String [Superheroes, Technological Progression]

Twin moons cast light and shadow through the clear winter night as anticipation gnawed at me.

I took a deep breath. Staring at the house across the street only increased my anxiety. It had Victorian architecture, though a refurbished exterior kept it from looking weathered. The blinds on the windows were shut, and the lights were switched off.

I checked my watch: 11:54 P.M.

Why did it have to be midnight on a Sunday? I have school tomorrow.

The winter winds kept me seated in my car with the heat on. It was June, and the Antarctic chill was in full force. Of all the places my mother could pick to live, it had to be the newest country in the world. Emerging from the Tasman Sea sat New Elpis, my home.

Nevertheless, I was determined to tough it out.

What kind of sixteen-year-old would turn down a quarter million dollars?

Sure, I was breaking several laws, but I couldn't pass up an opportunity like this. Regardless of the risks involved, everything would be fine if I didn't get caught.

The last thing I wanted was to deal with the Evohuman Crisis Unit.

Tick-tock, Maxis. It's just in and out. You can do this.

The clock struck midnight, and my watch buzzed with a reminder of the meeting.

Lights from the dining room flashed – my signal to go inside. With another deep breath, I tucked my modified taser into my jacket pocket and stepped out of my car. The cool night brushed my face as I fetched the bag and suitcase that sat patiently in my back seat.

Alright. Taser, check. Impact-resistant clothing and scarf, check.

Turning my clothing into pseudo armor had been difficult. I had to make sure I didn't change things too drastically, otherwise I would draw attention to myself.

Night vision sunglasses, check. Mechatech for the deal, check. Lock the car…

I pressed my thumb against the handle until I heard a click. Since I was starting to perform more risky jobs, implementing biometric security seemed like a no-brainer.

Okay, let's see what we've got here.

I steeled my nerves before moving across the street and into the front garden. As I moved, I turned the night vision setting on my sunglasses to daylight before adjusting my hood and scarf. Up until recently, the people requesting my services were kids around my age or conspiracy nuts who wanted protection from government surveillance. None of them had the tools or the know-how to pry into my identity.

Tonight was different.

The people I was dealing with were serious business. They had dead dropped evomaterials I had never heard of and fifty grand to play with like it was nothing. That was… concerning, so I started asking questions. I really didn't want to find myself working with any of the major gangs in the city.

I did my best to verify any information they gave me. It wasn't easy, but I was able to dig up something. The people I was dealing with were private Mechatech collectors operating under the alias: Collector Specialists, or C.S. for short.

Despite my research, I knew I couldn't just assume this wasn't a trap, so I made sure to come prepared.

Pressing a button on the side of my eyewear, I activated a simple wireframe scan of the building. It wasn't the quickest, so I had to slow my pace in order to get a full picture of the building. It was mostly ordinary, other than the basement. There was a tunnel that went from beneath the house, under the street, and into the park near where I parked.

I clicked another button and did a thermal scan of the building. This was even slower, and I felt the sunglasses begin to heat up around my eyes.

There is one sizable outline by the door, and judging from the build, it is male. The rest of the outlines were faint, but I was picking them up from the basement. Four, from the looks of it. Three males, one female. The rest of the house was completely empty.

Simple enough.

I walked up and knocked twice.

A deep voice sounded from the other side. "You him?"

"Yeah, it's Upgrade."

The door clicked and creaked open.

The man guarding the front door was at least a foot taller than me and was built like a tank.

He gave me a once-over before gesturing for me to come inside. I stood my ground with my spare hand hovering over my modified taser. My paranoia expected him to lunge at me, so I wanted to be quick on the draw. However, he just stood and waited.

"You lead; I'll follow." I said.

The man shrugged and turned.

"This way. Close the door behind you."

I waited for him to get a few paces inside before I stepped in and closed the door with the back of my foot. The one thing I needed to make sure I didn't do was turn my back on these guys.

He took me down a long hallway and through another door. This one led downstairs into a basement, and as I got closer, I could hear voices. We walked down the solid wooden stairs, our steps echoing off the walls, each one silencing the voices coming from below.

The moment I passed the first step, the thick scent of tobacco assaulted my senses.

Three men stood around a dimly lit table while a woman sat in the corner shrouded in shadows. She drew my attention more than anyone else in the room. She wore a red-patterned cheongsam with a rabbit mask to conceal her face. Her attention felt more threatening than any other in the room.

She was like me.

Only Supers wore masks.

Two of the men were dressed professionally with suits and ties, one Asian and the other European. The latter had a cigar in his mouth and was likely responsible for the tobacco smell. The last of them was dressed casually, and he was old, noticeably older. If I had to guess, late sixties or early seventies. He had a good three or four decades on the rest of his associates.

The Old Man let out a sigh of disappointment when he saw me.

"He's young."

I tried not to show how insulted I was. It hurt my professional pride, what little I had anyway. Just because I was a teenager didn't mean I wasn't capable.

The suit in the middle chuckled lightly and gave the older man an amused look.

"Aren't they all?" He asked before turning his attention back to me. "Apologies for setting our meeting so late. Business like this tends to draw more eyes while the sun is still up as I'm sure you know."

I rolled with it, putting forward as much professionalism as I could muster.

"Late nights don't bother me."

He clapped his hands.

"Let's get started then, shall we?"

The table was empty, so I opted to place my gear on top of it. Since my bags were filled with the commissioned items, I took extra care to make sure none of the fragile cargo broke.

I had to take a deep breath as the guy who had escorted me down here moved out of my view. Fortunately, my escort had just moved to guard the stairs and didn't seem interested in what was going on.

"I have to say I'm impressed." The Asian man straightened his tie and stepped forward. He was clearly the leader, so I turned to address him fully. "We expected at least a three-week turnaround, but you managed on a much shorter time frame."

I gave an easy shrug.

"I work fast."

"But is it quality?" The cigar guy questioned with a sly smile on his lips. His accent was thick British. "You lot tend to get fussy about deadlines. Never met one who could deliver early."

"Yeah, well… I'm not like the others."

I hadn't meant to sound arrogant, but there was truth to my words. Other Mechakinetics had to actually build their technology. I could cheat.

"That remains to be seen," the Old Man grumbled. "Show us."

I unzipped the suitcase and pulled out the first of the three items I had spent the week making. I carefully unwrapped it, removing all the towels I had used as padding before placing it on the table for everyone to see.

"Not gonna bother asking what you guys want this for since I doubt you'd tell me, but here's your first request; a drone," I said, picking up the controller. It resembled a smartphone from a distance, but when I touched it, the screen lit up with a video feed and UI. This one had taken me most of the week to make because I decided to get a little… creative. "This little guy comes equipped with rotors for flight, wheels, and my personal favorite, spider legs."

I proceeded to shift the drone through the three different forms. It still amused me that this project started off as a transforming remote-control car and a cheap drone I had bought from an electronics store. Hell, the spider legs came from a plushie.

"As a little bonus because I was feeling particularly adventurous, it has a chameleon setting."

I tapped on the screen, commanding the drone to shift.

The little thing mimicked the material of the wood it was standing on, blending in with the table to near perfection. The leader nodded and looked at his associates. So far, they all seemed impressed.

It had taken me a little bit to figure out how to progress down a chameleon route. Originally, I had wanted to try and incorporate true active camouflage, but it proved too costly in the short amount of time I had been given. A chameleon setting was much easier to work with and achieved similar results.

I handed the controller to the leader. "The UI should be intuitive; I did include a small manual in case you need it."

"No training wheels," the Old Man scoffed. "Next."

Jeez, not even a thanks.

I reached into my bag and removed the second object.

At first glance, anyone would have assumed it was a rectangular box I had painted black. Though it might look like that to an outside observer, it was anything but. It had started off as a battery I had salvaged from an old laptop and had taken days of upgrading to get it just right.

"This is the closest thing I could get to the initial request. You wanted a portable power bank? Here it is," I placed it down next to the drone. "This thing has a capacity of a thousand-kilowatt hours. I've made it as safe as I can, but that's still a lot of energy so be careful with how you handle it – and I mean that. I can't guarantee what will happen if you decide to hit someone around the head with it."

The cigar guy took a puff and blew smoke in my direction.

"Take an educated guess. What's your professional opinion?"

"Best case? Your family can find all your bits to put in a box."

He grinned.

The third and final item was the least impressive of the lot.

I picked up the modified Swiss army knife and aimlessly flicked through its functions. I had upgraded everything it had and tacked on a few new ones for good measure. A knife that could easily cut through wood, a screwdriver that could adjust itself to any screw… the works. I didn't even have to get creative with the progression path, seeing as the whole point of this thing was to have an answer to every problem.

I wasn't sure why they had requested it, but the moment I placed it down in the middle of the table for a showcase, the Old Man stepped forward and snatched it up. He inspected it for a few moments before sliding it into his pocket. The sly old geezer even had the gall to smirk at me as he did so.

With that, my bag was empty, and I had completed the request. Now, all I had to do was wait for payment. If they didn't deliver… Well, I'd figure something out. They seemed professional, so I didn't feel like I was going to get ripped off anyway.

"Well… that about covers it."

"One last thing," the cigar guy puffed. "Can you do guns?"

I stared long and hard at him. The modified taser hidden in my waistband felt heavier.

"Are you asking me if I can do guns, or if I'm willing?"

He took another slow puff, not once breaking eye contact.

"Both."

"Yes and no, in that order," I replied swiftly. I wanted to shut down that line of inquiry. "Too much heat. Stuff like this will probably be overlooked by The ECU but the moment I bring anything lethal into the equation, they'll come down on me like a ton of bricks. I'm not interested in playing with fire. I'm already risking a lot working with you guys."

"You got brains," the Old Man commended under his breath. "That's rare to see."

"Too many fall victim to their own potential," the leader spoke up, having finally finished admiring the drone and power brick. "It's good to see at least some of the new faces have a sense of self-preservation."

Something heavy hit the table and slid over in front of me. I looked down to see a chunky steel revolver. The metal was almost spotless, like it had been polished religiously. Immediately, I noticed the Old Man tense up, and he stepped forward out of the shadows, glaring at the cigar guy.

"Put that away. Now."

The scariest part about this old guy was that he didn't raise his voice – but the threat of violence was very real.

The cigar guy shrugged.

"Call it a professional curiosity. I want to know what he makes of this."

"I don't do weapons," I said, trying to make myself very clear.

"I'm told Mechakinetics have a certain type of intuition about these sorts of things," he continued, ignoring my statement. He pointed at his gun with his cigar hand and waved a bit. "Hypothetically, if you did do weapons, how would you go about modifying that?"

I hesitated. He wasn't making a request for improvements, but just an appraisal. That… was something I was willing to entertain. It would make me look better in front of these guys. At the very least, they could end up being recurring clients.

On the other hand, I would be giving them more reasons to consider kidnapping me.

They've been cordial and reasonable so far. Might as well play along.

Slowly, I reached down and picked up the revolver. I had never touched a gun before – a real one. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested in playing around with weapons. I just knew better than to start down that path.

The moment my fingers touched the steel, I was able to visualize the mental map in my head. Each individual component of the gun branched out like a tree, showing me all the different kinds of upgrades and their cost.

[Charges: 25/25]

[Type]

Magnum Revolver .357

[Durability 99/100 - Repair Available. Cost: 1]

[Model]

Smith & Wesson 686 MK I (Active)

Smith & Wesson 686 MK II (

Cost: 2

)

Smith & Wesson 686 MK III (

Cost: 3

)

Smith & Wesson 686 MK IV (

Cost: 4

)

Six-round cylinder (Active)

Eight-round cylinder (

Cost: 1

)

Extended Barrel (Active)

[Attachments]

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

Compressor (

Cost: 1

)

Muzzle break (

Cost: 1

)

Suppressor (

Cost: 1

)

Synthetic Grip (Active)

Iron Sights / Red Ramp

(Active)

Red dot sight (

Cost: 1

)

Holographic sight (

Cost: 1

)

2-4x Variable Zoom Scope (

Cost: 1

)

[Materials]

Stainless Steel (Active)

Carbon Steel (

Cost: 2

)

Compound 9 (Carbon Steel Variant) (

Cost: 5

)

Compound 3 (Steel Variant) (

Cost: 3

)

[Ammunition]

.357 Regular (6/6)

Armor piercing (

Cost: 1

)

Tracer (

Cost: 1

)

Incendiary (

Cost: 1

)

Hollow point (

Cost: 1

)

[Integration Status: Unavailable]

The base components were modern, and the upgrade paths were straightforward. There wasn't much available to me without upgrading the model to something more advanced. The MK II upgrade looked like it came from the late 2020s and would give a much more solid base to work from. Meanwhile, MK III and IV started to look like something straight out of a cyberpunk flick.

There wasn't much I could do with the current design, though.

"Depends on what you'd want," I carefully slid the gun back across the table toward him. I watched carefully as he picked it up and placed it back into his jacket pocket. "If you wanted something fancy, I'd mess with the model and improve it. Alter it so it could pack more of a punch."

"How much of a punch?" He asked.

I sighed.

"Enough to put a hole through just about anything other than fancy Mechatech and Evomats."

"How much for it?"

I tried not to let my aggravation show. "I said, I don't do guns."

"How about an extra hundred thousand plus materials on top? I can even give you half right now." The cigar guy took a long puff before blowing smoke in my direction again. He tapped it and let the ashes fall straight onto the floor. "Kid like you has talent. I'd hate to see it wasted."

"The kid said no weapons," the Old Man remarked, his tone filled with warning. "Respect his boundaries."

The cigar guy grinned and pointed at me. "Ahh but look! He's considering it."

I had bitten my lip in contemplation at the offer. An extra hundred thousand on top of the initial deal was so enticing it had my skin breaking out in goosebumps. Still, I knew what that slippery slope entailed. If the ECU wasn't already aware of me, they would be showing up at my front door any day. I didn't want to give them reasons to bother me.

"No," I said firmly. I refused to compromise my principles or my safety. "No weapons. Not from me. If you want guns, go somewhere else."

My eyes met the suspiciously quiet woman who had been sitting in the corner of the room the whole time without saying a word. I had no idea what kind of relationship she had with the people I was dealing with, but she was clearly with them. Her eyes hadn't left me ever since I had arrived, and while she did make me feel a tad uncomfortable, she didn't seem threatening.

"You heard the kid, that's enough," the Old Man sneered. "We aren't here for munitions."

The leader finally turned and addressed the woman.

He started speaking to her in a language I didn't understand but could recognize as Chinese. The two shared a very brief conversation before she stood up and dusted off her clothes. Her heels clicked against the concrete floor as she moved over into the dim light.

My guard shifted, and I immediately felt on edge.

First, she examined the drone, then the power brick. The Old Man then handed her the multi-tool he had snatched up, and she held it for all but a couple of seconds before handing it back.

"What's this about?" I questioned.

"She's just checking for any defects," the leader replied with a dismissive wave. "Among other things."

"Like?"

"Booby traps, bombs, poison, stuff like that," the Old Man spoke up, giving me a flat look. "Can't be too careful when dealing with Mechatech. It's nothing against you kid; this is just procedure."

Fair enough.

I stepped back as she leaned into the leader's ear and whispered some things before returning to her seat. He beamed a smile at me before clapping his hands. Turning, he retrieved a briefcase from below the table.

"Your payment, plus a bonus," he bowed his head respectfully, sliding it across the table toward me.

I clicked open the briefcase to find a small electronic chip no bigger than a USB. I recognized the tech as Encrypter's handiwork.

"A payload chip." I nodded before closing the briefcase. It wasn't like I expected hard cash, but I would have to create something to siphon the money off it. It shouldn't be too difficult. "It'll do. What's the bonus?"

"An extra fifty grand for timely delivery," the leader said. "A gesture of good faith. We hope to work with you again in the future."

"Just as long as you guys remember my no-weapon policy," I replied, giving the cigar guy a glare. "I have no problems—"

A door slammed from upstairs, causing everyone in the room to jump, except for the Old Man. My hands started to sweat as my escort pulled out a gun and began slowly ascending the stairs to investigate.

"Don't suppose that was one of yours?"

They ignored my quip.

The Old Man was already moving toward me.

"Time to go."

I stepped aside as he reached for the dusty bookshelf behind me. His hand went behind it and pressed something, which caused the whole bookshelf to immediately slide to the left and reveal a smooth wall. I was about to comment on it when a simple push caused an outline to appear and a door to swing open.

It opened out into a long tunnel and stretched for about a hundred meters.

The two suits were already carrying my tech to the tunnel, led by the woman with the rabbit mask. They didn't even hesitate to step through and go down. I didn't want to be left behind, so I snatched up the briefcase and headed for the tunnel. The old man hustled me through just in time to hear a storm of gunfire echo from upstairs.

I pulled out my taser and flicked the safety off.

The door closed, and the bookshelf moved back into place, sealing us in.

"Keep moving," the old man commanded.

We reached the end and climbed up a ladder that emerged into the park. Turning, I spotted my car parked and sitting unscathed.

Across the street from it, the door to the house was left ajar, and I didn't like what I was hearing from inside. The business associates I was with began to head back towards the house when a black van pulled up a few houses down. The sliding door opened, and a figure gestured with urgency for everyone to get inside.

That was their getaway vehicle.

I had my own.

Time to break off and make my own getaway.

As I broke into a sprint, armed men poured out of the house and spotted me. A few of them aimed and fired while the rest broke off and began peppering the black van with bullets. Very quickly, the area turned into a war zone.

I dove to the ground, using my car as cover. I could hear the bullets ping off the metal framework of my car, and for the first time, I was glad I had spent so much time testing my power on it. I had upgraded the framework and body to protect against collisions with other vehicles. I never thought bullets would be the first stress test.

The Old Man and his group wasted no time returning fire. I watched from behind cover as men fell to the street, screaming in agony. The ones firing at me turned their attention away to assist their comrades, giving me a safe opportunity to fire. Without bulletproof windows, I couldn't risk trying to get away.

Propping myself up against the rear of my car, I aimed my taser for several seconds, then pulled the trigger.

My weapon buzzed before the projectile shot out of the barrel. One of the men at the back seized up and dropped his firearm. I had managed to hit his forearm, despite aiming for center mass.

I aimed at another guy and fired. I missed the shot horribly. Panicking, I fired a third and missed again.

I tried to fire a fourth, but my taser clicked. I fumbled around in my pocket for a spare and tried to reload, but my hands were shaking too much. The adrenaline pouring through my system frustrated me because despite how I'd practiced reloading, I couldn't perform the steps in the moment.

Aggravated, I shoved it back into my jacket pocket and took one last quick peek of the area. The suits were still trying to clamber into the van while trading shots with the gangsters while said gangsters were dragging their wounded inside or behind whatever cover was available.

They weren't focused on me, which was all the window I needed.

Unlocking my car, I scrambled through the front passenger seat and threw the briefcase into the back seat. I thumbed the ignition, ripped the gear shift into drive, and slammed my foot on the accelerator. With a high-pitched whine from the electric engine, I went from zero to a hundred in just over two seconds.

I didn't even bother to put my seatbelt on as I tore through the streets of Bayside. I made about a half-dozen turns down a few familiar roads before I finally managed to calm down and pull over.

Slowing down, I gently parked on another curb to catch my breath.

As I breathed in, something jabbed my neck.

I froze up, and my vision immediately began swimming. Someone was sitting in my backseat, and they managed to drug me. How? How had they gotten past my security?

I fumbled and tried to find my attacker, but I was rapidly losing the ability to keep my eyes open. I managed to open the door before unceremoniously falling out of the car and landing face-first on the concrete.

The last thing I saw before I blacked out was two heeled feet climbing out the back of my car.

When I next opened my eyes, I was tied to a chair.

"G'morning sunshine."

I saw a man sitting across from me in a red singlet, some scrappy-looking jeans, and dirty brown boots. His arms were covered in tattoos, and his bald head glistened with sweat. My eyes were drawn to one particular tattoo, a depiction of a shark devouring a smaller fish. It was detailed, visceral, and violent. In any other situation, I would've praised the artistry.

I groaned as I tried to shake away the drowsiness. I had never been drugged before, but it left me feeling disorientated and dopey. The guy laughed, stood up, clapped his hands, then strolled over and slapped my face. The pain jolted me awake, and I realized that I wasn't wearing my scarf or sunglasses.

This guy could see my face.

"Well, well. Look at you! You don't look like you belong in this part of town. All this…" he ran his hands through my hair and lightly pulled. "Short cut platinum blond, hmm. Don't see that every day. Freshly shaved too. You look like a baby, my friend. A big baby that drives a car like that? Mmm… I can smell the money on you. It's like a… a nice citrus flavor."

I glared at him.

He just sighed and shook his head.

"Hey-hey c'mon now. Don't look at me like that, I'm trying to be nice here, y'know? We don't need to do this the hard way but if you keep disrespecting me, my hands might be forced, and I don't think you want that."

I was feeling particularly upset – mostly at myself. I should have been more careful.

He approached me again.

"You know whose territory this is?"

I didn't even know where I was. The last thing I remembered was being drugged.

I gave a helpless shrug.

"Ah-ah, no. No-no, we're not doing that. Speak. Playing the silent game is going to cause me to get real nasty. When I ask a question, I expect a response." He pulled out a gun and placed it against my right knee. "I'm being very patient here, amigo. Work with me here. I don't wanna have to mess up your pretty face. Mommy wouldn't like paying to get it fixed."

I sucked in a breath and tried to say something but all that came out were broken mumbles.

Then, pain exploded in my eye as my head recoiled back. I let out a pained groan as blots of darkness clouded my vision.

"Every time, I swear! Kids insist on acting tough, and then I have to make a mess of the place. Cleaning up blood just isn't my thing," he pressed the gun into my knee. "Last chance."

"I don't know whose territory this is."

"See! There you go. Now we have something to work with." The man removed the gun from my knee. "This territory belongs to The Brotherhood of Cain. Did you think we wouldn't notice you? You think we're stupid?"

"No."

"Didn't think so. Next question. The men you were dealing with, who were they?"

"Don't know. Didn't ask."

"Ah, come now. You expect me to believe you didn't vet who you're dealing with? Amateurish – but what should I expect, hm? You're new. I've seen plenty like you make mistakes like this – makes it so easy," he paused for a moment and pursed his lips. "You look young. You go to school?"

"If you're such an expert, why don't you tell me?" I sneered.

The man grinned.

"Yeah, you go to school. Used to give my teachers that exact same look. I was a little bastard, tiny little thing. KIDS—" he stepped toward me, crouching down to eye-level "—think they know everything. Used to think I was on top of the fuckin' world! Then I left, and life hit me," he got in real close miming and mouthing the word 'boom'. "Little fish in the big ocean… gotta watch out for those sharks."

He bared his teeth and bit down a few times. The guy obviously liked the sound of his voice, so I let him talk.

"Guess who's turn it is to be the little fish?"

I didn't answer. Not until he jabbed me in the ribs with his gun.

"Me."

"Mmhm… say it. It helps to reinforce the lesson. I'm helping you, see? This is how things are done, and the sooner you understand that, the easier it'll be for you to survive out here," he jabbed me again. "Tell me what you are."

I stared at him.

"You want me say that 'I'm a little fish?'"

"I don't want you to just say it. I want you to mean it, because that's what you are," he prodded me again with the gun. "Don't keep me waiting," he performed a few more mocking bites with his teeth. "Tick-tock."

I grumbled.

"I am the little fish."

It was humiliating, but that was probably the whole point.

He pulled the gun away and gave me a hearty pat on the back.

"Don't look so sad, amigo! We're all little fish at the start. Just gotta do some growing and then you can really start to make some waves."

He reached forward into my pocket and fished out my taser, the spare cartridge, my phone, and my modified sunglasses. He inspected the taser briefly before reaching around and tucking it into the back of his waistband. He played around with the sunglasses for a bit before snapping them in half.

"You looked ridiculous. I'm doing you a favor," he tossed them on the floor and stepped on them. "Now, what do we have here?"

He turned his attention to my phone – the first project I had ever worked on and the one item I had spent the most time upgrading.

It was a slick black touchscreen smartphone that surpassed even the latest models on the market. It was easily worth a few grand, and I had even held back in developing it. Pushing too far would have it looking like Mechatech. As it was now, it could easily pass as a modern phone, except for some software and specs that were at least a decade ahead of what was available now.

I wasn't sure I could get away with anything more sophisticated.

"Real nice piece of work right here. You Mechakinetics are fucking miracle workers, you know?" He kissed the phone and fiddled with it some more. "How do you turn it on? Help me out here, I'm an old man when it comes to this shit."

I told him the truth; it wasn't worth the effort to lie.

"It can't be used by anyone other than me."

I had taken a liking to biometric security. It was easy to use but was hard to break into, especially when it was Mechatech like mine. Unless you were a very smart super with a talent for cracking security, getting into my phone was going to take a long time and a lot of creativity.

He chuckled and pointed at me as if I had told some kind of hysterical joke.

"That's smart – taking precautions, I like that. Can't have anyone you don't like messing around with your shit," he pulled his chair up next to mine and took a seat, leaning back in it. "We both know how some people are. Women especially, fucking crazy lot, eh? One minute they're going through your messages and the next they're trying to cut your balls off."

A woman appeared out of thin air right in front of us, carrying the briefcase with my payload chip in it. She wore a mask, opera-phantom style. It was stark white with a blank expression. The rest of her occupied a form-fitting white catsuit.

So, it was a Super that got me.

It would explain how she had managed to get into my car. Her powers were either an invisibility-intangibility combo or teleportation on demand. Regardless, it would be a real pain to develop defenses against someone with those kinds of powers.

"Don't stop on my account. I'm always open to new ideas," she said, the smugness in her voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

The man laughed.

"See, what did I just say? Fuckin' crazy bitch, always popping in when you least expect it."

Her eyes rolled.

"You're wasting time."

"Noooo, my time isn't wasted, see?" He gave me a nudge that felt anything but friendly. "I'm just hanging out here with my new friend! He's quite the talker."

I stayed silent.

The woman sighed and shook her head.

"Ah… ruining my fun," he waved her off before turning back to me. "Do you not understand what this is? It's a lesson, see?"

"What lesson is this supposed to be?" I remarked sourly. "Maybe I'll just deal in the daytime—"

Pain exploded across my cheek, the man clubbing me with the butt of his gun. My vision swam, and I could have sworn the world was starting to spin. I heard him curse under his breath in Spanish.

"Finally grew some balls, eh?"

I didn't have it in me to find a snarky response. He already seemed unhinged, and assuming I made it out of this alive, I didn't want to explain any bullet wounds to my mother.

He shook his head, disappointed.

"In this city, independents are a no-go, compadre. You pick a side, or you stay out of the game. We're not playing your game, you're playing ours. So, all that's happening here is you paying us what we're owed."

"Fuck off. I don't owe you shit."

My response didn't bother him in the slightest.

"Ah, yes you do. Just for that, I think I'm gonna keep this," he wiggled my phone in his hand. It wouldn't do him any good, but that didn't make me feel any better. The first week I had gotten my powers had been spent messing with the phone and now this asshole was going to walk away with it. "If you're a good boy, maybe we'll let you make another one."

"If you think I'm going to join—"

"Make this easy on yourself," the mask-wearing woman said with an easy tone. "Best you just accept it. If you don't cause any fuss, we won't see any reason to hurt you or the ones you care about. It's in your interest to cooperate."

Mom…

Fury burned through every fiber of my being.

I opened my mouth to respond, when I was abruptly silenced by a ringtone. The man who had been interrogating me rolled his eyes before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. It was unimpressive compared to mine.

He answered in Spanish.

After a few moments of listening to the person on the other end, he began angrily talking, his dialect sounding increasingly desperate by the second. I needed to find a way out of here before they took me somewhere more secure. The last thing I wanted to happen was to get stuck making Mechatech for The Brotherhood of Cain.

The look of amusement had long since melted away from his features in exchange for frustration. When he finally went silent, the woman took the opportunity to speak.

"Who is it? Grim?"

The man just stared, his lips thinning into a displeased line. He ignored her question and continued talking in Spanish. He motioned for the woman to follow him as he stepped out of the room. Without another word, they shut the door, locking me in by myself.

I wasn't going to get a better opportunity than this.

I let my power activate on the ropes, binding me to the chair. I selected the cheapest upgrade, manila to nylon, and pushed one of my charges into it. The ropes around me slackened as the physical form began abnormally twisting and folding in on itself, unravelling down to the atomic level. Then, they shifted into a floating blob of liquid, and I shot up from the chair without a shred of resistance.

I stumbled to the nearest window and opened it. The fresh air of the night hit my face as I climbed out, unceremoniously dropping into a big rosemary bush. I rolled out and scrambled to my feet. Conveniently, my car was sitting in the driveway of this house. Without thinking, I made a break for it.

When I got close, I found my car was still running.

It seemed that whoever the masked woman was couldn't turn it off after driving here. The ignition was registered to my fingerprints, so only I could switch it on and off. How she had managed to get into my car was probably power-related.

For the second time tonight, I clambered into the front seat and pulled away from the house. As I hit the street, I saw the front door open. The man stood in the doorframe with the woman next to him.

He raised his gun to fire.

I stepped on the accelerator and sped off into the night.