Two days after my coffee with Annie, she called me at three in the morning. Her voice was shaking, barely holding together.
"Alex? I... I need help. Please."
I was at her location within fifteen minutes, using my super-speed to cross the city in seconds. I found her sitting on a bench in Central Park, still in her Starlight costume, mascara running down her face.
"Annie, what happened?" I sat down next to her, keeping my voice gentle.
She couldn't look at me. "The Deep. He... in his trailer... he said if I didn't..." She broke down completely, and I didn't need her to finish the sentence. I could piece together what had happened from her fragmented words and the absolute violation written across her face.
Rage. Pure, cold, murderous rage flooded through me. My hands clenched so hard my knuckles went white, and I had to actively suppress the black lightning that wanted to crackle across my skin.
"Where is he now?" My voice came out flat, emotionless. The kind of calm that preceded violence.
"Alex, don't. Please. It'll just make everything worse. Vought will cover it up, they'll spin it, I'll lose everything—"
"Annie." I turned to face her, and she finally met my eyes. "Where. Is. He?"
Something in my expression must have convinced her, because she told me. His apartment in Manhattan, probably drunk and celebrating his conquest.
"Stay here," I said, standing. "I'll be back in an hour. And Annie? After tonight, he'll never hurt anyone again. I promise you that."
I transformed mid-flight, black lightning crackling as I rocketed through the night sky toward The Deep's building. My mind was crystal clear, focused with absolute purpose. This wasn't about power absorption or strategic planning. This was about justice. Raw, unfiltered justice for what he'd done to Annie and countless others.
I crashed through his balcony window like a meteor.
The Deep spun around from his aquarium, eyes wide with shock and alcohol-induced confusion. "What the fuck—who are you?"
"I'm your reckoning," I said, walking through the broken glass without slowing down.
He tried to call for help, but I was already in his mind. I pushed with all my hypnotic power, slamming into his consciousness like a battering ram. His will crumbled instantly under the assault.
His eyes glazed over, and he stood there, docile and empty.
"How many?" I asked coldly. "How many women have you assaulted?"
"Twenty-three," he answered in a monotone.
Twenty-three. The number hit me like a physical blow. Twenty-three women whose lives he'd violated, whose trauma Vought had covered up and paid off.
"You're going to confess," I commanded, my voice resonating with hypnotic compulsion. "You're going to record everything—every assault, every victim you can remember, every time Vought covered for you. You'll upload it to every social media platform, every news outlet, every police database you can access."
"Yes," he droned.
"And then," I continued, letting my true feelings seep into my voice, "you're going to leave this country. You're going to disappear to some remote location and spend the rest of your miserable life remembering what you've done. Every day, you'll wake up and the guilt will consume you. Every night, you'll dream of your victims. You'll never know peace again. Do you understand?"
"I understand."
I could kill him right now. Absorb his aquatic powers—underwater breathing, enhanced swimming, marine telepathy. They'd be useful additions to my growing arsenal. But looking at his pathetic face, I realized something: death would be too easy for him. Too quick. He deserved to live with what he'd done.
I released him from the hypnosis but left the compulsions buried deep in his subconscious. He blinked, confused, and I was already gone—out the window and into the night sky before he could process what had happened.
When I returned to Annie, she was still sitting on the bench, wrapped in her own arms.
"It's done," I said softly. "By tomorrow morning, the whole world will know what he is. His career is over. His life is over. And he'll spend every remaining day of it suffering."
She looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes. "How?"
"Let's just say I'm very persuasive. He's going to confess everything publicly. Vought won't be able to spin or cover this up."
"Why?" she whispered. "Why would you do this for me?"
I sat down beside her again. "Because it's the right thing to do. Because you deserve justice. And because I'm tired of watching monsters get away with everything while good people suffer."
She was quiet for a long moment, processing. Then: "You're not just some random Supe, are you? You're something else. Something... more."
I could hypnotize her right now. Make her forget this conversation, forget her suspicions. Keep her at arm's length for operational security.
But I didn't.
"Yeah," I admitted. "I'm something else. And when you're ready to know the whole truth, I'll tell you everything."