A week. It’s been a week since I gave Isaiah his mission, and still nothing. I didn’t think it would take this long, but that’s probably an effect of how well things have gone for me so far. It doesn’t even bother me now that I got rid of the anhedonia and aggression. Besides my hospitalization, this is the longest I’ve ever gone without doing Cowl-related activities.
I finish my workout, pause my music, and grab my phone to check if there’s an update from Vivienne. This is what my routine has become: just exercise and wait for an update text. I can plan and scheme for the future, but without knowing if Isaiah has succeeded, I'm operating with incomplete information. A lot hinges on him getting the blackmail files from Curtis; it's even more important for my plans than his power is.
Nothing from her. Vivienne is meeting with her gang for the first drop off of the cocaine soon. Being cooped up with Maria isn’t as bad now that I’ve removed Punch’s aggression. The thought of being trapped with her for the next four to six years of my education is an ever-tightening noose. Jean-Luc and Aubrey still aren't talking, and I've been content to leave them be. Their cold war can continue until I’ve graduated from Quinstin for all I care. But without the two of them, I spend nearly every waking moment with Maria.
Now that the cat is out of the bag, Daniel and Maria have been constantly talking about Quinstin. Maria wants to bring her SUV to Quinstin instead of taking a Quickrail. My apartment complex does have parking, but I planned to take advantage of public transportation to get around. Quinstin has round-the-clock bussing, late-night trains, and several rideshare apps to get around everywhere. It will make it even easier to disappear into the city. Reinventing Eryk Blakey will be impossible with her there, but I can’t find a way to rid myself of her without ruining my secret identity or compromising my position. She knows too much for me to dump her without her calling the cops. I don’t have anyone I can trust to kill her. I can’t keep putting this problem off. Sooner or later, I will need to come up with a solution to deal with her. A sudden vibration in my pocket alerts me to a text.
(Vivienne): Hotpants is back. Got everything, including extra stuff. There was a problem.
Explain? :(Eryk)
(Vivienne): Dont wanna say over text. Can we meet?
Swing by whenever. I’m ready. :(Eryk)
(Vivienne): kk be there soon.
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Maria is waiting for me when I get out of the shower. She’s holding my phone in her hand.
“Hey, who is Hotpants? And who the hell is Vivienne?” Maria asked.
She went through my phone. How did she figure out my passcode? I need to flip this on her.
“What are you doing with that? You went through my phone, Maria? How do you even know my passcode? What the fuck?” I said angrily.
“I’m not the one sneaking around. You told me there wasn’t another person. You told me you weren’t cheating, and I believed you,” she said.
Maria isn’t crying; she just looks somewhere between furious and hurt. I don’t recognize the look on her face. It’s actually betrayal. That’s the emotion she’s expressing. I have my hands full with one girl I don’t care about; why would I get another? Every day, I am reminded that romantic relationships are not worth the hassle.
“I’m not cheating on you, and I am getting sick of you constantly accusing me of it. Maria, I have never even been with another woman. My heart beats for only you. Vivienne is a friend, and Hotpants is a nickname she has for someone we know,” I said.
“And why should I believe you? You already lied about Marcus and Davis,” she shot back.
Wait, this could be exactly what I’ve been wanting. If she implodes the relationship, then I should be safe. “I’m not doing this dance again. Either believe or don’t. But if you are going to be constantly suspicious of me, then maybe we shouldn’t be together.”
“Sorry if I don’t immediately take what you tell me at face value, Eryk. You haven’t exactly been a bastion of truth and honesty,” Maria said.
“Don’t, just don’t. I didn’t lie to you; I kept something from you, and I thought we moved on from that,” I said.
“Once a liar, always a liar,” she said.
“I’m going out. Don’t text or call; I won’t be answering. Please don’t be here when I get back,” I said as I grabbed my bag with my mask and gun.
I stomp down the stairs for added effect and slam my front door shut. Vivienne waves to me as I walk up to her car and get in.
“You okay, Nobody? You seem tense,” Vivienne asked.
“Just an argument with my girlfriend. Nothing I can’t handle,” I said dismissively.
“Do you wanna talk about it? I’m someone who routinely self-sabotages every romantic relationship I’ve ever had, so my advice will suck, but I’m pretty good at listening,” Vivienne said.
She’s so genuinely kind that it serves to reaffirm that she’s the only person in my life who is worth effort or care.
“Thank you, Vivienne. I don’t really want to talk about it, but I appreciate the offer,” I said.
“Well, the offer is still there if you change your mind,” Vivienne said.
“Okay. You said in your text that Isaiah had completed his task but that there was a problem. What kind of problem are we talking about?” I asked.
“So he got Curtis and all the blackmail files you wanted. Also, they are all paper, for some reason. But Curtis wasn’t alone, so Isaiah was kind of forced to bring the person back, too. The guy is one of Curtis’ victims,” Vivienne said.
“Depending on the person’s identity, we may be able to use them. I don’t want to commit to anything until I’ve heard all the information,” I said.
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Isaiah is waiting for us in the front half of the base when we arrive. There are two men next to him, bound and with bags over their heads. The man wearing a tailored suit, dress shoes, and several pieces of jewelry is Curtis Drax, while the wiry, lanky man dressed more casually is the unexpected tagalong. Next to the three men is a black five-drawer file cabinet. There lies the prize.
I march forward and place my hand against Curtis’ exposed wrist, beginning to take his power. If he was awake, there was a chance he could use his ability against me. Would it even work, though? If his power actually creates a substance, then it should affect me, but if it’s only simulating those feelings, I might be immune to it, similar to Anna Lee’s power. It isn’t something I’m interested in testing, but I’ll know the answer shortly.
The five minutes finish, and the knowledge floods my brain. Curtis generates a chemical compound that gets absorbed into their bloodstream through their skin. It requires skin-to-skin even to start creating it. It’s four times as addictive as nicotine, but beyond severe withdrawal symptoms, there are no long-term negative side effects at all. It doesn’t kill brain cells or cause heart or brain problems. Curtis is immune to the effects of his power. The high is a full-body euphoric warmth with hallucinogenic visuals similar to mushrooms.
It’s no wonder he was able to use it to become so well-connected and secure. It’s similar to my own in that it isn’t a combat ability but is extremely effective for generating influence, wealth, and nonpersonal power. If I had been given his gift instead of my own, I don’t know if I would have acted differently from him. Now, there is a potent ability locked up inside of me, along with the personality piece of impulsiveness. Is getting bad pieces related to me taking powers from bad people?
“Who’s the stranger?” I asked.
“Gerald Mckinney Jr. He’s the son of a very wealthy investment banker. Like they have fuck you money,” Isaiah answered.
“Okay, we’ll ransom him back to his family. I want to check him for lingering effects of Curtis’ power, so he needs to go for a checkup with Kai. Vivienne, if you don’t mind, please bring him downstairs to Kai and leave him in front of the door. When you’re done, come back up for a debrief in the conference room,” I said.
“Sure. What do you wanna do with this piece of shit?” Vivienne asked, kicking Curtis.
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“Leave him where he is; he won’t be staying with us for long,” I said.
“I got those burner phones you asked me for. I even got a few extras just in case we add any more people,” Isaiah said.
“Excellent. Bring the phones upstairs, and let’s hear about your adventure,” I said.
Isaiah follows behind me up the metal stairs, carrying the file cabinet easily. He looks taller, but that might be my eyes playing tricks on me. He’s put on more muscle mass, at the very least. He’s taking full advantage of the power I gave him. Good.
Isaiah places the cabinet down next to my chair and then takes his seat. I’m above average height, but Isaiah makes me look small. The first person whom the phrase mountain of a man accurately describes.
“How do you feel the mission went?” I asked.
“Besides the tagalong? I’d say it was a complete success,” he replied.
“Why didn’t you kill him?” I asked. Isaiah doesn’t seem like the sentimental type, so there must be a reason why he brought Gerald Jr here.
He pauses to mull over the question. “Killing him brought no benefit to us. It would add unnecessary steps; getting rid of the body but making sure it wasn’t linked to what happened. That meant he had to be taken alive. That leaves with two options. I figured either you could use him for your experiment or you’d find another use for him.”
Vivienne is right about how dangerous he is. Resourceful, intelligent, attractive, and motivated. A man with no moral compass or lines he won’t cross. He’s a soldier with the mind of a general.
“We could indeed use him as a test subject, but I believe his familial ties will prove much more useful. I dislike repeating myself, so let’s wait for V,” I said.
We don’t wait long before Vivienne enters the room.
“Hello, gentlemen. I dropped off those two with the doc. Did Hotpants already do his tell-all? I hope I didn’t miss any juicy details.”
“Ah, you just missed it. You’ll have to wait for my memoir, titled ‘The Struggles Of A Gorgeous God Shackled To A Frumpy Redhead.’ Don’t worry, though. I’ll send you a signed copy. You are, after all, my muse,” Isaiah said.
“Fuck you,” Vivienne said.
“Quiet,” I said, interrupting their banter. “Isaiah, continue.”
“It took me a bit to scope out the place before I made my plan. I did as we discussed and made it look personal. I tore up his mansion, broke things, and started a few fires. I killed Curtis’ men with a variety of guns and made the shots sloppy, so it looked like a group of untrained people. Forensics and evidence will lead investigators to assume a group of six assaulted the compound,” Isaiah said.
“Nothing to tie it back to us or you? When we enter Quinstin, I’d prefer for our organization to be invisible and thus underestimated,” I said.
“Absolutely nothing. Isaiah Jules disappeared sixteen years ago at the age of fifteen. I’m assumed dead, and I like it that way. I was never arrested, so my DNA isn’t in any database. I’m basically a ghost,” Isaiah said.
“Good. Isaiah, you and I are going to take care of Curtis later on. Before that, we all need to go through these files. Sort them into useful or useless for our cause. The major thing I’m looking for is dirt on politicians and for any lawyers that Curtis may have blackmailed,” I said.
“Why just politicians and lawyers? Vivienne asked.
“Political favors are worth more than diamonds and the key to gaining pardons if needed. Our journey to legitimacy requires a lawyer or two. Contracts and filing the necessary paperwork are how our organization will become a company. And when we’re big enough and important enough, it won’t even matter what crimes we may have committed or will commit. The Heroes’ Union may be some infallible symbol of honest justice, but the BNA is under the control of the U.N., and the United Nations is powered by bureaucracy. And bureaucracy is nothing more than a product that can be bought and sold,” I said.
The two of them stare at me. I didn’t say anything odd, did I? Have I changed without my noticing? Isaiah laughs, and Vivienne follows right with him.
“What?” I asked.
“Sorry, you just sounded like a supervillain from a movie,” Isaiah said.
“If Nobody is a supervillain, then that makes me his loyal lieutenant,” Vivienne joked, holding her finger under her nose like a mustache. “You, Goon number two, I demand tribute in the form of gold bricks and beautiful women,” she said, pointing at Isaiah.
“Goon number two? Why the fuck am I below Kai?” Isaiah asked.
“It’s pretty obvious that I’m significantly above the title of goon, and Kai doesn’t backtalk me, so he gets to be first. And with you being our least valuable member, that leaves you as the bottom bitch,” she replied.
“Okay. No, that makes sense. Just a few notes, though. Least valuable? I piss excellence and work as hard as I fuck. And I fuck hard. You’re less of a lieutenant; you’re more like comic relief,” Isaiah snapped back.
“Yes, both of your metaphorical dicks are quite large. Let’s save the jokes for after the meeting,” I interrupted.
Clearly, the theatrics got the better of me. I’m aiming for inspirational, not maniacal. It’s unfortunate that I still derive nothing from the witty exchanges and friendly but pointed barbs. I need more pieces and more lambs to devour, then, maybe I’ll get a sense of humor at some point. I care about Vivienne, and Isaiah and I share a similar mindset. In time, Isaiah could become someone for whom I have affection. All of that is in the future. Right now, in the present, I have research to do.
“The cabinet is locked. Do you have the key, Isaiah?” I asked.
Isaiah walks over to the cabinet, holds it down with one hand, and rips it open with the other. Each drawer is filled with green folders earmarked with a name. Some folders are filled to the point of bursting, and others have only a single piece of paper. I get the idea, in principle, of having only physical copies of your blackmail. A filing cabinet can’t be hacked. It’s pitiful how Curtis Drax’s scheming, blackmailing, and all other criminal activities amount to nothing more than a single piece of office furniture. I refuse to fade away without leaving a mark, a lasting impression. Each of us takes a stack of folders, and we get to work going through them.
Curtis Drax was a nobody—a slimy worm masquerading as a snake until a basilisk swallowed him. His cabinet, though, is a work of art. Perfectly organized, each file says what he has on a person, how he got it, what the blackmail gets him, and a record of whether he’s extorted them. Treating people like transactions, reducing them to nothing more than numbers, is something I do.
The first folder is small, a hit-and-run from the mayor of some podunk town. Nope. The next is a congressman’s adultery. Nope, affairs aren’t enough to get someone to be complicit in what we’ll do. A police chief taking bribes in Breeton is closer to what I’m looking for, but still not enough. I need the juicier stuff, the murders, and worse offenses. I continue to leaf through documents, quickly scanning their contents and then going to the next. It’s well over an hour before I find the first file that interests me.
Claire Rothsford, the mayor of Quinstin’s daughter, tried to take her own life. Interesting. Her father hushed it all up due to shame. Gerald Rothsford is a moderate progressive focused on targeting the issues that create crime, like food scarcity, affordable housing, and proper mental health resources. This paints a different picture. People think he’s aiming for a higher office, and this could derail that. His daughter is going to the same university as me; I can use this, not now, but once we’re in Quinstin. Vivienne interrupts my musings to say she found a possible lawyer.
“Unless I'm missing something major, I think I found our guy, Nobody. Nicholas Holmes. He recently became a junior partner at his firm, but he has some vices he's keeping secret: prostitutes, coke, pills, and gambling. The lawyer guy doesn’t even know about Curtis, so we can still use this,” Vivienne said, handing the file over to Isaiah.
“She's right. This guy is perfect. We can buy out his debt from his bookie, and we could use V’s gang to take care of his pharmaceutical needs,” Isaiah said, sliding the file to me.
I flip through Nicholas Holmes’ file. He works at Dacross and Moonie as their youngest-ever junior partner, excels in contract work for companies, and is single. He lives alone in a penthouse loft in Quinstin. Nicholas seems like a notoriously hard worker who's one of the first to come in and the last to leave. He does seem to be precisely what I've been looking for.
“Alright. Isaiah, you and I are going to handle Curtis while Vivienne handles her drop-off. After that, the three of us are going to pay a visit to Mr. Holmes. We’re going to keep Gerald Jr here until Kai says there aren’t any lingering effects from Curtis. Then we’ll return him to his family in exchange for a favor. Any questions?” I said.
Neither of them says anything, and Vivienne exits, leaving Isaiah and me alone again.
“I trust you, Nobody, so don’t tell me if you don’t want to, but I’m curious. What is your plan for Curtis?” Isaiah asked.
Is there a problem with telling him the truth? Is he loyal enough to stick by me when he finds out what I have planned? There shouldn’t be any harm in telling him the actual plan.
“There have been no reports about my vigilante. So we’re going to give them another body to show them that the previous body wasn’t a one-off. That they’re dealing with a serial killer,” I answered.
“What’s the end goal of doing all of this?” Isaiah asked.
“Vivienne and I hunted down a woman in Fairboro who had been using her Neuvohuman ability to get away with hurting children for years. Her ability made it impossible for any conviction to stick as it was a passive, unavoidable power. I killed her and wrote a message in her blood with her hand. People like her, like Curtis, are a blight that avoids capture. I’m using them and other Neuvohumans like them to stoke the fires of tensions between Neuvohumans and regular people,” I said.
“And this regular person is your serial killer vigilante, obviously.”
“For now, that person is us. That is until I find or craft a regular person into a symbol to show that not having powers doesn’t make them powerless. I’m aiming for a war, Isaiah, an utterly violent, destructive battle across our country. All of this will cause a spike in trigger events, giving me more powers to take and redistribute where I see fit. I will control who gets powers and who doesn’t. This will put me in a position of unparalleled power. My end goal is to be remembered forever.”
Isaiah looks at me, eyes sharp as he digests my words. Have I misjudged his loyalty? If he decides to kill me, there’s nothing I can do to stop him. What I’m planning will be considered an atrocity. Isaiah may be a Cowl, but some would argue he has a responsibility to the world to stop me here and now. He smiles genuinely and nods his head.
“You’re really living up to the supervillain image. Don’t worry, I’m not like Vivienne; I won’t shy away from the bloodshed and all the fucked up shit,” he said.
“Do not do that. Do not disparage her to make yourself look better. Vivienne is strong, capable, and trustworthy. And I will never have to doubt her loyalty.”
I’m leaving the obvious comparison about Isaiah’s loyalty unspoken. I will not have infighting or backstabbing amongst our group. It's better to nip this in the bud now and make sure he understands what I think of his blatant politicking. A reprimand that causes my roots to further dig into him. The personality piece makes him inherently loyal to me, but further manipulation doesn’t hurt. This should make him even more eager to prove his loyalty.
“You two are two sides of a coin. You both operate in different circles. I don’t want cookie-cutter people by my side. What we need is specialists who excel at their jobs. And just because you’re the one I send to do the messy work doesn’t mean you’re less or more important than anyone else here. Don’t underestimate her; it would be a mistake on your part. The two of you seem to get along well and will continue to as long as you don’t break her one rule,” I said.
He takes the lecture well, nodding after I finish. “I understand. And I’m fine being your man in the shad; I do my best work in the dark.” Isaiah grinned.
“Good, let's go grab Mr. Drax and get the ball rolling,” I said.
We exit the base, with Isaiah carrying the bound Curtis over his shoulders. Isaiah drives a maroon Mustang complete with tinted windows and a singular black stripe down the middle of the hood. He stuffs Curtis into the trunk, and I get in on the passenger side. It’s late enough that nobody should notice my helmet.
“Where are we going?” Isaiah asked.
“Somewhere public, somewhere that will attract attention. I’ve checked press statements and police conferences and no one has mentioned the message I left at the scene of the murder. She was reported dead, but none of her crimes were exposed. My guess is that someone is keeping it under wraps, either police or local government. There was plenty of evidence of her crimes in her house, and they’re most likely hiding it so that they aren’t held accountable for their incompetence. Wherever we drop Mr. Drax has to be somewhere that cannot be ignored or brushed under the rug,” I said.
“What about the Bringsley Mall in Shrewster? Second largest city in the state, with plenty of Cape and Cowl presence, and the police aren’t as corrupt as they are in Crimton. We could break into the mall and kill him there, leaving his body to be discovered by either shoppers, employees or guards come morning. It’s also far enough away from both here and Fairboro that it’ll help confuse authorities even more. We could be there in an hour and some change,” Isaiah said.
I pause to mull over his suggestion. It’s an excellent plan, but he isn’t Vivienne. He does not need constant praise. Nobody should never seem too eager. As the leader of this operation, I need to appear thoughtful and deliberate.
“That should work fine for what we need. Are you armed in case we run into any problems?” I asked.
“I’m strapped and always ready for war. I am prepared in case shit pops off,” Isaiah said as we started driving.