To call the sounds cascading off the walls screaming would’ve done the word injustice. A scream implies something close to human. Something with more than just raw emotion fueling it. Something he could relate to.

What was hammering into his eardrums now and had been growing in intensity for the last few days was a howl? A bone jarring, soul tearing howl. Before hearing it, Skip would’ve expected a person’s voice to go raw after a few hours of screaming. But that didn’t seem to be the case. Or maybe it was because the cause of the noise wasn’t just anyone?

The cry was one born in no small part to his own actions. Even if he wasn’t igniting the wail now. It took little soul searching to realize why he wanted it to end. Yes, the noise was grating, but even more so when his conscience told him he was at fault.

Skip shivered as a new iteration of the cry leapt through the metal door. The structure doing nothing to suppress the sound as it spread outward. Each echo bringing a vibrato to the sound. A harmony like some sick song reaching into his core.

Their little hideout left few places to hide. Skip had tried finding a corner where the sound didn’t reach, but there weren’t any. The old rusting building looked on, unimpressed by his desire to escape his own creation and ensured he’d fail..

He could jump out of the base, a thought that’d crossed his mind a dozen times already. But he wasn’t sure how Bank-Breaker would react. The man was finicky, and if the sounds coming from within their base was any tell, Skip wouldn’t want to get on the man’s bad side.

Being on the run from the Heroes was one thing. Running from Bank-Breaker was something else entirely. The man had already tracked Skip down once, when he’d been nothing more than a passing interest. Skip was under no delusion that the man couldn’t do so again, and this time with a less than happy reception waiting for Skip at the other end.

Maybe he could find another errand to run. He’d gone out for intelligence earlier and snagged a newspaper. That mission hadn’t lasted long, but that didn’t matter as it got him out of here for a minute.

Skip jumped to the other side of the room. Grabbing the newspaper, the local newspaper was from a few states away. A safety precaution he took whenever he left the base these days.

With his goal in hand, Skip jumped back to his chair. Landing next to the thing to avoid getting it wet. An inconvenience that was only doubled when he remembered this same substance was the reason he was here to begin with. Flopping onto the chair, Skip let out a burst of air. His feet flying up to land on the stool in front of him.

Glancing through the paper, it wasn’t lost on Skip just what he was doing. A year ago he would’ve laughed at finding anything remotely illuminating in such a thing. Now look at him. Clinging to the pages as if they held the cure to cancer. It was a joke. One that was all the funnier at just how real it’d become.

Skip devoted himself to the paper. Diving into its mysteries and using the crisp pages to hide from the never ending agony coming from the room next door. The headline story was his first stop and first disappointment. ‘Attack at High Sea’ the title proclaimed. Yet the article didn’t cover half of what happened. All it managed to get right was that everyone died. The cry from behind Skip made him amend the thought. Everyone was dead or in the process of reaching that state. If the reporter knew half of what really happened, they would’ve been sick. The public already hated him, what would they think of him if the truth got out? Would they call him a villain, monster, or something altogether worse. Their thoughts would’ve driven him mad a year ago. Now, they were little more than an annoyance.

Skip continued his search, trying to uncover where the Heroes were looking in their hunt for answers. And what they’d already uncovered. The hints were scarce and Skip was starting to think there were none to be found. The article didn’t even claim anonymous sources, a clear sign details were lacking in the newspaper. Not that he should expect better from a local one. Everything they’d pick up was regurgitated from national news teams.

The door behind Skip screeched. A nail on the chalkboard would’ve been a welcome relief in comparison to the rusted hinges’ wails.

Spinning, Skip saw a man in a large coat. His body, thankfully, covered save for the whites of his teeth. Taught skin pulled back around them in a mockery of a smile.

“I got it,” a sing-song voice came from the mouth. The sound caused Skip to shift in the chair. The voice would’ve been at home in a B-rated horror movie.

“What did you get?” Skip asked. Keeping his tone level as he looked away from the other man’s face and back at the paper. He was ready to run at the hint of aggression from Bank-Breaker.

“The answer I’ve been looking for,” the man replied.

Bank-Breakers’s body glided into the room in some exotic dance. Covering the space without rustling a feather. Skip shrank back from it, something the man didn’t notice or decided not to comment on.

“I’ve spent years working on it and there it was, waiting for me. I can’t wait to harness it.”

“That’s good…” Skip said. He knew the man was after something, but even after spending so long together, he was still at a loss to what that could be.

“Of course it is. With this Touch won’t be able to stop us.”

That was something, Skip thought. Though, not enough for him to lower his guard. All it took was one mental twitch and then he’d have to make an escape.

“Don’t forget he’s on a team,” Skip said. The man might see Nudge as his old rival, but Skip knew better. Touch had been a Hero decades ago, and unlike Bank-Breaker’s machines, he didn’t have the ability to fight time.

For whatever reason, Bank-Breaker saw Nudge as their chief opponent. And as long as Source was with the man, Skip would not correct his misconceptions.

“The rest are nothing more than ants. Ready to be brushed away by my brilliance.”

“I underestimated Source once. Don’t make the same mistake.”

Bank-Breaker stopped his movements and turned towards Skip. Though Skip couldn’t see the man’s eyes, he could feel them on him. Boring into his very soul. If Skip could move, he’d have fled from the stare, but it held him anchored.

“I don’t make mistakes,” the man said.

The words came out in the same sing-song voice as before, but the joy was gone. A rough iron edge in its place. Stabbing into the one who’d doubted it’s brilliance.

All Skip could do was watch as the verbal attack landed. Words of iron piercing into him. Tearing him apart as they bore deeper. And then, just as fast as it’d started, it was gone.

“I… yes, you’re right,” Skip conceded as he took advantage of the spell breaking and looked away.

The hooded man continued to stare into Skip. Peering deeper into him than the man could himself. Even avoiding the eyes, Skip couldn’t escape the gaze.

“Good...” the comment came, long seconds of intense scrutiny later. And with it much of the pressure besieging him, vanished.

“So we aren’t going after any more cruise ships?” Skip asked, hoping his already bloodied hands would have time to rest.

“No need. The doll inside provided everything I needed,” Bank-Breaker said with a wave over his shoulder.

The doll, as he was describing the man, had howled for days. But it wasn’t like the man in front of him cared. He’d carried out his work regardless of the sound.

The quiet from the room now was as unsettling as how Bank-Breaker described the former man. Did he view everyone as nothing more than a toy to play with? If so, was Skip any better in the man’s eyes?

“What’s our next step?” Skip asked hesitantly. Determined not to look into Bank-Breaker’s view of the world.

“There’s no hurry. I was thinking of enjoying the moment. Savoring the knowledge that victory is at hand, before moving in to take it.”

“What about your promise?” Skip asked. The thought of Source living out there, free from his punishment spurred Skip on. Causing his worry to fall away as the blackness of his hatred of Source sprang forward.

“Be patient. A reward you look forward to and earn over time will make the final result all the sweeter when you receive it.”

Skip’s eyes bulged, his breathing picking up. Does the man not understand what he’s saying? Skip didn’t have a chance to ask, Bank-Breaker was already sliding through another door. The metal clanging shut behind him before Skip could move. He could chase after the man, but the scene from the room Bank-Breaker had come from was enough to stop him.

The body, strapped to a chair, was shredded. Skip only knew it was a body from when he’d brought the person in. Now he could only wonder at how the man had been making any noise the past few days.

As Skip watched, two robots floated into the other room. The pair grabbing saws. Skip teleported to the door and slammed it shut. Unwilling to watch what came next. It was one thing to hear the acts, another entirely to watch.

Skip knew he couldn’t stay here. He had to figure this out and end his relationship with Bank-Breaker. Or else he’d be the next person in that chair. Yet the prospect of watching Source pay, held him. Neither side budged, yet Skip knew that wouldn’t last.