Nobody’s helmet stops the bullet, but not the force of it. His head jolts back as he gets blown out of his chair and falls to the ground motionless. I’m on my feet as soon as I see James’ gun and on the guards before they can react. How dare they betray him? I swing my chair into the first guard so hard it explodes into splinters. He flies into the wall, crumpling onto the ground. I take the leg still in my hand and plunge it halfway through the second guard’s chest. They won’t live to regret this. Like a panther on the hunt, I pounce across the room and throw the mahogany desk away from us into the wall. James’ beady little eye goes wide at my display, and he points the revolver at me. I smack the gun away with my full strength and the old man’s wrist snaps. It hangs loosely by slivers of skin, with what remains of his ulna and radius poking out and blood gushing from it.

“ARRGH. FUCK. FUCK, fuck. Alright, boy, I fucked up. Why don’t you come work for me? We’ve always got a place for a man of your talents,” James said shakily.

“Do you know the difference between pride and arrogance? It’s capability. And the man I choose to follow is extremely capable.” I pick him up by his head, cradling both sides of his face in my hands. He struggles as I exert force on his head, and I wipe sweat from his forehead with my thumb. “He’s not a good man, but neither am I,” I said, pulping his head like a watermelon.

His old bones offer as much resistance as paper mache, and I’m covered in what remains of James O’Rourke’s head. It’s what he would want me to do. Nobody’s image must be protected. Insulting my loyalty is a death sentence. Crouching down next to the guard who I hit with the chair, I grab the knife in my boot and jam it into his eye, through his skull, and into the wall. I need to control my strength more. Nobody’s chest is rising, so he’s unconscious, not dead. Vivienne would kill me if I let the boss die. He needs body armor or Hyperweave. He’d be dead if James had aimed at his chest. I move the desk to block the door before I look through the guards' pockets. I add the cash to our duffel bag before contacting Rorschach.

“You there, Rorschach?” I asked.

“Yes, what is the situation? I don’t have eyes on the room,” she said.

“Boss is taking a bit of a siesta, and I just killed the O’Rourke patriarch, so I’d say pretty well,” I joked.

“What the fuck happened? Nobody said diplomacy and anonymity. How on earth did you guys fuck that up?” She yelled into my ear.

“The O’Rourke guy tried to extort the boss, and that went about as well as you can imagine. A lot of back and forth, yadda yadda, and then he pulled out a gun and shot Nobody in the head. He’s fine as far as I can tell, but his helmet sucks at dissipating force. This could become a repeat problem; we need to get protective gear for the group. We’re not small potatoes anymore. We will have to find a way to get in touch with the Merchants; I’m sure there’s a cell in Quinstin,” I said.

Every major city with a Cape and Cowl presence has a cell of the Merchants. Loosely considered a Cowl group due to their neutrality regarding Capes and Cowls, they are the one-stop shop for acquiring items the public doesn’t even know exist. The Silk Road meets Anonymous crossed with Amazon. Nothing is known about its high-ranking members, but everyone knows the group is as elusive as they are widespread.

Veritas somehow had a connection with them, which she carried with her to the grave. We’ll need to find a Broker once we’re set up.

“We can talk about that once you two are out of there. There’s no other exit besides the way you came in. I can cause a distraction for you to escape with him,” Rorschach said.

“Can’t leave until he’s awake. If he’s got a head injury, I don’t want to move him. Besides, I spy a safe that’s begging for release. Think of all the poor money that’s trapped inside,” I responded.

“Safe? Well, get to it, Scaley. Mama needs some cash.”

I have never been the safecracker in a crew, and I don’t know the first thing about it. The safe could have any combination, and there is no way I could guess it. Placing one hand on the handle and the other against the wall, I pull as hard as I can. Despite the look of the room, the walls are solid concrete, and the safe isn’t budging—nothing a little elbow grease can’t solve. I step back and then start punching the wall surrounding the safe. A regular adult man has no problems putting holes in walls, let alone a Neuvohuman like me. Cement, paint chips, and powdered drywall fill the air from my attacks. I eventually excavate enough of the safe’s surroundings to allow me to rip the thing out of the wall. The safe is long, significantly longer than I thought when I saw it. The outer shell of it is thick, and I can’t seem to dent it. What kind of treasure awaits me inside? I lift the safe onto its back and wrap my left arm around it. With my right hand on the handle, I start to pull. The metal holds at first, but I ramp it up a notch until I hear the safe door groaning. I steadily increase my strength as the bolt holding it shut starts to give under my pressured pulling. Finally, I manage to rip the door off the safe, stumbling backward onto my ass. At least no one is around to see that.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

I lob the safe door onto James’ corpse and explore my reward. The inside of the safe is full of valuables. There’s a manilla envelope that I ignore for the time being, tossing it behind me onto the floor. Stacks on stacks of bands of cash fill the inside as well as several gold bricks. I spot a pair of silver wedding bands, a bag of small diamonds, and a cell phone. A secret phone, how scandalous of you, Mr. O’Rourke. I scoop the money and diamonds into the bag. Now’s not the best time to count it, and it’ll be a surprise for Nobody when he wakes up. I turn the phone on and it has a biometric lock.

“For my next trick, I’ll need an assistant,” I said to myself.

“What did you say?” Rorschach asked.

“Nothing, clear the comm line,” I said hastily. I forgot she was in my ear for a second.

I approach James’ headless body. He’s like one of those headless horsemen. What were they called again? A didgeridoo? Nah, that isn’t it. Is it a dhampir? No, that’s a vampire. A Dullahan, that’s the name. They’re even Irish as well. I chuckle at my joke as I grab James’ snapped wrist. One good tug pulls the hand off, and I press the thumb onto the screen. It unlocks the messages screen, and there is only one number saved. Scrolling through the messages, I see that James O’Rourke has someone he answers to. Correction, someone he used to answer to because he’s dead now.

I hear a noise behind me as the boss wakes up. I drop Thing from the Addams family and the phone on the desk as I walk over to Nobody. Slowly, he turns over onto his side and holds his hand to his helmet. Whoever made it did a great job.

“Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey. Just kidding, all we got is three dead Irishmen and a fuckton of money. Man, this continental breakfast sucks,” I said happily.

“Did I get shot?” Nobody asked.

“Yes, thankfully, Mr. Kennedy made sure the top was dropped so I didn’t have to clean you off the floor,” I joked.

He doesn’t respond to me; instead, he walks around the room examining everything. Nobody ignores the safe and zeroes in on the phone. He uses the severed hand to open it without a pause, quickly going over the messages. I give him space to do his thing, letting the boss work. He’s not even asking about all the bodies or even the hand. The last thing he does is open the manilla folder I threw earlier. Inside, there are several large printed photos. He picks three of them and then puts a photo on top of each body. The picture he places where James’ head should be is of a beautiful middle-aged Puerto Rican woman. The ones he puts on top of the guards are of two children who look to be related to the woman. One is of a girl about the age of eight, and the other is a boy younger than five. Who are the photos of?

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“The fact these pictures were inside the safe means they’re important. The fact that the photos are taken without the subject’s knowledge points to either obsession, leverage, or something else sinister. Based on the admittedly small sample size of the late James O’Rourke’s personality, I’m betting these people are related to whoever is calling the shots. People like him cannot abide by being under someone else's control. James believes, believed, he should be running things. The urge to destroy whoever had him under their thumb must have been unbearable. I'm trying to make it look like these pictures are related to the robbery and the murders. It will hopefully cover up our tracks a little bit,” Nobody said. “Has anyone come to check on the situation here?”

“No one has gone down the hall since Mickey left. Wait, something is happening outside. Give me a minute,” Rorschach said into my ear.

“Rorschach said something is happening outside,” I said to Nobody.

“Did she say what?” He asked me.

“Rorschach, report. What’s going on?” I said.

“Sorry, I was ducking out of sight. You two got to get the fuck out of there. A team of Capes just showed up: five younger-looking Capes and a chaperone. It must be a probationary Heroes’ Union squad. Fully costumed, and two are flyers, no idea about powers or names,” she reported. “How do you want to proceed?”

----------------------------------------

NOBODY

“Hey boss, a team of Capes just showed up and are surrounding the building. Things are about to get messy,” Isaiah said to me.

“Ask Rorschach if there is a person dressed in a black latex suit and a girl in a hornet helmet,” I responded.

He pauses before relaying my question to her. “She said there is, but how the hell did you know that?”

I tilt my head about forty-five degrees upward toward the power I’m sensing. What the fuck are you doing here, Aubrey?