Published at 18th of September 2026 7:33 am

Chapter 52 I'm Talking Bathtub Toaster, Brother

This chapter is updated by JustRead.pl

First, let me say that it is with a heavy heart that I welcome you all back to class. We are several students lighter, whether because they are no longer with us or because they felt safer at another university. I am thankful for each and every one of you who chose to continue on with your education here at the Quinstin University of Technology and Design. Ethics 101 is my favorite course I teach, and I hope I can make it your favorite as well, Professor Armol said.

Looking around the strangely spherical room where Ethics 101 takes place, it is very apparent that were missing people. The already small class of ten has gotten even smaller. Six students, including myself, are all that came back after Ares attack. I'm sure a few of the parents made their children take advantage of the sudden transfer window that QUTD offered. When the mayor announced that, in partnership with the BNA and the Massachusetts Board of Education, any student in either of Quinstin's universities could transfer to any state-run school for free and keep their credits, plenty of students probably rushed to do so.

Quinstin is no longer the safe haven city it once was. Every major metropolitan city has Cowls and Capes; it's a fact of life that the more people and infrastructure you put together, the more likely it becomes that you have crime. Crime equals conflict, and conflict breeds trigger events. But Ares attack is an unprecedented level of slaughter and destruction that Quinstins citizens were not ready for. Nuclear explosive devices are normally reserved for horror stories from centuries past. A Cowl detonating a bomb in the middle of a city isn't a crime; it's terrorism, and terrorism makes people skittish. The full effects of his attack still remain to be seen. The migration of student populations is just the first wave. If Ares isn't apprehended or killed soon, then businesses might decide that Quinstin is too dangerous to operate in. No one has seen a single sign of the Olympians since his attack. Rorschach is searching every minute of every day, and she still can't find a single sign of one of them.

Mr. Blakely, what do you think? The professor asked.

Damn. I got distracted.

About what? I asked. Sorry, my brain was somewhere else.

I understand that our thoughts can wander during difficult times, but please try to pay attention, he said, reprimanding me nicely.

Mr. Churches, I'm sure you have an interesting perspective. Why don't you answer the question in place of your fellow classmate? Professor Armol said.

Personally, I am pro-incarceration over rehabilitation. At the very least, when it comes to Neuvohumans. Look at Omnimax prisons like The Island and Dollhouse for all the proof you need that certain people are unfit to be free. When a person has that much power and uses it for evil, they don't deserve to breathe the same air as us, Leon said.

The definition of evil changes depending on where you are in the world. Plenty of people consider the American prison system to be evil. It's a for-profit form of human slavery. Inmates are kept in inhumane conditions, oftentimes forced to do manual labor in exchange for literal nickels on the dollar. There are plenty of examples of judges receiving benefits and kickbacks in exchange for harsher sentencing on what most would consider harmless misdemeanors, Ricky countered.

Maybe I should look into opening up a prison. It is quite a profitable venture, and it could provide a surplus of subjects for Kais experiments. I've never given much thought to prisons before. Ever since I decided to become Nobody and embarked on this path, I've never considered what I would do if I were captured. My ability all but promises that I won't get a trial. Either they imprison me forever as some sort of power-bestowing slave, or they execute me.

Sure, Ricky, but what about violent Cowls like Onslaught? There isn't any way to bargain with that psycho; my uncle was on the unfortunate end of one of his rampages. He wasn't even a cop or a soldier; he was a banker, and he's dead now. He left behind three kids and a wife, all who have to grow up without him. Monsters like him can't be rehabilitated into society. They're like rabid animals; you call pest control, and they put them down, Leon said hotly.

Oh my god, we get it, you think we should kill Cowls, Rebekah complained.

Jeez, what did I miss? How did we go from the prison industrial complex to murdering criminals?

Ms. Surdyr, please, refrain from making any sarcastic outbursts at your classmate's expense. That said, Mr. Churches, please don't hijack healthy discussions to spread violent ideologies. We aren't discussing death penalties or lethal force today. That's reserved for a later lesson, Professor Armol interrupted. Lets instead go back to the topic at hand. Mr. Churches brought up Omnimax prisons. Does anyone know why Neuvohuman require separate prisons, regardless of their ability?

I clear my head of distracting thoughts and focus on the current lesson.

Last class of the day done, I leave the classroom of my Engineering and Design course with Professor Balestra. An incredibly intelligent woman capable of delivering even the most exciting information in the most clinical and cold tone. Its honestly a talent that her oratory abilities render every sentence emotionless. I should bring my helmet to class one day, if only to get a sample of her voice. Might make for an air of gravitas that would suit Nobody quite well. My phone goes off with a message from Sy.

(Sy): Aye, my main man, Eryk. You ready for later?

(Eryk): Whats going on later?

(Sy): Bro, you are killing me, like literally stabbing a hole in my heart. Today is that trauma group we spoke about before, remember?

(Eryk): Was that when you allied with that turbo bitch waitress who prayed for my downfall? Because if you want to talk about killing each other, the betrayal from that nearly broke me.

(Sy): I have no memory of that. Sooooooo you still coming?

(Eryk): I already told you I would. When is it?

(Sy): It starts at 6:30 over on the third floor of the Ryder Haines Library, room 303.

(Eryk): Do I need to bring something?

(Sy): Bro, its a trauma group, not a potluck LMAO You don't need to bring anything except an open mind and heart.

The sun's already down when I leave my apartment. The cold night air smacks me awake like a pot of hot coffee to the face. Emma's been acting very meek since we had our date; she's normally gone before I wake up in the morning and isn't home till after one. As long as she isn't out causing me problems, I don't care what she does. I'm not sure why my response to her stupid dreams of being a housewife or trophy girlfriend upset her so much. I incorrectly assessed her intelligence and assumed she was capable of understanding where she stands in my eyes. If Kai or any of the others asked me if they could collect a paycheck and coast off my success without contributing, I'd have responded the exact same way.

I dealt with a useless girlfriend once; I'm not dealing with it ever again if I don't have to. Turning right, I cross the street to get onto campus. There's a small trickle of students here, most leaving from their six pm end classes. There are a few professors who have eight pm class slots, but most keep to an eight to five or nine to six schedule. The Ryder Haines Library is a marvel to look at from a design perspective, as is fitting for a QUTD building. The seven-story tower is a sight to behold; the top of it is made of stained glass with a sundial installation at the top. When the sun is out, it projects a clock fce onto the ground floor of the building that changes hues depending on the time and location of the sun. Since every floor above the bottom is a hollow circle, you can lean over the edge to check the time. Most people just use their phones, but it at least provides the illusion of a function, unlike the rest of our university's Artistic Architecture.

Rings of bookcases create a maze that most freshmen fall victim to. It's bad enough that people joke that the minotaur would've lived here if it were still alive. The bookcases themselves are encased in airtight, bulletproof glass, with codes printed in front of the books they correspond to. It's incredibly rare to find someone who owns physical books anymore. The printing industry collapsed long before my dad was in school, so it's mostly limited to special editions of digital novel series that do well or rich collectors who want to flaunt their collection of hundred-year-old books. There are probably thirty-something students here, tapping tablets, phones, and e-readers against the codes to download a copy of whatever they want to read. I head for the elevator, adjusting the gun at my waist before I step inside. I've been getting caught unarmed too frequently lately to not bring it with me.

The doors open up, and I step out into the third-floor lounge. Its empty, not a single soul in sight. The paranoia isnt inside me anymore, but the eerie empty silence still slows my step. Im prepared. My mask is tucked under my shirt, over my heart, to hopefully stop anyone from shooting me dead. Its not foolproof or a guarantee, but until I sit down with Ten and figure out what kind of protection she can provide me with. Ive collected enough abilities that I can afford to be choosy. Viviennes second ability is important, but my safety is much more important. And unlike V, I can give Ten an ability with a negative personality piece because she doesnt need to be well-adjusted or personable. Subject Ten doesnt even need to be a person, especially not if thats what caused Six to become such a failure. That traitorous dinosaur doesnt want to play his role, but doesnt realize that eventually hell work toward my goal whether he wants to or not. Kai and I truly created a monster with him.

Eryk? A voice behind me asked.

I whip around and see Sylvester, my friend. A dark purple beanie covers his bald head, and hes rocking new plugs in both ears. He didnt use to have both pierced. Tonights lip ring is a ruby gemstone stud; his mustache is waxed and curves up like a childs smile. Hes got on a bit of mascara too. A black unadorned hoodie underneath a white vest, maroon jeans, and skate shoes finish off his look. He looks nervous, but why would he be nervous about this group he keeps talking about? The way his eyes are pulled back and the slight smile threatening to spill out of his mouth tell me that this isnt bad nervous, but some sort of anxious excitement.

Who else? Whats got you so happy? I asked.

W-what are you talking about? Im just glad you came. Pretty much everyone is here, minus Alexis and Claire, but theyre always late, so thats nothing new. We can head inside if you want, Sy suggested.

Sure, lead the way.

Sy leads me to room 303; theres a sign on the door that says Do Not Disturb. Sy knocks twice until a mans voice tells him to come in. Sy pushes the door open, and I follow after him. Im not sure what I expected, but this is certainly less official-looking than I thought it would be. This isnt a classroom at all; the room is carpeted, the same ugly gray color that most of the dorms have, and there are eight large orange chairs set up in a circle with a coffee table in the middle with a twelve-pack of waters, packets of hot cocoa mix, one of those automatic kettles, and two boxes of tissues. How intense do these sessions get?

The chairs are oversized, round, and cozy; the type that you can curl up in. Sitting in one of them is an Asian student who has more piercings than Sy, with bright red spiked hair. His left eyebrow has a cut through it; hes wearing black flowing pants covered in zippers and an oversized black hoodie with metallic roses all over it. Next to him is a girl of Latin descent if her accent is any indicator; either that or she is an incredibly offensive person putting on an act. Straight black hair, wing-tipped eyeliner, hazel eyes, button nose, and a habit of biting her bottom lip. Shes wearing jeans, snow boots, a pink scarf, and a Nike windbreaker. Shes pretty, but I can tell why shed be in a group like this. Shes practically radiating anxiety, fidgeting with her sleeves constantly, and the way she froze up when I walked in after Sylvester. She wasnt ready for a new face.

The final chair contains a man who is likely the same age as my dad. Hes tall, taller than I am, and of a muscular build. Where I have a swimmer's physique, hes more of one of those people who has incredible strength even if they dont have abs. Blue jeans that look like hes gotten over a decade of use out of them, a white shirt underneath a green and yellow flannel, and a nice silver watch complete the mans outfit. Father Brandon is Caucasian, with heavy stubble and hair thats more salt than pepper. His face lights up when he sees Sy and me, standing up immediately and smiling. His tone is welcoming, and his voice is deeper than I expect.

Sylvester! It is fantastic to see youve made it despite this awful weather were having. And this must be your friend, Eryk, we spoke about. It is a pleasure to meet you, Eryk, Brandon said, grabbing my hand and shaking it vigorously. Call me Brandon, Father, Father Brandon, or Brando. These two are Albert and Carmen.

Hi, Carmen mumbled.

Yo, Albert said, saluting sarcastically.

Sy, why are you talking about me to other people? Besides learning about Sys loose lips, I notice several things about Father Brandon. The first is that the man is missing his middle finger on his right hand, and his left hand has a very faded tattooed band on his ring finger. The fact that the tattoo is faded likely means that relationship has also faded away. Widower or something else? The second is that he is exceptionally strong. The third is the large scar across his throat. I wont say Im an expert on wounds, but Ive inflicted enough to recognize an injury caused by a knife. That must be one hell of a story.

Mhmm. Im Eryk, I responded curtly. Without knowing what Sys told you, I cant say whether or not I can say Im happy to be here.

Nothing bad, I assure you. Sometimes members of our group will seek one another out because some conversations are better one-on-one, and during one of those, he spoke to me about a friend who had also been through a lot, but nothing more than that was shared. Welcome to the group, Father Brandon said.

I dont know if this is really a fit for me; Im not big into therapy or trauma dumping on strangers, but I promised him Id give this a shot so Im here, I responded.

Theres no pressure on you, Eryk. Feel free to chime in or dont; theres only one thing I ask of you, Father Brandon said, holding his hand up to his left ear.

Keep an open mind and an open heart, Sy, Albert, and Carmen said collectively with the tone of people who had said the phrase a hundred times.

That I can do, I said, making my way over into the circle.

I sit in a chair on the opposite side of where Father Brandon and the other two are sitting. Sy plops down next to me on my right, leaving an open space between himself and Carmen and two empty spaces on my left. Sy pulls out his phone and starts typing up a storm to someone, and I pull out my phone to check the time. Its 6:25, and theres no sign of the two girls that Sy mentioned. One of them is the previously dubbed Bitchy Traitor who I met at that Triad club. The other is a mystery.

So is the person youre sending a novel to the reason you seem so happy? I aked Sy.

He tilts his phone screen away from me, and his face turns faintly red. Bingo.

N-n-n-n-no. Whaaaaat? Im not texting anyone, he lied.

Okay.

Damn, if youre going to grill me so hard, I guess I can tell you, Sy said. When did I grill him? Im texting this absolute stunner; Im talking bathtub toaster, brother. And weve been low key texting nonstop, and were meeting for dinner after this.

Is it that awful waitress?

What? No. I said bathtub toaster, not taser, he said. What the fuck is he saying? This is a primo de numero uno filet. A Latina goth baddie who goes to Briggerton. I went looking for cod and somehow pulled in a shark. Im talking Triple S, guaranteed five stars, and shes funny as fuck.

Well, I dont know what most of that means, but I hope your date goes well. If you ask me, though, shes the lucky one who pulled a shark, I said nicely.

You tryna get smooched? Jesus, no wonder it's so easy for you; I think Im falling for you.

Shut up, I said affectionately.

Sy is fun to be around in a way that the New Farford group never was. Two knocks at the door signify the arrival of another member. In walks Bitchy Traitor, and I find myself remembering how I swore to get revenge on her. You will get yours, BT. I swear on my life. Then, right behind her, enters a goddess. Long blonde hair, blue eyes that glimmer like sapphires, full, luscious lips, and slightly crooked teeth that dont detract from her cuteness in any way at all. If anything, it just enhances her natural beauty. My heart thumps inside my chest so loudly I cant hear Sylvester or anyone anymore. My vision narrows; my stomach feels like rockets are going off inside it, and Im suddenly aware of how sweaty my palms are. My mouth moves, but no sound comes out, and I cant breathe no matter how much I try to inhale. Who are you? I dont think Ive blinked since she entered the room, and I dont dare do it now because Id rather get stabbed than miss a moment of her.

She removes her coat, and shes wearing a red turtleneck sweater that holds her body the way I want to be. I want to be the fleece black leggings she has on; I want to buy her anything shes ever wanted. My pulse races, my head pounds, and I'm staring at her so hard as I try to burn her beautiful form into my brain. This is the kind of lady you kill for. This is the kind of woman who could make me whole. I want her. I will have her.

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