I encourage you to skip the second part.

With love, Sh'.

 

Chapter 3 : We hunt

 

The Thompsons’ home, Forest Hills, Queens, New York, 21th of January, 21:43

 

My blood-sister is wrapping herself up around me in a moment, flowing and oozing her alien blackness through my skin. She’s clinging tight against me, almost as snug as a bodysuit, yet I can feel the air moving and the slightly chilly temperature of my bedroom all over her through the mind-link.

 

I know intellectually that I’m clothed and warm and my body is saying so, yet I feel like I’m naked at the same time.

 

I would probably be kind of aroused at the idea of going outside in this state of mind if I had my real body.

 

Better not going there, focus.

 

I take a deep breath and she extends and contracts at the same time. I clench my fists as the rush of primal, vicious power is flowing through my veins.

 

I, we, feel fucking awesome, both sides of the mind-like doing a slow, harmonious dance around each other, merging like a bizare ying-yang symbol.

 

I suddenly know clearly what we can do, bonded like this. I don’t need to try to know that I can lift my bed with one hand and throw it through the wall with enough strength for it to reach the other side of the street.

 

I tilt my head, thinking.

 

It would probably land right into the neighbor's bedroom if I aimed it correctly.

 

“[Relief, happiness, anticipation] : Finally…” She purrs in joy.

 

I chuckle.

 

“You didn’t forget to clog my nostrils and mouth in your precipitation, right ?” I tease her.

 

I know she did not, because right now, we are one.

 

“[Happiness, anticipation] : No, I did not.” And she still chooses to answer.

 

Because it is how we are, how we act.

 

Nearing the window, I finally catch my reflection.

 

I do admit that I look positively badass and intimidating. I’m kind of rocking the full black combat-tac wear look right now, even if it physically pains me to admit it. I’m tall and broad-shouldered, which suits my dark gray lattice long sleeved shirt and black cargo pants just fine. I even have a whole lot of thin belts and bandoliers, even if they are empty. My hands are covered with what seems like knuckle reinforced gloves and my feet are hidden by shiny black rangers look-alike.

 

Again, having this feeling that I’m walking barefoot is so fucky.

 

But the most impressive thing is the hood. My sister can’t really texture it to look like a more traditional garment since she will have to relay to me her senses. So, she went for the shock and awe approach. We look like a glossy ebony bald devil, with upward slanted white eyes, pointy ears and a mouth just a tad too big to belong to a human. She even added two little pointy nubs on our forehead to really sell the idea.

 

I laugh, and it is an alien and grotesque sight. If people don’t lose it looking at our face looking like that, I fear for humanity’s sense of survival.

 

I don’t really want us to be seen though. It could get awkward if Murdock has already finished his law school and started his vigilante nightlife.

 

“It’s perfect, you’ve outdone yourself.” I gush at my sister.

 

“[Pride, happiness, anticipation] : I aim to please.” She mock-smug back.

 

“Looking for us will be a tall order in a few days.” I smirk.

 

“[Hesitation] : I won’t be able to do much about the color, though.”

 

“That’s alright, we will make it work.” I reassure her.

 

I finally open the window, and the cold air of winter flows over me. I should be shivering, but I feel warm and cozy. The odors are clearer, sharper, filtered through the prism of a predatory life form. Strangely, the smell of gasoline and even less funny things from the city seems muted.

 

We do not prey on cars, factories, greasy food or rotting waste. Tonight, we prey on supervillains.

 

I catch the topside of the window sill, then flow through it upside from a standing position. The momentum allows me to redirect myself with a somersault and I heave myself from my grip on the rooftop’s edge.

 

I land with barely a sound, just a soft thump that does not betray my almost 175 pounds.

 

I immediately start running and jumping across the rooftops in Manhattan’s direction.

 

I have a mark to take off the picture permanently, and the night is short.

 

***

Midtown East, Manhattan, New York, the same day, 23:14

 

I’ve rapidly revised my judgment since I found him.

 

I’m not taking a mark off the picture, I’m flushing down the drain one of the biggest pieces of shit this earth had the misfortune to bear.

 

We found him because of the virus he is leaving everywhere behind him. That thing has a relatively short life, or so my sister says, like 2 to 3 hours tops, but he doesn’t really control its release.

 

So when my sister found a strange protein that seemed to be everywhere, we just looked for the place where its density was the highest.

 

Turns out it was a relatively high class bar, and Kilgrave was still inside when we caught up to him.

 

I was weirded out by the fact that he looks like a younger version of David Tennant, which officially teinted the talented British actor in my mind forever. He wears, unsurprisingly, a light purple shirt, a black trench coat and silk pants combo. The watch he is sporting must cost as much as my previous’ life savings. He just reclasped his belt buckle when I arrived.

 

He has in his company a beautiful black woman, who’s wearing an extravagant hairdo and perfect make up, which makes her stunning in her one shoulder tight black dress. She also has an alliance on her ring finger, she has glassy eyes and her lipstick is smeared.

 

I’m on the other side of the street, hidden on a rooftop, and I’m positively seething. Sometimes, a better vision’s depth is a plague.

 

Firstly, at that asshole and what he does. The guy would’ve been a fucking rockstar if he choosed to work in a courtoom or any intelligence service. Instead, he’s just a lazy asshole who has stolen everything he owns and spends his evenings raping married women.

 

Secondly, at myself because I was too late and she’s already his victim and will probably be traumatized for life.

 

The only thing stopping me from rushing headfirst is that he’s going to change scenery soon because everyone in the bar is throwing weird looks at the two of them and he just saw it.

 

“[Anger, hate, expectation, violence]” My sister apparently shares my contempt.

 

Annndddd, yep, he just told her to pay.

 

Time to put him down.

 

***

 

Midtown East, Manhattan, New York, the same day, 23:27

 

Kilgrave and his mark just entered a side street. It’s finally time.

 

“I want to land as loudly as possible.” I tell my sister.

“[Understanding, anger, anticipation] : Understood.”

 

I got the impression that her eyes just narrowed a tad, but I do not know if it’s in my mind or if she just did it.

 

I land behind them with a loud thump, and his hand finally jerks away from the woman’s ass as he turns around.

 

“Stop!” He bellows, with the intensity of a rehearsed routine.

 

I stay still in my superhero landing pose. I want him away from his victim.

 

After asserting that he ‘got me under his spell’ when I do not move for a few seconds, he starts to step closer to me.

 

“Rise up and stay there.” He clips.

 

I comply, still pretending that he got me.

 

“Well, well, well,” he starts, sneering all the while, “What did we get there ? A Fantastic Four reject ? Maybe one of those X-Men I heard so much about ? No, the outfit is too tacky, no class, the all black look makes you look like you just ran away from a funeral.”

 

“[Anger]”

 

He’s still getting closer, but his pace is measured.

 

“No, you know what I think ?” Kilgrave continues to monologue while faking enlightenment, “I think that you are one of those losers that suddenly grew a pair. There’s always one, see, that thinks that he’ll put me down. Who doesn’t see that this world,” he gestures around, which would be more impressive if we weren’t surrounded by dumpsters, “belongs to ME!”

 

The smile he is sporting is manic. The guy’s power got to his head and he is now batshit insane.

 

“So, enlighten me, loser,” He’s now right in front of me and pokes my chest with his finger, “Who are you exactly ? Talk!”

 

My sister and I smile as our hands snap out and strangle him in a blink, crushing his windpipe at the same time.

 

The look of cockyness that he had less than a second ago has vanished to let place at unadultered terror. In his eyes, getting murkier by the second, I see the reflection of all of my sister’s teeth.

 

I inch my head closer to his, and then, we talk.

 

“PaYbAcK.” We growl-say, and it is two-toned, one voice rough and low, the other high and crystalline.

 

And then we snap his neck.

 

That’s when the screaming starts, because his most recent victim just got out of his influence.

 

The feeling of vindication and justification that filled me one second ago leaves in its stead a void of sadness, pity and guilt.

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“We’re taking his body with us. Don't eat it.” I decisively tell my sister, attempting to remain in the game.

 

“[Happiness, confusion, agreement] : Alright.” She testily answer.

 

As Kilgrave’s body starts to disappear behind me into the pocket dimension tied to my sister, I slowly approach the unknown woman.

 

She’s balling her eyes out, ugly tears and snots staining her pretty face. As she sees me nearing, she snaps partially out of her panic and starts backing away, skittering backward.

 

“Don’t,” she hiccups, “Don’t come any closer, I…”

 

“I’m sorry.” I simply cut her, and it is just my voice this time.

 

She blinks in askance amids shallow breath.

 

I take a look behind me, the body is gone. A look upward shows that there’s an escape ladder that I can reach.

 

I bend the knees, and jump, then start escalating the side of the metallic structure.

 

“Clear my airways.” I say to my sister, starting to feel drowsy and light headed amids my climb.

 

“[Confusion, happiness] : Why ?” She asks.

 

I reach the rooftop.

 

“Now !” I mentally growl as my vision gets spotty.

 

“[Confusion, hurt, agreement] : Done.”

 

I kneel, and promptly throw up.

 

***

 

Unmentioned rooftop, Manhattan, New York, the 22th of January, 00:13

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think…” My blood-sister starts.

 

I’ve taken the time to distance us properly from the Purple Man’s place of death once I finished emptying my stomach. I’m now seated against a chimney, still dry-heaving from the experience and the mad dash atop always bigger buildings. She materialized herself at the top of my back, her head resting in the crook of my neck and her arms snaked across my torso. My head is bare, but she made us a hood and cape look-alike combo from herself and we’re sort of nesting right now.

 

My breath is catching up with my body, but my hands, still joined over my knees, are shaking like two leaves caught in the winter’s wind.

 

“It’s alright,” I croak after a while, “We’re sisters, but you’re you, and I am me.”

 

“What do you mean ?” Her neck stretches itself to better look at me.

 

I take a moment to gather my rather shattered wits.

 

“At core, I am a pacifist,” I finally start, “Lying makes me feel sick, I do not chafe because of a challenge but I despise physical conflict.”

 

She says nothing, waiting for me to finish.

 

“Meanwhile, you’re all predatory instincts, you feast on adrenaline, I felt it during our… Stunt, and you do not feel remorse at your own nature.” I elaborate.

 

“And you think it is bad ?” Her head is tilted and I feel insecurity throbbing on the mind-link.

 

“It is not.” I answer her immediately, “I can’t begrudge you for what you are : me, without limiters.”

 

I shake my head slowly.

 

“We killed someone tonight.”

 

“But he was a bad person, he did and was doing terrible things.” She counters, missing the point.

 

“Yes, but that does not make it right,” I softly say.

 

She says nothing.

 

“In my old life, most countries decided that killing people for their past deeds was a bad thing, and I grew up thinking like that.” I starts.

 

“Even when they killed people ?” She asks.

 

“Even then, the common belief was that people could change and so it stands to reason to let them live and hopefully be better.”

 

My sister stays silent for a beat.

 

“Do you believe he could have gotten better ?” She finally asks.

 

“No, I do not.” I sigh.

 

“Then why are you feeling bad about it ?” She presses, “He would have ruined the young Jones’ life.”

 

“That's the thing sister : now, we will never know for sure.” I answer back, rising, “And I’ll have to live with that, and probably do it again.”

 

I feel her head rest on the crook of my neck once again and her hug strengthen.

 

“And I’ll always be there for you to share your pain.” She softly assures me.

 

I cannot help a sad smile from ghosting through my face as I start to make my way back home.

 

It feels good to have someone to watch your back.

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