“A Fixer,” Alex said cryptically. “You don’t need to know much more than that. He’s not a hero, but he’s not exactly a villain either. He deals with… messy situations like this.”

“Like a cleaner?” Lore asked, skeptical.

Alex nodded. “Exactly. He’s handled messes for bigger names than us. Trust me, if anyone can make this whole thing disappear, it’s him. And after he’s done, we call in the City Protectors or some hero squad to sweep the area. No explanations. No loose ends.”

Henry crossed his arms. “And you trust this guy?”

Alex let out a breath. “Trust is a strong word. Let’s just say I trust that he values his own survival enough not to screw us over.”

Every city had these cleanup guys—people with utility-based meta abilities designed to erase evidence or make problems vanish. Some worked in the shadows for villain gangs, others for hero teams, and a few operated on a strictly business basis, selling their skills to the highest bidder. It was a murky business. Many of these individuals operated in morally gray areas, while some even had connections with the City Protectors, which made them unpredictable. One could never be sure whose side they were really on, which meant we needed to be careful about who we involved.

If we picked the wrong one, it could come back to bite us hard.

Lore raised an eyebrow. “That’s comforting.”

“As much as anyone in this line of work,” Alex replied with a shrug. “He’s reliable, and he keeps his mouth shut. That’s all we need right now.”

Lore still didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue. We had no better option. Instead, she motioned for Alex to continue. Meanwhile, I kept my eyes on the flesh mountain, just in case it decided to start moving again.

Alex pulled out his phone and held it to his ear, pacing slightly as he waited for the call to connect. It didn’t take long. The moment someone picked up, his posture shifted—his usual cockiness tempered into something more controlled.

“Yeah, it’s me. Long time no see,” he said. “Got a situation. South District, abandoned warehouse. It’s bad—full cleanup crew bad.” He listened for a few seconds before adding, “No, not just bodies. There’s… let’s just say experimental stuff involved. Biological.” Another pause. “Yeah, you’ll need to bring everything. Full containment.”

We exchanged glances as Alex continued the conversation.

“Money won’t be an issue,” Alex said, shooting us a look that made it clear we’d be footing the bill whether we liked it or not. “We’ll cover it.”

A few seconds later, he ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket with a heavy sigh.

“They’re on their way,” he announced. “About twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes?” Henry repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Do you realize how fast the authorities could show, given how big of a commotion we had caused?”

Alex shrugged again, unfazed. “Then we better make sure they don’t find us here.”

“Great,” Gina muttered, rolling her eyes. “Now we’re relying on some shady fixer to clean up our mess. This just keeps getting better.”

“Do you have a better idea?” Alex shot back, his tone sharper now. “Because unless you’ve got a secret army stashed somewhere, this is the best option we’ve got.”

Gina opened her mouth as if to argue but snapped it shut, her frustration clear in the tight set of her jaw. She didn’t have a counterargument, and she knew it.

Lore stepped in before things could escalate. “We need to move any evidence we don’t want discovered,” she said, her voice cutting through the tension. “The fixer can handle the cleanup, but if there’s anything here that ties back to us—or to whoever’s behind this experiment—we need to deal with it now.”

Henry scoffed. “Pretty sure that ship’s already sailed. We left behind enough of a mess to raise about a thousand red flags.”

Alex ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well, unless you’re volunteering to go down for this, let’s focus on damage control.”

Everyone nodded, and without another word, we split up, combing through the wreckage in search of anything incriminating or valuable.

I stepped over a collapsed metal shelf, scanning the ground. Before the fight, the tables had been neatly stacked with paper files—clear evidence of whatever operations had been conducted here. Now, the scene was a disaster zone. Most of the documents had been burned, reduced to scattered ash. The few remaining papers were half-shredded or soaked in blood, the ink bleeding into unreadable smudges.

I wandered through the rubble, searching for anything overlooked—a cupboard, a hidden safe, something. But the mastermind behind this had been meticulous, leaving nothing crucial behind. The experiments alone revealed their inhuman goals, yet it was clear they had wiped the place clean before vanishing. Research notes, data, tools—anything traceable was gone. Even the failed experiments seemed deliberately abandoned, left only because they were useless or too cumbersome to move.

After fifteen minutes of fruitless searching, we regrouped outside. Behind us, the warehouse groaned under the strain of the battle, threatening to collapse. None of us wanted to be inside when it did.

Outside was no better. A different horror awaited—hundreds of eagles and scavenger birds had already descended, tearing into the lifeless bodies strewn across the abandoned fields. Beaks ripped through dead flesh, fighting over strips of meat and organs. One massive eagle yanked out what looked like a length of intestine, others swooping in to snatch pieces as it dangled. And the sounds were the worst part – wet tearing mixed with bones cracking as the birds fought over their meal. Similarly, the air soaked with the smell of blood and something worse, something that stuck in the back of your throat. No wind meant the stench just sat there, heavy and lingering. The villains’ bodies, already mangled from the fight, were now being ripped apart piece by piece. What remained barely looked human—an arm here, half a torso there, everything picked over and shredded by beaks and claws.

No one spoke. The scene said enough. Besides, we had more pressing matters to discuss.

We turned our attention to Gina and handed her all the stuff we had found inside, broken or intact. All eyes were on her now.

Her meta nature could pull specific memories from objects or people, glimpsing flashes of their past experiences from the last twenty-four hours. If anyone could uncover a lead here, it was her.

She took the paper and her hands slowly touched one item after another like she was pulling strings. Her brows furrowed in concentration, and a faint distortion surrounded her hands. The rest of us stood in tense silence, waiting for her to extract the fragmented memories trapped within.

A minute passed. Then another.

She looked pale, her breaths shallow, like she’d just surfaced from drowning.

“What did you see?” Alex asked, stepping forward.

Gina exhaled shakily, rubbing her hands on her already stained clothes as if trying to wipe away whatever she had just experienced. She didn’t answer right away, her gaze distant as she looked over the wreckage.

“Give me a second,” she muttered. “This… this is going to be rough.”

None of us rushed her.

Finally, she spoke. “It’s… not just one person.” Her voice wavered, “This isn’t the work of a single mad scientist or some small-time villain gang. It’s a group—a highly organized one.” She hesitated for just a moment, then added, “They call themselves ‘The Bakers.’”

“The Bakers?” Henry repeated, incredulous.

We exchanged glances. The name didn’t ring a bell, and from the blank looks on everyone else’s faces, it wasn’t just me. Either, they just sniffed themselves out in future or perhaps they never existed before this timeline, I could only ponder on the fact.

Lore frowned. “That sounds ridiculous. What kind of name is that for an operation like this?”

Gina’s expression darkened. “I don’t think it’s meant to be funny. They’ve been running these experiments for weeks, maybe longer.” She gestured to the wreckage around us. “This warehouse was just one of their many sites.”

She then looked at me, “The mutated rats you guys were attacked in the train tunnels were also part of their one of the experiments.”

“But their goal wasn’t just experimentation—it was profit and chaos.” Gina’s voice was cold, almost hollow. “They’ve perfected a serum. A formula for creating these… hybrids between metahumans and various animals. An army of unstoppable, bloodthirsty killing machines.”

Her eyes flickered to the grotesque remains of the first monster, then to the still-smoldering flesh mountain. “And they’re planning to sell it.”

“Sell it?” Vinico echoed, his tone caught between disbelief and disgust. “You’re telling me they’re turning this into a business?”

Gina nodded grimly. “In a secret underground auction. The buyers—powerful, rich, and completely immoral—will bid for the serum, the formula, and the means to replicate this horror on their own. They’re holding the auction at the end of this week.”

“What about the people they abducted?” I asked, “The civilians—are they still alive?”

“Some,” she admitted. “But not many. Most of the abductees died during the experiments. The flesh mountain alone…” She swallowed hard, shaking her head. “It was made from over hundreds of people, all fused together while they were still alive. They weren’t even given the mercy of death before being used.”

“The ones who survived,” Gina continued, “will be used as part of the auction—demonstrations of the serum’s effects. They’re planning to inject them in front of the buyers to showcase the transformations.”

Lore’s face went pale. “They’re turning people into live test subjects for entertainment.”

Henry clenched his fists, his entire body vibrating with barely contained fury. “Bastards.”

A stifling silence settled over the group, not for lack of thoughts, but because none of us could find the words to express them. Gina’s confirmation landed harder than we had anticipated, despite the fact that the signs had been there all along, waiting to be acknowledged.

“We can’t let something like this happen again,” Lore said firmly, “We need to find out where this auction is being held and shut it down. If they manage to sell this serum, it’ll spread like wildfire. We’ll be facing an entire world of horrors like this.”

“Agreed,” Alex said, his usual flippant attitude gone, “But how do we find the location? Did you see anything useful, Gina?”

Gina shook her head. “Not directly, but there was a mention of an underground place, likely a train station. The auction will be held somewhere close to that terminal.”

“An underground station? That narrows it down. The city has a bunch of abandoned subway lines from the old metro expansion projects. Some were sealed off, but a lot of them still have access points if you know where to look.”

Henry frowned. “Even if we find the station, how do we get inside? We just waltz in and ask for a VIP pass?”

“More like we get creative,” Lore replied. “These types of operations don’t just let strangers in. The people who attend these auctions—buyers, sellers, guards—they have a process. A protocol. We need to find a weak link in that chain.”

“We’ll need to move fast,” I said, glancing at the others. “If the auction is at the end of the week, we don’t have much time to act.”

“And we can’t rely on any official channels,” Lore reminded us firmly. “The authorities won’t believe us, and even if they did, they’d probably just make things worse.”

Gina exhaled slowly. “She’s right. If we tip off the wrong people, the auction might not even happen at that place or tighten security. We need to be quiet about this.”

I sighed, running a hand down my face. So much for a peaceful week. What day was it? Tuesday? Tomorrow, I had to train three brats too. Great.

“Our next step should be finding the exact location,” I said, pushing my frustration aside. “And to do that, we either search every train station in the city—which is obviously insane—or…” I glanced at Alex. “Maybe Caleb could help. He said he’s good at sniffing out leaks. And Gina could use her ability to confirm suspicious locations and narrow it down further.”

Alex nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Wait,” Vinico cut in, frowning. He and the others exchanged glances. “Who the hell is Caleb?”

Alex waved his hand dismissively. “Just a guy who helped us find this place.”

“Really?” Lore’s sharp gaze landed on us, skeptical. “He found this place? How?”

Alex shrugged again, casual but evasive. “Well, it was North’s idea. Caleb just followed the lead.”

And just like that, all their eyes turned to me.

“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath. I was about to explain—or at least deflect—when the unmistakable crunch of boots on gravel caught our attention.

A man in a black suit halted a few feet away, his gaze sweeping over the wreckage as if cataloging every drop of blood spilled, every broken body strewn across the ruins of the warehouse. With each passing second, his expression darkened, twisting into something sharper, colder. And when his eyes finally settled on us, the irritation in them was unmistakable.

"What the hell did these people do to you," the man asked "for you six to turn this place into a goddamn slaughterhouse?"

No one answered immediately.

It wasn’t that we didn’t have an explanation—we did. It just didn’t sound good when said out loud. Instead, we all focused on him: The man wasn’t particularly tall or physically imposing, he seemed like someone who tried his hardest to look imposing and serious.

The Fixer.

Alex walked forward to greet him.

“Hey, good to see you,” he greeted, flashing a lopsided grin. “Appreciate you coming on short notice.”

The Fixer, however, didn’t return the courtesy. He ignored Alex’s outstretched hand at first, pinching the bridge of his nose as he muttered something under his breath. Whatever it was, I was pretty sure it wasn’t complimentary.

Then, with an irritated sigh, he pulled out a sleek black phone and dialed a number.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said curtly, his voice devoid of patience. “Bring the full team. No, not the small one—the full team. This is a priority.”

A brief pause. Then his lips pressed into a thin line. “No, I don’t care if it’s inconvenient. This mess is worse than I expected. You’ll see for yourself soon enough.”

Alex let out an embarrassed chuckle, extending his hand as the Fixer ended the call.

“I thought you left the industry,” Fixer said, trying to sound casual. “But… it looks like—”

The second he ended the call, Alex let out an awkward chuckle and extended his hand again, clearly trying to salvage some goodwill. “Alright, so maybe things got a little out of hand—”

The Fixer shook his hand briefly but didn’t look the least bit amused. “I had better expectations from you,” he said.

Alex rubbed the back of his neck, his grin faltering. “It’s not like we planned this,” he said, defensive. “These people tried to drop a bomb on us. We had to do something to save our asses.”

The Fixer exhaled sharply, folding his arms. “So naturally, your response was to turn the place into a war zone.”

“Not my first choice,” Alex admitted, kicking at a piece of debris. “But, you know, survival instincts and all that.”

The Fixer didn’t seem convinced, his gaze lingering on the half-demolished warehouse and the guttural growls echoing from inside, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine. He pointed toward the warehouse with fingers that, for the first time, weren’t entirely steady. “There’s something alive in there,” he said, his voice low. Not just wary—afraid.

Alex glanced back at us, a silent question in his eyes. Do we show him?

None of us answered, but we didn’t need to. We all knew the plan.

The Fixer’s role was simple—clean up the gang’s bodies, erase the evidence, and make it all disappear. The thing inside, though? It wasn’t a monster; it was an amalgamation of people, victims whose families and friends would need closure. As horrifying as the situation was, it wasn’t something we could sweep under the rug. These people needed to be put to rest, their suffering ended in a way that acknowledged the tragedy of what had been done to them. This was something only the city, with its resources and authority, could handle.

“You don’t want to go in there,” Lore said, her voice unusually quiet.

The Fixer shot her a sharp look. “And why’s that?”

“Because some things can’t be erased,” she replied.

Alex turned back to The Fixer, his voice steady. “The bodies outside are your job. Whatever it’s inside—it’s beyond us or you. The city’s going to have to deal with that.”

The Fixer frowned, his fear briefly giving way to annoyance. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he muttered, his tone colder than before.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

With deliberate, measured steps, he crossed the threshold of the warehouse. His gaze settled on the Flesh Mountain, yet his expression remained eerily composed, the weight of experience evident in the way he absorbed the grotesque scene without so much as a flinch. But when he stepped back outside moments later, he shook his head. Even for someone like him—someone who had seen the worst humanity and meta powers could conjure—this abomination defied comprehension. The only sign of disturbance was the slight tension around his eyes, the barely perceptible clench of his jaw.

“What the hell did you guys pull yourselves into?” The Fixer asked, his gaze flicking between us and inside.

Trailing a few steps behind, Alex ran a hand through his hair. “Some people here were experimenting on abducted civilians. Turning them into… that.” He gestured, “we think it’s made up of the same people who were taken from the train tunnel accident the last week.”

The Fixer didn’t react.

“Save the explanation, kid,” he said dismissively, waving a hand. “I’ve got no loyalty to anyone here. My job is to clean up, not take sides.”

Soon, the roar of engines filled the air as a drone, nearly the size of a small airplane, descended from the sky. Its massive rotors churned the air, kicking up a whirlwind of dust as it touched down near the ruins of the demolished houses. A hydraulic hiss cut through the din as the back doors slid open, revealing a dozen figures clad in pristine white hazmat suits. They stepped out in perfect formation. At the front of the group, their leader raised a hand in silent acknowledgment to the Fixer, who gave a curt nod in response. That was all the signal they needed. Without hesitation, they moved with practiced efficiency, unloading an array of specialized equipment—massive vacuum-like machines and other bizarre, unrecognizable devices that vibrated with a sound that made your teeth ache.

The cleanup began with chilling efficiency. The vacuums devoured the battlefield’s remains—flesh, bone, and blood—all disappearing into their depths without so much as a trace. The ground was slowly being stripped of its horrors. Meanwhile, several of the team wielded handheld instruments resembling metal detectors, but their purpose was far stranger. Each time one swept the device over a bloodstain or a stubborn fragment the vacuums couldn’t reach, the air charged faintly, and in an instant, the organic matter simply vaporized. No residue. No smoke. Nothing left behind but clean, undisturbed earth, as if nothing had ever happened here at all.

This was the third oddest sight I’d witnessed today—and by far the strangest.

The efficiency of these people in white hazmat suits was unsettling. Within minutes, everything from the last drop of blood was scraped, leaving no evidence of the horror we'd created half an hour ago.

“What are you going to do with so many bodies?” Vinico asked, unable to contain his curiosity as he stared at men in hazmat suits.

The Fixer barely spared him a glance. “That’s my business.” His voice was flat, matter-of-fact. “But let’s be honest—you guys didn’t exactly leave them in pristine condition. Otherwise, they’d sell pretty hot on the black market.”

Vinico rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath. The rest of us stared at him pointedly, knowing full well that most of the massacre was his doing.

Still, The Fixer’s words lingered like an unspoken accusation.

The idea of selling human bodies—even dead ones—on the black market left a bitter taste in everyone’s mouth.

Gina crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “That’s a joke, right?” She looked at The Fixer

He didn’t blink. “No.”

Henry exhaled sharply. “Jesus.”

Lore, however, held the Fixer’s gaze. “You’re saying people actually buy them?”

The Fixer shrugged. “Organs, bone marrow, metahuman DNA—there’s a demand for all of it. And that’s just the useful parts. Some buyers are collectors. Others just like trophies.” He said it so casually, like he was discussing stocks or real estate. “The right buyer pays well. But—” he gestured vaguely to the wreckage “—you guys went a little overboard. Ruined the merchandise.”

Gina let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Oh, sorry we didn’t keep the bodies fresh for resale.”

Alex exhaled, rubbing his temples. “Can we not talk about selling corpses like it’s a damn business transaction?”

The others exchanged uneasy glances. Gina, Vinico, and Henry in particular looked unsettled, their expressions shifting between disgust and something closer to helplessness. For them, this wasn’t just about the bodies or the bloodshed—it was the realization that they’d stepped into something bigger. Something darker.

----------------------------------------

As silently as he had arrived, the Fixer vanished just as quietly, his team of hazmat-suited workers disappearing with him. Alex, ever the one to handle loose ends, had covered the cost of the cleanup himself. His finances were far from strained, considering I’d handed him twenty percent of my lottery winnings. Still, even for him, the price had been steep—eleven million for a job done in under an hour. And that wasn’t even counting the fortune he’d make from selling the bodies on the underground market. A lucrative business, no doubt, though none of us wanted to linger on the thought.

Instead, we stood, staring at the empty field and the barely stable remains of the warehouse. The destruction felt muted, stripped of blood and gore, sanitized to the point of surrealism.

“It’s like nothing ever happened here,” Gina murmured, astonished.

She wasn’t wrong. Except for the faint metallic stench of death, there was no sign that hundreds had died here just hours ago. The outskirts had returned to an eerie stillness, deceptively calm. Except for —broken buildings, some craters from tanks and missiles—but nothing that screamed bloodbath.

“So, who do we call now?” Henry asked, snapping us back to the pressing matter. “Does anyone even know which hero team is in charge of this sector?”

Alex ran a hand through his hair. “Hell if I know. It keeps changing depending on budget cuts, PR scandals, and which team hasn’t pissed off the Mayor recently.”

“Let’s just call the City Protectors,” I suggested, mulling it over. “No need to get private teams involved. The place is already cleaned up like nothing happened.”

Gina frowned, looking at me skeptically. “How would they know the full details? Only we know that the flesh mountain was actually made of the people abducted from the train attack.”

I shrugged. “We’ll just write it on the floor. Simple.”

Gina blinked. “…You’re joking, right?”

Lore, however, caught on immediately. A small, exhausted smile tugged at her lips. “No, he’s right.” She turned to Gina. “Think about it. I’m too damn tired to deal with more people or answer a barrage of questions.”

“We all are,” Henry muttered, stretching his sore arm.

“So, what? We just graffiti a confession?” Vinico asked, raising an eyebrow.

“More like a distress message,” I corrected. “Something simple. Victims from train attack—experimented on. Site cleared. Stop the Bakers. That should get their attention.”

Alex smirked. “Damn. You might actually have a genius moment there, North.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I waved him off. “Let’s get it over with.”

But as Alex started pulling out his phone, we all exchanged a look.

The same thought flashed through our exhausted minds.

Free labor.

Vinico was a one-man army. What would take the rest of us an hour, he could do in minutes.

“What?” Vinico asked suspiciously, catching the way we were all staring at him.

Alex clapped a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Buddy,” he said with an easy grin, “split up and get to work. You need to write it on the floor.”

Vinico groaned, rolling his eyes as realization hit. “You guys are unbelievable.” He waved a hand vaguely at the wreckage. “I already did more work than all five of you combined, and I’m more tired than you all combined.”

Still, he sat down in exaggerated protest, crossing his arms like a sulking child. We didn’t miss the way his clones had already started peeling away from his body. With a resigned sigh, his duplicates sprang into action, spreading out across the warehouse in a coordinated flurry of movement. Each one grabbed a piece of debris or found an untouched surface to scrawl on.

Alex watched, leaning against a support beam with a smirk. “It’s like watching a well-oiled machine.” He gestured toward the clones, impressed. “If you ever get bored of hero work, you could make a killing as a one-man cleaning service.”

Vinico shot him a glare. “You do realize I can hear you, right?”

Alex shrugged, completely unbothered. “Just giving credit where it’s due.”

Gina chuckled, stepping past one of Vinico’s clones as she checked the markings on the ground. “Honestly? I’d hire him. Think of the efficiency.”

Vinico sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Great. My legacy isn’t heroics—it’s unpaid labor.”

Lore smirked. “You’re not unpaid. You’re part of the team.”

Vinico gave her a deadpan look. “Oh, so ‘teamwork’ means I do all the work while you guys stand around and admire my craftsmanship?”

Alex grinned. “Exactly. Glad you’re catching on.”

Vinico huffed but couldn’t fully suppress the twitch of a smile at the corners of his mouth. “Keep talking, and I’ll send a clone to write on your face.”

“I’d still look good,” Alex shot back.

Vinico’s clones finished up quickly, the last of them scraping a final line onto the floor before he dismissed them with a wave of his hand. He exhaled, rolling his shoulders like he’d just shrugged off a heavy weight

“There. Happy?”

“Very,” Lore said with a faint smile. “You’re a real hero, Vinico.”

He snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Buy me lunch later, and we’ll call it even.”

With the message complete, we gathered outside the warehouse. The air felt heavier. Dark clouds churned above, thick and restless, threatening to break at any moment.

“We should go before anyone shows up,” Gina said, glancing uneasily at the empty road. “We don’t want to be here when they start asking questions.”

“Agreed,” Alex muttered, already stepping toward where the car used to be. “Let’s leave this mess to the professionals.” He finally pulled out his phone, scrolling to the City Protectors’ public line.

That’s when a harsh fact hit.

There was no car left to drive home.

Silence fell over us as we all turned to the vacant spot where Henry’s car had been.

Henry’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening. “My car…” he muttered, his voice trembling with restrained emotion.

“Oh… yeah.” Alex winced. “That’s… gone.”

“It exploded,” Gina reminded him, not exactly helping.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Alex offered quickly, attempting to sound conciliatory. He knew he was partly to blame—he’d been the one to smash the window right before the villain’s missile obliterated the entire vehicle.

Henry turned to him, eyes dark with simmering rage. “Shut up!” he barked, his anger snapping like a whip. “If you open your mouth one more time, I’ll kick you!”

Alex, wisely, held up his hands in surrender. “Fair.” Then, rolling his eyes, he took a few steps back, putting distance between himself and Henry’s impending wrath.

“Let’s just call a taxi,” Gina suggested, rubbing her temples. Her voice was heavy with weariness. “We have to leave somehow.”

Lore, however, shook her head as she gestured to her bloodstained shirt. “Look at us.” She motioned toward all of us—our clothes were torn, soaked in dust, smeared with blood, and in some cases, bits of flesh. “If anyone sees us, they won’t just call the cops. They’ll call the supers on us.”

That made us all pause.

She wasn’t wrong.

We looked like we had just walked out of a horror movie. There was no way a regular driver was going to let us into their car without immediately alerting someone. Then, from off to the side, Vinico—who had been uncharacteristically quiet—suddenly raised a hand like a kid in class.

“Guys! Driverless taxis.”

We all turned to him.

"Duh!" He grinned, looking downright smug that none of us had thought of it sooner. “They don’t care how we look.”

The exhaustion clouding our brains momentarily lifted as his words sank in.

“No driver means no witnesses,” he continued, clearly enjoying his moment of brilliance. “Yeah, they record video, but that’s easy enough to handle, right?” He looked directly at Lore. “You could take care of that, couldn’t you?”

Lore let out a deep sigh, “I hate that you’re right.”

“I love that I’m right.” Vinico smirked, already pulling out his phone to hail the nearest driverless cab.

The rest of us exchanged a collective groan of relief. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but at this point?

We were too exhausted to care.

After another almost painfully boring thirty minutes, the automated car finally rolled up on the road. It stopped just before the section where the asphalt had been obliterated by the missile strikes. Thankfully, we’d anticipated that and were already making our way toward the more intact part of the street.

Vinico stretched his arms over his head as we approached the waiting driverless taxi. “I swear, if we had to wait any longer, I was going to start riding my clones like a horse.”

Alex snorted. “Now that I would’ve paid to see.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Lore muttered

Vinico smirked. “I’m just saying, it’d be efficient. Imagine it—Vinico Express. No surge pricing, no delays, just me, a few clones, and a firm grip on your sanity.”

“You don’t have a firm grip on sanity,” Henry pointed out.

“Fair,” Vinico admitted with a shrug. “But at least I’d get places faster.”

Gina shook her head, muttering under her breath. “We have got to get some sleep before he actually tries that.”

The taxi’s automated voice chimed in as the doors slid open. “Destination?”

Vinico turned back to us. “Alright, where to?”

Lore rubbed her temples, exhaling. “My place is closest. We’ll regroup there and figure things out.”

“As long as you have food and beer,” Alex muttered as he climbed in.

“Food’s negotiable. Beer is available. Hot water isn’t.” Lore shot him a look. “You smell like roadkill.”

“We all smell like roadkill,” Henry muttered as he slid into the seat next to me.

Vinico relayed the address, and the car began to move. For a few minutes, none of us spoke.

“Do you think they’ll be able to trace this?” Gina asked finally, her voice quiet. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her jacket, now stained with blood, dirt, and things I didn’t want to think about.

“They won’t,” Lore said with finality. “I’ll scrub the data once we’re done. As far as the system’s concerned, this ride never happened. Thus, it could only be possible if someone has a meta nature similar to yours.”

“And the warehouse?” Alex asked, his voice low but firm. “What if someone finds something we missed?”

“They won’t,” Vinico said from the front. “We left the place in ruins. The message is there, and the evidence we couldn’t use is destroyed.”

Henry sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Still doesn’t feel like enough.”

“It’s never enough,” Lore said softly. “But we did what we could.”

The cab continued its smooth, silent drive through the city, carrying six people who had seen too much, done too much.

Outside, the city loomed, its lights dimmed by the heavy clouds overhead. The faint glow of streetlights and neon signs reflected off puddles, their distorted images rippling as the rain began to fall.

By the time we reached Lore’s place, the rain had turned into a downpour, washing away all the impurities and blood clinging to our bodies as we stepped out. Lore’s apartment was on the sixth floor of a nondescript building, the kind that blended into the cityscape without drawing attention. She led the way inside, unlocking the door. Her space was small but immaculately maintained—minimalist, modern, and painfully organized. A faint scent of lavender drifted through the air, likely from a diffuser hidden somewhere.

Alex glanced around, taking in every detail. “You live alone?” he asked, his tone both curious and vaguely impressed.

Lore nodded without looking at him as she moved deeper into the room. “Yes. I prefer it that way.”

“No offense, but this place is… unsettlingly neat,” Gina commented, stepping further inside. “Do you actually use anything in here?”

Lore shot her a look. “I prefer things being in order. Unlike the mess you all leave behind.”

Alex grinned, nudging Vinico. “Careful, Gina. Say one wrong thing, and she might kick us out before we even shower.”

“She wouldn’t dare,” Vinico replied first, smirking. “She’d never forgive herself for letting us ruin her perfect floors.”

Lore ignored them, walking toward a hallway. “Bathrooms are down the hall.” She pointed with a nod. “First door on the right. There’s another one in the guest room. Towels are in the cabinets. Don’t make a mess.”

Without waiting for a response, she disappeared into her bedroom. Moments later, she returned with a small stack of folded clothes. She handed a hoodie and sweatpants to Alex, who raised an eyebrow but accepted them with a shrug.

Vinico’s eyes narrowed instantly. “Hold up. Why does he get clothes, and I don’t?”

Lore didn’t even glance at him. “Because you have a meta-nature that lets you make duplicates. Figure it out.”

Vinico let out an exaggerated gasp. “Wow. Favoritism.” He crossed his arms, feigning deep betrayal. “After all we’ve been through, this is how you treat me?”

Lore ignored him completely, wordlessly handing Gina a pair of black leggings and an oversized sweatshirt. Gina accepted them with a small, tired smile, too drained to muster any witty remarks. The rest of us weren’t as lucky. Henry and I exchanged a knowing glance before pulling out our phones, hastily ordering clothes through a same-hour delivery service. Fast fashion had never felt so essential. The estimated wait time? Forty-five minutes—just long enough to sit in our damp, uncomfortable clothes and stew in our own exhaustion.

Once everyone had cleaned up and changed, the living room became our makeshift gathering space. Lore’s apartment, though impeccably neat, wasn’t particularly large, and seating was limited. Gina and Alex claimed the sofa, while Vinico sprawled out in a recliner, clearly trying to recapture some semblance of comfort—or, more likely, avoid me altogether. I ended up on a sturdy ottoman, shifting slightly to find a stable position.

The quiet stretched between us, filled only by the pitter patters of the rain outside.

Finally, Alex spoke, “So… what’s our next move?”

Lore’s eyes flicked to him, “Our next move?” she echoed. “We catch who’s running this operation and where they’re holding the rest of the victims.”

“And the auction?” Gina asked, her voice hesitant.

Lore’s lips pressed into a thin line. “According to the information you pulled—and I have no reason to doubt it—they’re planning to sell the serum and formula at the end of the week. That gives us three to four days, maybe less.”

Vinico let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Four days to stop a global underground auction? No pressure or anything.”

“And we’re sure we’re the ones who need to handle this?” Henry asked, leaning forward. “Shouldn’t we be calling in someone more… qualified?”

Lore’s gaze hardened as she looked at him. “Do you really trust anyone else to take this seriously? You saw the warehouse. You saw what they were doing to those people. Do you think the City Protectors will stop that auction? Hell, who knows they might be on it.”

I glanced at everybody, hesitating before asking, “Has there been any news from the City Protectors? Did they find the warehouse—or the flesh mountain yet?”

Lore and the others pulled out their phones and scrolled through the latest updates.

Gina shook her head. “Nothing so far. If they’ve found it, they’re keeping it quiet. But I doubt it hasn’t been discovered yet.”

“They’d have to release some kind of statement if they did,” Henry said, his tone skeptical. “Something like that… they couldn’t just sweep it under the rug.”

Vinico scoffed from where he lounged in his recliner. “You’d be surprised.”

“No,” Lore cut in, “It’s actually better if they don’t release it to the public. After all, we saw what the villains did to those people. They’re not human anymore—revealing this would only cause chaos. Panic, outrage… it wouldn’t help anyone. It’s better if they quietly identify the victims and connect their families, letting them grieve in peace.”

Alex shook his head, his brows furrowing. “I don’t agree with putting everything under the rug. The public has a right to know. Something like this—it’s too big, too important to hide.”

“And then what?” Vinico shot back, “Do you want people parading through the streets with guns and sticks? Looting, rioting, breaking things because they don’t know how else to handle it?”

“It wouldn’t be like that—” Alex began, but Lore raised a hand, cutting him off.

“It would be exactly like that,” she said, “People don’t handle fear well, and this kind of revelation would terrify them. It would turn the city upside down, and in the end, it wouldn’t fix what’s been done. It would only make it worse.”

“That’s assuming people can’t handle the truth,” Alex snapped back, his frustration evident. “Maybe if they knew what we’re dealing with, they’d start taking things seriously.”

“Or maybe,” Gina interjected softly, “they’d spiral into fear and distrust. Do you know what happens when people lose faith in their protectors? They start looking for scapegoats. That could mean metas, that could mean people like us.”

She wasn’t wrong—human history was full of examples of what happened when fear turned into paranoia.

Henry spoke. “I hate to say it, but I think Lore’s right. Some things are better left in the shadows. The City Protectors aren’t perfect, but they’re the ones who’ll take care of this mess. If we step in, we risk making things worse.”

Alex shook his head, his expression grim. “So what, we just do nothing?”

“Let’s not fight, guys,” I said, “We don’t need to fight amongst ourselves. It’s up to the authorities now—they’ll decide what they think is best. Our job is to stay ahead of the curve.”

I glanced at Alex, meeting his gaze head-on. “I’m tied up tomorrow,” I explained “But you should take Gina, Vinico, or someone else to meet Caleb. Start digging into the underground auction sites.”

Alex nodded, his brow furrowing in thought. I could see the question forming in his mind, so I didn’t wait for him to ask.

“From what Gina said earlier, the auction’s likely somewhere in the underground train network. They’re probably using an abandoned station—one that was shut down decades ago, maybe even longer. Tell Caleb to focus on stations that don’t show up on current maps. That’ll help narrow things down.”

The group fell into a contemplative silence, but I wasn’t finished. My mind raced, connecting dots and piecing together possibilities.

“There’s more,” I said, my voice growing sharper. “The people behind this aren’t amateurs. They could have erased records of those stations entirely, maybe even used meta abilities to conceal them. That means we’ll need to dig deeper—look for rumors, stories, anything weird. Places where people have reported feeling déjà vu, like they’re certain a station used to be there, but now it’s just… gone. Anomalies like that could lead us right to them.”

“And one more thing,” I added, leaning forward. “We need to get access to surveillance footage from every train station in the city. Look for anyone who doesn’t fit—people behaving strangely, like they’re in the wrong place. That could give us our next lead.”

For a second, no one spoke. Then Gina let out a low whistle.

“God,” she exclaimed, staring at me like I’d just solved world hunger. Then, with a smirk, she winked. “Did I ever tell you I like you?”

I blinked, rather liking the idea of staying away from her. “Uh… no?”

She grinned. “Well, I do. Like, a lot.”

Alex snorted, shooting me a look. “Careful, North. Compliments from Gina are rarer than a clean politician.”

“Don’t ruin the moment, Alex,” Gina chided, swatting him on the arm. “This is big brain thinking right here.”

Vinico raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You sure you’re not just flirting?”

Gina gave him an innocent look, tilting her head. “Can’t it be both?”

I exhaled slowly, “Can we please focus?”

“I am focused,” Gina shot back. “Just in a very, very charming way.”

I suddenly felt a bad headache building.