As Aleksander Kravinoff strode out of the VIP lounge, leaving Benny "The Bull" Caruso visibly shaken, I could feel the tension in the room shift. Benny's bravado had cracked, and now he was left alone with his thoughts, or so he thought. What he didn't know was that I had already planted the seed—a mental trigger that would allow me to read his thoughts with ease. As Benny composed himself, I peeked into his mind, sifting through the murky layers of anxiety, greed, and fear.

Well, considering his weak mindset, it was easy to find the info I was looking for. The location of their bases, the times of their deals, the names of the key players—everything laid bare before me. Hammerhead's entire operation was now mapped out in my mind, and more importantly, the exact details of the high-grade weapons shipment coming in three days.

But what would happen if Benny were to die right here, after a drink with Karavinoff? What kind of effect would that have on Hammerhead? With his temper and all these witnesses here who saw him drink with Kravinoff, they would think that Kravinoff poisoned Benny or killed him through unknown means, well, it won't matter anyway. Hammerhead would shift his focus on Kravinoff and start a war between the two gangs.

Well, sacrifices are necessary to do some good. I would have given Benny a chance to live, but the shits he has done were enough for me to judge him. So, I'm doing the world a favor by getting rid of such scum.

I shifted my focus to Benny and snuffed the oxygen around his face, little by little.

As Benny's breathing started to slow, he didn't notice anything at first. His sluggish brain, dulled by alcohol, couldn't process the subtle tightening in his chest. He took another sip of his drink, oblivious to the fact that his lungs were now gasping for oxygen that wasn't there. The women around him were too distracted, and the goons were caught up in their own conversations. No one noticed as Benny's face slowly turned red, then purple.

I kept my distance, standing by the bar, sipping my whiskey. From here, I could see everything, but no one could see me. Benny's mind began to panic, his thoughts turning to desperate survival instincts. What's happening? His internal voice screamed. But before he could react, I amplified the suffocation, cutting off the last bit of oxygen. He slumped forward, his glass slipping from his hand and shattering on the ground.

The room grew quiet as his body twitched violently. One of his men leaned forward, confused. "Boss? You okay?" His words were hesitant, but when Benny didn't respond, the panic set in.

"Benny!" The goon shouted, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him. The women screamed, jumping back as the situation became clear.

I walked toward the exit after wiping out their memories of seeing me here, phasing through the wall once more, making sure I wasn't seen. Now it's time to take down those bastards from earlier. Oh, if you are wondering about the CCTVs, well, do you think they would have cameras in a place where a deal like that is going on?

I phased back through the alley walls, stepping out into the night, the chaos from Benny's death still echoing inside Club Mirage. The street outside was as quiet as before. I made my way back to my car and slipped inside.

The G-Wagon had pulled into that gated compound earlier—one of Hammerhead's safehouses. It was only a few blocks away, and no one would ever know what's gonna happen there in a few hours.

I pulled up a short distance away, parking the old sedan in a shadowed spot between a couple of cars parked on the sideways. It was a rough neighborhood, the kind of place where people didn't ask too many questions, especially not about a beat-up car that had been parked for too long.

Hammerhead's safehouse was a fortress, or so they thought. Thick walls, barred windows, and armed men patrolling the perimeter. I could see them through the fence—three goons stationed outside, smoking and chatting like they didn't have a care in the world. The gate was reinforced with some high-end tech, but it wouldn't matter. I didn't need to go through the front door.

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I approached slowly, blending into the night. My psychic powers kicked in, scanning the guards' minds. They were relaxed, thinking about their next break, completely unaware of the danger. I planted subtle suggestions into their minds, and one by one, they began to feel an overwhelming sense of exhaustion. Their eyelids grew heavy, and within minutes, they slumped to the ground, unconscious.

I phased through the outer wall and into the compound. It was dark, but I didn't need light to navigate. My mind mapped the layout of the building based on what I had pulled from Benny's thoughts earlier. There were more guards inside—probably a dozen scattered throughout the house. No one important was here tonight, just Hammerhead's grunts, running the day-to-day operations. But that didn't mean they weren't dangerous.

I moved silently, slipping through walls and doorways until I reached the first set of guards inside. They were seated around a table, playing cards. One of them had a gun resting on the table in front of him. I focused my powers on the group, casting an illusion that made the room seem darker and colder. Obviously, everything they were seeing was in their mind. Their conversation faltered as they started to feel the chill creeping in. Then, one by one, they began to see things—shadows moving in the corners, whispers in their ears. Then came the grotesque demon...

Panic set in. One of them grabbed the gun, but before he could do anything, I locked their minds down with a single thought.

Sleep and enjoy the nightmares...

They collapsed like puppets whose strings had been cut, falling onto the floor in a heap. I moved past them, stepping deeper into the safe house.

I made my way to the garage on the other end.

The G-Wagon was parked there, and that's where I found what I was looking for—a stash of weapons, neatly packed in crates. I opened one of the crates, inspecting its contents. High-tech firearms, some of them military-grade, the kind that shouldn't have been in the hands of street-level criminals. Well, this was one of their daily jobs. Selling weapons.

My eyes fell on the crates stacked near the wall. These ones were different. I opened one of them and wow! Cash! So much money! But why would they put these in a garage? Must be planning to shift by midnight or something.

I heard footsteps... Well, let's not waste any more time and put them to sleep.

I expanded my psychic power through the mansion and put the rest of the men to sleep. Oh, there seem to be two girls among them. Anyway, now, time to destroy them. Wait! Why destroy? I heard a new commissioner came to NY. Yuri Watanabe. Might as well give this to her as a gift. After all, she is the only honest cop here in New York. Maybe keep some for myself... Explosive traps outside my house seem fun, in case someone uninvited shows up.

I took all the weapons from the mansion and loaded them into the G-Wagon. My telekinesis made it almost too easy, the guns and crates floating through the air like they weighed nothing. Once the weapons were secured, I turned my attention to the cash. A small fortune, stacked neatly in crates by the wall. I floated the crates over to my old sedan, careful not to make a sound. The trunk barely closed, packed tight with all that money. A nice bonus for me, but I wasn't doing this for the cash. Not really.

With everything loaded, I made my way back inside. The guards were still unconscious, their minds tangled in the nightmares I'd planted earlier. Just for good measure, I set up my signature triple-layer mental trigger in each of their heads. Two chances to turn their life around, on the third... Death.

I packed the car with as many goons as I could fit then walked outside, phasing through the wall. Time to put this plan into motion.

With a thought, I woke one of them up and put an order to drive to the NYPD in his head. With a groan, the man climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine. He seemed confused, but he didn't question it. The trigger was strong, overriding any doubts or fears. He was under my control.

As the G-Wagon pulled away from the compound.

I started my car and followed at a distance, keeping just enough distance to stay out of sight. It wasn't hard. The streets were almost empty. And even if we did run into another car, the trigger would take care of any problems. The goon drove like an automated vehicle, his mind blank, focused on one task.

After reaching the NYPD, the goon got out with his gun. I made him fire a couple of shots into the air, causing panic among the officers. Then I made him throw his weapon and surrender and planted a final order. "Tell them the truth and every illegal thing you guys have done."

Perfect.

After that, I made my way toward that orphanage that May Parker runs. Might as well, do another good deed, right?