It was now Saturday morning after the weather had finally cleared, and the birds outside were chirping.

Viktor usually liked sleeping in, but between what had occurred yesterday and what he was going to do today, he didn't end up receiving much. Upon opening his closet doors to dress himself as he did every other day in his typical dark clothed style, he found the gift from yesterday—refreshing his memory of the fact that it did exist and that he needed to do something with it.

Not one to tempt Murphy, he later went out of his way to request a personal luggage where he could safely lock it, delicately placing it inside once in his possession.

A sigh liberated itself from his vessel as he looked around at his now nearly barren room. There were many things he had to do in the coming days, most of them new or foreign to him.

One of the primary reasons for Viktor's move (besides the fact that he was strongly persuaded to) was because of the assets he obtained as a secret beneficiary. Bank accounts, investment accounts, real estate properties, and more—all found themselves to him on short notice once he became an adult; a shock to say the least.

He saw many residencies scattered around according to the dossiers he received earlier. Shuffling through the pages and looking at the pictures, he could see houses in Canada, Sweden, Australia, Peru, and more, but strangely enough—not one property in the former United States.

If there were that many places they were willing to actually show him, then it only made him more curious as to what they didn't. It was obvious that many of them had probably been seized, destroyed, or reclaimed. The outlying possibility of not even knowing that some of them existed at all was a possibility too, he supposed; a secret cave entrance to a hidden lair, or a remodeled and forgotten missile silo lying in wait.

With eighty-six million, three-hundred and seventy-nine thousand, two-hundred and twenty-four dollars, and sixty-nine cents worth of liquid assets—not including real estate—Viktor's mind was conducting its own miniature small-scale war with no victor. As a newly christened eighteen year old with no collage experience—and even less job experience—how was he to figure out that his whole life would suddenly change one day?

Watching the moving truck leave with all of his belongings, Viktor mumbled,

"Damn clichés..."

He didn't see himself as a bastion of light nor that of dark corners, but if there was a time for great change then it was most assuredly right around the corner. All of the which only further increasing his boiling anxiety. He honestly didn't want any part in global affairs, but he knew that if people would go so far as to erase his whole family line, then he was by no means safe at the moment, as much as he wanted to deny it.

He was the secret son of supervillians for crying-out-loud! Any moment he spent idle increased his panic. He would tell his friends he'd known for so long, but he'd probably be tracked online. He didn't want to implicate them in this mess. It's not like he could throw them a surprise visit, either. He only knew their names, personalities, and the general areas of where they lived, not their addresses. It hurt him greatly inside that he could only tell them soo little. He was leaving the orphanage within the hour, so he could still say his goodbyes though, thankfully.

One of the first things I should probably invest in is a financial advisor.

But what do I want?

Guiding his newly bought luggage towards his ten-minute late ride that just arrived, a stray thought popped into his head,

A secretary might not be a bad start...

As he watched the mess of concrete and tangled rebar pass them by out the window in silence, his face contorted with unease.

He'd never flown before. The idea of jostling around really high up in the air at incredibly high speeds did not grant him any semblance of comfort—especially knowing that some people could fly or even take it down by accident. He wouldn't have even had to fly in the first place, had it not been for his inheritance. He was actually packing boxes and calling a moving truck not too long ago because he had plans to do so anyway.

There was a nice looking house not too far from the orphanage that he had scouted beforehand, including a job position at Open Worlds—a game company he was fond of—as a concept designer. That was, however, before he figured out what fate had in store for him.

Now the house is back up for rent, the job position still available, and that same moving truck is heading towards a thrift shop—minus the few things he's now carrying with him. The counselors at the orphanage were of great assistance in the process since they were accustomed to dealing with such cases though, and helped set him back on track once more.

In the end, it was still his choice to do whatever he wanted, but they strongly recommend hiring somebody to manage his wealth and assets first and foremost—everything else could come third. He had to decide if he wanted to continue living at the orphanage or settle elsewhere, second.

When regarding issues of identity, they told him that his current registered name on record was; "Viktor Aemilous Acacious," but that the government still retained his real name. He wanted to avoid any potential "surprise visitors" at the orphanage though, so moving to a different country would have to do in the meantime. Heaven knows if the government had his name and address, then everyone else did too. And since his father's banks—and so his purchases—can be identified and located, he had to find a way to convert his money into an untraceable material format, such as gold. Until then, he converted a couple thousand to crypto for daily use.

Too many times had he seen the sob story of other second-rate villains and heroes online; their only saving grace being the historical context of the decimation caused by their own negligence. Information is a form of power that many win big on in the current age, and so expectantly it's value has risen to meet it. It's probably the reason why there hasn't been much political corruption or strife on as large of a scale recently; most of such funds find their way to brilliant scientists and determined engineers instead. It'd be dilatory to forget mentioning all the poor abductions and forced "volunteers" they use as well though; just another addition to Viktor's list of woes. It kept him stealing glances at his suitcase, adjusting his clothing, and examining his periphery every so often.

He really wanted to begin his initiation into the arcane and start practicing something, despite the apparent risks. He knew he was figuratively, "out of the nest" now and had to protect himself. Anyone crazy enough to travel openly usually had a backup friend with powers to rely on, had their own ability, or carried some form of advanced technology or weaponry. Anyone who didn't fall under those categories were either dim-witted, desperate, or unlucky—and he happened to feel all three at the moment.

In hindsight, it probably wouldn't have been that hard to ask someone at the orphanage to chaperone him—or alternatively hire a freelancer—but since he was seeking maximum anonymity, he took the risk.

The financial advisor he was flying to was recommended to him by a kind man in the orphanage by the name of Dax. The one who Dax pointed him towards was ironically named Nokkusu, or Knox. As Mr. Knox has already dealt with such cases in the past, it wouldn't pose a problem to him. Viktor isn't the first secret inheritor from the facility, and he most likely wouldn't be the last, either—the fallout of the previous decade still yet reaching the point of fully rearing its head.

The best way to finalize details without the awkwardness of using a projection, hologram, conference, or virtual meet, was to talk in person. So despite his immediate hesitation, Viktor decided that he'd at least get to know the man in person. He'd done some scouting of the area earlier and also found some interesting leads on some technical specialists; plus it wouldn't hurt to explore and have a mini vacation, right? He was visiting Japan after all.

On his way he couldn't help but think of its late history of unbound degeneracy. Not too long after the first waves of change, an embarrassingly large amount of Japan's humanoid–animal-hybrids were made very quick work of by bankrolled mercenary groups. Viktor was contemplating the need to research their unique biology versus their unscrupulous physical usages when the airport came within view.

Finally arriving at the newly constructed Michigan airport, his driver stopped near the curb and placed his 2030 Toyota Hyperion in park before turning to Viktor.

Quickly, however; his eyes dilated, his body began convulsing, and his grip tightened to the steering wheel!

But then— it stopped. As if caught red handed, his body froze in place before slowly relaxing into a more sinister calm.

Smiling, he began to talk for the first time throughout their trip, "Hello, Viktor. My you've grown up, haven't you?"

Viktor's heart rate skyrocketed—his hands becoming unnaturally clammy!

Rapidly stealing his suitcase and all but tackling the door to get out, he slammed it behind him and began his stride which became increasingly faster.

Nearing the point of running, he took a quick glance behind him; the man sitting in the car now appeared confused and was looking about for his now missing passenger.

Viktor veered sharply around a corner, setting down his suitcase to take a breath inside the terminal, "Haah... Haaah..."

Many there were eyeing him, but the smart ones were eyeing the spot where he came from—looking for what could be the next problem in their comparatively normal lives.

Shortly thereafter, a husky airport security guard approached him in question while he picked back up his luggage.

"You alright there? What's with the running?"

Still breathing mildly, Viktor replied, "Huh? Uh, I was getting chased by—someone..."

Turning around to view his "pursuer", Viktor took a second to absorb the view of busy travelers and ambient sounds.

The security guard looked around as well with his thick eyebrows raised,

"Hmmm... Well, I'm not seeing anything... But if you got some kind of ability or condition then you might want to cool it down some and consider resting a bit. If you do see someone comin' after ya though, then shout it out or call for help, alright?"

Shortly nodding his head, Viktor agreed while wondering what the hell had just happened, "Yea–yes. Thank you."

Briskly, Viktor restarted his trek towards the security check-line.

Nothing much occurred after that while he waited in the boarding area. He was tempted to interact with some of the newer kiosks installed, but the literal corner-chair he found himself in ironically comforted him more. Going by the current flight times off the board, he had a good wait until his plane would arrive, so he got comfortable.

A couple of poor-rested hours and a saliva clean-up later, he was boarding and ready to finally receive some real sleep.

Many of the passengers on board appeared relievingly average in outward appearances. The older black lady sitting beside him looked normal enough, but he was too shy and uncomfortable to interact with her for longer than necessary. He preferred the minimalist contact of any kind at the moment, and kept his face hooked to the small window to his right for a majority of the takeoff.

Annoyingly, none of the positions which he attempted sitting or lying in gave him comfort. The closest he got was when he used his suitcase as an impromptu pillow to rest his head, but it blocked his view of the world outside. He wanted to comfirm many of the large physical scars left on the earth by historical fights that had taken place in the past. As he couldn't see much past the clouds and encroaching darkness outside though, he decided to call it quits.

Closing his eyes and calming his nerves, the slow rhythm of his breathing was interrupted by a gentle poke on his arm.

Groggily, he lifted his head and blinked a couple of times before turning it towards the aforementioned stimulus.

A slow, creepy whisper greeted him, "I'm baaaaaack!"

Viktor was unamused with being woken up, especially by the one who probably wanted to kill him earlier. Not that it was the lady next to him, but rather the paranormal nightmare that gifted him farewell from the vehicle earlier.

There was not a single doubt in his mind as to who he thought it was now—so even if still apprehensive, he didn't really care enough to act. The most probable one sabotaging the woman's body went by the widely known name; "Puppet Master" online, and he greeted him by closing his eyes and assuming his prior form,—sleeping—or at least trying to.

Noticing Viktor's nonchalance, the Puppet Master felt hurt, "You know, I can control anyone, right?

"Does the name, 'Puppet Master' mean anything to you?"

Releasing a heavy sigh that he didn't even know he had, and giving the lady—or rather, phantom—some attention, Viktor plainly turned his head and responded, "You ever feel bad for doing that to people?"

"Not really... No."

She—it—said, leaning back and folding her arms.

"I do have more important things to do though, but if you ever plan on, say, running the family business again, then let me know. Your dad and I—although we started off terrible—were great business partners. I'm sure you'll find me eventually."

And just like that, the formerly possessed body had her head droop and begin exhibiting signs of slumber.

Shit, how did he even find out?! Victor thought to himself.

After a brief lapse of thought, he postulated the idea that perhaps he was just unlucky. He knew the Puppet Master's abilities from just talking about him, watching videos, and reading about him online. None of his skills really involved tracking unless he found you before you started running, or he happened to notice you.

As one might think, the Puppet Master's ability involved taking control of living creatures and turning them into controlled puppets. But just because he can use someone's body doesn't mean he can use their mind. Nobody has ever mentioned or provided good insight as to who the master's real identity actually is—or even gender—though they're assumed to be male (not that it'd matter). But like all the other members of the big twelve, even if their personality isn't known, their powers sure are. The master's ability to meticulously control multiple people seemingly anywhere simultaneously, and remain anonymous is what grants him his spot among the top.

Luckily for Viktor, he didn't seem to care much for him and was probably just passing by, due to the relation with his dad.

He still had at least a couple more hours left to go on his fourteen-hour long flight however, which should be more than enough to fully think over the event.