I like looking at the city. I didn’t have nearly as much mobility before I got super powers. Didn’t have a car or bike, or anything.

I only ever left my house to go to my granny’s, or to walk my dog, so I’ve seen a lot more since then, noticed smaller details I never would have picked up on.

Shops I’d have never walked past, or interactions between people I wouldn’t see, just the other day I noticed a small basket in the park. At first, I thought somebody had forgotten it, but it was tied to a fence.

I crouched down and gazed into it. Inside were little rocks, each painted with little phrases. Dumb jokes, motivational quotes, that sort of thing.

I only remember one of them: ‘All that is made can be broken, all that is broken can be fixed; though it may never be the same, it’s still there.’

No clue what it was supposed to mean, if it meant anything, or if it was just that ‘hang in there’ type stuff.

I looked it up, and I think the system behind the basket of stones is that a person who resonates with one of the rocks can take it, and they can in turn provide the basket with a stone they made, in hopes that someone else passing by feels the same as them. I didn’t take one though, I didn’t give it much thought at the time, other than, ‘That’s nice’.

Next time I was passing by, it was gone.

The thin piece of rope keeping it there was hanging to the fence by a thread. After thinking for a while, I’ve come up with a few ideas as to what might have happened to that basket.

The first being that someone- drunk or bored- had kicked it to pieces, pieces that got swept away over time, just garbage on the street.

Another idea I had was that, maybe someone liked all of the stones, so they took the whole thing. That seemed a little silly, to be fair.

The last idea I had was that maybe the person who started the whole thing might have just, I don’t know, wanted there basket back? Didn’t want to put any more stones into it? I don’t know, though if that’s what happened, I’m not sure I like it.

One person destroying a project because they got tired of it, when (judging from the variety of stones put into it) a lot of people seemed to like the idea.

This is a strange thing to go on about, I know, I could probably get into the fighting right of the bat, but this is something that matters a lot more to me.

These things, the passing ideas that people have, little sections of a larger universe that show you something you’d never see with your own eyes, that’s something I’d like to be remembered.

Not that I’m planning on dying.

I’m not going to die.

But I might, actually.

I thought to myself whether or not the people who painted those stones are alive right now, and the answer could be no.

I’ve thought about the Gator quite a lot, Stan Berwick is his real name, but to me I’ll always see him as the monster that killed those people.

Some of them were asleep. Some were just passing by. It wasn’t a busy night, the quarter was closed so Clover could focus her budget on her own party, the surrounding shops are usually closed by that time.

If he had dropped just a few hours sooner, hundreds might have died.

I’ve also thought about whether or not my choices were the best, perhaps I could have saved more people if I had simply fought him. I have no clue how tough he actually was.

Wouldn’t it have been better to destroy him as soon as possible, even if there was collateral, if it meant five or ten people kept living?

I don’t know what to do. That was the first post I made online, that’s what I titled it, and I’m not so sure I’ve found a concrete path to go down.

I’m a little glad for that. I don’t think I’m ready to forge any grand convictions on how to go about this.

So, until I do, I’ll stick to the little things. I’ll stop the circulation of drugs the best I can, I’ll give money to people who’ve been left impoverished, and I’ll try to give help to people who need it.

When I was thinking about this the other day, my mind first went to Feoli, but seeing as I haven’t seen her for a few weeks, there’d be no point looking. Surprisingly I didn’t think of Clover. I guess over time I’ve started to see her more as Saoirse, but that doesn’t excuse what she’s done, she’s tried to kill me.

It’s just getting harder to look at her as an enemy.

Weirdly enough, I settled on Tayanita.

I said I didn’t like the idea of this whole ‘Rori’ act, but I thought there might be something useful for me to get out of her.

She seemed to like him a little, despite the fact that I firmly told her, twice, that I had no interest joining up with the Mountain. There is always the chance that Clover’s information is biased, one sided, or maybe even purposefully false.

Clovie is in the upper echelon of their organisation, and while Tayanita might not have as much insider information, she seems more level headed, and it’s not too suspicious for Rori to want to know just a little more on what’s happening.

You might be thinking to yourself, ‘Shamrock if you want knowledge on what’s going on in the world why don’t you talk to someone who doesn’t shoot at you? Like Bob, or Axel.’

Like I’ve said, I wanted info on The Mountain specifically.

I’ve been messing with their operation for a few months, and I’d like to know why I’m still alive.

I got dressed in some clothes I wouldn’t wear as Sam, which really just means I didn’t wear a hoody. Just a plain shirt and Jeans. I looked at myself in the mirror, flexed my arms a little.

I tried to find an expression that matched ‘Rori’, settling on a mixture of being bored and angry, out of character for Shamrock, with a serious tone to my voice as a little cherry to the cake. The only thing that didn’t really match the character was my haircut.

I walked up to her door and knocked; I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intimidated. Not by her, but by the fact that I’ve never done this before, knocked on someone’s door out of the blue.

Especially in a neighbourhood like this.

When she did come to the door, she acted surprised upon seeing me.

“Oh, It’s you. Didn’t think I’d see you until something big happened.”

I cut to the chase, “Can we skip this shit? I need to know about the thing in the fucking sky.”

Her mood changed, as she moved a hand to her back, opening the door wider to see more. I feigned annoyance. “It’s not there now! That green thing! Streaks across the sky?”

She knew who I was talking about, and nodded.

Twenty minutes later, we were sitting in her kitchen, with coffee and some foreign biscuits I didn’t recognise, or bother to remember the name of.

I recapped, “So what, he’s a super hero?”

She laughed a little. “That’s how he sees himself, I’m sure. But people like him? They’re monsters. All of them. No different from the Gator. He might smile and laugh like a normal human, but so do most rapists, murderers. Only the average murderer can’t lift a car, or fly, or kill you with the wind. He is someone who’s been given power, and he can do whatever he wants with it.”

I challenged, just slightly, “You’ve got a gun on you right now. You could blow my brains out whenever you want with that, can’t you? Just hide the body, or get your organisation to cover it up.”

She shrugged, “Sure, I can kill you, but I’m not a useful enough piece for the latter. If I decided to lure men into my house and kill them without reason, they’d kick me out, or kill me. If someone with power in an organisation did the same, they’ll cover it up, and if they can’t, they’ll plant evidence. Someone who can fly is worth that much at least."

She leaned forward, "It all comes off of that ‘worth’. With power over the physical and societal, men will always fall to pride and arrogance, they see themselves as untouchable. ‘Above the world, and farther from it’, as the say. If you were doing something he didn’t like, could be something minor, irritate ’em, there is nothing in them, no conscience to tell them it is evil to crush you under their thumb.”

Is that how I come off? Well to be fair, I am basically untouchable, but that doesn’t make me see people as ants or whatever. I more so got the sense she was talking broadly.

“So, what, your organisation hunts them down? Like that show on amazon prime, forget what it’s called.”

She shrugged again, “I wouldn’t know, I don’t have an amazon subscription. But no, the leaders of my organisation are all powered. One individual is referred to as a Unit. That can be equated to up to 250 armed, trained, soldiers. In a regular military anyway. I’m sure you can see how that term isn’t entirely accurate when describing something like the Gator. And before you say anything, yeah, I’m a shill. I am working a job for people I hate. But I'm good at it, and someday, I’m going to gain something from all this-“

She leaned in further with a nasty look in her eyes. “-Money, connections, I had men- subordinates, but I’ve been displaced by…”

She stopped to consider her next words, I interrupted, “Saoirse. Or Clover. Whoever she actually is. She’s one of those super… whatever the fuck their called, there’s the green guy as well, anyone else running about?”

I pretty much knew the answer, but I was interested in hearing anything about Ae and Han, or even Feoli.

She looked at me weirdly, then down her nose at the coffee, “Three. They came in a few days ago. Stay away from Clover, stay away from The Quarter.”

She looked back at me. “There are three doors.”

I was a little confused by the abrupt change in topic. I was more interested in the three people she was talking about.

She was quiet for a while, before I could say anything, she started properly.

“Doors is a poor translation of the concept, but it fits with an eastern teaching I heard on the topic. My people believe that souls permeate the air, they are an infinite source that stretches through every corner of the world, invisible to all. The first door is opened when an appropriate form is provided to this source. The resulting reaction forms a soul. A person is born. The second door is opened when the reaction is reversed, when the soul or the body can’t sustain the other. A person dies.

“This is the natural process of life, the soul returns to the sky, the air, wherever it came from. But there are three doors. The third is unnatural, alien in origin. It is bored into the wood of the process, by things beyond our universe or unnatural to it. Some souls are unfortunate enough to be sucked through these holes before they see them. They are like Clover. For others, there may be no door at all. But for some, a select few, they simply knock. They tap at your being, so that you are always aware of them. The Third door is a trap of the mind, and if you fall for it, a trap of the soul.”

I didn’t really know how to react to all of that.

I just went a little… long faced is how I’d describe it.

This was some weird stuff, and I’m not even sure I copied her beliefs down accurately. Or if this was concrete info, like if you can actually detect this energy.

“Someday, I am going to keep people like us safe, from people like them. I won’t ask you to help me, I don’t need it.” She stood up, taking both of our cups away.

I polked at a hole, “If some people fall into this by accident, doesn’t that make them victims?”

She smiled, “There are no victims in this world. If there were, then the strong would never be toppeled. It’s just a matter of flipping the order on its head.”

I said simply, “That’s some heavy shit.” She replied, “Don’t get caught under it.”

Naturally, after being warned to stay away from The Quarter, I went there next.

If Ae’s sticking around, I’d like to know, and moreover, I’d like to know what her super powers are, I’m guessing her secondary ability is exorcism, but even that could be because of skill. But then there was that ‘soul seeing’ thing...

Regardless, I’ll have to find out the next time I see her, which hopefully won’t be a fight.

From that last line, I think you can guess I didn’t see the Koreans.

The new building, the one replacing the Quarter, was currently the barebones of a structure, there were no windows or doors, just the grey bricks and supports, though I wondered why Tayanita would tell me to leave this place alone.

Rather than check in through the front door, I decided to go to the roof, as I’d done with the previous building.

I think that’s another little thing I’ll miss, that old building. This one lacked the ladder on the roof, it was, at least currently, flat.

When I was up there, I could faintly hear chatter down below.

The voice currently speaking was one I didn’t recognise, it was British, south London, I think. I approached with caution, not bothering to pear over the ledge.

“… really makes you fink, don’t it? Dats seven figures in one month, yeah? I don’t see how selling bags a weed makes up for that.”

Clover snapped back, “Really?? You can’t?? Let me break this down for you skin-head, I sell 1000 one-gram bags, if I sell each bag for £10, what do I make?”

He didn’t answer, another voice did, it sounded older, a little gravely, “Ten thousand, Noah.”

Clover went back to what she was talking about, “Thank you, like Lech said, five figures, do I really have to explain to this simpleton how making half of a million dollars in a month is worth more than whatever the fuck he does?? Are you still stuck with odd jobs?? How much did you make fighting fucking trolls or whatever it was you do.”

Noah, as I now knew him, started to go off on Clover, before ‘Lech’ reigned him back in, “Mr Thatcher here has more freedoms than most other Units in the Mountain, simply because he doesn’t have any operations to care for. That is the sole reason he’s being included in this little check in. And he was on the right track, before you changed the subject, Clover. You’ve taken that money from the crown. I think you can understand, while his majesty is worried about you, he is also worried that you will exceed the budget afforded to you in a matter of months.”

Clover whined, “Take a good look around town! Now you know how much a Godzilla attack costs.”

Noah cut back in, “That’s da ting innit. This here cost you, wot, 600,000? But you’ve bin orderin tons of guns since before that. What you tryin’ to do in this shit hole?”

At this point, I heard somebody else speaking, in what I’m pretty sure was an Indian language. I never got the chance to translate what he was saying, and now I’ve forgotten it. He was repeating the same thing though.

Noah got angry with him, “Shut the fuck up! On the Glass God! I’m gettin’ sick of this stupid, dirty, fuck!”

Clover commented, “Still a racist prick, skin head?”

He clapped back at her, “No, because this one is actually stupid, he can’t even speak English! And he is fuckin’ rotten.”

Clover commented, now on the Indian man, “Who is this guy anyway? And what’s with the whole… ball-head… thing.”

She giggled to herself, “Is he some sort of super hero??”

Unaware of who she was really talking about, Noah replied, “He needs that thing for his ability. It’s magic or somethin’.”

It was at this point it actually hit me, these guys are all Units.

They have powers.

I could only wonder what they’d do once they found out I was responsible for those ordered guns, not to mention the partial destruction of the third-floor on the original building, way back when I started out.

“Pugal was chosen for this excursion due to his lack of achievements and experience. His majesty himself decided to give this man a chance to prove his worth, so, tell us what you’ve found down here,” Lech said, “I think we’ll all profit from putting a stop to whatever it is.”

Clover asked one last question, “Explain first, ball-head’s new, skin-head’s not doing anything, why are you here Lechoslaw??”

He answered after a sigh, “Other than to look out for these two? I’m here because… I’m a busy body. I travel across the Mountain-side, searching for anything that might be of hidden worth. Or dangerous. So tell me what is wrong and how we can help.”

“I suppose…” Before Clover could continue with whatever she was saying, Pugal, I think that’s the Indian guy’s name, began to shout a new word over and over again.

I think I understand what he was talking about now, despite not being in the room, or understanding his language. Though I didn’t at the time, when it mattered.

Noah stopped him, “Alright, alright, nobody can understand what your sayin’, just let us talk to the dumb bi-… Clowie, tell us about this fucka.”

I heard some kind of stretching, flapping sound, at this point. I peeked over the ledge, seeing a water proof mesh flapping over the window ledge, I was satisfied, thinking I knew the origin of the noise.

I didn’t.

“He’s new. He’s been in the game for as long as I’ve been working from here, he’s made a hobby out of screwing with my operation. Nothing I’m really concerned about. He’s the reason I needed more guns. One of my subordinates led an attack on him, against my orders. He broke their guns, and left. He broke into my old building, fucked up some of my product, and left. But He has saved my ass twice now. And he helped me get laid.” I think she was backing me up in her own way at the end of that.

“His powers,” Noah and Lech asked, nearly in sync,

“He’s strong.” Clover replied, “That’s literal. His body is far stronger than a normal human. It manifests as durability, too.”

Noah recapped. “Strong and tough. Keeping things simple, yeah?”

She struggled to explain my SP2, “Well, he has some sort of… what’s it called, esoteric- or Extracontextual?? I have no clue what you'd call it or how it works, but he’s used it to come back from the dead. Twice. Once with help. He can’t use it offensively though.”

They were quiet for a while, until Lech asked, “What are the odds of him joining the mountain?”

Clover went back to her haughty persona, “Honestly?? I don’t think I can convince him. We’re on alright terms now, but he doesn’t care about profit, or power… He likes to play hero.”

Lech hypothesised, “Perhaps if he were to have an audience before the king, if he is the type to romanticise his morality, then he may be convinced by his majesty’s final objective.”

Something about that gave me goose bumps.

Noah asked a final question.

“Tesco or Sainsbury’s, Lechoslaw?”

“I think Sainsbury’s will do.”

At that moment, a fleshy blob snapped through the window and on to my position above. It wasn’t exactly a goop; it was more like a wet blanket, it had solidity to it. Initially, I was grossed out, then I was concerned.

It scooped me up, the strength it possessed felt out of place for something so squishy. It flung me down to the pavement below, before Its main body jumped out on top of me beginning to restrict my entire body in seconds.

“Do you speak English ‘ere, you village twat? You know what a sainsbury’s is? Apart from the fucken shop. Das what we agreed on callin’ this maneouve’. Count yourself lucky.”

He pushed his flesh into my nostrels, and when I gagged for air, down my throat. I stared up at the man, Noah. How many people walk around shirtless? The parts of his body that weren’t stretched and distorted, lacked much, if any muscle definition. He wasn’t fat, he just had a lot of flabby skin.

I had an idea of what this stuff was now.

He was strong, though I was stronger, it was almost impossible for me to get any kind of grip on him, due to his skin stretching at every point I could reach. He was clearly trying to choke me out, if by a more unorthodox method than unsual.

Fortunatly, my body can operate with far less oxygen than the average persons. After overcoming the initial shock of the attack, I used the only weapon I had.

Judging from the fact he was shooting this stuff out like a fountain, I’m sure it wouldn’t be too big a deal if I chomped some of it off. After clamping down on the folds in my throat, I arched my neck up, biting on anything, and everything I could.

The first scream he let out told me he still had nerves in this stuff, so I figured I could trigger his flight or fight response. The more he backed up, the more mobility I regained, eventually allowing myself to pull the lifeless flesh I had torn from him out of my airways.

I panted heavily once I’d jumped to my feat, still assessing the situation. The other two hadn’t made a move yet, they were still on the third floor of the building.

Did this mean they couldn’t survive the drop?

That they had faith that Noah would take me down on his own?

Or were they observing?

I pinched the loose strands of skin hanging from my nose and tugged them out, a faint trail of blood, possibly from last Tuesday, clung to one.

He shouted some profanities at me, at least I think they were profane, because I didn’t recognise his regional slang.

“Hi, my name is Shamrock. I’d typically be angry at you for stickin’ meat down my throat, but I’ll let you off just this once, seeing as- well, you know- seeing as I was spying on you guys. I think we’d all be better off forgiving and forgetting, yeah.”

I smiled, I would have grinned, were I not still gagging.

“Yeah, after I kill you, and every smarmy little fuck in this country. Yeah, then I’ll forget ’bout all this.” Bit too hardcore, but whatever.

By the time he finished his sentence, his wounded flesh had sealed itself up, returning him to a normal, human form. He stood tall and proud; his hands stuffed into his baggy sweat pants.

We were at a standstill for half a minute. I only made a move because I was afraid his back-up might show up soon. I was apprehensive because of his demeanour. Sure, judging from his personality and air, you might think he was just being cocky.

But it was that Pugal guy that was on this trip for experience.

I’ve judged this guy as being an idiot, but an idiot who’s good at brawling. A guy who’s been in enough fights to think of sme kind of plan. I had two options, like I mentioned earlier, it’s up to fight or flight.

But I think I’m just a little better at fighting than flying.

I knew something was up with him, I hadn’t seen his second power yet, so naturally I ran in blind. I held back, more than usual, I wanted him to clearly see me coming, to get him to underestimate me. I tried the same technique I’d used on the Pooka, trying to punch through him. Though like I said, I held back a lot. Getting as close as I could, I threw a good straight punch at him.

And nothing. Once my fist made contact with his skin, I tried pushing through it, but the consistency of it had changed, it was solid as stone. He didn’t move an inch, there was no sign of the force I’d thrown at him. I jumped away, briefly seeing him pull his right arm from his pocket.

Looking back, I probably jumped with the same force as my first night at the Quarter, but with a far greater focus being placed on distance. I didn’t look back, my mind was racing, trying to figure out what just happened.

I had consciously pulled the punch, but even still, I hit him hard enough to push Feoli back.

He clearly had a different method of dealing with blunt trauma from the Pooka’s, judging from his solidity, I’m assuming it was either some method of multilayering, but that wouldn’t count for the disappearance of the kinetic energy of my punch. It could of course be a result of his second ability-

and smash.

On the descent of my jump, somebody collides with me mid-air, regardless of my durability, my back cracked a little from being hit at that angle and speed.

We landed on the edge of the city park, I myself tumbled upon landing, my assailant bounced to his feet as he landed. Pushing myself to my feet, I watched him toss two objects at me, the first, some sort of fleshy mass I didn’t get a good look at, whizzed by, the second surprised me. He threw it to my left, and it ricocheted off a tree, crashing into my face, before it returned to his grip.

I could now see that it was a bowling ball he had thrown, and I could now see- Him?

I honestly don’t quite know how to describe what I saw, at least with words. Not because he was some unknowable entity, Clover was right to be confused by his appearance, I had no clue if that thing was his head or a hat.

He, like his ally, did not wear a shirt, though like the pink sphere on his head, he had balls covering his nipples.

Those few seconds of confusion were enough to cost me, as I felt a sharp pain in my back, the exact place I’d been hit seconds’ ago. I would have crumpled right there, if I didn’t kick myself away once more.

Looking back at the pair, I was really confused. Pugal and Noah were standing before me.

I thought to myself quickly.

Can this guy grow back from a clump of skin?

Was that a clump of skin, or some kind of regeneration core?

Then there was this Pugal guy, what the actual fuck is his deal? He could survive the jump from the third floor then, Lech wasn’t here (hopefully), does that mean he couldn’t take him along?

Does he have a weight limit? Noah did say he needs that thing to make his ability work.

What the fuck did he do to that bowling ball?

Did he reduce its weight?

Increase its elasticity?

If he does have a limit to what he can carry when he’s travelling, then that means he’s physically weaker than me, anyway.

Not to mention, he has a second ability.

Of course, there’s always the chance this is a bluff, or a test, that Lech is observing from afar, or can attack from a distance.

I snapped back to reality as Noah shot a right hook at me, which I blocked and countered, wasting no time to hit him as hard as I had Isaac. As I did punch him, I was astonished to find he now had the consistency of a curtain, his body blowing in the aftermath of my punch.

He hadn’t built back the full mass of his body.

Did this guy have organs?

He took advantage of my shock to now successfully hit me with a right hook. I’d compare it to Feoli’s. He’d been aiming for my sore spot the entire time, probably trying to make me falter, but the fact that his punch had done me harm, told me his fist was solid.

As I grabbed it, I felt it lose its thickness, but it was too late, I had a grip, and as fast as I could, I flung his body into the trees.

I noticed him build up a sort of cushioning around his neck, before I had time to consider what that might mean, Pugal through the ball at me again.

It rebounded off me, at a tree, at a street lamp, back to me, off the ground, back to me, back to the tree, before returning to Pugal, who had moved to catch it, so he could throw it again. As he did, I figured it out.

He’s really good at bouncing things, maybe just spheres.

He must (a) be able to make objects bounce, and (b) be able to predict their trajectory. I based the latter off of the fact that he was supposedly inexperienced, so he probably hadn’t had time to train his aim naturally.

I thought of that during the second onslaught of throws, by the third time he’d thrown the ball at me, I dug my foot into the ground, and kicked up a cloud, still getting hit by his ball, but he’d have trouble aiming now.

Props to him for grabbing his ball in the dark like that, though he'd have trouble finding me. I felt bad about hitting a guy with a frame like his so hard.

He was floored by it. Like Noah had tried to do to me, speaking of whom, I was once again hit by a mass of flesh, and once again I was being smothered. Only now my mouth had been closed shut.

“Don’t worry, if Lechslaw shows in the next ten minutes, he’ll probably stop me from killin’ ye.” His cocky half smile extended wider, “But ten minutes is a long, long time for someone to find us.”

Suddenly, it clicked.

His head.

His eyes, his teeth, they were all completely the same, they’d never ballooned like the rest of him.

I had a free arm, though the way his skin smoothed over me inhibited my ability to move.

I started throwing pebbles at his face lightly.

He laughed, called me an ape.

Unlike Pugle, I haven’t a good aim. Once I got the hang of it though, I rocketed a pebble into his eye. Just like earlier, the shock of pain made him reel back, freeing my arm.

I reached up, put my index finger in his mouth and my thumb on his chin, and yanked, hoping I was right. Because if I was wrong, I’d dislocate his jaw.

Pop.

I pulled his head from his shoulders, revealing this strange pulseing organ below his neck, which soon developed a layer of skin around it.

I don’t know if his screaming was because of his eye, or because I opened his growing nerves to the air. Regardless, the mass restricting me slumped, tossing it off, I still held him in my hand, his jaw now biting down on my finger, while his new baby arms clawed out for me.

As I flung his head onto his old body, I realised that this is where that basket was.

Feeling I should say something in its memory, I came up with something on the spot. “Know what makes an idiot? Some people’d say it’s someone who doesn’t know anything, but you wouldn’t call a baby an idiot, right? No, an idiot is someone who tries the same thing again and expects a new result."

I grinned at him, "So try something new!” before jumping as far as I could.