Chapter 6: Episode 4

Disclaimer: I don't own the Boys, Highschool DxD or any other franchise that can be found in this fanfiction.

Words Count: 5132

A/N: For those wondering, I’m merely flushing all the Eps I have on this Fic. I’ve decided to postpone it until after I’m done with Fate: Dead Man’s Lament, which’s gonna take quite a while if I’m gonna be honest. Just a head-up, there are also no advanced Eps on my Patreon, and there isn’t gonna be one in… Idk, maybe months? So just enjoy these Eps first and wait :v

A?N#2: If you think the Main is too OP, I actually do have plans to buff all the Heroes of Boys-Verse, not by merging another franchise with it, mind you. The process involves Compound V and a fuck ton of Demonic Mana and John’s DNA kept under locks and chains under Stan’s orders.

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I grabbed A-Train by his jaws and slammed him against the table amidst the surprised faces of the Seven, hissing. “YOU! You did WHAT?!”

My fingers– Or rather, claws digging into his flesh in an iron-grip, even as he yelped and shouted in pain, I refused to let up. A little bit harder, just a little and his jaws would be in pieces. A-Train tried to speak, to defend himself, but all his attempt resulted in was a harsh slap over his immaculate haircut. The more innocent he appeared, the angrier I got until Homelander put his hand on my shoulder. “That’s enough, Goetia.”

My eyes blazed with righteous wrath as I replied testily. “You’re going to protect this murderer?!”

“What the fuck are you on about, asshole?!” A-Train grunted, blitzing near Queen Maeve and hiding behind the redheaded woman. My gaze shot sharply towards the Speedster, fangs lengthening in my mouth as I let out what could only be described as a guttural growl. “You killed a girl yesterday, blasted her to fucking pieces and you still have the nerve to ask me that?! Does the name Robin Ward mean anything to you? Or have you forgotten that too?!”

“That- That’s- She suddenly jumped in my way, I couldn’t–“ Chains of Worthlessness came shooting at his legs, causing the molecules to dissipate as A-Train let out a wretched scream. “Save your bullshit, you cocky little cunt. Madelyn told me everything, including how you’re refusing to attend her funeral…”

With a flick of my fingers, A-Train was dragged before me. Obviously, the man didn’t simply wait there like a sitting-duck, his hands desperately scrambling to grab at the remains of the once beautifully-crafted table. Sadly, all that did was leave further marks and a long, long scratch on the otherwise flawless marble-floor. In this time, Noir had gotten behind me with a thin wire in hands, presumably to take me down.

His attempt was stopped the instance he got into range and I glanced back, baleful yellow eyes tinted with orange looking past even the helmet he kept on at all times. “Don’t try it, it will not end well for you Noir.”

Unexpectedly, he conceded, throwing his hands up in surrender. Only now did I take the time to observe the rest of the Seven. Maeve seemed like she was witnessing a particularly interesting show, Deep looked confused and freaked out. Translucent, the creepy bastard he was, seemed… Aroused, even as he shot popcorns into his mouth. Lamplighter appeared completely indifferent at everything going on around him, but by the look of his torch-staff, he was prepared to fight for his life.

Lastly, Homelander. His lips were pressed into a thin line, I didn’t need telepathy to know he was angry that his authority was being challenged, which was why his grip on my shoulder tightened, pushing me hard enough that the tiles beneath my feet cracked. It was quite painful, I must admit. But, it wasn’t anything I hadn’t experienced before. Cryptids Hunters like myself had always been at a disadvantage physically compared to our foes.

I had been thrown, stomped on, stabbed and clawed so many times I could barely keep count, a little bruise would not hurt me, and I wasn’t about to stand down. Not simply because doing so would undermine my might and authority as an associated Supe of Vought, plus the new consultant of the Seven, but because my Pride wouldn’t allow it. Even now, I could hear his voice, his shouts echoing in my brain wrathfully, telling me to teach the blonde a lesson.

I forcefully shoved him at the back of my mind, focusing on A-Train instead. I grabbed the Speedster by the leg, my digits tightening on the spot where the atoms that made up his skin had disappeared due to Worthlessness and yanked him up. He was offered naught but a brief moment of solace, before plummeting to the floor like a sad sack of potatoes, cracking and shattering the marble-tiles into millions of pieces. “Arrgghhh! F- Fuck…! W- W- Why?”

I flung off Homelander’s hand, taking slow, nerve-racking steps towards the coughing and spitting Speedster. He couldn’t even muster the strength to scamper away, so I leaned forward, grabbing A-Train by the head and whispered in his ear. “You’re going to attend Robin Ward’s funeral, you’re going to apologize to her family and friends on your fucking knees if you have to, and you’re going to mean it… Have I made myself clear?”

A-Train hurriedly nodded, but I wanted to hear him say it. “I’m asking you a question, Reginald.”

“Y- Yes!” I finally released the Speedster, letting him fall lifelessly on the wrecked floor. He curled into a fetal position, hands clutching his injured legs as he cried. “It has come to my attention that with the exception of Noir and Maeve, you all lack discipline, training and from the data Madelyn has compiled for me, you cause more damages than you prevent, cause more accidental deaths than the criminals and terrorists you’re arresting…”

I swept my gaze across the Supes.

I knew there was something wrong when I signed that contract with Madelyn. She had seemed too smug, too arrogant to not have had something planned. I only understood why once I got the data from the woman herself, the Seven were problematic. Extremely so in fact. Vought had to pay at least ten to twenty millions dollar yearly in order to keep those accidentally harmed by them quiet, and that’s not mentioning the money paid for their ridiculous PR and Damage-Control teams.

And, since I was their consultant for the next five years, I’d be held accountable for their actions too, which could no longer be allowed to continue. I was a Daemon, I was already at a disadvantage thanks to the literal centuries of indoctrination by Christianity, if the news that the Seven were causing so much deaths and destruction were to come out, all my efforts to build up a positive, friendly and genuine image would be thrown right out the fucking window.

“Which is why, starting from today onwards, you’ll be taught by experts how to correctly rescue people and respond to threats. I don’t give a damn what you do to the criminals, but you’ll not capture them at the cost of the innocent, do you understand?” Translucent shot to his feet in outrage. “You can’t fucking do this to us, we’re the Seven!”

I looked at him and just stared. Only once the Invisible began fidgeting uncomfortably, did I speak. “In the contrary, I can and am doing this to you. You’re under the misconception that because you’re affiliated with the brand means you have any say, but Vought own you. They own your brands, they own your merchandises, they even own your Supe names. And they, mainly Stan Edgar and Madelyn Stillwell have decided you’re causing more trouble than you’re worth…”

I averted my gaze, looking straight at Homelander. I hadn’t gotten a good first impression of him, and now that it’s made clear to me that he’s nothing but a irresponsible man-child, too entitled for his own good, I was more disgusted than ever. “This is your last chance, if you can not finish this training course that I’ve decided on, it’s well-within my right and authority to kick you out, or simply disband the Seven altogether.”

I settled my hands behind my back, continuing as a fake smile tugged my lips. “Don’t pout, I do not like to have to interact with you idiots–” Yes Deep, I was looking at you. “– Any longer than strictly necessary, but my name is now linked to yours as the new consultant, which means your actions will reflect mine, and I will not allow your fuck-ups to give the Vatican more ammunitions against me than what they already have.”

Sure, all they had at of this moment was the knowledge of what I was, and those had been made public since Day-One to alleviate the pressure on me, but I had little doubt that should the Seven’s crimes were to come to light, I’d be severely criticized as well. Maybe I could argue their previous actions had nothing to do with me, the same couldn’t be said about their actions subsequent to me signing that damned consultant-contract.

What’s truly irritating was, this was partly my fault too. I had seen them, I had met the Seven prior to signing with Madelyn, I knew the kinds of people they were, yet I hadn’t bothered to check on them, thinking of them as the bootleg, more realistic alternation of the Justice League of this Earth. How wrong I was…

Right now, I had two options.

I could bring everything I had, including the documents to the proper authority to handle the mess, which would give me fifteen seconds of goodwill and truck loads of legal troubles with Vought– An International Corporation with nearly a hundred years of history.

Or I could turn the Seven into what they were originally supposed to be– Heroes. Obviously, I chose option 2. It’s a no-brainer really, there’s nothing, and I meant nothing cheaper than goodwill. It’s simply not worth the troubles that would follow, not when the Vatican and the Church were trying to have me lobotomized and locked under their Pope’s rape-dungeon.

“Tomorrow morning, there will be a press-conference announcing a restructuring of the Seven. The official story is that some of Vought’s employees have been caught stealing from the company. That should buy us a month, in that time, you’ll have to through rigorous training regime and therapy to fix whatever is wrong with your fucked-up heads. If you still prove stubborn, not only will I kick you out, if your crimes ever came to light, I’ll kick you straight under the bus where you rightfully belong.”

“What about you, huh?” Lamplighter questioned. “You’re no fucking better than us, don’t think we’re not aware of your tryst with that makeup artist, or the countless other you’ve had with the nuns you managed to seduce.”

Call me crazy, but I had a feeling he wasn’t asking this to question my authority, merely out of genuine curiosity despite his rather... Crass way of voicing it. “I’m a Daemon, it’s in my nature to be sinful and every girl I’ve slept with did so out of their own volition, which is more than some of you can say for your sexual-partners.”

In the documents given to me, there was no mention of rape or anything of sort, but with how messed-up these fuckers were, I did not doubt there were still things Madelyn had refrained from telling me. “I’ve never kept my sexual appetite a secret, I’ve even subtly boasted about it in my videos and press-conferences to ease my audience into my habits. You guys, on the other hand, relied entirely on the goodie-two-shoes facades Vought has crafted for you.”

I glared. “Every single of these crimes can not only destroy you, but the efforts of countless people working for Vought too. Some will lose their jobs, some will lose their lives, all because you bunch are either incompetent morons, or couldn’t keep a lid on your unsavory urges. I. Will. Not. Have. It!”

It went away as sudden as it came, my anger I meant. My tight-knitted frown disappeared to give way to my signature, confident smirk as I put my arm up. “If you have any question regarding this matter, here’s your chance. Just raise your hands.”

“I’ll pass.” Lamplighter spoke amidst the silence. “I’m supposed to fucking retire in a week anyway, I’m not gonna waste my time with that all that bullshit.”

“Hmmm… Fair enough. Alright, Lamplighter’s out, what about you guys? Translucent, A-Train anything to say? How about you, blondie?” I looked at Homelander who, at this point, was so mad his eyes were blazing like a pair of lightbulbs. “You’re free to ask Madelyn about this, but the answer she gives will be the same as mine. Your fucking lives are now mine to mold. I’m the director, and you’re the actors.”

My arms spread wide-open in a taunting gesture. “Those who don’t do good will have their parts cut, and you are not an exception, Homelander. However special you think you are, ultimately you’re nothing–” I shot towards him just as his heat-vision started blasting. My hand clamped down on his face, squeezing until I felt his skull crack. I ignored the pain, the burning, slamming Homelander repeatedly on the floor.

“Who the FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!” John Gillman shouted as he increased the intensity of his heat-vision. “This is my team! It’s fucking MINE!”

A little more and his heat-vision would have pierced through my palm, and I couldn’t have that. Fortunately, with how little fighting experience Homelander had, he was no-match for me. He could barely hold onto his fading consciousness as heat-vision sputtered out. I looked nonchalantly at the ‘Strongest Man on the planet’ and scoffed disdainfully. “That’s all I have to say. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a telekinetic little sister who’s waiting for me at home.”

Homelander was a disappointment.

He was stronger than me, faster.

Not by much, mind you. Still, he should have been able to put up more of a fight, and yet here we were. His reflex was shot to shit, and he hadn’t even kept his guard up despite seeing how antagonistic I was. Calling him a bootleg version of Superman was an insult to the character, clearly having lived his entire life unopposed and unchallenged had done little to brush Homelander’s fighting capability.

I threw open the double-door, sending them a smile as I left. “I heard there’s pasta for dinner, really looking forwards to it. Hey, maybe after your training’s done, I can invite you all to have dinner at my place, it’s gonna be a blast.” No one dared to say anything, and I couldn’t help but chuckle internally. It was fun playing the part of an unpredictable villain, more so than I had initially expected. “And send Madelyn my well-wishes when you meet her.”

——◇  [Ars Goetia] ◇——

“You’re late, Johnathan.” Cindy briefly averted her gaze from the TV where a preacher was screaming about my deceitful nature. In all fairness though, he wasn’t wrong. “Another of your late-night conquest again?”

“Call me crazy, but–” I chuckled, taking a seat at our dining table. One thing I had realized was I did not have to eat, drink or sleep. My precious Demonic Mana had that all handled. In fact, I didn’t even breath air, while my lungs would go through the motions regardless, I actually inhaled nothing and exhaled Mana. It’s quite particular actually. “– I’m sensing a bit of jealousy here. But no, I wasn’t fucking with Michelle, I was busy with official business.”

Cindy huffed, using her telekinesis to set the table. There were a lot of stuffs today, pasta, crabs and minced meat. They were my favorites, once upon a time. Now, I simply followed the routine, not out of sentimental bullshits regarding my lost Humanity, mind you. But, because I genuinely enjoyed the acts and knew for certain that I’d go batshit insane should I allow my life to revolve solely around training.

Hell, what was I even training for? I was the most powerful on the planet already.

Homelander might be able to rival me in sheer physical prowess should he choose to put in the work, but I sincerely doubted he would be much of a threat if I fought using my Demonic Clan Traits.

“How’s your training?” I shook away the distracting train of thoughts, I couldn’t afford to get arrogant now. Prideful and confident were fine, but since Dawn of Mankind, arrogance had been the main cause for the downfalls of men far, far greater than I was. What? I was prideful, not blind. Throughout history, there had existed men who could and would likely give a run for my money. Heroes that made me look like an utter fool.

You do not need to go centuries back, an example was Desmond Doss– The US Corporal who saved 75 lives, dragging his fellow soldiers through literal rains of bullets and trenches. Now, he was weak physically and magically, but that did not take away from his achievement one bit, if anything, it made him that much more heroic in my eyes. I could never win against men like that mentally, and I was okay with that.

I wasn’t a Hero, I was a Government-contracted mercenary specializing in hunting down the Supernatural, and I’d be damned if I didn’t at least get compensations that equaled my troubles. Maybe Yahweh was right, maybe my place was amongst the Daemons after all.

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“It’s fine. I can keep a telekinetic shield around my body now, but it still requires concentration on my part.” Cindy muttered as she carefully crushed and peeled off the crabs’ shells with her power. “By my estimation, I think I’ll able to keep it up subconsciously in a few months time, though I’m not entirely sure…”

“That’s good, Worthlessness is progressing fast as well. Once I unlock my second Trait, we can start on actual combat training.” The girl seemed saddened at that, she’s quite lazy. But, I wasn’t about to let those watery puppy-eyes stop me. This was for her own good, Supes were essentially hot merchandises on this Earth, and no amount of threats would keep the Government, or even Vought from trying to capture and experiment on her.

Cindy understood this well, memories of Sage Grove were still fresh on her mind, all she needed was a firm guiding hand, and someone to hammer that fact in her cute little head.

Speaking of head, she was growing her hair out now. What used to be short, shaved strands currently came down to her shoulders. Apparently Demonic Mana had uses beyond causing untold destruction and corruption, which was nice to know. It made sense too, what with all those stories about Demons and the Devil granting wishes at a price to their conjurers. “Do, do you want to sit and watch a movie with me?”

Cindy mumbled beneath her breath, redness creeping up her neck as the comfortable silence that had fallen over us was broken. I wasn’t dumb, I knew she had a childish crush on me, hard not to when I basically saved her from an inhumane science facility. It’s well known and documented as the so-called ‘Suspended Bridge Effect’. Me saving her, coupled with the adrenaline coursing through her veins at the time made her mistake those feelings for love.

I had no doubt she respected, maybe even adored me, but those were not love. Not in any capacity. Could I take advantage of this? Yes, yes I obviously could, yet I did not want to.

It's one thing to corrupt– I meant, teach nuns and innocent, legal girls with a case of ‘hero-worship’ towards me about sex, it’s another to use their traumas to twist them to my desires. Michelle Le was and had always been a masochist, she merely never had the chance to show it due to her heritage and strict parents, she didn’t count, but I had never forced or coerced my partners into doing anything they were genuinely uncomfortable with.

Beside, Cindy was fifteen years old… She was a minor. The FBI would break down my doors faster than I could spell ‘Daemon’ if I ever did anything untoward to her.

That’s right, folks. I was a Daemon with morals. Pretty cool, huh?

While I was stuck in a mental loop of monologue, Cindy shifted in her seat awkwardly, fiddling with her fork. It seemed she misunderstood my silence for tacit denial. “Sure, I don’t mind. Sorry for the late reply, I was busy talking with the voices in my head.”

The Sins and Belial simultaneously let out a collective grunt, annoyed, grumbling that I threw them under the bus again. ‘Okay, you guys are exaggerating, that’s not throwing you under a bus, more like a… Gentle push in front of a speeding minivan.’

I chuckled as they huffed in outrage, returning my attention to Cindy. The girl was practically vibrating with excitement, summoning a DVD disk with her telekinesis. She palmed the its case, smiling. But I wasn’t happy… Why, you asked? Because what she’s holding was the Notebook. You know, that romantic comedy girls were crazy about? Fuck, I thought I had escaped it by moving to another Earth, how was it even here?! Nick Cassavetes didn’t even exist on this Earth!

I had watched the fucking thing approximately thirties times now, not out of my own volition, mind you.

Loath as I was to admit, the plot and even dialogues were carved firmly into my head. I cringed, I totally forgot how much the Telekinetic loved romantic comedy. I hesitantly asked. “Can- Uhmm- Can we watch something else?”

“Do you not like this?” I looked at the DVD in her hand, then at the teary Cindy. If I had to be honest, the Notebook was my antithesis, it was worse than Biblical verses and scriptures at causing me headaches. From a certain perspective, this was less of a love story and more a horror flick for the fiancée, who sank an ungodly amount of money into his girl, only for her to leave once her old flame returned. My man did not deserve that, hashtag ‘justice for Lon.’

“Do you want to hear the honest truth?” Cindy nodded. “No… No, I do not like the Notebook, I’ve been tortured by my partners with it at least a dozen times already. I don’t necessarily hate it per se–“

That’s a white lie, I despised it with a passion, and if you were involved in its making, know that I loathed you too. “It’s just, I’ve seen the movie once too many times…”

The Telekinetic looked down at her feet sadly, seemingly guilty for her suggestion. The thing about being locked up and experimented upon was, it’s not easy to shake off. Cindy often felt guilty for every little thing, she’s constantly looking for someone’s approval, someone of authority, and I had become that someone. I was her savior, I was the person currently controlling her life both literally and figuratively, seeing as she was still a minor.

If I had to put it into words, I’d say Cindy had a kind of, sort of severe case of ‘daddy issue’ and for reasons listed above, she had taken me as her daddy. “It’s fine, no need to blame yourself. If you want to, we can watch it, but only if you promise this is the first and last time, agreed?”

‘May our Father have mercy…’ Belial grumbled at the mere thought of watching this again. He was part of me, part of my psyche in order to better control Worthlessness, which meant he alongside the Sins had all been forced to watch the Notebook as many times as I did. I could tell, they were not looking forwards to our movie session either. “Let’s finish our meal first.”

Thirty minutes later, we were sitting on the couch. Gotta give it to Vought, they knew what they were doing when they decorated my apartment, aside from the bugs, hidden cams and recorders, which I had long removed, I had little to complain about the place. Cindy had her legs thrown over mine as she leaned on my shoulder, her hair tickling my nose. Soon, the movie started, Cindy watched the logo with a reverence I had never seen in any girl before, which was to be expected with her past.

As for me, I fled to the Hellscape where Belial and the others resided.

It was a space inside my Soul, I could only exist here as a mental projection, it’s why none of the Ars Goetia had been able to hurt me.

Funny thing was, I could still train my Demonic Traits in here.

Belial had explained it was because the Soul and Mana were closely connected, and since I was a Spiritual being made almost entirely out of Mana, mental training was particularly useful for me. It could even stimulate my muscle-growth and endurance. Yes, it’s the literal definition of ‘willing something into existence’ and it was as convenient as it sounded. Without this, I’d have had to test my powers in empty fields or forests, and I’d rather not do that.

I might not need the oxygen, but the humans did.

The moment I set feet on the molten rock, I immediately began to will my hands into masses of Worthlessness. My Soul obeyed, shifting into moving gray.

I waved the appendages(?), Demonic Mana pouring into the proverbial filter that turned it into the Clan Trait. Overwhelming strength filled my limbs as Belial and I– We groaned in satisfaction. It felt not unlike when I stretched after a long, hard week of hunting Cryptids in some Gods-forsaken forest, only without the sounds of cracking bones and strained joints. It was freeing, like ourselves had been released of the burden that was our physical Vessel.

Not for the first time, I felt Belial and the Sins assimilate into my person to create someone new.

Our skin crawled with thousands of unseen ants, our heart pounded beneath our ribcage and our arms, which barely even had any similaritiy to arms at this point, more like twisting tentacles l clumped together, seeming to spill grey fume and sink into themselves at the same time. We were high on the power the form granted, the floating, dream-like sensation it offered was so, so good, like we were snorting cocaine while doing handstand at once.

That was until we began converting past our forearms where the nigh unnoticeable, prickling pain grew more and more intense.

We watched in both fascination and horror as flesh melted and skin sagging off in dissipating particles and rotting chunks. We groaned, no longer in pleasure or satisfaction, but sharp pain instead. We had been doing this for an entire week, one whole week and still the pain was fucking unbearable. It left everything we had faced up to this point, the Cryptids, the injuries seem pale in comparison.

We doubled over, falling to our knees as our head throbbed as though being hammered by a mallet. “Arrgghhh! Fuck, fuck!”

We– I wanted to stop so badly, but I could not. I was close to transforming half of my upper-arms. My goals were there, just there. So close yet so far. All I had to do was soldier-on, keep doing what I was doing, ignoring the agony this was causing me. That’s right, that’s all I had to– “Johnathan, stop!”

Cindy’s voice broke through the haze that had fallen over my mind as I snapped back to reality, sweats dampening my forehead and tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. My sight focused and zoomed in on the worried face of the Telekinetic. The movie, which was running mere moments ago had reached its conclusion, all that’s left was a screen of the studio logo. “How long was I–?”

Cindy shouted, her tone drenched with anger and accusation. “The movie ended half an hour ago! I thought you were sleeping, but you’re trying that again, aren’t you?”

For a short second, she seemed genuinely confused. “Why? You’re the strongest person on the planet already, why are you torturing yourself like this?!”

“I–“ I paused, unable to put it into words. Why was I doing this? Why exactly was I torturing myself in hope of growing even stronger, when I was the strongest already? This wasn’t my Earth, and I wasn’t Johnathan Reid– The human who fought tooth and nail with monsters that should have been far beyond his paycheck. A man who toiled about in the woods and desperately tried to survive and accomplish his assigned mission.

I was the thing that went bump into the night, I was the monster that people whispered to each other, trading stories about in a campfire, and still, I was afraid.

Johnathan Reid had survived worse things than some fucking robbers in his life, yet that had not stopped him from being killed by them. He had killed creatures that would send shivers down the spines of war-hardened men and shake the psyches of the greatest men Humanity had to offer with their mere presences. Still, he had died to bullet-wounds all the same. “I don’t know…”

I answered half-heartedly.

Even my hatred of Christianity was born out of fear, fear of uncertainty and the unknown.

I was a powerful Daemon, but if the Devil himself could not stand against God, how much of a chance did I stand?

How could I be sure that the Big Guy upstairs wouldn’t smite me on the spot, splintering my souls to unrecoverable pieces? “I don’t know, but I can’t stop. I have to be better, stronger for whatever it is that will come our way, and if a little pain is the price, then I’m more than willing to accept it.”

I muttered as Cindy grew silent, our movie session having descended into awkward stagnation. I shook my head, jumping to my feet, I should continue in my room, where Cindy wouldn’t be able to snap me out again. I knew her intention was good and pure, but all she had managed to accomplish was slow down my progress, and I couldn’t have that. “I’m going to my room, watch whatever you want, just- just don’t stay up too late, you have school tomorrow.”

The girl remained silent for a while, until I reached the door to my room, she decided to speak, her voice trembling with fears– The same fear I was facing and more. The fear of loss. “Johnathan… Don’t- Don’t die. Don’t leave me, please?”

I frowned, memories flashing through my mind. Memories of that fateful night when a wendigo decided our family was the perfect target to satiate its relentless, ravenous hunger. “Johnathan, don’t leave me!”

It had echoed.

The wendigo, having devoured what’s left of my mother, had echoed those exact same words. Its tone was so real, so similar to the genuine article that I had had to stab myself to keep from bursting out of my hiding spot. My mother would never ask that of me, flawed as they were, my parents had always hoped the best for their son. I sighed, letting out a heavy breath as I responded to Cindy. “Don’t worry–”

This wasn’t the first time Cindy had asked me that…

It certainly wasn’t the first, nor the last time I’d have to lie to her.

“I won’t.”

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