Holy shit, Kenneth thought, looking down at the bent needle in his hand as he walked out the door and took a seat in the cruiser. He’d palmed the safety pin from his tie and pressed it into the meth-head-looking girl’s shoulder when he’d ‘stumbled’.

Ken didn’t really know what to expect. The person who’d been in the front with Lily Smith, the one he was looking for, likely had some kind of doodad granting them inhuman toughness. Hence the lack of roadkill that night.

“You get what you were looking for?” Brian asked with a hint of sarcasm.

Ken glanced back down at the bent piece of metal in his hand, the sharp tip curled into a tiny spiral as it had been pressed against a force more durable than steel wire.

“Nope,” Ken said, pocketing the curled wire. “Looks like it was just a random kook. Probably a dare or something.”

“Are we gonna follow up on it, then, oh great detective?” Brian was still being a little bitchy about the promotions that were about to land in Ken’s lap. When the paperwork came through, Ken would be getting an older, smarter partner, and Brian obviously felt betrayed.

Not sure how I feel about that, Ken thought. He’d appreciate talking to someone who wasn’t an idiot, but a more observant partner would probably be a downside, all things considered.

“Oh, hell no, we’re not putting any more effort into this. That’s about as useful as pissing in the wind,” Ken said, motioning for Brian to get them moving. “Let’s go.”

“Yes, Miss Daisy,” Brian said, rolling his eyes and pulling out of the driveway while Ken used the onboard computer to look up Thomas Graves and everyone related to him.

Basically nothing. Just a debt-riddled working-class family with nothing particularly outstanding about them. The grandfather had some minor priors, but they were in the early eighties.

The kid was a straight arrow. Totally clean record, implying he was a sheep. Easy to handle. Got kicked around a bit in middle school, but who didn’t?

Carol Smith…

He fed the picture of her face from his body cam into the computer.

Now, that’s interesting.

The computer spit back a list of close matches, but none of them were the same woman. The druggies it gave him didn’t have nearly the same impression of strength and focus.

No record either, but definitely not a sheep.

I’m fairly certain Carol and Lily Smith are aliases.

He ran Lily’s driver’s license through the system.

No criminal results, but she did have a green card, which was rare for a teen girl with little to no qualifications.

South Africa as the country of origin. A few bank and credit card statements showing income, with no tax documents to go with it. Enrollment in a local high school. Horrible grades, like she wasn’t even trying.

She just appeared out of thin air four years ago, somehow got a green card as a minor through dubious means, went to a U.S. school, only to flunk out as a teen mom?

This does not make any sense.

If she were a cold-blooded mastermind, she’d have covered her tracks better—wouldn’t have gotten knocked up by a scrub, either. Maybe she’s some South African magnate’s love child?

Still didn’t make a whole lot of sense. If she had a big-time daddy taking care of her, her paperwork would look a lot better. And she wouldn’t get knocked up by a scrub.

But…add the superpower doohickeys to the mix, and the picture got a lot clearer.

Carol and Lily obviously stole the gold thingies, used their power to secure a life for themselves, then just coasted by on the profits. Why would they both be boning the same scrub, then?

No, it was just Lily. Carol and Tom obviously hated each other. The boy was a cover. A way to hide from the people who would be coming after the superpowers.

Obviously the ring was meaningful, if Carol had gone out of her way to dig it up. She was tall and skinny, and the smudged figure of the graverobber on the dash cam was tall and skinny.

Maybe it’s the way to recharge the superpower doodads. Like Green Lantern or something. Carol must have already been wearing whatever gave her invincibility when she got tossed out the car window, which meant the ring did something different. Something worth getting caught over.

I guess the question is, how the fuck do you take out someone who can walk off getting tossed out of a moving car? If he couldn’t pierce the skin with a needle, then a bullet probably wouldn’t do much either.

As Brian drove them away, Ken slowly concocted a plan for how to deal with these supervillains. He’d need to get his hands on some unregistered supplies.

No problem. Ken knew just the people to get that from.

***Carol***

“Aand there he goes.” Carol watched the cowardly peasant boy climb into his iron carriage, locally called a ‘car’. The slick beetle-shelled creature sat there, staring back at her malevolently.

She knew it wasn’t alive, but it was hard to shake her first impression, from when she and Lily had first arrived on the unnaturally smooth stone ribbon winding its way through the forest.

They’d marveled at the road for half an hour, guessing at its purpose as a trade thoroughfare between two powerful kingdoms, where wagons could transport goods between them in a matter of days.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

A marvel of engineering. Truly.

Then the shiny, crazed beetle monster rounded the corner, charging them faster than any creature could possibly move on foot. They’d never conceived of a creature like that.

Carol had dispatched it easily, but the event had left Lily shaken.

They wound up killing her in the end, I guess, Carol thought. Lily had grown complacent, believing they were harmless means of conveyance. But Carol wouldn’t make that mistake.

I’m watching you, Subaru. She narrowed her eyes.

As soon as Thomas pulled out of the driveway, she turned her gaze back on the two humans carrying the next head of House Ku’leth, their stationary souls sitting in their chests, unlike Thomas’s, which practically flickered like fire. Especially when he slept.

Peasants.

“Alright you two,” Carol said, taking out her wallet and retrieving a couple thousand dollars in drug money. Drug dealers, being outside the law, were unable to report thefts; they were also unlikely to pursue the theft when an Outsider in human form literally spat bullets back at them.

The ones that did were decomposing in the wilderness miles outside Chicago.

They were like her little daftun-bank. Whenever she ran low on cash, she just went and got some. They tickled her with bullets, and she backhanded them until they stopped screaming. It was a fair and equitable deal all around.

“Take this, and give me your cell phones,” Carol said, holding out her other hand.

“Excuse me?” ‘Grampa’ asked, cocking a brow.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about that cop,” Carol lied. “You two are going to lay low in a motel for a couple nights while Tom and I figure out whether or not he’ll be a problem.”

“Why do we need to give you our cell phones, though?” ‘Grampa’ asked.

Carol sighed, limbered up her neck, rolled her shoulders, and phased. She allowed a bit more of her true form to enter this reality, like relaxing a sphincter.

“Because I said so.”

“Holy mother of god!” ‘Gramma’ said, stumbling backwards and nearly falling, Ellie resting on her chest. ‘Grampa’ was frozen stiff, but his eyes glanced toward the end table where he kept his pistol.

It was clear that they hadn’t taken Thomas’s reveal about her origins seriously. How fun.

“Drop that baby and see what happens.” Carol pointed at ‘Gramma’.

She extended her palm, claws up, and wiggled them. “Cell phones.”

The two wrinkly human peasants complied, digging into their pockets and slapping the human technology in her palm. Carol crushed them effortlessly.

“You two have a nice little vacation,” she said, tucking a thick wad of hundred-dollar bills in ‘Grampa’’s front pocket as she phased back out, her extra mass tucking away seamlessly.

“I’ll see you again… Let’s say Thursday.” Carol stepped out of the way, motioning to the front door.

“Bye, Ellie!” Carol said, waving as ‘Gramma’ hustled the Ku’Leth matriarch out the door.

The adorable cherub waved back with a vacant stare, her hand clenching and unclenching.

So CUTE!

Once they were out of the driveway, Carol fixed herself a coffee and relaxed by watching bickering humans while she finished her drink.

A few minutes later, she’d finished off the cup.

Well, time to get to work.

She stood up and kicked over the recliner.

***Tom Graves***

Leaning against the kitchen counter was the bloodstained form of Carol. She was panting heavily, her hand clamped tight over a wound in her torso that oozed blood into a disturbingly large puddle beneath her.

Tom’s heart leapt into his throat. He cast a quick glance around the wreckage that was their living room, but he didn’t see any sign of Gramma, Grampa or Ellie.

“What happened?!” Tom shouted, dropping to his knees in front of Carol. “Where’s Ellie!?”

“I don’t know,” Carol said, shaking her head. “That cop found out about Lily. I don’t know how he did it, but he found out about Lily’s magic, and he took everyone else hostage.”

“Why? How!?” Tom cried.

“He wants to use Ellie! She’s like you! She’s got so much potential!” Carol said, tugging weakly on his shirt. “In a matter of days, he’s going to get rid of your grandparents! You have to find him before that happens!”

Tom stood up, his heart hammering in his chest, his blood boiling, vision narrowing as he began to hyperventilate. “I’ll find them. I’ll find them,” he muttered as he charged for the door, all the tiredness from the workday absolutely blown away.

“Wait!” Carol cried after him.

Tom barely heard her voice, but it was enough to make him turn around, his hand touching the brass doorknob.

“Use your power, you Re’zatten moron!” Carol said, shaking her fist before coughing up some more blood. “The cop was here this morning! Figure out what his plan was, what he knows, where he was going to go!”

“Sleep?” Tom demanded. “Now?”

“What’s…” Carol coughed. “...your plan? Drive around really fast?”

Tom hadn’t actually thought about it that hard. He probably would have realized as soon as he started the car that he had no idea where to start.

“I don’t think I could sleep right now, under any circumstances,” Tom said.

“What choice do you have?” Carol asked.

“What about you?” Tom asked. He hated Carol, sure, but he didn’t want her to die.

“I’ll be fine. Up and about in a couple hours, minimum. Or did you forget I’m not human?”

Tom thought about it. Hard. In eight hours, he could spend the entire night spinning his wheels, looking for someone who had already disappeared, or he could spend those eight hours with the guy in his hands.

“Alright, fine,” Tom said, taking off his jacket and tossing it in the corner before marching to his room and lying down on the mattress on the floor, his heart slamming violently against his ribs.

God, what if he kills Gramma and Grampa before I figure out where he is? What if he kills Ellie?

What if I can’t fall asleep….

***Carol***

When she heard the peasant boy’s snores coming from down the hall, she took the packet of blood from inside her shirt and stood, throwing it in the trash while suppressing a yawn.

Lying was never forbidden, especially if it was for someone’s own good.

Tom was…a nice boy, for a peasant, but he had those self-imposed mental limitations that had been baked into him by a life of mediocrity. Don’t hurt people, follow the rules, share. Don’t take more than you deserve. You’re not better than anyone else, etc. etc.

That kind of limited thinking was unacceptable for the father of the leader of the Ku’leth family. As the boy came into his own, the family would be under his control for at least a decade, and Carol couldn’t trust Ellie’s future to a spineless peasant.

In short, he needed a traumatic event that would snap him out of his peasant zeitgeist. Rules are simply highly-formalized extortion. The strong chart their own course.

Torturing information out of the physical embodiment of the rule of law would probably cure Tom of his ingrained fear of authority.

Probably.

If that didn’t work, then the sense of betrayal would spur him further along the path of trying to banish her.

Win-win.

Carol pulled out a mop, broom and dustpan, and began cleaning the pig’s blood and shattered lamp pieces off the floor, turning her favorite TV show back on while she cleaned.

In his room, Tom kept snoring.

Carol’s grin widened.