[Mason POV]

  There was a certain feeling in the air tonight.

  Cities like Brockton Bay, overflowing with people cwing for opportunities, usually saw something go down at night. But two S-css disasters in one day, within hours of each other, had at least, sent every gang scurrying back to their holes to lick their wounds and recover.

  Problem was, parahumans didn't do rest.

  A full month of ceasefire had left the gangs twitchy, their capes pacing like caged animals eager for action. Testing borders. Digging for weak spots. Hoarding power and grudges, just waiting for someone to take the first step.

  That's how truces always went, everyone holding their breath to see who'd knock over the first domino, so life could go back to their usual schedule. But this time? Things were messy.

  The ABB was a ghost of its former self, Lung gone, Bakuda gone, just scraps left squabbling over gutter territory. The Empire had split down the middle after losing Kaiser and the twins ot the Endbringer, Hookwolf and Purity choose to start gring at each other across a battlefield of a broken empire.

  Coil was too busy getting hunted like a rat after the whole Echidna mess. Half the Travelers had vanished overnight, and the Undersiders? After their nd-grab before Leviathan, nobody was dumb enough to let them try that shit again without repercussions.

  New gangs kept popping up like weeds. People were gaining powers left and right. The whole bance of power had shifted, turning the city into one giant powder keg just waiting for a loose spark.

  Mason didn't like thinking about the city's problems too much, but tely, he didn't have much choice.

  He walked down the cracked sidewalk, heading toward his usual brooding spot. But as he turned into the alley, he slowed down. A group of teenagers—Andre and his friends—were already lounging in his spot like they owned it.

  "Sup, chief! How you doin'?" Andre grinned, shamelessly sitting down besides him.

  "Told you not to call me that." Mason sighed as he dropped his tired ass onto the cinderblock he'd dragged here weeks ago. Even alleways sometimes still felt wet after Leviathan.

  "Ehh, but you're in the big leagues now!"

  "Tsk." He clicked his tongue.

  Honestly, the promotion had left him restless. Put a target on his back, too. Madeline probably got a kick out of watching Remmy and Haruto scramble to act professional in front of that twerp Overlook.

  Now with his promotion, Andre kept pestering him, asking about his day, about his business. Mason wasn't stupid so he didn't talk. No way he'd drag some kid into this mess.

  But he let the boy talk. Listening didn't cost him anything, and if it made Andre feel better at the end of the day… well, Mason wasn't gonna point it out.

  Maybe teasing him about it ter.

  "So, your mama got anything to tell me?" Mason finally asked once Andre slowed down in his talking.

  "Oh, well now that you asked—"

  "Invitation to eat dinner with her don't count." He pinned Andre with a gre, but the kid just blew a raspberry at him. His friends snickered at Mason's blush.

  Stupid kids, can't take anything seriously.

  "…Fine. Apparently, she heard—from someone else, who heard from someone else—that some of the Archer's Bridge folks have been prowling around, scouting pces to perch themselves."

  Mason turned the info over in his head. It lined up with what he'd already heard from other dealers and their higher-ups, his Coworkers now. Merchants getting pushed out of cimed territory wasn't new… but getting pushed out by competition in the market?

  Apparently, that was too much for them.

  "I see. Thanks, Andre. Try to get home early." He lit a cigarette, already seeing Andre's mouth open to whine.

  "Go home. Don't like how tense these blocks are… Go on, Andre." He put on his practiced serious face, and for once, it worked—the kid cmmed up.

  "Okay, I'll go. But you be safe too, Mason," Andre huffed, waving his friends along as they went away.

  "Bye, Mister Mason!" "See ya ter, Mister!"

  Mason nodded as they left. No reason to be an asshole about it. Couldn't bme them for wanting to enjoy a decently safe night out for once.

  Mason smiled softly. Normally, he wouldn't want to do actual hard work of any kind, and getting promoted certainly meant more work. But this time, he hoped it was different.

  The Doppel's were unpredictable. No patrol routes, no schedules. They simply showed up at random pces for random amounts of time, then vanished just as quickly.

  Combined with how they helped anyone indiscriminately and acted like costumed teenagers... it made them seem friendly, more human than any PR stunt the PRT puts out. And when you saw them thrown around like ragdolls on TV, well, knowing them personally made your heart clench.

  The opinion about the clones flipped, and It only took a few weeks. Once people realized they could ask for help, and the Doppel's would actually give it more often than not, well, that made you want to help them back.

  So yeah, maybe a kid or two asked Duchess to heal their scrapes. Maybe Who's Who pyed hide-and-seek in the park and kept getting accused of cheating (She did cheat, multiples times). Maybe Overlook took a bullet to the gut, and bystanders carried her to Duchess themselves.

  Slowly, their whole territory turned into... a neighborhood watch of sorts.

  If anyone asked, the moms and old folks were just watching like they usually did. Maybe they talked about it in their homes. And kids? Kids can't keep secrets. So, if that gossip somehow ended up in Mason's ears... well, that was just coincidence. A neat one, to be sure.

  His new position made it easier to gather information, compare notes, and pass it along, not just to the Doppel's, but to anyone who needed it.

  No one asked him to do this.

  He still wanted to.

  After shooing away Andre, his night proceeded as usual. Dealers reported back to him, he listened to their days, and shared whatever information seemed relevant. Mainly, to go home in groups.

  Nobody wanted to end up forcibly addicted to that high-powered garbage the Merchants were cooking up. His boys had good heads on their shoulders, so he figured nothing too crazy would happen to them.

  A good thought, wrong one though.

  Mason walked alone through the quiet streets, lonely, dark and quiet for everyone but him, as he walked straight into an ambush. Five figures lurked by an alleyway out of his view, ready to grab him. Maybe drag him into the shadows for interrogation. Maybe just kill him to piss off the Doppel's.

  Weird feeling, not being afraid of ambushes anymore.

  "AHRG!"

  First guy came at him, probably high-as-hell by how wide his pupils were and the weird scream, trying for a tackle. Mason leaned back, hooked the idiot's ankle, and yanked his shirt as he stumbled back into a wall. The guy's face cracked against brick.

  Fucking hell. Even their faces looked like trash.

  "Good fucking night," Mason spat at the rest of them as the guy slid down the wall. "The hell do you want?"

  "Shut your mouth, you stupid fucker!" The second one, younger, flicked out a switchbde while a third one fumbled with his belt.

  Pulling out a gun.

  Madeline was right. These wless fucks would be first to break whatever fragile peace they had.

  Mason caught the knife-wielder's wrist as he lunged, drove a knee into his gut, then jabbed his throat to break free, just as the gun went off. The shot whizzed past his ear, close enough to sting.

  Not that it mattered to him, he didn't rely on luck.

  "Don't move or I'll sho—"

  The gunman choked as a fly dove into his mouth. Mason lunged and grabbed his arm, twisted the gun free, and tossed it aside. Let the bastard colpse, coughing up curses and insect wings with a good kick for good measure.

  The st two hesitated, almost smart, before the drugs won out, leaving them snarling.

  "Still three on one, idiot! We'll fucking kill you!" Crocked nose grinned, with his yellowed-out teeth.

  "Go on then... try."

  Damn. One liners really did hit different in real life.

  Mason reached into his jacket. They stepped back a bit before steeling themselves, as he slowly pulled out his steel pipe.

  "Wha—"

  CRACK.

  The pipe smashed Gunman's temple. Mason stepped over him, advancing on the st two. Slow. Deliberate. With a smile.

  Good old' steel pipe.

  "Wait—"

  "Oh, I was waiting."

  The two exchanged gnces, two brain cells fighting for dominance, then rushed him together.

  Wrong move.

  Mason felt them coming, not through skill, but through the gnats clinging to their joints. Every shift in weight, every telegraphed swing buzzed in his awareness. He couldn't control their movements, but knowing was enough.

  No wonder parahumans do whatever it pleases them.

  He sidestepped a wild haymaker from one, blocked a kick from the other with his forearm. Pain fred in his arm, but it didn't matter, and swung the pipe in a short, brutal arc.

  Crunch.

  One dropped on the ground, clutching his back as he cursed. The other froze, eyes wide.

  finally realizing his situation, eh?

  "You done filing around like maggots?" Mason sighed as the other one turned around and fled. Quickly grabbing in and tying the other guys in zip ties so they wouldn't move and try to kill him again. He'd had enough surprises for today, more importantly he needed to prepare mentally.

  Because the fly had answered a bit too quickly for his liking.

  And then he heard it, didn't even taken a full fucking minute to respond. The screech of metal grinding against the pavement.

  An entire goddamn school bus, patched together with parts of other cars into a metal abomination, careening sideways down the street. Sideways. wheel-less. And sparking as it slid to a stop in front of him.

  The doors burst open before it fully stopped.

  And of course. Of fucking course.

  There she was, the star of this shitshow, leaping out with perfect form and immediately striking a pose on top of the bus. like some cartoon hero, shouting at the top of her lungs:

  "VILLAINS AND HEROES BEWARE! FOR THE SUPERFLY IS HERE!"

  Leader of the Doppel's. Superfly. Self-appointed Most wanted vilin in the East Coast's (With an actual kill order on her head).

  The Superfly.

  Fucking hell she still looks like an idiot, I must be insane for me to have some hope in her.

  "Oh hi Mason"

  Yup, completely he is insane. Must be the reason why he couldn't stop smiling.