Published at 21st of July 2026 9:16 am

Chapter 38 Crashing (Aubrey Pov)

This chapter is updated by JustRead.pl

No. Nonononononononono. NO! Its drowning it out. No ones talking about it anymore. Ares nuclear attack has completely taken over the airwaves. Its not fair. ITS NOT FAIR! Deep down, I know that my reaction is messed up, and that the scope of the two is on a completely different level, but its fucking bullshit that everyones moved on past Jean-Lucs murder. Theres no mention of Violet Graves, Jean-Luc Dupont, or the murder anywhere on TV. Every Quinstin news channel, every Neuvohuman-focused blog, every single Cape and Cowl forum, and social media site has moved past it to focus on Ares and the hunt for him. My friends death has been buried under the mountain of bodies Ares left in his wake. I bite my fist so hard it feels like Ill pierce the skin and scream into it. Its a habit Ive started doing since his death. I stumble around my dark dorm room, crashing onto my bed.

Why doesnt his death matter? I whispered, sobbing into my pillow.

It shouldn't be taking this long. It's been well over a week since I uploaded the video, and nothing has happened yet. Nothing except all my accounts being banned. It's not a surprising response; I did upload footage of someone dying, but losing my social media accounts is a tiny consequence compared to getting the information out. People need to know what Violet did. She murdered my friend. But nothing has happened; the Union took our statements and then hasnt said a word about it. Violet hasnt been back to our dorm room; the bitch is probably staying in another one of her familys properties, relaxing far away from consequences.

Being back home in New Farford, in my room again, is both a comfort and a reminder of what Ive lost. I check my phone, seeing messages from Raf and Eryk. Nothing from Doug or Sydney. I expected it, but that doesnt make the sharp ache in my chest hurt any less. They chose her. They chose connections and clout over right and wrong. It hasnt hit me just how lonely my life is now. The friend group I had is gone, and Im sure that Ive been kicked out of the Probationary Union Program by now. And if I havent, then Im sure I will be soon. I didnt reveal her secret identity; thats just not what you do. I dont believe in the Union anymore, but theres still a tiny sliver remaining of that little girl who loved capes and heroes inside me. And she would never forgive me for doing that.

The Heroes' Union chose a side, and they picked lineage over fairness. Involuntary manslaughter is bullshit, my video showed that. It wasnt an accident; she attacked Jean-Luc on purpose, it doesnt matter if she wasnt trying to kill him. BNA v Powerhouse/Preston House set the precedent that it is a Neuvohumans responsibility to control their powers. A Cape was off duty at a bar with his girlfriend when two drunk men approached them and started a fight. During the ensuing brawl, Powerhouses girlfriend was accidentally shoved, hit her head, and fell unconscious. The Cape had been drinking and incorrectly assumed the two men had killed his girlfriend. In a drunken rage, he hit one of the men so hard that it snapped the mans neck and killed him, and he permanently paralyzed the other one with a kick. It was the first high-profile case of a Cape being sent to an Omnimax prison.

If she werent a legacy Cape, if her parents werent who they are. Shed be rotting in an Omnimax prison like she deserves. She broke the law, she violated the Heroes' Creed. Do not measure a person by their power, but by what they do with it. No person is above another; power does not represent authority, it represents responsibility. Responsibility to do no wrong and follow the standard the Supreme Six set for us. I swear to defend this city and its citizens with everything I have, to uphold its laws, and to do battle against evil whenever and wherever it appears. I will use my powers to protect and uphold order, to save those in need, and never to abuse my powers or position. I will use appropriate force, I will not kill or maim, and I'll always act to preserve lives at all costs. I swear to uphold all previous statements and live up to the ideals of heroism. She fails at every single line of the Creed.

The Supreme Six would've never allowed this to pass. The whole point of the Creed is to remind Capes that people with powers are not better than those without. The fact that only consequences are delaying her joining the Union by four years, no Cape activity for two years, and moving out of state is complete and utter bullshit. She's getting away scot-free. None of those are punishments that she cant just circumvent by creating a new persona and having her parents grease the right wheels. Jean-Lucs family getting a settlement is a slap to the face. They dont need money; they need justice.

I think about getting up, but its already 5 pm, so I might as well just go back to bed. Whats the point of getting up? Theres no one in town that I would want to talk to. Eryk and Raf are both back in Quinstin, and my moms working overnights this week. I dont even know what Id say. I havent spoken to anyone since I called my mom and told her I was coming home. My moms giving me space, leaving dinner at my door with little supportive notes shes written. I barely touch the food; I havent had an appetite since Friendsgiving. I should get up, I should shower and see the sun, but I cant bring myself to do anything but rot in my bed. Im spending more time asleep than I am awake. Pulling my comforter tighter around myself, I drop my phone onto the floor and go back to bed.

When I next wake up, my room is still dark, my heart still aches, and Jean-Luc is still dead. Just like Marcus. Ive lost so many people in less than a year. A fresh wave of grief rocks me, and Im crying before I know it. I feel so helpless; my power couldnt save my friend. It couldnt do anything. Its not even my power. I still dont know what to do with the knowledge I have about Eryk. Hes the last friend I have from New Farford. I still cant understand why Eryk would lie to me for months. What did he gain by deceiving me?

No matter how many times I go over it in my head, I can't reconcile the idea of my friend Eryk being the man in black. My memories show me clear as day that Eryk has or had a helmet of pure black. One that I made for him. The man in black has murdered Capes, Cowls, and civilians with casual ease. Violet said he was responsible for murdering the ORourke patriarch, and he defeated her when no one else ever had. A man who has recruited two monsters to his side: one who showed they are capable of taking on a Heroes Union squad with ease, and the other fought Violet to a standstill and killed two members of the Villains Syndicate like it was nothing. The fact that Violet swears Smolder showed off powers he didn't have the first time they fought confirms Eryk's involvement, whether willing or not. He's the only Neuvohuman I've ever heard of having the ability to transfer powers from one person to another.

But it still doesn't make any sense. Why? Eryk doesn't care about Capes or Cowls. He didn't want to be a Neuvohuman, let alone a Cowl. I had to drag him with me to the docks in Crimton, and he clearly didnt like it. What could have possibly changed to make him become the man in black? That would make him a mass murderer. It can't be true, it just can't be. Theres no way, right? There has to be a reason for him to be doing all of the crimes he's accused of; someone must be forcing him to do it. Then why won't you just ask him? What am I so afraid of? I'm afraid that it's true.

Todays the day I finally leave my room. Todays the day I stop hiding away from the world and face reality. Todays the day of Jean-Lucs funeral. Todays the day we bury my childhood friend. Todays the day I have to look his mother, his fathe, in the eyes and know that deep down I am the reason their son is dead. That his relation to me, his friendship with me, cost him his life. My stomach growls, the pit inside it matching the pit in my heart. The hurt is less raw, the grief is less all-consuming, but the pain is still there. Theres an emptiness inside me that might never go away. Get it together, Aubrey.

I need to shower, scrub off the depression funk that I know I must be giving off. After spending six days bed-rotting, I smell and feel disgusting. My hairs greasy and tangled. I roll out of bed, landing on my feet, and then I rip open my blackout curtains. The light hits me like the sun has decided I am its nemesis. My eyes hurt so much from the sudden brightness that Im seeing dark spots even when I close them. Fuck. Despite how cold it is outside, I crack open my window in an attempt to air out my room. The cold winter wind sends a chill through my body, but its also the most alive Ive felt in weeks. A steaming hot shower, some food, and one last cry are all I need to be ready. And I can smell my Moms cooking.

My outfit is laid out on my bed. The black sleeveless dress that goes just past my knees, the oversized gray satin bow Im going to use as a belt, black tights, and matching ballet flats. The exact same outfit I wore to Marcus funeral. The only change is Im wearing my taupe winter coat to stay warm during the burial ceremony. It feels nice to be clean, to be moisturized, and fresh. My mom took today off from work to go to the funeral with me. Shes known Jean-Luc since we were both kids. She watched us both grow into the people we are. Were. I shake the thought away and finish getting dressed. I put on very light makeup, and now Im ready.

I leave my room, heading for the kitchen where my mom is gliding around as she cooks up pancakes and organizes. Theres a bowl of fresh berries next to the pan, so I know shes making her Berry Good Pancakes. I cant even remember the last time she made them. The guys loved them. I feel tears threatening to fall, and I hold my head back. Im not redoing the makeup. My moms wearing a similar dress to mine, but hers has sleeves and a moderate dip around the neck. Its a dress I cant wear anymore because of my scars. The other difference is the cardigan and pump heels. With the two of us dressed so similarly, its clear how much I look like her. Im my mothers daughter.

Hey, sweetheart. You look beautiful; how are you holding up?

She asks me how Im holding up, and suddenly Im fifteen again, and Im bawling my eyes out because Hunter Fields told me I look like a boy. She shuts off the burner, puts the pan aside, and wraps her arms around me as I ugly cry into her arms. I thought that I was okay, I thought I was ready for today, but clearly Im not. She rubs my back slowly, and I clutch my mom even harder.

There we go. Let it all out, baby, she said soothingly.

I-I-I-I miss him, Mom, I sob into her.

I know, baby, I know. I do too. Why dont you have something to eat? Im sure you must be hungry after barely eating for the last couple of days. I made your favorite. Take a seat, and Ill get you some water, she said.

She places a plate with three mixed berry pancakes in front of me and pours me a glass of water. I dump maple syrup all over it, drowning them in sugary goodness. Im not proud of the way I devour the food in front of me, but besides crackers to settle my stomach, its the first real meal Ive had. My mom, on the other hand, takes her time. She pours a little bit of syrup onto the side of her plate, savoring each bite as she dips like the refined lady she is. The contrast between us makes me laugh, nearly choking on my food. I dont recognize the sound of my own laugh; its been so long since I last did it. My emotions are all over the place, and my mood swings have no place at Jean-Lucs funeral.

Thanks, Mom. Its delicious, I said, dabbing at the tears and wiping the snot from my nose. Im such a mess.

Youre allowed to be. Especially today. But Ive been worried about you. I understand youre grieving, but please, no more isolating yourself in your room. Sweetie, do whatever you need to feel better, but hiding in the dark, sleeping all day, isnt helping, my Mom said softly.

Im not ready to go back to Quinstin, Mom. I-I cant right now, I stuttered.

Dont worry about any of that. We can talk about that stuff after we get through today. You might want to go to the bathroom before we have to leave, she suggested.

Oh, I know my makeups a fucking mess, I replied.

Thats not what I meant. Youve got syrup all around your mouth, she said, trying not to smile.

Thanks for looking out for me; Id hate to cause a fashion faux pas, I said sarcastically, and for a brief moment, the ache in my heart softens. I love you, Mom. I dont know how Id deal with all this shit if you werent around. Seriously, I dont know what Id do without you. It just feels like my entire world is crashing down around me, like all Ive ever known is burning to ash, and I cant do anything to stop it. I feel so alone.

Youve had to deal with more tragedy than anyone your age should have to. Youve experienced more death than I had by the time I had you. But youre a fighter, baby, and youll get through this. Youre stronger than you realize. And youre not alone; you have me, your Quinstin friends, and Eryk. You two are the only people who perfectly understand what the other is going through; lean on him, sweetie. Hes your best friend.

Yeah, I said halfheartedly.

Yeah

I run up the stairs, but not toward the bathroom. I go into my Moms room, into her nightstand, and grab the small bottle of gin she keeps hidden there. If Im going to make it through today, Im going to need some liquid courage. I knock back a swig of it and nearly spit it out. Gins disgusting. I still put the bottle into my purse.

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