Splitting headache and dire thirst in full swing, Ambrose had the effects a hangover would bring the morning after one of the more stranger experiences of his life. Of course, alcohol wasn't the one to blame for his pain. Some short, blonde little shit with mind control powers took control of him three times too many and tried to make him forget who she was and anything else that might've happened the night before, regardless if she was involved or not.

Dean didn't go to bed. Instead of recharging his batteries, the determined vigilante stayed up all night researching the supers like the woman he met last night. There had been an abundance of them only a few years back, but then the government tried to put a stop to them when a few of the bad apples started using their powers for bad intentions. Police stepped in, then the army, then people, A LOT of people, started to die. Some supers, some civilians, and some Titan City police officers and United States armed men and women.

Dean struggled to keep his eyes clear and stop his hands from shaking when, while trying to dig anything up on the girl, he saw photos from the worst bloodshed the United States had seen since the American Civil War.

"Ambrose, get the hell back!"

"We gotta keep pushing forward!"

"Dammit, we have to go back!"

"We have fucking orders!"

Ambrose slammed his laptop shut. He exhaled slowly, feeling that panic and fear rise in his chest. The kind of feeling that made him want to pin a drug dealer against a brick wall and wail on him with his fists until he stopped moving. There was a reason he hated supers and an even bigger reason why he hated being called a 'super hero'. Superheroes didn't exist, in Dean's opinion. Just freaks with powers and him.

From what he collected before having to be reminded of one of the worst weeks of his life, Ambrose found out some information about the girl. It was more information about her kind of people, rather than her specifically. Apparently, during the battle that saw nearly half of Titan City crumble, several mind control supers, called 'Mind-Walkers' by the media, died in the ensuing battle. There were supposed to be none of the kind left. Plus, according to the briefing on the Titan City News website, only males could hold the gene that gave them that specific power. How a girl could have this power was beyond Dean, but he didn't particularity care about an origin story. Supers were the ones responsible for the death of many of his friends. It was almost twelve years ago to the date and the city itself had moved on and built from the war, but that didn't soften the blow for Ambrose.

Sunlight peaked through the blinds of his living room. Dean blinked, breaking away from the thoughts that plagued his sleep every night. He didn't think he was up that late doing his detective work, but it took all night from the look of it.

"Fuck," Ambrose muttered, hearing the alarm in his bedroom go off. "I thought I unplugged that fucking thing."

Reluctantly, Dean got to his feet and started his usual morning routine to ready himself for his dismal job.

The day just didn't want to end. Add insomnia on top of it and Dean was pretty sure time itself had stopped and Wednesday really wasn't going to end ever.

The work day was slow. Zelina yelled at Dean like she always did for whatever reason. The workshop mostly kept to themselves, with the one exception of Arn. He had to step out of the shop every so often to give his cancer ridden lungs a break. He was going to live, thankfully, but it was a constant strain on the poor old man. Dean thought his life was shit, but he never let it go too much to his head because of Arn.

"Hey there, youngin'," Arn sputtered with a rough sounding cough.

Ambrose, who'd been staring off into space for a few minutes, nodded to Arn. "You gonna live, old man?" He joked.

Arn rolled his eyes. "Unfortunately. The reaper is too chicken shit to take me, Ambrose."

"I ran into a super last night," Dean stated. "Right outside Suplex City. Bitch almost got me killed too."

"Lemme guess, gotdamn Chameleon making you think it was a dancer, but it's really a homeless hooker?" Arn asked, chuckling at what he thought was Dean's expense.

Ambrose shook his head. "Mind-Walker," he paused to nod at Arn's now stone serious face. "Yep. Thought the last of them were fuckin' dead. They're supposed to be anyway."

"And this one was a girl?" Arn asked. He scoffed when Dean nodded his head again. "I call bullshit, son. There ain't no Mind-Walkers with tits."

"Well, this one had a pretty big pair of 'em and she sure as fuck didn't have a dick," Ambrose said. "Tried to figure out somethin'. I don't remember a lot."

"Probably because she made you forget," Arn pointed out.

"I know it. All I can remember is what she looks like. It's not a lot, but I'd know it if I saw her again," Dean said.

"Wasn't that girlie that was in here yesterday, was it?" Arn asked.

Dean shook his head. "No, not her. I can always tell when someone's a fuckin' super. Renee isn't a super. I would've charged her double for the brake pads if she was."

Arn chuckled. "At least you've moved past the 'all supers must die' phase."

Dean snickered. "Oh, I didn't say I have. I just feel like me and little 'miss Mind-Walker' are going to have a chat when I see her again."

Arn nodded his head slowly. "Right. So, 'miss brake pads' has a name, eh?"

Dean smirked. "Got a date with her on Friday. Drinks and shit. I'm thinking I'll have to take her some place where she's from or I'll never get to see her naked."

"My wife was from the Valley. She hated the preppy upper class crap. If 'brake pads' came here of all places to fix her car, maybe she isn't as stuck up as you might think." Arn said, making a pretty good point.

Dean shrugged. "That's a good point. I always pictured something different with two blonde women in my life."

"Son, you know I hate them supers as much as the next guy," Arn sighed. "But, I don't give a rat's ass anymore. War's done, best we all move on, right?"

"If you say so, man," Dean muttered. Arn may have moved on, but Dean didn't think he'd have that ability any time soon.

As Dean sat back down on his stool, he caught the ever annoyed stare of his boss. Zelina, walking with a sense that wasn't anger for once, approached Ambrose.

"Z, always good to see you," Dean stated with a grin, making his superior roll her eyes.

"Dean, qué te pasa? You look like death," Zelina said. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

Dean shook his head. "No, I didn't. But I don't need sleep. I'll be perfectly fine."

Zelina rolled her eyes. "How about you go home, ok? I'll have Arn come up here."

Dean shook his head. "Wait, no, I can't-"

"I'll pay you out for the rest of the day, alright?" Zelina cut in. "That's more than I'd do for the idiotas in the shop. Take the rest of the day to sleep and come in tomorrow ready to go, ok?"

Dean hesitated for a moment, but then got off his stool. "Ok? Why are you being so nice to me?" He asked, looking the small Latina up and down for some kind of give away as to why she was being nicer to him than usual. Her hands were folded behind her back instead of balled into fists at her sides. Her angry demeanor was gone too, which gave Dean a chill down his back.

"Ok..." Dean replied. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Good," Zelina simply stated before going back to her office. Dean continued watching her walk away, puzzled by her friendly attitude for him. She turned around to shut the door and locked us with him. She gave him her signature cocked eyebrow, and Dean chuckled. She rolled her eyes and shut the door. Never mind, she was the same old Zelina.

Dean unbuttoned his shirt and started the quick walk back home. It was raining of course, but the cold water felt nice against his heated body from the shop.

Since Dean wasn't wearing his Moxley gear, he didn't need to sneak back to his apartment via the fire escape. He took the main staircase to his apartment, located on the second floor. It was a point in the day when people were working their normal day time jobs, which Dean was thankful for since he didn't like talking to people anyway.

Just as Dean reached the top of the stairs, the door at the end of the hall closed. Bayley, nurse scrubs on under a rain coat, had her back to Dean while she locked her door. Dean liked having Bayley as a friend, but he was too tired to try and keep up with her energetic personality.

Dean quickly stepped to his door, which was on the other side of the hall from the stairs. He pulled his keys out, but accidentally dropped them on the floor.

"Dean!"

"Shit," Dean muttered. He faced the young woman with a tired grin. "Hey, Bayley. How are you?"

Bayley threw her arms around Ambrose's frame. "I'm so super duper good," she let him go. "I have a shift until Friday morning. But I haven't forgotten what we planned on doing."

"Good. I'm actually looking forward to that," Dean admitted. "You're so happy and upbeat and I'm too tired to keep up with ya. But getting drunk with you on Friday does sound pretty great."

"Yay, I'm so glad you're excited," the eccentric young woman pecked Dean on the cheek. "I gotta get going, but I'll see you Friday night!"

Dean stood in surprise for a moment, eyes furrowed together. Bayley left downstairs, either to escape backlash or completely unaware that she just kissed Dean on the cheek.

"Oh, boy," Dean muttered to himself with a head shake. He hoped Bayley's small showing of affection was a one time thing. Maybe she didn't think it was as intimate as Dean did and he was overthinking it, but he still needed to let her know, for maybe the hundredth time, she wouldn't want him as anything more than a neighbor.

That was a concern for another day. Right now, Dean needed a nap. After that, he was making another visit to Suplex City to see if the Mind-Walker from the night before was somewhere in the area.

The downpour from earlier ceased into a light drizzle. Dean tucked his gear bag behind a dumpster in the alleyway beside the infamous strip club. The street out front was still tapped off from the accident the night before. The police were gone and probably not coming back to complete the investigation.

Dean stepped back into the pop music and daddy disappointing scented club. He took a look around, but not much had changed since the night before. He made his way to the bar where Seth was working again.

"Two nights in a row, Dean?" Seth said over the music.

"I'm actually looking for someone, if you've seen her before," Dean held his hand out to the side. "About yay high. Blondie with red streaks in her hair. Big titties."

Seth pointed at the stage. "You mean Alexa?"

Dean turned to look at the main stage in the middle of the room. A spotlight focused on the end of the catwalk that led to a curtain. The song "Pornstar Dancing" started to play, which made Dean chuckle a bit. He took a seat, ready to see if it really was the girl he was looking for. If not, he was going to enjoy the show.

"Introducing tonight's main event," the DJ announced over the loudspeaker. "Everyone's favorite goddess. Give it up for, Alexa Bliss!"

A short blonde woman suddenly burst from the curtain. Sure enough, it was the Mind-Walker Dean was looking for. She strutted down the catwalk, shaking her rear with her breasts emphasized by her tiny top.

"Mother fucker," Dean growled, shaking his head slightly.

"Right? She's a little hottie, eh?" Seth said. "She makes almost a thousand bucks a night in tips alone. I have no idea how she does it."

Dean chuckled dryly. "I have a clue. How much for a private dance from her? Five hundred?"

"Try five grand," Seth said. "You'd think that's fuckin' ridiculous, but a lot of lonely bastards fork up the cash for 'A Moment of Bliss'."

"A what?" Dean asked.

"It's what she calls her private dances," Seth chuckled. "Shit, if I could afford it, I'd pay for a private dance."

"Yeah, I don't have that kind of cash," Dean shook his head. "Whatever, I'm patient. She can just have a talk with Moxley."

"What'd you say?" Seth asked.

Dean got up from his seat. "Nothin'! I'll see ya later, Seth."

Alexa's shift was finally done. She wasn't feeling well, but her boss let her go home right away after her dance. She grinned to herself. He didn't let her go under his own will, but Alexa was pretty 'persuasive'.

Alexa poked her head out of the back exit of Suplex City. Unlike the night before, her shitbag ex wasn't waiting for her to rough her up for that night's tips. She knew no one was going to bother her anymore, but she still felt the need to check just in case.

Bundled in her raincoat, Alexa tucked her tips in her pocket. Another extremely successful night, again, thanks to her 'persuasive' abilities.

"So you use your powers to steal from rich losers?" Alexa jumped at the sudden voice calling from behind her. She spun on her heels, expecting another creep trying to take advantage of her. But the black and white mask covering his chin was not what she was expecting.

"What the hell do you want?" Alexa snapped. She knew who Moxley was and she admired him for taking down the evil in the city. But she didn't feel the same way when he had her cornered in a dark ally.

"You know, with your kind almost extinct, I figured you'd be a little more cautious," Moxley stayed just outside the illumination of the streetlight, completely covering himself in shadow.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Alexa lied, smirking a little with a sassy head nod.

"No? Usually you Mind-Walkers are more cocky about your bullshit," Moxley shot back.

Alexa rolled her eyes. "I'm a tiny dick loser and I have no friends," she furrowed her brow when Moxley didn't even flinch. "What the hell? Walk home and forget everything you did tonight."

"Not gonna work this time," Moxley finally stepped into the light. He pointed to the dark sunglasses over his eyes. "You can't do shit if you can't see my eyes. Pretty lame defense, but so is being unable to mind fuck me if I'm wearing six dollar sunglasses."

Alexa rolled her eyes. She marched up to Moxley, stood on her toes, pulled his mask down and kissed his lips.

The next thing Moxley knew, he was standing outside a convenience store. He looked around, trying to figure out what just happened. He saw the store's cashier watching him in shock and awe from inside. At his feet was a young man, possibly a teenager, clutching at his broken nose.

"Dude, I only stole a candy bar," the teen whimpered.

"Goddammit!" Moxley shouted.

A few blocks away, Alexa turned onto the street her apartment building was on. She chuckled to herself. She never brainwashed a famous person before, aside from Sonya, which made it all the more funny to her.

Suddenly, the masked vigilante from before jumped out in front of her.

"No no no no, you don't get to get away that easily this time!" Moxley yelled, pointing a stern index finger at the tiny stripper.

Alexa rolled her eyes and started for Moxley again, but he took a step back.

"Oh no, you're not pulling that shit on me again," Moxley warned. "I'm not above punching a woman in the face, lady!"

"Wow, such a gentleman," Alexa scoffed. "What do you even want with me? I haven't done anything illegal."

"You made someone walk in front of a freaking eighteen wheeler last night," Moxley said. "And you take money from people against their will."

"People spend a shitload of cash at strip clubs anyway. Who cares if I... 'Persuade' them to give me extra. And if you must know, that asshole from last night was my ex. He was slapping me around and I finally got him to listen to me."

Moxley eased back a little. He didn't know that side of the story until now. "What do you mean finally?" He asked.

"He was a super too," Alexa sighed. "He was a Juggernaut, actually. Ya know, super strength and agility? Well, they have a thicker skull and it's harder for us to tap into their brains. He finally let his guard down last night and... I made him stop hitting me."

"Ok, I didn't know that," Moxley admitted. "He got off easy, if you ask me. But you can't steal from people. You know that's wrong."

"I can't get a normal job, genius," Alexa said. "Everyone does DNA tests these days to make sure you aren't a super. But the fucking morons who put that together don't realize Mind-Walkers are the only people who will show a red flag. Every job that pays decent, anyway. I'm not going to be a waitress in a mom and pop diner in the Swamp just because the owners are supers too."

"Still," Moxley shook his head. "I gotta bring you in. I think they'll let you off easy if you don't tell them if you're a super. Otherwise, you never get to leave that place until the army shows up and you spend the rest of your life in Titan Tower."

Alexa chuckled tearfully. "You don't think I don't know that? I have to work this job or I'm screwed. People already hate my kind for bullshit reasons. I don't need a Batman wannabe to tell me too."

"Bullshit reasons?" Moxley yelled. "Your people started killing innocent citizens."

"I'm from Ohio!" Alexa shouted. "My mom and dad moved out here because my dad got a new job. It's super hating racists like you that got him killed."

Moxley didn't respond after that. He dropped his gaze from the crying woman. His hate for supers stemmed from personal experiences, and Alexa's hatred for normal humans came from similar experiences.

"I don't steal from lower income people," Alexa said. "When I'm dancing, I read minds to see which ones are the drunk millionaires that can afford to drop some cash. I don't accept money from people just there to get away from the real world. That's why you've never heard of me until tonight... Dean."

"Fuck," Moxley muttered under his breath. "You can't tell people who I am. I'd be in just as much trouble as you."

"Then don't turn me in," Alexa wiped the tears out of her eyes as she choked back a sob. "Please, I can't go to jail right now. My... My mom is sick and I can't leave her alone."

"What's wrong with her?" Moxley asked.

"When you mate with a super, it messes with your body," Alexa explained. "My dad was a Mind-Walker too. My mom has ovarian cancer and I'm trying to save up enough for her to get the surgery she needs. But because they know she got it from a super, her expenses are higher because doctors are too fucking scared to operate on 'radioactive' organs. I don't have an ounce of radioactive blood in my body. None of us do."

"How do I know you're not full of shit?" Moxley asked.

Alexa marched up to Moxley. Before he could react, she placed the palm of her hand against his forehead. In a matter of seconds, Moxley's brain was filled with memories from the tiny woman. Things ranging from growing up in Ohio, to moving to Titan City, to witnessing her father die and caring for her sick mother.

Alexa pulled her hand away. "Satisfied?"

Moxley clutched at his head. "Fuck, what the fuck?"

"Oh, eat a chocolate bar and shotgun a bottle of orange juice you big bitch," Alexa chastised.

Moxley rubbed the front of his head. It throbbed from where Alexa's hand was with a hot, almost burning, pain.

Moxley sighed. "Fine. I won't say shit to the police. But you swear you don't steal from anyone who doesn't deserve it."

"Of course not," Alexa promised. "Thank you, Dean. I mean, Jon."

Moxley stepped aside to let Alexa pass him. When she brushed by his side, he felt it safe to finally remove his glasses.

"Hey," he turned around and called after the blonde. "You have nice tits, by the way."

Alexa spun on her heels and made eye contact with Moxley. Next thing he knew, he was standing in his bedroom.

Moxley chuckled. "Shit," he pulled off his mask. "Alright, that's one mystery solved for today. But don't think this means I don't still hate you fucking people for what you did."

Dean shed his Moxley gear. Judging by the pain in his hands, he did some crime fighting while under Alexa's trance. He decided it was time to call it a night and try to get a decent rest before having to go back to Camacho's and drag himself through a full shift.