Thirty minutes after Edward's arrest, several news outlets crowd the entrance of the insurance skyscraper.

  "Downtown New York is startled after a sudden break-in at the Bullwinkle Health Insurance tower experienced an assassination attempt at the life of the CEO, Travis Bullwinkle. The motives are still unknown, however, police do have the assassin in custody. Here's our footage of the man being put in custody..."

  .

  .

  .

  Alone in their apartment, Quinn sits on a couch, scanning through tvs while snacking on a bowl of cereal. They're wearing a comfortable shark onesie. As they happen to surf through the channels, they manage to get a glimpse of the story, as well as the image of Edward plastered on national TV.

  "PFOOOOO-" They spit out their milk and cereal. "WHAT THE FUCK?"

  They look down.

  "OH GOD IT'S ALL OVER ME."

  .

  .

  .

  Within a rather humble diner in-between the border of Colorodo and Utah, Solomon finishes his 8 minute grace before licking his lips and grabbing his Reuben sandwich. He then looks up at the tv. The tv is black and white, with barely any reception. Yet, him, as well as the rest of the customers and the dining staff look at the breaking news. Barely getting a picture, Solomon recognizes the figure as Edward.

  "Pa..haha...haHAHAHAHA," cackles Solomon, pointing and laughing at the tv.

  "What's so funny?" Asks the cigarette smelling 50 year old waitress.

  "...I don't know." Suddenly says Solomon with a deadpan tone.

  The lady scoffs and leaves Solomon to his meal.

  Solomon takes a bite and instantly makes a sour expression.

  After a couple minutes, the waitress comes back to Solomon. She notices he's only taken one bite and has been muttering to himself ever since. "Is everything alright?"

  Solomon's sunglasses obscure the fact his eyes are rolled all the way in back of his head, while his body sways from side to side. He pauses his conversation with god.

  He slowly turns to the lady and finally responds not in his typical happy demeanor, but in a raspy, ill-willed tone. He counts the amount of people inside the diner. There, god tells him what to do next.

  "I said, no pickles."

  .

  .

  .

  Working at Cock's sporting good, Chad monotonously stacks heavy gym equipment after heavy gym equipment.

  "Hey," says a customer.

  Chad looks up. The customer's face is barely human, barely recognizable. Still has all the functions and features of a human: nose, ears, mouth, eyes, hair, and skin. Yet, Chad stares at them blankly. As if staring at a wall, or an ant crawling around, or a rather boring looking book.

  "Do you know where the bathroom is?" Asks the customer.

  "Yeah it's... down all the way over there, to the left." Responds Chad.

  Walking away, he looks at the various tv screens up in display. Various sports live channels, yet most of them switch over to the breaking news. There, Chad's bored, lifeless eyes slowly open up in awe.

  "Is that...?"

  After recognizing his "friend," Chad shakes his head. "(Must be something related to the CIA.)" He sighs. "So glad I don't have to deal with that. I may not be getting paid thousands of dollars but, surely it beats...)"

  He looks around. He sighs. "(Nevermind.)" He continues to stack boxes on top of each other for several more hours.

  .

  .

  .

  Jinsei, wakes up from his nap, unknowing of what happened only a couple miles away. In the darkness, he feels something odd. He turns on the light. There's a sixth tally mark cut into his wrist. It's fresh and still bleeding, with his nail of his left index finger still dripping blood.

  Clearly confused, he somehow doesn't remember what the dream was. But his mind is clearer about theories of bringing back the dead.

  .

  .

  .

  The next morning

  4:32 AM

  Back at the motel, Edward sits on a chair and argues with strangers online on a forum about video games and anime. Jinsei is fast asleep. The only light source within the room is the glow of the laptop hitting Edward's sunken eyes.

  He wonders for a bit.

  "(Well, at least I got my 15 minutes of fame. Not how I wanted it to go but, I sure ain't complaining. Anyway, tomorrow, or rather- today, really, is going to be tough. The hard part won't be getting up there anymore, it's shaking the agents off of me and actually getting an opportunity.)"

  He pats his pockets. "(As for the weapons... I know the railroad spike is with the CIA... and stabbing someone with that would be weird. Not to mention, I don't know what it does, and I'd rather not die trying. The serrated blade is in Solomon's briefcase. Ah, but the guns! I don't think they'd be that useful against actual sorcerers but for normal people, a gun is a gun is a gun. And of course, some protection would've helped last night. But there's a reason I didn't kill anyone; especially the CEO. I didn't need to bring it because the set up didn't call for it. And definitely not because I left the god damn gun in the drawer.)"

  He walks gets up from his chair and walks over to his drawer and opens it. There, lies a revolver with engravings; the very same one that Chad and Solomon bought for him to use.

  "(Engravings don't grant any tactical advantages? Tch.)" He whips it our and starts spinning it. "(Well Naked Snake can shove it. Engravings are cool. That being said...)"

  He inspects the gun, even looking down the barrel. "(This thing... would be pretty loud if I shot it.)" He then looks over at the wall. "(But that's why, hopefully with my radius, this plan'll work. But again, can't underestimate these retards. But again, why would they even need their guns if they're that strong? Guess it's just hopeful thinking...)"

  He pops out the cylinder and checks it. "(... hoh shit, I guess it was loaded. Anyway.)"

  He smirks to himself. "(For tonight, with the conditions set, I'm sure it'll go smoothly. I just need the distractions. But for the disguise...)"

  He looks at his coat. "(Well for fuck's sake, this is what happens when you wear the same clothes every day. And I didn't bring any other changes of clothes besides a t shirt and underwear.)"

  He looks around. He sees Jinsei's jacket and hoodie resting upon the end of Jinsei's bed. "(Ugh.)" Edward takes off his own coat and instead wears Jinsei's hoodie. Edward wrinkles his nose. "(It smells like... why the hell does it smell like newspapers?)"

  Edward then slowly and quietly steps out the door. Tip toe-ing down the outside stairs and even on the ground, he tries his hardest not to make any audible footsteps. The sky is a still deep dark blue with stars sprinkled around. A car passes by the road every 10 minutes or so. Out of the motel's area, using Ki, Edward amps himself and runs to the nearest pharmacy.

  .

  .

  .

  The entrance buzzer of the pharmacy rings.

  Edward, wearing a hoodie over his head, walks in.

  He looks around while hiding his face from the camera pointed at the front entrance; the typical ones that have a monitor or tv displaying in front of those who enter. Bowing his head, his eyes dart around, trying to find every camera in the store. He also looks around for anyone else. It seems that it's only him and the cashier.

  Firstly, he walks through the medicine aisle. Scanning, he looks at all the daily medicines. Headaches? No. Cough and cold? No...

  After a few minutes, he finds it.

  "Yes!" He exclaims. Holding the medicine. Typical, these types are sold as tablets. Though expensive, it seems that this plan hinges on liquid laxatives.

  "(Ah... but what if one of them doesn't want to eat or drink? My... this'll be an issue. Tardigrade seems like a real hardass. He's old, but judging from the first day I met him, being able to walk up to us like that without being noticed or even making a sound... plus that insane strength? I don't know what his specialization or ability is, but judging from his age, he's at least experienced in Ki to a decent degree. So I'm thinking... either half and half or specialist. As for the twink, I don't think he's anything too strong. Judging that Chad and Jinsei fought them and survived, he doesn't seem too strong. But then again, they didn't kill them on purpose. And more importantly, my combat options are really limited compared to the bullshit up these guys' sleeves...)"

  He walks through the aisles, thinking of various plans and ways the day could go. Eventually, he walks through the toy aisle.

  "(Tch. It's pointless. Like, what's play dough going to do to them? Or this toy sword? If its ki infused with plastic, that'd hurt. But that means jack shit when their ki is better. Seriously, what can I...)"

  By fate itself, his eyes land on the target. A mysterious small bottle with a spray nozzle labeled "ass-spray."

  He reads all the warning labels and all the notes. Disregarding the fact he's on film, on top of general store manners, he opens the package and opens the cap of the bottle. He points it away from himself and sprays a little squirt on the shelf. He slowly leans in and takes a small whiff.

  "HUGHK-"

  He kneels on the ground, eyes watering. His stomach cramps from the unfettered stench.

  "(This smell is so... so... PERFECT.)"

  Pocketing the spray, he takes the much less concealable medicine and walks up to the cashier. His head is tilted down, letting the hood conceal a majority of his face.

  "Sir, you can't steal items from the store." Says the 20 something year old cashier.

  Edward looks up at her and gives them the laxative to scan. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Sir, I'm sorry but until you give whatever it is in your pocket, I won't be able to-"

  "Or what?" Asks Edward in a stern tone. Edward tilts his head slightly up, just so the cashier can get a better look at his face.

  Recognizing the recent celebrity, stunned, the cashier stammers, her eyes widening. "Y-you're the-"

  "That's right. And if you know what's good for you, you'll just do your job."

  Knowing her life isn't worth a bottle of ass-spray, she simply scans the laxative. "Ei-eight fifty."

  "Eight fifty? Tchhaha... well damn. Talk about bad economy, huh?" Says Edward in a sarcastic tone. He hands out a $20 dollar bill from the hoodie's pocket. "I'm sure you won't do anything stupid after this, right?"

  The cashier shakes her head.

  "Good girl." He whispers. He takes his receipt, the bag, and the laxatives. "By the way, lighten up a bit why don'tcha? You'll look a lot better with a smile." He says, before walking out. Humming to himself, Edward seems pleased by how successful things are going.

  "You think you're so slick, don't you?" Says a cold voice behind him.

  Edward stops his tracks. Despite the natural response to yell or jump or even have his heart stop for a split second, Edward's body continues normally. "(After all, he doesn't scare me.)" Thinks Edward to himself. With narrowed eyes, Edward turns around.

  "Vincent."

  The CIA agent walks out of the shadows. "Yup. So what's your convoluted plan now eh?"

  Edward raises his eyebrow. "Plan? What are you-"

  "Quit bullshitting, you suck at it. Just tell me what you're doing and we'll make this a lot simpler for all of us."

  Edward looks at Vincent and raises his bag. "What, I can't buy some medicine?"

  "Tch, yeah right. In the middle of the night?"

  "Yeah. Lunch didn't get processed until right now."

  "Oh yeah? And what's with Jinsei's hoodie?"

  "What's with the hoodie? It's fucking cold what do you mean what's with the hoodie? I had to run here for Christ's sake. It's not like I was gonna wake you guys up to use the car; not that you'd even let me."

  "Tch, well, that's one thing that's right. And you didn't think to wear Jinsei's jacket on top of it? Not even your own coat?"

  As much as Edward thought this was checkmate, he realizes this only helped him. "Oh yeah! My coat!" He slaps his head. "Well duh, why I didn't I think of that! It's not like half the country saW WHAT THE FUCK I WAS WEARING TODAY."

  "Yeah uh huh," responds Vincent. "And you still decided to show up here with just a hoodie."

  "Better than without one. I spotted all the cameras and covered my head, trust."

  "Trust? You still haven't answered the bit about Jinsei's jacket."

  Growing tense, Edward throws the bag at Vincent. "Well fine, here. Check the fuckin bag if you don't trust me, huh?"

  Vincent, disgruntled, checks the bag. Of course, it's just the laxatives.

  Edward continues. "Better yet, why don't you have the fuckin hoodie too if its such a problem huh? Here-" Just as Edward takes the hoodie off, Vincent gut punches him, stopping him from revealing himself even more.

  "It's the middle of the night and I don't want the cops to be involved with you again. So get in the fuckin' car and shut up."

  Vincent walks over to the driver's side and enters. Heaving, Edward forms another plan; one less important in scale than the original one, but equally important to him. Instead of entering the passenger side, Edward walks over to the back of the driver's seat.

  "What are you doing?" Barks Vincent.

  "What? I'm inside the car?"

  "Stop fuckin around and get in the passenger's seat. You're pissing me off, Edward."

  "I AM IN THE FUCKIN CAR. I'M NOT MOVING SO JUST DRIVE."

  "God you're so-"

  Frustrated, Vincent cuts himself off and starts driving, rushing back to the motel.

  An awkward silence fills the air. After a minute, Edward starts talking.

  "You're not planning on killing me, right Vincent?"

  Vincent doesn't say anything.

  Edward slowly leans right behind Vincent, whispering through the little gap between the headrest and the driver's seat.

  "Don't take this as a threat. But if you are... I wouldn't do it if I were you."

  Edward then lightly holds on to Vincent's shoulder from behind.

  Vincent sighs.

  "You don't scare me, Edward. Nothing you can do can hurt me. So just let go, and shut up. I'm not going to kill you. If I was planning to, I can assure you, you wouldn't be in this car right now."

  Edward tilts his head down. He let's go.

  After a couple minutes, they arrive at the motel. They both get out and don't say a word.

  "(The one good thing about people is that when they don't fear you, they underestimate you.

  And that's when they least expect it.)"

  .

  .

  .

  Hours later, eight in the morning.

  Jinsei, Edward, Tardigrade, and Vincent are all awake. They all have their usual attire on, with Edward wearing an inconspicuous mouth mask as well as sunglasses to hide his rather recognizable visage. Instead of his coat, he's only wearing a black Misfits t- shirt as well as jeans. He wears a baseball cap that was once in the back of the car that they were all renting.

  At the small cafeteria at the hotel, they all eat breakfast; of them all, Edward eats the least, sparing his tongue with only a bagel.

  "Still mid..." mutters Vincent to himself, poking at the burnt eggs on his plate.

  As the morning passed, Edward acted cordially. If the agents asked something of him, he didn't hesitate to do as he is told. Sitting comfortably, Edward didn't complain, not even about the food.

  Both Tardigrade and Vincent made mental note of this and kept an eye on him. Jinsei didn't care much for him.

  Once breakfast ends, Jinsei stays behind to work at the cafeteria, because coffee is readily available there. Meanwhile, the other three go back to the hotel.

  "We're gonna be heading to the city," starts Vincent.

  "Ah ok," responds Edward.

  "But," continues Vincent. "You're coming with us. We don't need you screwing this up any more, so you're just gonna stay with us. Tonight is when we actually do the hit in his mansion. So just do us all a favor, stick with us, and then, things will go well for you. Got it?"

  "Uh yeah, sure." Simply says Edward. He notices that Vincent has his gun concealed on his hip; his blazer hides the would-be distracting weapon.

  "Ok cool," says Vincent, before he and Tardigrade both enter the car.

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  "But, before we go, can I go to the little girl's room? I need to tinkle..." Says Edward in a semi-joking manner.

  "You're not funny. And more importantly, just weird." Says Vincent. He checks his watch. "Five minutes."

  "Arigatooooo!" Says Edward before muttering to himself. "Fuckin bitch."

  "HUH?"

  Edward walks up the stairs and enters his room. Upon entering, he immediately runs to the drawer and presses up against the wall.

  "(If what I saw last night is true... then the wall is only four inches thick. My range is around a good let's say... eight feet. Surely, I can make that. But...)" He looks over at the drawer. "(If a single atom from my body just happens to collide with another physical object, who knows what'll happen. I haven't tried it yet but, the only thing I could think of is at best, the molecules would simply cancel out and push away from each other, the middle line would simply be that we'd be fused together in a mish mash of molecules and at worst... the molecules explode.)"

  He pauses and thinks about it again. "(Then again, that means every time I used my ability, my molecules would've collided with oxygen, nitrogen, and everything else that makes up air. So either it only applies to solids, and maybe liquids. Or, it simply trades out the molecules from one space to the exact space I occupy. Or perhaps...)"

  He looks at his hand. Ki radiates off of it.

  "(It's the material domination that matters. Nevertheless-)"

  He steps to the bathroom.

  "(I'm too much of a pussy to find out right now.)"

  He knocks on the wall. "(If I'm not mistaken, this bathroom should be an exact mirror to the bathroom next door. And I'd rather this than having the chance of colliding with a slightly tilted bed or god forbid, a chair that's in front of the tv rather than the corner like in our room. After all, it's a lot harder to move a toilet, sink, and bathtub. That being said... I should jump in mid-air to reduce the chance of accidentally clipping any of those things. But what if their shower curtain is actually in a different position and extends past my location in space? What if my head clips into the metal pole that hangs the bath curtain?)"

  He gives it a couple seconds and then shrugs. "(If I die, I die. I hate that it would be over something mundane but, the only thing to match a big plan, is for one, calculating everything, and most importantly two, the balls to actually execute it. Now let's see...)"

  He counts the tiles on the floor, all measuring one 1x1. "(1,2,3,4....then over there should be 1,2,3,4... Alright welp. Bottom's up.)"

  He inches closer to the wall and hops up in the air, then activates his ability.

  Within an instant, his position changes eight feet away from him, past the wall and indeed, in the middle of the neighboring bathroom. Still in midair, he then lands on the ground. He looks around.

  "(Huh. Off by a couple inches)" He thinks to himself, almost making contact with the bathtub. "(As much as I want to test that out, I don't have the time to be dicking around)."

  Quickly yet quietly opening the door, he rushes out of the bathroom and checks the agents' drawers. After quickly sifting through their clothes, he doesn't find a pistol.

  "(Seriously, the old timer is that good that they don't issue it to him? GOD man. Well, the suppressed pistol is a bust...)"

  He then frantically looks for a knife or any other small weapon.

  Tump. Tump. Tump. Tump.

  Footsteps up the stairs.

  Quickly, Edward closes the drawer, sees a typical pen atop the drawer and takes it. He then dashes to the bathroom and pulls it to near closing, trying his hardest not to make any noise.

  .

  .

  .

  Opening the door, Tardigrade steps inside. His eyes dart around. He walks into the room, slowly.

  "..."

  "(Something's off)" Thinks Tardigrade to himself.

  He walks over to the drawer. There he opens his drawers and frantically looks for something. After a couple minutes, Edward, nearby, hears his own heart thumping.

  "Ah-ha." Exclaims Tardigrade.

  He finds a small bottle of cologne.

  Ts. Ts. He sprays a bit on his wrists and rubs it around his neck.

  He then looks at the drawer again. Something's missing... but what could it be?

  He rests the bottle atop the drawer.

  Plat.

  A noise sounds like it's coming from the bathroom. Turning his head, Tardigrade walks over to the bathroom.

  Step. Step. Step.

  The bathroom door is slightly open.

  The agent's eyes narrow.

  Edward's heart thumps.

  Tardigrade hears the thumps.

  Tardigrade slowly puts his hand on the handle...

  And whips it wide open.

  The bathroom is empty.

  Tardigrade scratches his head. He then calls out aloud.

  "Edward?"

  A very distinct and pained grunt comes from the neighboring bathroom. "Busy." Simply responds Edward afterwards.

  Tardigrade wrinkles his nose. "...Right. Hurry up, we're past five minutes."

  Within the neighboring bathroom, Edward wipes the sweat off of his forehead, simply standing still.

  "(Even though I tried hopping as weak as possible, my shoes still made a sound. But, I evaded his attention so, that's all that matters. Now, the real fun begins. But just to make sure...)."

  He looks down at his phone, which was recording audio. He clips away the part with Tardigrade's voice and continues recording.

  Outside the motel, Tardigrade and Vincent both fold their arms. From within the motel, they can hear Edward yell out an annoyed "WHAAT?"

  The two look at each other.

  "Think he needs toilet paper?" Asks Tardigrade.

  "If he does, let him suffer. He deserves it." Simply says Vincent.

  .

  .

  .

  About 45 minutes later, Tardigrade, Vincent, and Edward walk around the bustling streets of downtown New York. Taxi cabs crowd the roads, yet the locals realize much more efficient rides from non-taxis; convenience at the tap of a button or more accurately, an app on the phone. Old infrastructure makes way with newer, much more commercialized era of architecture; as it always was; as it always is; as it always will be. Rats hide in play daylight, scurrying through the grates and near the walls of the buildings, both inside and outside. Despite the sunny day, a slight breeze passes by everyone.

  Eventually, the three of them stop at a small quaint cafe that didn't seem too busy, nor too undercrowded. The prices seemed a little high, but that's how Tardigrade liked them. That's the joy of finding new places after all. That is, judging whether the quality is worth the price. The aesthetic of the cafe tried to mimic a French restaurant's aura of casual high class, with golden accents adorning the corners of the cafe, yet the rest in black steel and marble. The background music were arrangements of Bach and Mozart.

  The three of them sit outside, around a small circular table. The two agents directly across from Edward. They wait for their waiter.

  "So here's the plan," starts Vincent. "We're just gonna sit here until its a couple hours before the hit. Eat what you want, drink what you want whatever, but-" Vincent leans in. "You're not going anywhere. So don't make this harder on all of us because I can assure you-"

  "Yes, yes, I get it." Mutters Edward, slouching and crossing his arms. "I failed last time so I won't do it again."

  Tardigrade narrows his eyes. Vincent's brow quivers. "I don't even get what the point was? What, were you trying to impress us or-"

  A short boy with curly hair and glasses awkwardly stands with a notepad in his hands.

  The three of them all stop conversating and simply wait for the waiter to introduce themselves.

  "H-Hi, my name is Avery, I'll be your waiter for today. Can I get you guys anything to drink?"

  "I won't be having anything." Says Vincent.

  Edward makes a mental note while keeping a still face. "(Damn. There goes the plan with the laxatives.)"

  "I will." Says Tardigrade. "I'll just have a cup of black coffee please."

  Edward makes another mental note; this time, inverting his previous issue.

  "And I'll have a margherita pizza and uhh.... a mango milkshake please," says Edward.

  "Of course, we'll get those started." Says Avery with a smile.

  Edward smiles back at them, before rolling his eyes as he left. "Hang on, I'll be right back," says Edward standing up.

  Vincent stands up too.

  Edward gives a weirded out look. "What uh... what's up?"

  "Nothing's up." Says Vincent. "Go ahead. Go to the bathroom."

  "Oh...ok?"

  As Edward walks to the bathroom, Vincent follows him only a foot behind, almost shadowing his every movement.

  After asking another waiter where the bathroom is, Edward finds the bathroom, enters and immediately scans the space. One stall, two urinals. "(Perfect)." He thinks to himself. There, Vincent stares at him, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. Edward washes his hands and leaves. Vincent follows right behind him. They both walk back to the table and sit down. Edward converses with them about mundane topics that all of them wouldn't care about; meanwhile, he puts his hand in his hoodie pocket and unscrews the laxative container with slow, minimal motions. There, he carefully tries to pour a bit of the laxative into the container; some spills on to his hoodie but, with sleight of hand, and making sure to spill as little as possible from within his pocket.

  Eventually, Edward sees Avery walk towards them with coffee and a yellow colored frothy drink. "(Bingo.)" Thinks Edward to himself, recognizing from afar the exact drinks the table ordered earlier. Edward casually gets up and walks over to them. Despite both Vincent and Tardigrade looking at both the waiter and Edward, the agents don't get up quite yet.

  Obstructing the view with his baggy clothes and taller frame, Edward points behind Avery to the bathroom and says something about the bathroom. As Avery looks behind himself, Edward raises his other hand and pours the contents of the cup on to Tardigrade's coffee. As Avery whips their head back towards Edward, Edward already has his hand on his chin, as if casually contemplating; unknown to the waiter however, is the sleight of hand in disguise, hiding the cup underneath the rest of Edward's fingers. Avery nods and follows Edward back to the table, where he drops off the drinks, before turning around and going straight to the bathroom.

  Vincent squints at him. "The hell did you just do?"

  "What do you mean?" Asks Edward.

  "What'd you tell him?"

  "Oh, I just made a complaint. The bathroom seemed a little wet so I just said 'hey, if you guys don't want a lawsuit, you should put a floor is wet sign in there. Or, just mop it up.'"

  Vincent's nose wrinkled. "That's so petty."

  Edward shrugged. "Welp, I'm just helping him. It's a priestly duty to be kind and helpful." Says Edward.

  Tardigrade chuckles while Vincent scoffs.

  "...What?" Asks Edward, making an exaggerated accusatory tone.

  "Do you even hear yourself?" Asks the elder agent. He takes a sip of his coffee.

  A couple minutes pass and Avery comes back with Edward's pizza.

  "I'm sorry that I couldn't find any wet spots, sir." Says Avery. "But, I appreciate your concern."

  Vincent glares at Edward.

  Edward in turn, takes off his mouth mask and lunges for his pizza.

  "Be very careful sir, the pizza is really-"

  "HAH HAAAAH- HOT HOOOO-" stammers Edward, gorging himself with piping hot pieces of pizza.

  "...hot."

  Both Tardigrade and Vincent stare at Edward in disbelief.

  Tears in his eyes, and breathing with his mouth wide open, getting as much air as he can, Edward, within his hoodie pocket, uncaps and unscrews the foul spray, making sure to not spill any on him at all.

  "DUH DUH FOOD AT DUH HOTEL SUCKS. HAH- SO I'M HAH- REALLY HUNGRY." Explains Edward.

  "I-I see..." Simply says Avery, with worried eyes.

  As the bizarre attention is on the pizza and Edward, under the table, Edward, hand on the foul spray, throws the liquid towards Vincent's direction, hoping it would land on his feet. He drops the tiny bottle as he coughs loudly, before taking large chug of the mango milkshake.

  Tardigrade simply chuckles at Edward's antics and continues to sip his coffee. Vincent simply says nothing and stares.

  "(Something's off.)" Thinks Vincent to himself. "(Of course something's off. He's acting like a fucking jackass. And even though that's his default personality... what... what is he planning? How does this correlate? I've kept an eye on him the entire time and I haven't seen anything. Is this a condition of his ability? And if so, what is his ability? I haven't seen him use it yet. Unless... he's like me and Jules; with no ability and just an all-rounder? No- Jinsei's group are all full of experienced sorcerers. Though we haven't fought him yet, that poses an even greater threat to us. What if he's the strongest one? Improbable, but still possib-)"

  Suddenly, Vincent wrinkles his nose at smell of something most foul.

  While Vincent was contemplating to himself, Edward and Tardigrade wandered to a conversation about homeless people in major cities and how they're denied basic privileges like bathrooms.

  "Yeah, it's real fucked up." Says Edward, munching on his cooled down pizza. "For most stores or restaurants, you have to buy something first before going to the bathroom, all just to deny the homeless the basic of needs."

  Tardigrade nods his head as he sips his coffee. "Yeah it is unfortunate. I wish things could change because admittedly, I do believe that's a shitty thing to do as a corporation. That being said, it's up to the homeless person's responsibility to care for themselves and get out of their bad habits."

  Edward, semi-concentrated on the conversation responds. "Yeah but isn't it all systematic?"

  "I won't deny that some of it is. Not all, though." Says Tardigrade, looking for something within his pockets.

  "Hoh yeah? And how would you know?" Asks Edward.

  Tardigrade leans back and finds a cigar. He lights it up. "Son, after World War II, my father came back, a traumatized, alcoholic gambler. It wasn't long until he disappeared and it was just me and ma with nothing but the clothes on our backs. And of course, I had to provide for her, no matter the condition so, I think I have a basic idea of what it's like. That being said, not everyone's story is the same. This is simply what I went through."

  Edward stops chewing and tilts his head.

  "...Wait, how old are you?"

  Vincent all of a sudden starts gagging.

  The other two look at Vincent. "What's wrong?" Asks Edward, trying to keep a straight face.

  "Do you guys not smell that?" Says Vincent.

  Edward and Tardigrade both look at each other. "What do you mean?" Asks Tardigrade.

  "The SMELL- GOD. FUCK, WHAT IS THAT?" Continues Vincent, looking around himself and inspecting his shoe. "Did I step on dog crap? UGH."

  It takes while but Tardigrade does cover his nose. "Oh- yeah. That's bad."

  All of a sudden, Edward holds his stomach. "Ohhh...." He rests his head on the table.

  Frustrated, Vincent gets up. "I'm going to the bathroom, make sure you babysit him."

  "I'm coming with you too." Says Edward, hunched over. "Pizza with milkshake was... ugh- not a good idea."

  Vincent groans but begrudgingly let's Edward follow along. The two of them enter the bathroom, in which Edward runs to the stall, while Vincent takes of his shoes and with enraged vigor, grabs a bunch of paper towels, puts a quarter of the soap on the paper and aggressively scrubs his shoes. He mutters to himself through gritted teeth.

  "There it goes... $4000 down the FUCKING drain...Swear to god..."

  Meanwhile, Edward groans on the toilet.

  As for Tardigrade, he enjoys the weather and the view that New York has to offer.

  "Hm..." He says with a smile. "Smells... terrible...."

  He then feels his stomach grumble. Pretty soon, he starts to sweat; his stomach grows more and more upset by the second.

  "Oh...oh my." He gets up and walks to the bathroom.

  There, he meets a pissed off Vincent at the sink while Edward occupies the only stall.

  "Ah damn. Edward, are you going to leave soon?" Asks Tardigrade in a calm yet hurried tone.

  "I'm sorry I have stomach issues. I really doubt it." Says Edward through the stall.

  "No worries, but please do hurry up." Says Tardigrade.

  After Eight minutes, Tardigrade bangs on the stall, only to be greeted with the same tone.

  "God, fuck this." Mutters Tardigrade before storming out of the cafe.

  He goes across the street to a restaurant. He walks up to a waiter. "Excuse me sir, do you mind if I use the restroom?"

  "Sorry sir," says the waiter. "The restroom is only for patrons. If you sit down and just have a water, we can let you in."

  "Oh that's fine. Let's do tha-"

  "However, the current wait time is forty-five minutes."

  Tardigrade makes a stifled face.

  "Sir, are you ok?" Asks the waiter.

  "Yes. I'll be on way." Mutters Tardigrade.

  Running through the streets, he eventually enters a convenience store. Despite his attempt at being cordial, now is not the time to be a gentleman. He's an agent after all, so asking for things to seem civil was a waste of time. He looks around and finally finds the bathroom.

  "YES."

  Only for the bathroom to have a passcode lock on the handle.

  "Are you serious? Whatever, fuck it."

  Seeing as he doesn't have the limitations of a normal human, he uses an ounce of ki to simply brute force the lock into opening. Slamming the door open he says a toilet- and a sign.

  Out of order.

  Hissing, Tardigrade slams his fist on the wall.

  "The hell is wrong with these people? You couldn't put that in the front of the door?"

  Dashing out of the building, Tardigrade frantically scans the downtown area, running at a speed so high, he blurred past people's perceptions. Eyes darting around, he slips underneath entire buses, runs on the walls to avoid the busy streets, and wall jumps from building to building, eventually reaching the top of a building. But he doesn't stop there; hopping from the top of one building to another as if they were hurdles, he continues until he reaches the edge of downtown. He sees what looks like a warehouse with old 20th century infrastructure.

  "YES."

  Diving feet first, he crashes through a window on the third floor and sprints across the level. With few people at the ground level, the window distracts them from the agent running around. In 30 seconds, he eventually finds a sign on a door: "restroom." He enters and finds a serviceable toilet. Peace at last.

  .

  .

  .

  Meanwhile, Vincent continues to aggressively scrub his shoes, still gagging at the smell. He continues cursing to himself. "Why the hell can I still smell it?" He crouches down. "Don't tell me it's also on my pants."

  He stays quiet for a bit before calling out. "Edward."

  Silence.

  Vincent turns around. He walks over to the stall.

  "Edward." Repeats Vincent.

  Wrinkling his nose, he whispers to himself. "Don't tell me..."

  Vincent kicks the stall door.

  "WOAH WOAH HEY-" shouts Edward, occupying the toilet. He's wearing earphones.

  Vincent looks away. "Just checking. Hurry up though."

  "What, do you have somewhere to go?" Asks Edward.

  "Well pretty soon, the Versace store. But otherwise, not really."

  Edward scoffs. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Anyway, I told you I have stomach problems."

  Vincent keeps quiet as he continues scrubbing. "(He did buy the laxatives after all... perhaps he wasn't bluffing. But still, something doesn't seem right)."

  Edward in the mean time, quickly yet quietly types into his phone, fiddling with the same cameras that he tampered the day prior.

  .

  .

  .

  Tardigrade, across town and still using the toilet, ponders to himself.

  "(Now, if only I had a newspaper. But aside from that, something's bothering me... why did I have to use the restroom so soon? I only had black coffee. But the breakfast today... the food is terrible, so perhaps that's it. But still... but still...)"

  He impatiently taps his foot. He ponders what was wrong with his and Vincent's room earlier. "(Something's not right)."

  As he finishes his business and stands up, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket.

  RING. RING. RING.

  He picks up his phone.

  After receiving the news, he narrows his eyes.

  .

  .

  .

  Vincent continues scrubbing away, now reaching almost half an hour.

  "Edward." Calls out Vincent.

  Silence.

  "Ugh..." Says Vincent. "God damn earphones..."

  After a delayed 40 seconds, the voice of Edward calls out. "Busy."

  "Yeah, yeah, I know."

  After four minutes, the voice of Edward calls out again. "WHAAT?"

  Vincent, annoyed and fed up, responds. "I didn't say anything."

  After another couple minutes, the voice of Edward calls out. "Busy."

  Vincent pauses and then turns around. He drops his shoes and lowers his eyes near the floor. He sees Edward's shoes in front of the toilet. He then walks up to the stall and kicks it open again.

  There he sees an empty toilet, Edward's shoes, and Edward's phone atop the toilet ring, with the recording app, playing and repeating itself.

  With gritted teeth, Vincent calls Tardigrade.

  "Edward is gone."

  .

  .

  .

  Atop the insurance company's tower, right in front of Bullwinkle's office is his very own personal bodyguard. Large, imposing, and with more than enough experience under his belt, he patiently waits for the day to be over. He rubs stomach and shoulder, massaging the bruises he received from last night from fighting a rather lanky twink. Aside from that incident, standing around doing nothing for multiple hours a day and getting paid five times the average American's amount, it's not a bad gig at all.

  TH-CK

  The body guard looks over at the stair's entrance.

  TH-CK

  TH-CK

  TH-CK

  The bar to open the entrance is rattling. It sounds like someone's pressing it aggressively. The security guard squints. "(It's one thing to come up the elevator, or even the stairs, no matter how odd that is. But at the same time, no matter where someone comes from-)"

  He unholsters his gun. "(People notify me and Travis before they can come up.)"

  Slowly yet surely, the bodyguard approaches the door from an angle, trying to see who was behind the door through the small window.

  With a burst, he pushes the door wide open.

  All he sees are the stairs.

  Confused, he tilts his head.

  K-CHK.

  Appearing from behind, Edward, with the pen from the hotel, infuses it with ki, and jams it straight into the back of the bodyguard's brain stem, killing him instantly. The bodyguard's body drops down and tumbles down the stairs like a sack of potatoes. Blood slowly leaks out of every orifice.

  .

  .

  .

  Travis, hearing a commotion from outside the door, stops looking through his stocks.

  "...Luis?" He calls out.

  "..."

  ...

  ...

  ...

  BAM

  The doors to his office swing wide open. There, he sees a tall, skinny man wearing a misfit's t-shirt, jeans, sunglasses, a mouth mask and a baseball cap. Pointed directly at Bullwinkle is a menacing revolver with engravings on the side.

  Bullwinkle screams and reaches for a gun within his desk.

  "AH!" Calls out Edward. "HANDS IN THE AIR."

  Bullwinkle freezes and does as he's told.

  "DON'T DO IT." Says Edward, shaking his head. "DON'T FUCK WITH ME I DON'T FUCK WITH YOU. OK?"

  As much as Bullwinkle wanted to contest that in this very scenario, he was, in fact, getting fucked with, he feared that responding would in turn, have his aggressor respond with a .357 magnum through Bullwinkle's chest.

  The CEO slowly stands up with his arms raised.

  Edward circles around him. "Walk forwards." Commands Edward. "Quickly."

  Edward guides the CEO up the stairs. Bullwinkle sees the limp body of his bodyguard, depressing him even further.

  At the roof of the building, Edward, threatening Bullwinkle with the revolver, forces him to walk towards the edge. Hitting Bullwinkle with vertigo instantly, the CEO frantically crumples to his knees, almost falling off.

  "Woah- WOAH." Says Edward. He shrugs, revolver in hand. "We're not on that part yet!" He says with a chuckle.

  "Wh-what do you want from me?" Says the CEO, heart pounding and with a barely lucid attention. After a couple of seconds, the CEO tilts his head and stammers. "Y-you... You're that guy. From yesterday!"

  "Damn straight."

  "But- But I thought you were arrested!"

  "I was. And now I'm not. Funny how that happens, huh?" Edwards turns around and eyes the door to the stairs.

  "Now, as much as I'd love to edge you with that stupid look on your face, we don't have a lot of time, so I'll just get to it. Your money. Your company, assets, house, wife- probably, I want it all."

  "Wh-what?"

  "I want everything you own."

  "...What?"

  Annoyed, Edward cocks the hammer of his revolver and shoots it in the air.

  BANG.

  "SAY WHAT AGAIN. SAY WHAT AGAIN! I DARE YOU- I DOUBLE DARE YOU MOTHERFUCKER, SAY WHAT ONE MORE GOD DAMN TIME!"

  "(Shit. Welp, now I have three less minutes to work with.)" Ponders Edward to himself.

  Bullwinkle cowers and goes into a fetal position. After ten seconds of haggard breathing, he finally responds.

  "Hoh- O-ok. I'll give you anything you want just- please don't hurt me!"

  "Yeah yeah, ok."

  "S-s-so what do you want? A lawyer? Forms? I-I can gather them downstairs in my office."

  "Bullshit. You'll call for help and frankly, we don't have time. We're going to make a deal, mkay?" Edward presents his hand. "We're going to make a verbal contract. I'm going to say what I want, and you're just going to say 'I accept these conditions.' If you try to contest me, I will fucking shoot you. So far so good?"

  "Y-yes." Says Bullwinkle, stammering as he gets up. "Ok. Ok yeah, we-we can do that."

  "Ok, cool. So I, Edward, would like to make a contract with Travis Bullwinkle. If he accepts my conditions, but lies about accepting them, he will suffer a heart attack. Otherwise, here's what I would like from Mr. Bullwinkle. I would like-"

  As Edward lists off all of the assets that Bullwinkle owns, down at the ground level, people look up as they hear a loud sound echo from the top of the building. One scream, then another, then a few, then more. People point up, trying to recognize the man at the edge of the building. People alert the police. Minutes later, Tardigrade on the other hand, rushes to the front of the insurance building. He looks up. With his expertise in ki, he can see that it's Travis up there.

  "NO." He thinks to himself. "(I can't run up the side of the building, there's too many witnesses.)" He then rushes inside and enters the stair well, walljumping from side to side, up the stairs.

  .

  .

  .

  "-and that's basically all I want from Mr. Bullwinkle. Do you understand this contract."

  Bullwinkle glares at Edward and nods. With a cool head, Bullwinkle thinks to himself. "(No matter if it's a verbal agreement, this lunatic doesn't understand how contracts work. I'll accept the contract and we'll go back downstairs. He'll think he's won, but he'll already be in custody. And from prison, I'll get rid of him with help from my 'friends.')"

  "I know this sound stupid but, why do you want my assets?" Asks Travis.

  Edward, with his revolver still pointing at Bullwinkle, tilts his head. "Are you fucking stupid? You're rich. Bitches love money, and it makes my life a lot easier with a lot of it."

  Travis scoffs. "Of course." He then accepts Edwards handshake. "I agree to give all of my assets to 'Edward.'"

  Within an instant, Travis feels a sharp pain in his chest. He sits down.

  "I can't breathe. I can't..."

  Edward tilts his head, then squats down to the same level as Travis, looking him eye to eye.

  "Oh come on. You see what happens when you lie? This. This is what happens. You get what you deserve and now, we're both unhappy. Fuck's sake. Seriously man-"

  As Edward continues to ramble on, Travis' body quickly begins to grow more and more limp. Closing his eyes, Travis leans back.

  "And now everything is all fucked up for me and- hey HEY WAIT-"

  The cold breeze coats Travis' body. The wind pushing up against his body. The height of the building only extends his final moments. Every second feels like a minute. This feeling, being cast down, it makes Travis reflect on his life. In the end, it only echoes the main sentiment he's felt all his life. "I'm so alone."

  With a tear in his eye, counting down every single floor that passed him by, a twist in his gut and a smile that was anything but happy, his final conscience movement swiftly breezes by. A symphony of roars and screams get louder the further he falls.

  "I'm flying."

  Splat.

  Edward, from a kneeling position, looks over the edge of the building. His heart pounding, he simply stands up and freezes. He has a blank expression.

  Wham.

  He hears the door behind him open.

  A cold, rigid hand clamps on to the back of Edward's neck.

  "Now," says Tardigrade from behind. "You have 47 seconds to explain to me why you just did that.

  Let it be known though, I am not a man of mercy; begging won't save you."

  Edward narrows his eyes.