54 hours earlier

Ejiro yawned while leaning back in a comfy swivel chair. Where am I? What was I supposed to be doing? The two questions spiralled and spiralled as he replayed the highlights of his best works to pass the time. Not slaughters. Not massacres. Not horrific crime scenes.

Works. Most didn't realise that.

Most people, the common narrow minded idiot that is, viewed him solely as a killer. But he was more than that. If they analysed the scenes of his crimes from a unique perspective and with a critical eye, they would actually find that he was a talented artist. A prodigy even.

"You were saying?" The voice was impatient.

Ejiro zoned out from the absent seizure. For ten to fifteen seconds, he was somewhat unresponsive, completely unaware of the context. It happened once or twice a day and wasn't too irritating. Unless it was a meeting. Which it was. Eight men sitting around an oblong table stared at him blankly. Some wore tracksuits. Some wore three piece suits. All were heavily armed. The lighting was intense. Too white.

"To conclude, it can be done," Ejiro said. He meshed immaculate dark brown fingers together. "But like I said, I'm not a superpowered freakshow. I need your boys to raise hell for me."

While flipping through the crimson sky, Cadell went on autopilot in response to overwhelming stimuli. Gunshots and screams rang in the distance. The Voice was impossible to ignore, booming a cackle that sent shivers down his spine. Multiple streaks of red vapour zoomed out in every direction, a sign that murderers fuelled with bloodlust were in almost every borough of the city. Coordinated carnage.

Deciding to automate physical activity was the only reason Cadell could retain sanity and move at the same time. Most of his attention was drawn to a mental beast few could fully comprehend, a killing spree seizure that was desperate to escape and participate in the chaos.

The city has decided to devour itself today, my boy. Why bother?

CRASH! Cadell rocketed through a window of a burning building before storming through clouds of carbon monoxide. He grabbed a body. No pulse. He grabbed another. And another. No pulses. Not wasting a second, he threw himself into a portal and stumbled into another building ablaze. This time, however, dark blue tinted the black smoke. Emotions. Signs of life. Cadell’s right arm stretched out and five portals shot out of his palm in quick succession. It was a blind attempt to save any remaining survivors.There was no time to search thoroughly because--

Countless crimes are happening throughout the city. The Voice chuckled. Don’t you feel helpless?

Cadell charged through a portal towards gunfire, dodging a sea of bullets whizzing across the city street. He tackled the masked assailant with a machine gun and knocked them out with a swift punch. The threat was neutralised, but the damage had already been done. Bodies and cars riddled with bullets littered the street.

Cadell stood up and took a deep breath. Hallucinations lessened. The Voice’s rants dulled. His pupils constricted, turning from muddy purple to natural brown. The rest of tonight was going to be relentless agony, physically and mentally. He needed a moment to prepare, a moment to remind himself of something important.

His purpose. The reason why he decided to keep living.

Psycho the Superhero’s fists clenched. His eyes glowed purple once again. “I will cleanse this city.”