Prologue - Mark

  A gale howled against the metal of the prison Inspector Mark Nett had called home for the past several weeks, its voice a thousand thousand demons pressed bodily against the walls, their calls entreating him to answer. The arched structure groaned under the strain of it, countless meter wide interlocking plates pressing together to strengthen themselves as the wind battered them over and over. One failure, and Mark imagined the entire prison peeling open and flying off into the void.

  Needless to say, he hadn’t been sleeping well. They’d offered to put him up in the city, a nice insulated apartment where he could have peace and quiet to do his work, but that wasn’t his way. He had his method, and it didn’t include fancy digs.

  On paper the assignment seemed easy, not his normal beat but still suited to his skill set. Watch the prisoner, talk to the prisoner, create a profile. Do whatever it took to prove the prisoner’s guilt.

  In practice, however, it was proving to be a test of his patience.

  The Inspector’s muscles tensed in anticipation as he sized up his quarry from the shadows of a maintenance catwalk that ran along the upper curve of the hangar turned prison. He always liked to observe from the shadows before picking an avenue of attack, even if he outmatched his opponent in every stat.

  As if it wanted to give the lie to that thought, the System saw fit to have Stalk tick over once again.

  Status Gained: Stalk x 6 [+2 Body, +4 Spirit, for 1 hr]

  That was the sixth time Stalk had multiplied since he’d begun tonight’s activities. The power of the new stat point surged through Mark’s body, filling out his musculature and enhancing his reflexes. The buff was ticking up quickly, which was a bad sign. The disparity between the two of them must have been sizable.

  He made a mental note of the rate of increase. He’d put it in the file later.

  Details. Details were the bread and butter of his profession. People were open books if one knew how to read them. Mark was good at people. His files reflected that.

  The thing down below in the center of the hanger, however, was possibly not a person. It was in the form of a young man, bright yellow against the backdrop of blues and greens of Mark’s Spectral Vision. With a slight flex of his will, he changed the filter slightly until he could see the various obstacles and open spaces around the yellow figure as well, just boxes and barrels from elsewhere in the facility, small enough to be used as weapons but also big enough to hide behind. Mark’s prey did neither. It stood there in the open, turning slowly from side to side as if waiting.

  Mark activated the magnification part of the Ability, zooming in until the demon took up his entire field of view.

  The kid was in his late teens according to his file, though Mark wasn’t so sure about that. He certainly looked the part, had the paperwork to prove it too. Good genetics had given him a strong jaw and a generous mouth that matched his father’s and a good portion of his tribe, as if the wind shaped them all into something similar over time. The boy didn’t quite look ready to grow a full beard yet though his brown curls would certainly show up on his face sooner or later. Broad in the shoulders and chest but without that fullness of musculature that came with age and proper nutrition, he was the picture of youth not yet in his prime, and the unsure manner in which the boy approached these little sessions reinforced that impression.

  Mark even found himself believing it at times, almost slipping into a more familiar role with the kid when they were face to face.

  Almost believing was as far as Mark had gotten, though. When he found himself slipping, he’d, at some point, get a good look at the kid’s eyes, the brightest of blue, almost iridescent, unworldly and unnatural. That cured all Mark’s doubts.

  What’s more, the way he looked at you, how he carried himself, had a depth to it, a presence that told you on no uncertain terms you were dealing with… Mark didn’t quite know. Someone significant. Someone who’d seen things regular folks wouldn’t believe.

  Ryan Kotes, Rogue Exotic, son of Myron and Riley Kotes, carried himself like that, like a remnant of something ancient and terrifying. That’s how Mark knew he was a demon.

  Status Gained: Stalk x 7 [+3 Body, +4 Spirit, for 1 hr]

  Orange plumes of heat puffed out of Kotes’ mouth every breath, and there was a foggy haze rising from his shoulders and back, though there was no reason he should have been as strained as he was. Not if he was a real Exotic, at least. He was also hunched slightly, his body angled oddly as if he were- Ah, yes. He was using his metal arm to clutch at his chest. That thing never showed up in Mark’s enhanced vision.

  The kid must have been in excruciating pain, the way he was standing.

  A traitorous bout of empathy threatened to overtake Mark, but he fought it down.

  One more and we’ll call it.

  Silently, Mark climbed atop the catwalk railings and took hold of the spiderweb of support beams that crisscrossed the roof, and he started climbing. His textured gloves and flexible boots allowed him to skitter lightly up the wall until it turned into the roof, the near vertical position not deterring him in the slightest.

  The black, armored bodysuit Mark wore, an expensive blend of tech and magic, wrapped the shadows around him so perfectly, almost no one outside of those with sense enhancements could hope to penetrate the shroud. However, Mark was cautious, took his time.

  By the time he’d reached the apex of the roof, he was directly above Kotes, ready to begin and one point in Body richer. Stalk was being particularly kind tonight.

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  He took a deep breath, waited for the kid to turn in an advantageous direction, and let go.

  Mark activated Slow Fall on the way down, just before hitting the ground 50 meters below. It dampened the impact of his boots on the concrete. Elsewhere in the hangar, Stalk copied what little noise he’d just made and projected it from a randomized selection of the surfaces in the room, muddling perception and distracting his target. Then he crept forward, circling Kotes closer and closer, checking to gauge if the boy had any clue where he was. Stalk rewarded his proximity with more stats.

  Status Gained: Stalk x 9 [+4 Body, +5 Spirit, for 1 hr]

  Status Gained: Stalk x 10 [+4 Body, +6 Spirit, for 1 hr]

  A slight tremor in Mark’s hand was the only indulgence he allowed himself as the stats came on faster and faster. His heart thudded in time with it. If he wasn’t careful he’d be swept away in the euphoric rush of power. No. He had a job to do.

  Kotes turned his head, obviously hearing something out there, and though his breathing was ragged and sweat matted his hair, he never gave any indication he actually knew where Mark was or that he was even slightly afraid. That was a bad sign. Fear would have been better. For this interrogation to have the intended effect, Kotes would need to fear for his life.

  Mark slipped the weighted batton out of its loop on his belt and crept forward until he was directly behind his prey. Slowly, carefully, he raised his batton and activated Enervating Strike. The only sound that was made was the woosh of the batton as it cut through the air.

  Status Gained: Stalk x 11 [+5 Body, +6 Spirit, for 1 hr]

  Status Gained: Stalk x 12 [+6 Body, +6 Spirit, for 1 hr]

  The kid was fast. Really fast. Faster than he had any right to be at the unbelievable Level of 0. He flinched and slipped to the side ever so slightly so that Mark’s strike missed the crown of Kotes’ skull and came down on the cold, hard metal of his prosthetic shoulder. There was a spark, and all of Mark’s hair stood on end as the electrical discharge of Enervating Strike found fertile ground in the metal side of Kotes’ body. From there it spread. The kid’s nervous system seized, and Mark heard the telltale *HURK* of the throat muscles tightening as Kotes tried to breath under the effect of electric shock.

  The air smelled of ozone and crackled with static.

  Stalk poured on the power, bumping Mark’s Body up another three points! He felt ready to run through a brick wall. He could…

  Stop. Do your job.

  Mark followed up with a kick to the back of Kotes’ knees, sending him down to the floor on his face, and he helped matters along with a knee to the back of the kid’s head. A groan escaped Kotes’ mouth.

  Out of habit, Mark danced out of range of any retaliatory Abilities Kotes might throw his way, a blind haymaker, a kick, but nothing came.

  He couldn’t stop now. He could finish it, put Kotes on the back foot so hard he’d have to react. Then they could go back to their corners and get some sleep.

  Mark raised his batton again but hesitated just before committing to the move. Something had changed. Something was wrong.

  Something was missing.

  The static. That static was gone. His hair wasn’t standing on end anymore.

  *TING*

  A tiny, blue, faceted gem fell to the floor and rolled around Kotes’ face before finally coming to a stop against his shoulder.

  Mark pressed the attack, springing forward to catch Kotes before whatever trick this was could bear fruit, but the Inspector’s legs buckled as Kotes caught him up in a scissor kick. The two of them went down together, the Rogue Exotic’s unnaturally heavy body pressing down and driving the air from Mark’s lungs. One of his wrists was seized by a grip stronger than any Level 0 should possess.

  Another second, and he’d have to break his own arm to free himself from the grapple. Using his boosted Body stat, Mark kicked off of the floor, his slighter frame and greater flexibility allowing him to slip out of Kotes’ grapple and flip all the way over the demon’s head and shoulders, reversing the grab. He’d had to give up his baton. That was alright. He could punch a train right now, and it would feel it.

  *WHAM**WHAM*

  One, two solid strikes on the back of the kid’s head. The first forced him down to the floor. The second bounced his skull off of the concrete. The scent of blood was in the air.

  *WHAM*

  Kotes tried to slip away, but Mark followed. There was no getting away. Not from Mark. The Inspector raised his fist high, his corded muscles tensed like braided cable.

  Come on.

  *WHAM*

  Come on! Do something!

  *WHAM*

  Something cracked, either Kote’s skull or the concrete below. It didn’t matter. What mattered was this moment.

  Show me what you really are!

  *WHAM* *WHAM* *WHAM* *WHAM*

  The punches landed like meteors. Under his mask, Mark could feel his lips stretching back to expose his teeth.

  Suddenly, Kotes lunged once more, but to the side, his hands questing for something Mark couldn’t see. His movements were clumsy, slow, but he wasn’t trying to get away at all. Good. They weren’t done yet.

  Whatever it was Kotes was looking for, he found it. He rolled over on his back and thrust his prize triumphantly in Mark’s face.

  A blinding flash of intense heat and light overwhelmed Mark’s Spectral Vision as the blue crystal exploded into white hot motes that were quickly sucked into the kid’s palm. It was Mark’s turn to throw a blind haymaker. His fist came down once more where he remembered Kotes being, but this time, the demon was ready for it with a blocking strike that knocked Mark’s fist offline. *CRACK* This time the floor did give way.

  Mark felt something snake around his arm, twisting around the elbow and locking it in place. Then those cold black fingers were wrapped around Mark’s throat, their tips pressed against his trachea.

  The Inspector froze. His heart hammered against his ribs. His breaths came in gasps. This was it. This was what he’d been working for. Too bad he’d have to die for it.

  The Inspector’s opponent shuddered underneath him, the demon’s chest rising and falling as it…

  Oh, no. Slowly and with considerable frustration as the moment stretched on, Mark began to realize he was going to live.

  Was Kotes… laughing? Mark shook his head and cleared the white spots from his vision. The figure below him resolved back into the young man.

  “Dude! You’re like Batman! That is so cool!” The look of elation on Ryan Kotes’ face was frustratingly genuine.

  Mark’s brows knitted together under his mask.

  For a long moment, the two of them stared at each other, Kotes’ brown curls stuck to his forehead with sweat and blood, his breathing erratic. He didn’t go for the kill, though. Instead, he looked… better. Calmer despite having just taken a hell of a beating, one that should have killed others his Level.

  “Thank Constance, you used something with juice. I was afraid I’d have to Consume my own pants,” Kotes sighed, releasing his hold on Mark’s throat.

  Then he gestured invitingly. “Okay, I’m good now. You can do the punching thing again… if you must.”

  Mark blinked.

  That was the point where the System deemed the encounter to be over. Stalk’s massive bonuses bled out of him like water from a sieve, and then he was just Inspector Mark Nett again, a man with a job to do.

  Mark scrutinized his quarry’s face, looking for any sign of malice, deception.

  There was none, but the Inspector’s gut told him he needed to keep digging.

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