144 New Home?

Shopping was something I hadn’t done in years. The mall’s air-conditioning hummed like a soft lullaby, and the sterile lighting bounced off polished tiles, reflecting the faces of strangers who had no idea how lucky they were to live their boring little lives.

Guesswork followed behind me like a lost kid with too much money to spend. “I can’t believe I’m babysitting a war criminal,” he muttered. “Woohoo, I guess…”

“War criminal with taste,” I corrected, pulling a black shirt off the rack. “See? Minimalist. Efficient.”

He eyed the growing pile of shirts, jackets, and slacks I had thrown at him to carry. “Efficient, huh? Because I’m the one carrying them.”

We visited store after store for clothes, shoes, toiletries, and even a few luxury watches. I ended up buying a sleek black one with gold edges. Pointless? Maybe. But it looked sharp, and I liked how it caught the light. Guesswork complained that I was turning into a corporate cliché.

Then came the electronics section. I picked out a high-end smartphone, the kind most civilians would never afford without selling a kidney. The clerk didn’t even ask for an ID, because I’m showing off and I'm throwing lots of money their way.

The moment I powered it on, Bunny’s digital voice greeted me. “Welcome back, boss. Mind if I take over for a bit?”

“Go ahead,” I said.

The phone flickered, and a dozen apps began installing themselves with encrypted GPS, social media accounts under fake names, and several invisible security subroutines that only Bunny could design.

“Done,” he said a few seconds later, his tone smug. “Don’t break this one.”

I couldn’t help but smirk. “No promises.”

By the time we finished, Guesswork was visibly exhausted. “You shop like someone preparing for war.”

“Maybe I am.”

We made our way back to the car. I took the driver’s seat this time. The dashboard screen came alive, a soft green glow tracing a path toward the coordinates of my new apartment.

“Bunny uploaded a subroutine into both the car and your phone,” Guesswork explained, buckling his seatbelt. “They’re synchronized. Real-time location tracking, encrypted comms, emergency protocols… the works.”

I started the engine, the hum smooth and quiet. “It’s only been two months, but Bunny sure got a lot of upgrades since then,” I commented. “This is pretty convenient.”

“Right?” Guesswork laughed. “I’d dare say Bunny’s probably among the top ten strongest capes right now. The SRC thinks so too, since they’ve been raising surveillance on him. That’s why you probably won’t get to talk much with him while you’re here in Wamond. Too many eyes on you.”

I frowned. “Won’t it be dangerous for us to openly talk about our plans, then?”

“It’s fine,” he said confidently. “The car isn’t bugged. The phone might be, but Bunny’s handling any technological spying. Still… we should set up some rules.”

He turned toward me, his tone shifting to something serious. “When talking to me, avoid revealing details about our plans or any sensitive topics. If I think we’re being watched or listened to, I’ll use a signal. We’ll agree on it later. For now, remember… I’m your ‘handler’. That’s what the SRC believes. I’ll have to act the part and give them reports about you. Honest ones, too. If a telepath or empath checks me, I can’t risk lying. But I’ll make sure to slip questions or details in ways that won’t compromise us.”

“Clever,” I admitted.

“Of course,” he said, smirking. “You didn’t think I’d get by on charm alone, did you?”

I glanced at the city passing by through the tinted window, Wamond’s skyline stretching across the sea, the golden light of late afternoon slicing through the glass towers. A city built for appearances, a stage for hypocrites and heroes alike.

The GPS blinked. Destination: Apartment Complex 9-B.

“Here we are,” I said as I pulled into the driveway.

Guesswork yawned, stretching his arms.

I shifted the gear to park, killed the engine, and opened the door. “Come on. You’re helping me carry this stuff.”

He groaned. “Ugh… Grunt work…”

“Think of it as your handler duties,” I said, stepping out with a faint grin. “Congratulations… you’re now officially my errand boy.”

We carried the baggage through the lobby. Guesswork with two bags slung over his shoulder, and me dragging the rest like a proper pack mule. The building towered over the skyline, glass and steel mirroring the late afternoon haze. We entered the elevator, and the hum of machinery filled the silence between us.

“It’s as you specified,” Guesswork said, glancing up at the floor display. “A tall building in the middle of highly dense urban structures. Also, something about the top floor with access to the rooftop. Is it to your satisfaction, Nick?”

“It is,” I replied, watching our reflection in the elevator mirror. “How about weapons? Can I have a gun?”

“Gun?” Guesswork raised a brow. “You’re plenty dangerous enough without one, but I’ll ask my superior if you can have one. Preferably, I think you should stick to firearms and avoid using something like cards as your projectile weapons.”

I smirked faintly. “You say that like I’m some street magician.”

“Considering your past performances, I’d say you were more of a demon than a magician,” he said, half-joking, half-serious.

The elevator dinged, doors sliding open to a narrow hallway with polished tiles. We stepped out, the faint echo of our footsteps marking the only sound. The apartment door clicked open with a simple scan of my newly registered card.

The room was spacious with clean walls, fresh paint, and wide windows overlooking the city. It had that untouched feel, sterile and faintly echoing, like a blank canvas waiting to be stained by life or blood.

“Do you think you’ll need a fridge?” Guesswork asked, dropping the bags with a soft thud. “Maybe furniture too?”

“No need,” I said, crossing my arms as I surveyed the place. “As long as the water works, the sink and toilet aren’t clogged, and there are no molds.”

He laughed. “Hey, what do you think of me? Of course, I got it all handled!”

“Bet it’s Bunny who did most of the heavy lifting.”

Guesswork sighed dramatically. “You really have to burst my bubble, don’t you?”

I ignored him and opened my phone. Bunny’s system booted in seconds, efficient as always. I found an app to order a bed and started scrolling through the catalog. It wasn’t like I cared for comfort, but sleeping on cold floors wasn’t ideal either.

“It might get hot here around sunny days,” Guesswork added, looking at the balcony doors. “So I suggest you get an AC too.”

“Can you handle it for me?” I asked without looking up.

“I’m not your errand boy, but fine,” he grumbled. “You’re really getting used to bossing me around again.”

“Is that all?” I said finally, setting the phone down on the empty counter. “Because if that’s all, I could use some peace.”

Guesswork leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching me with that half-smile he wore when he wanted to sound official. “You’ll be evaluated for the following week,” he said. “Behavior, attitude, mental stability… all that boring bureaucratic stuff. If you pass, you’ll get to meet the task force responsible for dealing with the Entity situation.”

“Sounds thrilling,” I muttered.

That was a rather roundabout way to recruit me. They were making it look like they had everything under control, like I was merely an optional addition… a contingency, not a necessity. It was clever. Keeps me humble, keeps me watched. Still, the fact that the SRC formed a dedicated task force for the Entity said enough. Whatever that thing was or whatever they thought it was, they weren’t taking chances anymore.

“What’s the task force like?” I asked. “How about their knowledge of the Entity and their inner workings? I want to know everything.”

“The only thing I can tell you,” said Guesswork, “is that the task force’s filled with the highest-rated capes. It’s nothing like the team they sent to kill or apprehend you. These are people who have entire regions under their control, ones who can level cities if ordered to.”

I frowned. “Sounds like the kind of capes we want handling the Entity situation.”

“Maybe. Or maybe not.” His tone darkened for a moment. “I was notified of my transfer to this task force just half a month ago, so I don’t have a solid grasp on their dynamic yet. I’d tell you more if I could…” He hesitated. “But I’m under psychic binding.”

That caught my attention. “Psychic binding? Seriously?” I stared at him, trying to see if he was joking. He wasn’t. “This is surprising. I didn’t think the SRC would rely on something like that. They can already enforce compliance with threats of the Box, or public pressure, or plain societal control… But psychic binding? What’s next, bombs implanted in your heads?”

Guesswork chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “Power-based bombs,” he said with a sly grin.

I was speechless. That was… hardcore. Even for them. Power-based bombs, the kind designed to tear you apart if you disobey by using the activation of someone’s powers. The only time I’d ever encountered something close to that was with Light’s feat of electrokinesis. A self-triggering destruction mechanism, fueled by Light’s thoughts. It was the ultimate leash.

I exhaled slowly, letting the realization sink in. “So they really don’t trust anyone with this.”

“Can you blame them?” Guesswork said quietly. “The Entity was… different. I’ve been digging old reports and testimonies from agents who survived encounter with the Entity. I got nothing, man… Just lots of redacted data. I can tell, the SRC is getting very paranoid, though…”

“Paranoia keeps people alive,” I muttered. “At least for a while.”

He nodded and then stretched a little. “That’s all I can tell you for now.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.” He gave me a half-smile as he left the door for the elevator. His hand lingered on the handle, his voice lowering to a rare seriousness. “Be careful, Nick. You’ll have to lie low like your life depends on it. Do your best to act normal, whatever normal means for you. Watch out, okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Just go and make yourself useful.”

The elevator doors opened with a soft ding, and Guesswork stepped inside. I stood by my doorway, watching him go. The corridor was quiet, the kind of silence that belonged to places people only pretended to live in. I hoped that wasn’t the case.

“Try not to set anything on fire,” Guesswork said with a smirk just before the doors slid shut.

I gave him a look that said ‘very funny’. He chuckled, as if pleased with himself, before pressing the button for the ground floor.

That was when a door across the hall opened.

Out walked a woman in pink tiger-pattern pajamas, her brown hair tied up messily. She froze when she saw me, then sighed, as if the universe itself had pulled a cruel prank she’d already expected.

“Of course, it’s you,” said Amelia Morose, AKA Tigress. Her voice was laced with tired irony. “It looks like life has a way to just shit on you…”

I was speechless for a moment, my mind catching up to the absurdity. Amelia Morose, once one of the SRC’s attack dogs, standing barefoot in hallway slippers, a cup of instant noodles in one hand.

Guesswork’s voice echoed faintly as the elevator doors began to close. “Ah, I forgot to tell you about her. She got demoted and kicked out of the Council of City-States. You can learn the rest of the aftermath that happened after the inci—”

The elevator shut with a metallic clunk, cutting him off mid-sentence. I had the distinct impression he did that on purpose.

Tigress groaned, muttering under her breath, “Figures.” Then, louder, she said, “So, did you eat lunch yet?”

“Yes,” I replied, still processing her presence. “But I can use a cup of coffee.”

She gave me a long, unreadable look, somewhere between resignation and amusement. Then she turned and walked back into her room, the faint smell of brewed coffee and detergent wafting out as she said over her shoulder, “Come in.”

“Sure,” I said as I followed after her. “So, how have you been?”