3.3

“Supers rarely go into detail about their powers. There are often entire forums dedicated to denizens of the internet trying to play detective for their favorite superhero.

Just as often as they pop up, they are usually shut down. The workings of an individual’s powers are apparently a matter of national security.

It’s difficult to understand why until you have one of your own. This power I’ve been given — it is not simple, and perhaps more importantly, it is not kind.”

— Vincent Hall, Encoded Notebook; Section 2, page 17

Vincent’s notebook is… sporadic, to say the least. After a little experimenting, in which I discover that he did in fact intend there to be a dash, I manage to start successfully decoding the notebook.

As much information is densely packed into it, though, it isn’t a practical record, not really.

It’s more like a journal.

I’m finding it difficult to even open. The thing sits in my pocket like a hot coal, a thing of such extreme potency that even looking at it causes my vision to swim and my throat to close up.

I figure the best way to deal with it is exposure therapy, which is why I’m sitting on Mikey’s porch staring at the thing right now.

Strange that such a small object can hold so much contempt for me specifically.

“You done brooding?” I hear Chloe’s voice from beside me.

We’ve sealed the house, and I asked Mikey very nicely to gather any distributors currently working for him here in about an hour. They should be arriving any minute now.

“Am I brooding? Is this what brooding is?”

“Yeah, you’ve got the scary aura and everything. What’s so bad about that little book that you gotta vaporize it with your eyes?” She comments, leaning against the doorframe.

“The bad part,” I mutter, “is that I have to open it.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Usually that’s the easy part.”

I sigh. “How much do you know about Faust?”

Chloe shrugs. “Not much. Creepy-lookin’, but the whole demon thing goes kind of hard. Seemed to like you well enough.”

“I knew him before he… got his powers. He’s been journaling,” I explain.

“…He wanted me to know whatever is in this book.”

Chloe pauses, and I look over to her.

Her face is a mask. I’m beginning to think she’s good at that.

“You must have meant a lot to him.”

I turn back to the book, resting gently in my hands.

“Yeah.”

We share a beat of silence. The city isn’t loud downtown, but creaking buildings and skittering pests make for sufficient background noise.

It’s windy out. Colder than usual.

Abruptly, I spot two women walking along the sidewalk closest to the house. They don’t stand out more than anyone else, but anyone walking the streets of downtown is often subject to scrutiny.

The taller woman is older, with competent makeup and a style that seems like it wants to be professional, but got strangled before it could get there. Her expression is apathetic, but I can sense a hint of calculation as her gaze sweeps towards the porch I’ve made my temporary residence.

Ava. Weirdly, I kind of missed her.

The girl next to her wears a hoodie and jeans. Her hair is a messy black, and her bangs hang low enough to cover her eyes.

…Do I know her?

I stash the notebook. Best to ditch the intimidation factor at this point. I push up my glasses and put on a smile, making sure to keep my mouth closed.

“Yo! Long time no see!”

Ava stops in front of the porch. The other girl goes to climb the stairs, and Ava catches her arm.

She sighs. “Listen. I don’t know you. Is this a sting, or are we under new management?”

“Dude,” Chloe starts, leaning over to dramatically whisper in my ear. “She fucking got your ass, man. Legitimately, it’s so over for you.”

“Ugh,” I huff, rolling my eyes and batting her away. “Silence, minion.”

I turn back to Ava, and point a finger in her direction.

“You’re under new management. Her too, if she distributes here.”

Ava, looking a little disgruntled, tips her head. “Yeah? Whose?”

“Mine.”

“…And you are?”

I stand from the modest bench next to the entrance, and nod towards the door.

“Why don’t we continue this inside? Don’t really wanna say it more than once.”

Ava looks hesitant. I can see her scanning my face, even if I’m not certain what it is she’s looking for.

The other girl looks a little nervous. And, actually, now that I’m thinking about it, she seems more than a little familiar. I think I actually have seen her before. Where…?

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Oh come on, don’t just stand around in the cold! We don’t bite, promise!” Chloe announces.

Ava seems to deflate. “Supers,” she mutters, stomping up the porch stairs and marching inside. “You’re all fucking crazy. Can’t catch a break in this damn city.”

The smaller girl trails along behind her, and I really should remember her name — when did I meet her? Maybe it was —

Oh. I barely manage to resist blurting out her name.

Sarah, right? I think I met her during a… drug run. Out in the residential plaza.

Seeing her here puts a foul taste in my mouth, one that isn’t entirely foreign.

We file in after them, Chloe graciously closing the door behind me, and settle into Mikey’s living room.

Gordon stands in the corner next to a window with the curtains drawn, keeping a close eye on Mikey, who has taken to pouting. I haven’t asked him too, it seems more like something he does on instinct.

Ava takes her place in the plush armchair, and Sarah stands awkwardly to the side.

I tilt my head as Chloe flops backwards onto the couch with a thump.

“You don’t wanna sit?”

“No, I just — anywhere? I, um —“

“Anywhere’s fine,” I reply, struggling not to sigh. I think I might have to reset the vibe a little.

"Look. All of you are free to walk out that door anytime you want. After,” I specify before any of them can bolt, “you hear the pitch.”

Ava fishes a cigarette box from her coat and starts to light up.

“Really.”

She huffs. “Whatever. Spit it out so we can all go home.”

“Fine. How many of you like working for Cook?” I start. No one raises a hand, as expected.

“Alright. How many of you like being dependent on his product?”

Again, no one responds. I take this as a good sign.

I nod. “What if I told you I could solve both of these problems?”

“I’d call you a liar,” Ava comments.

“Okay, fair,” I wince. “But I’m willing to put my money where my mouth is.”

A breath. I feel like I should be worried about this, but the USMC has all the details already.

“I have a biokinetic power. Right now, if you allow me, I’ll heal anything you want, including any foreign substances or addictions.”

I cross my arms. “I’ll do this regardless of your final decision. But, if you’re willing to help me, I might be able to do the same thing for other people in the city.”

“Cook’s a super, too. Are you sure you can completely detox a powered chemical?” Gordon points out. He’s cooled down since our earlier confrontation, but I can tell he’s not quite convinced.

I decide to be honest. “I can’t guarantee there won’t be complications, or lingering effects. What I can tell you, is that I performed this process on myself, and haven’t noted any adverse reactions.”

“I’ll also say that I’m confident in my power’s ability to react to any unforeseen situations.”

“You would be,” Ava mutters. “How do we even know you’re telling the truth? What, we just have to take your word for it? If your power’s as adaptive as you think it is, you could be doing anything to us.”

For a moment, I consider revealing my identity. She still doesn’t know who I am, which I think is part of why she’s using such a hostile approach.

I don’t think it would be appropriate. I’ll let her know later.

“You’re just gonna have to trust me. I don’t have any reason to do anything harmful to you.”

She rolls her eyes. I huff.

“Look at it this way. I need someone with strong connections to Cook’s distribution cells so that I can pull this — any of this, whatever you want to believe it is — off. I need your cooperation, and short term it would make sense for me to follow through on that.”

“Trust me now,” I finish, adjusting my glasses, “and I’ll prove to you that I’m on your side.”

“A detox would be nice, but —“

Sarah starts to speak, but cuts herself off when I turn to acknowledge her.

“But,” she forces out, “the gang wouldn’t… take that well. I don’t have the money to switch cities — I don’t think any of us do.”

I nod. “I’m not saying something like this wouldn’t be dangerous. I am saying that I’ll do everything in my power to protect you. And so will Clockwerk,” I comment, nodding to the girl face-down on the couch.

I hear a grunt that I hope is affirmative.

“So. What do you think?”

There’s a stretch of silence. And then, Gordon lets out a sigh.

“Fine, fine. Get it over with.”

“Perfect,” I say, walking over to sit him down on the couch. Chloe is mercilessly pushed off the edge.

“Does Mikey have snacks around here? This might take a while.” I extend my wrist and activate my power, protruding a thin needle of bone.

“It’ll hurt for just a little,” I mutter. I position the needle over his wrist, steady my hand, and plunge it in, trying to ignore Gordon’s shaking and occasional sharp hiss of breath.

Gordon’s body is deteriorating. Not in a life-threatening sense, or at least an immediate one, but the wear and tear of daily life, as well as whatever obscure compound Cook has created, obviously takes a toll on his body. A general lack of fitness, brain damage from substance abuse, and a notable nutrition deficiency make themselves known as soon as I activate my power.

A lot of precise work, but thankfully the majority of this is something my power can handle for me. First of all, though, I take to disconnecting his nerves from the forearm down, to numb the pain.

Through the dull, semi-sense I get while using my power, I can tell Gordon’s stopped squirming as much.

That’s probably a good sign.

It’s not going to be difficult to repair Gordon’s physical health and fitness, as well as repair any lasting internal injuries. What is going to be difficult is the brain damage. I’m going to have to go slowly and carefully, making sure to keep as much of it intact as I can, while still repairing the damaged portions.

I take a mental breath, bottle up my nerves, and get to work.

—

Three hours later, Gordon’s… ‘operation’, is done. He tells me it felt strange while it was happening, but afterwards he feels like he could run a mile, no sweat.

He could run three, I’m sure. I didn’t have time to give him any extensive modifications, but I included the basic muscle enhancement package I used when I was first starting out, if a bit more efficient. He’ll need to work if he wants to keep up that physique, but at least it gives him a head start.

Jury’s out on if the detox worked. He said he feels better, but we’ll have to wait and see what, if any, side effects remain.

I can’t tell if he’s happy about it. Maybe this is more like a leap for him, than an escape. Maybe he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I step out onto the porch, where Ava leans against the railing, cigarette almost burning away between her fingers.

“So —“ I start.

“I heard. Alex, right?”

“Yeah. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

“It’s fine. Good instinct.” She takes a drag. “So I heard you bagged your guy.”

I sigh, and lean against the railing next to her. “Yeah, and then he escaped like a week later.”

“That’s how it goes for the bigger villains around here. They have a lotta help.”

Ava lets out a breath. I watch as the cloud swirls in the cold evening air. “Are you gonna try again?”

“…I don’t know why I would. It doesn’t seem to help.”

Silence, for a beat. Then, her eyes slide towards mine. “This thing you’re trying to do; it conflicts. Not just with Cook, either. This city is densely packed with all kinds of freaks — you’re going to need to make some room.”

I look down. “I don’t want to… kill him. Or anyone. I’m doing this because I want to help.”

Ava snorts. “Then I think you’ve got your work cut out for you. Naivety doesn’t last long in Westpoint.”

She pushes off the railing, and turns to head back inside, smoke swirling around her.

“Still, though,” she says, stopping by the door. “You’ve got guts. I have to admit, I’m a little curious where you’ll go next.”

“So, try to make it interesting, yeah?” She smiles, and the expression feels sharper than mine.

Ava steps inside, letting the door close with a thwump behind her.