[Tyrell’s POV]

I stand atop the Empire State Building, the wind whipping my red jacket around me like a crimson flag. The iconic spire looms above, its needle-like point seeming to pierce the very heavens.

From this vantage point, New York City looks almost peaceful. Tiny yellow cabs crawl along the grid-like streets. The distant honking of horns and the ever-present hum of millions of lives being lived float up on the breeze, a symphony of urban life.

“Tyrell,” a familiar voice calls from behind me, cutting through my musings. “Where were you?”

I turn to face Lady Ruin, her green hooded cape billowing dramatically in the wind. As always, her presence commands attention.

“I died,” I reply casually.

Lady Ruin nods, her posture relaxing slightly. “As I thought. Your report?”

I take a deep breath, organizing my thoughts before launching into the tale. “Super Star cornered me in Boston,” I begin, my voice taking on a more serious tone. “She was convinced I was the leak that said she killed Luke.”

“So she did, in fact, kill Luke then? Interesting.” Her words come out harsh and judgmental. “What else?”

“I ran into Super Star when I woke up today. She was frantic, desperate. Her usual confidence was gone, replaced by raw fear and anguish.”

I pause, gathering my thoughts before continuing. “She told me Luke went out last night and never came back. Apparently, Veronica got a tip from Dark Star about a plot involving the Big Cheese and the Rapist.”

Lady Ruin’s hand tightens on her staff, the ancient wood creaking slightly under her grip. “What kind of plot?” she asks, her voice low and dangerous.

I swallow hard, the words sticking in my throat. “I mean I don’t know. I assume to rape him.”

The air around Lady Ruin seems to crackle with energy, her anger almost palpable. “Continue,” she commands, her voice tight with barely contained fury.

“Super Star’s been searching the city non-stop,” I explain. “When I found her, she was flying over the city. She practically begged me to help her find Luke.”

Lady Ruin’s reaction is immediate and terrifying. Her fist clenches so tightly that the very fabric of reality seems to warp around it. The air shimmers and distorts, fractal patterns of shattered spacetime spiraling out from her hand.

When Lady Ruin speaks, her voice is eerily calm, a stark contrast to the chaos surrounding us. “Do you have any way to track him down?” she asks, each word precise and measured.

I shake my head, trying to keep my voice steady despite the display of power before me. “No,” I reply, “my abilities don’t work that way anymore.”

Lady Ruin nods slowly, the motion causing ripples of distortion to spread through the air around her. “Go to Boston,” she commands. “Speak with Mind Mistress. She works with Big Cheese and the Rapist.”

I nod. That should be easy enough.

“Do not be afraid to employ any method necessary to obtain information,” Lady Ruin continues, her voice taking on a dangerous edge. The cracks in the concrete widen, small chunks of debris floating upwards as if gravity itself is bending to her will. “I do not care if we burn Utopia’s only contact in the process.”

“Understood.”

*****

After teleporting for a while, I end up on top of Star Tower. In the distance, the Charles River glitters in the afternoon sun, snaking its way through the urban landscape.

I sigh and shake off the slight exhaustion I’m feeling from that long trek. Teleporting across such vast distances always takes its toll when I can’t use the rock. But there’s no time to rest. I have a mission to complete.

With a thought, I teleport into Veronica Vale’s opulent office, my feet touching down silently on the plush carpet.

The room is a monument to Veronica’s taste for luxury and power. Veronica herself sits behind the desk, her head bent over her work. She’s so engrossed in whatever she’s reading that she doesn’t notice my arrival at first.

“Veronica,” I say, breaking the silence.

She yelps in surprise, her head snapping up. Her purple eyes go wide with shock as they lock onto me. For a split second, I see a flicker of fear cross her face before she turns her features into a mask of cool professionalism.

“I told you not to fuck with Luke,” I continue, my voice low and dangerous. “And yet your cronies ran off with him.”

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Veronica’s eyes flash with a brilliant purple light, the vibrant hue seeming to pulse and swirl within her irises. Waves of psychic energy radiating outward in concentric rings. I can feel the laughable attempt of her weak mental assault pressing against my helmet.

But the attack washes over me harmlessly, unable to penetrate the protective barrier of my helmet. I chuckle, the sound echoing inside my headgear.

“Come on, Veronica,” I say, my tone patronizing. “You can’t mind control me with my helmet still on, not with your pitiful little power.”

“You know, I’m a lot like you, actually.” I take a few steps closer, my boots sinking into the plush carpet. Veronica tenses visibly, her knuckles whitening as she grips the arms of her leather chair.

“I used to be the fucking king of reading minds and mind control,” I continue, a hint of wistfulness creeping into my voice. I let out a heavy sigh, my shoulders slumping slightly. “Before I fell into this desolate world.”

As I approach her desk, Veronica’s composure cracks for just a moment, revealing the anxiety lurking beneath her polished exterior. With deliberate slowness, I reach up and remove my helmet, the mechanisms hissing softly as it disengages.

The helmet drops from my fingers, landing on the carpet with a muffled thud. Veronica’s eyes widen further, darting between my now-exposed face and the discarded headgear.

“There,” I say, spreading my arms wide in a gesture of openness. “No more protection. Just you and me, Veronica. Two minds, naked and exposed.”

Veronica’s eyes narrow, a determined glint flashing in their purple depths. “Well, if you’re going to make it easy,” she says, her voice dripping with a sudden bravado.

The air between us shimmers and warps as Veronica unleashes the full force of her psychic abilities. Invisible tendrils seek refuge in my unprotected mind.

But as the attack reaches me, it simply dissipates harmlessly. Like water breaking against an immovable cliff, Veronica’s mental assault crashes ineffectually against the impenetrable fortress of my mind. I can feel her struggle, pushing harder and harder, desperately seeking any crack or weakness to exploit.

A smug grin spreads across my face as I watch Veronica’s growing frustration. “You are so weak!” I taunt, my voice laden with mockery.

Veronica’s eyes go wide with disbelief and a hint of fear. “But... but that’s impossible,” she stammers, her usual composure crumbling. “Only Super Star isn’t affected by it.”

I can’t help but chuckle at her naivety. “I’ve been in the mind game for years, sweetheart,” I say, my tone condescending. “Your little parlor tricks are child’s play compared to what I’ve seen and done.”

My laughter grows darker as memories of past conquests flood my mind. “I once made the strongest man alive rip his own head off in front of his best friend,” I boast, a hint of pride coloring my words. “My mind control didn’t have your paltry limitations.”

Veronica’s face pales, her purple eyes widening in horror as she recoils from me. The polished veneer of the powerful businesswoman crumbles, revealing the terrified woman beneath. She scrambles backwards in her chair, nearly tipping it over in her haste to put distance between us.

The room seems to darken, shadows lengthening as if responding to the growing dread in the air.

‘Fuck, I’m being cringe again.’ I catch myself, realizing I’ve let my enthusiasm for intimidation carry me away.

“Ahem,” I clear my throat awkwardly, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up my neck. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for the theatrics. I’ve just been dead for a bit.”

Veronica blinks rapidly, her brow furrowing in confusion as she processes this sudden shift. “I know. How did you come back to life?”

I wave my hand dismissively, eager to move past my overzealous display. “I regenerate,” I explain briefly, not wanting to delve into the complexities of my abilities.

Shaking my head slightly to refocus, I get back to the matter at hand. “Where is Luke?” I ask my tone now businesslike and direct.

Veronica sinks deeper into her plush leather chair, the weight of her words seeming to physically press down on her. She runs a hand through her perfectly coiffed hair, mussing it slightly in a rare display of dishevelment.

“I don’t know where Luke is,” she admits. The words hang heavy in the air between us, laden with desperation and a hint of fear. “I’ve had both the Rapist and Big Cheese’s hideouts raided. Every safehouse, every bolt-hole, every seedy motel room they’ve ever used. Nothing.”

She reaches for her phone, tapping the screen to reveal a long list of outgoing calls. “I’ve been calling them non-stop,” she continues, scrolling through the seemingly endless log. “Them, their contacts, their families, even their elementary school teachers. Anyone who might have the slightest inkling of where they could be. It’s like they’ve vanished into thin air.”

Veronica’s gaze drifts to the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Dark Star reported being in pursuit of the Rapist,” she adds, her voice tinged with a mixture of hope and resignation. “But that was last night. Nothing since then.”

I lean forward. “Where is Dark Star now?” I demand, my voice sharp with urgency.

Veronica shakes her head, a rueful smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “She’s off the grid. Completely dark. No communication, no tracking signal, nothing.”

“Is that normal for her?” I ask, my brow furrowing in confusion.

Veronica nods, her purple eyes meeting mine with a look of grim understanding. “Unfortunately, yes,” she sighs. “Dark Star has a tendency to go radio silent during intense operations. It’s part of her whole ‘creature of the night’ mystique.”

I let out a long, weary sigh as I bend down to retrieve my helmet from the carpet.

“Well, that’s just fucking great,” I mutter, more to myself than to Veronica.

As I put my mask back on, Veronica’s face takes on a curious expression.

“Hey,” she says, her voice softer, “why do you wear a mask when you have a pretty good face?”

I scoff, the sound distorted by my helmet’s audio system. “Because it’s sick as fuck,” I reply, annoyance coloring my tone.

Veronica’s brow furrows further in confusion, her perfectly manicured eyebrows drawing together.

I whip out my phone. With a thought, I activate my teleportation ability, the world around me blurring and shifting.

In the blink of an eye, I find myself back on the roof of Star Tower. The wind up here is fierce, whipping my red jacket around me like a crimson flag.

My fingers move across the phone’s screen with practiced ease, pulling up my contacts and selecting Ruin’s number. The call connects almost instantly as if she’s been waiting for it.

“Did you locate him?” Lady Ruin’s voice comes through clear and sharp, cutting through the howling wind like a knife.

“No,” I reply, my voice tight with frustration.

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. When Lady Ruin speaks again, her tone is resolute. “Then it’s Plan B.”

I frown beneath my helmet, a sense of unease settling in the pit of my stomach. “What’s Plan B?” I ask, almost dreading the answer.

“Go find a TV,” Lady Ruin commands, her voice brooking no argument.

I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Alright,” I reply, already scanning the Boston skyline for the nearest electronics store.