Chapter 15

Southland redefined slums.

These weren't buildings requiring a fresh coat of paint to fix. Standing in front of the stoop, I noted the stairs themselves were crooked, the concrete broken. If not for the rebar holding it together, they'd have fallen off. The door leading into the building sat ajar, askew to the point it wouldn't shut, let alone lock.

"Within the law?" I shouldn't complain when my building's maintenance crew shut down the elevator for repairs. Next time I found the staff replacing lightbulbs, I'd be sure to give them a generous bonus.

The owner of the building had received a phone call earlier tonight from a prospective developer. If I had timed things right, he'd be knocking on the door of the superintendent, excited that he was about to receive a massive payday. I could have found his home address and threatened his life there, but this made it poetic. Meeting them here allowed me to kill two birds with one stone. Figuratively speaking, of course.

An older woman shouldered the door, using her body weight to push it open. I jumped up the steps, holding it open for her. In true Southland fashion, she flinched, expecting trouble.

She gave me the once-over. When she decided I wasn't a threat, she reached into her breast pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

"Are you lost?"

"Not at all." She held out the pack, offering me a cigarette. I politely refused. "I wanted to inspect the building."

"For?"

"I've heard that the landlord?—"

"Is a bastard? A fucking useless piece of trash? Then you heard right."

"Tell me how you really feel."

She lit her cigarette, taking a long drag. Her mouth hung open as if she were about to speak but decided on another puff. "It's the city's fault the water is brown. He blames our hygiene for the roaches. That asshole acts like the residents are the problem."

"Sounds about right," I said.

"Nancy," she extended her hand. If given the opportunity, I'm sure she'd be the first to help me bury the owner's body. I gave her a polite shake.

"The only problem we are…" She leaned in as if she were about to share a dark secret. "We refuse to leave. He wants to demolish my home? He can kiss my ass."

I commended her stubbornness. By not conceding, she continuously stuck it to the owner. This firecracker knew how to be a thorn in somebody's side. But having seen the building, I had a single question.

"Why not leave? Surely there are better places."

"I grew up here. When my parents got sick, I moved in to take care of them. Now that they're gone…" She took another drag. "My job doesn't pay enough for the nice places downtown. It's hell, but it's my hell."

"I see."

That sealed the deal. I reached inside my trench coat, and she held her hands up as if I were about to spring a gun. I pulled out a card and handed it to her.

"What the hell?"

"Nancy, if you need a job, call my people. I like a stubborn woman."

I could see her prepare a scathing remark, rebutting what sounded like a pickup line. She scanned the card and thought better of it. Her eyes narrowed, rereading the small text.

"You're…"

"Yes," I said, stepping inside, "I am."

If I thought the exterior needed maintenance, the interior looked as if it were a war zone. More paint had chipped to the floor than remained on the wall. The lights dangled overhead, suspended by a single wire. For whatever reason, the owner had circumvented being condemned. At any moment, the cracks would reach the ceiling, and its occupants would be buried under rubble. The media would descend, and yet, city hall would shrug, saying it was nothing more than an unexpected tragedy.

I could see why Won-Ho donated his time to these people. While he searched for a legal way to rectify the situation, I wasn't feeling as generous. I needed to explore my powers if I was going to take on Sentinel. If doing so aided Won-Ho, then I'd consider it an evening well spent.

The smoke spread along the floorboards, creeping up the walls until the hallway was bathed in shadow. I turned to see the woman's eyes had gone wide, the cigarette hanging for dear life from her bottom lip. The space had all but vanished, consumed by the smoke. As it crushed the dangling lightbulb, I vanished into the void.

It didn't surprise me that the superintendent had taken the rear apartment of the building as his payment. It also came as no surprise that the door looked as if it belonged in front of a safe. The men on the other side feared the combined might of the residents, otherwise they wouldn't be hiding like cowards. Their heated exchange was loud enough that I could almost make out their argument.

There was no point in stealth. Half the fun came from their desperation.

The smoke worked its way through the cracks, and with a jerk of the hand, the door tore off its frame. I flooded the room with darkness, covering the windows and smashing all but a single overhead bulb. Was it overkill? Absolutely. I liked to indulge in the dramatic from time to time. As Clint would say, I was being extra.

"What the hell?"

Two slender men stood in the living room. Compared to the exterior and hallways, this was the lap of luxury. Tacky, yes, but at least the paint didn't fall from the walls. The one on the left wore a t-shirt and jeans, while the other had a cheap suit. The suit might as well be a walking cliche. White dress shirt, top three buttons open and complete with a gold chain. I only need for him to?—

"And there's the gun," I laughed. He pulled a gun from the back of his pants. It'd have been easy enough to let the shadows consume him. He needed to believe he stood a chance before I claimed my victory.

I stepped into the hovel, taking in the white leather couch and oversized flat-screen television. Everything in the room screamed gauche. I wanted to ask if he had found his decor from a 90s furniture liquidation sale. The amount of gold accent would give my interior designer a heart attack. The superintendent understood it wasn't actual gold, right? I suspected he might not.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

All three bullets vanished into the shadows covering my chest. An actual thug wouldn't use a .22 trying to kill a super. The impact barely registered. His suit was all glitz and glamour. To a commoner, he might appear well off, but real money knew a knockoff from a mile away.

The superintended tried to make for the window. The shadows held it in place. There was no escaping, not for these men. They believed themselves untouchable as they forced the residents into a life of squalor. My appearance wasn't for the sake of charity. Their ability to operate within the law kept Won-Ho busy. This meant being occupied and not free to see me.

"What do you want?" asked the suit.

"Nothing."

"I can pay."

I laughed. The shadows about my body receded until I stood on the opposite side of the living room beneath the single bulb. Which would they fear more? A monster made of shadows, or a ruthless businessman.

"Fuck," the suit said.

"What?" asked the super.

"It's Damien Vex." He fired. The shadows washed about me, deflecting the bullets. He continued pulling the trigger despite the empty clicking. He understood. There was nothing within his power he could offer that I couldn't take myself. This was the moment I waited for.

Fear set in.

"What—whatever you want." The suit tried to barter for his life while the super searched for an exit. I nearly scoffed when he hurled himself against the window. He bounced off the shadows, landing on the couch and rolling to the floor. It'd be comical if it weren't pathetic.

I stomped on the floor, causing a ripple of spikes to shoot upward. The super's body jerked as half a dozen spires punctured his body. There was no death cry, no screams of pain, just a twitching body making its peace with death. The suit looked down at his dead conspirator. He had been spared the impaling, but it was enough to relieve him of his bladder.

"No. No. No," he begged. "What do you want?"

What did I want? I wanted to lighten Won-Ho's load. No pun intended. I wanted to occupy his time. Somewhere beneath the self-serving motivation, I suppose I also wanted these wretched residents to not fear for their homes. Did self-motivation that served the masses make me a good person? I'd still barter with the devil for entry into hell.

"Your life."

I sped forward, dropping to a knee and grabbing him by the ankle. The shadows wrapped around us, sending us into the void. He screamed. In the peaceful nothingness, this pitiful excuse for a human whined and flailed. When the shadows vanished, we stood on the building's roof. Upside down, I lifted him into the air and moved to the edge of the roof.

"I'll give you whatever you?—"

Without fanfare, I tossed him from the building. His screams echoed as he sped toward the pavement. Glancing up and down the street, there didn't appear to be a hero nearby to save him. Pity.

I fell backward, teleporting through the shadows. I stepped out of the darkness onto the stoop. The woman had indulged in another cigarette, her eyes following the owner as he descended. The screaming ended abruptly as he smashed into the asphalt.

"Good riddance," she muttered under her breath. I liked Nancy. She glanced back as the shadows washed away from my skin. "But it solves nothing."

My problem had vanished, bones pulverized by gravity. Hers, on the other hand, remained. The building would go through the courts. By the time they announced it to the next of kin or a business partner, chances were we'd be dead. I hadn't considered it since I murdered the man.

"Still interested in a job?"

"Who's asking?"

She flicked the cigarette into the street. It nearly hit the puddle of blood forming around the heap of broken flesh. I appreciated a woman who didn't flinch at a little bloodshed. I bet Geoff would have screamed. I'm sure if he stayed my assistant long enough, we'd find out.

"The new owner."

"Going to throw me off the roof?"

"Actually, I stabbed the super through the chest."

She reached into her breast pocket and produced another cigarette. With a flick of the lighter, she took a long drag. "Free rent and a stipend."

"Bartering already?" I really liked Nancy.

"I ain't a fool."

"Call my office. We'll iron out the details. It's going to take a significant investment to get this building up to par."

Now, her eyes went wide. I took offense at her surprise. With the amount I'd save stealing the building from a dead man, I'd have leftover funds for improvements. I wouldn't have my real estate portfolio tarnished by this hovel.

"Best get going, boss." She pointed down the street toward the approaching sirens.

"What will you tell them?"

She exhaled, blowing smoke above her head. "Looks mighty windy tonight."

Look out, Geoff, Nancy could be my new assistant.

I leaned backward, falling into the shadows. Through the void, I stepped out and into my living room, the smoke fading with every step. At the bar cart, I popped the cork on the whisky and poured myself a glass. Tonight had been a delightful blend of flexing my abilities and doing good for the city. Sure, there was a trail of bodies, but when wasn't that the case? Of course, it had the added benefit of freeing Won-Ho from this all-consuming predicament.

Standing at the window, I watched over the city, my city. I took a sip. "You're welcome, Vanguard."

* * *

It had been hours since my charity outing. It had been ages since I sat at home and enjoyed a quiet night to myself. The downside of running a multi-million-dollar corporation is that I never had a moment of peace. It was refreshing to sample whisky from across the globe. It gave me time to indulge in my favorite hobby, plotting the death of Bernard Castle.

On the wall of my office, an overhead projector displayed every detail I had about the former Centurion. To one side were the newspaper clippings of his so-called heroic deeds. Stopping the Wolf Pack. Rescuing residents from a burning building. Even his feature in the Beacon as Bernard Castle. I thought revealing his identity would force him into hiding. I hadn't anticipated the brute had enough charisma to stay the golden child of Vanguard.

"Ass," I mumbled.

On the other side were the less than legal documents. I had recruited a few techs at Vex Industries to scour the dark web for details on the man. Mortgage paperwork. Credit card statements. Even the man's text messages. They had been what led me to the businesses he frequented, his homes away from home. If knowledge was power, I stood like a god.

Reaching into the light, I moved some documents to the side. As Sentinel, he had been the anchor that held the Centurions together. I double-tapped a picture until it zoomed and filled the wall. He stood next to Carmen LaToya inside Centurion HQ. Did he understand he had spent years working beside a criminal more dangerous than myself? I didn't know how that would be useful, but with her determination to threaten heroes, I'd find a way to weaponize his friendship.

"I am going to end you."

The air in my study vibrated. Somewhere behind me, company had arrived. I looked at the reflection in the empty glass of whisky on my desk. I couldn't make out the figure, but I recognized the remnants of blue light. There wasn't time to hide the wall of obsession, as Doc kindly put it.

"Are we going to need to discuss boundaries?"

"Yes," Won-Ho said. "Yes, we are."

The anger seeped into his voice. I couldn't imagine why he came in here with that tone? If anything, I expected him to offer thanks for making his life easier.

He stepped behind me, reaching around and tossing a manilla folder on my desk. Feeling his body touch mine, I had to refrain from leaning back. Papers slid across my desk, and I recognized a photo of the woman from the stoop. I wanted to ask what she had listed as her complaints. Best to know the mind of my newest hire.

I turned around, Won-Ho only inches from my face. It wasn't anger I noticed, so much as disappointment. What about my actions warranted anything but appreciation? I'd need more information to connect his emotional dots.

"Out with it."

"I got a phone call. The defendant was on the roof, and a strong gust of wind sent him to his death?"

"How horrible."

"Might not have been suspicious if not for the super's door ripped off its hinges and stabbed a dozen times."

"He wasn't free of blame, not by a long shot."

Won-Ho shook his head. "I know."

I couldn't tell if he was angry that I did it, or angry that I swept the case off his desk. Is this how Clint felt when we talked over his head? Not being able to follow somebody's train of thought was rather infuriating. Maybe I'd have to be nicer to the simpleton.

"I need to know why."

I wanted to reach out and put my hand on his chest. Being this close and not touching seemed awkward. In the middle of a conversation about boundaries, I shouldn't violate his space… but when did I follow social conventions? I reached out, hesitating as my palm approached his cheek. He leaned into it, the stubble of his cheek scraping along my fingers.

"Power is meant to be wielded."

"Power corrupts."

"My corruption happened long before I had power."

"I know," he said. "I've seen your corruption first hand."

My bravado faltered. "You didn't have a case. I didn't want to see you lose."

"I don't lose. He'd have rotted behind bars." His words weren't bragging. I'd have sussed out if he were lying. Won-Ho would have decimated the man in the courtroom.

"Now…" His hand moved to the side of my neck, giving it a firm squeeze. "Tell me the real reason."

His words bordered on a threat. With his hand pressed against my neck, he could pull me closer or throw me aside. I only had a split second to decide my course of action. Play it off with a whimsical comment, or admit the selfish reason behind my actions. How did one say they wanted more attention without sounding like a whining puppy?

His eyes had softened. I suspected he knew the reason, but it didn't make it any less juvenile. If anything, I felt transparent, and that was not something I'd usually say about myself.

"Now…" I hated emotions. "Your plate isn't full."

An eyebrow rose ever-so-slightly. "Damien Vex, did you murder a man to get my attention?"

"Technically, two."

The strength in his hand surprised me as he pulled me forward. Won-Ho's lips pressed against mine. My insecurities vanished as I forgot what we had been talking about. The tip of his tongue touched mine, and I savored every moment. He held the back of my head, holding me in place. I wrapped my arms around his chest, sharing the sentiment.

When he stepped forward, he pinned me to the desk. His kissing held a vigor to it, a need I found infectious. Every action spoke of longing. As I held his bottom lip between my teeth, I wanted to push that feeling aside until it transformed into belonging.

"I wanted more of you." The words came out in a whisper. I couldn't be any more honest, not without my identity faltering. But if dropping my guard gave him solace, I'd at least try.

"You could have asked."

"Not quite my style," I admitted.

"There will be more cases."

"Anybody that needs exterminating?"

His forehead pressed against mine. I wanted to tear the t-shirt off his body, followed by the button of his jeans. The passion of his kissing would be chaste compared to what I had in mind. I wanted to hear him moan without restraint, giving himself the pleasure I suspected he denied himself.

"Demented, but sweet." The words were soft. I could feel the muscle in his face pull his lip back in a smirk. "While I appreciate you killing three assholes on my behalf, the cup of coffee was enough."

"Duly noted."

He leaned back, letting his hand slide to my chest. His eyes darted back and forth as he studied the wall. If we were going to have an honest moment, he might as well be privy to my obsession. It wasn't a guarded secret, or at least that's what Doc told me during every therapy session.

"Should I be jealous?"

"What I intend for him is the antithesis of what I want to do to you."

He ignored the bait. "And if I eliminated your obstacle?"

Not what I expected to hear. "No." Even if done on my behalf, I wouldn't have somebody rob me of the satisfaction. Nobody would stand in my way of watching the light fade from Sentinel's eyes.

"Now you understand."

Dammit. He didn't object to my passion project, but he made it clear that he'd respect my wishes. I'd need to do the same.

"Next time I want to see you, I'll ask."

He nodded, giving the side of my face a pat. "I told you, I'm good at my job."

"Well played."

He gave me a quick kiss before stepping back. "You have my attention, Damien Vex. Against all logic, you have my attention. It seems I'll be free tomorrow afternoon should your schedule allow it."

Before I could respond, the dragon spun about his body, and he vanished. I wanted to ask him to spend the night, to get naked and let me ravish his body. It seemed things were moving forward, but not at my accustomed pace. Perhaps my inability to push things was half the appeal. Even if we moved forward, there remained an impenetrable barrier. It'd be impossible to move beyond his guilt until he had an honest conversation with himself.

I picked up the glass, frustrated it was empty. I'd need another if I were going to continue thinking about a thing with Won-Ho. This remained unfamiliar territory, and it'd require far more Scotch than I owned.