He’s alive.

The target is injured but alive. Their arm had made contact with the ash. If his wound hadn’t immediately cauterized, he would have died from the blood loss within minutes. Even now, it was a miracle he hadn’t gone unconscious due to shock. His wails will give away his position, but they will serve as bait to the assassin. He cannot be silenced. And even if he were, it’d waste the opportunity presented to Antoine.

He hid behind one of the boxes. It was the size of a small person, and ducking behind it provided ample cover. More importantly, the ground underneath was a moment away from being frictionless. When Chernobog entered, Red’s screams would lead his line of sight away from Antoine’s position. The assassin would see his target in all their glory — a dull, injured man whose only defining feature was their ginger hair — then they would feel the wooden crate slam into their back.

From there, Antoine would reposition, adjusting for the assassin’s inevitable response. With their ability, he needed to avoid getting hit at all costs. The target must be kept away, too.

---

Don’t cross the line.

Antoine didn’t need to share a language to understand that. But he appreciated the attempts at English, as broken as they were. It’s better than his Japanese by a significant margin. Perhaps the language might be worth looking into if he were to continually have these run-ins until finding his brother, after all. For now, he’d live in the moment. He’d live in the moment when his life coincided with another’s death.

A declaration of war. A chance to reconsider their position. A favor to a misguided child. He would walk to the line and not a step further. His eyes, two imprints of black mass hidden behind the skull mask he wore, would peer into theirs. Should he blink, should he waver, should he hide his inner essence from the demon in front of him, then Antoine would know the true nature of the hero. And whether they were a hero at all.

He crossed the line.

---

“He’s sure as hell not with us!” The man swings the bat at the giant. Their head is a giant baseball, and he’s aiming for a homerun. If they think they can speak so leisurely, let’s see him do that without teeth! “No one calls his boss cute, endearing nicknames and gets away with it.”

“Yeah, he just said that!” Antoine tries to step past the other two henchmen and protect the giant. But as they grabbed his shoulders, they pissed the hell out of him. “I don’t think you get it.”

Somehow, their grip weakened. They felt Antoine slide out of their grasp as he grabbed one’s arm and swung him over onto the other. They collided onto the ground and wouldn’t get up for a while. The collision might have damaged the floor, but that was a concern for later.

By now, Zenkai had either been hit by or dealt with batman — no relation. But in the meanwhile, he’d deal with the boss to get the message across.

“Horseface,” He grabbed the donkey by the shirt and lifted him until they were face to face. “I gave you a second chance. You realize you’re going to get arrested now, right? And you brought your friends to take the fall with you?”

Horseface didn’t deserve to die. Even if the two had met in an alleyway without witnesses, Antoine would think him too small a criminal. The system could deal with him. But with these witnesses, he couldn’t beat him to a bloody pulp like he wanted. The rage boiled within him.

“You’re going to run. You will pick up your friends and never come back here.” He said. “And if you do, you’re getting an extra large fries and drink for everyone in this place. Got it?”

Antoine dropped him.

“You’re right…” He still hadn’t learned his lesson. “Because I’m taking an extra large bite.” He pet the horse ears on the top of his head, and his jaw malformed into something monstrous. Jagged teeth like stalagmites lurched towards Zenkai. “I think I’ll have some thigh!”

---

She did her job. The kid is in her arms. As she runs back, she warns them of an impending explosion. Before Antoine can think, his feet move on their own. He runs past her.

It’s a gambit.

By getting in closer, Antoine decreases the area he needs to affect. The focus is high octane output. He doesn’t have much gas left in the tank and needs to prioritize efficiency. Considering his range is touch, and he’s trying to minimize the number of innocents hurt, he’s acting out of character. But there’s a kid involved. And that changes the calculus.

Extending both hands, he touches the air. Molecule by molecule, he forms a dome around the driver. It’s difficult to see a force. Our senses can’t divine such fundamental aspects of the universe. But even without flawed, outdated sensory organs, we can tell when something is off. Maybe it’s intuition. Or maybe it’s a placebo. But everyone watching can see where the barrier begins and ends.

Absolute friction.

He’s done this trick in doses. Small projectiles are easy to deal with. Bigger ones not so much. But an explosion? There’s a first for everything.

That’s when it goes off.

If they couldn’t see it before, they see it now. The explosion fills the dome to its brim and not an inch further. It pulsates against the barrier as it rebounds against itself in a hellish blaze. Black wisps strip away from Antoine’s body. Bit by bit, flesh reveals itself as a horrid, red flash emits from the four-link abdominal chain.

The chain shatters. The barrier breaks, too. The opposite side of the dome, where the walls were weakest, was the first to fall. The rest comes down, and in its hellish retribution, the inferno roars. It had lost most of its bite, but when it sank its teeth into Antoine’s soul, it reminded him that he was a demon in name alone.

Antoine falls to the ground unconscious. His mask falls off his face a few feet away. His only solace is that if he were to die here, then the only blood on his hands would be his own.

---

“Some thoughts are better left unsaid.”

They weren’t going to make it. To speak with such reckless abandon to a stranger whose job was security. If Antoine were the type to report this kind of behavior, then Auden might have lost their opportunity to become a hero. He wouldn’t have had the chance to be disappointed in the system because he had already made up his mind about the kind of person he was in full, adolescent naivete.

There were two sides to Antoine. One wanted to reach out and give them the tools they needed to survive. Regardless of the path they walked, they needed a crash course in how the world was. If you were an agent of change there were standards you adhered to. Not only for your sake but for the sake of the people you care about. For the sake of the people you don’t care about, too. Sometimes they get caught up in the details of your second life.

“It’s dangerous to speak your mind.” Antoine paused. “Especially to strangers.”

He’d leave it there. Either Auden understood or would come to understand as life wrung out every drop of innocence left in him.

“Maybe we’ll cross paths again, maybe we won’t.” He stood up. Good as new, huh? I’ll keep this in my back pocket. “But you know where I work.”

Antoine opened the door for him, letting him walk back into the public seating area. He wouldn’t follow.

“Thanks for the help.”

---

Certified dumbass confirmed.

The only reprieve they had from the unfiltered onslaught of Antoine’s judgment was that they were a foreigner, too. Different countries had different rules. And if you knew the right people, you’d get luxuries others dreamt of. Maybe they were related to a CEO who lined the pockets of local authorities. Or perhaps they were the child of an influential politician. A case of pretty privilege could explain their perspective as well.

“Be careful then,” Antoine said. His warning contradicted his actions as he sat down and prompted Auden to heal his injuries. “Don’t compromise the establishment because you want to play hero without a license.”

If Auden knew of Antoine’s double life, then he might think this an act — a front to cover his true beliefs and support of vigilantism. But that wasn’t the case. Antoine did what he did because it was necessary. He supported the system, a structure designed to handle most of society’s ills. More accurately, systems in a broad sense. They kept everything running, but they were imperfect. Some had more flaws than others.

Antoine lived on its edge, dealing with the consequences of the greedy and the ill-intentioned. People of power will always try to skirt the rules. And they should, as it is their role to exploit the flaws. It’s Antoine’s role to bring them to justice. And maybe it was Auden’s role — and people like Auden’s role — to keep Antoine on his feet.

“If you believe in the system, follow its rules to a tee. If you don’t…” Antoine looked straight into Auden’s eyes. “Then don’t drag us down with you.”

---

So far, Antoine’s been privy to two types of flames. But there’s no reason other than Auden’s upstanding character in a time of crisis that he should believe them. Furthermore, they needed to leave the public eye as per Bernard’s orders and common courtesy.

“Wait,” Antoine motioned Auden over as they walked into the break room — somewhere private where only the faculty had access. This way, they wouldn’t be disturbing meals and Antoine felt more comfortable inquiring about. It may have been rude considering Auden made himself comfortable on the chairs but it mattered not. Antoine had other priorities.

He closed the door behind them.

“Show me how it works.” Antoine grabbed a roll of paper towels and started wiping the blood off his face. “On yourself.”

Eventually, all that was left was the ooze and the remaining blood that continued to drip in small spurts. He’d keep applying pressure until he was satisfied. In the meantime, Antoine would interrogate the newcomer. How does Bernard know them?

“Does being a professional amateur give you free rein to use your quirk?” He asked. “If so, how would one go about that process in Japan?”

---