The m, I sat in a little diner close to the orphanage, drinking a cup of coffee. It was just another m, and the smell of ba and eggs cooking filled the pce. I looked out the window... People rushed to work, children with backpacks went to school, and sometimes someone walked a dog. It was calm and peaceful.

  I had secretly left the mo May Parker's orphae at night and just left without saying anything. I didn't want ao know it was me, and I didn't hem to. The kids would never find out who gave the money, but it didn't matter. That money would help them have a better life, giving them a ce to survive in a city that be very tough. But I wrote a note and pced it on the bundle. sidering her character, without a note, she would have defiaken it to the cops. And the traps are in pce.

  The bell above the diner door jingled, pulli of my thoughts. A waitress in her early fifties, with a kind smile and tired eyes, came over to refill my coffee. "You need anything else, hon?"

  "Nah, I'm good," I replied, her a polite smile. She nodded and walked back behind the ter.

  I g the TV mounted in the er of the diner, where the m neying. I saw the headline fsh across the s.

  "ons Cache and Major Crime Bust at NYPD: Mysterious Tip Leads to Gang's Capture."

  I leaned ba my chair, watg the news as the reporter expihe events from st night. Apparently, the police had raided Hammerhead's safehouse after a man drove straight to the prect, surrendered, and spilled everything about their operations. The NYPD had recovered a cailitary-grade ons, along with several gang members who were now in custody. It was being hailed as one of the biggest busts of the year.

  Then, another headline caught my attention:

  "New issioner Yuri Watanabe Makes Bold Moves, Promises to Up the City."

  The camera cuts to Yuri standing at a podium outside the prect, giving a press ference. She looked sharp as usual, her voice steady as she thahe public for their cooperation and vowed t more criminals to justice.

  I smirked into my coffee. I hadn't given her a gift so much as I had delivered a message. Hammerhead's anization was in disarray, and with Benny out of the picture, the tensioween Hammerhead and Kravinoff was bound to escate. It was the perfect storm, and Yuri would be right there in the ter of it, ing up the mess while I worked from the shadows.

  There was still work to be done. Hammerhead wasn't going down without a fight, and Kravinoff was no small-time thug. But I had time. For now, I'd let the city think it was oh to salvation while I quietly dismahe rest of the criminal underworld piece by piece. Oh, yeah. The life of a viginte seems to be fun for now.

  After I left the dihe crisp m air greeted me as I made my way to the old sedan parked around the er. The city streets were already bustling, and the sounds of honking cars, chatter, and distant sirens formed the symphony of New York. I blended into the rhythm, just another fa the crowd.

  I slipped into the driver's seat, the familiar smell of leather and cheap coffee filling the air. The sedan's engine sputtered to life, and I pulled out into traffic, heading toward the warehouse where I picked up my deliveries. It wasn't far—maybe a twenty-minute drive through the Bronx.

  I couldn't shake the thought of Yuri Watanabe from the news earlier. She seemed like a tough one, driven and righteous. Maybe thteous. The kind that wouldn't just let things slide. It was good to have someone like her iy's ranks, though. She'd up the surface while I hahe underbelly.

  As I pulled up to the warehouse, my mind switched gears. Time to focus oask at hand. The pce was a nondescript brick building, led between a scrapyard and a hardware store. Nothing about it screamed "legitimate business," but that art of the charm.

  I parked the car and headed ihe creaky door protesting as I pushed it open. Ihe familiar faces of the other delivery drivers greeted me with nods and casual greetings. Most of them were just trying to get through the day, same as me—except they didn't have a secret life. Or at least, not one like mine.

  "M, Nick," said a gruff voice from behind the ter. Roy, the warehouse manager, handed me my clipboard without looking up from his puter. "You got the usual route today. Couple stops in Brooklyn, one in Manhattan. Keep it tight; traffic's gonna be a bitch today."

  "Why? Rally or something?" I asked.

  "Something like that. There's this big charity ga at the Pza tonight, and it looks like all the fancy folks are in town for it. That'll mean more people and more cars clogging up the streets."

  "Why don't you put on that fake suit you bought st week and go there? I'll tag along. Maybe we have free food," I teased him.

  "Har, har," he deadpanned, rolling his eyes. "Just get your ass out there and make your deliveries, alright? We've got a reputation to uphold."

  "Ha! Told ya, that site was a fake!" shouted a man in the er of the warehouse, probably one of the new drivers.

  I snorted, shaking my head. "You'll fit right in."

  Roy let out an exasperated sigh.

  "Fuck! I should have listeo him. My wife is on my ass for wasting that much money on a fake suit."

  "Happens to the best of us," I said as I walked over to the other side of the warehouse, where a row of vans was lined up, eae loaded with a different delivery. After loading up the sedan with the packages, carefully stag them just right, I climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine, cheg my list. Nothing unusual—mostly office supplies, a few packages for small businesses, and the occasional shady-looking box that I didn't ask questions about.

  The day moved quickly as I made stop after stop, driving through the chaotic traffic of Brooklyn, crossing bridges, and dodging the usual gridlock that made deliveries in New York feel like running an obstacle course. Most of the recipients barely looked at me, just sighe papers, a back to whatever they were doing.

  By the time I reached Manhattan, it was close to noon. The sun was high in the sky, and the energy of the city had shifted—people in suits rushing to lunch, tourists snapping photos, and street vendors selling everything from hot dogs to knockoff handbags.

  My st stop for the m was a small tech startup in a sleek gss building downtown. I parked the car a few blocks away and grabbed the st box, making my way to the office. The lobby was buzzing with activity—people rushiweeings, heads down, talking into phones. I stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the seventh floor, leaning against the etal wall as it asded.

  The elevator dinged, snapping me back to the present. The door slid open, and I stepped out into the open-pn office. A receptionist with a bright smile greeted me as I handed over the box.

  "Delivery for you," I said, keeping my voice casual.

  She nodded and signed for it, not paying me much mind. Just another delivery guy. Perfect.

  As I made my way back to the car, my eyes fell on the alley opposite the building. Three college students were beating up a homeless man. They ughed as they kicked him, taunting him like he was some kind of animal. The sight sent a wave e through me, my blood boiling. I was about to rush there ahe shit out of them personally. I mean, all these people passing by did nothing.

  They just walked by l their head.

  I took a deep breath calming myself down. Deade in anger usually end poorly. It doesn't matter how fast or strong you are, if you make rash decisions based oions instead of logic, you'll get yourself killed. I used my psychic power to stop them from hitting that old guy aheir mind. I o know the reason behind that situation. It turns out, those three fuckers lost their wallet yesterday around this part, and now bming that guy, calling him a thief. The fun fact is that the homeless guy wasn't even in that alley yesterday or the day before yesterday.

  Well, it's time for judgment.

  I made them fight each other. They kept pung and kig until they were rolling down on the main road, stopping the cars.

  Yeah, keep hitting each other. That's right. Don't stop!

  People started taking pictures and rec them. Soon the cops would be here, and they would go to jail.

  One of the nearby patrol officers arrived at the se and I maniputed those three to punch the cop. And that was the final trigger. The cop used the taser ohey started to scream and passed out, twitg on the road. The cop called for backup and soon, the three idiots were being hauled off to jail.

  I smirked, feeling satisfied. It's time to blend in again.

  Huh?! A message popped up on my phone s. It was from Kitty. Oh, this is new.

  [Are you free tonight? I was thinking, maybe we could go out. You know. Jean said it's alright and I thought about it for a while. Well, one month to be exact. Was that too long? Arg! I'm babbling again, ain't I? Anyway, let me know what you think.]

  Oh shit! She wants to go out on a date. I mean, I always wao ask her out after Jean gave the green light, but she wao take some time. Well, it's about time, I guess. But tonight? I got my hands full with Hammerhead and Kravinoff. I couldn't skip them just because of a date. I had pns to raid another base. But... I think I take out a few hours.

  I texted back... [I'll pick you up at 8 PM]

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