Chapter 128 The Man Who Guessed Too Much [Guesswork]

There were a few things in life that could motivate me. There was money, more money, and then fame. Everything else, from morality, loyalty, and heroism… Those were just tax write-offs for people who hadn’t figured out the rules of the world yet.

I’d been in arms dealing long enough to learn that life was nothing more than a supply chain. Someone needed something dead, and someone else sold them the means to do it. I just happened to be the middleman with the best instincts. Not that the SRC called me that. To them, I was an “asset.” The kind that didn’t go to prison in exchange for helping their capes get toys that actually worked. I suppose that’s what passed for mercy these days.

Let’s just say I’m a very benefit-oriented person who enjoys an unhealthy, risk-centric lifestyle. That’s why, when the opportunity to screw every casino in Deadend landed on my lap, I didn’t hesitate. Why? Simple. Because I could.

Messing with the Ten, though? That was never on my to-do list. That was the kind of job that got you vaporized or dismembered. But when the perfect opportunity presented itself, an operation sanctioned by the SRC, wrapped in official paperwork, and blessed by so many benefits, I couldn’t resist. After all, our powers were half of who we were. The other half? The meatbags we use to move our bodies around.

I was lounging at my terminal, one hand swirling my coffee, the other scratching my jaw, when Tigress’ voice broke through the background noise.

“Guesswork, what happened? You suddenly stopped talking.”

I leaned back in my chair. “Just thinking. It’s dangerous, I know. Don’t tell management.”

Tigress was still in her office attire, wearing a pencil skirt, and a look of moral constipation that only came from being a ‘hero’ forced to do government work. I might have been physically blind, but my power gave me enough of a picture to fill in the blanks. Guessing was, after all, my job and my curse.

Before I could continue, Mother’s voice cut through the comms, calm but heavy. “The comms on Eclipse’s side just died.”

A beat of silence. Tigress frowned. “Shouldn’t we send backup?”

I sighed. “No, we shouldn’t.”

Tigress snapped, “Why not? He’s one of ours, Guesswork!”

“Because,” I replied evenly, “we’re already past the point of diminishing returns. If Mrs. Mind’s pulling interference, we’re just sending more bodies for her to puppet.”

Tigress crossed her arms. I could hear the faint rustle of her sleeve fabric. “You’re a coward.”

“No,” I said, finishing the last of my coffee, “I’m a realist. There’s a difference. I like being alive to regret my decisions.”

Mother stood beside the console, her voice still soft, like velvet hiding knives. “Light will find us soon. We should go.”

Mother had been open in her intel, going so far as to share her past with the rest of the team. Of course, only John and I were brave enough to take her up on the offer of seeing it through her eyes. I’d met telepaths before, and none of them came close to the finesse Mother had. Most telepaths were clumsy artists, scribbling over your thoughts with heavy strokes, but she was a sculptor, chipping away gently, revealing truths you didn’t even know you had.

“We can’t leave this place,” I said, adjusting the static-ridden frequency of our emergency radio. “As random as this shack in the middle of lawless is, it’s the best shot we’ve got at staying off the radar. If we move, we’re dead. Light’s going to find us the moment we breathe in a populated area.”

Tigress crossed her arms, still wearing her SRC field jacket over a crisp white blouse. “You’re assuming he’s looking for us.”

I chuckled under my breath. “No, Tigress, I’m assuming he’s thorough. There’s a difference.”

The broken television by the corner suddenly flickered on. Static danced for a few seconds before a grainy news anchor appeared, voice trembling beneath the weight of catastrophe.

“Breaking news. A massive assault has been reported in the heart of SRC Central. The mysterious cape described as a man made of lightning has torn through multiple defensive layers, including capes from the Council of City-States dispatched to assist. Among the confirmed casualties are Solaris, Titanplate, and Maiden Vex… three of the Council’s own heavy hitters.”

The footage that followed was chaos, blurred by interference, but still enough to see smoldering ruins and arcs of blue-white energy cutting through the night sky.

“Holy shit,” Tigress whispered. “That’s… that’s him?”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “That’s Light. Or as Mother calls him—‘Ning.’”

Mother stood by the doorway, her back straight. Her silence was heavier than the news broadcast. She didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. The faint telepathic hum around her was like a pulse; her mind was moving faster than any of us could process.

“I have to admit,” I said, rubbing my chin, “Eclipse is a piece of work. Leaving those coordinates behind… he might as well have signed Light’s hunting license. I’m impressed. Cold-blooded, brilliant, and efficient. He didn’t just buy us time… he made sure the SRC would burn part of itself just to slow Light down. Or I’d dare say, try as they might to kill him.”

Tigress frowned. “Don’t talk about it like that. People died.”

“People always die,” I said softly, eyes on the TV. “The difference is whether they matter.”

John would’ve said something to scold me. He wasn’t here. That thought lingered for a moment longer than I wanted it to.

The TV hissed again before losing signal entirely. For a few seconds, the only sound was the wind scraping through the gaps in the wooden walls. Mother finally turned to us, eyes distant, voice quiet.

“He only wants me,” she said. “If we separate ways and run now, he might not follow the rest of you.”

Tigress slammed her hand on the table, shaking the dust off it. “No. We stay. That’s final. We’ve run enough already.”

There was a reason why Mother could sound so calm in the middle of this insanity. It wasn’t confidence born out of arrogance. Instead, it was precision and calculated certainty. She’d seen too much to be uncertain about anything.

After enough analysis and, well, guessing, I’d managed to piece together a rough outline of how her powers actually worked. Most people thought she was just a precog… one of those ‘I see the future, fear me’ types. But after experiencing her telepathy firsthand, I knew that wasn’t even scratching the surface.

From what I’d gathered, she could translocate her existence across time from the past, present, and future. In total, she could exist in three states. I couldn’t pin down all the details, but I had a hunch about one critical mechanism that connected them: her death.

If she died in her past state, that version of her would gain a vision up to the moment of death. Eclipse mentioned something similar before, how they once shared that vision together. If she died in her present state, she regenerated with a new body, something I’d seen myself in SRC’s archived footage. But if she died in her future state... then that was it. No coming back. No more visions. Just the end.

I leaned against the table, staring at the flickering TV. The signal was weak, but with a little help from my powers, I coaxed it back to life as I moved and slapped it around. Finally, the screen steadied, showing a burning cityscape, lightning arcing across shattered skyscrapers, and people screaming in the streets.

The news anchor’s trembling voice narrated the devastation:

“The unidentified cape, now referred to as Light, has torn through yet another defense line. Civilian casualties are in the hundreds. Heroes from multiple City-States are presumed dead. No known containment method has worked.”

My gut turned cold. I looked at Mother, whose expression hadn’t changed at all.

“You planned this,” I said slowly, my guesses beginning to connect. “Light rampaging around like this… it’s part of the plan, isn’t it?”

Tigress turned to me, fear already crawling into her voice. “What are you talking about?”

I ignored her and kept my eyes on the TV. “It’s to trigger more pulls.”

The words left my mouth before I could stop them. My chest tightened. I remembered my own pull with the blinding pain, and the rewriting of reality that carved my power into existence. That first spark of madness that made me into Guesswork.

Light wasn’t just breaking things. He was remaking them.

Mother smiled faintly, the kind of smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Eclipse will definitely kill me after this,” she said softly. “But the important thing is… I did my part.”

I blinked. “You want to die.”

“But what about Missive?” Tigress asked, desperation clawing at her words. “Isn’t she your daughter?”

Mother didn’t flinch. “If I only wanted to escape Light’s clutches, I could have done it long ago. But after everything I’ve seen…” She hesitated. For the first time, her tone cracked, just a little. “I couldn’t leave her a world built only on suffering and death.”

She turned back toward us. “Missive will live. Eclipse will spare her. He always spares people he ‘feels’ didn’t do him wrong.”

Tigress frowned. “I don’t understand…”

I did. My mind was racing ahead, pulling the threads together faster than I could form the words. “The end of the world,” I muttered. “Light came from the future, didn’t he? He came back to build something… to prepare a team strong enough to face what’s coming.”

Mother’s eyes met mine, and for a second, I felt that same sensation from her telepathy, like falling through her memories.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “Right now, the highest-rated cape in the world barely reaches a twelve. Maybe a thirteen. That won’t be enough for what’s coming. The future isn’t a paradise… it’s a massacre. The return of the Dark Ages of superpowers… but worse.”

The TV flickered again, then went black. The room was swallowed by silence.

“Where’s Missive?” The voice wasn’t in the room. It was in my earpiece, cold, calm, and crackling with faint electricity.

My breath froze in my throat. I didn’t need to guess who it was.

It was Light.

Among the task force, only a handful of us knew where we were hiding: those who were in this room and Wormhole. Right now, Wormhole should’ve been with Healtouch. They were supposed to be our lifeline, healing injured SRC soldiers or capes, and opening escape routes if things went sideways.

So when a wormhole suddenly ripped open right in the middle of the room, my first thought wasn’t relief. It was dread.

The air shimmered, and Light stepped out of it, dragging a man by his hair. The man’s clothes were torn, his face bloodied and half-swollen beyond recognition. I recognized him only because of the tacky suit… It was Wormhole.

In Light’s other hand dangled a limp body, a woman with a scorched face and smoldering body. Healtouch. Dead.

Light dropped her to the floor without ceremony. The wormhole behind him closed like an eyelid, sealing our last chance to run.

My earpiece crackled once before burning out, the same as Tigress’s and Mother’s. The smell of fried circuits hit fast. We ripped them off before they could melt through.

Light’s gaze swept the room, cold and sharp as lightning through fog. “Missive,” he said. “What’s happening to you? Why do you look different? Your eyes… they’ve got more fire in them.”

Mother stood still, shoulders drawn tight. Slowly, she lifted a knife and pressed it against the side of her neck. “My name’s Mother,” she said evenly. “Missive is asleep.”

Light tilted his head, almost amused. “Great,” he said. “A split personality. Just what I needed.”

Her tone didn’t waver. “Don’t test me, Light. You want this body… that’s why you’ve been chasing me so desperately. You think you can amplify your powers through me. What do you think happens if I take myself out of the equation?”

The room went silent, save for Wormhole’s shallow, pained gasps on the floor. My heart was beating way too fast for someone who made a living guessing outcomes, but even I couldn’t calculate a good one here.

We needed Wormhole alive. He was the only ticket out of this nightmare if we survived long enough to use him.

Light didn’t move for a moment. His expression was unreadable, but I caught it, the faint tension in his jaw, the flash of worry that passed behind his eyes. “What makes you think,” he said slowly, “that I need your body to elevate myself?”

Mother pressed harder. A thin line of red beaded along her skin. Light’s composure barely held, but I saw the brief and human crack in the godlike mask.

He took a step forward, then stopped. His voice was sharp enough to cut through the air. “Fine,” he said, almost daring her. “Go ahead. Do it. I dare you.”