Off by a mile.

While the student moved at incomprehensible speeds — which would make him a nigh impossible target for most people, even Ghouligan — his precision was lacking. There was a notable lack of finesse when it came to anything outside the range of his fists. While Antoine knew accuracy was a skill, he had been swept up in the boy’s talent, thinking he could do everything. But reality settled in with only moments to compensate for their shot.

A wayward, unsteady blast that wreaked of compromise. There was no reason for Farrin to trust him except that he needed to trust him to succeed. A blast to the suffice would deal severe damage, but that would not suffice. They needed fatal.

As with most creatures, the insides were weaker. Antoine moved his hand but the air remained as rigid and unmoving. Its face only inched upward as Ghouligan fell backward onto the ground and kicked upward as he fell, pushing himself off the shark’s chin as he realigned the shot.

He skids on the sand like ice, regaining his grip after a few yards, taking a knee, and aiming at the monster… just in case.

It wasn’t necessary.

A hole through the neck left the damn thing nearly decapitated. The internal processes receive their final neurons from the brain until everything shuts down. Momentarily, it stood unphased, incapable of processing what happened. And by the time it did, it was over.

The rest of the creatures fled back into the ocean.

---

“Stay here? I need glitter.”

At this point, Antoine had been speaking to himself. Jun had gone to investigate the scene. If he thought it worth the hassle — it was likely a low-level criminal a rookie could stop at worst — then he would have snuck off and intervened as his alter ego. Instead, he picked up his phone and dialed.

Ring ring ring.

Ring ring ring.

Click.

“Go for Bernie.”

“Hey… what’s 911’s number?”

“110.”

“Thanks.”

“Did someone steal my glitter?”

“They’re trying… I think?”

“Well… grab some off the floor if you have to.”

“Cheaper that way, yeah.”

“Freer that way. Like America.”

Click.

He calls the authorities, puts away his phone, and follows suit. Call the cops? Sure. But he’s got to see what’s happening. Plus… the new mission: grab some free floor glitter.

“What the hell is that?” Antoine pops up next to Jun. “Snotgun, yeah. But why?”

---

UAU.

Antoine would keep his cards to his chest. This student had a chance to connect him with his brother, but there was the issue of revealing his identity. Never had he been so close yet unable to grasp what was in front of him. Worst were the distractions at play. If it’s any consolation, they’ll buy him some time.

And buy him time they did. The shark was tough. Tougher than he initially presumed — a problem considering how accurate his assessments usually were. After a brief skirmish with the hero boy, he left with a few incendiary wounds and a chip on his shoulder. Even ablaze, he sought to conquer the territory.

In the meanwhile, Antoine mowed down the chumps. While Farrin drew the aggro, they left themselves wide open for attack — but it wouldn’t last. Until the boss was taken down, they would continue like the undead, unthinking husks you’d find in horror films.

“I have an idea.” He said. “I’ll make an opening. When I say shoot, shoot. Even if I’m in the way.”

Now it was Farrin’s turn to hold off the grunts. Breaking from his distance, Antoine pushed off the ground and skidded atop the sand as if he were skating on ice. However, the movements weren’t graceful. They were direct and simple.

A display was necessary.

They swung their first limb, which slowed, giving Antoine ample time to reposition. Then it swung another and Antoine moved in a momentary burst of unrealistic speed. Not that it was too fast to comprehend, and not that he had gone any faster, but as if the world moved out of his way. The creature slammed their limbs into the ground and when they did, they were stuck.

“Bite me.” Antoine offered his hand. The creature struck. And Antoine flipped it off. “Bite me.

Its large, ravenous maw stood there agape, chomping on an invisible force yet unable to make context with the finger dangling in its mouth.

“Shoot!”

---

Unfortunate.

From Ghouligan’s little experience with students, they were often rigid in their belief in the hero system, often idolizing those who sacrificed themselves to ensure the stability of the institution. Granted, he was wholeheartedly misinformed about the nature of students in Japan. Whether or not this assessment was accurate was entirely predicated on information from a less established country — a country where hero infrastructure was sorely lacking. Countries more like it.

While they had hit a wall, he would still pry. There were uses for students other than belonging to The Undertow. Ghouligan believed in the system, even if he thought people like himself were necessary for society to function. However, his brother was at a hero school.

Maybe they had crossed paths.

“Which school?” Ghouligan said. “I’ve met a few hero students already.”

He didn’t realize he wasn’t lying.

The battle quickly escalated, leading to a shift in mentality. One of the benefits of fighting at a range was the safety it provided. But if his ally were to find himself in trouble, he might force himself into the mix — even if he didn’t like it.

“I don’t have any high-power weaponry,” This was the unfortunate weakness in his arsenal, something he compensated for through attrition. But with their lack of numbers, and someone else at risk, it was best to put the ego aside. “If you do, then I can stall the grunts. If not, we’re gonna have to come up with another plan.”

As the shark approached, it used its extra limbs to create violent waves that would slam down on the shore. The ground would rumble underneath them as the waves reached for them. Eventually, they’d swallow them both — they needed to act now.

---

Two factors guaranteed JoJo’s defeat.

The first was when she decided to make this battle a single exchange. More often than not, asymmetrical information favored Ghouligan. With the ability to manipulate friction, he could give himself opportunities in microcosms of moments. While other marksman sought after cover, he sought over the open spaces — that was his cover.

The second factor was when struck without the intention of killing. Ghouligan manipulated friction, but he was not impervious. There was a mental recoil. One akin to slamming a bat against the ground, a feat that tested your resilience. He spent years building up a resistance to the recoil, a side-effect of constant exposure. But you could not push him to his limit unless someone struck with every fiber of their being.

Instead, JoJo unraveled.

She would notice her strike slow and slow and slow until it was immobile. It wasn’t just her hair, either. It was the summation of all her moving parts — her body was locked in place, rigid. Everything except the afro-textured mane which shied away from his cue stick.

Frictionless.

Fortunately, he was merciful. He was not after revenge, only information. And as the cue stick tapped JoJo on the head with a light bonk, he marked himself victorious.

“You pass.” Ghouligan disengaged and gave a wave goodbye as he stepped back en route. “I’ll be in touch.”

---

The network was underway.

The techies had made significant progress in their online forum, others had helped set up the foundational cryptolect, and a few suspicions were being investigated. Add in the ongoing recruitment and The Undertow was set for success.

But the group could not live online. If they were to help one another, then resources were paramount. With his introduction, Guts had the most experience partaking in a community — something they alone offered to the group. Ghouligan knew little of The Hummingbirds, but after a few days of research, he was impressed by what they accomplished. They operated on a smaller scale, but they had somehow earned a reputation greater than the sum of their parts.

Today was for introductions. Furthermore, today was the day they established some core safehouses for The Undertow. Guts knew the area and while they were both operatives in the network, Ghouligan knew better than to step on their toes.

This was their territory.

Beyond that, guidance was a must. There were no leaders here — everyone was on equal footing. But as the person who gathered the group, he thought it his responsibility to follow through on his promise. He offered a resource to his newfound allies. And he would give it to them.

---