Chapter 26: Shall We Play a Game?

Gregory Smalls wasn't a complicated person on the outside. He woke up alongside a wife he didn't love, had a shower, greeted a son he didn't want, eat oatmeal he didn't like, before heading out for a job he didn't enjoy. He would work like a machine from 9 to 5, stopping only to have a lunch he had prepared that he barely tolerated. Once work finished, he would drive to the shops, interact with people he hated as he shopped for groceries, before driving back to the house he disliked filled with people he didn't care for.

Sometimes, in the weekend, he got time off to go gambling. He hated that too.

Right now, he was walking back to his parking spot, shoulders hunched over under his thick coat and a glassy look to his eyes. In one pocket was the money he had won gambling. In the other was his hand, hiding the wedding ring he had pawned for money. It wasn't like he needed to pawn it. He had a couple hundred in his wallet. He just didn't see a reason not to pawn it off. People barely noticed him as he passed by; he was nothing to them. Instead, they were all standing around the police tape, watching the capes and officers meandering around a doorway.

Gregory stopped, turning towards the scene. As he waited, he heard people muttering. Spreading rumours and debating what had happened. Was it a robbery? Did a villain strike this place? Was it related to Olympus? Officers stepped aside as medics rolled a gurney away, a thick sheet covering the body. From the way it rose and fell, it was obviously mangled. At least, that's what Gregory saw.

A strong wind chose then to blow through, ruffling the sheet until it lifted it partway. Someone screamed in horror as everyone saw the remains, people gasping as the orderlies did their best to hide the body. Everything above the waist was gone. Exploded. A few ribbons of meat and gristle held the arms to the rest of it. People stepped back; some started vomiting. Everyone found reasons to look away and leave.

Gregory watched it all with a detached gaze. Only once he turned around and continued walking to his car did he start smiling.

See, on the outside, Gregory was a boring man who hated his life and everything in it, yet couldn't do anything to change it. On the inside, however, he was a cruel man who hated his life and everything in it, and had the power to fix that.

He still found it fitting, that a man with the last name of 'Smalls' triggered the power to shrink in size.

He had always admired killers and monsters. People like Jack Slash, Black Kaze, Nilbog, Acidbath. They weren't expected to play to society's rules. They didn't have to. If someone annoyed them, they would just kill them and be done with it. No holding back, no pretending to like them. Just rip them apart and be done with. He figured having to play along and pretend to be a nice person was what triggered him. Years and years of dealing with other people and fighting the urge to murder them just built up and built up until something snapped.

He had fun. He got some peace of mind. He only wished he could work faster; get more people before hiding again. As he thought that, someone walked right into him, nearly knocking him the ground. The man, too busy talking on his phone to apologise, still found time to turn around and give him the finger. Gregory didn't react. He just stared at him, committing his face to memory.

He would look for him later. Find him, follow him, figure out where he lived.

And then… he would kill him.


The drive back had been terrible. The rush hour was annoying, the radio jockeys were boring and unfunny, and the music was horrible. But he managed to make it home without resorting to murder, as much as he wished he could. Just like yesterday. Just like the day before. Just like every other day of his life. Lock up the car. Slightly hope that it would remain untouched until tomorrow. Unlock the door. Head inside. Throw his keys on the table…

He paused. Looked up. A curtain was fluttering. The window was open; and it hadn't been when he left. He was very certain about that. Moving slowly, he headed over to it, closing it shut. Closed his eyes, and count to ten.

Inside, he smiled. Good. A victim snuck inside. It saved him the trouble of looking for the intruder.

"Well you won't have to look far." A smooth voice suddenly said aloud. Moving deliberately, Gregory turned around. Found a hooded, ratty man lying on his sofa. Grey skin peeked out from under the hood. Dirt was clearly encrusted under his fingernails.

If it wasn't for the fact he had seen this man in the news only a few days ago, he would've mistaken him for a homeless man.

The psychic's grin grew a bit wider. "Yes. The perfect camouflage. No need for perfect cover identities and false papers. Just a thick layer of dirt, and you can disappear into any crowd. Though I do admit it doesn't have the same sense of security as a common office worker like you."

Gregory turned to face him fully, face impassive. "So, are you here to brainwash me? Turn me into your unwilling helper?"

"Brainwash you? Hardly. I've been spending the past few days since my arrival scouring the city for like-minded individuals. People who like pain and power as much as I do." He tilted his head forward, his message clear.

"So you obviously know my secret." Gregory replied. "And you haven't called the police, therefore you want something from me." He wondered if he should loosen up. Get himself a drink. If this psychic wanted him dead, he would've done it by now.

"A drink sounds like a great idea. I'll just have water, thank you." Pausing, Gregory shrugged. Headed for the kitchen, grabbed two glasses. Water for one, scotch for himself. "I understand perfectly why you do what you do. So many people are dullards, buffoons, selfish greedy people who you just want to hurt. And yet so few people are in any position to make them pay in interest. It's only natural that now you have a power, you express your feelings with it." Gregory handed him his glass, and he took a long swig. "But you aren't thinking big enough. You only hit a few people every so often. Spending a week hunting down targets before ending them. Why don't you work harder; focus on the fools closest to you?"

"If you've looked into my mind, then you already have your answers. The Protectorate and the PRT. They're looking for me. I have to play smart, make sure they can't find any connections to me. I'm a lone sociopath against an army. A prolonged hunt would end only one way; with me found out and dead."

"Hmm. True. There is safety in numbers after all. I learnt the same thing from my own attack. I was forced to run in defeat because they were ganging up on me. But I have an idea." The psychic took another sip. "Mr Smalls. Do you ever wish that Slaughterhouse 9 was still around?"

Gregory looked up at him from his glass. As a matter of fact, he had. Ever since he gained his power, he had wished that Jack Slash hadn't gone and died in Brockton Bay all those years ago. That they were still running around, killing everyone in their way. The news of his own attacks would've likely gotten their attention. Maybe even led to his recruitment. But they were dead and gone, and hardly anyone was interested in re-forming the group.

Something clicked inside his head. The psychic grinned even wider.

"Yes, Mr Smalls. That's exactly what I want to do. That's why I've been looking for killers. Not people who kill for a purpose. But people like us who kill because we can. Because the killing itself is the goal. Imagine the carnage we could cause. People would look on us in terror. Or just imagine how fewer idiots there will be in the world once we get started."

Gregory had to admit, the idea sounded appealing. He had thought of it before, but it was hard to be a group of one. "We'll need to learn from their mistakes." He said. "For starters, we'll need to avoid Zeus and his Pantheon. That has to be our golden rule."

The psychic (what was his name? Or just his codename?) mused. "Yes, you're quite right. Zeus was the downfall of the group. A group of serial killers against a bioweapon was never going to end well. Don't you worry, Mr Smalls. I'm not planning on dying anytime soon." He smiled again. "And please. Call me Mindbreaker."

"Very well Mindbreaker. But there's also the issue of it being just us. Slaughterhouse 9 needs to be more than two people."

"Who said it was just you two?" A deep voice rumbled through the house. The ground shook slightly as a large man forced his way through the hall doorway. In his thick, meaty hands was some meat on a bone, half-eaten already. It was thin and pink, and one end was hidden under a shoe.

Gregory didn't even blink. "I see you found my freezer." He said calmly.

"You got a problem with that?" Unstoppable asked, ripping another chunk of flesh from the leg.

"Not at all. I've actually been wondering how to sneak their remains out of the house. Have as much of them as you want." His wife and son had been his first victims. While his wife snoozed, he had crawled in through her nose, lost concentration, and found himself in a puddle of blood, a headless body at his knees. And then grabbed a broom, jumped down his son's throat, and expanded. His head nearly popped off. It had been exhilarating. "Any other members hidden in my house?"

"Just one other. But fortunately, the other five are within our reach. We just need someone small to get to them for us." Mindbreaker held out a hand. "So even though I know the answer, are you in?"

Gregory didn't hesitate. "I'm in." He said, grabbing him by the hand and giving it a firm shake.


Far away from this, over in Brockton Bay's neighbouring city of Dattanburg, a young man named Adam Conver was busy studying a book on historical parahuman sightings for his homework.

Well, outwardly he was. In actual fact, Adam was simply a cover identity for Alex Mercer, who was thinking about how few concrete answers this book offered.

It asked questions like where the powers come from, why people get certain skills, why trigger events are so important, and also whether or not parahumans existed before Scion's appearance. But they were all conjecture. Theories and hypothesises. Very few of these 'facts' were proven. The Protectorate's first guesses on what his powers were had been more certain than this. But unfortunately he had to go with what the book said. People might find it suspicious if he knew more than the official stories. At best people would think he was a parahuman and bug him. At worst, someone might realise who he really was. So ignoring a driving need to correct the book, he leaned over and continued reading, writing down key details so as to appear to commit them to memory.

The last few days hadn't been as terrible as he feared they might've been. Sure, he had been alternating between bored out of his seventy-five genius minds and twitching from not eating the lecturers, but once he got past the old instincts and insufferableness, college wasn't actually that bad. The lectures were somewhat interesting, the dual courses on Parahumans and technology kept him busy, and for the most part he could fade into the background. Though he would never say it aloud, college was alright with him.

Still, that didn't mean he didn't have to fight the urge to punch someone's head off when they couldn't answer a simple question about how the PRT calculated and rated the power levels of Parahumans.

He stopped scribbling down notes, satisfied that he had completed the assigned reading for this lecture. He was about to grab the book on Tinker-derived advances when his ears picked up some scuffling sounds. His instincts tweaking his ear, Alex turned to his door, eyes already switching to heat vision. He could make out two humanoid shapes crouched in front of his door, and the upper head of another peeking round the corner. Frowning, Alex put down his book and headed for his door, pressing his ear against the wood.

He could hear several people shushing each other, and the sound of something wet sloshing as they moved. And then someone said aloud, "have we got the feathers?"

Alex rolled his eyes as he stepped away from his door. Despite advances in tutoring and the banning of drug use since his first time in college, there had been little progress in terms of frat-boys acting stupid. And somehow, he had earned the ire of one of the higher-ranked men of this fraternity. Some guy named Daniels Fronz. This was probably his doing again. A prank meant for poor young Adam.

Fortunately for him, he had started making plans after he got caught in the first prank.

Opening his window, Alex jumped down to the ground below, settling into a crouch as he landed. He then snuck around to the room on his right, climbing up the side and pushing the window open. The kid inside, Grey Danvers, started as he saw Alex.

"Don't mind me. Just dealing with another prank." Alex said as he climbed in, rolling to his feet. Moving slowly, he opened the door onto the hallway, spotting six people holding onto water balloons and buckets.

The one nearest barely had time to turn before Alex twisted his arm, tugging the balloon free as he did so. Spotting Daniels at the front, he got him full in the face with the balloon, some white sticky mess dripping slowly from his head.

"Get him!" Daniels shouted, wiping at his eyes. Everyone else yelled as they moved for him, arms ready to throw. Alex let go of his first victim, before grabbing him by the waist and charging forward. Idiot #1 served as a shield, blocking the balloons that hit until they crashed into the others. Rolling to his feet, Alex swept the legs out from under someone else before elbowing someone else in the solar plexus and then throwing him into idiot #4. Ducking another salvo, Alex leapt backwards into the room he came out of, closing the door on the third strike. He could hear the balloons and the bucket splat against the wood.

"Come on out Adam. We just want to serve you a home-cooked meal." Daniels said, his voice getting louder. Alex waited a moment before opening the door again, Daniels stumbling as he met no resistance. Alex booted him in the stomach before grabbing him and throwing him back out, waiting for him to get back up and charge before closing the door again.

The wood panelling cracked as something solid slammed into it.

Jumping back out the window, he climbed up into his own room and opened the door, surprising them again. He then ran for the stairs, confident that they would follow. They did, and were momentarily stunned as he clambered his way past them. He did so because he had noticed something they hadn't.

One of the buckets had spilled while they fought. Right at the top of the stairs.

A quick shove to the back, a complete lack of traction, and six idiots all fell down the stairs. As they laid there groaning, Alex stepped back, admiring his handiwork. Then he noticed that the bucket still had some liquid in it. Shrugging, he tossed that down on top of them, before grabbing the bag of feathers and throwing that down too. And then, spotting Daniels climbing out of the pile, he got the empty bucket right on his head.

So with Daniels cursing like mad, Alex slipped back into his room, locking the door behind him. Wiping some of the goo from his sleeve, he stared at it for a moment before hesitantly sampling the goo.

To his relief, it was just melted marshmallows. He wouldn't put it past Daniels to have it be something much cruder.

There was heavy banging on his door, the wood almost flexing in the frame. "Conver! You're fucking dead! You hear me?! Dead!" Daniels shouted. Alex rolled his eyes as he continued shouting at him, insulting his family, he heritage, his lineage, his sexual preference, and pretty much everything else about him. It definitely sounded like he wouldn't leave without a fight. Rolling his shoulders and ready for action, Alex unlocked his door and opened it.

Catching Daniels' punch, he started as he realised that Daniels wasn't alone. And then smirked.

"Hey Mr Prickly." He said jovially, addressing the head honcho of Delta Delta Niner. Daniels paled as he turned around, the much larger and no-nonsense head glaring down at him. Mr Prickly turned slowly, taking in all the marshmallow goo covering the walls and the floor. Wisely, Alex chose then to close the door again.

He didn't like many people, but Mr Prickly was adequate by his standards.


Later that night, Alex was busy studying some more when he was interrupted by another guest. He glanced over his shoulder to find Carver Dresden standing in his doorway. Alex focused back on his book. Carver was your cliché friendly all-popular big guy on campus. Had good grades, did well in sports, got along with everybody. And determined to be friends with everyone he met.

This was going to be attempt number 5 on being Alex's best friend.

"Nice work out there today Adam." Carver said, walking in. "I heard all about it on the grapevine. About how Daniels and his friends tried to prank you; how you played them all for fools; and how they had to clean up the mess before they even got their punishment duties. Nice work."

"Thanks. I guess." Alex replied curtly. He knew that making friends was part of the experience (and something Dana was probably hoping for), but to him College was simply higher education. That was how it was before, and that's how it is now.

"You should've seen the look on his face." Carver continued, still standing in the doorway. "I swear, Mr Prickly was about to pop a vein he was so pissed. And Daniels was about five seconds away from shitting his pants."

Despite himself, Alex smirked. "Would've paid to see that happen." It sounded as though Daniels wouldn't be a threat for at least a while.

Carver laughed. "Yeah. That would've been the highlight so far." There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. "So… Me and a few friends from the local sorority were planning on heading out tonight and have some fun. We've got a spare seat if you're interested."

Alex rolled his eyes. "Carver, I thought we went over this. I can't. I'm too busy with homework to 'hang out'." He heard the floorboards creak as Carver walked over, and felt him lean over his desk.

"'The Translation of Fact and Fiction: How Pseudoscience Fiction Becomes Pseudoscience Fact'? Isn't that meant to be the really advanced stuff? The kind of things you read only after you understand the theory of everything else involving Tinker-tech?"

"I skipped ahead a bit. They're all like 90% theory. I want something more concrete than hypothesises." Carver suddenly reached over and slammed the book shut. Alex turned and looked him in the eye.

"You've barely started your first term, and you're already reading expert-level texts? Adam. There's studious, and then there's shut-in. If you don't stop and take a break every now and then, you'll crack under the pressure. Nobody's expecting you to complete the entire curriculum in only two months. You need to live a little."

"I don't do parties, Carver." Alex replied, opening the book again. "They're a waste of time and energy. By the time you drink yourself into a stupor, I'll probably know enough concrete evidence to start working on my own hover technology."

Carver went silent for a while. "Ok then Adam. If that's what you want. But that seat's still open if you ever change your mind." And with that, he left. Finally giving Alex some peace and quiet; time to study. That was what college was for, after all. Higher level education, so that you can get a degree or a diploma, learn things they don't teach in school, and eventually rise up the ranks of your career so that you can…

Alex stopped reading. And then what? What would he have actually achieved by just spending his whole time studying? Learn all the theory on why Tinker machines couldn't be replicated? Play a role that hardly required any effort? Be done with his courses within the year and be right back where he started? Alex sighed, pressing the palm of his hand to his temple. Studying wasn't a challenge; it wasn't interesting. Trying to interact with people without freaking them out or scaring them off? That was going to be a real challenge. And sometimes, you've got to take the risk.

Slamming his book shut and 'grabbing' his jacket, Alex left his room and ran down the stairs, weaving past the few people still around the place. A quick look around outside showed Carver not too far away, heading towards the road. He ran towards him, slowing down to walk in step once he was close enough.

"Your offer still available?" He asked. Carver started, staring at him. Crap. Did he do something weird? Did he say the wrong thing? He couldn't have messed up a simple question, could he?

But then Carver smiled, and smacked Alex on the back. "Sure man. The more the merrier. But I thought you were busy studying."

Ok. Act casual. Act bored. Alex shrugged his shoulders, hands in his jacket pockets. "Eh, I've got all year to finish my papers. Might as well take some time off. Maybe this party thing will grow on me."

"That's the spirit. Take a break; have some fun." He gave Alex a light punch to the shoulder. Hanging out seems to involve quite a bit of fighting so far. "The others should be here soon. I told them to be here ten minutes ago, but they always arrive fifteen minutes late. So we shouldn't have long to wait."

They didn't. Within a couple of minutes, Alex picked up the vibrations of rhythm through the ground. A yellow car, sleek and expensive, drove down the road, the music far too loud for his tastes. It came to sudden stop before them, the windows tinted. Alex had a few memories about this kind of work. This was a teenager's car; more style than substance. Fifty grand down the toilet just to make it look more 'sweet'. A waste of money.

The window rolled down, revealing a man with way too much product in his hair, and spiked glasses covering his eyes. Alex also counted at least three earrings on one lobe. "Hey Carver." The man said, speaking loudly to be heard over the music. "You and your friend ready to rock out?!"

"You know we are Bruce!" Carver shouted back. The two of them howled, and then someone opened the back doors. Carver ran around to the other side, while Alex leaned over to look in.

The inside was as 'blinged up' as the outside, looking like some kind of bi-colour eyesore. Sitting in the back already were two girls, wearing tattered clothes and far too much make-up and jewellery. They were shrieking and laughing while Carver kissed one on the neck, a bottle in one's hand…

It took Alex a bit too long to realise that these were not, in fact, prostitutes, but regular teenage girls dressed for a night out on the town. He was partly glad he hadn't said anything yet. According to his memories, despite how they dressed, it was rude to point out how slutty they looked.

"Who's your friend?!" The girl closest to him asked Carver, a Hispanic girl wearing a top that plainly advertised she wasn't wearing a bra.

"That's one of my frat bros, Adam!" Carver replied.

"You mean the swot you kept trying to be friends with?! That guy?!" Carver looked embarrassed at her comments. Clearly, he didn't want Alex to know he thought he was a swot.

Whatever. Alex shrugged. "I got tired of having my nose in a book! Took him up on his offer!"

"Cool! Hop on in then!" The girl replied, climbing out. Slightly confused as to how they'd all fit in, Alex obediently sat down on the seat. He was about to do up his seatbelt when the girl climbed back in, sitting down on top of him. She seemed to need to rub her buttocks against him as she moved into position, before clicking the belt in place.

Alex was already starting to regret getting out of his comfort zone.

"Is Damian out doing his drawings again?" Carver asked as they drove off. Thankfully, they had turned down the music a bit so they could hear each other. But the bass was still trying its best to shake him apart. Only the fact that they'd get pretty pissed stopped him from just ripping the speakers out.

"Yeah. Says he wants to capture the 'nature of the world around us'." Bruce replied. "Whatever the fuck that means."

"He's always into that deep meaning new age stuff. Remember when he over-analysed Julie's art about the card hand? He kept coming up with random stuff until she told him she just chose those cards at random." The driver said.

Carver smiled. "Well hopefully, we can drag him away from his work to have some fun."

Alex sighed. One more person to try and squeeze into this tiny and noisy car. The party itself couldn't come soon enough.


Alex considered himself lucky, in perspective. The torturous ride only lasted about twenty minutes.

It was good timing. Any longer, and it would've been just him and several mangled bodies.

"Finally. I need some air." Alex said as they pulled to a stop. And he also needed this stupid bimbo to stop rubbing her body against him and assaulting his sense of smell with her disgusting perfume, but he was pretty sure he wasn't allowed to say that part. Carver looked at him, his grin fading as he took in Alex's obvious discomfort.

"Good idea. We're gonna have to sort out the back anyway." Carver almost mumbled. The girls groaned, but they both got out too, allowing Alex to hop out and stretch. Carver walked around the car and slapped an arm on his back, before leaning in. "Hey Adam. Could you do me a favour and not mention that Jessica was trying to get into your pants on the way here? It's just that… Daniel's kind of her boyfriend."

Alex blinked in surprise. "Wait. She was hitting on me?" He asked stupidly. Carver started shushing him.

"Yeah. She's like that sometimes. But you need to keep quiet about it. Daniel would freak."

"Of course he would. His girlfriend isn't interested in being exclusive. Shouldn't we tell him that she's cheating on him?"

"You can't just tell him that Adam. He'd have a freak out. The last time he got dumped, he went almost suicidal. Kept painting death and despair until Jessica dated him out of pity." He was pleading now, pressing his hands together in a prayer.

Alex sighed. "Fine. But I want a better seat in there. And the music to be quieter. I can't hear myself think in there."

"That's kind of…" Carver stopped at Alex's expression. "Right. Gotcha. Less noise. Now, let's go find Daniel." And he pulled out his phone, using it as a flashlight. Alex simply adjusted his eyes to see better in the dark.

Daniel wasn't too far away. He was actually just on top of the hill, sitting before a canvas. Dressed in a long shredded coat and baggy pants, he looked like someone who didn't care about anything. He was painting a long block, covered in jagged spikes and fire, monsters flying around it like flies.

Alex glanced past him, and with his eyes, could easily see the object of Daniel's interest.

The Wall. His Wall. The Trojan Wall.

Everyone went silent as they took in the view, with even the girls no long gossiping. Alex glanced at the artwork, and then at the Wall, and back again.

Honestly, Daniel was adding too much. It was just a mile-high wall, made from steel and Blacklight, with Blacklight turrets covering every inch and Infected nesting in the hives within the wall. It didn't have spikes or fire anywhere. It wasn't the wall of Mordor or whatever.

"That thing creeps me out." The driver – Cindy – said with a shudder. "Those poor people."

"Yeah. They don't deserve that kind of fate." Carver said. "Ruled over by a tyrant. Worried that any day, he might just kill them all."

"Have you guys heard about how dangerous that Blacklight stuff is? It killed off Hope in like, two hours. It'd probably be more merciful to just drop a bomb on them all. At least it'd be over quickly." That was Bruce now.

Alex felt some annoyance, and anger. It was always the same damn thing. People kept acting like him taking over Brockton Bay was the end of the city. It's been five years now, and yet despite all the good he was doing for his city, everyone outside kept acting like he was five minutes away from invading the rest of the world with his army of Infected.

But it was the idea of blowing the citizens up that really pissed him off. They weren't infected, they weren't in danger. They just wanted the same thing he did. To have someplace they could feel safe in. Why was that so wrong?

"It's not actually that bad in there." He said testily. "Zeus and the Pantheon fixed up the water and food problems, and they cleaned up the mess made from Leviathan and the gang wars. The city's never been better since he took over." Everyone gave him a weird look. Like he just said that he had a bomb in his backpack.

"How would you even know that, new kid?" Bruce asked suspiciously.

"Because I lived there, genius." He hadn't bother to hide it; as far as the paperwork said, Adam had transferred from Brockton Bay. Despite their hatred for him, the government hadn't made being from Brockton Bay illegal. Yet.

"And you're supporting their dictatorship?" Bethany, the last member of their group, gasped.

He shrugged. "It's not a dictatorship."

"He's ruling over the city with an iron fist, he wasn't elected by the people, and he refuses to hand over power to a properly elected official. In what way is that not a dictatorship?"

"When you say dictatorship, you're obviously thinking of one guy stomping all over the people and taking all their money to support himself. Zeus has been helping people. Sure, they pay some tax to him, but it's no higher than what they were paying before." Alex shook his head. "I get that people are scared of him. But it's been five. Fucking. Years now. He hasn't done anything bad. He hasn't attacked anyone outside his walls. How long will it take for people to realise that he isn't interested in the world?"

"Ok, ok, I think that's enough. Save it for the debating team." Carver said quickly, stepping forward. "We are here to have a good time, to hang out, to get drunk. How about we head out and actually do that?"

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Fine."

"Whatever." Alex replied, crossing his arms. Let them be ignorant and pathetic. He had really stopped trying to change people's minds. His plan right now was to just ignore the outside world for as long as he could. Keep an ear out for any plans to blow his city up.

Daniel packed up his canvas and was placing it in the boot when they all heard a strange noise. A scuttling sound, like nails scraping along wood. And then a slurping, sucking noise. Everyone shushed each other and sneaked towards the sound. Alex rolled his eyes and joined them. He already knew what it was.

And sure enough, when they flashed a light down the slope, they spotted an Infected pressed against a tree. It was based on a flying squirrel, with a thin membrane stretched between its limbs. The tree was turning red around it, dripping and quivering. The leaves were falling as the tree started dying.

"Oh. My. God." Someone whispered. "There's an Infected out here."

Bruce turned to look at the group. "Is there something around here we can hit it with?" He asked. "A big rock, or a branch, or something like that?"

Alex stared at him. "Oh yeah. Real smart. Let's all go and try to beat up a creature that could rip us limb from limb. There's no way that's going to get us all killed." He said sarcastically.

"Well what do you suggest, new guy?"

"Simple. We leave it alone, and just go on our way. Once it's eaten its fill, it'll go away." Bruce was about to argue, but they stopped as they heard the car start. Bright lights shined on them. And the monster.

Carver honked the horn. "Hey freak! Get out of here!" He shouted before honking again. The Harvester twisted to glare and shriek at him in response. Alex could feel its aggression. It felt threatened; it was getting ready to attack. He linked up with its mind and calmed it down. Leave. He commanded. The Harvester shrieked again before taking off, gliding away from them. The tree, half-eaten and rotting, collapsed into a heap.

Alex rolled his eyes. "Ok, congratulations. We scared it off. Now can we please just get going already before tonight becomes tomorrow?" He stalked back to the car and waited for everyone. Bruce, Cindy and Carver spent some time working out how everyone would fit. Cindy was the driver; Alex was sitting in the front. Bruce, Carver and Daniel sat in the back, while Jessica and April sat on top of them. The music started blaring loudly until Alex turned it down. He and Cindy then squabbled over it until he gave her a chilling glare and Carver stepped in. Finally, they went on their way, heading back into town to find… wherever they were going.

A few hours. Just a few hours of this. And then he can say he had survived hanging out with teenagers.


Alex glowered into his glass. Tonight had been… disappointing. He thought that it would've been a few hours of chatting. Talking about their pasts, their futures, sordid secrets and other similar things. It would've been him trying to pretend to be normal. But it hadn't. Everyone else had spent the time, drinking wildly, dancing with the crowd, or just kissing their respective others. He couldn't drink alcohol without it burning his structure. His attempt at dancing was terrible. And he was certainly not interested in romance in any form. That just left him sitting around, drinking glasses of water and then going to expel the liquid. His senses were getting a bit overloaded by the thumping music that constantly played, becoming a never-ending mess of sounds. And as the night went on, the others went off on their own adventures. Putting down the glass harder than necessary, he moved around to find somewhere he could hear himself think. His path led him outside, onto a balcony.

He slipped his phone out of his pocket. He needed to talk to Dana. Find out whether he was doing things right. Thankfully, she picked up on the second ring. "Hey bro. How's college life going for you?" She asked.

"Almost disappointing." He replied. "Been busy studying. Already moved on ahead without the rest of the class. A frat brother invited me to go clubbing with his friends, but it's been pointless."

"Clubbing's not your thing? What a shocker."

"I don't even know what I'm supposed to do at these things. Everyone else seems to have figured things out, but nobody told me what happens here."

"It's a club. You get drunk, you take drugs, you find a hot girl or guy to make out with, and then you try dancing. And then you wake up the next day with a pounding headache, wondering what you did last night, and why is there a naked guy lying on top of you."

"I'll pass. On all of that." That made Dana laugh.

"Yeah. I thought you might. Apparently, the old you was exactly the same." He tone changed. "You're getting a second chance at being at college. Maybe you should try acting dumb for once."

"My body doesn't like alcoholic substances. I don't know how it'll react to the chemicals in most street-level drugs. My attempt at dancing was terrible. And I don't do romance; especially with what my physiology could do to someone. That leaves me with nothing to do."

"Oh. Right. Yeah, I see it now." The phone beeped. Alex pulled it away to see an unknown number on screen.

"Hold on. I've got another caller. Probably a wrong number." He said. He hung up on her and answered the ringing phone. Stayed silent as he waited for the other person to make their 'pitch'.

A distorted voice chuckled evilly. "Hello, young man. Ready to play a game?" Even with his hearing, it was hard to tell if he was speaking to a man or a woman. But there was only one way to deal with someone as creepy as this person. He hung up on them.

They rung again a few seconds later.

"That was very rude of you. All I wanted to do was ask you a simple question."

"Have you ever considered that I just don't give a crap?" He retorted, ready to hang up on them again.

"Oh, but I think you might. Riddle me this; where exactly are your friends right now?" Alex narrowed his eyes before turning back to the club. It was impossible to see any singular person amongst the gyrating bodies. He shifted his eyes through all spectrums and reached out with all his senses. Nothing. There was no trace of any of them inside the club. The voice chuckled again. "What's the matter? Can't find them anywhere? Well fortunately for you, I know where they are. All you have to do…"

"Is play a game?" He figured. The voice harrumphed. Evidently, he didn't like being interrupted. Or having someone figure out his next move.

"I'll text you where to go. Don't bother trying to trace the call though. You won't me that way. And no involving the authorities, or there won't be anything left of them to bury. You have one hour to decide what you'll do." And then they hung up, leaving Alex tapping his phone against his chin.

The human response would probably be to go and play this sicko's game. Try to get them out and all that. But Alex preferred to think things in terms of how they might help him and Dana. And as far as he could tell, there wasn't anything to gain from going after them. He seriously doubted that saving them from a psychopath would endear himself to them. As far as the world was concerned, he was a monster and always will be. If this guy didn't believe in fair play, then he'd have to reveal his true nature to get through his game. People would freak out; the authorities would go over this college with a fine-tooth comb. He wouldn't be able to just sneak back in under a new alias. All in all, it would be a waste of time.

His phone rang yet again. Checking the number, he saw that it was Dana this time. "Hey. Me again. Dealt with your mystery caller?" She asked when he picked up.

"It was just some psycho who may have kidnapped my 'friends'. I was thinking about heading back to the dorm. Not really worth the hassle going after them."

"Not worth the…?" She groaned. "Alex, it's not about whether or not it's a hassle. It's about fucking courtesy and doing something good. You can't just walk away from this." He opened his mouth to point out he could, but she kept going. "Yes, I know you could physically walk away from this. But it's not whether you can, but whether you should. How can people trust you if you ignore shit like this?"

"I've saved a city. Multiple times. And they still hate me. How exactly is one rescue mission going to change their minds?" He asked.

"I know it doesn't seem worth it. But nothing worthwhile is easy. You gotta keep pushing on, no matter what. The more people you can convince you're not mentally a monster, the harder it'll be for the government to just wipe us out."

It was a nice speech, from an oral point of view. But Alex hadn't been fully paying attention. He had noticed a crowd forming around the lavatories, staring at the door. Some of them looked frightened. Curious, he headed back inside to check it out. Staring over their shoulders, he finally spotted what had them scared.

A body. The bartender. From the front he looked fine, but then someone rolled him over. His back was covered in large holes. Brain fluid drippled out of the hole in his skull. Someone (several someones) screamed at the sight. Alex stood stock still. He could vaguely recognise those wounds.

"Alex? Where are you?" He faintly heard Dana shout through the phone.

"Dana. I need you to look into what happened with the latest package we acquired. The one we sent Swarm and Grue out on." He said tersely. They couldn't really be here of all places. Surely the odds were against him running into his latest client already.

"Hang on, hang on. Let me just check." She went quiet for a few minutes, as Noctua searched through the databanks. She hissed as she found something. "Fuck. Shit, fuck, shit."

"Talk to me Dana. What did you find?"

"'Prominent Doctor Lake caught in massacre. Everyone on his team, including a former Tinker was found murdered in lab. Nothing was found to have been stolen, leaving the motive unknown.'" She read aloud. "Alex. Lake was the guy who hired us." Alex swore quietly to himself.

Now he had a reason. The Protectorate knew he had stolen Bonesaw's machines. One of them was here, murdering someone. Probably stolen by his mysterious caller. They will assume that his team stole them for this guy. Meaning anything he did was on his head.

"I've got to stop this guy before he causes me any more problems." He finally admitted. "He texted me an address; don't bother trying to track it. I'll call you either when I'm done, or I think I can get away with it."

"Find them Alex. Find them and save them."


Yes, I am momentarily back. But it won't be for long. Just long enough to write one more chapter. Because I have a bittersweet announcement to make.

I am putting Shards up for adoption.

I will explain it in further detail in the next chapter (released concurrently with this one) but the long and short of it is that I have hit a brick wall with ideas and writing for this story. I got a vague idea of what I want, and no clue how I get to it. But I don't want to see this story die off. I want to see it continue. But I took a look at all the things I need/want to do in my life (work, reading, video games, etc) and there's just never enough hours in the day, week, or month. I mean, it only felt like a couple of weeks ago that we were in May.

So anyone interested in adopting, I will put in all the details in the very next chapter.

Thank you everyone for enjoying my work, and I hope you continue to love it in the future.