Underneath the night sky, the pair of us were only illuminated by a couple of tall lamps in Roxy’s garden. I stared at the super. Partly because I was just recovering from the brink of death, and was trying to determine if my internal organs had patched themselves up solely by judging the frequency of pulsing dull pains in my core… but also because her asking me to a party was perhaps the worst thing that had happened to me all day.

[Absolutely not.]

“Don’t be a dick! I said hear me out first. You think I want to be there? Superheroes are fucking douchebags.” She crossed her arms and scowled at me - perhaps inviting me to weigh in on that. No, too easy.

[Is it not your party?]

“Yeah, but… League is forcing it.” The super deflated in her chair and turned her scowl to the equally unflinching sky. “Mandatory team-building or some shit.”

I stared at the woman for a handful of silent seconds. She was ever eager to push the boundaries of our cordial neighbor relationship. I was still yet to fully understand why she had moved here and felt the need to befriend me. Her prior answers ticked some boxes, but still left me unsatisfied. Like eating cardboard… I assumed. She did not budge in her decision to treat me as if I were a regular person and not a dirty murder machine. It was uncomfortable for reasons I was too tired to ponder over.

[Do they always treat you like a toddler?]

She exhaled through her nose and thought about the response rather than blurting something out immediately. “I’m just chaotic and don’t gel well with their culture of order. They are doing this for my benefit, I’m just… being thick headed about it.”

I nodded along, which was more painful than it should be. My body had mostly frozen up, but the nanites had held my seams together well enough that I shouldn’t bleed to death all over her lent deckchair. These new nutritional cannisters were something else - normally a fresh one would put me to sleep when I was injured.

It was telling that she still danced to their tune despite the disdain for it. Sometimes a super that didn’t fit the mold eventually broke free, and either became a villain or… well, I’m sure there was a nuanced third option - a little outside my purview, however. It seemed as though I was getting a crash course in the hero and villain dynamic within the city, where previously I avoided it like the plague.

[Not seeing why I have to be dragged into this.]

Roxy tilted her head back to me and grimaced - which could just be due to the state I was in. “This is sad, but you’re like my second closest friend in the city.”

[That is very sad, I agree. I barely tolerate you and find you not only irritating but most likely a danger to my continued existence.]

“Right? So you’ll come bail me out?”

[No.]

“Please, Dubs? I’ll make it worth your while~.” She wagged the bottle towards me.

The sing-song voice didn’t do much to sway me. There were very few things I wanted in life, and I wasn’t sure any of them were worth sitting around trying to make small talk with a group of stuck up superheros. Even thinking that situation out in my head was sending alarm bells ringing. Still, she had the curiosity of my slurry-adjacent brain.

[What could you possibly offer me?]

She clucked her tongue and gave me a wide grin. “See, you’re a fool if you don’t think I know exactly what revs your engine, Dubs. The one friend I have in this shithole is a gal named Clara. She works in the tech and robotics division of the League.” The super wagged her eyebrows. “You know what that means? She’ll give you a once-over and see if there are any upgrades we can get you on the sly.”

Roxy then paused and waited for my reaction. I didn’t really have the energy to give her anything more than a blank stare. I did need upgrades - that was the terrible thing. The tech that the League would have access to was a few stages better than whatever I'd be able to scavenge or get on the dubious marketplaces. Boss was hit or miss with plying me with what he could get, so I was starting to take this sort of thing into my own hands. Hand. I did need upgrades.

But enough to go to a party?

[She has experience with V-Force tech? And… why is it that you want to help me in such a manner? I am a murderer.]

“Everything from E-Class up to A-Class at the moment.” She nodded. “Perhaps I don’t like my neighbor turning up looking like roadkill on the regular?” Her hand gestured up and down my mutilated form. “Hopefully you don’t run into any more villains, but until we get some defenses up out here, I don’t want you getting fucked over because of your association with me. I'm sure your job is difficult enough without fucking villains turning up at your home.”

Glossing over the fact I was only associated with her because she moved in next door and now was trying to involve me with more supers… she had a point. A very small point, like the tip of a needle. Uncomfortable enough that I couldn’t settle on the straightforward response I’d normally care to give. How far would I go for upgrades? Devious.

[Unfortunately I already ran into a villain today during work.]

“That’s what happened to you? Fuck me, Dubs. But you escaped?”

[Killed them.]

She whistled. “Shit. Wow. Your condition makes a lot of sense then. Killed a villain again, though? Once is like a fluke. You’d get your dick sucked by the League and your fifteen minutes of fame… two is the start of a dangerous habit.” Roxy shook her head, trying to get the disbelief away. “You catch a name?”

[No. Smarmy asshole with a white striped uniform that looked like chain-mail. Eye mask and blue sword.]

Her face contorted its way through several emotions before she settled on putting her head in her free hand. “You killed Skyblade. Fucking… ugh. What am I going to do with you?”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

[Move far away and leave me in peace?]

“You wish, you asshole.” She raised her head back away from her hand to scowl at me. “He is part of the Unwritten Tome criminal organization. If they find out that you did it…”

[They won’t. I left no evidence of me being there behind.]

Quite possibly the boldest lie I ever told. Despite my award-winning poker face, the super just shook her head in response. If you ignored the blood, handprints, and shotgun shells - I had been a shadow in the night.

“This is what I mean - you could do with having some hero friends to bail you out of this kinda shit.” She sighed again. “Do I have to use the shrapnel remover to scold you?”

[I could take it.]

My usual grip of what left my brain and went through my vocalizer has weakened due to my brush with death and the amount of drugs circling my system. She gave me a look that bordered on concern and confusion, while I recoiled away in embarrassment. Or would, if I were capable of moving at all. In some ways, I was a prisoner here. Hostage to socializing with her. A mistake that I had made to allow her to help me rather than doing it myself and collapsing onto my mattress for the rest of my life.

“Back to the task at hand,” she started, slowly, “there’s going to be three other supers there, plus Clara. They’re all pretty mid tier like me, so you shouldn’t be crushed under the weight of their egos… but apparently they’re the dipshit peers I’m meant to be chummy with.”

I managed a short nod. Part of me wondered if I’d be doomed to talk to Roxy until the sun came up - strangely, I didn’t feel like sleeping despite my body being unresponsive. Wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing yet. Maybe this was something I couldn’t recover from. Pushed my luck too far. Time to retire to my kill room forever.

[Assuming the bribe of potential upgrades takes me away from most of the need to socialize, I still fail to see how you plan to explain my presence.]

“Damn. I was hoping to spring it on you on the day so that you couldn’t escape it.” She grimaced and fiddled with her bottle. “I was going to introduce you as… my potential sidekick.”

It was at this point I would have stood and stormed off. Instead, I remained laying half-propped up on the deckchair and my pained stomach convulsed with muscle spasms. Perfect. Instead, my silence spoke volumes - as I didn't particularly care to use the number of swear words her idea warranted.

“Come on! It’s just a little white lie… a provisional sidekick doesn’t need any paperwork, so the League won’t even hear about it.”

I rolled my eyes. As I was employed as a private assassin and hitman, being around superheroes and pretending to be the understudy of Rockslide was something beyond the pale. My eyes went back over to her and she just looked as though she was trying to convince herself that it was a good idea about as much as she was trying to convert me to the proposition.

She hadn’t touched her beer since I arrived back home. Most likely this was due to how important to her the conversation was. Jumping when the League said to was part of her job—and thus way of life—so I could understand her point of view. Not too dissimilar to my own situation, despite how often I tried to convince myself otherwise. She seemed earnest about being a hero, and although she was rough around the edges, she wasn’t a bad person. Ignoring her acceptance and dismissal of my vocation, of course. A sigh escaped from my filters.

[All I can promise is that I will think it over. Give me a day.]

“Acceptable. I mean, you’re beat to shit right now. It’s a miracle that you’re alive, let alone lucid.”

[I am ready and willing to believe that this has been nothing but a fever dream that will fade from my memory come morning.]

She smiled and leaned back in her chair to look up at the few stars that could be made out between roving clouds. “I sure hope not. Feel sorry for you, though. How long without being able to talk and now you have to put up with me all the time?”

I did not reply, but managed to turn my head so that I could look at the same stars. An exhaustion finally swept over my body. One of the most tiring days of this life, all things told. Still no closer to understanding the woman only a few feet away from me. She had helped me in a time of need, and while that didn’t pave the way for me to jump into the lion’s den, I couldn’t ignore the effort.

[Roxy, I appreciate your assistance tonight. There is one last thing I would like to ask of you.]

“Of course, Dubs.” She glanced over and gave me a soft smile. “Name it and I’ll tell you the cost.”

[I yearn to sleep, yet I cannot move.]

“You’re really craving that grubby mattress on the floor?” She shook her head and sighed. “I’ll not nag your dumb ass because you are an adult. If you want to live that way, then whatever. Just because you’re a heartless killer doesn’t mean you have to scrape by with less than the minimum. Let me put your gadgets away, then I’ll help, okay?”

I went to thank her, but thoughts caught on my figurative tongue. Maybe the cost was the disdain shared over my home setup. Judgement wasn’t something I often had to contend with - and as much as she was saying that she accepted my choices, there was clearly some contempt for the way that I existed during the time I was off the clock.

Could I get a proper bed?

Sure. But it would get dirty immediately every time I collapsed onto it, bloodied and beaten. Then I’d have to get a washer and start changing my clothing regularly. Bathe. Before you knew it, I’d be living a disgusting juxtaposition of a normal man by day and redeemless murderer at night.

It felt wrong.

I shook these thoughts away as she returned. Didn’t take much for her to lift me up to her shoulder and assist me. She was a strength super, after all. Could probably princess carry me across the threshold, if I didn’t mind breaking my head across the door frame. Sounded like I needed that. The cranial damage, I meant. Note to self: do not overdose on stims again. Thankful at least I had the wherewithal to keep these sloppy thoughts inside my head, I diverted to a different question that had a more acceptable form to it.

[Are you stronger than Skyblade was?]

“Why do you ask?”

My lense had been assuring me that Roxy was no threat, which made sense. It only cared to do the job when something was actively trying to harm me. Made it more comparative than a simple power level.

[It will help me gauge how much in need of having powerful allies I am.]

A small fib, but made it sound like the information would help me determine how much closer I was to accepting her party invitation. On a scale of zero. That's it. The scale didn't even have numbers.

“I could have taken him. He was on the lower rungs of the Tome bunch. Although I'm resilient, I can’t absorb empowered cuts from a weapon like his - so he’d hurt me - but I’d look a lot better than you do, bud.”

Any further desire to dig into the numbers fizzled away as she got me into my house and over to the bed. Familiar place of comfort had my muscle memory ready to pass out within seconds. She kneeled down and allowed my spent form to flop unceremoniously onto the decrepit mattress.

[Thank you, I owe you one.]

Regretted saying that immediately.

“You’d do the same for me if I were hurt, right?” She lingered near the doorway, awaiting my answer.

[It… is likely.]

“Rest well, Dubs. I left my number on the floor there. About time we had contact details… for emergencies, right?” She started to close the door. “Message if you have any complications, otherwise I’ll see you when you’re recovered?”

[You will.]

The door clicked shut, and I listened to her walk away, only pausing to retrieve her deckchairs. I felt somewhat foolish in needing her help, but it wasn’t exactly a normal evening. Even without her arriving here the other day, I would still have had the same contract and maybe have been even less prepared for going up against someone with super powers.

The Sanguine ammunition had been a lifesaver in being able to pierce the usual defenses that they had. Down to two shots, I had a feeling I’d need more soon enough if possible. Something to ask Boss when I had more senses put together in my jumbled mind. I should at least let him know I’d done my job.

[Message Boss. Contract complete. Send.]

He could get the full debriefing tomorrow, or at least whenever I resumed existing in this reality. With awkward positioning, and a lot of pain, I managed to jostle the vocalizer out of position to pitch me back into a life of muteness.

Withdrawal would hit in less than twelve hours, and I’d be spending most of the day screaming or babbling hysterics. Didn’t want to disturb the neighbor.