Published at 22nd of August 2026 8:02 am

Chapter 45 Welcome to Wonderland

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You sure you dont need anything else? Daniel asked me.

For the final time, yes, Dad, I dont need anything else. You gave me nearly half of the garden already, I said, holding up the comically large bag full of vegetables, separated into perforated containers.

Despite discovering a prodigal talent for gardening, I still cannot cook to save my life, My father admitted.

He's not kidding; the man burns scrambled eggs. I frankly don't know what he eats when I'm not home. Since the realization of the fondness I have for my father, I've begun to notice that I can appreciate the little peculiarities that he has. Our relationship dynamic has completely shifted since the funeral; I dont think he wouldve given me a ride to the Quickrail station if the changes hadnt happened. And I wouldnt have asked him to. The closest Quickrail station isnt close, so him doing me this favor helps out. With my free hand, I hoist the duffel bag filled with my things over my shoulder.

Trust me, I know, I replied with a smile.

Oof. That hurts me, son, he joked.

We both have our strengths. Thanks again for the ride. I gotta get going, I said.

Youre welcome. But are you sure you dont need me to pay for the ticket? Youre in college, and I dont want you to struggle unnecessarily.

Im completely fine; you paying for my apartment and tuition is more than enough. I am not struggling, Dad. I dont need you to reimburse me for a fifty-dollar ticket. I love you, I said.

I love you too, Daniel said as we separated.

I head inside the mostly glass structure, waving goodbye to my father. I take a seat inside the waiting area. Unlike the Quickrail station near where I buried Maria, this is a much grander building. Theres a cafe inside, a fast food restaurant, and a waiting area with chairs, tables, really anything you might need. I take a look at the digital screen with all the departure and arrival times. The Quinstin Quickrail will be here soon.

Surprisingly, there are only ten people here, including me, which is odd. I take a seat at a table with a brick wall to my back and put down my bag on the table. A family of five is eating at the fast food place, the two younger siblings running figure eights around the tables. A businesswoman in a gray pantsuit is on her laptop, typing away at something on her screen. Shes one of those people whose keystrokes are aggressive. Shes hitting the keyboard like it owes her money. Two teenage girls younger than me are sitting together, talking about another girl named Rebecca who is apparently a huge bitch. The final person is an old man in a wheelchair who doesnt look like he should be unsupervised. One of his arms is cradled limply against his stomach, and his lower half is covered in a checkered blanket. How does he even get around? There are two large tanks on the back of his wheelchair, each hooked up to a different tube that connects to the breathing mask he has over his mouth and nose. I cant imagine how he even got here like this.

The Quickrail arrives shortly after, and everyone here makes their way over to it. The family goes first, scanning their tickets to get past the gates, and turning left to get onto one of the cars in the back. I will be avoiding that no matter what. Im the second to last to get on, with only the sickly wheelchair bound man behind me, and I make my way through the cars until I find one thats completely empty. I take a seat by the window, placing my bags on the seat next to me so no one gets any ideas about sitting with me. There are only five planned stops on this route, so Ill be back in Quinstin in two hours. My phone vibrates, and its from Emma.

(Emma): Hey, Im back in the city, and I have both packages. Ill give them to your friend. Can we talk and have dinner later?

(Eryk): I have an appointment I have to go to first, but if you dont mind a late dinner, then thats fine. Appointment shouldnt go later than 8.

(Emma): That works for me. Cant wait to see you. I miss you. <

(Eryk): Its been a while. Do you want to go out or do you want me to cook? I have a bunch of vegetables from my dads garden, so I can make us some stir fry if you want to stay in.

(Emma): Id like to go out and have a proper date since its been so long, if thats okay.

(Eryk): Thats fine. Just pick somewhere and get a reservation for 9.

(Emma): Yay.

I put my phone into my jacket pocket after getting her response, ignoring the follow-up buzzing after getting my confirmation. It's just her sending me more unnecessary messages. A side effect of realizing that I do love my dad is that I now know for sure that I don't feel anything for Emma. Our relationship was an experiment to see if I could fall in love, but I still feel nothing when I look at her. This is like Maria all over again, except Emma knows significantly more about what I get up to when shes not around. Her constant need for affection and sex isnt necessarily a deal breaker, even if I dont have much interest in either, and shes shown that she can be helpful toward my plans, so I dont need to end things yet. Besides, the last time people found out I was single, the Violet situation started. I clear my mind of thoughts of my awful luck with women and settle in for the long ride.

My pleasantly boring ride is interrupted by the sound of someone hacking up a lung. The aggressive coughing is obnoxiously loud and wet-sounding, but I mind my own business and pull out my phone to check the time. A bit over halfway to go til Im back. Going from sleeping alone at home to sleeping with another person is an adjustment I am not looking forward to. The noise hasnt stopped, so I decide to check on the Quinstin news sites. No connection detected? Hmmm. Theres no way were in a dead zone, and the Quickrails have free wifi. I check the settings on my phone to see whats wrong with it. What is going on?

The coughing finally stops, which is nice, only for metal to start creaking behind me, getting closer until I finally take a look back and see the man in the wheelchair. Hes being moved forward by a waif-like girl who I dont remember seeing at the station at all. Turning back around, I ignore the two strangers. She continues pushing him toward me, and then past me, but then she suddenly stops. I have a sinking suspicion that my quiet ride is over. Spinning the wheelchairs on its back wheels, she rotates him to face me. Damn. There goes my brief respite from wearing a mask.

Hi, can I help you? I asked nicely.

The old man inhales shakily, and after exhaling, a blue mist comes out of the left tube, clouding the mask over his mouth and nose. Ive never seen whatever chemical he just inhaled, and likely only the doctor would be able to tell me. It takes a bit for the blue mist to disperse, and then the emaciated girl removes it from his face carefully. His noncrippled arm shakily moves the blanket, removing the silenced pistol hidden beneath it. He rests the gun on his lap, pointing right at me.

The moment he brandishes the weapon, I realize that I was careless not to bring my gun home with me. I keep my face passive and take a closer look at the not-so-harmless old man. The deep wrinkles, bone-white hair, and liver spots inform me that hes past his seventies, at least. I hadnt noticed before, but his left eye is gray and glassy. Blind in that eye. The dark skin made it hard to see the growths covering his arms and neck. His veins are strained against the loose skin thats covered in scabs and scars. Hes dying and soon, by the looks of it. Despite that, hes clutching the gun tightly in his bony hand, and his good eye is hyperfocused on me.

The girl pushing him, his caretaker, shares a remarkable number of similarities to the man that leads me to the assumption theyre related. She has the same nse and high cheekbones as him, the same skin tone, and identical hair texture. Is this his granddaughter? Shes wearing a red and black Victorian-style dress that goes down to her knees, showing off black stockings and ruby red shoes. Short, puffed sleeves hang loosely over her very thin frame. Her hair is separated into double puffs, each wrapped in white ribbon. Shes not wearing any makeup, but shed be described as pretty if she wasnt so severely underweight. Is she sick or anorexic?

Yes, you can, the man wheezed after a moment. His voice is gravely and grating. He takes a second to collect his breath before continuing. I didnt plan for us to meet like this, but circumstances forced my hand.

I pause to see if theres anything else, but hes clearly waiting for me to talk. Who the hell are these two? Neither of them looks familiar to me at all. Ive never seen either of them before. The way hes speaking makes it seem like were acquainted, but the loaded gun is certainly not how you approach someone youre friendly with. The question is who Eryk Blakely pissed off enough to warrant this interaction. The only people who would pull a gun on me are dead. Racking my brain, I only come up with the douchey guy whose arm I broke at that college party, but unless he was adopted, I cant see the resemblance with these two.

Listen, if you need m-money, I can do a b-b-bank transfer, but I dont have any cash on me, I stuttered, swallowing loudly.

I dont need money; I need time, he replied angrily. Time which you can grant me.

Sorry, but I have no idea what youre talking about, I said fearfully.

The girl glares at me, anger in her eyes. I sneak a look at my phone to see if I have service yet.

Phone wont do you any good. Neither will the cameras or any panic buttons you might be interested in pressing, she said, pointing to the red emergency button on the walls and then the cameras in the ceiling. Feeds are looped, wires are cut, and signals are jammed. No one knows whats going on in here. Youre at our mercy.

The threat level of the two has jumped up from random aggrieved family members to professional criminals. What the heck is going on?

Chessie, the man warned. And you, drop the scared civilian act. I know what you really are. Who you really are.

I discard the mask, reevaluating the two of them. It clicks. They left the note on my door. They must be the ones who have been spying on me at my apartment. Theres no telling what theyve heard me say inside those four walls. Damn it. Not knowing what they know makes this situation much more precarious. They must know something incriminating to go through all this trouble to confront and isolate me. But nothing has happened in my apartment to make this dying man think that I can save him.

You have me mixed up with someone else. I dont know you two, I said carefully.

Oh, that is true. But we know you, Nobody, the man said.

What? Even if hes been spying on me, Ive never even told Emma that Im Nobody. No one knows Im Nobody except for Rorschach, Kai, Vivienne, and Isaiah. Four people who Im sure would never betray me. Before I can respond, he continues speaking.

You must be wondering what else I might know if I know youre Nobody, he remarked, taking a deep breath again. I know about Vivienne Caldara, aka Vesuvius. Isaiah Jules, aka Smolder. I know about your girlfriend Emma and the trip you sent her on. And of course, I know you can remove powers and create Neuvohumans.

Fuck. I have to kill the two of them. Hes close to me, but not close enough that I can get to him without getting shot. As long as it isnt in a vital area, I should be fine. Kai can repair whatever they damage. They want to talk to Nobody? Fine, its their lives theyre playing with.

You are a very well-informed man. Id say more informed than the Heroes Union. You have placed me in check, and I dont even know who Im playing against. Its a feat that only one other person has ever accomplished, I admitted.

I presume youre referring to Technologica. I wont lie, finding out that you rub shoulders with someone like that made me reluctant to meet like this, but as I said, I had no other choice. From what weve observed, youre a man with a very black-and-white worldview; things are either beneficial or detrimental, and I doubt that I could force you to make a detrimental decision and expect to continue to get away with it. So Id like to make a deal with you, he said.

Hes good. Even though he is overwhelmingly in control, hes not lording it over me. Hes allowing me the illusion of choice. This is no amateur. Giving your opponent the option to save face despite the lopsided positions is a masterful move. If hes been watching me as long as I think he has, then he knows this kind of flattery and maneuvering doesnt work on me. Which means its an acknowledgment of respect. A tip of the hat from one man to another. Its not like I can go anywhere, so I might as well hear him out.

What kind of deal are you thinking of?

I can arrange for you to take seven powers. In exchange, you will save me and my granddaughters lives. I dont know how many powers you currently possess, but Im sure you have several that can heal us, he answered.

Seven powers. Seven brand new abilities and corresponding personality pieces? That all but guarantees that Ill get new emotions, new feelings to explore and experience. Trading two powers for seven is an incredible deal. Depending on whats wrong with them, I may be able to heal them using one of the powers that Emma currently has. Then I could take it back and not lose a single ability in this exchange. I narrow my eyes to look at the two sickly family members. How would they possibly be able to fulfill their end of the bargain?

And how would you go about getting those seven? I asked honestly.

I can see why you might be skeptical. My name is Ezekiel Hart, and this is obviously my granddaughter Francesca Hart, but shes more commonly known as Looking Glass, Ezekiel said.

The final piece of the puzzle. It all clicks into place.

Youre the man behind the Villains Syndicate, the creator and the one who keeps it running. Youre the producer, I stated.

Indeed. When you and your man executed Null and Echochamber, my granddaughter saw you. She followed you back home and has been watching you ever since, Ezekiel admitted.

Youve got a very perceptive girlfriend. Im sure that you made her that way, Francesca, Chessie said.

A man who has been secretly running a Cowl group for years without a trace of him has to have backup plans. I cant kill them, can I? They know my secret, and it would be nothing for him to have prepared a file to send out if he dies. They got me.

Seems like you dont have me in check; you have checkmate. Well done, Mister Hart. You know the note you left was a great touch, I said, sighing in defeat.

Note? We didnt leave you a note, Francesca responded.

Huh.

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