“Well shit, Griselda. He really put a number on you, huh?” The dark-haired woman turned her attention to Mark as Griselda started to stir. “Well. Who are you?” Her voice carried suspicion as she voiced the question and her eyes narrowed at him. Jenny broke in, a sense of recognition in her voice. “This is the guy who robbed us before the pickup a few weeks ago. No one knows where he came from. He just showed up and started robbing gang members like it was a video game or something.” Mark could see her disbelief. He watched the woman at the other end of the table lean in as she spoke up. “Clearly, you came here for a reason. Can I ask why?” Mark fell silent for a moment, dropping his gaze. He knew there was always gonna be unfinished business when you left people alive to come back on you. He needed to have this conversation, but outside of avenging Mira, just what was he looking for? The longer he sat with his thoughts, the more uncertain he felt about what should come next. He figured there was probably never gonna be true safety for a guy like him, not anymore. “Why do you think I’m here?” Every word was slow as he weighed what it all meant.

  Griselda rose from where she had nded, her body tense like a wound-up spring ready to snap. She faced him with a fire in her eyes, intentions to attack written all over her. Before she could get close enough to make a move, Mark effortlessly enveloped his hand in a shimmering aura. The psionic energy crackled around his fist, and with a swift, almost dismissive uppercut, he struck with such pinpoint precision that Griselda was propelled through solid concrete and stone. The force of the blow was like a thundercp, echoing in the air. Mark watched without moving as she plummeted back down through the jagged hole, coughing up blood that stood out starkly against the dust and debris swirling around her. Despite her superhuman resilience, he could see she might only withstand one or two more of these blows before it would be her undoing. The woman at the head of the table screamed at Griselda to stop before he killed her. Then she turned to Mark with a more composed but still shaky voice. “I assume then you wanted to strike us before we gathered forces and tried to take you down for hitting our spot at Tower 1.” Mark shrugged but did not answer. Instead, he let the silence linger for a moment as all the women continued to stare at him with fixed intensity before the woman at the head of the table spoke up again. “I am not sure. I don’t know if we did anything to harm you or anyone you care about. Did we rob or do something to your friend or family?”

  Mark thought for a second, his eyes clouded with contemption. For the first time in a long while, he just sat with his thoughts. Was this really about Mira anymore? After beating up Griselda for the first time and hitting them where it hurt, he wasn’t sure anymore how much he had really left to do outside of killing all of them. He didn’t even know if he had killed anyone tonight, despite the violence and chaos. As the women at the table watched him with a mix of fear and curiosity, wondering if he was one of those Supers that would leave a warehouse full of bodies, Mark felt almost like he had to expin himself. “No. Not really.” His voice was resigned as he spoke. “I did this because your people attacked me, really. That’s all. Now I will fly out of here and go to all of your stash houses and money spots and burn them down. Because I can. I like it. That’s all. You started it, and I will finish it.” Mark could tell just by looking at the women that they were all afraid. He saw the fear gleaming in their eyes, even the woman at the end of the table who was trying hard to py it close to the chest. They had no answer for him. He simply was beyond their paygrade. Mark knew there were other Supers out there who could match him, but he was sure they weren't hanging out in the slums or selling drugs. He didn’t say any of this, though. Instead, he let his silence speak for him.

  The woman cleared her throat, her voice barely steady, and looked at each of the fellow All-Stars with a sad smile before finally letting her eyes rise to meet Mark’s. “Is there anything we can do to change your mind? Obviously, an apology means nothing in these respects as we sent hunters to try and capture or kill you. Would you accept a cash payment as a token of forgiveness so we could try and bury the hatchet? We understand now, and we promise to never disturb you again.” Mark continued to stare at the woman, watching as their gazes shifted uncomfortably under his intense look. He remembered the first time he hit them and where it hurt. It was satisfying, but not enough for him. That’s why he was here now. He remembered when he beat up Griselda the first time and how satisfied he was when he left. But then he didn’t even know how well he had hit them. “I have four demands,” he said, his voice ft. “1 million dolrs, you end all protection rackets in Lowbridge under your gang, stop recruiting kids to join your gang. By the end of the night. You have until 11:59 PM to show up with my money, alone.” He looked at all of them quickly, then spun on his heels and flew out of the hole that he sent Griselda through the roof before. It was currently 9:37 PM. They had plenty of time to gather his money and make sure it made it there on time, but Mark was not banking on that. He figured even if they could not do it they would be so scared that they would get out the city before he moved on them again.

  He flew back towards his spot, his mind still reeling with all he said and what it meant. He knew the kind of man he was now, more than anything. He left the All-Stars alive, but he knew that it was not over. He may have been the only one to walk away from it all, but he knew that he would not want it any other way. Mark felt the wounds that he ignored before fully close before he went into his apartment and told the guards that one of the All-Stars would be coming to see him. After about an hour of showering and eating food, he sat in his room on his couch, and at 11:32 he got a knock on the door. “I get it’s time to see if they follow through.”