Underneath the ‘Neon City’ of Voltham deep in the old utility tunnels bits of sparks fizzled angrily as they touched down on another concrete floor. Here the porous gray darkening with sweat, unlike the concrete-enclosed room they'd just left.

  The lingering glow cast a senseless series of shadows that lasted just as long as the spell had. Orange lights reached up in long-cut squares and divided bars to illuminate nothing more than that same darkening gray along nondescript walls.

  The smells of stagnant water, rot, and musty stale air hung around far longer than the acrid scents of spent magic that'd brought in the unexpected guests. Blackness returned to the room to greet its two new visitors as Izime's voice echoed slightly in the musty sewer room.

  "Little light please Cradle?" Izime brushed his brown hair out of the way as he asked Cradle to remove the unwanted owner, his voice cut through the blackness just a moment before the blue glow provided by Cradle's eyes spread over the 'room' Izime had selected.

  It had possibly been a junction room at one point then stripped, a conduit hub for all the various electrical utilities that’d earned the city its name. Now the hollowed remains of cable boxes and protected wire inlets were all that remained. Dripping and corroded protective sleeves made of pipe gave rats the only access to the sealed room.

  It had once been reached by its operators through a reinforced steel door, used to check amperage and facilitate switching lines during the advent of mass use of electricity. Now that thick steel door had been rendered inoperable due to rust and the settling of the sewer over time.

  That or sealed intentionally, seeing as there was technically one previous tenant, though the overly large skeleton hardly added anything to the atmosphere of the room.

  The handle for the massive locking gear on this side was wrenched as if someone had tried to tear it off, the main culprit being said skeleton. The metal handle now layered with slats like tiny bits of slated rust, peeling away as the seasons cycled through.

  The room was now wet and slick with the winter humidity that combated the warmer Voltham sewers.

  Izime carefully set down the guitar case in the darkness behind him, it was a soft case after all, and the abandoned room was concrete. Turning to move both Cradle's light and him, Izime tried to locate his target using Cradle's flashlight vision. His search was a bit difficult with all the industrial leftovers on the walls, so instead Izime looked up.

  "Let's see..." Izime whispered as he glanced at the lights on the ceiling, eyes following the sealed pipe cable protector until he found a switch on the wall. Clicking it a few times to no effect Izime sighed, disappointed he'd even considered the notion. "Dead. No surprise there."

  Turning towards a shelf along the wall Izime pulled a small box down, rummaging through while Cradle hopped off his shoulder to provide better lighting.

  The soft muttering of 'battery' filled the gaps between the occasional drip as both man and crow searched the box. Finally locating one of the incredibly handy portable power bricks, Izime checked the bar on the side finding it partially full. The tiny things were probably the most versatile and best-selling tool Izime had discovered so far. A complex alien power brick of sorts, it was easier to just call it a simple battery.

  Well simple to use; just how, exactly, it managed to be absolutely universal in both powering other things and re-charging itself was still a mystery. Izime didn't plan to look a gift horse in the mouth as these weren't his physics nor were they his laws of energy conservation. He'd take all the cheezy sci-fi he could get already having suffered from the bullshit laws that ruled his home.

  "Thank god for advanced alien techno.. technology?" Grumbling though it was happily Izime took the small square device and twisted the dial on the front. Frowning when nothing happened, he quickly gave it a hard tap on the shelf next to him.

  Two counter-rotating sets of teeth appeared and whirred to life as it finally activated under the effects of percussive maintenance. The sharp edges slightly hooked to not just sheer but snag at cables and other electronics, a tiny inlet sliding open to accept nearly any connection or power.

  "Like I said," Izime grunted as he slammed the power brick onto the protective cover just above the light switch holding it there as it worked away. Letting the teeth eat through and pull in each cable inside, individually sorting connections through whatever tech voodoo made the device operate.

  Finally seeming to have pulled in enough to lock from the tension four arms shot out clamping into the wall.

  "Thank god for advanced alien... technology baby!" Izime sucked in a breath before giving the switch a final flick, shouting as the lights finally activated, glancing over at Cradle as the excitement spread.

  Cradle gave its own caw of excitement and flicked its blue lights off as the room was finally lit fully. Exposing a simple room with their companion of an overly large skeleton in the corner. Along the far wall, a few rows of shelves holding a couple of boxes, and against the closer rest a spring bed with no mattress or cushion. Their closeness and positions had formed the oddly layered shadows from before.

  Izime nodded, satisfied the light was finally working, as he looked back towards the broken door, dropping the duffel bags alongside him. Soon they'd be joining a stash of other supplies that he'd prepared beforehand and left behind in Voltham to use.

  The goods that'd already been here and in a corner on the floor were just odds and ends of gear that might be handy. A few smoke bombs, various electronic diversions, as well as some handy signal decoys that mimicked some heroes and villains; all laying near some less well-intentioned gear. The duffels he'd brought with him just now had a few quilts and blankets to make the bed more comfortable, along with some RAM sticks for Cradle to munch on.

  He'd not wanted damp bedding or Cradle's food to start corroding away while stored in Voltham. Fresh memory was cheaper to buy than letting the Raven have at the tech they might snag in Voltham, so bringing some good RAM just made more sense than letting it sit here to rust.

  The boxes on the shelves were full of some nicer prizes he had stashed after scavenging the battlefields of actual heroes. A few spare gate-rings, a stash of those power bricks, a few grappling guns and ropes from Dark Night. Then a tiny yarn ball of prototype metal webbing, and a collection of actual guns from Voltham's P.D. and goons.

  Another more complex box was locked tightly as it held a few tubes of very questionable nanites along with Izime's scavenging outfit. The outfit was there to keep it safe and as added padding for those delicate tubes The nanites were sealed in a weird clear liquid Cradle had produced after fighting off the infection they had given it.

  Izime didn't know where the raven had caught them but he kept them just so the unknown critters couldn't wander. Pulling the locked box down Izime shooed Cradle away and opened it; the hiss of its vacuum seal breaking filled the room.

  Reaching in Izime carefully unwrapped the tubes to take the items that had been in with them, it was time to start gearing up.

  The heavy and long yellow raincoat wasn't exactly the best get-up for sneaking around but Izime wasn't trying to catch a round because he was the dark figure in the alley. Replacing it would be difficult, those yellow suits from FazzPazz's insane time-traveling rival were hard as fuck to find.

  Truly a bit of top-tier legendary kit considering it was both frictionless and highly visible. High vis was probably the better feature of the coat honestly. Ideally, Izime would show up after the actual fight went down and before the heroes or their crews could come and clean up. More than once though the loot had been tempting enough to risk jumping in mid-showdown. That upped the risk factor, the occasional close call where Izime had even resorted to playing the scared civilian just long enough to disappear and near-brushes with death.

  Those alone had convinced him that being highly visible was in his best interest as the incidents of narrowly avoided shots and not-so-well-avoided sharp objects had decreased sharply after creating the brightly colored coat.

  Along with that impressive coat was a pair of higher-end combat cargo pants, a bulletproof vest, and a civilian gas mask.

  The cargo pockets were a necessity, too handy for snagging the odd Dark-a-rang or alien techno-bauble. Their Kevlar weave was only useful against thrown objects, not even capable of stopping a decent thrust, beyond that the built-in padding kept his knees safe from the odd bump or badly timed snap.

  The vest was self-explanatory. Bad guys used guns, and the really bad guys could punch a bullet towards things intentionally. So, a bulletproof vest was just entry-level protection for the mere mortal man. The rest Izime relied on his senses enhanced by Cradle's bond to aid him in snapping out of the situation.

  The gas mask was useful for when the police inevitably showed up and started tear-gassing everything into oblivion. However, like the vest far less handy against the concoctions Villains could produce. Izime usually tried to keep those contained, usually far too dangerous to sell. Though the few that he did were very profitable in the right circles. Everyone needed a little pick-me-up, even if it was a psychosis-inducing gas.

  Taking the scavenging outfit Izime placed each item on the shelf and resealed the box. The box's lid clasping with a hiss as it began to vacuum itself closed. Izime nodded as he considered it the best protection he could offer the delicate tubes. Finally spinning the dial to reset the lock as the interior bars slid into position.

  Glancing at the various watches on his arm Izime located the one etched with the Dark Night logo. The whole city of Voltham leaned into its capitalist roots and hocking the touristy thing which now had its two arms indicating 8 pm. Well, it was a little later but there was still a bit of downtime possible, Izime planning to make the most of it.

  "I'll give you some..." Izime walked over to one of the duffel bags and unzipped it, rummaging before pulling out a few silicon rectangles. Holding them up Izime took a look at the printing on the sides of the stick reading as he asked, "DDR-4 if you go out and scout?"

  Watching as Cradle nodded its head excitedly, catching one of the sticks in its beak. Grasping it in its talon and tearing a few chips off greedily before flapping over to one of the shelves. Resting the stick down among a few other already picked-over pieces that had all been gathered into the once empty corner of a shelf.

  The raven tucked the once shiny, now scratched stick into its newly made nest.

  "I'll set an alarm for three hours." Izime nodded towards the door pulling out a beaten-looking flip-phone, watching as Cradle began to separate into smaller nanite structures. The otherworldly technology slipped through the tiny, rusted gaps in the steel door as Cradle left to scout the skies above Voltham.

  Izime turned towards the power brick on the wall, taking a quick measure of that small blinking light bar on the side that indicated the energy drain. Odds were the device would either power the light for a day or the bulb's entire lifetime. Either way, Izime wasn't going to risk it burning out, his supply was limited after all.

  Flicking the switch, he felt his way along the shelf, carefully avoiding the box of parts he had left on the ground. Finding the bed using the dim light, Izime tossed the duffel full of blankets onto it before pulling some out at random which flicked out. Letting them fall in the dark before tossing himself on top with a groan. The meager bed was already a thousand times more comfortable than the usual cardboard he and Wesson made do with.

  Looking down at the service-less cellphone Izime set an alarm for three hours and laid back waiting for sleep to take him. Eleven P.M. sounded like prime time for Voltham's finest filth, and with Cradle monitoring for hot spots of action ahead of time tonight could be very profitable.

  Wesson and Shya wouldn't need to worry about a hotel just over the winter, he could get them an apartment if he kept this up; not that Izime would ever move to Earth. Still, it was the small things, like the thought that maybe tonight he'd even find a cool mask to complete his outfit.

  Though not a lot went with bright yellow, maybe he was better off with the plain-looking bug-eyed gas mask...

  Thinking about such things Izime slipped into dreams of redesigning his outfit.

  Above Voltham's Sky

  Cradle glanced down at the city of Voltham through the cloud layers, watching as the light of the sun withdrew its warmth. Eyes glancing down, zooming with a capability that would have seemed impossible to any who'd believed in the limitations of earthly technology. A view made possible by its sensors sweeping with an absurd level of detail.

  All while being at an altitude usually reserved for a different kind of Blackbird the raven was performing much the same duty as the old S.R.-71, only to a far greater degree.

  The raven pinged and highlighted the individual antennae that were scanning with what it had decided was Dark Night's spectrum. The Caulder Corp funded towers checking for nearly any kind of signal, though its attempts were pitiable. The meager signals reflecting uselessly or being absorbed, the returning data obfuscated with false information. There were few in the universe that could rival Cradle so Dark Night’s corporate funded attempts were a laughingstock in comparison.

  Human technology was especially pitiable when compared to the truly living technology created by the Father Hexagon, it'd even spawned one of their greatest heroes: RetBorg. The tech was in such sort supply it was sought galaxy wide.

  Cradle cocking its head considering whether it should preen itself first or eat when it got home, unconcerned about its importance in the universe at large and more concerned with its own life.

  It had its work and the work it was doing deserved a good meal, but its pride was being stroked as each sweep from Caulder failed to detect it. Deciding it would first relay all the information it had collected to its nest-program after that it'd let things take their natural course.

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  First report, then preen because it was doing such a good job, finally eat, and then it would be time to work for its admin once more. The fleshy sentient known as Izime was of course not its actual creator, but Cradle had registered Izime as its admin user quite happily all the same. The man's choices had brought it life and so was granted loyalty and instinctual protection.

  Cradle's biological instincts combined with technological controls in its tech brain to grant Izime alone usage of the advanced raven as its parent and teacher of sorts. Izime was the leader in their two species Unkindness, even if Cradle did have to look for most of the food and wound up handling a lot of the dangerous work.

  It made sense to send the younger birds out to look for food and help protect the older and smarter of the flock.

  The tech-bird's subroutines checked the microseconds that had ticked by, between the last scan and the predicted next one, and when Izime would awake. Another sweep passed over as Cradle returned to its monitoring, its attention locking onto the same thing Dark Night's sensors had or would have if they'd had it's range.

  "Work! Work! Work!" Cradle cawed excitedly, confident neither Caulder's sensors nor their target could pick up its joyful cries at this range. The tech-raven sent a small digital marker to pin itself onto the Thessian's signature before sending a direct update to Izime even though he was still sleeping.

  The notification would wait until he woke, the data in Cradle's thoughts patiently waiting for Izime to parse through later. Its admin would be thrilled to know that a new hero had arrived; an apex heroine that would surely leave scraps of them to scavenge. The raven began adjusting their mutual projections for tonight alone in the meantime planning around the newest predator the steel and concrete jungle of Voltham.

  Flying heroes meant big fights, big fights meant big money, and big money meant better RAM; food was flying in directly below Cradle, enough for a whole week if not the month!

  That light lavender blur streaked below Cradle, and above the smog-ridden tops of Voltham's industrial sector. Psyis mind elsewhere even as she had enough attentiveness to avoid flying into buildings or hitting any of the many drones that tried to catch a shot of her flying through the city.

  Unaware she was being observed she halted midair, the blur cleared as the wash from Mach flight crashed against Psyis' white cape and sterling silver suit. The outfit was unadorned aside from the smallest details, the silver not being a cloth but embossed scales that provided its wearer with ample protection.

  The crack of the air breaking over a slim, super-strengthened body only served to disturb the long fringe strip of white hair. Strands of it fluttering against shaved sides, catching on the ridges that lined stripped ears, a hand with similar purple and blue mottling reached up to brush it away. Her red eyes glanced at the crime-riddled streets Volthamite's called home, the dark city a shadowy and stark contrast to her own home.

  Miss Psyis was Centropolis' psychic alien heroine and had only flown here to assist her fellow heroes in Voltham, the drones here to catch her out of uniform an on personal business. Psyis' gaze worked across the city as she let her mind wander further across the crime-infested neon lit alleys below, letting her powers wrap her and making her intentions clear.

  Reaching out to see and sense in a haze of purple, thin white brows furrowed in effort as her bluing lips pursed and creased still mottled cheeks.

  The odd itch that had tickled at her mind had gone moments ago already. An unknown but oddly natural feeling sensation, so much so it could have simply been a trick of her imagination. There wasn't anything there, but she swore there had been something, a passing hiccup in her mind. Perhaps just an odd fluctuation in her powers as she'd admittedly been distracted by things she shouldn't have been.

  Psyis ran her eyes back over the city as she tried to catch the slipping dream of whatever had passed just a moment ago.

  The thessian crossed her arms in frustration, upset that her thoughts had been elsewhere. Concerned with things she'd sworn to already let go, when in reality she couldn't, and so she had missed it.

  Whatever 'it' was, if it had even been real to begin with, considering how odd the sensation had been. Not a human thought but something else, like her powers had passed through a fun-house mirror and come back all distorted. Though learning her powers as a solitary thessian had been a bit difficult, she only had her judgments and experiences to trust. As such Psyis only had the information she'd gleaned stumbling through with her self-discovery about what her powers felt like and were capable of.

  The most solid conclusion she had at the moment was it was either imaginary or inhuman, her mind leaning towards the former. After an entire lifetime being raised on Earth as the last living Thessian Psyis knew what human thoughts felt like.

  They were a blast of white noise, an unfiltered constant chatter most times a cold-shouldering blankness during the rare moments of self-awareness. This had been a different feeling, Psyis could recall that at least. Not the white noise she was used to hearing and so fast like a switch had been flicked. A blank or blip that had warped through her powers, not silencing them but more akin to the thing her computer did when the internet was dropping.

  It was just that the whole thing was over and gone before she had even pulled her mind away from her stupid issues. Finally realizing something had passed handfuls of seconds afterward, that inattention and time confusing Psyis now. Was it an actual thing and not her brain messing around, a mental mirage of sorts?

  Psyis considered reaching even further but decided against it as she looked at the sitting sun. The issue wasn't worth digging into, not right now at least. Especially considering it might have just been a self-inflicted problem between idle thoughts and her powers.

  There was only so long until she needed to meet the Dark Duo, and time was currently at a premium. FearForm was preparing to make some moves involving civilians with the help of The Quiz. With both of the other heroes being tied up handling the actual fighting, Dark Squire had called Miss Psyis in early. Steven claimed and clearly lied, saying that he'd wanted to help her prepare to run crowd control.

  At least it wasn't for another terrible date this time.

  Psyis shook the thought from her head, instead focusing on keeping her psychic awareness at its maximum while she flew on. Chastising her wandering mind for wandering back to the same thoughts that had distracted her in the first place; that was the entire reason she had missed the blip or whatever it was.

  The air cracked as she left once again, mind and heart refocusing on her coming objectives and not the nonsense that might happen between completing them. Building and streets once again passing in a blur, Psyis enjoying the warmth of the protective bubble that mach flight formed.

  Those apartment tower complexes and spires of business empires slowly cleared away, the land rising to give way to the mountains that had limited Voltham's sprawling growth westward. One arm lowered as Psyis began to slow, dropping down from the darkening sky in a graceful arch.

  The rush Psyis felt passed as she felt a familiar mind, already standing outside and waiting on her. Silver form passing over the carefully landscaped and trimmed trees of the property, Psyis looked down seeing a young man standing outside waving up at her enthusiastically.

  The thessian biting at the inside of her lip as she tried to not read into the thoughts and emotions that were spilling off of Steven Caulder as he stood waiting for her on the balcony. Enthusiasm was the term Psyis decided she was going to stick with, not sharing in any of the same hopes and desires that washed upward toward her. Hopes and wants that did not belong to her filled her mind.

  To patch things up with a man simple? To fix things a boy who was so out of control? To fulfill the desires he'd left unsatisfied?

  Patch up what, there was nothing left of the mistake they'd once been. Fix what, she'd done nothing wrong; simply not wanting to feel the way Steven had. Desire was a difficult one though...

  Psyis chewed a bit harder at that, having gone round and round again with the human over her thessian needs.

  Steven was full of desires for her sure, his thoughts already running over her and violating places she'd once given him. Desires she felt as well but not nearly in the same way he did, his touch was only an extension of his power and hubris, nothing she'd wanted to share with him in the end.

  Control was another one of those desires she'd discovered underneath the more physical connections humans built in favor of her species' mental bonds. Steven didn't date her, he'd owned her like a doll, directed when and where she'd go, and played with her as he pleased.

  Leaving her empty and confused, his shallow mind never flowing outside of its rigid banks to wash over her in the slightest. No matter how she'd dammed up his emotions or tried to ease the shallows into something more she just couldn't make it work but they still met like the river and the sea.

  Psyis hovered for a brief moment looking down at the human that just hadn't worked out for her. The same she was still caught in the flow of, wanting to bolt back to Centropolis but unable to look away. They'd never work for one another because Steven never changed, still using that tough biker guy mentality that only hid a hurt angry boy who'd never gotten over being abandoned.

  He was still somehow a piece of eye candy she couldn't look away from. That was all that was left, his broad shoulders stretching the leather jacket he was wearing and muscular form filling out those denim jeans in all the right places. Steven was a sweetly coated piece of bitter candy, and just like candy he was bad for her. Psyis found she'd been deceived by that attractive surface, the filling being nothing but angry nights and yelling. That man turned into a boy who just didn't want help, they'd just wanted to be mad.

  "Hey there Sweetie Psy," Steven tucked his hand back inside his paneled biker jacket, it wasn't all that warm but what did that matter?

  He was Dark Squire; what was a little cold when you were partnered with and mentored by Dark Night. The soon-to-be hero who had not just money but the body and personality to match those other qualities all women loved; even those from other planets clearly. Caulder's billionaire playboy persona had rubbed off on his protege as well, Steven braving the chill in a skintight shirt and open leather jacket.

  Steven knew he looked damned good, Psyis had even given a slight pause. The second glance tempted him to use the term of affection he'd once granted her, though her reaction told Steven it'd been a step too far.

  "Steven, I've told you not to call me that anymore," Psyis came down a bit hard verbally, her landing soft compared to the tone of her words as she continued to warn Steven. The thessian had known this would happen, but she'd expected to at least have a single goon in handcuffs before the constantly cowled man started in on her. "Can I have five minutes without you trying to drag us back months ago to when you didn't fuck up?"

  Purple faded a bit to blue as the thessian's anger flared out quickly, her good conscience reminding her that it'd been her choice to involve herself with this at all. In the first place, now or ever it was something she'd signed up for. Even if the personal relationships weren't necessarily a part of that, keeping the peace in the League was.

  Arguing with him could get her a permanent seat listening to free songs homeless as well.

  "My bad," Steven held his hands up, the false surrender simply a bait towards an argument. Steven doubled down on the tactic, hoping a second verbal backpedal would tempt her into advancing just on habit alone, "Didn't realize you were strictly business now."

  This was a talk the two needed to finish so they could end this extended break between them. She'd had her fun and couldn't be making ends meet easily with the strict spending limits that the League had imposed on her after her promotion. Not that the young heroine's access to the Leagues funds had anything to do with her good relations with the Caulders, budget cuts needed to be taken into consideration.

  If she wanted to be Centropolis' Angel she could rely on the city's budget, if she wanted to have an easier life that let her focus on the League? Well, he was right here.

  "Says the man that never takes his ma-" Psyis bit back her words as the eager spark in Stevens's eyes lit up turning her headway, cursing at herself inside already. Knowing she had only stepped onto a landmine by opening her mouth, the flood of chatter pouring out of him now only confirmed that.

  Talking about their past, and acknowledging anything Steven ever said about them only opened the door for him to haunt her mind and heart all that much longer. An irritating poltergeist of an Ex who was able to reach out to her through various means, work, their past, and his very thoughts.

  The white noise went a thousand senseless noisy directions as Steven's imagination overrode any 'no' she could ever give him. Even, it seemed, her future as Psyis knew taking issue with Steven would irk Dark Night himself, her senior member on League Savior, without the man thinking it so intentionally.

  "See you can't help yourself Psyis because this isn't over yet," A smirk cut across Steven's face, Psyis's reaction simply confirming that she'd not been able to let go of their relationship.

  Hoping instead he could finally convince her that this was just another step, a growing pain as her little bond with him had deepened. "That's how relationships work with humans, you need to learn how to accept that. There are ups and downs in them, issues I need you to work through not abandon halfway so we can be together."

  "Steven, you're still treating us like a mission," The Thessian lowered her head, white hair spilling over the right side of her purpling face. A reflection of her growing irritability at Steven's refusal to ever not discuss this, treating her like she was something left undone.

  They'd already run their course, Psyis trying to remind him of that now. "We're not an objective to be completed, I-I'm not treating our arguments like some task that just comes with our relationship anymore, I'm done with that. Sometimes things just don't work out, were one of those."

  "Whether it's right now or forever I can't tell so don't bother asking." Psyis drew a line as red eyes glanced through greens, the mindreader ready to answer the easily read emotions of the upset Steven, "Yes, it's you at least for me, you are the problem, and gods only know if you'll change the reasons why."

  Psyis refused to look away, knowing her words had likely touched a nerve. Sighing a bit as she'd already explained this months ago before the whole problem had begun spilling out from under that black-haired head.

  The sounds of the November wind passing through the barest rustle of trimmed trees proved that thought right as she could hear the frustration in Steven physically without her powers.

  Steven's jacket groaned as he tried to muscle down the emotional turmoil Psyis' words had riled inside of him. Several further arguments formed but fell short of escaping the man's mouth as he instead just bluntly tried to refute Psyis for once again stonewalling him.

  "Still have all the answers don't you." Steven crossed his arms realizing Psyis had pulled the questions from his mind. The methods of security Stan had taught him failing, Steven adjusted his tactics filling his mind with their shared past, "I know I'm not perfect but what we had was special Psyis, I want us back."

  "It was Steven, I'm glad we had it," Psyis looked out towards the trees, wondering if Steven would have been better off without the same carefully manicured appearance that'd surrounded him through his entire youth, that had been what had fooled her in the first place after all.

  Turning her eyes back towards the talking deception in front of her Psyis tried to make him at least accept one truth about today. Searching his green eyes, hoping to see something other than blunt denial as she told him, "I'm not here to talk about us."

  "Yeah, I know." Steven nodded along dumbly, zero intent to let the chance disappear while Psyis was around and he could make his points so easily.

  It wasn't like he couldn't fly down to Centropolis to talk about them, the idea had even crossed his mind before. Just showing up and landing on her balcony, playing the repentant human who'd finally felt a bit of her pain through that gimmicky alien power. Let her think she'd found that mental thingy with him just once and she fall right into his hands and put whatever he asked behind her silly name.

  Give her a big enough push and she'd be latch onto any source of comfort and affirmation that thought about her enough. Stan had made it clear how the thessian could be manipulated because of her emotional traumas, pulling her away from Trevor was proof of that.

  The thessian had her own stesses and issues, and Steven was learning just how to play them. Bond or not, he'd eventually learn how to fake it or force her into thinking like he wanted. She'd either have to walk back to Kansas and settle for her childhood, or accept a future where they could build something. Wven if he had to starve her out of that sewer-side rental.

  Instead of recalling how many times he thought of opening the hatch and taking the Dark-Jet Steven kept his thoughts on sketching the balcony door. "Let's get out of the cold. Stan's in the cavern but we've got time to grab a bite if Jenkins has made anything, if not we can whip something up ourselves. It'll be quick."

  "OK," Psyis agreed tentatively not wanting to already start causing issues with her co-worker for the next foreseeable period as he was clearly hiding his thoughts from her. Quickly adding in an addendum when Steven's ideas over cooking together washed over her.

  Not wanting to be trapped in a kitchen full of spoiled memories, Psyis tried to excuse herself beforehand before opening the door, "I'm not that hungry though so just a quick snack."

  Both gave a slight shiver as they stepped into the expensive and now geothermally warmed mansion the Caulders had once built.

  The family kept the property through generations of maintenance long enough the land had earned the mansion the title of Manor. Recognition for the lifetimes the family had dedicated itself to Voltham, either through business or heroism, sometimes a combination of both. Those efforts paid off as the sitting room around her even smelled rich, the aromas of stained wood, aged rows of books, and the slightest hint of pomp.

  Red eyes glancing across the sitting room its only exit towards the hall, one direction bringing her closer to her real objective.

  The other would keep the peace a bit longer even if it was insulting to her. As well as misleading as Steven was just too dense to accept her decision. Her giving way was only ever going to be seen as him gaining ground back with her, not as Psyis simply accepting Steven's childish intentions so he didn't throw a fit or cause an incident during a mission.

  "Eat something," Steven refuted blocking Psyis from heading towards the grandfather clock that held the entrance to the Dark Cavern. Extending his arms towards the kitchens where he knew Jenkins hadn't prepared anything at Steven's request, "You know it's not good to go on a mission hungry."

  Steven smiled warmly gesturing with the extended and blocking arm down the beautifully carpeted hall. Finally dropping his arm as Psyis walked down towards the kitchens, stepping in quickly alongside her.

  The moment reminded him for a second of when they'd both been in the Young Saviors, hanging out while she'd still been learning her powers. Cooking again was something Steven could use to rekindle those old feelings, glad that Psyis had listened to him. It was best for the man to take the lead in a relationship after all.

  Psyis didn't bother saying anything else as Steven once again shoved her boundaries aside only caring about what he thought, wishing she couldn't read his thoughts.

  Slipping past him careful not to appear too intimate, though judging by his flaring emotions the attempt had failed. Steven's attempts at chivalry and care fell short as the psychic could read fully into his depths of control. Not for the first time wishing she'd just been an average human woman, unaware and blissfully ignorant of Steven's hidden darkness.

  Maybe someday she'd find someone different or feel like she had a choice.

  Dark Squire's back story is literally a sad boy with too much money that's been given too much power btw.

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