Darion cursed at his laptop as again he waited for the slow-ass machine to make the connection it needed to arrive at the conclusion that he already guessed.

He sighed. If he'd known that this side job would become such a pain in the ass, he never would have started it in the first place. When he graduated from the army base, he already knew he needed to have more real-world experience to further improve his powers based on the hints given to him by the system.

And the bright idea that he came up with is to become an underground detective. It hit several birds with one stone. It will help him being wary of his surroundings, more observant, and help him think outside of the box.

It should also keep you professional and don't show your emotions towards your clients, dumbass. He thought irritatedly.

He tapped the side of the laptop but gently and mindful of his superstrength. He couldn't afford to destroy his only laptop no matter how old it is. But the circular motion of the busy "still processing" sign simply irritated him as he rode the bus.

It was not only the internet connection but the very processing power of the machine he found wanting. He knew he couldn't just chuck it out of the window since it was a gift given to him by his parents, but he is constantly thinking about it.

Darion sighed as his gaze went to the window of the bus and watched the few people still outside going through their usual business. He admitted to himself eventually that it wasn't the performance of the machine that is making him irritable, although it wasn't helping either.

Ever since he became aware of his growing mental capacity, he is becoming increasingly aware of the limitation of the current technology around him. He resolved to do something about it and he did have a plan of action, but for now, it was on the back burner of his mind.

No, what is gnawing at him is how he reacted to the two cheaters he talked to for barely several minutes. He was surprised at the vehemence he felt against them simply because they reminded him of someone else.

He knew his dig about Mr. Melvin Colmy's word of honor was uncalled for the minute it came out of his mouth but he just couldn't help it.

The man reminded him too much of his ex, Alana.

Would you cut the dramedy show already, asshole? He chided himself. You guys were barely in high school! All your promises to each other at the time don't mean dick.

What are you hoping to happen? That she will put her entire life on hold while you sleep for years and years?

And if you stayed in a coma for another 30 years?

She is a superhero. You know the responsibilities imposed upon you by the government, your family, and society at large the moment they learned about your new powers. No, she couldn't wait for you.

She shouldn't wait for you.

Life goes on.

And yet despite knowing all that, it still pisses you off that she choose your best friend as her new boyfriend.

Yeah, fuck you too.

Darion's laptop pinged and he turned his eyes back to the machine in annoyance.

The original pictures were sent to Melvin's computer via email using a computer-installed webpage protocol which happens to be Outlook. The moment an email is sent, a message is sent from server to server via the simple mail transfer protocol until it makes its way to or from the client to the email recipient's email server.

Theoretically, if you know the exact nanosecond per kilobyte transfer speed of every server used in the area plus if you can calculate certain outside influences like the volume of data traffic at any given time, plus the processing capacity of each server, and a copy of a hacked DNS protocol, then you can measure the exact distance from the client to the email recipient with an uncanny degree of accuracy.

Using the customized program he installed on his laptop, Darion can detect the exact IP address of whoever sent the pictures to the mailbox of Mr. Colmy. The way it was sent made Darion reasonably sure that it came from a private server instead of a commercial one. He didn't realize it immediately but Darion's mind was able to verify the information even before the laptop was halfway there.

Darion tap the monitor and studied the perimeter grid of the most likely location of the sender. Using the IP address again, he can gather more data about the owner. The disseminated email which belongs to the same IP protocol is [email protected]

The email came out with numerals for its name, but a more customized search found that the email was used several times to create accounts on a few obscure forums and sites. Mostly the names used for the accounts are star wars references but in two instances there was a clear indication for the name Jamie.

Then he hit jackpot when the email address was registered to the local electric company billing. The official billing name given is Jamie Walthouse. Of course, he didn't believe the info he got is accurate immediately, and for a while, he considered the conveniently placed info he found on the net to be a trap. So he researched the name and a few info popped out. It also included an address that is conveniently within the area of what he was looking for and after a few more tinkering, he realized that the address is right smack in the middle of the search area he was looking for.

When he finally arrived in the area, he canvassed the place and walked several times around it just to see and feel the area out. The house was a simple single-story picket fence residence and nothing out of the ordinary.

Despite his massive improvement in his senses, he could not find anything wrong with the place. Finally, a nearby playground was still open with a few kids still hanging around. Mostly teenagers just hanging out since it was a bit late at this point. About 10 in the evening.

With his natural charisma, Darion immediately established a connection with the teens by simply displaying the standard teenage angst. The kids started approving of him when he didn't take shit from the local tough and the girls started liking him simply because he is cute, go figure.

Eventually, Darion stirred the conversation at the quirky house that is his target. The kids had many things to say about the place. They say it has bad Fengshui, or that it is a semi haunted house.

Either way, many know about the story of the place and the Walthouses. The Walthouses are realtors, nothing fancy but not poor either. But a series of bad luck and bad decisions made the bank foreclose their homes and Mr. Walthouse, as well as his wife and 16 years old geeky fat son, left the place with what is left of their belongings. The bank didn't waste time demolishing the place and preparing it for a new real estate deal.

But then, just a few months ago, all efforts to clean up the place halted again and a new construction crew came to fix the place. To the neighborhood's utter surprise, the construction crew attempted to recreate the original house that stood there, down to the same mango tree in front of the house that was there before. barely 4-6 months ago, a young man arrived and took possession of the property. He kept the mailbox that said "Walthouse residence" so everyone assumed that the new owner is the young Walthouse kid. He never came out and greet the neighbors even after they came into a group or as individuals to welcome him to the new home.

Naturally, many of them are simply curious why the kid came back. For the last month or two, unfortunately, Jamie hasn't come out of the place that they can detect.

Darion was just nodding but deep inside all he could think off, is by the gods! This entire neighborhood is a gossip market!

After that, Darion lost any interest in surveillance and decided to go home that night. This time, he didn't bother with the bus but instead dropped his hoodie to hide his face and relied on his super speed.

Within 5 minutes he is standing outside his own home and walked the rest back as if nothing happened. His family was watching a movie and welcome him back home.