Empty. The house felt absolutely barren. At some point, Ayda had been struck by the fact that she'd never been around so few people before. All her life had been packed cages and urban spaces. There was the recovery room, but that didn't count. Now, stuck at home with only two other people, she didn't even know what to do with all the blank space.

She could go outside, search for light and distraction, but even as she ruminated on the possibility for the hundredth time, she knew it to be impossible. For her, simply getting out of bed was a gargantuan task. It's not that she was weak, or sick, or anything like that. Rather, she lacked the motivation to do so. What's the point? Why bother getting out of bed to face the emptiness when staying in was so much easier?

For all the confusion and strife these things may have caused, Ayda liked it. The dark desertion made her feel comfortable and safe, almost as if the real world didn't exist. Nothing could do her any harm in the safety of her room. It was warm and gentle and kind, just like a girl she used to know. She could remain locked away forever in her own little world, deaf to any other outside influence.

It was hard to believe an entire week had passed. It felt so much shorter. Although, Ayda could not agree with herself on how much shorter it actually seemed. Sometimes it felt like just a few hours, and others at least a day. Regardless, the week passed in a blink of an eye. A whole week, and she'd never left the security of those four bedroom walls.

So stuck in the depths was she, Ayda almost forgot what she was sad about. Depression slowly replaced her senses until only it remained. She wallowed in a pit of despair so devoid of happiness it pervaded everything it meant to be her, to be a functional person. There was a familiarity in the stagnation. It was safe, if only for the fact that action of any sort brought the possibility of memory. Everything reminded Ayda of her, in some way. Staying in her room all alone was easier than facing the realities of outside.

It wasn't any sort of sudden realization which brought Ayda to her senses. No epiphany invaded her sense of realism. It was Emma. For all the time Ayda spent in her room, the woman wept. Out of sight and out of mind, Ayda at first largely ignored it. Only occasional sounds drifted up to her room. She realized rather quickly, though, Emma wouldn't cry if she didn't have a reason. The woman never came off as so emotionally unstable. For all she tried to dismiss it, Ayda knew full well the reason.

Jacqueline. The mere thought of that name sent her spiraling down a deeper down her well. She wanted to curl up in a ball and never do anything ever again because that was easier than facing an empty house.

Stupid. That entire concept was stupid. She was stronger than that. Ayda had only known adversity in her life. She'd faced down harsher situations and come out on top. All this lazing around, feeling sorry for herself, it made zero sense. It wasn't what she wanted. It wasn't what Jackie would want for her. Ayda was a fighter. She would fight. She would win.

But it wasn't that easy. Things seldom were, especially in her world. Every time Ayda tried to stand. Every time she convinced herself it was the right time to put herself back together, she fell apart again. Like glass, she shattered. Like tinder, she burned. She failed over and over again, until the only thing left to do was sit.

She was vaguely aware of the time that passed. She knew another week went by, but only through using her phone as reference. Ayda was not privy to the calendar. She existed in a state between time and space, a location where nothing mattered except the bare minimum to survive. Sleep. Eat. Don't look at the facedown picture frames. The cycle went on and on, an endless self-fulfilling prophesy.

When at the end of the second week her phone vibrated, Ayda abstained from checking it, just like she had been. No one could say anything to take away the pain, so why even bother looking? This time, however, when her eyes made contact with the device, curiosity got the better of her. That, and maybe a little guilt. Somewhere in her stupor she realized it was wrong to ignore the people in her life. With a quick motion, Ayda snatched the phone from where it lay on her bed.

A text message from Rudy. She hesitated a moment before opening it, noting briefly the dozens of missed messages from him. The contents were not condolences or even a greeting. No, it was a video of a stupid cartoon frog with a top hat and cane, but instead of old pop music, it sang a loud song about letting the bodies hitting the floor. She didn't reply, nor even make it through the whole thing, but despite everything she felt inside, Ayda smiled.

As the third week commenced, Ayda's strength began returning. She still found it hard to leave the comfort of her bed, but doing so was no longer impossible. She played video games and surfed the internet. She even began accepting phone calls from both Rudy and Elliot. The poor boys had been trying to reach her ever since the funeral. She felt terrible for giving them the cold shoulder. They were just worried, after all. Talking to them did her a lot of good. It reminded Ayda she still had friends who cared about her. More than anything else, that gave her the will to go on.

On a rather unremarkable afternoon, Ayda found herself absorbed into such a phone call. She sat at the head of the bed, squished up against the wall with her chin on her knees. The television had been turned on for the sake of background noise. She wasn't really watching it, so the volume remained low. It served as a distraction, an attempt to make the eerily quiet space a bit less disconcerting. It didn't work, but Ayda liked to think it eventually would.

"No, Rudy," she said gently into her phone. "It's a nice gesture, but I'm fine, really." She paused to let her friend on the other side of the line reply. "Alright, you got me. I'm not fine. I just... need to be alone, still. I think. I'm really sorry."

Rudy probably had some response to that comment, but Ayda didn't hear it. In the moment, she was more concerned with something which just came across her television screen. An attractive dark skinned woman spoke in tones she could barely hear. Ayda could, however, read the headline on screen. "Gang violence still rising after death of billionaire's daughter." It didn't take a genius to figure out who they meant.

"Hey, I'll call you back, alright?" Without giving him a chance to respond, Ayda terminated the call. She leaned forward to grab her remote. Quick fingers turned up the volume. The anchorwoman's voice filled the room.

"—can be directly linked to a noticeable and persistent increase in gang related crime." An image of an Asian man with short black hair and a thin goatee appeared next to the woman's head. "Sun Xin, pictured here, is the main suspect in the murder of local celebrity Jacqueline Belmont. A known associate of the Chinese Triad in the city, he has so far evaded police custody. With me now is criminal analyst Mike Hunter to talk about how such high-profile cases can have a cascading effect."

The view cut out to include an aging Caucasian man in a gaudy tweed suit, but Ayda no longer paid the program any mind.

She honestly didn't know what to think. Of course, the police had clued her in on some details of the investigation, including the name of their prime suspect, but at the time Ayda hadn't done anything with that information. Perhaps naively, she still trusted law enforcement to handle the matter, to bring it to a succinct end. But so much time passed and—as this reporter put it—the cops hadn't done jack shit.

It should have been easy, right? Get a warrant, go to the man's house, and slap some cuffs on him. A quick open and shut case. So, why had there been no results? Why did this Sun Xin remain at large? Why were the police so worthless?

It suddenly dawned on Ayda that this may be the end of it. Restricted by protocols established with public safety and due process in mind, the police may never progress any further past this point. Even with all their funding and resources, they were limited. There were places they couldn't go, things they couldn't do. In some respects, they were powerless.

Ayda had none of the same restrictions. She was not powerless. She was the explosive girl, cursed with great strength by a madman. His exploitation failed, and she'd been left the abominable waste product of a failed experiment. But maybe—just maybe—her powers were not a curse.

Maybe everything she'd been given, everything she'd learned, had led up to this moment, this one decision. She had great power, but what good was it if she never used it? She'd been given these abilities for a reason. In some twisted way, her creator had noble intentions. He wanted to change the world through science. What if she used his science to changer her own world?

Truly, Ayda enjoyed a bountiful breadth of freedom the local law enforcement could never even dream of. Bound only by the risk of being caught, she could go places and do things they couldn't. If anything, Ayda had a duty to assist. As a responsible citizen, it was her duty to see justice done. She had a responsibility to help, to use her immense strength in assistance to the legal process. Anything different was guilt by association. Inaction made her just as bad as the man who took her sister away.

All of that in mind, the decision she had to make became clearer than the bluest of skies. Ayda refused to let Jacqueline die as just another unrequited victim. The loose threads connected to her death would be severed one by one until only due justice remained. If the police couldn't do anything about it, then she would.

…

Finding the Triad was easy. Anyone who spent more than twenty minutes in El Puerto knew where Triad territory was, and the gang members themselves made no attempt to hide it. Everything from the defunct industrial district to the docks—and a few surrounding boroughs—fell under the jurisdiction of organized crime. The Triad was by far the largest gang in the city. They used that power to expand their zone of control and rule with an iron fist funded by laundromats and restaurants. Some of them probably thought they lived in an old-fashioned gangster movie.

Sun Xin, however, proved a much tougher nut to crack. Ayda would by no means call herself a technology expert, but she knew how to use the internet. One thing which never ceased to amaze her about the western world was just how much information about individual people existed in the digital space. How few people were even aware of this distribution was perhaps even more troubling. Ayda kept her online presence to a minimum for this exact reason.

Her quarry practiced no such caution. His personal information was simply all over the place. Not just public records, either. Social media, online radio, shopping websites, app stores, all were bountiful cornucopias of information. After Ayda found his username on one space, the rest opened up to her. Just like most people, he had a habit of using the same moniker everywhere.

She hadn't the time nor patience to crack his password, not that she possessed the ability to do so in the first place. It was, thankfully, superfluous. Sun Xin was wanted for—among other things—bail bonds. Three years ago, he'd missed a court date and refused to pay the bail set on him for a breaking and entering charge. His gang had protected him from being tracked down. No one wanted to mess with the Triad. However, his last known address was plastered all over various bounty hunting websites.

In a simpler case, that would be the end of it. Break his door and then his neck, easy as that. Doubtless, the police had already tried this and failed. Otherwise, Xin would not be still on the run. Obviously, he'd fled his home and gone to ground somewhere. That made sense, to Ayda. Finding him would be difficult, but in this Ayda had a distinct advantage. Since she was not a cop, people would be more willing to talk to her. Hopefully, that would make the search run much smoother.

Ayda used his most recent residence—a grimy apartment somewhere in the industrial district—to canvas a search area. Most people didn't like to stray too far form their homes, especially in urban settings. While Sun Xin could have been an exception, for now Ayda would have to bank on his conformity to the status quo.

A quick prod around for relevant research data on this topic and a consultation with an interactive map gave Ayda all the information she needed. She marked any and all points of interest within an established search radius. Any sort of business be they bars, restaurants, markets, and anywhere which accepted customers were flagged as likely questioning and stakeout locations. Sun Xin had to have habits, favorite places he went to eat and socialize. They would have information about him.

Ayda just needed to find them. It would take time, but this was the best starting point. She did make a special note, however, to avoid entering his apartment complex. The probability of running across the prying eyes of other gang members was much too great a risk. A few thugs she could silence with threats and a good beating, but one she never saw could pose a major problem. If Sun Xin was tipped off and then relocated, her entire effort would be for naught.

With the acquisition of data came the formation of a grand scheme. Ayda took much of the remaining daylight piecing together all she'd learned. Points of interest fell together like building blocks. First were names and locations, then an actual route to follow. Although to some it may have seemed like a long shot, Ayda had faith in her tactics. They had to work. Failure was not an option. She just had to wait for the right time to put them all in action.

…

Night fell over the city. Blackness blanketed the sky, the sun having long retreated to a place of slumber. In its stead, the moon and stars. A slight breeze blew which carried with it remnants of dry heat mostly overshadowed by the humid chill of evening. While the city certainly never slept, it did slow down. With all the commuters and day workers tucked snugly into their homes, traffic was a non-issue. It was a calm and peaceful time.

Through the still of night ripped the sinister screech from an expensive motorcycle, its rider clad all in black, face obscured by a thick visored helmet. A black, unzipped cropped leather jacket fluttered lightly in the wind, a tight black tank top beneath. Skin tight jeans clung to her hips and fed into mid-calf boots. A quartet of straps ran in lateral bands around the footwear. Bound against saddlebags on the back of her steed, a long metal staff swayed in reaction to a quick left hand turn to avoid a slow car. Ayda was a woman on a mission. No black of night nor bad drivers would stop her.

She rode on for several more minutes with little mind paid to speed limit laws. Here in the industrial district, the police had almost zero presence. The dominant gang did a good job of keeping them out. As such, she suffered little threat of intervention. Besides, a speeding ticket would be a drop in the bucket for her. While the anarchy here did not exactly settle her mind, Ayda wouldn't argue with anything which aided in her task. The faster she got this done with, the faster she reached her ultimate goal.

Ayda hung another left, but this time pulled into a small parking lot outside a divey little pub. The building had no signage, no lights on the outside, and not even a bouncer to guard the entrance. It would be quite easy to drive right by, especially at night. In fact, Ayda was pretty sure she'd done just that more than once. She could only find it in the first place because she marked it on her phone's GPS.

After claiming the space closest to the street, Ayda switched off her motorcycle. She removed her helmet and immediately replaced it with a pair of cheap, dark sunglasses. These made it a bit harder to see, but would conceal her identity well enough. Not that she expected to find anyone she knew here. Ayda entered the establishment through a single, black painted door.

The inside was just as nondescript as the out. It was literally just a single long room. A bar stretched from the east wall about halfway down straight ahead from the entrance. Several plain stools lined its outside. A large, aging man with grease stains on his white shirt stood behind it wiping down a clean glass. Red cushioned booth tables made of dark wood occupied every inch of floor not already taken by the bar. They formed two distinct columns along the north and south walls, the space between them hardly wide enough to traverse.

Ayda took a quick glance around. Other than the bartender and herself, the only other people were an old fogey sitting all alone just past the bar, and a group of three young men in the far corner. One of them peered up at her briefly when she entered, but the other two cared not. They were very quiet, despite clearly conversing amongst themselves. Neither party posed an immediate threat.

With the area fully assessed, Ayda took a seat at the bar. The rickety metal stool slipped to one side as she sat down, resting on uneven legs. The barman took immediate notice of her, just like she'd expected. He was the man she'd come to talk to, and sitting at the bar was the best way to get his attention without drawing too much to herself. He walked over to her, all the while drying the same glass.

"You gotta be twenty-one to sit at the bar, little lady," he said gruffly. Ayda had a feeling this kind of thing happened quite often.

"Relax," she said. "I'm just looking for a little light conversation."

"And you have to sit at the bar to do that?" The barman replied with a raised eyebrow.

"Tell you what," Ayda leaned her elbow on the counter top, "humor me, and I'll be out of your hair."

"Sounds good to me," shrugged the man. "Go on, shoot," he nodded. Ayda extracted a photograph from her jacket pocket.

"I'm looking for this man, goes by the name Sun Xin. Have you seen him around here recently?" This was her gambit. Up until that moment, it hadn't seemed real. There was no going back now. She'd have to pursue this course to the very end.

For all the ice the bartender maintained on his exterior, he had a terrible poker face. His expression immediately drooped at the sight of Sun Xin's picture. He even went so far as to put his glass down.

"That... depends on who's asking?" Said the barkeep in a dodgy sort of way.

"The underage girl sitting at your bar," Ayda responded with a smirk. "You wouldn't want the police to find out, would you? I can get off with a warning, but something tells me you can't afford another fine." She leaned forward. "Answer me and I'll leave, simple as that."

The quip about another fine was a complete guess, but it seemed to hit home. The man placed his palms on the bar. His breaths quickened just slightly, not enough for most normal people to notice, but Ayda's supernatural perception allowed her to pick up on it. He wanted her gone, and that was a good thing.

"Yeah, he used to come in here pretty regularly, but I haven't seen him ever since the cops started looking for him," said the bartender.

"Any idea where he might have gone?" Ayda pressed.

"Not a clue," the man shook his head. "We never really talked all that much."

Ayda sighed. "I thought you'd say something like that." She stood. "Thank you for your time."

With that, she left. She'd made a promise, after all. The barman deserved no ill will from her. He probably had enough trouble from the local degenerates. The last thing he needed was some random girl causing him grief.

Ayda made it out to the parking lot and began toward her bike. All in all, the trip had been both more informative than she'd expected, yet less than she'd hoped. To score any sort of hit at all on her very first stop filled her with hope, but the extent of the information made her realize just how daunting the task would be. Likely, she'd find the exact same responses from dozens of other individuals. To corner the one who would spout off a little more would be like finding a needle in a concrete haystack. Still, Ayda had already prepared for such. No one ever said this would be easy.

She made it all the way to her motorcycle. Helmet in hand, about to remove her glasses, an interruption stayed her.

"Hey!" Called out an authoritative, accented voice behind her. She shook her head.

"Let me guess," she put down her helmet, "the three guys in the corner." Ayda turned to look at her guests. "Oh, I am just that good."

Indeed, the three men sitting in the corner of the pub had roused themselves to join her outside. They carried the look of hoodlums about them. Each one wore ill-fitting clothes and two had baggy hoodies. The lightest color among them was a dull gray. All three of them were of Asian descent. They stood in defensive, hunched postures. Ayda could already tell there'd be no getting out of this. She backed up against the motorcycle and grabbed her staff behind her back.

"You had some interesting questions back there," the man in the center said.

"You think so?" Ayda played coy. "I thought they were pretty tame, myself." She scratched a theoretical beard and grinned.

"Who told you about Sun Xin," asked the same gangster. "Why were you asking about him?"

"Would you believe it if I said I'm an old girlfriend?" Ayda joked. The rightmost man laughed.

"Nice try, but Xin could never nail a chick like you," he said. Any other time, Ayda would've taken that as a compliment.

"What do you say we cut the shit, gentlemen?" In a fluid motion, Ayda drew her staff. Holding it horizontally behind her back in both hands, she stepped forward. "Sun Xin is a wanted man. He's all over the news. I think it's pretty easy to figure out why someone would be looking for him."

"So, what, you're some sort of bounty hunter?" The third gangster finally spoke up.

"You could say that," Ayda briefly cocked her head to one side. "What are you gonna do about it?"

"I don't like hitting girls," the center man said. From his pocket, he produced a slim folding blade. "But the boss wouldn't like it if we just let you get away."

"Seriously?" She cocked an eyebrow. "That's it? No baseball bats or brass knuckles? And here I thought my first street fight would be more exciting." She gave a devilish grin. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel like hitting something right now. So come on," Ayda assumed a ready stance, "indulge me."

The men hesitated for a moment, exchanging uncertain glances. Likely no one—much less a woman—had ever actually challenged them to a street fight before. They were probably more used to ambushing targets from within dark alleyways. They recovered within a few seconds, though. At a quick order from the center assailant, the two at his flanks closed in.

They had a good idea to attack her from both sides simultaneously, but these poor souls had no idea who they were dealing with. Ayda watched them both as they approached, awaiting the perfect moment to strike. They made their moves at almost the same time. The one on the left attempted to grab her, with the other cocked his fist back. Pathetic.

Lazily, Ayda tapped the ground with the end of her staff. A blast rippled through the ground. It was rather weak, only traveling a few inches, but more than enough to halt them both. They stumbled to remain upright. Each man gave her confused looks. Ayda simply smiled. This would be fun.

She jabbed the man on the right just underneath his chin. While he reeled, she leveled a horizontal strike and blast into the other. He sailed through the air a few feet and landed hard on his shoulder. She swung back the other way and aimed a blast low. The remaining man's feet collapsed out from beneath him and he plummeted face first into the asphalt.

While this had been going on, the third gangster thought he would be sneaky and charge her while she was occupied. A good plan, but it would never work. Ayda spun her staff long before he got in stabbing range. She hit him twice, once on the right side of the head and then again in the same elbow, each one accentuated with a small burst. Surprisingly, he remained standing. This one had some fight in him. Ayda thrust at his wrist to dislodge the knife. An explosion sent it to the ground. The man followed shortly after it with a blast to the kidneys.

The first man she'd knocked over recovered at this point. Foolishly, he decided to attack yet again. He threw a big haymaker at her face. Ayda dodged with a sidestep. A light jab at his hip turned him around. Ayda brought her staff back and stabbed him right in the spine with a loud burst. Bone audibly cracked. He tumbled along the ground, stopped only by the pub's outer wall. He slumped over on his face, motionless.

The second man Ayda had put down was beginning to stir. He'd made it onto his hands and knees, and tried to stand up completely. A swift kick to the head put a stop to that. He rolled over onto his back, unconscious. As only her own strength carried the attack, he was most likely just knocked out.

The last man got to his feet. Although he hadn't the foresight to regain his weapon, he did have the smarts to refrain from blindly rushing her again. He stood vaguely like a boxer, buttoned up and coiled to strike. However, he clearly lacked an amount of training.

Ayda sized him up for a moment. While this stance he took well protected his cranium, it left his lower half wide open. A simple upward stroke between the legs was all it took to disable him. He cried out and clutched his groin in a most undignified manner. As he fell forward, Ayda grabbed the cretin by his neck. He was powerless to resist as she dragged him forward. None too gently, Ayda pinned the man against a car in the parking lot. Their faces were close. His breath smelled of alcohol and onion rings. His aura reeked of fear.

"Wha—what are you?' the man stammered.

"Me? I'm just a normal girl, but as far as your concerned I'm a god." Ayda dropped her staff and laid a flat hand against his stomach. "Now, why don't you be a good little peon, and tell me where to find Sun Xin?"

"Why don't you go fuck yourself," he menaced. His loyalty was admirable, but misplaced. Ayda pushed against his torso. A blast tore through his body. He screamed in brief agony.

"You've asked enough questions. It's my turn now." She tightened her grip around his throat. "Tell me where to find Sun Xin."

"Up your ass," he joked. Ayda sighed. She didn't really feel like mincing words with him.

"Do you see the guy up against the building over there?" She physically turned his head, just to make sure. "He's dead. I felt his spine shatter. Now, the other guy is just knocked out. Do you know what that means? It means I have another hostage perfectly willing to tell me everything I want to know. In other words, I don't need you. I already killed your friend, and I don't mind adding one more to the body count."

For emphasis, she sent another blast through his body. The man cried out yet again. Calm fear quickly turned to frenzied panic. He seemed able to deal with quite a lot of pain, but the threat of death was another matter entirely. He had no reason to believe such a ruthless madwoman entertained any reservations about dropping him as well.

"I don't know where Xin is, I haven't seen him," he blurted out all at once.

"Don't lie to me." Ayda pressed her hand deeper into his midsection, but didn't actually hurt him. He yelped in fear.

"It's the truth, I swear!" he insisted. "The boss had him relocated after he killed that girl. He's probably set up in one of our safe houses, but I don't know where any of them are. That's way above my pay grade."

He spoke at a mile a minute, desperate to escape from these dire circumstances. Despite his obvious fear, Ayda could see in his eyes that what he said was factual. He was probably too afraid to lie.

"Okay, then tell me who would know." She applied even more pressure to his middle, again without actually hurting him.

"A guy called Lo Feng. He's one of the big wigs, takes care of all our witness protection projects. He's probably the one who handled Xin's case."

"I need more than that. Where can I find Lo Feng?"

"I don't know. He's real secretive."

"Give me everything you do know." Ayda was losing her patience. She sent a small blast through him.

"Golf!" The man croaked between pained gasps. "He plays golf every Thursday at the country club on the west end of town. Everyone knows not to bother him then."

"See, was that so hard?" Ayda released him. He fell to his knees, coughing and sputtering, a hand across his stomach. "Just so you know..." Ayda knelt down on her haunches. With a finger under the man's chin, she turned his face toward her. "I'm nice enough to let you live right now, but If I go to this safehouse of yours and Sun Xin isn't there, I'll know someone blabbed, and I'll start with you. If we have to have this conversation again, I won't be so nice. Got it?"

The man frantically nodded.

"Good." Ayda grabbed her staff and stood. She rammed her boot into his face just to knock him out.

Never mind what she'd thought before the fight, this trip turned out far more lucrative than she could have ever imagined. The exact location of her prize remained a mystery, but she had the next best thing, the means with which to acquire it. She had a new person to interrogate, and then it would be right on to her ultimate goal. For now, though, the only thing Ayda worried about was how she would contain herself until Thursday. For truly, it would be a day of reckoning.