BLURRYFACE

[ FOUR ] the darkness cometh

Lucid's thoughts were twisted, garbled like they were coming through her voice distortion device, like even her own mind wouldn't let her see clearly.

It had been twenty-three hours since her rebirth.

A single day had gone by, not quite one full rotation of the earth, since the world had rediscovered the villain's existence. It was worse than she'd expected, and yet not as bad as it could have been.

Yes, they knew she was there—but they didn't know where to find her.

It wasn't the people that scared Lucid. It wasn't the police, or even the government's personal super-army. No, it was because of the other villains that she was cowering in an empty hotel room, flinching at every set of footsteps that went past her door.

The villains could, and would, find anyone. The only question was how long it would take them.

The supervillain was sitting awkwardly in the middle of the floor, as though afraid to go near any furniture. As though this was the first time she was trespassing, the first time she'd entered through a window, locked the door, and holed up for as long as the hotel room remained unclaimed.

It wasn't. It wasn't even the first time in eight years. Even though she'd quit her old ways—it was a matter of sanity that every so often she step into an empty room and just breathe. Alone. Someplace unfamiliar, with the thrill of danger in her footsteps and the alertness that only came when she was doing something illegal. It was harmless, she told herself. It wasn't like she was going out and murdering other people like in the old days.

There it was again.

Lucid's thoughts couldn't run for more than a few seconds before circling back around. She had tried brushing it off—it wasn't the first time someone had died because they were in her way.

And yet it was worse than the first time.

It was worse, because she knew she was wrong. When that idiot reporter had called her, she should have run. She should have put down the phone, left the room, and started a new life far, far away from anyone who had ever known her. It wouldn't be hard to just disappear and let the consequences fall on someone else.

It was hard to logically suggest doing anything else.

By the laws of the land, Lucid was guilty, and her mind knew it. It had taken only a few words to convict her. She didn't deserve the life she was living, she didn't deserve another start where no one knew about her past. She deserved anything and everything that reporter could convict her of. No one could escape justice forever.

But her heart wanted another chance. Lucid was better now, she'd left the old ways behind her, she didn't kill innocent people because they got in her way anymore—

And that's exactly what she'd done.

The first hint of trouble, a single moment of doubt, and she'd reacted like her old self, the one whose instinct was to kill. She couldn't afford for anyone to know about her past, she couldn't lose everything she'd worked for. She was at her most desperate.

So the obvious solution was to do the exact thing she had hated herself for doing.

"Yeah, you're a real genius," she said out loud.

Lucid had thought her biggest fear was people finding out what she used to be—but it wasn't, not anymore. She was afraid of returning to what she used to be.

The worst part was hearing Malory's voice again. Over the phone, she hadn't recognized her—it had been eight years and Lucid had only met her once—but the moment she had said Aidan's name, it had all come flooding back.