I’ve only just broken Samuel’s door open when the metal door leading out of the cell block opens and two officers rush in.

“What’s—” one of them says, freezing. He looks from my open door, to Samuel’s door, then to me.

The other draws her gun. “Don’t move!”

“Look,” I say, moving my hands to the side. “I don’t want any trouble.”

Really? You’re going to—

“Fuck it,” I grumble. “We’re leaving. Get out of my way or get trampled.”

She fires, and before I get over the surprise enough to notice I didn’t lose any health, I realize she’s pointing it up and seems to be struggling with it.

I stalk toward them as the guy reaches for his gun. I shove her against the bars hard enough that she loses hold of it, and grab his wrist as he pulls gun out.

“Drop it, or I’m breaking your wrist.”

“I’m a—”

“I don’t give a fuck,” I say slowly, gently squeezing. The man lets the gun fall to my father’s disappointment. “Unlock her cell.” I squeeze again when he looks about to protest.

Samuel runs by me, to stand in the cell block’s open doorway.

Louisa steps out of her cell, taking the officer’s keys, and I push him into it. Louisa helps the stunned woman to her feet and gets her in the cell. I close the door, then step back as Louisa locks it. She takes a gun off the floor, checks the clip, and does the same with the second one before offering it to Samuel, who backs from it.

“Sorry, I don’t do guns.”

She looks at me. “The way you look and how you broke the doors, I take it your build’s aimed at close combat.” She places a gun in her waistband, at the small of her back. “With your self-admitted problems with crowds, that’s probably a good thing.”

“Keep your diagnosing to yourself,” I snap as I head for the door.

“I thought you were a shrink?” Samuel asks her.

“That’s why I learned to handle a gun. I know how many crazies are out there.”

The bullpen’s empty. The other officers must be out patrolling.

Or enforcing the will of the dictator.

“What’s the plan?” Samuel asks, and that stops me halfway to the door.

Who cares? my father asks.

I turn to face Louisa. “How do I break his hold over… the town?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what the ability is; if it’s passive or active.”

“It’s active,” Samuel said. “He goes around talking to people. I think it’s to refresh his influence on them. I followed him after I walked out, trying to figure out his thing. I didn’t know it was an ability, but I’ve been around enough smooth-talkers to know they have a way they like to work. With him, I’d say that the moment he talks, it’s an attack.”

“That could still be a passive ability,” Louisa comments, “but it tells me that it wanes over time. So if we keep him from going around, talking to anyone, everyone will get back to their senses in time.”

Dead would accomplish that.

No.

I’m just saying.

You aren’t getting me to do your dirty work.

My father’s voice snickers. Right, my dirty work.

“You okay?” Louisa asks.

“Yes.” I turn, as she raises her hands placatingly, and heads outside. It’s dark. Right, It was late afternoon when they brought me in. “Where can I find Victor?”

“City Hall would be my guess,” Samuel says. “He’s the mayor, after all.”

“Where is it?”

“He might be home,” Louisa adds. “But I don’t know where he lives and there’s no telling what building he moved into.”

“Look for the biggest house,” Samuel says.

“Massanetta Spring’s too far,” she replies. “Best I worked out before I was thrown in here is that the actual city is down to a fraction of what it used to be. The system considers everything else part of the wilderness.”

“There’s still going to be a good house here—”

“City Hall,” I state instead of letting them go on as my willpower starts ticking down. “That’s where we’re going.”

They’re quiet for a second.

“Okay,” Samuel says. “Not arguing with that tone.”

“Night might not be the best time to travel,” Louisa says. “Lots of unsavory elements come out then.”

I smile to myself. “Where is it?”

“It’s not far,” she finally says. “North on Main street.”

I walk out of the parking lot and make a left. She doesn’t correct me, so I figure I’m going in the right direction.

Samuel steps next to me. “But seriously, what is the plan?”

“Go in, pound his head in a wall until what he’s doing to the people here stops affecting them.”

“You’re serious?”

I wish.

I shrug. “It’s going to depend on how many I get to hit before I reach him. I need to rebuild my willpower.”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“By hitting people?” Samuel asks cautiously.

“That’s not a healthy coping mechanism,” Louisa comments.

I snort. “That’s why I don’t usually hang around people.”

“Have you considered—”

“No,” I cut her off.

“I was only—”

“I don’t care. What I do works for me. Once I’m done here, I’m going to be on my own again and I won’t have to worry about hurting people if I get angry.”

“Going off on your own isn’t a good strategy,” she tries again. “We’re social creatures and you really should find healthier ways to deal with your anger.”

“I’m not letting you in my head. And I really want you to drop this before I run out of willpower.” The drop isn’t as significant as when I was dealing with Terry and John. Probably because I’m not making an effort at remaining civil.

The moon’s out, the sky clear. The only lights are the occasional lamps and candles in windows or by doors. I should have grabbed a flashlight before we left the station. I can just make out the sidewalk enough to stay on it.

Our only altercation nets us a flashlight without having to raise a hand against them. I sort of make out the group approaching, then a light is shone on our faces.

“Give us your—” The young-sounding man is interrupted by the clicking of a gun’s hammer being pulled. The light falls to the ground and I hear running away.

“That’s why I know how to handle a gun,” Louisa says.

I pick up the flashlight and go through the settings until I have a wide beam and continue. The rest of the trek is uneventful

* * * * *

I can tell the city hall building before Louisa points it out, because it’s the only one fully lit, outside and in. Samuel gets me to turn the flashlight off and we approach from the darkness. Cars have been piled up along the outside of the parking lot into an imperfect wall. Two muscular men guard the lot’s entrance. Beyond them, I see half a dozen figures moving about.

“I didn’t think technology worked anymore,” Louisa says.

“Only the high-tech stuff,” Samuel replies. “They must have a diesel generator. We should shut that down.”

I can see movement inside as shadows move in the light on the second and third floors. The ground floor windows are covered up. “You take care of that.” I head for the lot’s entrance.

“What are you—” Samuel shuts up before he has to raise his voice.

“City Hall is closed,” one of the muscular men says once they notice me. “Come back in the daytime.” Neither of them is armed and they don’t seem threatened by my size. I equip my employee of the month armor, minus the mask. I don’t want to risk killing anyone by accident.

Going to do it on purpose then?

I snarl at the voice, which makes the guards pause and look at one another. By the time they react and take an aggressive posture, I’m already swinging. The first punch sends one down, wheezing, the other is blocked, but still staggers the second guard back. Before he can recover, my next punch drops him to the ground, groaning.

Down, still breathing, not about to get back up.

Okay, now I have a sense of how hard I can hit them.

I’ve also been noticed and half a dozen men are running in my direction while the others rush inside through the turning door.

I smile and keep walking. These have baseball bats for weapons and when they hit, it costs me a bit of health, but when I hit them, they don’t get up.

Like the rest of the ground floor, the doors have been covered with plywood. The revolving door is locked, as are the two normal ones on each side. I pull on the handle, and that breaks off. I don’t bother trying the other one.

I step into the revolving door, shoulder it, then push.

The glass on the other side of the plywood breaks first. Then the metal starts complaining. Over that, I hear people moving away. Worries voices. Someone mentions Victor’s name, but I don’t make out the rest. When the lock breaks, an alarm sounds.

I guess Victor doesn’t have to wonder what’s going on anymore.

The lobby’s deserted. Down the central hall, I hear indistinct voices, so I head there.

Right when I reach the intersection the lights go out.

* * * * *

The lights go out and I look around in the darkness, trying to keep my heart from beating out of my chest. I should have known better. I know better than to believe him. Now I’m alone in a deserted shopping mall, in the dark.

“Charlie,” comes my father’s voice, sing-songing my name. “I’m coming for you.”

* * * * *

I look around in the darkness, listening to the voices turn panicked. I smile.

“Victor!” I bellow. “I’m coming for you!”

The emergency lights come on, creating shadows more than providing light.

* * * * *

Light! There’s light, I run into the pool of an emergency spotlight and try to feel safe. Only I can’t see outside. I can’t stay here, my father will find me. But outside the light is his world. He can be anywhere in the dark. He is the dark.

* * * * *

I stay in the darkness and I stalk toward the sounds.

* * * * *

I run from light to light, trying to pierce the darkness to get some warning of when he’ll jump out and hurt me.

* * * * *

When someone jumps at me, I throw them away like the garbage they are. Some go through walls, others simply over my shoulder to crash on the floor behind me.

One appears out of a doorway and lands a punch that snaps my head to the side and drops my health noticeably. I work my jaw, spit blood, then slowly look at the stunned man.

“Well, looks like you know how to land a punch,” I tell him. “My turn.” I hit him in the chest before he can react and I feel bones break as he raises a few inches in the air. When he lands he crumples into atrembling ball and I walk over him.

* * * * *

He can’t find me here, I tell myself over and over, curled onto myself in the furthest corner under the stairs. He’s going to think I kept running away from him, that I’m too scared to think of hiding.

“Charlie,” he sing-songs again, too close, far too close. “You can’t hide from me, Charlie. Come out, come out wherever you are.”

* * * * *

I ascend the stairs leaving more groaning and moaning people behind. I step out onto the first floor. “You can’t hide from me, Victor!” I yell. Then I proceed down the hall.

* * * * *

The door! I see the door to the outside! I see the lights of the parking lot beyond them. I only hesitate for a second, knowing it might be a trap, but my father’s somewhere behind me, not in front. I run for them. Once I’m outside, I’ll be free of him. I’ll run home to mom and she’ll keep me safe.

I slam into the door that doesn’t open. I look for a handle, but it’s an automated sliding door. It’s supposed to open by itself. I manage to get my fingers between the doors, but I’m not strong enough to pull them apart.

No! I can’t be trapped in here, not when he’s going to realize—

I hear the slow click-clack of his steps in the distance. My father knows how to be silent, he’s always silent. Unless he knows the game is over. Then, he makes sure I know he’s coming for me.

I try to be brave, I want to be brave.

Instead, I crumble to the floor whimpering, already begging for him to stop, and he hasn’t even started making me suffer yet.

* * * * *

The clack of the boot on the floor comes behind me as I contemplate the double doors before me. He’s behind them. The number of men I had to knock out to reach the door tells me that. But it seems Victor has a final surprise for me.

I turn to face the man.

He’s taller than me but less bulky. I know from experience that size means nothing when it comes to inflicting pain. My father wasn’t a big man, physically.

He comes at me, light on his feet. I wait for him. I’m not worried. I’ve taken the measure of the people Victor has protecting him, and they aren’t—

The air around the man’s outstretched hand shimmers, and it’s too late for me to avoid the hit. I move enough so it isn’t a direct impact, but even that sends me in the air, off my feet, and on my back. I bite back the pain as I get to my feet and he grins at me.

“Not so full of yourself now, are you?”

I equip my bar as I swing at him and he raises his hand, eyes wide in fear. The air shimmers again, but the impact send him into the wall, where he groans and doesn’t get up.

My father complains about the goon’s luck, and I’m not certain how I feel about him surviving. But I have someone else to deal with right now. I kick the doors open.

Victor’s alone in an office. No windows, thick door, lots of men in front of the door as well as that last one. This is probably what he considered the safest place in the building.

“Chuck,” he greets me, smiling and I tell myself it’s an act. Rely on the fact I miss too many social cues, for him to be that confident. “Or do you prefer Mister Dorval?”

I glance at my willpower and it ticks down. None of the fights have been satisfying enough to raise it beyond the halfway mark.

“Now, I don’t know what has you so angry, but I promise you, there’s no need for all this violence. I’m trying to—”

I throw the desk to the side and lean forward. “Shut up.”

He’s up and with his back against the bookcase behind him.

“I promise you, whatever happened; if you’ll just let me explain, you’ll see that—”

Paper and wood explode around the fist I slam through the books on the shelf next to his head. “Stop talking,” I growl.

He swallows and opens his mouth.

“The lower my willpower is,” I snarl, “the harder it is for me to keep from doing that to your head.”

His eyes widen, and, now, I can read the fear in them.

I smile, and he starts whimpering.