The Art of Diversion

by TheMightyBox

Three supervillain attacks in one night. All three claim coincidence. Whether they're lying or not, each Defender finds themselves chasing an elusive lead, with information being kept just out of reach, before violently crashing together once again. The only question is, who's pulling all the strings?

3. Rehearsal

Crowds were gathering in Harlem. And why wouldn't they? A building had just fallen. Not only fallen, it had exploded. Police were already swerving onto the scene, pushing people, keeping the crowd clear of the wreckage. A fire truck and ambulance followed them quickly, workers rushing out, orders were barked, groups of them split into different sectors for different jobs. Get statements from the crowd, check for survivors, get equipment in to start moving the rubble.

As they were just beginning to look over the wreckage, a hand broke the surface. A calloused, dark skinned hand punched through a slab of stone at the top of the pile.

Right next to it, a pair of skinny, pale hands also shot up and tossed away a hunk of metal support. Two figures stood from the pile of rubble. A tall, black man in a hoodie, and a tired looking white woman in a leather jacket. They both took deep, pained, heavy breaths, but aside from their clothes being scuffed and torn in places, neither seemed harmed in any way.

The woman was the first to speak.

"Fuck my shit."

---

John Ohnn was wearing handcuffs.

That was pretty funny.

Or at least so he thought, it was funny, he needed his hands to access the full extent of his space manipulation, or rather, no, he probably didn't, but no matter how much practice he got in it was hard to shake those human instincts, that the hands are what you use to work with your surroundings, that you're bound by how you can shape the world around you by your digits.

Handcuffs, no, handcuffs didn't matter, or rather they shouldn't matter, no they didn't, of course they didn't, John was beyond being restrained like that. Beyond, yes, probably? Probably, yes.

No. No he wasn't beyond it because he'd always been restrained and he was still restrained, this was no different from Germany, that was a good way to think about it. More of the same, routine restraint.

Routine restraints. Two men flanked him on either side, hands twitching by their weapons. John had received the order not to try anything about three times now. He could see them shake, see their hearts jump every time John tilted his head. They were scared of him, and they probably had good reason to.

Interesting point of order, John did not have eyes anymore, and so what he did was technically not seeing. Though, it was seeing, or, no, rather it was something approximate to seeing, that was probably the best way to phrase it, it was something approximate. John didn't see, though he still took in color and texture and electromagnetic wavelengths, but the information that was taken in, taken in by the holes that had been left on him, it wasn't exactly seeing, or it was, but rather,

John didn't see light anymore. He saw space.

Not space as in stars and planets of course, but space as in the relation of objects in a physical area. He saw the two men beside him and he saw the rhythmic thumping of their chests as their hearts beat, slightly faster than standard pace, and he saw the lines and lines of stitching in their blue shirt on which he saw dozens of light splotches of foreign substances, old stains that no longer had a color of their own but stayed in the fabric nonetheless and he saw the individual pieces of the guns kept at their sides, saw the slight gaps where springs fit and parts slid and the magazines with 10 individual bullets loaded within and he saw in there the gunpowder packed into the base of the shells down to the grain and- well, if he wanted to John could see the objects that made up objects and the space between them, if he wanted to he could see the individual particles and atoms that made up all of these but he tried not to. He tended to get lost trying to go that deep.

Normally John could see more but to see he needed holes, he needed holes in more places to see in more places, but he couldn't place holes so he could only see from himself and it was very restrictive.

The men on either side of him led him to a room, a cell, it was an unusual cell though. You think of a cell, you think of a prison cell specifically, what you think of is a room with basic facilities and bars across the front. Or perhaps an even smaller room with a solid metal door.

This was neither of those things. This was a room with basic facilities, dirty and dingy as the rest, but the front, the door, was a solid sheet of reinforced plastic. See-through. No, two pieces of plastic. They met in the middle and interlaced and locked, below the ground were small wheels that could roll in grooves, when they rolled part of the door probably rolled as well. Slid. The door wouldn't roll that's ridiculous. The wheels rolled, the door slid.

The two men stepped forward to a terminal on each side. Each one pulled a small card attached to their belts and pressed them onto some form of electronic scanner and electricity hummed and the door unlocked and slid open and he was shoved inside. John stumbled, but did not fall, into the cell. The man on his right then spun him around again, pulled out a set of keys, and undid John's handcuffs. He pulled the handcuffs back and clipped them to the back of his belt, right side, just above the pocket, then stepped back as the other man slid the cell doors back closed and the two of them pulled out their cards once again and locked the two sheets of plastic into place.

The two men gave John one last once over and turned and walked away. From this side of the wall, John could not hear them speak, but he could still see them speak, he could still see the vibrations of the words as they rose in throat, he could see the shifting of the space between them. One of the men had turned to the other and had said "Why's he the one who gets the throne room, huh?"

The other one scratched the back of his head. "I mean he's only here on minor assault, right?"

"Not even charged yet. But we still gotta hold him."

"Bull fucking shit, man. Don't the superfreaks like him go to Stark's fancy gulag?"

"I mean he's barely even done anything. I guess he's not-" and then they were out of range, and John couldn't see them anymore.

John took a step forward and curiously rapped a knuckle against the plastic. It was strong stuff, he could see the layers of protection built within the material.

Someone clearly wanted to make this a challenge for him.

---

Jessica Jones had been taken in by the police. Again.

She didn't even need to be led to the questioning room. She knew the way by now.

It still took an hour for a detective to actually show up. Jessica was getting ready to stand up and find her way right back out of the precinct when Misty Knight finally stepped in.

"Really," Jessica asked. "We're still doing this shit."

"Believe it or not," Misty said as she took a seat. "I'm actually very busy today." She started sorting through papers on the table. "You know this is actually the room we use for questioning suspects, not witnesses."

"I figure it's where you want me anyways."

"Is there a reason to suspect you?"

"I don't know, is there."

Misty sighed. "There were only two people in the building when it blew up. You, and one Luke Cage, you know each other."

Jessica didn't say anything.

"Witnesses say that Luke ran in as the building was exploding. But you were spotted going in several minutes beforehand. With a second party. I don't think you did it, Jones. But I do think you know something."

"Sorry, I really don't. Was in the building. It exploded. That's it."

"Who was the girl with you?"

"A client."

"She got a name?"

"She does, and I have something called client confidentiality."

"And I have something called obstruction of justice."

"The case has nothing to do with this, what you're doing is bluffing to invade the privacy of an uninvolved citizen."

"Find anything interesting inside the building?"

"Not particularly, not until it blew up on me."

"Did you know it was going to?"

"How would I know that."

"Witnesses also say your client came running out of the building just a minute before it went up. Why was that?"

"That's related to my case. Not yours."

"So it wasn't cause she or you knew anything about the abandoned building you were hanging out in being moments away from being demolished?"

"I already told you-"

There was a knock on the door, both Jessica and Misty turned to glare at it.

It creaked open and, unmistakably, in poked in the head of Matt Murdock, ruffled brown hair and dark lensed glasses and all.

"Oh no," Jessica said.

"Ms. Jones, Detective Knight." He held his hand out.

"I see you never bothered to upgrade your legal counsel." Misty didn't take it.

Matt awkwardly dropped the hand and shuffled into the room.

"Detective Knight, do you have any evidence that my client was anything other than a victim in this case?"

She sighed. "No."

"And did you have any more pertinent questions to ask her at this time?"

"Don't believe that I do," Misty said through grit teeth.

"Then I insist that she be released and allowed to recover. I'm sure the experience has been very taxing on her. A normal human would be in the hospital right now."

Misty pinched the bridge of her nose. "Fine. Go. I will have some follow up questions, but we'll get to that later."

Jessica stood up and walked out the door the second she was free. Matt was left to catch up.

"Technically speaking you can't be charged with obstruction of justice just from refusing to answer an officer's questions," he said. "Lying to a detective on the other hand..."

Jessica looked back to make sure Misty, or any cops for that matter, weren't around to hear that. The coast was clear. Matt probably knew that actually.

"Am I getting this lecture from the guy who dresses up in a Halloween costume and beats up criminals at night."

"Not a lecture, just something I noticed coming in."

"Yeah, great, hey, what are you doing here."

"Getting you out as fast as possible mostly."

They stepped out the front doors of the precinct, out to the night air. Jessica pulled out her phone to call an Uber.

"There's things we need to talk about, I figured it'd be best to discuss them somewhere with some privacy," Matt said. "Also there's a taxi coming round the corner right now."

"Oh, shit." Jessica ran forward, swung her arms wildly to stop the cab, and when that didn't work she stepped in front of it and had to help it come to a stop before hitting her.

The driver cursed her out from behind the wheel while the passenger already in the backseat looked shocked and a little horrified.

Jessica looked back to Matt with a scowl.

"Sorry." The cab pulled around Jessica and continued on. "This next one's actually empty."

Jessica flagged down the next cab to round the corner, this one stopped for her on its own. She and Matt climbed into the back. Cheesy 80s rock was blasting from the radio. Jessica gave the driver her address and settled into the crusty seats as best she could.

The two of them sat quietly in the backseat. Watched the dingy lights of New York pass. Listened to Styx or the Stones or whoever sing about a girl he likes.

"So are you planning on following me home," Jessica asked.

"Following you to your office."

"Which is where I live."

"I didn't make that choice."

"Don't be a fucking creep, Murdock."

"I need to discuss your case with you."

"What do you know about my case."

"Nothing. That's why I need to discuss it."

"Sorry, office closes at 7. Try again tomorrow."

"It's important, Jones."

"It is important. It's fucking dire even. So the less people involved the better."

The cab pulled up beside her building. She cracked open her wallet and saw not enough to pay the driver. Matt spotted her an extra 10 and the two got out. Jess pushed inside. Matt kept following her.

"Look," he said. "I don't know what you think is going on here, but it involves more than just you."

"What the fuck does that mean."

She mashed the elevator call button, accidentally cracked the glass. Not like anyone would notice.

"The girl who was with you, your client, she might be related to something else going on right now."

The elevator door went ding and opened. Jess went in. Hit the button for floor 5. Matt followed her.

"She's definitely involved with something," she said. "I'm going to figure out what that is. But if you don't already know who she is, Murdock, then you're not involved. And you're not going to be."

The elevator went ding again and let Jess and Matt out onto the fifth floor. Down the hall from her office.

"You're not the only person to show up at that building when you did, Jones." Maybe if Jessica walked fast enough she could get through the door and lock it behind her before he could catch up. No, wait, wasn't he a ninja or something. "And you aren't the only person who was attacked recently. I can't say for certain that there's a connection, but that's why I need to know what happened, so I can be sure."

"You want to be sure – wait – who got attacked. What?"

Jessica opened the door to her apartment and standing inside were Luke Cage and Colleen Wing. Suddenly everything made sense.

"Oh god no."

"Don't look too happy to see me," Luke said.

"No." Jessica felt all the energy leave her as she plodded across the room. "No. No way. We're not doing this shit again." She flopped into her chair. "How did you even get in here."

"Door was unlocked."

Jessica patted her pockets. She'd forgotten her keys when she left.

"Yeah, we were gonna," Colleen said, "we were gonna wait outside in the hall, but the place was open and that would just feel awkward, you know?"

She laughed a little, probably hoping that Jessica would join in. Instead Jessica pulled out her bottle of bourbon and a shotglass and began pouring.

"Should we, um, leave?" Luke asked.

"No," she sighed.

"Are you going to hear me out?" Matt asked.

"Just give me a moment."

Jessica poured her bourbon until the glass threatened to spill over her desk. And then she chugged it.

She slapped the glass back onto her desk. "Hit me."

Luke immediately went into it. "Yesterday, within hours of each other, all three of us were attacked."

"Attacked by enhanced people," Colleen added.

"Enhanced like people with powers," Jessica asked.

"They weren't strictly all enhanced," Matt said. "But basically."

"What kind of powers."

"My guy," Luke said. "Had boots that let him move really fast. His guy," he pointed to Matt. "Was opening up portals. And her guy," to Colleen, "had gun hands."

"Pft." Jessica couldn't hold herself back on that one. "What."

"He had these like," Colleen gestured to nothing to try and get her point across. "These prosthetic hands that turned into guns-"

"Look, that's not really important right now," Matt said. "The three of us were attacked yesterday. They all got arrested, but then after the fact we were given dangerous sounding information that led us to the building that exploded with you in it. If that was an attempt on your life, you may be involved in whatever's going on here as well."

Jessica leaned back in her chair. Looked at the three of them. In her office. At close to midnight.

Took in what they said. Some kind of conspiracy. Or at least a plot. Someone targeting the four of them. It didn't necessarily have to be for the obvious reason, but the obvious reason was the most obvious for a reason.

She thought about Kara. That hairbrained scheme with the puzzle note and the decoy on the roof and the bombs in the basement. That wasn't something a teenager would be able to cook up, wasn't something a teenager would think to cook up. If Kara wanted something from Jessica she could take it without any problems. So if Jessica asked if there was something else behind all this, the obvious answer would be yes, of course there was.

So Jessica took in a deep breath.

"Kilgrave."

Colleen and Matt looked towards her, waiting for more information. Luke however, was immediately on his feet, concern all over his face.

"Seriously? Is he..."

"Kilgrave had a kid. She has the same powers as him. She brought me to the building, and she... had me stay inside when it went up."

Luke put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Kilgrave?" Colleen asked. "Who's Kilgrave?"

"He's a..." Luke had to pause to choose his words. "He's an enhanced person."

"He's dead," Jess added. "Been dead for a while."

"He had some kind of mind control. Whenever he told you to do something, you always had to do it. No matter what."

"So his kid," Matt said. "She told you to stay in the building. Even though you both knew it was about to explode."

Jess nodded.

Matt gave her a quiet moment. Probably out of respect or something.

Jess didn't really give a shit. Her mind was already pushing through the fog of alcohol and forming a strategy.

"I think it's safe to say," he eventually said. "That you're in the same boat as us then."

"Yeah," Jessica sighed. "Yeah I think so."

"So can you tell us exactly what happened today?"

Jessica gave a huff then pulled out her laptop. If she was going to do this she might as well do this right.

"This morning, the girl showed up at my office wanting to hire me. She said she wanted me to find her dad, I wasn't having it, she showed off her powers, that dragged me in. She told me that Kilgrave was alive, that he had somehow faked his death."

"How is that possible though," Luke asked. "Didn't you snap his neck?"

"I'm sorry, you did what," Matt said.

Jessica grimaced. "Self-defense. Police know. Can we not do this right now?"

Matt cleared his throat and fixed his tie. "Sorry. Continue."

"Right." While Jessica talked she began pulling up some of her favorite websites. "Well I didn't buy it at first, but I got concerned. The girl, Kara, she could make you see things that weren't there, so I didn't- But her powers seemed to be slightly different from Kilgrave's anyways. So I don't know." What was the address again? Right. Puzzle bullshit. "So I told her to fuck off but she followed me around anyways and told me she had a lead on where he might be. I just wanted to check in with places he usually goes to. It- There's just nothing, he's not here, no one's seen him. Kara gives me a note that he supposedly wrote, it's got some dumb bullshit puzzle in it that Kilgrave would never do, but it leads me to the building."

"Hey, what are you doing?" Colleen asked.

"I'm looking something up."

"Oh. Okay."

"...At the building – right, important shit – so there's a fucking big glass purple thing on the roof."

"Yeah. We saw that too."

"And that was obviously some kind of bait, so instead I looked around the lobby. Place was a dust factory, hadn't been touched in years, but the floor had been swept recently. Whoever put the bombs there and set all this up probably didn't want to leave tracks. I go into the basement, I find the whole place strapped down with bombs. Hammer Advanced Weapon Systems."

"Hammertech?" Luke said. "Well... if this person is using military grade weaponry, I have a pretty good idea who he got 'em from."

"Right, that's one way to track them down. Another would be to get information from the guys who attacked you."

"That'll probably be hard," Matt said. "They're likely in a penitentiary by now."

Jessica stopped in her typing for a second. "Didn't this happen yesterday."

"Yeah, what are you talking about?" Colleen added.

Matt looked between the three of them. Well, turned his head between the three of them. "There was a New York state law passed, during the blip, couple other states adopted something similar, based on some of the propositions in the Sokovia Accords. If an enhanced person is charged with a violent crime in the state of New York, they can be held pending trial in a prison instead of a jail for the extra security."

"What the fuck," Jessica said.

"There was a lot of panicky law making after the snap. We're still wading through the legal mess."

"Fucking bureaucracy. You know I'm an enhanced person who gets arrested for a lot of violent crimes."

"I didn't write the law."

"Guys," Luke stepped between them. "Look, even if we could get to the guys who attacked us, Misty Knight's spent the better part of the last day and a half trying to do just that, and she got nothing. We're better off following the lead about the bombs."

"Is that what you were looking up?" Colleen asked.

"No. I wanted to know who owns the building. They might know something about whoever was going in to set this up. If they didn't do it themselves."

"Makes sense." She nodded. "Who is it then?"

"Some guy named Quentin Beck."

The three of them stared back at her.

"...What."

"Quentin Beck," Colleen asked. "Like- Like Quentin Beck as in Mysterio?"

"Who the fuck is Mysterio."

"The soldier from another dimension?"

Jessica's face flattened out.

"Mysterio was a superhero who showed up half a year ago," Matt said. "He fought some giant monsters, there was footage that made it look like he was killed by Spider-Man."

"Spider-Man killed him?" Luke said. "The hell? Ain't he just a kid?"

"I don't know." Matt huffed. "I don't know. The whole thing's been a goddamn media circus since it happened. Some Stark representative says this, some angry pundit says that – I try to keep an ear on this stuff cause there's a lot of new laws coming out that involve superhumans, but honestly I cannot follow this case in particular."

"But he is from another dimension," Colleen said. "Pretty sure."

"There's not- No-" Jessica had trouble getting it out, the thought was so stupid. "Nobody's from some other dimension."

Colleen shifted her sword and looked at the ground. "K'un-Lun's in another dimension."

"Guys, can we focus here?" Luke stepped in. "Regardless of whether the story makes sense or not, what matters now is why his name showed up here."

"It was probably used as a fake name," Jess said. "Like checking into a skeevy hotel under Harry Truman." She looked up at Colleen. "Unless you think the dimension hopping wizard stopped by Harlem to purchase some property."

"Seems like a bad idea for a fake name," Matt said.

"Why's that?" Colleen asked.

"Because identity theft is a crime."

"Also he's dead," Jess added.

"Yeah, mostly that." Matt nodded. "With what... the public knows about Quentin Beck, with no known will and no relatives in this dimension-"

"God," Jessica groaned.

"-the state will probably be reclaiming the property to auction off."

"They didn't think to do that before now?" Luke asked.

"Guess not," Jess said.

"I don't think anyone would even notice," Colleen said. "Old, run down building like that? Who's gonna come asking?"

"But now that it's the scene of an attempted murder-" said Luke.

"-and an illegal demolition-" said Matt.

"-now it's on the city's radar," Jessica finished.

Colleen clapped her hands together. "Good job team. So uh, what do we do now."

Jessica gave a sigh, mixed with a bit of groan. And she closed her laptop. "It's too late for this. I'm going to go pass out. I'll follow up on this lead tomorrow."

"I'll help you out."

Jessica sagged. "You don't have to do that."

"Don't worry about it. I need to get to the bottom of this too."

All of the energy was gone from Jessica. There was no more fight left in her. "Right. Sure. Whatever. See you then."

"I'll get back in contact with... with my contact," Luke said. "He should know who's been buying Hammertech bombs. Only issue is getting him to tell me."

"We'll see what happens," Matt said. "It's been a long day for all of us I think."

"Amen to that." Jessica stood up and immediately moved to her bedroom. "You let yourselves in. Let yourselves back out." Then slammed the door behind her.

---

John lay in his bunk. Flat on his back. Was he asleep? He wasn't sure. Did he sleep anymore? Sometimes. Did he need to sleep anymore? Wasn't sure.

Sometimes instead of sleeping, John would fall into the holes in his head. It was a very meditative state, not true subconsciousness, the closest John could approximate, this state was the closest he'd ever come to being what he was truly supposed to be, what the Tesseract had made him. It was a state where he wasn't John the almost-person looking through holes in space, it was when he became holes in space anchored by- centered around a body.

See, see, when John entered into this state he could truly, truly feel his consciousness, or his subconscious mind, leaving his body, leaving the confinement of his brain and actually entering the holes in space. Actually becoming space.

It was very, uhm, actualizing. It felt like that was the being he wanted to work towards being.

So was John doing that right now? No, not really, but he was trying to. Or, no, it was hard to try and enter a meditative state, you had to stop trying, stop focusing, fall into yourself, and that was hard. He settled into the thin cot he'd been given, stopped focusing on the weight and the position of his limbs, tried to relax them until they grew numb, until he couldn't feel the hand that wrapped itself around his ankle-

John was suddenly very aware of his very human body. He fell to the hard, tiled ground, his skull bounced off of it in fact, there was a very loud crash and he was splayed out, only barely pushing himself up.

There was a broad strike across his stomach. He curled up on himself.

John could see what was happening. It had taken him by surprise but even without any light, John could see the movement in space in the dark. Two prison guards cornered him against his cot, batons drawn. One whacked him across the head. The other slammed into his shoulder.

John tried to lift a hand and draw, draw a circle. What could he do with one hole? There was nothing, but he tried anyways, it was all he could do.

The guard lifted his boot and stomped down on his hand before he could even start.

This was a reminder of how very still human John was. On instinct, on split reaction, he cried out. The voice didn't even come from his mouth, there was nothing natural about the methods through which John could speak, let alone yell, yet that is what John did anyways.

"Try that again and I'll take your fingers," the one guard growled.

"Hey, Curtis, come on, ain't that enough," his friend said.

Curtis responded with a huff. He gave John one last whack in the temple. Then he tucked his baton back into his belt. The two of them walked out, walked to the door of John's cell and pressed their cards to readers on the inside of the cell and opened it! It was open!

This should've been his chance, but John couldn't move, couldn't force his pathetic body to get up and move or do anything. He was hurting. This was pain. His whole body was in pain.

He lay there, all he could do was lay there, on the ground, breathing heavily, sweating grossly, wanting nothing more than to not be trapped within his body at this moment. Wanting nothing more than to be holes in space.

---

Colleen Wing woke up bright and early, ready to get cracking on this whole Mysterio business. It was one thing to know that the building was filed under the ownership of Quentin Beck, but Colleen wanted to know just how many buildings Mysterio 'owned'. There were ways to find it out, ways beyond brute forcing it to find the name of the owner of every piece of property in New York, but the best ways Colleen had at her disposal was to use the connections that she had.

Which means she had to call Danny.

But first she should probably wake up a little. Colleen brewed herself some coffee, did her morning stretches. Didn't help anyone to tackle the day if you weren't in tip top shape.

But actually, while she was warmed up, she might as well do her full daily set. Calisthenics to keep her muscles ready for anything, meditation to keep her mind sharp, some basic sword practice so she wouldn't be caught off guard, hell let's do some hand to hand reps as well, what would happen if she got unarmed in a fight? And now it was getting close to noon, and she was sweaty and thoroughly tired, so she heated up some leftovers to have lunch. Couldn't hunt down a bomber on an empty stomach.

Was she putting this off? She was putting this off wasn't she. Colleen frowned into her pad thai. This was the easy part. This wasn't fighting off an army of ninja, or trying not to get perforated by a madman with machine guns for hands, this was calling a – friend, and asking him to look up something in a database.

Colleen rubbed her face, forced the blood back up into her head again. This was the easy part. Okay.

She pulled out her phone, pulled up her contacts, and called.

It rang. Went through a few rings. Maybe he wouldn't pick up, it wasn't like he wasn't a busy person after all.

"Hey Colleen," Danny said.

Shit. "Hey Danny." She probably shouldn't be upset about this. "How's it, uh, going over there? What weird corner of the world are you in this week?"

"Still in Tokyo."

"Really? You ever find that um – that – the person?"

"Phaedra, yes. Turns out I was right in thinking she was trying to reform the Hand. Felt good to put a stop to that before it could get going."

"Yeah," Colleen sighed. "I can... imagine. But that- that's great. Is that the only rumblings you've heard about them, possibly reforming over there though?"

"That's all I've managed to catch. Why, have you heard anything?"

Colleen bit her lip. "No, just, you know, they're an organization that's hard to kill by design. Always a little bit worried."

"I get that. Is that why you called then?"

"Oh, no. I needed to ask you something."

"Shoot."

"I'm- Me and Jess and- we're working this case. I'm trying to find out all the property in New York that's owned by a Quentin Beck."

"The soldier from another dimension?"

"That's the one."

"Let me wake up Ward, he'd know how to find that information."

"Oh. What time is it over there?"

"Just a little past midnight."

Before Colleen could apologize, Danny pulled away from the phone. She could hear muttering on the other end. Had to wait this one out.

She recognized Ward's voice at least, croaking and dripping with sarcasm, even when she couldn't even actually hear what he was saying, she heard that much. A little added bleariness. At the very least he didn't sound mad, so that was good.

"Okay," Danny said as he came back. "I can look this up, but it's gonna take me a minute. I'll text you the places when I get them."

"Yeah, that works fine."

There was a brief pause. Colleen was getting ready to say bye and hang up.

"Actually, um," Danny started. "I think we're probably gonna head back to the city, pretty soon."

"Oh." That one took a second to really sink in for Colleen. That was, good. That was really good, Danny was coming back, he'd been away for a few years now, even longer on his end considering that he hadn't gotten blipped. It would be great to finally see him again. "That's good to hear. You finish everything up abroad?"

"I'm not sure I can say that I have. Feels like every time I solve a problem two more spring up. But I can't be everywhere at once. This journey was also supposed to be a time of healing for Ward, and I think he's made incredible progress. Obviously I'm pretty used to being away from home for a long time, but both of us are starting to miss it, and I don't want to neglect my home either."

"Yeah. Yeah." Yeah. "That's pretty cool. And, hey, if you get back quick enough, maybe you can help me more with this."

"I doubt you need it." There was a quiet, awkward chuckle from the other end. "Hey Colleen, can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah, sure, what's up?"

"Are the two of us still, like, together?"

"Hey, I gotta go!" Colleen yanked the phone away from her ear and slammed the hang up button.

Shit. That probably sent a bad message.

Colleen pushed her pad thai to the side and took a moment with her face in her hands, to just come down off of that panic.

The thought dug at the back of her brain. Like, were they? After all this, after Davos, after becoming the Iron Fist, after Danny left for Asia, after Colleen was dead for five years. Were they?

Colleen's phone vibrated on the tabletop with a message. She cringed and forced herself to look. Danny had texted her about a dozen addresses. No extra comments or questions about what had just happened. So that was done.

She'd have to call him back, or text him, or talk to him about this in some way. It wasn't the kind of thing you could just leave sitting, that would only make it worse.

But for right now, she should get rolling on this investigation.

Colleen got herself dressed, slung her trusty sword over her shoulder and she went out. Jogged all the way across town to Hell's Kitchen and to Jessica's apartment building. Caught her breath in the elevator ride up and was quickly knocking on the door of Alias Investigations.

And she waited, waited for a minute, bordering on two, starting to get worried.

Jessica cracked open the door.

"What time is it."

"Uh," Colleen checked her phone. "12:14."

Jessica groaned as she undid the latch and let her into the office.

Colleen stepped in, taking off her sword and resting it in the corner behind the door.

"Don't you usually, like, have clients earlier than this?"

"I don't take appointments on the weekends."

"Right." Right. "So I called up Danny, and I found every other property in the city owned by 'Quentin Beck'" she gave the finger quotes to get her point across, "to see if there's any pattern or location that this guy is interested in."

"Sure. I mean I was gonna do that today anyways but- you got it handled."

Jessica plopped down at her desk and pulled open her laptop. Colleen had to wait restlessly as she turned it on, loaded up her browser, pulled open a map function.

"You want me to get you some coffee or something?" Colleen helpfully asked.

"I'm good."

"You sure?"

Jessica looked up at Colleen. She smiled back.

Eventually they had their map set up. Colleen would list off an address, Jessica would check what was there and then put a pin on the map.

Most of the pins ended up in Harlem. It wasn't universal. Some of the addresses ended up in Hell's Kitchen. Some in Midtown. A few in the East Village, Soho, and Tribeca, but more than half of them were bunched up around Harlem.

"Who'd wanna start shit in Luke's backyard," Jessica muttered.

"Well we already knew he had some balls when he tried to drop a building on you two," Colleen said. "In his backyard."

"Right." Jessica took a deep breath and looked at Colleen. "Feel like doing some legwork."

"Thought you'd never ask."

---

Luke Cage walked back up to Club 1610. It was a little later this time. There was an actual line to get in. A couple of spotlights and a smoke machine gave the entrance a bit of ambiance. He could hear the bass thumping from across the street. It was kind of giving him a migraine.

He expected the bouncer to try and start shit as he approached. He wasn't exactly planning to wait in line after all. Instead the bouncer unclipped the rope blocking the entrance and stepped to the side to let him pass.

"Stoneface is expecting you."

Of course he was.

Luke stepped on in, the line behind him exploding into groans and complaints about that indignity.

The dance floor was like a whole different place once the night got started. It was full. It was lively. Bodies bumped and pushed together, packed so tightly that it was hard for any of them to do much more that bounce in place. And grinding was almost unavoidable, which was certainly a good excuse to use. The lights were down low, spots of neon swung and spun around the room, highlighting people in it for just a moment before leaving them again for the dark.

There was an actual DJ this time. When he had been here before, the music was just a generic looping club track. Now that it was actually busy, there was a guy at the podium focused intently on his work. Mixing, matching, cutting and looping song after song to create a melody that never seemed to end, but still managed to peak and dip and slow and stop and start up again. Luke was beginning to see why the big boss of Manhattan's gun trade hung out here every night.

Feeling way more out of place, Luke clomped across the dance floor in his work boots and hoodie, took the stairs up to VIP, this time without issue, and found Stoneface and his entourage in their usual spots. Same jacket, same chains as before, though now his turtleneck was a bright green. Looking like Barnie the Pimp as he sat and drank and laughed.

"Mr. Cage!" Stoneface called out the second he saw Luke. "Decide to come crawling back?"

Luke groaned in his head. He still wasn't even sure what he was going to say here.

"Or are you here to ruin our pleasant evening by bothering me again about whatever bullshit you was prattling off last night?" That prompted a round of laughter from the whole crew.

"No, actually," Luke refrained from taking a seat this time. "I'm actually here on different business."

Stoneface gave a low chuckle. "The business of trying to get me as a contact, right? Of trying to – to find criminals that bought their gear from me and bring them to justice? Of trying to restrict access to new, powerful, and not to mention dangerous weapons as they enter the city? That business?"

This might've been a bad idea. "You hear about the building that blew up in Harlem?"

"I did, and allow me to give my condolences for having to experience such an extreme act of violence."

"The bomb that blew it up, was Hammertech. Gear like that, it had to come in through you. Who bought a dozen bags of explosives in the last two months?"

"And what, pray tell, what reason do I have to give up my own clientele to a champion of justice like yourself?"

"This isn't some turf war or some gangs clashing, this is domestic terrorism. It helps no one. People aren't going to want to arm themselves, they're going to move out. That doesn't help you. That doesn't help anyone. If whoever did this acts again, it'll be bad for everyone involved. And that includes you."

"Is that what you think, Mr. Luke Cage? And I assume you have the experience, perhaps some anecdotes, to back up the assertion."

"...I've lived in this city for a long time."

Stoneface smiled. "Bitch me too. In fact, I'd take a wager that I've lived in this city exactly 5 years longer than you. So let me explain how this works."

He stood, head even with Luke's.

"What people will and won't take, it's not some yes or no answer depending on the flavor of the situation. This bitch is a gradient that ends in a sharp line. People will take what they think they have to, until they can't. And it don't matter who did what to who or when, all I want to do is push people as far to the line as I can get em, and all I want is for them not to hop right over it. And ever since the day that aliens fell out of the sky and started knocking down buildings plural, that line's just been pushed farther and farther away. So, Luke, unless you got something that I actually give a shit about, I believe this meeting is-"

A heavy shadow fell from the roof of the building and landed behind Stoneface. His two goons drew their guns and spun on their heels, and by the time they had their aim ready, Daredevil was standing behind Stoneface, with a baton pulled against his windpipe.

"We tried it his way," Daredevil growled. "Now we're doing it mine."

Stoneface let out a strained laugh. "Look at this boys. We got ourselves a fucking proper superhero team up here. This is getting excited."

"Hey come on man, lay off," Luke said.

Daredevil pressed his knee into the back of Stoneface's leg. "You've got 2 seconds, the information or your ability to walk."

"Alright, calm down, calm down." Stoneface didn't look worried for a second. "If I've got both the Bulletproof Black Man and the Devil of Hell's Kitchen after my ass, it may behoove me to relent just this once."

The smile never dropped. The face never cracked. Something was up.

"But unfortunately, ah," he continued. "You know I don't usually keep receipts on me when I go out clubbing. Give me a few days to- Ach!"

Daredevil put his boot down on the back Stoneface's shin. "Not good enough. Start thinking harder."

"Hey!" Luke said. "Lay off already."

"Listen to your friend, huh. We can do business. There's business to be had."

"I need a name." Daredevil stomped onto the back of his leg. Stoneface let out a sharp yell.

Luke had had enough. He pushed forward, shoved Daredevil back which freed Stoneface from his grip.

A gunshot rang in his ear and something pinged off the side of his face. He turned. One of Stoneface's goons had pulled a gun. Luke slapped it out of his hand.

Now that the ringing was starting to leave his ears, he could hear panic down on the dance floor. He groaned. Then he shoved Daredevil off to the side.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"One second."

Daredevil took his baton and threw it behind Luke. He turned to see it smack off the gun in the hand of the other goon.

"Three days," he said to Stoneface. "Three days and I come calling again."

"And I look forward to the meeting."

"And don't skip town," Luke added. "I'll know if you do."

"I'm sure you will Mr. Luke Cage."

Stoneface and his crew turned their backs and walked off towards the stairs, evacuating the building as calm as could be. Some of the guys around him kept looking back at Luke and Daredevil. Stoneface though, didn't seem bothered for an instant.

Once they were out of sight, Luke turned back to Matt.

"What was that?"

"I got you in, didn't I?"

"You set up a trap. In three days, we're going to be walking right into a trap."

"Exactly where I want to be."

"Now we're never going to get shit from him."

"You weren't going to get shit from him as it stood. Let him think he has the upper hand, then snatch it out from under him. He might talk then."

"Or you jumped in way too early and scared him off."

Matt shook his head. "I heard everything. You weren't getting through to him. He didn't have a reaction to anything you were saying." Deep breath. "Cops are coming."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Police cruiser, two blocks away, they're coming here."

"And let me guess."

He nodded. "I gotta go before they arrive."

Of course. Luke didn't even get the chance to object before he darted off, jumped off the banister and swung into the rafters, out of sight. Luke started down the stairs. Maybe he could at least avoid getting wrapped up in a mess best left for the cops.

But he could hear the sirens already. He had almost, almost made it to the front door when it was kicked open. And two boys in blue burst in with guns at the ready.

"NYPD, put your hands where I can see them!"

Luke sighed and slowly raised his hands over his head.

---

Carl Burbank was led into the mess hall with the rest of his prison block. There were a couple of curious eyes on him. Everyone wanted to know how the man with no arms was gonna handle prison life. He knew what to expect, even if his only prior experience had been on the other side of things. He stood in line as the inmates in front of him got their trays of food until he was next up. The worker looked concerned, confused, about what to do with the plate of dirty rice and beans that he held, until Carl snatched it out of his hands with his teeth. A single glower at him was enough to keep him from saying anything about it, but that didn't stop the snickering from around the room.

Continuing in the line, Carl was next given his seat where he unceremoniously dropped the tray onto the table and sat.

Even more curious eyes were on him now, how was the man with no arms going to eat. He was about to show them, when a man sat across from him. The annoying wannabe, Shappe. It was an unfortunate coincidence, but one he could ignore. Until Shappe started talking.

"Hey there stranger," he said. "How are you doing on this fine day."

"Shut the fuck up," Carl said through grit teeth. "Don't talk to me."

"What's wrong stranger. You're being awfully rude to someone that don't even know your name yet. What is your name come to think of it."

"Wait..." he tried to whisper. "Wait until we're-"

"So whensabouts do you think you will get out of here huh? Cause man, it's only been a day for me and I'm already wondering how long it's gonna be." He actually winked there.

"I said, wait," he less whispered and more growled.

"Cause let me tell you I just can't wait until I can get out of here-"

Carl stood up and slammed his head into the top of Shappe's. Shappe fell back off of his seat and collapsed onto the ground. So Carl was free to sit back down and eat. Even more eyes on him now after that commotion.

Might as well make an impression now.

Carl shot down and went at his food like a starving dog. He knew how to eat with his feet, but he had no interest in attempting to right now. People would think that a guy like him wouldn't be able to fight back. He just wanted to prove him wrong. Every piece of his meal mixed in with each other, not only the rice and beans but even the shit brownie on the side and the plastic cup of juice. He'd tasted worse, and he didn't have the leeway to care.

The guy next to him yelled. "Hey hey hey, watch what the fuck you're doing-"

Carl's head shot up, and he fixed the man with his most practiced, craziest glare. He immediately shrank.

"Jesus, calm down."

Carl went right back down into his food, chomping down the last of it and leaving more than a few bite marks on the plastic tray itself.

Lifting his head again, sauces dripping from his chin like blood, he looked around the hall. Amused faces now looked concerned, a few even scared. Message successfully conveyed. Not a minute more passed, and the guards began telling the inmates to finish up and grab their trays. Carl picked his back up with his teeth and took it over to the disposal area. One of the guards had to get Shappe's uneaten meal.

From there, each inmate was led to their afternoon jobs. Carl was not a prisoner, not yet at any rate, and so they could not legally put him to work. Not yet at any rate. So instead he was lead to the recreational area outdoors. The sun beat down brightly on him. He would smell absolutely rank in a few hours.

Of course, that would just help keep the others off his back for the time being. He could deal with the smell.

There was nothing Carl could really do out here, nothing he really wanted to do, so he took a seat on the bleachers and just glowered. Glowered at nothing in particular, until someone looked over at him and then he glowered in their direction.

After about 40 minutes, maybe an hour had passed, a new figure emerged out into the open area. It was Shappe, a fresh contusion still marked across his forehead. Carl sighed as he still made sure to saunter on over towards him and take a seat just in front.

"You know I really don't think that was necessary," he said. "Our cover was perfectly fine back there."

"You don't fucking talk in the mess hall," Carl said. "Especially not about anything important. It's dead quiet and all the guards will be breathing down your neck."

"Which is why, stupid, I made sure to keep the cover perfectly tight. No one suspected a thing."

Carl groaned. "Just don't. Just. Don't."

"Fine, fine, whatever. I still wanna know though, when are we getting out?"

"I told you back in there. Wait. We're not doing anything right now but wait until someone comes to get us."

"You want me to just sit on my ass here man? I'm jonesing like a motherfucker, I wasn't built to sit around and wait."

"Then I'd suggest a career change." Every bone in Carl's body knew that depending on a basehead like Shappe was the worst idea imaginable. But he wasn't the one writing the checks here.

"What if no one comes to get us? What if we're just stuck here forever man, I can't fucking deal with that!"

"Our guy won't let us sit and rot here, because that's a waste of money. He still needs us, he's already paid us, and we haven't done a damn thing except get arrested. He'll be back. Just sit down, shut up, and for God's sake, just wait."

"Fine, fine, I got it." Shappe rested his head on his hand and started tapping his foot. "So like what timeframe do you think we're dealing with here? Days? Weeks? Think it'll be today?"

Carl stood up. Stepped down the bleachers, past Shappe. Then slammed his head into Shappe's and knocked him out cold again.

---

Jessica sat alone in her office, at 11 at night, alone, staring at her computer screen, with her head in her hands.

The day after Kara, Jessica and Colleen had left to scope out all the places that were owned by Quentin Beck, and what they had found was a bunch of normal, non-suspicious buildings. Some of them were active businesses, some of them were just empty buildings. Some of the empty buildings were residential, some were commercial. They were all just buildings, some of which Jessica had passed before without giving them a second thought.

The day after that, Jessica and Colleen started asking the people in the buildings about who owned them. For the businesses that were still open, they'd managed to get in contact with a manager or something who was not at all clued into the finances and didn't know anything about who owned the property that they did business in, and mostly didn't care. The empty ones weren't really empty cause they were filled with homeless people and squatters. And they didn't know anything, all they were concerned with was a roof that no one was using. Jessica went through a lot of dollar bills to get that information.

The day after that, Jessica and Colleen started breaking into places after hours to explore them more. Jessica made sure to keep an eye out for any unnaturally clean floors like with the last time, but no matter how small a hole the two of them checked these places just seemed like regular places. And Jessica couldn't imagine he'd go for the old 'blowing a building up while she was in it' trick twice.

So Jessica just sat at her computer, staring at the map. What was the connection between these places. The guy liked his mindgames, what was the bit, what was the gotcha. The shape, the addresses, the buildings, they all blurred together in Jessica's mind as she tried to latch onto any pattern. Tried to find any amount of order to what was otherwise 14 random locations scattered across Long Island.

The name Quentin Beck tickled at the back of her brain. That was a weird name to go with. Not like, George Washington, Alexander Hamilton, if you wanted a superhero Steve Rogers would attract so much fewer glances.

Now that she was thinking about it... Jessica opened up her usual property search website. Did a runthrough on Steve Rogers. A couple hundred locations popped up. Yeah... yeah that made sense. Too generic a name. There were probably a dozen Steve Rogers in NYC alone. She did a search on Tony Stark before realizing what a dumb idea that was. Another couple hundred, though these were probably actually owned by Stark or his company. Fuck it, search on Bruce Banner. That one was at least a different result. It gave up a fat zilch.

Quentin Beck was... he was a superhero right? Matt had said it was a... 'media circus'. The hell did that mean.

She looked him up. Wikipedia article, two news stories about Spider-Man's identity, an op ed on Spider-Man's identity, news article about his death-

This one caught her interest, 'Everything You Need to Know About Mysterio'. A very listicle article, and Jessica had to fight a few ads just to read it.

Quentin Beck was a soldier from another dimension- Jessica groaned, god this backstory -who lost his family to an attack in his home dimension by The Elementals? The fuck- The Elementals were four beings from Beck's home dimension, each formed from one of the base elements, earth, water, fire, and air- that's not even, what is this bad Star Trek plot. S.H.I.E.L.D. has been incredibly sparse with details since the attacks, but The Elementals have since been dubbed- yeah Jessica didn't care about that, scroll scroll scroll. The Elementals attacked four cities, Ixtenco, Morocco, Venice, and Prague. At each location, Mysterio helped to defeat the Elementals. Or so it seemed. Next page.

In London the four Elementals returned and converged into a single towering entity. Mysterio and Spider-Man were both seen fighting the entity, Mysterio was able to banish the Elementals back to his home dimension, but then Spider-Man unleashed an army of kill drones onto Mysterio and the city of London WHAT! Where the hell did that come from. Mysterio was killed in the following skirmish but not before releasing video evidence of this and exposing Spider-Man's true identity as Peter Parker... Mysterio may be gone but this dimension will never forget the service he paid to us yadda yadda end of article.

Jessica let out a slow breath. That sounded like a bunch of horseshit, but... how much was she able to believe. She knew aliens were a thing now. So was magic. One of her associates came from another dimension and they had fought ninjas over dragon bones. Half of that could be an outright lie, it was so fucking hard to tell these days.

She leaned back into her computer. The article had mentioned S.H.I.E.L.D. giving a statement, what did they have to say about this.

'S.H.I.E.L.D. Speaks Out on Mysterio'. She clicked that one. On Tuesday S.H.I.E.L.D. representative Robert Gonzales reported that S.H.I.E.L.D.'s official statement on the incident was that the figure known as Quentin Beck was not from another dimension, and that the Elementals were a series of staged and fabricated attacks created by Beck in an effort to acquire technologies left behind by the late Tony Stark. If you can stage magma man attacks then what the fuck technologies do you need. These claims correlate with statements made by Avengers correspondent Harold "Happy" Hogan. That sentence linked to a different article. Jessica clicked it. 'The Avengers' Happy Hogan Spills All on Mysterio and Spider-Man'.

Coming fresh off of the tragic attacks in South America and Europe, as well as the shocking leaked footage of Spider-Man seemingly ordering the attack, Happy Hogan (who has worked closely with Tony Stark and the Avengers) gave an official statement to the press. The footage released, according to Hogan, was doctored to frame Spider-Man, now known to be high school student Peter Parker. According to Hogan, Spider-Man was not telling the AI voice heard in the clip to execute people, but to execute the drones' current orders to attack. Okay, dadadada, Mysterio wanted... attention? Mysterio wanted the notoriety that superheroes got, believing that nobody listened to him or took his ideas seriously. Fuckin, what. Why anyone would wanna be a hero in the first place was beyond Jessica but faking things to that extent? For attention?

She scrolled down further and hit the comments.

'This is all bull****' nice auto-censor 'shield is blatantly lying to cover for the spiderman and in fact I think shield was involved in mysterios death.'

'Y'all gotta be crazy, listen to the voice in the clip again it sounds so fake and inserted.'

'Listen I was there in Prague you could feel the heat from the fire monster there's no way that could be faked.'

'Right? My cousin was vacationing in Venice and he said when the river guy was destroying stuff that he got splashed several times. How could a fake creature make someone wet?'

'Mysterio is the hero that we need right now.'

This clip, Jess was curious about this clip. She checked YouTube. 'Mysterio exposes spider-man'.

What played was what looked like shoddy cell phone footage of a close up of a guy wearing an overcompensating cape with cuts and scrapes all over him. Immediately he started rambling. Pushing the Elementals back through the interdimensional whatsit whoever, weaponized drones, Stark technology, the new Iron Man. The video shifted to a wider shot, same quality. A bodyless voice asked about drone attacks. Spider-Man said to execute them all. It flashed back. Spider-Man's name is Peter Parker. Jessica skipped back to the bit where Spider-Man said to execute them all. Quality was so garbage it'd be hard to pick out any tells. It looked, like, convincing enough, though that one comment had a point. Sounded a little inserted.

In the recommended videos list was cell phone footage of the London attack. 'Monster in London attack footage' it was so helpfully called. Jessica clicked that.

The footage was shaky and constantly swinging back and forth as the person who filmed this was probably running for their life. They spun around and Jessica got a good look at the 'monster'. Basically a storm cloud with a face, with chunks of everything swirling up into its body. It punched Tower Bridge and knocked a whole segment of support out and into the river. Several small explosions flashed across the bridge itself. The camera swung some more. The monster got a hole in it.

Jessica skipped back and paused. A hole in the monster's gut had opened up, surrounded by some glowing blue energy. She could barely make out its insides being 10 pixels tall, but it looked hollow. She hit play again. The camera swung and left the monster for a bit. Then the person stopped running and turned and made sure to get this. There were several similar holes all over the monster now. It stood, completely frozen.

And then it just vanished. Jessica blinked. She had to double back and watch that again. That same blue energy that surrounded the hole consumed the whole creature until it was just gone. Not only it but the twisters that surrounded it and the clouds in the sky above it. There was a cloud of something sitting around where the creature had been. It wasn't until they flew towards the camera and the person filming suddenly got back to running that she realized those were the drones that kept popping up in this discussion.

She looked at the comments. A dozen news stations asking to use the footage, of course.

'thank god you survived' 'damn' 'what is happening in the world today' 'so was it real? i can't tell'

'The Mysterio attacks were faked! Check r/RealHeroes for the evidence!'

Real Heroes huh? Jessica had to check what the r/ was about, but she found it pretty quickly. A Reddit message board. And when she went to the url she found 'r/realheroes has been banned from Reddit'. Great. Sent that domain through a google search. Yahoo Answers had an answer. 'What happened to r/RealHeroes?' 'It was banned for community disrupting among other superhero subreddits. I think most of them moved to their own domain, '

Jessica followed that link.

At the top of was a banner, looked like some promotional image the Avengers put out, back when Iron Man and Captain America were still, like, alive. But the image was put into grayscale and red scratch marks were made across the eyes of every individual visible in the picture. Across the header were the words 'Where Are the Real Heroes?'. What a question.

Below the header was a paragraph of text. 'Where Are the Real Heroes is a community devoted to investigating the activities of self-proclaimed "superheroes". We demand honesty and transparency when it comes to the US government utilizing enhanced individuals for their own agendas, and we question the motivations of these heroes in the unlawful execution of their "villains".'

Right. Okay. Conspiracy website. Cool. Jess scrolled down. All of the most recent threads were about... her. And Luke, and the building that had been dropped on them and wondering what was going on.

The discomfort and revulsion was immediately. She quickly scrolled back up and actually looked away from her computer screen.

"Jesus..."

None of that was what she was looking for anyways. Instead she hit up the search bar and entered 'Mysterio'.

Lot of results, but the very first one was called 'Mysterio Evidence Compilation [COMPLETE]' so that was a good place to start.

Compiled below is all of the evidence that 'I' could find relating to Mysterio and the Elemental attacks. Mysterio is not, actually, one of these superheroes but rather a villain(?) posing as a hero to infiltrate their ranks and expose the hypocrisy of- Jesus Christ get on with it. She scrolled through the actual list of evidence. First off was basic shit, story made no sense, the 'elements' were arbitrary and not grounded in any actual science.

Quentin Beck isn't from another dimension. The guy posted a picture of an MIT yearbook. Among the pictures of students, and circled in red so you couldn't miss it, was a guy demonstrably not named Quentin Beck but who looked remarkably similar to him without a beard. Okay.

Past that it was all footage of the London attacks. Different angles from different cell phones, all showing the instant that the monster dissolved, "sent through the dimensional rift" as Beck put it, and the resulting chaos with sleek white drones shooting missiles and bullets all over the place after the fact. On repeated viewings, Jessica started to notice how Mysterio seemed to freeze and disappear the same way as the monster. How'd he get out that dying message then.

One piece of footage got a short clip of Spider-Man hitting some drones with something and causing them to violently explode. That certainly put a hole in the theory that he was the one commanding them. Another clip got a split second shot that was freeze framed to show a single person up in the Tower Bridge's skybridge. It was way too blurry to make out any details though.

It was hard to admit but the conspiracy nuts had a solid point here. At least, until she hit the comments.

'Mysterio is definitely one of us, that's fucking awesome.' One of us?

'Can't believe Mysterio was the worst hero cause he was the best villain.'

'We need more bad guys like him. Head on assaults won't get you anywhere anymore. Taking the system down from within is where it's at.'

The hell were these people talking about. Even for a conspiracy board, they didn't usually position themselves as the bad guys.

Jessica paused, then she went back to the home page and did a search for the most popular threads of all time.

Thread number 1, 'Did Thanos have a point?' What.

'You can tell me that what Thanos did was wrong all you want, and yes it was bad to kill half the universe, but we do need to take a step back and look at the serious overpopulation problem that we're facing. I could actually get a place to live during the blip, now that it's over I'm being kicked back onto the street with nowhere to go, just like before. Did the Avengers even think before bringing everyone back without any warning? If they had the capabilities this could've been done in a more controlled environment instead of dropping 3 million people back on our laps'- That was enough, Jess had had enough reading that.

She went back to the list. 'Killmonger Did Everything Right', '#FreeToomes', 'The Case for Loki', 'The Crimes of Tony Stark', 'What the deal with Hydra?' on and on and on. These guys didn't just hate heroes, they loved villains.

So, what the fuck.

---

For the third time in a week, Luke Cage crossed the street towards Club 1610. Nothing out of the usual anymore, at least, not until the bouncer actually put out a hand to stop him this time.

He was about to catch some words, but quickly cut Luke off before he could.

"Stoneface told me to give you this."

He handed Luke a business card.

'Aunt Morgan's Southern Kitchen'. Address and phone number attached. It was actually on the same street as Harlem's Paradise. That was definitely concerning, to say the least. Was Stoneface related to this place or, maybe he was just a patron.

Still, the change in venue probably meant that, whatever Stoneface wanted to do tonight, he wanted to get it done with here and now. Luke gave the bouncer a nod and left.

Now that he was thinking about it, the change in venue almost certainly meant this was an ambush, not a peace treaty. If he was just here to give some information and get Luke off his back, he could easily do that from the club's VIP section. And it wasn't an issue of secrecy either, since he was taking this to another public space. Though with that in mind... Luke was starting to worry about what Stoneface's plans were.

Aunt Morgan's Southern Kitchen was a 2-story, intentionally rustic-looking brick building with some metalworking on the roof but none at ground level. The name was posted in giant neon letters on the second floor, along with the image of an entire cooked chicken.

What Luke found interesting was, the sidewalks were still busy of course, but none of the business had anything to do with the restaurant. There was no crowd or line of people waiting outside, people would look at it and move on but nobody actually went in.

There was a single door out front, with a big 'WE ARE CLOSED' sign on it, which would explain all that. But according to the business hours listed just below, it should still be open.

Luke gave the door an experimental push, and it opened without resistance, so he went and stepped in.

The inside was fancy to be certain, more concerned with looking expensive (or rather, worth the cost of admission) than looking like an actual southern kitchen. Low, warm light bouncing off of a lot of gold decorations. Brown carpeting, auburn walls, and stainless white cloths on every table. There was a single set of stairs to the side leading to the second floor seating, with a balcony overlooking the reception area.

And Stoneface leaned over that balcony and looked down at Luke.

"Mr. Cage, so nice of you to join me this evening. My sincerest thanks that you would join in my own family's illustrious establishment. And you even brought your partner Daredevil with you."

What? Daredevil? Luke looked back and- oh sugar honey ice tea he was right there.

"What the hell?"

Matt didn't bother to look at him. "I thought you knew I was here."

"I would just like to say," Stoneface continued. "That I am well and truly humbled to play host to two accomplished superheroes such as yourself."

"We just want the name of the guy who bought the bombs Stoneface," Luke said. "No one needs to get hurt."

"Well, I'm very sorry, but I had some other arrangements for tonight." Stoneface snapped his fingers and suddenly half a dozen guys with guns ran up along the balcony, even more popping out of siderooms and taking cover behind tables. Every muzzle in the room was pointed at Luke and Matt. "See I was just planning to let you stew in your own impotent disappointment Mr. Cage, but once the Devil of Hell's Kitchen himself got involved, why, I just could not pass up on a chance to kill you both."

"You act like you know everything about me, you know how this goes. What do you think a couple of guns are going to do?"

"Motherfucker I have all the guns! You think I don't pack heat that can put down a superhero?"

Luke tapped his chest. "Then hit me with your best shot."

Stoneface laughed. "You heard him boys!" And he turned right around and moved out of Luke's sight while laughing. "Man I love this shit man."

Most of the guys on the upper balcony were packing machine guns. When they opened fire, Luke puffed out his chest and broadened his shoulders and let the bullets bounce off of him while Matt hid behind him. The usual position Luke found himself in. But two of the guys, one on either end of the balcony, were carrying something a little weirder. Didn't look like any guns Luke had ever seen.

They fired. Two blasts of bright red energy slammed Luke in the chest, burning deeply and knocking him off his feet. When Luke sat up, he looked down, touched where he'd been hit, and found bubbling, sensitive, red raw skin, and a faint trail of smoke.

"Well, shit..."

Every person in the room had paused to see if that actually worked. And when it apparently had, when Luke Cage doubled over and clutched at his chest, that meant it was open season. The room filled with gunfire and laser blasts. A few extra bullets bounced off of Luke, he kept his hand over his wounds so none had the opportunity to dig into the exposed skin, but he still needed to keep moving cause more those lasers were coming down too. He saw them burn the ground beneath him black, saw stray bolts melt straight through tables and tablecloths without stopping.

Daredevil had kicked one of the tables over and was hunkered behind it. The wood was thick enough to stop whatever bullets came his way. Not those lasers though. Every second or so, he would have to jerk his head or body to twist around one as it flew past.

"Hey Devil Guy," Luke said, hunkering behind a table himself. He still took a few laser shots to the shoulder, but at the very least a few of them were also missing. "You wanna handle the big guns up top so we can get somewhere?"

"Those things hurt you," Matt said back. "What do you think they're going to do to me?"

"Then don't get hit, ninja man."

Matt ducked as a stray laser shot over his head. "Easier said than done – out in the open."

Luke sighed. "Alright. Give me a second. Just make sure you actually take the shot when you see it."

Matt stared at him.

"You know what I mean."

Luke burst out from behind his table, he had to lift his forearm to block another laser beam, took another nasty burn there, and grabbed the tablecloth from the table he was hiding behind and whipped it into the air.

It fell slowly. Floating and fluttering down on its own time and completely obscuring the vision of the second floor. That didn't stop them from trying though. In seconds the tablecloth was full of holes, some tiny from bullets whizzing through, some larger and burnt black on the edges from those lasers.

Daredevil was on the move immediately. He sprinted across the room towards the stairs. It wasn't a clean sprint. He wasn't allowed that. Lucky shots were still getting through the sheet and the guys on the ground could still see him fine. He vaulted over one table then landed and tucked and rolled under the next. Moving up and down across the geography to keep the aim off of him. He ran and dropped into a slide as a laser blast passed right in front of his face.

The sheet was almost down now and Daredevil was only halfway there. He needed a few more seconds.

Luke moved back to the front of the restaurant. He snapped the front podium from its base and hurled it, straight through the falling sheet, and straight into the upper balcony. It crashed through the banister and knocked a couple of guys over. Everyone still standing immediately turned and emptied a few shots into whatever had just crashed into their space. And that was all the time Daredevil needed.

He didn't even go up the stairs, he jumped onto the railing, pushed off and leaped from the opposite wall, and landed on the upper floor. He wound up right next to one of the raygun guys, hit him with an elbow and a knee that knocked him to the floor. Snatched his gun out of the air, with one hand slammed the barrel into the wall behind him to bend and break it, then hurled it across the floor to knock the raygun out of the other guy's hands.

Daredevil went in, which meant it was time to clear out the first floor too. None of the guys done here had those rayguns, so Luke was free to walk forward without issue.

"Now," he said. "You can just call it quits here if you want."

The three guys down here looked at him, looked at each other, looked around nervously. One broke to try and run for the employees only door. Luke grabbed a chair and tossed it at him, and knocked him to the ground.

"But don't do that."

The one guy pulled his SMG back up and kept on firing. One of the bullets got lucky and hit a burn spot. It stung a bit, and Luke winced, but then he felt at the spot and didn't find any serious damage or anything. So instead of worrying about it, he reached forward and grabbed the muzzle and squeezed. The metal coiled in on itself, and then exploded in his palm. The guy dropped his gun in shock. Then Luke whapped him across the head and dropped him.

The other guy ran up and tried to shove a knife into Luke's gut. It shattered on impact. The guy looked down, looked back up at Luke.

"I just- I just thought maybe-"

Luke swung a backhand and the guy crumpled to the floor.

That was the bottom floor cleared out then. Now he just had to wait on-

Daredevil crashed through the ceiling, straddled atop another goon. The guy beneath Matt landed flat on his back and if that wasn't bad enough Matt laid into his face with a hook to make sure he was down before getting up.

"You know where Stoneface went?" Luke asked.

Matt took a second. "He just went down some stairs in the back. Not leaving. Headed for the kitchen."

He walked over towards the employees only door. Through it was a pretty small hallway, kitchen doors to the right, two other doors on the left.

"Going towards the freezer."

Matt stopped right next to the kitchen door.

"Maybe you should go in first."

"Why am I going in first?" Luke walked in front of the doors and looked through the window into the kitchen. About 15 men were standing around with rayguns pointed straight at the door.

Luke ducked back.

"Really?" he said.

"You can survive them."

Luke sighed. "Alright. Stick behind me."

Luke moved in front of the door again. Matt stood behind him. Luke took a few deep breaths. Shook himself loose. Bounced on his toes. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and charged into the room.

Everyone in the room jumped when Luke barged in and slammed the door open. Everyone also opened fire. Burning stinging spots landed all over Luke's body, but he was just focused on keeping his footing and not being blown back again. Immediately, the five guys clustered around the entrance were bowled over and knocked to the floor. Then Luke started swinging at everyone in range. Most people had the good sense to make some distance. Those that didn't weren't on their feet for much longer.

Daredevil ducked out from behind Luke and helped to pick off those sticking to the corners. He scrambled under one guy's shots, pushed up, vaulted over a counter, and hit him with a flying roundhouse. He reached out to the wall next to him and grabbed a cast iron frying pan, used that to block a barrage of laser beams coming from the next guy. He then slammed the frying pan over that guy's head and then flung it across the room to slam into some other guy's head and both hit the ground at roughly the same time.

That was pretty interesting though. Luke grabbed an iron skillet from a nearby counter and held it over his chest. He felt the thud of the lasers making impact but nothing more than that. There were scorch marks and craters where they hit. But they didn't go through. He looked back up. The remaining guys were aiming at his head now.

He lifted the skillet up and let the shots hit, the bullcharged the guys who had shot him. Wasn't entirely sure when he reached them until the skillet bounced off one guy's head. He then took the skillet by the handle in one hand and slapped the two nearest guys with it as well.

Luke turned back around. Anyone left?

One guy left. Raygun up and at the ready. Luke got ready to do... something.

One of Daredevil's batons bounced off his chest, flew across the room, and smacked the guy in the forehead. And then he was out too. Matt snatched the baton out of the air as it rebounded back towards him.

"Really dude?" he said.

"It was the best angle." Matt pointed over at a big walk in freezer with a latch on the front. "Stoneface should be in there."

Luke stepped up to it, pulled the latch and swung the door open. Stoneface stood at the end of the freezer, having just finished setting up a funky looking machine gun on a tripod. Luke Cage had less than a second to dive out of the way before a torrent of red laser beams shot from the door and bored clean through the opposite wall, and the wall behind that, and the wall behind that, and past where Luke could see from an angle.

"Come on in Mr. Cage," Stoneface called out. "Big strong superhero like yourself. You're not afraid of a little chill are you?"

Luke sighed and grumbled and winced a little as the burns on his body were really starting to sting.

"Any ideas?" Matt asked.

"Well, I got one."

Luke moved back into the kitchen, grabbed a couple of the skillets still hanging around, and shoved them down the front of his hoodie. He tied the strings to the handles to keep them up. Then he walked back to the freezer.

"You think that's gonna work?"

"Here's hoping."

Couple more deep breaths. One last one.

Luke opened the freezer back up.

"I ain't scared of nothing."

Stoneface gave a great big, shit-eating smile and he probably laughed a little while he was at it, but the sound was quickly covered up by rapid-fire blast of the gun. Luke braced himself. The shots pinged off of the skillets in his jacket. They rattled against his stomach.

No burning yet. Luke started walking forward. Slowly. Confidently. Like he had all the time in the world.

Stoneface's smile faltered. His brow scrunched every so softly, and he pulled the trigger harder.

Luke kept on moving forward. He didn't want to break into a run. He didn't want to give Stoneface any impression of having the upper hand. That said, the metal was starting to slag against his chest. So he was a little more worried than he let on.

"Would you just die already motherfucker!"

Luke's jacket caught fire. That was frustrating. He'd have to just put up with it for now. At least it helped with the cold.

"What the shit- What the fuck are you?"

Luke reached forward, grabbed the muzzle twisted and crumpled the metal under his fingers, then yanked it off the tripod and let the pieces and parts scatter to the ground.

"I'm a goddamn superhero," he said. With one hand he shoved Stoneface against the wall. "But you, you ain't no supervillain."

"Hey come on man, come on man, just chill- chill out man come on." Stoneface was proper panicking now. One hand up, like that could stop Luke Cage. Teeth chattering in the cold and eyes wide in the flames.

Luke started patting himself down, getting most of the fire off of him. And once he was sure he wouldn't ignite the man, he grabbed Stoneface by the collar and lifted him off his feet with one hand.

"Last chance, Stoneface. Tell me who bought the bombs."

"C- Come on man, I can't- you know I can't-"

Luke cocked his other hand back in a fist.

"Daniel! Dan- Daniel. His- His name was Daniel Berkhart, okay. D- Daniel Berkhart."

Luke lowered his fist, and Stoneface. "All you had to say."

He gave one last smirk and turned to walk back out of the freezer. Gave himself a couple more pats to put out the last of the fires on him.

---

Walking up to the door of Alias Investigations was becoming a part of Colleen's daily schedule. She would show up at 11 am and knock and Jessica would answer the door like she just woke up. And then Jessica would put on her jacket and the two of them would go and stake out more of the buildings on the Mysterio List (as Colleen had taken to calling it).

So it was surprising for a second when she knocked on the door and the person who answered it wasn't Jessica.

"Oh- Hey, Gillian." Jessica's assistant was certainly a lot happier to open the door than Jessica usually was.

"Hi Colleen, how are you doing this morning sweetie?"

"Good, doing good, um, is Jessica in right now?"

Gillian sighed and opened the door a little wider. Colleen looked in and saw Jessica passed out over her desk and snoring lightly. Laptop open in front of her.

"Oof," Colleen said. "Was she like that when you got here?"

"Yeah. Didn't really feel like bothering her."

Colleen circled around to the back of the desk and braced herself.

She poked Jessica in the shoulder. "Jess?" Gave her a bit more of a shake. "Jess-"

Jessica suddenly jumped awake. First thing she did was look around the room in a panic. Second thing she did was wince, groan, and stretch her back out across the back of her chair.

"What time is it," she asked.

"Quarter past 11," Gillian said.

Jessica gave her a look. "You didn't wake me up."

"If I did you'd get mad."

"Fuck me." Jessica stood and gave another stretch and started massaging her back. "There any Monster left."

"I dunno, I don't raid your fridge."

Jess huffed and shambled over to her kitchen. A couple seconds later she came back in with a tall black and cyan can. Cracked it open, chugged it, put it down on the desk. Colleen had to wince. That stuff was like sludge.

"Okay, so," she said. "Last night I was trying really hard to like – get into our guy's – head."

"How would you even do that, we don't really know anything about him."

"I think... I think he's one of these nutjobs." She pointed to her laptop, which was currently showing a screensaver. "These guys who hate fucking... 'superheroes', and idolize the bad, villain, guys." She started chugging more Monster.

"I- I mean- Okay I know what you're talking about, I've heard of supervillain stans but what- why is this guy one of them?"

"He used the name Quentin Beck. Not any dead president or fucking famous politician or business tycoon or any other superhero like fucking Tony Stark or Steve Rogers which would be a million times better to use for something like this. He chose the name Quentin Beck, a dead hero with no family and a unique name that's really easy to track down. You're only going to choose Quentin Beck if you really know Quentin Beck. And if you really know Quentin Beck you know he's not a fucking superhero."

"Wha-"

Jessica was just going now. "There's a shitmillion of these phone cam videos of the attack in London where he died and every single one of them, the monster just disappears along with beck, and then a bunch of attack drones come out from where it was and start attacking people. Parker starts fighting the drones, and after he kills Beck then the video gets put out where it looks like Parker was the one controlling them. There's no way."

"You got all this in one night?"

"And this guy – he didn't send mercenaries after us he sent super freaks. Motherfuckers that fucking Spider-Man or Captain America should be beating up, not us. These people think that we're superheroes, I found myself on those message boards, someone's setting up some weird superhero bullshit with us. So, I think whoever is doing it, wants to be a supervillain."

"Right. Okay. Um? So, what does that tell us?"

Jessica collapsed back into her chair. "I don't know. I tried searching up some other bad guy names as property owners. That... Killmonger guy. Toomes the weapons dealer that Spider-Man also beat the shit out of. Even threw Thanos in just to see, but like it's not like he has a last name. Thanos Titan? Nothin'."

"Zemo?"

Jess looked up. "What."

"Zemo? Did you try Helmut Zemo?"

"Who the fuck is Zemo."

"The UN Bomber. The guy who split the Avengers."

"I didn't see that name."

"I don't think the news paid much attention to him at the time considering everything else happening, but like... if you know about the Avengers you know about him."

"Shit." Jessica leaned forward and started typing. "That's what I get for only asking the people who hate those guys."

Colleen leaned over the desk and watched as Jessica closed out some 70 tabs and opened a new window and pulled up a property tracking website.

"How do you, spell that."

"Helmut. Like, helmet with a U. Then Z-E-M-O."

Jessica put the name in and did a search. One result. A place along the ocean on the west side of Brooklyn.

Jessica's brow scrunched. "That's outside of his normal operating area."

Colleen shrugged. "Good place for a supervillain's hideout though, right?"

The two of them looked at each other.

"Let me guess," Gillian said. "You're not taking any appointments today either."

"You'll still get paid." Jessica sneered. "Just – do your job."

Gillian rolled her eyes and focused on her own computer. The scrolling kind of focus, not anything productive.

---

Jessica went to throw on her jacket before realizing that she was still wearing it from last night. So she gave herself a once over with a can of air freshener. Then she and Colleen went out.

Tracking down the address in Brooklyn, Jess and Colleen found (no points for guessing) a shitty run down warehouse. Even came with a couple tags, a couple smashed windows, and a chain and padlock keeping the front door closed. Jess managed to snap that last one open, pretty glad that she probably had some sort of supertoughness to keep the rusty piece of shit from giving her a scratch, or tinnitus.

The inside of the warehouse was dark. For like a second. As soon as the two of them stepped in, lights began flickering on overhead. Jessica had to shield her eyes to adjust.

She looked up. She panicked. She thought she must've been teleported or something. This was the penthouse of the Four Seasons. This was Kilgrave's favorite place to live it up, when he wasn't crashing someone else's apartment.

Purple pulsed at the edge of her vision. But it quickly faded. Something was wrong.

As her eyes fully adjusted to the sight, what had looked like the penthouse of a fancy hotel turned into what was obviously a drawing of it. Four flat walls, painted, not lovingly, not laboriously, but competently, to look like a big bedroom with a flatscreen and an open balcony. Most of the space in the 'room' was fake, the wall was actually 10 feet closer to Jess than it looked.

There was a door to her left, opposite side of the balcony. But when Jess tried it, it wasn't actually a door. Just painted to look like one. She grumbled to herself and started to feel around the walls, shitty plywood by the feel of it, for anywhere she could conceivably go through. And she did find an actual, real door that actually opened. It was over the balcony. The banister and sky opened up when pushed.

Jessica was really starting to hate this guy.

Through the door in the balcony, Jess found her office. Or a shitty painting of her office. It was much harder to fake fill the space here, since her office was so tiny and actually had furniture in it. The 'room' then was miniscule with an attempt to give the illusion of depth by drawing the walls further than where they really- oh who the fuck cares.

"Yeah, I'm done with this." Jessica punched the nearest wall, not caring where the door was supposed to be. Flimsy, cheap, thin wood splintered under her knuckles and left a hole in roughly the size and shape of a football. Through the gap, Jessica could see another facsimile of a hotel room, but she didn't care anymore.

"Jess." She heard Colleen in the back of her mind.

Jessica reached forward and grabbed and pulled and tore at the edges of the hole, widening it enough for her to get through.

"Jessica!"

Colleen grabbed at her shoulder. She turned to glare at her.

"I can clear these out a lot faster than you can. If you give me some room."

"...Right." Jessica stepped back behind Colleen.

"Um, like," she twirled her finger in a circle. "A lot more room."

Jessica frowned and looked up. Shielding her eyes from the bright fluorescents above her, it looked like there was some solid rafters up there.

Jessica crouched and then jumped. Up and up she went until she slowed to a stop just in range. One hand went up and latched onto the nearest bar. And she hung there and looked down.

The entire warehouse looked to be composed of this shitty maze. Dozens of interconnecting rooms made cell after cell of what was, from above, one big uneven grid.

Colleen drew her sword. Jessica could hear the sharpness from all the way up here. Holding it in front of her with both hands, a white light began to build within the blade.

Her eyes wandered away again. Where the hell did this maze even lead to. Towards the back of the room, where the painted wood planks stopped, was, well, there was no wood planks. Just a kind of empty space back there. And on the far, far wall was a small set of stairs that went up to a door, probably an office of some kind.

A guy walked out of the office in the back. Jessica squinted her eyes. He was wearing... green. That was about all she could make out. Kinda looked like all those grainy shaky cell phone videos of Beck.

Calm as can be, the guy walked down the stairs, crossed the empty space, and entered the maze.

Wait. Shit.

"Colleen!" Jessica shouted down. "Colleen wait!"

There was no time. Jessica let go and fell.

She watched as she fell, in the time it took her to hit the ground, Colleen took her glowing sword and spun in a full circle, 360. A ray of light flew from the blade in a complete circle around her and spread through the warehouse like a shockwave. Straight through the wood walls on all side until, the last thing Jessica saw before she fell back down into the maze, it hit the guy dead on in the chest.

There was a brief moment where she wasn't even sure that Colleen's big beam attack had done anything, the walls didn't look any different. Nothing changed, not for the next few seconds anyway. THen they all collapsed to the ground at once, leaving only some 2 foot tall hurdles in their way.

"Shit." Jessica started hopping hurdles and running towards the back. Until at some point she stopped giving a shit and started running straight through them. "Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit."

"Jess? Jessica, what's going on?" Colleen started running after her.

Jessica almost stepped right over the body, hidden as it was behind one of the wood hurdles.

Looking at him up close, he definitely looked like a guy on a budget trying to be Mysterio. He had the big glass bowl covering his head. Not really filled with smoke, but opaque nonetheless. He had the red cape and the eye-shaped pins holding it up, though his looked to be painted styrofoam. And instead of a scaly battle suit with armor plating, he wore a pinstriped, emerald green suit with a purple tie. Both were slowly being stained red.

Jessica pulled the helmet off of him. It wasn't hard, wasn't really attached to anything. The man underneath was a far cry from the ruggedly handsome Quentin Beck who had appeared in those pre-death videos. This guy was a bit blockier, with sharper cheekbones and a wider nose and messy, ungroomed black hair that threatened to go past his brows but never quite made it.

Jessica placed a hand to the side of his neck, searching for a pulse. She didn't find one.

"Oh my god!" Colleen nearly screamed when she caught. "Oh my god. Oh my- god, is he... I- oh my god did- I-..."

Jessica looked back up at Colleen. She felt an intense need to apologize, but didn't know what to say.

---

John Ohnn lay on his cot. He had not received any more visits in the night, his bruises and lacerations, overlooked by authorities of the prison who knew exactly where they came from, being given time to heal, but the experience had made him quite wary of his surroundings. No longer was John trying to fall into himself. Now, he was letting himself sleep like a normal human, ready to react to normal human stimuli, should it rear itself.

The door opened. John's stomach dropped. It was happening again.

John's head twitched. It was a human instinct, he knew before he turned his head that those same two guards were here again, he could see them out the holes in his side, but he turned his head anyways because his brain was still convinced that it needed to see out the front of his face.

"Shit. He's awake."

Well, there was no use pretending now. John sat up and turned and got to his feet. The two guards flinched back.

"Please," he said. "Don't-"

One of the guards drew his baton and hit John across the temple and knocked him to the ground. He only barely managed to catch himself on his hands and knees.

No time for rest was given. Immediately boots, sharp, painful boots, cracked down against John's back, his elbows, his head, his head bounced painfully off of the floor. Blood trickled down his forehead. Reminder of humanity. John was still human. John was still, painfully human.

He lashed out, like a human, not with space like he would have liked but with his limbs. An arm wrapped around the leg of one of the guards and pulled and shoved until he was sent spilling to the ground. John then shoved with his shoulders, he pushed the other one back until he could get to his feet.

He looked down at the guard on the floor. Approached him. Something boiled in John's stomach, but before it could come to anything, the other one pounced. Got his baton around John's throat and pulled, pulled his windpipe shut.

John gasped. Did he still need to breathe? John wasn't sure. He certainly felt like he needed to. Blackness swam at the corners of his vision, not the calming blackness of his holes to nothing, this was a nothing that would truly encapsulate him, wrap him up until there was nothing left. With his quite human instincts, John knew he needed to fight this blackness with everything he had. His hands went up, struggled and ultimately failed to push the baton from his throat.

"Curtis! Curtis no! Come on, let's just hit the alarm and get out of here!"

"No!" Curtis yelled back. "No, I'll handle this freak!"

That almost made John laugh, or perhaps it would have had he the breath to spare, which he certainly didn't. If he were to die here, it would be pretty pathetic of him, he believed.

His hands were doing nothing on the baton. So instead he sent one of them up, up above the heads of both him and his assailant. It was hard to muster the coordination, more than half of his vision was black now, 50% of the way towards infinity. With hand perched there, quite shakily, he traced a circle.

John was not allowed to create holes in this prison, it was expressly forbidden and kept under threat of physical punishment. So it was almost relieving, almost a breath of fresh air in itself, when John was finally able to see again from an angle other than himself.

John brought his hand back down, it had one more important job to do. He commanded it curl, tighten into a fist, and then he sent it flying into his own face. Through the hole there and out the hole above his head, his knuckles cracked into the head of Curtis. He was stunned. His grip loosened. John broke free and could breathe again. Air sucked through every hole in his body, filled his lungs to capacity.

John took a second to compose himself, then turned back to Curtis. He was just regaining his bearings himself, and John truly didn't want that, so he punched him again. In the face, again. With the hand that was not to punch him, he grabbed Curtis by the shoulder and shoved him against the wall behind him and then he punched him again. And again. And again. As hard as John could swing his arm he swung it into the face of the man who had just tried to kill him.

But John was not so preoccupied as to forget that Curtis had a partner. And in fact, if John could boast for a moment, with another hole taking up the space in the room with him, he fell right back into his reflex of watching the movements of the entire room at once. John saw, while he continued to wale on Curtis, saw his partner reach for his belt and draw his gun. John saw the space of the gun, the pieces and parts that made it up, and saw the exact angle of the barrel and saw where precisely the bullet would fly. And so John moved his hand to fill that space and with his finger he drew a small circle, no wider than 2 inches in diameter. And he saw the bullet fly through space and he felt the bullet fly through his space and it flew out of the hole on his face and drilled Curtis between the eyes.

Curtis slumped to the floor. John watched as his heart slowed to a stop.

"Shit. Shit!" The remaining guard pressed his back against the opposite wall.

Well, Curtis was providing no more immediate problems. John turned and walked towards the one who was alive.

The guard raised his gun again, but his finger hesitated over the trigger. Quite gently, John pushed the man's arm away and let him panic and fire into the ground next to John instead of into John.

"If you would not mind, I would appreciate this." John pulled the pistol from his grasp. He did not meet much resistance. Perhaps this one was in shock.

"I didn't- It wasn't- I- I- I-"

"Yes, I believe I understand. By his aggressive actions, I assume our dear friend Curtis was the one who spearheaded this little venture." He gestured to Curtis' limp body to show who he was talking about. "He seemed like a very fearful and, if I may say, very violent fellow. Perhaps he was afraid that I would, ah, stage some sort of violent prison break using my abilities, and kill him along with other guards in the process. That's ironic, don't you think?" He pressed the gun to his temple, let a hole swallow the muzzle, and then fired and a bullet shot from his face again and hit Curtis' friend, or at least co-worker, in the approximate same spot. He slumped to the ground as well.

John did not usually use guns, one might believe that he was above it or at least considered himself to be above it, but truthfully the option had simply never come up. But now that he had one, it felt quite nice, he would hold onto it for now. Tuck it in the waistband of his pants.

John looked down at the closest body, looked and saw and found the card he kept on his person. And then he looked and found Curtis' and walked over and grabbed that one as well. He found the spot that would read a card from this side of the plastic and drew a circle over it and then moved to the other side of the door where its partner reader was and drew a circle over that one and while he placed Curtis' card to the one nearest him, he also put his co-worker's card through the hole and to the other reader.

The door unlocked and John was free to roll it open. But before he left, now, all these holes simply wouldn't do, he would be inviting suspicion with those lying around. So he went, one by one and grabbed each hole left in the room and closed them back up but before he left, he drew one tiny hole, smaller than the width of his finger, on the underside of his cot.

But that was that, and John was free to take his first steps back outside the cell and to leave this prison for now.

Though he might have to shoot a few more people to get there.