Chapter 9: Lois the Liar

After my recent cover was blown, I knew it was time to move on. My life had become a series of temporary homes, each one discarded as soon as it was compromised. This time, I set my sights on Kane City. I arrived by morning, blending into the bustling crowds as just another face. I had already prepared a background story and crafted a new identity: a freelance journalist eager to start fresh in a different city.

“I feel this time, it is going to be different.”

By the time I reached the office of Kane News, I was fully immersed in my role. The receptionist directed me to a small, sparsely furnished room where the interview would take place. I took a deep breath, straightened my blazer, and walked inside.

The interviewer, a middle-aged man with graying hair and a stern expression, glanced up from his notes as I entered. His eyes were sharp, scrutinizing me in a way that made it clear he wasn’t easily impressed.

“So, what do you think you can contribute to Kane News?” he asked, his tone professional but distant.

I had rehearsed my response, but I knew that delivering it with confidence was the key. I met his gaze without hesitation. “I don’t mean to be arrogant, but I have a lot to offer—starting with confidence,” I began. “In this line of work, believing in what you write is the first crucial step to success. It’s only through conviction that I can deliver the unblemished truth, presented in a perspective that will truly contribute to our society.”

He raised an eyebrow, but there was a flicker of interest in his eyes. I could tell I had his attention. I continued, outlining my qualifications and experiences—most of which were fabrications, but convincing ones. I spoke with the assurance of someone who had nothing to hide as if the person sitting before him had lived that life for years.

By the time the interview was over, I could sense that I had made a good impression. As I left the office, I felt a small surge of relief. Kane City would be my next home, at least for a while. And as long as I played my cards right, this new identity might just hold up.

Time slipped through my fingers like sand. It had been five years since I escaped the Dome, five years of running, hiding, and finally, living. My new life in Kane City had been a blessing in disguise. Working at the newspaper firm was monotonous, but it was a far cry from the horrors of my past. I preferred the dull routine of deadlines and articles over the chaos of my former existence. For two years, Kane City had been my sanctuary, and they were the best years of my life.

One afternoon, as I was lounging in the park, enjoying the rare moment of peace, something—or rather someone—caught my eye. A hotdog vendor on the corner of the park had an uncanny resemblance to zero-zero-one-three, the weakest kid from the Dome. He was hawking his wares with a surprising amount of enthusiasm.

"Hotdogs! Hotdogs! Get your hotdogs!" he shouted, waving a hotdog in the air like it was the most valuable thing on earth.

I blinked, unsure if my eyes were playing tricks on me. Could it really be him? The idea seemed absurd. Zero-zero-one-three, the boy who had vanished without a trace, now selling hotdogs in Kane City? I couldn’t shake the curiosity gnawing at me, so I decided to get a closer look.

But before I could approach, a commotion erupted. A thug grabbed the hotdog vendor, holding a gun to his head. The crowd scattered, screams filling the air. My first instinct was to intervene, but I hesitated. I was a civilian now, not the weapon the Dome had forged. Besides, getting involved could blow my cover, and I wasn’t ready to risk that.

Then, out of nowhere, Ivory appeared.

Ivory was a new superhero in Kane City, having made her debut about three years ago. She was fast, powerful, and had a reputation for handling situations like this with ease. But to me, she was more than just a superhero—she was a ghost from my past. I knew Ivory from the Dome, though she had gone by a different name back then. She had started appearing in Kane City around the same time I arrived. Coincidence? I didn’t think so.

My heart raced as I watched her take down the thug with practiced precision. She moved like a predator, graceful and deadly. The hotdog vendor was saved, but I was already backing away, slipping into the shadows. The last thing I needed was for her to recognize me.

As I ducked behind a tree, trying to steady my breathing, I couldn’t help but question my choice of refuge. Why had I chosen Kane City, of all places, knowing that someone like her was here? Maybe it was because Kane City was one of the few places where the local criminal powerhouses had more influence than the Union. Even the Guard struggled to maintain a presence here. But that didn’t make it any less dangerous.

I stayed hidden until Ivory was gone, then made my way back to my apartment, my mind racing with thoughts of the past. Kane City had been a safe haven, but now, with familiar faces resurfacing, I wasn’t so sure. The life I had built here suddenly felt fragile, like a house of cards ready to collapse at the slightest breeze.

And here I thought I could continue hiding while enjoying my very dull job.

For the next few days, I couldn’t get zero-zero-one-three and his doppelgänger out of my mind. The resemblance was uncanny. I imagined what zero-zero-one-three might have been like if he’d grown up, but the thought of him selling hotdogs? It seemed absurd. Then again, on second thought, maybe it wasn’t so far-fetched. It kind of fit him, in a strange way.

Stolen novel; please report.

Driven by a mix of curiosity and suspicion, I began tracking the hotdog vendor. My instincts screamed that there was more to this man than met the eye. I sought out Chet, a local information broker who knew the ins and outs of Kane City. At first, Chet was reluctant to do business with me, but in this world, money talked louder than any words.

"He seems like a normal guy," I told Chet after he handed me the details. The vendor’s name was Thomas Clark, a name so unremarkable it might as well have been plucked out of a phone book.

And Thomas Clark was, by all appearances, incredibly normal. He lived a quiet life, ran his hotdog stand, and had no known affiliations with any suspicious groups. For a while, I almost gave up trying to connect him to zero-zero-one-three. But then, a strange incident at a pharmacy changed everything.

I happened to be in the pharmacy when a robbery took place. It was a situation I could have handled with ease, but I chose to play the role of the damsel in distress, curious to see what would happen. To my surprise, Thomas Clark clumsily intervened, trying to deal with the robbers. He was awkward and far from heroic, but it was what happened afterward that caught my attention.

After the chaos died down, I found myself struggling to recall the details of the robbery, particularly Thomas’s involvement. The more I tried to remember, the fuzzier it became. That was when it hit me—Thomas had tried to erase my memories of his presence. He must have done the same to the other witnesses, ensuring there would be no record of him at the scene. But his power didn’t work on me, at least not fully. I recovered my memories within a few minutes of the confrontation.

That was when I knew for certain—Thomas Clark was zero-zero-one-three. I deduced he had erased my memory, not to protect himself from the robbers or the police, but to ensure that no one connected him to his past. He was hiding, just like me, but he was doing it in plain sight, using his power to blend into the background of normalcy.

But… why was he so clumsy in a fight? It was almost a disappointment.

I continued my investigation of Thomas, determined to uncover the truth about his past. I even hired a private eye to stalk him, hoping to learn more about his habits and routines. It didn’t take long to notice that he adhered to a very strict schedule. Every day, like clockwork, he would wake up, complete his morning routines, sell hotdogs, and then go home. The only time he deviated from this pattern was when he went grocery shopping.

I planned to confront him soon, perhaps at the arcade where he often hung out, but an unexpected opportunity presented itself—a blind date. It seemed almost too perfect. I spent hours researching how a lovestruck girl might act on a blind date, and although I felt ridiculous, I was determined to nail it. Well, maybe not 100%—the embarrassment was real—but I managed to pull it off.

Zero-zero-one-three, or rather, Thomas, fell for my act almost immediately. It didn’t hurt that I used my ability to release pheromones, which made me more attractive. In a way, I had bewitched him with my powers, ensuring that he would be drawn to me.

When we finally met, I decided to play the role of a starstruck admirer. “Oh my God! It’s you! My hero!” I squealed, pretending to be overwhelmed with excitement. It was just acting, but I couldn’t deny that the shy, stammering Thomas was kind of cute. “You’re that guy, right? The one from the pharmacy?”

Thomas looked completely flustered. “W-what?”

The blind date had been set up at Chet’s café, a place I knew Thomas frequented. Getting Chet to arrange the blind date with me had been easy—manipulating people was second nature to me by now. I’ve always been a smooth talker, though I couldn’t help but feel that Thomas might be denser than a tectonic plate at times.

Still, I had him right where I wanted him. Now, it was just a matter of time before I got the answers I sought.

We ate, we talked, and exchanged sweet nothings that quickly turned into something more. Before I knew it, we were officially boyfriend and girlfriend. By our third date, we decided it was okay to embrace the romance that had been blooming between us. We watched movies, ate at food stalls, strolled through parks, and did all the things couples do when they're falling for each other.

In the beginning, I had called him zero-zero-one-three in my head, the name he had in the Dome, the name I associated with trash and mystery. But as time passed, he became Thomas to me, just Thomas. I found out that he genuinely wanted to fall in love, and I allowed myself to be the person he could fall in love with.

Somewhere along the way, I realized I was becoming just as drawn to him as he was to me. The lines between my investigation and my emotions began to blur. Why had I been so determined to investigate him as if he were my enemy? Eventually, our relationship deepened, and we added sex into the mix. It was awkward and a little painful at first, but it didn’t feel wrong. In fact, it felt like the natural progression of what we had.

Initially, my interest in Thomas was purely investigative. I wanted to know who he was, what secrets he held, and if he was truly the same person I remembered from the Dome. But now? Now, I felt like he was worth all the effort and risks. It was ironic, really—fate was stranger than fiction. The more time I spent with Thomas, the more I realized that the life we were building together, however strange or unexpected, felt real to me. And yet, in the midst of it all, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something about myself wasn’t entirely real.

Maybe that’s why everything seemed to be moving so fast—because deep down, I knew that in a world like ours, nothing this good could last forever.

The memories of the past faded as I returned to the present, the gentle waves of the bay lapping at the shore, creating a soothing rhythm that usually calmed my restless mind. I looked at Thomas, his face softened by the evening light, and I couldn’t help but smile. He was so much more than the lost boy I had once known. He was the man I loved, the man I wanted to build a future with.

“You silly big guy,” I whispered, placing my hand on his cheek, and feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my fingers. “Let’s make a family.”

The world around us seemed to pause. The usual sounds of the bay—gulls cawing, waves crashing, distant chatter—faded into silence. We sat there on the bench, our eyes locked, connecting in a way that went beyond physical attraction. At that moment, I opened my heart to him, fully and completely.

“I love you,” I said, my voice trembling with the weight of my emotions.

“Me too,” he replied, his voice equally soft, but there was something in his eyes that made me want to hear the words.

“You have to say it,” I urged gently, needing to hear him say those three little words.

He hesitated, his expression a mixture of tenderness and uncertainty. “I…”

But before he could finish, something inside me tensed, a fleeting instinct that I had foolishly ignored. I had believed the bay was safe, a place where we could be ourselves without fear. I had always loved the sea, its vastness, its freedom, but I had no excuse for my carelessness. I had let my guard down, thinking that this moment, this place, was different.

Then, out of nowhere, a sharp, painful ringing pierced my ears, a sound so intense that it drowned out everything else. My world shattered in an instant, and before I could react before I could even comprehend what was happening, my head exploded into a bloody, gory mess.

The last thing I saw was Thomas’s horrified face, his expression twisted in shock and despair as everything went dark.