Chapter Thirty-One: Well, Now You Know It's Over Because I said the Title

Song Selection: Misery Business— Paramore Cover by WALWIN

(My Guinea Pigs started jumping up and down and cooing when I played this, so I'll let you know, it's Guninea approved)

Monet.

There's a giant gash on my dad's face, right above his eye, and Red Comet is squeezing his shoulder like she's afraid he's going to fall through the floor. I've only been asleep for a couple of days or so, as my friends crowd around my hospital bed I'm aware that I've missed so much. Kai, Finn, Chip, Percy, who's hand I have to hold to remind myself that somehow this is all real, that no, I haven't died. I smile up at her, at her dreamy eyes, and she gives me that same look that Red Comet gives my dad, like I might fall through the floor.

Kai's pressed to Finn's chest, Finn's chin on his head. I've seen them hold hands and hug and stuff, but not like this. Just them embracing, outwardly. And it's kind of nice. And the stranger. Here's here, watching, with dark friendly eyes. And Chip's the one who explains. It all bowls out of him, big paragraphs. I smile, stupidly smile. "....and that's what happened. Pretty much."

"And you're all okay?" I ask.

They nod, mumble excitedly, all bright eyes; victors of a fight I didn't get to see, even my dad, who looks down at me so adoringly it makes my heart hurt. What did you go through for me, Dad? I want to ask, but I can't find the words, so I lean back against the thin pillows, feeling warm and tingly and happy. They won, whatever battle they fought that I didn't get to see, and I'm alive and proud of them.

Percy beams and leans down at my side. Her breath touches my ear; perfect warmth from perfect lips. "Mayweather says you're rehired."

"Not if that means spending less time with you." Because, shit. My friends, my girlfriend, my dad were all almost ripped away from me, all the wonderful people that somehow I got to know, and somehow, for some reason, decided to stick around, decided to save me. Percy smiles and I can't help but reach up and and pull her closer to me. This girl who's already saved my life how many times? "I'm the hero, I'm supposed to save you."

She shoots a quick glance at my dad, and he winks. Oh, yeah, I definitely missed a lot. "Turns out I can save myself," she says. And her mom sheepishly smiles. Red Comet itches the back of her neck, looking, for the first time, nervous.

"I bet." I sit up. I can't wait to be home again. Can't wait to curl up against Percy and fall asleep on her thin, muscular shoulder. Can't wait to share greasy pizza and brainstorm cheesy headlines with my dad. Can't wait to buy my friends a couple rounds of laser tag and watch the boys try and fail to destroy each other. But I have obligations. "When can I speak to Max?"

"Soon," Red Comet supplies, "But—"

"But get some rest first," Dad says.

"I love you," I tell my old man. I don't think I say it enough, but when I see that big gash and his eyes, full of that fatherly love, I wonder how I ever could've forgotten to tell him that everyday. "I love you all."

And with the warmth of their eyes, with the flushed happiness so clear on their faces, the atmosphere giddy with it, I listen for hours to them talk, especially Chip, to his musical voice, so clear and so proud. I fall asleep to it, against the thin pillow with a goofy grin on my dumb face.

It's so good to be alive.

***

Max.

My cell is small, all steel. It's not attached to the prison my dad's probably at, it's somewhere off by itself. Just a box with a bed and a toilet and some books and me; the red rope's still attached to one of my wrists, tied tight, probably by a super, can't remember it all. My human hands pick at it boredly. I'm no longer a super, when the rope's around me, but I don't feel less like a monster. The salvation I thought I'd bring myself and the world by taking away powers was a lie. And it hurts.

But there is one respite.

The door slides open, and Monet arrives, her heels clacking on the metal floor. She looks healthy, hair every which way, eyes bright. Hell, she even looks professional in an ironed blouse and clean slacks. The guards assume their position at the corner of the cell, eyes locked on me. But I'm human and she's super. She turns on her tape recorder and lifts it to her mouth.

"Part five in Maxwell Lee Preston's tell-all deposition."

"Not even a hello?" I shake my head. "Rude, Ms. Jackson."

She sits on the floor, crossing her legs primly, ignoring me with a cocked head and tiny smirk. She smells like Percy's perfume, all sugar with a hint of rich musk. Lucky girl. "Last we covered the illegal goings-ons of Everyman, the growing discourse about superheroes, and the illegal sale of essentialized-superpowers, and of course, the mayor's part in it all." She looks at me; glow-eyed. This is her dream, to be a reporter. This is the least I can give to her, not that I really 'gave' it to her. More like she and her friends took it from me, and I rightfully let them. Because the ability to pay for what I've done is what they gave to me, the ability to undo the beginings of monsterhood, to pull me back across the line I said I'd never cross. "Anything to add to that, Mr. Preston?"

"Will you keep visiting me when this deposition is over?"

"Why should I?" She raises an eyebrow. I did try to kill her and everyone she loves, so that's a fair point.

"Well, we could record a podcast." I point to the tape recorder, wave my hands grandiosely. "'Podcast of a Teenage Super-Villain. Isn't that catchy?"

"Kind of. But I was thinking something a little more..." She takes a deep breath. "...I want to know your story."

"Huh?" No one's ever said this to me. I feel myself stiffen, feel all the muscles in me go taut like rubber bands pulled until they're about to break. She holds her hands up, probably knowing she's spooked me.

"Well, I want to know what's going through your head. I've got enough for The Journal, but I want to know what happened. I want to know what makes you tick." She blinks at me, her voice going soft. "I want to know how we can help you."

A spy. An unwilling superhero. A test subject. I've heard whispers of how the government wants to use me, most of it from watching guards who don't realize I'm only playing sleep. Everything they listed all sound like better fates than languishing in a cage, but no one's talked about 'helping' me. Leave it to Monet to want to help me even after everything I've done, or I suppose, leave it to a Monet who's dating Percy.

"Did Gideon and Chip hear me apologize?"

She nods. I know they won't forgive me, but it's worth a try. And I'll keep trying.

"What do you say? Would you be willing to talk to me about what happened?" she asks.

There isn't else for me to do, nothing for me to lose, so I nod.

***

Audio recording October 21 04:21:01

They way I figured, there's the superhero and the super-villain. The light and the dark. My mom died at the hands of a super, so I didn't even really believe in the heroes part. To me, superpowers were a curse. Something that needed to be wrenched off the face of the earth, and then, when I found out, found out I was one of them, that I was destined to be evil....

I still don't know if this is all fate or not, honestly, Monet. I'm not exactly sure I wasn't always destined to lose, because I'm the bad guy and that's just how the cycle works. Sometimes I think that, but I think that less now. Because I didn't lose exactly, I chose not to hurt your friends. It was a choice.

I don't have that many choices any more. And like I said, I'm not sure of much. But even though I'm in prison, I'm kind of....free. In the metaphorical sense, okay? Metaphorically, I'm more free than I was. Okay. That's dumber out loud. Hear me out.

I'm free to think about whatever I want to, whatever I want about supers. I'm free to, you know, not keep hurting people, over and over on repeat. I'm not kidnapping, not twisting someone I used to love and breaking them, I've been freed from that trajectory. And it feels really good, Monet, not to be a total piece of shit.

[laughs]

At least, I'm trying.

Anyway, where do you want me to start?

Monet Jackson: Anywhere you want.

[clears throat]

Okay, well, let's start from the beginning, the beginning-beginning. My father chose my middle name after the Confederate general, but it was my mother who named me Max. It was a sweet name, she said, silly and docile. Brought to mind Maxwell House, the coffee, and Maxwell Smart, the spy...

***

What did you think? I can't believe this took me two years to finish, but I'm so glad my cast get their ending. I do adore Avery and Anna, who knows, might write them a little "____ of a Middle-Aged Superhero" some day. But uh, thank you for being patient and sticking through this to the end. If you liked it, may I suggest "No Superheroes Allowed," my current book, a raunchier one staring another supervillain (a hopefully much more likable one) and his pack of punkish pals.

But thank you guys, it means a lot that you cared so much about these guys to read through two books with them, and appreciate y'all so much. Accept a virtual hug, buds :).

xDamian