He began recounting Nicholas's story in full.
"So, you went to the circus with your friends. You didn't notice anything unusual and didn't cause any commotion. Then, you watched the main show, where you were hypnotized and put to sleep. After that, you woke up somewhere in the park, not far from four dead bodies. You ran away, rested in an alleyway, and that's when we found you. Is that correct?"
Nicholas shrugged. "More or less."
The detective's skeptical expression deepened. "Except when I talked with your friends, they said you wanted to leave the carnival before the main show. What was that about?"
Nicholas's mind raced. 'So, he talked to them first... and they probably asked if I was okay. Let me think.'
"I had a bad feeling," Nicholas said finally, keeping his tone measured. "You know, that gut instinct when something's just… off? It was like that." He decided not to overthink the explanation.
The detective let out an exasperated sigh and ran a hand down his face. "Alright... do you take drugs by any chance?"
Nicholas blinked, caught off guard. The fuck?
He shook his head firmly. "No. Absolutely not. Why would you even ask me that?"
The detective's eyes narrowed as he scrutinized Nicholas's face. "You sure about that? No... uh... special pitch-black substances? I mean, no offense, but you kinda look like you're on something, with those eyes."
Nicholas stared at him, his expression shifting from shock to irritation. No offense? The hell? I'm taking all the offense right now.
Clearing his throat, he replied sharply, "Once again, sir, I don't take drugs."
The detective shrugged, muttering under his breath, though Nicholas caught every word. "Would've made more sense for your story... especially with how dead your eyes look."
Nicholas's hands clenched at his sides as the urge to smack the detective surged through him. But he held back, taking pride in his restraint.
"Alright, then," the detective said, straightening up. His voice dropped slightly, turning more pointed. "Let me ask you this, kid... Are you an Awakened?"
Nicholas froze. The question hit like a freight train. His mind raced. How could he answer? What could he say to walk away from this unscathed?
After a moment of silence, he decided there was only one path forward: the truth.
"No. I am not Awakened."
At least the truth as he believed it. He might have thought otherwise if he hadn't spoken with the Wendigo. But now, he wasn't so sure. His powers felt... different, unrelated to the abilities of Awakened individuals.
The two detectives exchanged a glance, then sighed in apparent relief.
It seemed, for a moment, that the storm had passed.
Until the door opened.
A chill ran down Nicholas's spine as a familiar face stepped in—Slash Draw.
'What... what is she doing here?!' Nicholas's mind reeled.
She approached him with her cold, calculating gaze, then placed a hand on his head.
'Wha—?' Nicholas felt his cheeks flush but resisted the urge to swat her hand away. Something told him she could end him in an instant if she wanted to.
A turquoise light enveloped him. The warmth of it was unnerving, almost intrusive, as though it were peeling back the layers of his soul.
After a few moments, she sighed and turned to the detectives. "He is not Awakened," she said firmly. The tension in the room visibly eased.
But then her tone shifted.
"However."
The air turned icy, and Nicholas's breath hitched. There was malice and curiosity mixed in her eyes.
"Are you human?"
The words pierced through him like a blade.
Nicholas wanted to shout yes—to yell it loud enough to shake the room. But he didn't. Instead, he studied the faces around him. One detective tensed, while the other looked at Slash Draw as though she'd lost her mind.
'No, no. I completely agree—she is crazy.'
Judging by their polar expressions… Nicholas summarized that not everyone in the government knew of monsters.
After a long pause, Nicholas finally spoke, his voice steady. "...I am human."
The Wendigo's words clawed at the back of his mind, but he refused to believe them. He was born a human, raised as a human, acted as a human, and fought to protect humans. What else did they want from him?
The lie-detecting detective gave a subtle nod of confirmation.
Slash Draw's expression shifted into a triumphant smile, but Nicholas's unease only deepened.
With a casual wave, she dismissed the two detectives, leaving the two of them alone in the room.
"Don't mind those two," she said, her voice suddenly warmer. "They're a bit stuck up. Understandably so, wouldn't you agree? It is a rather bizarre situation… Of course, I'm not saying you were part of that group. You're just as much a victim as all the others."
Her attempt at consolation caught Nicholas off guard. He appreciated the gesture, but the shift in her demeanor unsettled him. The warmth in her tone didn't match the Slash Draw he had encountered before.
'Where was this side of her when she found me on the brink of death last week?' he wondered.
As he studied her, something clicked. Her eyes. They weren't glowing like before.
'Do her emotions become muted when she uses her power?' he speculated. That would explain the coldness he had felt from her in their prior encounter.
Before he could follow that train of thought any further, she snapped her fingers, jarring him out of his musings.
"Hey, my eyes are up here," she teased, a playful yet strangely menacing smile curving her lips.
Nicholas raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "I… was looking at your eyes." His tone was steady, truthful. He didn't dare let his gaze wander even a fraction lower—he valued his life too much for that.
She turned away, and though he couldn't see her face clearly, he had a strong suspicion she was flustered by his sincerity.
He tried to steer the conversation toward gathering useful information, but every probing question was deflected. In the end, the interrogation hadn't been as bad as he feared. He had managed to keep his identity a secret and walk away with more questions than answers.
It wasn't that he wanted to withhold information—he simply didn't know who to trust.
Hours later, after being held in the station far longer than he would have liked, he was finally allowed to leave. The officers had even let him get some rest, though he couldn't tell if it was an act of mercy or part of their strategy.
Walking out into the late-night air, Nicholas murmured to himself, "I don't want to deal with this anymore… but I can't help letting curiosity get the better of me."
Even after everything he had witnessed—the horrors, the chaos—there was a pull, a need to uncover the secrets that lingered just out of reach.
He sighed heavily. "I guess this is it. Point of no return."
"Son!"
Nicholas yelped as his father pulled him into a tight embrace, Evan standing just behind with a look of relief and concern.
"Are you alright?! They didn't do anything to you, did they?! Those bastards! How dare they think my sweet boy could possibly have been involved!"
Nicholas blinked in surprise. He had never seen his father this emotional before. In his mind, his father had always been a paragon of composure, no matter the situation. Seeing him so shaken was… unexpected.
'I guess I inherited that from him,' Nicholas thought with a weak smile. If his friends and family were in danger, he would have also lost his composure. He had already, actually.
His moment of reflection was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Turning, he saw a police officer exiting the station, followed closely by the detective who had interrogated him.
Nicholas observed the two men carefully. The officer was a dark-skinned man, likely around his father's age, with dark grey hair and piercing dark green eyes. The detective, on the other hand, wore a fedora even indoors, obscuring his hair, though his black eyes stood out. Nicholas guessed he was in his late thirties or early forties.
Nicholas frowned. What do they want now?
As they approached, Nicholas's father straightened his posture, greeting them with a scowl.
The officer sighed and addressed Nicholas's father with a surprising level of familiarity. "Niko."
"Officer Blackbourne," Niko replied, his tone curt. It was clear he didn't share the same sentiment. "Might you explain why you kept my son in custody for so long without informing me?"
Blackbourne's expression softened with regret. "I apologize, old friend. I didn't even know he was being held for interrogation. I was assigned to other tasks."
Niko didn't seem satisfied with the answer but remained silent, letting him continue.
"As a father myself, I know how devastating this kind of situation must be," Blackbourne said. "That's why I dragged along the person who interrogated him, so you could hear firsthand that your son is fine."
The detective looked less than pleased about being there. He stopped short when he got a good look at Niko. "Nothing happened that should concern you," the detective said. "Your son is innocent, and this won't go on his record." He was as stiff as a tree.
Blackbourne nudged the detective and whispered, "You've got a kid too, don't you? She's around his age. Would it kill you to show a little sympathy?"
The detective stiffened. "Don't mention her."
Though they whispered, Nicholas caught every word. He frowned, wondering if his senses had become sharper. He couldn't recall being able to hear this well before.
He also briefly wondered if the detective's daughter was cute.
The detective sighed. "You've got a good kid with a good head on his shoulders. Carry on." He turned and left.
With a brief exchange of farewells, Blackbourne and Niko parted ways, wishing each other's families well.
As the family walked away from the station, Nicholas stared at his father curiously. "…Since when do you have connections?"
His father's scowl gave way to a smug smile. "Since when? Since always! Your old man's been alive for more than four decades. Of course, I've made some connections."
"Uh-huh," Nicholas replied dryly, simply nodding. "Were you two close?"
"...Emphasis on were."
After that, no one spoke, and an awkward silence settled in.
"I'm hungry," Evan was the first to speak out.
Niko rubbed his chin in thought before his face lit up. "Oh! Why don't we go out to eat? We haven't done that in a while."
Nicholas shrugged. "Sure." He was relieved someone else brought it up—he was starving and didn't feel like cooking. The family decided to eat at a pizzeria called Crust May Burn.
As they waited for their orders, the family engaged in light conversation. Two of the family members were particularly curious why he'd order a pizza with no meat on it. Nicholas just stared at them with a deadpan expression and didn't say anything else.
'I'm not gonna be eating meat for a while, that's for sure'. After that, Nicholas was mostly focused on his phone. He skimmed through concerned messages from Rose and Philip, their worry evident in every word.
He rubbed his tired eyes, pondering how best to respond. Before he could type out a reply, a sound caught his attention—a sharp clatter of a plate followed by exaggerated chewing. Turning slightly, Nicholas spotted a teenager with white hair wolfing down slices of pizza as if he hadn't eaten in days.
Nicholas blinked and deadpanned. 'And here I thought I was hungry… that guy must've been starving for days.'
Shrugging it off, he turned back to his phone. He didn't like to judge other people's habits, especially when his own were far from normal. After some thought, he crafted a reply to Rose and Philip, mirroring the story he gave the detectives. He reassured them he was fine and added a casual inquiry about their well-being, even though he already knew they were safe. It felt better to ask than to assume.
As their food arrived, Nicholas set his phone aside, allowing himself to enjoy the meal and the rare moment of calm with his family.
***
The weekend came, and Nicholas made a point of lazing around as much as possible. He sprawled on his bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to tune out the world. Yet, his thoughts wouldn't leave him in peace.
He began noticing a pattern in this chaotic new life of his—one he didn't like in the slightest. Ever since he'd gained his powers, every Friday seemed to bring chaos, invariably culminating in a fight that dragged into Saturday.
"I see what you're doing, Fate… You're not slick," he muttered to himself, his tone half-annoyed, half-resigned.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let the quiet of his room settle over him. Whatever Fate had in store for next Friday, he'd deal with it when it came. For now, he was determined to cling to what little peace he could find.
That didn't mean he was slacking off. Determined to hone his abilities further, Nicholas decided to test the limits of his newfound control over Darkness. Since he could now manipulate it outside his typical creation range, he devised a small experiment.
He formed a tiny wisp of black mist and placed it inside Evan's schoolbag. Hours later, the mist was still intact, and he could feel its presence no matter how far away it was.
Nicholas smiled in satisfaction. I've got my own personal tracking device… or mist… thing, he thought, amused by his own ingenuity.
With that success, his focus shifted to a new challenge: creating armor. He had always struggled with forming wearable items like clothing, but Darkium, the special black metal from his darkness, posed fewer issues. So far, he'd only managed to create a single gauntlet, but he wasn't discouraged. Being able to craft armor at all was a victory in itself.
Nicholas inspected the gauntlet on his arm. The lustrous black metal gleamed faintly, its surface smooth and seamless. It was flexible yet durable. He shivered at its coldness against his skin, feeling as if the gauntlet had a heartbeat of its own.
It's… it's not alive, right? he wondered with a hint of unease.
The thought lingered briefly before he shook it off. Despite all his experiments, he still couldn't fully grasp what the voice meant by 'your darkness is growing.'
"Well, whatever," he muttered, dismissing the thought. "Can't dwell on that now. It's Monday… time for school."
With a resigned sigh, Nicholas pushed himself off the bed and began getting ready for another day of mundane reality—at least until chaos decided to rear its head again.