Chapter 6 The Parts We Play

  Calm down, me. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to think clearly. I needed to be confident, methodical. Panicking now would only make things worse. But still, precautions wouldn’t hurt. Maybe I should find somewhere else to lay low, a cheap motel or even just keep off the streets for a while. Too much paranoia wasn’t healthy, but just enough might keep me alive and free.

  I reassessed my situation, trying to ignore the growing knot in my stomach. Before I realized it, I was already stuffing clothes into a duffel bag. Shirts, jeans, socks, and just the essentials. I threw in a toothbrush and some cash too, even though I knew I’d be traveling light. But as I zipped the bag closed, a question lingered in my mind: where would I even go?

  I didn’t have any close relatives. My parents were gone. The thought of turning to extended family felt laughable; I barely knew any of them. Another city? That was possible, but it felt like a nuclear option. A move like that would burn through my savings fast, and I didn’t want to live in constant fear of every cop or camera I saw.

  What about friends? I paused, considering the people I’d crossed paths with. Did I have a single friend who’d willingly house me for a while? Someone who wouldn’t ask too many questions, who wouldn’t judge or pry?

  The answer came painfully fast. No. I didn’t have anyone.

  I’d been a loner for as long as I could remember. Sure, there were people I’d worked with or classmates I used to talk to, but none of them were the kind of people you could show up to unannounced, duffel bag in hand, and expect a warm welcome. My life had always been one of self-reliance. And now, that loneliness felt heavier than ever.

  I sat down on the edge of my bed, staring at the packed bag. My chest felt tight. Where could I go? Nowhere, really. And even if I ran, would it even matter? They had my blurry image. Vanguard was involved. If they were serious about hunting me down, running might only delay the inevitable.

  Still, I couldn’t just sit here. Could I?

  The soft droning of the TV filled the room, dragging my attention back to the news. I sat down on the bed, still clutching my half-packed duffel bag, and listened. The reporter’s voice carried a mix of detachment and curiosity, the kind they reserved for big scandals.

  “Charles Hamilton, better known as Sunstrider, was a decorated member of Vanguard for over fifteen years,” she began. A picture of him flashed on the screen, all bright smiles and polished confidence. The kind of face you’d trust to save your life, not haunt your nightmares.

  Ah shit… they’ve dcided to come clean with his superhero identity.

  She went on. “He was well-known for his humanitarian efforts, funding numerous charities and programs aimed at supporting underprivileged youth. However, his private life was notoriously elusive, with only whispers of controversy.”

  I snorted. Controversy, my ass. They were talking about the same guy who kept teeth and skulls in his floorboards. How the hell could they spin someone like that into a saint?

  “Despite these efforts, Hamilton was no stranger to accusations of misconduct. Anonymous sources have alleged he had a history of aggression toward both colleagues and civilians, though none of these claims have been substantiated.”

  Of course not, I thought bitterly. People like him didn’t get caught. They just burned evidence... or anyone who might spill it.

  The report shifted, showing a clip of a polished, blonde-haired man I instantly recognized. Chadwick Hamilton. He was standing in front of a podium, reporters swarming around him.

  “My father was a hero,” Chad said, his voice cracking just enough to sound sincere. “He dedicated his life to helping others, and it’s devastating that his story ends this way. My family and I ask for privacy as we grieve this tremendous loss.”

  I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. Yeah, right, Chad. Privacy. Sure. If he was anything like his father, he was already scheming how to turn this tragedy into a political stepping stone. The bastard had always been a wannabe politician... just like his Dad.

  The news cut back to the studio. The anchorwoman folded her hands neatly on the desk. “Authorities have not yet released any suspects in Hamilton’s murder, but the local superhero team Vanguard has pledged their full cooperation in the investigation. They’ve stated that bringing the perpetrator to justice is their top priority.”

  The words felt like ice down my spine. Top priority.

  I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to think. They didn’t know it was me. Not yet. The blurry photo wasn’t much to go on, and I’d been careful, at least I thought I had. No prints, no DNA, no clear footage. The katana was the only loose thread, but even that didn’t directly tie back to me.

  Still…

  I glanced back at my half-packed duffel. Running felt cowardly, but staying put felt reckless. And reckless was the last thing I could afford to be.

  The reporter’s voice faded into the background as my mind churned through possibilities. If they didn’t know who I was, then maybe I could afford to lay low here a bit longer. But if they got even a hint of my identity, then it was game over.

  For now, I just needed to stay invisible. And maybe… maybe find a way to disappear completely if it came to that.

  The thought hit me like a punch to the gut. Disappearing meant leaving everything behind, this crappy house, and my already-meager life. It felt too final. Too real. But what choice did I have?

  I stood up and zipped the duffel shut. Even if I didn’t run, it didn’t hurt to be ready.

  The aggressive knocking made my heart lurch into my throat. My first thought was cops, but when I peeked through the window, it was worse. Much worse.

  Three men stood on my porch, and even though I didn’t recognize two of them, the big guy in the middle was unforgettable. Alfred. One of the gangsters my dad owed money to.

  The black guy with a flat top caught sight of me peeking and sneered. “Motherfucker, it’s that bastard! That’s the guy who stole our money. Hey, you! Pay up!”

  My stomach dropped. Damn it.

  Alfred’s face twisted with fury. “Juanito, kick the door open for me, will ya?”

  Juanito, the bigger guy with coffee-colored skin, tattoos crawling up his neck, and enough piercings to set off an airport metal detector, nodded and stepped forward.

  “Wait! Wait!” I shouted, fumbling for the locks. “I’m opening it!”

  The last thing I needed was for them to break the door down and alert the whole neighborhood. I swung the door open, hands raised in surrender.

  “What are you doing, boy?” Alfred growled, stepping inside like he owned the place. His voice was smooth, but it carried the kind of weight that made my skin crawl. “I told you, didn’t I? If you heard me knocking, you’d better open that door!”

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  Before I could respond, Alfred’s boot connected with my TV, sending it crashing to the floor in a shower of sparks. My stomach twisted.

  “Hey! That’s...”

  The words barely left my mouth before he closed the distance, his hand flying. SLAP! The first hit stung, and my cheek flared with heat.

  SLAP!

  The second one was harder, jerking my head to the side.

  SLAP!

  By the third, my vision blurred, but I didn’t fall. I stayed rooted, refusing to show weakness.

  “You think you can just walk away from what you owe me, huh?” Alfred growled, his face inches from mine. His breath smelled of cigarettes and anger.

  “I don’t owe you anything!” I snapped before I could stop myself. “That was my dad’s debt, not mine!”

  Alfred’s laugh was cold and humorless. “Your daddy’s gone, boy. Dead, isn’t he? That means the debt’s on you now.”

  I clenched my fists, every muscle in my body screaming at me to do something. But Alfred wasn’t just some random thug. He had two guys with him, and they were already eyeing the place like vultures.

  “You’ve been causing me trouble,” Alfred continued, his voice dropping into something dangerously soft. “Beth’s Burgers? Heard what you did there. Bold move, pissing off the people who might’ve given you a break.”

  My heart pounded in my chest. They knew too much. How?

  “I don’t have your money,” I said through gritted teeth. “Not yet.”

  Alfred smirked, leaning back. “Not yet, huh? That’s a shame.”

  He turned to Juanito and Flat Top. “Boys, start looking around. Grab anything that looks like it’s worth a damn.”

  “No!” I shouted, but Juanito shoved past me, heading straight for the kitchen, while Flat Top made a beeline for the bedroom.

  “Stop them!” I shouted, but Alfred grabbed my arm, twisting it painfully behind my back.

  “Easy there, boy,” Alfred said with a grin. “You’re already on thin ice. Don’t make me break it.”

  My mind raced. I can’t let this happen. But what could I do? If I used my powers, they’d know. And if they knew... my life was over. The walls of my home seemed to close in as the reality of the situation sank deeper. This wasn’t a simple shakedown anymore. It was a full-on ransacking. My fists clenched as I fought the urge to lash out.

  I was tempted to use my powers… and what?

  No, no powers. If they figure out what I can do, I’m screwed. Gangs love to collect capes, and they wouldn’t care about my feelings on the matter.

  “Some 5,000 marks, boss… this guy is fucking poor…” Juanito called out from the kitchen, his voice laced with derision. I could hear the metallic clangs and wooden thuds as he tore through the cupboards and drawers. It sounded like he was rearranging my pots and pans just for the fun of it.

  Flat Top’s shout followed, ringing out from my bedroom. “Boss, he’s got about 18,000 marks in here! Looks like he’s skipping town!”

  I winced as my mind flashed to my hastily packed duffel bag. My clothes were likely strewn across the floor, evidence of my plans laid bare for all to see. I could practically see Flat Top holding up my shirts like trophies, smirking as if he’d unearthed some grand conspiracy.

  Alfred turned his cold gaze back to me, his mouth twisting into a sneer. “Skipping town, huh? That’s bold. Real bold for a guy who’s already on my shit list.”

  “I wasn’t skipping town!” I shot back, the words leaving my mouth before I could think them through. “I was just… organizing. You know, decluttering.”

  Alfred’s eyebrow twitched, and for a moment, I thought he might actually laugh. Instead, he took a menacing step closer, his broad frame blocking out the dim light streaming through the broken door. “Decluttering, huh?” he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “That’s real cute. Too bad I’m not buying it.”

  I swallowed hard, my mind racing. They’d found my emergency stash, the cash I’d scraped together from God-knows-how-many side hustles and odd jobs. If they took that, I’d be left with nothing.

  “Look, Alfred,” I said, my voice as steady as I could manage. “You’ve already trashed my place and humiliated me. Take the 5,000 from the kitchen, but leave the rest. That money’s all I’ve got to survive.”

  Flat Top emerged from the bedroom, holding up my duffel bag like a prize. “Survive? You’ve been surviving just fine, kid. Looks like you’ve been saving for a rainy day.”

  Juanito laughed, the sound grating against my ears. “More like he’s been saving for his funeral. Ain’t that right, Alfred?”

  Alfred grinned, a cruel glint in his eye. “Now that you mention it, maybe we should take it all. Call it interest for your daddy’s debt. What do you think, boy? Sounds fair to me.”

  I felt my pulse quicken, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. I couldn’t let them take everything. Not after everything I’d been through.

  “It’s not fair,” I said, the words slipping out through gritted teeth. “You’re robbing me blind for something I didn’t even do.”

  Alfred’s grin widened. “Life ain’t fair, boy. And you? You’re just learning that the hard way.”

  My mind raced as I considered my options. I couldn’t fight them, not without revealing what I could do. And I couldn’t run, not with them standing between me and the door.

  Think, damn it. Think.

  I needed a way out, a distraction, an opening, and anything to turn the tables. My eyes darted to the duffel bag in Flat Top’s hands. Inside was something I hadn’t thought much about before. It was a small and collapsible mirror with a broken frame.

  It wasn’t much, but it was reflective, sharp on the edges, and within reach.

  “Fine,” I said, forcing my body to relax, even as my heart pounded in my chest. “You win. Take the money. Take it all.”

  Alfred cocked his head, suspicion flickering in his eyes. “You’re giving up that easy?”

  “Yeah,” I said, shrugging as nonchalantly as I could manage. “You’ve already wrecked my place. What’s the point in fighting you?”

  Flat Top snickered, his grip on the duffel bag loosening slightly. Juanito leaned against the kitchen counter, watching the scene unfold with mild amusement. Alfred, meanwhile, seemed to consider my words, his gaze never leaving my face.

  Wait for it…

  As soon as Alfred glanced toward Juanito, I made my move. I lunged for the duffel bag, grabbing the mirror and twisting it sharply in Flat Top’s direction. The sharp edge grazed his arm, causing him to yelp and drop the bag.

  “Son of a—!”

  I didn’t wait for the rest. Grabbing the duffel bag, I bolted for the door, my heart pounding as adrenaline surged through my veins.

  Alfred roared, “Get him!”

  I didn’t look back. I couldn’t afford to. All I could do was run and pray I didn’t get caught.

  Sadly, I didn’t make it far as someone walked to the door: long hair, white skin, and an ugly mug. I was practically flung away.

  The impact of the wall against my back sent a jolt of pain through my body, my vision momentarily swimming. I gasped for air as the giant’s meaty hand released my neck, leaving a lingering ache and a burning humiliation. His size was unreal. He had to crouch just to fit through the doorway. If I wasn’t already panicking, the sheer strength he displayed would’ve done the trick.

  I doubled over, coughing, and barely managed to keep my balance. Alfred’s polished shoes entered my blurry field of vision, the sound of his footsteps sharp and deliberate.

  “Do you know how much your daddy owed my gang?” he spat, his voice a low snarl. “Do you know what my boss does to irresponsible, thankless little cunts like you?”

  I said nothing, still fighting to draw in a full breath.

  “They chop you up for parts!” he continued, his words cutting like knives. “Organs, bone marrow, skin—everything has a price on the black market. My patience is running thin, boy. If you don’t find a way to pay even a hundredth of what we’re owed, we’ll confiscate this little house of yours. And then…”

  He leaned in, his breath hot and acrid against my face. “…then we chop you up anyway. Unless, of course, you’re a cape. But if you were, you’d already be fighting back, wouldn’t you?”

  My blood turned cold at his implication.

  The giant stepped back, cracking his knuckles as he straightened to his full, imposing height. “Don’t even think of skipping town,” he growled, his deep voice rumbling like thunder. “Because trust me, kid, there are worse fates than being chopped up for parts.”

  With that, Alfred nodded to his goons. Juanito sneered at me as he pocketed the money from my stash, and Flat Top shoved my scattered belongings back into the duffel bag, his face twisted in mock pity.

  They left as quickly as they’d arrived, leaving my front door hanging awkwardly off its hinges. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the faint creak of the shattered door swinging limply in the breeze.

  I collapsed onto the floor, my knees trembling and my heart racing. My thoughts were a whirlwind of panic and rage.

  One hundredth? That’s still a fortune I don’t have. They’re not just threatening me. They mean it. They’ll strip me of everything, then kill me for spare parts.

  I glanced at the mess they’d left behind: broken furniture, overturned drawers, the faint smell of spilled condiments wafting from the kitchen.

  My fists clenched as I forced myself to my feet. I couldn’t stay here. Not anymore.

  Alfred’s words echoed in my mind. Unless you’re a cape.

  I had a choice to make. Either I found a way to pay them back—a near impossibility—or I used my powers to fight back. The latter was dangerous, reckless even. But what choice did I have?

  My gaze fell on the shattered remains of a framed photo on the floor. It was the last picture I had of my dad and me, taken before his debts swallowed him whole. I picked up the frame, my fingers brushing against the cracked glass.

  “Thanks for leaving me this mess, Dad,” I muttered bitterly.

  There was no one else who could help me. No safety net to catch me if I fell.

  I exhaled slowly, my resolve hardening.

  If they want to treat me like a criminal… then fine. I’ll give them exactly what they’re asking for.