Chapter 1

I was sitting in a café, sipping my espresso and watching the world go by while I waited for my mark to show up. I had been watching him for almost a week and he usually took this route to work so this was my best chance to make contact. I just happened to glance down the street and I saw an attractive woman disappear into the alley at the end of the building. I didn’t sense any fear or surprise, and with my mark apparently not going to show today I decided to see what was going on. Usually, young women do not just duck into alleys, even in broad daylight.

I quickly walked to the edge of the building and causally looked around the corner into the shaded alley. There was the usual clutter, some dumpsters, a few bags of trash and a couple of back doors to the businesses, but no woman. I was sure I had seen her, and then there she was. She stood up from behind one of the dumpsters, pulling the strap of a black body suit up over her shoulder and shrugging it into place. She glanced around but didn’t see me, then quickly put on a hood and mask then shot straight up into the air. I watched wide eyed as she flew up the side of the building and into the sky, shimmering black wings flapping pushing her up and out of site over the roof.

Holy shit, that was Black Bird!

I looked around and couldn’t sense anyone interested in me, so I ducked down the alley myself. I stepped behind the dumpster and looked around. Stuffed between the dumpster and the building was a black bag, almost invisible in the shadows. I pulled it out and inside were the civilian clothes this woman had been wearing and her purse. I pulled out her wallet and looked at her ID, Grace Rodriguez, age 24 was the printed under the photo of the smiling young dark-haired woman. Another piece of ID had her photo again, and her credentials as the crime beat reporter for the Weekly Trumpet. I put everything back the way I had found it and quickly exited the alley from the other direction. I headed home to decide what to do with this information.

I guess I owe you a bit of back story. The world I live in is one of super powered individuals, with everything from God like strength and invulnerability, to some minor talents trying to make something of themselves. Most of the people have no powers at all and spend their lives trying to get through the day without having a building fall on them or being taken hostage by the latest Villain of the Day holding the city for ransom.

Me, I go by the name Mesmer, or I would if I ever decided to come out of the super villain closet. Not that I would last very long if I did. While I have some mind control powers, it is nothing like Dr. Brainiac or Mind Melter. All I can do is read someone’s thoughts and give a little nudge here and there to guide their decisions. I am at best a well targeted ad that pops up on your social media feed, and I think this is why I have lasted so long. All of my crimes have been low-level white-collar types, not the kind to attract the attention of the Revengers or Man Bat. Hell, half of my victims still considered me a good friend or business partner.

Still, I have done pretty well for myself. Listening in on thoughts outside of the stock exchange has led to some pretty lucrative investments, and many people have agreed to “suggestions” regarding financial arrangements that have paid off well for me. All in all, I had managed to make myself fairly rich without setting off any alarms. Now, I had the identity of a superhero, how could I make that work for me.

First thing I did when I got back to my apartment was to do a search for Black Bird. She was part of a 4 superheroine team with bird like monikers that called themselves “The Freedom Flock” (I don’t make the names, alright). The other members were Hummingbird, who had super speed, Song Bird, who had a sonic voice power, and Cardinal, who used red battle armour. Black Bird herself could manipulate a sort of black energy field into solid objects like her wings and talons. A lot of new supers would form these teams to gain some street cred and hone their skills at the start of their careers. Like boy bands, they usually didn’t last long. Many broke up as the supers went their own ways, dropped out, or died (it was a high risk occupation).

Once I had created a profile for each of the team members, I searched Grace Rodriguez. She was a reporter who had come to The City a couple of years ago after graduating a journalism course at a small state college down south. No family to speak of, parents died just before she arrived, single, and looking to make her place in the world. Being a crime beat reporter was just the job for an up and coming super, giving them a lens into the underworld and a plausible explanation for irregular hours and poking her nose into things. I sat back and closed my eyes, picturing her ID and the other things I had found in the bag. One of the benefits of having Mind powers, is you develop a total control of your own mind and body so I had a photographic memory. I saw that she lived a couple of blocks away from here and decided to pay her a visit.

A couple of hours later I was seated on a bench across from the door to her apartment building, idly flipping through my phone as I watched the people come and go. There she was, walking down the street talking on her own phone. I quickly crossed the road and timed my arrival so that I got there just before she did. I pulled the door open and stood back “Allow me.” I said in a polite tone.

“Thanks” she replied with a polite smile as she stepped in. I took the opportunity to do a quick scan of her surface thoughts. Frustration at missing out on the lead she had been following, exasperation at her editor who she was busy telling that the story wasn’t finished yet, hunger since she had missed lunch, and she wanted a shower.

I followed her in, through the foyer and toward the elevator. She was still talking as she punched the button for the 5^th floor, and I leaned forward to push the one for the 8^th. As I did, I brushed her hand and used the physical contact to do a deeper dive into her mind.

I sensed her anger at how the criminal she had been tailing for five days hadn’t shown up for the meeting she had discovered. Fatigue from the long nights she had been spending tracking this lead down. Embarrassment at what the other Flock members would think if she couldn’t give them a target soon. Finally there it was, deeply hidden under a sense of duty and purpose, loneliness. She sighed inwardly as she stepped off of the elevator, not looking forward to returning to her empty apartment with no one to talk to about her day, not even a cat apparently. I rode the elevator up to the eighth floor, then waited a few minutes before taking the stairs back down to the lobby. I checked the mailboxes and saw she was in apartment 501, then headed out to plan my next move.

A couple of days later and I was standing in the lobby of the Weekly Trumpet, watching the numbers tick down as the elevator came to the ground floor. I could sense Ms. Rodriguez in the car, I had tagged her psychic “scent” when we last met. I could feel her frustration and exasperation after getting reamed out by her editor, and she was perfectly distracted. I positioned myself in the door as they slid open and she bumped into me, as she hastened off.

“Dammit, sorry.” She murmured as she moved to step around me.

“No, no, my fault completely.” I replied, and slid into her surface thoughts. I tweaked her natural curiosity, ‘who was this, he sounded polite’ and she looked up at me. As we made eye contact I put on a surprised expression. “Excuse me, aren’t you Grace Rodriguez?” I asked.

Her curiosity spiked again ‘how does he know my name, do I know him?’ she thought. “Yes, yes I am.” She answered.

I extended my hand. “Well, this is a pleasure.” I said in an eager voice. “I read your article on the potential of super’s in the criminal underworld and was very impressed. I have to agree that not every super villain is a moustache twirling megalomaniac just waiting for a chance to stab their compatriots in the back. If normal people can form Mafia’s or gangs, why not supers?”

She looked at me surprised, and a sense of pride floated to the surface of her mind. ‘Damn, I didn’t think anyone read that since they buried it on page 17.’ She thought. Then she took my outstretched hand in a polite handshake.

“Thank you.” She said. “I am glad that someone read that, I would hate for my efforts to be wasted.”

I took the opportunity of skin to skin contact and did a deep dive into her mind. ‘Damn, its about time someone recognized the threat, and he doesn’t look half bad either’ she thought. I grabbed this thought and pushed it over to the part of her mind where her arousal smouldered weakly. The image of me combined with her feeling of appreciation for what I had said touched it like dry wood on an old camp fire and I saw a spark flare.

“No, thank you. If a group like the Revengers can stick together despite all of their super powered ego’s there is no reason that a group of villains can’t set their differences aside to work for mutual benefit. I just wish more people took it seriously.” I replied and felt her pride and sense of self worth swell. I pushed those thoughts into the arousal fire and the spark took flame.

‘Fuck yeah’ she thought. ‘This guy gets it’ and I felt her awareness slide over me. She eyed my shoulders and chest, down to my trim waist and her gaze lingered for just a second on my crotch. I pushed those thoughts into the arousal fire and felt her stiffen as it consumed them like dry pine. Her hand tensed in mine, her pupils dilated, her lips parted slightly, and I was sure I could see her nipples stiffen under her top. I held on for a second, letting the skin to skin contact do its work, then relaxed my grip on her hand. She paused, too distracted by her own thoughts to realize that the handshake had moved into an awkward phase, then she snapped out of it. She tugged her hand back, looking down, blushing and murmuring apologies.

“Oh, look at us blocking the elevator. Here, please.” I said as I gently took her shoulder and guided her over to a corner. She moved woodenly, still dealing with the long absent feelings that I had flushed her mind with. ‘Damn, where did this guy come from’ I heard her think. I struck while the iron was hot.

“Actually, I was wondering if we could meet sometime to discuss this?” I said, and a sense of hope bubbled to the surface. ‘Is he asking me out?’ she thought.

“I am in town as part of a conference to address the risk of Super’s obtaining political office. If Mr. Tramp can become the President, what is stopping Ultra Man or Dyna Woman from turning their popularity into political capital?”

“Right, right.” She replied, and I saw her curiosity bubble to the surface again, combined with a sense of ambition. “And once they get elected, what happens if they are voted out but don’t want to leave?”

“Exactly, do we call in the police or army to force Ultra Man out of office? How well do you think that would work?” I felt the hook set, here was a whole new angle on the story she was trying to develop. I stepped back and felt a twinge of disappointment when my hand left her shoulder. “I am staying at the Hyatt, can you meet me in the hotel bar tomorrow night at say 8? I would love to have this conversation in a more comfortable setting.”

I saw her stiffen, ‘Fuck, I am supposed to be chasing down leads on the Russian/Chinese connection, not flirting with this guy’ she thought. I composed a thought of my own and pushed it into her mind ‘Screw that, you have been working your ass off. You deserve a night to yourself, and maybe this will turn into something worthwhile.’ She latched onto it like a shipwreck survivor grabbing at a life raft.

“I would be happy to discuss the possibilities with you, Mr.?” She replied.

“Comber, Bernard Comber, but please call me Ben.” I extended my hand again and she took it. “Great, it’s a date.”

I felt her stiffen, and an image of Black Bird popped up in her mind ‘Date, what the fuck Grace. You don’t have time for dates, remember what Professor Maxwell said when you got these powers?’ Then before I could do anything, an image of Grace popped up as well. She was wearing a sexy black dress and heels, her hair up in an elegant style with jewellery at her ears, neck and wrist. ‘Fuck Professor Maxwell, I deserve a life too.’ The image snapped back.

I inserted an image of myself in a tuxedo, draping a fur shrug over her shoulders ‘You look lovely dear, ready to go?’ I said in her mind. Grace slid her arm through mine and casting a snide look at Black Bird. ‘Don’t wait up’ she said as the image dissolved. “Eight tomorrow night then.” She said as she squeezed my hand.

I sat at in a corner table, swirling my whisky in my glass as I watched the door. Eight on the dot and Grace walked into the bar. She looked around, her eyes adjusting to the dark and I rose to wave her over. I could feel the nervousness running through her as she took my hand. “Glad you could make it” I said as I pulled her chair out.

‘Fuck, really?’ she thought at the gesture, then another thought burst to the surface. ‘Hell, you have been bitching that there are no gentlemen left. Now when you find one this is how you act!’ An image floated up in her mind, a kitchen table with an older man pulling out the chair for a woman as a family sat down for dinner. She looked up at me with wide brown eyes “Thank you.” She said a bit breathlessly.

I sat across from her and took the opportunity to run my eyes over her as she hung her purse on the back of the chair. Not bad I thought. Her long, dark hair was pulled back in a pony tail, but a couple of strands had been left loose to frame her oval face. A hint of eyeliner, blush and lipstick set off her smooth coffee coloured complexion and a small pendant hung around her neck. She was wearing a black cropped sweater and I saw a navel piercing twinkle in the candlelight. Her tight jeans hugged her hips and legs, tapering to the black heels she had on. Business like, with a hint of slutty I thought appreciatively as I waved the waiter over. She ordered a glass of wine and we made some small talk until it arrived, then got down to business. I spent the evening surfing through her mind, nudging her thoughts as I needed to and by the time we were done talking she was squirming in her chair and reaching over the table to touch my hand.

‘Shit, he’s hot, smart, charming, where the fuck has he been all my life’ she thought as she finished her third glass of wine. I waved for the waiter and asked for the bill, feeling a bolt of disappointment from Grace as she realized the evening was over. She reached for her purse but I put my hand on hers. “No, please, let me. I asked you out and chose the location, the least I can do is pay for the evening.”

“No, no, it’s alright. Let me pay my half.” She stammered, fumbling one handed in her purse as she didn’t want to break contact with me.

I smiled “Alright, how about I pay this time, and next time you can ask me out, pick the location, and you can pay. Deal?” I felt a flash of hope and no small amount of arousal spark in her mind. ‘Next time?’ she thought, ‘He want’s another date?’

She smiled, and relaxed in her chair. “Deal, how can I get in touch with you?” she asked.

I pulled out a business card and wrote my number on the back. “Call me” I said as I slid the card across the table. “Oh crap, that is supposed to be your line, isn’t it?” I continued in an awkward voice. She laughed and dug her own card out of her purse writing a number on the back and slid it over to me. “Here’s my personal cell, now we are even.” She said with a smile as she rose, a bit unsteadily to her feet.

I walked her to the door and stood with her while the doorman hailed her a cab. “I really enjoyed tonight, I can’t wait to hear from you.” I said as I helped her into the seat and closed the door. She smiled at me through the window and gave a shy little wave as the cab pulled out into traffic. I fingered the card in my pocket as I took the elevator up to the room I had booked.