“I do think we have a role and a responsibility to include patients in the design of our trials, to understand the impact…”

Hazel’s mouth opened and closed as she sat on a chair in the boardroom. Somehow words were coming out and somehow she was replying with an articulate response. Honestly, she was baffled at how coherent it was, especially since she’d nearly dozed off twice during the pharmaceutical meeting. It was a goddamn miracle.

“... to make sure that we have diversity and inclusion efforts built into our trials so that we can ensure participation in the trials. When it comes to actual strengthening, you know, the area that I would like to see us invest more in…”

Words, Hazel thought. I said more words. Impressive.

The words seemed smart. She said trials twice in the first sentence, but, overall, the words seemed smart.That was good. None of her colleagues gave funny looks. That was also good.

It was an unusual experience to judge each sentence as they came out. Had she reached a new level of exhaustion? A level where she was cursed, forever forced to analyse every sentence she ever said?

Whoooosh.

Hazel jerked backwards, facing a mirror in a bathroom. She looked down at the running tap. That explained the whooshing sound. But… But…

She blinked rapidly before splashing her face with water. “I swear I was just in a meeting. Why am I back home?”

For the past two nights, Hazel had been patrolling some of the most dangerous streets in South London. This was her third day without sleep and, surprise surprise, caffeine just wasn’t doing the trick anymore. How the hell did Psycho the Superhero cleanse crime 24/7? No, even a better question, how did any superhero fight crime while working a 9 to 5?

A bitter chuckle escaped Hazel’s lips. “You Marvel and DC superhero’s are fucking liars. You bunch of phony frauds. You mean to tell me, Bruce Wayne, that you’re really Batman at night while being a businessman, philanthropist, or whatever it is that you do during the day?”

Hazel clenched her fists. Was this her limit? Two nights and then there were gaping holes in her memory? It was a lot harder to fight crime than she had anticipated. The police scanner she bought was hardly helpful because most of the time, by the time she reached the source of disturbance via motorcycle, the crime had already been committed. You couldn’t save someone who was already dead. She just felt like an extension of the police. Psycho, on the other hand, always knew when and where the crime would take place. It was freaky, like some kind of sixth sense.

Much to Hazel’s surprise, she’d been able to stop three potential knife crimes from occuring by roaming around her local area. It was quite impressive but she wasn’t naive. Now that they knew of her existence, it wouldn’t be long until the gangs hunted her down.

Anger fizzled out. A wave of sorrow washed over her.

Hazel sighed. There were no regrets. She just wished she could have lasted longer.

Tonight would probably be the last.

“You don’t have to do this,” Psycho said.

Hazel almost jumped in shock though her body was too sluggish to react. Instead, she slowly turned around and put on the most confident face she could muster. “Go away. This is none of your business.”

“You remind me of myself when I first started,” Psycho said, taking off his mask. “No regard for your well being. Abnormally reckless without a trace of fear. You’re looking for a place to die, aren’t you? Your parents were killed in the London Massacre and now you’re trying to cope in the most insane way possible. You should be proud of yourself but it’s time to stop.”

Suddenly, Hazel wasn’t tired anymore. Adrenaline surged through her brain as she inhaled, then exhaled. She felt like screaming as loud as she could. The superhero she idolised so much, the vigilante who was supposed to be fighting crime 24/7, the man who could actually make a difference in this hell hole of a city was wasting his time talking to her?

Why wasn’t he cleansing crime?

Hazel stormed past Psycho without uttering a word.