Santana raced around the campus in the middle of the night with the mask on, no matter if some classmates would comment on it. She wasn't thinking of them. She wasn't thinking of anyone else in the world. Her mind was focused on reaching the park to save Rachel. Everything else could be put aside, despite fear and anguish. Fear of what she would find, fear of losing the person she liked, fear of dying. Her body wasn't responding as it should be. Her muscles burned in the race, her breath was panting, she was slower than normal, she felt weak, her vision sometimes shuffled. She was in bad shape as a result of sleepless nights and the drunkenness she hadn't yet recovered.

The Boss's plan couldn't have expected a better moment to catch the strongest person in the group, the Wolverine of those vigilantes. The villain knew the recipe for defeating the person with a stronger sense of heroism and greater threat to his plans: physical and mental fatigue. Santana could kill someone with a single punch. An elephant could die. It was a fact. The studies on the vigilante were more complex than it might seem, as Grant found out and paid for by accessing and erasing such information.

The medical examinations and studies protected by the codes written on the destroyed notebooks suggested that each vigilante had the potential to develop other abilities married to the gifts they possessed. Artie could sustain faster and longer flights. Brittany could elevate healing gifts beyond cure the flesh. With proper training she could, for example, take Artie out of the wheelchair. Matt had vast field to develop telekinesis. He could either raise a car with the power of his mind or separate all the parts and keep them under control within a field. It would be the final stage of the capacity and control he hadn't even dreamed of owning. Quinn was a vast field that had only just begun to be discovered, and the Boss wasn't yet sure of the limits or even all the capacity Quinn had. Grant was the person with the least margin of development, but he became a threat by becoming a parallel and more charismatic leader than the Boss ever was. He was the brain, Santana was the heart.

Santana had principles as strong as Grant's, but unlike her dead friend, her field of development was little explored. Santana could run faster, hold things heavier than a pickup truck, jump farther. She would do much more if she had a correct training plan, thus becoming a powerful weapon. Her power of regeneration would be sharpened and aging could be delayed to the point of making her live beyond one hundred years in great shape. In addition, she had resistance to mental powers when she was concentrated enough. But the Boss never bothered to pass this information on to any of his disciples.

So there was the set scene: Santana was running and the Boss was waiting. She had no information. He Knew everything necessary. She had no plans. He had a scheme. She had the despair. He had the calm. She was alone. He wasn't.

Santana pulled the air as soon as she reached the edge of the park. She put her hands to her knees and coughed. Fucking drunkenness. Damn cheap vodka. She drew in the air once more. The vigilante looked around and saw no one. She walked through the park and avoided the small bike path and the streetlights, but chose to walk parallel to it. She saw two people passing by and as they didn1t comment on anything strange they might have seen, the vigilante came to an easy conclusion that the scenario would occur even inside the green area. Her eyes widened through the mask when she saw a person tied to a tree.

Rachel.

Santana ran to untie her. Rachel looked panicked, made dramatic gestures, and screamed.

"Calm down, calm down," Santana said urgently and lifted her mask enough for Rachel to identify her face. "It's me!"

"I... I... Santana?" Rachel was confused, doubting what had happened to her. "San?"

"I'll get you out of here in two seconds."

"I don't know how I come here..."

"That's ok. This is not your fault." Santana worked on the rope knot. It was tight and the rush was inimical to good coordination. She thought about trying to break the rope, but she feared it would put more pressure on Rachel's body.

"Sorry I..."

"All right, Rach..." Santana felt someone hold her head and she screamed loudly because of the pain of the psychic attack. In the reflex, she struck a blow from the aggressor who moved away.

It was the Boss. Santana was completely dizzy, dejected. Her vision was blurred and she knew that her defeat was near as soon as the attacker rose and applied the attack again.

"Rach..." Santana said disoriented, wanting to vomit. "Rach... time to explode..."

"But..." Rachel glanced to the side and saw the assailant rise slowly. In front of her was Santana still sitting on the grass throwing up everything she had right.

Rachel didn't know how to do it, how to evoke her power, but she had to find a way to explode quickly. She tried to concentrate, but the confusion of the moment made everything more complicated. The man she had only heard about was approaching Santana.

"Beautiful reflection," the man limped. "But it will do no good."

"For... what... this circus?" Santana tried to pull away and gain time. "Why her?"

"Your sweetheart?" He pointed at Rachel still tied to the tree. "You've been careless, Santana. You avoided my presence so much, even so, in the moments when I could read the minds of your friends, I found only information that would leave you with this girl. It wasn't difficult to connect the dots. The fact that you saved her, and then she saved you. The invasion of a vigilante in her apartment. The case of the bridge. The icing on the cake was the incident in the apartment when that dumb boyfriend of hers find out that you were having an affair. Did you really think all this would go unnoticed by me? How I wanted to make you suffer a little more for everything you destroyed."

"You... are... sadistic." Santana suffered to keep her mind focused. But the nausea was strong, just like the dizziness.

"Since you're out of action. How would it feel to see her forget absolutely about everything? How would you feel if I made your girlfriend fall in love with me, just like I did with Brittany?"

"No..." Santana tried to move forward on the Boss, but she swayed and fell on the grass.

Rachel's eyes widened. The Boss was in front of her with a smile on his lips. He was sure that he would do a great deal of damage to her before torturing Santana to death. Desperation gripped her body and she shifted trying to loosen the rope.

"Hello again, little girl." Martinez stared at her. "So you care enough to suffer just thinking she won't be here again tomorrow? I can fix this. You just don't need to resist so much. I can make your pain go away."

"Stay away from me," Rachel cried, her eyes became red.

"So you made that mess?" Martinez smiled. "You know, I have plans to reassemble my team now that the two rotten apples have been cut out. I can restart with you."

"No!"

Rachel screamed and the wave escaped the body that somehow was more directed at Martinez, causing the telepath to fly ten yards before falling to the ground. Santana stood still very dizzy. She was sure the dizziness wouldn't go away so quickly. The good thing is, there was nothing more in her stomach to vomit. She stumbled to Rachel and smiled faintly as she tried to work on the ropes.

"Good work..." Santana used the force to loosen one of the knots, but it was difficult with all the incoordination she felt. "I wish I had a penknife here..."

"Stop!" A male voice came from behind. "Raise your hands where I can see them!"

Santana looked back and saw a pair of cops with pointed revolvers. She sighed, lowered her mask, and raised her arms. She felt slow to react to the cop and couldn't risk hurting Rachel. She got up slowly and did her best to stand steady.

"Get away from her slowly," the duo's cop ordered, and Santana did her best to obey without stumbling.

"Grant Fish killer is right there." Santana pointed toward the old mentor, but the Boss was no longer stretched out on the floor. He had run away. Typical.

"Only if the killer is a ghost," the man of the pair approached Santana with handcuffs in hand and the pistol still pointed. "It's finally a pleasure, vigilante."

"Is everything okay, Berry?" The cop asked.

"It wasn't the vigilante's fault. It was a trap. Leave her alone! You have to go after the other."

"We'll see that later. Turn around" the cop ordered the vigilante, who didn't obey.

"How do you know her name?" Santana said slowly.

"You think you're in a position to ask questions," the cop pointed the gun at Santana's head and his finger tightened on the trigger.

"How do you know her name?" Santana repeated.

"She's more famous than you might think." The cop smiled, trying to keep calm. "Turn around and keep your hands up!" He said the words. "You have the right to remain silent. Everything you say could and should be used against you in court" was within walking distance of the vigilante."

When he grabbed one of Santana's wrists to handcuff the her, the reaction came. Santana felt the effects of the psychic attack, was tired, confused, half drunk and frustrated. But she was fully aware that this was a corrupt cop and she wouldn't be arrested. She would be executed. So, she turned abruptly against the cop who had just read the rights, prevented him from completing the handcuffs and hit him with the back of the hand that carried him to the ground. The other officer immediately pointed the pistol and fired, but Santana was already running in the darkness of the park. She needed to think fast about a way to get rid of Rachel. And she had to deal with the Boss. She wanted to kill him.

One of the cops was chasing her. Santana was slow, she ran with bumps and stumbles. The cop fired once as an alert, but Santana continued. The cop was approaching and the vigilante was doing her best, but the cop was approaching, they were near the edge of the park. If she won the city, she would be more exposed, but could increase the chances of escape. What about Rachel? She needed to rescue her. When she realized that the cop was a few steps behind, she turned and tried to leave her arm. Surprisingly, the cop not only deflected as he struck with his feet, causing Santana to unbalance and hit a tree. They faced each other. Santana was surprised behind the mask, while the cop had a small smile on his face.

"I don't fall for the same trick twice," he said without showing signs of weariness, unlike Santana's. "I was looking forward to that."

"You." Santana drew her breath. "It's part of that secret program to turn people like us into obedient zombies."

"Obedient zombies?" The cop scorned. "You must have a good imagination. We are much more than that. We were summoned and trained to fight pariahs like you and to keep things as they should be. "

"Of course," the vigilante was alert to the officer's movements. "Things as they should be is to keep the cretins who give you a good life in power. Say one thing: after you're done with me, will you by chance go back to your mansion until you receive the next dirty mission? Are you going to get the mayor out of jail? I have heard that the letter of resignation is already drafted."

"Certainly I won't be here with you." He smirked and stepped up against the vigilante.

He was quick and punched her in the face that made her go to the floor. He seemed to want to play a little, because he didn't attack again immediately.

"Martinez said you were tough." He kicked the pit of her stomach. "Maybe he made a mistake" another kick that made Santana spit into her own mask. "You are nothing. Get up. I've waited so long for this, and I don't want to leave here so disappointed."

The vigilante got up with difficulty. She was dizzy, with nausea. Her breath continued to wheeze and she had difficulty focusing. The man in front of her moved deftly. He was playing, mocking. He hit a punch in the middle of her forehead as if playing boxing. One more and another. The vigilante just didn't fall to the ground again because a tree trimmed her. The cop continued to play and deconcentrated in relation to the rest of the environment. He was fast. Very fast, but he was against a stronger opponent. The vigilante grabbed him by the wrist and gave a powerful counterattack that sent him to the ground. Unlike the cop, she wasn't kidding and took the chance to throw punches and kicks. They were uncoordinated punches, weak compared to what they would be if Santana were in shape, yet they were powerful. A punch and the cop's ribs were broken. A hateful punch and a jaw, too. The cop didn't resist and passed out. Seeing that the man didn't move, Santana was frightened. She checked his breathing and was relieved to feel it. Then, she left the cop and stepped away in vague steps. She was shocked by her own attitude. The last time she had gotten out of control was when she saw Howard Battes rapping Rachel.

There was movement nearby and Santana needed to get away. She tried to run, but she stumbled over something. She cursed herself at the fumbling movement. She looked up and the evening pitch revealed the person she most hated at that moment. The Boss was there, in front of her, pointing to the same weapon he used to kill Grant.

"End of the line, vigilante" the sound came high inside Santana's head, which groaned.

"So that's it?" Santana stood up and scorned the old master. "Did you let that other take his turn before you kill me? I'm honored."

"It didn't have to be that way. You forced the whole situation. We could be the best, we could get a lot of money from our talents. But your sense of honour and heroism was a disaster."

"Is that why you joined us? To make money from us?"

"I wanted your good. Too bad that plan doesn't include you anymore."

"Don't you have the guts to break up with me alone? Am I not going to have the same consideration you had in killing Grant? Did you have to kidnap Rachel and still use that other guy?"

"Do you think that vociferating this information will have anything in your favour? They are like us, vigilante. They also want your head." He said with his own voice.

"I hate you Martinez." It could be just a phrase, but it had a great meaning. There was Martinez masked, like the Boss figure. Still, Santana crossed the mental barrier and called him by name, while he couldn't say her name. That scared him. "May the bullets of this revolver find their way, otherwise I'll kill you."

"Good night."

Santana decided not to ease and ran. If she was a target, at least she would be a moving target. She didn't know, but the Boss's mental attack gave her an advantage. As she had her thoughts shuffled, beyond the natural resistance, the Boss couldn't anticipate her movements. Santana ran behind the trees. She tried to dodge, she stumbled, she got up and continued. She wouldn't stop to think, she only acted while she was being persecuted. But she had physical fatigue and knew that if a miracle didn't happen, all her effort would only delay the fatal shot.

Santana felt a sting in her leg and completely lost her balance. She fell to the floor. It was a shot. She couldn't run away anymore. She took a deep breath and lay back on the lawn. The Boss was slowly approaching. He was in no hurry.

That was when an air move happened, destabilizing the boss. He shot and missed the target completely. That time, he was literally hit in the head by a heavy backpack. It was Artie who threw the object from above.

"Let's get out of here." Rachel ran to Santana and tried to lift her.

"How?"

"No time to explain. We need to get out of here," Artie said urgently. He saw police reinforcements approaching the scene and they weren't kidding.

"Stop!" A cop ordered, but something, a strange force lifted them off the ground. Suddenly, their bodies were hurled away.

"Matt," Santana whispered. It was almost unbelievable that the remaining vigilantes were there to help her.

"Next time, don't run to a trap without warning us" Matt said still slightly drunk. He helped Santana to her feet. "Can you walk?"

"No... I need a hospital."

"Or Brittany." Artie said.

"Or a cemetery," the Boss's said. The four of them listened. It was his actually voice. "My old pupils... your fools. You would have a bright future. But they decided to help another corpse."

"You should be arrested for the rest of your life, Martinez," Santana said firmly. "You have corrupted yourself. You, Angelina, the prosecutor and the mayor. You agreed to participate in a scheme that diverted public money just to legitimize the corrupt actions of the mayor and used us in his dirty game. You killed Grant Fish. You disgust me."

"And? You can't prove that I did all this."

"We can," Santana challenged. "Do you think we've got the bullshit to keep the information just for us?"

"You told that little ark journalist and who else?"

"And other people." Matt continued the confrontation.

"For this girl who was swallowed up by all this in less than a month?" He smiled "That one who can barely bear the thought of having a power? The coward who prefers to hide because she is too afraid to someone take her daughter?"

"That's me!" The voice came from behind.

Martinez felt two frozen hands pressing against the sides of his head. The action of Quinn's power was so fast that he felt his whole body wince at the cold snap. His thought became diffused, dizzy, giddy, he lost control of himself. He tried to take the young woman close. She moved her body and kicked Quinn down on the floor. She was surprised to see that she wore a mask, despite the clothes that were common to her. Matt seized the opportunity and used the power to throw the boss against a tree. The impact made him breathless. Artie flew and pushed an approaching cop and fired at Matt. Quinn stood up and took the cop's hand, which bellowed as her hand felt frozen. She dropped the gun and Quinn twisted her arm again. Matt used the telekinesis to lift the cop a few feet off the ground and then dropped it. Martinez remained. The ex-mentor, still disoriented, leaned his hand on Matt's head, who screamed and fainted with the psychic attack. Quinn ran toward her boyfriend and laid her icy hands on Martinez's back at the lungs. Another shock that destabilized him. Artie took advantage to push Martinez close to Santana, who was watching everything leaning on a tree. She trimmed the former mentor and it was her turn to smile cynically.

"Good night!" She applied a winning punch.

The five of them looked at the knocked out Boss with amazement and satisfaction. Santana leaning on Matt and Rachel, Artie was floating and Quinn had her hands on her knee.

"Beautiful punch" Matt commented.

"Thank you," Santana replied.

"What do we do with him?" Quinn scratched her cheek. "And how can you keep this thing for so long?"

"You get used to it." Artie patted her friend's shoulder.

"I think this guy is too dangerous to stay alive," Matt said.

"Killing someone is not our style," Santana mused.

"But if he continues, he knows too much and will turn on us," Quinn mused. "He knows how to manipulate minds. How do we know he's not manipulating the judge and the jury? Worse, if we leave him here, everyone will think he's a victim, who didn't kill Grant and everything."

They heard nearby sirens needing to act fast. That's when Artie showed the cell phone that recorded the audio of everything.

"He won't be able to manipulate the mind of an entire population."

Artie flew up carrying Santana with him. Matt, Quinn and Rachel ran through the park. Officers arrived at the scene, found a wounded cop, others were still confused, as well as the 'vigilante' they had been looking for in the last few days. They didn't hesitate to handcuff the unconscious man and removed his mask. It was the fugitive, Guillermo Martinez.

…

"How did you find me?" Santana said as she entered Matt's car, aided by Quinn and Rachel.

"Mercedes called everybody and you were lucky the park was the first place we looked," Matt explained.

"Oh, well thought!"

"I also say…" Quinn pressed the bullet wound.

"Hospital?" Rachel asked.

"How about some tacos first?" Santana smiled, but the truth was that she was pale with the loss of blood.

"Let's go to Brittany's house," Quinn practically sentenced.

"No Brittany... oh." Santana leaned against Rachel.

"Let's go to Brittany," Matt mused. "We can't forget that she is and will always be one of us."

They get out of there, leaving behind all the mess they did in the park. They were silent. Nothing else needed to be said. The car stopped in front of the Pierce house. Matt called Brittany's cell phone, which a few minutes later appeared in the front door. She waved to her friends and did her work without question. It was a way of making peace with the group of people she liked best.

CONCLUDES NEXT CHAPTER