Chapter Text
Surprisingly enough, figuring out who actually robbed the gala only took Alex about two hours. In hindsight asking other heroes/villains was a waste of time. All it took was teleporting to the Kensington Estate where the Gala was held and threatening one of the maids. After she had gotten over her initial panic attack she was more than willing to tell him everything he needed.
Not only was she able to provide the exact location and manufacturer of the safe but she was also able to provide the names of everyone who had clearance to enter. She confirmed that the Sparrow was correct about its ability to read genetic markers and memorize heat patterns. Apparently, it actually wasn’t magic but some kind of advanced tech that the GOH bought the patent for (The maid didn’t really understand how it worked and Alex had always been useless with technology. But it didn’t usually take a deep understanding of something to break it so he was content regardless.)
Out of the six people who had been given clearance every single one had concrete alibis. Four of them were at the gala itself, one was in a Colombian prison after a CIA-ordered hit had gone wrong, and the last person had shot themselves two days prior to the heist. Hence why the GOH assumed it had to have been Alex rather than an inside job. Only someone with the ability to reassemble their vaporized molecules would be able to survive such a job. However, on further investigation, Alex discovered that one of the A-tier heroes who had been given clearance happened to have an identical twin. I.E. identical DNA.
Morgan Khahn, according to his Linkedin profile, a twenty-seven-year-old Vietnamese-Canadian software engineer from Toronto. He got his masters from the University of Toronto and works as a consultant for ACD lads. Seemingly pretty normal. However, police records told a different story. Since 2015 the guy had been a key suspect in seven high profile cases including the theft of a … and the extortion of a U.S. senator. It honestly made no sense. Why on Earth would the GOH assume it was me when this guy is literally so obviously guilty. And now that he knew who he was looking for Alex could find him pretty easily.
By the time Alex made his way over to his suspect's apartment, it was midday. The building was old with brick and thick ivy. It seemed out of place, downtown surrounded by modern houses and skyscrapers. Unfortunately, no one had come to pick up trash by the time Alex arrived, and the entire street stank. Dogwood blossoms and rotting meat. His mark lived in the basement apartment and had the door locked and bolted. Alex unlocked both from outside and quietly stepped inside.
Once inside Alex rebolted the door and located his mark. The man was on some kind of cleaning frenzy, scrubbing down every surface in his house with a sweet lemon cleaner. To be fair if my street stunk like that I would make sure my home smelled nice too. As the man’s awareness of Alex’s presence grew, Alex quickly snipped it like he was cutting a thread. Like at the Sparrow’s lair Morgan would now be able to see Alex but not notice him. Eyes slipping past never quite acknowledging.
Now free of observation Alex gave himself a tour of the apartment. You’d think that with a Master’s degree he’d be able to afford taste. Alas, the apartment was devoid of anything really interesting or beautiful. The place was technically a studio with everything in one room. However, it was shaped somewhat like an L with a pseudo-bedroom on one side and an office/living room on the other with a galley kitchen acting as a divider. The bed looked like it had been freshly covered in a well-loved comforter, and when Alex walked over he traced the navy stripes with his fingers. Across from the bed was a massive IKEA bookshelf filled to the brim with books, wires, and assorted circuit boards. On closer inspection, most of the books were non-fiction and most of the techno-whatever (Alex wouldn’t know a motherboard from a single-sided PCB if his life depended on it.), looked like it was recycled from other items.
As he walked back across the apartment Morgan was on his knees scrubbing some kind of ash or burn marks out of the floors and walls. The scrubbing had a distinct rhythm to it, only broken by Morgan stopping to put more soapy water on the brush.
Smiling Alex knelt in front of the man, staring straight into his eyes, Morgan saw nothing at all. Alex could hear the rhythm of his heart, the way that cartilage flowed over itself at moving joints, surging blood, and the labor of breath. He could picture it now, the way that scarlet would drip from his neck, the way it would swirl in the water on the floor. Morgan’s face twisted from confusion to realization, eyes bulging like a frog’s, clarity only available once it was no longer useful. In a way it would be justice, if he hadn’t robbed the gala then all of those heroes wouldn’t have died. His hands are red, he just doesn’t realize it, yet.
As Alex rose to his feet, unable to resist, he ruffled Morgan’s hair. The man simply smoothed it back into place as if a breeze had moved it. Quietly Alex sat down at the office chair in front of a dining table that was being used as a desk. Twirling a miniature screwdriver between his fingers Alex began to think, This fucker is the reason my life has been so busy as of late. Whatever I do it needs to be memorable above all else. A lesson in leaving me the fuck alone. Plus the guy had family high up in the GOH, so it would need to be a lesson for them too, enough to convince The Chadster, God could he have picked a stupider name, that vengeance was a lost cause. He played with the idea of mailing pieces of Morgan bit by bit to the GOH over a period of months. However, the idea seemed so very, common. Any normal serial killer could come up with that. Alex regarded himself to be above that.
He might have sat there for hours, watching a stranger go through his daily routine. Or he might have gotten bored, killed him right then and there. But then, things got extremely weird. Even for Alex.
At first, it was just a knock at the door and then the next thing he knew Morgan had been pushed to the ground and some weird-ass Russians invited themselves into the apartment. Some annoying ass teenager, a Russian version of Mr. Clean, Sam, and that little girl. That stupid fucking little girl. He could sense her as soon as that door opened. Power rippled off her into the air like the ripple of a pond. No, that wasn’t right, like the tides, pulling and pushing the energy in the air. And her eyes, those stupid fucking golden eyes, the same exact eyes Alex saw in the mirror every single morning. None of the others in the entourage noticed him, but her eyes stayed on him. They watched as he fell off his chair in shock, they watched as he stood up and pushed the chair to an empty spot of wall (the view from the desk had been blocked by the bald man.) and those eyes lingered, longer than anyone else would ever dare.
She had thick curly brown hair, tangled and matted at the sides, pinned down by butterfly clips. Her sparkly purple dress hung from her frame, ending just above her skinned knees, it didn’t drift or flow with the wind. Her feet, sporting jelly flip flops, were red with blisters and bruises. Her eyes seemed sunken into her face, and her skin seemed not pale but grey. Her expression hollow, as if someone had scooped out all of her brains, leaving behind nothing but a husk. She’s not real, there’s no way she’s real. Someone would have let me know if she was real. But there she was, regardless of how impossible it was, staring at him like some kind of tiny idiot.
For the vast majority of his life, Alex had never needed to put considerable thought into anything he did. If he wanted something it was his, if something was in his way it didn’t take long to remove it. When Alex was still in high school his mother used to consult for the CSIS whenever she wanted entertainment. The feds were willing to ignore her impressive rap sheet in exchange for her extensive contacts in the criminal world and her knack for reading people. She said that for common serial killers, once they were stripped of whatever gimmicks they used, personality-wise were basically the same. That mentally some wires had gotten crossed, that suddenly love, violence, power and devotion all looked pretty damn similar. When all you’ve been given is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.
Never breaking eye contact, Alex attempted to slow her pulse, to fill her lungs, to switch off the spark of her brain. And there she stood, stupid and silent. It didn’t even feel like there was some kind of wall blocking him, or some kind of barrier, she was just some tiny corner of the world that he held no dominion. Suddenly, the sensation of warmth on his hands brought Alex out of his head. Looking down at his hands he realized he had been holding a fist so tightly his hands had broken skin. This is foolish, I am not going to tremble in the shadow of some fucking child.
“I’ll ask again, where are you hiding it” Sam asked, he sounded kind of offended at the fact Morgan had lasted so long in interrogation. Very respectable, even I must admit, wasting Sam’s time is always a worthy endeavor.
“Hidden in,” Morgan paused to give an obviously fake cough, “The flour container”
Alex watched with glee as Mr.Clean and the highschooler drenched themselves in flour. Unable to resist Alex manipulated a fair amount of flour into their lungs and noses. What a show. The two sputtered and coughed while never ceasing their search How stupid would you have to be to keep looking? Laughter like bell chimes filled the apartment as the little girl began to double over laughing. As much as her existence enraged him he couldn’t help laughing along.
“YOU IDIOTS” Sam yelled, the girl froze immediately, “There’s nothing in the FUCKING flour.” The two lackeys walked over, heads hung in shame. Without saying a word Sam shifted the entire energy of the room. Morgan was hoisted and tied to a chair.
Then the teenager knelt in front of the girl, Alex couldn’t quite hear what words were said, but the kid looked at her, held her face as if she was something sacred. And when she walked towards a thoroughly bound Morgan, the teenager refused to look. Something is very wrong here.
Normally Alex would be all on board for the torture of an asshole he didn’t care about. Undeniably, reaching into someone's chest, tearing through muscle, had a certain elegant panache. But it wasn’t the child hurting Morgan, it wasn’t her will. It was Sam’s. He believes she is a power that he wields. What could be stronger than a god? The one who controls them. That her power, that MY power is something he deserves. That would not do.
–
The world was blurry. Morgan remembered being dragged to his brother's car. The sound of Chad panic talking and shitty Ed Sheeran songs on the radio. How the street lights glittered. At some point they pulled over so Morgan could puke and at some point Chad had gotten in a screaming fight with a truck driver ( Even when they were teens he had always had horrific road rage). Silently and slowly Morgan drifted asleep, his rage at Sam and his brother mixing with his exhaustion and pain.
–
This will need to be handled delicately. Alex’s normal approach of brute force wouldn’t work here. For all he knew the child had enough mastery of power to pose a threat. And even if that wasn’t the case, she would be able to see him coming. With this in mind Alex waited about ten minutes before following them out of Morgan’s apartment. In all honesty, he could have waited hours and still have been able to find her. All he needed to do was follow the disturbances, her power still lingered in the air. However, it was disjointed and fractured. In addition, any spells or magic placed by other people were completely shattered, like by her mere presence she was ripping the energy around into shreds.
Finally, he was led to a supermarket. Bit weird but I guess torture is really tiring for a little kid. Walking through the automatic doors he was hit with the sounds of screaming children and the endless shuffling of shopping carts. Sam and the Bald man were standing over by a slushi machine looking immensely bored. The Bald man had a leather satchel that he held close to his chest Clearly no one ever taught him the art of not being completely obvious. Initially he had planned on taking the bag by force but as he walked closer something seemed off.
There’s nothing powerful in there. In the apartment I wasn’t quite sure, the little brat confused my ability to read things. But there was really nothing of note within the bag. Maybe something old, a little haunted but nothing that could really be worth all of this. On closer examination it wasn’t even a watch, just some dusty old broach. Sam is going to be so pissed when he realizes he STILL doesn’t have what he’s looking for. He almost deserves it. Grinning ear to ear Alex followed the trail of power through the store into the fruit aisles.
“No, Inna look,” said the teenager from Morgan’s apartment, “That one is green, to check if the mangos are ripe you need to squeeze them like this,” holding a golden fruit in his palms he bent down to show the child.
In her own hands she held a bright green mango, trying to mimic him she squeezed the fruit. Instantly the mango exploded, splattering juice and pulp all over her dress. Stomping her feet in frustration she tried brushing the juice off of her front, but her hands were covered in the fruit and she only managed to make a bigger mess. The teen bent over laughing,
“I’ll check from here on okay?” he said smiling
“I could do it if I practiced.” she grumbled and turned to wander. Quick as lightning the teenager grabbed her by the arm and yanked her back to his side. Like a dog on leash.
The child, Inna apparently, rolled her eyes and glanced around the store.Suddnely as her eyes met Alex’s she snapped into alert. No fear in her expression. like he was used to, but curiosity and a bit of confusion. She twisted her arm free and started walking towards Alex. The teen perked up trying to find her but Alex used his power to hide her from his gaze.
“Who are you?” she asked looking him up and down.
Alex knelt down to meet her eyes. As much as he hated to admit it, there was a chance they were equals and if that was the case he didn’t want to be looming over her. One final time he attempted to slow her pulse, and once again she was immune.
“My name is Alex,” he smiled but it felt hollow, “ tell me, why do you work for Anastaus?”
Her eyes narrowed, Such a lovely gold, I would bet money I wear them better. In the distance the teen was calling out looking for her.
“My brother works for Mr.Sam,”
“Your brother?”
She nodded, “He gets paid per job and and in exchange I get a place to stay where I’m safe. Mr.Sam says it’s for the best of all of us”
THEY RENT HER OUT. No wonder Sam had been such a pain lately, no wonder he pulled that little stunt with the file on his sister. Why bother respecting your betters when you have a little brat with their power on loan. He didn’t know how much her brother was being paid, but by her matted hair and thin frame he wasn’t spending the money on his sister. The teen wore fine clothing, clearly tailored. And he had his sister wearing sandals in the chilly Toronto spring.
“Look at me,” said Alex, his mind made up, “You do not need them. You are a god. By all rights they should be on their knees begging you for mercy. Not renting out your power. Not letting you dirty your hands.”
Her eyes widened, she glanced back at her brother who was now panicking. Looking away she grabbed fistfulls of her dress, as if she was attempting to ground herself. Knuckles and arms still caked with dried blood.
“My name is Alex, the GOH has entire taskforces devoted to me, people I’ve never even met pray to me, if I wanted I could rearrange the cosmos to my liking. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Mr.Sam says that my power is dangerous. That I could hurt myself without them”
“Fuck Sam”
“What about my brother?”
“Fuck him too,”
Her mouth broke into a grin, but there was something about it that seemed off. When Alex was little his sister used to describe him as “happy in a hungry kind of way.” For the first time he actually understood what she meant.
Alex forced himself to return her smile, grabbed her hand and began walking out of the store. She walked along side, glancing at her brother who was desperately calling for her. When they reached the doors she paused,
“I can’t leave him.”
“Sure you can.” Alex teleported them back to his house. Now all I need it that fucking watch.