Mark tapped his watch, then the hinges of the window, disintegrating them into motes of energy. "Okay!" He exhaled in triumph and nodded at Sid.
"What? I'm the brains!"
"Also gifted," Mark muttered, rolling his eyes. "This one's asleep, those two are—God knows what they're up to—that leaves you, soft hands."
Sid grunted, facing a window twice his size. He took a picture; his phone scanned the window's length, weight, the force required to move it, break it, and every other plausible action Sid could think of.
"Haven't got all day!" Mark rushed him, only calming when Dozy interjected.
"He… newbie—" she mumbled in her sleep. "Energy… suck-up…"
"What?! You want me to suck it up? Suck on my energy?" Mark shook Dozy, accidentally banging his head against hers. "Ah, damn it! I knew you had a thick skull, but is it made of steel or something?"
Sid ignored their squabble. Thanks to his phone, he could channel energy through his limbs, lifting and shifting the heavy window out of place. "Our energy's being drained," he informed Mark. "Upstairs!"
The trio hopped inside, leaving the window as they rushed upward.
Kudo tracked two things at once: the halls around him and the hacked security feed on his phone, while his ears tuned in for any footsteps headed upstairs."How in seven hells did some kids bypass the security?" he muttered to himself, head snapping toward the muffled squeak caused by rubber skidding over newly polished marble. The sound of trouble afoot.
Kudo zigzagged through the officers, ignoring their baffled looks, and sprinting to the stairs.
Sid's phone pinged. "We've got company!" he warned, moving ahead.
Mark skidded to a stop, Dozy already untying herself and following Sid in one fluid motion. He tapped his watch, pouring out dense energy over the stairs. "Slip—and protect," he commanded before following the duo. "Five minutes. Tops." He entered and bolted their only exit.
Mark stood behind Dozy, and Sid stood behind him. They were ready for anything with their simple yet effective stance, a proof of their repeated training.
Dozy fired sleeping spells at the ghost while Mark supported her, striking, shielding, and healing when needed, while Sid focused on analysis, shielded by both.
Kudo had lost to these kids too many times, thanks to his clumsy boss and nosy mayor. So this time, he'd planned to handle things alone. Yet somehow, the mayor foresaw his actions.
"UPSTAIRS! ALL OF YOU—NOW!"
A few officers near the stairs moved in front of Kudo, only to come tumbling back down moments later; their survival instincts kicking in, and dragging Kudo along as they descended toward the mayor.
'Oh, well! At least they took down the mayor with them,' Kudo thought grimly.
Sadly, his dream ended before it could come to fruition; as Captain Thomson stepped in, halting the tumbling officers with one hand while gently setting the mayor down with the other.
"I feel so light!" the mayor exclaimed, feet dangling for the first time in his life. "The window!" he cried, distracting the cops yet again.
Upstairs, the trio lost every exchange of blows yet stood firm, determined to protect the imbeciles below.
"Anything!" Dozy urged Sid, dodging another lethal strike.
She already had four patchworks in a minute, and Mark was busy making the fifth to save her arm.
"We have to leave—there's no other option left," Sid pleaded. "My calculations are never—"
—A wave of destruction swept through the area, utterly annihilating the ghost.
"—wrong!?" Sid gaped at the half-missing apparition.
Mark tossed the energy bandages to Sid and collapsed, drained from overusing his gift.
Sid covered the house owner with a bedsheet, tossed him onto the bed, and wrapped the bandages tight enough to reattach Dozy's arm.
"I'm gonna take a small…" Dozy murmured before passing out.
"No—no, no—no!"
The rest followed the usual, boring routine: Kudo barged in, scolded the cops for not checking under the bedsheets, threw scathing glances at everyone, muttered about not solving "jack shit," and arrested the kids, only to release them after their fake parents denied everything. With no solid proof and Thomson too kind to ruin a child's life, the brats were exonerated.
"I swear, the universe better give me a shot at solving this godforsaken mystery," Kudo directed his frustration at Thomson. "One teensy-weensy little..."
...They say a strong will can bend the universe in your image. Whether imagination or truth, Kudo's wish came true that day.
Several stories took a detour, their paths intertwining through different choices and outcomes:
The Terror family grew tired of waiting.
Quazy planned something insane.
Bossy, Yorkenstein's ruthless crime lord, let his dog venture out alone.
A pair of teenage girls chose their next victim.
Solgrave moved to recapture his escaped prisoners.
Zack followed his hunch, defying heavenly law.
And Klaire finally stirred from her slumber, for once choosing herself over the rest.
Kudo ignored the Terror family's ghost complaints and went after Quazy. Between two impossible scenarios, 'a ghost' was definitely the far-fetched one.
Quazy held the key to understanding the teenagers' tricks. He'd been accused of theft and murder, serving time despite the corrupted judicial system's lack of proof. However, all charges were dismissed once the mayor took office.
Kudo dug into Quazy's bank records and found a surprising sum deposited before his release. Quazy never used it; he still lived on the streets and sought a cell only when he needed food and shelter.
Kudo made inquiries across precincts, but none had Quazy booked for indecency, graffiti, or both, so he issued a 'BOLO.'
Everyone who knew Quazy called him crazy: The rich, because of his untouched wealth.
Doctors—because he ticked every box on their crazy charts.
Friends—because they were just as mad and actual crazy people from an asylum.
And his aging parents, because even through their Alzheimer's, the only thing they never seem to forget is their son's crazy life.
Even Kudo considered him insane—or rather, his self-induced experiments insane.
Quazy's only constant was his love for art. After one arrest, he painted a masterpiece right on the interrogation room wall, insisting it helped him think.
"Let me give this poor lady some eyebrows," he kept insisting.
Quazy never studied the masters, yet he could recreate their work better than any forger. His skill with color was uncanny, turning simple chalk into oil paint. When the mayor brought in the original piece to compare it, even master artisans couldn't spot the forgery.
"Everything is energy, and I'm the master of mine," he used to say.
Kudo slapped himself for not realizing sooner. The tattered, paint-smeared clothes, the goofy smile, the painted nails, and his messy hair were all obvious clues.
Quazy always hid in plain sight. Assassination wasn't one of his skills—nor thinking, really. He simply painted walls into tunnels, tricking cars into crashing through them; victims only realized the illusion when the paint faded. Pulling that off under daylight's shifting hues was godlike, and precisely why Kudo now knew the teenagers were getting help from Quazy.
"I'm gonna beat the truth out of you next time," Kudo swore, poking the garbage bag for the umpteenth time. "Not him," he declared halfheartedly, then poked it again and again... "Let me check one more time to be sure."
With circumstantial proof and the mayor guarding him for some unfathomable reason, Kudo had never been able to interrogate Quazy properly. So, before leaving his previous crime scene, Kudo played a little game.
He asked Thomson to move the giant window back into place, scolding him to "be careful" all the while.
Thomson, being Thomson, lifted the window with ease, more afraid of damaging the fragile window or the wall because of his strength.
His concerns were justified; Kudo once caught him standing up too fast, leaving a head-sized hole in the ceiling, which remains in his office—a stark reminder for perpetrators to behave.
Kudo's plan snagged the mayor's attention and hinted at the teenagers' potential. Quazy had stopped working for the mayor for unknown reasons, so Kudo presented the teenagers as Quazy's replacement, waiting for the mayor to make his move and catch two birds with one trap.
"See the good!" A heavy voice taunted a little one. "Maybe ignore the bird trapping part."
The little one didn't respond with words; instead, it fished out a deep thought Kudo tried to suppress. "I wish I had never saved the fatso. He would've been much healthier behind bars—"
"—I can read, you know!" The heavy voice pouted. "And you should know this better than anyone else; It's not the thought, but the action that determines a person's character."
"Our thoughts can bend reality. There's shape them — We aren't the same!"
"Now you get it." The heavy voice guffawed. "They are superior to us because they can't change anything, yet choose the greater good, constantly struggling to make their vision a reality."
"I never missed the point. And it appears 'you' never got it!"
———<>||<>——— End of Chapter Thirty-one. ———<>||<>———