Identity

Chapter Seven

A couple days have passed by since I got to the bunker. Azazel brought me the box of clothes that Emery had for me, telling her parents that it's evidence so he could take it here. It felt good to finally wear something that didn't have holes and bloodstains on it.

Emery isn't dead. Az (he hates it when I call him that, but I hate it when he calls me "Lenny" so he's going to have to deal with it) had burst in in a puff of shadows and yelled the knews. He had snuck into his father's lair through shadow travel (Seriously, how did I not see he was a villain kid? He has an awesome villain power). Initially, he was trying to gather evidence that the Trickster and the Bullet were working together. He still doesn't have solid evidence; he doesn't have an eyescreen to collect a video feed of it and there's no way that he could've rescued Emery without being caught.

"Is she okay?" I asked him.

"She was asleep, so I think it's safe to assume she's in one of the Trickster's fake realities. She probably doesn't even remember being kidnapped," he replied, throwing his bag down onto his bunk.

I was lying across the couch, rotting my brain cells by watching terrible reality TV from the 2010's. I think that's how old this TV is too. I was wearing the same white shirt and blue athletic shorts from the last night I spent with her. They still smelled like her.

"She's not hurt, is she?" I asked.

Az shook his head. "Not a scratch."

"Who's blood is on my hands, Az? The person I killed was real..."

Az was quiet for a moment. "I don't know."

I scoffed. "Az, I killed someone. I felt their heart stop."

"It could have just been an illusion," he said calmly, even though I was screaming at him.

"If it was an illusion, how did my father know to aim there? How did my eyescreen show Emery die?"

"Wait a minute," Az said. "Your eyescreen showed Emery dying?"

"You haven't seen the video? Someone leaked my eyescreen footage, it's all over the net."

"I know about the video, but I didn't watch it. Do you know who hacked your screen?"

"'Do you know who hacked your screen?'" I mocked. "No, I don't know who hacked my screen. How am I supposed to know that? And besides, someone made me destroy my screen," I grimaced, crossing my arms.

"None of this makes sense, but the video could have been tampered with. The Trickster's powers don't work on cameras or mirrors. If we could find out who the hacker was, we can find out if the video was tampered with."

"Well, the most high-tech thing in this bunker is the TV, so I don't know how you're going to do that," I scowled.

I was in a mood today. Probably from being cooped up down in this stupid bunker. It didn't feel safe down here. Every time a car drove over the road, the ceiling would rumble, disturbing the dust and making it rain pebbles. And when it actually rained, mud dripped through a crack in the ceiling. It also felt too close to the city. Even though the whole world was looking for me right now.

Az says we're leaving this place soon, but it's been a couple days already.

"I know a guy who has access to hero database files," Az said.

"Do I get to go too?" I asked as a joke. There's no way someone won't immediately recognize me.

"Yeah, I've been waiting for the all-clear from him so we can stay at his place. It's in a different city, too, so you have a better chance at hiding there. Everyone thinks you're still in Downs City," he said, and I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

"Wait, really?" I asked, jumping over the back of the couch.

Az nodded. "Start packing."

I raced over to my box of clothes and started shoving it all in a duffel bag. I picked out some blue jeggings and a white sweater and quickly changed in the bathroom. I grabbed my toothbrush and shoved it into the front pocket of my bag.

I swung the duffel over my shoulder and pulled on my boots, bending over to tie the laces.

"So how do you know we can trust this guy?" I asked, suspicious.

"We can trust him. You trust me, don't you?"

I stood up straight, mumbling, "How reassuring." Then I asked, "How, exactly, do you plan to get us there? Neither of us have a car, since you shadow travel and I'm a fugitive."

He held out his right hand like he was going in for a handshake. I took his hand reluctantly.

"Hold your breath," he said, just as darkness began to encase us.