Several days had passed without Sinistra coming back or the school announcing what had happened during Huic’s funeral. Needless to say, this whole ordeal looked suspicious. The super villains were of course denounced. Not only were they an easy target, but a scapegoat had to be found, and the newspapers were greedily buying into this narrative.

Every afternoon, the students were forced to continue their duties in the Anti-Suicide Squads. Lure walked alone alongside the main street in Khalut. Sinistras’ brother had informed Lure that his sister was planning something and had never stayed in their hideout for more than two hours.

So boring~.

Her new pronounced orange uniform fluttered in the singing wind. At least the main street was relatively clean and didn’t stink of urine and three days old Pizza leftovers rotting quietly behind garbage cans.

As she was moving back to her meeting place, she witnessed as a man was about to pull the trigger of his gun. Clothed in a black wool jumper, he stood above Lure on the suspension railway’s platform.

“Wait,” she shouted. The man looked at her from above the glass ceiling and smiled. His trembling hand pushed the trigger.

‘Bang’

Blood, this precious liquid full of life, flowed down the platform. Brain matter was splattered all over the place, testifying for the horrendous act.

The gasping Lure stood there. She didn’t think. No reaction. Blood.

She crouched on the ground and choked, yet no vomit came.

Please, let there be a good Heaven for all the people. They should be happy in paradise.

Despite pleading and begging, when she looked into the sky, she only saw indifference, and no being, no phenomenon tried to explain or soothe her wounds. The Heavens were as quiet as they always were. They were impartial, meaning they didn’t care. At least Huic wasn’t.

The multitude of different screams hurt Lure’s ears. She climbed the stairs and cursed that she wasn’t yet a C-rank or else she could just jump onto the platform.

What a bloody mess.

From some meters away, the dead man lying on the floor looked as if he was part of a canvas from a famous painter. The agitated people were running through the blood pool; some wanted to depart as quickly as possible, others poked at his body, and this disturbed Lure to the point that she wanted to shout as well. What madness!

Everyone had become crazy.

She commanded the onlookers to move away and was about to inform Lumière as a piece of famous music played, often heard in bars: the Pink Panther theme.

A man with a red suit approached as elegantly as possible, faintly stepping on the ground with his lacquered, black shoes. His mannerism was impeccable, and he even bowed to Lure. This made him suspicious, though.

“When I think about all the millions of possible flowers, be they crocuses, roses or tulips, none can compare to your innate beauty and charm. When I see your image in my eyes, all worldly treasures lose their brilliance in front of your splendid radiance,” eulogized the man with moist ears, clearly enjoying his performance.

“You used a lot of words, but said nothing of importance at the same time.”

“This is precisely how peddlers, politicians and scammers work.”

“Eh,” Lure cocked her head, “you’re using a lot of synonyms in your wordings....”

He bowed, and, while the music still played, he added, “I’m a poet.”

She refused to answer this imbecile, not deigning to play this man’s game. In her upper social circle, those people were shunned like the plague, for they stole both time and coin. Turning around, she went her way.

“Sinistra had sent me.”

Lure stopped, then continued to leave the platform. This was bait. First, she didn’t believe her friend would send an unknown man, and on the other hand, he was suspicious.

“I’m that information broker.”

She sighed. In hindsight, she had imagined that man exactly as he presented himself today.

“Alvis Gibson,” he bowed again when she turned her head, “A pleasure to meet you.” He grinned like a boy pulling the skirt of a girl, mischievous and playful. What Lure couldn’t stand at all was the fact that he won the game, and this touched her own dignity, she felt.

“Why didn’t she come herself?”

“Ah, you see, she is quite angry at you,” said the hairless man.

“I hope it isn’t about the shamanism and mysticism topics. The dark arts have their usage, but I prefer the light, I mean the sciences…”

He bowed again. Was it the fourth time already? “Your wit isn’t lost on me. I commend your stubbornness and pettiness, your small-mindedness and lack of vision, your conservative temper and your belief in your eyes, your -"

“Enough!”

“But…”

“Make your point!”

Gibson coughed in his right hand. He was about to garner attention again, but she gave him the mean look and he refrained from further annoying her, provisionally. After finishing knotting his tie, he tried to restart the conversation, but more heroes appeared, and Lure first explained to them how the suicide had proceeded. She enjoyed that the heroes had unravelled his opportunity. Justice.

They moved away from the platform.

“So, say it fast.”

“Sinistra had contacted me. I should inform you that she is angry, but is willing to grant you an opportunity, which you can’t refuse.”

She sceptically glanced at him, “And that would be?”

He smiled, “Of course this opportunity is nothing else but I, the great Alvis Gibson, –"

Having heard enough, Lure went her way. This insufferable imbecile was getting on her nerves, and escaping was now her highest priority. Although she desired knowing what Sinistra wanted to show her, she herself was quite angry with her, for her friend had refused to make contact through telepathy.

“I know a cure to save your family!”

“What could a non-Empowered know what a villain or hero can’t?”

He was rubbing his hand. “A lot.”

“You’re not the only one who is clearly displeased,” said Lure, while she cast a glance around the broker’s office. She had expected a crystal ball, voodoo dolls and the like, but surprisingly, the inner space was mostly empty with the exception of a bureau in the centre. The streets where the apartment was located was clean for Khalut’s standards as well.

Sinistra snorted and looked clearly not amused, “We’re villains. You’re losing your identity.”

“My identity? Please Sinistra. The benefits of staying in the school outweigh the negative feelings you associate with heroes. This is something I learnt as well.”

“You’re just calculating the odds for ensnaring Lumière. But some things are more important than rationality or logic, one is identity.” Sinistra was pointing at her friend in an accusing manner.

Lure internally screamed. Why now? We have enough problems, the division doesn’t help us.

However, she replied, giving a pointed answer. “Huic was a villain, however, he managed to hide his identity. We should hide our true intentions as well and strike when needed. Besides, Ura is nice, isn’t she?

The disarming answer calmed Sinistras feelings, and she twirled her shoulder-length hair. “I get it. But, I’m just so frustrated. Nothing we do changes anything. We’re pawns in a game, we didn’t decide to play.”

Lure embraced her, “All that matters is that we are happy at the end of the day. I don’t think about revenge on the NIP either, survival should be our first priority in these uncertain times.”

The well-clothed barbarian, who was presumably a top-notch broker, interrupted them, “Girls, this is my keyword to enter the stage.” He theatrically pointed his hands to his chest where his heart lay. “I know about your family’s tragedies.” His eyes radiated boundless faked sympathy. “I am so sorry. Though, I know the whereabouts of an S-rank healer…”

S-rank healer. A concept that should exist in theory, but didn’t in practice since no healer had ever managed to advance naturally to A-rank. Only The Heavens knew the reason. A topic highly discussed among the scholars as well, though dissension was the consensus.

“How do you know-“

He smirked. “Don’t say. I have my sources. But no, not this time. In fact, I have met this very person.”

Sinistra chimed in, “Don’t tell us you’re secretly an S-rank healer… That would be too cliché…”

“Wait, what. Caught.” He laughed. “No, I am but a non-Empowered. Sadly… Though that doesn’t mean I am not as powerful as one, at least in my domain.” He paused and reflected for a moment, perhaps to evaluate his sale skills. “No, this person is one of my clients and he still owes me a favour.”

“This sounds suspiciously,” stated Lure.

“The nature of my business is shady. Yet, honour and sincerity are my most valuable assets. I make a profit by selling and trading information that most people don’t consider as important. Everyone values tomatoes and potatoes differently, and only I know their true value, that is my margin.”

“And what do you want for this favour?”

“Oh,” he announced, “that is simple, just some minor information…”