Several hero wannabe groups? If true, and I couldn’t think of why Big Marcy would concoct this story specifically, it was more evidence that a sizeable clandestine organization was behind the artificial Cores. Not this mysterious, lone Professor we were yet to meet.

I recalled Dario’s story during our first get-together at Deen’s house. He had told us we were fighting against Adumbrae, which had embedded themselves in the government, and that was why we couldn’t report to the BID or police. These sneaky Adumbrae supposedly stole top secret government stuff for their evil plans, using them for experiments on the population carried out by criminal organizations like the 2Ms. Our group would secretly fight them without exposing the truth to the world, or else the Corebrings would get super mad about the artificial Adumbrae and Cores involved in the whole shebang and start a war with the government.

Looking back at it, props to whoever came up with that big fat lie of a story. It was far from the truth but probably also close to the truth. It wasn’t sold to just us—several teams at that.

Where did they all fit into this?

I kicked out my leg and wiggled my toes, intently examining them. Was this too nonchalant? If I reacted like Big Marcy’s revelation was a big deal, he’d count it as a favor given. But I did wonder about something. “Did they win?” I asked him.

Big Marcy tilted his head. “Win?”

“Yeah, did those, um, bandits—that’s what you called them. Did any of them win against their pitted match? Win as in actually stop the Supplier’s partner criminal organization, like what I did the Tea Party?”

“A good question, Ms. Hartwell. The same also occurred to me. I sense you know the answer.”

“None did. All they amounted to was annoying their opponents, not pulling off anything big.”

“Precisely. Their stories are all the same. The bandits and their counterparts, my colleagues in the business, so to speak, engage in a farce of a dance that merely maintains the status quo. The bandits have some successes here and there but nothing substantial in the grand scheme. The operations of the Supplier continue. It is almost like… what do you call those? The episodic comedy shows with a live audience or the bothersome laugh tracks? The term is a portmanteau—”

“A sitcom,” I said. It should be illegal to utter such a pretentious word as ‘portmanteau.’

“Yes, a situation comedy—a sitcom. Thank you, Ms. Hartwell.”

“But why a sitcom? Isn’t it more like a villain-of-the-week type of superhero show? The heroes never really ever defeat the bad guys who’ll keep coming back until maybe there’s a new bigger bad guy next season?”

“What you say is true. But I think of a sitcom because—” Big Marcy rapped his knuckle on the table, showing a hint of indignation “—whoever arranged this, whoever is pulling the strings, whoever is watching us… is certainly having a good laugh at our expense.”

I dropped my foot and sat at the edge of my seat so my soles could touch the ground. Cold. “And that doesn’t bother you?” I asked. “Someone is toying with you. While you’re experimenting with turning people into Adumbrae, someone else is experimenting on you. Doesn’t that make you angry?”

“No.” The wriggle of Big Marcy’s big nose told me he wasn’t entirely truthful. “I am a single-focused type of man, Ms. Hartwell. Multitasking is inefficient. Dethroning my brother is my main goal, and my eyes are on it alone. After that, I will ponder upon the next problem.”

I mentally smirked. This arrogant hill kept emphasizing that he was only after his brother.

Might be the truth. But that didn’t mean he had no other goals. Offing me was one of them, for sure. Another might be to break free from the Supplier’s control, maybe even replace that sketchy guy. Big Marcy seemed he wouldn’t want to be under someone’s thumb.

Could our alliance continue beyond killing his brother?

Wow, I’m plotting and stuff, I thought, suppressing a giggle. In the middle of the night. Super cool. Would’ve been cooler if I wasn’t barefoot and wearing a plain shirt and shorts. But I’d settle for this. Definitely main character material, in contrast to Deen, who was being useless, having her beauty sleep.

“What about you?” Big Marcy pointed at me with a finger as fat as the Cuban cigars I recalled someone gifted Dad. “Are you not angry someone is toying with you? Make no mistake; you are caught on this web as I am.”

“Angry? Not really. More like irritated that my normal life is disturbed.” And that was the truth.

Why did I tell Big Marcy that instead of making shit up? What shit should I have made up? To answer that, I should first know what face I was supposedly wearing—I don’t know. I wasn’t actively conforming to a decided face.

Am I just being myself?

“I believe Vanessa has extended my offer of helping you return to your human body. I reiterate it now.” Big Marcy nodded to Ramon behind me. “Both to you and Ramon. My brother may have the means at his disposal, being in control of Red Island. But once I depose him and take his place as the Supplier’s contractor, I will make sure our resources will be directed to—”

“Nothing concrete.”

“That may be so, but eventually, we will successfully find the cure. You and Ramon will have your lives back. And more. That I promise. The experiments of Mister are going—”

“I’m not into alternative medicine. Just offer it when it’s a hundred percent ready.”

Big Marcy rumbled a chuckle. “Yes… yes… But it will take time. Who knows? By then, you might change your mind about it.”

“About what?” I asked, despite understanding his comment.

He gave me a toady smile. “About returning to human.”

“I won’t let that happen, sir,” said Ramon, shaking my headrest again. “I’ll ensure that Erind won’t forget about her human side. The Adumbrae will not get our bodies. We are going to become humans again someday. Right, Erind?”

I gazed back at Ramon, doling a soft smile. But I didn’t nod or say anything.

I could make the excuse that I was building the image that the Adumbrae really was getting to me. That’d keep Big Marcy on his presumably big toes. But that was outwardly. Let Big Marcy and Ramon think that.

Inwardly, why would I lie to myself? Part of me is wavering about returning to normal.

Everything so far was a ton of unnecessary hassle. And I wouldn’t say I liked change; being no longer human was the least of it. And I’d rather watch movies in my condo now in ruins, drinking overly sweet milk tea from the vending machine turned scrap metal, scheming about the social goings of my law school life.

Simple times.

But my life now was also fun. Actually, more fun than I had since, like… ever.

SpookyErind? Are you there messing with me?

“Another jest, Ramon,” Big Marcy said, “I am sure Ms. Hartwell misses her human form. However, it cannot be denied that many want to escape the confines of their mortal body, be it through augmentation or shedding humanity altogether. That is our business, after all.”

“A booming business, it looks like,” I said. “In more ways than one.”

Big Marcy and I chatted for a few more minutes about how to sneak onto the small ships going to Red Island and what our group would expect arriving there—villas for the 2Ms’ clientele, windowless buildings for the experiments, towers, walls, and a bunch of security to face, a fortress compound surrounded by trees in the middle of the island. Big Marcy promised to give me maps, details about the Adumbrae there, and other things he could think of before we leave, but couldn’t promise those would be completely accurate—this would be another test of his sincerity.

“I hope I have given you enough of my time, Ms. Hartwell,” Big Marcy said, “that no more corpses appear on this ship.”

“It’s up to the dead bodies if they want to show up randomly,” I said, swinging off my seat.

“Erind, you’re not in any danger here,” Ramon said. “Don’t—” Hands on my hips, I glared at him. “Uh, violence isn’t the answer to… there’s no need to fight.”

“I know, Ramon. Just jesting. I’m safe with you around.” That didn’t make any sense, but it made Ramon happy, the uncovered right half of his mouth lifting into a smile.

“Refrain from visiting me, Ms. Hartwell, whether announced or not,” boomed Big Marcy as I walked away. “That is not to say you are an unwelcome guest. However, know that my brother has eyes and ears on this ship. I will keep in touch with discreteness.”

“Sure, just pass me a note under my door or something,” I said with a shrug.

“And do enjoy your stay,” he added. “This is a legitimate cruise, lest you forget. Perhaps someday, you can take your mother on this trip for an actual vacation.”

Couldn’t help but leave a parting threat, huh? He should know from Vanessa that I wanted Mom saved from the Tea Party. I turned around and walked off, not bothering to reply. Maybe I should sink this ship.

Ramon followed me out of the glass box, pausing for a second to get a nod of approval from Big Marcy. Ramon wasn’t going to trail me back to my room, was he? I doubted Big Marcy allowed Ramon to prance through this ship freely.

Midway between the glass wall and the corridor exit, Ramon said, “I can’t believe it. You really are special, Erind.”

“Special?” I stopped walking. I wanted my small moment with Ramon to be seen by Big Marcy. “In what way?”

Ramon blinked, unexpecting I’d pry his compliment. His eyes darted to avoid my gaze. “Yo-you’re special be-because… because you’re kind and smart and beau—hang on, not that. Also that! But I’m not being a creep about this. All I’m saying is there’s something special about you, uh, physically.”

“Physically?” I playfully tossed a brow and smiled. “Sounds like something a creep would say.”

“No, no!” He waved his blade arm, realized what he was doing, then hid it behind his back. “I-I thought you were going to become a Corebring. That’s what I meant by ‘physically.’ Pino told me if you—oh, you were asleep that time.”

Right, I almost forgot the story I peddled Ramon and the other survivors—former survivors, now dead—of the parasite attack on my La Esperanza condo. To explain my sleeping body and the 2Ms after me, I, as Pino, told them that my Erind self had the potential to become a Corebring if brought to the Mother Core.

Such a bullshit story. I could’ve spun a more coherent tale.

And I should have a notepad for all this shit. Juggling several faces and backstories wasn’t new, but I hadn’t reached this scale and complexity before. My faces usually didn’t last a couple of seasons. This was like ten seasons plus three movies and a spin-off series.

“I bet that’s why Mark wanted to capture you,” Ramon continued. “Also explains why you’re such a powerful Adumbrae. But I wanted to ask how you turned… uh, you know?

I clenched my teeth. Fuck! Stories clashing alert!

Did Big Marcy or Vanessa tell Ramon I was an Adumbrae before my condo got attacked? If Ramon knew I was Red Hood, he could easily check on the news when I started popping up. With that backdrop, Pino’s story didn’t make sense.

How could I become a Corebring if I was already an Adumbrae then? I wasn’t human while ordering the pizza he delivered.

“I’d rather not talk about it,” I curtly said, contorting my face to repress a bad memory. Eyes on the ground, I made my way to the door.

Wiggins opened the door with a slight bow.

“Erind!” Ramon hurried after me. “Wait!”

Wiggins held a hand out to stop Ramon. I stopped at the door but didn’t look at Ramon standing to my left. Dramatic bitch.

Me, not him.

Also him.

“I’m sorry for bringing that up,” Ramon said. “I know it’s not a pleasant experience… turning into an Adumbrae. They’re there… in your mind.” He shook his head. “I’ll come with you when you go to the Red Island!”

“You’ll do that for me?” I asked, glancing at him sidelong.

“Yes, I will.”

“It’ll be dangerous.”

“That’s why I want to be there. To protect you.”

“Will Big Marcy allow you?”

“I’m not sure…” Ramon turned to the glass box.

I took the opportunity to leave and let him stew. “Goodnight, Ramon.” I bit my tongue, holding back the words, Or should it be good morning?

“Ugh, it’s just six-thirty in the morning, and Deen’s already texting me?” My thumb hovered over the reply button. “How sweet and all, but now’s not really the time.”

It was unwieldy holding my phone—the umpteenth one I had bought in a few months—while in Domino form. It wouldn’t stay still on the curved surface of the black crystal halfway embedded in my palm, its back slipping left or right. This time, I didn’t forget to take my phone and wallet with me after transforming. If I placed them in my pockets before, they’d get lost in some dimension-whatever.

Deen invited me to have breakfast at seven. Our group agreed last night to gather at the buffet for planning at seven-thirty. Seeing that Deen wanted to meet me before that, she probably missed me or something. I bet she couldn’t sleep without me next to her. It was fun having a roommate—Erind didn’t share my sentiments.

I rested my phone on my index finger and thumb to peek at the crystal beneath it. Forty-six minutes.

No use pretending I was still asleep. Deen knew I woke up early no matter how late I went to bed. I decided to reply, “Just got up. Going to prepare. See you at buffet. Thirty minutes.” Hopefully, this would stop her from coming to my room to fetch me.

I—or rather, Erind—only had a couple of hours of shuteye. Erind tossed and turned, thinking of schemes that’d probably do more harm than good, as was always the case even on the rare occasions she intended to do good. She kept replaying yesterday night—early this morning, to be accurate—in her head, awfully enjoying her conversation with Big Marcy.

Verbal sparrings entertained Erind—they terrified me—though opportunities for it were rare as they entailed wearing a confrontational face. Most of Erind’s faces were timid, standing-on-the-sidelines type. Maybe that had some effect on my Domino self? But since stepping into the world of Adumbrae, Erind had to be the main character and found it fun.

I realized something interesting. Erind wasn’t wearing a face while talking to Big Marcy. At least, partially.

She sensed it then. I knew. But it had really sunk in only now, with me back in the driver’s seat. I believe it was because I was more in tune with our mind than her.

Big Marcy assumed that the Adumbrae had changed Erind or else she’d be a regular twenty-three-year-old woman during their meeting, scared witless of walking right into the enemy base, much less talking to the big bad guy—me, essentially. Yet, the truth was that Erind was only being herself. She made calculated responses, yes, flirting with Ramon to manipulate him and so on. But it was mostly her—the real her—talking to Big Marcy. Different from her word tussle with Bianca, where she had a face on.

It wasn’t the first time it happened. Several instances, Erind had shown her true self while hiding behind the excuse that it was the Adumbrae making her do it. The ‘incident’ with the frat boys, for example. Those poor boys. Unsavory characters. But they didn’t deserve what Erind did to them.

Funnily, Erind felt freedom. I could feel her contentment flowing through me.

I… Erind. I was supposed to lose myself to the Adumbrae. And yet, I was unveiling my true self.

Good for Erind. Not good for the world.

A sense of joy I couldn’t recall experiencing before filled me. It was Erind’s emotions affecting me. Such a weird sentence.

I had a stupid smile, staring at my reflection in the elevator doors. Holding the phone tighter, I pressed it to my chest as if I could discern emotions by feeling my beating heart.

“Be real to yourself, Erind,” I told my reflection, staring at my eyes behind the sapphire-encrusted mask, hoping to pierce through and connect with Erind deep inside me. “Why are you wearing faces?”

I knew the answer. I wasn’t separate from Erind, though I’d like to pretend to be. Her memories were mine, and I could remember. I could remember being different as a child.

Unlike other children, I wasn’t an idiot. I quickly picked up that being different would make life difficult. And life being difficult… was difficult.

What started as a survival instinct became a tool. Like a baby learning that crying would reward her with milk, I knew I could gain stuff by wearing different faces. Then it became entertainment; the reward was my amusement. Fast forward to now, and I made faces automatically, complicated and varied, even if there was no need to.

“Being strong… I can be myself.” My eyes widened. Was that me or Erind who said that?

Ding!

The elevator carriage reached my floor and opened. Inside was a woman in her late fifties wearing a wide-brim floppy hat made of straw, a flowing sundress, and shades even though we were indoors and the sun was barely up. She gasped when she saw me.

I walked inside and stood beside her, examining my new reflection as the doors closed. I became… a random woman? What was this about?

But I didn’t have the headspace to worry about the illusion I generated for my fellow elevator passenger. I pressed the button for the floor where the rest of the hero wannabes were. I felt static in my hands as nervousness started manifesting. If Dario caught onto me, he could kill me.

“Excuse me, dear,” Shades Lady said, pulling down her shades. Same hazel eyes as my illusion. “This comment might sound bizarre, just blurting it, but you look like my daughter.”