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Chapter Text

Oh, this was bad. Why did she agree to this? How could she have been so reckless??

Kaboodle stared at her friends, Squiddo and Ashswag, as they handed the paper to her, oblivious faces smiling and proud.

They were tasked with a group personal-interest project for the end-of-year assessment, which would be due after the holidays. During their brainstorming session, Kaboodle had off-handedly mentioned the local crime rates, which led to their current discussion of vigilantes. If you were wondering why that was bad, oh, you were in for something.

Squiddo sat back, looking pleased. Their brown bangs fell slightly over their bright pink glasses, and Kaboodle couldn’t help but feel a little scared.

The group sat in the school’s library, in a small booth surrounded by rows of shelves. Light poured in from the window next to them, falling over their laptops and sheets of paper.

“I think we should go with Kabs’ suggestion,” Squiddo said, a pen twirling between their fingers. “It’d probably be better to avoid populations outside of Lifesteal City, like the teacher said.”

Kaboodle frowned, brain whirring for a way to convince her friends to avoid the vigilante topic. “But why not? If we tried doing something the other groups aren’t, wouldn’t we score higher?”

“Not necessarily,” Ash interrupted. “I’d rather play it safe and get a high mark to earn those merits.”

Kaboodle rolled her eyes affectionately. “Oh, because you need them so badly, Mr Straight-As.”

Ash shook his head and mumbled something about exaggeration before Squiddo spoke up again.

“Vigilante activity is such a great idea, though!” They rested a hand on Kaboodle’s shoulder in an act of comfort. “I’m sure it’ll work out, don’t worry.”

The blue-haired girl smiled politely, looking away discreetly to pull a panicked face. It was nice of Squiddo to assume she was insecure about her ideas, but, really, it was much more than that.

From beside her, Ashswag nodded. “Yup, and the holidays are two months long, so we have tons of time for research.”

“Great,” Kaboodle said as she shifted. It wasn't really great. Not great at all.

Squiddo raised an eyebrow, noticing her discomfort. With a concerned frown, they said, “If you don’t want to do the whole ‘stalking-the-vigilante’ part, you don’t have to.”

Kaboodle played with her fingers. Okay, so that was only one of the reasons why she was worried. Firstly, they were just three high schoolers who barely knew how to use their abilities, so following around some vigilante who knew how to fly or cast flames in the blink of an eye didn’t sound very safe. Secondly, well, Kaboodle couldn’t say.

Giving her best friend a queasy glance, Kaboodle tried to talk her way out of it. “But what if we get hurt? Or get in trouble with the law?”

“You’ll use your power to heal us right up,” Ash answered in a finalising tone. “The police here are botchy, anyways, so we can get away with anything.”

Kaboodle smacked the boy playfully, a grin forming, “It takes time and energy to heal wounds— I’m not expendable!”

The part about the police was true, though. More crimes were being committed every day, but it seemed like they were more concerned about something else than the public’s safety.

Squiddo laughed, “At least you don’t get stuck in computers like Ash does.”

Said boy scoffed, folding his arms defensively across his chest. “At least I can get out. You were stuck in that dimension for three hours before you returned.”

The group shared a collective laugh over the memory, but Kaboodle grimaced halfway into the ridiculousness and ran a hand through her hair. It was a habit—one that she exercised whenever she was stressed.

Oh, right, did she mention that Squiddo and Ash were incredibly overpowered? Maybe she should explain from the very beginning…

The trio packed their bags, tucking their papers and laptops away. Dusting off their school uniforms from sitting for too long, they walked towards the entrance.

Kaboodle was 17, and in a world where some people had powers and some were powerless, she attended a school that focused on honing her abilities. Her friends, Squiddo and Ash, both had dimension-related powers. Ash could infiltrate any piece of tech and manifest physically inside them. The extent of what he could do was currently unknown, but they knew more about Squiddo’s power; who could hop through dimensions. They created physical rifts in the world and appeared wherever they liked. If they focused hard enough, they could essentially teleport.

Kaboodle’s power was simpler than both. She could heal-- and that was pretty much it. Her brother, Clown, had reassured her that despite it not being as fancy as Ash and Squiddo’s, it was still incredibly useful, especially in hospitals.

“And for me,” He had winked while making dinner with two burnt hands. Kaboodle had rolled her eyes and healed his palms afterwards, telling him to be more careful.

“You know,” Squiddo’s voice popped up from beside her. “There are a couple of vigilantes in the city, so which one should we research?”

Kaboodle inwardly groaned at the reminder of their PIP. Now might be her chance to talk her friends out of it. She opened her mouth to speak but was a fraction too late.

“What about Rosier?” Ash pondered before she could speak. Kaboodle tried not to let her shoulders sag. “You know, the one that went MIA?”

“But just relying on archival footage of her activity might have historical bias,” Squiddo objected, “Rosier disappeared a while ago, and the crimes she fought back then may not reflect our society now.”

Kaboodle nodded eagerly, “Maybe it’s best not to do vigilantes, then.”

Her two friends hummed in thought, each walking on one side of her. They rounded a small supermarket, and she gazed at the advertisements, hoping to release her anxiety.

Please, please, please. No more vigilante mentions.

“What about that one vigilante they talked about last night on Lifesteal Times?” Ash suddenly suggested, his violet eyes bright. “They’re active and easy to track down because they’re local.”

Kaboodle almost stopped in her tracks. No, no, no, wait—

“Oh!” Squiddo gasped in recognition. “Yes! That’s a great idea.”

The two of them peered at Kaboodle, who suppressed a groan of defeat as they silently asked for her agreement.

With a wonky smile, she tried to sound cheery, “Uh, great. Yay!”

Squiddo shot her a strange look, to which Kaboodle replied with a tired shrug.

This was such a bad idea, she mused silently. Looking up at the sky, she prayed whatever gods were out there forgave her.

They rounded another corner, entering a small quiet street she realised was Ash’s. His small house was up ahead, hidden by a row of hedges. Kaboodle and Squiddo stopped at the entrance of the street while Ash turned into it.

“Here’s the plan,” he said as he stopped a few steps away. “We’ll agree on a time and meet at Squiddo’s apartment. I’ll spy on the police’s radio frequency, and we’ll use Squiddo’s powers to get to the location of the vigilante fast. Then, we’ll watch and write down whatever we need from a safe distance.”

Squiddo nodded immediately, a brightness in their eyes. “I’ll make the Google doc, and we’ll use the group chat we always use.”

“Wait, shouldn’t we talk about this?” Kaboodle piped up, worried, “That seems so dangerous and—”

But, Ash was already walking away, and Squiddo tugged on her arm with a smile.

“C’mon, Kabs, my house is just ahead,” they grinned. “Everything will be fine, it’s not different from other projects we’ve done.”

Kaboodle sighed but followed her friend anyway.

Other projects we've done? Like accidentally set the science department on fire and only get away with it because Ash wiped the camera footage? She balked inwardly. This was such a bad idea.

===

She stood at the door of her apartment, feet planted on the ground as she stared at the doorknob. With a deep breath, Kaboodle rested her hand on it and turned.

As soon as she entered, she left her bag at the entrance and changed into slippers. She looked around the empty living before calling out for her brother.

“Clown?”

At first, there was no response, and she briefly wondered if he was out. Then, shuffling was heard in the hallways and a face appeared.

Clown, dark-haired with burning red eyes, said, “Welcome back. What’s up?”

Kaboodle sighed. She was sighing quite a lot, wasn’t she?

"School. Something came up and it…well, it involves your job.”

Clown raised an eyebrow. “You’re studying vigilantes?”

Yup, that was the big secret. Clown was a vigilante— and a darn good one at that. Except, Kaboodle had expected the other to be a bit more panicked about having his unofficial occupation researched. Frowning, she searched her brother’s expression for any hints of alarm, but there was nothing except curiosity. Maybe if she expanded…

“It’s a PIP,” Kaboodle continued, urging for a reaction. “Squiddo and Ash specifically want to research you.”

Clown furrowed his brows, though not in the way Kaboodle had hoped for. Surely, he had to be concerned about being followed— no less by his sister's friends.

“Aren’t you more worried?” Kaboodle prompted, moving past him and into the kitchen, shooting him an incredulous look over her shoulder.

“A little,” he answered, dark hair falling over his face as he followed. “How are you going to ‘research’ me?”

She shook her head and reached for a mug of water. Her chest felt tight, the words uneasily leaving out of her mouth.

A pause as Clown digested the information.

“Follow me around?” He exclaimed, stopping in his tracks. He looked her up and down, searching for signs of a lie.

Kaboodle glanced at him. Now that was the reaction she expected; the perfect blend of shock, anger, and disbelief.

“Yup,” she answered simply, as if she didn’t have much of a choice. Which, truth be told, she really didn’t.

After years of being friends with Ash and Squiddo, she noticed that the two latched onto any ideas they had. She distantly remembered when Squiddo had become infatuated with ghost hunting and dragged them to a haunted house on Halloween. Instead of being frightened and scared, Squiddo had chased around the poor, costumed hosts— no matter how Ash and Kaboodle tried to talk them out of it.

There was also that once Ash had discovered surfing for the first time and took them to one of Lifesteal City’s many beaches. He encouraged them to all buy surfboards, despite them all knowing absolutely nothing about the sport, and made them go into the water with him. It hadn’t even been Summer! It was freezing!

Clown let out a rough groan, a hand flying to his face as he pushed his features down in that annoyed way of his.

“Let me guess, you couldn’t talk Squiddo and Ash out of it.”

“You know what they’re like,” she replied amiably. Her friends were awesome, but they were also very headstrong.

Kaboodle grabbed the kettle in their kitchen and poured water into her mug, moving around Clown’s figure. She tipped her mug back to drink when her brother continued.

“Don’t do it, okay?” He said. “My patrols are dangerous, and I don’t need three unprotected teenagers following me around.”

“I’ll try to convince them.”

Clown gave her a short nod, “Try.”

“I will.”

With that, he started to turn away, his black hoodie blending into the shadows of their home. “Oh, by the way, there’s pasta in the fridge for you. I bought it while going around.”

As he disappeared behind the hallways, Kaboodle smiled a little to herself. She was glad one person agreed it was too dangerous. Maybe she really could convince Squiddo and Ash!

She moved to the fridge and took out the packaged food. The pasta tasted okay, and maybe things would be too.

===

She got her hopes up too high last night. Convincing her two best friends was not easy at all.

Kaboodle was sitting on the roof of Squiddo’s apartment, anxiety thrumming like illness in her veins. She might have felt sickly, but she promised it was from the nerves.

The Google document that Squiddo made arrived in Kaboodle’s email at exactly eight last night. It was titled: Vigilantes; a Deconstruction of Powers in Society. It was also a rejection letter for all the paragraphs she’d written on the group chat about danger and trouble.

Squiddo and Ash’s counterargument to her logic was something along the lines of; YOLO! And, well, the emailed link only solidified their situation.

Never, ever, suggest anything without thinking ever again, Kaboodle thought to herself as the cold wind bit her fingers. Homework forbid Squiddo and Ash getting any ideas…

The Saturday night air filled the place, stars shimmering beyond wisps of grey clouds. The nightlife of their city buzzed, colourful lights flickering from shops and buildings. Squiddo, sitting next to Kaboodle and wearing a bright orange puffer jacket, sighed.

“If Ash still isn’t here in five minutes then I’m calling it off,” they grumbled, phone lighting up their face as they checked their messages.

Ash

: omw, eta 10 mins

He sent that twenty minutes ago.

The two teens shivered from a cold breeze, jumping when a bang came from the entrance of the roof.

“You’re finally here,” Squiddo exclaimed bluntly as a purple jacket and some tufted, dyed hair emerged from the darkness. “We were about to give up on you.”

Kaboodle narrowed her eyes, noticing that the boy was sweating. Did something happen? Was he being chased or something? It really was a dangerous idea! They had to call it off now and go home to drink hot chocolate. That sounded much better than stalking Clown.

However, her fantasies were short-lived when Ash sat down and said, “I underestimated my ability to climb stairs.”

The two girls looked at each other in confusion, then peered around him to locate the elevator and the door Ash had entered through. Except, well, the elevator was located to the right, and the door was located on the left.

Hysterically, despite everything, Kaboodle felt a laugh rise in her throat.

She slapped Ash on the shoulder. “Idiot. There was a lift.”

Squiddo pointed at a rectangular shape illuminated by a keypad. “How come you didn’t see it?”

Ash’s face seemed to pale even further, and he miffed and brushed Kaboodle off. “Whatever. Let’s just do what we’re here to do.”

Oh, right. Kaboodle felt the good mood instantly evaporate.

Watching Ash settle and close his eyes, she shot Squiddo a doubtful look. “What if the vigilante isn’t going around today? Wouldn’t we be here for nothing?”

Squiddo scratched the back of their neck. “Ehh, I don’t think we thought this out really well.”

No, they hadn’t. Kaboodle fought the urge to groan, watching Ash’s brows furrow with concentration. This could go wrong in so many ways…

Their friend’s body seemed static, the edges of his figure blurring between real life and some strange space. Kaboodle had seen him do this many times, but it always caught her a little off guard.

Did the power separate Ash’s physical and spiritual state? Kaboodle suppressed the urge to touch him, to confirm he was still there, but was too afraid of accidentally messing something up.

“But, it’s alright,” Squiddo continued, resting their chin on Kaboodle’s shoulder as they waited for Ash. “They have to be out some night. We’ll catch them eventually.”

What Squiddo and Ash didn’t need to know was that Kaboodle had asked Clown if he was going out tonight. And, well, he was. Any second now he was going to send her a message, as usual, updating his whereabouts.

As long as they avoided wherever he was, they would be safe and sound.

Phone ringing from a text, Kaboodle opened it discreetly and angled it away from Squiddo’s face.

Clown: There’s some mishap around the World Bank—I’ll be there w a few others

Kaboodle made a face. A few others?? Who?

Kaboodle: Alright, cool. Stay safe <3

Beside her, Ash suddenly perked up, announcing the return to his physical body. The edges of his figure sharpened, as if rendering, and particles of purple and black dissipated into the air. Kaboodle decided they were too far in to turn back.

“What’d you see?” She asked.

“There’s a robbery attempt at the World Bank,” he said stiffly. “The police don’t know about it yet, but I could see it through the street’s cameras.”

Kaboodle paused. No way the first thing Ash saw was the exact place Clown was headed. Which all-knowing being was setting them up  like this?

Squiddo, at Ash’s report, seemed a little more nervous. They’d have to teleport them nearby now that they had a location to work with. Kaboodle, watching her friend sympathetically, rested a hand on theirs.

“You okay?” She asked.

Squiddo was always jumpy when things started to rest on their shoulders, and Kaboodle could understand fully. “We don’t have to do it.”

Squiddo’s pink glasses flashed as they met Kaboodle’s gaze. “No, I want to do this. I…I want to get better.”

The blue-haired girl nodded, although reluctantly. However, her understanding of the need to prove herself prevented her from saying any more.

“Just not directly in the World Bank,” Ash clipped in. “Just a street near it.”

Restlessly, Kaboodle waited for Squiddo’s response. But, squinting through the darkness, realised the other teen was already focused, eyes closed and silent. Their pink glasses, dully reflecting the city lights, gave away nothing.

Kaboodle and Ash stayed quiet as they waited, not wanting to accidentally set Squiddo off. The last time they talked while the other was practising, Squiddo had accidentally ended up on the other side of the classroom, leaving her shoes behind where she’d originally stood.

They’d laughed about it for hours afterwards, but Kaboodle didn’t think it’d be funny if half of Squiddo ended up in a crime scene and the other half stuck on the rooftop.

She checked her phone as Ash fidgeted restlessly next to her.

Direct Messages: Clown

23:13

Clown:

Your friends aren’t following me, are they?

23:20

Clown:

I’m not gonna be able to respond for a while kabs

Clown:

Don’t be doing anything stupid

With a wince at the message, she thought a fleeting sorry as Squiddo opened their eyes and extended their arms for Kaboodle and Ash to hold.

“Chances we end up inside the bank and get framed by the police?” He grinned as a tell-tale sign of a rift appeared. The air seemed to suck around them, pulling them in and forming a point behind Squiddo.

Kaboodle, straining to hear as the wind howled, just let out a nervous laugh. Oh, god, she hoped they didn’t die today. That’d suck—like a lot.

Slowly, like she was being warped away, she felt herself sinking. Closing her eyes against the feeling, she only reopened them once she heard footsteps.

It was dark—really dark. You know the darkness of your room at night when you suddenly wake up? It was darker. There was a certain emptiness, hushed with secrets that not even Squiddo would know.

Kaboodle took in a staggering breath.

“I think I did it,” Squiddo whispered into the darkness. “We’re travelling between realities right now, so just follow my voice.”

Kaboodle blindly turned towards her friend, feeling something hard walk into her back.

“What was that?” She hissed, turning around and flailing her arms towards the place of impact. She slapped something warm, which lurched away. Eugh. “Ash? Was that you?”

Something shuffled like shoes. “The one and only. I tripped on something.”

A sheepish laugh came from Squiddo. “It’s a bit messy here.”

“Why is there stuff littered in the space between realities?” Ash’s voice called out, teasing.

Kaboodle grabbed onto where she thought the source of the voice was, grinning with success when he gave a startled cry. Even though the darkness was blinding, she swore she could feel his glare. “I was practising teleporting inanimate objects,” Squiddo admitted after a few steps. They were holding Kaboodle’s hand now, who grabbed onto Ash with the other, leading them through the darkness. “I’m not…great at it.”

“I can tell,” Ash mumbled as he stumbled again. Despite the cold, Kaboodle laughed.

While she was sure their footsteps should be echoing, there was nothing except the steady rhythm of click-clack-click as they walked. No echoes, no resounding noises, just their heels against the ground and clothes ruffling as they brushed. Kaboodle sucked in a deep breath, feeling the emptiness around her more and more acutely the longer they walked.

How long has it been? Did time even pass in here? Her list of questions was stopped when Squiddo did.

“Alright, this should be it,” The teen said. “Let me open it up, okay? Stay still; you don’t want to end up elsewhere.”

Kaboodle nodded even though she knew Squiddo wouldn’t be able to see. As her friend let go of her hand, she tightened her hold on Ash’s, trying not to lose sense of where she was.

Suddenly, an orange spark emerged. Like the eagle's view of a cyclone, swirling flames opened up a rift. Light flooded into the darkness and Kaboodle blinked quickly, trying to readjust. Faintly, the light from the rift too strong, she saw Squiddo reach out for her, tugging her forward.

In a zap, the world seemed to turn on its head—and Kaboodle felt her feet touch normal-feeling, uneven ground.

“Did we do it?” She asked before she could get a proper look.

Beside her, Ash let out a stutter. “You know, when I said chances of us ending up in the bank, I was joking—not actually inside the bank.”

Kaboodle felt her jaw drop. They weren’t actually in the bank, were they? She was quickly proven right when her vision finally adjusted, revealing lines and lines of reception desks and a massive entrance. The bank was empty because it was late into the night, but dim lights, only on as if to prove the bank was still in use, flickered weakly. Oh, stars and homework, who let this happen?

A crash. The bank’s automatic doors shattered as two figures stumbled inside. Their faces were masked, and a metal object rested in their hands. Kaboodle noticed them looking a bit ruffled as if they’d gone for a run. Terrified, she pushed Squiddo and Ash behind her as the strangers came closer.

“Did they beat us to it?” One of them growled, low but loud enough for Kaboodle to hear.

Beat them to what? She wondered, bristling.

“Squiddo, get us out of here,” Ash hissed, turning to the other teen. Squiddo looked confused, eyes a little wider behind their glasses.

“I’m sure it was supposed to lead to the street outside,” They murmured.

Kaboodle, eyes darting between the stunned muggers (or whoever they were) and her two friends, gave Squiddo a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. “It’s alright, just try to get us out.”

Squiddo gave a small nod, and Kaboodle swore she could feel the fear and guilt from her friend forming in nauseating waves. She wanted to comfort them, but the two muggers looked her straight in the eyes.

“Hand it over.”

Hand it over? Hand what over? Money? Something else?

Beside her, Ash stiffened as if he was preparing for a fight. No, no, no, they weren’t supposed to be fighting. Sure, it was a horrible unplanned idea, but they were supposed to be safe on the sidelines—not in the middle of the action!

Clown, where are you?

“The suppressor,” The second stranger seemed to sigh, exasperated. “You’ve got to be one of us too, if you’re here. So, just hand it over. We can split the deal.”

A suppressor? Kaboodle flashed Squiddo a significant look, but they were looking ahead, hands trembling. She glanced back towards the muggers. One of us?? A deal?

What in the carnation was going on?

A surge of warmth flooded through the building, and the trio let out a startled cry as flames burst seemingly out of the ground. Heat engulfed the place, fire sizzling and sparking dangerously as it cut off the two muggers from view.

Suddenly, a voice came from the two doors again, beyond the flames where Kaboodle couldn’t see.

“I didn’t mean for the fire to be that big,” They said. “Something is messing with it, I swear.”

“Whatever, just grab those two idiots,” A second voice gruffed out.

Kaboodle turned to Squiddo but the teen had their eyes screwed shut. They were concentrating on opening a rift, but from how long they’d taken on the roof, Kaboodle wasn’t sure they’d be able to get out in time.

“Ash,” She asked, turning to her other friend. “Any ideas what we do?”

“Hm.” Ash’s eyes were focused somewhere behind them, his form screaming tension. Kaboodle gently rested a hand on his shoulder, feeling him jump lightly at her touch.

“Are you okay?”

The heat from the flames flickered as if its owner was struggling to call it back. There was a resounding stomp as if something heavy had fallen onto the ground, followed by a muffled scream.

“There’s something back there,” Ash whispered, his voice as uneven as the flames.

Kaboodle peered in his direction but saw nothing except empty, dimly lit halls. “Where? Ash?”

The boy had started walking away, face set in determination as he tried to locate something she could not see. Was it his power leading him somewhere? There was so much they didn’t know about it.

Tugging Squiddo’s sleeves, she whispered sorry as they were startled out of their power. Kaboodle dragged the other down to follow where Ash had gone, quick to explain.

“I can feel it too,” Squiddo replied without a beat. “There’s something wrong about this place.”

Kaboodle frowned. Why couldn’t she feel anything? It was hot due to the dissipated flames, she was a little sticky with sweat, and her heart was pounding against its cage, but nothing she felt gave away whatever ominous thing Ash and Squiddo were convinced existed.

It wasn't like she didn’t have powers, so why couldn’t she feel it? Kaboodle felt her hands tingle nervously.

They stopped at a wall and she gingerly looked Ash over. The other’s brows were furrowed, deep in thought.

“It’s behind here somewhere,” He said, one hand raising to touch the wall.

Had he gone crazy? It was just a wall—what could possibly be behind it? However, from beside her, Squiddo nodded, and Kaboodle couldn’t help but feel a little left out.

Shouldn’t I be able to feel something too?

“I’ll try to grab it,” Squiddo said. “Cover for me, yeah?”

Kaboodle watched as Ash nodded. She slowly turned around to see where the flames in the distance had completely receded, and three figures stood with two on the floor. One of the standing ones she recognised. It was how he held his head and tucked his hands into his pants pockets. The framing jet-black hair and pale face. It was Clown and the ‘two others’.

A chill went down her spine. They weren’t looking at the three teenagers yet, but what if the muggers gave them away?

“We’ve got to go,” Kaboodle whispered urgently, turning back around to her friends. “We have to leave right now.”

“Wait—” Squiddo grunted, and Kaboodle almost yelped. Her friend was in the wall, their right arm pressed through it, reaching for something she couldn’t see. “I’ve almost got it.”

Flashing a look back at the other trio across the bank, she froze. They stared back at her, masked faces giving away nothing except their powers humming thickly in the air.

To say Kaboodle was scared was an understatement. She was terrified. They needed to go—right now. She knew Clown wouldn’t hurt them, but she didn’t know if he could stop his two friends.

“Squiddo, let’s go,” She repeated. “We don’t need whatever that thing is—we have to leave.”

The teen seemed too focused to hear her, a triumphant grin blooming across their face as they lurched out of the wall—something shiny in their hands.

Kaboodle stared at it before her thoughts were cut short.

“I’d let go of that if I were you.”

The three of them bristled at the source of the voice; a vigilante who couldn’t be older than Clown. They had dark hair dyed blazing orange at the ends, tied in butterfly locs that fell across their face. Their eyes, hidden by a black strip of fabric, seemed to peer into their souls.

On Kaboodle’s right, Ash placed his arms on his hips. “No, I don’t think we will.”

The guy on the left of the first vigilante, hair bright orange, let out a humourless laugh. It rebounded against the empty bank’s walls, hollow and joyless. “You know they aren’t actually gonna pay you for stealing it, right?”

“Let us go.” Kaboodle started, trying to appear undaunted. She attempted to catch Clown’s eyes, only asking for a glance of reassurance. “No one is paying us. We’re here by accident.”

“Oh, yeah,” The first guy sneered. “You have the deadliest weapon in your hands by accident.”

Squiddo sucked in a breath behind her.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” They whispered, handing the shiny device to Ash. “I’ll get us out, give me a second.”

Kaboodle prayed it’d be less than a second because the three vigilantes only seemed to walk closer. They couldn’t win this fight—Kaboodle was too normal and Ash could only manipulate technology. It was completely up to Squiddo and her rift-walking abilities now.

“Just roll the device to us, and we’ll let you go,” A voice Kaboodle knew all too well urged.

She met Clown’s eyes, crimson beyond his mask. If it was anyone else Kaboodle would have been terrified, but she only saw trust-me in that gaze. He was buying her time.

“Really, bro?” The butterfly loc one asked, head snapping to meet Clown’s. “They could be one of them, we can’t trust strangers.”

Kaboodle felt Squiddo gently tug her sleeve and she discreetly took a few steps back.

“I say we capture them right here,” The orange one growled, taking a threatening step forward. Kaboodle could feel the malice dripping in his words, a feeling of unrestrained fury coming from the other. “Even if they aren’t part of the outskirts, it’d be a message regardless.”

Outskirts? Kaboodle’s mind wandered as she felt Squiddo tighten their grip on her. Eyeing the approaching figure warily, she wondered what could make a person so hateful.

“Wait, Mane,” Clown started with a step forward. “Don’t—the police are coming.”

“Actuals?”

As the three vigilantes turned around towards the entrance distracted, Kaboodle spun on her heel as Squiddo tore open the world’s fabric. With a sharp pull on her being, she felt a similar sensation from before and let herself fall.

===

The ticking of a clock.

“I don’t know where to start,” Ash mumbled.

Kaboodle nodded in agreement.

They were sitting in Squiddo’s bedroom, Ash on the floor and Kaboodle and Squiddo on the bed. The so-called “suppressor” lay between the three of them, and Kaboodle wondered how in the world this was only a school project.

“What do you think that is?” Squiddo asked for the third time since they’d arrived.

Ash peered at it, tapping his fingertips on the smooth surface. It looked like a bomb—the kind you would collar onto people. Closer to it now, Kaboodle could feel some sort of energy around it.

Her power tingled curiously in her palms.

“It’s not a very good suppressor if Squiddo can still teleport around it,” She mused, pointing out how the other had rather accurately gotten them back to the rooftop.

Squiddo crossed their legs, elbows on their knees as they peered at it. The shift of weight caused the orange blankets to crease. “You think it suppresses powers?”

“I mean, it makes sense, right?” Ash started from his position on the floor. “You were sure we’d end up on the street outside, but we ended up inside. One of the vigilantes we came across complained that he hadn’t meant for his flames to go that high…”

He paused as if summoning the courage to confess something. “And when I first sensed it, I tried to reach it with my powers—but I was completely shut off. It’s still repelling me now.”

Kaboodle ran a hand through her hair, combing out a knot that had formed during their escapade. “So it is a suppressor—a faulty one.”

“That’s my guess,” Ash shrugged.

They mused together, pondering and pondering.

“The muggers at the start mentioned a monetary deal, then the orange guy said something about outskirts.” Kaboodle gave her two friends a thoughtful look. “I’m guessing it’s some sort of organisation trying to steal the suppressor.”

Squiddo poked the object. “Why would anyone want this?”

“The real question is what they want to do with it,” Kaboodle replied.

The mood of Squiddo’s brightly coloured room seemed to change, dulling into a foreboding silence. It felt colder, more empty, just like the reality rift but more imminent.

The three silently exchanged looks with each other until Ash opened his mouth to speak.

“I think we’re starting to figure out how dangerous a vigilante’s mission can be.”

Chapter Text

On Sunday, Kaboodle slept. Honestly, she thought it was a pretty normal response after A) being illegally inside a bank in the middle of the night, B) almost dying to muggers and then two vigilantes, and C) randomly in possession of a power suppressor after escaping said bank.

Oh, yeah, did Kaboodle mention she was looking after the suppressor now?

Ash had decided it was too risky to leave any potential camera footage at the bank, so he argued that if he took the suppressor home, he wouldn’t be able to corrupt their footage with his powers. Which was fair, to be honest. But then, Squiddo had nervously admitted they accidentally trapped their homework inside the rift, so if they took the suppressor, they wouldn’t be able to finish any assignments. Lordy, lordy, now look at the only person in their friend group left!

Kaboodle sighed, pressing her face into her pillow and trying to ignore the little, pulsating waves emitted by the suppressor on her bookshelf.

Can I turn that stupid thing off? She thought, turning her face around to eye the glinting device. It didn’t affect her as much as it did on Squiddo and Ash, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t feel it.

Suddenly, a sharp bang came from somewhere further down the corridor—somewhere Kaboodle knew as Clown’s room. He was probably coming back from patrol, considering it was three in the fucking morning.

Curious and unable to sleep, Kaboodle pushed away her blue bed sheets and got up. Slipping on bunny slippers (which were supposed to be fluffy but now worn with age), she opened her bedroom door and walked into Clown’s.

“How was the patrol?” She asked the darkness.

A single window hidden behind curtains barely emitted enough light into the room. Only the glow from the hallway by the door could illuminate Clown’s empty bedroom floor. Still, the darkness was engulfing.

When no response came, Kaboodle whispered again. “Clown?”

A weak grunt.

Alarm bells rang. Kaboodle flipped open the bedroom lights, drawing in a breath when she saw her brother at the edge of the bed, clutching a shoulder. It was red. Sticky red. Glistening off the harsh white lights and slicking around Clown’s fingers.

Kaboodle rushed to his side, crouched down on the floor and gently moved his hand away from the wound. It was staining through his jacket, an ugly tear in the fabric revealing an open gash.

“Okay,” She whispered to herself. It was a little disgusting. “Okay, uh…”

She met Clown’s eyes, his gaze searching hers.

“How did this happen?” Kaboodle asked to distract him from the blood, gingerly hovering a palm above the injury. She wasn’t new to this. She’d done this before. It shouldn’t bother her—all the red. “I thought you couldn’t get hurt?”

Clown’s power was a bit strange, working in weird ways to prevent its owner from sustaining injuries. Whenever he engaged in physical fights it went into a self-replenishing mode; enhancing Clown’s movements and healing him the more damage he did to the enemy. Kaboodle had only seen Clown fight once in person, but she knew it was rare for him to get hurt like this.

“I can’t,” Clown hissed.

Kaboodle looked down at the wound, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not supposed to,” He elaborated. “I think they had a suppressor.”

She was a little stunned, thinking of the one that barely worked in her room. Was it so advanced it could block out Clown’s power now? One that was trained to maximum efficiency over five years??

“Really?”

When Kaboodle was twelve, their parents died. Unfortunately (or fortunately?), it wasn’t some horrible event that had left her traumatised. In fact, during the quiet moments of philosophy class when her mind started wandering, she reflected on how absurdly quickly she moved on.

Maybe it was because Clown was her real source of comfort. He’d always been there—at school when the bullies mocked her for liking the colour blue (it was a boy’s colour, they yelled) or arguing with her maths teacher when they failed her.

He was there when their mother fell deathly sick and their father lost the will to carry on, he was the one bringing home food and going on rough missions to earn little money.

Clown was the beacon of safety in young Kaboodle’s world, and it still very much was.

So, seeing him like this, beaten up and bruised, bleeding from his shoulder, she couldn’t help but feel very, very scared.

Clown tried to nod in response to her surprise but flinched when the wound grazed her hands.

Oh, right, his injury. Kaboodle concentrated on her powers, a stunning pink emerging from her palms. It tingled a bit, like showering stars. She tuned it to come out gentler, warming around the wound.

Slowly, Clown’s blood drained itself and his skin started to knit back together. It was a gory process, watching the muscles intertwine and bend around bloodstreams, weaving and weaving until it became full.

“Really,” Clown answered, wincing a little when the concealed gash started to scab. “It didn’t feel as awful as the one in your room, but it was stronger.”

Kaboodle frowned, a trickle of sweat forming on her forehead as the scar of the cut vanished. Stronger? Then the suppressor's been improved--made even more deadly.

With a sigh, she fell back on her butt, feeling the strain in her hands lessen as the pink magic faded away.

“Thanks,” Her brother mumbled.

She looked at him. What was it like to be powerful, but then suddenly weak in front of the one person you’ve sworn to protect? Kaboodle watched Clown pull his jacket back on, feeling a heaviness weigh down in her stomach.

I wish I could do more. I wish I could actually help him on patrols…

“Are you okay?” She asked, prodding for further thoughts inside Clown’s head.

He hummed, mouth twisting into a small smile. Posture straightening and eyes sparkling, his usual airiness returned, the fragility from earlier completely forgotten. It was like watching a broken puzzle reassemble itself, lines falling perfectly back into place.

“Fine,” Clown answered, dark hair falling across his eyes. “But think, Kaboodle, what happens to us when everyone has a suppressor?”

She steadily met his gaze, bright pink meeting burning red. The look he was giving her was intense, a genuine burn of curiosity in his carefully amusement-crinkled eyes. He was trying to scorch his thoughts into her as if he was certain she had answers.

Kaboodle wiped away the sweat on her face, thinking. It wasn’t a question of what, it was a question of who and why.

“It’ll be okay,” She told him. She didn’t know what else to say. “Take a shower, okay? I’ll make breakfast in the morning before I leave for school.”

It was the least she could do.

Clown’s gaze softened. “You don’t have to. I’m not that tired.”

Kaboodle shook her head as she rose from the floor, on her way to leave his room. “Let me do something for you, okay?”

The door closed.

Clown’s real question was a spiral, an unstable belief of your existence. Because who hated you so much for something you couldn’t control? Who would go to such lengths to weaken you?

Those who were fearful. That was who.

Kaboodle, palms feeling raw, looked down at the floor, thinking of the prototype suppressor sitting in her room. Powers. That was the source of the problem, and those people, whoever they were, were coming for it.

Jealousy, anxiety, anger, judgement, and prejudice. It was all there, brimming ugly on her bookshelf, a nauseating reminder of hate.

Back in her room, Kaboodle opened up her laptop, clicking open the document used for her school's PIP.

Vigilantes; A Deconstruction of Powers in Society

How do powers impact people and society?

1. Prejudice

Kaboodle wanted answers, but so far she was only getting more questions.

I wish I was more useful…I wish I could help.

Head dazed and mind-spinning, she finally went to sleep.

===

“I mean, you’re not wrong about prejudice,” Squiddo offered when Kaboodle explained her late-night additions to their PIP document. “I’d be scared if my McDonald's coworker could travel between space-time.”

“Or hack into the company’s shares and make a heck ton of money,” Ash listed off.

“Or possibly be in two places at once.”

Kaboodle blinked. “Well, thanks. I guess.”

They were sitting in a cafe near the school campus, crunching coffee beans churning all around and the smell of caffeine sweet in the air. A gentle breeze rustled the outdoor umbrella they were sitting under, and Kaboodle had a cup of the good stuff warming up her palms.

The bell signifying the end of the day had rung about thirty minutes ago, so the trio were outside trying to catch a break and hang out. The day was harmless, effortlessly blue and bright, almost an eyesore to Kaboodle’s sleep-deprived mind.

“I think we should ask someone to examine the suppressor,” Ash said. “It might give us more insight into who made it.”

Squiddo frowned a little. “Like an engraved chip of sorts?”

“Exactly.”

Kaboodle hummed. It wasn’t a horrible idea, but was there anyone they could trust with the suppressor? It was still a dangerous item, even if it was horribly faulty.

But maybe having someone look at it would be the best option. Like Clown had said last night, the models of the suppressor were improving fast. They needed everything possible to keep up.

I could be useful…

A glass seemed to shatter from inside the store, shocking Kaboodle out of her thoughts, blinking sleep-heavy eyes.

“I know someone we can ask,” Ash prompted, tone serious. When no one replied, he continued, “Or I’ll go make two new friends who actually have decent sleep schedules and listen to what I say.“

Squiddo suddenly jumped up and brought an arm around Ash’s shoulders, grinning. “Too bad, I’m down! What about you, Kabs?”

The two friends looked at their final member.

Kaboodle, finishing a long sip and removing the plastic lid from her lips, gave them a hard stare. “They aren’t going to try and kill us, are they?”

Goodness, she hoped not. She was too tired for another adventure.

===

As it turned out, the guy Ash knew worked at a small corner store workshop, advertisements for spare bits pasted on the windows. A large ‘CLOSED’ sign hung off a nail hammered into the wall, right above two glass doors that slid open upon their arrival.

“Are you sure we can trust him?” Kaboodle whispered as they slowly walked inside.

The workshop seemed bigger now, with high ceilings supported by solid, white walls. There were rows and rows of tools, some dashboards sticking out of containers and wires loose on the floor.

Light poured in through the glass doors, the hustle-bustle of the streets outside fading away as they closed. The brightness illuminated a work desk, where someone was shuffling behind the counter unseen.

“Nope,” Ash answered cheerfully.

Cool, Kaboodle thought. That’s really awesome.

Sarcasm, by the way. Don’t get confused.

“Hello.”

Kaboodle jumped, turning to where someone’s head was poking above the desk.

“You must be Ashswag’s friends,” They smiled.

She recognised them—it was hard not to. With bright red hair and blonde roots showing, coupled with a red jacket and a white t-shirt, he was a walking YouTube logo.

A really tall YouTube logo.

“I’m Reddoons,” said the YouTube logo. Or, Reddoons, Kaboodle supposed. “But you can call me Red.”

Red, Kaboodle supposed (again), stood. Kaboodle gave him another quick once-over as if the man would suddenly change now he was fully visible.

“He doesn’t have any powers,” Squiddo offered as reassurance.

Kaboodle gave them a look.

Ash rolled his eyes. “Guys, trust my other friends a little more, would you?”

The trio sighed altogether, earning an amused laugh from the fourth person.

Red, eyes brown behind his sunglasses, held out a hand. “The thing you wanted me to look at, please.”

Kaboodle searched his face, unzipping her bag and pulling the suppressor out. In her hand, it was smooth and cold, a thinly concealed buzzing feeling below its surface. It had lots of ridges and edges, a deadliness concealed in patterns. It made her feel sick.

“Here," she placed it in his outstretched palm, feeling distrust course through her veins as it left her possession. “It’s a faulty one. I’m sure the manufacturer has improved it.”

Red didn’t answer, instead holding the suppressor up to eye level. Slowly, he turned to his work desk and held out a screwdriver.

“Please, take a seat. It’ll take a while,” he said, gesturing to a soft couch Kaboodle hadn’t noticed earlier.

She sat down, resisting the urge to bring her knees up to her chest, and instead opted to watch Red’s every move.

True to his word, the suppressor was a tough nut to crack. However, he eventually managed to get the thing open, clinking metal tools echoing around the room. Strangely, the more he took apart, the less of the suppressor’s waves Kaboodle felt. Even though she didn’t want to, she had to admit he was handy.

Was this even going to reveal anything? Kaboodle nervously wrangled her hands together. Would this answer anything?

She watched as Red removed the main frame, a series of red and yellow wires exposed underneath. Whoever made this must have been skilled because Red paused, tongue sticking slightly out as he fiddled with the contraption.

It was getting cold in the workshop. Kaboodle subconsciously squared up and tucked her arms across her chest.

“Do you know how it works?” She asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

Red looked up, concentration broken, before furrowing his brows slightly and scratching his chin. “Not completely, but I’m guessing it's similar to an electronic suppressor.”

He must have seen how confused she looked because he continued. “Essentially, it’s biting back at any detected power with a power of its own—dampening them.”

Kaboodle nodded, although still perplexed. A power of its own?

A clock on the wall ticked away, the sound of cars blurring by filling the place. Occasionally, Red would take a sip of water before continuing his rhythmic clicking. Eventually, after what felt like a lifetime, he spun in his chair idly towards their direction.

“This what you wanted?” He asked a small something between his index finger and thumb. It glinted menacingly in the warm, orange light, shiny and silver.

Kaboodle sat up straight, taking her eyes off Ash’s game of Subway Surfers. Is this it?

Squiddo wasted no time and took it from him, so Kaboodle leaned over her friend’s shoulder to see.

It was a chip of sorts—small and square. Letters were written on its surface, italicised and barely noticeable in the top right corner.

STMWTCHR.

STMWTCHR? Kaboodle stared at it. Huuuuhhhhh?

“What the flip flops,” Squiddo murmured.

What the flip flops indeed.

Squiddo turned the chip around in their palm, revealing a symbol etched into the surface. Kaboodle narrowed her eyes. It was shaped like a hook—the kind you would find in fishing. The lines of its edges and blade flashed white in their direction.

“A hook,” Ash murmured from beside Kaboodle. “Anyone seen a hook anywhere before?”

The trio and Red remained silent. Kaboodle tried to wrack her brain. There was a fishing equipment store down her street, but she knew it was legit from the number of times she and Clown had attempted fishing together. Was there anywhere else?

STMWTCHER…a fishing hook…

She couldn’t think of anything.

“What does it mean?” Kaboodle grumbled, bunching up her shoulders and heaving out a sigh.

Ash laughed. “Maybe it’s suggesting we go out and fish.”

“We haven’t properly hung out in a while,” Squiddo mused. “Maybe we should.”

As happy as Kaboodle was to hear her friends planning normal hangouts that didn’t involve illegal activities and stalking others, her head was buzzing with dread.

She pulled out her phone, intending to text Clown before deciding against it. She’d told him to stay at home today and rest, so she didn’t want to disturb his relaxation. Instead, she opened her Notes app as Ash thanked Red, thinking to herself.

STMWTCHR + a fishing hook → probably the organisation’s call sign and symbol.

Kaboodle could be useful. She was going to figure this out.

Chapter Text

As it turned out, even if you were busy working on school assignments, balancing your home life with troublesome friends, and trying to solve and evaluate one of the most mysterious ethical dilemmas, duty still called.

By duty, Kaboodle meant her job at The Lighthouse, and by call, she meant her manager texting her at 9 PM asking if she could fill in for a person on sick leave. Now, Kaboodle didn’t hate her job--it just wasn’t as convenient because she had a fishing hook on her mind and a personal interest project to complete. However, life was life, ‘it is what it is’, and she accepted the job like the good, economy-driving citizen she was.

Ah, sometimes Kaboodle wished Ash would hack into a bank for her and make them all rich. Too bad he had morals, despite him acting like he didn’t.

Kaboodle took in The Lighthouse five minutes away from her apartment. To her surprise, her coworker had already arrived and set up early, so the door was unlocked as she walked inside. The outside was relatively average for a well-performing business, not doing the inside much justice.

Encased by concrete walls and a large sign, the cafe was warm. Glazed wooden furniture decorated the place, accompanied by ornamental bookshelves filled with fake books. The seats were plush with cotton-green pillows, and the lights hung like small fires above her.

Early morning sunlight poured in through ceiling-floor windows, and Kaboodle mentally prepared herself for an onslaught of customers demanding their daily caffeine dose.

“You must be Kaboodle,” Someone said.

Kaboodle turned around, catching sight of bright orange hair and startled, similarly-coloured eyes. She took in his dark complexion and strangely familiar stance, a strong sense of deja vu overcoming her.

Hadn’t she seen this person before? Somewhere with actual flames…and… OH! It was the Mane guy!

Pause.

Oh, Kaboodle thought. It was the Mane guy.

They stared at each other blankly as if he was having the same thoughts about her.

“Yup, that’s me,” She answered. “And you are?”

“Manepear. People call me Mane.”

A vigilante who used his real name? Kaboodle didn’t know if that was brave or stupid. Probably both. He seemed less angry and more like a tamed lion because of their work's striped, green-and-white apron. Kaboodle fought the urge to point that out.

“Nice to meet you,” She replied. They continued staring at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. “Uh, the weather is pretty nice.”

“Yup.”

Okay. Cool. Glad they could agree on that.

She walked behind the counter and into the staffroom, taking off her jacket before picking out an apron and tying it around her waist. When she came out, Mane was shifting through the ingredients, crouched low and shaking a jug of milk.

“We should get ready,” He said stiffly.

Kaboodle nodded. “Uh-huh.”

Gosh damn, this was awkward. Could this get any more awkward? He knew that she knew, and she knew that he knew. Kaboodle tipped a bag of beans into the coffee machine while Mane shifted around to clean a few glasses.

Was there anyone else on the morning shift? Surely they needed more people to satisfy a hoard of businessmen and college students dead on their feet.

This is why I work after school hours, Kaboodle thought to herself as she walked outside to flip the ‘CLOSED’ sign to ‘OPEN’. When everyone has already consumed an unhealthy amount of coffee and would rather be at home than outside.

It would be okay, she told herself. She was getting off at eleven. She looked at the clock inside the cafe. It just hit six. It would not be okay.

When the first wave of customers hit, eyebags and all, Kaboodle was surprised by Mane’s politeness. Sure, he still very much had a customer-service voice (who didn’t?), but it was completely different from his aggressive remarks and spits of fury back in the bank.

I guess being a vigilante requires a certain degree of adaptability, Kaboodle thought as she made an iced americano. She glanced at the order again before calling out the customer’s name.

“Rachel?”

Rachel came to grab it, looking a bit too unhappy for Kaboodle’s liking. Please do not complain. Please, please, please, do not complain.

“Why is there ice in this?” She frowned.

Kaboodle blinked. “You ordered an iced americano.”

“Yes. I did.”

Kaboodle unabashedly stared. “Yes. So, there’s ice in it.”

“No, no. I ordered an iced americano with no ice.”

Was this person crazy? She looked them up and down. She had faint eyebags and a bit of her blonde hair was sticking out of her ponytail. Her clothes were casual with no formal attire, so Kaboodle assumed they were a student. Ah, probably a classic case of I-had-a-paper-due-last-night-and-barely-finished-it-in-time.

“Then, next time you can order a regular americano. Not an iced americano…there’s no no-ice option for an iced americano,” Kaboodle explained. Goodness, could this sleep-deprived student even understand her?

“Uh, okay. So can you remove the ice?”

Kaboodle sighed. “Okay. Lemme just—”

“Hello,” Another person said, looking at his watch. “I ordered two minutes ago. Is it done yet?”

Kaboodle looked at them. “No, I–”

“Yeah, me too,” Said someone else. “I’m running late.”

“Sorry, I–”

“Can you remove the ice already?”

“OKAY!” She exclaimed, snatching back the iced americano and tipping it into the sink. “Just give me a second.”

Grabbing a brand new cup and pouring water into it, pressing a button on the coffee machine, and checking the rest of her orders, Kaboodle weaved like a hurricane behind the counter.

Tick, tick, tick, she handed over the regular, non-iced americano to the girl, a flat white for the man, and an espresso with two shots for the “I’m-running-late” lady. Wiping the back of her hand against her forehead, she got to make the rest.

“Morning shifts are horrible,” Mane said as he walked past her. Kaboodle couldn’t help but nod in agreement. “Adults without their coffee are like teenagers in their moods.”

“You can say that again,” Kaboodle mumbled as she handed a latte to a grumpy-looking old man who raised a judgmental eyebrow.

“Move along,” Mane told him.

They waddled away. Maybe Mane wasn’t so bad.

“Also, that was you at the bank, wasn’t it?” He asked.

Kaboodle paused, reevaluating her opinion of the teen, before resuming pouring her steamed milk into a small cup of espresso. So they were going to talk about it, huh?

“Yeah.”

Mane finished an order and wished the customer to have a good day. “Do you still have the stormwatcher, then?”

She looked up at him, confused, dribbling on a layer of milk foam. “Stormwatcher?”

“The name of the suppressor.”

Stormwatcher…STMWTCHR.

“Lydia?” Kaboodle called, placing the cappuccino onto the take-out counter. “What do you want?” She hissed to Mane.

“I want to know what you’re planning to do with it,” He replied casually, typing up another order. “Do you even know what it is?”

“A power dampener,” She quietly snapped. She wasn’t dumb. “And I’m not telling you anything.”

He raised an eyebrow without looking at her. “A power dampener powered by a physical manifestation of supernatural abilities,” Mane continued. “It’s the first of its kind. Absolutely genius.”

Kaboodle watched him move away from the cash register as the people started to thin out. She pondered what it meant as she finished her final order and waved the customer off with a temporary smile.

A physical manifestation of powers? How was that possible?

The shop was almost empty now, the last customers being eat-ins. A quietness filled the place, the tickling of glassware ringing in her ears and the sound of people exiting the cafe.

Mane leaned against the counter, watching her. “The model you have means a lot to them. They’d do anything to get it back.”

Kaboodle met his gaze sharply. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I’m being honest. It’d be a real shame if one of my coworkers turned up dead.”

Dead?

Mane’s eyes were dark, bonfires against his skin and brooding as he matched Kaboodle’s blank face. Slowly, his lips curled into a predatory smile as he prepared to walk away. The casual employee was gone. Instead, standing in his place, was a man with blood on his hands.

“Just a warning, Kaboodle,” Mane shrugged. The staffroom door closed sharply behind him.

Kaboodle stood alone, the smells of sickly sweet coffee wafting around her. Bit by bit, dread filled her bones. Mane’s warning dripped in the air, a coldness cracking through the room.

An overwhelming sense of panic grew in her, and the dishwasher sounded more and more thunderous. Like a wave, it hit her, and she tried to blink out the panic in her eyes as the last customer left the shop.

Whatever this stormwatcher was made of, it was valuable, and Red still had the pieces of the suppressor in his workshop. If anyone were to find out, he would be in serious trouble.

I need to warn him.

Her eyes flickered to the clock. Oh, it was eleven now.

===

Red’s workshop was a thirty-minute walk, so she wasted no time as she paced down the sidewalks and wove through the crowds moving about the city.

The sky grew darker, and a roll of grey washed away baby blue. The streets seemed to wrap around themselves, but Kaboodle persisted. The brush of strangers' shoulders eventually stopped when she neared the isolated corner of Red’s place, her heart pounding as the glass doors slid open.

Red stood behind the counter, sunglasses hiding his eyes as he listened to two strangers address him. Kaboodle couldn’t see it, but she swore she felt his gaze flicker on her. The strangers didn’t notice her arrival.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Red said, arms raised defensively. “Please leave.”

“Oh, no, we tracked it down here,” One of the people sneered. A male, judging by their voice. Both of them were wearing grey overalls with blue highlights here and there. “We know you have it.”

Kaboodle met Red’s gaze. He slightly tilted his head, and she followed its direction to a crowbar sitting on the shelf.

He wants me to fight?

“Have what?” Red snapped as if he was losing patience. “You won’t even tell me what it is.”

“You know what. You’re an engineer—you’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I’m going to need you to be more specific.”

Kaboodle stepped lightly toward the bookshelf, anxiety thrumming in her veins as she prayed for no loose floorboards. As she drew closer, her nerves grew electric, her palms sweating as she barely managed to grab the handle of the crowbar. She saw Red give her a tiny nod.

Don’t make a single noise. She got a solid hold, maintaining it before her like a bat. Not a single sound.

Something in one of the people’s hands clicked, and Kaboodle’s eyes went wide as she recognised the sound of a gun loading and the safety turned off.

What the fuck. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.

“Okay, I’m sure there’s no need for that,” Red said slowly, knowing very well what was about to happen. From behind his glasses, he gave Kaboodle an intense stare, almost as if he was trying to say: ‘Don’t let me die here’.

Kaboodle, hands shaking, tried to edge closer to the offenders.

Her heart was pounding, the blood screaming in her ears. The anxiety in her belly was gaping, swallowing her whole. Red could die. Ash would be distraught. She really wished Clown was here right now.

A foot closer, almost a metre away, she was at the perfect distance to strike.

“Yes, there is.” The second stranger walked around Red’s desk, a Glock glinting as she held it up. “That aquaxite you have is precious, Reddoons, and worth so much more than your life.”

Then, her eyes flashed to Kaboodle, who stiffened. “Who the fuck—”

Kaboodle struck. In a swing, she had the male on the floor, his head bashing against the counter as she brought the crowbar down on his head. It made a crack, his yell strangled as it cut off, his body limp immediately.

The female fired a shot, a boom that almost sent Kaboodle staggering, but Red was already ducked down from the commotion, disarming her with a kick to the chest.

The girl fell backwards, flailing for purchase, arms brushing a box of wires that crashed onto the floor beside her, an explosion of red, blue, and yellow flying around.

Kaboodle’s eyes went wide as she watched the gun drop onto the floor, feeling her muscles twitch and move before she could stop herself, lunging for it.

As she did, the girl was struggling back up, feral, as she thrashed from her place on the floor for the weapon. But Kaboodle was faster, snatching it and snapping her finger around the trigger, her other hand holding it steady, pressing it into the girl’s brown locks with a click.

“Don’t move,” She hissed.

They looked up at her, a fire in their eyes. “Or what? You’ll shoot me?”

Kaboodle’s mouth felt dry, but she forced down a swallow. “Yes.”

Silence. The dust settled. The girl below her seemed to believe what she said because she went limp on the floor, eyes trained warily on the gun.

Kaboolde stood back up, weapon constantly readied on the offender as she repositioned herself away. Red was at her side, voice thick with relief.

“Thank you, Kaboodle.” He kicked the out-cold man’s hand away from his feet. “I don’t tend to have robbers—especially those who ask for something that doesn’t exist.”

Kaboodle couldn’t help but glance at him. He doesn’t know they’re after the suppressor.

“The police will be here any second.”

She looked at the girl properly this time. She seemed young—a little older than Kaboodle—brown hair falling in a puddle around her face.

Kaboodle’s grip on the gun loosened, horror corroding every inch of her soul. Would I really have killed her?

Their eyes were green, almost scared as Red stepped away, phone to his ear as he went outside to finish what Kaboodle presumed was a call with the police. The blue-haired teen looked down, hesitantly lowering the gun.

“Please,” The girl whispered. “I was just doing what I was told.”

A beat. Kaboodle made no effort to reply.

“I need to take care of my brother,” She pleaded, green eyes wide. “He’ll be alone if I’m taken.”

That was what caused Kaboodle to pause. The days when it rained and she sat by her father’s sleeping form, waiting for Clown to come back with dinner, hit her. The fear she’d felt that one time he wasn’t home by ten and her father wouldn’t get up, so she sat by the door and stared, waiting and waiting.

The relief when he stumbled through, then terror when she saw the wound. The way she had cried and cried as he told her it was okay, doing what he needed to keep her alive.

Kaboodle stared at the girl, a chorus of sympathy churning in her heart. She was protecting someone she loved, risking her life for someone who needed her. Warmth flooded the cold room, and she clicked on the gun’s safety.

“I’m letting you go,” She whispered resolutely. “But I’m hoping you won’t forget this. Threatening innocent people is not the way to go.”

The teen nodded, a brush of relief showing through her tense features. “Thank you.”

Kaboodle shook her head. “Pretend to push me and make a run for it. Turn left immediately, then keep running until you hit the park. There’s plenty of tree cover there, so you can wait out the police.”

They sat up, eyes burning with determination.

“It’s not a flawless plan, but it gives you the best chance,” Kaboodle urged. “C’mon. Push me.”

“The gun?” They asked, hand out for it.

She shook her head. “No. It’ll be suspicious.”

They stared at each other for a little, a grateful and wonderful silence. The girl got to her feet, thankfulness in her eyes, and for a second, Kaboodle doubted herself. Now standing, she was slightly taller than her, built in a way that screamed athletics. She approached, arms drawn stiffly as if ready to push. But something in her eyes was soft, so Kaboodle readied herself.

Before it happened, her eyes flickered downward, where an object caught the light of the store’s room. It was white, curved, and tied to a black string which made its way around the girl’s neck.

It had a sharp end—a blade. It was a fishing hook!

She drew in a breath, momentarily frozen. Mane was right.

The push was sharp and strong, startling a cry out of her. Kaboodle fell back against a bookshelf, her head slamming against a box with a clang, the wind knocked out of her lungs.

“Sorry,” The girl whispered, and then she was gone. She sprinted out of the store with a sudden burst of speed, barely dodging a stunned Red as he spun around in response to Kaboodle's cry.

“Kaboodle!” He hurried inside, sunglasses off now. “Are you okay?”

She groaned, hand clutching the back of her head. Ow, ow, ow. She’d said a fake push, not a real one.

With gritted teeth and a horrifyingly shaky wheeze, she stuttered, “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

Red crouched down before her, his worry so genuine she almost felt bad for scaring him like this. “No, you’re not. You need medical attention.”

A pained grunt came from the other side of the room. They both looked towards the man still lying down, a bright red gash on his head, dribbling blood onto the Red’s clean, tiled floor. He shifted a bit, limbs jerking, before falling still again.

The sound of sirens slowly came into Kaboodle’s hearing range, and she looked up enough to see red and blue lights outside the workshop. It was so loud, drilling into her brain. She clutched the side of her head again, letting out a weak cry.

Oh, fuck. It hurt. It really, really hurt.

She tried to concentrate on her power, finding it slipping between her fingers as she attempted to heal herself.

Useless.

The officers came, black and blue uniforms blazing, ushering them out. Red held onto her as a small crowd started to form around the street. She ducked her head, watching as the police taped off the area.

Paramedics rushed over to them, three more to the scene. One lifted Kaboodle’s head gently, flickering a torch in front of her eyes.

“I’m fine,” She tried to communicate. But she couldn’t hear herself properly. Was the siren still going? Was it in her head?

Something was ringing, like bells tolling in the distance. The paramedic asked something, but their voice blurred in and out, so she just blinked in response. Was she actually blinking, though?

A sudden darkness. Kaboodle reopened her eyes. Light again. Blurry—like a bloom filter. Bright. Then darkness.

“I think…” She whispered to no one in particular, “I think I’m going to pass out.”

The sounds and bells got overwhelming, like thunder in her mind.

True to her word, Kaboodle collapsed.

Chapter Text

The first thing she woke up to was the blurriness of a white, flat roof and the sound of footsteps far away. She couldn’t move her arms, and her legs felt as stiff as rocks, so she waited for the sensations to stop before falling asleep again, too tired to care.

The second time she woke up, she heard shuffling by her side. Unbothered to stay quiet, someone in blue was walking around her. She didn’t know when, but eventually, they stopped. Instead, sharp pangs of medicine hit her nose. She tried to ignore it by falling asleep.

The third time she woke up, Kaboodle blinked awake and stared. Her brain flashed vague memories of what happened, and she lay unmoving to ponder.

Is the girl okay? She wondered as her eyes traced the side of her white hospital bed. Kaboodle had given her directions to a public park with a dense forest. Hopefully, she’d been smart enough to hide in the trees. Is Red alright? How many days had it been?

Had it even been days? She’d only passed out.

“Miss Kaboodle?” A nurse, much older than Clown, peered at her worryingly. Their grey hairs were tucked neatly into a bun, and the deep wrinkles in their skin creased warmly at her. “Are you feeling better?”

Kaboodle nodded and cleared her throat, sitting up. “Yeah, thank you. How long has it been since I, y’know?”

The nurse smiled kindly at her. “Only a couple of hours, miss. Is it alright if I bring a few people in? They've been waiting outside for you.”

Instantly, Kaboodle brightened. Was it Clown? Maybe it was Ash and Squiddo? They’d be worried, and she wanted to reassure them.

“Sure, I don’t mind.”

The nurse quickly toddled away and returned with two people behind her.

Kaboodle, expecting Clown’s dark curls or Squiddo’s comically pink glasses, faltered at the sight of white button-up shirts and dark dress pants. To add to the formality, they each wore a shiny badge spelling “E.L.O.S.P”.

Oh, goodness. The author of her story needed to stop giving her their toughest battles. She could lie to her friends but to the Enforcement of Lawful and Orderly Supernatural Powers??? They severely overestimated her.

Also, the Enforcement of Lawful and Orderly Supernatural Powers was a bit much, wasn’t it?

“Good evening, Miss Kaboodle,” One of them said. They had blonde hair and a charming smile, very obviously trying to make her feel comfortable (And thus more cooperative, her mind supplied).

“Hi,” Kaboodle smiled.

She totally had no involvement in illegal activities (cough, bank, cough) and absolutely did not let a prosecutor run away free (cough, the girl, cough). Kaboodle wouldn’t do that. She was a good, outstanding citizen who paid her taxes.

“I’m Officer Wood. I’m afraid you’ll have to see your brother after us,” Wood said apologetically. “He’s very nice, and very concerned for you.”

Kaboodle inwardly rolled her eyes and felt affection rise for Clown. Of course, he was. “That’s alright.”

“Has he been looking after you since you were sixteen?”

“Yeah. We moved in with our aunt when our parents died, but she left when he turned twenty.”

She heard the second officer scribbling down on his clipboard and pointedly avoided looking in that area.

“Ah, I’m sorry. And how old are you currently?”

“Seventeen turning eighteen.”

More scribbling.

Wood nodded. “Thank you. Can you tell us a bit about what happened in the workshop? It’s not often such violent crimes are committed in our area. We’re very curious.”

Curious my ass, Kaboodle thought. They were probably suspicious. “I don’t know, it all happened so fast. I was visiting the workshop because Red, the owner, is a great friend of mine.”

Technically a friend of a friend, but they didn’t need to know that.

“However, two people were questioning him when I arrived. They didn’t notice me, and Red signalled for help, so I grabbed the nearest crowbar in self-defence.”

The person with the clipboard looked up, then ducked to continue writing. Kaboodle paused, unsure. Had she said something wrong? No way; she was basing things on the truth right now. She pushed on with a sharp pang of anxiety.

“Then they started sounding angrier, so I tried to get closer in case Red needed help.”

“They didn’t notice you at all?” The blonde officer interjected, sounding mildly surprised.

Kaboodle shook her head, also genuinely flabbergasted. “No. Maybe they were too invested?”

He gestured to go on and so she did. Kaboodle tried to make the story more believable, while also making herself and Red seem more like victims (which they were). Casting in a bit of doubt surrounding the mysterious green-eyed girl’s motives, she nervously admitted to pointing the gun at them.

“Something happened, and the gun landed on the floor, so I snatched it on reflex to protect Red.” She took a deep breath, as if mortified by herself (which she was, truthfully), “And…And pointed it at the girl.”

“That must have been hard,” Wood offered sympathetically, but Kaboodle could tell it was hesitant.

“Then, she started talking about her brother—how if she went to jail he’d be all alone.” Kaboodle worked her fingers in an act of guilt. “It reminded me of my brother and I, so I hesitated. She tried to ask for the gun, but I said no, so she pushed me into the shelves.”

Kaboodle looked up into the officer’s blue eyes. She wasn’t lying, per se, she was just changing the story a little bit. “I think she ran.”

Wood nodded in confirmation. “She did. Our cameras saw her exiting the buildings and running down the street, but all the footage from inside Reddoons’ workshop was corrupted; we are so lucky to have you share this information with us.”

He said nothing about the girl being captured so Kaboodle silently applauded herself. The corrupted camera footage must have been Ash, who was likely contacted by Red and figured out that Kaboodle needed covering.

She felt a smile glow inside of her, thankful for her friends and their quick thinking. She let that real appreciation flow into her next few words. “It’s alright, officer. I’m glad I could help.”

After handshaking again and confirming simpler details like her address and school, they finally wished her a speedy recovery and left. Kaboodle exhaled shakily, looking up at the ceiling trying to settle the beating of her heart. She just did that! Lie to law! She checked over her palms, taking in a wobbly breath. Cool.

“Are you alright?”

Kaboodle looked again and saw Clown standing by the separation curtains, a gloved hand drawing it apart for him to come through. He wore a bright red hoodie and black pants, and his red eyes wrinkled with worry as he stepped through.

She flashed him a welcoming smile and beckoned him to her side. “Fine! I’m fine.”

Clown raised an eyebrow. “Really? What did those officers want?”

“They just asked me what happened inside the building,” She answered carefully, cautious of anyone eavesdropping. “They were nice.”

His eyes narrowed. She gave him a pointed look. I’m not going to tell you anything in public.

Clown huffed, eyebrows raising in understanding. “Well, the nurse said you’re discharged, so we’re going home.”

“Great!” Kaboodle swung her legs off the bed cheerfully, distantly registering she was still in her prior clothes.

Clown parted the curtains for her as they walked out, and the old lady who’d taken care of her waved them goodbye, telling Kaboodle to rest. As they left, she glanced at the clock in the main registration hall before exiting the building. It was nine at night, so it’d been around seven hours.

Two glass doors slid open to let them out, exposing them to a gush of cold, night air and stars sparkling in the sky. Shallow streetlights barely illuminated the hospital’s carpark, and Kaboodle held onto Clown’s arm as he walked her to the main road, humming softly into the darkness.

That must have been one hard push, she thought as they flagged down a taxi.

===

“So, you’re telling me that Manepear was your coworker.”

“Yup.”

“And he warned you about the people who made the suppressor wanting it back.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘warned’. It was more like ‘menacingly implied horrible events’.”

“And you figured the ‘menacingly implied horrible events’ would happen to Reddoons, so you ran all the way there after your shift to warn him.”

“Actually, I speed-walked.”

They sat in silence for a little bit. Clown was seated opposite Kaboodle at the kitchen’s island table. The lights from the ceiling shined down upon them, and the sound of the television droned on and on. They shared a plate of pizza, the warm and spiced smell welcomed after Kaboodle’s exposure to the scents of the hospital.

“Sorry, ‘speed-walked’,” Clown corrected himself. Kaboodle nodded with satisfaction.

He bluntly continued. “When you got there you knocked out a guy, stole a gun, had a heart-to-heart with the girl, and got knocked out by said girl.”

Kaboodle blinked at him. “You forgot to mention the part where I figured out the hook she wore as a necklace was the same one inscribed onto the stormwatcher but, okay, that’s it.”

It was his turn to blink at her.

She put a slice of pizza into her mouth and tentatively chewed.

He sighed.

She sighed.

They were a family of sigh-ers.

“Kaboodle, I didn’t mean for you to get involved in all this,” Clown murmured. “I’m sorry.”

Kaboodle looked up from her pizza slice, startled. What was he apologising for?

“But when I meant being a vigilante was dangerous, I meant it.” Her brother gave her a stern look. “You’ve figured out a bunch of stuff, congrats, but I want you to stay out of this.”

Stay out of it? Kaboodle stared at Clown as he spoke, frowning deeper.

“I don’t know why Manepear told you what he did, but you linked it to the stormwatcher, and you decided to run to Reddoons’ place.” He glanced away, red eyes shy, Kaboodle felt her skin prickle uncomfortably. “You got hurt, Kabs. I can’t have that happening.”

“But I’m fine,” She stated. What was he trying to imply? She gestured to herself. “Look at me! I’m intact.”

Clown’s voice was clipped. “But what if you were hurt worse? You’re lucky Reddoons was with you today. What if he wasn’t?”

The girl leaned haphazardly back on her seat. “I was the one saving Red!”

“You’re the one who passed out!”

“I got information!” Kaboodle spat. The seat wobbled dangerously. “I’m not weak—I’m seventeen, Clown. I don’t need you protecting me all the time, I can help you.”

“Then why did you let the girl escape?”

A pause. The seat stabilised. Kaboodle blinked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that she could have given you valuable information,” He said slowly. “You could have asked her anything; she was at your mercy.”

Kaboodle blinked. “Clown—”

“-Kaboodle.”

They looked at each other.

The younger balled her hands into fists. “I wouldn’t take advantage of someone more powerless than me.”

Clown narrowed his eyes. “Then you should stay out of my business.”

The two siblings sat in silence, the air cold from the night, and lights flickering above them. The reporter’s voice was sharp against Kaboodle’s ears, so she felt for the TV’s remote and aggressively turned it off.

“You don’t know what you’re getting into, Kaboodle,” Clown said carefully.

Her pink eyes burned as she met his gaze. “And you do?”

“I’m older, and I have—”

“-And you have what?” She sneered. “Powers that render you invincible?”

Clown stopped talking, and instead stared at her. Her gaze flickered to the healed wound on his shoulder, then looked back at him with a challenge.

He accepted it with a sigh, then grabbed something from the pockets of his red hoodie and threw it onto the table between them.

Money glinted in the harsh light of the room—two bundles of it with edges worn from movement. It was a lot; more than what Kaboodle made in a month. She looked back up at Clown, who carefully took apart her reaction.

“These ‘powers that render me invincible’ make us money, Kabs,” He hissed. “I’m good at what I do; I know what I’m doing.”

He drew back, his point made, but Kaboodle caught a flash of red against his palms. Blood. It was blood. The money was dirty.

She glared at him accusingly. “Who—?”

“It was a hit on a rapist,” Clown interrupted. She stilled. “I split it with Flame. Two grand for him and two grand for me.”

Kaboodle stared at the money, anger flaring, but forced it to fall away as she sighed, a hand running through her blue hair.

Clown killed for them—for her. He went through so much trouble to keep them both alive and she…she felt so useless sitting at home, reading notes of cellular respiration or whatever.

Kaboodle just wanted to help him. She just wanted to be more useful—to lower the chance of Clown not coming back.

Her brother made her way over to her and gently rested a hand on her shoulder.

“Kabs, whatever danger I’m getting myself into, I promise I’ll be fine.”

A spark of annoyance. He couldn’t promise that. He can’t.

“I know you want to help, but the best way to do so is by focusing on your studies and getting a better job so I…” He paused, hand leaving her shoulder.

Kaboodle turned around to face him, unprepared for the sight of blood underneath her brother’s nails. Her heart swallowed nervously, the feeling of her power churning at the sight of red; the urge to help resurfacing.

“...So, I can stop what I’m doing.”

Silence.

Clown walked away, the morbidity of his bloody fingertips and palm itching along her spine. She watched his back as he exited the dining room, and her eyes fell to the half-empty pizza box on the table, right next to the two grand.

With a soft scoff, she put the remaining pizza into the fridge, then neatly set the two bundles of money at the table’s edge.

“Focus on my studies,” Kaboodle repeated sourly. “Does he not realise this all happened because of my studies?”

She paused, sweeping through her thoughts. Clown said he wanted her to focus on studying, but he forgot that the entire reason why she got involved in the first place was for the sake of studying.

If he wanted her to study so badly, then he’d have to face the music and admit what she was doing right now was studying.

Oh, but Kaboodle wouldn’t do that, would she? She slammed the kitchen lights off, then stormed down the hallway. She was ready for a well-deserved shower.

After finishing her shower she followed the nurse’s request and relaxed. She’d spent exactly one hour doom-scrolling on Instagram, and thirty minutes on Twitter, and was now on her Notes app choosing the most recent file labelled: STUFF.

STUFF

notes abt the suppressor

STMWTCHR + a fishing hook → probably the organisation’s call sign and symbol.

STMWTCHR = stormwatcher (actual name of the suppressor) (Mane)

Fishing hook necklace → may be worn by some members of the organisation

There was one more thing, though. Kaboodle rolled around on her bed, racking her brain. Something the girl had said when she pulled out the gun…a name of sorts…like a chemical element? The thing Mane had called a “physical manifestation” of powers.

Kaboodle pushed her face into her pillow, taking a deep breath in.

Aqua…Aquamarine? No, no, that couldn’t be it… Aquaxide…Aquaxite!

Kaboodle exhaled sharply and sat up, frantically typing.

Aquaxite → Physical manifestation of powers (Mane). How does it work??

Used in the stormwatcher, so it probably has power-dampening abilities.

Excitedly, she got ready to screenshot the page before pausing, remembering she hadn’t replied to a few texts from earlier.

With a sigh, Kaboodle opened up her Messages, where she had three texts from both Ash and Squiddo. She hadn’t meant to ignore them, but she didn’t want to have to explain herself for the third time that day. And, even though she knew they’d be kind, she’d been too tired after her argument with Clown to bother.

Feeling extremely bad, she first clicked into Ash’s.

Direct Messages: Ashswag (Ash)

(12:02)

Ash: red just called me. ive handled the cctv footage for you.

Ash: we need 2 talk, kabs

Ash: once u wake up, ofc

So it was him! Kaboodle smiled a bit and thumbed out a response.

Kaboodle: ty ash :D ur a lifesaver

Kaboodle: well im up and awake now, wsg?

Ash didn’t immediately reply (she was texting him eleven hours later), so she moved on to Squiddo.

Direct Messages: Squiddo

(12:10)

Squiddo: Ash just told me what happened, I rlly hope you’re okay :(

Squiddo: He says it has something to do with the suppressor, but wants you to explain everything to us.

Squiddo: Please be alright <33 Ash is acting nonchalant, but he keeps fidgeting with his rings in that panicked way of his.

Kaboodle paused, wondering how Squiddo would know how Ash was acting, before remembering it had been a regular Tuesday for everyone else. That meant that her two friends had their shared Engineering class, which would explain why Squddio knew. With quirking lips, she quickly typed out a response.

Kaboodle: im alright squiddo :] ill explain everything either tmr or on the gc

Kaboodle: luv u to bits gurl <3

When Squiddo also inevitably didn’t reply, she switched to her notes, screenshotted it, and forwarded it to the group chat.

Group Chat: BALLS.A.K

(Me, Squiddo, Ashswag (Ash))

(23:20)

Kaboodle sent an attachment.

Kaboodle: sorry for not replying to you guys, i was busy

That felt like enough. Kaboodle tucked her phone away and reburied her face into her pillow, mind whirring.

The girl she’d helped escape flashed into her mind; brown hair and green eyes—a fishing hook dangling from her neck. She tried to picture her unique blue-and-grey clothes, which had seemed like a uniform.

Kaboodle turned on her side and closed her eyes, attempting to picture the stormwatcher.

Aside from its grey, rectangular outer shell, had there been anything else? Her mind supplied her with a flash of its chip and the sharp curves of the fishing hook. What colour was it? She struggled to remember. Grey? Blue? She’d been too focused on the symbol etched onto it to notice.

Aquaxite…It had to be in the stormwatcher somewhere. Kaboodle felt her fingers tug, as if they were reaching for the object miles away, a burning curiosity in her palms. Distantly, an echo of her power pulsed in her mind, but Kaboodle pushed it back down.

Not helpful, She thought. The pulses stopped.

If Mane was trustworthy, and aquaxite was the solid state of powers, why would it suppress instead of enhance? Also, where did they get it from? As far as she and common knowledge knew, there weren’t any aquaxite mines.

Kaboodle opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling. That was a question for tomorrow.

Regular surge protectors work by redirecting excess voltage away from the existing source, Her mind rambled. If the stormwatcher works the same, then the aquaxite should redirect people’s powers.

She paused, turning in her sheets and knotting a hand through her hair.

But where do they go? Powers can't exist outside of their wielder…So does the aquaxite absorb it?

There was a chime. Her phone lit up the room for a brief two seconds and cut off her train of thought.

With an annoyed grumble, Kaboodle reached for the device to check it.

Group Chat: BALLS.A.K

(Me, Squiddo, Ashswag (Ash))

(23:52)

Squiddo: No it’s fine, dw abt it. Are you okay now??

Ash: tf r u sorry abt—u were knocked out ofc u couldn’t reply

Squiddo: You were on the news tonight and it mentioned a robbery

Ash: robbery my balls, they were after the suppressor, weren’t they

Kaboodle snorted at Ash’s language, then sat up on her elbows to reply.

(--> Squiddo: No it’s…) Kaboodle: yup, im fine ty :]

(--> Ash: robbery my b…) Kaboodle: mhm

Squiddo reacted to (yup, im fine ty :]) with ❤️

Squiddo: The suppressor?? Why would they want that?

(--> Kaboodle: mhm) Ash: i fucking knew it

A warmth budded inside her, and Kaboodle watched the small avatars of her friends signify they were typing, softly smiling at her screen as the bright, blue light fell over her face. With a pang, she realised just how much she missed them.

Kaboodle: i have no idea- talk tmr?

Ash: im down

Squiddo: me too

Squiddo: but what happened to you being against this whole thing?

Kaboodle: im going to prove someone wrong

And, it was true. Kaboodle always assumed that Clown took on mundane tasks to bring back money. Sometimes he talked about going around the city and picking up rubbish between his patrols, but now she knew most of his income came from taking hits.

Kaboodle thumbed at her screen anxiously while her friends typed. She didn’t want Clown to endure any of that for her. She wanted to do something for him.

In that case, I’ll have to finish this PIP to the best of my ability, She thought. Determination flowed in her veins—midnight motivation hitting her like an anvil. For Clown.

Ash: that’s awfully deep for a school project

Kaboodle gave a short laugh, muffling it with her pillow. Yeah, maybe it was.

Casting her disagreements with her brother aside, Kaboodle plugged in her phone and rolled onto her side. Her problems were momentarily forgotten, and she let her friends fill her in on what happened at school, a smile playing on her lips. Eventually, after all the ridiculousness of their late-night conversations disappeared, the three texted goodbye and Kaboodle drifted effortlessly to sleep.

Ah, blessed darkness. Then, a pulse of pink.

Chapter Text

Chattering strangers and blinding lights flooded a venue, a stream of movement in the night. Two teenagers walked down the crowded streets as the rich smell of food flooded their noses. Kaboodle let Squiddo drag her to a tanghulu stand, where they both got the strawberry-and-grape combination. Bodies pushed against theirs, and the blue-haired girl laughed at the other’s antics. The friends snapped a photo before a tree and fiddled with the filters and lighting.

“No, no, I like this one better,” Squiddo grinned as they swiped to another option. It made their eyes bulge in front of the camera, and Kaboodle couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity.

“Poor Ash,” Kaboodle grinned as she sent it to their group chat. “He’s stuck at home doing recon while we get the full experience.”

As soon as she said that, the airpod in her ear buzzed with static.

“Recon is fun, Kaboodle,” Ash's voice said over the line. It sounded scratchy but got clearer the more he went on. “I get to sit back and relax while you two do all the hard work.”

Squiddo rolled their eyes, Kaboodle’s other airpod in their ears. “Do we need you talking in our ears all the time? Can’t you just text us?”

The two friends decided to move to a less crowded clearing to talk. They brushed past bright reds and yellows, shuffling between blue and bronze bodies.

Ash huffed, then said, “Kaboodle’s idea, not mine. Go complain to her.”

Kaboodle sighed with a smile. “My bad for coming up with a decent idea. Having Ash talk in our airpods instead of over the phone or text simplifies things.”

Squiddo fanned their face with a hand, tanghulu in the other as they took a bite, laughing. Kaboodle leaned against a wall, facing the moving sea of bodies with her arms tucked against her chest.

“Simplifies things for you guys,” Ash corrected. “Airpods are really hard to navigate. So curved.”

Kaboodle rolled her eyes just like she always did when he described the “space” of electronics so casually. It was like he forgot his two friends couldn’t exactly relate—or understand. But, whatever, she breathed a laugh and enjoyed Ash’s ramble.

“You know,” Squiddo said after a while of loud chewing from her right, “We should talk about the mission.”

Right. On Thursday, a day after Kaboodle’s mishap at the workshop, they had decided to revisit the place. However, when they arrived, the area was still closed by police, and Red said he couldn’t touch anything inside until they were done.

So, instead, they got together to research potential leads, and Ash discovered a classified file named “IT” while exploring the Cloud. He deciphered mentions of an illegal, unknown substance trade at a nearby marketplace. But, due to something about the blurriness of the Cloud and its instability, he couldn’t understand any more.

Pushing their dumbfounded luck, Kaboodle offered to investigate, and her two friends had jumped aboard. They were wearing airpods that Ash could access with his powers at any time (apparently it was risky for Kaboodle to have suspiciously long calls now that E.L.O.S.P had her tagged) and were trying to locate any suspicious activity.

All in all, they had become temporary vigilantes themselves. As Squiddo had put it, ‘sometimes to research a project, you must become the project’. Squiddo was so wise.

“Anything at all, Ash?” Kaboodle mumbled after a while.

“Give me a second, I’m trying to pinpoint something.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Kaboodle trained her eyes on a nearby tree with soft fairy lights tied around its branches. The colours danced around the leaves, scattering fluorescence blues and golds on the heads below. The talk of people was loud, buzzing in her ears, and the bargaining of prices was carried to her in the wind, the squeals of children’s joy sharp like bird trills.

Slowly, slowly, she noticed a displaced sound; footsteps from behind.

“Ash?” Kaboodle called for her friend. What was that? She needed information.

Ash’s voice crackled to life. “There’s a strange device moving a couple of metres away from you. It’s blocking me out; I think it might be it.”

Kaboodle, attention sharp, looked around. No one in front. She checked behind, where the wall she was leaning on parted into an alleyway. Squiddo gave her a careful look, and they both stepped inside at the same time.

The footsteps got louder.

“I don’t see anything,” Squiddo said, squinting.

“Shh,” Kaboodle told them. “Listen; in there.”

Squiddo made their way to her side, the two peering into the darkness. The fairy lights didn’t reach here, so the Moon’s shallow, silver shine reclaimed the street. The tiled floor of the venue gave way to rugged footpaths, and Kaboodle took a tentative step further inside.

On her right, Squiddo suddenly winced, body lurching like they’d been stabbed. “I think it’s the stormwatcher. But…It feels more raw.”

Aquaxite, Kaboodle’s mind supplied as she supported her friend. It’s aquaxite.

Footsteps, even louder this time. Panicked breathing. A flash of blue.

“Over there!” Ash called in her ear. “It’s approaching you guys fast.”

Kaboodle turned around and froze at the sight before her.

Someone was running past them, fumbling with a blue object in their hands. Her mind pulled towards it, and her eyes traced the blue light until it turned a corner. A whisper echoed inside her, and a pulse of pink momentarily clouded her vision.

Kaboodle grabbed Squiddo’s hand. “After them.”

Her friend looked at her, startled. “What?”

“Let’s go!”

Adrenaline kicked in and she started running, shoes accelerating against the ground.

Scrambling, she turned the corner, catching sight of blue glinting in the distance. The alleyway was in total darkness, a cloud of moonlight catching the tops of the mountainous walls.

The pink in her mind swirled like a storm urging her to move.

Run faster, it cried. Run, run.

“On your left,” Ash commanded. “Two more. They’re different, though. Be careful.”

Kaboodle glanced left, but a wall separated whatever Ash was talking about from view. Squiddo was behind her, barely keeping up. She turned a sharp left and heaved in a breath of air. The blue wobbled in the distance. A weird feeling settled like fog over their heads.

Squiddo drew in a sharp breath and stopped.

The light disappeared behind a corner, the sound of multiple feet suddenly cutting off where it had gone.

Kaboodle counted in her head. One, two, three, four. Four footsteps; five if she counted the original one, shuffling in panic.

Kaboodle and Squiddo slid closer to the source, backs against the nearest wall, opposite the scene.

“Hand it over,” A strange voice hissed. It reached her ears muffled.

She shot Squiddo a look. Stay quiet. Listen.

Her friend nodded.

“No!” A man cried out.

His voice was a needle and desperation dripped from it. Yet, his plea was ignored. The multiple footsteps didn’t falter; they drummed like crackles of thunder against the floor.

“My son needs this,” He sobbed.

The advancing steps stopped like poison had been spilled at their feet.

“Your son?” The same voice asked.

“He’s ill,” They stuttered. “Please—please. I need this.”

“A power-related illness, then,” A different voice concluded. There was mumbling Kaboodle couldn’t quite catch, the distinct tone of confusion and then a grim answer. “We can offer your son aid.”

Kaboodle and Squiddo glanced at each other.

“Guys?” Ash asked. “What’s happening?”

“Not now,” Squiddo whispered back.

Aid? A power-related illness? Curiosity burned in Kaboodle, scorching her mind. She cautiously placed a foot closer to the corner of the wall, edging closer to take a peak. What did aquaxite have to do with it?

Squiddo grabbed her hand and she stopped.

“Don’t, it’s too dangerous,” They mouthed as they shook their head.

Kaboodle doubled down.

“But, I’ve heard rumours,” The man stammered, his teeth clicked to his T-s. “You guys—”

“-Where there's smoke there’s fire,” The first voice interrupted dismissively. “But we would never lie when someone’s life is at risk.”

A noise of confusion.

“Your son will be safe and looked after, but you must come with us.”

There was murmuring, moving, the sound of feet against the ground. Kaboodle fought the urge to watch, pressing her back against the wall and taking a deep breath.

A string of wobbly thank-yous followed, and departure rang in her ears. Kaboodle got ready to follow them, but briefly looked up and caught sight of red, orange, and black flashing across the rooftops.

The colours were stark against the sky, and Kaboodle felt recognition flash in her mind.

Wait, that was— She pushed Squiddo and herself further into the darkness, watching as the sound of three feet cut off the shuffling on the other side.

No, she thought, heart clenching. It’s Clown.

A flush of blood went to her ears as she steeled herself. He didn’t know what he was getting into; she had to stop him. Squiddo held her hand, looking at her in confusion.

“Kaboodle? Squiddo?” The airpods creaked as Ash spoke. “Update me.”

Kaboodle ran a hand through her hair. “Um—wait, I—”

“Something about an illness that’s related to aquaxite. There were a lot of people,” Squiddo answered hastily. Their grip on the blue-haired girl’s hand tightened. “Kaboodle, what’s wrong?”

The whirring of a machine answered their question, an invisible pulse catching the air. Kaboodle’s mind flashed pink, and she staggered upright as Squiddo suddenly jerked, their hand squeezing around hers.

“Ash?” She called quietly.

Static. Some words. More static.

She couldn’t make out anything. It all sounded like fear. Like screaming.

She drew a shaky breath, and Squiddo stared at her with large eyes.

“I’ll get us out of here,” They said quickly, fumbling. “We just need to move somewhere else—”

“-No,” Kaboodle mustered. “Wait. Just—”

She bit her lip, thinking. Clown is over there, and so are multiple other people and an innocent man.

Squiddo can’t know about Clown. What do I do? What do I do?

“You know, I have to thank you guys for bringing the stormwatcher,” A voice said. It was cold; bubbles underneath its cracking surface. “Evens out the playing field.”

Their hatred sounded barely restrained; water boiling into steam. Kaboodle paused, heart tearing. She recognised this voice. She hated it. Do I do anything?

“Talk to me!” Squiddo cried with a shake.

Kaboodle jumped, blinking at her.

“Welcome back, idiot,” They huffed out. “Let’s get out of here now.”

No, she couldn’t! She turned to Squiddo, eyes wide. She couldn’t leave Clown here. What if he doesn’t come back?

The door of their old house flashed into her mind. The sound of rain, the echoing of her breath. Loneliness.

I need to help him, I—

A glint in the distance—right behind Squiddo’s shoulder. Kaboodle started, reaching out a hand. “Squiddo, move!”

Her friend ducked. A resounding click and boom. Something flew past Kaboodle’s face, tearing the air in half.

She froze.

A person in bronze and navy blue stood a few metres behind them. Kaboodle took in their mask, where its sharp edges folded like the waves of a seashell. Two piercing cuts where their eyes should be shrouded their face in darkness.

A patch of light that fell before them illuminated their features. Brown hair tied back in a ponytail, their clothes intricately detailed with braids of waves steeled by bronze. Their thickly gloved hands held a pistol, its muzzle shining in the moonlight.

Kaboodle took a step back, her heart pounding. Sharp footsteps clicked against the ground.

Her eyes flickered to Squiddo, who leaned onto the support of the wall.

I’m sorry, She thought to them. I’m terrible—I’m—

The sound of impact on the other side left her suddenly overwhelmed. Every breath of pain, every desperate punch, every push against the wall felt like her own.

Pink outlined her vision. She tried to make her way to Squiddo. We can’t die here…

“It’s you!”

Kaboodle stiffened. The armed stranger was talking.

Who?

“Um, wait— it’s me!” A gloved hand reached for their mask, the light shattering perfectly over their face to reveal green eyes.

Kaboodle drew in a breath. Green eyes, pooling brown hair; it was the girl. She took a small step back. “Oh.”

Squiddo glowered, distrust foaming in their cowered position. “Is this who I think it is?”

The girl walked up to them in confidence, so different from the panic she’d displayed at the workshop. Kaboodle watched her approach warily, body drawn taut.

She glanced at the bronze embellishments on her jacket. The ocean.

“My name’s Hannah,” The girl smiled. “I’m surprised to see you here, Kaboodle.”

How did she—

“Your name was on the news,” Hannah continued without missing a beat. She then turned to Squiddo, eyebrows raising slightly. “Did Kaboodle save you too?”

Squiddo squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze. “Well, she just saved me from you.”

A beat.

They smiled coyly. “Oops.”

Kaboodle’s eyes narrowed on her. There was no coincidence that Hannah was here. She was with the original group—the ones who offered to help the man.

The people Clown’s fighting right now…

Distantly, she could hear the sound of metal cutting against the air. Then, the dull score as it hit its target.

“You’re still after aquaxite,” Kaboodle observed lightly. “But why are you here of all places?”

Her ears caught blood dripping to the floor. Every pinprick of red was stark against the whites of her mind.

Hannah frowned carefully. “People keep interfering with our work. Not just these vigilantes.”

Kaboodle’s power lurched. She heard someone hiss in pain.

“E.L.O.S.P?” She questioned.

“To name a few…”

“So, they’re onto you.”

Hannah’s gaze hardened. “They are sniffing tracks we’ve purposefully left.”

Kaboodle shifted her feet against the cobbled ground.

“You’re with them, aren’t you?” Kaboodle glowered. Pain emboldened her. “Tell them to retreat.”

Hannah raised her eyebrows. “The vigilantes attacked us; they wanted this fight. At first, I thought you two were with them.”

“We’re not,” Squiddo said firmly. Their knees gave in slightly as they stood by Kaboodle’s side. “But tell your crew to scram.”

Amidst the frenzied hurt in Kaboodle’s mind—the red sparks and hatred—Squiddo’s trust in her bloomed a flame of hope. She grasped onto it, fingers curling around the warmth.

With all her might, she glared. “Go.”

Hannah’s green eyes slit, but then her features went slack. A hint of the girl from the workshop returned, vulnerability thinly concealed by a furrow of her brows. “I suppose I do owe you, Kaboodle.”

Someone yelled, a gasp of pain. Kaboodle felt her fingers twitch.

“You’re lucky this is a team I’ve been tasked to train,” She continued, pistol returning to a sheath tied around her waist. “Or, I would have a harder time convincing everyone.”

Kaboodle blinked, thanks on her tongue, but noticed that Hannah was already slipping the mask back on, merging with the shadows.

“Some people really want to repay the hurt your little city has caused them,” She sang.

The drum of blood in Kaboodle’s ears stopped. A twisted form of clarity returned to her mind.

She watched as Hannah left, her brown hair vanishing beyond her vision.

Kaboodle pushed her senses outward, sweat rolling down the side of her face. Squiddo’s body next to hers felt uncomfortably sticky, the air humid around her face. But the floor was cold, and the blood spilled over it was dirty. Someone backed away, scrambling, and ducked.

Four feet retreated, leaving the confused buzz of three more pausing. They were halfway between swings, or readying for another hit, and the sudden disappearance of an enemy threw them into awkward limps and staggers.

Then, just as suddenly, the buzz stopped. The figures fell away in Kaboodle’s mind, like puppets with their strings cut. She couldn’t feel what was happening on the other side of the wall.

“Hello?” Ash’s static voice was in her ear again. “Oh, it finally worked! Um, everything okay?”

Kaboodle turned slowly around, breath catching. She needed to get to Clown. She needed to–

Squiddo gave her a small look and answered dutifully. “I have…a lot to explain.”

“Cool. Uh, is Kaboodle okay?”

Kaboodle stared at the wall. Clown was there, opposite her, hidden. She just needed to turn the corner. She just needed to run to him.

I’m good at what I do; I know what I’m doing, Clown’s voice snapped in her head.

She flinched.

You should stay out of my business, He had sneered.

No, Clown was right. She couldn’t just run to him. He wasn’t to know she was here.

“Mane!” Someone cried out. Not Clown—it wasn’t his voice. The other guy. “No, no, you’re okay. You’re okay.”

The sound of clothes against clothes. Something crumpled to the ground. Mane was injured—badly, considering their reaction. She resisted the itch to help.

“We shouldn’t have taken this fight.”

Kaboodle felt her eyes widen. Him. It was him.

“Whatever,” Flame whispered, voice tight. “Let’s get Mane out of here.”

The sound of feet moving. Heaving. A grunt of effort. A zip.

Silence.

Quiet.

Only in the solitude of her and Squiddo’s breaths, did she notice how loud she was breathing.

Shakily, she exhaled, an arm braced against the wall and her head hitting it as she sagged. Exhaustion rippled across her body, her heartbeat and lungs stuttering, trying to relax.

It was so quiet. So dark.

A soft hand was on her shoulder, gently cupping it. Kaboodle slowly turned her head, eyes landing on the warm gaze of Squiddo. She let herself lean into the other, limbs failing her.

“Are you alright?” They whispered. “I told Ash to pick us up.”

The night air was cold, and the alleyways were like blocks of ice pressing into her, leaching away the burn of her fear. The floor was stable, but the sky above them twinkled endlessly.

Kaboodle inhaled, smiling a little despite it all. “Thanks.”

She let Squiddo hold her hand and guide her away from the spilled blood. She let Squiddo hold her hand to guide her back to the fairy lights and distant music. She let Squiddo guide her because her thoughts and mind could not stand.

It was only in the backseat of Ash's car, music droning, warmth comfortable, and Squiddo’s voice detailing what had happened when it hit her.

Four feet had retreated. Four…

Hadn’t she counted five at the start?

Kaboodle scrunched her eyes together, stifling a sob.

Nine people had walked away, but one never got back up to stand.

Nine people—and one was…

She shook her head and instead focused on the flecks of light dancing on her window.

===

Direct Messages: Clown

(22:03)

Kaboodle: I’m going to be staying over at Ash’s w Squiddo

Kaboodle: There should be takeout on the dinner table

(22:45)

Clown: alr cool

Clown: ty

Kaboodle: sleep earlier today

Clown: i will LOL

Kaboodle shook her head at the message because she knew that meant he wouldn’t. And, it wasn’t like Clown had any assignments to do! He dropped out when he was seventeen, for homework’s sake!

She paused, blinking at her screen. No, that wasn’t funny. He’d dropped out because of her…

Ash’s house wasn’t an apartment like Kaboodle’s. Still, its walls were thin and the space was relatively small. Ash lived here with his father, who regularly left for excruciatingly long business trips, leaving him often alone. Kaboodle didn’t know how her friend managed, but she was glad he was on good terms with them.

Kaboodle was sitting in the dining room, which was conjoined with the kitchen but separated by a sliding door. A window was directly opposite her, drawn shut by blinds for the artificial, overhead lights to shine. It was largely empty, save for a few cereal boxes lying in the open and a bowl of fruit containing a singular orange.

Ash must study in his room because despite the amount of paperwork she saw him holding every day at school, there was none of it here.

Kaboodle snapped out of her thoughts when the smell of food wafted into the dining room. Her stomach gave a low growl, and she watched keenly as Ash awkwardly pushed the sliding door open and placed baked past onto the table.

“You’re welcome,” He said smugly, dusting his oven mitts.

Kaboodle rolled her eyes but genuinely thanked the boy before getting permission to take the first scoop.

“He couldn’t have done it without me,” Squiddo announced as they pranced into the dining room last.

Their hair seemed a bit dishevelled, and they had flour and cheese stuck to their fingers. Yet their brown eyes were alight as they washed their hands and then sat down by Kaboodle’s side.

Ash grumbled defiantly. “I was doing fine without you.”

Squiddo shook their head, nudging Kaboodle’s arm. “This idiot couldn’t even preheat the oven.”

The blue-haired girl snorted with laughter as Ash gave an offended sniff, a spoon of pasta raised before his mouth as he stared between the two girls. He put it down, glaring.

“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t mention that!”

“Bleurghhh,” Was Squiddo’s intelligent reply; sticking out their tongue and then immediately stuffing their mouth with food as an excuse not to talk.

Ash replied with a mutter as he sat down opposite them. “You are incorrigible.”

Kaboodle watched the exchange with laughter in her eyes. The food tasted amazing, every bite like a slice of warmth and comfort. They engaged in small talk over the steam, eyes crinkled and grins flashing. Spoon by spoon, the pasta was gone, and Kaboodle sank back into her seat, satisfied and almost purring with content.

“Alright, let’s summarise what happened today,” Ash said as he got up to put away the finished tray.

Kaboodle slumped, the taste of cream and thyme still heavy in her mouth. She swallowed, then nodded, standing up to follow him and offering to help clean up. Squiddo was quick to help too, and the three packed up the kitchen as they talked.

“Alright,” Kaboodle began, “The device you mentioned at first was raw aquaxite material. Squiddo and I ran after the person holding it, but we were forced to stop when we heard more people arriving.”

Squiddo picked up a bag of flour and looked around, before choosing a cupboard and putting it inside. “Yup. They talked about some illness caused by powers, and the man who had the aquaxite implied it was a cure of sorts. Then, they offered to help him.”

Ash nodded slowly as he cleaned a pan. “Yeah, I remember you guys saying that.”

“I’m pretty sure it was the stormwatcher organisation who stopped the man,” Kaboodle said. “Because, well, the girl who pushed me at the workshop was there.”

Ash looked up in disbelief and Squiddo nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I know, right? It would have been so cool if she hadn’t tried to kill me.”

“She tried to what you?” The boy exclaimed.

“Anyways,” Squiddo continued dismissively, “Then, I think vigilantes showed up and started fighting, and we negotiated with Hannah to make everyone stop.”

Ash blinked. “Is that all?” He looked at Kaboodle. “Kabs?”

The blue-haired girl sighed, leaning against the counter. “We learnt that: One, aquaxite can be used to treat a strange power-related illness. Two, E.L.O.S.P is aware of the stormwatcher’s illegal trades in the area. And three, I don’t think Hannah and her group are from this city.”

Squiddo raised her eyebrows. “What makes you say that?”

“She said “your little city”,” Kaboodle quoted. “Not ‘the city we live in’, or ‘our’ city.”

The three teens stood in silence, lips pressed together as they thought.

“Do you think they might be from the outskirts?” Ash asked.

“Maybe.”

More silence. More thinking.

“When did we get so involved in all this?” Squiddo sighed, standing up and tugging their pink jacket closer around their body. “We were supposed to watch vigilantes from the sidelines, not get caught up in their mess.”

Kaboodle blinked guiltily at the floor, but Ash tutted them teasingly. “Hey, you were the one who said, “to research a project you must become the project”.”

Squiddo grinned and pushed him away. “Shove off.”

But Squiddo’s right, Kaboodle thought to herself. We were never meant to get involved. I made us do this…

The bullet swinging past her face flashed into mind—the way Squiddo had barely moved in time.

I could’ve gotten us killed.

She couldn’t let Squiddo and Ash get involved in her feud with Clown. She needed to do this alone.

Kaboodle buried her face in her hands, feigning fatigue, and left to brush her teeth. She didn’t miss Squiddo’s concerned murmurs as the door slid shut, but the bones in her body couldn’t care less.

When she finished, Squiddo went next. Kaboodle walked into the guest bedroom and claimed one side of the bed, sheets ignored as she curled into the warmth of her own body. She traced the soft bedsheets with a finger, exhaling as she let her feelings travel along the fabric, dissipating with every line she drew.

Around thirty minutes later, Squiddo walked in and crawled to the other side, folding the blankets and shifting a bit onto Kaboodle.

“Tuck yourself in,” They whispered. “It’ll get cold.”

Kaboodle turned herself around, a respectable distance between them, and smiled a little. “Thanks, Squids.”

“Always with you, Kabs.”

Silence once again.

Chapter Text

When Kaboodle got home the next day, bleary-eyed and thanking Ash as he dropped her off, she’d knocked on the door twice before entering. It was an average day with cloud cover and little sunshine, and the door to her apartment clicked normally as she swung it open.

Late morning light poured onto her home's polished vinyl planks and the dining table's granite top. However, tucked amongst the modernity of newer apartments, an unruly spot of orange caught her eye.

Kaboodle paused, taking in the stranger on her sofa—her brother on the floor with his head resting on the armrest. Was that…Mane? In her apartment? On her, emphasis, couch?!

Okay, what the fuck.

Kaboodle almost walked out the door, wondering if she should return later (read: never). That guy gave her the creeps—which was justified, by the way, because who threatened their minimum-wage coworker with their friends going missing?

Manepear. That was who.

As if he’d heard her series of disdained thoughts, Mane shifted on the couch, still asleep. His new position revealed an ugly gash on the side of his face, barely held together by amateur stitches and bandages.

Despite Kaboodle’s hatred for him, she felt a pang of sympathy. Her power tugged in her palms.

Am I why Clown brought him here? She gazed at her brother’s sleeping form. He was curled protectively inwards, eyebrows drawn close. To heal Mane?

Did Mane even know Kaboodle was Clown’s sister? Why did Clown bring him here? To blow his cover? She bristled at his thinking.

Is that all I’m good for?

Kaboodle marched stiffly forward to drop her backpack on the table, and Clown shifted awake.

“You’re back,” He stated.

She glanced at him, “Duh.”

Clown’s hair glowed golden as the sun caressed his features. Even the natural sharpness of his red eyes was softened by it. It made her feel slightly guilty about being mad, but had Clown ever considered how she felt?

“I know you’re not happy about him being here—”

“-I’m more than just unhappy,” she snapped. Quietly, though, because despite her frustration, she didn’t want to wake up someone injured who was asleep. “You know I don’t trust him.”

Clown sighed, looking down at the carpet he was kneeling on. “He didn’t have anywhere else to go. He walks around this city on a false ID, and Flame can’t take him in.”

“Why not?”

“Parents.”

Kaboodle moved away from the table, annoyance evident, but the thought of someone walking alone in the city, knowing they could be arrested any second, pulled something in her.

She gritted her teeth.

“You were the only person I could think of,” Clown murmured, standing up to meet her halfway.

He reached out a hand; knuckles crimson and a cut on his arm.

Kaboodle stared at the outstretched offering, her powers pulling at her heartstrings—the desire to help overwhelming. Still, her distrust for Mane stabilised her, stamping down her instinctive ability to help.

“Does he know?” She asked, “About us?”

Clown frowned, tilting his head consideringly at Mane’s still form. “I believe he suspects. He pretends to be shallow, but I feel he knows more than he lets on.”

Kaboodle faltered, mind ticking. Clown didn’t know she knew how Mane acquired these injuries, and she had to ensure he never did.

Kaboodle moved slightly closer to the sofa but didn’t take Clown’s hand.

Carefully she asked, “How did this happen?”

The hatred Mane used to display so willingly was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a still lake of serenity was smooth over his features.

Kaboodle pushed back her side bangs, narrowing her eyes at him. It was a facade. Even the clearest, calmest of oceans were susceptible to the storms of animosity. She would have been more sympathetic if she hadn’t seen him at the bank and then had that interaction at The Lighthouse. However, all that did happen and Kaboodle couldn’t shake away the nausea rolling through her veins.

Clown shifted minutely on his feet, adjusting his stance to be more stable. It was subtle, but to Kaboodle it spoke volumes.

He’s getting more comfortable to lie. He’s willing to lie to me. She pushed away a spark of panic at that thought.

“It was an average patrol,” Clown finally answered, head lowered but looking her straight in the eye. “They had suppressors again. Ones that can activate on command.”

Kaboodle kept her eyes trained on Mane. She didn’t feel strong enough to meet Clown’s gaze.

He’s telling you the partial truth, her mind whispered. He’s not lying to you.

She bit back the thoughts. He might as well be.

“I’ll heal him,” Kaboodle answered, moving away from her brother. “But I don’t want you bringing him here ever again.”

Clown nodded, accepting her terms. “Very well.”

He lowered to shake the vigilante awake.

Mane must have been a heavy sleeper because it took three shakes to get him to respond. On the fourth, his eyes cracked open, a yawn threatening to pull at his features before he stumbled upright into a sitting position, back pressed against the sofa as he stared wide-eyed at Kaboodle.

His eyes darted to Clown, face fluid with suspicion. “Um, bro, what’s she doing here?”

The older teen smiled apologetically. “She is my sister, who can heal.”

Kaboodle watched with a prick of satisfaction as understanding morphed on Mane’s face. It settled into a faint fear as he glanced between the siblings, but just as quickly, he switched to a sharp calculating look.

How… expressive.

“You can heal people?” Mane’s voice was accusatory.

Kaboodle sniffed the air defiantly, “Yeah.”

He stilled, eyes flitting over her as if in consideration. He turned slowly to Clown, who just blinked back at him.

“Alright then,” He shrugged, moving closer to her. “Go ahead, man.”

How nonchalant, she thought with a roll of her eyes.

Kaboodle inhaled, and her gaze travelled down the cut. Dark red stood out against the browns of his cheek. The wound was deeper near his chin, but as it carved into the flesh under his cheekbones, the blow softened.

Kaboodle took a deep breath and pulled her power into action.

A heartbeat later, it gave a strong pulse. Her hands grew warmer with the familiar bright pink glow. Her mind pulsed with magenta.

Mane flinched back as her palms approached, pupils constricting as the light grew closer to his face. The stitches in his skin unwinded themselves as they disappeared, their usefulness at an end. Kaboodle pushed her power and encouraged it to enter the cut, twisting veins and muscles back together.

Despite the numerous times Kaboodle had performed such a task, the morbidity still got to her. All the blood made her veins curl sickly, and her fingers twitched as she watched the skin stretch and mix. With a shaky breath, she closed her eyes.

The darkness brought forth threads of pink and blue. Concentrating, she could wrap her fingers around them, bringing them closer and locking them together.

Once all the threads were tied, Kaboodle reopened her eyes. Mane’s cheek was healed; a thin, pale scar where the ugly gash had once been. His yellow eyes were locked on hers, something unsaid between the two.

Kaboodle beamed on the inside, fluttering with pride as she traced Mane’s healed face. It felt good to be useful, to be helpful. It felt amazing to put her powers to use, even if she didn’t like the recipient.

“Well?” Clown poked at Mane, smiling. “Something you wanna say? Cough it out.”

He slapped Mane on the back as if he hadn’t been a ragdoll held up by bandages a second ago. The orange-haired vigilante wheezed a spluttering cough, before looking up at Kaboodle again, eyes disdainful.

“Thank you.”

She smirked at him, “You're welcome.”

Mane immediately turned away, dismissive. Kaboodle childishly pulled a face behind his back, the unnerving annoyance she felt around him flush after the initial smugness faded.

“What’s for breakfast?” He asked.

Kaboodle jumped, curling her palms into fists, left eye twitching. This little, ungrateful shit—

Eventually, after having him around for a few more hours (much to Kaboodle’s displeasure), Mane left in the afternoon.

Clown stood by the door to wave him off, and Kaboodle watched from farther away, wondering if he had somewhere to go back to.

The door closed. I’ll ask him when I hate him less.

“Surely, you don’t dislike him that much,” Clown suddenly asked, turning around.

Kaboodle blinked at him, stunned by how well he perceived her thoughts.

“You know that gut feeling when something doesn’t sit right?” She asked rehtorically. Clown nodded anyway. “It’s like that with him.”

The male pursed his lips in thinking, then made a face. “Flame’s known Mane longer than me. And, with his sense of justice, if Mane were bad, they would not be friends.”

“Ah,” Kaboodle mustered.

“Flame’s calculated, but reckless in action. Mane’s the other way around.” Clown sighed to himself, running a hand through his hair. Kaboodle watched the motion, feeling his stress from where she stood. “I feel like the string holding them together.”

“Your ego astounds me sometimes.”

Amusement dance in Clown’s red eyes, “You know what? Me too.”

Sunlight fell over the two siblings, silence frosting over them. Kaboodle blinked down at the floor— their argument coming back to her. Clown didn’t try to speak, but he moved closer, as if ready to talk.

The blue-haired girl backed away. He stopped.

“If you want me to stop getting involved, then you should probably stop bringing injured people over to our house,” She said jokingly.

Kaboodle tried to pull a smile, but the edges of her lips just tugged awkwardly.

Clown stared blankly at her. The joke didn’t land. Kaboodle shifted her feet.

“I’m quite the hypocrite, aren’t I?” He grinned suddenly.

She grimaced in his direction. I worry about you lying to me, but I also lie to you. If anything, I’m the bigger hypocrite.

But, instead of saying all that, Kaboodle simply remarked, “Aren’t we all?”

Clown hummed silently, hand propped on his chin. “For what it’s worth; you’re a little too much like me.”

“Egotistical?” Kaboodle snorted.

Her brother shook his head, though a smile formed softly. “You know what I’m saying.”

“I don’t think I do.”

Red eyes met hers. Kaboodle looked at him.

Clown’s stance was unguarded. His arms were open, and his eyes were warm. For a moment, Kaboodle felt like she was seeing him again for the first time—the cheeks she used to pull to make funny faces, and the hands that used to hold hers as they crossed the street.

She faltered, looking quietly away. But that was the past, wasn’t it? He was different now; changed to be more prepared, more cunning. His face was sharp with age and familiar with the whipping wind. His hands were no longer for holding but for fists and damage. All of it was her fault…

But I’ll make it up to him, Kaboodle thought in amendment.

She bid Clown goodbye, walking and walking until her feet stopped at her bedroom door. If she wanted to help, she had to solve this aquaxite problem, relieve Clown of his troubles, and hopefully complete the PIP.

If Kaboodle wanted to help, she needed to act on her intel.

===

Kaboodle hadn’t talked to Squiddo or Ash for a day. Which, personally, was a pretty big achievement. They were worried, of course, but she told them she needed space to think. They had both been doubtful but agreed.

She smiled, warm despite her cold face, and silently thanked them again.

It was raining.

As it turned out, yesterday’s clouds brought thunder and ice. Droplets splattered against her umbrella, the sky churned with grey and black, and the wind collided with her umbrella. Her shoes squished against the flooded pavement, and bubbles formed with every footstep.

Kaboodle pushed through the rain undeterred.

The girl eyed between the umbrella gap and the pavement to glimpse the road ahead. The streets around her were empty, and the occasional passersby who sought shelter stumbled past without a word. Cars rolled freely down the streets, windshield wipers in overdrive, and she prayed their wheels did not come close.

After a while of walking, fingers curled stiffly around the umbrella’s handle, she finally managed to arrive at Red’s workshop.

The yellow-and-black police markers were gone, so she concluded her access to this building was granted.

Kaboodle stepped inside, the doors closing behind her as she folded her umbrella away. Rainwater splattered over the floor; she pulled her satchel closer to her body.

There was no one inside.

A pale light tinted the place, and the front counter had a small sign: Under New Management. Right underneath, someone scribbled, Currently outside–will be back in 30 minutes.

The silence stretched uneasily, and Kaboodle looked around. Everything had been cleaned; the floor was free of wires and crates, and the blood split from the scuffle had been wiped. The sofa she’d sat on prior with Squiddo and Ash was replaced with three single chairs lined up against the shop window, and the counter looked deprived of Red’s tinkering tools.

The emptiness enclosed around her, and the faint static of rain drummed against Kaboodle’s skull. She let her eyes roam, landing on a white door behind the counter. In small metal letters at the top, it read: Staff Only.

Kaboodle shakily made her way to it. There was no lock.

They wouldn’t mind, she thought to herself. I’ll be in and out in no time.

The door opened with a creak.

Shadows were etched deep into the room, and the silhouette of boxes and tools was sharp against a pale, tinted window. The faint light wasn’t enough for Kaboodle to see clearly, so she fumbled to turn on her phone, turning on the flashlight.

It has to be here somewhere.

She looked around, shining the torch down. It lit up a few devices at the bottom, some parts removed and scraps recycled. Crouching down, she narrowed her eyes as the flashlight travelled down the row. Suddenly, a familiar, mockingly metallic glint caught her attention and she shuffled towards it, feeling successful.

Closer, the stormwatcher gave a hearty hum. Kaboodle put away her phone and pulled the cardboard box off the shelf; the pieces of metal inside clanging.

Red had placed a sticky note on the front; Ash’s name was written in small letters, underneath a combination of terminology.

Kaboodle unstuck the note with a hum, folded it, and placed it into her jacket’s pocket. She put away the box and held the stormwatcher in her hands.

The device was in pieces thanks to Red’s dismantling, but the parts remained. They buckled and clicked as she tucked them into her satchel, echoing in the small storage room.

A soft bing. Did she drop something?

Kaboodle looked down and reopened her phone, scouring the floor and taking a few steps back. With a pause, she realised she didn’t need her flashlight.

A blue glow emitted from underneath the shelf. She pressed herself against the cold floor for a better look, blinking past dust bunnies. It was a singular shard; crystal-like. Kaboodle carefully pushed her arm under to grab it, fingers curling around hard edges.

The girl sat back and inspected the crystal in her palm, marvelling as it buzzed with energy.

With wonder she thought, so this is aquaxite. The crystal gave a small but steady pulse, as if glad to be recognised. Distantly, she felt her power inquisitively shiver.

She felt for a pocket in her satchel and placed it safely inside. Standing up and dusting off her pants, Kaboodle prepared to leave.

The pale light of the room flickered.

Her attention snapped to the tinted window.

There were people outside, but their voices were indecipherable from her position in the room. Even with her ears strained, she couldn’t catch on to a single word.

Panic rose in her chest.

I just need a few more parts. She looked around the room, footsteps sharp as she inspected the boxes, careful to only touch ones without sticky notes. She took a couple of more metal scraps, a few wires, and a handful of bolts.

Bag satisfyingly heavy, she hurried towards the door.

Tap, tap.

She paused, gazing back.

There were distinctively human-looking shadows now flat against the storeroom’s window. A hand was raised, tapping the window calculatedly.

Kaboodle backed farther away. Could they see her? No way, right? She was safe— she was safe. She wasn’t doing anything wrong.

They tapped again.

If she got caught she could lie her way out of it.

Suddenly a voice spoke up on the opposite side of the window.

“Are you sure we can’t just enter through the front door?” They asked. It was faint, but Kaboodle froze. “Breaking in through the window before checking the entrance is dumb as fuck.”

A scoff, “Fine, I’ll go.”

Footsteps.

I have to leave.

Kaboodle scrambled away, not bothering to shut the storeroom door. A car was parked outside, but its owners were nowhere to be seen. The streets were empty, and it looked as if the rain had softened.

Taking her chance, she hugged her satchel and ran towards the exit, making a sharp turn to her left—away from the car and where the strangers would be.

Praying they wouldn’t turn the corner and see her, she screeched to a stop a couple of metres away, rain pattering against her face as she hid behind a wall.

Footsteps. The sound of dislodged water.

Someone inhaled sharply, their pace more urgent as they doubled back, a few words spoken.

Heart racing, Kaboodle exhaled and looked down at her shaking hands.

That was close. That was so, so close. If she hadn’t run when she did…

Kaboodle, panting, slumped against the wall, its watery surface sticking to her jacket. Her running shoes made a nasty, watery sound as she shifted them, her socks wet. She moved an arm to wipe the rain off her face, nose sniffling as fresh drops splattered across her cheekbones.

Satchel, stormwatcher, and aquaxite pieces close, she gave one final push and ran.

The clouds gave an angry lurch.

The storm resumed.

===

Running away, Kaboodle was unsure where to go.

Home? No, Clown was there. He would sense the aquaxite before she got to the front door, and their argument over help and usefulness would repeat.

Squiddo or Ash’s houses? Nope. Out of the question, she was leaving her friends out of this.

So, Kaboodle ran to the only other place she could think of. School.

Lifesteal Academy was a prestigious institute famous for its involvement in the sciences, art, and legal studies. Its students were one of a kind, too. Most of the student body consisted of powered individuals, while a smaller portion consisted of non-magical people. This was largely due to its focus on how the world bent around powers, offering specialised courses like none other.

It also handed scholarships to people they believed had something unique to offer, a gift that could change the world.

It was how Squiddo and Ash were accepted; their ability to shatter and reform reality captured the interest of many researchers. It was how Clown was accepted— his ability to create and recycle power challenged the law of energy conservation, raising many eyebrows.

But Kaboodle wasn’t accepted because of the mesmerisation and curiosity of others, no. How ridiculous.

She stopped at the front of the school, entering through the main gate and heading towards the reception. A row of gates barred her access to the building. Each aisle demanded a keycard for entry, which Kaboodle slid on top of the scanner through her phone case.

Once the gates gave a satisfying beep, she was let inside.

The entrance hall to the Lifesteal Academy was no short of grand. Tall ceilings and patterned floors, paintings and sculptures from past students decorating the place. It felt like stepping into a museum, an ancient energy humming through it all, but Kaboodle had been in here too many times to be caught up in its awe.

Instead, she rushed through the hallways, every turn memorised by heart, and arrived at the student-use laboratories.

Kaboodle sighed in relief, suddenly immensely grateful for the school’s twenty-four-seven services. Picking up the registration sheet by muscle memory, she signed down her name and time after checking the nearby clock.

Swiping the door open with her card again, she entered. Like clockwork, body attuned to the rhythm this place required, she slipped into her protective gear and placed the safety goggles on her head.

The laboratory was spacious. Its walls were lined with tables and cupboards attached to the ceiling, filled with different-sized beakers and tubes. There was also an island table with microscopes in the middle with black chairs tucked all around.

Kaboodle lined herself up at the workbench closest to the window, hands still slightly shaky as she lifted the stormwatcher’s parts from her bag, the faint light creeping into its crevices and curves.

Additionally pulling out her notebook and laptop, she set the station up neatly despite knowing it would end up a mess. Shirking on plastic gloves and taking out tweezers and tools from the bench’s drawers, she got to tinkering with the suppressor, writing and labelling as she went.

Not even thirty minutes in, Kaboodle identified that it was, in fact, very much like a bomb. She clicked to open a new tab on her laptop and found a bomb blueprint. She compared the two.

Hmm, similar, but not exact.

She pressed the pen to her bottom lip and then resumed detailing.

Once the final part was drawn with all its space for bolts and wires included, Kaboodle finally put the stormwatcher down, pondering.

It looked more like the shell of a device than the actual thing. She felt around her satchel for the aquaxite, pulling it out and placing it on the table.

Kaboodle furrowed her eyebrows, leaning back.

Wait a minute.

Hadn’t it been blue?

The aquaxite on the table was the same shape as the one she’d retrieved from the workshop except it was… unmistakably pink. Not just any pink—the bright pink that appeared whenever she healed others.

Tightening her gloves, she gently prodded it with a finger.

It shimmered.

Kaboodle moved to the island table.

Under the microscope, the crystal seemed to shy away. The girl’s eyes widened as the molecular structure of the aquaxite shifted; its original geometrical lining giving way to something more thread-like, more living.

Kaboodle narrowed her eyes, adjusting the lenses.

Yes. It was definitely shifting. It seemed unsure, even, like it didn't know what to mimic.

Carefully, she picked up her tweezers and moved them towards the aquaxite. Eyes on the microscope, she patiently prodded the crystal, watching as the waves of threads stiffened, the change in structure rippling into geometrical hexagons.

Kaboodle moved the tweezer away, and it relaxed. She grabbed her paper and pens, drawing small diagrams of what she saw.

This was… crazy! Kaboodle inhaled as she watched the crystal shift minutely again, awarding her another series of shapes to draw. She had never seen anything like this before because, well, she shouldn’t! It seemed reactive like an organism but took on the molecular structure of a crystal. It shapeshifted on a microscopic level and seemed very, very, much alive.

She exhaled, reminding herself to breathe.

But, that didn’t explain why it would suddenly turn pink. The girl sat up, lips pressed in a thin line, the grip on her pen loosening as she finished her final wobbly shape. Was there anything different from the conditions in the storage room to where it was now?

Heat, light, water because of the rain, maybe?

She gazed at the aquaxite from afar, too scared to handle it whilst she wasn’t calm.

Okay, okay, deep breaths, Kaboodle.

Kaboodle held the crystal with her gloved hands and walked to the sink, She held it just below the tap, tensing with strength as she tried to open the pump at the perfect degree.

The pipeworks croaked, and then a dribble of water fell across the aquaxite.

One droplet.

Two droplets.

Three.

It was still pink.

Kaboodle picked up her pen and paper and wrote ‘no observable change’ under the water column. With a hum of thought, she paced to the other side of the laboratory, grabbed a plastic zip-lock bag and used her sharpie to write: KABOODLE’S. PLS DON’T TOUCH.

She smacked the fridge closed with a satisfied nod. That should do it. Little students came by the laboratories anyway, and most lectures occurred in the building on the other side of campus. And, even if someone did decide to use this laboratory, the aquaxite should be enough to repel them.

Which reminded her! There was no strange feeling in the air when she handled the aquaxite, no sensation of her power diminishing, or a sharp force at work. It had just been the crystal, shimmering under intense lights and flexing to its surroundings.

With a curious tilt of her head, Kaboodle wrote one final thing down: It does not naturally have power-suppressing abilities.

She glanced at the pieces of the stormwatcher.

===

The sky was darkening when Kaboodle left the academy, signing her name and ending time on the same registration form.

Flaring oranges and deep blues marked the sky– bruises blooming across pale clouds. Specks of tiny white stars glittered overhead, twinkling to the beat of metal clinking against metal in her satchel.

Kaboodle played with her fingers as she walked home, fighting the urge to call Squiddo and Ash and tell them about what she’d discovered.

A cold wind blew down on her face, the approaching month of December whispering promises of frost and chill. While it didn’t snow in Lifesteal City, the temperatures dropped scarily low, and Kaboodle wrapped her jacket tighter around her body.

November was almost over, and the work of her PIP had to continue. She would sort out all the discrepancies between her friends, her brother, and her personal life later. Right now, she just wanted to enjoy the fading sunset and its less-perfect reflection on the vast, city skyscrapers.

Chapter Text

After greeting Squiddo and Ash at the gates on Monday, she immediately sprinted to the laboratories. In her frenzy, she ran past professors and students and caused the bluetacked edges of competition posters to rustle. Thankfully, her aquaxite hadn’t been tampered with and, even better, it was returned to its normal electric blue.

Kaboodle couldn’t confirm that it was due to temperature changes, but having as much data as possible was useful. With that being said, she took out her notebook and scribbled down the times, and under ‘temperature’, she wrote: Returned to the original colour (blue).

In the meantime, she decided to pocket the aquaxite. It wasn’t having any adverse effects on her, and judging by the number of people who had been in and out of the labs since yesterday, she was positive they hadn’t felt anything off (or otherwise security would have confiscated it).

Later in the day, she had discreetly asked her friends for their opinions on a device that could harness powers. Squiddo had knowingly raised an eyebrow at her, but they didn’t stop Ash when he talked about replicating an energy conductor.

All Kaboodle had to do was nod along while her friend nerded-out, take a few notes, get a general idea, and reverse engineer the concept of a suppressor— which was surprisingly easy with her blueprint from yesterday—for now, at least.

Hmm… If only she could find a suitable way to incorporate aquaxite into the device.

Which she had to do later, of course.

Kaboodle was at The Lighthouse again, slowly working through a small portion of orders. Once the hours of traffic rush finished, time was plenty. It was a leisurely shift she spent pondering the logistics of the stormwatcher.

Now, she was more of your three main sciences all-rounder, but that didn’t mean Kaboodle couldn’t pick up a pen and graphing paper to do the simplest planning for her so-called “anti-suppressor”. The name was a work in progress.

The store bell jingled, and Kaboodle looked up from her half-completed cappuccino to see Red walking inside.

Red was an interesting character after her previous “experience” with him at the workshop, people would probably consider them well acquainted. However, he was still nothing short of a mystery to Kaboodle, and due to her more recent misadventures (cough, walking inside the Staff Only room of his workshop, cough), she would rather it stay that way so she didn’t feel excessive guilt.

The red-haired man approached Kaboodle’s thankfully less orange coworker to order, flashing her a quick grin. He said something, her not-Mane coworker typed it out, and beep beep a “regular americano” flashed on her miniscreen under the title “incoming orders”.

Kaboodle finished the cappuccino and placed it on the table, calling out ‘Karen’ or something and waiting anxiously as Red approached her.

Does he know? she wondered as he sidestepped a customer to reach her. She swallowed a bout of fear. Surely not, right?

“Hey, Kaboodle,” Red smiled, now opposite her.

It was best to keep this conversation short, so she flashed him her most convincing customer service smile. “Hi, Red. How are you?”

“Good, actually. I got a new store owner filling in for me,” he said. “Would like to be there myself, but I’ve got caught up in other matters recently.”

Oh, Red was begging her to ask what it was.

Kaboodle expectantly raised her eyebrows, moving a little to the left to reach the coffee machine. Keep the conversation brief, Kabs!

“Oh? That’s pretty interesting. What kind of matters?”

DAMMIT. I’m too nice.

Red perked up. “I’m collaborating with E.L.O.S.P. to track down the girl who tried to rob me.”

E.L.O.S.P was accepting outside help to find Hannah? Why were they so desperate..? To anyone else it should have been an ordinary robbery attempt, but, oh! Kaboodle oversaw this before, but E.L.O.S.P must have known something if they decided to take an interest in Hannah's dealings.

That meant… That meant… URGH, she couldn’t think.

“Good luck, man,” she grinned, shaking a drink mixer diced with ice cubes. “How’s it been?”

Red sighed, shaking his head. “They think she’s involved with a covert organisation based in the outskirts. I’m getting assigned to track down the strange material they were attempting to steal from me.”

AHA! That was it!

But, wait. First of all, was he even allowed to tell her all this? Secondly, what did getting ‘assigned to track down’ aquaxite mean? Was Red going to manually visit every city block and look half-stupid asking for a crystal majority of the population had no idea existed, or did E.L.O.S.P have more knowledge about aquaxite than they let on?

Third of all, the outskirts?

“Um, you’re going to take the ice out of that, right?” Red suddenly asked, all the seriousness in his voice replaced with genuine worry.

Kaboodle looked up from her mixer, frowning deeply. “Of course.”

“Great, because I explicitly asked for a non-ice iced americano.”

Out there, somewhere, if it wasn’t Kaboodle who died, another fellow barista did. Why did no one call it a regular americano? What was wrong with this city?????

On reflex, she twitched away an annoyed prick in her eyes, mustering a strained smile. Red gazed at her with increased worry.

“That’s… a regular americano…”

Red simply nodded, which was the right choice because Kaboodle forcibly sealed the coffee and handed it to him with barely masked malicious, murderous intent (she wouldn’t act on it, of course, that would be far too much like Manepear).

“I wish you luck on all your E.L.O.S.P adventures,” she smiled as he took a sip. Lie alert! She was lying!

Red grinned back at her, looking ready for departure as he checked his wristwatch. “Thanks, Kaboodle. Have a good day.”

“All good,” she waved. “Travel safely.”

The man left with another jingle of bells and a closing door; gone like he had never appeared in the first place. That was life, she guessed and praised herself for not making the conversation as awkward as it should have been.

Kaboodle clicked ‘complete’ on her miniscreen and looked through the next orders. Thankfully two simple brews were left for the remainder of her shift, so she could be as slow as she wanted.

Her hands fiddled and the muscle memory of her legs guided her around the workspace. Kaboodle’s mind turned over the facts Red had just info-dumped onto her. There was something he had mentioned… something starting with ‘o’…

Oh, yeah! The outskirts!!

Kaboodle grabbed the pumpkin spice sauce, drizzling it lightly.

Lifesteal City was built near a coastline, but visits to the beach required at least a four-hour drive. However, the area between the shoreline and the city of skyscrapers was known as the rural outskirts.

She sent off the first of the two orders, shaking her wrists to prepare for the second.

As far as Kaboodle was aware (aka, what she’d learnt in school), there was little government control in those areas. Only the biggest roads for travel were monitored, and everywhere else was left to brew in a mess of unregulated and dangerous power use. The outskirts' vague history consisted of kingpins and rogue gangs, so in summary, a horrible place to be.

With that in mind, it was likely that Hannah’s little gang resided there. Sure, Lifesteal City wasn’t free of crime, but Kaboodle had never seen an organisation with more obvious ocean motifs (the shell-looking masks and embroidered waves, for goodness sake!).

For the second order, she kept her hands steady as she gently poured milk foam onto the coffee’s fragile, warm-brown surface.

If a teenager like Kaboodle could realise this, then an entire cooperation of intellectuals and high-ranking officials like E.L.O.S.P knew more than her, no questions asked.

Was Kaboodle curious? Yes. But was she going to act on it? Probably not, she had a lot on her plate.

Hannah’s organisation’s invention of the stormwatcher was forcibly taking people’s powers away. Not only was it a breach of rights, but if it got out and started to sell on illegal markets, it would render Clown even more vulnerable.

Best way to counter that without getting herself involved with the outskirts? Inventions of their own! Kaboodle needed to find a way to immunise her brother from the stormwatcher’s effects.

How to do so? She wasn’t completely sure. But, as she changed and exited the stuffy warmth of The Lighthouse into the cooling, seven o’clock evening, the thoughts of an ‘anti-suppressor’ gripped her mind.

It had to work. For her. For Clown.

Kaboodle fiddled with a soldering iron, squinting her eyes behind her safety goggles and smiling when the piece was finally attached. She shook her hand to release the pressure of grasping the pen-shaped device and leaned back on her chair to observe her progress.

It wasn’t much, but with a few more stray wires around the mainframe and a couple of more metal scraps here and there, it would finally be close to finished.

Kaboodle turned in her chair to look at her to-do list, which was written on a whiteboard hung up on her bedroom wall. At the top, it said: Figure out how to harness aquaxite’s energy. Which was easier said than done.

The aquaxite she retrieved two days ago was sitting in a small container in her dressing drawers. It was a risk bringing it home, but Clown hadn’t frowned like he did when she had the stormwatcher, and he hadn’t complained about some nonexistent buzzing in the back of his eye. So, in summary, it was safe to be around.

Kaboodle raised her prototype into the air, tilting her head to size it up. It was medium-shaped with a few wires weeding from its frame, silver in colour, and cold in her palms. So much potential stirred in its tiny volume. It had to work—it had to.

“Kaboodle?”

She jumped.

A muted voice came from outside her bedroom door, followed by a series of knocks.

Oh, fudge. Was Clown back from patrol already? The girl glanced at her digital clock, cringing when she saw WED 01:00 AM. Okay, okay, she needed to hide all this.

More knocks.

Kaboodle gently grasped her prototype and shoved it into one of her cupboards. She piled and pushed her blueprints and notes to one side, dusting her table clean and closing the soldering iron set Ash had let her borrow.

“Kabs?”

With a deep breath, she moved to the door, opening it to reveal a disgruntled-looking Clown in his vigilante wear.

“What’s that sound in your room?” He asked.

Wow, straightforward as always. No, ‘How are you, sister o’mine?’, or ‘What are you doing up so late, it’s way past your bedtime’ or ‘You’re not having another quarter-life crisis are you?’. Someone ought to punch a few manners into his ego.

Clown tried to peer around her, but Kaboodle got in his way, smiling broadly at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You sure?” He asked.

“Yup.”

He huffed, “I don’t believe you.”

She rolled her eyes, “Boys are so nosy.”

“I’m your brother!”

“Still a boy.”

“I’m twenty-one…”

“Yeah, and I was there when you turned. You aged before my eyes.”

Clown raised his hand to playfully smack her head and Kaboodle dodged it with a giggle, taking uneven steps back inside her room.

He paused in his movements, and Kaboodle realised her mistake too late.

“What’s this about aquaxite?” He asked.

She was keenly aware of how Clown’s was angled towards her whiteboard. In a panic, she flew towards it, covering it up with her body and grinning at him. “Absolutely nothing.”

Clown’s red gaze landed back on her. “Uh-huh. Nothing. Why are you trying to harness it?”

To help you, her mind answered, but Kaboodle pushed it away. “Research. Now leave, please.”

Clown twisted his mouth, unimpressed. “Kaboodle. Tell me.”

If only she hadn’t been so consumed by the idea of progress! Kaboodle shifted from where she stood. She would have to pay attention to her surroundings and work smarter next time. But, first, she needed to ensure there was a next time.

“Clown, if it was anything serious I would,” Kaboodle said placidly.

She took a step forward, trying to manoeuvre him out of her room, but he remained rigid, meeting her gaze pleadingly.

“You’ll get yourself hurt,” he emphasised.

Kaboodle felt a tick of anger. When was he going to learn she didn’t need to be fussed over? She could take care of herself— she knew the risks of what she was doing, and she knew it would be worth it. A world where Clown didn’t burden himself because of her was a world set right. She just needed him to believe her. She just needed to prove it to him.

“I’m smarter than that,” she bit, “I’m not stupid.”

“I know you’re not, Kabs,” Clown sighed, moving away from her and into the hallway, “but, there are things a seventeen-year-old shouldn’t do.”

The girl glowered. But it wasn’t fair to have him do all the hard work! Why did he have to be so independent and annoying and—

“Go to bed, Clown,” Kaboodle whispered. It was late; she didn’t want to do this again. “You must be tired.”

Clown shot her a concerned look, but the way he stepped back meant she’d won this argument.

In the light of the hallway, the frown on his face was worn deep—its shadows harsh against his pale face. Kaboodle stoically stared at the floor, unwilling to meet his gaze yet unyielding in her stance.

“Fine,” he said softly, eyes warm despite his initial coldness, “and you should sleep, too.”

Before she could get a reply in, he turned and left. His footsteps felt empty in Kaboodle’s heart, the close and click of his door a distance she dared not to cross.

With a groan of frustration, she shut her door, crushed with emotions she couldn’t process.

He was so… juxtaposed. Clown was like a big, overbearing bear. Ruthless and bloody, but also an image of warmth and tenderness. Kaboodle wanted to tear it out with her teeth, scrape her nails across his skin, then cry and cry and ask for his forgiveness.

She took a deep breath. ‘Calm, calm.’ Mother used to say ‘Picture a still ocean’.

Inhale… exhale…

Her phone started to beep insistently.

Who in the world calls at two in the morning???

Kaboodle marched towards her desk. Squiddo’s contact flashed and vibrated with demand and Kaboodle thought, of course, as she pulled the device to her ear.

“Kabs!!!” Squiddo’s voice chirped happily over the line. She flinched a little. “So, so, so, so— there’s this Young Innovators’ Competition coming up aaand—“

The blue-haired girl paused, sensing where this was going.

“Ash and I debated not going, but apparently your design gets pitched to the press—which is awesome. So, we wanted you to join us with your not-suspicious anti-stormwatcher idea.”

Kaboodle stood frozen, mulling the offer over as she gazed aimlessly at the walls of her room.

It wasn’t a bad idea, but she had wanted it to be Clown’s only. If it got into the hands of the wrong people (i.e., big, shiny corporate businesses), there could be some… undesired effects.

Plus, Kaboodle wasn’t completely sure if it would work. The aquaxite was still a huge problem, and she likely required several prototypes to get the desired effect. She wasn’t an engineering expert either, so…

“Kaboodle?” Squiddo prompted.

The said girl gave a startle, remembering the phone pressed against her ear. Sucking the inside of her cheek, she answered, “I don’t know, Squids…”

“Please? We need a third person,” They pleaded. “It’ll be a good experience! I know you’re busy with all your independent research—“

“—Squiddo, think about the PIP,” Kaboodle urged. “We can’t do both.”

She could imagine her friend rolling their eyes.

“We get the entire holiday to work on the PIP. Plus, the competition is a fortnight away.”

“We only have two weeks to build a working prototype?”

“Between the three of us, it’ll be a breeeeeeze.”

Kaboodle frowned, a hand in her hair, trying to weigh the pros and cons.

Pro: Squiddo and Ash would help her on the project, which meant having the device ready for Clown faster.

Cons: She’d be getting her friends involved in her misadventures, again, and, even if it didn’t get chosen to be pitched, Squiddo had implied it would be shown to an audience.

The girl sighed over the phone.

Squiddo was one of Kaboodle’s best friends ever. Her heart twisted just at the thought of turning them down but… It just wasn’t worth it. Refusing now could prevent something like the alleyway incident from happening again, and she needed her friends to be safe.

Kaboodle fidgeted with her sleeves, swallowing nervously before replying, “I’m sorry, Squiddo. I… I think I’ll sit this one out.”

She could feel their shock sizzle through the silence.

“Oh… That’s okay,” they answered slowly. There was a hint of disbelief, a little hurt.

Kaboodle chewed her lip with guilt. Maybe she should join. They were graduating next year, and who knew if this opportunity would return? Squiddo was right about it being good, timed, experience, so maybe—

No, her mind snapped, Squiddo almost died because of you. No more.

“We can probably ask Forcivit or someone,” Squiddo continued frettingly. “But, girl, are you sure you’re okay?”

Kaboodle huffed, flicking off her desk’s light and landing on her bed with a huff. She could see the anti-suppressor from this angle— peeking out of a pile of papers.

“I’m peachy, Squids.”

“Alright, then. Sleep tight?”

In the darkness, Kaboodle rustled in her sheets and readied to turn off her phone, “Sleep tight.”

The line went dead.

Kaboodle sealed her eyes shut, trying to hide from the world. Clown’s frown flashed in her mind, and the sad tone of Squiddo’s voice lulled like a siren. In a final, desperate attempt, she tucked her head into her pillow, wishing for the first time in a long time that she had a mother’s arms to return to.

Some warmth. A promise of safety. Hiding somewhere she was too big to fit (She wondered what they’d smell like; so much was forgotten).

She missed the way her laptop glitched.

So, the Young Innovator’s Competition was apparently, incredibly fire.

As Kaboodle walked into Lifesteal Academy the next day, overarching walls and the decorated windows spilling lit patterns across the floor, the competition was the topic of the hour.

The students walking past her were talking about it, the professors were nodding at posters, and even the cafeteria’s cooks seemed impressed. Passing through the hallways to her first class, it felt like Kaboodle was the only one not participating.

“Did you hear? They’re letting the Lorath Institute compete this year,” someone whispered.

Kaboodle minutely gazed in their direction, catching sight of a few boys huddled together. She briskly walked past them.

“Did you hear about the Lorath Institute participating in YIC?”

“I thought they were all delinquents, though?”

She flashed the speakers a surprised look, moving faster towards her destination, but it seemed it was all everyone could talk about.

Heels clicked and sneakers caught against polished floorboards. As Kaboodle waited to be let in the classroom, the hushed whispers of ‘Lorath’ and ‘competition’ continued.

She heaved a sigh and sat in the middle row, laying out her books and expectantly waiting for a certain someone to join her.

It was a fused biology and chemistry class, so Squiddo and Ash weren’t there. Instead, she was looking for… Aha! Right there!

A bob of bright yellow entered the room, making a beeline towards their usual seats. Their golden-brown eyes widened slightly in excitement when they saw her, and their bag made a heavy drop as it landed by the seat.

Kaboodle waved to Zam, who breathed a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair.

“I almost thought I was late,” he said. “All this talk about the Young Innovators’ Competition is so distracting!”

She gave him a genuine smile, patting him on the shoulder. “All good, mate. How are you?”

If ‘best friend’ was reserved for Squiddo and Ash, then ‘friend’ would be for Zam. They first met during a partnered lamb heart dissection activity. For three years now, they’d been in the same science class. It seemed like the timetable gods really favoured them.

It was a good thing, too. Zam was the school’s Mr Nice Guy, and he was flawlessly kind to everyone. The perk of knowing him before he gained his title, though, was being privy to a very un-nice side of him. No bad words were said! Zam just had a sharp tongue when it came down to it. Additionally, he was hella smart. If having the memory of an elephant came with comically natural, cartoon-yellow hair, then Kaboodle would trade for it any day.

Zam flashed her a grin. “I’m great. Just ecstatic about the competition, y’know?”

“Everyone’s talking about it,” Kaboodle replied with a roll of her eyes. “Are you participating?”

“No one to enter it with,” he replied, subdued. “What about you?”

“Not bothered.”

“Ah, that’s fair. Have you heard—?”

—Kaboodle nodded. “Lorath Institute, right? Why’s everyone so shocked? They topped Engineering scores for graduates last year.”

“Yeah, but they’re ‘outskirt’,” Zam exclaimed. “I couldn’t imagine anyone out there willingly getting a formal education.”

She frowned at him, “Let’s not be mean.”

“Just the truth,” Zam corrected.

Heavy footsteps indicated their teacher’s arrival. The well-dressed professor stopped at the front of the classroom and briefly ended the two teen’s conversation as they wrote down the lesson plan.

A silence fell over the classroom as the teacher pointed rapidly across their whiteboard. Kaboodle squirmed in her plastic chair, head tilted towards a window on her left.

A mosaic of grey clouds filtered across the pale, blue sky, and steady winds ruffled the leaves outside. Her gaze caught on a bird floating by, and she watched as it dived into the canopy of a tree, its black outline suddenly vanishing.

The classroom was filled with the clicking of keys and the occasional scribble on paper. Feet tapped against the wooden floor, and someone near the back habitually popped their pen’s clicker shaft.

At some point, deeply focused, Kaboodle heard the teacher encourage discussion. She tore her eyes from her notes and fell into a continued conversation with Zam.

“You know what the best part of the rumour is?” He grinned sharply.

Kaboodle gave him a fondly exasperated look. For someone caring and patient, Zam sure was invested in the latest rumour mills and drama.

“What, buddy?”

His yellow eyes were practically stars, so Kaboodle adjusted her full attention to him like an invested telescope.

“They’re saying the outskirts have finally gotten themselves together,” Zam breathed. “There’s talk of a new community growing there encouraging kids to go to school. Isn’t that crazy? They’re only like… fifty years behind?”

Kaboodle stifled a laugh, then stopped to take in the information. Think about it; if Hannah’s gang did originate from the outskirts, then their trades and dealings in the city could be considered organised crime. And, if Zam’s shiny piece of rumoured information was true, then the idea of a working community did not seem far-fetched.

The boy gave her a look, something calculating in his eyes.

“You realised something,” he whispered, smile growing wider. “Spill, girl.”

Ah, another reason why Kaboodle considered her friend smart. He was observational. Incredibly observational. But, she also knew he was strict about privacy.

“It’s nothing,” she replied. “I don’t know… They could just be getting lucky.”

It was a weak deflection— they both knew that. Zam’s goodwill kicked in and he simply nodded, the glow in his eyes retreating. Almost with a sigh of relief, she knew he wasn’t going to push for an answer.

Kaboodle looked down at her paper, gazing past the front row to write down something her teacher highlighted as important. Through it all, Zam was quiet, pondering. The end of his pen tapped against his book; a low, thudding noise drowned out by the hushed chatter and scribbling.

The more she thought over Zam’s rumour, the more she reasoned it could be true. She highly doubted Hannah’s gang could produce multiple, developing prototypes of the stormwatcher within a week. Another force had to be at work. Furthermore, Hannah was at that convention with her group for the sole purpose of trading aquaxite. This was looking more and more like something meticulously planned— happening right under E.L.O.S.P’s noses.

When Kaboodle looked back at Zam, the gold-haired boy seemed contemplative. Eventually, he turned back around to acknowledge her with a look, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Rule one of the rumour mill, Kaboodle, is that there’s always some truth in the gossip,” he sang.

She stilled. Zam grinned.

This fucker knew exactly what he was doing, and yet Kaboodle rose confidently to take the bait.

Chapter Text

Yes, Hannah was definitely from the outskirts. But why would they be in the city? And why would they make suppressors? Kaboodle pressed her brows together, playing with a fork and cafeteria food.

She didn’t feel like eating, so she’d gotten a caesar salad. Unceremoniously, she stabbed her fork through a green, chewing. Eventually, someone sat down next to her, a bright kind of warmth she knew was Squiddo’s.

“Someone isn’t at our usual seat,” Squiddo teased lightly.

No, indeed, she wasn’t. Kaboodle sat near the back of the rectangular cafeteria, facing away from a large window with her elbows on the table. Their usual seats were closer to the front where the food selections were, but Kaboodle chose somewhere quiet today, away from the other students on break.

“It’s too loud over there, I couldn’t think.” She admitted, finally looking up from her salad to register Squiddo’s brown eyes.

They smiled brighter, getting comfortable just as a purple figure pulled up, sitting opposite them. The brown-haired teen waved at Ash, who mumbled ‘hi’ as he set his food down.

Kaboodle noted he got the curry option, and Ash gave her a strange look.

The three sat in awkward silence, raising their spoons and forks to eat. Kaboodle flipped over a piece of lettuce, reluctant to meet any of her friends’ gazes.

Since they’d met on orientation day, they’d done everything together. Maths Competition? Applied as a three-man team. Literature and Composition Challenge? Three authors under a silly pen name. That one zoo excursion where their guide asked for “three brave volunteers” to feed the lions? Although with a hint of hesitance, them.

Now that Kaboodle had refused to enter the Young Innovator’s Competition as a group… That meant ‘things’. Her English teacher would probably say ‘connotations’ or something.

More chewing, Kaboodle shifted. Squiddo glanced at her.

It was Ash who spoke first.

“Why won’t you join the innovator’s competition with us?”

The blue-haired girl avoided his gaze, “Reasons.”

“What kind?”

“Reasons.”

Ash huffed at her, and Kaboodle fidgeted with her fork.

“What’s going on with you, Kabs?” He asked, concerned. There was a bite of accusation, too. “First, you decide to chase after some organisation trading aquaxite in the alleys and almost get yourself and Squiddo killed. Then, you tell us you need time to think stuff over. And then, you run off to the laboratories and stay there for four hours straight without a word.”

Ash took a deep breath, hurt flaring in his usually humoured eyes. “What are we supposed to think?”

Kaboodle bit her lip, “I’m not doing anything—”

“-You’re not telling us anything, Kabs,” he snapped, not letting her finish, “We’re worried about you.”

The girl paused, feeling alienated by the presence of her two friends.

They were right, she reasoned with herself. They have every reason to be worried.

With a calming breath, she replied, “I’m sorry, Ash.” She looked at Squiddo. “And Squiddo. I’ve just been… occupied.”

“We can all tell you’re occupied,” Ash started with a roll of his eyes, “But—”

Squiddo shot him a look above their glasses, effectively shutting him up. It would have been funny how quickly Ash stopped any other day, but Kaboodle was too focused on her frustration to react.

Squiddo gently rested a hand on Kaboodle’s shoulder, trying to offer her sympathy.

The girl flinched at the contact, her body screaming to move away.

“You can tell us what’s been occupying you,” Squiddo said, “You know we’d do anything to help.”

That’s the problem! Kaboodle furiously thought. I can’t have you helping me!

The warm, brown irises of Squiddo’s eyes flickered worriedly, and she squirmed under the attention, pulling away from her friend’s grasp.

“You can’t,” she half-lied, “It’s between Clown and I.”

Just stop asking me. Stop!

“Okay, we don’t have to help, but you can tell us about it,” they offered.

I said stop!

Kaboodle pulled further away, shifting until her body was no longer aligned with Squiddo’s.

She searched for an escape, her eyes darting between her two friends and the cafeteria's exit.

She didn’t want to talk about it. She ‘talked’ enough about it with Clown. It was personal business! They didn’t need to get involved. They didn’t need to ask so many questions all the time about why and when, how and what and—

“-Kabs?”

“I’m fine,” Kaboodle bit out, “And if you’ll excuse me, I have a lesson to get to.”

She did not.

Kaboodle rose rapidly from her seat, grabbing her lunch tray and silently registering how Ash tried to follow.

She marched to the bins, dumped the unfinished remains of her salad, returned the tray, and stormed towards the exit.

She half-expected someone to run after her, to shout ‘Wait!’ and grab her arm. But, as she walked away, all she felt were her friends’ confused, lingering gazes burnt into the back of her head.

I need to think. I need to—

Kaboodle brushed past students loitering in the hallways, careful to duck her face away from their fleeting notice. She quickly moved past classroom windows, hoping if anyone saw her unshed tears, they would assume it was a bad grade.

However, her carefulness evaporated as she stepped outside. Without a conscious thought, Kaboodle broke into a run.

Her bag thumped against her legs, the grass flattened under her feet, and the wind roared in her ears.

She tried to drown the cries in her mind; the suppressed ‘I’m sorry’ and the constant ringing of

‘What now???’.

What was she going to do next?

Kaboodle kept running.

Green grass nurtured by the academy's gardening club was replaced by wild weeds and bracken. Through the gaps of bare trees, sunlight fell on the ground in sparkles.

Kaboodle slowed to a stop, her breathing rough. Leaves crunched as she trampled them over in her stead, her body ached with anger as she clambered to reach her destination.

She didn’t choose this place and yet her body sought it out. It made sense, she supposed.

Kaboodle sat down on a log, body shaking as she drew in another breath.

She was sitting atop a hill— one higher than the dents in the campus below, overseeing the main cafeteria and its surrounding blocks. She could even see the staff parking lot from here.

The blue-haired girl stifled a sob, and let the small buildings and distant crowds comfort her.

In her first year at Lifesteal Academy, a few months after orientation, Kaboodle had struggled to keep Clown’s vigilantism a secret. When Squiddo and Ash talked about their parents and their jobs, Kaboodle wanted to share too. She wanted to be included— not left out. Her friends had noticed, of course, and pestered her about it.

“How does he make enough money for both of you?” Squiddo had asked.

“My aunt sends us money sometimes,” Kaboodle appeased.

Ash wasn’t satisfied. “But, surely you guys need more than that? He has to have a job. What does he work as?”

She watched him with wide eyes, the answer on her tongue, yet unspoken.

She pulled away.

“He… I don’t know.”

“No way!”

“It’s true!”

Squiddo playfully nudged her.

“We told you about our families, Kabs, so, you gotta tell us something, too.”

But I can’t! Kaboodle silently protested. She couldn’t! What if Clown got mad at her? She’d promised him; she didn’t break her promises!

Ash grumbled something but, overwhelmed, she’d exclaimed, “I can’t!”, and ran and ran until she couldn’t see them anymore; sat atop a hill, on a log, gazing down at the cafeteria, and willing herself not to cry.

It was kind of pathetic how she returned to one place for comfort.

Kaboodle knew her friends’ curiosity was genuine and she also knew their current worries over her weren’t unfounded, but she wished that for just one day everyone would stop caring so much. Everyone asked, and asked, and asked, and she didn’t want to share. She couldn’t. Not yet.

A stick cracked and Kaboodle snapped out of her thoughts, turning her head instantly to see someone behind her, awkwardly trying to get away.

She hurriedly dried her eyes and wore an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

They slowly turned around.

It was a boy a couple of years younger than her— probably in his first year. He had nervous golden eyes, but what caught Kaboodle’s attention was his white and brown locks that, intentionally or not, looked like an ‘L’ and a ‘W’.

He nervously smiled back, as if he was caught in the act. “It’s… It’s alright. Uh, Yeah.”

A pause. It felt like more should be said.

“It’s an awfully good view from up here. I’m glad someone else appreciates it,” Kaboodle replied

politely.

He nodded.

“Y-Yeah. Everything about this city— I mean, school, um. It’s pretty great.”

She raised an amused eyebrow at him, “What’s your name?”

He hesitated, eyes darting from her to the trees and then to her again. “Leo. Leowook.”

“So, Leo or Leowook?”

Leowook let out a nervous laugh. But was abruptly cut off by two, unflattering coughs. Kaboodle watched, concerned, as he held his elbow in front of his face, recovering from the bout and flashing her an uneasy grin.

“S’rry about that,” he sniffed, “I’m always like this.”

Kaboodle twisted her body in his direction, “Always sick?”

The boy flinched.

“Um, always like this when it’s close to December, I mean. It’s the… Chills. Yup, the chills.”

She nodded, “All good.”

Leowook fisted the ground with his sneakers, and Kaboodle noticed how worn they looked. He wore little, too; a simple, zipped-up, navy-blue jacket, and what looked like the school-issued shorts, she frowned.

She advised, “Wear warmer clothes. “It only gets colder, so tell your parents to buy you some. ”

“Just my sister,” he mumbled.

The wind blew his words away. Kaboodle cocked her head, “What?”

“Ju— Nothing, sorry.”

She looked away from him, “Probably best to get back to school.”

Leowook tried to answer but fell into another coughing bout.

Kaboodle’s power gave a weak pulse to the sickness, and she pushed herself onto her feet and approached the boy with a fresh wave of worry.

“Have you seen a doctor yet?” She questioned.

He shook his head quickly, “No doctors.”

Kaboodle’s face fell into a frown.

“I could walk you back down—?”

“-That’s alright!” Leowook exclaimed, taking a step back, frantic. Was that a flash of fear? “I, uh, I’m gonna, walk around for a bit. Walk off the coughs… And stuff.”

Not a very convincing liar, this one, she thought to herself but shrugged. He was probably skipping class to be out here, anyway; juniors didn’t have half the free periods seniors did.

“Take care of yourself,” Kaboodle said, turning to leave. “I’ll see you around, Leowook.”

“Yup! Definitely will be around. Maybe.”

She shook her head; juniors were so awkward all the time. She walked down the hill with her hands stuffed in her pockets, a better mood instilled in her after that interaction.

It felt nice to talk to someone who wasn’t involved in her life’s shenanigans.

===

Ash caught up to her after school, silently beside her in their habit of walking home together. Usually, Squiddo would be with them, but the teen had library duties on Thursday, so they were unfortunately busy.

Kaboodle kicked a loose stone from the pavement, watching as it skidded past a fence and into someone’s yard.

Was Ash mad at her? He seemed pretty annoyed in the cafeteria.

She reached instinctively for her hair, only to grasp at air and remember she tied it up today.

But, was he?

Kaboodle tilted her gaze cautiously to the side for a peek. Ash looked disinterested, lips pulled in a neutral frown and eyes focused on the road ahead. He didn’t look mad, but what if he was thinking about how annoying she was?

Kaboodle quickly looked away, now playing with the straps of her satchel.

Maybe she should smooth things out. Yes— she probably should. But what to say? She’d already apologised; should she apologise more?

Ash beat her to it, the silence growing uncomfortable.

“I’m not mad at you,” he admitted, albeit sharply, “We just do so much together, y’know? And I was kind of sa-confused when Squiddo told me you wouldn’t join.”

Kaboodle wasn’t looking at him, she wasn’t ready to.

But it felt nice to know he wasn’t angry at her.

“I almost signed us up without asking,” Ash continued, “But, Squiddo and I weren’t sure if you’d agree because, well, I said it all before.”

Kaboodle looked down at her shoes—leather black, then scrutinised the road ahead. The roofs of houses glinted in the lowering sun and the fresh grass that lined the footpath dried from the cold weather.

She cast him a glance, catching a moment of fragility on his face.

With her own sad look, she turned away and answered, “Yeah, I’m sorry. There are just some things I need to do on my own, and I know you guys have good intentions, but…”

She shrugged as if to finish her sentence.

Ash sighed, kicking his Nike Airs against the ground. “That’s fair.”

Silence.

Not awkward, but not comfortable either. A patient kind of silence.

“Just know,” he started slowly, “That whatever bullshit you put yourself through, Squiddo and I will welcome you home like a hero.”

A beat.

Kaboodle couldn’t help but snort in amusement, glancing briefly at Ash to catch his mouth twisting into a smile.

“You say that like I can actually change anything, Ash,” she laughed.

He shook his head, “At least you try.”

She missed a step. What’s that supposed to mean?

Eventually, like all walks, it came to an end. Kaboodle waved Ash off as he turned onto a different street, watching his purple-clad hoodie disappear behind a large hedge.

The space next to her where he’d been moments ago felt strangely empty, a cold wind dragging her ponytail and jumper back.

With a shiver, Kaboodle shook out her legs and forced her body to move.

Weak sunlight brought light to her surroundings, a chill in the air signalling the start of Winter. She hugged her satchel closer and counted how many days of school she had left.

Kaboodle paused at a crossing, looking left and right before hurriedly speed-walking across the road.

Twenty days. There were twenty days left. The Young Innovators’ Competition was a fortnight away, and her PIP was due after the holidays. The holidays were essentially a month and a half (yes, being in a prestigious academy had its benefits), which meant… Two months before everything was finished. She could live a normal life again. Hurrah!

Wait— no, that depended on how fast she finished the anti-suppressor.

Eh, two months was enough to finish that silly thing. She was almost done with the prototype, too.

Kaboodle would make it up to Squiddo and Ash then. Maybe she’d invite them to the beach? That’s where the outskirts were, though, so maybe not.

A car whizzed by.

She walked into her apartment and took the elevator to her level. Fiddling the front door key out of her bag, Kaboodle walked inside her home with a sigh.

“Clown?”

No answer.

Undeterred, she took off her shoes and wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a juice box before calling out again.

“Cloooown?”

Still no answer. So, not home, then.

Kaboodle found she didn’t mind; her prototype demanded attention, and privacy was welcomed.

With a spring in her step, she entered her bedroom. With a sip from her juice, she pulled the prototype out of the cupboard, and, in a different drawer, she pulled out a Miku-themed box with the stormwatcher’s parts.

The girl placed both trays on her table and sat down, contemplating as she played with the juice box’s straw.

The parts in the Miku box included a small ‘knob’ for the aquaxite. She didn’t know the exact terminology, but it acted as a conducting stand.

Thankfully, despite its exoticity, it fitted flawlessly into her patchy anti-suppresor’s model; attached by a few wires to the circuit and secured by little steel nails.

Cool. Engineering wasn’t that hard.

She gave her juice box a long sip.

Kaboodle, with extreme care, grabbed her tiny piece of aquaxite with a tweezer, bringing it closer and closer to the knob. The crystal suddenly tugged, causing the tweezer to jerk forward and slam into the conductor.

She stared as the aquaxite latched onto the knob, its iridescent glow doubling, faintly illuminating the anti-suppressor.

It trembled like a leaf in the wind, glow pulsing and pulsating. It looked like it was about to pop— about to erupt into flames.

Kaboodle pulled quickly away, fumbling her safety goggles on.

The blue aquaxite flared, washing her room momentarily in a stunning blue.

One heartbeat.

Two heartbeats.

Three…

The aquaxite settled, returning to a dormant state. Its colours paled, and she sighed.

Okay, a bit underwhelming, Kaboodle thought as she turned her attention away to grapple for the final piece.

She effectively entrapped the crystal within a hard plastic case.

Just as she was about to seal it, a spark of blue exploded from the gaps.

Kaboodle jolted, feeling her powers painfully lurch in response.

What was that? She thought, pulling her hands away, body stinging.

An anxious beat.

Nothing happened.

She took a deep breath in and circled her shoulders backwards, stretching. With a final glug from her juice box, she grabbed the final frame.

Her hand tingled as she grabbed her Phillip-shaped screwdriver, tongue poking out as she concealed the circuit-filled insides.

Aaand, walah! It was done!

Kaboodle lifted the prototype into the air, a grin stretching across her face. Relief and amazement poured through her body.

Thankfully, nothing blew up, she grinned.

All in all, it was boxy and heavy; larger than both her palms, but she reasoned it could fit easily into a backpack.

The girl swiped her most important notes into a notebook, stuffed it in her satchel with the anti-suppressor, and chucked her juice box into the bin.

It was time for the first test.

Kaboodle exited her apartment with the anti-suppressor in her satchel.

The air was cold, and the sky flushed into a darker blue. Her street was dim, the buildings casting long, stark shadows against the ground. The weight of the anti-suppressor slowed Kaboodle down, but there was an unmistakable skip in her step.

I did it! She was actually crazy enough to make something!

Kaboodle walked down a road, careful to keep her satchel still. There was one place she could test her invention in private.

Clown had shown her this place when they first moved into the city, yards away from their home and so far that the skyscrapers turned pale.

It was a forest, its darkness promising secrecy— somewhere to hide.

She was younger then, and it was a month after their father passed. Clown had held her hand as they walked through clumped leaves and heavy undergrowth, and he’d led her to a clearing he liked.

Kaboodle, alone this time with her hand in her pockets, wandered through the same forest.

When her father died, she felt… Relief. Most people wouldn’t be relieved if their parents passed, but for Kaboodle, it was different, to say the least.

Her mother was terminal, and no one knew a cure. Her father had suffered; hope for his wife suffocating him. He barely moved, barely spoke. Kaboodle learnt to deal with the quiet by reading, sitting next to his still figure, craving a warmth she remembered.

He never talked, but in her mind, he was having as much fun as she was.

It was a relief he died. He needn't suffer anymore.

Kaboodle wondered if he’d be proud. Maybe he’d be scared of her doing such risky things like Clown. But, no. He’d probably be proud.

He has to be proud of me, she thought determinedly.

A bird's flapping wings caught her attention, and Kaboodle shook away her thoughts and steeled as she entered.

Unlike the haziness of her memories, the trees were stark and naked. Bark peeled like skin, and the ferns and bushes were scarce.

A bitterness crept over the leaf debris, sourly crunching under her footsteps.

The wind howled lowly in her ears, her fingers cold as she navigated her surroundings.

Suddenly, a bright opening appeared, light passing through clumps of dead branches. Kaboodle squinted and ducked, stepping into an oval field.

It looked the same, just less green and beautiful than the one in her memory. Some trees were taller now, and the Sun could be seen setting on her left.

Kaboodle’s eyes welled at the sight of the clearing, her heart fluttering at its familiarity.

Opposite her was a boulder, its rough skin sharpened by winds. When Kaboodle was younger, it was huge, and Clown had dared her to climb to the top.

It barely ended past her head now, and Kaboodle smiled sadly as she walked to settle beside it.

Opening her satchel, she laid out her notes and carefully took out the anti-suppressor. She fiddled with a small pad of buttons attached to its side— a part that came with the original stormwatcher.

The leafless trees offered her little cover, but hopefully, the branches upon branches were enough to hide her silhouette.

Alright, test one, Kaboodle thought as she set up her phone nearby, turning on the camera and having it face her.

She hopped backwards a good distance with the anti-suppressor in her hands.

The frost in the air accentuated, but she paid it no mind.

“Date is the thirty-first of November,” Kaboodle said to the camera, unable to restrain her smile, “And the time is sometime around six-thirty. This is my first prototype test. The desired results would be a concentrated energy-field with enough rapidly moving particles it should, theoretically, show up on footage. Risk hazards are… I don’t know. Being blown up?”

She took a deep breath, the wind ruffling her hair.

“Essentially, it’s the opposite of the stormwatcher. Meaning it releases, uhh— Guh, no need to ramble! Test one!”

Kaboodle trailed her fingers across the small buttons, suddenly incredibly apprehensive.

This was… Kind of stupid. What if she actually did blow up?

What if it all backfired and the energy was so great it produced such high levels of heat that she combusted? What if— What if she died????

No, you’re not going to die, she thought quickly. Clown still needs you, and you need to make up with Squiddo.

But, what if she did. What if this was how Clown found her— dead in their childhood forest. And what of Squiddo and Ash? She wanted to be there for them.

For them all.

I won’t die.

Kaboodle gritted her teeth and slammed her hand onto the start button.

This would work. It had to.

Eyes screwed shut, she waited for the rumbling of a circuit— waited for the jerk of an engine coming to life.

Except… Nothing.

Kaboodle reopened her eyes, shoulders tensing. Now, her little monologue about dying felt stupid and humiliating.

She gave the device a shake. Did I not wire the circuit right? But I followed that YouTube video step by step…

The wind whistled in mockery, and she narrowed her eyes accusingly at the invisible taunt.

Any second now, surely.

She waited, but the device in her hands grew heavy.

Her expectations drowned- so much for dramatically dying.

Maybe I should have asked Squiddo and Ash for help, Kaboodle thought, deflated. I’m horrible at this.

With a sigh, she prepared to turn the camera off when, suddenly, the anti-suppressor vibrated weakly in her hands.

Kaboodle paused, holding her breath, mind racing. Come on, come on! Please!

A wave appeared.

A grin split across her face.

It was small at first, like how the air rippled on hot, Summer days. Except, unlike the natural phenomena, the waves increased in frequency, taking on a very obvious pink colour.

The aquaxite’s reacting to something, Kaboodle realised, her heart igniting with hope. But to what? The temperature?

No. It couldn’t be.

Her prototype shuddered; pink, untouchable waves rolling off faster and faster.

It was reacting to something near.

Kaboodle gave a startled yelp as her power jolted, knocking her backwards a few steps.

It was reacting to her!

Of course!

The anti-suppressor groaned to life, the circuits and electricity sparking under its metal surface. Hot.

Slowly, and Kaboodle could not exaggerate this enough, but incredibly slowly, a sphere formed around her, shimmering pink.

The girl released an astonished breath. It was working! Working! She made something that worked!

Okay, okay. Her thoughts ran each other over.

The device was currently outputting an extreme amount of energy— which should be caused by the aquaxite.

Kaboodle didn’t know how the crystal functioned, but an educated guess from her past experiences suggested that it sent off concentrated waves frequencies that disorientated someone’s magical abilities.

Now instead of releasing waves, Kaboodle had wired it to concentrate energy in a spherical field around the wielder. The energy caused particles in the air to move so fast that nothing should phase through it. No objects, no nothing.

The girl took a step forward, watching as the field of energy adjusted to match her movements.

The device purred like a motor, emitting a sharp grinding noise.

The pink case protecting her pulsed, breathing life for the first time. She’d expected this shape, but not the colour.

I wonder if the aquaxite is pink again.

The trees outside her sphere seemed to glow, and the atmosphere felt weightless. There was something else, too, an indescribable feeling fluctuating in her veins— her power bubbling and hissing.

Theoretically, the sphere of energy should hold for as long as the user needs. Curious, Kaboodle tried to touch the surface, her fingers barely grazing the glowing pink when, without a warning, the sphere fell in on itself with a shriek.

Pink crackled dangerously, and the air frighteningly rippled.

Kaboodle tried to inhale, drawing an unsuccessful breath of panic as she felt the world tremble.

Oh, fuck, she thought intelligently. Because indeed, oh, fuck.

The floor swayed, and she tried to right herself.

Why is this happening? Something’s collapsing— too much energy? Too little energy?

The magic hissed, spitting and snarling.

The energy is spread in a sphere, meaning it should be distributed evenly. Kaboodle glanced at the buttons on the anti-suppressor. However, there’s too much energy, which creates unstable particles to collapse.

She had to do something. She had to change something… Turn it up… Crank it?

Kaboodle’s hand flew back to the buttons. Two big ones for on and off, and a smaller pad of numbers and an input system.

Here goes nothing.

Hitting eighteen, Kaboodle bumped up the energy output by five.

The air gave a final, warning crack, and Kaboodle flinched, body crumbling under the sheer weight of the noise.

Something wet dripped onto her hand, but before Kaboodle could see what it was, her input finally registered.

Bright pink erupted from the device, and the teen flew to the ground, gasping.

She tasted grass in her mouth, spitting and watching as a dribble of blood splattered against the green.

The earth shook from the pressure, and the atmosphere tightened around her.

Kaboodle cracked an eye open, face contorted with determination as she pushed herself onto her elbows.

The wind whipped her hair back and forth, and her muscles screamed. Something was weighing down on her— an invisible force churning, grinding.

Too high, she thought with a flash of panic. Too much energy. I might be pulled apart.

She felt her skin tighten, and her knees go weak. She could die like this; imploding from pressure.

Very reassuring, Kaboodle thought to herself, watching as the encasing pink glowered and spat.

On the surface of the sphere, where the energy concentration was highest, magic crackled and spat, leaking fumes into the air. The force field seemed to ripple, oscillating, but struggling to distribute.

Kaboodle, with a grunt, tried to make her fingers move. I need to turn it down.

Her body reacted with a spasm, synapses firing as her nail poked the reduction symbol.

Trial and error, she thought with the glee of someone dying.

The output went down by three, hitting fifteen, but there was a delay.

Her prototype screeched, its metal frame seizing— bent like a soda can. The pink force field wavered, crackling like electricity.

For a moment, the air seized, compressed.

Kaboodle gritted her teeth, sitting upright as finally, finally, the command went through.

A resounding clap and pink flashed across her vision.

Her ears felt like they had been popped.

A heartbeat.

And then two.

She could feel the grass again— feel it prickling against her skull. Small stones were jutting painfully against her legs, so she gave her foot an experimental kick, feeling energy return to her body.

She cracked an eye open.

Magical. That was the only way to describe it.

Magical as the air suddenly lightened, the furious blushes of the pink sphere faded, giving way to a pale magenta.

Magical as the pressure on her was suddenly loosened, a perfect sphere encasing her.

Magical as Kaboodle shakily inhaled, the oxygen tasting sharp and filled with something.

She turned to the camera from her position on the floor. Her surroundings were tinted pink by the anti-suppressor, rippling. Fortunately (or strangely), her phone wasn't knocked from its haphazard position on a branch. She grinned.

I’m alive, her mind celebrated. I did it, I did it!

Kaboodle stood up, legs wobbly.

Where she sat moments before, the grass was reduced to a shrivelled mess. It looked like someone had dropped a large, hot pan on the floor, scaring the earth.

Everywhere untouched by the magic was fine, though, a natural decay from the cold weather.

Kaboodle silently filed this information away just as the anti-suppressor gave a failing groan.

She shook it, eyes wide, “No, don’t break on me now!”

As if flipping her off, the pale, magical circle shattered, sparkles falling to the ground.

The natural colour of her surroundings returned; dull browns and peachy oranges.

Smoke emerged from an open crease, and Kaboodle sniffed it, grimacing. Something was fried.

“At least we know it works,” she said to no one.

If I’d joined the Young Innovator's Competition, I would have totally won, she thought with pride.

Kaboodle pictured Squiddo and Ash, then conjured some vague memory of Forcivit, their third member. Yeah… She would've won. They could have won.

The wind blew in solidarity, and Kaboodle found herself alone in her success, the anti-suppressor cooling in her hands.

Was that worth it? A small voice in her head asked, prodding.

She stared at her handiwork, her notes on the floor, and then at the camera.

She registered a drop of blood on her hands, raising a delicate finger to massage her nose, bringing it up to her eyes and frowning at a stain of red.

I’m bleeding, she thought quietly.

What a keen, introspective self-observation.

Smoke lifted into the sky, dark against her wintry surroundings. Faraway birds chittered and chirped, and an orange blossomed across the sky.

Cold.

Kaboodle forced her legs to move for the third time today, approaching her phone and ending the recording.

She tidied up her notes, putting the burnt remains of her anti-suppressor into her satchel.

“Hey, at least we know it works,” she repeated.

The wind blew.

As stupid and as obvious as it sounded, she was the only one there.

Alone.

Chapter Text

When Kaboodle returned to her apartment, hands freezing and sniffling, Clown had greeted her at the door with wide eyes and a mug of hot chocolate.

“Why is there grass in your hair—”

She snatched his drink away, flashing him a lop-sided smile before leaving to place her satchel (and anti-suppressor) in her bedroom.

Clown just stared hot-chocolate-lessly after her, despondent.

Home was warm.

Kaboodle realised this as she held the mug closer to herself, walking back into the living room.

Before she returned, she’d paid a visit to a public restroom and wiped the blood off her hands and face. She probably gave the janitor there a fright, but who could blame her? She was just an innocent child (teenager) who happened to suffer from regular nosebleeds (she did not), look away!

Clown was in the kitchen remaking himself a cup of cocoa, and smiled at Kaboodle as she walked by him.

“Are you up for a movie?” He asked, moving past her to sit down on the sofa, patting the empty plush beside him.

Kaboodle just gazed at him, her body still a little sore, and her head still spinning.

Then, suddenly, a sharp pang of homesickness, and it felt like all her emotions were crashing down on her.

The loneliness; the silence after her success with the anti-suppressor. How she had no one to talk to because she pushed them all away.

Kaboodle retreated into herself, lips wavering into a frown.

She’d dug her own grave, and now it was her responsibility to dig herself out.

Clown’s gentle eyes bore into her, a kind smile on his face. How could anyone always be so kind to her? He was always there, even after she messed up. Clown was so hardworking and incredible and… And she’d missed him so much.

The younger sibling wobbled, her resolve crumbling.

In a flurry of swift, desperate movements, Kaboodle flung herself at him, pressing into his familiar warmth and breathing in, eyes oddly wet.

When was the last time they’d sat like this? Together; not a single argument. Kaboodle muffled a sob. Not for a long time.

Clown froze at the contact, a hand raised but hesitant. Gradually, like a spooked cat, he rested it against her shoulder.

Kaboodle sniffled, melting against him.

“So, not up for a movie, then?” He gently asked.

She shook her head, “No! I am. I’m just—“ she fiddled with her fingers “-Sad.”

Clown raised an eyebrow, pulling his sister closer with an arm. He wasn’t the best with words, so actions made it easier.

“What happened?”

Kaboodle shook her head, “December blues.”

Her brother laughed and she leaned into the vibration of his chest.

“It’s not even December yet.”

It was close enough; tomorrow.

When Kaboodle didn’t muster the energy for a reply, Clown simply took it as a hint to pick out a movie.

Warmth. Home…

The girl watched the TV flicker through the cracks of Clown’s arm and her jacket.

He tapped her on the head two times.

“What about this one?” He asked, gesturing with the remote.

Kaboodle pulled away from him, sipping her hot chocolate judgmentally.

“It’s so boring, though,” she frowned.

Clown shrugged, smiling, “Maybe some simplicity is what we need.”

She allowed that to sink in.

===

A week later, Kaboodle found herself in an odd mess.

While working on her prototype, she’d also wrangled answers out of Clown for the PIP. At first, he hadn’t been very useful, but then she threatened that if he didn’t start pulling himself together, then she’d write him off as an oaf on the report. Simply said, he was very against that idea.

A couple of days later, Kaboodle found herself sitting through a multitude of exams. The end-of-year rush to get tests out of the way for the student report cards seemed highly unnecessary, but, inventing magic or not, it couldn’t wait.

She was pretty sure she aced her English Extension paper, though.

Kaboodle had also researched Zam’s rumour about the outskirts banding together.

He was right, of course. Some independent researchers detailed strange, planned occurrences in towns closest to the No Man’s Land between Lifesteal City and the outskirts. There were also a bunch of conspiracy theories drifting around Reddit, but none had falsifiable information.

So, Kaboodle decided to drop the topic. She’d go back eventually because of Hannah’s connection to the outskirts, but life was busy.

Even better (or worse), December was halfway done by the time the Young Innovators’ Competition rolled around.

Kaboodle was going as Zam’s plus-one because, as it turned out, he hadn’t joined either. Something about “having the skill but not the passion”. Honestly, based.

However, it was only once the invitation was extended that Kaboodle realised she had to wear formal clothing (the Lorath Institute students were given a pass, though).

Okay, look. It wasn’t like Kaboodle didn’t own formal clothing, the problem was that she wore school uniform so often she didn’t need any.

A formal school event? Uniform with a blazer. A school excursion? Sports uniform. Hanging out with Squiddo and Ash at a nice intercity venue? She owned a few casual dresses and pants.

So, no. She did not own anything formal, which was precisely why Clown was dragging her into a suit store.

“I know you barely wear dresses so, that’s why I’m getting you a suit instead!” He told her on the bus, red eyes glowing.

Kaboodle had frowned at him. “When did we become rich?”

Clown made a shifting expression that said, ‘better not to know’.

She relented.

The store was… Okay. It wasn’t a fancy, extraordinarily rich space with accommodating sofa seats and chandelier-esque lights, but it wasn’t something she saw often enough to take for granted.

The floor reflected her face, and the pressed coats and shiny lapels made her suddenly very self-conscious of her track pants and sweater.

Clown carried himself differently, too. Much calmer, with a certain element of fluidity in his movements.

It was on purpose, Kaboodle realised as a store worker eagerly walked up to them. If you acted like you belonged somewhere, people generally assumed you did.

She huffed, trying her best to imitate him.

“Hello,” Clown greeted the worker, “I’m looking for a suit that’ll fit my sister?”

The worker, a woman with picky eyes and silver-rimmed glasses, inspected Kaboodle with a sharp look.

She tried to stand a little straighter.

However, they instantly looked away. Kaboodle felt her neck prick in humiliation.

“Are you sure, sir? What about yourself?” The lady frowned. Her voice was clipped, ‘no-nonsense’.

Clown shook his head, walking closer to Kaboodle and resting supportive hands against her shoulders.

“Nothing for me, I fear. If you could just do my sister, I’ll be incredibly grateful.”

His tone matched the lady’s, equally fed up. Kaboodle didn’t need to turn to know he was slightly glaring.

It worked, though, because she watched as the worker reconsidered, grey eyes moving from Clown to Kaboodle. They plucked out their bottom lip, a hand on their chin.

Something was calculating in her eyes, and Kaboodle couldn’t tell if it was experience or something else entirely.

“Come with me, dear,” the lady eventually said, “And call me Amora.”

Clown and Kaboodle started, but Amora gazed at her brother sharply. “Not you. Just your sister.”

Clown awkwardly paused mid-step, catching himself and nodding solemnly.

Amora beckoned Kaboodle over and the girl followed wordlessly. She threw a glance over her shoulder to see Clown, who gave her an encouraging thumbs up.

She rolled her eyes at him, turning away.

“You and your brother are very strange, hm?” Amora said.

Kaboodle jumped a little, eyes wide. “What makes you say that?”

But the worker was already facing away, hands gliding across a rack of suits.

“Name?”

“Kaboodle.”

“Kaboodle, Kaboodle,” Amora hummed as she turned back around, a suit in hand as the rack clacked dangerously.

She held it up right next to Kaboodle, who froze under a severe gaze.

“Hm, is your hair natural?”

Amora grabbed a stray blue lock, eyes narrowing at the colour before she tucked it behind Kaboodle’s ear.

The girl, bewildered, took a small step back.

“No, it’s dyed.”

Amora raised an eyebrow, lips pressed thin as she drew back also. Suddenly, as if she made up her mind, she spun back around to grab another suit, comparing the two options before throwing the first one away.

She held it up next to Kaboodle again, frowning.

This can not get weirder, she thought to herself as Amora tutted again and grabbed another suit.

“You seem like the person to keep your troubles to yourself,” Amora said like she was simply stating a fact.

Kaboodle felt her mouth fall slightly open. It can get weirder…

“And your brother, too.”

What could she even say to that? Defend them? Was Amora a social experiment pretending to work at a middle-class suit shop? Was Kaboodle secretly being filmed for a television series?

“Um,” Kaboodle stared, speechless.

Amora clicked her tongue, nodding to herself.

“Yes, this suit will have to do. Blue looks good on you, child.”

Kaboodle nodded slowly.

“Orange would be half bad,” the worker continued.

Orange? She blanched. Ew.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Amora glared. “Not a saturated orange. A dull one. Like roasted orange peels.”

That was awfully descriptive.

Kaboodle just stared as the worker pushed the suit further against her chest.

“Well, are you going to try it on?”

She nodded quickly, snatching the suit away and heading into a changing room.

Okay, so that lady was super weird. This was on Kaboodle’s top ten weirdest interactions for sure.

She buttoned up the suit over her sweater, grimacing as its long sleeves caught on the suit. It looked— she had to admit— good. Colour-wise. Amora was good at choosing colours.

The suit was pearly blue, lighter than her hair to attract attention to her face, but not so pale that it looked ridiculous. There was a charming shine to it too, with faint patterns around the sleeves and edges.

She silently wondered how much this would cost.

When Kaboodle was done, she exited the change room without much flourish. Amora waited outside like an impatient mother, face twisting judgmentally as soon as she appeared.

“Hm, not bad,” she stated, motioning the girl closer and getting her to do a spin. “The cuffs are a bit too long, though.”

Kaboodle tucked her hands into her sleeves abashedly.

“Another spin for me, please.”

She did so, wobbling slightly in the unfamiliar clothes.

“Insecure,” Amora whispered, “But not hopeless, either. You try your best.”

Kaboodle stopped in her spin. Okay, so she came here for a suit, not a diagnosis.

“Do you just say these things aloud?” She finally asked, tone flat. “Why do you even–?”

Amora shrugged, “Don’t know if it’s a power, or because I’ve worked here for too long and met too many people. It could be either.”

Kaboodle silently seized them up.

She did look pretty old, actually. Her blonde hair was giving away to white, and the ghost of crowfeet could be seen along the edges of her eyes.

It could be wisdom, or it could be a power. Either way, it was very invasive.

“You’re not here to stare at me, hunny,” Amora suddenly chided, shocking Kaboodle out of her stupor. “The suit will need some reworking. Do you want to show your brother before you take it off?”

She blinked, then nodded, feeling like a little kid again.

Clown was paying for it, she supposed, so he probably should know what he was buying.

Kaboodle speed walked away from Amora’s prying gaze and sought out her brother’s locks.

Clown was standing awkwardly in the corner of the store, bracketed by two shelves of dresses. He looked incredibly out of place— all darkness and red beside frilly laces and blues.

Kaboodle giggled, and he looked like he would be embarrassed, but his eyes widened at her suit.

“Kabs!” Clown exclaimed, moving up to her with a grin, “You look great!”

Kaboodle rolled her eyes, raising her arms to show off the sleeves.

Her brother sniffled, looking all nostalgic, and patted her shoulders.

“My baby sister, all grown up.”

He looked scarily close to the verge of tears.

Kaboodle laughed and hugged him tightly around the waist.

“Shut up, you big oaf.”

Clown grinned at that.

When the two siblings turned back around, an unimpressed Amora stood waiting. She looked like she’d seen too much sappiness for one day and raised an eyebrow.

“You’re going to crease the suit.”

Kaboodle released Clown from her embrace, smiling sheepishly.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’ll change out of it?”

Amora nodded approvingly, “Please.”

After the suit was folded and sent off for changes to the sleeve cuffs, Clown paid in cash. Cash that looked very familiar. Worn edges, kind of dusty.

Kaboodle’s gut sank as recognition settled. Blood money.

She barely heard Clown as he talked her out of the store.

What’s the point in questioning it? She thought as they walked past crowds of chattering people. I can’t stop him.

The suit arrived packaged two days later.

===

The Young Innovators’ Competition was held in Lifesteal Academy's Great Hall, where a school’s worth of chairs was easily hosted, and seats for supervisors, the media, and guardians were put at the back.

What Kaboodle found the most impressive, though, was the dazzling networks of unique lighting she recognised as assignments for the younger students. They were placed purposefully over cracks in the walls, hiding any imperfections from cameras and wide-eyed Lorath Institute students.

Speaking of the Lorath Institute, they were all relatively nice. Zam had dragged her around socialising, and she’d learnt most of them were from the outskirts.

They were wearing school uniforms, as opposed to Kaboodle and Zam’s respective pale blue and mustard-coloured suits. Which, honestly, wasn’t much of a surprise after she considered the poverty trend in the outskirts.

Kaboodle lent whichever Lorath student she met a bright smile.

The event was scheduled so that every presentation was fifteen minutes, and audience members were given ten-minute intervals between speeches to get their blood circulating again. Presentees, though, were told to return backstage, which was why Kaboodle hadn’t gotten a chance to greet Squiddo and Ash.

They were about an hour into the event when Squiddo, Ash and Forcivit— a few rows in front of Zam and Kaboodle— got up and disappeared from view; most likely to prepare their slides and go over their speech.

Kaboodle found herself extremely excited.

Her friends were no doubt geniuses, and to see their continued efforts during the weeks leading up to this event brought a smile to her face— even if they were weirdly secretive about it. Well, heh, surprises, was she right?

Applause rang as some group finished, and Kaboodle clapped.

As soon as respectably possible, she excused herself from Zam with a smile and hobbled towards the food selection.

Kaboodle wanted to surprise Squiddo and Ash after the convention finished; they probably weren’t aware she had come. She wanted to show off her new suit too, it looked epic under the purple lighting— all sparkly.

She found herself in the dessert section with an itching sweet tooth.

Her original seat with Zam had disappeared somewhere into the distant lights and murky surroundings, but she was confident she’d locate his bright hair a minute or two after everyone settled down.

And she meant everyone.

There were so many people; at least three different schools with every representative spread far and wide.

People largely stuck to their existing friend groups, but as Kaboodle raked her eyes down the side of the hall, she could see a few Lorath kids experimentally conversing with Lifestealers.

Her tummy rumbled. Ah, yes, desserts!

Kaboodle hummed thoughtfully at the puddings, then examined the jelly. Or, maybe she was craving apple pie? Mm, she hadn’t had those in a while.

Luckily, there was only one left.

She reached for the delicacy, already licking her lips when a different hand flashed outwards and grappled for the food.

What the— her pie!

Kaboodle glared, attention undivided as she immediately held onto the other end of the pie, causing it to slip out of the stranger’s grasp and fall onto the plate.

This was her apple pie, for goodness sake! She deserved this after all the pain and magic she’d been put through.

Her challenger seemed to be having the same thoughts because they fought unrelentingly, the bowl tilting and the apple pie threatening to fall.

Kaboodle glowered and stuck a second hand into the fray.

She snatched, they snatched. She pulled, they pulled. And, finally, she lost all dignity and fell onto an unfortunate path of greed; smacking the stranger’s hand away and stuffing the apple pie in her mouth.

She relished her hard-worn, bittersweet victory as the dessert melted on her tongue. It tasted like paradise, like drinking water after years of dehydration. until…

Kaboodle saw who she was fighting with.

Fuck.

The girl coughed, almost choking on her prize.

Mane, orange hair neat for once, stared incredulously back at her, a threat behind his eyes.

“Why the hell are you here, bro?” He frowned.

She banged a fist against her chest, willing the poorly chewed food to swallow.

Now was not a great time to be dying!!!!

“Uurrgk,” Kaboodle intelligently stated, still choking.

Mane stared at her with undisguised apathy, “That’s rich, coming from you.”

She shot him a glare. She may be choking, but she had ears and would not, under any circumstance, be made fun of.

At that moment, in the only language she could speak, Kaboodle sagely flipped Mane off.

His annoyed grimace only grew.

“You take my apple pie, and flip me off? If your government doesn’t get you, I will—“

“-Why the fuck are you here?” Kaboodle screeched, finally regaining her voice.

Mane sniffed the air, arms folded against his chest. “Like it or not, I invent. And you’re here because?”

“Plus one,” she snarled. “But, I’ll have you know I can make anything I set my mind on.”

Like blowing you up with my mind, she thought, glaring daggers.

The boy huffed, “Yeah, right. Blow the wave bigger, will you?”

Kaboodle paused. What kind of idiom was that?

And then, she realised.

It was a systematic, aided epiphany. At first, she caught the thin scar from last time across his cheek. Then noticed a glinting badge on Mane’s outfit; one that spelt ‘LI’. And then, she spied the dusty, blue uniform that did horrors to his orange hair.

The passing-by of two Lorath Institute students with identical uniforms made her gasp out loud.

“Done piecing it together, genius?” Mane mocked.

Kaboodle flashed him a frown, “I didn’t know you were from the outskirts.”

The vigilante scoffed, “Because I’m not. The Institute isn’t just for outskirt kids; it’s for anyone without a place to go.”

And then, it hit her like a truck; Mane’s fake ID.

Kaboodle was about to wind up saying an apology, but an amused, reverberating chuckle caught her attention.

“As much as we encourage students from different schools to converse, it’s probably best for you two to sit down.”

The two teens froze, suddenly aware of the bright lights and soft chatter.

Kaboodle spun on her heel, catching sight of the competition’s hostess, Kokoro, smiling at them from her position on the stage.

Everyone was watching them.

All two hundred attendees.

Kaboodle tried for an apologetic smile, but it felt foreign and embarrassing on her face. Instead, she looked for the only two available seats and raced there, sitting down.

Mane followed, sitting right next to her.

She swore she heard Zam laugh somewhere near the back. She would’ve turned her head to glare, but the hostess tapped her microphone again and it all fell silent.

“This is all your fault,” Mane hissed.

“How was any of this my fault?? I was obviously grabbing the pie first.”

“Ahem,” the person next to Kaboodle politely coughed.

She ducked her head in embarrassment. Right.

A heart full of humiliation and newly pumped, fresh bad blood for the person sitting next to her, Kaboodle remembered who the next presenters were and forced herself to calm down.

Down, she thought. Squish that hatred. Squish that anger. Not the time, not the place. Preferably punch him outside, or explode him with your thoughts.

She turned to glare at him in an attempt to explode him.

It wasn’t very effective because Mane just glared back.

Kokoro beamed, the spotlight falling flattering over her hair and highlighted cheeks. She brought the microphone to her lips.

“Now, for our eighth presentation, please welcome Squiddo, Ashswag, and Forcivit from Lifesteal Academy!”

Cheerful applause erupted, and Kaboodle forgot about the boy next to her in favour of clapping eagerly.

Squiddo, Ash, and Forcivit emerged from the velvet curtains, a grand beam of light illuminating them.

They looked… Great.

Squiddo had their face done with makeup for once, practically glowing with pink eyeshadow, and Ash looked as if he’d won Holistic Learner for the fourth time in a row. Forcivit— Kaboodle didn’t know him that well— also wore a blue suit, two goggles resting atop his jello-like hair.

Kaboodle beamed, whooping as the welcoming applause died down.

That was when Squiddo found her gaze.

That was when it all went wrong.

Her friend’s eyes widened, a look of surprise quickly replaced by horror.

Kaboodle stared back, smiling, but Squiddo looked quickly away, leaning discreetly onto Ash and murmuring.

What was happening? Why was Squiddo looking at her like that?

Ash, eyes narrowing the more Squiddo whispered, looked as if he was searching the audience. Finally, his gaze rested on Kaboodle, a similar look of shock taking over his features.

Okay, was she missing something? Someone ought to fill her in on what was happening.

Kaboodle self-consciously touched her braids. She’d done both on either side today (with Clown’s help) and stuck a finger through a loop.

“Everything alright?” Kokoro asked the three on stage.

Squiddo laughed, always a ray of sunshine, “Yeah, just the nerves. We’ve been working on this thing for ages in the workshops and school labs. To have it suddenly presented in front of all these people is…”

Kokoro smiled sweetly, “Mindblowing?”

They nodded quickly, “Yes, exactly that!”

Their charm won the audience, members chuckling between themselves.

But, Kaboodle didn’t miss the worried crease on Squiddo’s forehead or the anxious way Ash bit his lip.

Something was up, and it involved her.

On her side, Mane shifted, “Hey, you okay, bro?”

She didn’t pay him any mind, watching intently as Kokoro performed the grand reveal.

Ash took the microphone politely, a subtle shake in his wrist.

Kaboodle furrowed her brows.

“For two weeks, my partner and I developed a prototype to better harness energy,” he started.

His eyes flickered to Kaboodle, who gave him an encouraging nod.

Maybe it was performance nerves? It was a pretty big deal making a speech in front of all these people. Including the media as well.

(But Ash was always so composed, and Squiddo was a natural at speaking, so why did they look so worried?)

Kaboodle narrowed her eyes at the small device Kokoro passed to Squiddo.

The crowd hummed with interest, a few people leaning forward to get a better look. Kaboodle did as well.

Ash talked them through some technicalities, voicing some issues about the device and speaking about how it could be improved.

She didn’t understand much of the theory, but it started to sound more and more familiar.

“However, we found that if you turn the output greater than fifteen, the multiplier fries itself,” Ash said. “And that concludes my imperfections statement.”

Fifteen… It was so familiar. Where? From where did she know it?

Kaboodle wracked her brain.

“Simply put, it acts as an accelerated conductor for protective use,” Squiddo continued. “Safely reversing the idea of a suppressor, and applicable in police departments or general self-defence.”

Oh.

The reverse of the suppressor, huh?

Kaboodle felt like the world had swallowed her.

She didn’t need to wish for a hole to suck her in, or for the ground to crack, because it happened all on its own.

That was her anti-suppressor design they were using, wasn’t it? That was… That was her weeks worth of labour and time.

How?

How did they have it?

Kaboodle held herself together; eyes frozen and locked into place. It was smaller, powered by a battery, and had a keypad and frame— just more intricate, flexible, and presentable.

That was hers.

It probably didn’t work the exact same way, but it was hers nonetheless.

They knew, then, what she’s been working on all this time. They knew what she cancelled those revision periods for, and they knew very well because they were making it themselves.

Kaboodle drew in one breath, then another.

Her chest seized.

Mane rounded on her with increased concern.

How did they know? Had she dropped her notes somewhere? Accidentally told then?

Breathe, Kaboodle! Breathe!

The trio on stage were taking questions, now. People asked and asked. ‘How did you make the circuit?’ and ‘What inspired this?’.

And she knew. She knew all of it.

Kaboodle tried to exhale through her nose.

How did they know? How did they know, how did they know, how did they—

Applause— thunderous applause— snapped the last straw for her.

A camera went off— but a camera hadn’t gone off for the last five presentations, and people clamoured.

Kaboodle felt like puking.

Hands wrapped around her arms, tugging her upwards.

“C’mon,” someone said. “Get up.”

She did.

How did they find out?

Your laptop, her mind whispered, Ash used his powers to snag your blueprints.

Kaboodle blinked through the haze of her thoughts, trembling.

Why did he lie to her? Why did Squiddo lie to her?? Did Forcivit know?

You lied to them, too!

Was this karma? Why was she so upset? Was she allowed to be upset?

Kaboodle felt a sob rip out of her throat.

Hypocrite.

“Hey, breathe for me, okay? If Clown finds out I was with you while you suffocated to death, it would not end kindly, bro.”

Clown.

Clown, Clown, Clown.

It was all for him. Her design— her work. She wanted him to be safe. It wouldn’t get pitched, right? Not used for whatever Squiddo had said. Blah, blah, protection, blah blah, the police.

Kaboodle laughed bitterly.

The public wouldn’t find out about magic. No way.

But now they have the means, her mind shrieked. One, simple equation change, or one, slightly different perspective, and they have the world of magic in their hands.

“Deep breaths, c’mon.”

Kaboodle inhaled, lungs contracting painfully.

“There you go.”

It hurt. A lot.

She felt hurt.

It was a sharp stab to the chest.

She hiccuped, rolling her hands into the sleeves of her suit and pressing her face into the pale blue material.

A cold breeze hit her neck, but Kaboodle ignored it in favour of bleeding hot tears.

It was her fault, too, for lying so much. She was a liar— a horrible friend. A liar, liar, and a bad one who spun too many webs to keep up.

They hated her, right? That was why they did it..?

A hand was on her back, although hesitantly.

An oddly comforting circle, then another.

Kaboodle pressed her sleeves tighter to her eyes, finally allowing a second, full breath to enter her lungs.

She felt sticky with tears, stray hairs caught in her mouth, but she brushed them away.

Smaller, more equal breaths.

The hand on her back, the chill of late nights. The hum of people inside, and the swish-sway of leaves.

The hand on her back retreated, and Kaboodle looked up briefly to see Mane. His concerned eyes were masked with a frown— never vulnerable, even when others were at their lowest.

“You good?” He asked.

She nodded slowly, “Thanks.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Cool.”

Silence.

The stars were heavy in the sky, their brightness dimmed with a shallow cloud. Kaboodle blinked up at them, trying to clear her mind.

The moon was pale.

“Didn’t you come with a bro?” Mane tried.

He sat awkwardly away from her like he hadn’t enough time to adjust before she went crashing to the ground.

Kaboodle nodded a second time. “Zam.”

“What’s he look like? Want me to grab him?”

She shrugged, “Not really. He’s probably having the time of his life. Loves talking— don’t wanna disturb his fun.”

The wind whistled.

Mane shifted a little closer, getting into a more comfortable position to offer her a hand.

“Up?”

Kaboodle, feeling slightly better, pushed the hand away, unsteadily forcing her body to function and staggering upwards herself.

Mane smirked, quickly following suit.

“Okay, independent lady.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m very independent, thanks.”

He shook his head like he didn’t doubt it.

“Wanna go back inside?” Mane checked the time by pulling his phone out of his pocket. “There’s still an hour or so left— not including another hour of mingling with the press and your rich buddies.”

Kaboodle rolled her eyes, “We aren’t rich. Most of us got scholarships in.”

“You definitely didn’t.”

She flashed him a frown, the old frustration threatening to rise. Did Mane think she was dumb?

“Why’s that?”

“Why would they want a kid with healing powers? That’s boring on paper. Plus, not very useful in the grand scheme of things, huh?”

“I studied hard for a scholarship into the academy. Ninety-five per cent on all three of my entry tests,” Kaboodle corrected, half-spitting the statement. “And, ‘the grand scheme of things’? What does that mean?”

Mane raised an eyebrow, his figure dipped in silver under the moonlight. His relaxed stance made the answer seem obvious.

It really wasn’t.

“You ever wonder why most Lifesteal Academy graduates end up working for the government?” He whispered.

That… Was a thing? Kaboodle certainly didn’t know that. Then again, she knew a graduate named Paige who ended up working for the police. Oh, also that one guy named Parrot who was head of some new government branch she couldn’t exactly recall. And that guy named… Scar? Wasn’t he the dude who forced building blueprints to include disability-friendly walkways? That was badass.

Conclusion: Mane had a point. Butttt, Kaboodle’s sample size was also significantly poor.

“Why?” She asked, egging on his madness, largely because she needed a good laugh and partially because she wanted a distraction. Just partially.

Mane grinned dangerously, “Because they’re trying to control your powers. Trying to keep them within your little city.”

Kaboodle blinked. Okay, so she did not expect that.

“They’re scared of a rebellion,” Mane hissed, “Scared of you turning on them— ruining their home. They want to keep you guys nice and pliable.”

He looked her up and down.

“The powerful ones, at least.”

Kaboodle scowled.

When she asked for a little distraction— she did not mean whatever this was.

“I think you’ve said too much,” she snapped.

The air felt electrified, and her hands pricked to do something. A punch— an uppercut. Maybe a kick to the stomach.

Mane took a step back, sensing he’d overstayed his welcome.

“Hm, I do always end up doing that, don’t I?” He huffed. “Good night, Kaboodle. Hope you’re alright.”

She fumed as he left, a hint of colour amongst the lifeless buildings surrounding Lifesteal Academy’s Great Hall.

She turned her head to the entrance of the venue and glared at the spots of colour and sharp brightness.

There was loud talking. It appeared another speech had begun.

The powerful ones, at least, Mane’s words echoed in her head.

Kaboodle hissed, anger lighting like gasoline to the fire, burning and burning.

She hated him. She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t, she wasn’t. She wasn’t she wasn’t she wasn’t—

“Kabs?”

A pin-drop.

Kaboodle didn’t dare to move— didn’t dare to turn her head because she knew this voice and exactly who it belonged to.

Two pairs of footsteps, both near the entrance.

Them.

It was them.

Why did problems always get laid on her shoulders? Why did Mane tell her all that? Who was she supposed to believe? What was she supposed to do about it?

Kaoodle took a quick, panicked breath.

Why had Squiddo and Ash taken her design? Why were they here? Were they mad at her? Should she be mad at them?

She didn’t know— wasn’t ready to know.

Her breathing became uneasy again, rapid and uncontrolled.

Kaboodle turned away from them, eyes watering and lips tugging She wanted to cry again— wanted to sob.

Someone took a nervous step towards her. However, startled like prey, Kaboodle froze.

In a moment of fight or flight, she ultimately chose flight.

===

Zam found her outside the girl’s restroom later, staring at the floor with her back against the cold brick wall.

“Hey there,” he greeted, stopping near her.

He was asking for permission to sit down. Kaboodle gestured allowance.

Zam sat down gratefully.

Silence.

The campus’s trees rustled. The sky was pitch-black, shadows darker, and stars glimmered ahead.

It was cold, too.

“Squiddo and Ash told me you were here,” Zam started carefully.

Kaboodle sniffed. So they sent Zam after her? Didn’t come for her themselves?

“What’d they say?”

The golden-haired boy shrugged, “Said they’d explain everything once you calmed down.”

Kaboodle fisted her nails into her palms. She was calm. In fact, she was super calm.

Blink, and you’d miss her.

Like a ninja.

Very calm.

Her eyes filled with water.

Zam turned his head to look at her, warmth escaping into the cold night. Without moving, Kaboodle tried to latch onto it, craving comfort.

“If it helps, they’re genuinely miserable,” Zam offered, tone serious. “Squiddo is scared you hate them, and Ash, well, he thinks it’s his fault.”

Kaboodle wanted to snap lazily at him and say it didn’t matter; what was done was done. But, instead, all she felt was doubt.

She ran a hand through her hair.

“My powers don’t lie to me, y’know,” Zam urged.

Yes, right. Zam’s power was weak mind reading. No one knew why it was weak, but it was true. He couldn’t hear thoughts, but he could feel the emotion behind it.

It was quirky just like the rest of him.

“Y’know what I think you should do?” Zam continued after a beat of silence.

Kaboodle just looked at him.

“I think you should talk to them as soon as possible,” he finished. “You know I’ve had my fair share of unhealthy relationships, and I can say with confidence that communication is key.”

He gazed calmly back.

He was right. She probably should talk to them. Just, not so soon; she needed to cool off first.

“You know what’s something I haven’t told you?” Zam suddenly smiled, eyes bright.

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“My powers are stronger when you’re around. It’s odd, but whenever you’re next to me, everyone’s thoughts become clearer.”

Oh, she actually didn’t know that. Kaboodle gave him a small smile. That was pretty neat. Maybe she was secretly a power enhancer; the more you knew…

Zam shuffled his feet, “That sounded oddly romantic. I didn't mean it to be.”

That pulled a laugh out of her.

“No, don’t worry. I didn’t think that.”

He flashed her a grin, “Yeah, I know. Just my own thoughts.”

As if to further his point, Zam goofily tapped the side of his head with a finger.

Kaboodle grinned back, feeling much lighter.

The winter winds blew, catching their hair and stealing away their breaths.

“Thanks,” she whispered, playing with her fingers again. “For the invite and all this.”

Zam moved closer, his warmth hitting her like a truck, before giving a small hug.

“It’s nothing, Kabs. I was just lonely as fuck.”

She rolled her eyes, untangling an arm to squeeze the boy back.

“Thanks, anyway.”

Zam walked her home. It was nice.

And maybe— just maybe, when Kaboodle got home, the place felt a little colder.

Chapter Text

“Mane isn’t coming today,” Flame announced, meeting Clown on the roof. “Says he’s busy at some school event.”

The city lights flooded beneath them, and a mixture of bright yellows, blues, and pinks illuminated glass skyscrapers and tiny cars.

Huh, what a coincidence, Clown thought, swinging his legs off the ledge. Kaboodle is too.

“Innovator’s competition?” He asked.

The teen gave him a startled look, “How did—“

“My sister,” he answered, like it explained everything.

It seemed to because Flame dropped it.

Clown recalled a memory of Flame saying Mane once lived in his house. He figured they’d made a habit of telling each other everything, so it wasn’t surprising when Mane immediately revealed the identity of Kaboodle to Flame. Honestly speaking, Clown expected it.

Keeping secrets between the two was hard. They were bound together.

“We gonna patrol or not?” Flame asked, moving to stand next to him.

Rooftops offer great views, Clown thought, ignoring the teenager, the wind is strong.

As if summoned, a cold breeze blasted past them. Thankfully, Clown had added layers to his vigilante suit; a red-and-black jacket atop a white one. It wasn’t horrible for movement— just a little heavy.

Flame rounded on him, bottom lip stuck out, “Hellooo?”

Clown spared him a wave.

He could hear brakes and tyres and the occasional annoyed honk of cars. He could hear the chatter and mingling and feel the potential of crime in every store and crossing.

There was a fair amount of crime in Lifesteal City; lots of simple muggings and violent outbreaks. Recently, the police were too occupied with other things (likely confidential government business), and rates were going up.

Except, Clown realised as Flame sighed and looked away, there was more unusual stuff happening these days. Whether the everyday person knew it or not, Clown did.

There were strange trades happening in the underground, and illegal researchers were disappearing. Branzy had complained about his weapon dealer being suddenly out of stock.

Something was happening, something big.

Wait, speaking of Branzy…

Two sets of footsteps timidly approached them.

On Clown’s left, Flame spun into a fighting stance, a gun cocked lazily at the intruders, the safety immediately clicked off.

He was rather impressed by the kid’s instincts; a reason why he’d taken him and Mane under his wing. They had something to fight for, which made them improve rapidly.

Selective adoption, he hummed to himself, laughing inwardly.

The footsteps paused, and Clown finally decided to move from his spot on the roof ledge.

“Flame, gun down,” he instructed, standing up, “They’re Branzy’s kids.”

A beat.

“Branzy’s kids? You mean the weirdos he’s always praising whenever he’s around?”

Yes, Branzy’s, and yes he always praised them. However, calling them ‘weirdos’ seemed a bit harsh.

An aforementioned ‘weirdo’ shot Flame a glowering look.

Clown had met Branzy during the earlier years of his vigilantism. He was seventeen and the man was nineteen, and he had shown Clown the ropes of the city; who the most honest contractors were, and how to spy on the police radio’s frequency for patrols.

Honestly, Branzy had taught him how to be more of a mercenary than a vigilante, but he did still bust the occasional crime (plus, he only accepted hits on the worst of targets).

Clown thought Branzy might have a girlfriend, but he wouldn’t know.

Once Clown had picked Flame and Mane off the streets and showed them around the hood, Branzy had decided that Clown’s apprenticeship was over and he wanted new kids to teach.

Said kids now stood before them.

Flame lowered his gun, although hesitantly.

Clown looked at the two teens.

One wore a red hoodie, a black mask, and a pair of goggles on his head. He was the shorter of the two with a relatively swift build. He also had horns and a tail, so Clown filed ‘demon hybrid’ into the back of his head.

The second kid was lankier and taller, a bit behind the other. He was pale in contrast; with long white hair and violet eyes. He probably could pass as Branzy’s secret son or something.

“Why are they here, bro?” Flame asked, obviously unimpressed. “Where’s Branzy?”

Clown would’ve answered, but the red boy seemed extremely pissed off at being called a ‘weirdo’ and replied instead.

“He’s busy— something about tracking down a storm or whatever,” they hissed. “He told us to meet Clown here, and he’d know what to do.”

Flame just shrugged, “Touche.”

Why Branzy thought Clown was capable of handling three teenagers when he could barely protect Kaboodle was beyond him. But then again, this was Branzy. Clown wasn’t even sure if he should be keeping two kids under his wing. Wasn’t twenty-five a bit old? Most vigilantes went MIA after the age of twenty-two.

The pale kid coughed, and the red one instantly put a hand on their shoulder.

“This is Ro,” he said quickly, “And I’m Mapicc.”

“You sick or sum, bro?” Flame asked Ro.

The boy shook his head.

“Sounded pretty sick.”

Mapicc, eyes dangerously red, glared. “He’s always been like this. It’s just gotten worse recently, but he’ll be fine.”

Clown didn’t miss the way the boy gripped his friend’s shoulder tighter. Interesting. The coughing reminded him of someone… Something. It was familiar in a sense that made his chest ache.

Not now, he told himself sternly, Don’t think about it.

He didn’t.

“Alright, well, this is Flame,” Clown said, gesturing to the vigilante by his side, “And I’m Clown. It’s nice to meet you, Mapicc and Ro.”

Ro nodded politely while Mapicc rolled his eyes.

“So, are we going to set up a perimeter or not?”

Flame made an annoyed noise and threw two earpieces into the air. Clown watched as Mapicc swiftly caught both, then passed one to Ro. The three teens put their communicators in, and Clown’s earpiece beeped as they connected.

“We are,” Clown answered Mapicc, facing the city square again. “Branzy’s intel suggests suspicious activity in a warehouse over there.”

He pointed at a cluster of towers a few metres away, four pillars centred around a flat building. It was a privately owned property, and Branzy had gotten info that something was hidden there— likely aquaxite.

The man hadn’t given immediate details on how to approach the place, so it was safer to scout the area out first.

As Clown let the three younger vigilantes familiarise themselves with the place, he looked back.

Kaboodle’s school was that way. Thankfully if anything happened, she’d be out of the range of fire.

I hope the competition’s going well for her, he thought absently as Flame walked up to him.

“Let’s go?”

Clown nodded, “Let’s.”

The trip there was satisfying, but watching Branzy’s kids run ahead was even more interesting.

Despite his ailment, Ro was fast on his feet, and Mapicc kept purposefully a few steps behind him.

Clown understood their dynamic immediately. Ro was defence, and Mapicc was offence. But, Mapicc was aware of Ro’s weakness and was ready to catch the other if they stumbled.

The perfect balance; a duality, even. Those kinds of things were useful, but it was important not to trust everybody.

Clown glanced to his left, where Flame ran beside him.

Flame and Mane were similar in a lot of ways. They were both aggressive and prioritised strength and speed above safety. He’d say Mane was the most reckless, though. That kid fought like he had everything to gain and nothing to lose.

Clown jumped across a large gap between two roofs, reaching an unnatural height.

Wind billowed through his hair, its harsh coldness freezing his face.

Whenever they accepted hit missions from contractors, Clown normally tied down any loose ends Flame and Mane left.

Sometimes they would miss a guy attempting to escape, and other times they were simply so overwhelmed by enemies that Clown had to systematically pick people off to make the fight easier for them. Not that they weren’t capable, of course.

The two teens were both sharpshooters— clean and natural. Their hand-to-hand combat was decent, but Flame fared slightly better at knife exchanges than Mane. Quite the prodigies.

The wind stumbled past Clown as he ran, parkouring through the city with an effortlessness only a vigilante could achieve.

It felt good— great, even, as he soared across the sky before roughly landing, his powers softening the blow.

He felt weightless, powerful.

He could feel the adrenaline starting to pump through his veins.

“Mapicc, you take Ro and go left,” Clown communicated through the earpiece, “Flame and I will go right.”

He watched as Mapicc, up ahead, flashed an okay symbol with his hands.

Ro, at the front, made the turn onto a slightly taller building, and Mapicc was right behind.

With a glance, Clown beckoned Flame to follow him.

The boy pulled on his blindfold and then pinned his hood over his head, giving him a thumbs-up.

Clown pulled down his mask, feet positioned over the edge of a roof and jumped, landing swiftly onto a balcony, which gave him a good view of the warehouse. It was swallowed by darkness, and sparse greenery of trees and grass surrounded the back doors, looking relatively well-maintained.

Still an active business, Clown noted to himself, Or it’s a hotspot for troublemakers.

“Eyes peeled,” he whispered to Flame.

If Branzy’s intel was right and aquaxite was present, then this place was likely a Storm hideout.

Aquaxite had existed as a myth in the underground for years. Versions of the story changed depending on who you asked. Some said it was the project of a chemist gone rogue, and others said it was a failed attempt at curing the Nether— a disease.

Either way, it was promoted and sold as medicine in underground markets for a while— around the time Kaboodle was born. However, in the end, it proved ineffective— just a way to rip profit off the poor. Following the controversy, its formula and origins vanished. Gone.

Clown clenched and unclenched his fist. Yet, the Storm managed to recreate it.

His earpiece buzzed.

“Two police cars are behind the warehouse,” Ro said. He sounded like he was frowning. “Looks like they’re arguing with someone.”

Clown stood at the edge of his building’s balcony, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious.

It was Flame who tapped him on the shoulder, pointing at something slightly to the right.

“Over there, bro,” he said, “Looks like a person.”

The older vigilante moved closer, squinting.

Yes, the kid was right. A bob of pure white hair could be seen making its way through the bushes surrounding the warehouse. Their head repeatedly turned left and right, trying to get away unseen.

Clown cracked his knuckles, and Flame communicated the information.

“There’s some dude just wandering suspiciously around the front, dunno what he’s up to.”

Mapicc responded, “The fight over here is escalating. The police are yelling.”

One hard thing about being a vigilante was morals. Some either had a moral code they swore by, or they couldn't care less. Most vigilantes agreed the existing law enforcement was shit and justice needed a nudge in the right direction. Rarer ones patrolled for fun— helping no one or anyone.

But Clown, he did it for his sister.

Kaboodle deserved to feel safe, and she deserved all the opportunities money could buy. Kaboodle was why he’d never work against the law but rather with it. If he got outed, then it would reflect badly on her.

Clown would prefer not to injure a policeman today.

Mapicc obviously did not share the sentiment.

“I’m moving closer,” the teen said. “Gonna kick all their asses.”

Flame shot Clown an ‘are you sure about these guys’ look. He responded with a trusty flick of his wrist, signalling to close in on the warehouse.

“We’re moving closer too, report anything suspicious.”

Clown clambered down the side of the apartment, jumping off at the last few metres. He hid away in the shadows, closer now that he could confirm the mysterious, white-haired individual was a teenager.

Probably younger than Kaboodle, he thought to himself. What’s he doing out so late?

He watched as the kid approached an open window, bringing his hands to the sill and hauling himself inside with a thud.

Clown narrowed his eyes behind the mask as the white-haired boy shut the window.

The Storm was an interesting covert organisation of masked figures and ingenious inventions. Clown relied on Branzy’s intel to interfere with their dealings, but their stormwatchers were dangerous. Mane’s face got fucked up after a fight once, and Clown didn’t want that happening again.

“Don’t engage. Try to decipher the contents of the argument,” he told Mapicc.

“Copy,” was the response.

Flame shuffled beside him, faint recognition behind his blindfold.

“The Storm,” he whispered. “This is one of their hideouts— smack bang in the middle of the city. These guys have balls, man.”

Clown nodded. Yes, they had balls.

Huh, teenager lingo was weird nowadays.

Distantly, on the other side of the warehouse, he could hear shouting. With the white-haired boy gone and all the entrance points closed off, Clown decided it was time to move.

Taking a silent step forward, he whispered to Flame, “Follow me.”

The two vigilantes rounded the front, quietly making their way around.

There was a sign at the front that read ‘BENJAMIN’S’.

A traceable brand housing a paramilitary organisation? Clown raised an eyebrow. Cool. Not unheard of, but it certainly made his job later easier.

The man moved closer to the building, resting a fully gloved hand against the cold bricks.

It wasn’t trapped, either. So, it hadn’t been a hideout for long.

Flame took Clown’s realisation as approval to press his ear against the front door, listening for movement.

Technically, Clown could do the eavesdropping. His power allowed him to manipulate anything related to his body, which meant he could theoretically make his hearing sharper. However, whenever he tried to, he could never concentrate on a specific sound.

Everything got overwhelming, and it was hard to differentiate the wind from breathing and so on and so forth. Therefore, having a normal ear do the eavesdropping was far more effective. Less mistakes.

Clown frowned when Flame retracted, shaking his head. No audible voices near the back, then. The Storm’s members were probably somewhere near the front of the warehouse.

His earpiece crackled to life.

“Police are interrogating a man,” Ro whispered, “Something about suspicious activity and harbouring dangerous individuals.”

Definitely a Storm hideout. Flame communicated this.

“This place is probably a Storm hideout. Be careful, yeah? No sudden moves without telling us beforehand.”

Clown glowed with pride at hearing this. That was a line he always used back when Flame and Mane barely listened to him.

Oh, how time flew. They were both so grown up, now (it’d only been a year).

“Storm? So, Branzy really was chasing them,” Mapicc hummed. “Damn, I thought they were an outskirt fairytale. The oldies in the underground keep talking about them.”

Flame snorted softly, “Well, you’re wildly out of date if that’s what you believe, bro. They’re the talk of the underground now, Mane’s been telling me.”

Clown scanned the rooftops, looking for a way in.

He wanted his hands on information. He wanted to know why they were here and what the hell they were doing with aquaxite.

How did they have it?

“Well, I’m sorry I don’t spend my days moping in illegal alleyways,” Mapicc snapped back. “What should we look out for?”

“Power suppressors,” Clown informed. “They work how the name suggests.”

He gestured for Flame to follow, rounding the corner of the warehouse and pulling up silently on the other side.

Sure enough, there were two police cars.

Four policemen stood in a semicircle, talking back and forth with a man in working clothes.

“I assure you, officers, there is nothing inside this building,” the man said. “You legally can not come inside privately owned property without a warrant.”

He’d probably said this a couple of times already, because the policeman on the right groaned.

“We’ve had multiple anonymous tips that something was going on in here. I’d say this is suspicious behaviour.”

The worker glared. “Please see yourselves off my property.”

A different police officer snorted. “Or what, you’d arrest us?”

Flame snickered, and Clown shot him a look.

“What? It was kinda funny.”

“Shush.”

An annoyed grumble.

Clown stood still in the shadows, the only thing giving him away being his white mask. He watched as they continued to bicker, but didn’t miss the way one of the officers discreetly pressed a button on their handheld radio.

“The police are calling for backup,” he informed. “They’re probably going to try and break in.”

“What should we do?” Ro asked.

Clown paused. Yeah, what should they do? The police looked like they had this situation handled, even if they were embarrassingly under-geared for a fight with the Storm.

Help them? No, they’d probably get arrested on the spot.

Join in the fray? Fighting two enemies with unprecedented numbers was a bad move.

“What do you think Branzy would do?” He asked the kids on the other side.

Mapicc’s voice responded, “Probably try to get inside the warehouse before the backup arrives to collect passive intel. Branzy likes information a lot. That way if he can’t topple an empire today, he has the means to some other time.”

“He drilled that into us. ‘Look before you engage’,” Ro agreed.

“‘Or don’t engage at all and get others to do it’,” Mapicc added. “Connections are important.”

It was true. That man was more of a spy than a vigilante; which was useful in its own way.

Flame nudged Clown, “So, we goin’ inside?”

He nodded, “Let’s try to find a way in.”

There had to be one. In a warehouse as big as this, not every point could possibly be sealed.

“Try to look for an entrance,” he said, “And don’t get caught. If you do, don’t engage.”

He got two ‘copy’-ies in response.

Flame was already turning around by the time Clown caught up with him.

The wall of the warehouse towered above them. It would be impossible to scale without any flight powers, and even if you were at the top of one of the nearby towers, you wouldn’t make the jump.

Unless you were Clown.

“Boost me?” Flame whispered, grinning.

Clown sighed, grabbing Flame like he was a toddler and, using his powers, threw him upwards into the sky.

He heard a faint shriek of surprise.

While the kid was still in the air, Clown narrowed his eyes at the roof and took a few steps backward. Then, he ran, jumping at the perfect moment.

Cold air brushed against his hair and neck. In the air, a little too high, he flailed his arms, trying to regain a semblance of balance.

The world swooped dramatically, and as soon as his landing became imminent, he shifted the energy in his feet, landing in eerie silence.

The sound of wind breaking.

Clown put out his arms, Flame landing in them a second later with an ‘oof’.

“Thanks, bro,” the boy grinned, limp.

Clown put him down, dusting off his hands, “All good. Eyes peeled for any weak points.”

The roof was flat with air conditioning units, a sealed-off stairwell, and a couple of clothes racks.

The oldest vigilante walked across, careful to make sure his footsteps made no sound. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do anything about Flame’s steps, but the kid was wise enough to creep incredibly slowly.

“You sure they can hear us? We’re pretty high up, ” Flame remarked.

Clown shrugged, “Better safe than sorry.”

He located a hatch on the roof and walked closer to it, hands carefully touching a glinting chain as he crouched down.

There were four in total, meeting in the middle at a silver lock.

He tugged at it experimentally. Unyielding.

“Think you can break this open with your fire?” Clown asked Flame once the teen was close enough.

He nodded, settling down to crouch beside him as he took the lock in hand.

Flame’s eyebrows furrowed as he concentrated, holding out his pointer and middle fingers as a spark went off.

Clown watched in interest as the teen silently trailed the hot flame against the metal chains, the fire turning blue as it sheared through.

The kid was good at using his powers, that was for sure. To be able to delicately focus an enormous amount of energy in one spot like he did now took months of patience and practice; Clown would know.

As the heat drifted into the night air, Flame flashed him a thumbs-up.

“We’ve unlocked a hatch on the roof,” Clown reported. “We’ll go in whenever you’re ready.”

There’s a bit of static, and then Ro’s voice.

“Mapicc and I have found some basement. It’s not locked, so we’re approaching it warily. Should we continue?”

Clown thought it over.

“Ro, you keep an eye on the police outside and radio anything you notice,” he replied, “Mapicc, you’ll proceed carefully, understand?”

“Got you,” Mapicc responded.

“Alright, I’ll make my way onto the roof, then,” Ro said.

The stars glittered overhead, and Clown looked at Flame, who nodded.

The younger one shifted off to the side, digging his fingers into the hatch’s opening. Clown similarly reached around, grabbing hold as well.

They slowly, slowly, pried the hatch open.

As soon as Clown could see darkness, he boldly rose it a bit higher.

Moonlight crept inside the darkened room, silver against dusty floorboards. There was an absence of light or sound, so he deducted that whatever place this hatch led to, it was empty.

“Mapicc, you ready? We’re going in,” Flame communicated.

“Beat you to it,” Mapicc responded. “I’m inside.”

Clown fully opened the hatch and allowed it to fall.

In one, fluid motion, he grabbed onto the edge of the roof and swung himself into the darkness.

Dust exploded beneath his feet, and Clown swiftly pulled his gun out of his holster, pointing it at any immediate shadows.

Nothing.

“All clear,” he said, looking up and moving out of the way.

Flame landed with an echoing thump, summoning a flame in his palms.

Warm yellow light flooded before them, and Clown walked forward, staring at the walls and ceiling.

It was a relatively small room without much inside. There was a desk layered with dust, a couple of old paintings, and an empty bookshelf.

Flame made the fire in his hands bigger, the light expanding as the vigilantes split up, covering as much ground as possible.

Every footstep caused clouds of dust to erupt beneath them, and Clown was internally grateful for his mask as Flame breathed irritably.

In the calculated silence, the man made his way open to the dusty desk and tucked away his gun, opting to tug open one of its side drawers.

There were letters inside, but a quick scan revealed useless information about some stranger’s love affairs and sorrow. He quickly shut that drawer and moved on to the one underneath.

This one had a box.

Feeling inquisitive, Clown carefully pulled the object out.

Removing the dusty lid revealed a tiny pile of crumpled-up paper.

“This basement has signs of recent activity,” Mapicc suddenly said. “There’s some diagrams pinned up on a wall. I’m taking photos with my phone.”

Clown rapidly refolded and stuffed the papers into the pockets of his pants. He’ll look through them later— so be it if they contained drama from twenty years ago.

Flame’s footsteps were rough against the floorboards as he responded to Mapicc.

“Cool, the attic we’re at is like— dead, bro. Have you seen anyone yet?”

“I haven’t encountered a single person, but the lights are all on. Want me to keep going?”

“Yeah, Clown and I are gonna start making our way down. We’ll give you the signal to leave.”

“Copy that.”

The radio went silent.

The room (attic?) smelt musty and a little humid. Clown his mask to breathe easier, and walked up to Flame, who’d stopped at a door.

It had a large, chipped, wooden frame and a worn knob. Spiderwebs clung to the hinges and dust gathered on its surface. A slice of weak light emitted from underneath, and Flame pressed his ear against the wood, listening.

After a moment, he said, “Can’t hear anything.”

The two braced themselves, and Clown put his hand on the knob. It felt cold and a bit loose under his grip, but carefully, he twisted it.

The door opened with a low creak.

Gun out again, Clown took the first step into the light.

The ceiling grazed his head and, startled, he looked around.

Oh, okay. So this was a bit weird.

The door opened up to a small walk along the sides of the warehouse’s roof. But, take one too many steps, and you’d fall onto the rows and rows of metal bars supporting the ceiling.

Clown peered over the edge, legs wobbling slightly at the height, and a gust of wind blew up to meet him.

Just beyond the support pillars and wooden logs were the movements of people, all gathered around some sort of fireplace and talking in low tones.

It had to be at least a fifteen-metre drop, so he signalled for Flame to step out carefully.

“We’re in the ceiling. We’ve got eyes on a group of people by a fireplace,” Clown whispered.

He reached out for the closest metal pole as he waited for a reply, wondering if he could use it to jump onto one of the joist planks.

If he got closer, maybe it would be easier to hear what the people were talking about.

“I’m at a door that’s… Kind of maroon coloured? Dunno if I should open it, though; there’s light,” Mapicc replied.

Flame searched for a door matching the description as Clown continued to calculate the jump from the attic to the joists.

The teenager paused near the edge of the walking space.

“I think I see the door you’re at,” Flame replied, kneeling to get a better look.

Clown spared a glance. Sure enough, there was a dark red door on the other side of the warehouse, far enough from the fireplace and blocked from view by multiple shelves.

The vigilante narrowed his eyes, trying to pick out the contents.

It looked like a workstation with forging tools and machinery. But, eyes trailing to the shelf near the back, he caught sight of something glowing.

Aquaxite, he thought with a sharp inhale.

If aquaxite was there, then any notes and information could be too. If Mapicc managed to silently snag a few items, then Clown could call it a day and get them out.

“There may be some useful documents in the area outside your door, Mapicc,” he whispered. “If you’re quiet enough, you can get away with rummaging through a few shelves.”

“Are you sure there’s no one on the other side?”

Flame replied this time.

“Nope, I’m keeping an eye on it for you. Just act fast, bro, the majority of the people inside are having this little cult meeting.”

“You sure?”

“Trust me, man. I don’t want you to die.”

“I literally met you twenty minutes ago—”

“-Mapicc, just do what he says.” That was Ro. “Also, the policemen are going away. I don’t know why, though.”

Clown paused. After three years of running amok on the streets, he knew that if the police called for backup and left, then shit was about to go down.

He needed to get the kids out, but he also needed that information. The entire mission would be a waste otherwise, and the hideout would be busted sooner or later. Any detained documents or valuables would either become classified or be destroyed, so now was their only opportunity to get their hands on them.

This could be huge.

“Ro, is there any immediate exit you can see?” Clown whispered into his earpiece.

“Huh?” A cough. “Sorry, I mean; yeah, there’s the alley Mapicc and I came from. It’s not too far from the basement.”

Clown nodded to himself, making a signal to get Flame’s attention.

“I’m going to need you to be ready to get Mapicc out as soon as possible, okay?” He communicated quickly, “Flame and I will exit through the roof as soon as Mapicc grabs a few items.”

“Um, alright. Okay— but what’s happening?” Mapicc asked.

Flame shuffled his shoes, a bit of dust falling from the wooden planks and softly disappearing into the air.

“Quit asking and just do it.”

“Okay, Nike sponsor.”

Clown tapped Flame on the back and gestured to the door, telling him to leave. The teen tensed his shoulders, against the idea.

“Flame—”

“-I’m not leaving.”

Clown crossed his arms, unimpressed, “This could end pretty badly; Mapicc could get caught, and I’d have to go down to save him.”

The teenager scoffed, taking a step away from the door.

“That’s exactly why I’m staying. You’re not beating an entire organisation of people on your own.”

Ugh, this sounded oddly like his conversations with Kaboodle. Were all teenagers this stubborn?

“Alright, fine,” Clown answered. Flame could handle himself. “You protect Mapicc, and I’ll try to use my powers to eavesdrop.”

Flame grinned, beaming behind his blindfold.

“Deal. Get on with it, bro. Mapicc’s safe with me.”

“The police are completely gone now,” Ro said over the line, “The man’s heading back inside.”

Sure enough, there was a bang near the fireplace. The worker from earlier walked inside, shutting the door. Someone parted from the group to greet him, voice worried.

Clown backed as close as possible to the fireplace. Not too close where he’d been seen, but just close enough his powers should be able to hear the conversation.

Okay, he thought to himself, palms sweating as he sat down in the corner and closed his eyes, I just need to concentrate…

Darkness engulfed him, lights shimmering like a mirage behind his eyelids.

He tapped into that feeling in his body, the thrum of power.

It was easy to make himself faster and jump higher— those were second nature.

It was harder to fine-tune his hearing and eyesight. They were just… He didn’t know how to describe it. They were more delicate than his legs and fists and took more patience.

Like leading a wolf on a leash, Clown grabbed and focused the energy of his magic to his head.

It was an energetic bunch— moving rapidly, buzzing in his veins. He had to mentally strangle it into position, like angling a heavy sniper to find the perfect angle.

His power clicked as it settled into the right flow.

Clown braced himself for an onslaught of sounds, but a flinch still slipped through as noises began to ring in his ears.

It was so condensed, so large, and his body rejected the stimulation by freezing.

He was suddenly reminded all over again why he didn’t use his powers for hearing.

Clown took a deep breath, trying to focus his thoughts as clangs and escalating murmuring took over his mind.

He tried to focus on the sound of his hair ruffling in a tiny breeze, and the creeks of pressure on wood as Flame walked.

A sound like jingling store bells made its way into his mind, but Clown rapidly pushed it away, trying to focus his range nearby.

The wind, the muttering, the wood.

Then, finally, the turn of a knob as Mapicc opened the door several metres below him, the way his clothes rustled, and his combat boots thumped against the ground.

Then, Clown heard voices; urgency and panic laced in the stutter of their words.

He ticked his jaw, moving closer and closer to the crackle of warm fire and the folds of blankets on sofas. His hearing slithered closer, snaking between legs and the lumbering of feet.

Then, the words they spoke formed in his head, hissing.

“Jimmy says the police were here,” a girl said, sounding panicked. “Says they’ve left now, but I think we should move.”

A grunt of disapproval.

“Jimmy said they left. They’ll be back, but give us a week and we’ll be out of here.”

“Too risky,” someone else argued. “Everyone here knows that’s stupid.”

“But we just got here! It’s going to be hard to locate another safe house.”

Clown frowned. There were so many panicked whispers, so much confusion.

Then came a clearer voice, one with more authority, and he latched onto it for stability.

“I say we pack our valuables and leave now— scatter into the city,” a woman said. “We’ll rendezvous at the border in three days when eye is ready with supplies.”

Eye? Clown shifted, straining his powers. Maybe he heard it wrong? Was it a place?

Someone nodded, “Exactly. We’ve done our job as the ADVON A team, too. B should be arriving to replace us in two days, and it would be nice to see family again.”

There were sighs of homesickness and a quiet silence, and Clown felt his stomach clench. Paramilitary or not, these guys had loved ones. But, ADVON… Advanced Echelon? More people were coming?

That couldn’t be good.

He redirected his powers towards Mapicc.

The kid was shuffling about some papers, his phone’s camera clicking quietly. He could hear the swish of his hoodie and the way the documents sounded slipping against each other.

Then, Clown heard something else entirely.

Tires screeched against the ground, the loud rumbling of engines demanding his power’s attention.

It washed away anything else he could hear, and Clown sat up straight in a bolt, eyes open and rigid.

“We need to go,” he told Flame, who shot up at his name.

“What?” The teen asked.

“We need to go,” he repeated harshly, “I heard the back-up arriving.”

Flame froze, then stumbled slightly toward the door, “Oh, shit.” At the same time, Ro communicated, “I can hear cars. Like, really loud ones— I can’t see them but I can hear them. Guys, we gotta go.”

Clown, a bit unsteady on his feet, signalled to move.

The people below got louder too, obviously also hearing the disturbance.

Flame sprinted to the door, pushing it open and running into the darkness. Clown followed quickly, helping him up and out of the hatch.

Once the kid had a good enough grip on the edge to pull himself up, Clown let go, about to do the same.

“Copy that,” Mapicc replied, “I’m almost done here— just one more photo…”

Clown turned around, eyes wide, “No, Mapicc, leave now.”

“This one’s important! It’s got funky diagrams I haven’t seen before.”

“Mapicc!” Ro yelled, panicked.

Flame was on the roof, eyes frightened.

“Clown? Clown, I can see the cars. It’s military. Clown, we gotta go.”

But he was running back out the door, fumbling as he watched Mapicc grab and stuff a document into his hoodie. Distantly, he saw something moving— a bob of black hair running towards the shelves, seemingly unaware of a vigilante a few metres in front.

Fuck, any second they’d notice.

Mapicc needed to go. “Mapicc, someone is running towards you,” Clown said sharply. “Get out!”

The teen’s small, red figure stumbled.

Mapicc’s head turned rapidly and located the approaching man.

With a crash, the box he’d been tending to fell to the floor as he sprinted towards the door, knocking it open with his body and cradling the information stuffed safely inside the pockets of his hoodie.

Clown watched as the black-haired person paused, calling out before running towards the commotion.

He looked back at where Mapicc had been, the door slightly swinging. Gone.

Confident the kid was fine, he ran back into the attic, jumping high enough to roll safely onto the roof without help.

As he stood up, Flame called out for him, already on the other side of the rooftop with Ro.

“Over here! Let’s go!”

Clown, wind against his ear and heart pumping, sprinted towards them.

The ground shook with a guttural groan of tyres as they tore at the ground.

Car brakes were smashed, screeching, and he almost tripped as he watched black assault vehicles crash into the site, engines roaring.

Moonlight bounced off the helmets of faceless individuals, illuminating the bolded acronym E.L.O.S.P printed on the side of the vehicles.

Clown’s blood ran cold.

I need to get the kids out.

“Mapicc, where are you?” He yelled.

As he reached Ro and Flame, he grabbed the latter first and lowered them onto the ground. Clown then moved towards Flame and carefully lowered him as well.

Swinging his legs over the roof, he jumped down without looking.

No reply. Why hadn’t Mapicc replied?

Clown’s heart missed a beat.

The sound of gear being shifted into action met his ears, and the safety on guns being clicked off rang like a war cry in the silent night.

A hooded teenager in red came running up to them. Mapicc.

Clown almost doubled down in relief.

He reached for the younger, then swiftly made sure they were all together.

Mapicc had a tough look that Clown knew was an act. Ro was openly frightened, eyes wide. Flame, though his eyes were covered, was jittery— adrenaline.

“Okay, all of us are here. We’ll be fine— they can’t follow us on the rooftops,” he said reassuringly.

Fear bred mistakes, and he could not allow that to happen.

Clown’s gaze swept past Flame to look at Ro and Mapicc, “Lead the way, you two.”

And, hearts racing, they ran earnestly.

Ro and Mapicc were at the front, Flame a little behind, and Clown taking the rear.

Someone yelled— a command, probably. But as Mapicc faltered, Clown gave him a rough push.

“Keep going!”

He was distantly aware of fighting— the warehouse suddenly a bomb without a safety pin.

Something crashed onto the ground— the front door, most likely, and there were footsteps behind him.

Clown listened, eyes wide, as a gunshot rang.

Then another.

And another.

Ro looked over his shoulder, and Clown ran into his line of sight.

“Don’t look back, just keep going!”

Clown had endured being stabbed in the stomach, shot multiple times, and caught in a fire, and knew that even if your body threatened to give up on you, it did not want to die. It kept pumping, kept screaming, even if you were scared beyond your wits.

Survival was man’s greatest motivation, and that kicked in for Ro, who sprinted even faster.

We’re almost there, Clown thought with a flash of relief. Almost in the alleyways— almost.

The towers drew closer and closer, and then the multiple buildings came into view.

Home stretch— it was the home stretch.

An engine.

Clown whipped his head around, heart catching as a vehicle in all black shrieked to a stop in front of them.

Momentum disturbed, the four floundered.

Clown grabbed Flame by the edge of his hoodie, hauling him the other way— making him turn without the loss of momentum.

He latched onto Mapicc second, pushing the other in Flame’s direction, even as they stumbled.

The click of prefiring.

The air crackled with electricity.

Ro was just up ahead.

“Ro, stop!”

He ran faster, the wind starting to numb and eyes screaming to stay open, his power zipping into full action, but—

–A gunshot, the pale boy stumbled backwards.

Clown cried out.

As fast as he could run, there were limits to the human body.

He couldn’t be faster than a bullet.

Never.

The oldest vigilante skidded, barely stopping in time to reach for the younger.

His body instinctively slowed down to get a better assessment of Ro’s injuries.

A shot to the shoulder. They missed.

He allowed himself to breathe relief; Ro would be okay, but he needed treatment fast.

The reload of a sniper.

Clown whipped around, gun out and senses heightened.

Barely needing to aim, he flicked the weapon in the direction of the sound, eyes flaring at the tiniest movement and—

BANG.

Someone crumpled to the ground.

Without sparing a second, Clown discarded his gun and grabbed Ro by his sides, pulling him close.

Ro would live.

He’d be fine.

And, in a burst of speed, Clown caught up to Flame and Mapicc.

Bullets rained down next to him.

“There!” Flame exclaimed, further ahead and pointing, “That’s where Clown and I jumped down!”

Ro made a weak noise, and Clown held him closer.

“Fuck, it hurts,” the kid whimpered.

“I know, I know. Just rest, okay?”

The buildings were so close— a ten-metre sprint.

It was harder to run with a teenager in his arms, but Clown concentrated on keeping him upright, afraid to drop him.

Like a man in his dying moment, he remembered dropping Kaboodle as a kid before.

She hadn’t cried, just looked up at him with big, trusting eyes. He’d apologised, and she wrapped her arms around him, soft.

Ro wouldn’t forgive him as easily. In fact, he’d probably die. So, Clown deducted to hold him a bit tighter.

It proved futile.

An explosion rocked the ground, the air shrieking with an energy that knocked Clown off his feet.

Ro’s weight almost instantly vanished from his grip, something heavy landing on the floor before him.

Light flashed across his vision and, as far away as he was, he felt heat prickle the back of his neck.

Fuck!

Clown scrambled to stand up, head buzzing as he located Ro on the ground.

His back burned and his head hurt, but Clown moved towards the teenager anyway, teeth bared.

Ro wasn’t moving.

No, please. No…

Weakly, he tucked his hands around Ro’s arms, trying to pick him off the floor.

The teen shifted under his grasp, and Clown almost collapsed with relief, head throbbing.

But, Ro’s eyes were fixed on something beyond Clown, so he looked back, throat bobbing.

Oh, fuck.

That was… Not something he saw every day.

A cloud of smoke was alight with fire, and the warehouse sparked dangerously pink.

Clown’s powers went into overdrive, his breaths stuttering as it forced his vision to uncontrollably flicker and zoom from flame to people and back to flames.

His breath caught.

Someone lay face-down on the ground, burning as the fire ate at their charred skin.

Someone still fleeing clutched their leg, screaming out.

Further away, Clown’s vision focused on a combat vehicle blown sideways. Someone was trapped underneath, an arm sticking out under the downturned roof.

Hurried footsteps.

The smell of fire and explosives.

Warm, it was too warm.

Clown tore his eyes from the sight, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

Still like the ocean. Calm, Clown, clam.

His vision readjusted, blinking dangerously black near the edges.

He helped Ro up, bringing their arm around his shoulders and letting out a groan of exertion.

The teenager’s weight leaned on him, and Clown staggered towards the silhouettes of Flame and Mapicc.

“I’m sorry,” Ro whispered, coughing weakly, “I’m sorry for being so useless and sick, I’m sorry—”

“- Enough of that,” Clown gritted out as Mapicc emerged from the smoke, running towards them.

Panic was evident in his features as he saw his friend.

“You didn’t willingly decide to get shot, did you?” He continued.

Mapicc rushed forward and pried Ro from Clown’s arms, holding his friend up.

Ro gave Clown an alarmed look as he was manhandled.

“Of course not!”

He smiled back as Flame ran up to him, “Then you have nothing to apologise for.”

Regrouping right underneath an office building, the four vigilantes scaled up.

Mapicc summoned his wings, pulling Ro into the sky with some difficulty. Flame followed Clown with grappling hooks as the man shifted density enough to walk sideways, his head too loud to talk.

Eventually, they all made it safely to the roof, and Clown silently went around and collected all of their earpieces. Allowing everyone to individually process what just happened.

He turned around with the wind in his hair, examining the warehouse from their unobstructed view.

Traces of the explosion remained, black against the once-white roads. There were some unmoving bodies; fried instantly, and other limping figures, trying to get away from military personnel.

Clown’s first coherent thought was: If Kaboodle finds out about this, I’m screwed.

Somewhere far away, he heard the sound of a helicopter.

With a shake, Clown led the boys under a smoking stand. The roof hid them from onlookers above and provided Ro with somewhere to sit.

It was cooler up on the roof, less dusty and warm.

Clown wordlessly moved towards the injured boy, reaching a hand down one of his side pockets for a roll of bandages.

He convinced Ro to shrug off his jacket and pull down his shirt to reveal his shoulder.

At the bloody sight, he froze.

There was no exit wound. The bullet was lodged inside him.

How the fuck was Clown supposed to get it out?

Even though the shoulder wasn’t a vital organ, any bullet wound was at risk of infection. Furthermore, the longer it stayed, the more the untreated tissues and muscles would hurt.

Clown bit his lip and closed his eyes, focusing the feeling of his power into the palm of his right hand.

Slowly, making himself as predictable as possible for Ro, he brought the hand to their shoulder.

Clown wasn’t Kaboodle— he couldn’t heal— but he could try to pinpoint the location of the bullet.

The man released the energy from his palms in gentle pulses. Ro inhaled sharply, stiffening from what must’ve been a strange sensation.

Gradually, with a bit of prodding, Clown located the bullet to the left of Ro’s entry wound, lodged under the end of his collarbone.

Alright, time for the hard part…

“I can burn a hole to reach it,” Flame suddenly said, completely serious. “It’ll probably fry a few nerves, though.”

Ro looked wholly against the idea, mouth agape in such a horrified manner that Clown would’ve found it comical.

“No fires,” Clown said instead, “The light will draw attention to us.”

Mapic clenched and unclenched his fist, “Ro could use his telekinesis. But he can barely control it—“

Clown and Flame immediately switched their attention to Ro.

“Bro, you have telekinesis and you didn’t tell us?” Flame cried.

Ro shifted from side to side, looking down at his sneakers. “They’re faulty, so I try not to use them in case I mess things up”

“Dude—“

“-Okay, okay,” Clown placated, “Ro, do you think you can pull the bullet out of yourself?”

The boy shrugged— how confident.

“Try, okay?” Mapicc urged, something desperate in his eyes.

A stifling wind blew, and Ro just sighed, untangling his palms and closing his eyes.

Clown and Flame watched as a purple something emitted from the boy’s hands, sparkling.

It was very different from Kaboodle’s power, he noted. His sister’s was more of a glow, not an incorporeal sight like Ro’s.

It had a solid yet intangible outline, and magic flowed steadily within. It was pretty, too, a blend of rich purples and violet.

Ro moved his hand around slowly, eyebrows furrowed deep in concentration.

Clown watched as he flinched, body jolting as the bullet was forcibly moved past folds of muscle.

“You’re okay,” Mapicc hushed quickly, “I can see it, it’s almost out.”

But Ro jerked, eyes flying open as his hands cramped, yelping.

Clown’s power hummed at the back of his head, and, before he could register it, he ducked his head as the bullet flew out, snapping the air in half.

“I’m so sorry!” Ro cried, his magic wavering.

The bullet hit the ground behind them, clinking and rolling away.

Clown blinked a few times, letting out a shaky breath, “You’re all good.”

Stunned silence.

“You need a doctor, actually,” Flame piped in.

Mapicc rolled his eyes, “Thanks for pointing out the obvious.”

Flame ignored him and instead nudged the oldest vigilante with a foot. “Can’t your sister heal?”

Clown paused.

Yes, Kaboodle could heal, but he didn’t want to drag her into any more of his business. He knew ever since she’d told him about her PIP things would go South, but, no.

His eyes trailed from Flame to Ro, and then Mapicc. He did not want almost half of Lifesteal City’s active vigilantes to know where they lived.

“She could be anywhere after her event,” he reasoned soundly. “She might not be at home.”

“Didn’t you let Mane sleep over?” Flame retorted.

Clown pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mane was one person— not all three of you.”

Mapicc balled his hands into fists. “What if Ro dies? He needs to see someone—“

“-I won’t,” Ro interrupted from where he sat. “Just some bandages would be fine, thanks.”

Mapicc gave up, leaning against the back of the smoking stand as Clown moved forward with his roll of bandages.

Carefully, he wrapped the material around the teen’s shoulder. The boy flinched and bit his lip, but the exchange was silent.

“Once you get home, immediately stitch up the wound,” Clown told him, “And don’t go on patrol for at most four weeks.”

Ro made a noise of protest, but he cut him off.

“In fact, we’ll all lie low for a while,” Clown established, making eye contact with the three teenagers. “After today, police presence will be heightened. We need to let them walk it off.”

A beat. Then, he got three nods.

Clown smiled at them, a gust of wind carrying the smell of smoke over.

Flame wrinkled his nose in distaste, and Ro let out another string of coughs. Mapicc instantly rested a comforting hand on his shoulders, eyes rounded.

The sound of coughs caused Clown to pause. He watched the kid turn and cover his mouth with an elbow, body heaving and spasming worryingly.

This was familiar. So, so familiar.

Clown watched quietly, the humming in his brain getting louder and louder.

“Take this,” he mumbled.

Clown fiddled with the pockets of his jacket and pulled out the papers he snatched from the drawers. Then, after pocketing the papers in the pouches of his pants, unzipped his jacket and gave it to Ro.

“It won’t do anything for the coughs, but it’ll keep you warm and hide the bandages better," Clown said.

Ro gazed at him, his purple eyes wide as the jacket was laid in his lap.

“I couldn’t possibly—”

“- Just wear it. You don’t have to give it back.”

The kid blinked a couple of times.

“Take it, Ro,” Mapicc snapped from beside him.

The boy jolted, quickly pulling the clothing on. After a moment he said, “Uh, thanks. It’s… Nice.”

Flame snorted, “Damn right. I chose it for him.”

Ro’s eyes grew wider, looking like he was about to take it off—

“- Right,” Clown continued quickly, not giving Ro a chance. “When Branzy said something big would happen here, I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean an entire explosion.”

That got an exhale of laughter from Flame.

Mapicc glowered with frustration.

“I don’t understand Branzy!” He yelled, fisting his hair and glaring. “He never gives us the full picture, and he’s always going off on his own.”

Clown watched the outburst calmly as Ro set a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Mapicc forced himself to breathe.

“Branzy’s supposed to look out for us, not just give us information and ditch.”

He looked up accusingly at Clown, red eyes sparking dangerously. “Weren’t you also apprenticed by him?”

Flame sidled closer defensively, but Clown wouldn’t be scared of a teenager, especially one who was obviously spooked himself.

Instead, the man softly replied.

“I was, actually, and trust me, he was a lot worse back then. Branzy led me into fights and just watched without helping. It’s his way of teaching you not to trust everyone.”

Mapicc scoffed, but something calmer made its way into his gaze. “Stupid old man. How old is he?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Fucking ancient.”

What does that make me? Clown thought, amused.

He watched as Mapicc huffed, obviously still in shock.

The helicopter got louder, the sound of air rumbling like thunder. They all backed further into the wall of the smoking stand, eyes up as it soared past them.

“Let’s get out of here,” Flame grimaced.

The three other vigilantes quickly agreed, getting ready to leave.

“I’ll send you the photos through my burner phone,” Mapicc added quickly to Clown. “And, wait— take this.”

He reached into his pockets and pulled out the diagram from the warehouse.

Clown took it with a polite smile, “Thanks, kid.”

“I’m not a kid. I’m nineteen.”

“Eh, close enough.”

Mapicc rolled his eyes, but there was no real heat behind it.

Ro came up to him second, upper body stiff.

Shyly, he said, “Thanks for looking out for us.”

Clown shook his head, “That was all you, Ro. And thanks for handling Mapicc, he only seems to listen to you.”

Ro laughed at that, eyes crinkling upwards in a smile. He shook his head and, instead of answering, said goodbye.

Clown watched as the pale teenager tapped Mapicc on the shoulder, and the two left without another word.

They were all so… Young.

He wasn’t as young as he used to be, and that only drove home the point more.

Clown knew what it was like to carry the world on your shoulders, and he wondered if any of them had siblings to protect. Or, he cast a look at Flame who had remained by his side, parents to support.

“Not going yet? It’s getting late,” Clown said to the boy. “Your parents will be worried about the explosion on the news and everything.”

Flame sighed, shoulder slumping in a moment of weakness.

“The explosion— what caused it?”

The warehouse sparking pink. The strange force— the blast.

Clown hummed, “Definitely a mix of aquaxite and explosives.”

Flame hissed in annoyance. “This Storm group— whatever they’re up to— is really fucking annoying.”

He vigorously threw his arms apart.

“Living in some hideout in our city, running around our alleyways and causing trouble… Something is missing from the picture. There has to be a reason.”

Clown glanced at Flame thoughtfully.

“This batch was the ADVON A team,” he informed, repeating what he’d heard from the warehouse. “There’s another team replacing them soon.”

“ADVON… There’s some kind of war going on? I know our government is sketchy as best, but surely—“

The stars glittered, a cold wind slicing away Flame’s words.

“The outskirts,” he realised, looking at Clown from behind his blindfold. “Our government barely acknowledges them, but there’s got to be something they ain’t telling us.”

Clown nodded approvingly, smiling a little. He realised this back inside the warehouse while they were trying to escape, and it was satisfying to watch Flame figure it out for himself.

“We’ll talk more in a week, okay?” Clown said. “Get some sleep.”

The boy scoffed, “I don’t need sleep, bro, I need answers.”

“Well, I need my beauty sleep, so I’ll be going and you’ll be all alone.”

Flame grumbled, folding his arms and glaring. “Alright then, old man. I’ll question Mane about it. He probably knows something.”

The man nodded, “Good idea. Night?”

“Night, Captain,” the kid replied, doing a mock two-fingered salute and walking the other way.

Clown ducked his head around the smoking stand, keeping an eye on Flame until he disappeared safely from view.

Silence.

The moon and the stars.

Clown finally moved from under the cover.

The night was freezing, darkness and drowning blues. But on the other side of the building, there was an orange, flickering light, and the sound of sirens and firefighters.

The helicopter from earlier was further away now, blades warping a sea of stars. Its lights periodically flashed red and green— its rumbling engine loud and clear.

Clown walked forward and picked up the stray bullet from Ro’s shoulder.

He rolled its bloody, smooth surface between his fingers, memorising the way it twisted and glimmered under sleek moonlight, a canyon of dents.

This is why I do what I do, he thought as he pocketed the object. So Kaboodle doesn’t have to.

Clown thought of the fear in Ro’s eyes and Mapicc’s tough act. He thought of the way Flame had spoken on the roof, repeating his name over and over, anxious.

With a pang, he realised how unnecessarily dangerous this mission had been.

Clown hummed to himself, turning his back on the warehouse.

It was about time he had a nice, long chat with Branzy.

===

Agents walked back and forth between brightly lit hallways. A room sealed by heavy metal doors revealed a network of screens and maps. People sat in neat rows, responding to urgent calls and monitoring screens.

A suited woman stood, scrambling to put down her phone. Panic was evident in her movements, and her steps were hasty as she walked to the front, where a large screen dominated the wall.

As she drew closer, she could make out diagrams of seemingly endless roads and buildings. Its blinding white light submerged her, and eventually, she stopped next to someone who stood before the screen, standing apart from the other workers.

This man balanced large, curved wings on his back. The ends of it were angled towards the floor, and the feathered tips brushed against the ground. His shadow engulfed the seats behind him, and with every slight movement, vivid blue and green feathers flashed. If the girl next to him weren’t so used to his ever-present figure, she would have been distracted.

“The organisation we’ve been keeping tabs on was hiding in a warehouse just to the right of the main city,” she whispered as she stood next to him. “They caused an explosion to try and destroy evidence, but an unknown chemical present in the debris leads our experts to believe it’s indeed them.”

The man slowly nodded to himself.

He hadn’t expected this. Not so soon.

“There were also vigilantes at the scene, and we have reason to believe they were aiding them.” She looked him in the eye, brown-pink irises drowned by blue light. “I told you we should have started cracking down on vigilantes earlier.”

He looked away, eyes focusing on the screen before him.

“We have prepared for no less,” he said, tone dismissive. “Escalate our intelligence agents and send investigators onto the streets.”

The screen flickered before him, but the girl remained unmoving.

“What, Jumper?” He eventually asked.

Jumper narrowed her eyes at him. She always had a degree of fight.

“I saw how you clawed your way up the rankings,” she muttered, head leaning closer. “Outskirt intern to the head of E.L.O.S.P.. I was convinced things would change after you took charge.”

He levelled his gaze with her, undaunted.

“We need action to discourage vigilantism. We need to unite Lifesteal,” Jumper urged, an emerging alarm symbol on the screen washing her skin red. “The people need to believe in us, especially after news of the explosion.”

The man looked away, letting his eyes trail across the glowing screen. He watched the red alarm symbol move across the map, stopping at a warehouse labelled BENJAMIN'S.

“As I’ve said before, we’re not wasting people and resources on catching vigilantes. The outskirts are a bigger, more dangerous problem, " he said.

Jumper folded her arms against her chest, unconvinced, just like she’d been for the last few months.

“Think of it as baby steps,” she pushed. “It’ll be easier to operate once the vigilantes are out of the way. Plus, they’re illegal, and if they’re not gone soon the people will think the police are incompetent.”

He seemed to mull this over, turning the words carefully in his head.

Computer keys clicked, and the screen before him shifted, zooming out to capture the majority of the city. Conversations between agents were spoken over each other as phones rang and alerts sounded around the room.

Circles were pinged across the map and marked cyan for suspected criminal activity.

Most of them were in the poorer regions of Lifesteal.

“Fine,” he relented, eyes still on the map. “Tell the police to scale efforts in arresting vigilantes, and up their funding by five per cent. I want them alive, though. That’s important.”

Jumper didn’t bother hiding her satisfaction. They both knew how much she wanted this.

“On it. I’ll contact all major headquarters tonight.”

She turned on her heels, about to leave for good when the man turned to stop her.

“And, Jumper?” He called.

The girl paused, meeting his eyes with a questioning look.

“Kickstart the Opportunities Program for me.”

The girl looked at him, eyes widening a fraction. The screen behind him set the edges of his frame alight, the arch of his wings high above his head.

“We’ve only just finalised the program, though. Are you sure?” She asked.

“Plenty.”

He said no more.

Jumper dipped her head politely and backed away.

“Of course, Parrot.”

Parrot didn’t respond.

Chapter Text

Kaboodle dropped her keys onto the table.

She texted Zam a thank-you message for dropping her off on her phone and ignored the numbness in her fingers from the cold outside. As she swiped to her home screen, she ignored the five messages from Squiddo and the missed call from Ash.

She didn’t feel bad. Not at all.

It was past midnight, and Kaboodle had only eaten apple pie. She should have felt hungry, but the quietness of her apartment prevented her from moving.

She didn’t know how to feel.

Was she mad at Squiddo and Ash? A little bit.

Was she confused? Yes. One hundred per cent.

Was she going to answer any of their texts and calls? Probably not.

Kaboodle gave herself a rough shake and moved to flick open the kitchen lights. A sharp whiteness bloomed, washing out the dark crevices of her home.

It was cold.

Hollow.

Kaboodle stood unmoving, the lights flickering weakly.

She stared at the kitchen table. It had a box of tissues, and the stove opposite was void of pans. The fruit basket on the other end of the table contained a singular apple, and the jug of water was almost drained.

This was not home.

It was too quiet.

Where’s Clown?

Kaboodle looked around, dropping her bag in her room and glancing past Clown’s open door. His window was open, and the cold breeze outside caused his unfurled curtains to flutter.

Kaboodle blinked at the sight and left, finding herself aimlessly returning to the cold brightness of the kitchen.

Zam had calmed her down. He’d talked her through her emotions on their way back home, but now, without someone to talk to, Kaboodle felt loud.

Not a noisy ‘loud’. Not a cumulation of explosives and energy and anger. It was quiet, simmering. One wrong move would claw her open.

Kaboodle forced her hands on some food, rummaging through the cupboard as the loudness grew and grew.

It was hot– boiling. She needed to tear at something. Rip.

The girl grabbed a candy bar— its shiny wrapper briefly catching the light. She tore it off, the plastic scrunching unpleasantly under her fingers.

She wanted to feel. She wanted to feel anything except this convulsing motor of rage. This loudness wouldn't leave her alone.

Ash and Squiddo. Squiddo and Ash.

Her work.

No, she wasn’t even mad they took it.

Kaboodle fisted her fingers into a fist, the candy uncomfortably pushing into her palm.

She was mad they publicised it.

It was meant for Clown. Just him. No one else was supposed to know. No one else was supposed to know about aquaxite or the stormwatcher or the anti-suppressor, but now they did and it was all Kaboodle’s fault.

She was the one who accidentally suggested the topic of vigilantes— she used Ash and Squiddo for the venue mission, and now she was getting her karma.

The loudness grew, storming. She wanted to yell— wanted to kick, and at the same time, she didn’t want to. Because she wasn’t that kind of person. She didn’t want to be spiteful.

Kaboodle dug the candy out from her palm, chucking it into the bin. Shoulder stinging from the motion.

Also, Clown. Where was he? Why wasn’t he back?

Kaboodle reopened her phone, eyes nervously scanning his last message.

Clown: im going out for patrol now

It was sent right after she’d left with Zam to the convention-– almost four hours ago.

Kaboodle ran a hand through her hair, forcing herself to breathe.

She needed someone to talk to. She needed to rid of the noises that kept growing and growing in her head.

She really, really hoped Clown was okay. It wasn’t unusual for him to return late, but the brightness and the noises were sharpening and she needed an out-

—A stomp.

Kaboodle whisked around with wide eyes to face the hallway

“Clown?” She called, unable to restrain the shake in her voice.

The sound of boots cuffed against a window sill, and then a soft thud followed as someone dropped on the floor.

Kaboodle started slowly towards her brother’s room, ears perked.

His door was closed now. It was open a minute ago.

“Clown? Are you in there?” Kaboodle asked as she knocked on the door.

There was a distorted response.

Clothes shuffled behind the door, and the sound of crinkling paper caught her attention. Drawers were shoved open and closed, and hasty footsteps paced around before stopping.

It had to be him.

Kaboodle gripped the knob with shaking hands and forced the door open. Into the following darkness, she whispered her brother’s name again.

“Clown?”

The open window from before let in washed moonlight, and the room was drenched in mercury. Kaboodle let out a sigh of relief at Clown’s familiar, tall figure standing near his desk. His arms propped on the wooden surface for support.

Her brother’s mask was twisted messily to the side of his head and, as Kaboodle got closer, she noticed the burn on the back of his neck.

“What… What happened?” She quietly asked, stopping a few feet before him.

Clown didn’t move, breathing harshly— catching his breath. Kaboodle took this opportunity to search his back for further injury, her powers itching to be used.

That was when he turned, meeting her gaze with a guilty look.

“Chances you haven’t watched the news?” He quipped nervously.

Kaboodle stopped. What could he have possibly done to get a spot on the news?

“You’re in luck. I just got back a few minutes ago.”

Clown turned back around, sighing heavily. He looked almost relieved.

The girl folded her arms across her chest, narrowing her eyes at him. “Tell me.”

“Do I have to?”

“I’m gonna know sooner or later,” Kaboodle pointed out, frowning.

Clown turned back around again, sheepishly grinning and said, “There was a bit of an explosion, and some people died.”

What.

Kaboodle stared at him, disbelief thrumming through her veins.

An explosion? Caused by Clown? People died?

Panic flared within her.

“What do you mean?” She prompted, stepping closer to him. “You might want to elaborate.”

Clown’s eyes widened, “Oh, I didn’t cause the explosion. I was just… There. And I got… Unlucky?”

Wow, what a convincing lie. Kaboodle was definitely going to fall for that.

She glared at him. “Right. And you killed people.”

Clown moved from his spot, pushing off his table and standing defensively.

“One person,” he said, driving his point home with a finger raised to emphasise the ‘one’. “I killed one guy because he shot a kid of mine.”

Kaboodle blinked.

Clown had kids?

“Not actual kids. I’ve just been calling them that in my head,” he continued quickly, watching the confusion cross her face.

Okay, that made a lot more sense.

Kaboodle thinned her lips into a line and tucked her arms tighter against her chest. Clown met her gaze quietly, and she took in the ash smudged across his face— black and powdery against his cheek.

His forehead was sheen with sweat, and his hair looked wild and whipped by the wind.

He looked… Tired. Worn out. And, damn, Kaboodle realised with a pang. She was too.

She just wanted a break— to stop the noises. She needed a pause from the momentum of her life.

In a soft voice, Kaboodle asked, “Can I hug you?”

Clown tensed immediately, regarding her, and Kaboodle ignored a flash of hurt. But then, his face shifted from the calculated look, and she watched with timid eyes as his defences fully dropped.

In the darkness, Clown made a motion with his hands, beckoning.

Kaboodle, with a grin, wrapped her arms around him— suddenly enveloped by warmth.

Clown was a lot slower to form an embrace.

He awkwardly manoeuvred his arms around her, as if unsure where his limbs went. Eventually, he settled both hands on her back hesitantly, as if unsure he belonged.

Kaboodle responded by squeezing him, breathing into his warmth as she registered his pause, then the click of his decisions as he answered, holding her tighter.

She smiled into the beat of his ribcage, her powers pulsing in sync.

It was nice but… the noise wouldn’t stop.

Kaboodle reopened her eyes, still held close and together by Clown’s arms.

The loudness thrummed, burning.

Something wasn’t right.

She couldn’t just overlook an explosion.

“Are you okay?” Kaboodle questioned.

She tugged herself out of the hug, a piece of her unwillingly to let go.

Clown backed away, shrugging.

“My neck stings and my clothes are all sweaty, but I’m fine. The kid of mine that got shot is doing well, too.”

Kaboodle just looked at him, mouth dry and stomach twisting anxiously.

Just how big was this explosion? Surely she could have seen something while walking back with Zam.

“What else happened?” Kaboodle asked. “What exploded and why?”

Clown stood still for a second, then gazed at her with a conflicted expression.

“Tell me,” she urged him, the buzzing in her head growing louder. Why won’t you speak?

Her brother pinched his eyebrows, a hand going down his face and further smudging the ash.

“A warehouse was exploded by an organisation hiding inside,” Clown said, red eyes sharp. “The Storm. You’d know them as the people who got you into the hospital.”

Kaboodle blinked at him, the words processing slowly through the cracks of the noise.

Hannah.

Hannah almost killed Clown.

“They set off a bomb inside the warehouse after the police and military found them,” Clown explained, “But if I had to guess, I’d say the government’s known about the Storm for a while.”

Her gaze slid away from Clown and focused on the dark corner of his bedroom.

Hadn’t Mane also said something about the government?

“They’re hiding something,” Kaboodle murmured, looking up. “The government is.”

Clown made a so-so movement with his head, “I don’t know, Kabs, but this conversation stays between us.”

She nodded silently, but he didn’t seem satisfied.

“And stay out of this, okay?” He asked, “Please.”

Kaboodle matched Clown’s stern gaze, thoughts whirring in her mind.

Did Clown not realise how much danger he’d been in? Or had he simply experienced so much that it seemed pale in comparison? Surely he must feel frightened or anything?

Was it her fault he was like this; someone who’d seen so much that an explosion and a shot to the shoulder wasn’t a big deal?

Was it Kaboodle’s fault Clown was so… So nonchalant about almost being blown up into a million billion trillion little pieces?

Why?

Kaboodle gazed into Clown’s eyes, searching for fear or worry. She found nothing in those red depths, and then glanced at his mask, her composure cracking.

Everyone was always so full of whimsy and joy. The way Squiddo and Ash were smiling before they noticed her— the way they were all dressed up. Clown’s use of his blood money to buy her that darn good suit— how proud of her he’d been.

The fact that Kaboodle’s selfishness and wanting to be good enough might ruin Clown’s life, and Squiddo and Ash had aided her in the process because she dragged them into it.

It was hot. The feeling in her body was hot.

The anger, frustration and guilt felt like a storm. Churning and churning and twisting. The noise built in her head— louder and louder. Shrieking.

Kaboodle clenched her jaw, meeting Clown’s red eyes with a flash of her own.

“You shouldn’t be okay!” She spat.

Clown startled, his eyes drawn wide and out of his element.

“Being caught in an explosion is not okay, and having a kid shot in front of you is not just something you accept!”

Clown gave her a strange look, “I’m fine, though. And Ro will be, too.”

Kaboodle shook her head furiously, barely registering the stranger’s name.

It wasn’t ‘fine’. It was never ‘fine’.

He didn’t get it— he didn’t.

Kaboodle stared Clown down, her chest burning with frustration. She would probably cry— under any other circumstance she would have— but this seering, loud, red-hot anger demanded cries.

“I’m worried!” Kaboodle continued to snap. Pink flashed in the corners of her vision. “You’re all dismissive and shit after almost being blown up.”

And it’s all my fault, she added silently, seething.

Clown stood still, his gaze calculating.

Her anger wasn’t justified. She was still annoyed at Squiddo and Ash, and now that frustration had caused her to snap at her brother. But, Kaboodle’s point still stood. Clown didn’t understand having to watch the most important person in his life risk themselves every day.

He didn’t understand the guilt that came with it— the worry.

Kaboodle forced herself to take deep, even breaths, and glared at him, the anger returning with a spark, “You’re always so concerned about me that you don’t understand how concerned I am for you.”

There. There it was.

She took a final breath, recollecting herself.

Clown blinked as she did so, his defensive stance shattering. In a quiet motion, he gingerly reached out for her, gloved hands pulling her close.

Kaboodle froze as he hugged her, thoughts clamouring and the noise in the back of her head grinding. She refused to rely on someone who sacrificed so much for her. It wasn’t cool or badass to regard violence in such a way. It was trauma— it was— she didn’t know what it was, but she hated it.

And, yet, as Clown hugged her lightly, the hesitance obvious like he was entering uncharted territory, Kaboodle couldn’t make herself move away.

Clown never initiated physical contact. Sometimes it was a brief nudge or a pat on the shoulder, but he never willingly let anyone too close.

This was special, and Kaboodle was mad enough to push away someone attempting to cross their comfort zone.

She felt her eyes blur with tears, but before she could do anything about them, there was a noise— bang.

The siblings froze, looking in the direction of the sound.

Kaboodle furrowed her brows, immediately walking towards the source when another, sharper bang emitted from her room.

Fuck.

That was the sound of the anti-suppressor overloading.

She shot a panicked look at Clown, whose stare flickered to her meaningfully.

Something you aren’t telling me? He seemed to ask.

Kaboodle looked away, her stomach churning anxiously.

It was off. She had triple-checked that she’d turned it off two days ago. It was supposed to be off.

Then why the hell did it make that noise? She thought fitfully.

“Um, that’s coming from your room, Kabs,” Clown stated, still looking at her. “We gonna check it out, or?”

“I’m,” Kaboodle corrected. “I’m going to check it out.”

The anti-suppressor wasn’t ready yet. It still looked ugly and was nowhere near as polished as Squiddo and Ash’s had been. She had made some quality-of-life changes between exams, but it wasn’t finished and wouldn’t be for a while.

Clown gave her a look, and Kaboodle knew there was no convincing him to leave.

Okay, this was always gonna happen anyway, she chastised herself.

Another sound came from her room. Louder, this time— more demanding.

Hopefully, nothing was on fire.

Kaboodle’s stomach gave a few flips as she led Clown down the hallway, and when the two siblings arrived at her door, she opened it with a flinch.

Bright, pink light greeted them.

Kaboodle squinted, the back of her eyelids alight as she tried to navigate to her cupboard.

And, yes, she was aware her room was a mess.

Exam sample papers littered the floor, and school-issued textbooks were piled in a corner. A couple of her notebooks were still laid wide open, and the clothes hanger for her suit was still on her bed.

Everything was lit pink, the obvious source of the light erupting from the gap in her cupboard.

“Why is your cupboard glowing?” Clown murmured, eyes sweeping her bedroom.

Kaboodle laughed nervously, “You’re gonna find out.”

She gripped the wardrobe and flung it open, heart thumping against her chest.

The anti-suppressor sat on the top-most shelf, its pink energy crackling and spitting.

As she reached for it, holding her breath, its magenta waves reached out for her tentatively.

“Is that… Is that the thing I caught you making?” Clown asked the pieces connecting in his head.

Kaboodle nodded, going on her tippy-toes and retrieving the anti-suppressor. It was slightly warm, and she’d experimented with it enough to know it had been active for a few minutes.

“This ‘thing’ is an anti-suppressor,” she told her brother, turning around to display it.

Clown’s eyes narrowed, but lacking his normal wariness— probably reassured by the fact Kaboodle made it, reached out to touch it.

Big mistake.

No one had helped her make it, so what she knew the anti-suppressor did was limited to her interactions with it. Additionally, it reacted to her powers specifically— not anything else, and… Well… Clown wasn’t powerless.

The device rumbled, threatening.

Kaboodle’s powers were usually a distant buzz— a thing she knew existed in the back of her mind. It was always weak, always barely there, but the second Clown’s gloved hand touched the metal surface of the anti-suppressor, her powers screamed.

Its surface sparked and Kaboodle stumbled back, making the mistake of holding it tighter.

The anti-suppressor was exposed to two different powers, and Kaboodle felt the sensation before it happened.

She blinked, someone’s voice echoing over her head in the darkness.

The concrete road they were standing on was damp, and the sky was overcast with greys and blues. A cold breeze met her face, and out of the corner of her eyes, she knew she was in an alleyway.

What’s happening? She thought, panicked.

She was holding someone’s hand, and this someone was much taller than her. She felt like she should recognise the grooves and the curl of their fingers, but her panic was overwhelming.

The person in front of her kept talking, saying something insistently, but Kaboodle’s gaze was fixed on the ground. She tried to turn it, but she couldn’t. She tried to move her arms, but she couldn’t.

Panic flared in her body.

She couldn’t see the talking person’s face, but their presence made her feel cold. Frightened.

Her eyes finally moved upwards, just as the person reached into the pockets of their long coat.

The person holding her hand extended an arm, and she tried to look up and see their face— but the moment was over.

Her eyes— not her own— moved away from the arm and focused on the man before her again.

Out of his coat, bony fingers wrapped around a vial, he pulled out something bl—

Kaboodle staggered, gasping and looking around.

The light of her room came back, and so the ability to move her arms and head.

Clown was against the wall opposite her, and she was backed against the desk of her bedroom, breathing harshly.

What just happened?

What was that?

Kaboodle scrambled to recollect herself, gazing at the anti-suppressor on the floor— dropped.

That’s never happened before, Kaboodle’s mind cried.

The anti-suppressor spat, scarily bright pinks hissing with a new colour. Red. They seemed intertwined, weaving and weaving until the pink completely engulfed it.

Gone. The red was gone.

Kaboodle glanced up at Clown, who hadn’t moved.

He looked at her, face carefully set in a shocked expression.

“That’s… Never happened before,” she whispered to him. “I swear— I had no idea.”

Clown shifted his foot into a more balanced position, expression tinged with suspicion.

“What just happened?” He asked carefully.

Kaboodle kneeled on the floor, collecting the anti-suppressor into her arms. It hadn’t broken, thank goodness, but she’d have to take it apart to check on the aquaxite.

“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “Maybe it’s because of your powers. Aquaxite is reactive— constantly trying to learn and adapt.”

But that doesn’t explain why I ended up in that place, Kaboodle thought with a flash of panic.

“Did–Did you go anywhere?” She asked cryptically, looking briefly up.

Clown shot her a confused look, “No, but the thing flashed and it lasted for ages. I couldn’t see anything.”

He stood up properly, walking toward her.

“Kabs, explain how this thing works to me.”

Kaboodle held the hot metal closer, feeling suddenly defensive.

“It’s an anti-suppressor. It uses aquaxite to generate a force field that protects you from the stormwatcher.”

Clown raised an intrigued eyebrow, and she inwardly calmed a little. Good, he wasn’t mad.

Kaboodle fiddled with the anti-suppressor’s keypad.

She had switched the old one with a Nokia number pad she had recovered at a device recycling centre. It was smaller and she was more used to the order of the numbers.

Plus, it helped with making the design more compact overall— but rewiring the circuits had been a whole mess.

“Let me guess,” Clown started, “the parts and aquaxite are from the stormwatcher you had ages ago.”

How does he know? Kaboodle thought with alarm, looking up at him.

Clown flashed her a teasing smile, reading her thoughts. “You discredit me, Kabs. I went to Lifesteal Academy too, remember?.”

She rolled her eyes, smiling back, ignoring the doubt gnawing at her belly.

What was that? Her brain kept asking. What just happened to me? And why only me?

Kaboodle hadn’t recognised the place. Not the grey streets or the stranger or the dull skies.

It felt old. Timeless.

Like a memory, her mind whispered.

“Kabs?” Clown called.

Kaboodle snapped out of her thoughts, blinking up at him. He held out a hand, and she took it, staggering up.

“Sorry, I was thinking,” she replied softly.

He grinned, “Knowing your reputation, that’s dangerous.”

The girl huffed, holding the anti-suppressor tighter. “My grades say otherwise.”

“Except for your philosophy ones.”

“There’s like seven people in my class! And the teacher has to give some people a lower grade.”

“Okay, but think about what that implies—“

Kaboodle shot him a glare, and Clown shut up, grinning to himself.

“Right, so you were talking about the anti-suppressor,” he continued.

She nodded slowly, still a little dazed. “Right. It’s not finished— but it will be. It works, though, and I wanted you to have it.”

That stopped him.

“Me?” Clown asked, disbelief written all over his face,

Kaboodle scrunched up her features, “You think I’ll need an anti-suppressor?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it.

“Obviously not. Of course, it’s for you, dummy,” she finished.

Clown looked a little unsure, eyes flickering to the device still in her hands. It was cooler now, and the sparks had disappeared.

“But didn’t it just explode?” He pointed out.

Kaboodle frowned, playing with its on-and-off switch. “Well, yeah, but it usually works.”

“Right.”

She sighed, putting it down on her table. Clown watched the movement quietly.

Did he not want it? She could research and fix it— make it safer. Maybe Clown would prefer it like that? If not, then she’d wasted days for nothing and spent hours on something she didn’t need.

Weeks worth of her time would cease to exist.

But if Squiddo and Ash get pitched, then it’ll continue to exist, she thought, crestfallen. I should have… Argh, I don’t know.

“Kaboodle?”

She looked up, defeated.

Clown slowly smiled at her, “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Really?

A grin was on her face before she knew it. “Really?”

“Of course,” he said.

He likes it, she beamed. “You’d use it?”

Clown shrugged, “Yeah, I will once you get its exploding tendencies fixed.”

Kaboodle searched his face. Clown’s eyes were usually calculating; he was a thinker who planned for the best and prepared himself for the worst. But, right now, there was something entirely different in his gaze.

Trust.

Kaboodle could explode. Positively.

“There’s just one of these, right?” Clown eventually asked, gaze drifting over the device.

Kaboodle nodded, then stopped herself. “Um, technically, there might be two?”

He gave her a confused look, and she found herself unable to explain.

How was she supposed to tell him what Squiddo and Ash had done? Should she?

“Squiddo and Ash may have… Seen my notes and made their version with a battery,” she said quickly.

Clown paused, then bit his lip. “I doubt a battery would be of any use against a stormwatcher.”

Kaboodle ran a hand through her hair, chest tight. “It’s not that—I— the competition. They made it for the competition, and they might get pitched.”

Clown paused, silent.

She flinched and made a dismissive gesture, trying to deflect the conversation. It was weird talking to him about her friendship problems.

“It doesn’t matter,” she continued quickly, “they probably won’t— there were dozens of inventions there.”

Clown’s eyes were confused, and Kaboodle knew he was trying to read between the lines. He wasn’t great at that— he wasn’t great with emotions in general, but, staring at him, she could tell he sensed her discomfort.

Her brother reached out with a hand, squeezing her left shoulder.

“You’re scared they’ll find out,” he muttered.

Kaboodle didn’t know who Clown meant by ‘they’, but yes, she was scared. She didn’t want Hannah finding out, or the government, or the police. Damn it, she didn’t want anyone to find out.

It was meant to be theirs. Clown’s.

Kaboodle shifted on the spot, “I’m sorry.”

His gaze hardened. “No, don’t be sorry. It wasn’t your fault Squiddo and Ash went behind your back.”

But I’ve also gone behind their backs, she thought with a brief flash of horror. I used Ash to locate Hannah’s group at the venue, and I almost got Squiddo killed for that.

The memory of the bullet resurfaced; the way her breathing paused, her body registering the object zipping past her head before her mind. The way Squiddo had barely moved in time before Hannah fired— the fear, the guilt.

The way the air had split next to her ear.

Kaboodle tried to stabilise herself, grounding herself in the warmth of Clown’s hand. She let out a shaky breath, something in her heart breaking.

She wasn’t a good friend, and she shouldn’t be mad at Squiddo and Ash for not being perfect. Hell, she was probably annoying as fuck with her self-pity monologue— always trying to help but ruining the situation instead.

Clown paused for a moment, then moved, the pressure on her shoulder loosening.

Kaboodle watched quietly as he walked around and positioned himself beside her, sitting lightly on her table.

“I’m not going anywhere until you feel better,” he established.

Moonlight weaselled in between the gaps of her curtains, illuminating Clown’s figure.

Kaboodle thought about how long it took him to return today, the panic she’d felt.

She tried to imagine Clown during the explosion. Was he scared? Panicked? Had he cried? But it was so hard to gauge this information from him, especially when he sat as calmly as he did.

“Tell me if Squiddo and Ash give you any trouble, okay?” He said, hands moving to dust off his white jacket.

Kaboodle gave him a queasy look, “It’s fine.”

Clown shook his head, “Just tell me.”

“You’re not gonna beat them up, are you?”

“What makes you say that?”

He sounded genuinely shocked.

Kaboodle smiled, and he smiled back. Okay, he was just playing with her.

“Don’t,” she reinforced, turning her head away. “They’re still my friends.”

Clown hummed noncommittally, picking up the anti-suppressor that had cooled during their talk. Kaboodle watched him examine it, playing with her fingers nervously.

“It’s a real piece of work,” he remarked.

She nodded as he played with the keypad.

Clown grinned, looking up at her. “You took this from a Nokia?”

And, once again, Kaboodle wondered how on earth he knew.

As she answered, it felt like the life they had back at their parents’ house.

There weren’t soldering irons or blueprints back then, but small Kaboodle made do with the paddle pop sticks from popsicles and the Bluetack Clown stole from school. She’d make do with the rubber bands from packaged bread and stole paperclips from her father’s dusty workshop.

Clown came home each afternoon with his backpack and sat next to her on the table. He’d listen and nod as she rambled on and on about how “This one’s a catapult!” and “This one is a bed for mum to sleep in because she’s always so tired”.

It was simple back then, she missed it.

She missed the warmth of a home she couldn’t remember, and she missed the faces of parents she wasn’t sure she had.

But they had to exist because there were bits and pieces of them all around. Her father’s workshop and her mother’s dying garden.

There were things she remembered, but they all felt so off.

Now, however, as Kaboodle answered Clown’s questions and fished the once-secret diagrams from her drawers, she started to hope that maybe life could be simple again.

Just a little.

Until the morning, Squiddo and Ash’s messages weren’t replied to.

Chapter Text

Direct Messages: Ash (Ashswag)

You missed a call from Ash at Yesterday, 23:40

You missed a call from Ash at Yesterday, 23:52

BALLS.A.K

Yesterday, (23:44)

Squiddo: Kaboodle are you still at the event?

(23:55)

Squiddo: Please get home safely :(

Today, (00:21)

Squiddo: Did you get home alright?

Squiddo: Do you wanna meet at the front gates tmr morning?

(07:55)

Kaboodle: sure

Kaboodle: and ty, i got home fine

Squiddo: Cool! 8:50?

Kaboodle: okay ^^

===

Sunshine poured through the clouds, weak warmth illuminating the academy’s grounds.

Kaboodle dug her nails into the strap of her satchel, feet tapping against the ground and eyes searching the flocks of people walking through the school’s gates.

Chatter danced in the air, and the green grass fawned over a cool breeze. A small group of students wandered past her, their smiles lighting like fireworks as the sun touched their faces.

One of them squealed and, enraptured, Kaboodle watched as water arched into the sky like liquid gates— sparkling. The friend of the squealing student laughed, her hands twirling as the water fell back down, encircling her wrist.

“You’ve gotten so great at water manipulation,” a third friend whispered, smiling. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t beat Tiffany in the next duel.”

The girl grinned, “You bet! I told her the loser had to buy everyone popsicles.”

Kaboodle watched, their conversation fading the further they drew away. Silently, she returned her gaze to the crowd, shifting uncomfortably under the shade.

Their life sounded so simple; go to school, see friends, practice your abilities, duel your classmates. It sounded… Fun. Kaboodle missed having fun.

Specifically, fun with Squiddo and Ash.

Her eyes flickered to a particularly large ground of people walking through the gates, biting her lips when she didn’t recognise a single face.

Sure, Squiddo and Ash were excessively reckless at times, but Kaboodle was too. Their dynamic drew her in, and it felt like it was possible to achieve anything when they were together. Even though following Clown to the bank that night had given her outright anxiety, it had been fun— if not a little dangerous.

Kaboodle ran her hands down the side of her arms, feeling the warmth of her palms evade the cool skin.

She missed them.

A lot.

“Kaboodle!”

The girl glanced around, and her eyes widened at the sight of brown hair and pink glasses.

Squiddo was walking through the gates, their orange jacket flowering amongst a sea of blue skirts and bags. As sunlight streamed through their hair, their brown locks turned gold, and Squiddo became a figure akin to the sun.

With the hitch of a smile, Kaboodle greeted them back, “You really aren’t afraid to get dress-coded, are you?”

Squiddo neared, laughing. “I haven’t been sent to the front office in years. I don’t think it’s something we’ll have to worry about.”

They smiled at each other, and the whole interaction felt deceptively simple.

A beat.

Squiddo huffed nervously, their eyes straying away from Kaboodle’s gaze.

“I guess we should talk about last night,” they said.

And even though Kaboodle fretted about it in her sleep, anxiously picked at her breakfast all morning, and bit her lip apprehensively on the way to school, the way Squiddo put it made it all feel so easy.

Like they’d get through it together.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry, first of all,” Squiddo continued, brown eyes wide and genuine. “Ash and I just… We wanted to help you.”

Kaboodle looked on as Squiddo faltered, her own brain doing somersaults to understand.

They wanted to help her.

Help… Her?

Kaboodle didn’t need any help. Everything thus far had been manageable, and the ups and downs of making the anti-suppressor had been fun (even though she’d almost been consequently blown up). She was fine. She didn’t need help.

“So, after you asked Ash how to theoretically harness powers in a device, I tried to come up with my own design and stuff,” Squiddo said. “I did some research surrounding batteries and pulled up some really old documents on supernatural energies, and Ash just happened to have a blueprint of a working prototype.”

Pause. What?

“Then, we worked together for a while to make the thing– but because we didn’t have any parts we decided to join the competition because it provided free materials and such.”

Squiddo took a deep breath.

“We didn’t mean to steal your idea or anything… It just… All happened so fast?”

The end was phrased like a question, and Squiddo peered at Kaboodle gingerly, awaiting a response. But Kaboodle’s mind was elsewhere, fixating on something Squiddo had said earlier.

“Go back to Ash’s blueprint— do you know where he got it from?” She asked, eyes narrowing.

Squiddo’s facial features tensed, and they scratched the back of their neck. “Um, no. I just assumed he did his own research and stuff. It did look similar to the stormwatcher.”

Kaboodle inhaled sharply, fingers digging even deeper into her bag’s strap.

“That was my blueprint,” she whispered, the words heavy on her tongue. “He took it from my laptop.”

Squiddo’s eyes widened. “Ash wouldn’t do that.”

Then, more tentatively, they added, “Would he?”

Suddenly, a bell chimed, rocking the air with urgency. Kaboodle turned her gaze away from Squiddo and watched as the last of the students in the front courtyard vanished into the hall.

“Let’s go to class first,” she decided. “We’ll ask Ash when we see him.”

Their first class was Supernatural History– a mandatory subject. Kaboodle entered the classroom with Squiddo trailing quietly behind her, and with one sweeping look over the countless heads of her classmates, she spotted Ash sitting near the back, the window on his right illuminating the dark complexion of his face.

“I’m sure he has his reasons,” Squiddo whispered as they approached.

They better be good, Kaboodle thought haughtily.

It was hard to decipher Ash’s emotions as they sat down next to him. Squiddo settled in the middle, and Kaboodle sat on the edge of the table, picking at her fingers.

Ash looked calm, but his leg bounced under the table, subtly rocking the desk.

Squiddo, exhaling sharply through their nose, started the conversation.

“Morning,” they said.

“Morning,” Ash replied indifferently.

Awkward.

It was so awkward.

Kaboodle made a strained noise, her fingers turning pink with how harshly she was picking them. Ash made a point not to meet her gaze, and the three friends lulled into an uneasy silence.

Once again, Squiddo was the first to talk.

“Uh, it’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”

Kaboodle looked out the window past Ash’s head, noting sadly that it was– in fact– a lovely day.

Damn it.

The sky was blue, and clouds were scattered sparingly across the sky. As warm daylight flooded into the cold classroom, Kaboodle placed her hand on a brightly lit spot on the table, her fingers tingling with warmth as she brushed the wooden surface.

“It’s getting colder,” Ash answered slowly. “Everyone’s picking up puffer jackets again.”

Squiddo made a pleasant noise of agreement, and the table fell silent once more as the teacher entered the classroom.

Flat, leather shoes clicked across the ground as Mr Lester stopped at his speaking podium to arrange a stack of papers. With a quick scan of the classroom, he cleared his throat and began talking.

“As you all know, your Winter holidays are in a week. During this time, I expect you all to be working on your final group interest project.”

Kaboodle shifted at the reminder, pulling her arms closer to her chest. Right. She’d kind of forgotten about that.

“You may finalise any concerns you have with the project before this week ends, but I will not be responding to any emails during the holidays.” Mr Lester’s stern gaze raked across the seated rows of students. “Do not forget that the mark for this project contributes to your graduation finals. For your own good, I would encourage you to work hard and effectively.”

Of course, it did. Of course, Kaboodle forgot about that.

There was so much on the line. Her grades, her final exams, and her friendship with Ash and Squiddo over some silly contraption she made to protect Clown.

I really need to stop involving myself in things, she thought furiously.

Mr Lester’s voice boomed over her thoughts.

“With that out of the way, today’s lesson will be free-study on your project. Feel free to come to me with questions.”

Chatter immediately broke out as the spell of silence cast by the teacher’s authority shattered. Heads bent together and laptop keyboards clicked hurriedly. As Kaboodle, Squiddo, and Ash quietly pulled out their devices, a strange silence stretched between them.

Kaboodle opened her laptop, glancing in Ash’s direction.

He just so happened to pause, eyes flickering to her.

They stared at each other silently.

Awkwardly.

Kaboodle’s insides spiked nervously, but whether it was from hope or anger, she couldn’t tell.

Ash’s eyes gave nothing away. His face was contorted like he was strained, but his eyes were eerily purple and calm.

With a huff, she looked away, internally screaming.

She wanted to call him out— she wanted to demand answers. How had he gotten his hands on her blueprint? Why did he use his powers on her laptop? What happened to privacy? What happened to trust?

Kaboodle bitterly fumed, hands clenching together.

Could he just admit to it already?? She wanted this conversation over and done with. There were other things she needed to focus on. One was getting Clown used to the anti-suppressor, and the other was working on the PIP. If Ash could just get an apology out of the way—

“I’m sorry.”

Kaboodle tensed, blinking a couple of times before meeting Ash’s eyes.

“What?” She mumbled, caught off guard.

“I’m sorry, Kaboodle,” Ash sighed. “Really.”

His eyes were nervous now— flickering between her and the table.

“I know it wasn’t the most ethical thing to do—”

“-It really wasn’t,” she cut off.

“I know,” Ash emphasised, eyebrows knitted together. “I knew but I still did it and I’m sorry. It wasn’t right– but you looked so conflicted and you were giving me mixed signals and I wanted to do something for you.”

He dropped his gaze, eyes burning into the screen of his laptop.

“I tried doing what I thought was right.”

And Kaboodle felt that. She really did.

It hurt knowing Ash had gone behind her back and unwittingly dragged Squiddo into it too, but it felt better knowing he did it to help. There was just something about actions rooted in consideration that made Kaboodle smile a little, a look of confusion setting on Ash’s face at her reaction.

“You should be mad at me,” he said grumpily. “You can go ahead and yell, y’know. It serves me right.”

Kaboodle shook her head. “What you did was wrong, but it’s already done. So I guess it’s okay.”

Ash blinked. “What?”

“It’s alright. I forgive you.” Kaboodle looked at Squiddo. “Both of you. And I’m sorry, too. I went behind your backs a lot doing who-knows-what, and I should’ve communicated better.”

Squiddo grinned, their glasses catching the sunlight falling through the window. “Don’t be silly. We all make mistakes, but what matters is we learn from them.”

Ash brushed the hair out of his eyes, hiding his discomfort, “Thanks, I guess.”

“You can make it up to me by not snooping around in my laptop,” Kaboodle replied with a sneaky grin.

“Deal.”

“And we’ll all communicate more,” Squiddo piped up.

Ash and Kaboodle nodded. “Right.”

And it was over. Just like that.

Kaboodle let her heart calm down and breathed a sigh of relief. Her thoughts were still jumping around, pushing against the walls of her brain but it was okay. They were okay. A disaster was avoided, and life was all good again.

See? Friendships are easy as pie, her heart sang.

I want to fucking kill myself, Kaboodle’s mind cried.

And, well, yeah. Mood.

“Wait a minute– do you guys know if you got pitched or not?” She suddenly asked.

Squiddo and Ash looked at each other. “No. The results come out next week.”

A moment of panic.

“Can you guys like, uh, say no to getting it pitched?” She tried.

They both paused, and Kaboodle hoped that they felt guilty enough about stealing her blueprints to not question the desperation in her voice.

Thankfully, Squiddo answered, “I can try emailing them. We probably didn’t even win.”

Okay, that was a start.

“Cool,” she replied. “Cool, cool. Cool beans.”

Ash raised an eyebrow. “Something you aren’t telling us?”

“Whaaaat? No! Of course not!”

“What did we say about communication?”

Oh, shit.

Kaboodle paled, trying to force a smile onto her face. “It’s really nothing.”

Ash and Squiddo didn’t look the slightest bit convinced, but as much as she felt bad, she couldn’t tell them about Clown.

“I just… Want the anti-suppressor to stay between us,” Kaboodle said quietly.

Squiddo nodded and smiled, “Okay, we can do that. I’ll email the organisers tonight.”

The blue-haired girl visibly relaxed at Squiddo’s easy nature, but caught Ash’s frown. She tried to give him her best grin in response, but the boy just pursed his lips, a question on the tip of his tongue.

“Are you three doing work?”

Kaboodle jumped in her seat and whirled around, facing Mr Lester.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“We were just discussing a meet-up spot for our independent research,” Ash lied smoothly. “It’s not the easiest with everyone’s schedules and stuff…”

Mr Lester nodded slowly. “Alright then, get on with it.”

He walked away just as quickly as he came.

Kaboodle turned back to Squiddo and Ash, all three of them slightly frazzled. With a nervous smile, she said, “Maybe we should get on with it. We haven’t done any ‘independent research’ in a while.”

Squiddo’s face broke into a grin. “Last time we almost died.”

“Let’s not talk about that,” Ash said with a shiver.

Squiddo gave the boy a look. “You weren’t even there.”

“You two stopped responding for almost half an hour!” He snapped defensively. “I was– um. Concerned you… Got sidetracked.”

“Uhuh, right,” Squiddo beamed.

“You’re not a very good liar,” Kaboodle teased.

Ash rolled his eyes, “Oh, trust me. I’m great, actually.”

The two girls shared dubious looks and Ash fumed from his seat. The three of them let the topic go with a laugh, and they turned their attention to the PIP document.

If cobwebs and dust could build up in Google Docs, the page was a dust hive.

“When was the last time we edited this?” Squiddo squinted.

“Two weeks ago,” Ash supplied. “Right before my Higher Mathematics exam.”

The three of them fell silent.

“Can anyone do tonight?” Kaboodle asked. “Like… The whole stalking thing.”

“Correction: Research,” Ash replied.

“I’ve got a late shift,” Squiddo sighed. “I can do tomorrow night, though.”

The boy nodded in agreement, “Same here. Anytime tomorrow is fine by me.”

Kaboodle perked up at that, unable to contain her excitement at working together again. It’d been agessss. She’d missed this so, so much.

“Okay! Saturday night it is, then.”

The three of them ducked their heads down once more, smiling to themselves as Mr Lester walked by.

On the document, Kaboodle rapidly typed out their objectives:

THINGS TO DO ON SATURDAY NIGHT

1. find a vigilante and stalk them

2. try not to get killed

3. see if they’ll cooperate for an interview maybe?

4. Find any extra information on aquaxite.

She blinked as Ash added the fourth objective.

“You want to know more about aquaxite?”

He made a face. “You kind of sent a whole information pamphlet about it into the group chat a month ago— then we went on some investigative adventure to learn more about it and Squiddo almost got shot— and now there’s been a warehouse explosion that I suspect may have been caused by it.”

He took a deep breath.

“So, colour me intrigued.”

Kaboodle froze at the mention of the warehouse. The talk with Clown last night had made it sound so secretive that she’d forgotten that basically, everyone in the city knew.

“Oh, yeah. I heard about the explosion last night,” Squiddo frowned, adding to her point. “Five unidentifiable dead bodies and multiple personnel injured. It’s really shaken some people up.”

They opened up a tab on Tweeter, and the first post was a video of a news reporter standing in front of footage of a building with explosions in the background. The headline was: SUSPECTED OUTSKIRT ATTACK.

Immediately after that post was a tweet from someone she didn’t recognise.

@abulasuloot: BRO CAN I GO ONE DAY IN THIS CITY WITHOUT SOMETHING SUPERNATURAL OCCURING? YESTERDAY MY NEIGHBOUR’S KID GOT STUCK IN THE MAILBOX BECAUSE THEIR ABILITY IS INCORPOREALITY.

Kaboodle snorted in amusement, but the next post was less funny.

@somethhing_somewhere: our government are incompetent LIARS who discriminate against minorities like those in the outskirts. i thought we wanted equality??

Squiddo gestured to the text, “See?”

“To be fair, Tweeter is always like this,” Ash grumbled, an annoyed look on his face as he gazed at the tweet. “No one’s happy on that site.”

The three of them looked towards the Trending tab. The words “EXPLOSION”, “WAREHOUSE” and “THE OUTSKIRTS ARE ATTACKING?” were the first on the list.

Kaboodle fought the urge to bury her head in her hands and instead, she scrolled further down Squiddo’s timeline.

@adaako_: Did anyone else hear the rumour that vigilantes were at the explosion?

Curiously, Ash made a gruff noise at the tweet.

“You okay?” Squiddo asked.

“I’m fine— just a missed opportunity to see what the vigilantes did at the scene,” he sighed.

Kaboodle ran a hand through her hair, mind tumbling over what to say.

“Well, we can infer that some of the population isn’t happy with how our government is handling things,” she tried.

Ash shrugged, “I guess? They really weren’t so great for a while.”

The blue-haired girl peered at her friend in concern. She’d been friends with Ash for three years now, and his opinion of the government had been more or less neutral. Sure, he cracked the occasional joke about digging into their servers or total anarchy, but he’d never said something like that before.

It made her think. After the warehouse explosion, what else could the government have been hiding?

The school bell signifying the end of a period rang, and the classroom’s chatter fell into chaos. Books were stuffed into bags, and people shuffled out of their seats. Mr Lester dismissed them with a wave of his hand, and Kaboodle, Squiddo, and Ash got up to walk to their next classes.

“I’ve got biology,” Kaboodle said with a smile. “I’ll see you guys during recess, then.”

Ash and Squiddo waved goodbye, and she watched from the crowded hallway as they drifted out of sight to their STEM class.

See? That wasn’t so bad, she thought, smiling. It could have gone a lot worse.

They were okay. Things were okay.

===

Things were not okay.

Minute paced outside a steel door, glancing at the name card atop a closed window. In spaced arial font, it read: Parrot Ex-Two, E.L.O.S.P Head.

He’d been called for a private meeting with the younger at twelve, but Parrot had opened the door ten minutes ago and said he needed to settle something before letting him inside.

Whatever Parrot was doing, it’d better be done soon. Minute would like to return to worrying about the recent explosion at Benjamins’.

The door suddenly swung open, and Minute stepped back to accommodate its length.

Behind the door, a flash of brown hair appeared, and cyan eyes landed on him in an instant. Parrot’s two large wings enveloped the space behind him, hiding most of the office from view.

“Parrot,” Minute greeted with a nod. “I suppose you’re done?”

Parrot sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I guess. Come in, Minute. We really need to talk.”

The head of ELOSP stood aside, and Minute took a careful step into the space.

Parrot’s room was meticulously organised. Coloured files and cabinets filled one side of the wall, and a large table with a desktop took up the other. There was a small shelf of books, but a closer look revealed it was all information; citations on hybrids and the history of Lifesteal.

For someone so young, Parrot was admirably dedicated. No wonder he was able to climb the ranks so quickly.

Minute sat down in a chair that Parrot pulled over for him, settling into a comfortable position before asking, “What’s up?”

Parrot looked up, literally, and Minute was about to point out that wasn’t what he’d ask before the male looked back down again, levelling him with a defeated look.

“I got Jumper to initiate the Opportunities Program,” he said. “It starts next week.”

“What?” Minute gaped.

The Opportunities Program had been in his drafts for over a year now— ever since Parrot had stepped into office. It was a program offering students at the Lifesteal Academy work experience in the government. The plan was to concentrate high-powered individuals in the government where Parrot could keep an eye on them, but also help with the city’s economy.

The plan was originally paused for clearance, but apparently, Parrot had brought it back without a second thought.

“Yeah, I know,” the man mumbled.

“You also know the program hasn’t been finalised yet, right?”

Parrot glared at him, “Yes! But the Outskirts are finally making a move, and getting all these fresh minds into the government isn’t the worst idea I’ve had. Plus, we need more than the two we picked off the streets a month ago. Sure, they were useful, but we need more if we want to—”

“-Okay, I’m gonna need you to take a breath for me before you continue,” Minute chimed.

As diligent and bright as the younger was, Parrot was still new to this whole thing. Minute was willing to offer a helping hand, but he needed the man to stop spiralling.

“Right,” the parrot-hybrid sniffed. “Lemme just… Rearrange my thoughts.”

Minute silently gave Parrot space, letting his eyes trail across the room. Aside from a few potted plants, nothing in the office screamed personal. There were no photographs— no keepsakes or medals. He would assume someone like Parrot had been good in school, but there wasn’t a single award.

Must be quite a personal guy, he thought. Or trying to move on from something.

He decided to keep his observations quiet as Parrot took a breath before speaking.

“I’ve been worried about the Outskirts for a while now. I believe the old government’s treatment of them was… Not right, but what’s been done is done.” The man’s wings shifted under the weight of his words, and Minute nodded respectfully for him to continue. “We need extra hands to help us manage this situation— especially now that the public has been made aware of our, erm, skirmish with the outsiders— and there’s nothing better than students trying to prove themselves.”

Parrot pulled out a graph from one of his organised folders, giving it to Minute.

At the top, it read: Power Levels in the Individuals of Lifesteal City.

The graph had a positive slope, capitalised by a spike around thirty-ish years ago. Ever since then, the average power level has been skyrocketing. The most recent report was from early January this year, with a proud average of 5.6 over the sample size of 1,200.

“With every new generation, our citizens become stronger,” Parrot hissed. “I got our scientists working on a new estimate, and the current results averaged 6.5.”

He looked Minute dead in the eyes. “Six. Point. Five.”

The older immediately understood why Parrot was so anxious.

The most important aspect of governing a country of superpowered citizens was control. Control ensured the safety of the people, and safety allowed the strength of the population to grow. Losing control meant giving order to chaos. Losing control meant incredibly strong individuals would be able to wipe out the government in the blink of an eye.

Control was the most essential aspect of a ruling body. It dictated everything.

Parrot’s wings arched above his head, his shadow long and tall.

“The more powerful the people get— the more control we need,” he said. “The recent Outskirt explosion has shaken the people’s faith in us. The Outskirts have driven cracks in our control.”

Parrot stood up and continued, “Not only does initiating the project give us extra hands to cover up this mistake— it also shapes the future of our city. Any change starts with the young.”

Darkening skies cast an orange slit of light between Parrot’s shut curtains. Its golden touch embellished the hybrid’s hair, highlighting his stance with a sudden sharpness.

“If we can control the young— the Academy— we can control the future,” Parrot whispered. “We can better unify everyone against the Outskirts, so they don’t try anything to ruin our city ever again.”

Minute watched the man in silence, thinking.

This was the real Parrot, then. Not the fumbling, emotionally drained man from before, but this thinker and believer.

He narrowed his eyes, a newfound spark of respect for the other growing in his chest.

“I’ll see what I can do to aid the program,” Minute concluded, standing up from his seat. “Jumper’s sent me an executive to hunt down the vigilantes this morning. You want me to proceed?”

Parrot nodded, his back still turned to Minute. “Yes, please. They’re a hazard.”

“Consider it done, then.”

When the shorter didn’t reply, Minute assumed the conversation was over. With one last look at the blank office, he excused himself and stepped out of the door.

Now, that had been enlightening.

Chapter Text

It was loud. Really fudging loud.

Kaboodle tried to keep her head from exploding as she navigated the club, wondering why the h-e-double-hockey-sticks Mane would be here.

Bright lights flashed down on her, blinding her vision with neon blues and pinks. If she looked up for even a second, she was sure her eyes would be incinerated.

Someone close to her made a mumbling noise, but over the music and cheering, Kaboodle had to swerve her head to look at them, eyes squinted and ears strained.

“So damn loud,” Squiddo half yelled, mouth moving exaggeratedly to punch out their words.

Kaboodle huffed a laugh in response, just as a crimson wave of neon lights rained overhead.

This was the supposed ‘research’ they were doing for the PIP. Clown, after a bunch of pestering and promises made not to get involved with any danger, had told her Mane frequented the nightclubs for reconnaissance.

How the flip-flops someone even managed a conversation in here was beyond her— no less an intel exchange.

But, well, Clown had confirmed the vigilante would be here tonight to touch up on information while the rest of them were lying low.

“What are we supposed to be doing again?” Squiddo yelled.

The music seemingly grew louder out of nowhere, and Kaboodle made a face to show she hadn’t heard

“What are we supposed to be doing?!” Squiddo exclaimed.

“Trying to find someone,” she responded equally as loudly. “Then we follow him around for a while with his consent.”

Squiddo’s eyebrows pinched together in confusion and Kaboodle sighed, moving another step closer to her friend and repeating what she’d just said.

“Okay!” Squiddo said after the third repetition. “Also, where did Ash go?”

The two friends looked at each other before wildly swinging around in search of their missing third person.

How did he manage to disappear? Kaboodle thought in a frenzy, eyes widening at the sea of bodies submerging them.

In her search, she locked eyes with a lady in bright blue eyeshadow. Within the span of a second, though, arms and heads rippled like waves, and the lady vanished amongst a sea of silhouettes..

Ah, she thought to herself. That’s how.

Kaboodle turned back around, searching for Squiddo’s trademark pink glasses to find her other friend… Also gone.

“What?” She cried, exasperated.

The speakers took that as a complaint, upping the roaring music and swallowing lights with a burst.

She needed to find her friends quickly. Where the hell could they have gone?

Kaboodle started to push her way through the crowd, cursing her short stature as she tried to navigate through the dozens of moving limbs and cheers.

Bodies with far too much skin pressed against hers, and Kaboodle held a hand to her mouth, trying not to gag.

Hopelessly, she looked upwards for guidance, eyes momentarily blinded as she glimpsed into a light.

Hanging overhead were large signs. Some were club rules, and others were lights curving to make fancy words and pictures. Kaboodle tried to find one that designated the exit or a seating area, which was hard as HELL to do when there were constantly people knocking into you.

No use of powers, she read from one sign. She swivelled her head again to read another, Hybrids, please keep your fangs and claws to yourself.

ARGHHH! Where was anything??

Someone yelped, knocking into her.

Kaboodle froze at the contact, eyes wide as the person fumbled, casting her an apologetic look.

“Sorry!” They said, making a move to disappear back into the crowd,

“Wait—!” Kaboodle cried. “I was wondering if you knew where the exit was?”

But the person was already gone.

With a groan, she ran a hand through her bangs and pulled out her phone.

BALLS.A.K

(Today, 20:04)

Kaboodle: WHERE ARE YOU GUYS???????

Almost immediately, it pinged with a new message.

Squiddo: I HAVE NO IDEA.

Squiddo: ONE SECOND YOU WERE RIGHT NEXT TO ME

Squiddo: AND THE NEXT, YOU WERE GONE...

Ash: I HATE CLUBS.

Ash: ALSO, WHY ARE WE TEXTING IN CAPS??

Kaboodle: BECAUSE IT’S LOUD ASF

Ash: BUT WE’RE TEXTING??

Squiddo: THERE SHOULD BE A BAR SOMEWHERE— MEET THERE?

Kaboodle: OKAY!

Ash: I HATE CLUBS.

Kaboodle tucked her phone away with a huff, the air increasingly stuffy as she drew closer and closer to the main stage.

I need to find the bar, she thought in a panicked haze.

She tried to catch someone’s attention, but everyone was looking away, lost in the euphoria of colour and music.

Fuuuuuuck.

It was hot. Really hot.

It was loud, too. Really loud.

She felt like she would explode if she didn’t get out soon. How the FUDGE was she supposed to find Mane in a place like this? She couldn’t even find her friends!

Kaboodle tucked a sweaty clump of her bangs behind her ear, seething on the inside. She needed an out. She needed to get to that bar and recollect her thoughts.

With a hand fanning her face, the girl pushed against rough bodies to try to locate a directional sign when…

A hand stopped her.

Cold emitted from it, stark from the heat and fire of the nightclub.

Kaboodle turned around, prepared to snap at some creep for touching her, only to stop dead in her tracks when she recognised orange hair.

“Mane?” She shrieked.

How did HE find HER? It was supposed to be the other way around???

Mane was out of his school uniform and looking incredibly amused. Kaboodle glared at him; lips pulled up in an irritated snarl.

Thankfully, instead of being half-naked like everyone else (exaggeration, of course, the night club wasn’t indecent), Mane was wearing black and gold. Kaboodle used this fact to more openly glare at him, not even trying to hide her judgment.

“Sunglasses?” She made a face and gestured to the black sunglasses hiding Mane’s eyes. “In a nightclub?”

He shrugged, “I’m here for intel, not to look good. Besides, the lights hurt my eyes.”

Kaboodle made an agreeable nose, which prompted him to dig into a pocket of his black combat pants.

“Want one?” Mane grinned, pulling out sunglasses.

“Why the fu—”

“Don’t ask,” he said, pressing the accessory into her hands.

The girl took the glasses and squinted at them through the bright blue lights. They looked typical and unsuspicious, with a delicate faux gold trimming along the temples.

“Oh, please,” Mane laughed. A series of multicoloured lights reflected on his face. “I’m not going to kill you via sunglasses! Clown would have my head, man. Besides, he gave me a heads up that you were coming and mentioned something about schoolwork.”

Kaboodle rolled her eyes and decided, What the hell, sure.

Slipping on the glasses, she blinked for a moment and… It was easier to see. Sure, when the lights got too close, they were still bright as hell, but it was easier to navigate this way.

“Thanks, I guess,” Kaboodle mumbled. “I need to get to the bar.”

Mane frowned at that.

“I don’t know. There’s people here who, well, shouldn’t be here.” He looked around, clearly on high alert. “The bar’s too spacious. I’ll get recognised.”

She… Didn’t understand that.

“There’s people after you?”

Maybe the action she needed for her research would come sooner than she thought.

Mane dismissed her question, moving in front of her. “I’ll take you to the bar. Don’t get lost.”

Without another word— without even waiting for Kaboodle to react— he shimmied into the next wave of bodies.

Kaboodle, rearing from annoyance, pushed through with him, eyes trained on the back of his head as he weaved and weaved.

“Sorry,” she mumbled as she shoved past someone.

“Sorry.”

She stepped on someone’s bare foot and pulled a face before muttering, “Sorry!”

Lights blinked all around her, dulled exceptionally by the sunglasses. Thankfully, Mane’s orange hair stood out like a sore thumb amongst the blaring lights, easily traceable as she made a few detours around stubborn dancers and friends.

Mane was… A weird guy. Kaboodle had seen him reckless and hateful, but that night at the Young Innovator’s Competition, he revealed a softer side. He could be caring— he could just be a kid.

She watched the back of Mane’s head mingle with the softened lights and moving, excited hands. Witha tug of a frown, Kaboodle struggled to connect the scarred Mane who needed healing, the one frothing with rage at the bank, and the guy who had just cheerfully handed her a pair of sunglasses.

Who was Mane, really? A vigilante? An asshole? A stranger?

Kaboodle regarded him as they came to a stop, the heat clasping around her suddenly evaporating as they drew to a tamer area.

Mane turned around, throwing her a slightly guarded smile, and she instantly knew who he was.

A teenager. He was a teenager. A kid. He was someone who got scared, but in the face of danger, dialled up his rage and loathsome as a shield. Someone she could relate to. Someone who was… Decent.

Kaboodle slid her eyes away from the boy when the bar came into view.

It was faintly lit by warm lights and a furnished wooden top. A tall shelf of drinks was fitted against the back most wall, and the counter was littered with empty shot cups and bottles.

The workers were either on their phones, serving customers, or gazing into the nightclub’s dance floor wistfully. Either way, there was a sense of detachment between this place and the lively dance floor. Kaboodle found it relieving.

Scanning through a shallow pack of people ordering drinks and laughing amiably with their friends, the girl lit up as she made eye contact with Squiddo and Ash.

“Sorry to keep you waiting!” She exclaimed, hurrying over and encapsulating them in a hug. It was rather hard to do so, as they were both perched on tall barstools.

“It was so hard to find this place,” Kaboodle explained sheepishly, pulling out of the embrace.

Squiddo gave her a sympathetic look. “You’re all good. Ash only got here a song ago.”

Ash buried his face in his hands and groaned, “I hate clubs.”

The two girls shot amused, concerned looks at each other over his head.

“Oh, right!” Kaboodle whisked around, grabbing Mane by the arm and yanking him forward. “This is Mane, and we’re stalking him tonight!”

Ash looked up, his mouth twisted in confusion. “Wait— what?”

“What?” Mane said at the same time.

Kaboodle nodded. “Yup!”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Ash backpedalled, holding up a hand to pause the conversation. “He’s a vigilante? How do you know?”

Oh. Right.

Kaboodle paled, suddenly thankful for the flashing lights.

“Uhhh…”

“I recognise him!” Squiddo smiled. “You guys sat next to each other at the competition!”

The two of them floundered, and Kaboodle straightened herself out before smoothly replying, “Yes, that’s right!”

Squiddo raised a cup of water from the bar’s counter to their lips, giving her a look. Ash, however, raised an eyebrow and tilted his head as he considered Mane. “And he immediately told you he was a vigilante?” He asked sceptically.

“Um, well."

She had not thought this through. Not at all.

What was she thinking?? Telling her friends her encounters with Hannah had hinted at someone being at this club? Dragging them to said club without a morsel of a plan— thinking Mane could just start something so she could get the research material her friends needed???

Kaboodle needed a lie. A good one.

Uh… UMMM. Give her a second! She was thinking really hard!

“I saved her once,” Mane cut in. “From a… Mugger.”

Ash gave Kaboodle wide eyes, obviously silently asking, Is that true?

“Yeah,” she lied easily, acting embarrassed to provide context for her furious flushing. “I… Don’t like to talk about it.”

Ash still looked a little unconvinced, but then Squiddo nodded and made eye contact with Kaboodle before saying, “Ohhh, I see. That’s why you guys acted so familiar.”

Squiddo was covering for her. Covering for her. Kaboodle swallowed nervously, knowing that the gig was up with them.

They knew. They knew something was up.

Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuudgeeeee.

Ash hummed nonchalantly, either being purposefully dismissive or distracted by something else.

“Alright, then,” he said, holding out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Mane adjusted his sunglasses before reaching out to clasp Ash’s hand in a handshake. “Er, likewise, bro. So, what’s this about ‘stalking’?”

All three pairs of eyes landed on Kaboodle, who was trying very hard not to implode.

Squiddo knows, she thought to herself. They know I’ve been lying. They know, they know, they know… FUDGEEEE—

Someone was up in her face, peering at her with concern.

Kaboodle doubled back with a startled yelp, pressing her sunglasses to her face as she registered Squiddo’s worried gaze.

Her friend reacted quickly, taking a step back and holding Kaboodle’s hand.

“You okay?” They asked.

Ash and Mane stared.

Kaboodle offered them a queasy smile. “Yeah, fine! It’s just too loud, haha…”

The half-hearted laugh died on her tongue.

Squiddo squeezed the hand they were holding, offering a soft look. Kaboodle found herself frozen, lips threatening to fall into a sob.

They don’t hate me? She thought, trying not to crumble and cry.

She looked for an answer on her friend’s face, and whoever said eyes were the windows to a person’s soul was absolutely genius because… Squiddo looked back with a smile.

It was okay. For now.

“R-right,” Kaboodle took a deep breath and flashed them a grateful grin.

Rounding on Mane, who had been silently exchanging looks with Ash, she said, “You’re going into the city to kick some ass, and we’ll be following you!”

Mane fumbled for a moment. “Wait— now?”

“Yup!”

“Like, right now?’

“Uh, yeah?”

Ash shoved the vigilante and got to his feet, slipping off the barstool with ease. “Right now. C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

“Yeah, okay,” Mane started, suddenly a shade more serious. “Let’s get out of here.”

Something was wrong.

The vigilante had locked eyes with someone from across the room, and Kaboodle followed his gaze through the darkness.

Between the shifting lights and moving bodies, a woman stood still— a grounding rock amidst turbulent waves. Pink lights cascaded around her, generously illuminating the lines of her silhouette, acting as a beacon.

Bodies moved and twisted around her, but unlike the lady with blue eyeshadow, she never vanished.

Kaboodle felt a chill run down her spine.

“Who is that?” Squiddo asked, eyes narrowed.

Ash had completely stilled, and as Kaboodle turned, she caught the grimace Mane tried to hide.

“Government agent,” he finally answered, tearing his eyes away from the crowd.

Kaboodle turned her head back to look at the woman, only to find she was gone. The pink lights had faded away, and the usual cycle of colours had returned.

“Let’s leave,” Mane said stiffly, moving past Kaboodle and towards an exit.

The three friends exchanged looks, and the blue-haired girl shrugged and started to follow the vigilante.

Ash hovered next to her as they walked, throwing looks behind them constantly.

“A government agent?” He whispered to Kaboodle, alarmed. “What has this guy done to warrant the government on his tail?”

“Since when has the government tried to get involved with vigilantes?” Squiddo countered, typing rapidly on their phone as they followed Mane.

Kaboodle bit her lower lip as Mane scanned their surroundings one last time before stepping through the exit.

Cold night air blasted against her skin, and Kaboodle shivered as she crossed her arms over her chest. The sky was inexplicably dark, and only a handful of stars peeked through heavy cloud cover.

Was the government finally doing something about vigilantism? As far as Kaboodle was concerned, the massive crackdowns on vigilantes ended decades ago— around the time the city was officially established. Since then, vigilantism had always been... Around. It was something you could ask anyone about, and they’d give you a vague answer. Like languages, for example. Everyone used it and knew about it, but not everyone was quick to explain the centuries of history behind it.

“Should we be worried?” Kaboodle asked, walking faster to match Mane’s pace.

The busy, ever-present nightlife of Lifesteal City murmured them. The main road rumbled with cars, and large groups took over the sidewalks.

Kaboodle, still wearing the sunglasses, looked up to read Mane’s face when he didn’t reply.

Mane looked on edge. He looked panicked.

Scared.

“Mane—?”

The vigilante pointed to a street on their left.

“Go that way. I’ll find you guys later,” he said.

Kaboodle furrowed her brows in defiance. “What? No! What if you get hurt?”

“Didn’t Clown tell you not to get involved?” Mane snapped.

She drew back, frowning. “Well, yeah, but we—”

“I’ll bring the fight to you, okay?” He said, taking a step away from them. “But you bros are gonna stay as far away from me as possible.”

Mane pulled his sunglasses off, and his yellow eyes blinked into the darkness. As quickly as they’d appeared, he hid them with a blindfold, walking off within the next heartbeat.

Kaboodle stood unmoving, staring helplessly after him.

What if he got hurt? What if he died? He’d been seriously maimed before and…

“He knows your brother?” Squiddo asked.

Kaboodle jumped, surprised. She turned to look at her friend, gulping. “Well, yeah. I… Told him about Clown during the competition.”

Ash seemed to believe it easily enough, looking incredibly preoccupied. Squiddo, however, narrowed their eyes and gave Kaboodle the ‘you’re telling me everything after this’ look.

Kaboodle winced and formed the, ‘I’m not getting out of this one, am I?’ look, to which Squiddo replied, ‘No way'.

Urghhh, Kaboodle thought to herself. I’m soooo screwed.

“Please stop doing the eye thing,” Ash mumbled, looking helplessly between them. “I feel left out whenever you guys do it.”

A beat.

Kaboodle and Squiddo burst into laughter, comfortingly patting Ash’s back. Slowly, they directed themselves towards the street Mane had pointed them towards.

===

If she gets hurt I am so fucking screwed, Mane thought as he jumped across another rooftop.

He’d pointed Kaboodle and her little friends towards a quieter district, hoping to give them the ‘stalking’ experience they wanted so badly there.

The wind stung against Mane’s face, roaring in his ears and drowning out the sound of the city below. He tried to go for another jump to a lower building, but the agent following him had already cut ahead.

How the hell was this a part of Kaboodle’s schoolwork? Mane genuinely had no idea. But, Clown was technically his boss, and his boss had told him to “just go along with whatever Kaboodle says”. So, here he was, trying to lure some government agent into the small district street where Kaboodle had gone.

Why were they even after him in the first place? If the government really wanted to put a dent into the underground markets of hitmans and (rare) violent altruists, then they could start with someone like... his boss, Clown.

Speaking of Clown, that guy would expect him to jump off a cliff if Kaboodle said so. Mane had better get something out of this.

Why are they so fast?! He thought as he skidded, the soles of his shoes grinding against the rooftop. The woman had cut his path, blocking his original route.

With a burst of energy, he rapidly changed direction and swung off the building’s roof.

Let's take this to the ground, he smirked.

Mane landed with a thud, rolling upright before continuing his sprint.

The agent wasn’t shaken, however, and simply followed him down.

How do I lose her? How do I make theatrics out of a chase? He was a vigilante, for rent's sake! Not a street performer!

Mane threw himself into the nearest alleyway, ignoring how the tight walls caught against his sleeves and pants. The footsteps behind him stopped like they were considering a different route, and Mane used this moment of hesitation to spring out the other end of the alley, charging down another on his right.

Thank goodness for horrible city layouts, he grinned, rounding corner after corner.

The footsteps following him sounded distant, and he slowed, knowing he’d won the chase.

Now… Just where had he told Kaboodle to go?

Should be a few more turns to the left.

Trusting his instinct, Mane ran down the next left turn he saw. Eventually, huffing and puffing, he ended up in an empty square.

Okay, this was the right place. Cool, cool. Now, he needed to look for incredibly saturated blue hair.

“Mane!”

Mane startled, turning around.

Kaboodle stood outside an empty coffee shop, waving at him. Her friends stood beside her like bodyguards, watching him curiously. Judging by their rather obvious difference in height (they appeared to tower over her), they’d certainly fit the criteria.

Squidder, or whatever the other girl’s name was, held her phone to her face, obviously recording.

He made a shoo-ing motion at them, trying to communicate: Government agent on my ass. Move because I will die by Clown’s hands if you get hurt.

The three of them seemed to get the memo because they ducked in a shaded divider between two stores, peering at him with wide eyes.

“Done running?”

Where—?

Above.

The agent had leaped into the sky, arching at a supernatural height and landing before him, some kind of gun aimed at his head.

Mane put up his arms instinctually, cocking his head at them.

“You gonna shoot me?” He asked, sneering. “Who even are you?”

“Irrelevant,” she dismissed, moving a few steps closer.

Without the fast-paced running and disorientating wind, Mane could make out the colour of her hair; a soft brown. The girl's skin was silver in the moonlight, and the shadows wrapped happily around her black attire.

“Manepear, you are under arrest for vigilantism. Surrender or face increased charges in court.”

Damn, okay. Straight to the point.

The vigilante watched her move, trying to get a gauge for her power. He’d seen that jump of hers— definitely not natural. She’d also been fast… So, maybe it was a physical power like Clown’s. She didn’t appear to lean on either foot, so he guessed her right hand— the one holding the gun— was dominant.

She certainly didn’t seem like the toughest opponent, though. Rather average, if you asked him.

“Why are you so pissed I’m lightening your workload?” Mane asked.

Adrenaline started pumping into his veins, eyes flickering between the gun and the agent’s face.

She seemed to consider this for a second but decided to answer his first question instead. “If you must know, my name is Jumper.”

With that, Jumper fired the first shot.

A bang thundered across the square, lighting up the night with a flash.

It wasn’t a normal bullet, Mane realised as he dodged to the side. It was rubber. She wasn’t here to kill.

Jumper controlled the recoil effortlessly, already aiming at him by the time he recovered from the speed of the dodge.

He dropped to the floor before she could pull the trigger, ignoring the sharp whistle past his head as he launched himself at her.

The girl stepped to the side, and he cut himself off elegantly, twisting to follow her and pulling a knife from the pocket of his pants.

Jumper registered the blade with a glint in her eyes, snapping her gun into her holster as she dodged a strike from him.

Not bad.

“I saw your jump from earlier,” Mane commented, swiping again. She dodged that one by leaning back backwards. “Pretty impressive. Ever wonder if your parents named you after your abilities?”

She flashed him a grin, suddenly springing forward and taking the offensive, a pocketknife clasped in her own gloved hands.

“Let’s see, shall we?” Jumper said, cutting the air by his cheek.

Mane took a hasty step back, startled by the change in pace. Feigning a hum of interest, he surged to meet her next strike with a kick.

However, Jumper narrowly shied away from it, recovering into a more stable position before ducking low and striking him in the stomach.

Ow, fuck, Mane internally cursed.

Pain lurched with a wail, but he drowned it out. All those months of ripping bodies apart, all those weeks of slicing and dicing with his claws, had granted him some immunity to pain. That, or the adrenaline feuling his powers.

Mane summoned the anger within him, the fire in his chest suddenly crackling and spitting with rage.

There was a noticeable difference to his movements now; wild, untame. With a burst of strength, he channelled that fury and bloodlust into a strike at Jumper’s legs, causing her to lean to her left.

With the advantage his, Mane struck again— aiming the knife at her throat.

Brown-pink eyes widened, and Jumper made a hissing noise, bending back and kicking her knees up, catching him by the arm and flipping them sideways.

“How the—” Mane gasped, crashing onto the ground. That was not normal. Was flexibility part of her power set?

Refusing to lose the upper hand, the teen swung with his knife, catching onto the fabric of her pants.

Jumper recoiled, startled by the pain.

Mane watched as the first drop of blood flew into the air. It glinted, calling to him. The hum of energy within that single droplet pulsating before his eyes, churning and rearing into something ugly.

Gotcha, he thought with glee, the fire in his body snarling from being suppressed.

He did a quick roll, getting back upright just as Jumper lunged.

The air seemed to crack, and Mane registered the heat radiating off him-- the hunger he felt as he watched Jumper take in his powers.

“Blood related or anger related?” She questioned, positioning herself into a fighting stance, knife held protectively in front of her.

He smiled, righting himself before flashing towards her, unnaturally fast. Their arms crashed against each other, the force of the blow snapping the airlike a whip.

“Don’t know why I should tell you," he answered simply.

Jumper launched a kick, catching him in the hip. At the same time, he reared back his left hand and went in for a punch.

His hand collided with something solid— Jumper’s face. She wavered, a hint of shock on her face. Without even registering the pain of the kick, Mane went in to capitalise off her hesitation. He reached for another punch, and another, and another, and...

Spitting a bout of excess saliva onto the ground, he went in again, positioning his right arm and intending to stab her through the stomach.

He wanted to see blood split. He wanted the red glistening all over the floor.

He wanted this government agent dead and incinerated. He wanted her burned and torn apart for ever touching his fucking family.

Mane parried a punch to his chest, lunging wildly and slashing the knife across the air.

Each missed strike brought him closer and closer to his prey.

Jumper was screwed.

He was winning this.

Retribution would be his. For his inati, for his ābati. For everything little thing the government had done to wrong them.

He’d burn her body and leave it out to dry– for everyone to see.

Growling, barely a coherent thought beside murder, Mane sliced again.

This time, it caught onto the fabric protecting Jumper’s neck. With a burst of maniacal glee, he pushed harder and harder. He wanted blood. He needed to see the government squirm under his hand.

Jumper’s eyes widened in alarm, but she was fast.

With a twist, she was suddenly out of his grasp and delivering a blow to his face.

Mane leaned onto his side with the intention to dodge, only realising a heartbeat later that, fuck, he'd dug a grave for himself.

The girl wasted no time and dragged herself forwards, eyes glinting in the darkness.

The wind whipped hair across her face as she brought her pocketknife down on his face, and Mane kicked as he left metal connect with his skin— sharp edges digging into the meat of his chin and ripping.

It hurt. It fucking hurted.

He felt like his skin was on fire. He could smell the metallic taste of his blood in the air. He could see it staining the end of Jumper’s blade red as she began to lower it down on him again.

Lowering… It back down on him?

Mane hissed with fury, grabbing Jumper by the vest and throwing her to the side.

The girl rolled on the floor, dizzily sitting upright before forsaking her knife and pulling out her gun.

“You gonna shoot me?” He asked for a second time, feeling high off the blood on his face and the heat from their fight.

Jumper cocked it, eyes ablaze, and shot.

The first rubber bullet made contact with his shoulder.

Mane toppled over from the force, feeling his head crash against the ground.

So much pain. Everything hurt.

Distantly, he heard someone gasp.

Kaboodle.

Fuck. He’d forgotten all about her.

The boy struggled to get back upright, ears perking at the sound of a reload. He needed to get up fast. He needed to be okay. He needed to be strong.

Kaboodle couldn’t get herself involved. She was stupid and weak, and she reminded him of his inati; helpless.

Helpless as people in black and fancy government badges dragged his ābati away, pleading with all the goodness in her heart to let him go. Helplessly still pleading even as they grabbed onto her too, helplessly meeting her son's eyes and begging them to spare him.

Clown would be devastated. He’d kill Mane. He’d kill him, and Mane was scared to realise that he’d let him.

Fuck the government, he glowered, pulling himself together through the pain.

The pain was good. Pain kept him alive.

Pain kept him going and he was going to fucking—

Mane tightened the knife in his grip, eyes fixed on Jumper’s form.

Gritting his teeth, he mustered all the hatred in his veins— in his mind— and channelled it into a thrust.

He was going to fucking survive. He was going to fucking survive because he wanted to live for his inati and ābati. He wanted to taste the life they’d dreamed of. Wanted to carry that hope they had in him for a lifetime longer.

Mane felt the fire burn in his veins, strength screeching inside him.

Knife positioned like javelin in the air— he launched it just as the last bullet was fired.

.
..
...

A scream filled the air.

His or hers, he couldn’t tell.

Something felt like it was lodged in his stomach.

He felt like he was burning, but he could hardly feel the pain.

I hope Kaboodle got the show she wanted, Mane thought as he wheezed.

He was on his back— probably knocked over by the force of the shot.

It offered a wonderful view, though, he silently thought to himself. He would have to thank Jumper for shooting him onto the ground.

The grey clouds had cleared, parting to reveal an array of stars twinkling in the sky. The moon was pale and slim, but it was there nonetheless.

Mane felt his eyes flutter, a hand moving to his stomach where the burning sensation was.

Wet.

It was wet.

Wet and sticky.

Water was wet, but water was not sticky.

Was it blood, then?

Was he dying?

Mane blinked up at the moon, softly wondering if it had answers.

I need to get up, he thought impatiently. Screw dying, I’ll die later.

Struggling, body aching from overexertion, Mane propped himself up with his arms.

The view before him was… Interesting.

Blood had begun to pool around him, and the front of his clothes were sticky and dark.

He wondered if Kaboodle had left. Her healing powers would be really useful right now. He couldn’t blame her if she did, though. Watching two people try to tear each other apart with knives could not be very pleasant.

Mane forced himself to look upwards, spotting Jumper crumpled against the support of a streetlight.

She seemed to sense his gaze, eyes narrowing bitterly. With a spark of satisfaction, he recognised his knife lodged inside her thigh.

It was a shame he had missed her heart, though, Mane mused to himself. But cut him some slack! He was shot with a gun!

There's always a next time…

Jumper pointed at him, and the boy simply blinked back. He was a bit too tired to fight. He was about to open his mouth and tell her that when, rudely, something shot out of her fingers.

The force of the whatever-it-was made him crumble back onto the ground with a fwoop.Trying to keep his eyes open, Mane took in the web-like goop now restraining him.

Spider-hybrid, his mind provided helpfully. She shoots webs out of her fingers. Gwen Stacy type shit-- she would have been a good vigilante.

Yeah, he was definitely going a little crazy from blood loss.

Mane reprimanded himself for thinking such thoughts, opting to stae at the stars glittering above him.

Wait a minute.

Hold on a fucking second.

What was that??

Something shimmered in the air before him. He couldn’t make out anything, but the stars rippled weirdly; as if they were being distorted.

Mane narrowed his eyes at one of the blurry lines between a star and the sky, freezing when the ghost of a hand settled beside his head.

“Finally see me?” A voice asked.

He froze.

The hand left his head, ruffling damp locks on its way. Something like a foot shuffled on his close right, but as Mane slowly turned his head, following the movement, he couldn’t see anything. Maybe he was going crazy from blood loss.

Though last time I nearly died, I hadn’t hallucinated, he thought.

Well, there was a first time for everything, too!

“I’ll take care of the little lady,” the hallucination told him. “Stay still and take this.”

Mane closed his eyes, taking in a shallow breath. Breathing was becoming harder, and a constant droning was buzzing in the back of his head. If he was going to die, what was the harm of listening to a figment of his imagination?

The boy shook as something was pressed against his stomach, flinching from the strange, cold sensation.

Wow, his hallucinations were really realistic.

Soft footsteps next to his face faded away, and Mane wrinkled his nose at the dust that got caught on his face.

He was tired. So, fucking tired.

He was gonna close his eyes for a second-- just a second. He would be awake in no time.

===

Kaboodle couldn’t move. She couldn’t make herself move.

Mane had been on the floor for quite a while now, spider webs holding him down against the ground.

She’d wanted to step in for a while, and she’d texted Clown ever since the fight started.

Squiddo and Ash were both paralysed by her side. Thankfully, Squiddo had a tight hold on Kaboodle’s hand, preventing her from taking off.

The blue-haired girl felt her eyes flicker to the agent leaning against a streetlight, holding her breath as she grunted, tugging the knife out of her thigh.

Leave, Kaboodle whispered, staring at her. Leave. Please leave.

She needed to heal Mane. She had to get to him.

This is all my fault, she whimpered, pressing herself into Squiddo’s warmth.

This was awful. This was…

“Fuck this—” She took a brave step forwards, only for—

“- Kaboodle!”

Squiddo tugged her back into the safety of the darkness, glaring.

“You are not getting yourself killed,” they said. “I’ve got the camera footage, and Mane will be fine. He’s tough, okay?”

But Kaboodle could see the flickers of doubt in her friend’s eyes.

No, no, no, no.

The scrambled to check her phone, lower lip wobbling as she read Clown’s reply for the fifth time.

Direct Messages (Clown)

(Today, 22:14)

Kaboodle: I think the fight’s starting

Kaboodle: pls come over

Kaboodle: just in case—im kinda worried

Kaboodle shared her location.

Clown: can’t

Clown: will send a friend over 👍

Where was this so-called friend???

Did Clown even have friends??

Kaboodle blinked away panicked tears.

She needed to get to Ma—

Jumper stumbled away from the pole, waving her arms in front of her body protectively.

“Who’s there?” She yelled into the emptiness. “I’m an authoritative representative of the Lifesteal government; you can’t hurt me without committing treason!”

The threat fell on deaf ears because, quite literally, there were none.

Kaboodle, Squiddo and Ash watched, flabbergasted, as the agent seemingly talked to herself.

“Show yourself!”

“Is she… Like, er, okay?” Ash asked, looking incredibly concerned.

“Maybe it’s the blood loss?” Squiddo offered, turning their camera back onto record.

Kaboodle watched silently, trying to place her finger on anything out of the ordinary.

That was when she heard a voice— a whisper like the rustling of leaves had tuned into the human frequency, hushing over the empty square.

“Let’s get you to the hospital,” it murmured.

Something white and dazzling emerged from nowhere, washing over Jumper’s figure and… Disappearing with her.

Like she was never there.

Empty.

Cold.

Not even a shadow was left.

Kaboodle broke free from Squiddo’s grasp, charging into the moonlight.

Her feet couldn’t carry her fast enough, and the air felt stingy and cold with regret. Kaboodle scrambled to her knees by Mane's side, removing the strange cloth that had somehow wound up on his stomach.

Okay, focus, she told herself. Squiddo and Ash’s feet pattered towards her. You need to heal him.

The girl raised a shaky palm, trying to ignore the way Mane’s blood was starting to soak through her jeans. She held it against the protruding bullet hole in his stomach, raking her eyes over his face.

The boy looked pale, skin damp and shining slightly from a sheen of sweat. His lips had turned into a ghostly silver, and Kaboodle’s heart lurched into her throat at the sight.

Taking a deep, wobbly breath, she called forth her powers.

It was easier this time. Kaboodle had been on edge for a while. Her powers had pulsed at the first sign of blood and had been uncontrollably simmering in her body ever since.

Drawing on it like a lifeline, clinging to the burst of frenzied magic inside her veins, Kaboodle forced the healing to come out slowly, a gentle pink washing over Mane’s body.

Suddenly aware of Squiddo and Ash crouching by her side, she securely closed her eyes, drifting off into a darkness illuminated by soft shimmering and threads.

Woah, this place is a mess.

The threads in Mane’s stomach were numerous, crisscrossing without a pattern and frayed at the edges. Kaboodle stood above them like a god, weaving her fingers through the sea of strings and pinching a couple between her fingers. The glow of magic immediately braided the threads back together, breathing with renewed life.

Furrowing her eyebrows in concentration, the girl called forth a new burst of magic to secure another strand, tying it with the first braid she had created.

For what felt like years, Kaboodle sat in the puddle of yarn and disentangled and conjoined the threads. She weaved them between her fingers like water, the healing of her magic restoring a bloom of growth.

Finally, finally, Kaboodle reached for the last string, tucking it gently between its brothers and sisters before connecting them all with a sparkle.

Done. She was done.

Kaboodle reopened her eyes, the light from the moon suddenly disorientating.

Ash held onto her fast, and Kaboodle gasped as she looked down at her pants.

Red against blue.

Blood. So much of it.

“Is he okay?” Squiddo asked, joining Ash’s efforts at steadying Kaboodle with a hand of their own.

“He’ll be fine,” she answered. Her voice sounded shaky, and she had to admit she felt a little out of breath. “He just needs rest and whatnot.”

Ash made a face, looking down at the vigilante he’d only met an hour ago. “Where do we leave him?”

Leave him? Leave an injured teenager?

Kaboodle shot her friend a glare. “We are not leaving him. I’m taking him…” Where could Mane go? Certainly not the hospital (fake ID and all that), and certainly not back to the club… “I’m taking him home,” she stated calmly.

Ash didn’t look reassured. “No.”

“Yes!”

“You are not taking a vigilante back home. What if people check the CCTV footage nearby and link him back to you?” He cried.

Squiddo shot him a warning look.

“Well,” Kaboodle started, dusting her hands off and trying to manoeuvre a limp Mane (he was going to be out for a while) into a sitting position, “That’s what you’re for.”

Ash rolled his eyes, but whatever fight he had disappeared. “Fine, but if the police knock on your door, I’m not manipulating footage for you in court.”

Kaboodle beamed at him, “Wouldn’t dream of it, dude!”

The two of them, Kaboodle and Ash, attempted to carry Mane’s limp body as Squiddo magicked a portal.

With one last look at the square, empty and reeking of sweat and blood, Kaboodle stepped through.

Just like Jumper and the mysterious voice, they were gone.

The portal closed with a zip.