Cadell spent too much subjective time with Hazel, more time than he had spent with anyone else before. Between the various intensive training exercises and lessons, they spent their breaks conversing, and now they knew almost everything about each other.

To begin with, it was Hazel who initiated the conversations. She dug up integral pieces of his identity by methodically asking enough questions to write a goddamn biography. Cadell didn’t mind; in fact it was quite the opposite. He loved the questions. They reminded him of his life before Psycho the Superhero and before he was a fugitive. They reminded him of the simple things that had almost been scribbled out by an overwhelming obsession.

He was 24-years-old. He’d been in one relationship before. He was of Nigerian heritage. He was once the class clown back in high school.

Somehow the trivial facts gave him strength. It was weird.

Eventually, Cadell was the one answering the questions and the more questions he asked, the more curious and baffled he became. Hazel Montebelo was an enigma. Raised and born in South London, her childhood was too ordinary for the beast that she was. Abnormal physical capabilities aside, her mental resilience was scary. It reminded Cadell of the typical, fearless protagonist of a shounen anime-- no matter how powerful and monsterous the obstacle was, she would rise tall and bitter failure was consumed like nutrience.

She was an only child raised by two loving parents. Her mum was a lawyer. Her dad was a doctor. During high school, she was a serious academic and an athletic powerhouse. She stressed numerous times that she wasn’t clever, insisting that hard work helped her hang with the big brains but Cadell believed this was bullshit. She had aced almost every test in her academic career despite the dyslexia handicap.

She had a small circle of close friends but had been so obsessed with her job at a pharmaceutical company that she hadn’t seen them in years. Any romantic relationship she’d been in ended within months and they all seemed to end dramatically with objects and insults hurled around. Apparently, all her ex boyfriends were “heartless.” Cadell had never interrupted Hazel’s rants about them, but he’d stared sceptically. The common denominator was clear as day.

The events leading up to Hazel becoming a vigilante left Cadell in such disbelief that he found himself asking the same questions over and over to her just to confirm. The woman who annihilated thugs twice her size, swinging bloodied fists like battleaxes, the woman who could catch a knife between her fingers… actually had no real training.

That’s right. She was bloody self taught.

Only relying on books and analysing a few fight videos online, within a matter of two weeks, Hazel had taught herself to fight and then had the audacity to take to the streets. Cadell had just assumed she was a black belt in every martial art under the sun with an unorthodox reckless fighting style.

It was insane and it was lunacy and it was fascinating. Throughout Hazel’s life, unrecognised talent had just been sitting there, twiddling it’s thumbs in her unconscious mind and then while a tragedy had left a hole in her heart, something special had found the opportunity to reach the surface.

It all made sense now.

“Training’s over, Manic,” Cadell said. “You need a better super suit that’s not a rip off.”

Hazel stopped shadowboxing, frozen mid punch. “Manic?”

Cadell nodded. “That’s your name. If you don’t like it we can change it but..”

I hope you like it. Please like it.

She better like it, boy, the voice agreed. It’s cool.

Hazel frowned, then made a funny scrunched up face that expanded her horrendous scar. “I think…”

“Yes?”

“It’s…”

“It’s?” Cadell repeated.

“The name is…”

“The name is?” Cadell echoed, heart racing. Hazel tilted her head to one side, repeatedly tapping one foot. He wished there was a hallucination to infer from. Her serious expression left him on edge because the woman's default giddy, happy persona was gone. Did she not like it? How could she not like it? Who wouldn’t like it? It was awesome.

Eventually, she nodded. “I love it! It fits all the boxes.”

Cadell let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, that reminds me. Why Psycho, Cad? You’ve changed the meaning of the word through the life you’ve lived but why pick something so dark? You’re not a Psychopath.”

That’s a good question, boy. Why not change the name?

Cadell shrugged but his fists clenched. Just like that, his good mood was gone.

Because you’re a murderer. You killed your parents and you killed your long lost brother.

Because that’s your true identity.

Because no matter how hard you lie to yourself I am you.

Hazel tapped his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Cadell turned away. “I went Psycho once. That’s all there is to it.”