jogged down the street in a shitty afro-wig and dyed-black eyebrows as Marissa—or Mars—was heading to the safehouse with two bags of groceries. I was wearing a basic runner's outfit.
Then I bumped into her. She dropped her bag.
"Oh, shit, sorry!" I stopped and quickly helped her swipe up all the bags of rice and jarred sauce.
"O-oh, it's okay," she said.
Then my hand swiped the top of hers. Just a momentary contact, but I felt it immediately.
I had her power now. And no trigger vision to boot, because she was a vial cape.
After I finished cleaning everything up, I took off jogging once again.
Mission successful.
000
The rest of the day, I spent cobbling together more on 'To Pimp A Butterfly' and between each song, I would try remembering other songs as well. It was tough going. I was better at remembering the instrumental tracks than lyrics for the most part, and the exercise just depressed me more and more as I went on.
Jason the DJ was ecstatic to work with me. At least someone was having fun.
Maria and I traded some texts for a couple of hours. Apparently, she majored in creative writing, and she ran a blog as a hobby. She mostly talked about gender in the modern era. A lot of it was very specialized and academic, and after looking through her page and asking her directly, I learned that she'd gotten an undergraduate degree in sociology of all things. What a trooper.
The very fact that she even had the patience to do that was astounding. The worst part of any sociology class was the other people. The differing opinions that made you question how someone could ever be so damn stupid.
I preferred the Nazis. They were easier to do something about.
I told her as much. She called me a psycho and sent laughing emojis.
'What are you doing right now?'
I snorted.
'Just finished a long day. Made a couple of songs. Now I'm gonna find a nice spot somewhere and sleep.'
'Nice spot?'
'Ah. Right. To park my car. I'm homeless-sexual.'
'For real?'
'Yeah.'
'Is it hard for you?'
'Surprisingly, no.' I was living my murderhobo dreams. Nothing could bring my mood down.
'What? Really?'
'Can't discuss details. Just trust me. I'm doing fine. Got all the money I'll ever need.'
'You can… come over. Just to sleep. If you wanna.'
I sighed. It wasn't a good idea, getting so close to her.
'I've got some work after midnight. Won't really be sleeping for much more than an hour or two.'
'Alright. Offer's open, though.'
'Thanks. You're alright.'
'Well, you just said you were homeless, and I like you more than I don't. Not exactly a hard choice to make.'
'I liked you more when you were busting my balls all the time. Whatever happened to that edge?'
'I could never out-edge you.'
'I am very good at edging.'
'Sure thing.'
'I edge every morning after waking up, and every night before going to sleep. Sometimes I edge while I run. I edgerun.'
'What exactly are you telling me, sir?'
'Wouldn't you like to know, weathergirl?'
'Well, you're on timeout, until you learn to make more sense.'
A part of me really did want to go to her and just hang.
But I had so much to do.
I started my car and started driving through the city in search for a good place to nap. All the while of course, I used Dinah's power to ensure that I wouldn't run into any cops or give them cause to pull me over. Thankfully, if that ever happened, I did have some getaway driving skills to tide me over in case of anything.
I really did need to be more mobile, though. Even this car was a bother to move around.
Not for the first time today, my mind returned to Circus.
The villain Circus, an agent of Coil, and a grab-bag thief. They were harmless as far as villains went. Harmless to a point, of course. They could fight, but they preferred to steal instead.
They weren't perm-slot material, due to that. Already, I had filled up my second temp-slot with Marissa, and I genuinely didn't regret that one at all. Circus' power fell inside a rather irritating twilight zone between indispensable and not worth the hassle. They would provide me a holistic bump in my physical stats, a bit of some extra pyrokinesis—might be useful if someone tried to interrupt the ignition process for Sundancer's sun—but most importantly, extra-dimensional storage.
And at the end of the day, Circus was a villain that didn't actually do much for society. They definitely weren't doing as much as I was.
With that difficult decision finally made, I began asking my questions, making my preparations.
000
Circus' apartment, belonging to someone named Kyle Gardiner, was… rather large. It clearly only belonged to one person, but the living room and kitchen were big, and the view of a nearby park was stunning, as this was the tenth floor of a building in the Towers.
Circus was making bank. And they used that money to live in relative luxury.
I likened them to a corporate worker, beholden to an evil money machine, but were otherwise not really engaged in directly harming anyone. Circus' gigs were probably the same Undersiders-flavor of 'harmless fun', hitting insured business with no regard for how premiums might rise, and going after entities that could take the financial hit without crumbling. And there was probably the tried and tested Omar Little method of making money: gang robbery.
Robbing the leeches of society, benefitting off of their cruelty.
Circus wasn't hitting red levels in the moral barometer, however. I genuinely couldn't justify killing them.
I could, however, justify taking their power. I really couldn't care less how this person ended up making their money after that. That was none of my concern.
I sat in darkness, enjoying a glass of champagne on a couch next to a coffee table, facing against a massive flatscreen. The taste wasn't anything to write home about—I had never been much of a wine guy—but I appreciated the presentation of it all. I was in full costume: white and blue striped shirt, coat over the shoulders, smart dress pants and shoes.
And I wore my art mask as well.
Circus, or Kyle, opened the door to their apartment and walked in. They were a really good-looking person. I could see how they could pull off posing as a girl in costume, and then be a man while in their civilian guise.
They took off their shoes and turned the lights on for the living room, and then noticed me.
I turned Purity's power on as their eyes widened.
They ran for the door, but I was miles faster. I used Purity's power to fly towards the door at full tilt, then stopped myself before crashing with my superior reflexes. I spun and faced Kyle, their eyes widened in fright.
"I'm not here to hurt or kill you," I said.
They summoned a gun.
Chance that they try to shoot me if I stand still?
12.54%
Of course. Kyle wouldn't want to shit where they slept.
"This is against the rules!" Kyle bit out.
"I am above the rules."
Kyle laughed harshly. "They're gonna kill you for this. Everyone."
"I'm here to take your powers," I said. "I would have done so already, but I fear that if I do, all the things that you are holding in your extradimensional storage space will burst out and kill you."
The numbers weren't telling me if that was the case, infuriatingly enough. I couldn't predict past my taking another power. I could only make models based on what I already knew. This always necessitated that I keep my bread-and-butter numbers—how likely I was to be killed, kidnapped, or mastered at any given day—updated after every power steal.
Taking Kyle's power would mean leaving someone alive to go and tell Coil or anyone else about myself. It wasn't ideal, but I didn't feel strongly enough about that outcome to just kill Circus out of hand.
And I really, really wanted their power. The quality-of-life improvements alone would be massive, and I would be that much less likely to ever lose anything or have something stolen from me.
And once I started thinking about creating Tinkertech, that would certainly pay its dividends.
"What the hell?" Kyle growled. "You're here to take my powers?!"
"That is what I said."
"Why?!"
"I can put them to better use."
"No! I won't let you!"
I sighed. I activated Victor's skill-stealing, but it turned out that Kyle was really bare when it came to physical skills. They just relied on their power to fill the gaps, and I couldn't take those skills.
"You can't kill me if you shoot me. You're free to try, of course, but the police will show up in a few minutes if you do. And if you resist, I will be forced to take your power by force. But there are vanishingly few outcomes in which you defeat me."
"Why me?" they asked.
"Your powers will be useful to me. And to society. You've done nothing but enrich yourself with them. Why should happenstance give you a bigger right to them than me?"
"They're mine!"
"That's not even true," I said. "They were given to you according to the agendas of creatures beyond your comprehension. Nothing good ever comes from them."
"I'll shoot you! I promise I'll shoot you."
While crouching, I activated Fenja and Menja's powers to the limits that this apartment would allow. I grew tall enough for my head to touch the ceiling even while I was completely on my knees, head bowed.
With one hand, I made to grab hold of Circus.
They shot my hand, but it only stung slightly. My size, speed, and reflexes outmatched theirs, and in a fraction of a second, they were within my grasp.
I let go of one of their arms in case they needed it. "Start dropping your objects before I take your powers."
Circus panted, grimacing at me in utter hatred.
Then, that hatred melted into bitter agony. "Please…"
I waited patiently for them to continue.
"Please!" they shouted. "Please! I'm sorry! I—I should have done better with my powers! I know I should. Please, give me another chance! I'll be a hero. I'll join the Protectorate, and if they won't have me, then I'll—I'll turn myself in!"
I sighed. "I'm sorry."
"Please! I've never killed anyone! All I ever did was steal!"
"Becoming a hero… it won't balance the scales," I said. "The heroes, too, are a flawed institution."
"Then I'll join you!" they said.
The risk was… far too high. I didn't need to check the numbers to know that.
And yet I did.
In the short term, fear would be an excellent motivator to keep them on the straight and narrow, working for my interests.
In the long term, things became impossible to predict, not least of all because I was my own biggest blind spot. Each power-stealing would ensure that the numbers changed.
"I'm sorry," I said.
Their tear-streaked face morphed into raw, utter hatred. "Fine!"
Then a bomb appeared in their free hand.
An improvised bomb, with tubes, ducttape, and a digital counter.
"Let's all die, motherfucker!"
The bomb counted down from ten seconds.
"So be it," I sighed.
I took the bomb with my free hand.
Stole Circus' powers.
And in the fraction of a fraction of a second before the hand holding circus exploded, along with Circus themselves, the bomb disappeared into a waiting dimensional storage. Cricket's enhanced reflexes and Circus' working together had made the timing of that move trivial.
The apartment looked utterly wrecked, covered in shrapnel or gore. I saw shredded money flying around as well.
And my right hand was a stump that spurted blood.
An instant later, much—though not all—of the gore around the room disappeared and my hand became whole again.
Circus remained very, very dead.
I shrunk back down and floated over the living room, on my way to the balcony.
I was done with this place.
000
I had taken Maria up on her offer after all.
I didn't want to be alone. I didn't trust myself not to fall down a hole of misanthropy if I did. Alabaster's power reset the gnawing guilt and grief, keeping it at a low and simmering level, enough that it would never overwhelm me.
But should I choose to do so, I could try ignoring everything.
Dishonor the death that I had caused.
Gloss it over.
Sleeping next to Maria, however, I was forced to consider one true fact: lives mattered.
I couldn't treat them as if they didn't.
So I kept my eyes opened as Maria's body hugged mine while we slept. I kept thinking.
I need to do better.
I need to be better.