October 18th, 2014

  Timber Hollow, United States

  The thug life was false advertisement. The biggest lie wasn’t that crime doesn’t pay; it was that the criminal life was one of danger and excitement at every turn.

  Wrong.

  I’d been a criminal for five days, and my life hadn’t changed at all. Right now, it was somehow even more boring.

  “So…how long do we sit here?”

  I was sitting in an empty apartment right next to the window, staring across the street at a warehouse—Old Blood property, right on the edge of their turf. It also had something valuable inside it–cash, drugs, weapons–something illicit, no doubt. Not that I knew what it was. Nobody told me. The only thing I was told was that it was my to sit here and make sure nobody took whatever was inside.

  “‘Until I say we’re done,” Lady Nyx replied from her side of the room, barely gncing my way. She looked just as bored as I felt, elbow propped on the windowsill, head resting against her fist.

  She wasn’t here to help me guard the warehouse. She was here to guard me. Or, more specifically, she was here to guard me from their goods. Or maybe she was just here to make sure I didn’t screw it up. Again, I didn’t know. I was still new, still untested. This was my first job with the Old Blood, and while I’d ostensibly joined them, I still wasn’t “one of them.” They still didn’t trust me, much to Hoplite’s chagrin.

  Not that I cared about how he felt.

  “Okay, sure, but what does that mean? Half an hour? An hour? A few hours? A lot of hours? Perhaps even days?” I rapid-fired, gasping exaggerated hour at my st guess.

  For every question I asked, I could see Lady Nyx’s fingers twitch a little. If she wasn’t wearing her mask, I was sure I’d have seen a vein pop.

  “A lot of hours. Now shut up.”

  I leaned back, stretching my arms over her head, for once feeling giddy in an interaction with the vilin. “A lot of hours? That’s vague. Kinda spooky,” I said, wiggling my fingers in a half-hearted attempt at jazz hands. She refused to look. “You ever notice how time moves slower when no one’s talking? A ‘lot of hours’ will go really slow if we just sit here silently.”

  She let out the slowest, most exhausted sigh I’d ever heard. That might be a new record for me.

  “It feels painfully slow with you talking,” she muttered. A response–a quip, even. That was good. It would have been bad if she just ignored me.

  “I’ll have you know I’m an expert at annoying people,” I decred proudly.

  Lady Nyx turned her head slightly, just enough to hit me with a look that screamed, “You don’t say.”

  “I also know when people don’t like me, so you might as well stop pretending.”

  “I don’t like you,” she said, deadpan.

  “Uh, yeah, you do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t keep replying. You also insult me a lot. Kinda weird if you really didn’t like me.”

  “When the hell did you get so chatty?” She asked, a poor attempt at sidestepping the conversation. Violet was much better at it than her.

  “When you stopped trying to kill me,” I answered quickly. “And don’t avoid the question. I already told you, I know when people don’t like me, and I know you don’t.”

  “Whoops! Didn’t realize I was talking to a social mastermind. You saw straight through me!” Lady Nyx said with exaggerated amazement.

  I smirked, rolling my eyes at her attempt at sarcasm. She was just proving my point.

  “Exactly. Now you get it. If you really didn’t like me, you wouldn’t have said anything–even if it’s rude.”

  She scoffed, rolling her eyes so hard I could feel it through her mask.

  "Would complimenting you get the picture across?"

  "I wouldn’t stop you."

  “Of course you wouldn’t. Alright, let me think of something…” She leaned back, tapping her chin in exaggerated thought. “…nope. Nothing.”

  "Of course, it wouldn’t. Alright, let’s see…" She leaned back, tapping her chin in exaggerated thought. "…nope. Nothing."

  Rude.

  “Okay, fine. Maybe–just maybe–you don’t like me. But you definitely don’t not care about me.”

  “I speak English, dumbass, not whatever bullshit you’re spewing.”

  I sighed theatrically.

  “I mean,” I began, dragging out the word, “you’re not apathetic. I know a lot of people apathetic to me, and unlike you, when I annoy them, they just don’t care enough to respond.”

  She exhaled sharply. “Fine. You got me. I find enjoyment in insulting you. It’s just too damn easy.” Without looking directly at me, she waved her hand in my general direction as if it proved her point. “So congrats. You’re easy to insult. Now shut up.”

  “Nope,” I said, popping the p. Her insults washed over me like water on a duck’s back. Or something like that. I didn’t know anything about ducks.

  “Like you said, we’re gonna be here for a while, so I might as well spend that time getting to know you. Even if you’re, y’know, kinda old.”

  Lady Nyx twisted around so fast I was surprised the chair didn’t break, giving me a stare I didn’t like the look of. “The hell did you just say?”

  “Uhh…” I smoothly replied.

  “We’re like the same age you fucking idiot. Don’t ever call me old again.”

  Her piece said, Lady Nyx huffed and turned away with her arms crossed like she was some offended cat.

  I squinted. “Uh, what? Your name is Lady Nyx, isn’t it? You’ve also been in the Old Blood for, like, five years.”

  She held up a finger. “Firstly, should I call myself Girl Nyx? That’s stupid.” Another finger. “Secondly, it’s been four years. I’m precocious–sue me.”

  “Oh. Well, uh, sorry.” I apologized, awkwardly rubbing the back of my neck. “But hey, that’s great, isn’t it? That’s even more reason to be friends. I bet you don’t know anyone else your age who’s a cape!”

  “Then you’re a shit gambler.”

  She paused, then tilted her head slightly. “But while we’re on the topic, what the hell’s your name, anyway?”

  I hesitated. “Ah. That.” The back of my neck itched. “I haven’t come up with one yet. My power’s super cool and all, but it’s not that unique.”

  “What even is it? I remember you making it windy when you punched, but I was…whatever.” She trailed off, clearly not eager to bring up her getting treated like a child by Hoplite.

  I cleared my throat. Finally–someone I could brag about my power with. “I call it Gale Force–”

  “You named it?” She interrupted.

  “Uh, yeah? Don’t you?”

  “Uhh, no?” She replied mockingly. “Damn, you’re a nerd.” Her words were rude, but for once, there wasn’t much bite to her insult–more amusement than anything. Not that it was a good insult. Everybody named their powers–she was the weird one.

  I rolled my eyes. “Well, whatever. I can generate winds from my hands, proportional to the force I put in. If I flick, I can make it weaker but more concentrated, but you saw that the other day when you, uh…”

  This time, it was my turn to trail off an old event. Getting cuffed to a chair in a murder room was not an experience I wanted to relive.

  “When you damaged my wall,” she finished for me.

  She hummed, considering what I said for a moment before speaking again, “That’s decent, I suppose. Depending on your limits, obviously. Still pretty me compared to me, though.”

  Her tone wasn’t smug—at least, not more smug than usual—it was matter-of-fact. That annoyed me far more than any smugness could achieve, especially when her gaze was back to being locked on the window.

  “What makes your powers so great?” I petuntly asked.

  “Shouldn’t you know?” Nyx said, smugness back and dialed up to eleven.

  “I know what the internet knows, but I doubt they know much. They didn’t even know you could teleport.”

  “Really?” Her voice carried actual surprise as she gnced at me. “I don’t even go out of my way to hide it.”

  She paused, humming in consideration. “But you’re the self-procimed cape expert. Tell me what you know; I’ll confirm what’s true.”

  “Uh, alright. People call your power Shadow Queen-”

  “I take it back. Power names can be cool,” Nyx interrupted. I cracked a grin at her sudden change of heart.

  “We used to call it Shade Strider, but then you revealed your ability to paralyze people using their shadows. It was only recorded once, so I wasn’t sure if it was real. Then you did it to me, so…”

  Nyx nodded. “Yep. I can do that. Doesn’t work as well on brutes, though,” she said with a one-armed shrug.

  “You do it by pinning their shadow with something?” I asked, seeing the side of her head nodding in confirmation.

  “You’re also able to disappear into shadows, but more importantly, you can reappear somewhere else.”

  “Correct. That all?” She asked, her question a mix of disappointment and satisfaction.

  “Yeah, that’s all I know. Did I get most of it?”

  Nyx let out a short ugh. “Not at all.”

  I frowned. “How much did I miss?”

  “More than you got. And no, I’m not entertaining a guessing game,” she said, cpping once as if to physically move to another topic. “Next test: Parity.”

  “Oh, that one’s easy. She’s a Morphguard hero,” I said, feeling a touch of distaste at the name. “And she can copy the powers of someone near her. Makes them way weaker, though—half as strong, I’m pretty sure. Basically unbeatable in a one-on-one fight.”

  “Eh. I could beat her,” Nyx said with confidence so casual it could only mean she truly believed it. Honestly? I supposed I did, too. Not that I would feed her ego by telling her.

  Without someone to copy, Parity was virtually just a normal person, and it would be trivial for Nyx to take her out before she even knew what was happening.

  I shrugged, even though she wasn’t looking at me to see it. “Only if you got the drop on her.”

  It was true, partially. Didn’t mean it was at all realistic.

  “Wrong, but keep underestimating me. Alright, next…” Nyx gnced over at me, and seeing me still just looking at her, she snapped her fingers as if an idea had struck her. “I know! Frowner.”

  As if the name was a spell, I frowned when I heard it. Frowner was a vilin–but not like Lady Nyx. He was a piece of garbage murderer, and unlike the vilins, even normal people sympathized with, he had no cause behind his heinous actions.

  But that wasn’t why I frowned when I heard his name. There were too many people to count who were worse than him. That’s just how the world was.

  I frowned because he was a reminder of what could happen to me.

  Josh Havel. That was his name. His real name, and everybody knew it. It got leaked by someone with a vendetta against him, and to this day, any post mentioning his name gets deleted. Not that that could stop the internet. If what had happened to him happened to me…I didn’t know what I’d do.

  It was hard to feel bad for him now, but I still remembered the difference—how he was before and after he got burned. He was always a piece of garbage, but when the world killed Josh Havel, all that was left was the monster named Frowner.

  “He works for the Hardliners, so you obviously know him,” I began. The Hardliners were the only other gang in Timber Hollow close in power to the Old Blood. It was up in the air who was stronger, but everyone agreed neither could win with the Morphguard waiting in the wings.

  “He’s a brute. Way stronger than he is fast–even a low-tier speedster can run circles around him. Though I do have a theory about another-”

  “What’s he wearing?” Nyx interrupted.

  I shot her an unseen gre for breaking my flow. “Like, his costume?”

  She nodded. “Sure.”

  “Well, he doesn’t really have one. Just a pid shirt, jeans, and work boots. And his mask, of course.”

  “What color?”

  I blinked. “What color what?”

  “What color shirt, moron?” She crified, sighing exasperatedly as if I was supposed to know what she meant.

  “How should I know? It’s not like he wears the same shirt every time. Probably just grabs whichever one’s clean.”

  “Don’t care. Guess, Mr. Expert.”

  I snorted at the random demand. “Alright, fine. Grey and white-”

  “BZZZT!” Nyx made an obnoxiously loud buzzer noise, her arms crossed to form an X. “Wrong. You lose.”

  She raised a finger to point out the window.

  “What the heck are you…” I started—then followed where her finger pointed: the warehouse I was supposed to be watching.

  “...talking about,” I finished mely. Because outside the warehouse was a group of thugs, led by a man who towered over them all. Even from here, across the street and from the third floor, I could see his silver mask, a frown etched into the metal, and below it, a red and bck pid shirt.

  “Crap,” The word barely left my lips before more followed. “Oh crap, crap, crap. What do we do?”

  Nyx didn’t answer immediately. She just ughed—actually ughed—at my rising panic.

  “What we do is our job.” She stood up, stretching out the kinks in her back as if she had all the time in the world to do it. “Yours is to hold them off. Mine is to get reinforcements.”

  “Wait, you’re leaving? If we fight together, it’ll be easy!” I said, louder than I meant to. Considering how fast she was able to deal with me, I had no doubts Lady Nyx could take care of Frowner. But that’s not why I proposed sticking together. I just didn’t want to fight Frowner on my own.

  If I was just counting matchups, he wasn’t that bad. Easily one of the best in the city for me, power-wise. He was strong but not fast and didn’t have anything ranged. I gave myself a good shot of beating him in a one-on-one.

  The problem was if I lost. You lose against a hero? You get beat up and get captured. You lose against a typical vilin? You got the crap beaten out of you and have your humiliation posted everywhere for people to see. But you lose against Frowner? Unless you’re a Youthguard or high profile, you’re just dead. I was neither of those.

  “If you stay, we can beat him together!” I pleaded again.

  “Nope,” Lady Nyx said ftly. “I’m leaving. I’m way faster than you, and if there’s more than one cape on their side, it could end badly for both of us.” She walked over, spping my shoulder twice in some mockery of consotion. “I’ll be back soon, don’t worry. Oh, and if I come back and you’re not fighting them off, you’re out of the Old Blood. See ya!”

  “Wait-” I lunged forward, but by the time I moved, she was already gone.

  My hand, grasping empty air, turned into a fist. If I had the power to turn back time, I’d have used it just to punch her before she left.

  But I didn’t. I had the power of fshy punches, and I needed to use it to stop a group of thugs and their psycho-murderer leader.

  My gaze drifted down the street, where there were no capes ready to kill me, and if I kept walking, I’d eventually reach home.

  But that wasn’t an option. I could run. Pretend none of this happened. And then, a week ter, Hoplite would show everyone my face, and the Old Blood would know exactly where to find who I loved.

  There was no running. No hiding.

  I had to do this. Me against them.

  “I’ll start with the thugs."