In the dead of night, Zalen and eight of his friends silently stood in a park, all wearing black tracksuits and black ski masks.

Friends was always the title he used in his mind because, before anything else, that’s exactly what they were. Surrounding him were cold blooded murderers, business partners and high ranking gang members but from Zalen’s perspective, it was just the usual squad. The boys would die for him and he would do the same. Some were childhood friends, some were extended family, some had close ties to his older brother, and all it took was one gang sign or a slight nod for one of them to leave a victim’s guts hanging out, no questions asked.

Simply put, these were the elite, the core group of the Hustlers, and together they had grown into a criminal organisation with over 120 members. Zalen had picked up the pieces his big bro had left behind, gradually regaining drug dealing territory and strengthening their network. Since they began working with a mysterious producer of an addictive drug known as Crazed, they had reached a level of success never seen before.

The purple powder guaranteed two things: an extreme level of euphoria and a random uncontrollable superpower. 75 percent of those who consumed the drug died and the other 25 percent inevitably came back for what made them feel like a god.

But of course, there was one glaring problem and it wasn’t the feds.

“Are you ready, boys?” Zalen asked.

There was no response but a few nods. Of course everyone was ready. It was more of a rhetorical question.

“Remember your first kill. Remember the rage and satisfaction. Get nostalgic.”

Zalen didn’t follow his own orders. Instead, he focused on who he wanted to kill the most. The individual had made his older sister cry. Their actions led to his brother, the one he loved the most, incarcerated and brutally killed in prison. They contributed to his mother’s rapidly declining mental health, ultimately resulting in her death.

Cadell Akindele was the individuals name.

The superhero was the only reason Zalen had picked up the knife. At twelve-years-old, with bloodshot eyes staring at a mirror, he had vowed for vengeance and sacrificed his dream of becoming a successful rapper. Money, getting out the hood, freedom-- they were all strong motivators to resort to crime but he was not like his friends.

For many years, even when the goal seemed impossible, he had tunnel vision. The truth was that deep down all he really wanted was to inflict pain and suffering onto one person.

THUD!

Psycho the Superhero slammed on the ground so hard the ground trembled. None of the Hustlers flinched. They looked at each other and stood tall and proud. The plan worked.

Zalen grinned menacingly. “You came.”