I walk over to Aubrey and check her pulse. It’s steady, but she is out cold. Her abdomen is burned pretty badly, and she has the same lines on her skin as Froggy. Lee Daeshim didn’t use his full power on her. If he had, she probably would have had a hole in her. As is, she has horrific scarring she’ll live with for the rest of her life. There’s no Liquid Lazarus to save her. You will have a long road to recovery. I hoist her onto my back and begin the long walk back. Her weight on top of my own only makes my body hurt even more than it does. Should I just leave her? No, there’s a chance she survives this, and then I have made an enemy.

I keep checking behind, but Lavagirl lets me walk away without interference or further discussion. Getting back to my truck while carrying Aubrey isn’t an easy time. I have to repeatedly readjust my hold so she doesn’t fall off of me. Once we’re back, I gently put her in the passenger seat, buckle her in, and remove her helmet. Thankfully, hers isn’t too difficult to take off, and I free her head with minimum effort. She’s breathing normally, so she’s just unconscious, not something worse. I need to bring her to a hospital and somehow discreetly leave her there. She’ll have to forgive me after getting me involved in this awful night. But where to drop her off? Should I leave her at St. Augustine or here in Crimton? It’s got to be St. Augustine; she’ll be safer in New Farford with her mom.

Before leaving, I want to steal some of the cash and drugs. Aubrey’s secure and resting, so she won’t mind waiting. My turtleneck looks worse for wear, so I switch it with the blue hoodie I keep in my truck. It’s dirty and beat up; I have it for messy days. I put my thumbs through the holes in the sleeves and remove my helmet, hiding it underneath my shirt. Now, no one should associate me with the masked man from earlier. Hunch my back to appear shorter and keep one arm tucked in the other. Feign a limp and make slight sudden movements every so often. I want to appear suspicious, so I seem less suspicious. It’s better if they think I’m a junkie looking to pick up. Body language is one of the subconscious things we notice about other people. By masking my own, I can become a completely different person.

I limp across the street and back to the scene of the fight. Everything is exactly as I left it. The fires are mostly snuffed out, and the scent of burnt plastic, blood, and gasoline fills my nose. The helmet protected me from the smell. Lee Daeshim’s lifeless body is stuck in the cooled tar like a monument to the massacre. I step carefully around the few remaining fires and blackened body parts. I don’t have a backpack, so I can only take what I can fit in my pockets. There’s still a ton of drugs and cash everywhere. The bricks are probably my best bet. I grab ten bricks and put them into my shirt before tucking my shirt into my pants. That should hopefully prevent any of them from falling out as I move on to the cash. Hundreds are waiting to be taken, and I don’t bother counting them as I stuff my pockets full of crumbled bills. I make sure only to grab the crisp, clean ones. I guess it’s true that the cops don’t involve themselves with the docks. Well, it makes all of this that much easier. I’m covered in contraband when I get back to my truck.

Aubrey looks about the same, and I grab my wallet and keys from their hiding place. I need to drop her off before I do anything. I arrived at the docks with nothing but Aubrey and her lack of a plan. And I am leaving with three new powers, three new personality pieces, ten kilos of cocaine, and several thousand dollars. The ride back to New Farford is silent and peaceful. The cool summer air feels nice and helps me ignore the scent of the docks that cover both of us. The thirty minutes go by quickly, and I’m almost at St. Augustine. I place her helmet back on her; the laws require hospital staff to respect a Cape’s anonymity. I assume they’ll call the BNA, and then maybe Aubrey can use this as a springboard for her to join the Heroes’ Union. They must have trial periods for younger, hopeful Neuvohumans who aren’t ready to be full-fledged Capes. This is the best I can do for her without exposing myself to danger. If she tells anyone about me, I will have to get rid of her.

Despite being a hospital, St. Augustine isn’t all that busy. New Farford is a small rural town in New England and doesn’t have the funding for external cameras. All I have to do is drop her off and then take the long way home. I slow down as I enter the parking lot and put my mask on. Hood up, mask on, and slouching, I lift Aubrey and walk toward the ER entrance. You never know if someone is recording. I take out Aubrey’s phone and keep it on me. I’ll use it to call the hospital and let them know about her. I place her on one of the smoking benches outside and walk back to my truck. Using her phone, I dial the hospital after taking my mask off.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Thank you for calling St. Augustine. If this is a medical emergency, dial one. If not, please hold for more options,’ the automated messenger says.

Pressing one, I wait to be directed. “Hi, what’s the emergency?”

“Hey, uh, I was just driving by, and I think there’s someone unconscious outside the entrance. Think they might be hurt,” I say with a heavy fake accent.

“Hurt? Outside the hospital?” The nurse asks me.

“It was a female, and she looked banged up something fierce. Someone oughta help her.”

I end the call and toss the phone into the nearby bushes. My tires squeal as I race out of the parking lot. I turn the radio on and take the scenic route back to my house, passing Guardian Ave, where the high school is, and taking Westchester Street. Westchester has these sets of oak trees dotting the sidewalk, and they curve out above you and barely let any moonlight in. Maria and I drove down this road after junior prom and discussed our dreams after high school. She wants to become a social worker and help people. Maria wants to become the adult she always needed as a kid—someone who helps people in need.

I waxed romantically about only needing her and a job that keeps me occupied. At least part of it was genuine. The end of the street lightly curves as I go by Richards Park. Maria and I had our first kiss at that park, under a night sky similar to tonight's. I need to end things with her before I end up picking up an emotion that makes it more complicated. Through the lens of any other person, our relationship is incredible and enviable. Completely faithful, we’ve never had any big arguments in the two years we’ve dated. Is there a way to keep our relationship and still fulfill my goals? She can still be an asset, and after everything we’ve been through, I owe it to her to try and make it work. I shelve those thoughts as I pull into my driveway.

I turn the engine off and look up at my house. The lights are off, so I don’t have to talk to Daniel and explain where I’ve been. It’s well past midnight, and my side is flaring again. I’ve mentally drained my reserves, and I still have so much to do before I can sleep. I take off my shoes before entering the house. I don’t know if they have blood on them yet. Carrying in my clothes and mask, I quietly sneak through the house to my room. I shut and lock my door; Daniel believes a teenager deserves privacy. All the money goes onto my desk to be counted later. The bricks and my mask go into an empty duffel bag and then under my bed. I need to find a buyer for those. Cash is more liquid than illegal stimulants. I don’t know anything about prices; I need to do more research. I strip down to look at my clothes; nearly all have blood stains or tears. My shoes are in a similar state. I bring all of it into the shower and turn it on. The steaming hot water runs down my body and over my stuff, leaving a light pink trail down the drain. I strip down, leaving the clothes on the floor of the shower. I scrub and scrub until the threads on the turtleneck start to wear thin. After this, all of these clothes will go into the washing machine to get rid of all traces of DNA, and then I’ll throw them all away. I gently wash my side, careful not to agitate the injury. It doesn’t feel like broken ribs, but I’m not a doctor.

I dry myself off with a towel and walk over to my desk. I’ll count the money now and then hide it somewhere. Uncrumpling the bills and running each one against my desk becomes meditative. Instead of thinking about the night, Maria, or anything else, I distract myself with repetitive motions. One after another, I zen out until I’ve fixed them all. I managed to get a lot more than I thought I did. Three thousand dollars is not a small number. It is a good start for what I plan to do. After I finish counting, I start the research I’ve been neglecting. I open up a browser to delve into the world of Neuvohumans. Hours fade as I hyper-focus on my task, and I only look at my phone once the sun has begun peeking through the shades.

My eyes hurt from staring at the screen, but I’m coming away from this all-nighter enlightened. My ego is not so fragile that I won’t admit that my plans for the future were juvenile. Using my power to create chaos in the hopes of possible excitement was a stupid idea. Now, I better understand the way forward and the plight that plagues Cowls. They lose so often because of the organization of the Heroes’ Union and the BNA. There are small-scale team-ups and crews, but no centralized group of power the way the Capes have the BNA and the board of the H.U. There are a lot of very powerful Cowls, but there’s no unity or structure.

I could provide that. My ability and intellect will allow me to do things correctly. I can run crime like a corporation. Cowls will either join my banner or be devoured and replaced. This world needs a shake-up to the status quo, and through it, I will make my own entertainment and excitement. Controlled chaos can be created to make more people trigger. More trigger events equals more Neuvohumans equals more personality pieces for me to take. I will butcher my way up and down the East Coast if it means I can finally experience emotions. I stand up from the desk and stretch my body out. Swiping up all the cash, I roll it up with a rubber band and put it in the duffel bag. While the framework of my new plan is there, the coming weeks will be busy as I figure out the finer details. My mind is as exhausted as my body is, and my inviting bed beckons. I trod over to it and collapse onto it.