WARNING: This chapter touches upon some rather heavy subjects and may not be suitable for certain individuals. If you are uncomfortable with subjects such as politics, war and terrorism you may want to skip this chapter.


Ty Urban

[November 27th]


The moment Jared had sprinted off by himself into the dark of the alleyway the group had fallen into chaos. Though there wasn't much hysteria, there was certainly an air of uncertainty and concern. To Aries' credit he managed to get everything under control very quickly. He quietened the students down with only one word.

"Shush!"

That single sound ended the shouting. The students who had been calling for Jared to come back were now looking at their teacher, expecting him to resolve the situation. There was a palpable sense of approaching danger that all of them could feel. They had an unconscious criminal lying at their feet and another still unknown individual who had beat him up then bolted into the dark. They were all wondering how far he would go. Would he run for the hills, or move to a place where he could hide and surprise them when they didn't expect it?

"Everyone, stay calm." Aries reassured them. "Listen to me, all of you. We need to keep our cool. We can't lose focus right now."

"That idiot just sprinted off!" Victoria blurted, talking about Jared. "What do we do about that? He'll get himself killed."

"We've got to go after him!" Payton stated, making an effort to push himself past his fellow students and follow after his friend.

"No, that's a very bad idea." Aries told them seriously. "All of you will stay here. I will go after Jared."

"What about this guy?" Barbara asked, tapping the unconscious Ratty with the tip of her shoe.

"We'll take him to the police station once I've brought Jared back." Aries told her.

"You're going to leave us with him?" Victoria exclaimed.

"No, Officer Davies will stay with you." He nodded towards one of the two officers. That officer nodded back obediently, readying the rifle that was strapped across his shoulder, though not cocking it or aiming it for now. It was there as a precaution. "Officer Moffat, you come with me, and you too, Thalassa."

The shark-headed criminal grunted but approached casually and unthreateningly. The officer named Moffat pushed himself slightly with the barrel of his gun jabbing into his lower spine. The criminal growled at that.

"And you two..." Aries added, turning back to his students, "...Ty... Catherine..."

The two teenagers looked at him in shock, and the rest of their group looked at them with further shock.

"Why are they going with you?" Niall asked, almost commanded him to answer.

"I can't explain that." Aries told him dismissively. "But for the moment they need to stick with me. The rest of you will remain here for now."

"What makes them special?" Victoria demanded.

Aries didn't answer this time. He left his students wondering what on Earth was going on right now. One of their classmates had run off, and now another two were being taken away for reasons they weren't being told.

"None of you move from this spot, okay." The teacher further instructed, looking dead serious. None of them made any attempt to argue with him this time. An expression such as his was enough to nullify the fight in them.

Ty obediently followed his teacher and foster father, as did Catherine. Neither of them argued or speculated as to why they had been dragged along with him. They already knew why. He had to keep his eyes on them at all times, just as he did with the criminal that followed them. Together the three dangerous individuals, their guardian and his police body guard walked into the darkness and the depths of Scarow's Alleyways.

"Kameron..." Catherine whispered, her voice light and high pitched like helium. "...I don't like this place."

"Be strong." The horned hero reassured her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "If anything should happen, I'll be here to deal with it.

Ty found himself staring at that hand. His sharp, black bagged eyes focused upon the fingers, the wrinkled detail on the knuckles and digits. Aries had never put his hand upon him like that. No one ever had. Even his mother, when she had threatened to slap him, to beat him to death, had never actually followed through with her words. She was too scared of his Quirk. He had never shared a touch with anyone before, not so much as a brief handshake. What did contact with another human feel like. Was it warm, soft, comforting? Would it make him feel safe? He would never know for himself, because no one would ever be able to hug him, not if they wanted to avoid thissolving into dust. As much as Aries talked about helping Ty, and claimed to be doing everything he could to improve his life, even he was not prepared to tough him. Not even with his plastic clothing covering his skin would his foster father lay a finger on him. He too was scared of his Quirk. Ty could have been angry about that. He could have been jealous of Catherine for being able to share a simple touch with him. But he wasn't angry, nor was he sad, or jealous, or anything at all anymore. All he felt was a consuming hollowness. His heart felt like a bottomless chasm, a conquering black hole. Nothing anyone could do would fill it anymore. A bottomless grave can never be filled, no matter how much dirt is shovelled on top.

"Smell of blood's getting' faint..." Megalodon murmured, still under the influence of the tranquilizer. He did not appear to be struggling with bloodlust at that moment, but Officer Moffat kept their attention focused on him just in case.

"Can you still follow it?" Aries asked.

The criminal sniffed a few times, then shook his head apologetically. "Sorry, boss."

"Okay." Aries murmured, having to rely on other options available to them. "Ty, Catherine, keep your senses sharp. Look for anything out of place and listen for any suspicious sounds. Hopefully Jared won't have run off too far, and if he's smart he'll try and head back to us."

They stalked through the quiet and shadowed alleyway, through lines of ancient black garbage bags and puddles of what they hoped was water. Awful smells assaulted them, affecting Megalodon the worst due to his sensitive nose. For a while the path seemed obvious. Though they came up to several split paths, usually there was only one that wasn't blocked up by trash or a metal mesh fence. More often than not the alleys would turn in only one direction.

Then they came to a T junction. Two directions were available to them; left or right.

"Which way now, sir?" Officer Moffat asked.

Aries hummed in thought. He stood at the middle of the junction for several seconds, looking back and forth, observing every detail.

"This way." He decided, pointing the left path. "That other way is clearly a dead end. There's no breeze coming from that direction, where as this one there is. I doubt our mysterious attacker would have gone that way, and if Jared was still following him then neither would he."

"Perhaps we should split up, sir?" The officer suggested.

"We don't have the numbers for that." The hero reasoned. "I need to keep an eye on these two and our criminal companion, and I can hardly send you off on your own. We'd best stick together for now. If this path turned out to be a dead end we'll turn back and go the other way instead."

This had sounded like a reasonable, logical suggestion, and Ty had most certainly believed him. He wasn't even close to being as experienced on these matters as Aries was. Yet as they turned to walk down their decided alley, from the opposite one Ty heard a very faint metallic scraping. It appeared that he was the only one who had heard it, as he was the only one of the group to react to it. He stopped and turned back. He looked down that alley, saw the turning it took some feet beyond the junction. It was very dark down there, barely anything visible within the shadows. He should have trusted Aries completely and gone with them. He might have... if only he was able to feel close to him. That was the thing; he didn't trust anyone. He didn't even trust himself.

He started walking... in the opposite direction.

Only Catherine noticed that he was not following them. When she turned around and noticed that he was instead walking towards the other alley they had chosen to ignore, she hissed for him to come back.

"Ty... where are you going...?"

Ty glanced back at her. He raised a finger and pointed it at the alley ahead of him. "This way." He stated with eerie quietness.

He continued walking, though his adopted sister hissed at him again. For whatever reason she didn't shout at him, or tell Aries that he wasn't following. For whatever reason she instead chose to follow him. She almost grabbed his arm to pull him back, but stopped herself before she touched his skin with bare hands. He retracted his arms into his dress to avoid that happening twice.

"Why are we going this way?" Catherine asked him, her skinny arms wrapped tight around her coats.

"I heard something."

"It was probably a... a rat!" She said with a shiver. Evidently she wasn't a fan of rodents, not like Barbara apparently was.

"It sounded like metal." Ty said, undoubting his senses.

"That could be anything."

Ty didn't bother arguing with her. He didn't care for arguments. He had heard enough of people shouting and screaming for one life. He was much happier with the quiet that they alley provided, though he would have preferred to be alone. Why she had followed him he didn't know. Maybe she was lonely, or maybe she didn't want him to be alone. Either way, both of them were now walking away from their foster father, teacher and hero, without him knowing that they were gone.

"It's dark down here." Catherine complained quietly, keeping close to her adopted sibling.

"Yeah..." Ty murmured in agreement. He didn't usually talk this much. Something about being alone with Catherine brought that talkative side out of him. Even then he only said a few words and a few sentences, but that was more than the rare single word he said to anyone else. What was a real human relationship even supposed to feel like. All he knew about that subject was the pain that came with suffering and loss, and how others reacted to the revelation of what his Quirk does.

He would always see the expression on his mother's face, the horror in her eyes... as his father disintegrated into atoms in front of her!

But that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was that he couldn't even remember what his father looked like. His face was always a shadow in his memories, something too painful to acknowledge. Had he been just as horrified? Had he been screaming in pain? Ty couldn't even try and think about it. When he did, his brain shut down, locked him out of that memory vault.

He stopped mid step.

"Is everything okay?" Catherine asked, wanting to tap Ty on the shoulder but not daring to risk it.

Ty shuddered and shook, sniffing deeply, hiding his tears and pushing away his memories.

"Fine..." He muttered.

Catherine wasn't sure what that had been about. She knew a little about Ty's past, but not all of it. Not the really painful stuff that had been buried deep in his memory.

They stood in silence for a few short lived seconds. In that time the distant metal scraping occurred again. This time Catherine heard it too. It was still faint but now a little louder than before. That meant that they were closer to it.

"That could still just be rats." Catherine reasoned, not wanting to go any further from their guardian than they already had. "Let's go back, Ty. We'll get in trouble."

Ty didn't care about trouble. What could Aries do to him that had not already been done? How worse could he make his life? He continued on, ignoring the suggestions and insisting of his sister. Though she did so with some reluctance, Catherine followed him. She continued to tell him that she did it because she couldn't leave him alone in this place, but internally Ty suspected that it was because she didn't want to be alone. He was happy being alone. Anyone wanting to hurt him would quickly realise their mistake. What could other people do to him that his Quirk had not already done? What could they take that it had not already taken?

After turning the corner they were faced with another alley, and further down that was another turning. Finally they came to a final turning. Beyond that seemed to be a dead end, with masses of garbage bags and bins piled on top of each other and leaning against a tall metal fence. Aries had been right about that then. This was indeed the wrong way.

But, to the startled realisation of the two teenagers, they found that they were not the only people there.

Before they turned that corner they could hear talking, not hushed whispering but an open and loud conversation between two people. This was not something Ty had expected tie find. Only secretive and illegal discussions took place in alleys, not casual discussions. Anyone attempting a social conversation in a place like this was asking for trouble.

"That voice sounds familiar." Catherine realised. "Like..."

They turned the corner, and sharply darted back behind it. Two male figures were sat at the centre of the cut off alley, perched upon an overturned dustbin and a spongy bin bag. They were sat adjacent to each other, neither facing the corner that Ty and Catherine were peering around. Just as it had sounded, the two were having an actual conversation, not a heated one or a surreptitious one. Just a conversation, as if they were getting to know each other.

"Is that..." Catherine gasped as she realised that her suspicion was correct. "...Jared?"

Indeed it was. Jared Wreath was sat with a stranger, talking to him with astounding eagerness.


Jared Wreath

[November 27th]


The man raised his right arm.

In an instant Jared acted, squeezing his finger down upon the trigger of his stun gun. He wasn't about to let him use his Quirk – whatever its effect may be – to either escape or take him out before he could react. The barbed projectile buried into the man's coat, conducting the weapon's stored voltage into him.

A second later he was kneeling on the ground, yelling in pain, leaning on his once outstretched hand for support. The weapon in Jared's hand clicked off after a moment, and the cables which were attached to the prongs began to real back in.

His opponent was down, debilitated. Jared had the perfect chance to bring him down. Since beginning his first year at BHA there had been two important techniques that were constantly drilled into their heads which applied when facing an unknown criminal or miscreant. The first was to pay attention to their behaviour and their attitude. People tended to give away small hints as to what they were planning when they spoke or breathed or looked around. You had to watch for concerning signs that might suggest an attack. Beyond that, it was wise to be cautious of an assailant, especially if you didn't know what weapons they might have hidden on them, or what Quirk they had. In the case of the prior they were advised to debilitate the assailant before they could draw the weapon. In the case of the latter they were encouraged to try and provoke the assailant to revealing their Quirk, either by accident or through coercion. Once you knew what it was and what it did you could act accordingly to avoid it.

The second technique involved actually bringing an opponent down with minimal risk or injury to yourself or others. With the unknown figure now on his knees and recovering from electrocution, Jared reasoned it was safe enough for him to try and bring him down. He hadn't practiced it in a while, though. Hopefully he could remember the order of actions. First however he made sure to quickly put his stun gun away. He would be needing both hands.

The suspicious man was trying to rise to his feet, recovering slowly from being zapped. Jaren approached in a quick but cautious run, arms at his side with hands open to grab. In defence the man reached out with his hand, most likely aiming to push him away, or possibly to activate his Quirk. Jared wouldn't allow that. He grabbed the arm and turned the man's attack against him. Gripping the man's index finger with his right hand, Jared twisting it painfully backwards and pulled his entire right arm around and behind him. The man screamed in pain and tried to break free, but Jared wasn't going to let him go. He forced the man's arm into an awkward and painful position behind his back.. The man almost fell over, unable to free his finger or resist the sharp pain travelling up his arm. Now that he was behind the target, Jared dragged his target's arm towards the ground, and with it came the target himself, who almost collapsed onto his back. It was once he was on his knees that Jared finally let go, only to slide his right arm underneath the mans neck and plant his hand upon his left shoulder. His left arm then reached behind his head and took a hold of his left shoulder.

And that was all he needed to do. Once he was gripped in this position the man couldn't break free. He tried to fight against his aggressor, but every time he did Jared would position his right arm slightly further into his neck. The more he tried, the more breath he lost and failed to regain. He began swinging his arms backwards, trying to strike Jared in the legs, but he avoided the strikes and kept his grip tight.

"Okay." Jared muttered, surprised and impressed that he'd been able to pull this technique off on an actual criminal, not just on a practice dummy or another student. None of his fellow students had given him such an easy time, and even the dummies had a tendency to swing back. Either all that practice had paid off or this man was much weaker than they were. He'd been certain the man would use his Quirk – whatever that was – to break free by now. He was not planning to look a gift horse in the mouth, however. He was very grateful that his opponent hadn't done that. "Start talking. Back in the alley, why were you attacking that man?"

"Ach!..." the criminal gasped, now grabbing at Jared's hand, trying to loosen his tight grip. "Not attack... Punish...!"

"You beat him half to death!" Jared snapped at him, his mouth a few inches from the criminal's left ear. "What had he done to deserve that?"

"He... was... criminal...!" The man in his grip wheezed. "Thief... Lowlife... Scum...!"

"And you're any different?" Jared challenged.

"This is... justice!"

There it was again, those mutterings about justice.

"What is just about beating someone to death?"

"Dumb... Kid...!"

The man grunted sharply... and suddenly he was free. He threw Jared's arm away from his throat with a surprising amount of strength, and though Jared tried to lock his left arm back around instead the figure broke awake before he could get a strong grip.

Having been shoved back by the escape, Jared's defence was broken. He stumbled backwards, unable to recover before the man could turn on him. He was certain that the figure would take advantage of this. He'd made the foolish mistake of losing concentration for a mere moment. He could only hope that whatever he did next wouldn't hurt him too badly... or kill him.

The man extended his arm again. Something about the way he did it sent shivers down Jared's spine. There was something more to it. Was this what he needed to do to activate his Quirk? What would happen when it did activate. Would Jared have enough time to avoid it, or to escape for that matter? Would the others be able to find him if he didn't avoid it and it left him unable to fight back. So many concerns and possibilities sparked through his mind in that half second of suspense and inactivity. He looked at the arm, reaching the end of his stumble but still not yet able to react properly. Time moved like old window glass, slowly sliding down over the span of centuries.

The man's hand clenched.

Nothing happened.

Then he turned and ran.

Jared would have been shocked if his brain hadn't instantly forced him to react. He was no less shocked after he did so. He wasn't really thinking about what he was doing, just as he hadn't thought about what he was doing when he chased this figure into this dead end alley. All he had thought at that moment was that this man couldn't get away. There were a few questions he had to answer. Aries was relying on him. If he let him escape his risky actions would have been for nothing.

He snapped out of his stunned daze and ran for the running man, leaping and grabbing him around the ankles. The escaping figure collapsed, landing face first on the ground with an 'Umph' and a foreign exclamation.

The hood that hid his face came flying off. Now Jared had a chance to properly look at his opponent's face. He was a much older man than he had expected. A mass of receding grey-black hair sat atop his head, cut short like hedgehog spines. His cheeks were gaunt and overall his face had a skinny, almost malnourished complexion. As he turned his head back to glare at Jared, his dark blue eyes became visible.

Instantly he began trying to kick Jared off of him, successfully hitting him in the chin and causing a small graze to form. He had a lot of strength to him, more than someone of his age or body shape ought to have. But while this initially broke Jared's grip around his ankles, the trainee hero was upon him moments later, scrambling on all fours and pulling the man back down before he could get onto his feet again. They struggled on the damp floor.

"Let go!" The man insisted, kicking at his attacker. This time Jared did not let go of him, even when a hard leather boot pressed into the joint of his left shoulder.

He put the weight of his lower body onto the man's legs, and while he still had him pinned he slipped his hands into his pockets and pulled out the two gadgets available to him. He aimed his stun gun in his left hand while pressing the man's chest down with his power glove upon his right hand. Since his target was unable to move he would have an easy shot on him. However, the figure's struggles made this much tougher than he had expected, and with a swinging arm he almost knocked the weapon out of Jared's hand. After barely managing to catch it, he fired it by accident, shooting the prongs into the back of his right hand.

The metal tips bounced off the pneumatic ram, but not before they could pass the stored voltage into it. Jared felt the sharp electric surge through his body. All of his muscles seized up in an instant, clenching his hands and his teeth. The figure seemed to also receive the shock, as he too was convulsing with tightened muscles. It only lasted a second, but it was enough to leave the both of them weak and limp. Jared fell off the man and onto his back, gasping and shuddering as the last jolts of electricity passed through him and into the ground.

When he sat back up a few seconds later, he realised that the figure was still there. Being electrocuted twice in only a minute had taken its toll. The shock had left him too tired to move. He breathed loudly and heavily, his chest heaving under his coat.

Jared leaned forwards and crawled over to him, letting the now winding up stun gun lie on the floor behind him. He sat on the man's fragile legs and held him down with his right hand, his power glove still working and still strong. His fingers gripped the man's coat, and with his left hand he helped the man sit up.

The figure stared forwards at him, too exhausted to fight or even to speak. Jared stared back at him, judging him. This fight had been confusing. Why had the man chosen to run, when only moments before he had beaten someone up? Why wasn't he using his Quirk?

"Alright. Now, you're going to start talking." Jared dictated.

The man grunted, spitting to the side. He looked Jared in the eye as some sort of attempt to unnerve him, but it didn't work. The grip on his coat tightened and yanked him forwards sharply.

"Answer my questions." Jared snapped at him. "Why were you attacking that man? Why did you try to run from me?... and don't just answer with justice!" He added the last part because he knew the man would try and avoid his questions that way.

The man grunted. His weak arms tried to grab Jared's, but his fingers barely had the strength to curl up and his hands ultimately slipped from his sleeves. "D... Dumb... Kid...!" He muttered with exhaustion.

Jared shook him again, this time a little rougher. "Don't mock me!" He growled, trying as hard as he could to come across as intimidating. Evidently it wasn't working, as the man was simply smiling at him. It was an odd sort of smile, almost sympathetic.

"You... are child... As if you could understand... what justice needs to be carried out."

"I'm a hero!" Jared shouted at him, his grip growing tighter again. He didn't mention anything about the fact that he was not yet a proper hero. He doubted that it would help his situation if he were to tell the man that he was only a trainee.

The man laughed at him regardless. "You are so young..." He chuckled. "...Children... cannot be heroes... only adults..." He coughed, spewing phlegm over Jared's hoodie. Jared ignored it. "Dumb Kid!"

"Stop calling me that!" Jared was starting to lose his temper. The man was mocking him. "I'm not a kid!"

"Yes you are." The man insisted, a malicious grin on his face, proud that he was making Jared mad. "You are scared little boy who is wearing his father's shoes!"

Jared almost punched him. He had very nearly considered doing so. But he remembered who he was, what he was supposed to be, and he calmed down. His grip on the man loosened a little, but not enough for him to try and break free.

"You're avoiding my questions." Jared stated coolly. "Why did you attack that man?"

"He was criminal." The man responded. "Thief. He got what he deserved."

"I fail to see how being beaten to near death is deserved." Jared answer back.

"It is justice."

"You keep saying that." Jared narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "What do you mean by that?"

"That man, the thief, he had not faced true justice yet." The man continued to explain. "Now he has, and he will steal no more."

Jared felt that he was beginning to understand. This man thought he was enacting justice, as if he were a police officer or a court judge... or a hero. But heroes didn't do this sort of thing, neither did police officers or judges. They were cautious and observant and calculating. They took in all the information on a situation that they could gather and came to a conclusion on what to do based on that. This man didn't do any of that. He seemed to act purely on emotion. He hadn't even explained why being a thief meant a person deserved such a beating, he'd only stated that they did.

"So you're some sort of, what... vigilante?" Jared asked.

"I'm the only real hero in this city!" The man snapped at him. "In this country! All your heroes are false idols!"

That was a very bold statement to make, especially considering that Jared knew several of the heroes he was now calling fakes. It was a little tough to tell through his accent, but the way he had used the word 'Your' stuck with him.

"You say that as if you are not from here?"

The man spat in disgust. "As if I would come from this stinking country!" He growled.

That suddenly explained quite a bit about him, though it also opened up many more questions. The biggest of those questions was...

"Where are you from, then?" Jared inquired. He paused, narrowing his brow. "You sound Russian."

"Russian?!" The man fumed with rage at the suggestion. It startled Jared for a moment to see him so angered by a comment he had intended to be harmless. "Not Russian! How could you mix me up with them? I'm Polish!"

"Polish!"

Jared would have slapped himself on the forehead if he'd had a third arm. How stupid was he, thinking this mad was Russian? He had been right about the man sounding Eastern European at least. Thinking about it, perhaps it hadn't been the wisest idea to assume the man's culture of origin like that, especially after learning how easily it angered him.

"Then what are you doing in England?" Jared asked, his angry and stern demeanour starting to wear away. "Scarow isn't the sort of city that most foreigners tend to visit."

"I smuggled myself on board cargo ship." The man explained, calming down a little now that the subject was changed.

"Then you're an illegal immigrant?" Jared said.

"I don't want to be here!" The man stated defensively. "I've been trapped here for five years!"

"Trapped?" Jared repeated. "Why did you come here in the first place?"

"To seek justice!" The man explained, "Against cold hearted, ruthless man!" He struggled to move his legs out from under Jared's weight. "I'll happily tell you all about it if you let me go."

Jared scoffed. "As if. The moment I let you go you'll attack me and use your Quirk on me?"

"Quirk?" The man seemed surprised. "You think I would not have already used it if I could?"

Jared blinked. "Sorry?"

"Naprawdę jesteś głupim chłopcem!" The man exclaimed in what Jared could only assume was Polish. "I've had plenty of chances to use a Quirk on you. Did you not figure that out?

Jared had certainly noticed it, and he'd definitely found it strange, but his anxiety over the fight and his expectation that a Quirk would be activated at any second had blinded his attention towards it.

"What's your excuse? Didn't feel like using yours?" The man continued.

"I don't actually have a... a Quirk..." Jared's voice faltered. It struck him like a baseball bat to the brain. How could he have not figured that out before? It made complete sense. "You're... Quirkless?"

The man chuckled, with more scorn than humour. "It seems you and I arre not so different."

Jared let go off the man. He hadn't intended to. The shock of that revelation had made his fingers go numb. He felt like an idiot for not noticing it. Any normal criminal would have absolutely used their Quirk by now. For him no continuously not use it... that clearly meant that he didn't have one to begin with. He was Quirkless, just like Jared was.

"I did not think they made Quirkless children into heroes here." The polish man stated, sliding his feet out from underneath Jared. "What is your name, Quirkless hero?"

"Jared." Jared told him, blinking a few times to regain focus. "Jared Wreath."

The Quirkless Polish illegal immigrant stood up, and to Jared's surprise he kept his word and did not attempt to fight back. Neither did he try to run. He merely gave the trainee hero a small polite nod and a bow. "Karol Wyrzykowski." He stated, his accent becoming much thicker with every Polish word he said. Jared immediately knew he would have trouble pronouncing that name.

"So what now? You make another attempt to run away? I'll just chase after you again."

The man named Karol smiled weakly. "I don't doubt you will. I have no intention to run. I think we can come to understand each other, Jared. We are not so different." He extended a hand, not to shake but to gesture rather awkwardly to the boy. "I feel that we will come to understand each other if we talk."

Jared had not yet fully dropped his guard. The man had beaten someone nearly to death after all. Someone capable of that was probably just as capable of deceiving and playing the fool. But he seemed honest in his keenness to talk. It didn't feel right to deny that request so bluntly. Perhaps talking to him would illuminate the situation, or possibly help Jared understand this individual and others like him. That could then help him become better at capturing them in the future, without the struggle or the chase he had been through to get here.

"Okay." He said vigilantly. "You want to do this here?"

"Where else but the open?" Karol Wyzykowski picked up an overturned metal dustbin and stood it upside down on the soaked cobbles. He then perched on its skyward facing base, treating it like an office chair. "Pull up seat, Jared Wreath."

There were several seats to choose from, so long as you weren't picky about where you placed your rear. Jared turned a green plastic bin onto its side and perched upon it, using it as if it were a bench. He sat opposite the foreign man, leaning forward with his right hand resting on the hilt of his stun gun. He didn't expect the man to go against his word... but just in case...

"What do you want to talk about?" Jared asked him, trying to get comfortable of his makeshift seat. His still gloved hand lay on his lap, ready for use in case the man tried anything.

Karol rubbed the back of his head with a skeletal hand, long fingers scratching between the strands of hair. "We have both led unusual lives, I'm betting." The Polish man deduced. "I want to know what it is that has allowed Quirkless boys to become heroes."

A short pause for internal translation.

"Not much to say." Jared responded, perhaps more honestly than he should have. As much as this man was now acting very friendly towards him, he was still a criminal, and one whose abilities were still unknown. Being Quirkless did not mean that he was not dangerous. "My dad is a hero, I grew up wanting to be like him. Then I learned I was Quirkless, and he stopped encouraging me to become one. My mum died, so I was left without anyone who would support me. I didn't give up though. I kept trying, but no matter what it just didn't work out. No one would take me seriously."

"I know that feeling." Karol murmured. It felt a little strange for Jared and this unknown criminal to suddenly have something to relate to. "I had similar dream at first. Once I realised it was impossible to achieve, I gave it up."

"I couldn't do that." Jared continued, starting to feel a little sad thinking about his past. Though it was half a year behind him, it still felt very fresh at times. He cheered up again with the next part. "But then I met my teacher. He knew that I was Quirkless, yet he still gave me a chance. He got me into the school he worked at. I've been training there since..."

He paused. He wasn't sure if he should tell this man yet that he was only a trainee hero, with no proper acknowledgment or legal certification from the Hero Movement or their Hero Boards. The conjecture he had left that sentence with seemed to satisfy Karol however.

"He sounds like good hero." The polish man stated, smiling. It was strange to see that sort of smile; passionate and warm. It made Jared uncomfortable to remember that only minutes ago they had been fighting.

Jared glanced back towards the vigilante. "What about you? What brought you to England?"

To his surprise, Karol began to laugh. It wasn't a happy laugh though, or a mocking laugh. It had an eerie sadness to it, as if he was covering up something very painful.

"You sure you want to know?"

That was an odd question. It made Jared pause and ask himself if he really did want to know about this man. Would knowing more about him hurt? How bad could his past be?

"I am." He stated with as much certainty as he could apply.

Karol's laugh faded rapidly. He was left only with a sad, lungful look at the ground.

"What do they teach your children of... the War of the Quirks?"

That was a question Jared had not been expecting. That war had been long before he was born, almost seventy five years ago now. What reason did this immigrated Polish man have to bring it up?

"A bit." Jared admitted. Though it was now the relatively distant past, they still taught it in school. Most of the early days from the discovery of Quirks were forgotten, and the stuff before that was also largely not talked about.

"Do they teach you about the horrors of that war?" Karol persisted.

Jared didn't want to think about that much. It was called the War of the Quirks for a very good reason. It was the first war in history – and hopefully the last – where Quirks were openly utilized as weapons. It was also the first war in which heroes from all across the world were forced to fight. Though it was usually taught in primary school, the teachers had indeed gone into the many atrocities committed during that war. Some of it had been left out, or worded to make it less horrific, but it still had its intended effect. It was important to understand, so that it never happened again. "They do."

"Then you know the state it left the world in?" Asked the Polish vigilante. "About the PRR?"

Again, another question he had not been expecting. What relevance did the PRR have to this discussion, no doubt he would soon find out.

The Post-Russian Republic, or PRR as it was often called, was what remained of the countries neighbouring Eastern Russia after the War of the Quirks. Because of the devastation those countries had gone through, the war was also often referred to as the Russian-European War. Some even called it the Third Great War, though Jared didn't know much about the first two. But this man had just clarified that he was Polish, and Jared already knew that Poland was not one of those countries that made up the PRR. It had managed to avoid being attacked directly, though its eastern neighbours weren't so lucky. What was this man trying to tell him?

"Why are you asking me about this?" Jared decided to asked, hoping to clarify the subject before it went further down this rabbit hole.

Karol bit his lip, looking away uncomfortable. Something was evidently bothering him, something about this subject.

"I was born Polish." He explained quietly. "I grew up in Warsaw. My mother and father were Polish. But when I was six my family moved to PRR."

Jared nodded. Now the bringing up of this subject was starting to make sense.

"Why?" Jared asked.

"My father was architect, my mother was teacher and... umm..." the man paused, apparently struggling to remember the word. "...Pediatra... uh... paediatrician. Father was asked to help restore buildings in Minsk. Mother went with him to work with orphans and sick kids. Of course I had to go too, I had no one else to care for me. We lived in encampment near Nyamiha River. After war, Belarus was left devastated, and their capital city was reduced to rubble. They had a restoration operation in effect, and father was hired to assist with its planning."

That at least explained a little about why the PRR was relevant to his story. Belarus was one of the countries that belong to it. The others, if Jared remembered correctly, where the remnants of Lithuania and Ukraine.

"I saw a lot of what was left behind by the war..." Karol continued, his voice fading away quietly. "Land can be restored, buildings can be rebuild... but identity, that is much harder to recover. Latvia... Estonia... completely gone. Now they are just another part of Russia. Their land, their cities, their identity, that was all taken from them. If dey had been given the chance, Russia would have taken Belarus, Ukraine and Lithuania too." He raised his head, and Jared saw the vicious seriousness glistening in the black of his pupils. "Tell me, Jared Wreath... is it right that a people should be assimilated into another, till nothing remains of who they once were?"

Jared had no answer for that. If he had said yes he would have been a hypocrite, since the people of Britain were a massive amalgamation of other people they had fought, ruled over or destroyed before. Britons, Saxons, Anglo-Saxons, Vikings, Normans, Celts, Picts, Romans, Welsh, Scottish, Irish, Indians; all made up the people of Great Britain. Their history was of conquest, destruction and absorption. But in that respect, he couldn't answer with no either. If he did, he would be denying that this had happened. It was a long, long time ago now, but those wars, those people, they still existed within this collective. Everything they were had made a home in British Culture, even their language. English as a language could not exist without those people. The culture he had been born into could not exist without them. Was it right of him to wish that they had never become a part of English culture? His own name wasn't even English in origin. According to a few name origin websites it was Hebrew. If you removed all those external additions from other people and countries, what was left that you could truly call English?

He realised that he had been sat thinking for a while. He looked up, and answered Karol's question with an indecisive shrug.

"I wonder that myself." Karol agreed with him. "Children should be innocent to the woes of the world. I was for while, but inevitably I was introduced to the horrors that country had been through."

Jared was impressed by some of the words Karol was using. He spoke English very well. Had he been learning it long?

"What happened?" he asked.

Karol shook his head again. "The PRR is not peaceful place." He clarified. "Though their government is focused on keeping peace with Russia and rebuilding, there are groups who are against them. Some of them think that they should fight back against Russia – as if they didn't do that in the past. Others think they should surrender to Russia, and allow themselves to be conquered. Some of those people have formed militant groups."

Jared's eyes widened in shock. The PRR was home to terrorist organisations? That he had not known about. Perhaps it was a recent development, but the matter had never been mentioned in the news before. Even if he hadn't heard or seen it in the news, he would have learned about it through word of mouth. It struck home just how fortunate he was to live in England. While this country had plenty of its own problems, they didn't have to worry about the constant threat of war or terrorism.

"When I was eleven, one of these groups set off bomb in our encampment." Karol stated. He didn't need to exaggerate or shout it. Those words were enough to portray the horror and pain of the event. "My mother and Father were both killed. I was lucky, I only had few broken ribs and some scars on my left side. When I woke up, I was alone in the world."

"I'm sorry." Jared muttered. What more could he say? He couldn't imagine the pain or grief that Karol had been in. Losing one parent was tough, Jared could attest to that, but to lose both parents in such a horrendous way.

Karol didn't seem to hear him. He snorted gently through his nose, as some sort of response, but said nothing else back.

"I spent my teenage years in orphanage." The vigilante continued. "Not much to say about that time, only that I was very lonely. At sixteen I left to live on my own. I wasn't able to buy house, not that there was much to pick from in Minsk. I ended up moving from camp to camp, sleeping where I could and working when I could. Eventually I decided to move back to Warsaw, where I became trash collector."

Jared tried not to laugh. The polish man narrowed his eyes at him.

"Yes, it's very funny." He said without humour. "Sure, my parents had good jobs, but I didn't have their training. I tried becoming a pedo... paedio... paediatric... paediatrician-" Jared was relieved that he had corrected himself. "-like my mother, but I didn't have the training, and they wouldn't supply it. Collecting trash was all I could do."

Now Jared felt a bit guilty for laughing at him. "Sorry." He muttered, embarrassed.

Karol didn't appear to take it to heart. He dropped it a second later. "I also tried to study politics, but no university would take me. I didn't have the grades they wanted. So instead I started spending time at nearby library, reading whatever books I liked. It's not the same as official education, but I learned quite bit. I liked it there. It had nice atmosphere." He paused, and suddenly a joyous smile cracked across his pale, narrow lips. "That was where I met my wife."

Not for the first time in this conversation Jared was taken aback. This man was married?

"You have a wife?" Jared said.

Karol's smile grew a little thinner, and the wrinkles around his mouth became more pronounced "I did." He said. "We met in that library. I had just turned thirty." He stopped talking, only to give Jared an unusual look. "You are young. You will not have experienced this yet. Sometimes, when you meet someone, when you start talking to them, when you get to know who they are... something clicks. In that moment you realise they are the only person you want to be with. They make you happy in way no one else before has. You want to spend rest of your life with them... and they want to spend rest of their life with you."

Jared had not felt anything like that yet. He had a good idea of what having that feeling would be like, but up until now it was not something he had experienced. Perhaps he was still too young, and he just hadn't met that person yet. Admittedly it made him a little hopeful. But then he wondered how he would tell. Was a feeling like that any different to basic instinctual lust, or momentary attraction? How were you supposed to figure out that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with another person?

"Anastasiya Kuzma." Karol continued, speaking in a dreamlike way. "It didn't matter to me that she had freckles, or mole on her right cheek, or that her hands were frail and weathered, or that her lips were scarred. She was perfect to me. She was trained diplomat, someone who had actually studied politics, and was well read woman. We bonded over discussions of books and their contents. Both of us felt that connection straight away. One year later we got married... My beautiful Ana." He clasped his hands together.

Jared noticed that Karol wasn't wearing any kind of ring om any of his fingers. There was however a pale area of skin that ran around the ring finger on his left hand. If he was married, why wasn't he wearing a golden band? Though Karol spoke with such joy in his voice, there was evidence of something much sadder underlying it.

"What happened to her?" Jared asked. He could have asked where she was, but he had the feeling that Karol was not the sort of man to leave the woman he loved behind somewhere. He seemed to have such a strong connection to her, possibly unbreakable. He very much doubted that Karol would have come to England alone, certainly not if they were as close as he suggested.

"Forgive me. You must have been wondering all this time what relevance this had. You asked what it was that made me move to England and hunt criminals." He shook his head and tried to focus. "Sorry, I went on tangent. That answer is rather simple. It was my wife." He paused. "Rather, it was what happened to her."

Those sad undertones were becoming overtones, mixing in a new feeling of oncoming dread and sorrow. Karol had stopped smiling. That was the most unnerving part. Since they had begun talking he had tried to speak in a friendly, chipper voice, as much as his accent and difficulty with some English words would allow. But that voice had gone, replaced by a hollow one that made Jared shudder.

"My wife is dead." He stated. Those words alone were enough. They came from the throat of a man who had cried too much and finally lost the ability to shed tears. He had gone far past sorrow and grief to reach a stage like this.

Jared's mouth opened and close. How did he respond to that? Did he say he was sorry, did he offer his condolences, did he tell Karol that he understood his pain? He didn't, not in truth. He had lost his mother at a young age, but that was not the same. Children are eventually supposed to grow up and move away from their parents. He couldn't imagine losing his wife, someone he had promised to be with his entire life.

"She died five years ago." Karol continued, his voice only becoming more sorrowful and hollow. "We were married for five years. Five amazing years. I had fought we would get more time." He shook his head again, holding it low.

"How did she die?" Jared asked, concerned for the man. He was suddenly delving into a very depressing subject, one that clearly still hurt this individual a lot. They had both all but forgotten the situation that had brought them together.

Karol sniffed, rubbing his nose and lower lip with a coat sleeve. "She was murdered." He said. His tone was exactly the same, just as hollow and as straightforward. "I explained she was diplomat. She would go to other countries and talk with their leaders, usually to ask for support towards the PRR's rebuilding efforts. Barely any money is made in those countrries, so they need assistance from outside to keep going. She was from Belarus. I met her on her first visit to Poland, I helped show her around." He paused, realising that he had gone off track again. "One day she was sent request from the governing body of East Russia. They wanted to discuss the possibility of bringing end to skirmishes being carried out by both Russia and PRR. She thought she had chance to bring proper peace to her homeland."

Jared had a sudden, horrid realisation of where he was going with this? "And they killed her?"

"I don't know."

Jared was befuddled at the statement. "What do you mean?"

"I don't think she ever made it to their parliament." Karol continued. "I told her it was bad idea, that they were up to something. Russia is untrustworthy, they don't keep promises, they do what they like. They didn't want peace with the PRR, they wanted to destroy it and absorb its remains into Russia. Even so, she went anyway. She told me that I had to believe it was possible to make difference. If people don't believe that, nothing will change. So I let her go. She was supposed to be gone for one week. I didn't hear from her for two weeks... then three... then a month. By that time I had contacted her supervisor, who had also not heard from her. Then I contacted the police, but they refused to take action. There wasn't any evidence of a missing person, they said. Finally, after five weeks of nothing... a parcel arrived at my door." Karol's suddenly turned very pale, paler than his natural complexion. His eyes were wide with irises so narrow they were almost invisible. "Inside..." He gulped, sweating, trying not to break down. Jared had never seen a man look this way before. It was unsettling. Finally Karol managed to get the words out of his throat. "Inside was... my wife's head... completely separated from her neck..."

Silence filled that narrow alley. No amount of squeaking from rats or rusting of rubbish could end it. Jared stared horrified back at the traumatised man. Karol only looked at the floor, unable to cry but still feeling immense pain.

It took a bit of time for either of them to find the strength to speak. Jared was left speechless in a way he could never have expected. Karol somehow managed to gather his thoughts and continue a bit further with his story.

"You don't need to know about my sorrow, my grieving. It is something I would rather not talk of." He said. Jared couldn't blame him. "But once all that had passed, the only feeling I had left was anger. Someone had taken my Ana away from me." His fists clenched. "I had to find that man... and kill them!"

In its gaping state, Jared's mouth had gone dry. He closed it, licking his lips to moisturise them, then spoke up again. "Did the police not look into it?"

"They did..." Karol said, "...but they found nothing. There was no evidence left work with apparently. No fingerprints, no DNA, no articles of clothing, no witnesses, nothing. They couldn't figure out where she had died, or even when. It could have been anywhere between our home in Warsaw and Moscow's Parliamentary building. They never did find the rest of her body." He suddenly looked up with a glare that Jared hoped wasn't aimed at him. "But I managed to find something. When I looked into the method of her death, I came into contact with private detective from Germany, who was looking into same subject. My wife was not de first person to die this way."

Jared was at the edge of his dustbin with interest. "And?"

"He found out little about man who was committing these murders, but what little he did find was very useful." Karol stated through gritted teeth. "This individual had carried out murders like this all across Europe, in France, Italy, Germany, Denmark, Switzerland, Austria; all he had killed in the same way. He had left calling card, a severed head, which could be used as paper trail."

"Was that all he learned?" Jared asked with engrossed curiosity.

"Not all." Karol told him. "Though he was not successful in learning this man's identity, he did learn name that he went by. This man belonged to group of assassins who came from areas around Eastern Europe, the Caspian Sea, the Black Sea and the Arabic Peninsula. This individual had a very well-known and recognisable codename. They called him Vanish!"

The way he spoke sent shivers down Jared's spine. It was a rather simple and unthreatening word by itself, but the context Karol had placed behind it was what gave it power.

"So, this Vanish person... he brought you here?"

"The detective suspected he had target in this city." Karol explained, calming down a little. "I don't know if he found that target yet, or if he's still here... but I'll find him!" Suddenly that calm was lost behind a returning, rising rage. "I'll make him pay for what he did to my Ana!"

Something about this puzzled Jared. "I understand why you'd want revenge on this one guy, but why become a vigilante? Why waste time with other criminals?" Jared asked. "Why not even become a hero? We allow foreign heroes to work here. One of my teachers is from Russia, and my school's headmistress is American.

Karol laughed and shook his head. "Did you forget, I'm Quirkless too?" He stated with a gentle waving hand. "Though Poland is not as strict as your country when it comes to rules on Quirkless people, they don't allow them to become heroes either. No academy would train me. What choice did I have but to become vigilante?"

That explained a part of the question, but not all of it. Another thought sparked in Jared's mind. Perhaps the rest of his question would be answered by that.

"So, if you're not a hero and you're not a police man, then what's the whole justice thing about?"

Karol looked at him, puzzled. "Do you not see it?" He asked, not at all rhetorically.

"See what?" Jared asked back.

"The corruption." Karol stated. "It is everywhere. This city is festering! Criminals run the streets! Police are almost never seen, only in riots and major situations. Minsk was troubled city, yes, but not as lawless as this place. You English have let your own capital rot away like bad tooth!"

"Scarow isn't our capital." Jared corrected him. "That's Galafrei."

"Scarow and Galafrei are both its capital." Karol countered. "They are two halves of same place. You merely built wall between them, but they will always be one city at heart. Trust me, I have seen the roots that still connect them, and they run deep."

Now he was talking in riddles. Galafrei and Scarow had been seperated for close to a hundred years now. And what roots was he talking about? London had been an old city with a long history, everyone knew that, but once it was split in half much of that history had either been lost or become irrelevant.

"It's not easy to keep Scarow in check." Jared began to argue. "There are too many criminals for us heroes to keep an eye on. We're trying, as are the police, but there are only so many of us, and..." He trailed off. Karol was giving him an unnervingly judgmental look. Jared felt that he had said something wrong.

"How long have you lived in Scarow?" Karol asked him.

"I-I don't live here." Jared told him honestly and hoarsely.

Karol shook his head. "I've lived here for five years." He reminded him. "I've seen many things, many awful things. I know what this city is like. I know what its people are like. I know how your police treat those people. I know how your heroes treat those people. I know what heroes have done to this city, why it is the way it is. Don't act like you understand just how bad situation is if you've never been through it yourself!"

Jared felt ashamed of himself. In truth all he knew about Scarow came from the news, his father and his teachers. It was hard to view it as anything but a wretched hive of scum and villainy. No doubt that belief was exaggerated and biased to some extent, all beliefs were a little. But was it possible that his opinion towards Scarow was completely incorrect? Karol had suggested that heroes were responsible for the state it was in. Heroes like his teachers. Heroes like his father. Was that true? Were they responsible for the state this city was in?

"Even if heroes are responsible for the state this city is in, I am not one of those heroes." Jared told him defiantly.

"Perhaps you are not." Karol agreed. "But even den, unintentionally you are responsible. You were born British citizen, but not one from this city. You are hero. You can make difference, yet you have not. If you had, this city would be better place."

Anything Jared could say in response would not have helped him. Even if he tried to speak, he doubted his voice would hold any worthwhile words on it. It felt like Karol was putting the blame for the state Scarow was in on him. Jared had nothing to do with the building of the London wall, or the actions of other heroes. That was all long before he was born, far from his reach of influence.

"You seem like smart kid, Jared... regardless what I called you earlier." At least Karol was trying to be kind in a way, but his tone and attitude had made that attempt utterly worthless. "Do you honestly think that anyone in this country, even on this planet, is one-hundred percent innocent, moral or just all of the time? Even heroes have their dark secrets. They are human too, after all"

Jared just sat quietly, looking at the ground. He didn't even want to consider if that statement was true. It made him question the life he was leading far too much. He didn't need that, not right now, not when he was just getting started.

"But how is what you're doing any better?" He finally asked. He wanted to know what the vigilante would suggest. Just how was beating someone nearly to death better than what he claimed heroes were doing?

"I never said I was better than them," Karol responded, a little defensive "but it has to be done. The justice in this country is wrong. The justice in all countries is wrong. The courts are corrupt, too easy to trick, to easy to slide past. The jury have no true knowledge of what really happened. These ideals do not work, they are not enough. There should be no wasting of time, no mistakes. There should only be proof and punishment. Criminals should not be spared. They must face the absolute wrath of justice. Only then can there be end to crime. No second chances, no warnings. Only proof and punishment! That is true justice!"

Jared couldn't properly define the word justice. The matter was very complex, and different for each person. Though he had tried to pay attention in Aries' lessons on British Law, he still struggled to get his head around a lot of the subject. He barely knew anything about actual law, bar those that directly affected him. But he could say one thing for certain...

What Karol Wyrzykowski was doing was not true justice.

"Do you punish all of them the same way?" He inquired, knowing that he had to ask. Surely he didn't believe all criminals were deserving of the most severe punishment. Not even the most vitriolic individuals believed that.

"No." Karol said. For a moment that brought Jared Wreath some relief. Then Karol continued. "Depending on the severity of their crime, I may beat them, disable them, disfigure them... or even kill them. It is true justice!"

He said it again. Each time he said that word it sounded more and more incorrect. This wasn't justice. It was closer to butchery. England hadn't allowed the death penalty for over one hundred and sixty five years. This man thought it was just to kill a criminal.

"So to you a thief deserves that sort a beating?" Jared asked, astounded by his statements.

"That man couldn't help himself." Karol continued, not at all concerned with Jared's horror at his beliefs. "If I had done any less he would have kept stealing. Now he will stop."

"You can't guarantee that!" Jared stated, sudden conviction in his heart that could rival Karol's. "And even if you could, there are other ways to stop them. There must be therapists and psychologists out there who can help a person overcome kleptomania."

"That takes too long." Karol responded calmly. "Justice has to be swift and sharp. People can only be helped if they want it, and most criminals do not want to be helped. Therapy is not good enough. Evil people must be purged from world, before they can kill or convert all good people who remain."

He talked about these people as if they were a disease, like they were a cist that had to be sliced from the body of the earth. But if Karol had said that no one on earth was one-hundred percent good, could that not be applied in the other way? That would imply that no one on earth was one-hundred present evil either. Was it fair to kill them off in that case, to not offer them any sort of chance to change? People could change, he knew that. He had seen the change Jason Jones was going through with his own eyes. Someone he had once thought of as a selfish and arrogant bully was now becoming his friend. What's more, Jared had helped that change come about. Jason was no criminal, but surely that idea could apply to them as well. Couldn't he help them change, just as he had helped Jason?

"I don't believe that." Jared stated firmly. "I think that all people deserve a second chance. What they do with that chance is up to them, but they deserve it nonetheless. Everyone is capable of changing if they want to."

Karol suddenly puffed up his chest and glared down at Jared in uncovered fury. "Then you are arrogant child who knows nothing!"

Jared jumped, not expecting this response. It had come so suddenly, so unexpectedly. He hadn't thought of Karol as an especially angry man, but it now seemed that he had simply been hiding most of it. His feeling of safety was sharply lost

Immediately Karol tried to calm down. "Sorry, that was rude of me. It was not right to call you that. Forgive me."

Jared tried to accept his apology, but how was he supposed to after an outburst like that. This was what Karol thought of him. They had been having such a good conversation until now.

Karol rubbed his forehead, breathing heavily and slowly beginning to calm down.

"Do not expect people to change, Jared Wreath." Karol warned quietly. "If you do, they will only use that against you, and it will be you who suffers for it."

There was a clatter to his side. Sharply Jared turned, rising from his seat. A metal dustbin lid struck the ground near the turning into their dead end alley.

A pair of heads slunk quickly behind the bin it had fallen from.

"Who's there?" Jared shouted, having seen this accidental reveal.

After a few moments passed, a pair of hands rose up from behind the bin, and following them was a head. Jared was a little stunned to realise who this hiding person were. Out of everyone in their class to go looking for him, he hadn't expected it to be Catherine Griffiths.

"Sorry." She muttered, picking up the lid with nervous, shaking hands. Her eyes were fixed upon the stranger.

That response in itself was odd. He had run off after an unknown criminal, and she had found him sat on a dustbin in a dead end alleyway, talking to a man who neither of them knew. Why was she the one apologising right now?

Jared's attention was instantly taken away from her, when Karol darted from his seat and towards the fence he had previously tried – and failed – to climb.

"Hey, wait!" Jared called after him.

Karol did not wait. He scampered up the wall, this time getting a successful footing on the links and pulling himself by his fingers. He didn't stop to look back. He did however shout something as he reached the top.

"Good luck, Jared Wreath! Prove that the heroes of this country can save it! Better yet... Prove me wrong!"

Jared pondered over what that was supposed to mean, as the vigilante escaped over the chain linked fence, his fingers the last thing they saw before he was gone. He was still pondering them when he turned back around to acknowledge Catherine, only to notice that she was also not by herself.

"Ty?"

Ty Urban gave a small, awkward wave at him.

"What are you both doing here?" Jared demanded, not quite getting over the shock of their sudden appearance.

"Kameron went looking for you." Catherine explained, interlocking her fingers nervously. "He asked us to come with him."

Jared looked past them, expecting to see the horned hero turn the corner. He was nowhere to be seen. "Where is he? Actually, where is everyone else?"

"We... split up." Catherine said. It didn't sound like the truth. Her pause gave that away.

Suddenly Jared was overcome with anxiety and paranoia. They had been watching him, and almost certainly they had heard his conversation with Karol Wyrzykowski. He barely knew anything about Ty or Catherine. Were they talkative people? Would they tell Aries that he had let a criminal go? Would they tell him that he had actually sat down with that same criminal and talked to him? Would they tell the others as well? How long would it take for the entire school to believe that he was cavorting with criminals?

"How much of that did you hear?" he asked with absolute caution in his voice. He would have to very cautious questions and respond with very specific answers if he wanted to avoid getting into trouble.

"Quite a bit." Catherine told him with an equally anxious nod.

"We heard most of it." Ty explained for her.

Jared bit his lip. This was bad. This was very bad.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" he pleaded. What choice did he have but to grovel at their feet? His career, his future, might well be in their hands, and almost certainly they knew it. If they wanted to they could ruin him right then and there, no doubt some of his fellow students wanted to. He hardly knew Ty or Catherine. Would they prove to be those kinds of students?

The two of them glanced at each other, then back at Jared.

"We won't tell." Catherine said.

Jared didn't almost believe her at first. A sentence like that had to be sarcastic. Her voice didn't help much, always being so quiet and nervous, he tell what tone was supposed to be behind which words. Her face wasn't lying though. She looked just as scared by this situation as he was.

"Thank you." Jared exhaled in a loud sigh.

"Who was that man?" Ty asked, looking up at the fence.

Jared turned and looked back at it for a second time. "I don't know." He lied. "Some foreigner, I think."

"Aries won't be happy to hear he got away." Catherine muttered.

"I think he'll be happy to know we aren't hurt." Jared told her. "Well, no use standing around here. You found me, so let's go find him again."

Jared made sure to pick up his Stun Gun again. He'd have to talk to Maisie about making improvements to it and his Power Glove, to make sure that he didn't accidentally electrocute himself in the future. It had sparked an idea however; a future gadget they could work on.

"Where did you get to?" Aries asked, rather harshly, as he saw Jared approaching him with Ty and Catherine following. All three of them were nervous to be back, knowing the punishment they would most certainly face.

"Hehe... hehe... hehe... uh... sorry." Jared muttered, trying to act as if his reckless actions weren't important.

Aries wasn't going to let him get away that easily, however. He approached the trio and stood looming over Jared, glaring down at them with judging, stern, oval eyes. Jared had never faced the anger of Aries before, but had seen the state of the other students who had afterwards.

"I hope you understand how stupid your actions were today, Master Wreath." He stated in a voice that could rival his father's. "By running off like that you not only put your life in danger, you put the lives of your fellow students at risk too. I was forced to leave them with only one police officer to protect them, and an unconscious criminal at their feet. You are very lucky that you were not hurt yourself, or worse!"

"I understand." Jared muttered. He couldn't hide his guilt. He hadn't thought about what running off after a criminal might do for his class, but now that he was thinking about it he felt like a fool. "I won't do it again."

"You had better not." Aries stated coldly. "If you do, I'm afraid we'll have to consider rash discipline." Assumedly Aries was not considering discipline along the lines of a smacked bottom. That was a bit of a strange way to punish a boy of sixteen. Jared could only hope and pray that he wouldn't be expelled from the academy. He would have nowhere else to study. His hero career would be over if they did that.

"Don't be hard on the kid, Goaty." The shark-headed criminal stated from beside the hero and his accompanying police officer. "Not many 'eroes would run inta dark alleys by 'emselves. That's true bravery, that."

"That's suicidal." The officer corrected him, and gave him a small shove in the back with the butt of his gun.

"Did you manage to find the target at least?" Aries asked with final curiosity.

Jared looked away awkwardly. "I did... but he got away." He turned back to Aries and gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, sir."

Aries sighed. "Well, at least none of you got hurt. We should be glad of that." He rubbed his balding head, the hood of his hoodie hanging around his neck. "We'd best get you three back to the others, and make sure they're okay too."

He seemed to give Catherine and Ty a small unhappy look before turning around. They noticed it to, and both of them instantly looked away, just as Jared had done. What had they done wrong to deserve his disappointment? They were the ones who had brought Jared back to the group.

Jared himself was mostly lost in thought as they walked back through the alleys together. He was still thinking on everything he and Karol Wyrzykowski had talked about. To meet someone so trouble, so twisted, had shined a new light on his understanding of the world. People were more complex than just good and just bad, no matter what the Polish man thought. But then he was right that people could not be made to change, they had to do so themselves. Was it actually worthwhile to try. And what he had been saying about this assassin who removed people's heads. If he was in Scarow, was there a chance that Jared would encounter him. It was a big city, but it was still a possibility. He knew that he knew little about the world of heroes, but just how little did he know?

He knew that he would almost certainly run into Karol in the future. He didn't know where, he didn't know when... but he had a feeling that one day they would meet again.


So this chapter is seriously long, and for the first time in a while this was actually intentional. I had a lot of world building I wanted to do for this part of the story, as well as introduce a new major character and their backstory. Karol Wyrzykowski will not be relevant again for a short while, but he does have a big part to play in planned arcs I have for the future. So I hope you guys got to know him, regardless of whether you like, hate, agree or disagree with him.

So, this chapter's question is: What song would best fit as an intro track for this story? (Either a theme or ordinary track)

I can think of several that I listen to that would fit well in this slot:

Sticks 'N' Stones by Jamie T

The '59 Sound by The Gaslight Anthem

Faint by Linkin Park

Fader by The Temper Trap

Palahniuk's Laughter by Fightstar

Drown by Bring Me The Horizon

Paint Your Target by Fightstar

My Hero by Foo Fighters

It would certainly be very interesting to hear what sort of music my readers associate with this story. Maybe you listen to something calmer or less aggressive, or perhaps more so.

I've been on a role with writing more recently, so I'm going to try and get the next chapter up sooner. That's not a promise, but if this mood stays I may be able to achieve it. The more serious parts of this arc are coming into play, and baby I'm ready for them!

...Are you?