Lately, I've been having this dream.
It starts simple as it always does. I know this dream like I know myself, in and out and around. I thought I got rid of it. I guess not.
I am a child, small and happy and naive. I am holding my mother's hand as we walk along a winding river path. My small thumb caresses her hand. She is smiling, I am smiling. I can hear her voice, soft and honey-like, just as I like to remember it. She says something that makes me giddy, but I can't make out the words, just how they make me feel.
I can't recall the scenery very well, it's a blur of green blades of grass and the slight chill of the early spring. And yet, I remember the path, I remember how we used to walk up and down and down and up, I remember the meadows and the smell of dewy grass.
It always starts like this, soft and happy, the details fuzzy and round around the edges. It's only when I am happy that the meadows disappear, when the rivers give way to a numb darkness, that it is all taken away from me.
I am in an impossibly dark corridor, trapped frozen in the hallways of my childhood home. There is a small light coming from the kitchen. I want to leave, to walk towards the light. I am scared of this darkness.
My body moves with great reluctance, as if my mind already knows what I will see. It tries to warn me by freezing my legs, by erasing my mind, but every time I have this dream, I am stronger than it.
And so I move to stand in the doorway.
Inside, there is only a table surrounded by a soft white void.
There are no people at the table, only talking heads. There is talk of burden and finances, the words twisting and rearranging themselves until I barely understand them. But I do understand one thing. I understand my name. And so I know I am at fault.
The heads turn towards me and the looks on their faces make me step back. Their features are distorted, their skin pale, their eyes angry. It is judgement. They have judged me and know that I am to blame for their woes. But why? I can't understand it. I am a child.
I am scared.
What did I do?
They shriek, and I clutch at my small head.
My eyes snap open and I find myself laying on the couch in the psycho bitch's apartment. It's already well past sunrise, closer to noon, steady sunlight streaming into the dreary apartment. I have no idea how I got here. Did I unconsciously drag myself back home from the abandoned warehouse?
I sit up, squeezing my eyes shut for a few seconds, a dull throb behind my eyes. This fucking dream again. It's always the same thing. It's the time I found out my parents, my real parents from my past life, actually considered me a leech sucking away at their joy and freedom.
Oh how they hated me. Me. A child. I suppose six year old me was foolish to think his parents loved him.
Fucking animals.
I stretch and yawn, my body barely sore despite the harsh training. The crazy woman must've carried me back here.
I snort. She should've just let me rot there, better that than to live in this hellhole.
No, I shouldn't think like that. I should just take this as an opportunity. If she's willing to teach me and make me strong enough so I can eventually kill her, I won't complain. I've done harder things.
Speaking of, today should be the day, right? We talked about this.
Just as I'm about to go looking for her, my willowy white haired captor bursts in through the front door. She's wearing a pair of cheap sunglasses and carrying a plastic shopping bag in each hand. As always, she's grinning from ear to ear.
"I come with gifts!"
Her loose top is red, and with her white hair, there's really nothing I can do to stop myself.
"Christmas is early!" I shout.
"I know you've been naughty!" She throws one of the bags at me. Inside, there's only a small white button down shirt and a tie. Oh, and a pair of sunglasses too. "So you get coal!"
"Yea whatever man," I say. "I had coal last year. What's this for?"
"Did you already forget?"
Ah, right, today's the day I marked down. The day we sign the lease on that cornershop property. I figured a cash business would help me launder her money the easiest. At least cash is consistent, unlike crypto currency or whatever people in this world do to avoid taxes and wash money.
Finding a seller who didn't ask questions was a pain, convincing him to sell us (well, her) the property was even harder. I drafted up a script she had to memorize before she put in the initial phone call. Of course, she almost immediately threw it out the window and started with threats
It wasn't very effective, so I had to do damage control by also threatening him. My threats were better. Place I found is already shady as can get, the seller probably stole the lease or something. He most likely wants to get it off his hands as quickly as possible. Who else advertises the property as 'No questions asked'?
My main concern is that it belongs to some sort of criminal organization. But, well. I remember getting torn apart. I think it's fine with her here.
I pinch my brow. "Obviously I didn't forget. I'm asking what the shirts and ties are for. Oh, and the sunglasses. What are we doing with sunglasses?"
"We're conducting business," she says, already slipping into her own button down shirt. "We should look the part."
"We're forking over cash for a run down property on a quiet street corner." I put the sunglasses on. They're not even polarized. "Not taking part in a drug deal."
"You have no heart, little man." She grins.
"My heart is oceanically vast, yours is blackened and shriveled."
"Don't talk about my heart like that!"
"I'll talk about it however I want!"
She growls at me like some sort of animal before angrily tying her tie. He takes it off her neck and forces the still knotted tie onto my head.
"I can do my own," I say.
"You're a fugly little kid with baby fingers," she replies.
If I had more power I'd blow her to smithereens. Alas, I will be forced to endure this buffoonery for years on end. How fantastic.
After another back and forth, I finally gave in to wearing the costumes. Only after she smacked me in the back of the head again. I still think she watched some mob flick the other night and got inspired.
We arrive at the scene of the purchase clad in collared shirts and black ties, cheap sunglasses protecting us from fuck all in this cloudy weather.
The property is an empty, run down corner lot at the junction between two other buildings. Only some fifteen minutes away from the apartment and warehouse, in a quiet area of Musutafu, it's not bad real estate. It could've been a convenience store that was driven out of business, or a front for an underground gambling den. Fuck if I care, and I'm not gonna start believing anything the realtor tells me.
The man selling us the property is an old portly Japanese dude with knees that barely work and bend in strange ways. He says his quirk makes his bones soft. I try not to laugh.
"It used to be an antique shop." He walks in through the door. The space is small and smells like dust and piss. It's also incredibly dark and gloomy, the windows boarded up.
"'Course it was," she scoffs.
"My line," I whisper.
The man clears his throat, ignoring the slight. "Have you got the cash?"
"Have you got the lease?"
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. It's that sensation again. Shivers. The world connected. Up, up, into the shadows, behind the wall, behind the door. Death again.
The old man's grin is wolfish as he turns around to face us."What lease?"
I react before I see the assailants. I should've known this wouldn't be easy. In my past life, when dealing with shady business like this, I would've just had to deal with someone selling me a forged lease. Now I have to deal with criminals and scammers with quirks.
My hand flies up to my neck as the door to the back of the property flies off its hinges. But it's not my fingers that pull the pin.
She reacts before I do. And yet, instead of slashing the half a dozen men to mince meat, she pulls the pin at my neck. Why?
My answer comes in the form of a kick to the back.
"Good luck, little man."
My head explodes, and I understand the idea. I get it. I'd be an idiot not to.
She walks out the door and out of the building, turning on her heel to watch me from outside. "If you really like this place, make sure you fight clean for it. It'd be bad if you couldn't control your quirk and end up destroying it, right? Riiight?"
The six men circle around me in the small space. None of their quirks are special, from what I can tell. Two are heteromorphs, normal animal hybrids, and the rest have bats and knives, probably quirkless.
"He's just a kid." One of them looks around at his comrades. "Does that crazy bitch really want us to hurt him?"
"Money is money," the old man says.
My tormentor laughs. "And a test is a test. If you survive, I'll buy you ice-cream!"
"Fuck," I mutter, voice muffled by the warhead replacing my head. Black bomb fuses cover my arms. The men step back.
I've been played. God dammit. I should've known that nothing would ever be easy with her. She has to turn everything into a test or a cock measuring contest.
"I assume I'll get the lease if I win?"
"Not satisfied with ice-cream, boy?" The old man grins.
"I hate ice-cream."
Sparks fly.
I won't kill them.
I need this place intact.
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A/N: Erm, we didn't hit the 100million powerstone goal yesterday so I'm pulling it down to 10million! 10million ps for a bonus chapter. Christmas is here! Be grateful!
I wrote this chapter while in between sets at the gym so it's kinda all over the place but I kinda like it. Enjoy.