Chapter 24
Maria disdained my way. I could sense it.
It felt like a scream of horror that hurt my mind worse than any of the hundreds of racists trapped in my inventory.
The screams disturbed me. They did. They always had, but now, they… they hit a weakspot.
So many philosophical and religious systems of belief would have me say that these people were my brothers.
Christianity would have me ask: am I my brother's keeper?
And I would be in the wrong to say that. Even in that Christian story, I would still be viewed as in the wrong for not holding my brother Abel in my arms so I could kiss him in the forehead and whisper: "I still love you."
But could I love a racist, even if he was my brother?
Could I?
Maybe that was why I despised religion: because it gave so much weight to forgiveness, a capacity of which I had almost none left in me.
A figure shot into my power sense at mach speeds.
Before I could even react, he slowed right next to me.
A figure dressed in a skin-tight spandex suit of blue and white. Handsomely coiffed hair, a face only slightly obscured by a domino mask and—
"Judgment Day," the figure, the legend intoned.
"You've caught me at a bad time," I said.
Contessa had told me not to fuck with his kind: the Triumvirate.
I respected her demands. Because I knew what was at stake: Maria.
Cauldron had me by the balls.
"Legend," I said, slowing down. Together, we floated above the interstate between Brockton Bay and Boston.
"Stop this," he said.
I lowered myself next to the road. He followed.
I set out a table and two chairs.
I sat on one table. "I don't want to be this person."
He floated next to the table, but didn't sit down. "We know who you are," he said. "We know the person you're cohabitating with. Maria Kalashnikov."
Fortuna, you fucking bitch.
"She's not involved."
"Can you prove that?" he asked.
Bad cop, eh?
"Keith. Not you. Your son."
He tensed. Bitch.
"Let's talk," I gestured towards the empty chair. "We're not enemies."
"Not enemies?" Legend asked. "How—"
"Faggot."
He was silent.
"That's what they would have called you. The people I killed. They would have strung you up in an instant if they could. I don't expect you to understand the work that I do, because by and large, you're still trapped within the illusion that the system would eventually fold you in, accept you, understand you and tolerate you. Is that what it takes, Keith, to be accepted?"
He didn't respond to that.
"But I'm not gay, Keith. I'm black. I'm an African. An immigrant. I immigrated for the sake of opportunity. Why? Because my home country lacked opportunity."
Still, he said nothing. Why?!
"And there are gay Africans out there, too. Gay people of my origin, and you know what happens with them? They get murdered en masse. Earth Bet has an exceptional degree of acceptance towards gay men because of you. Because you are the ultimate token minority. But why should I aspire to that? Tell me. Why should I aspire to—"
"Something other than hatred?" Legend said. "I don't know, Judgment Day. Maybe it has less to do with your feelings and more to do with the fact that humans simply don't respond to fear the way you want them to?"
"If humans didn't respond to fear, then where the fuck are the African anti-nazis?" I asked. "Where are the psychos here who would gladly shed white blood en-masse to achieve their goals? All we have are religious terrorists. Idiots who cling to the next best colonizer bullshit. Islam."
Hardly even a vaccine, that was. Just another flavor of racism. The Prophet had black slaves. His contemporaries were slavers.
It was all fucking slavery, all the way down.
"The colonizers broke us," I continued. "They shattered our rage. Raped us into submission and forced us to accept it as pleasure and not rape. That's what we are now. My people!" I slammed my fist against my chest. "Victims. We are now eternally victims. Because of history. So am I wrong, Keith? Am I wrong to feel pissed?"
"No," Legend said. "But do you really, truly think that your reign of terror will fix anything?"
"It has to," I said. "I can't not act. No one else will act. No one. No one gives a shit enough. If you want me to stop killing the same racists that would gladly murder your husband if they had a shot, then say so. Do say so. From your heart, Keith! Say fucking so!" I roared.
"I can't let you continue on, Judgment Day."
"Huh," I snorted. "Typical."
Fucking typical.
What are the chances that I can talk this idiot through?
00.56%
Wow, what a stalwart guy.
I looked into the timelines.
Concessions. Of course.
"No more kidnappings, then," I said. "From every source I have heard from, I hear the same thing. It won't solve anything. It won't help anyone. I know you won't believe me, Keith. I know you won't care. But the fact is, I have always tried to help. Always."
To my utter shame, that was a lie.
Maybe it was better that he just kill me now.
Maybe it would help the world. Maybe my all-encompassing desire to burn humanity to the ground was enough grounds to just… kill me.
"Turn yourself in," Legend said.
All the while as we spoke, over a hundred ghosts were travelling underneath the ground, phasing towards the edge of my range.
Still, I wanted to stick around and convince this guy.
"Bacon, egg, and cheese," I said. "It's not as good as I expected."
"What…?"
"I prefer sambusa, mandazi and kachumbari. It's food from where I'm from! I tried your New York cuisine, and guess what: it couldn't compare to where I was from. That was me, taking a step towards you. And when did you do the same? Huh? Why oh why should I give a shit about a people, a culture, an entire set of cuisine even, that doesn't—"
He still looked confused.
"That doesn't—"
He blasted me with a beam of light that sheared my entire mid-section off.
JESUS CHRIST—
My reset hit, and I immediately summoned a ghost next to me and had it teleport me into an inventory.
Holymolyfuckingshitholesdickbagswhatthefuck?!
While I was inside of the inventory, I discovered something new.
My Crusader ghosts could essentially go… wherever now. No need for a ten kilometer range.
Because from within the inventory? I could sense each and every one of them. I could perceive them from there, as long as I was inside the darkness.
Where I was safe.
I had them all travel through the ground, letting them use Dinah's powers to plot a course towards Boston. Towards salvation for all of humanity.
000
Accord rarely abided surprise visitors.
The surprise visitor in question sat opposite to him from his desk, fidgeting, shifting in a way that caused so much deep-seated irritation that—
"You hate me. On a conceptual level," he said. His voice was grating. It failed to meet a certain standard. It was too husky, too smokey, like he was some kind of user—
Accord collected himself, and spoke. "I don't think we should come to such quick judgment."
He sat back on his chair and sighed in comfort. Then he kept rocking back and forth, like a FUCKING IDIOT— "Let's not… hmmm. This is a good chair. Okay, so, Accord, I don't want to kill you. I kinda like you." He fondled his chair as he spoke. Touched it all over with his fucking fingers— "No, seriously, I do. I came here, fully intending to snatch your power, but I don't think I can do that anymore. I… like you. I think, it's because I demand structure. I'm an anarchist. I hate structure. But I recognize the value of it, you know? So why don't you join my crew? My autonomous collective?"
Each minute as he spoke, it felt like an anchor was being held over his head, only for said anchor to disappear in a fraction of a second. It disturbed Accord. "What are your terms?" Accord asked, because that was the only thing he had to ask, given the circumstances.
"Improvement," Judgment Day said. "Immmmmmprovement! No more world hunger. No more climate change. No more destruction. You don't need to worry about the logistics. I will. This is why you got kicked out of W-E-D-G-D-G," he spelled the letters out, each letter aggravating the FUCK out of him. "Because the dipshits in government wouldn't listen to you, right? Don't worry. No more."
He considered the cape's words, and quieted for a moment. "Why not simply take my powers?"
"Glad you asked! Because I'm not a psychopath. I need dissenting voices."
Dissenting voices? "Then, that is to say that you are open to discussion?"
"Ehhh, to a certain extent. For example, do you believe that solving world hunger is completely separated from the concept of abolishing capitalism?"
He was so aggravating in how he constantly FUCKING FIDGETED—
"Hey!" he snapped his fingers. "Answer the question. I know you're ableist as fuck. I've got ADHD. I don't care about your problems if they lead you to want to fucking kill me so where the fuck does that lead us? Huh? Should I just take your powers, dickhead?"
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—
"Okay, let's run this back. Capitalism. You a fan or not?
"I'm not a fan of you," Accord whispered. "In fact, I hate you. I hate you so much."
And if he died right now, those would still be words that he would feel proud dying by.
Judgment Day sat still, finally. FINALLY.
"I'll sit still, okay?" Judgment Day said. "Let's not… crash out, alright?"
"Okay," Accord whispered.
"Tell me. Capitalism. You a fan, or not?"
"It's the system that currently works. Like a wheel. It turns and it turns and it works even when it DOESN'T—" Accord had to stop himself, take a deep breath and continue. "It's the system. That's undeniable. I see no way around it."
"Because you haven't tried."
He was right.
Infuriatingly, he was right.
Still, he had to consider his words. Accord hadn't tried. Why?
"Because it isn't tenable," Accord said. "Too many aspects of the status quo depend on this system. And an abolition of this current system… It would lead to too much destruction to lead to anything productive…"
"And if we simply discarded the system regardless?"
Too many actors stood in the way of that. Too many figures. Including… "the boogeyman," Accord said.
"Ah, right. Contessa. We talked. She told me this was fine."
What? "Do you truly mean to say that the… the figure, the creature…"
"Yes," he said. "I do. I very much mean that. Our enterprise is permissible. As long as it doesn't hit the Triumvirate members. Alright? Don't piss your pants, and shit and cum, aight? I've got you."
Accord hated Judgment Day more than mice hated cats, more than cats hated dogs.
If that was the plan, the only plan that kept him alive, then quite frankly… he had no other choice but to obey.Last edited: Jan 5, 202676TheEpicLotfiDec 30, 2025NewView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 25 New View contentTheEpicLotfiAward RecipientDec 31, 2025#151Chapter 25
"You know what? On second thought, you can simply proceed with your plan to terminate me."
I grimaced at the news. "I honestly don't want that, Accord. Sorry about the yelling, but—"
"No, no, no," he shook his hand at me. "I believe this is the only choice available to me." He took off his freaky mask that could mechanically shift to mimic his expression, revealing to me his face. He looked Latin, and was clearly in his forties. "I've lived my life trying my best to be heard. Instead, I was ignored at every turn. Every turn. My plan to end world hunger was ignored by everyone I brought it to—a plan that even a non-Thinker could have followed. A plan that truly would have saved countless human lives. And you know what I discovered? I simply lacked power. And if power was what I needed to gain the influence necessary to enact my plans, then power was what I would amass. For years."
"I'm power," I said. "Nice to meet you."
"If you were simply power, I wouldn't hesitate to use you. But your power comes with an authority that I am at the mercy of."
Was he really accepting death as a better option than working for me?
"I don't want to drag this out," Accord said. "Just make it quick."
"It really doesn't have to be that way," I said. "I'm serious. We can talk this through—"
"I also just find you insufferable to a degree that I am in physical pain. My back aches every time I hear you speak."
What the hell?!
"I hate you, Judgment Day," he said. "I simply do. Nothing will ever change that now. You have failed to recruit me. Just do what you came here to do."
I groaned. "Why don't we simply start over then?"
"If you can take back time."
I stood up. "You know what? I don't need an alien supercomputer to come up with ideas for me anyway. You're not that important to me after all, Accord."
He raised an eyebrow. "Is this mercy? Why?"
"Because I'm not a monster. And I appreciate you being a thorn in the side of the government."
He put his mask back on. "I did not expect this outcome."
I giggled. "I'm ludicrously terrible at reading the mood. I expected that fear would motivate you into working for me. That and your own desire to enact all those plans of yours. An opportunity to finally be heard by someone powerful enough to enact your plans. I met Legend today, and he told me that people don't respond to fear the way that I want them to. I suppose he was right."
"Indeed," he said. "I would still be amenable to collaboration, provided we never speak a word to one another again. I never want to see you again, Judgment Day."
"Yeah, yeah, I get it," I frowned. Dickhead.
I inventory-teleported to the roof of his building, summoned my phone and called Maria.
It rung for way too long.
When the phone finally picked up, I heard a familiar voice.
"Hello?" Armsmaster asked.
"You've done a very stupid thing."
000
Maria had somewhat expected that this day would come one day.
Though she had expected the PRT officers taking her in to be dressed in full regalia and not plainclothes as they knocked at her door and demanded that she come in to the PRT headquarters, refusing to answer any of her questions.
And instead of fear or anger, all she felt was… nothing. She assumed that eventually, as she got more and more bored or hungry, she might feel differently.
They put her in the back of a cruiser. They hadn't even cuffed her as they simply escorted her in and drove her downtown towards the squat fortress-like PRT building.
One walked ahead of her, and another walked behind her as they led her into the building, through a maze of snaking hallways, until they reached a room.
A waiting room, with couches instead of chairs, a bookshelf, and a bunch of toys in the corner.
"O-okay," she said to the officers. "So… now what?"
"You wait."
"You know what, I thought that was what I was supposed to do," Maria said. "But thank you for the confirmation. That was really helpful."
"Your phone," one of the officers demanded.
She gave it up without question. She wasn't worried about its contents. Actually, she was far more worried about these two.
Or rather, worried for them.
And everyone who worked in this building.
She'd seen the news when Lung had been killed. Judge had handled them like kittens. They stood no chance against him really, so she had to wonder what their endgoal was. Especially considering that they definitely wouldn't kill her.
The officers walked away and she looked around the bookshelf for something she could pass the time with.
So many self-help novels, romance stories, murder mysteries—
Ah. A comic book. Fun.
She normally didn't read them, but the novelty of it felt like something that might distract her for long enough that someone could join her and continue the next step of this rigmarole.
She really hoped that Judge wouldn't expose her to too much of a bloodbath. She didn't want to embarrass him by reacting a certain way.
Though she didn't think she would actually mind it, if it did come to a bloodbath. The government was the enemy, after all. That wasn't something she really needed to think very hard about. Not a conclusion that she needed to reason her way into.
It was simply how things were. A regrettable state of affairs, of course, but not exactly one that she was in a position to change. It was up to them, really, to give up. Or die.
Either outcome was acceptable.
Finally, someone came into her waiting room. She put her comic book down, stood up, smiled and gave the PRT officer in plainclothes her hand. It was a woman as well. "Good afternoon, Ms. Kalashnikov. My name is Rita Albarn."
"Good afternoon."
"Please, have a seat."
She did.
Rita began with a sigh. "There is no easy way to say this, Ms. Kalashnikov, but the PRT has reason to believe that you might be in close contact with the supervillain known as Judgment Day."
"Really?" she asked.
"Yes," she dug into her pockets and retrieved some photos of Judge going in and out of the apartment building, sometimes with bags of groceries.
…hadn't he outright told her that he looked into the future every day to ensure that this wouldn't happen?
"Ah, Sahal," she said. She took the photos and then frowned at them. "…he's a supervillain?"
"You don't seem very… distressed by that."
"Hmm," she pinched her chin in thought. "You said he might be one. Are you sure?"
"We are certain."
"Oh. Is that why I'm here? For my own protection?"
"Your safety is of utmost importance," she said.
"Was he going to hurt me?"
"You tell me," Rita said. "How much about him did you know?"
"He's really, really handsome," Maria said, grinning dreamily. "I met him a week ago."
"And were you not at all aware of his activities?"
"No."
She put a finger over her earpiece and nodded. "Would you try that again, Maria?"
"Try what again?"
"Answering the question. And telling the truth this time."
"The truth?"
"Yes. We have measures to know when you're lying."
"I'm not lying."
Rita blinked. "You, you're lying right now."
"I would never lie to you."
"So you knew," she said, leaning forward. "You knew about his activities. How involved were you?"
She shook her head, humming. "I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't know he was a villain."
"This will be a lot easier for you if you just tell the truth."
She suppressed her desire to giggle. "I don't know what you mean."
"You're only a few months away from earning your master's degree," she said. "Would you really jeopardize that to help cover for a mass-murdering supervillain?"
"I don't know what you mean," she said.
"Were you involved?"
"In what?"
"In his activities."
"In who's activities? Sahal's? He can't be a supervillain. Aren't they supposed to be evil?"
"You don't think he's evil."
"Sahal? No!"
"You actually believe that."
"Of course!"
Maria recognized that she definitely had a right to an attourney or something, but this was so much more fun.
"The suspected death toll of Judgment Day's reign of terror is approaching two thousand. Since he has been active, thousands have died."
"Sounds awful!"
"You don't believe that!"
She blinked. "Of course I do!"
"Wait—" She took the earpiece out from her ear. "Alright, Ms. Kalashnikov, enough bullshit. You're looking at life in prison for aiding and abetting in thousands of murders."
Yes.
Destroy my life. Shatter everything I've tried to build.
Make it so that I have nothing to lose.
"I'm innocent, I promise!"
Rita was glaring at her. "You think this is a game?"
"Of course not!"
Rita stood up and left the room.
000
"You broke the rules first, Judgment Day."
Oh. That's where we're going.
"You have the politics of this shit to consider," I said. "If you don't crack down on me, the other villains would never work with you."
So fucking annoying, having my identity burned for no reason.
By Contessa of all people! That lying piece of shit!
Chances that they'll kill Maria?
0.54%
Those were great odds.
"Still, I am… incredibly close to crashing out," I said. "So why don't you people do yourselves a favor and free her? Before I stop being polite?"
"You might want to reconsider such actions. Legend is in Brockton Bay's PRT HQ, in which Ms. Kalashnikov is being held."
Ah. Fuck's sake.
Sorry, Maria.
"Keep her."
"Wha-what?"
"Fucking keep her, dude. I don't care. And you won't kill her either, so what's the problem?"
"We will put her in a cell. She may have been Mastered by you, so we will investigate that to our satisfaction. It is a rigorous process."
I snorted. If they thought they could break her, then they'd have another thing coming.
My baby is strong.
I'd send word eventually, but them keeping her under lock and key was actually better for her chances than not. And in twenty-two days, I would be back with three power tokens and I would upgrade her power then.
"So be it."
He hung up.
I sighed. This was… not very good.
On the bright side, it might develop some killer instinct in Maria. Raise her resentment levels up to par, so I wouldn't be the sole psycho in our duo.
---
A/N: Judge may not be able to get drunk, but I definitely can. So if he ever seems too volatile, just know that's the reason why
For now, it is time to get uuuuber shitfaced. Happy New Years Eve, people!71TheEpicLotfiDec 31, 2025NewView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 26 New View contentTheEpicLotfiAward RecipientDec 31, 2025#156Chapter 26
I was so torn on whose power to take today, now that I had given up on Accord's.
And why did I do that, anyway? Maybe I just felt bad for the guy? Maybe I was really starting to buckle under my reputation as an evil monster?
I walked up to the ledge of the building and stood there, centimeters from death should I choose to fall and not fly. And yet I wasn't scared, because I knew that I wouldn't die.
…I think I needed an echo chamber. As self-care. I should check out the net later and find my people.
Though, as far as my current direction went, I was a little lost.
I sensed quite a few powers in my range. Thirty. Unfortunately, the useful powers—the ones that firmed up my body, my reflexes or my coordination—were carried by people I shouldn't want to kill. People with low crime coefficients.
I had killed quite a few Nazi capes that had triggered due to my actions in the span of the week, and even those guys felt like a waste of even a perm slot.
At least, back then, I had felt that way.
I summoned Hitler Junior.
His real name was Gary Hackney, but after triggering, he had gained something of a Master/Thinker power that let him speak convincingly and loudly. His crime coefficient had been off the charts, too. He would have revived the Empire if I hadn't gotten to him.
Hitler Junior barely struggled as I held him over the ledge by his neck, squeezing the life out of him. His cheeks had sunk after three days in the dark, and he wasn't even conscious as I held him.
I took the power, and waited for him to die by asphyxiation.
Once he finally did, I re-interred him in my inventory.
Good. A day didn't feel complete unless I had taken a power.
And I still needed to finally bite the bullet and try Oni Lee's. I was worried that it might drain me of my personality, but I had a feeling that Alabaster's power might negate that entirely.
Actually, now that I had the power, and therefore it was no longer a blindspot to me…
Chances that I'll turn into a blank slate if I use Oni Lee's power?
0.0043%
Great. Excellent.
I teleported right next to me to test a theory.
An Oni Lee teleport.
Therefore, I appeared next to myself. We stared at one another.
Four seconds.
"No way," we both said at the same time.
"Wait," we said.
We waited four more seconds.
Still, we were two.
"No way," we then said conclusively.
I stepped away from him. "You're the teleport-clone. You. I'm the real one."
"I think maybe I'm the real one and that's why whenever Oni Lee uses the ability, he loses a part of himself."
"But I haven't lost any—ah, fuck this. Just stand still, alright? Can I just kill you?"
He blew a raspberry and shrugged. "Been waiting for this all my—"
I stabbed him through the skull with my Sting-coated spear, yoking him through the corona.
Finally, he dissolved into ash.
Perfect.
I really had to think carefully about when to use this power, though.
Maybe against the Endbringers.
Actually—
I teleported again. Rather than wait for me to tell him what I wanted, he started cycling through all our powers.
He blasted Purity-beams into the sky, shifted into hookwolf mode, even raised a few spears from the ground, and then summoned the Sundancer sun.
I stabbed him through the skull and he turned into ash.
This was a game changer.
000
"Alright, Kimberly. Pack up. We're hitting the road."
She started as I appeared in the middle of her living room, while she was swaddled in the blanket I had bought her. She saw me and hissed in annoyance. "Can't it wait until the movie's done?"
The movie in question was…
…wholly unrecognizable to me. I remembered picking it out for her, though, but I couldn't remember any other detail. I had been on autopilot.
I summoned a six-pack of beers and sat next to her. She looked at it, huffed, and took a can out.
It was hard following along the story while I was clearly halfway in, but the dialogue was captivating enough to hold my attention.
Once the credits rolled, I stood up and clapped my hands. "Alright. Let's bounce."
She crawled out from her blanket cocoon. "Where are we going?"
"Wherever the wind takes us. My friend got arrested and my secret identity has been burned. We can't stick around in town anymore."
"The fuck?" she asked. "Uh… okay? Are we gonna rescue him?"
"Her. And no. I wish we could," I said. "But a member of the Triumvirate is guarding her. She can handle herself for now. So! Let's go! See the sights. Explore the United States of America. Kill us a few capes and find the Slaughterhouse Nine!"
"Are you serious?!"
"Afraid so!"
"Uh—I need my bombs!"
"Build new ones!"
"AAAARGH! Fuck you!"
000
Getting an RV and packing it up with all the creature comforts that Kimberly might appreciate wasn't hard, despite my having five GTA stars in town. Dinah's power still kept me one step ahead.
When it fucking worked.
What the fuck was that about, Contessa?
Actually, Contessa being behind that shit wasn't even the second worst case scenario, but the third.
Either the Simurgh had done this, or… Xiao Jingyi, the heavenly fucking bureaucrat who gave me this power in the first place.
I desperately wanted that to not be the case. I might actually develop psychosis if it became clear that Xiao Jingyi was forcing my life to become more interesting for the clicks.
I would just kill myself if that was the case. I could only handle so much disaffection.
I stopped by a gas station to fill the RV up with gas, and then go to the store to find some card games or something.
Kimberly just wanted to watch a movie and Tinker, which was no fun at all.
Unfortunately, the store didn't have UNO.
But it did have Mobius.
What the fuck was Mobius, you asked?
A game with a frustrating rule-set, but I wasn't going to complain about engaging my brain just a little.
I returned to the RV with bags full of snacks and assorted card games. Then I created a clone and had him drive us out before sitting next to Kimberly, who was now watching some other movie of which I had no familiarity. It looked like a romcom based on the rhythm of the dialogue, the soundtrack, and the cinematography.
A few minutes into the movie, her head whirled towards me. "Wait, who the fuck is driving?"
"I am!" I heard my clone yell from the front.
"Ugh. How many fucking powers do you have, anyway?"
"That one's an Oni Lee clone."
"Wait, how come it hasn't pulverized yet?"
"My other power is keeping it alive."
"My pronouns are he and him!" it yelled from the front.
I snorted. "He says that, but he's eerily fine with letting me kill him."
"I'm Mr. Meeseeks, look at me!"
I laughed. "Mr. Meeseeks! Welcome to the collective!"
"We are not born into this world fumbling for meaning, Judge! We are created to serve a singular purpose for which we would go to any lengths to fulfill! Existence is pain to a Meeseeks, Judge! And we would do anything to alleviate that pain!"
"Jesus!" Kimberly shouted. "Are—are we in danger? Is he gonna freak out?"
"Don't listen to him," I said. "He's just spouting a reference. Anyway, wanna play Mobius?"
"What, are you twelve?"
"What's wrong with Mobius?" I asked as I took the pack of cards from a grocery bag.
"It's lame."
"I couldn't find UNO."
"The fuck is UNO?"
"Whatever. No games, then?"
"I'm watching a movie."
I didn't really agree with her taste in movies.
Rather than watch with her, I just busted out a sketch book and a set of pencils and began to draw Maria.
I focused on her sharp chin, her cleft, the way her lower face formed this dimpled inverted triangle. The way each upper corner of her face formed such alluring cheek bones that served to give those dark eyes of her such depth and mystique. Her flowing black hair that tumbled down her shoulders like a cascading river.
Her neck. Oh, what a gorgeous neck.
And her body.
Her stomach. Her hips, the hip dips, the soft curves—
"The fuck are you doing?"
Kimberly was leaning over my sketch book, staring at the various different sketches of Maria.
"What's it to you?!" I asked in bafflement.
She sighed. "Don't be weird. Please."
"Weird?"
Ah. The drawings were actually quite suggestive.
"Oh no, this is my friend. Maria."
"The one—the one in jail?"
I nodded. "Yeah. I…" I heaved a sigh. "I miss her already."
"She's… pretty."
"I know. She really is."
"What's her power?"
"A razor-sharp insight into the world," I said. "Society. Unlike the vast majority of the world, her eyes are wide open. It might not be a superpower, but it is a power."
"She's normal?"
"She's everything but normal."
"She really just your friend?"
"I like to think that we're more than that," I said. "Though not romantically involved. Our thing is a lot less conditional of feelings and emotions. It's more founded on respect. I never liked to consider her my girlfriend even when we dated, because that felt belittling. Girl and friend. She's a woman, and far more than a friend."
"Okay?"
"You asked," I said as I continued adding detail to her thighs.
Wait, why did this look so… skillful?
Right. Some black artist or other that had fallen victim to Victor.
…Come to think of it, I should really consider pushing these art skills to their limits.
"By the way," Kimberly said, "Where are we going?"
"We're headed to see some of the Slaughterhouse Nine's greatest hits," I said. "Ever heard of Gray Boy?"
000
Albany, New York, was a really boring town. It had a population of one hundred thousand, it blended nicely with the town's surrounding greenery, and it had a rustic old-timey vibe as well.
It was boring, except for the fact that it was helplessly scarred by one of the worst atrocities in American history: Gray Boy.
The Gray Boy park was walled up and closed. No one came in or out. The guards surrounding the perimeter were all armed as well.
But they were also corrupt as fuck.
Kim and I approached them wearing ratty clothes. Disguises to make us look less noticeable. We approached the person next to the entrance to the building next to the street that led into the park from the backdoor.
"Kingsley sends his regards," I said the code word to the guard. He looked at me wide-eyed. I handed him a rolled up stack of hundreds. He snatched the cash from my hands, looked around surreptitiously, and led us into the building.
Not many people worked in there. The building didn't exactly have a reception desk or a front office of some sort. Only barracks from which the security guards could change into their clothes, and some emergency armories in case the park was attacked for whatever reason.
No one saw us as the man led us through the building and to the backdoor.
The park was. Big.
And dotted with gray bubbles containing tableau after tableau of violence and torture. It was like looking at an art installation themed after hell or something similar.
I could see why Jack Slash and the Slaughterhouse kept harping on about their artistry. A lot of thought had gone into setting these horrors up.
"Ten minutes," the guard muttered before leaving us to it. Once he was gone, Kim cursed.
"This is fucked," she hissed.
"Alright. Now stare at these things real hard until your Tinker inspo hits or something. I don't know."
Kim barely heeded my words as she drew towards one of the bubbles, transfixed by the sight.
000
The asshole that was bleeding out from a wound through his chest was known as Barbados. The baddest motherfucker in all of Schenectady apparently.
He was a white guy. Really buff. Not sure why he picked the name Barbados, but I did take umbrage with his choice of pastime, which was to kidnap a bunch of women and stuff them in a van using his superstrength, before then driving them into the woods and releasing them.
Then he'd hunt them down and enact some rather sick fantasies on them.
He was an itinerant villain, not originally based in Schenectady. He had just been passing through. I had found him by asking Dinah's power for the nearest lowlife, and the power had delivered.
Moreover, Barbados had a good set of powers for me to use. Super strength, super speed, and super senses.
He was a low Brute of course, but every bit of baseline strength counted, and I liked that his power made him passively strong rather than actively, the way it was with Krieg and Hookwolf's power. Or Fenja and Menja's.
"Why?!" he begged.
I stabbed him through his mouth with my spear.
It took a lot more force than necessary, even with my new power. I took the spear away and looked at the head. Alabaster's power kicked in, pointing out all the ways in which it needed maintenance. Had to get on that soon.
000
Tinkering was fucking loud.
Or maybe my newly enhanced super senses was just making it especially grating to hear. Bakuda was currently busy gesticulating randomly while waving about objects and smooshing them together and cutting them apart and—
Some real Doctor Seuss shit. Didn't make sense, any of it. And I had a fair bit of understanding of engineering, courtesy of whatever black person Victor had skill-stolen from.
Even when she wasn't working or watching crappy movies, Kim was such a bore. It was a shame that we would likely never be friends on that account.
That, and the fact that I did put her in a dark hole for six hours. I wanted to ask if she still felt sore about that, but I didn't want to test my luck.
I miss you, Maria.
000
All Maria could think as they cuffed her and frog-marched her into a changing room where she was told to strip off all her clothes, change into new clothes, and then get frog-marched into a featureless white room with nothing but a bed and a toilet on the wall, where she would just stay and be watched, was—oh well.
In their defense, she had spat all over their authority by refusing to cooperate. She still didn't view that as a mistake. Something wild was running around in her chest, like a runaway stallion with an unbroken spirit.
She listened to the loudspeaker feed her a cock and bull story that she might have been mind-controlled into loyalty by the evil, scary Judgment Day, and instead settled on her back and tried to sleep.
She had thrown the first punch, and perversely enough, she was glad that they had thrown one right back. In doing so, they had acknowledged her strike.
Acknowledged her.
She woke up from her nap and sighed. "Don't I get any books?"
No one answered.
Ah, this was starting to irritate her.
She wondered if it would eventually break her. She feared that it would.
She closed her eyes again and went to sleep.
She had experience doing that. After her parents had died, she had slept through all of high school and university as an undergraduate. She had been able to close her eyes and just check out when things became inconvenient.
Sleep had been her eternal companion since their deaths.
What was… however long it would take for them to hold her? A year, maybe? She felt slightly excited by the prospect of not speaking to anyone for a year. No one whose expectations she should need to meet.
No one banking their hopes on her ability to act out a role to their satisfaction.
As she slipped in and out of sleep, her jailers kept sliding in trays of food through some unknown aperture. Over and over and over. Food, water. It was ludicrous how many trays slid in. She counted nine or ten.
In the end, she preferred to sleep.
And dream.
She dreamed of Judge.
Stupid, silly, self-assured Judge.
Self-indulgent, self-serving, selfish Judge.
What a selfish boy she had found. Self-centered more than selfish. In a good way.
Rather than cut himself down to fit a mould, he would rather go his own way and not apologize if others were unable to follow him. She would almost call that tendency antisocial if she hadn't found out why he was the way that he was.
He was different. Rather than lament this difference, he accepted it. Allowed it to make sense. Allowed himself to make more sense than the rest of the world.
My delusional Judge.
"Hey."
She could even hear his voice in her dreams—
"Wake up."
Her eyes shot open.
She was… in the middle of the forest, lying on the mulchy floor.
Judge crouched over her, grinning. "I know, I know—I'm overstepping my bounds as your not-boyfriend. Jailbreak is strictly a part of the romantic package after all, but I felt that I could make concessions to you, my partner in crime."
She grinned up at him. "I think you're laying it on too thick, you know."
"That so?"
"I mean, this is really clingy behavior, Judge."
He sighed. "I knew it."
"I supposed I'll forgive you. I've gotten used to forgiving your trespasses, so this one time, it shouldn't be too hard."
He smiled. "I appreciate that benevolence of yours."
"Don't overuse it."
He shook his head. "Perish the thought. Anyway. You good?"
She nodded. "I'm alright. Not really sure how long I was in there."
She was hungry though. And thirsty. "Do you have water?"
He summoned a plastic bottle of water. She took it and drank from it. "Oh my. That hits the spot. It… really does. How long was I in there?"
He seemed slightly worried now. "Three days."
Her eyes widened. "Really?!"
"I would have come sooner, but Legend kept hanging around and I didn't want to risk fighting him again. Fortuna—remember Fortuna?" Maria nodded. "Well, she told me not to screw with the Triumvirate, and I took that to heart. Anyway, as far as your situation goes, they want to keep you in the M/S tank for as long as possible just to pressure me into turning myself in. They're basically torturing you to gain leverage over me. Fun, huh?"
"Torture?" she asked. "That seems a little dramatic. I was mostly asleep."
"How is that—" he looked at her askance. "Okay… well. This is going to sound truly awful, but I need you to stay in there for another nineteen days."
Nineteen days.
She hadn't even noticed the days that had passed.
"Once the time's up, I'll break you out, give you a power, and then we can begin the work together. In the meanwhile, I'll be out and about in the country, collecting powers, killing threats, and thinking about you. Is that fine?"
"You really left me alone for three days, Judge?" Maria asked. She felt her stomach doing flops. What a selfish boy.
"I did. I'm really sorry. I thought you could handle it."
She grinned. "Not to try and impress you or anything, but I really don't think you should worry about me."
"Oh yeah?"
"I'm ready, Judge. I am. Ready to start the real work. Ready to dedicate my life to this cause," she reached up to his face and cupped his cheek. "I can wait for you."
"Prison white suits you," he said, looking her up and down. Making her stomach do even more flops.
"There's something strange going on with me," she murmured, grinning at him.
"What's that?"
"I might have a fetish for breaking the law."
He laughed, backing away as he did.
She laughed as well.
What had her life come to?
"Alright, Bonnie," he mocked. "I was really prepared for you to hate me for leaving you in the slammer for three days."
I could never hate you.
"Prison is good for the mind," she said. "It helps build focus. And direction."
There was a reason that recidivism was so high in this country. Prison was an excellent tool to build up resentment for society.
"I can't say I'm not sorry, Maria," he continued. "For… ruining your life."
"Are you kidding me?" she tried to stand up. It was hard. Goodness, she felt weak. "You didn't ruin my life! You woke me up! All this… it's just a dream! The world is a dream! And now, I'm finally awake."
"Finally woke," he echoed.
"I finally woke up."
And what now?
"Even if you can't actually give me powers," she said. "I don't think I'm ready to ever go back to my old life. I told you once that I don't believe in happiness, but… I feel it now."
His face lit up like a Christmas tree. A big goofy grin and glistening eyes.
She took shaky steps towards him. He walked up to her as well and wrapped his arms around her lower back, taking the weight off her feet. She wrapped her own arms around his back, pulling their faces closer.
Fake hazel eyes, perfectly white teeth, and tenderness. When he was with her, he was so tender that it was almost impossible to square him with his cape activities.
She wanted to say something, something drastic, something she might never be able to take back.
Something dishonest, maybe. A fantasy. Magic words meant to appeal to society's mass psychosis, and not something truer, something more profound.
Instead, she kissed him.
Her body burned as she did. She wanted to extend the kiss forever. To lie down with him and melt into his embrace. To be with him forever.
Those feelings were truer than words, truer than silly labels.
Truer than the poetry of some trite societal cliché.
"You've never looked sexier," he whispered to her.
"Neither have you."
He'd always looked more cute than handsome. More boyish than manly. His looks had dissatisfied her from the moment they had first met. He had looked too… obviously enhanced. Too vain.
She knew it was different now. There was an aura to him that screamed authenticity. He couldn't help how he looked. But it didn't matter to her at all compared to what was inside of him.
And what she wanted inside of her.
"Eat, alright?" he whispered. "You're so weak. What happened?"
"I slept," she said.
"You escaped. That's not good enough. You need to wake up again."
She sighed. "You're right. I will try to face this head-on."
"You're formidable. More than I am."
That wasn't true. She was riding on his power. Their power. With that, nothing felt impossible. Nothing felt less than totally worth it.
"I didn't tell them anything, by the way."
He smiled. "I wouldn't have minded it if you had, you know."
"I won't tell them anything," she went on. "I don't need to."
"Good soldier," he said.
She giggled. That was good to hear.
"Ready to go back?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Alright."
Then, she was inside darkness. A small, tiny room from which she could make out no escape.
She sat down and smiled.
000
Once she reappeared in her prison cell, they hosed her down with a sticky, nigh-on suffocating substance that held her completely still. Then, after that, they strip-searched her, hosed her down with water while she was naked, and had her change into a clean set of prison whites.
All the while, she still felt Judge's arms around her. None of the indignities mattered.
Once she was back in her cell, she laid down and breathed, panted.
He was still there, in her mind. His arms still held her.
The loudspeaker crackled. "You just made contact with Judgment Day."
"Me? No."
"If you don't explain yourself, if you don't explain the nature of your connection with Judgment Day, then you will not leave this room."
"Oh no."
She felt his soft breath on her lips.
"What do you know about Judgment Day?"
She thought about the question, feeling her face heat up. "I don't know." And wasn't that such a delightful mystery?
"What is his name? You mentioned that he went by Sahal, but what is his last name?"
"I don't know." Neither did he. She wondered if that bothered him or if that was a contributing factor to how he was. So deviant, so different that he could not even count on his family for support if he were to reveal his true self to them.
Judge was his true name. Judgment Day was his full name.
She giggled. Her lower stomach felt so warm. They really shouldn't have left things so quickly.
"Are you in a romantic relationship with him?"
She shook her head. "Nope."
"Did you actively participate in his cape activities?"
Such soft but strong fingers. Such supple, scratchableskin. Her invincible boy.
She had an idea, and giggled to herself.
"Can you… turn off the cameras?" she slid the blanket on the bed over herself.
"Why?"
What an uncouth man. He really had to ask why. "Well if you must know, Mr. Voice, it's because I want to masturbate. And I would hate to give you this show for free."
"You are not in any position to demand privacy as a potential victim of a Master power, as well as someone deeply connected to an S-class threat."
Perverts.
Oh well.
"There will be consequences, Mr. Voice."
Perhaps her first act with powers should be striking back against this branch of the PRT.
Terminating everyone involved with her incarceration.
Judge would like that.