The week had started quietly, far too quietly for Vivian's liking.
She was in the hallway of Blackwood High, leaning against the lockers, when Brittany approached with a frown and her phone in her hand. In 2006, a Nokia couldn't do much, but it was enough to receive short messages.
—Listen to this —Brittany said quietly. My cousin from Trenton sent me a message last night. She says people in a neighborhood over there are talking about a clown again.
Vivian closed her locker harder than necessary.
—What kind of talk?
—That someone saw balloons in an alley. And then a guy was found dead with a smile painted on the wall. It hasn't made the major news yet. Just neighborhood gossip.
The two of them looked at each other.
It wasn't proof of anything. It could be made up. It could be an imitator. It could be him.
—We have to tell the others —Vivian murmured.
The problem was obvious: Ana and Madeleine didn't go to school in Morris County. Ana was in Sussex, near Newton. Madeleine was also on the other side. They couldn't see each other every day as if nothing were happening.
That same afternoon, after school, Vivian used her home phone to call Ana. Brittany was sitting on the bed, listening.
—Ana, it's Vivian. Can you talk?
Ana's voice sounded cautious.
—Depends. What for?
—There's a rumor. In Trenton. Balloons. A dead man. A smile on the wall. It's not big news yet, but… it sounds too familiar.
There was a silence of several seconds.
—And what exactly do you want me to do? —Ana asked.
—Nothing dangerous. Just keep an eye out around your area. If you hear anything similar, let us know. Same with Madeleine. I'll write to her afterward.
Ana let out a long sigh.
—Okay. But that's all. No going to check out alleys.
—Deal.
When she hung up, Brittany was looking at her.
—Do you think it's him?
—I don't know. But if it is… then he isn't staying still.
---
Two days later, the four of them managed to meet again.
It wasn't easy. Madeleine had to ask someone to drive her over, and Ana made up an excuse involving her grandmother. They met at Vivian's house because it was the most central point between the two who lived in Morris.
On the table were newspaper clippings, the notebook, and now a new sheet of paper with the Trenton rumor written by hand.
—I'll repeat what I know —Brittany said. My cousin isn't the type to make things up. She says the people in the neighborhood are scared. They found a guy in an alley. And there was a smile on the wall made with something dark. Someone mentioned balloons, but no one confirmed it completely.
Ana had her arms crossed.
—It could be anyone. After what happened at the warehouse and in the forest, any crazy person could want to copy him.
—Could be —Vivian conceded. Or it could really be him.
Madeleine, who had been quiet, finally spoke:
—If it is him… what is he hunting now?
The question hung in the room.
No one had an answer.
Vivian opened the notebook to the page where they had written their previous conclusion.
He doesn't act like a hero. He acts like a hunter.
—If the rumor is true —she said slowly—, then he's following the same pattern. He appears once violence has already started. He ends it. And leaves a mark.
Brittany nodded.
—And disappears.
Ana looked at the sheet with the rumor.
—Then the only thing we can do for now is stay alert. Each of us in our own area. If something more solid comes up… we talk.
They all agreed.
It wasn't a brilliant plan. But it was better than nothing.
---
While the four girls were talking in Vivian's living room, Ryan was on a rooftop several blocks away.
He hadn't gotten close enough to hear individual words. He didn't need to.
Ever since he saw them meet again, he had decided to pay closer attention to them. Not to intervene. Just to observe what kind of conclusions they were drawing.
He used a little magic to sharpen his senses without revealing himself. He managed to pick up the tone of the conversation, the way they leaned over the papers, the tension in Ana's shoulders, the way Brittany gestured when she talked about the rumor.
Ryan smiled beneath his hood.
They were organizing themselves. They were connecting the dots. They were slowly arriving at the idea that he wasn't some ordinary savior.
—Good…
He didn't go down. He didn't leave any balloons. He didn't interrupt.
He simply watched for a while longer, long enough to confirm that the Trenton rumor had already reached them and that they were treating it carefully.
Then he disappeared silently.
---
Later, in his room, Ryan sat in front of the computer.
Nexum was still growing. The ranking was generating steady income. Some freelancers were already building decent portfolios. It wasn't an empire yet, but it was no longer a toy.
He wrote in his notebook:
The four of them already work as a group. They're reaching the right conclusion: hunter, not hero. They still don't know why. Let them keep going.
He closed the notebook and stared silently at the screen.
The mark on his chest burned for barely a second, as if the other side of the board was paying attention too.
Ryan rested his fingers against his chest.
—I know.
He turned off the computer.
In Morris County, and farther away in Sussex, four girls had just decided that they would keep gathering rumors, dates, and fears.
And he, from the shadows, was willing to let them do it.
For now.
Because a good show always needed an audience that slowly learned little by little who was really the one standing on the stage.