“Don’t freak out, don’t freak out,” I said to myself, gripping the steering wheel tightly. Four police cars passed me on the other side of the road, going directly towards the scene that we just ran away from. Raymond examined the body of the Darkest in the back seat of my car, and I sat in the driver’s seat. My breath was ragged and my heart raced at top speed, sending blood flowing through my veins at a million miles per hour.

“I think you saying that might make you freak out more,” Raymond commented, not even peering towards the front of the car.

“Says the guy who told me to hit someone with my car,”

“If you didn’t, he would have died,” He argued.

“Didn’t that street have security cameras? So my license plate could have been seen when I hit him,”

“And the police department now has video evidence of you driving off with a known vigilante, I know. I have it handled,”

I tried to go back to Raymond’s without drawing any attention to myself. Once I was out of the car, my legs nearly turned to jelly. I could feel my heartbeat even more now that I was standing. Raymond had the Darkest tossed over his shoulder and seemed to lift him with ease. He was a lot stronger than he seemed I guess. I opened the front door of the small home he had out in the Slabs. I didn’t like that it was so far into the area, but I was going to have to deal with that now. I was in too deep, and Raymond had some stuff to answer to. 

Inside was a bit cleaner than outside, which wasn’t saying much about the place. The carpet had large dark red stains in multiple places, crumbs of drywall were scattered all around. Raymond dropped the body onto the couch in the corner, then walked to his desk quickly. He didn’t pay much attention to me, so I started to walk around the place and look around. It was a studio apartment, the kitchen was open and right next to his desk, which had two monitors on it. He had a small twin bed across from the couch with a night stand. 

“Quaint place,” I murmured.

“Thank you,” Raymond said as he continued to type on the keyboard. I walked over and peered over his shoulder at what he was doing, but before I could make sense of it he turned and gave me a death stare. I raised my hands in surrender and started towards the couch. I stared at the body there. Raymond had bandaged underneath his shirt, but I lifted it up to check for any more injuries. His chest was purple in some spots, but his muscles still showed nonetheless. It was the same figure I had seen when I saw images on the back of his head. My hand felt slowly at the tiny scars he had up and down his torso, but eventually it went to the mask on his face. I gripped underneath the cloth and contemplated tearing it off and seeing who was underneath.

“Don’t do it,” Raymond objected from his desk. He still typed away, and wasn’t looking behind him which I found creepy. 

I took my hand away from the mask. I stood up straight and started to chew my cuticle.

“How are you handling the license plate situation?” I asked, still staring off.

“Same way I’m dealing with the blood they found at the scene, I’m erasing it and having one of my people dispose of the physical evidence,”

“One of your people?” I questioned whilst taking my fingernail away from my mouth.

“Correct. I’ve got connections here in the Slabs,” He explained.

What have you gotten yourself into Lyla? I thought to myself. 

“You have questions, ask them,” Raymond said, sipping from a water bottle and taking a second away from his computer. He spun his chair around and gave his attention to me.

I took my hand away from my face and sat on the coffee table. It didn’t seem to bother him so I didn’t move from there.

“Why me? You could have gone to any other nutjob with a crazy story about this guy, why accept mine at face value?”

“I’ve been monitoring all of his actions recently, I did my research and saw his encounter with you,” He answered. “Surveillance is everywhere in this city,”

I nodded and remembered the incident. The sound of the vigilante’s boot echoing off of the mugger’s stomach was still etched in my brain. My skin crawled beneath my hoodie. I shook my head, realizing I had trailed off and then directed my attention back to Raymond.

“What’s with your obsession with him?”

“I could ask you the same question,” He said. I couldn’t argue with that. I was just drawn to the man, it seemed he was put in my path for a reason and I wanted to know that reason.

“How many other people have you had in here about this?” I questioned.

“A few others,” He said. “None have hit a crazed maniac with a car yet,”

I chuckled slightly. I checked my phone for the time and it was getting late, and the outside really showed it as well. I stood and walked to a window and brushed the curtains out of the way. The neighborhood seemed about as you’d expect for the Slabs. The buildings were run-down and small, the people had hand-me-down clothes and were fairly dark skinned, not that it mattered, but it was noticeably different from the inner city.

“How do you live here?” I asked.

“Comfortably,” He replied. “It’s ‘where my people belong’ or whatever you city folk say about African Americans,”

“No one deserves to live in these conditions,” I muttered.

“Congrats, you’re the first one from Suburbia to say that,” Raymond said. I peered back at him and he looked in longing at the floor. Images raced across my vision again.

Raymond sat in the back of a cop car, then in an interrogation room. It was a blurry image and then it dissipated into Raymond reading a book in a holding cell. The images were gone and I tried not to seem affected. Raymond looked at me quizzically. I stopped leaning against the window and pocketed my cell phone that was still in my hand.

“I better get going,” I said, making my way to the door. “What are you gonna do with him?”

“I’ll take care of him,” He replied.

“Good, I want to talk to him when he’s conscious,”

Raymond

The door shut behind Lyla and I continued to check my computer for updates on the blood that was collected. I listened closely behind me, as I heard a small rustle on the couch. James’ heartbeat sped up slightly. He was awake. He sat up and peered around the place, noticed me and stood uncomfortably. I kept staring at my screens, acting as if I hadn’t noticed any of his movements. He walked slowly towards me with his hand on his side. 

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” I joked, typing in some code and watching as surveillance footage pulled up on my left monitor.

“Who are you and where am I?” He asked, wincing at his broken ribs.

“You have two hairline fractures in your seventh and eighth false ribs,” I answered.

“I know,” He grunted in pain. “That doesn’t answer my question, pal,”

“My name is Raymond Johnson, a person of interest. A fan, if you will,”

“I don’t have fans, at least I didn’t until I saved Lyla,”

“Wonderful job by the way,” I complimented him.

“You saw that?” He asked, then saw the camera feed on the screen. “Ah, surveillance,”

“My pride and joy,” I said, smirking. “I have access to all the cameras in the city as long as they have wi-fi,”

“So you saw the whole thing at the Plaza?”

“Of course, and contributed a little,” I turned to look at him.

“You shut off the power?” James asked, quite surprised.

I nodded and his brow furrowed under the mask.

“Why?” He said.

“You were in a tough spot. Just doing my due diligence,”

He raised his brow at that and started to examine his surroundings again. 

“You can take the mask off anytime now by the way,” I commented. “I stopped her from taking it off but that was just for her. I already know who you are, James,”

He stopped dead in his tracks.

“How do you know who I am?” His heart started to beat a lot faster. 

“Surveillance,” I motioned towards the monitors.

“How many others know?”

“Just me, I can control who sees what and have stopped others from seeing your changing sessions in alleyways,”

He started towards me but I raised a hand at him.

“I haven’t told a soul. I’ve assisted you in more ways than you know. I don’t mean to hold this above your head but if you could at least spare me the tough guy stuff I would appreciate it,”

He growled and took the mask off his head. 

“What do you want from me?” He asked.

“I look to find others like me,” I explained. “Something I haven’t had much luck with until now,”

“Until me?” James said, nodding his head once then staring at the floor. 

“Yes. You have powers, right?” I asked already knowing the answer. James started to walk towards the couch again with his hands on the top of his head. He took a deep breath and faced me.

“I guess,” He admitted.

I heard a buzzing from across the room and peered into the corner to see a tiny fly climbing the wall. James peered at it and I turned to my desk and grabbed at where the dart usually sat and found nothing. I turned back around quickly and saw James holding the dart and eventually throwing it at the fly. It stabbed into the insect perfectly and the buzzing came to an abrupt stop. I stood quickly and walked across the room and took the dart from the insect. I looked at James in astonishment.

“Sorry, I just could hear it buzzing really loud in my ears,” He said. I shook my head and looked down at the dart.

“Me too,” I replied. I was surprised. I assumed that James had some heightened senses, but not all of them heightened. It would take a very tuned sense of sight to hit a fly with accuracy. 

“This is,” I paused and started towards the computer. “Interesting,”

“What is interesting?” He asked, turning and taking a few steps towards the desk.

“I always thought that these powers came from somewhere, the same place for everyone, now my theory seems to be more concrete,”

“What makes them concrete?”

“Why do you ask so many questions?” I pleaded, then took a deep breath. I turned to look at him and sighed.

“We have nearly identical powers. Where this came from and why, I do not know,”

He scrunched his brows as I turned back into the computer and I started to type into my notes. He held his hand up and two of his joints made small noises of movement in his hand.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” He asked.

“Two,” I said, not turning to look. “And you showered before you left the house this morning, put on a lot of deodorant and way too much cologne,”

His brows scrunched more and he sat down on the coffee table like Lyla had. 

“So there are more of us?” He asked.

“It is very likely, I have a few leads from Lyndontown but none of them are as apparent or easy to follow as yours,” I explained. “Are there any occurrences in your life that you could not explain?”

“Like what?”

“Like a large amount of radiation you were exposed to, spider bite, explosion, creepy man on a subway with a needle,”

“Nothing I can think of, and I can remember things pretty vividly,”

“I could tell that when I saw you were diagnosed with PTSD,”

James didn’t like me mentioning that.

“I was what?” He said. I could tell he heard exactly what I said.

“All medical files are digitalised, I did my research,”

He stood and clenched his fist. All the knuckles in his hand popped, and I didn’t need super-hearing to know that. 

“You know why then, don’t you?”

“Yes, and I am very sorry,”

The room fell silent. I stopped typing to hear his fist unclench. 

“Let’s not talk about this right now, it isn’t important,” He said, sitting back down. “We should worry about this guy that just kicked my ass,”

“A worthy subject,” I clicked away my notes and pulled up the camera footage from the incident. The man’s suit was homemade, nothing custom made besides the mask. It was probably to make people fearful and to conceal his identity. The gloves were what I was interested in. They glowed every time he lifted metal. I assumed that it was something to do with magnets, but it was unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.

“I need those gauntlets,” I muttered.

“Not before I get them and use them on him,” James joked.

I zoomed in on a still image of the assailant and observed a small crevice between the gloves and his clothes.

“Caucasian male,” I said aloud. “Five foot eleven inches with size ten shoes,”

“Which probably really narrows things down,” He said. He wasn’t wrong. That could have been anyone with the amount of people in the city. “Did you get a good look at his stature?”

“Couldn’t get a good look while I was getting pushed around like a ragdoll,”

“I need you to take this seriously if you want my help,”

“I don’t see how I can help,”

“Then leave if you want to, I can contact you if I need to,”

“Will do buddy,” He said, slipping the mask back over his face before leaving through the door.