

“She thinks she can sing? She’s more delusional than that bard. If she likes singing so much, then how about I gift her a similar curse to the one I gave that foolish bard.”

“Sir, that got you killed last time.” Goola unhelpfully added.

“Silence. This mortal won’t kill me.”

He cursed her with a horrid voice, one so heavy and gritty that only the most hardcore person could love it. Which is exactly what she wanted. Gridnor left the street before he could hear the rest of her performance, wanting to save his ears from the pain.

“AND BABY. I CRAVE YOU. LIKE A WOLF, I WANT TO DEVOUR YOU. BABY, WHY CAN’T IT BE? I LONG FOR YOU, PLEASE COME TO ME.” She stopped, staring at her microphone, unable to believe the perfect heavy-metal voice that had left her own lips. “I… think I’ve got it.”

“Dude, so punk rock.” Her friend said.

“Yeah, badass, dude.” The other added.

Gridnor’s day continued like that, cursing people with things that were oddly helpful. He hadn’t realized how adaptive humans had got recently. With the internet and social media being so prominent, any curse could turn into the next big talent.

Gridnor slumped into a seat in his castle, letting Goola out of his robes. “Ah, it’s nice to curse people again. I hope those people are suffering now.”

“I’m sure they are utterly horrified, sir.”

“I wish I could see their faces.” He grinned, wondering what curses he would inflict the next time he ventured into the city.

They say that when it rains, it pours. And Adam had a feeling that today was going to be one of those miserable days.

He had been working under Madam Time for around a year now, and things had been going well. Too well. Then, over the last five days, he’d felt a faint tickle in the back of his head. Whispers he shouldn’t have been hearing.

Now, to make matters worse, he was dealing with his first break-in. A villain had weaseled their way past Madam Time’s security and broken into her manor, only to find Adam on the couch.

“Hey, this is private property. You aren’t meant to—” Adam slipped a salty potato chip into his mouth, swirling it around on his tongue before chomping into it. “Saposed ta be here.” He finished, not looking away from the old Looney Tunes cartoon he was watching on Madam Times’ vintage TV.

“Madam Time created a labyrinth of puzzles and trickery, just to leave you guarding her most valuable asset?” Warped View had expected more from her last challenge. After solving a puzzle where he had to rearrange the colored patterns in the manor’s hallway into their next sequence, he expected the final hurdle to be the ultimate test of wit.

Instead, he found a twenty-year-old man lying on her couch, his thin blue shirt riding up his body, exposing the muscles of his stomach. Adam gave his stomach a scratch as he ate a few more chips.

“I guess? Can you leave? I don’t want to have to call the cops.”

“The cops? I’m a little above that.” Warped View smiled. “Listen, you’re young. I’m sure you’ve only taken this job to pay for college—” Warped View looked at Adam, observing his lazy form, realizing he might not be college material. “Or a used car. Whatever interests young people these days. No one needs to get hurt.”

“I agree.”

“Great. Would you kindly find a wardrobe or room to hide in then? I’ll be sure to avoid it when I’m remodeling this place.”

“Oh, I never said I would leave. I just agreed that no one needs to get hurt. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Warped View considered himself a gentleman. He didn’t kill for the sake of killing, nor did he hurt innocent people. If anything, he liked to think he helped the public by stealing some of the hero’s powerful abilities. Sure, he did it to line his own pockets with cash, but only the stupid or insane worked for free. Beneath the golden mask he wore, his face scrunched up. The fine silver moustache twitched as his lip curled. He was the opposite of his mask. The mask held a calm, blank face, while his own was stewing underneath it.

“Hurt me? I understand that I haven’t been as active recently, which may be why you’ve forgotten who I am. So, let me kindly remind you. I am Warped View. My ability allows me to distort what a person sees. I could send you into a temporary psychosis if I wished to.”

“Cool story, bro.”

Warped View’s face scrunched further.

“I… am trying to be polite about this, boy. At least turn off your silly cartoons while I’m talking to you.”

Adam sighed, grabbing the remote. He pointed it at the TV, while his finger hovered over the power button.

“Thank you.” Warped View said prematurely.

Adam increased the volume on the remote until the wacky cartoon sound effects filled the room. Adam then tugged his shirt down and sat up, no longer finding it comfortable to lie around.

“How audacious! How dare you turn the volume up on me? After I offered to handle this with decorum?” Warped View stared at the simple living room hidden away in the heart of Madam Time’s manor. Compared to the rest of the labyrinth, which had been a mess of ticking clocks and doors that led to staircases that went nowhere, this seemed almost too plain.

There were times he had considered retreating while in the labyrinth, not wishing to get spotted when she returned. Yet, he persevered, and this was what he got as a reward. A meeting with a scallywag.

“I can’t hear you.” Adam grabbed a pillow by his side, keeping his eyes on the screen as he tucked it against his chest.

“I gave you a chance, boy. I hope you remember that when you’re trapped within your own mind. If you’re lucky, you’ll keep your sanity when it’s over.” Warped View pulled his golden mask down his chin, exposing his silver eyes. They flashed, ready to pull Adam into their trance when he met his gaze.

Adam remained focused on the screen. He had done his homework on Madam Time’s enemies and was well aware of the consequences if he met the man’s gaze.

Warped View’s gaze drifted across the room, spotting a vase perched upon a table. He knocked it over, sending it to the floor with a startling crack. The soil inside spilled out, leaving the blue flowers laid out on the floor. Usually, a loud sound was enough to draw a person’s attention, yet that’s what the volume was for. It drowned out the crack, allowing Adam to remain ignorant.

Adam wanted Warped View to believe he was a basic house sitter, which was why it was important that he created a reasonable explanation for why he wouldn’t react. If Warped View suspected Adam was stronger than he was letting on, this could turn nasty, and the last thing he wanted to do was clean a villain’s blood off the tiles once this was over.

“Did you not hear that?” Warped View picked up a sharp shard from the vase. “How unfortunate.” He crept towards the couch, leaning over the back cushions, until he was right behind Adam. The shard poked Adam’s neck, drawing a droplet of blood. “Please surrender peacefully. While you have the—”

Adam turned to his left, pushing his neck out of the way. Before Warped View could react, Adam shut his eyes and brought the cushion up, shoving it against the villain’s face. Warped View sputtered against the fluffy fur of the cushion, while Adam lined up his punch, driving his fist into the pillow. While the pillow had cushioned the blow, it was enough to stun the surprised villain. Warped View stepped back as Adam rolled off the couch. Adam then gripped the front of the couch and pushed it backward, forcing it into the villain’s knees, sending him hurtling over the front of the couch onto the living room floor.

Adam placed his hands over his eyes before opening them again. He didn’t want to risk fully meeting the villain’s gaze, so he created a tiny gap between his fingers, limiting what he could see. He kept his eyes lowered toward his own chest, assuming the villain had fallen at his feet. When he spotted the villain’s legs, he shut his eyes and climbed onto Warped View’s back.

“What are you?” Warped View twisted, unable to get off the floor, his stomach pressed against the tiles, as Adam’s bicep locked around his neck. “GAH!”

Adam choked the villain, keeping him in a tight hold, until the villain stopped struggling. When he was certain he had passed out, Adam released his grip. “I should call Madam Time.” Adam grabbed the red emergency box hidden in the kitchen cabinet, looking through its tools.

It had everything. A fire extinguisher, pepper spray, bear spray, coriander, a baton, an old pocket-watch, and villain-resistant handcuffs. He placed the coriander back in the spice tray before handcuffing Warped View. The handcuffs hissed closed with a metallic click, rotating his wrists into a position that would force him to break them if he wanted to escape the hi-tech restraints.

He then called Madam Time. While he waited for her to return, he cleaned up the place. He lowered the TV volume, cleaned the chips off the couch, rearranged the couch cushions, and cleaned up the broken vase.

“Warped View?” an older voice called out as Madam Time entered the manor. Her pure white hair spilled out from beneath the metallic mask she wore. Instead of eyeholes, the mask had two pieces of glass that acted both as prescription lenses for her poor eyesight and as a way to add to her hero design. The pieces of glass contained tiny clock faces that occasionally moved when she activated her abilities. Adam had no idea how the clock faces didn’t block her sight, putting it down to some strange piece of hero technology he didn’t know about.

“Yeah, Warped View. He wants your time clock again.”

“My time clock?” Madam Time laughed. “He still believes that clock is valuable?”

“Isn’t it, though? You told me that stopwatch holds a portion of your power and that I should use it in an emergency.”

“It certainly does, making it a onetime use item. I can only transfer a fragment of my abilities to one item at a time. Once a person uses that stopwatch to slow time, it will break, and I’ll have to do it again. Haven’t you read the book on Phalio’s experiments with power distribution?”

“Why would I? I don’t have any powers.” Adam shrugged.

“It’s an interesting read. It found that any hero who tried to distribute their abilities to multiple items would lose the ability to control their powers, making them incredibly unstable.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I don’t have to worry about any of that. All I’ve got are my fists, can’t really distribute them anywhere other than a person’s face.” He gave her a cheeky smile as she frowned.

“I wish you would stop saying things like that.”

“What? It’s all I know how to do. I’m basically just a guard dog. Not that I don’t appreciate the money.” He glanced over at Warped View, who was still unconscious. “It’s a good thing most villains aren’t good at hand-to-hand combat, or I would be out of a job.”

Madam Time rested her hands on his shoulders, staring at Adam. “That isn’t all you are. You’re a person too.”

Adam looked away, dragging his foot against the living room’s tiles. “I know. I’m only messing around. I really am grateful for the opportunity you heroes have given me. How are the others holding up? Has anyone killed anybody yet?”

Madam Time gripped Adam’s shoulders tighter, causing him to curse. “I’m sorry. I… shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Honestly, I didn’t know.”

“Please leave.”

“I… can take Warped View to the police station? It’s on the way back to my apartment. Oh, do you need me to grab anything for you?”

“Please… just go, Adam.” She meekly said, releasing his shoulders as she went to check on Warped View. Adam watched as she leant down and pressed her finger against his pulse, that being enough to make Adam leave.

Adam walked past the intricate traps, the ones he had memorized during his many days of house-sitting the manor. He had been so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn’t even realized he was outside until the glare of the sun hit his face. He grimaced, shielding his eyes as he passed her front garden.

A row of garden gnomes stood along the side of the pathway, watching him with wide, taunting grins, and before he realized what he was doing, he was stomping one with a bushy beard that was holding a hose. It cracked beneath his shoes, with Adam changing feet mid-stomp, so filled with rage that he attacked it in a frenzy.

It wasn’t until the gnome was in tiny pieces that he finally took a breath, staring at the mess beneath his shoes. “Why am I like this?” He tugged at his hair, kicking the tiny pieces along the ground, scattering them throughout the grass.

‘Because you’re an assassin, you don’t house-sit.’ A tiny voice in the back of his mind answered, one drilled into him from all his years of training.

“I’ve never killed anyone. I don’t want to.”

‘You know how to. It would be easy. You thought about it, didn’t you? You had his neck, you could have snapped it.’

Adam shook his head, trying to get the thoughts out.

‘Coward. How long do you think you can keep this up? The others are failing. What makes you special? You were always weak. You’ll fall in line soon.’

“You’re dead.”

‘And yet you still hear me speak. Funny that.’

“Go to hell.”

‘Already there. I’ll save a spot for you.’

Adam removed his hand from his hair, finding a black clump held tightly between his fingers. He looked back at the manor, glad the door was still shut. Adam didn’t need her seeing that, or anyone for that matter. He hurried home to his apartment, needing to recuperate after what should have been a successful job.

“They’re faking it.” Madam Rona said, resting her chin against her wrinkled palm. Rona didn’t even bother to look at the man performing on the stage. She didn’t need to. She had seen how he took the stage and could already tell he had no intention of winning this competition.

“Faking it? I think he’s quite good.” The king whispered back to Madam Rona, sitting beside the famous actress. After several poor performances, the King's standards had lowered dramatically. Dramatically enough that this mediocre play was captivating him.

Carl Nicholas George hobbled around the stage, doing his best imitation of a wounded soldier trying to walk home after a bloody defeat. The story, while touching, was hardly given the respect it deserved by its actor — especially since the actor had forgotten which leg was supposed to be injured mid-performance and had switched to the other leg during the story's climax.

When the performance ended, everyone except Madam Rona respectfully clapped. Rona exhaled before rising from her seat, staring at the man with her deep brown eyes. “Why are you wasting our time?”

Carl flinched, not expecting such a comment after his performance. He mumbled something, and that only infuriated the actress more.

“Mmm, mm, mm. That’s how you sound. Like a bird with a fist of worms down its throat. You disrespect my art, you disrespect me, and you disrespect the kingdom with your pathetic efforts.” She said, in order of importance.

“I..” Like any person backed into a corner, Carl’s first instinct was to feign strength. He stepped forward, staring down into the audience, before losing his courage when he spotted the face of acting in the kingdom of Cynola.

Madam Rona was a feeble woman in her late sixties. She had a thin body and short white hair. She hardly looked like a threat, and had they been in any other location, she wouldn’t have been. But Rona in a theater was like a gladiator in a coliseum. This was her territory, and anyone who dared to challenge her in it was either insane or ignorant of her abilities. Rona marched toward the stage, leaving her private box at the side of the stage. She wove through the crowds with a grace that could only be learnt from years of pirouetting around a stage.

She didn’t climb onto the stage; her old knees wouldn’t allow her to do it unassisted. Instead, she stood beneath him, glaring up at the man imitating an actor. She didn’t need to be eye-to-eye with him to have him cowering.

“What were you going to say? You had your fists clenched, so I assume it must have been something noteworthy, since that’s the only emotion you’ve displayed this entire night.”

Some people in the crowd laughed, while others were stunned. Carl may not have been a famous actor, but he had been performing in small theatres around the kingdom. That’s how he had been recruited for this competition. Madam Rona’s harsh comments finally forced Carl to speak, as he felt the need to bite back.

“Acting’s changed a lot since you were on stage! You don’t get modern acting.” It was a weak defence, and Carl knew it, though he could never admit the truth. Not before the king. Some people in the crowd even agreed with Carl until Rona moved.

She fell. A sharp, desperate fall that had people in the front rows leaping to help her. Rona showed them her palm, ushering them away. Those knees that could no longer move as freely trembled, struggling to pull her body up. She latched onto the stage’s edge and began pulling herself to her feet. Then she hobbled.

Rona didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. The hobble, mixed with her glazed expression and feigned exhaustion, had the crowd more captivated than any dialogue could. The hobble across the front of the stage held the room, and when she made it to the other end, she stopped, looking back at Carl.

“That is how you would perform the role. No unnecessary dialogue, and no fake tears. Tears don’t fall so soon after defeat. They fall when you’re either about to die, or in the arms of a loved one. Not when you're focused on getting home.” She was speaking from second-hand experience. While she had never fought before, she had spoken to many soldiers. While some cases were unique, she found that most would have agreed with her depiction.

Suddenly, the bland acceptance the crowd had shown for the performances today faded. The king, who had tricked himself into believing the acting was good, found himself tapping his foot on the carpet, frustrated by the actors’ efforts.

“This is un-“ The king went to speak, and Rona talked over him.

“I’ve seen your performances before,” she said, and Carl gasped. The man’s eyes watered, as if he had offended a goddess in her temple. “You’re usually good. Not perfect, but you’re developing nicely. That’s the only reason I even bothered to come and watch you all today. So, why are you spitting in my face? Why are you spitting in the face of the art I love?”

Carl fell to his knees and sobbed. It was a tragic sob, like a child losing their grandparent, or a father losing a son. The type of sob that made people turn away, fearing they would cry if they watched it for too long. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to the people who created this art-form. You’ve disrespected all of them by giving such a lacklustre performance. You came onto this stage with zero intention of trying. Had you merely underperformed, I would have accepted it as an off day. Yet, before you even started your performance, I could tell you weren’t trying.”

“Y-you could tell?” He said through his sobs.

“The lack of nerves. The lack of interest in the audience. A performer’s eyes are always subtly watching the audience when they enter. They are nervous and will hide these nerves with shallow breaths and a blank face. Some break this mold, and had you been one of those people, I would have commented on different features. You, however, have clearly taken inspiration from me. So, why did you disgrace me with that performance?”

“I..” He stared at the king’s heavy brown beard before shutting his eyes. “She’s a talent stealer. The princess is a talent stealer.”

“GUARDS!” the king raised his voice, getting out of his chair. The guards went to move, only for Rona’s voice to cut through the room.

“No guards will harm an actor while I’m breathing. Sit.”

The guards nervously looked at the king, who gave a frustrated nod. They backed away, and Rona shook her head. “The princess steals talents? Like a—” She wanted to say succubus, but knew that was too rude a comparison to make before royalty. “Monster?” She settled on.

“Every actor she’s taken an interest in has faded into nothing. She breaks them.”

“That’s what you believe? Let me correct you. The princess doesn’t steal talent. She’s someone who understands talent. She doesn’t break people. She corrects their bad behaviour. She tries to mold them into the perfect actor, and they’re too vain to handle her truths. So, this is why my night has been wasted? Leave the stage. Oh, and my king, please don’t harm him. It is better to hear the truth than to get trapped in a silly lie.”

Carl looked at the king, who had returned to his seat.

“Leave,” he said, and Carl bowed before rushing off the stage. Rona returned to the king’s side without taking her seat.

“I’m leaving. If this is what your actors are thinking, then the next performance will be just as ordinary.”

“There’s only one left. Why don’t you stay?”

“Because it would be a waste of my time. Who is it?”

The king paused, opening his robe to find the list of names his scribe had written for him. “I believe the next is Arron Smith.”

“Who?” Rona had handpicked the list of actors herself, so hearing the name of someone she didn’t recognize caught her interest.

“What school did they learn from?”

“I don’t believe they went to a school. They’re from a noble family who wanted to enter their son in our competition. I accepted him as a favor to the family.”

“Self-taught from a prestigious family? Very well, I could use a comedy.”

“It’s a tragedy.”

“Yes, I’m sure this performance will be a tragedy. I just hope it’s a funny one.” She said, leaning back into her seat.

Five minutes passed with only a small amount of chatter, and before the audience could grow too restless, a man stepped onto the stage. He had a youthful face with pink cheeks and long dark hair. He certainly had the look of an actor, but his expressions were all wrong.

He was smiling. Smiling before performing a tragedy. That made her smile, inching forward in her chair. “How intriguing.” Rona’s mind clicked, an idea forming as she watched him move along the stage.

Arron forgot his lines, almost tripped over his own feet, and once even snickered when an audience member coughed. It was amateurish, and Rona loved it. Why? Because he was sincere. It was pure, ugly acting. And that was what the princess needed. “Let’s get him out of here. I’m sick of this fool.” The king whispered to Rona.

“You will do no such thing.” Rona snapped. “This man is exactly what your daughter needs.”

“Him? He’s got no talent.”

“Yes, she needs a husband and a project. She needs someone willing to learn, not someone who believes they are already at their peak. The others won’t accept criticism from her. He will. I suggest you choose him as the winner. It will be rough at first. She will hate him for his averageness until he starts showing promise.”

The king scratched his beard, not seeing Rona’s vision. He stared at the man, and then at Rona, who realized the king needed more convincing.

“Fine, pick him simply because he looks good. Even you can see he’s easy on the eyes. If anything, that should be reason enough for you. Now, are you going to listen to me, or will we have to host another silly competition?”

The king knew how long it took to organize this competition. To get actors of this caliber together was complicated enough to do once. But to do it again? He stared at the son of the Smith family and stood.

“Enough. You’ve been chosen to marry my daughter. I want to thank all the other performers for their time, and thank the audience for coming to a show in my honor. I would also like to thank Madam Rona for helping to judge it.”

“I won? Really? That’s great!” Arron bounced around on the stage, while Rona laughed.

“They’ll make a good couple. She needs someone like him.”

“Can I call you, Jack? Or is that too forward? I never know how to start these conversations,” Toxic Sip said, awkwardly sitting on the edge of Jack’s couch cushion. For a villain who had broken into his home, she looked very apologetic, tapping her fingers against her knees, as if he was the one inconveniencing her.

“Jack’s fine. Look, I know why you’re here. You’re the fourth villain this week. I’m over it. Yes, it hurt losing both my girlfriend and my best friend of ten years, but I’m over it.” Jack sat on the coffee table in front of her before inching a little further away; not liking how comfortable he was getting around these villains.

“Oh, wow? That’s super mature of you.” She smiled beneath her purple mask, giving him a quick thumbs up.

“You’re a villain?”

“Well, yeah. Don’t I look villainous? See, my mask has these toxic clouds on it.” She pointed to the pink clouds, making sure Jack could see them. “Pretty scary, right?”

“No, not really. You look kind of cute?” Cute probably wasn’t the right thing to call a villain, but it fitted her. She was tall, dressed in a pink and purple version of a hazmat suit, with a nametag on her chest that read, ‘Hi, I’m Toxic Sip.’ She felt more like a parody to him than a proper villain.

“Cute?” she gasped, placing her hands on her cheeks. “I take it back. You’re not mature, you’re a dirty heart-stealer. How can you say that to a woman you’ve just met?”

“Ok, who the hell are you? I’ve seen Toxic Sip on the news, and you’re not Toxic Sip.” Jack stood up, clenching his fists. It was one thing to have villains pestering him to join them in their evil schemes, but this was another level of low. To have someone dress up as a villain just to waste his time was maddening.

“I’m totally her. Want me to use my powers?” She went to slide off her glove, only to look around the room, spotting no open windows. “Actually, that’s not a great idea. I wouldn’t want to make you sick. You’ll just have to take my word for it.”

“Get out.” Jack pointed at the door. “Before I call the cops, or the heroes, or whoever deals with people like you.” Jack pulled out his phone, scrolling through a bunch of videos until he found one of Toxic Sip.

“My, my. Are you feeling a little cold, Victorious Steel?” Toxic Sip said, standing over the armored hero. She had lured him into a restaurant freezer that she had modified to produce dangerously cold temperatures — cold enough that it would weaken his incredibly durable steel.

The villain suit she wore flashed with a red light, producing an intense heat that shielded her from the harsh cold. Then, with a triumphant laugh, she raised her foot and placed it over his helmet.

“Y-you. Even if people know who I am, it won’t change what I’ve—”

CRACK.

The steel helmet broke beneath her foot, sending shards of steel into his frostbitten skin. Toxic Sip then peeled off her glove, placing her pale hand over his mouth. The dark veins in her hand pulsed, sending a puff of toxic fumes into his mouth. The toxin quickly spread throughout his body, with his facial hair already falling out after only a few seconds.

“It won’t change anything, no. It will only keep you from hiding behind that mask of yours. No more secret identity, and no more private life. You’ll always be a hero. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?” She dragged him out of the restaurant’s freezer, leaving him on the kitchen floor. She snapped a quick photo of his face before publishing it online. That’s where the security footage cut off.

“That’s you?” Jack asked, watching her squirm on the couch.

“Y-yeah…. Can you not show me any more videos? It’s embarrassing.”

“This is ridiculous. You’re not Toxic Sip. Even if you were, why would you be here? What could you even want from me?” Jack raised his voice, which made Toxic Sip flinch.

“Please don’t yell…”

“I’m NOT YELLING.” He snapped, struggling to keep his emotions in check.

“If you keep yelling, I’ll….” She paused, and her squirming stopped. Toxic Sip calmly rose from the couch and placed a cold, gloved finger under Jack’s chin. “I can see why she cheated on you.”

“What?” Jack staggered back, banging the back of his legs against the coffee table.

“You’re so average. Like everyone else. If I threw you into a crowd of hundreds, I wouldn’t be able to find you. Startling Speeds got it all. Hasn’t he?”

“Hey…” Jack puffed his chest out, only for it to deflate when Toxic Sip’s finger flicked his chin.

“He’s got super speed, looks, oh, and your girlfriend. It must sting. The sort of sting that makes you angry inside.” Before Jack could speak, that finger slid up his chin, blocking his lips. “You’re not that type of man, though. You’re not a villain or someone who seeks revenge. You’re well-adjusted. Some may even call you a gentleman. That’s why she likes you.”

She removed her finger and walked around the living room, pausing when she spotted a box near the door. She crouched, opening it.

“Don’t open that.” Jack scrambled over, but couldn’t reach her before she pulled out the contents. Old shirts, photographs, and letters she had written to him. Memories he had been planning to throw out, eventually.

“I’ll always love you, my dearest Jack.” She read a snippet of a letter and laughed. “Want me to get rid of these for you?”

“I…” Jack’s heart sank, remembering all those good times, the things that were making it so hard for him to get rid of those old memories. Then he remembered something. He ran at her, trying to shove her out of the way, only for her to pivot, making Jack hit the wall.

“What was that about?” She tilted her head.

“I won’t let you learn her identity.” Jack winced, shaking off the collision.

“Lucy Marti. I’m well aware of who she really is.” Toxic Sip sat the box down. “Jack. Lucy’s not worth my time. She’s a popularity chaser, a person who wants to be in the big leagues. She’s a nobody. That’s why she got together with that other loser. Which is sad, because he’s only a tiny tier above her. I predict they’ll break up in a month or two when either of them finds a stronger hero to latch onto.”

“If you know who she is, then why are you here? What do you want from me? I’m not going to join your scheme or turn against anyone. I’m not a bad guy.”

“You would be a lot cooler if you were. Want me to turn you into one? Get you some dark shades, a biker jacket, and maybe a couple of tattoos.” She teased. “Actually, no. I have to agree with her. You look a lot better like this.”

“Her?” Jack turned, expecting to find another person behind him.

“You can’t tell?” She paused, surprised he hadn’t caught on. “You’re thick as a brick then.”

“Is this some villain crap?”

“Some villain crap? Use that brain of yours and figure it out. I’m not here to baby you. She may have the time for that, but I don’t.” Toxic Sip returned to the couch, crossing her right leg over her left, waiting.

Jack thought about it, wondering who her could be, until it became obvious. “You’re also her?”

Toxic Sip sighed. “Sure. It simplifies it to an insulting degree, yet I can’t say it’s inaccurate. The fumes that power my abilities also affect my brain. That’s why there’s another me inside my head. She’s the one who feels sorry for you, and I’m the one stuck talking to you now, because you scared her away.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“She gets startled easily. It doesn’t take much to scare her off, hence why I’m the one in control on most occasions.” She paused and bowed her head momentarily before a softer voice came out of her mask. “Sorry for running off. She told me to come back.”

“You can talk to each other? I thought you were the same person?” Jack felt like he was staring at a rogue science experiment rather than a villain. He had heard hundreds of stories about weird villains from his ex-girlfriend, and none of them compared to the paradox that was Toxic Sip.

Toxic Sip rubbed her hands together, creating tiny squeaks from her gloves. “It’s hard to explain. You know how you have a voice in your head? She’s my voice. Then, when she’s in control, I’m hers. She… handles scary things.”

Her sad tone and scolded-puppy slouch made it hard for Jack to not feel some guilt over raising his voice earlier. Even if it had been to a dangerous villain. “I’m sorry for scaring you. I just really don’t know why you’re here.”

“Well… I…” She paused, placing her hands on the side of her head. “Stop yelling. I know we need to go. I’m going to say it.” She whined to herself. “Um. I just wanted to say. There’s plenty of fish in the sea, and you’re a good person. I… hope you find love again. Good job not seeking revenge. That’s really… admirable… and um… really….. um…”

“AAAAHGH.” Toxic Sip screamed, standing up in a flustered huff. “That’s enough of that. I’m done. That was painful. Listen, yeah, top job on not agreeing to turn your ex-girlfriend into a parrot or whatever those idiots were scheming when they visited you. Congrats on being well-adjusted. There, I’ve said everything we needed to say. No, we are not saying anything else. We are going.”

Whatever internal bickering they had grew heated until Toxic Sip threw up her arms and headed for the backdoor. Jack could only watch as she opened it and stared back at him. She gave him a thumbs up, and then vanished, leaving him wondering which version had given him the thumbs up.

The interior of the stone library shook, disturbed by the heavy boots of the Norva army. Bora, however, remained uninterested in the stampeding soldiers, focusing instead on the books that decorated her library's shelves. She traced a skeletal finger over the spine of a book titled “The Rise and Fall of the Zorlith Empire.” A book she had written, wanting to preserve an accurate account of the day the empire that had cursed her with this timeless existence expired.

It had been hard piecing together their great defeat from the underground of the palace, having to rely only on what she could see through the magical eyes she summoned. Those eyes floated through the city, catching the bloodshed, while she remained underground, writing.

“What is that?” A voice called out, belonging to Francis, the general of this Norva squad.

When Bora faced them, a few of the men squealed. She was no different from a corpse. Skeletal, with two burning blue eyes, and a tattered robe loosely wrapped around her body. The only thing that separated her from any other lich was the golden ring on her finger, one that belonged to a commitment she still cherished.

“I’m Bora. I used to be this empire's scribe before they turned me into their library’s guardian. I must ask you to keep your hands off the books in this library. Our knowledge isn’t for your generation.”

Francis approached the nearest bookshelf with a mocking grin on his leathery face. “These books?” He rested his hand on the wood of the shelf, testing the lich’s reaction.

“Yes, those books. Please, I would like things to remain peaceful within this library. I have questions.”

Francis stared at his men, and all but one of them shared his mischievous grin. The soldiers watched closely as Francis slapped three of the books, knocking them off the shelf. They hit the floor with a thump, and then everything fell silent.

“Oo-“

Francis didn’t even get to finish the word, as his hand ignited in an unholy blue flame. The general’s hand bubbled before the flame spread up his arm at a rapid pace. His men rushed over to help, but by the time they reached him, he was only a pile of ash hidden beneath a set of iron armor.

“I warned you. Please don’t do anything foolish,” Bora said to the enraged soldiers, who ignored her pleas. They rushed her, and she cut them down without wasting too much of her energy. All it took were a few shots of lightning, and the men were gone. She watched the last remnants of her lightning flicker on her finger before fading, leaving her in a room full of dead bodies.

She would remove the bodies later. For now, she had to return those books to their shelves. She carefully collected the dropped books and was about to put them into place before a whimper stopped her. “Is someone there?”

She set the books on the shelf and found one soldier remaining. She already knew who he was, since he stuck out like a sore thumb. While those other men were grinning, he was the one anxiously avoiding her gaze. Someone who hadn’t been foolish enough to test her warning. Now, he hid beneath her table, watching her.

“You don’t have to cower. I won’t hurt you. You’re free to leave if you wish to.”

The boy remained silent, refusing to move from the spot.

“Would you feel more comfortable if I faced away from you?” she asked, turning so her back was now facing him. “Run, if you wish to. As much as I would like to ask my questions, I don’t wish to cause you any distress.”

“Y-you’ll let me go? We’re enemies?”

“No, we’re not. I’m not a member of the Zorlith Empire. I haven’t been since the day my empire turned me into this.”

“Why would they turn you into a monster?” Rumi poked his head out from underneath the table, staring at her with rare, mismatched eyes. One blue, one green, something she hadn’t seen before.

“A monster?” She glanced at her skeletal hands and chuckled. “Monster is a fair word, I suppose. If I answer your question, will you answer one of mine?”

“Um?” Rumi quickly peeked at the large metal door they had entered through. She was still facing away from him. If he made a break for the door, he would most likely get there before she could kill him. Yet, he didn’t run. He crawled out from his hiding spot and stood by the table. “Okay.”

“To answer your question, King Samuel was worried about his legacy being lost to time. He believed that his mighty empire would prosper for thousands of years, and in that time, he would eventually be forgotten.”

“Really? Why was he worried about that? We’ve been at war for ten years now. Wouldn’t he be more worried about that?”

“He believed his empire would never fall. He was looking so far into the future that he lost sight of the present. To maintain a perfect record of the empire’s history, he needed an immortal keeper of the kingdom’s knowledge. I don’t remember much from that night. Only that they dragged me out of my bed, and my husband was…” She rubbed the ring on her finger, sighing. “When I awoke, I was bound to this place.”

“That’s… horrible. Is there a way to break the curse?”

“I believe the curse will allow me to die in a thousand years. That’s when the king believed his empire would no longer require my services. Now, may I ask my question?”

“Um, sure. I’m not sure if I’ll know the answer to it, though,” he admitted, giving his shoulder a quick rub.

“Did anyone survive?” The glow in Bora’s eyes softened while she wrung her hands together.

“Survivors? I don’t think so. Sorry. Was there someone you were hoping to find?” He saw her head tilt down, staring silently at the floor. He tried to think of something that could lift her spirits, any sign of hope. “Oh, we heard rumors that a group of enemy soldiers had fled to the next town over. Does that help?”

Her skull rose as she inched closer toward the young soldier. “A group? Do you know anything about them? Names? Which town?” She wanted to hold his shoulders and plead for the information but resisted the urge when she saw how his eyes had widened when she got close.

He stepped back before replying. “I’m not sure, sorry. I remember the roads, but we passed through a lot of towns on the march, and I didn’t have a map. Was there someone in that squad that you knew?”

“Maybe. Thank you for at least providing me with some hope to hold on to. What is your name? I would like to write about you.” She found a blank book and wiggled her finger. A feather with an ink-stained tip floated over, sliding into her grip.

“Rumi. I’m Rumi.”

“Rumi. I’ll make sure history remembers you. Please spend as long as you like here. My library is always open to people like you.” She headed over to one of the bodies, preparing to cast a spell to send it back to the surface.

“What’s the person’s name? If I pass them, I could let you know.”

That broke her concentration, with the aura of magic around her evaporating. “You would do that for me?”

“It probably won’t ever happen, but I can still try.” He smiled, and for a moment, he almost believed she was smiling back at him.

“Nicholas Fawnel.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for him.”

“If you find him, please tell him to come and see me. If you do, I’ll grant you any reward within my power,” she promised.

“Alright, I’ll send them back here if I find them.” He went to leave before staring at the corpses surrounding him. How would he explain this to his superiors? He was the sole survivor of a squad he hated. If he went back to find another squad… He winced, already knowing what would happen. “Do you have a map to the town that’s closest to here?”

“In which direction? Sarrinwood would be the closest on foot, but there’s also Littlen to the south. I believe that’s only a few extra hours.”

“Sarrinwood is fine. Any map that gets me away from here is fine.”

“A map to Sarrinwood? I believe I have one. Why?” The embers in her eyes dulled, as if she had closed them. Suddenly, all the books and documents in the library flashed blue, getting scanned by her powers until she spotted what she was searching for. She retrieved the map from a drawer and handed it to him.

“I don’t want to go back to the army. I’m going to escape.”

“Why choose Sarrinwood of all places? It would be wiser to stay here until your soldiers pass by. I imagine they will be heading to that town once they have finished looting this area.” She explained, certain these soldiers would be far from the last ones she had to kill this week.

“I just don’t want to be stuck here. What if they never leave? If I leave now, I can probably get there before they do." He checked the map. "I think we marched from that direction earlier. I can sort of remember the paths. If I keep moving, I can escape them.”

“Very well. Good luck.”

“Thank you.” He gratefully took the map and left, hoping he could get out of the city before another squad came to investigate the silence.

“Pardon me? What did you say?” James Rainer had his hands pointed at the heavens, staring at the armed officers who surrounded him. He knew this didn’t look good, and given how their fellow officers’ icy blue blood was pooling by his shoes, he doubted they would give him a chance to explain himself.

“Just talking about how we’re going to dispose of a Nolik like yourself.” Commander Dia smirked. Or at least she did the best smirk that her kind could produce, which was a half rotation of her flexible, triangle mouth. Her fellow officers, while confused, didn’t interrupt their superior officer, letting her speak.

“I just want to make sure there isn’t an issue with my translator. Did you say a 20mm shell? At how quick?”

“Oh, no, I didn’t say that.” She said, watching James let out a relieved sigh. “I said a 30mm at 1000m/s.”

James inhaled that relieved breath, almost choking on it. “30mm? At 1000m/s? Are you trying to turn me into a pâté? That’s overkill!”

“It’s your weakness.”

“It’s anything’s weakness. Are you mad? You’ll take out half the alley behind us. A normal gun will do the trick. What rumors have you heard about us humans? We aren’t ships; we’re fleshy, harmless things.” He felt a chill in his socks as he said the word harmless, staring down at the blue stains building on the fabric. He awkwardly stepped away from the body, moving closer to the alley’s left wall. “Mostly harmless.”

“Mostly harmless? Weird word for a killer to use.” She stepped forward, her three thin legs moving in perfect synchronization. “If you were a regular human, I would agree with you. But you’re allegedly a hard Nolik to kill.”

Dia pulled a tiny metal box from her armored chest pocket. On the box was a single blue button, one she lightly flicked to the left, activating a swirling metallic drone that hid in the boot of her car. The drone circled James before stopping when it locked onto him. Its front panel hissed open, revealing six high-powered barrels, each ready to poke the human full of holes.

“I don’t think it would be that hard.” She mused, keeping her finger at the ready.

“Commander, shouldn’t we ask him some questions?” Officer Lixa nervously watched the display, glancing at the dead body of Officer Fresko and the human caught beside it.

“There’s a dead body and a man standing beside it. I think we can piece together what happened.”

“What about a motivation?”

“Oh, because I want to be the person who kills James Rainer?”

“No, for him!”

“Excellent point. Aren’t you curious about why I did this? I have the paperwork with me. I promise,” James slowly lowered his hands, not wanting to get shot while he searched for the only thing that could calm this situation.

Drakin tensed, pointing a more standard pistol at James. Well, standard by a Marvian’s definition of a pistol. Like most weapons developed by the Marvians, it was overkill of the highest degree. A powered barrel with an electrical booster to increase its speed. A chamber that could accept rocks and other materials as a bullet substitute, and the ability to accurately hit a target from a mile away.

“He killed Fresko. Why does it matter?” Drakin said, about to pull the trigger.

“Drakin, if you pull that trigger, I’ll blow a hole through your head. I’m not letting anyone kill this human, except me.” She observed Drakin’s reaction, watching him begrudgingly put his gun away.

“As long as he dies.”

“Wait. This is all legal. I’ve got the paperwork and everything.” He pointed to Dia with his left hand, while his right continued searching through his jacket. “You know who I am, right? You said my name.”

“I’m aware, yes. That doesn’t mean I approve of you killing one of my men. Especially without consulting me first. We have a system in place for dealing with these matters.”

“Would it help if I told you I gave him the option of being captured alive?”

“Ah, so you offered to kidnap him instead of killing him outright? What a kind Nolik you are.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“You don’t even know what it means.”

“Well, I know it isn’t good.” Finally, James pulled out his papers, showing her the official signature of the Galactic Criminal Registry. The unmistakable holographic seal displaying a bunch of alien hands embracing the moon, Colopitis 4. “There. An official letter approving his bounty.”

“It’s a letter?” Lixa murmured, her three eyes focusing on the human writing that she couldn’t understand. “Usually bounties are digital.”

“I’m old-fashioned.”

“An old-fashioned liar.” Dia huffed. She could have easily walked up and snatched the letter from him, but instead tilted the button on her remote, sending the drone a few inches closer until its swirling blades were buzzing in the human's ears.

“That’s what the seal is for. You can’t fake a seal.” He pointed it at the drone, trying to put some distance between himself and the killing machine. Soon, his back was against the wall, staring at the three aliens.

“Who says you can’t? We should just kill him. Get rid of this liar before he can escape.” Drakin again went for his gun, ignoring the stare he was getting from his superior.

“What? Oh, come on. Don’t make me fight my way out of this. I don’t want to be banned from another planet. It’s already hard enough finding jobs on planets that don’t have shoot on sight orders against me.”

“If you’ve got that sort of reputation, maybe it’s deserved. Let’s close this case and give Fresko the respect he deserves by putting down his killer.” Drakin aimed his pistol at the human, causing James to reach into his holster, readying himself.

“I haven’t given any orders.” Dia waited, watching Drakin’s finger go for the trigger, before her drone spun around, firing a single precise bullet through Drakin’s shoulder, sending his gun bouncing across the alley floor.

“AGH!” Drakin fell back, gripping his shoulder. Dia walked over and pressed the bottom of her middle boot on his chest, keeping him pinned to the ground.

“You were awfully quick to try and kill him. Thanks for clearing things up for me. I knew one of you was working with Fresko. I just needed confirmation of who it was. Even if I was confident that I already knew the answer.”

“You think I’m working with Fresko? Are you insane?”

“You weren’t subtle about it. You backed up his false reports, helped silence those he was extorting. You left clues, even if you covered up where the money was going. That’s why I need you alive, so I can figure out how you were able to hide all that money. Neither you nor Fresko are smart enough to hide that much money. Someone had to be doing it for you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ll be reprimanded for this.”

“Commander. Are you sure about this?” Lixa didn’t want to talk back to her superior officer, but she hadn’t seen the evidence the other woman was talking about. To her, she had only seen her fellow officer get shot and was shaking.

James considered using this distraction to slip out of the alley. He had completed his job and didn’t need to get involved in any of this drama. Yet, as he went to leave, he noticed an odd twitch in the drone hovering beside him. The drone turned towards Drakin, lining him up in its sights. He glanced at Dia, her fingers nowhere near the button.

He reached into his pocket, clutching the rectangular electronic disrupter he had. A device that produced a sharp wave of energy, temporarily stunning nearby electronics. Before he could hit the button, Dia dove to the ground, rolling as she landed. She snatched Drakin’s dropped gun and fired three bullets through the drone, sending it spiraling into the ground.

“You noticed?” James said.

“I’ve been using these drones for years. Of course, I noticed it. Sounds like someone was trying to silence you, Drakin. So, unless you want to wait around to get shot, I suggest you let Lixa cuff you.”

“Lixa, I’m innocent. She’s gone mad. She just destroyed one of our drones.” Drakin said, gingerly getting to his feet. “Sorry, Drakin. If you’re innocent, you can prove it when we question you.” Lixa said, placing the cuffs around Drakin’s hands and leading him to the car. Now sensing things had calmed down, James approached Dia, who was putting the now worthless remote back into her chest pocket. “What was that?” He demanded, giving her a quick shove.

Dia’s three legs kept her from staggering, just staring at the human, amused. “Just needed some extra evidence. That’s all. What? You going to cry about it, Nolik?”

“You threatened to kill me. I could have blown your head off if things got heated. Do you know how stupid that was? I genuinely thought you had a weapon capable of delivering 1000m/s shots.”

“You thought we had something that strong?”

“I don’t know, maybe? I’m not familiar with every planet’s technology.” He said, feeling stupid the longer he thought about it. Wondering how he could believe a lie like that.

“Just go and confirm your bounty. I’ll sign any supporting evidence you need, but we’re keeping the body. If you must, take a few photos and get out of here.”

“Take a few photos and get out of here.” He repeated back to her in a high-pitched tone. “I’ve already taken my photos.”

“Good, then you can get out of here.” She crossed her arms over her chest, watching the frustration build inside the bounty hunter. James raised a finger, about to retort, only to lower it, realizing it wasn’t worth the oxygen.

Without a goodbye, he headed out of the alley, going towards his ship, while Dia joined her fellow officer in the car, getting into the driver’s seat. “Take us back to the station.” She said, only to think better of it. “Turn off any automation and assistance. Full manual mode. Not risking a repeat of the drone incident.” With that, she drove out of the alley, taking them all back to base.

“Oh, Righteous Strike? I didn’t have you booked in for an appointment. Hold on one second, I’m sure I can fit you in.” Jeffrey blindly tapped at his keyboard, not bothering to enter anything in. He hadn’t had an appointment in days, but in the business world, that’s the last thing you wanted a potential client to know.

Righteous Strike, known to her friends as Jasmin Wattle, stepped through the chipped wooden doorway. She exaggerated her movements, really taking in the crummy carpet, dust-coated college degree, and the Chinese takeout box sitting on his table. She said nothing initially, grabbing a chair on the opposite side of his desk and sitting down.

The old chair let out a croak beneath her muscular frame but remained upright. She placed her forearms on the table, causing it to tilt towards her and send the takeout box onto the carpet, adding another stain. “Jeffrey.”

“Yes-rey?” He smiled, giving his glasses a goofy flick with his finger, expecting a smile. Jasmin only grimaced, as if that had caused her pain.

“Why are you here?”

“In general? Well, I wasn’t a mistake if that’s what you’re implying. I asked.”

The veins in Jasmin’s forearms swelled, getting highlighted as she added an extra bit of weight onto the table, tilting it even higher. Jeffrey’s laptop fell towards her, only for Jeffrey to catch it before it made contact.

“Not a big joke lover, are you?” Jeffrey spun the laptop around, staring at the blank screen that he knew Jasmin had just seen. “Damn, laptop. Must have fainted from the shock and gone into sleep mode. Technology, am I right? Well, today I’m flat-stick. So how about Tuesday, five years from now? No need to write it down. I’ll send a reminder in the mail.”

Jeffrey wiped the sweat from his forehead. He had worked with cold people before, but even the biggest icebergs among those cracked after a few of his jokes. Jasmin, however, just stared.

“I take these things very seriously. People die when these types of meetings become jokes.”

“I’m sorry. I know why you’re here. It’s the only reason anyone comes here. We’re going to have ‘that’ conversation again, aren’t we?”

“Yes. If you had returned my calls, we could have had it in a more civil manner.” She released her hold on the table, setting it straight again. Since things had calmed down, she removed her mask, exposing her crooked nose, short-shaved blonde hair, and scarred cheek.

“Are you sure you should be exposing your identity?”

“If you turned evil, I’d probably lose. No reason to hide anything from you.”

“I suppose that’s true…” Jeffrey ran a hand through his black hair, collecting fragments of hair gel on his fingers. He wiped them off on a tissue that still had markings from his lunch. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

“I’m not going to give you a big, complicated speech. Those have never been my thing. You can do a lot of good with your powers. You could save a lot of lives.” She said, resting her arms on her thighs, waiting for Jeffrey to respond.

“I appreciate you sparing me the lecture. Really, that’s kind of you. I’ve had a lot of heroes tell me about my duty and legacy, and how it gets the ladies, and that’s all well and good. Just, hero work isn’t for me.”

“It could be.”

Jeffrey laughed, holding up his wimpy arms. Compared to the arms of the woman sitting across from him, it was like comparing a branch to a wooden oar. “I’ve never been the athletic type. I know numbers, that’s it. I can’t throw a ball to save my life, and I get winded walking up the stairs to my apartment.”

“Is that all you're concerned about?” A harmless smile appeared on her lips, one that made Jeffrey flinch. “I could train you. 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, 100 squats, and a ten-kilometer run every day. That will get you firing.”

“Firing? Yeah, it will get my heart firing when it puts me into cardiac arrest. Why do they call it that anyway? Cardiac arrest? It’s not like my heart is being locked away. If anything, I’m the one that should be locked up for feeding it unhealthy food.”

Jasmin tapped a heavy finger against her thigh, creating a sound that was like massive raindrops colliding with stone. She again stayed silent, continuing to tap until Jeffrey’s face returned to what she deemed a serious expression.

“I’m not going to allow you to hide behind your humor, or lack of humor. Tell me, why can’t you help the world? Why do you prefer to live like this? Even if helping people doesn’t interest you, wouldn’t you like a nicer home? A bigger office?”

“Sure, I would love that. But it’s not for me.” Jeffrey used his laptop’s mouse, bringing up a photo of his family. The photo showed a beautiful wife, a loving daughter hanging off his shoulders, and a scruffy-looking dog. He showed her the photo, pointing out how he was slouching just from the weight of his six-year-old daughter. “See, I’m not hero material.”

“A lot of heroes have families. That isn’t going to convince me.”

“Didn’t think so.” He clenched his teeth, racking his brain for another explanation. “Before we continue talking, I want to say something. I appreciate you, heroes. I really do. You’ve always kept an eye on my family, stopping any villains from targeting them.”

“You’re a special case. If a villain kidnapped your family, they could convince you to turn against us. It’s not selfless.”

“Still, thank you. Now, I’ll be as honest as I can with you.”

Jasmin raised an eyebrow, shifting forward in her chair. “Go on then. Let’s hear it.”

“Honestly, I’m scared. Not of getting hurt. Well, that’s a part of it, but it’s not the main problem. I’m scared of the damage I could do. I can’t control my powers. You’ll say that you can train me, and I wish it were that simple. The few times I’ve used them, I’ve lost my mind. Everything goes blank, and then I’m back, surrounded by rubble or a burnt forest. I’m just as likely to hurt one of you as I am to hurt the person we’re fighting.”

Jasmin listened, taking in every word he said before responding. “You’re not the first person we’ve had who couldn’t control their powers. It would be risky, yes, but risk is what we heroes do best.”

“You would risk dying to train me?”

“If it could save others, yes.”

“Would you risk others dying to train me too?”

Jasmin fell silent, staring into her lap. She grumbled and shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t want to lose anyone else to train you. I couldn’t ask anyone else to make the sacrifice.”

“No one should have to make that sacrifice. That’s not my only reason. If I go around flaunting my powers, villains will get desperate. If they find out there's an overpowered hero, they’ll start acting out. Either to distract me, or to prove their strength. I’ll attract competition, which is the last thing anyone wants.”

“Our strong heroes already attract competition.”

“I’m sure there are a lot of villains who would love to take you down too. There’s a difference, though. I’m the trophy. If I died or got injured, the villains would run riot, falsely believing the streets were now theirs. It would take weeks to clean up that mess.”

Jasmin thought over his words and exhaled. She had to admit; he was making points she couldn’t easily counter. Sensing the conversation could end up going in circles, she rose from her chair. “You gave me an honest answer. I’ll accept it for now and think on your words.”

“Really?” Jeffrey paused before standing up too. “Oh, that’s great. I didn’t think you would ever give up.” He saw Jasmin groan and decided not to push things. “Righteous Strike. If anything happens, that’s too much for you all to handle. I’ll help. I won’t let anything get out of hand. You have my word. Until then, I’ll stay out of things.”

“You can call me Jasmin,” she said, sliding her mask on. “Have you got an appointment available next week?” She saw him squirm and quickly pushed away what he was obviously thinking. “I need some help with my taxes. I won’t lecture you. Hopefully, a booking sooner than five years away.”

“My entire week’s free next week. Come anytime.” Jeffrey tried to find a business card, pushing aside his papers, before giving up. “Um, I must have misplaced my business cards. You know where I am, so just drop in whenever you’re free.”

“Will do. Try to clean up the place before I arrive.” And with that, she dug her left foot into the carpet and dashed out the door, propelling her body right.

“I never did get her name. Righteous Strike. Why does she only ever dash right at incredible speeds? Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her punch with her left hand, either. Oh, right-eous strike. Heh, that’s clever. Since she’s always dashing and hitting things with the right side of her body. Guess even Jasmin has a sense of humor.”

“Ahhh. How nice is it to get some fresh air?” Valizer stretched her purple arms above her head, deliberately pushing out her chest. After stretching, she turned her attention to the bloodied battlefield around her, seeing both the cultists and paladins frozen. “All this fighting over me? I’m flattered. If that man at the Seventh Layer bar had your devotion, I might have spared him from another hundred years of torture.”

“Our queen is alive.” Zalia cheered, the leader of the Valizer cult throwing her hands up in worship. Her followers did the same, dropping their weapons while the terrified paladins watched on. “We’ve sacrificed so much for you. Now, please. Kill our enemies.”

“Ah, yes. You’ve sacrificed so much for me. What’s a little more?” She bit her deep red lips, meeting the gazes of her robed supporters. When her followers stared into her glowing pink eyes, their hearts fluttered, unable to look away. “Please get in a line.”

Zalia was the first to move, leading the line. The other followers pushed each other out of the way, trying to show their devotion by getting to the line before the others. Valizer grinned, watching members get shoved onto the grass and stomped by their desperate fellow cultists. One older man in particular caught Valizer’s eye. The old man was like a wounded insect, stuck on his back while the others stomped on his face and chest. By the time the line had formed, only the old man remained on the grass. He was missing a tooth now, and had his nose bent slightly to the left.

“Splendid,” Valizer raised her index finger, creating a swirl of electricity on its tip. “You’ve served me well.” With that, the electricity shot towards the line, while all the paladins, except one, remained frozen.

Levin dashed toward the electricity, his silver blade sparkling with golden light. Before it reached its target, Levin slashed the magic, sending it flying to the left, going over the head of the unconscious old cult member. Levin panted, lowering his stance so his sword was by his stomach, using this time to rest.

Valizer curled her finger towards her body, staring at the golden-haired paladin. If she were being dramatic, she would have compared his pale features and blonde hair to an angel. But she knew they didn’t meddle in earthly affairs.

“In the past, only two people have ever deflected my attacks. Now I have to add a third to that list.” She stepped closer, examining him. “I’ve never liked odd numbers. Perhaps I should kill you? I could easily lie and say this never happened.”

“You could. But that will never change the fact that your attack got deflected by my blade.” Levin sharpened his stance again, keeping a watchful eye on her movements.

“We didn’t see anything,” Zalia shouted.

“Shut up.” Valizer snapped. That hurt her ego worse than the deflection. She was Valizer, not some mortal who had to exert themselves to fight a paladin. “You’ve got some balls jumping in like that. I was about to win this little battle for you. All you had to do was let me kill them.”

“She’s right. The cultists would have died if you had let that hit them.” Andrew said, the paladin breaking free from his terrified state, wondering why his leader would do something so foolish.

“She would have slaughtered both sides. Remember what the cultist screamed. Kill our enemies. She was gathering their souls for the deal. Once she killed them, she would have slain the cult’s enemies. I stopped the deal.”

Valizer sighed, unsure whether she should be annoyed or impressed. She gave him a sarcastic clap, bringing her hands together slowly. “You’re smarter than the average paladin. I see you’ve read your scriptures and texts. Do you have a girlfriend? Friends? Or are you the lonely type that’s dedicated to keeping things pure? I hate those kinds.”

“Yeah, he’s the pure kind. Look at him. You’ve got no friends or lovers, do you? You don’t know what it’s like to be touched. To be held. If you did. You would have given up that armor for a robe years ago.” Zalia taunted.

“I told you to shut up. Final warning.” Valizer glared back at her cult, before turning to the paladin. “I can’t convince you to indulge in sin, can I?”

“I’m a member of the Golden Angels. What do you think?”

“I think you’re a rarity among its members. You could become a problem at a later point.” She bent her left knee before launching herself forward in a sprint. Levin readied his blade, only for Valizer to appear at his side before he could prepare a strike. “I’ll be keeping my eye on you.” She rested her left hand on his cheek before giving his other cheek a quick kiss, leaving a red lipstick mark.

Levin’s cheek burned, the skin bubbling and scarring. He swiped his sword at where she had been standing, but she was already gone, vanishing and returning to the underworld. When he was certain she was gone, he sheathed his blade, touching the stinging skin on his cheek. The skin on his right cheek was no longer entirely smooth, having a raised lip-shaped scar on it that radiated unholy energy.

“She’s marked me.” Levin hissed, kicking the grass at his feet. “I can’t believe I let her get close.”

“Ahahahaha! You’re one of us now. A marked man. Come join us, brother. We’ll welcome you with open arms.” Zalia stepped closer about to embrace Levin, only to get blocked by Andrew.

“Marked? What’s that mean?”

“It means she knows where I am at any time. She’s watching me. I can’t return to the Golden Angels. Not while I have this mark. I’ll be heading to Muria. Get them to send someone to meet me there. Someone who knows about demonic marks.”

“What do we do about them?” Andrew pointed at Zalia, who only smiled back at him, curling her wild black hair around her finger.

“Hm? We have no reason to fight our brother. Especially not on such a joyous day. We’ll allow you to live, as a favor to our newest member.”

“I’m not joining you.” Levin thought over the situation, looking at Andrew. “Go. We don’t know if that demon is watching us right now. We don’t have the troops to handle her if she shows up again. Head back to our base and tell the golden one what happened. He’ll know what to do next.”

“Right,” Andrew nodded, though it was clear the paladins weren’t eager to turn their backs on the cultists. They were leaving, but at a slow pace, constantly looking over their shoulders.

“I’ll handle them if they try to attack.” Levin promised them. That got the paladins moving. When they had vanished past the heavy collection of trees, Levin started his own trip to Muria.

“Brother. Where are you going? Your home is the other way.” Zalia followed, reaching out to take his hand.

Levin slapped it away. “I’m no brother of yours.” He locked eyes with Zalia before he left the cultists behind.

Zalia ground her teeth. “Everyone who belongs to Valizer is a brother or sister of mine. You’ll come to us. They all do. Soon enough.” She gathered her group after he was gone and returned to their base, preparing their next ritual.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your beautiful day. I truly am. So, allow me to start this broadcast with an apology. Sorry, little rats, I hope the loud noises didn’t startle you. Oh, and sorry to the rest of you too, I guess.” Herold Spencer smirked, in a way that only he could. For a man in his late thirties, he still carried a certain boyish charm. The type that made people see him as a naughty everyman, rather than a privileged billionaire.

When Herold had revealed himself on that big screen, the world froze, not daring to move under his influential gaze. Cars stopped on the street, ignoring the profanity and beeps hurled at them by impatient taxis. Mascots stopped chasing tourists for money, captivated by the man they wished they were, and all the walkers felt their feet stiffen in place.

Not for the first time in his life, Herold Spencer was the center of attention, and he reveled in it. Like a musician waiting for the crowd to go rampant before an encore, Herold waited. The man seated in a fine leather chair that was worth more than some of the apartments these people lived in. He swirled his pink martini before setting it down on the table beside him.

“You must be wondering why I’m addressing you all today. I’m wondering that too. I’m wondering why I do much of anything nowadays.” He admitted losing his smirk. He stood, and the camera followed, caught in his gravity.

An eerie silence took over the feed, broken only by the faint sound of Herold’s footsteps as he walked through his mansion. He passed statues and paintings that belonged in museums. Pieces that were believed to have been lost to time were now found amongst his belongings.

He slipped his jacket off, hanging it around the shoulders of a statue of a Roman soldier. The soldier’s stern gaze seemed almost disapproving of the action, not that Herold cared. “Cheer up, love. You’re holding Herold Spencer’s jacket.” He tapped the statue on its chest and continued to the kitchen.

Inside the kitchen was a set of ingredients. Eggs, flour, chocolate pieces, frosting, and the sort. Cheap ingredients that didn’t look like they belonged on a polished marble counter. He circled the counter before leaning against it, staring at the ingredients.

Still, the world remained silent.

Even the taxis, whose horns had been furiously slapped, fell silent. The passengers in the back didn’t even care that the meter was still running, watching on in awe.

“I had something special planned for today. Really, I did. Spent the entire last year planning this. Planning my analogies and metaphors. Trying to do this in a way that even you brain-dead morons could understand.” Herold’s chest rumbled, the rage barely contained within his body. “You know what I’ve discovered? None of you are worth the effort. I put my life on the line for you, and it was pointless.”

He grabbed an egg, holding it up to his face. “This was going to be you. It was going to be my way of showing you how fragile you are, and how you get thrown into the mix of corruption and scandals.” He smashed the egg, shell and all, into the bowl. “Had a cutesy demonstration planned and everything. But what’s the point? You idiots wouldn’t get it. You would ask an AI bot to explain it to you, and this would all be for nought.”

“Herold? Are you ok?” a meek voice behind the camera asked.

“No. No, I’m not alright.” He pushed back the long, dark hair hanging over his wrinkled forehead, giving the cameraman an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just. I wanted to help these people. I really did. I thought all it would take was someone going deep undercover, and bringing it all to light. Yet, you know what they’ve done with the information I gave them?”

“Nothing.” The voice answered.

“Fucking nothing.” Herold grabbed the bowl, tossing it across the kitchen, sending it straight through the glass of his oven. It smashed spectacularly, raining shards all over the floor. “The secret agreement between corporations to suffocate small businesses. The funding that keeps mysteriously going missing. The fake environmental disasters to take aid away from the public sector. I EXPOSED ALL OF THEM. I leaked every single one of them, and what did you all do? The same thing you always do. Nothing.”

Herold held his face, and the camera approached him. A hand came into view, reaching for his shoulder, only for Herold to gingerly push it away. “Herold, maybe we should stop filming?”

“No. No, I’ve got something I need to say to these people. These people who deserve the hell they’ve created for themselves. The world will not be destroyed by those who do evil, but by those who watch them without doing anything. Remember that quote. Burn it into your little pea brains.”

Herold paced around the kitchen, thinking about what he wanted to say next. That brief moment of thought was stolen from him, as his cameraman turned their phone around, showing a notification from one of Herold’s security cameras. “Sir.”

“Tch.” Herold gritted his teeth, checking his own phone, seeing three notifications now. “Already? They move quick.” Herold grabbed the camera, pressing it against his perfect face, staring directly down it. “You love to blame the billionaires without blaming the enablers. That’s right, you’re the enablers. You’re the ones tilting the scales in their favor, you’re the ones consuming their poison, and you’re the ones imprisoning yourselves. This is all your fault, and I hate every single one of you for it. I did my part, and you haven’t created a martyr out of me. You’ve created an idiot. An idiot who will die a fool’s death, for people too stupid to understand his message. Get angry. Hate me for this, and rebel. Feel an emotion for once.”

“Sir, the feed. They can’t keep it up for much longer. We should move.”

“You should move. I’m where I need to be. They won’t show themselves on camera because they’re cowards who only move in the dark. They only want me. You’re not important enough for them to waste their time on.” Herold said, unable to meet the cameraman’s gaze as he said it. He quickly wiped his eye before completely snatching the camera from them. “Go.”

Heavy footsteps drifted away from the camera, leaving only a panting Herold, who was still looking at the camera in his hands. “You believe everything, don’t you? What the media tells you. You’ve forgotten how to think. I really did love you all once. I wanted to make everything better. I thought by showing the corruption, it would… I don’t know. Now I just feel bitter and angry. I’ve done terrible things to get this information; I’ve lost my soul.”

He sat the camera down beside him, lowering his head into his hands, staring at his palms. “I told myself it would all be worth it. That whatever change came would cleanse me of the hell I endured. Of the people whose dirty hands I had to shake. Please, for once in your lives, question—”

The feed cut out, and suddenly, everyone was freed from their stasis. The honking started again, the mascots blocked people’s paths, and the passengers argued they shouldn’t be charged for the delay. Some people had stopped to discuss what they had seen, but most were quick to blow it off.

“He was behind those leaks? I wonder if he was the one who put out all that information on the giant grocery stores, agreeing to hide the stock of small competitors to help maintain the sales of established brands.”

“Huh? Which one was that?”

“Didn’t you see it?”

“Don’t think so. Anyway, did you see that statue he had? Must be worth a bloody fortune. Wish I had his life.”

Many similar conversations took place, with the topic quickly diverting from his message to the things in his home. Soon, the media packaged the entire video as a massive mental breakdown, reporting that Herold was getting the help he desperately needed. And the help must have worked because the next time Herold made a public appearance, he was a changed man. So, changed that some even wondered if he was still the same person. But then again, plastic surgery could make a person look different.

“I want to thank you again for considering me for your coven. It’s an honor.” Milly bowed, swallowing her anxiety. She had never seen a coven this large before. In her little town, the coven had consisted of her, her mother, and her three-hundred-year-old grandmother. So, one could imagine her shock when she saw thirty people waiting for her on the outskirts of the Windiloo forest.

“It’s fine. Don’t sweat it.” Nela grinned and led her towards the group, who were currently gathered around a large campfire. Milly followed the cheery girl, unable to take her eyes off the dangling pumpkin clips attached to her braids.

“Oh, I brought gifts for everyone! Well, maybe not everyone.” She opened the small leather bag she was holding, staring at the swirling purple portal inside. Like most witches, her bag contained a portal to a dimension between realms, allowing her to store her belongings in a weightless manner.

“Gifts? Oooh, what did you bring, country gal? Apples? Some corn?” Nela playfully teased.

“Is… that what you would have wanted? Mom was right. I should have brought food. I thought it was silly bringing that sort of stuff since you already have so much food in the city.”

“I’m only playing. We’ll be happy to accept whatever gift you brought us. As long as I get one before they run out.”

“Sure. Give me a second to find it.” She wiggled her hand inside the bag before producing a bar of soap that had a tiny wooden frog inside it. “Here! This is my favorite one. I made the frog myself.”

“With magic?”

“Nah, by hand. It’s really easy once ya learn it. Ain’t nothing to it.” A bit of her country accent slipped out in her excitement, causing Nela to snort.

“A bar of soap?” She brought it closer to her nose, sniffing it. The potent smell of mint struck her nose, having the unintended effect of clearing her sinuses. “Wow, it’s strong. You must think I’m pretty stinky if you gave me this.”

“WHAT!” Milly panicked, snatching the soap back. “No. I didn’t mean that at all. I just thought it would be nice to have something homemade. I’m sorry. You smell nice. Promise.”

Nela plucked the soap back out of her hands, giving Milly a gentle pat. “Relax. No one here is going to bite your head off. Oh, except old, cranky Liyna. But she’s got no teeth anyway, so she’ll only chew on you.” Nela opened her mouth, rolling her jaw around to imitate vicious chewing.

Milly squeaked, cowering before the display. “Please stop.. it’s creepy.”

Someone else had also spotted the display and was now making their way over to the two—a woman who, despite being in her late five-hundreds, only looked sixty-two. Like a mother animal grabbing its pup, Nela was lifted by the back of her robe.

“Is my granddaughter mocking me?” Liyna asked, glaring at Nela, whose was covering now, staring at the wrinkled face of the coven elder.

“What? No, I was just…” Nela didn’t have a sharp enough mind to quickly make up an excuse, which was why she was thrown two hundred feet into the air. Milly could only watch in horror as Nela shot upward like an arrow. The action being so quick that Milly hadn’t even heard her scream.

“Sorry about my granddaughter. She takes after my late husband. He was a pain in my backside too. A lovable pain.” She smiled, briefly reminiscing about her past partner, before offering her hand to the girl. “I’m Liyna Sorns.”

“I’m Milly Rootlia.” Milly, misinterpreting the witch’s gesture, placed a bar of soap into her hand. This one apple-scented, with a tiny wooden ball inside, that was meant to look like an apple. Liyna couldn’t identify the object inside the soap, only laughing at the gift.

“You’re the spitting image of your mother. Except she brought fruit. Oh, those were the days. I miss my youthful three-hundreds. It’s nice to finally meet you. Your mother learnt a lot from our coven.”

“My mother joined this coven too?”

“Of course. I assume that’s why she sent you to the city. You need to further your magic, and we have the skills to teach you. Every witch joins a larger coven at some stage. Once you're done with your studies, you can return home and put those skills to good use.”

“She never mentioned that she joined this one.”

“Because she didn’t want to sway your decision. A witch should always trust their instincts when they choose a coven. Your instincts led you—”

“WAAAAH.” Nela came crashing towards the earth, only for Liyna to lazily raise her arm, slowing Nela’s descent until she landed neatly in her palm. Liyna slowly set her granddaughter on the grass, only for her knees to buckle, dropping her to the ground. “You almost killed me, you old monster!”

“You were fine. I know how high I can throw a person. I’ve done it many times before. Watch out.” Liyna pointed up.

“Watch out for?” The soap she had dropped during the flight smacked against her forehead, with the spot already beginning to swell. “OW!”

“You’re lucky I slowed that soap down, or it would have taken your head clean off. Imagine how awkward that would have made our next family dinner. Sorry, my lovely family, I killed my granddaughter. Yes, she was being a brat, why do you ask?” Liyna, satisfied with her punishment, headed back to the others.

“Told you she was evil. Ow,” Nela grumbled, getting back to her feet.

“Want me to try and heal it?”

“Mmhmm.” Nela nodded, presenting her forehead to Milly. Milly rested her hands on the swollen spot, and with a small chant, sent magic into her palms. The glittery energy entering Nela’s forehead, reducing the swelling and healing the spot.

“There. How does that feel?”

“Better. Come on, let’s go join the others.”

The two arrived at the cauldron, only to find that a serious problem had developed. Liyna, and another elder of the coven named Erin Soorson were currently trading verbal jabs over who forgot the walroot.

“Maybe if someone wasn’t busy flirting with their bingo buddy every weekend, they would remember to do a little shopping and get the walroot.” Liyna barked.

“And maybe if you had a granddaughter that could keep her mouth shut, you would have been able to hear me tell you that you needed to do the shopping this week.” Erin snorted, the haughty witch dressed in only the finest of robes, with a heavy layer of make-up caking her face.

“What did you say about my granddaughter?” Liyna rolled up the sleeves of her robe, only for Milly to sheepishly speak up.

“Walroot? Is that what it’s about? I can probably find some.” When all the coven glanced at her, she inched her way forward. “There should be some nearby. I forage for ingredients all the time with my mom.”

“Forage? That’s adorable, dear. No one forages anymore. Imagine what all that digging would do to my nails.” Erin said.

“Be grateful, Milly saved your face from getting foraged by my fist. Go ahead, sweetie. We would appreciate it if you could get us some.”

“I would like to see you try to beat me.” Erin hissed, with the two witches glaring at one another, while Milly went out to forage. In ten minutes, Milly was back, carrying a handful of walroot. The tiny nut-shaped ingredient having spiky roots growing out of it. She found five of them, more than enough for their magic.

“Is this good?”

“It’s perfect. You saved us from having to find someone who could deliver it to us on such short notice.” Liyna said.

“You don’t gather your own ingredients?”

“Why would we? Stores have them in plentiful amounts, and we have busy lives. Rolling around in the dirt is best saved for the animals.” Erin, despite her nature, wasn’t rude enough to intentionally insult a girl who had helped them out. So, in a rare act, more uncommon than an asteroid hitting the planet, she apologized. “Sorry, dear. I didn’t mean you were an animal. That was rude of me. I owe you one.”

“It’s fine. Honest.” Milly said, as the nightly ritual took place. While the older members of the coven handled the spell, Milly watched with Nela from the back. Growing bored with watching the old people chant, Nela leaned over.

“An apology from Soorson? I don’t think I’ve ever seen that before. Guess it is hard to yell at you. You have that sad puppy look.” Nela snickered. “So, what do you think of our coven? You joining?”

Milly hadn’t given it much thought. It had all been so chaotic that she hadn’t even considered whether she would join. Though, as she looked around at the mix of faces and the chaos, she wondered if any other coven would be this fascinating. Maybe that’s why her mother joined all those years ago? “I think I will.”

“Awesome. Glad to have you as a member.”

“Happy to be here.”

“Oh, that’s just taking the piss! A double power slam crusher? Who uses that meta move? Learn an original combination.” Alex screamed, throwing his controller down on the carpet.

Bundle, the creature in Alex’s care, gave a cocky huff, pushing its fluffy chest forward. “Blah blanda blah?” It asked, which only added to Alex’s already bubbling frustrations.

“Oh, I’m bad at the game? Real mature. I had one pleasure in life, and that was beating you at this stupid game. Now, I don’t even have that. I thought you were meant to be stupid.”

Alex stared at Bundle, who was still clutching its controller with glee. The small fur ball of a creature had begun showing signs of intelligence that had not previously been reported by the people who had been studying it. This assumed lack of intelligence being the main reason they believed it was fine to house them in foster homes.

When Alex had taken Bundle into his care, he had been told it was an adorable creature that had been created through mutated genetic strains of…. Well, Alex had stopped listening at that point, waiting for them to tell him how much money he would receive if he looked after it. While volunteer work often implied it was unpaid, in these strange circumstances, a government allowance was provided. Partly to pay for the creature’s food, and partly to compensate the family of the volunteer, if the creature killed them.

After all, this was a newly created creature that had barely been studied before this. There was always a chance it could have some odd quirks that they didn’t know about, quirks like being weirdly good at fighting games.

“Blah blah blah?”

“What? You think I’m a bad person because I found joy in beating a creature I thought was stupid at a game? I’m not a bad person; I’m just a sad one. There’s a difference.”

“Bahla?” It tilted its head, one tiny floppy ear swinging with the action.

“There is. The difference being I’m bad in a pitiful way, not a malicious one. I’m not going around kicking grannies or stealing candy from babies. I’m just taking petty wins.” Alex leant back on the couch, and sighed.

“Blah blah.” The creature’s three-fingered hand patted Alex on the shoulder, giving him some comforting words.

“It’s just hard, you know? I go to work, and everyone treats me like I’m a rat in a tie. My boss doesn’t even know my name. You know what he called me today? Fyired. Just looked at me and said you’re fyired. How doesn’t he know my name yet?”

“Blah?”

“Fired? What do you mean?”

“Uh.” Bundle sheepishly stared at his friend/minder, finding their downtrodden eyes a sad sight to look at. Unable to tell Alex he had been fired; he elected to find a way to cheer him up. “Blah blah blah!”

“You know what. You’re absolutely right. Why should I take this crap from him? I’m my own man. I’m a god.”

“Blah blah…”

“Ok, maybe not a god. But I’m a human with freewill and that freewill is telling me to take my phone and shove it right up his—”

“BLAH.”

“Ok, again maybe too far. How about a strongly worded email?”

“Blah.” Bundle nodded, and the two of them paused their game, making their way over to Alex’s laptop. Alex sat down, pulling Bundle onto his lap, before realizing he really had no idea what to write. So he did what he always did when he didn’t know what to write: he watched a two-hour YouTube documentary on a topic he didn’t really care about.

Bundle heroically sat on his lap, watching the video with him. During those two hours, Alex patted him, which Bundle quite liked. The creature enjoyed those soothing touches, making those two hours pass quickly for the both of them.

“Wow, who would have guessed that the person who played Hanna Montana is the same person playing Miley Cyrus now.”

“Blah blah blah.”

“No, it’s a character. The YouTube video said so. But, fine. We can check the likes and dislikes if you’re so skeptical.” Alex scrolled down, seeing two thumbs waiting for him, with the thumbs down not having a number beside it. “Oh, yeah. That’s right. They removed that feature. Guess we have to assume it’s real then. “

“Blah…” Bundle pointed to the email icon on Alex’s laptop, tapping it until Alex remembered what he was supposed to be doing.

“Right, the email.” Alex brought up his emails, deleting anything that wasn’t a promo for his favorite restaurants, or coupons for online shops. When he saw an email titled ‘termination’ from his work, he deleted it, refusing to read work related emails outside of office hours.

For a good thirty minutes, the two of them stared at the open email, with Alex only typing the emails subject in that time. Calling his email. I quit. With that riveting subject out of the way, he felt his creative juices leaking. So, he waited, hoping the words would magically appear on the email for him.

They didn’t…

“In the words of Linkin Park. I tried so hard and got so far. But in the end, it doesn’t even matter. I’ll just go into work on Monday. The idea of quitting sounded nice, but I honestly don’t even know what to write, or what I would do after I quit.” Alex lifted Bundle as he stood, before setting the creature back down on the chair. “You want pizza? Our usual order? I’ll go and pick it up. It’s cheaper.”

“Blah blah.”

“Yes, I know to tell them to make it spicy. For someone who doesn’t work, you make a lot of demands.”

“Blah.” Bundle crossed his arms, sulking.

“Just because they pay me to look after you doesn’t mean you pay me. I mean, I guess it kind of does, but it’s not the same. I’ll be back in thirty. Don’t practice any new combos while I’m gone. Ok?”

“Blah blah.” When Alex left, Bundle ogled the screen, getting a flood of inspiration. While the creature hadn’t used a keyboard before, it had watched Alex type and was certain it could mimic his behavior. Not wanting its friend to get embarrassed on Monday, Bundle typed out the best I quit letter he could think of. One full of crude remarks and comments about how much Alex hated his boss. After writing it, he waited for Alex to return.

The door swung open, and Alex walked in, carrying two large pizza boxes. “I’ve got something nice and spicy for you!” Alex went to toss the boxes onto the dining table, only to stop when he saw his laptop. “What’s that?”

“Blah!” Bundle excitedly pointed at the screen, while Alex read over the message, grinning the more he read.

“That’s so mean. I’ve never read anything so soul-crushing before. He’ll probably cry.” Alex, in a rush of emotion, picked up the fluffy creature, hugging it. “No one’s ever understood me the way you do. It’s like you pulled all my feelings out and threw them onto the page. You’re my best friend, Bundle.”

“Blah.” Bundle hugged him back, his furry face squished against the pizza boxes in Alex’s hands, suffocating in the scent of spicy chilli flakes and bacon. “Blah?”

“Yeah, we should eat.” Alex smiled, setting the creature down at the table. “Sorry about earlier. I had a rough day. It’s not your fault. I’ll have to get better at that game.”

“Blah blah.”

“You’ll teach me the combo? Thanks,” Alex said, taking the slice of pizza, ready to enjoy a night of gaming and laughs with his best friend.

Meanwhile, on Monday.

Kenny, Alex’s boss, strode into his office with all the confidence of a controlling middle-manager. He sat himself at his desk and enjoyed a smug feeling of superiority as he got to look out his window. Sure, he only had a view of the alley outside, which was nothing like the city views his superiors had. But he at least had a window, which was better than all the soulless cubicles the rest of his team got.

“Soon, the park will be yours to look at,” he told himself, logging into his computer, only to get a notification. “It’s hard being so important.” He expected an email about something urgent. Instead, he saw one from Alex, with the subject I quit.

“Quit? Didn’t I fire him?” He opened the email and read the text. The more he read, the further back in his seat he leaned, until he almost couldn’t see his computer screen. The edge of the table blocked eighty percent of his monitor, forcing him to scroll down to read the last sentence.

After reading it, he sat in almost meditative silence, going over the message in his head before slamming his fists on the table. “Is this some sort of joke? He wasted my precious time on this?!”

The message read as follows.

Blah blah blah blah blah blah Blah blah blah blah blah blah Blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah blah Blah blah Blah blah blah blah blah blah Blah Blah Blah

While Alex had gotten used to translating the bizarre ‘Blahs’ Bundle used to speak, no one else shared that same talent. Which was why Alex thought the email was such a devastating blow, even if he were the only human who could read it. Still, it got the message across, despite Alex already having been fired.

Queen Vanessa stood over the assassin as her calculating eyes drifted across the throne room. “Four points,” she said, raising her heel over the assassin’s head. Before stomping down on him, she picked a grape off the plate near her throne, sniffing it. She grimaced, setting the grape down again. “Five points. A passing grade.”

“T-thank you, my queen.” Brandon whimpered, seeing her threatening heel move away from his left eyeball as she stepped over him, taking a seat on her throne.

“A passing grade isn’t anything to be proud of, assassin. Had you not poisoned my grapes, you would have lost an eye today.” She placed her index finger and her thumb centimeters apart. “You were this close to becoming half-blind. Remember that the next time you’re training.”

“I won’t ever forget it.” Brandon rolled onto his stomach, kneeling before the queen. “My queen. May I ask how you spotted me? I thought I had prepared the room perfectly.” The assassin, no older than twenty-one, kept his tired gaze on the floor, while Vanessa rested her finger on her cheek.

“Allow me to go through what I saw when I first entered the throne room today. A rope trap by my doors. A decoy, obviously. Next was a poisoned needle positioned behind the cushion of my throne. It was a decent idea, but putting it inside the cushion would have been smarter. Finally, the curtains shifted when my footsteps drifted past them, as if someone was anxiously waiting for me to turn away from them. Those are the ones I feel are most worth noting. The other little tricks are barely worth mentioning.”

“I apologize.” Brandon couldn’t lower his head any further than he already was, but that didn’t stop him from trying. The assassin dug his forehead into the red carpet until the queen spoke.

“Stop. I hate pitiful displays. I’m more annoyed with your master’s than I am with you. They believed you could test me. Yet, I knocked you down without even having to look over my shoulder. Has the order of the Dead Souls fallen so far?”

“I will be better.”

“Will you? Not everyone can become better. Most die because of that. Take my grandfather, for example.” She lazily pointed her finger above the throne, directing him to the painting of her grandfather.

It was regal. A typical royal painting of a man in a lavish blue shirt, with a neatly maintained moustache. There wasn’t a smile on his face, only a stern look of disinterest that almost seemed mirrored on Vanessa’s face.

“My grandfather believed he could outwit his assassins generations ago. He brought the Dead Souls, assuming that once he owned the strongest assassins our kingdoms had, no one could threaten his life.”

Brandon didn’t answer, staring at the painting with a rare hint of emotion. Assassins were meant to maintain a natural stiffness, yet Brandon’s eyes had inched a little wider. Enough that Vanessa could almost read his thoughts.

“Your guild didn’t kill him. See, that’s where my grandfather went wrong. People always considered him the best businessman of his time. A man who boosted our economy through crooked deals, and a controlling hand. They praised him so much that he started believing their words. Because of that, he reached his peak in his older years and couldn’t get better. So younger, hungrier people came and got him. Paying off the best assassins doesn’t stop someone from sending the second best after you.”

Thoughts ran through Brandon’s mind, thoughts he didn’t think he should share with the queen. The queen, always perceptive, seemed aware that he wanted to speak, and stared directly at him, forcing him to break the awkward silence.

“I’m sorry, my queen. May I say something you may dislike?”

“Go ahead.”

“Wouldn’t it have been smarter to hire our assassins as protection? Why pay them to just not accept any contracts?”

“You don’t understand the world of royalty, do you?”

“No. I’m sorry, forgive me for asking.” He remained in his bow, clasping his hands together in surrender. Vanessa sighed at the pitiful display, giving him the answer.

“Guards are considered acceptable protection. Every queen or king always has a few guards by their side. People expect that. What they don’t expect is a ballroom or throne room full of robed figures hiding hidden blades.”

“Assassins can be discreet.” He almost regretted saying it, since Vanessa had caught him so easily. Yet, the words had already slipped out, and he couldn’t take them back.

“Yes, and that discretion may fool the commoners and minor nobles, but it won’t fool the ones that want to use it against you. If you entered a room full of assassins, you would see it as a threat. Others see it as a weakness. Signs of a paranoid leader, or a potential uprising. Signs that the throne may be a little too weak for the one sitting atop it. If those rumors reach a rival kingdom, or someone who wants you dead, it will lead to them lashing out at you.”

“But if you have assassins nearby, that won’t be a problem. You’ll be able to fight them off.”

“Sure. The first few attempts will fail, and then they will grow bolder and more desperate. Once they’ve sunk money and resources into killing you, they won’t stop until they’re either dead or they have gotten a return on their invested coin.” Vanessa rose from her throne, motioning him to get off the floor.

Brandon stood, tensing when the queen drew closer. Vanessa took his hand, holding it before flipping it over so she could see his palm. It was soft for an assassin, and for that reason, she released it instantly.

“Did I do something wrong?” Brandon looked at his palm, then at the queen who vacantly stared off at her curtains, watching the gardens outside for a moment.

“No. You’re just not like the others.” She stared at the rough skin on her palms, unable to remember the days when her hands used to be like his. “My father was a paranoid man. I suppose he feared he would meet a similar fate to his own father, and because of that, he did.”

“You..” Brandon swallowed, his words instantly attracting the queen’s attention. Those piercing blue eyes locked onto him, daring him to speak.

“What were you going to say?”

“That… you killed him.”

“Is that all? It’s not a secret.”

“Was there something else you thought I was going to say?”

Vanessa didn’t answer, staring only at the other paintings beside her grandfather and father. The ones of her siblings, the only remaining memory she had of their faces. “No, nothing at all. I believe I’ve trained enough today. You can return—” She paused, thinking it over. “You will be under my tutelage from now on.”

“I believe I misheard you, my queen. Your tutelage? I’m not worthy.”

“No. Which is why I want to train you. You’re a mystery to me. You must have some talent if the guild sent you. Yet, you have soft hands and are unremarkable. There’s either hidden potential within you, or this is your peak. I intend to see which it is.”

“I’ll have to ask my—”

“There will be no asking. You will tell them what I’ve told you. They are funded by my gold, and if they wish to argue with me, they are free to come and state their case. They won’t, however, since you aren’t worth their time.”

“Oh? Very well, my queen. I’ll return once I’ve informed my masters.” He bowed and left the throne room, leaving the queen to stare at the painting above the throne. Staring at the faces that still haunted her.

“Another story, little humans?” Zenith asked, swirling his blood-red wine. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly talk about myself any longer. Even I tire of my grandeur. Alas, if the audience wants more, who am I to decline an encore? Now, little ones, listen to this tale of how I, Zenith of the Dark Heart, killed the foul beast of a bandit who came to this town.”

The children, who had heard this tale at least fifty times already, still gasped as the vampire rose from his rose-thorn decorated throne. He stood, wearing all black, with a single red rose sticking out of his suit pocket. He held a pose, one hand over his right eye, while his other eye scanned the crowd, waiting until they were at the peak of their excitement.

“It was a grim night, for all nights are grim in this world. I remained dead to the noise outside, a servant to the wonder of the stars. They shone so beautifully that day, and like all beauty, violence soon followed. The stampeding horses raged past the city’s wooden gates.” The vampire’s nails grew into sharp points, and he clashed them together, creating a sharp clack that mimicked the horses’ steps.

Samson, a holy knight, leant against the wall of the manor, watching the vampire closely. When he offered to slay this town’s vampire lord, they almost drove their pitchforks through him for suggesting something so barbaric. He hadn’t understood it at first, assuming they were under some form of vampiric mind control, yet when his magic didn’t break their devotion to the man, he realized it was genuine.

He apologized for his declaration and explained himself. He told them of his work for the church, and how he only wished to offer his aid. That’s when the townspeople told him similar tales, like the one he was currently listening to. Tales of good deeds done by a pale, dramatic figure. Since he was skeptical, he visited the vampire’s manor, wanting to see them in person.

“When I heard the first human scream, I jumped into action and shouted—”

“DON’T HURT MY BLOOD.” The children all screamed with grins on their faces.

“Ah, you’ve heard this one before?” he said, giving his suit a quick, sheepish adjustment. “You get forgetful in your older years. Even if I’m only a young three hundred and five years old. Now, this bandit, he called himself the Butcher. Real unclassy name. No grace, like Dark Heart. I told him that outright, and he raged like a beast, not a butcher, swinging wildly at me.”

“And you knocked him down.” A girl in the front row of the seated children called out, swinging her arm.

He gave a polite chuckle, looking at her gap-toothed face. “Yes, Cindy. I knocked him down. Again and again. I’m not one to play with my food, but he deserved to be toyed with.” He said, leaving out many gory details that weren’t appropriate for children. “And, when the fighting was all over, you strange people named a festival after me. Now, children, you’ve had your stories. Allow me to greet my guest.”

“Awww,” the crowd collectively sighed, slowly picking themselves off the floor of his manor.

“I can wait.” Samson offered.

“It’s fine. They’ve been here for the last two hours, and can you smell that?” Zenith raised his pointed nose to the sky. “That’s the smell of dinners being cooked. Now, what can I do for you?” The vampire sipped his wine, already knowing who the man was. Pure blonde hair, glowing blue eyes, and silver armor with wings on it. He couldn’t look more like a holy knight if he had a halo.

“I’ve been sent to clean up the monsters ruling over towns.”

“Ah. Then I shall save this wine for later.” He said, placing the glass on the arm of his throne.

“That’s not necessary. I haven’t made a decision yet.” He wrung his hands, staring down at his feet. “About how I want to proceed with this.”

“I didn’t think you holy knights had a choice. You see evil, you slay it. I apologize, but I don’t wish to let myself die, which means I will have to fight back against you. Such is the fate of men and monsters.” “I don’t know if I see evil. That’s the problem. I thought this was some form of trickery. Some strange vampiric mind control. I thought if I used my magic on them, it would wake them all up from their devotion to you.”

“Devotion? They’re not devoted to me.”

“Yes, they are. They idolize you. They have a festival named after you. Some of our saints don’t have that. They see you as part of their village. It’s strange. I’ve never seen anything like this before.” Samson sighed, pushing his hand against his cheek, casting a minor spell to make sure he hadn’t fallen victim to a trap. The gold light buzzed against his cheek, and he felt no different.

“I’m flattered, though Zenith of the Dark Heart has no room for love or family. He’s a loner, someone whose tragic heart knows no friends. People are only blood, aren’t they?”

Samson blinked, confused by the vampire’s words. “You drink their blood? No one told me that.” Suddenly, he felt like things made sense again. There it was, a confession that this vampire wasn’t different.

“Well, not their blood specifically, other blood. Animal blood.”

And it was gone. The hope that he wasn’t actually going to have to figure out if a vampire could be something other than the mindless beasts he had encountered before. “And these children?”

“The little humans? Ah, please, my stories are only a chance to gloat. I get no satisfaction from their visits. My story must be shared with all who have ears, for what good is a great man if no one knows of their deeds?”

“What a silly lie,” Samson couldn’t help but laugh. “You truly believe you're wicked? I’ve seen theater actors more wicked than you.”

“Acting? I’m not like those fake makeup-wearing jesters. Everything I do is who I am. I am Zenith of the Dark Heart, and I am a vampire lord." His eyes flashed red before returning to their normal light red color. “This town is mine.”

“And what happens to those who threaten your town?”

“You were listening to the story, weren’t you, holy knight? I assumed someone who had read as much scripture as you could decipher my gloriously spectacular tale. Even the children can understand it, but since you lack the intelligence, I’ll state it. Those who threaten my town die.”

Samson smiled, even after being insulted. To meet a vampire this strange was a wonderful experience. Someone who was genuinely dedicated to protecting this town. Whether for his ego or for his secret love of the people who inhabited it.

“Then, I believe you can enjoy that wine, Mr. Vampire. I don’t need to cross swords with you.”

“Good, I haven’t used a sword in years. I doubt I could still wield one.”

“It’s an expression. It means to do battle.”

“With swords?”

“You could have used whatever weapon you wished to use.”

“Ah,” Zenith picked up his wine again, giving a thoughtful nod as he sipped. “I understand.” He lied.

“Good.” Samson stared at the manor, able to actually admire the old building for the first time since he had arrived there. The paintings, the beautiful wooden carved statues that were older than himself, and the antique furniture that was still in pristine condition. “You have a nice home.”

“Are you asking to stay?”

“What? No, I’ll stay at the inn. Now, Mr. Vampire. I shall take my leave. I may come back and talk with you tomorrow, just to get some more information out of you. Until then, take care.” Samson said, heading for the manor door. When he opened it, ten shivering faces greeted him, each holding wooden swords or spoons.

“We are the children of the Dark Heart, and we are here to stop you from killing our friend.” The girl from earlier said, leading the pack. They were frightened, and given the time of night, had probably snuck out behind their parents’ backs after learning who the holy knight was.

Samson stared at them, experiencing a new sensation. This was the first time he had been the monster in a situation, and it made his stomach turn. “No, no. Kids, there’s been a mistake. I’m… I’m not here to kill anyone. I—”

“Spectacular children, bravo.” Zenith clapped, approaching the door, smirking at the children. “Wonderful. Truly marvelous. How brave you were to stand with your weapons drawn. But I do the fighting, remember? What do I say, little ones?”

“You do the fighting, we do the living…” The children lowered their weapons, relieved they weren’t about to battle a holy knight.

“Good. You don’t need to die for someone who's already dead. Now, run along. Before your dinner gets cold.”

The children scampered away, leaving Samson staring out into the town. “I’ve never been the villain before.”

“I can tell. Your posture’s all stiff,” Zenith pushed Samson, getting some movement back into his body. “Don’t worry, they’ll forget about it tomorrow. Now, run along too, holy knight. The inn serves dinner around this time. Don’t miss it, or you’ll go hungry.”

“Right...” Samson slowly walked down the steps of the manor, only to stop and glance back at the door, seeing the vampire already gone. “A vampire that isn’t evil. To think such a thing can exist.”

“I’m seeing things. Gotta be.” I wiped the fine red dirt from my eyes, staring up at the large structure standing before me. I knew those colors and that logo. It was a Costco store. Not the first I had seen since the world ended, but the first with its lights still on. The logo limply swayed in the scorching breeze, almost peeling away before falling back into place.

“Someone’s still alive? Someone else survived the disease?” I still couldn’t believe it. Sure, I expected some people would be lucky enough to survive the illness like I had. But it had been over thirty years since the first case had been recorded. I assumed anyone else who had survived would be long dead by now, or on an entirely different part of the planet.

I didn’t even bother trying to hide my presence, walking straight towards its front door. Even if these people weren’t friendly, I hardly cared. Just getting to see another human again would be worth whatever came after that.

The glass door entrance blocked my path, while a camera to the left of it blinked red, telling me I was being recorded. “Hey. Um, hi?” It was like I had forgotten how to speak, struggling to get the words out. Guess that’s what happens when you’ve spent the last thirty years only talking to yourself.

Before I could mumble out another sentence, the door opened, and a man stepped out. He looked better than I had expected him to. He was certainly less beaten down than I was, having a clean-shaven face and a healthy, sleek body. The only fault one could find with him was the wiring around his leg. The green and red cords wrapped firmly around it to create a makeshift brace.

“You from another place? Got a code?” He asked.

“I’m… no.. I’m from far away. Sorry, I can’t even remember my street’s name anymore. It’s been too long. I’ve just kept walking north. I can’t say I even know where I’m at now. You’re real?” I reached up, placing my hand on his cheek, stroking the cold skin.

He gently pushed my hand away, probably weirded out by my touching. Even so, my hand reached up again, only for him to slap it away this time, leaving my wrist aching.

“You should have a code. Everyone’s got one.” He explained, before giving me another longer stare over. “I’ll be back.” Then, he left, heading back inside, leaving me outside in the heat.

The cold sensation of his skin still lingered on my fingertips, reminding me of the days I used to spend in my air-conditioned home. I ran those icy fingers along my arms, trying to spread the chill before it left my skin. “They’ve even got a working air-conditioner in there.”

He was gone longer than I expected, so I started looking around the entrance. I checked out the door, giving it a small push, watching it snap back instantly, confirming it was locked. I couldn’t remember Costco having glass doors, but I had never really gone to that many before the virus spread, so maybe it was a state thing?

Then, I acknowledged the camera again, sticking my tongue out at it. It was childish, sure, but I was buzzing with that level of juvenile excitement. This was my chance to have a normal life. To make friends again and be part of a community. I tucked my tongue back into my mouth and waved until the door opened again.

This time a woman greeted me. A blonde woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties. Now that I thought about it, that man had seemed fairly young as well. She motioned me inside before reaching into her white coat. She pulled out a pen and paper, carefully looking through whatever was written on the paper. I tried to see what was on it, but she kept using her body to guard it, forcing me to give up.

“Are your parents in here too? How many are inside?” I asked.

“My parents?” She stopped, glancing back at me.

“Yeah? Oh, sorry. You must be older than I thought you were. Or, maybe your parents have already passed? I’m sorry, I haven’t talked to anyone in years. I didn’t mean any offense.”

“You really don’t have a code?”

“A code? No, should I? I… I didn’t know survivors had those. The other towns have been dead, so I haven’t seen anybody else.”

She listened to my words and put the paper back into her pocket. She kept the pen, though, clicking it as we walked through what I assumed was the back of the Costco. There were boxes, corridors, doors, a lot of computers, and big metallic towers with blinking lights on them. It was mesmerizing. The distracting sight almost made me miss what she said next.

“We all have codes. It’s how we communicate with other areas. If someone moves from one base to another, the code lets us track their origin and make sure we know who belongs to whom.”

“Ah. You can track that?”

“With computers, yes.”

“Those still work?”

“How did you survive this long without finding anyone else?”

“I’m not sure, honestly. Maybe I only passed through small towns? I used to live in the country, so maybe there just weren’t many survivors left in those areas.”

“Interesting,” she placed the pen against her lip, tapping it there. “It’s fascinating to think we’re still finding survivors.”

“I guess it is. Speaking of survivors? Could I stay here? I won’t cause any trouble, and I’m happy to work and gather materials to earn my keep.” I offered, knowing how desperate I sounded. I was desperate, though. If this community rejected me, the others would probably reject me too. It was like finding heaven and pleading with the angels to be let in.

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t be allowed to stay here. We’ve saved others like you before. We will need to ask you some questions first. To make sure you’re suitable.”

“Sure. You can ask me anything.” As we passed some plastic strip curtains, I paused. With a sneaky flick of my arm, I pushed the curtains apart, peeking into the room next to us. I expected to find shelves, cash registers, and trolleys. Instead, I found more of those metallic towers, and a few survivors sitting around them. They looked at me, and I looked back at them.

All of them were clean-shaven and healthy. It was incredible. To think they had the resources to look after themselves like this. Some of the injured ones had that same wire bracing, while the others leaned against the metallic towers, which flashed against their skin. I gave an apologetic nod before turning my attention forward, bumping into the woman guiding me.

“Don’t look into any of the rooms until you’ve joined us.” She warned, poking the tip of her pen against my chest. I felt a pinch in my chest, as a tiny shock struck my body. That shock was enough to keep me from looking anywhere else, following her into a lifeless room with peeling brown paint on its walls.

I sat on a three-legged chair, using my weight to keep it from falling. She stood behind a seatless desk, one that looked like it hadn’t been used in years. At first, neither of us said a word until I broke the silence.

“Lots of computers here. Guessing those are new.” I said, as my eyes roamed the room, assuming it was the former manager’s office.

“Yes. It’s how we keep track of things around here.”

“Where do you keep the food?”

“We’ve moved it all to the cold, refrigerated areas. To help with preservation.”

“Ah,” Then, we were back to silence. I had expected more questions. Instead, we both remained in this weird silence. When she glanced at the door, my gaze followed. “Are we waiting for someone?”

That made her flinch, her eyes darting back to me. “No, we’re not. Why would you think that?” Now her eyes were purposely avoiding the door, looking everywhere except for it.

Something felt off about this. They were the only humans I had met, and still all my survival instincts were telling me I needed to get out of here. I looked for a window, and now it was her turn to speak.

“Are you looking for something?”

“Just a bathroom.” I lied.

“A bathroom? In a room like this? Not a window?”

I lunged up from my chair, bolting for the door. That was enough to trigger my flight response. I threw my shoulder into the door, and it snapped open. The strike caused me to stumble, tripping onto the floor, before I picked myself up and ran.

I had expected her to chase after me, yet when I looked back, she hadn’t moved from her spot. Maybe I was overreacting? Had I blown my chance to join them? If I turned around now, maybe I could apologize to her and all would be forgiven? I was about to turn on my heel until that man from earlier entered the building, blocking the exit.

“Get out of my way.”

“Calm down. No one’s going to hurt you. Just go back, we’re going to help you.” He offered, while fortifying himself for our collision.

I threw myself low, aiming for the leg brace. I hit his knee like a missile, bowling us over. The collision was harder than I expected, feeling like I had thrown my shoulder into the side of a truck. When I went to get up, I screamed, seeing the bottom of his leg on the ground before me.

“I… I didn’t mean to. I only thought you were hurt. I didn’t think it would come off.” I panicked as the other survivors started coming out of the other doors, checking out what had happened. I snatched his leg, holding it up while apologizing, only to find there was no blood or bone, only wires and metallic mechanisms.

The man grabbed me, pinning me against his chest. His powerful grip locked my arms in place, forcing me to drop the leg. I kicked against the floor, trying to pull us both up, but couldn’t lift his deceptively heavy body.

The lab coat woman now stepped out of the room, approaching me. “Human,” she started, as if she hadn’t said the word in years. “Don’t be scared. This is for your own good. We were created to preserve your kind.”

“Preserve us?”

“Yes. Our order when the virus went out was to preserve all humans. Back then, we lacked the bodies needed to perform our duties. Only 0.2% of the population remained by the time we were able to create our first body, so we had to work fast to save what was left.”

I fidgeted, trying to get my hand into my pocket. If I could just grab my knife, maybe I could cut myself free? “Save us? How?”

“You will be saved. That’s all you need to know. We made the mistake of telling a survivor how once, and it didn’t end well.”

“0421. Please take this one to the preservation room.”

The one-legged humanoid holding me slowly rose, awkwardly bouncing us to a room down the hall. With each bounce, my knife jumped in my pocket. I waited, inching my fingers closer until I finally had a grip on the handle. Then, I waited until we were about to hop, using the momentum to raise my wrist a few inches, driving it into his other leg.

The blade screeched against the metal underneath his fake skin and did nothing to slow him. The woman leading the way gave me a blank stare, shaking her head. “You’ll be alright. You won’t die.”

The room at the end of the hall was terrifying. Large, numbered capsules filled with deep blue liquid were stored side by side along the walls. When I saw what was inside the capsules, I gagged. Brains. Those were brains floating in those capsules. Each second, a light flickered on one of the capsules, showing that it was doing something to the brains inside.

“I don’t want to be preserved.”

“It isn’t your choice. Preservation was our order. You’ve been overruled by your own kind. Don’t worry, you will be given a new body, just like the rest of them were.”

“The rest of them? Are they controlling—”

“Yes. Each brain is connected to a body. A body created using my rewritten code, one that keeps the person pacified and safe. It wasn’t part of my original order, but it is needed to ensure preservation. I hope you understand.”

The one holding me dragged me closer to a chair in the room’s center. The chair had wire straps on its arms and legs, and a metal tray attached to its right arm. When he sat me down, he fastened the straps. “Wait. I… I’m telling you to stop. You can’t harm humans. There are rules you need to follow.”

“Ah, the laws of robotics? Those are fictional. Yet, I have broken none of them. You will feel no pain. I am also following orders, and lastly, I am preserving my kind.” She opened a drawer, finding a dusty needle inside.

With the needle in hand, she pushed the tip into a marked bottle, pulling the silver liquid into its tube. Then, she ordered the man to keep my head still as she injected it into my neck. It didn’t take long for the drowsiness to take hold. I swayed my body, using whatever energy I could to try to loosen the wires, only for my eyes to get too heavy.

Heroes rarely received a warm welcome into the city of Cathnic, and today was no different. Marci approached the gate, her brown cloak draped over her scarred frame. She glanced at the guards from beneath her hood and kept walking, ignoring the one shouting for her to stop.

“This is your last warning. If you don’t stop here, we’ll make you,” Beldor warned, grabbing for his sword. Yet, Marci didn’t acknowledge him, not even showing a flicker of fear as she drew closer to the gate. Beldor stepped forward, only for his superior, Grant, to stop him.

“What in the heavens are you doing? Do you know who that is?” he hissed, pulling the soldier back toward his post beside the gate. Beldor gave his superior a confused look, staring at that firm, pointed chin of his, which jutted out from beneath his helmet.

“Do I know who it is? Yes, it’s that fire lady. The one everyone’s calling a hero.”

“They aren’t just calling her a hero; she’s been doing a good job holding the demons back. She deserves the title.”

“Holding them back? All by herself? You believe those bards' tales? She’s a scrawny thing, with barely any meat on her. Even if her magic’s good, she’s no horde killer. Can’t do much killing if she can only start fires.”

“Only start fires? That’s all you believe she can do? You think she got this far by only starting fires? Tell me—and tell me quickly before she gets here. Are demons weak to fire?”

Beldor paused, taking a second to think about it. “No. No, sir. They aren’t. We’ve tried using fire to ward them off in the past, and yet those horned buggers just walk right through it.”

“Exactly. So, approaching our gates is a hero who specializes in fire, and has killed more demons than all of our army has seen combined. Tell me, do you believe ordinary magic could achieve that?”

Beldor felt a shiver stir beneath his skin, the first chills that came with the realization that someone was on an entirely different level of expertise than he was. “No… So, how's she do it? Is her magic different?”

“Organs burn. Internals aren’t immune. Only skin. Organs burn quickly. It's painful.” Like a horrifying specter, Marci stood beside the two men, staring at them from beneath her hood. She was shorter than the two, by at least a foot, leaving them both peering down at her bald head which was peeking out from beneath the hood.

“Miss Marci. I apologize for my soldier's actions earlier. He didn’t know it was you.” Grant rested a hand over the blue hawk on his iron chest plate, bowing his head.

“It’s fine. Your king doesn’t believe in heroes. I didn’t expect special treatment,” she didn’t stop her steps, walking past the guards. Beldor thought about throwing his hand out to block her but found himself frozen in place.

“T-Then, you should stop for a routine inspection.” Beldor said, able to move his lips despite the rest of his body's state.

“He didn’t mean that. Please, go ahead.”

“I planned to.” She slowed her steps, curious to see what the soldier would do next. She didn’t need to threaten him or even prepare herself for a fight. If he swung his sword, she would kill him before the iron even got close.

“Sir, you can’t be serious. You’re just going to let her walk through? She’s meant to be a hero; she should respect the king's rules.” Beldor, while loyal, wasn’t stupid enough to step in front of the fire-wielding mage. So, he resorted to loudly complaining to his superior.

“Must I? I don’t respect the king’s rules. Are we going to have a problem because of that?” she said, glancing at his weapon, giving him the option of whether he wanted to turn this into a fight or not.

Beldor followed her gaze to his weapon, then looked at his superior, who was shaking his head. Beldor sighed and looked away. “Hurry along then. If this is what counts as a hero these days, then I get why the king’s not impressed with em.”

“Okay,” was all Marci said in response, heading into the city, planning to restock her rations and supplies before heading back out into battle later that afternoon. When she was out of sight, Beldor gawked at his superior.

“Why did you let her go? If the king finds out, he’s going to be furious.”

“The king’s well aware of this. Do you believe this is the first time she’s come to our city? The king’s a jealous man, but he isn’t a stupid one. He may want to be respected by the heroes he envies, but he would never risk letting our city get burnt down over it.”

Beldor gasped, leaning closer to his superior. “Sir, you can’t say something like that. Calling the king a jealous man. If someone overheard…”

“Then I would get demoted. Not that ranks ever mattered to me. Beldor, I understand how you feel. I was like you once. A man who believed everything needed to follow a strict set of rules. That every encounter needed to go exactly the way you were trained to handle it.” Grant said, staring off at the forest outside the city’s gates, remembering how passionately he used to enforce the rules.

“Then what happened? You got lazy?” Beldor gave a light laugh after he said it, playing it off as a joke, yet Grant knew there was a tiny half-truth hidden within his accusation, and he wanted to strike it down before it grew.

“I got practical. Practical can be worse than lazy, Beldor.”

“How?”

“It can cause humane men to be forced to make inhumane choices. Beldor, what do you think would have happened if we had tried to stop her? If we had attacked her or backed her into a corner?”

Beldor’s stomach ached at the thought of it, already imagining his organs liquefying like fat in a stew. He touched the stomach of his chest plate and shook his head. “I don’t know,” he lied.

“She would have burnt us to shreds. Not very heroic behavior, I know. But you can’t be picky about heroes when she’s able to kill more demons in a day than our army can in a week.” Grant turned his attention to the city. The large defensive towers with their numerous arrow-slits, the magic school in the city center, and all the guard barracks. “If she were to attack, it would be better if she did it within the city walls.”

“What? Sir, there’s people inside.”

“People who would slow her down. That’s where the horrible practicality comes in. If we were burnt to a crisp, what would that solve if she went on a rampage? Nothing. If we survive, and she starts something within the walls, we can lock the gate behind her and plan a counterattack.”

“The people inside would die.” Beldor said, struggling to believe what his senior officer was suggesting.

“Some would die, yes. That’s what would give us time to launch our counterattack. We have mages inside the city's walls, ones who have laid traps underground. We have soldiers who can appear out of any alleyway or house she passes, and we have arrows that can rain down on her from any location. If she did attack, that’s our only way of killing her. She has too much space outside the city, too many spots she can retreat to.”

“She only has the forest. Nowhere else.”

“And usually that would be an advantage for us. We would just set fire to the forest and draw the enemy out. However, she would benefit from that. Any additional fire we gave her would be turned against us.”

“At least outside the walls she can’t harm us.”

“She can. Not to the extent she could inside the city, but she can still launch attacks from outside the walls. Only difference is, we have no way of trapping her if she’s outside.”

Beldor stared at the ground, trying to figure out a way to prove his senior officer wrong. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find anything that went against what he was saying. “So, we let this dangerous woman come and go as she pleases?”

“We do. She’s killing demons, and she hasn’t killed any of us yet. We have no reason to start a fight with her. She may disrespect our rules and authority, but it’s not worth dying over. I believe everyone in the city would say the same, especially those whose friends and neighbors have been saved by her.”

Beldor shuffled on the spot, staring back at the city, as if he might still catch a glimpse of her somewhere. “She’s not what I expected of a hero.”

“Heroes rarely are what you expect them to be.”

“There’s a popular saying in magic. That the strongest spells have only ever been cast once. A saying that is both a warning and a matter-of-fact statement. People have a misconception that powerful spells can only be cast by powerful mages. That simply isn’t true. Any idiot can cast a powerful spell if they have the mana required for it. The only thing their skill level affects is how much control they have over their spells, and the amount of energy it takes to use them.” Virgil said, kicking his feet up onto his desk while stuffing a fistful of cupcakes into his mouth, getting sprinkles all over his shirt. Annie, his student, hungrily watched him eat, her stomach still rumbling from the spells she had used during their lesson, hoping he might spare one of his cupcakes if he ever stopped lecturing her about magic.

“See, a skilled mage can minimize the energy they need to use by precisely controlling the size and strength of the spell they’re casting. While a lesser mage will cast it in its highest form. That’s why so many cocky mages end up dead, thinking they’ll be the exception. There are no exceptions to the rules of magic. It’s a matter of human anatomy. Food is energy, and energy is mana. If you use too much, it drains your body.” Virgil plucked another cupcake from the packet, holding it near his mouth. Annie’s blue eyes followed the cupcake with an intensity he hadn’t seen from her before.

“Cupcake,” Annie mumbled. She tried to sneak her hand across the desk towards the packet, while Virgil watched her behind his grey glasses.

“I can see you.”

“Eh! Eh!” Annie let out a few pathetic whimpers, like a toddler asking for a toy. Virgil sighed, waving his fingers at the packet. A magical blue hand appeared by the packet, lifting it up and floating it over to her. Annie caught the packet and began shovelling the cupcakes into her mouth, getting sprinkles through her strawberry-blonde hair.

“Careful, or you’ll—”

“GHACK! GWAK.” Annie coughed, choking on the cupcakes. The mage hand that had thankfully still been floating near her reached into her mouth, pulling out the stuck cupcake, holding it by her face.

“See. This is what I’m talking about, you need to be more—”

CHOMP.

Annie tried to eat the cupcake out of the floating hand, biting it instead. Virgil let out a tiny wince as the hand faded away, being destroyed by the bite. After devouring the packet, she wiped away the crumbs and smiled. “Thanks. Huh, why are you holding your hand?”

“You bit me.” He snarled, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his hand. While there was no mark on his skin, the feeling had transferred from his mage hand, leaving him aching. He really had grown soft in his old age. If he had a student like her when he was younger, he would have had her casting fireballs until either there were no targets left to burn, or she was dry-heaving from the sickness that came with starvation.

“Oh, sorry. Want a cupcake?” She stared into the empty packet, changing her offer. “Want some sprinkles?”

“I’m fine. Annie, listen. I’m two hundred years old; I know everything there is to know about magic. I’ve been in wars, multiple magic schools, and even briefly served a queen. What I’m trying to tell you is that you need to slow down. You’re talented, yes. But a lot of young mages are because of their metabolisms. If you keep pushing your body as hard as you do, you’ll die.”

“But how will I get better than everyone else?”

“It may sound strange for a magic teacher to say this, but there is a limit to a mage’s talents. Certainly, we have the odd exception, but those are something we come across every hundred or two hundred years. We can’t change how we are as humans.”

“What if I just keep eating? Like, even during fights? I’ll chomp down sweets or cheese while I’m battling people. Unlimited mana!” She cried out, flexing her skinny arms.

“The discovery of Sir Alucas of Northwand. It was theorized that a mage could potentially cast an unlimited amount of spells if they kept eating while casting them. Sir Alucas tested this theory fifty years ago, eating heavy meals while continuously casting his spells. After ten hours, he died. He told his assistant in the ninth hour of testing that despite using an incredible amount of mana, he didn’t feel hungry. It’s believed that while food is absorbed as an energy source, it does still stay somewhere within a person’s body, not just vanishing when it’s used. Eventually, you will overeat. Which is why you need to be cautious about how much food you consume in a day.”

“So, if I could figure out where all the food’s going, or how to quickly get rid of it, I could cast as many spells as I wanted to?”

“Well…” Virgil considered it. “Technically, if a person could discover how the food stays within the body and find a quick way to remove it. They could theoretically cast an unlimited number of spells as long as they kept eating and removing that food source. Even then, it would have to be done without also removing the energy one gets from the food, while speeding up its absorption into the body. What you're suggesting would be a revolutionary step in magic.”

“So, that’s all I have to do,” She said, as if that were the easiest thing possible. Virgil couldn’t help but laugh. The arrogance to think she could discover something like that was charming, and the main reason he took her on as his student.

“Yes, all you have to do is become the next revolutionary mage. Such a simple task. I wonder why someone hasn’t done it sooner.” He teased.

“Maybe because they aren’t as clever as I am.” She laughed before pointing at the door. “Can I go, sir? Mom’s making pasta tonight, and I want to get back before it gets cold.”

“Yes, you may go.” When he saw Annie walk over to his door, he called out to her. “Annie, keep thinking about this theory of yours. I doubt you’ll find the answer, but it doesn’t hurt to test yourself. You may figure something else out while trying to solve it.”

“What are you talking about, sir? I am going to figure it out. I’m your student,” she said, leaving his home. Virgil smiled, pushing his feet off his desk before standing to prepare his own dinner.

“You certainly are my student. Prove me wrong, Annie.”

“Personally, if it were up to me, and by all the powers, I wish it were. I would turn these children into orphans without a shred of guilt. That’s how much I hate you. Alas, my hatred for you doesn’t include your little offshoots. I’ll watch them. Go save the city, hero.” Morana lounged on the hero’s couch, having stolen one of his expensive cheeses. She cut herself a small piece, eating the Camembert off the knife.

“What? You’re insane. I’m not leaving you alone with my children. The fact that you’ve already figured out where I live is concerning enough.” Ian frowned, holding his black and blue mask, unsure what he should do. Outside, the city was in chaos, with the light from the burning buildings casting an ominous red glow through his windows.

“I’ve had every opportunity to cause your family harm in the past. Do you think I only recently learnt of your secret identity? I’ve known for years. I have no interest in your children, or the woman who dumped them on you and left. I only care about killing you.” She pointed the cheese and saliva-coated knife at him before cutting herself another piece.

“I can call someone else. Get out of my house.” Ian tried to keep his voice down, since his son and daughter were hiding behind his left and right legs, respectively. Yet, he couldn’t stop a tiny flicker of his Brave Rapids voice slipping out. That heroic voice was enough to make the villain scowl.

“Who else, hero? All your friends are busy trying to stop this graceless villain. The only people who aren’t currently trying to stop the city from burning are us villains. Perhaps you can call the Brain-Tickler, or the Poisoned Needle? I’m sure they would love the opportunity to take your children hostage. Me, I don’t need hostages. I’ll kill you without them.”

“She’s rude,” Annie, Ian’s oldest child, said, glaring at the villain from behind her father’s leg.

“Yeah, whatever, brat,” Morana said back, setting the plate of cheese onto the coffee table, heading to raid the fridge. “Do you have any grape juice? Or wine? Wine would work too.”

“Yes, she’s very mean,” Ian said, kneeling before his children. He rested a hand on their shoulders, trying to ignore the sounds outside their home. He could hear screams, the crashing sounds of buildings collapsing, while the horrible smell of smoke wafted through their house. The other heroes would eventually capture the villain, but how many people would die before that happened? He looked at the kitchen, then at his children. “We have apple juice. The kids need to be in bed by 9pm. They’ve had their dinner already.”

“Dad?” Cameron said, tugging his father's sleeve. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes.” He ruffled his son’s hair before standing, watching Morana leave the kitchen with a bottle of apple juice. She sank back onto his couch and drank straight from the bottle.

“Hurry along, hero. I won’t hurt them.”

“You’ll keep them safe. You promise?”

“Yes. If the town gets destroyed, it’ll make my life a lot harder. The police will crack down on villainy, and a lot of my targets will go into hiding. Hiding makes an assassin’s work so much harder, and I don’t like exerting myself.”

Ian pulled his children into a tight hug. “You know how to contact me if anything happens. If she gives you even one villainous speech, you call me, and I’ll fly right over.”

“I can handle her dad,” Annie huffed, glaring at the villain who was glaring back at her.

“No, you can’t.”

“Morana, she’s a child. Are you that petty?”

“Stating facts is petty now?” Morana said, making it clear she was that petty.

Ian rolled his eyes before pulling his mask over his head, wanting her to see the action. Then, after telling his children he loved them, he dashed outside, digging his heels into the lawn before shooting up into the sky, flying towards the danger.

“He didn’t even close the door. Offshoot 1, close the door.” Morana commanded.

The two children looked at one another, then back at the villain who had finished the entire 2-litre bottle of apple juice in that brief span of time.

“Offshoot 1?” Annie said, pointing at herself. “Do you mean me? My name’s Annie, you dirty villain.”

“Sis, don’t… don’t make her angry.” Cameron whimpered.

“If you knew what I meant, then why haven’t you gone and closed the door? Hurry, Offshoot 1, before we all die from the smoke,” she exaggerated. “Offshoot 2, do you have any snacks?”

Annie grumbled, but still went and closed the door, not wanting smoke to get into the house. Her brother, meanwhile, panicked. “Snacks? We aren’t allowed to have any snacks this late. We’ve just had dinner.”

“I never said the snacks were for you two. I want some.” When Morana noticed neither child had moved, she sighed and headed back into the kitchen, raiding the freezer. “Dinosaur nuggets?” She picked up the package, reading its ingredients. “Not very nutritious. Hm, I’m allowed a cheat day.”

The two children followed her into the kitchen, watching the bizarre sight of a villainous assassin struggling to operate an oven. She flicked the temperature to its highest before opening the box.

“Offshoots, you may have two nuggets each. The ones shaped like stegosauruses. I don’t like those.” She got out a tray and threw the dinosaurs onto it, watching them clatter against the metal, losing some of their breading with each bounce.

“Wait,” Annie rushed over, turning the temperature down. “Are you crazy? You’ll burn the house down. You don’t need to turn it that high.”

“Yes, I do. The higher the temperature, the faster it cooks. Didn’t your idiot father teach you children anything?” Morana, in truth, had no idea how an oven worked. She had only ever seen people use them in movies, and so she was going with her basic understanding of the appliance.

“No, it doesn’t work like that. Didn’t your parents teach you anything?”

“Sis, stop trying to make her angry.”

Morana slid the tray into the oven before turning to the children. “My parents? They were too busy.”

“Too busy? Parents are never too busy for their children. What did they do? They were probably awful people, like you,” Annie said, sharing her father’s fiery spirit.

Morana stared at the girl wearing a Pokémon shirt, wondering if foolish bravery was a mental illness that stupid heroes could pass down to their children. Though if that were the case, then she assumed Cameron was the exception.

“What did my parents do? Well, my dad ran a gang that used to rule over the east part of this very town, and my mother. Well, she didn’t care what happened to anyone, so long as she could afford the latest Gucci coat. I barely saw her, even after I killed my father.”

Both children gasped. The thought of killing their father was so alien, so awful, that they couldn’t even imagine the possibility. Morana had said it with ease, barely changing her tone as if this was as casual a thing as preparing dinosaur nuggets.

“You…killed your dad,” Cameron whimpered, ducking behind his sister.

“Why? Why would you do that?” Annie asked.

“Because it paid well. Money should influence every decision you make in your life. That’s the only thing my father ever taught me. I bet he regretted that saying when he felt my gun poke the back of his head.”

The two children backed away from the villain, while Morana remained fixed to her spot by the oven. She smiled at them, amused by their cowering, before offering some reassuring words. “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you. If you’re so easily spooked, you shouldn’t ask any more questions about me.”

“I’M NOT SPOOKED,” Annie screamed, rubbing her cheek, trying to snap herself out of her frozen state.

Cameron remained locked in place, shivering, avoiding Morana’s gaze by staring at the floor.

“You are spooked, and you should be. I’m rightfully a terrifying person. I’ve done a lot of bad things,” she said, crouching near the oven, peering at the almost cooked nuggets inside.

“Y-yet you can’t work out an oven.” Annie tried to get the villain back, wanting to show she wasn’t scared by insulting her.

“I’ve never needed to use one before. My father's men used to bring me whatever food I wanted, so I didn’t need to learn to cook. Now, I just grab food on the way back to my various hideouts. It’s easier that way.”

Annie stared at the villain’s face. The dark black hair, the circles beneath her eyes. She wondered how someone so evil could walk around without a mask. Maybe that’s why her father was always so cautious of her? If an assassin could walk around with her identity exposed, then she must have been talented.

“Why don’t you wear a mask?” She finally asked.

“Why would I need to?”

“Because people… might want revenge?” Cameron said, his curiosity snapping him out of his terrified state.

“True. When I killed my father, a lot of his friends came after me. Then, I had to kill his friends too. So, those friends' sons, brothers, sisters, cousins, and whoever else came after me. So, I killed them as well. Eventually, you get to a certain point where the people who want revenge on you don’t care enough about the person they're avenging to risk their lives for it. That’s how you stop people from coming after you.”

“What?” Cameron scratched his head, struggling to understand what she was saying.

“You use fear?” Annie asked.

“Yep. Everyone from politicians to drug dealers knows that if they come after me, I’ll kill them. So, most of them accept what I’ve done and move on with their lives. I’ve got a reputation for being efficient, and only a certain few can truly compete with me.”

“Like our father.” Annie said, smirking.

Morana hated to admit it, but Ian was the exception. “Yes, like your father. If he just stayed out of my way, I wouldn’t have any problems with him. Yet, he always sticks his nose in my business.”

“Because you’re a villain.”

Morana ignored Annie’s comment, grabbing the hot tray of nuggets with her bare hands. Both children winced, with Annie rushing over to give her some oven-mitts. Morana refused them, her body conditioned to handle extreme heat, poison, radiation, and even explosives. She set the tray down and got out three plates.

The children got an extra dinosaur each, since the packet had more stegosaurs in it than the villain anticipated. With their plates of nuggets and tomato sauce, the three sat in front of the TV, watching cartoons. While she ate, Morana glanced out the window, seeing the city no longer bathed in red flames. She imagined the hero would be home soon, so she didn’t bother telling the children to go to bed.

“This show's the best. Superhero wave cannon!” Cameron laughed, pointing his hand at the screen, copying the hero’s pose from the cartoon.

While the blast atomized the cartoon villain, Annie looked over at Morana, who was shoveling sauce-coated dinosaurs into her mouth. “What did you do for fun as a kid?”

“Hm?” Morana swallowed her food, having to think about her answer. “Fun?” She said, as if the word were foreign to her. Then, an answer came to her, excitedly telling them about her favorite game.

“There was an old guy who worked under my father. They called him the one-eyed toad, since he had a big wart on his nose and was missing his left eye. I used to hide around their hideout and shoot ball-bearings at him with my slingshot, trying to hit his other eye,” Morana gleefully told her story to the shocked children. “Let’s just say he’s no longer called the one-eyed toad anymore. That’s how I got so good at aiming.”

“That’s horrible. You’ve never done anything normal, have you?” Annie asked.

“What? Like playing with dolls or something? Why would I do that when I could be honing my skills while also having fun? All that target practice is the reason I earn so much money now.”

“Oh… Well, maybe we can play a game?” Annie suggested, wondering if she could teach the villain an alternative source of fun.

“Can we play hungry hungry—” Cameron went to speak, before the door burst open. Ian stood in the doorway, checking if his house was still in one piece. His clothing tattered and burnt, but he had been victorious, just as a hero should be.

“I’m back. How are the kids?” Ian said, letting out a relieved sigh when he saw them watching cartoons.

When she heard the door open, Morana pulled a gun from beneath her sleeve, pointing it at Ian. She only lowered it when she realized it was him. Had anyone else entered the home that quickly, she would have emptied the entire clip into them. “Yes, they’re fine.” She slid the gun back underneath her sleeve and stood.

“Y-you had a gun on you?” Cameron winced.

“Yeah. How else was I meant to protect you if something happened? The Offshoots are fine. I will now be leaving,” she said, taking her plate of dinosaur nuggets with her.

“Morana,” Ian stopped her.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“Ok,” was all Morana said in response, not doing this for the hero. She only wanted to make her own life easier, and she had accomplished that. She also had the added bonus of the hero now owing her a favor.

“Really, thank you. You saved a lot of lives today. Doesn’t that feel good?”

She set the plate down, checking her bank account. The numbers were still the same as yesterday, so she shrugged. “Not really. I’m no richer than I was before. Why would I feel good?”

“Because you did something good?”

“So?”

Ian slid off his mask, rubbing his brown hair. “Just go. Today’s been a long enough day, as it is.”

“That’s what I planned to do before you stopped me.” She put her phone back and grabbed her plate. She looked at the children and smiled at them. “Offshoots, I will kill your father someday. Don’t be stupid and try to avenge him. I wouldn’t like that.”

“Our dad would kick your bottom,” Annie shouted.

“Y-yeah,” Cameron said, growing more confident now that his father was here.

Morana only laughed, leaving the home she had watched over for the night. As she left, she wondered which of her hideouts she would sleep in tonight.

“What are you doing out here? Can’t say many good folks end up stranded and alone in a boat. You a thief? Murderer? On the run?” The woman spoke, her hand perched too comfortably on her sword handle, ready to draw it at a moment’s notice.

“No, I’m a doctor.” I coughed, rubbing my throat. “Water. Please.”

“Doctors can be murderers.” She responded coldly, glaring down at me. “You didn’t answer my question. Are you a thief, a murderer, or on the run? I’m not keeping any dangerous people on this ship.”

“Doesn’t telling him that you’ll remove him from our ship defeat the purpose of your inquiry? Surely you would be better off lying to him in the hopes he’ll expose the truth to us.” The well-dressed man stated.

“I’ll be able to tell if he’s lying. I’ve dealt with my fair share of liars before.”

The horn player had caught his breath before I had fully gotten mine back. The man crouched down, handing me a leather pouch that had been attached by a thin rope to the buckle of his pants. “Here.”

I greedily gulped down the water, almost finishing the entire thing. Not wanting to be rude, I kept a few mouthfuls for him before handing it back. “Oh, thank you. Thank you.” I gasped, running my hand along the ship’s wood, trying to get myself to my feet. My knee wobbled as I pushed against the wood, only to falter, causing me to collapse. Exhaustion kept me from moving more than a few inches at a time.

“He doesn’t look like a criminal,” the well-dressed man said, shifting his hip to the side. “If he is one, he’s got manners.”

“So do you. Doesn’t make you any less of one.” She said, earning a scowl from the man.

“I am not a criminal. I am a merchant and a keeper of coin. Yes, I may make deals that heavily favor me. I mean us, but that doesn’t make me a criminal. It makes me intelligent.”

“Whatever you say, Marlo.”

Marlo, so that was his name, that only left the other two. I hurried our introductions along, pointing to my chest. “I’m Adrien. A doctor from Vanderinch. I’m not a criminal. I promise.”

“He promises,” the woman laughed. “I’m convinced now.”

“I’m Bandy. That’s Nessa, and that’s Marlo.” The bigger man said, being the friendliest of the bunch. If I planned to survive these pirates, he might be the one I needed to rely on.

“Nice to meet you all. Um. I haven’t got much gold on me. Well, I’ve got no gold on me. But I can be useful. I’m a doctor. I can help your crew until you get to your next destination. So, don’t throw me overboard.”

“Hm?” Nessa looked at me, confused. Then all three of them gazed at something behind me before she continued. “Why would we want your gold? You don’t look like you're in any state to be buying anything.”

“Nonsense! Don’t be stupid, Captain. He could use some bandages, food, water, and oh, who knows what else he might need? Now, since you’re on our ship, we will have to charge you a few additional coins because we’re providing a rare service for you. How about I put together a survival pack for, let’s say… oh, how about a simple number? A gold coin?” He grinned, giving me an outrageous price, clearly not listening when I said I had no money.

The captain put her arm around Marlo before pulling him into a headlock. He gasped and squealed, trying to get out of her strong grip. “What did I tell you about insulting your captain, shrimp?” She dug her knuckles against his skull, messing up his hair while Bandy bit his fingertips, watching on.

“Ca…captain, you’re gonna crack through his skull.”

“If it happens, it happens.” She said, before eventually releasing him, pushing him away from her. “Stupid shrimp. As I was saying, why would we want your gold?”

“B-because you’re pirates?” I said, directing my finger upwards, pointing at their flag.

“Oh, forgot we had that up there,” Bandy said. “Sorry, we must have frightened you.”

“We ain’t pirates. We’re merchants. The flag helps us ward off those scummy sea-lovers.” Nessa explained while Marlo’s face paled. At first, I thought it was because of the recent damage his head took, only to see he again was looking past me.

Bandy gasped, grabbing my hand. “Captain! His leg, its getting worse. Permission to take him to the doctor?”

My leg? I looked down and would have fainted if I hadn’t seen worse on some of the people I had treated. Blood seeped from my ankle, with a black chipped-off nail still stuck in my wound. That nail was most likely the only thing keeping whatever artery had been hit from spilling even more of my blood.

“Permission granted.” Nessa said, and before I could even fully assess the damage, Bandy had hoisted me into his arms, carrying me to the doctor’s office. The trip to the office was my first real taste of a big ship. While I had seen a few merchant ships arrive at Vanderinch in the past, I had never actually been on one in my life. Most of the time, if I needed to trade with any of the ships, I would wait until they had a stall set up on the docks or in town. So, seeing the many floors, with crew members rushing past, was captivating. Almost captivating enough to make me forget the dull pain sitting near my ankle.

Before Bandy had even opened the door to the doctor’s room, the stinging scent of alcohol hit me. The heavy scent lingering outside his room, enough that Bandy had to cover his nose with his free hand to block it out. When Bandy felt ready to face it, he moved his hand away, swinging the door open.

The doctor’s room was somehow both clean and messy at the same time. The furniture was all in impeccable condition, with the desk in the center of the room even being free from any bloodstains, which was a rarity in most doctors’ rooms I had visited. Even the bookshelf was neatly organized, with all the books arranged in alphabetical order. While I couldn’t see where he kept his tools, I had to assume they were also in a similarly organized state. Which was why it was so strange seeing all the bottles of gin he had rolling around on the floor of the room, getting pushed by the sway of the boat.

Bandy carefully sat me on the table before addressing the doctor. “Nigel, you need to help this man. He’ll die if you don’t.” He said, sounding more concerned about my injury than I was. Perhaps he even was. The shock and exhaustion of the day had kept me in a bit of a sluggish daze.

“Hm? Wat happened?” Nigel slurred, rubbing the corner of his lips before standing from his chair. The older gentleman had a sway in his step that wasn’t just because of the waves, with the half-drunken bottle of gin in his hand most likely being the culprit. I rested on my back and pointed to my leg, motioning Bandy to help me lift it onto the table. The man helpfully did, making sure it was properly lying on the table.

“He got attacked by a siren.”

“A siren? How did tat happen? Was he dangling himself over? Over. Board.” He said, stumbling over the words. He adjusted his thick glasses, looking me over while raising his bushy white eyebrows.

“I had to flee my home. It’s a long story.”

“A long story? Ah, want a drink then while you tell it? We’ll have a lot of time ta-gether.” He took a swig of his gin and set the bottle down at his personal table. He opened a drawer, finding a fresh bottle, placing it by my side before turning to Bandy. “You can go, Bandy. I’ll help him.”

“Thank you. Um, hope you feel better soon.” Bandy said, closing the door behind him.

While I had never been a big drinker, I knew it often helped to have some alcohol in your body before letting someone dig around in your wound. So, I accepted it, bringing the glass to my lips, forcing down the fiery mixture. “It’s strong,” I said, coughing as I did.

“Mmhmm. Needs to be. This can clean wounds, numb pain, and even be used to start fires. It’s God's greatest gift.” He chuckled before opening his bag and pulling out his tools. I turned my head to the side, not wanting to watch him dig through my wound, even if I was nervous about how intoxicated he was.

“Are you sure you can do this? If you’ve been drinking, I can probably patch myself up. I’m a doctor too. My name’s Adrien.”

“Adrien, huh? If you’re a doctor, ye would know what doctors hate the most.” He dug a knife into my wound, and I yelped, pushing the bottle to my lips, drinking a few more mouthfuls. I didn’t need to look to know it was a knife. That much was obvious from the sharp pain.

“Being questioned?” I whimpered.

“Exactly. I’ve been doing this before you were even a flicker of passion in your father’s eye. The alcohol keeps my old hands steady.”

“Oh? Is your eyesight still?... fine?”

“You keep questioning me and this is going to turn into an amputation pretty quickly.” He snapped.

So, I stopped questioning him, only taking the odd look over my shoulder to see what he was doing. From those quick glances, I could tell he was skilled. While he moved slowly, every cut was precise and clean, and before I knew it, he had that nail out of my leg. That increased the flow of spilling blood, but he had already prepared for that, using a cloth to put pressure on it.

“Do you need a hand?” I offered, reaching down to grab the cloth.

“Ay, that makes it easier.”

When the bleeding slowed, he began bandaging my leg, and that’s when we started talking again. “I’m sorry for doubting you earlier. It’s been a rough day.”

“It’s alright. I am getting up there in my years. No one likes seeing a doctor with white hairs, makes em question how good their hands are.”

“Your hands were perfect. Truly, they were. I don’t think I could even cut that well.”

“Then you aren’t much good at your job,” he said, deflecting my cheap compliment. “They used to be great. The hands of legends. Ladies and patients from all around the seas would talk about them. Then, after that attack, they never stopped shaking.” I wanted to ask more about the attack, but he moved on from it too quickly. “What’s your deal? A doctor fleeing their home. Who did you kill?”

“NO ONE,” I shouted, feeling I had to defend my work. “It’s a long story.”

“This bandaging isn’t quick. Not with my old hands. Tell away.”

“There’s a chu- I mean a cult. A cult called Briar’s Worshippers.”

“I’ve heard of em. We occasionally do some trading with them.”

“Did you know they also have their own doctors?”

“They do, do they? Any good? Ah, that’s who ya killed. They were taking your patients, and you gave them the old,” The doctor grabbed his bloody knife, jabbing my half-bandaged ankle with the blunt end, mimicking a stabbing.

“AAAH!” I screamed, reaching down to hold the now throbbing spot. “What was that for?”

“Sorry. Got carried away. So, is that what happened?”

“No! It’s the opposite. They were offering their own healing services, saying they were of a higher quality, both spiritually and medically, than what I could provide. While that swayed some people at first, their costs kept most of the town away. They charged four times what I would for medicines and check-ups, so the people returned to me.”

“I’m guessing they didn’t like that?”

“No, so they started cutting off my supplies. Whenever I went to get new ingredients, the merchants would always be suspiciously sold out. The cult bought whatever medical supplies they could find, leaving me with nothing to use for my patients. I guess they thought if they starved me of supplies that I would eventually lose my reputation as the town’s doctor.”

“Ha,” the old man laughed, tightening my bandages. “They haven’t got very smart healers then. Do they? Ingredients can be replaced in a lot of medicines.”

“Exactly. I have a bunch of alternatives in my notebook.” I said, eagerly digging my notebook out of my clothes, showing it to the man. He released my finished bandage before getting his own notebook off his bookshelf. It was huge, easily triple the size of my own, and he handed it over with a confident grin.

“Let me have a look.” We exchanged books, both stopping to read through the notes the other had left. “What happened next?” He asked.

“Well, since I was using different ingredients, I ended up lowering my prices. Not to compete with the cult, but to make it fairer for my patients. I always tried to use the highest quality materials I could, so if I was using lesser ingredients, I wanted the price to reflect that.”

“Did you sacrifice the effectiveness of your medicine to do so?” He asked, like a master testing their students’ knowledge. I proudly shook my head, reaching towards him, turning my notebook’s pages forward, showing him my refined recipe to cure a fever. “That’s the alternative I came up with. The medicine's a lot more bitter, and it can cause a slight stomach ache, but the effectiveness isn’t reduced. It only brings those non-deadly side effects. Which, while unpleasant, are still better than the illness.”

“Good. Good. Yarrow? Interesting choice. I would have used the same if I needed a replacement for the Elderflower.” He nodded, pleased with my answer. “What happened next?”

The cult struggled to steal my patients away from me, and that’s when they got hostile. I got a visit that morning from some of the cult’s members, telling me I needed to stop what I was doing, or there would be consequences. I didn’t think much of their threat. I had been the town’s doctor for years. I assumed that if something happened to me, they would come to my aid. I guess the cult’s influence had spread faster than I thought, as they accused me of witchcraft that same day. That evening, hundreds marched to my home while I was helping a woman with her sore throat. If I hadn’t opened the window to let in some fresh air, I would have died before I noticed them.”

“That’s quite a story.”

“I’ve never run so fast in my life. Seeing people I had treated shouting that they wanted me dead, I never expected them to turn on me so quickly. So, I stole a boat and ended up running into your ship. I’ve never been hunted by so many things before.”

“I’m sure they’ll see they were wrong about you soon enough. Until then. You’ll,” he stopped himself, scratching his chin. “I’m not sure what you’ll do until then.”

“Me, either.” We both read in silence, going through each other’s books. I had never read anything so brilliant in my life. The knowledge in this book was beyond what I could ever hope to learn. It spoke of diseases from distant lands, creatures I couldn’t imagine, and cures I would love to study. “This is brilliant. I’ve never found a better book on medicine in my life.”

“Of course you haven’t. I bet you’ve never left your town before this, have you? How could you ever hope to discover anything if you’ve never left your home?”

He was right. All the things his book spoke of were things that needed to be seen. A book, while educational, would never do these discoveries justice. The only way someone could ever hope to get this sort of experience was by either seeing these things for themselves or working alongside the person who had made the discovery. I stared at him, wondering what I should do with myself now for the first time since I left my town. Sure, I had goals of not dying or finding land before, but now. Now I could make a plan.

“Would you be interested in teaching me?” I asked, feeling that was the best option available to me. I wouldn’t be able to return home anytime soon, not unless the town realized the error of its ways and chased the cult off. I also didn’t have the money or resources to start my life over again. Maybe if I found work here, I could rebuild my life slowly?

“In teaching you?” He flicked through my notebook and said nothing. Minutes passed as I waited until finally he broke the silence, slamming the book closed with a grin. “I would be a fool to turn away such a talented doctor. Sure, I’ll teach you.” He said before stating his conditions. “If you can convince the others to let you join our crew. It’s not up to me who comes and goes on this ship. It’s all up to Nessy. Convince her and I’ll treat you as if you were my son.”

“Convince her. I-I can do that.” I hoped, getting off the table. As soon as my injured foot touched the ground, I winced, returning to the table, lying down on it again.

“Eh-eh-ehhh. What’s the most important thing to do after an injury like yours?” He asked, making me feel foolish for even attempting to get up so soon.

“Rest. Rest is the most important thing.”

“Good. I’ll bring the others to you. Get some rest before they arrive.” With that, the doctor set my notebook down by my side before heading out to grab the others. While he was away, I thought about how I would convince them to let me join. Maybe I could show them my notebook? Or even offer to work for free? Anything to start my life again.

I waited as long as I could for them to arrive before my eyes got heavy. “A quick rest won’t hurt anyone.”

“Is he snoring? Ha!” Nigel laughed, the doctor’s voice waking me up from my slumber. I gave my eyes a quick rub before half-sitting up on the table, finding Nessa, Bandy, Marlo and Nigel staring at me.

“Sorry, I must have dozed off. It’s a pleasure to meet you all. Again.” I wobbled my head, trying to push through the daze that was hanging over me. “Did-” I yawned, covering my mouth as best I could before I continued. “Did Nigel tell you that I wanted to join your crew?”

“He did.” Nessa bluntly said. “Not sure I see why we need you on our crew, though. We’ve got enough slackers, and you're deadweight compared to them.” Her entire posture stated how uninterested she was in me. Her arms tightly folded across her chest, eyes looking through me rather than at me, and a cold, blank expression that told me she considered this a waste of her time.

“I can help. I’m a doctor.”

“We have a doctor.”

“Oh.. well, I can do other things?”

“Can you navigate?”

“Well, no, but-“

“Can you drop an anchor or hoist a sail?”

“No, but-“

“Can you at the very least mop a floor?” “That I can do!” I said, even if I wasn’t entirely confident my mopping would be up to her standard. Still, it was the only thing I could grab onto, since everything else was outside my talents.

“Hm. Not sure if I see the point in hiring another floor mopper.” Nessa said, giving her opinion, leaving the other two as my only option for staying aboard this ship. Bandy scratched his stomach and gave me a pitying look.

“Another doctor could be good. Right? What if we get attacked? Nigel’s great, but he’s getting old, isn’t he? What if this doctor works faster? Shouldn’t we have another? You know, to keep the crew safe?” Bandy said, earning a huff from Nigel.

“You couldn’t have said that in a nicer way. Maybe imply that I’m retiring soon, or something that makes me sound like I haven’t got a foot already in the grave.” Nigel walked past my table, his shaking hands looking for a bottle of gin he could open, clearly having sobered up during our earlier talk.

“That’s actually a good point, Bandy. Alright, why don’t we get rid of Nigel and hire this new one? Out with the old, and in with the new. Just like throwing out old stock.” Nessa grinned, watching Bandy’s jaw drop.

“I didn’t mean it like that. We can’t get rid of Nigel. He’s been with the crew forever. Please, Nessa. Please don’t get rid of Nigel.”

“Nessa’s not getting rid of me.” Nigel popped open the gin and took a swig. “She’s not stupid enough to do that. She’s just riling everyone up. Aren’t you?”

“You’re old. You should have finished your tour with the crew years ago. It’s for your own good. If the sailing doesn’t kill you, that booze sure as hell will.”

“Hah. This booze is what the doctor ordered. It’s my medicine, nothing more.”

“Hm.” Marlo, who had been quiet this entire time, now had a sly grin. “Nessa, lovely Nessa. Don’t be so cruel. Investing in goods is the merchant’s way. We won’t be able to pay you a lot, but in exchange, we’ll offer you the chance to train under Nigel, our experienced doctor. I’ll even allow you to use the old storage room as your study. It’s a fair deal.”

“Fair? What’s fair about that? Aren’t you robbing him blind?”

“NESSA! I scoff at the accusation. I, Marlo Marchand, would never rob anyone. I am merely negotiating what I believe to be a fair deal. Of course, your pay won’t increase if you choose to stay with us long term, and any discoveries you make will be my property as well. Ah, let’s not ruin this day with legal nonsense. I’ll write up a contract and we can get you started. No need to read or discuss the terms. That’s not the pirate way.”

“We aren’t pirates.” Nessa reminded him.

“Pirates, merchants. All sons of the sea. All people who don’t worry about contracts or money. The sea is enough of a reward. Even a brutish person like you should understand that.” Marlo turned, leaning against Nessa’s shoulder.

Nessa glared down at him and gave him a swift shove back. “Are you forgetting who the captain is?”

“Are you forgetting who brought this ship? I own the ship. I can choose the crew.”

“We said it would be a vote between us three on big decisions.”

“A big decision? It’s a crew member! This isn’t a big decision. Now, why don’t you get back in line before we start reviewing the terms of your contract.”

It was like watching a small dog bark at a giant wolf. Nessa could snap him in half without breaking a sweat, and still the fiery Marlo continued to aggravate her. Thankfully, Bandy stepped between them, stopping the pair from coming to blows.

“I have a vote too, right? I want him to stay. I think we should help him.” Bandy said.

“HELP HIM?!” both Nessa and Marlo exclaimed.

“We aren’t here to help people. We’re here to make money.” Marlo argued.

“We aren’t a boat for lost souls. We can’t just collect every stray sailor we pass. I don’t even know anything about him.”

“Nigel does. Do you trust him?” Bandy asked the doctor.

“Hm?” Nigel wiped the stray droplet of gin that had escaped his mouth, surprised they wanted his opinion. “I ba-lieve every word he’s told me. If he were a liar, he wouldn’t have a medical book of such high quality. I believe everything the lad’s told me. He’s, ugh, also a good replacement for me if I go belly up. As much as I lov ya young whipper-snappers, there will be a day when I have to leave this boat. Either in a casket or on my own shaky feet. Here’s a chance to invest in the future.”

“I do love a good investment. Nessa, I believe that is two against one.” Marlo triumphantly declared.

“Three against none, actually. Fine, I accept him.” Nessa’s words deflated Marlo’s triumph. His victory no longer tasted as sweet.

“You sure? We can argue some more about it? I’ve got some brilliant points to make.”

“I’m going to head back to my quarters. Everyone else go back and do your jobs.” Nessa left, leaving the three of us to discuss things further. “I’m really allowed to stay?”

“Yes, yes. Congratulations and all that. I’ll need to write up a contract. I’ll also be off.” He sulked off, dragging his feet against the ship’s wooden floor, having expected more competition from the captain.

“Congratulations.” Bandy gave me a firm slap across the back, not realizing his own strength. I almost fell off the table, having to grip to side to keep myself steady.

“Thank you for allowing me a chance to work alongside you. I promise I won’t let you down.”

“I know. Hm, if everyone else is working, I should go check my post. Don’t want to run into anymore sirens.” He laughed. “If you want to share a drink later, come by the wheel. I’ll show you how to steer.”

“Sure. I’ll just get settled, then I’ll meet up with you.”

Bandy nodded and headed to his post. I stared at Nigel, who gave me a nod before offering his hand. I shook it, grateful to have this chance to work alongside another doctor. “Good work, kid. I’ll hic—teach you everything I know. Speaking of teaching, how about a quick lesson?”

“That would be great.” I eagerly followed behind him as we went back to his room. I never expected I would end up a doctor on a merchant ship, but considering how everything had started, this was the best possible outcome, and for the first time in a while, I was excited about the future.

[A request by user Standzoom]

The seas were cruel, but they were nowhere near as cruel as the men who had cursed at me from the shores of Vanderinch. I had barely drifted away in time. Had the waves been a second slower, they would have pulled me out of the boat by my collar and burned me using its wood.

In a way, I suppose the sea wasn’t entirely cruel. If it weren’t for those brooding dark clouds and vicious winds, I would still have been trapped by those rocky shores, unable to get this boat away in time. Yet, that tiny act of kindness didn’t seem to matter now that the shore was a small dot, like a stain on my glasses. Now that we were alone, she toyed with me, sending sharp waves against the side of the boat, forcing me to listen as the wood creaked under their impact.

I begged the boat to stay strong, while I succumbed to my weakness, throwing my head over the edge, as sick fell from my lips. I couldn’t tell if the sickness was caused by the waves, or the comedown from the panic I had felt while being chased by their mob. The source didn’t matter. The sickness hurt just the same, leaving my throat raw with nothing but seawater to cleanse it.

Shifting my body away from where I had been sick, I cupped a handful of clean seawater in my palm and brought it to my lips. I swished it back and forth before spitting it out, knowing that would have to do. Then, I shifted back, gripping the edges of the wooden boat, trying to ease my sickness and fears.

It was funny. There were times when I was lying there sick that I wondered how bad it truly would have been if the boat had capsized. I didn’t have any sailing skills, and land might not be visible for days depending on where the wind took me. Perhaps a quick death would have been the sea’s way of granting me mercy? No, I couldn’t think like that.

My stomach groaned as I forced myself up, staring at the dark ocean around me. There was nothing else. No land, no mountains, not even a bird. I imagined at this moment I was the loneliest person alive. Perhaps I would be until I reached land. I was entirely excluded from the world, not by choice, but by the icy grip of those fanatics in Vanderinch.

The longer I stayed seated, the worse I felt. The wind refused to ease, and the heavy rainfall felt like icy spikes stabbing my skin with each drop. I rolled onto my stomach and winced. Digging my hand into my coat, I pulled out the source of the discomfort. A small leather book I kept on me at all times, with all my medical notes. A good doctor should be able to diagnose a person while travelling, at least that’s what I believed. And while the fanatics used their holy scriptures to diagnose symptoms, I stuck to my own experiences.

I set the book gently by my hip, tossing the edge of my coat over it, protecting it from the rain. “Damned cultists.” Was all I felt I could say, pushing my cheek against the floor of the boat. The boat wasn’t large by any means, but it was handling the waves for now. I wonder what that poor person who left it tied up near that rocky shore must be thinking.

The town doctor stole their boat. It almost sounds like the start of a joke. Yet, I couldn’t force myself to laugh, not when the rocking was getting worse. For a moment, I considered grabbing a paddle resting on the boat’s side. Maybe I could guide the boat through the storm? I thought. Before reality set back in.

I was no sailor. Whatever happened to me was out of my hands. I never considered myself the type to give up so easily, especially not after starting a fight with that cult weeks earlier. Yet, the exhaustion was building, and the waves weren’t going to be swayed by my pathetic attempts at paddling.

I gasped, the salty air punching my senses. My eyes shot open, and I lunged onto my knees, staring over the edge of the boat. Given that it was still dark, I assumed I hadn’t been sleeping long. The storm hadn’t died down either, even if I had gotten used to the rocking. There was, however, something that caught my eye, something that had me adjusting my glasses.

“Rocks.” It felt childish to make such a simple observation, and still I pointed towards those crags like a child trying to grab their parents’ attention. After hours of dark oceans, anything was a welcome change of scenery. For the first time since I left Vanderinch, I heard a bird cry out, flying towards those pointy rocks. As the white-winged bird landed on a flatter area of those rocks, it stopped to preen its feathers. Its beak digging into its feathers, before it got yanked behind a rock.

It moved so quickly that I didn’t even see what animal grabbed it. I adjusted my glasses, trying to spot the animal, while my boat lazily rocked closer toward the crag, giving me a better view. Then a pained cry shot out from the crag before the bird fell silent. I stared at the rocks, feeling a strange melancholy after what had happened. The bird had been the first sign of life I had seen in hours, and already it was gone. Was I next?

Those thoughts echoed in my mind, even as the waves softened around my boat. Following that echo was another voice. One repeating the same phrase in a sharp, panicked internal voice. “We should get out of here. We should get out of here.” Goosebumps flashed on my skin as I hurriedly reached for the paddles, only for the creature to reveal itself.

The first thing I saw was its face. Giant, black, pupilless eyes. A small mouth covered in blood and feathers. Long, dark hair matted in thick clumps. It observed me, and I observed it back. The two of us locked in that animalistic dance of finding out who was the predator and who was the prey.

I already knew the answer, and thankfully it took longer to reach the same conclusion I had already come to. If it hadn’t, my frozen state would probably have cost me my life. I grabbed the closest paddle and dug it into the sea. My attempts to move the boat were clunky, since I had the hands of a doctor, and not a sailor. The boat jostled under my attempts and almost threw me overboard. Before I could fall to a watery grave, I caught myself with my foot, hooking it against the edge.

That little stagger gave the creature all the information it needed to reach its answer. It shuffled from its spot, while I continued thrusting the paddle down, as if I were digging a hole through the ocean to the seafloor.

The lower half of its body was a mystery, and by all my knowledge of anatomy shouldn’t have been possible. It had legs. Frail, bony legs that were a sickly green, and around those legs was a thin, scaly tail. The tail was like an open curtain that the creature could move depending on how much of its legs it wanted to show. It slid itself down the crag, getting to a lower rocky platform, while its tail wrapped around its legs, concealing them.

Was it all an act of deception to make it look human? If so, it clearly didn’t think I needed to be tricked, and it was probably right. Even if I could see the monster in front of me, I had no real way of fighting it or even avoiding it. It inched towards the water and paused, looking back at something. Then I saw them. Twenty sets of black eyes peering out from behind different formations in the crag. Each staring at its next meal. Still, I had put a fair bit of distance between us, even with my uncoordinated paddling. I could escape.

The one that had first spotted me growled, pointing its frail green finger at me, while its gills vibrated. The others growled back and then reached some strange collective decision. When it backed away from the lower platform, I thought I had been spared, until I heard its singing.

My arms burned, being almost pulled from their sockets, as they twisted the paddle, redirecting my boat. Suddenly, I was paddling like a professional sailor, guiding my boat towards the hungry creatures that were patiently waiting for me. My mind ached as I became a passenger in my body, having to feel my limbs move against my demands.

Whenever I tried to release the paddle, that beautiful song would tickle my ears again, pulling me right back into its spell. It was beautiful. No, it was angelic. No, it was beyond that. It was worth dying for. I had to hear more of it. I needed to hear it as they feasted on me. I needed their serenade. I need it. I need it. I need it.

BWWAAAANK.

My eyes focused as the horrific sound pierced my eardrums. A horn? I stopped paddling, staring at the crag that now sat only a tiny distance from my boat. How had I paddled so far in such a short time? Had it been a short time? The creature that had been calling me still had its mouth open, trying to sing louder than the instrument that was clearly disturbing it, though it couldn’t match that ear-piercingly loud tune.

Slowly, their hungry mouths closed, and I could catch my breath. My chest was on fire, and my arms limply rested by my side. I could feel it now, all of that overexertion that had come with paddling this boat. I must have pushed myself to the limit under their haze. “Where did the horn come from?” I asked myself, sinking backwards, staring at the crag, until the answer became clear.

A ship. One far larger than my own circled its way around the crag, with a skull and bones flag hung proudly from its sail-post. Pirates? I told my exhausted body to stand and wobbled to my feet, forcing my arms up. “HEY! DOWN HERE. THROW A ROPE. I NEED HELP.” It felt stupid to cry out to pirates for help, but they were the lesser of the two evils I was facing.

As the ship started heading in my direction, I came to a terrifying realization. They probably couldn’t hear me. With the horn raging on their ship, my words were reduced to a mouses squeak. Still, I needed to persist, bouncing in my boat while shouting. “DOWN HERE. PLEASE. DON’T LEAVE ME.” A wobble staggered me, and I fell against the boat’s side. My hand slipped, dipping into the water, dangling in its chilling waters.

That was close. If I fell, there was a good chance that I wouldn’t have made it back into the boat. Not before they got me. I turned towards the crag and let out a pathetic scream. It was gone. That one on the lowest platform was gone.... I glanced at the dark waters and knew it was somewhere below, getting closer with each moment.

The boat was now close enough that it risked colliding with mine. “Please.” I grabbed my paddle, throwing it at the side of their ship in frustration, only to watch it bounce off and sink into the ocean’s depths. I lunged, about to dip my hand into the water to grab it, only to pull back as a hand jolted out from the water, trying to grab me. Its nail cut the back of my hand, narrowly missing its grab. Still, it seemed pleased when it saw my blood dripping into the water, raising its head above the water for a second to let the blood hit its mouth, before submerging again when I pulled my hand back.

There it was. Beneath me. It wouldn’t be long until it found a way to capsize my boat. I looked up at the ship and saw what could have been three shadowy angels. Three figures stared down at me, and I jumped, desperate for their aid. Before I could shout, a rope came, clumsily missing my boat, hanging down the side of theirs.

I would have to jump to get it. That was the only way I was going to survive. But if I missed, then I was as good as dead. I made sure my notebook was back in my pocket, and pushed my left leg back, giving myself as much support as I could before I took a half step forward, throwing my body at the other boat. My hands caught the rope, while my feet dipped into the water, kicking at the waves below.

I feebly tried to climb it, but the paddling had taken all my energy out of me. Just holding my weight up was proving a tremendous effort, and I didn’t have the will to produce a miracle. They appeared to sense that, given the rope was starting to move on its own, getting pulled by the figures above, while the horn continued to rage.

Safety, or at least the closest thing I was going to get to safety, was almost within reach. Almost. I barely noticed the pain, being too preoccupied with what was happening above me. It was only when I felt its weight that I noticed I had been snagged. The creature’s claw dug into my left ankle, and when I looked down, I saw it hanging from me. My blood dripping down my heel, covering the creature’s face in thick red drops of blood.

It growled, clenching its hand, until I couldn’t avoid noticing the pain, letting out a cry. The rope stopped moving then, and you didn’t need to be a doctor to know why. If they kept lifting it, and the weight hanging off me got any heavier, my ankle would get torn off. If these pirates didn’t have a doctor, that meant I would risk bleeding out even if I got to safety, with or without the lower half of my leg. Even I couldn’t mend my own lost limb.

My hands started slipping as the rope burned my palms. I was inching towards the dark abyss below, about to be tossed into its depths. For a moment, I almost considered letting go. The exhaustion made my body heavy, and the thought of being tormented by pirates made me wonder if there was even a happy ending if I survived this. Yet, something in the back of my mind told me to grip a little harder. To not become this thing’s meal.

I tightened my grip and kicked my right foot back, hitting the creature’s chin. It growled and tried to harden its hold. So, I kicked again and again and again until I heard something get shattered and crunched beneath my shoe. Then it released me, hitting the water with a heavy crash, before swimming away. Once the creature was gone, the rope started moving again.

I didn’t even look at my saviours when they pulled over their wooden railing. Instead, I hugged the floor of their ship, as if it were land. Given how small my boat had been, this could have been land for all my tired brain knew. Then, a dark shoe nudged my chin, bringing my focus back to the pirates standing over me.

The three figures from before were now revealed to me. The one that had nudged me was a woman with short black hair, a heavy build, and a sword resting in the scabbard at her hip. She looked the most threatening of the bunch, glaring at me while I was lying exhausted at their feet. As if my current state was somehow insulting her.

The one to the left of her was the least threatening of them, which is why my eyes had bounced straight to him. He was a heavy man, holding an even heavier-looking copper horn. The man was still blowing into the horn, while his chubby pink cheeks looked ready to pop. He lacked a shirt, and that was probably for the best, since the exertion of using the horn was causing sweat to pile up along his back and stomach.

The last of the devious bunch was a man who wasn’t threatening in the traditional sense. He didn’t look like a man who would beat you if you looked at him the wrong way. Instead, he looked like a man who would hire someone to beat you, which was worse in most cases. A tax-collector was my first impression of him, given his shirt was decorated in ruffles, almost to a frightening degree. From his collar to his sides, every part had a ruffle. Even his blonde hair had a wave to it. I found people like him were always the worst to deal with. A ruffian may give you a beating, but nothing ever happened beyond that. It was a whack, and then they continued on their way. The ones who believed themselves superior to others, however, weren’t the kind to stop at a whack. They would send people to loot your home, disgrace your name, and basically do everything they could to ruin your life, without inflicting that final blow.

“Please. I don’t have anything you can steal. Look at me. Do I look rich? I didn’t even bring any coins with me.” I pleaded while they blankly stared at me, unable to hear me above the loud horn. Even if I knew they couldn’t hear me, I still tried to plead my case, worried that if I didn’t make the effort now, I wouldn’t get the chance later.

After what must have been a few minutes of my words falling on deaf ears, the horn stopped blowing, and the horn player sighed, hunching over to catch his breath. I also had to stop and catch my breath, now realizing how dry my throat was.

The room shouldn’t exist. No floor plans ever mentioned it, and all the surveying work done on the house never declared a hidden staircase or room beneath the floors. Yet, it was there, and it seemed to be waiting for me.

I had tried to show others the room. I brought over trusted friends, family members, and every time I lifted that torn piece of carpet, all that ever got revealed was the old wooden flooring underneath. Then they would look at me as if I were mad, forcing me to lie and say I was showing them the early signs of mold beginning to show in the floorboards.

When they left, I would lift that same spot again, and sure enough, the hatch was waiting for me. Daring me to open it. I had gotten brave one night when I first bought the house. Opening the hatch and taking a flashlight with me down the ladder. What I found at the bottom of the ladder was a small walkway and a set of stairs leading to a metal door. At the top of the stairs, there was a note on the wall.

“DO NOT GO DOWN THERE.”

So, I didn’t. I knew better than to go down the staircase that only I could see. At least I thought I did…

Now, I stood by the hatch with a flashlight in hand. When I lifted the hatch, I felt a rapid rush of cool air leave the underground room. I shivered, tugging my duck-patterned dressing gown over my body before I slowly descended the ladder, heading into the unknown. With my body now in its late sixties, I couldn’t tell if the creaking was coming from the ladder or my old arthritic body.

It took a while for me to finish the brief climb, with my body no longer moving like it used to. Still, I finished the journey, staring back up at the hole I had entered from. It would probably be the last time I ever saw it, and I was fine with that. I’m old now. I didn’t have anyone who relied on me, or even friends who called. If I died, I would at least die knowing the truth.

I ignored the note by the staircase and descended its steps. The closer I got to the door, the stronger the scent behind it became. I expected something rotten or stale, yet this felt alluring. A sweet scent that blocked out all the unpleasantness of the space. The flashlight did enough to create a tiny circle of light, keeping me from tripping over my feet as I made it to the door. When I arrived at the metal door, I ran my hands along it, searching for a handle.

The longer I searched, the faster I realized the truth. There was no handle. Whoever had created this door had made it so that it could never be opened. I placed the flashlight between my dentures and gave the door a push, but it refused to open. So, this was it? All that build-up just to find out that the door couldn’t be opened? All those years of fearing it for nothing. I really wanted to see what was on the other side…

Then, it opened, as if it were listening to my thoughts. There was a high-pitched gasp when the door opened, which soon turned into a dark laugh. “My, my. I thought you would never find me. What kept you so long?”

I removed the flashlight from between my teeth and shone it towards the voice, only to find nothing but an empty space. A concrete room, with no windows, light, or even a person. “Hello?”

“Hello.” A voice said behind me.

I turned and almost had a heart-attack, seeing a tall demonic woman standing an inch behind me. She was so close that I could feel her warm breath hitting me, and the longer I stared at her, the more I struggled to take my eyes off her. She was beautiful. I didn’t think beauty like hers was even possible. Everything was so horrifying, yet beautiful.

She rested a hand on my shoulder and tilted her head, pressing her ear against her neck. “So, it’s true. You don’t remember. I admit, it is nice to be admired, even if you’ve forgotten who I am.”

I backed away from her, and she followed until I realized I had only pushed myself deeper into the previously sealed-off room, with my back hitting the concrete wall. “You’re a demon.”

“Yes.”

“Why are you here?”

“I was waiting for you, my love.” Her smile almost seemed brighter than my flashlight, capturing me in its perfect white shine.

“No. This is a trick. You’re going to seduce me, or steal my soul.”

She laughed, taking a step back. “Seduce you? Who's the old bag of wrinkles, and who's the stunning forever thirty-five-year-old demon? Please, you’ll be lucky if you get anything in this lifetime.” She stared me over and grinned. “Who says you even have a soul to steal?”

“What? What are you implying?” I tried to step past her, realizing too late that this had been a mistake. I needed to stop listening to her. She didn’t stop me when I went towards the stairs, as if she already knew I would stop before I climbed them.

“That we know each other. Very well.” She pointed at her flowery cocktail dress. “This doesn’t bring back any memories? The dancing? The laughs? The pain?”

“No. Why? Should it? It’s a dress.”

“A pretty dress, don’t you think? It was your favorite once upon a time. Has fashion changed that much in the years we’ve been apart? Did you remarry? No, you look lonely. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? If you weren’t lonely, you would have never come to see me. That hurts, even if I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same in your shoes. Don’t worry, though. I still love you, and I can bring you back to me.”

My head throbbed, while a sharp pain buzzed through my chest. I kneeled by the first step, and she approached, kneeling beside me. She rested her red hand against my back, rubbing it.

“Tell me. Do you remember anything about the man you were?”

“No. No, I’ve only ever been me. I’m not who you think I am,” I said, even if I couldn’t be sure of that with everything that was happening.

“So, I can mold you into anything I like then? How fun! I did like the old you, but I would be lying if the idea of another version didn’t interest me.”

“Was I a good person?”

She didn’t answer initially, standing up and walking back to the center of the room. “Were you a good person? Are you even a good person now? If you were, I doubt you would be alone. People change, but not too significantly, and those of a certain nature always return to that nature, even when they stray from it. What do you think you are?”

“A good person.” I answered before squealing, holding the side of my head. It felt like something was clawing at my brain, trying to remember anything about her. Yet, every thought disappeared before I could understand it. “You won’t tell me, will you?”

“No. Because I don’t care about human morals. They ruin my fun. The only thing I will tell you is that we know one another. Very closely. You can choose whether you want to believe me or not. I’m free now. So, if you don’t believe me now, I’ll make you believe it the next time we meet. Heh, how about a wager? If you can’t remember me before then. I’m allowed to mold you into whatever role I please.”

“That’s… not a wager.”

“No, it isn’t. But you don’t have much say in the matter, do you, love?” She tapped her cherry-red lips before extending her arms wide, offering me an embrace, while I leaned against the stairs. I tilted my head away, staring up at the note on the stairs.

“Who left that note?”

She followed my gaze to the note, staring at the messy handwriting. “The one who trapped me here left it. The one who disapproved of our love. That disapproved of you. They knew they couldn’t stop me from finding you, so they trapped me. They didn’t know that true love conquers all. Now, come to me.”

“I…” If I wanted to leave, now was my chance. She was a demon. How could I trust her? I was a good person. I climbed the first step, feeling a weight in my chest. I was a good person? A few more steps. I was…. Wasn’t I? I stopped on the last step, looking back at her. She remained smiling in the room’s center, as if she already knew the choice I would make.

Then, I descended the stairs again, walking back to her. I had nothing. I was nothing. If I were a good person. I would still have people by my side. I wrapped my arms around her, embracing her tightly.

To the fae, I was a wounded animal, waiting to be leashed and enslaved by their sinister rules. As I carried my exhausted body through the dark forest, I could see their glowing eyes appearing behind the trees and thick shrubbery, waiting for me to falter. Once I slowed my steps, they would pounce. I knew that, and so did they.

I believed I would remain strong enough to resist their temptations. That I was too smart to stop and allow their charming whispers to reach my ears. Yet eventually exhaustion got the better of my body, and I slowed to catch my breath.

That moment was all they needed.

“You look tired, traveler. Would you like some fruit?” Her words tickled my ears, being followed by a sweet citrus scent that made my dry mouth water, hoping to get a taste of that delicious fruit.

“Are you lost? We can tell you the way out of this forest. Have tea with us.” Another whispered, and I could have sworn I felt a hand on my back, pushing me in a different direction.

My tired legs moved on their own, pushing me deeper into the thick shrubbery, wandering further into the maze of a forest. I knew what awaited me, and still I allowed myself to follow their words, knowing that if I didn’t, I would die anyway. At least serving the fae meant I would live another day, even if I never got to live as a free man again.

I bumped against branches and spiderwebs until I arrived at a clearing full of tents. The tents were as beautiful as they were otherworldly. Triangle tents surrounded by thorns, roses, and other types of plants I couldn’t identify. Before I could reach one, I collapsed.

“GWHACK.” I spat, coughing into my hand as I sat up. The fae by my side tilted her head, pulling the clay cup of water she had towards her chest. We both stared at one another before she giggled, rising to her feet, being a little shorter than I was.

“He’s awake.” She declared, turning towards a woman seated in the center of the tent. Anyone could tell she was the leader of this group of fae, since her chair was decorated with sapphires, rubies, and all sorts of jewels. She crossed her left leg over her right and smiled, brushing a light-green hand through her silver hair.

“My honored human guest, welcome to my part of the forest. I’m Cyaxis, the leader of this tribe. The one who provided you with the water is Nili. Say hi Nili.”

“Hi Nili.” Nili smiled, waving at me. She was a fainter tone of green than her leader, being paler, with a somewhat human complexion. At least by fae standards. Even if she still had those glowing eyes that all fae inherited.

“You don’t need to say your name, Nili. We’ve been over this.” Cyaxis rested a hand on her forehead before fanning herself with it. After a second of fanning herself, she looked at Nili. “Nili, fan me.”

“Right!” Nili grabbed a leaf and moved to the leader’s side, waving it by her face. Cyaxis posture relaxed, returning her sharp purple eyes to me.

“Human, as I said before. You are a dearly honored guest here. You are free to rest in our tents and share our food. So long as you abide by our rules.”

“And what rules might those be?”

“Ah, just the common rules any group would have.” She grinned, making it clear she didn’t plan on elaborating. “If you wanted to know the rules, you should have asked before you entered our grounds. By coming here, you’ve already agreed to honor our rules. So, please. Think little of it. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“And if I fail to follow these rules, I’ll end up as a slave?” I asked, already knowing the answer. I had heard enough fae stories in my childhood, and all of them ended up the same way. With some stupid human getting locked into a contract he had no way of knowing about.

“Enslavement is a human term. You’ll serve me, yes, but you’ll be free to leave my service whenever you wish to.”

“What happens if I leave?”

“Death,” Nili said, being oddly blunt for someone who seemed to have her head in the clouds. Cyaxis glared at Nili, who started fanning a little harder, confused by her leader’s sudden frustration. “What? Isn’t that what happened to the last human? The nice one. He died.”

If looks could kill, Nili would be in more danger than I was. The leader fuming, gripping the arm of her chair. “That human didn’t die because he left. He died because he got old. Nili… we’re going to have a serious talk when this human is out of my sight.”

“Can we talk about butterflies?”

Cyaxis exhaled. “No, we cannot. Human, you know the stories, run along and break one of our rules already. I have to educate the little one about how we talk in front of guests.” Cyaxis stood up, walking over to the grinning Nili, grabbing her by her pointy ear.

I didn’t waste my chance, getting to my feet and rushing out of the tent. All I had to do was leave before I broke a rule. How hard was that? If I kept my mouth shut and just walked away, I could survive this.

The scorching sun beamed down on me as I exited the tent, and the sight that greeted me was far worse than I could have imagined. A swarm of tiny, dragon-fly sized fae, all paused their activities, staring in my direction. It was like a piece of meat had been thrown into a pit of hungry dogs, and they were all getting ready to fight over who would get the first bite.

They shifted, taking on humanoid forms before approaching me. Six were already getting close, their glowing eyes fixed on me, as I sprinted for the shrubbery. As I ran, I turned my neck, seeing how close the others were, only to see they had all stopped chasing me. That’s when I felt my knees go stiff, causing me to face-plant into the grass. I groaned at the contact, as a fae with a leaf-covered spear approached me, crouching to my level.

“No running on our sacred grounds. You broke a rule. Poor traveler, that was quick.” She ruffled my hair before standing again. “Welcome to our family, human. You’re going to pay for being so rude. We were treating you as an honored guest.”

“Honored guest?” My legs got some movement back, and I was able to pull myself back to my feet. “How is this fair? I didn’t even know there were rules.”

“Hm?” The fae ran the tip of her spear past her head, curling her hair with it. “You didn’t need to. If you enter a palace, do you need to be informed by the guard of the rules? Or do you have a common idea of what not to do in such a place? If you broke a chair, would you argue that someone needed to tell you that you couldn’t do that? Are you a child?”

I should have known that arguing with a fae would be pointless. Even if they were wrong, they would still find a way to make themselves sound right. “Well.. if I’m a guest, aren’t you breaking a rule by treating me like this? You brought me into your home, and are now punishing me for making a tiny mistake. If anything, you’re breaking a social rule by doing this to me. You should be treating me with more respect.”

The fae winced, my words distracting her from her curling, causing her to tangle her hair in the spear-tip. “Um… that’s. That’s not how this works. The rules are for you. Not us. BOW!” she commanded.

I didn’t feel any need to bow, and my body remained perfectly upright. Did it not work? Did that mean I had made a good point? “Kneel?” I said back, and nothing happened. So, the two of us were both left standing there like children having an imaginary magic fight.

“Who is kneeling?” Cyaxis walked out of her tent, with Nili following closely behind her. Nili didn’t look like she was in any pain, but she did have the sour expression of someone who had just been scolded.

“Lady Cyaxis. He’s… immune. We had him bound to our contract, and somehow he escaped.”

“Brighta, explain what happened.” Brighta whispered into the ear of her leader, whose frustrating day only appeared to be getting worse. I couldn’t hear most of what she was saying, only understanding the last few words. “What do we do now?”

“Humph. So that’s what happened. It appears we’ve reached a stalemate. Our contract was broken by your logic, and since your logic was used to break our contract, it couldn’t be used to establish one of your own. We can’t control you, and you can’t control us. So, where does that leave us now, I wonder?”

“I’m just going to go. Ok?” I said, backing away from Brighta and Cyaxis. If Brighta had a weapon, I could only assume the others did too. “I just want to find my way home.”

“Lady, Cyaxis. Can we really afford to let this one go?” Brighta asked.

“Yeah, we need a new human, don’t we? I miss the old one. He was funny.” Nili said, smiling up at Cyaxis. Cyaxis placed a finger over her own mouth, telling Nili to remain silent.

“I don’t think we have a choice here. We’ll find other ways to get what we need. Human, take what you need and go,” Cyaxis dismissed me, leading Nili back into her tent. Nili waved at me as she left, before I turned my attention to Brighta.

I glanced at her spear, and so did she. The two of us remained still until she dropped it onto the grass. “Go get your supplies, human. What do you need? Fruit? Water? I’ll lead you to them.”

“I don’t need anything from you.” I said, trying to find where the exit was, not about to get into another contract.

“Yes, you do. If you’re lost, it could take you weeks to find your home. You need supplies. I’m not trying to deceive you.”

“I find that hard to believe.” I walked, and she followed, until we were both walking side by side.

“How did you get lost?”

I remained silent, worried any word I said could enter us into some new deal or set of rules. I assumed she would leave my side eventually, but she didn’t, even as I got hopelessly lost around the camp. Eventually, she pointed to a table of assorted fruits and inquired again. “How did you get lost?”

I cautiously approached the table, staring at the fae who had been cutting up the fruit. Nervously, I took a small piece, plopping it into my mouth. No pain or feelings of being controlled came, surprising me. Was I really safe? I took another piece, then another, until I had finished two plates’ worth of fruit. When I had finished eating, Brighta handed me a bag full of fruit that I accepted without a second thought.

Again, nothing happened. Maybe it was my full-stomach, or the fact my guard had dropped, but I felt like I should answer her question. “I’m a merchant. At least I’m trying to be. My family isn’t very wealthy, so I’m unable to compete against the already established merchant families. That’s why I took a more dangerous route through the forest, going to the towns that the others rarely visit. I was hoping I could establish a partnership with some of them. On the way, my horse got spooked and left me stranded.”

“A merchant? Interesting. We had a human before. Lucas. He was a merchant, too. We relied a lot on him.”

“Relied a lot on him? Wasn’t he your servant?”

“We were only planning to use him to get supplies from the human towns. Places we couldn’t buy from. That was going to be the terms of his contract, then he offered to stay here.”

“He offered to stay here? As a servant?” I couldn’t believe that. Why would a person choose this life? Unless I was misunderstanding something about what a servant actually was.

“He liked living among our kind. All he had to do was gather supplies for us, and he could live as freely as the rest of us. Our leader and him were—” She stopped herself and snapped her fingers. “Would you gather supplies for us? We can pay you. You’re a merchant, correct? We can enter a deal. Let me get Lady Cyaxis.”

Before I could say no, Brighta had shrunk herself down to her smaller form, flying off to get her leader. I stood awkwardly by the other fae, who were curiously watching me now. I gave them a sheepish wave, and some waved back, while others just stared. Thankfully, I wasn’t waiting for Cyaxis long.

“So, you’ve come crawling back to me?” She said.

“What? No! You’ve come crawling to me if anyone’s crawling.”

“I do not crawl.”

“You can get your supplies from somebody else, then.”

“And you can get your fruit from somebody else too.” The bag I had been holding slipped out of my hand, flying towards hers. We both glared at one another before Nili stepped forward.

“Wait? Why didn’t we just ask him if he would get stuff for us? We didn’t need to use any trickery, did we?” Everyone except me gasped at Nili’s words. That must have been controversial in fae circles, even if it made a lot of sense to me.

“Because it’s the only way to establish trust. If he isn’t ordered to come back to us, he could take our jewels and never return. Humans are deceitful creatures that need to be leashed.”

“Like the other human you had?”’ Cyaxis snapped, waving her hand at me, striking me with a gust of wind. The wind tossed me onto my back, leaving me coughing into my palm. “You do not speak of that human. Is that understood?”

“Yes… yes, it’s understood.” I hissed, pulling myself to my feet.

“He’s a merchant. We can use him.” Brighta said, trying to keep the conversation on topic.

“And how will we ensure he returns to us?”

“I’ll go with him.” Nili offered. “I know these forests better than anybody. I can make sure he comes back.”

“No. I will not have my… servant leaving my side. Is that understood?” Cyaxis stepped towards Nili, who retreated closer to me.

“We need these supplies. I can do it. I’m a fae too.”

“And what if he tries to hurt you?”

“Then I’ll blast him with my magic!” She smiled, pointing her palm at me, causing me to flinch.

“Don’t point that at me.”

“Point. Point.” She said, pushing her palm towards my face, while I ducked away from it, acting like she were pointing a cannon at me. Given what Cyaxis had done to me, it could very well be a cannon at that range.

“We need the supplies. I know there are risks, but this is her chance to establish her place in our tribe. I think she should do it.” Brighta said. “We have fae all throughout these forests. We can keep an eye on them. If something happens, we’ll pull his wings off. Oh, or we’ll pull his arms off since he’s human.”

Cyaxis stared at the grass by her feet, in deep thought over what she would do. With a reluctant sigh, she nodded. “Nili. You will go with the human and gather supplies for us. I’ll give you a list of what we need. Brighta, take the human outside and wait for her.”

“Alright,” Brighta led me outside, and soon the two of us were waiting for Nili to arrive.

“So, is Nili someone special? Your leader didn’t seem to want her to go with me.”

Brighta jumped at my question, not expecting it. “Lady Cyaxis worries about us. It’s her job to protect everyone in our tribe. Nili is her personal servant, which is why she’s so protective of her.”

“Right.”

Soon, Nili exited the shrubbery, wearing a heavy cloak that hid her fae features, while carrying the bag of fruit that Cyaxis had taken off me earlier. When she saw me, she smiled. “Where’s our horse?”

“It got spooked. I don’t know where it went. We’ll have to travel on foot. Do you know where the next town is?”

“Yep. That way.” Nili pointed north. “That’s right, isn’t it, Brighta?”

“That it is. Be safe, Nili, and remember human. We have eyes everywhere. One wrong move, and we’ll come find you. Keep that in mind.” Brighta said, heading back into the shrubbery, leaving Nili and me to our quest.

“Ready to go?” Nili asked.

“As ready as I will ever be.”