The little kid took a deep sigh of relief as he walked down the street. He then revived a call on his smartphone, and the caller ID read "Blackjack."

The little kid answered the call, “Hey, Blackjack.”

“Aren’t you a little Chris Hansen in the making, Mordechai?” Blackjack teased, using the boy’s real name.

"I heard the man is a pretentious turd," the boy named Mordechai said. "Anyway, that takes care of him. He'll talk and cooperate with the police, and she will be out sooner rather than later. I don't know who this Joycelyn Shane is, but she's next." He said with conviction.

“Remind me not to fuck around with your family,” Blackjack boasted while he laughed. "I know your family will be happy. With their star snitch being a creep-a-zoid, the DA in New York will have to throw out the case."

“Yes, knowing my brother, he would fly out of Madrid.” Mordechai heckled while going into another restaurant.

“The poor baby is still heartbroken about being stood up?!” Blackjack questioned.

"No, he still believes that Dizzy Hayes is real... and dead. Even though she was clearly a double agent and went underground," Mordechai groans while taking an iced coffee from the fridge. "But you can't explain anything to him."

Blackjack irritatingly sighs, “I don’t get it... She was garbage, besides her fluffy wolf ears, her fluffy wolf tail, and her amazing pair of huge tits.”

“That’s what I said...” Mordechai agreed while paying for his drink.

“Well, I can tell you are a man of sophistication and class, and don’t settle for a grade of A-minus.” Blackjack is throwing shade.

Mordechai shrugs, “So, what’s the problem with that?”

"That you love perfection and the pursuit of it. Nothing wrong with that. My wife is the same way." Blackjack explained.

Mordechai pays for his drink and leaves the counter, "Well, we tend to be stubborn for a good reason. Why settle for average when you can be great? Or even be better than great? The difference between most of us is that what I can accomplish is better than great. One of the few reasons I love being me." The young boy said proudly.

Then, Mordechai's phone beeps twice. He looked at it, and it was someone else on the line. Knowing what fresh hell he had gotten himself into was worth it.

“I have to go. My 'babysitter' is on the other line." Mordechai said.

"Yeah, you don't need a babysitter. You need to tell her that!" Blackjack suggested.

"Sure. That will work. Later," Mordechai hangs up as he switches to another call. "Hey, Sylvia! What's up?"

"YOU KNOW BLOODY WELL WHAT'S UP! I LEAVE FOR FIVE MINUTES, AND YOUR LITTLE ASS FLIES OUT THE WINDOW!" Sylvia yelled.

However, Mordechai was prepared as he held the phone away from his ear. After a few seconds, the smirking boy spoke, "I just needed some air. I got an iced coffee."

He could hear Sylvia breathing heavily while trying to calm down, "I... I could have gotten you an iced coffee— You don't even drink iced coffee! So, what are you talking about?!"

“Well, I wanted to try some.” Mordechai fibbed while taking a sip with a sly smile. “It’s pretty good!” Besides, I’m fine—”

"Yes, you're fine. I'm fine! Everything is fine. Where are you?" Sylvia demanded.

"Heading back. You want anything while I'm out?" Mordechai asks.

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Then, there was silence as Sylvia almost wanted to scream at him again. She then opted out by hanging up.

“Guess not...” Mordechai said as he walked down the sidewalk.

He then set his drink on top of a newspaper vendor, getting himself situated—

BOOM!

About a block away from where he was, a fiery explosion shook the ground within a mile radius. So badly that it knocked Mordechai and everyone else off their feet. Mordechai quickly recovered as he ventured towards the explosion, with others running away from the scene. The smoke was thick enough to see what was happening, but he didn't have to since he'd remembered leaving that same restaurant where he left Vaan to get arrested.

Mordechai was smart enough to realize it was not a coincidence as he ran away from the scene.

As he was running, he heard gunfire. Mordechai would summon his wings and fly away, but it was too risky. However, it was not as risky as running. Those who were running along with him were being shot in the back. One by one, the runners were collapsing around him. Instinctively, he ducted down and took shelter in a nearby alleyway. He took a hiatus, and many people were being gunned down.

He did not want to go back out there, so he decided to take a better chance of being topside. He summoned wings and ascended the rooftops. He had seen many men in tactical gear and flak jackets gunning down the civilians on the street.

Mordechai immediately hid by the nearest generator. It was a good thing the gunmen didn't see him. The boy took a deep breath and planned his next moves.

A few seconds later, he put his plan into action...

He would wait for the gunmen to reload his rifle. At the opportunity, he would up behind him, punch his back while breaking it, and step on his knee as he shattered his kneecap. Before the gunman could scream, Mordechai would tackle him to the ground and apply a Barenaked choke, incapacitating him.

Finally safe for now, Mordechai would search him for any identification. And to no surprise, he found the Third Revelation emblem on his chest. Seeing many gunmen on various rooftops, he would have to engage them from a distance.

Mordechai would summon his bonded weapon of choice, his compound bow. He could also materialize arrows as well via elemental transmutation. This the around, he would use neurotoxin-tipped arrows to induce sleep and temporary incapacitation.

Silently and swiftly, he would take out the gunmen one by one. The full count was seven.

“That has to be all of them...” Mordechai said.

But his actions did not go unnoticed as armed men rushed up to the roof. Mordechai wasted no time flying away to dodge a barrage of bullets and gunfire, not before firing an arrow filled with mustard gas at the firing squad, neutralizing them.

Mordechai knew he wasn't safe in the air, so he descended immediately to the street filled with police officers. He would try to call them; they were preoccupied with the moment. One of the officers cautiously walked toward one of the civilians on their knees with their hands in the air. It appears they had vests on. But if you would look closely, the bombs strapped to their chests. And those wearing them weren't willing participants as they all cried for help.

“Oh, my god...” Mordechai said.

Then, one officer spotted Mordechai and approached him, saying, “Okay, son, you need to fall back now.”

Mordechai followed his instruction but couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scene, “How long were they sitting like that!”

“Who knows, we just got here!” the officer said as he escorted Mordechai to safety.

Analyzing the victims' body language and the bomb's configuration, he figured out what to do, “Keep their arms up!”

“Son, we got this!” the officer responded.

"No, their arms! If you move them or lower their arms, it will trigger the bomb!" Mordechai cries out, but his suggestions are ignored.

He then recognized that whatever the officers said to them, the victims didn't understand. It was a hunch, but he had to try something.

"I want you to keep your hands up and don't move!" he said in several languages. One responded when he was speaking Spanish. The others are in Slavic.

The officers quickly turn around and confront Mordechai, "What are you doing? I told you to fall back!"

"Sir, if you move them, the bomb will go off! The trigger is underneath the armpits! It's called a winged angel suicide bomb." Mordechai explains. "If you are wondering why I know this, I am an engineer at Yale University!"

The officer felt the story was too farfetched, “just my luck that you happen to be a boy genius.”

"Officer, people are dying all around us. We don't have time to be skeptical." Mordechai offered. "If you check underneath their armpits, wires will react to pressure. When you lower—"

The officer had enough as he dragged Mordechai to one of the victims. He wasted no time looking underneath one of his armpits to find the set of wires. Fast yet accurate, he took apart the wires with his pocket knife, finding six different wires: blue, yellow, white, dark brown, red, and green. He severed and stipulated the red and green first. Afterward, he twisted them together. Then, he severed the white wire.

“Okay, you are good!” Mordechai said in Slavic.

“Are you sure?” The officer challenged.

But the victim took the chance as he lowered his arms. It was a spark, and the vest started to heat up. He panicked a bit, which was understandable. A few seconds later, nothing.

"Okay, get it off him. I'll start with the others," Mordechai instructed the officer.

Despite screaming and gunfire throughout the city, Mordechai was cool under pressure, defusing eight bomb vests in ten minutes.