Dickson’s hands gripped the wheel so tight his knuckles looked pale under the dim light of the car.
The city blurred outside, but he wasn’t paying much attention to the lights or the buildings rushing past. All he could think about was the sll of roasted beef he’d left behind. His beef. The beef he had spent twenty goddamn minutes perfecting.
And now here he was. Driving toward a fucking bank robbery instead of sinking his teeth into it.
On his face sat a mask. White, thin, and cut to only cover his eyes. Like so cheap version of a superhero getup. Not even his idea either—Vanessa had shoved it at him and said wear it.
She had one too. Hers was black, sleeker, fitted. She looked like she belonged in it. He didn’t.
"Having powers might actually be a bad thing," Dickson muttered. His voice was flat. Bitter.
Vanessa glanced at him, lips twitching. Then she chuckled, the sound cutting through the hum of the car.
"Without your powers you wouldn’t have made your beef," she said, almost teasing. "So it’s a win-win for you."
"Win win my ass," Dickson shot back. "Let’s just get this over with before my food gets too cold."
Vanessa didn’t stop smiling. The joy in her face made him want to roll his eyes. She thrived in chaos. She was practically glowing just from the thought of a fight.
"We’re almost there," she said softly, like she was enjoying every second.
Dickson’s gaze drifted to the back seat.
Lilith sat there.
Half awake. Her posture lazy, head tilted against the window, like she wasn’t being dragged into sothing dangerous at all. Her eyes were half-lidded, distant, as though she hadn’t even registered the sirens in the distance.
"And did we really have to bring her along?" Dickson asked, voice sharp.
Lilith turned her head slowly. Her green eyes locked on him. Then she gave the faintest shrug.
"I don’t know. Ask her," she said, voice low, disinterested. "I don’t want to be here either."
Dickson clenched his jaw.
Both of them turned their eyes on Vanessa. She didn’t even glance their way. She just raised a hand and pointed forward.
"We’re there."
The bank was lit up like a warzone ahead. Flashing red and blue lights. Helicopters hovering. Civilians pushed back behind barricades.
But Vanessa didn’t wait.
The car hadn’t even slowed down fully when she vanished. Teleported straight out into the chaos.
"Goddammit," Dickson muttered.
He slamd the gear into park, teeth grinding. He stepped out, the cold air hitting him instantly. Sirens wailed. Shouts echoed. The city felt like it was holding its breath.
And Vanessa? She was already gone, probably in the middle of the madness.
Dickson turned to the back door, waiting for Lilith to get out.
She didn’t move.
He frowned, then tugged at the handle. It didn’t budge. He yanked again, harder. Still nothing.
Locked.
He blinked in disbelief. "For fuck’s sake. You gotta be kidding too."
The faint sound of gears shifting clicked, and the window rolled down just an inch.
Lilith leaned toward it, her hair falling across her face, shadows from the streetlights painting her features. She looked half asleep, bored more than anything else.
"If things get too tough," she said lazily, "you can always co get ."
Her tone was calm. Almost mocking.
"I expect things to go smoothly. So my sleep shouldn’t be interrupted."
The window slid back up before Dickson could even answer.
He stood there for a mont, frozen, staring at the closed glass. The noise of helicopters above and police shouting orders blurred into the background.
His face twisted in disbelief.
"You’ve got to be kidding ," he muttered again, rubbing his forehead.
He looked toward the bank, lights flashing, people screaming, the sound of glass breaking echoing faintly from inside. His heart thumped harder in his chest.
This wasn’t a ga. This wasn’t just so fight.
People were already dead inside. He knew that much from the news.
And now he was supposed to walk in there?
He took a deep breath, glancing back at the locked car once more.
Lilith’s shadow sat unmoving. Like she didn’t give a damn about what was happening outside.
Of course she didn’t. She had the luxury to shrug it off.
But him? He wasn’t sure if he was ready.
His hands flexed nervously at his sides. Sparks of electricity flickered along his fingertips, unsteady, raw. He hadn’t even mastered this thing yet.
And Vanessa... she was already gone. Already in the middle of it.
He sucked in a shaky breath and muttered under his breath, "Fuck my life."
Then he stepped forward, toward the chaos.
Dickson walked toward the bank, irritation already written across his face. He had to push past the crowd of people gathered around the scene.
"What the fuck are you all looking for?" he snapped, his voice carrying through the night. "It’s fucking one in the morning. Aren’t ya’ll supposed to be in your houses or sothing?"
The civilians stared at him, whispering and pointing.
"Who is that fucker?" one guy muttered.
"It’s this loser dressed like a superhero," another sneered, laughing under his breath.
Dickson ignored them and kept moving.
"What the fuck’s he looking for—" the sentence cut short with a loud yelp.
"Ouch! Motherfucker zapped my ass!" a man scread, clutching his backside.
Heads whipped around. Murmurs rose, fear lacing the air.
"Shit, he has powers," soone shouted.
That did it. The entire crowd broke into panic, scattering in every direction. So tripped over themselves, others scread, shoes slapping against the pavent as they disappeared into the shadows of nearby alleys.
The sudden rush of bodies caught the attention of the police. Officers already stationed outside the bank turned sharply, their eyes locking on Dickson.
"Freeze!" one barked, raising his weapon.
Another followed suit, rifles coming up, the tallic clack of safeties being flicked off filling the tense air.
Dickson’s stomach dropped. He cursed under his breath. To them, he wasn’t here to help. He looked like just another one of the masked criminals they were fighting.
He slowly lifted his hand, electricity crackling faintly at his fingertips. Not enough to threaten, but enough to make it clear who he was.
"You chill the fuck out," Dickson said, his tone sharp but not reckless. His other hand went up, palms open. "I’m here to help."
The cops didn’t lower their guns. Their eyes flickered with suspicion, adrenaline keeping them steady. For a mont, the only sound was the faint hum of his power and the distant thump of helicopter blades circling above.
Dickson stood his ground, jaw tight, eyes narrowed at the line of muzzles aid straight at his chest.
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