"'Fate' is going to 'humble' me… I've been getting 'cocky'. Why the hell did I even think of that shit at all?!" Nicholas cursed as he thought back to all the recent events. Huff-
His phone had been stolen by an awakened kid, whose name coincided with his brother's name, he had chased after said kid for almost two hours as well. Then he encountered his best friend and had Philip cover for him, he already felt awful about it. Then he discovered the thief resided in Fusionight City's local VilZone, home to who knows how many Villains and Criminals. Then he foolishly decided to step in wearing Nicholas Darklight's casual clothes and his signature mask as Unknown. Huff- Then inside the Vilzone he had fought about a dozen Villains, half of them were wimps but the other half? Those were out for blood. Then when he finally found the thief, he had to fight the damn kid potentially emotionally scarring him in the process. After which he fought, you guessed it, yet another awakened and his two goons. Only this one was not a pain in the ass but a pain in the head. Get it? After that, he then had to fight an awakened, no normie, serial killer on Friday the 13th. Huff- At least he could take solace that the demon, as they called him, was not awakened. However, that thought quickly turned to terror as he realized how much more dangerous Gin would, no will, be after he awakens. Because let's face it, knowing his luck or rather how much Fate enjoys messing with him, Gin will awaken sooner or later. Hell, he might even laugh to death if the demon awakens this very day. Then he discovered that he was not the only one that possessed the power of Darkness, the thought both unnerved him and strangely brought some sort of peace. He also thought about the police officer's kid. Ethan Blackbourne. He didn't have much time to think about it before, but that was the same officer who arrested, erm, detained him after he was found in an alley after the whole circus incident. Huff- He once again believed Fate was playing a dangerous game. Apparently, their fathers were close at one point or another, but are not anymore. Is Fate trying to foreshadow something? If so it can go and screw itself, for all he cared. Then, after having escorted the two civilians to safety, hopefully, he faced off against a blood-lusted Demon that nearly killed him. Oh and of course a whole floor fell on him, again. And just before he could die, he was saved by a mysterious person, whom he now believes to be The Mind. He was in said person's lair, completing various puzzles and riddles with the demon that tried to, should it be said again? Tried to kill him. Now he was in the ventilation trying to make sense of it all. Huff-
This was all without even mentioning the horrific—yet strangely kind(?)—creature he had stumbled upon in the maze not too long ago. He wondered how Philip was holding up.
Shit. Now that he thought about it, how was he going to explain everything that had happened? He couldn't just show up in front of his friend covered in blood, could he? Philip knew he got into fights—he always came out of them with some bruises—but this much blood? That was new. Should he come clean? Tell him everything?
No. He wouldn't. If he could, he'd prefer to keep it hidden for the rest of his life. But deep down, he knew he wouldn't have that luxury. Huff—
Bet Ultimus never has to deal with shit like this. Or Slash Draw, for that matter. Or that ungrateful Charles…! Ugh. He had the sudden urge to slam his head into something.
Huff—
…There was also that annoying sound. Like a dog panting, out of breath.
Where was it coming from? He glanced ahead, then behind, breath shaky.
Nothing. No sign of life.
He peered down through the vent, spotting guards lounging around, chatting, looking completely fine. No exhaustion, no strain.
Then he noticed something strange. His chest was rising and falling way too fast.
He pressed a hand against his heart—and nearly yelped at how violently it was pounding.
What the hell? He tried to take a deep breath—only for it to come out in short, shallow gasps.
It was only then that he realized.
He was the one hyperventilating.
Oh.
That was all he could think of as he tried to steady himself.
Why… why was this happening? It wasn't exhaustion, was it? Sure, he had overexerted himself more than ever before. Sure, he hadn't had anything to eat or drink since… God knows when. And yeah, now that he thought about it—he hadn't even pissed.
If not exhaustion, then what was it?
Fear.
A cold, familiar voice slammed the word into his brain like a hammer against glass.
Fear? He scoffed. What the hell did he have to be afraid of? He had been in life-or-death situations more times than any normal person should. But then again, that was just his luck, wasn't it?
So what if someone tried to kill him just because he supposedly brought 'bad luck'?
So what if he had to fight off thugs with his life—and his best friends' lives—on the line?
So what if he nearly died trying to help some wannabe hero control their electric powers?
So what if he almost burned alive because of a so-called hero's careless mistake?
So what if he was nearly flattened by a bus flying through the air?
So what if he fell from a goddamn skyscraper or almost got torn apart by a guy who could control the weather?
So what if he barely survived fighting a monster that wanted to eat him—along with dozens of innocent people?
So what if he had to take on actual killers and the infamous Demon of the Underworld, just to get his damn phone back?
So what if he was kidnapped, with who knows what happened to him while he was unconscious, nearly dying multiple times entertaining a madman's perverse obsession with watching people struggle for their lives in mind games?
So what?
That was only a handful of times he should have died.
But he didn't.
So why—why—was it affecting him this much? Why did he feel like he could pass out at any second?
… Who was he trying to fool? Really.
He knew the truth. He was scared, terrified, and the only way he was coping with it was by pushing it all down, forcing himself to ignore it.
But he knew that wouldn't last forever. It would come back to bite him in the ass. He just prayed it wasn't happening right now.
Nicholas bit his cheek, the sharp sting pulling him back to the problem at hand. Right. I need to slow down my breathing. He forced himself to inhale deeply, then exhale at a steady pace. Slowly, his heartbeat began to settle.
Moving carefully through the vents, he scanned the rooms below until he spotted exactly what he needed.
A bathroom.
"Thank you, God," he whispered, dropping down into an empty stall.
A long sigh left him as he finally—finally—relieved himself. The moment of peace was short-lived, though, as his mind quickly shifted back to his current situation. He flexed his fingers, staring down at his hands. "I should use this time wisely… but, I should really wash my hands."
Hearing no sounds of movement, he assumed the coast was clear and stepped out to find a sink. As he scrubbed his hands, he took a moment to appreciate his surroundings.
"Huh. They have soap here. And this bathroom ain't half bad… Oh God." His hands froze under the running water. "I didn't stumble into the women's bathroom, did I?"
His question was answered immediately.
Two men wearing masks—eerily similar to the Mind's—walked in, chatting casually. The moment they spotted him, they lunged.
Nicholas barely had time to react before one tried to grab his legs while the other aimed for his stomach. Instinct took over. He kicked the first guy in the face, sending him crashing into a stall, then delivered a brutal punch to the second guy's face.
"Usually… I dislike violence, but right now? I'm feeling g—"
A groan cut him off.
"Ew! Why is my face wet?!" The guy he punched yelled, frantically wiping at his skin.
The other one, still dazed but amused, started laughing.
Nicholas felt his face heat up with embarrassment. "Oi! It's water! I just washed my hands!"
The two men exchanged a look, clearly unconvinced, but neither seemed eager to continue fighting.
Nicholas hesitated. Do I knock them out? He wasn't usually the type to attack unless provoked, but leaving them conscious could be a risk.
After a moment, he furrowed his brows and came up with an alternative. "Hand over your phones."
The two, now slumped against the wall, exchanged another glance before surprisingly complying. Nicholas took the devices and, without hesitation, formed a gauntlet around his fist. With one swift motion, he crushed them both.
"Well that's just—"
"Uncalled for."
One started, the other finished.
Nicholas ignored them, turning toward the door. He summoned a small flame, pressing it against the metal where the door met the frame. Within moments, the heat fused the lock, effectively trapping them inside.
That left only two possible exits: the vent or brute force. Nicholas figured neither would be an easy option.
"Sorry," he muttered, glancing at the shattered remains of their phones before climbing back into the vent.
The two grunts sat in stunned silence, staring after him.
"Well, fuck me, I guess…"
The other let out a low whistle. "Well, if you're offering."
"…What?"
"…What."
***
After a little while, Nicholas managed to find the room with dozens of monitors once more. This time, however, it was empty.
Meaning this time, he could properly investigate.
He dropped down from the vent—though he miscalculated the landing and hit the floor hard. Groaning, he lay there for a few seconds before dragging himself up.
He took a few unsteady steps forward, only to nearly trip over his own feet. He barely managed to catch himself by grabbing onto the desk.
"Huh. Guess I'm a lot more tired than I thought," he muttered.
His eyes scanned the desk. Everything was neatly organized, not a single paper out of place. Then, his gaze landed on a phone, a wallet, and a single pair of keys.
"Oh shit."
He could physically feel his eyes widen as recognition slammed into him. That was his stuff.
Nicholas snatched up the keys and checked his wallet. His cash was still there—not much, but enough to be relieved.
"For once, I'm really glad I'm a minor…" He exhaled. Since he wasn't 18 yet, he wasn't required to carry an ID. At least that meant they hadn't figured out his full identity.
Next, he grabbed his phone, noticing it was wired to one of the monitors. He unplugged it and turned the screen on, quickly checking through everything. The monitors displayed a pitifully small contact list:
-Dad
-Brother
-P.P.
-Pinky
-Degenerate One
-Degenerate Two
-Scary Lady
-WWE Teacher
-Ice Queen
Nicholas let out a breath of relief. "Thank God I gave everyone nicknames."
Better yet, he didn't use social media and had his photo gallery locked behind a separate password.
"Ha! And they told me I was crazy!" He grinned smugly. See? His paranoia had saved him. He was going to be insufferable about this later.
He then proceeded to delete any information of his that still might have been saved onto this computer.
"Looks like my identity is safe for now," he muttered, before his legs finally gave out.
Just this once, he would rest.
He lay down on the floor, letting exhaustion creep in. His body ached, his head pounded, and for the first time since this hellish night began, he considered staying put for just a little longer.
But then—
Wait, shit.
His eyes snapped open.
He still had people to save.
"I can't rest yet. There still might be hostages… and Gin that need help."
Nicholas sat up quickly, scanning the other monitors. Only one person showed up on the feed—Gin.
He sighed. At least that meant there weren't more hostages to worry about.
Just as he was about to leave, a voice—his voice, but colder—whispered in the back of his mind.
Why not leave him?
Nicholas tensed.
The demon will be fine without you. Even if you save him, he'll stab you in the back. He said it himself.
His fists clenched.
God, I want to leave.
He could already picture it. Home. A shower. Fresh clothes. A hot, unreasonably large meal.
But could he really walk away?
"...Can I leave him?" His voice was barely above a whisper.
He knew he could. He wanted to. Despite everything, he knew Gin could handle himself. He didn't owe the guy anything.
And yet.
If I don't help, I won't be able to sleep at night.
Hell, he probably wouldn't be able to look at himself in the mirror ever again.
A humorless chuckle slipped out. "Man… it almost feels selfish to think like that, doesn't it?"
He shook his head, stepping out of the room. "So that's it, huh? I'm just a really selfish person."
He smiled bitterly.
"Man, how shitty can I be?"
With that, he moved forward.