Fans and prey

Lucian did not open the door.

He stood silently behind it, watching through the peephole as someone emerged from apartment 402.

The man was at least six foot three and walked very slowly, every step looking like a struggle to stay upright. He panted heavily, the soles of his shoes covered in blood, leaving a trail of dark red footprints across the floor. Lucian's pupils contracted.

He recognized that face, the face that had once covered bus stops, convenience store freezers, and billboards across Queens. Vought International's former rising star, "Quake."

His ability let him release directional sonic blasts by clapping his hands. They packed enough power to flip a pickup truck. Vought had originally planned to market him as a "hero of the people," born in the neighborhood, protecting the neighborhood, endorsing products for the neighborhood. Energy drinks, corn chips, cheap sneakers. Everything had been going smoothly. Until that reality show.

In the hallway, Quake took another step forward. Vought had booked him for an episode of Super New Generation to demonstrate his powers live, build a fan base early, and pave the way for what came next. Quake clapped three times on set. The first two times, the prop walls shattered on cue. The third time, before the prop wall fell, he went down first.

A live broadcast. No editing, no chance for another take.

Later, entertainment tabloids dug up the fact that Quake's body could not handle his ability at all. Converted into levels, his sonic ability was LV3, but his physical durability was only LV1, barely stronger than an ordinary human's. Every time he released a shockwave, the recoil tore at his own internal organs. He had been forcing himself to keep going, masking his injuries with painkillers and adrenaline for the sake of his future stardom, until his right eardrum ruptured completely during that show, his intracranial pressure became unbalanced, and his body finally gave out.

Four hours after the broadcast, Quake's endorsement contracts were frozen. The next day, the Vought Legal Department sued him for "concealing his health condition and damaging the company's brand image," demanding astronomical penalties for breach of contract. On the third day, his apartment was repossessed, his bank accounts were frozen, and he was stripped of his neighborhood hero position. A week later, his posters were torn down across Queens, and the drinks were pulled from convenience store shelves. In just one week, Vought had pushed a rising star to the brink of ruin.

That information flashed through Lucian's mind. Quake killed the old landlady? Why? Drug-induced hallucinations? A random outburst to take revenge on society? Or had the old woman recognized him and said something she shouldn't have?

But none of that mattered now. What mattered was, what mattered was, Quake was heading toward 401. The footsteps stopped. He stood right outside the door, less than twenty centimeters from Lucian.

Through the peephole, Quake slowly raised both hands, bringing his palms toward each other. That was his signature motion for releasing a shockwave. There was no other choice. This thin wooden door could not stop him. Lucian gripped the doorknob, tucked the claw hammer behind his back, took a deep breath, and then-

Click.

The lock sprang open. Lucian pulled the door open a crack, rubbing his eyes. He yawned, his voice sleepy. "...What the hell is that noise? Another party downstairs?"

He pushed the door open, pretending he had just been woken up, caught his foot, and stumbled half a step forward.

Only then did he pretend to "see" Quake.

Lucian's yawn froze halfway, like someone half asleep suddenly seeing something impossible. He raised his right hand and pointed his index finger at Quake's face.

"Wait... fuck... you're Quake!"

Lucian's voice shot up. He stepped straight over the threshold and seized Quake's left hand in both of his, looking every bit the crazed fan who had suddenly met his idol.

[Copyable target detected: former Vought-registered Supe "Quake"]

[Available abilities:]

[1. Super Physique LV1 (basic enhancement: minor increases in muscle density, bone strength, and internal organ resilience)]

[2. Sonic blast LV3 (clap both hands to release a directional high-frequency shockwave, effective range fifteen meters, capable of flipping vehicles)]

Copy Super Physique. Lucian did not hesitate.

He could only copy from each person once. If he chose Super Physique, he would never be able to obtain sonic blast from Quake. But he had no idea how long he would need to maintain contact for an LV3 ability. It might be five minutes, or even longer. And Quake could pull his hand away at any moment, then clap his hands together. Survival first, damage output later.

[0%... 1%... 2%, estimated time: half a minute]

Thirty seconds was enough for someone to grow suspicious, and enough for Quake to blast him into a wall, but the excitement on Lucian's face only intensified. "You're Quake, right? The Quake? God, I can't believe it. You actually live in this building? Or are you here on business?" He spoke rapidly, as though too excited to stop. "You made that noise just now too, right? I knew it. With a superhero around, this lousy neighborhood's got to be safe."

Quake stared at him. "You know me?"

"The Thunder Shock energy drink you endorsed. Twelve ounces, black and green can, with a picture of you clapping on it. That stuff got me through my night shifts. And Crispy Valley Joy corn chips, honey barbecue flavor. Those with an energy drink? Absolutely incredible."

Quake's brow furrowed slightly, as though some forgotten memories were starting up again.

"Those things... were taken off the shelves." His voice dropped, carrying a note of self-mockery.

"That's why I stocked up on a whole bunch of cases." Lucian grinned, showing his teeth. "Smart people stock up. That drink worked way better than Red Bull, and the can design was pretty damn cool. You've got good taste in endorsements. Seriously."

For the first time, Lucian felt that the ads playing on repeat at the convenience store were not entirely mental pollution. At a critical moment, they really could save a life. "I really never thought I'd meet you here," Lucian babbled with a hint of nervousness, like a genuine fan. "Everyone living in this building is broke-me included. I always thought superheroes lived in Manhattan penthouses, with Vought throwing in a bulletproof luxury car or something."

"I'm not a superhero anymore," Quake interrupted him. The words were quiet, as though he had said them countless times already.

Lucian paused, and the smile faded from his face. He let go with one hand and scratched the back of his head, his expression shifting from excitement to awkward, cautious concern.

"...I saw that show. I mean, everyone saw it. But that wasn't your fault, right? It was Vought's. They worked you too hard. You were hurt. They should've let you rest instead of forcing you onto TV."

"Shut up."

Quake looked at the hand Lucian was holding. It had been so long since anyone had said these things to him. People on the street either did not recognize him or ignored him. Without Vought International's publicity, he had become more and more like an ordinary passerby.

"What's your name?" Quake asked.

"Lucian."

"Asian?"

"Chinese American, to be precise. I was born right here."

Quake grunted.

"Listen, this building isn't very safe tonight. There's... someone broke into an apartment. The old woman in 402 is hurt. I've already called for backup. Stay inside and lock your door. Whatever you hear, don't come out. Understood?"

"Understood!" Lucian nodded. "Just like in the movies. Don't worry, I won't be one of those stupid bystanders who causes you trouble. Seriously, I feel a lot safer with you here, Quake. You've always been our neighborhood's hero."

Quake was silent for two seconds. Then he gave a picture-perfect smile, one he had practiced in front of a mirror countless times for his future, his endorsements, and his approval ratings. Then he pulled his hand away.

Lucian's fingers closed loosely around empty air before dropping naturally to his side.

[Copy progress: 89%... 91%... 93%]

"Get inside," Quake said.

"Okay, okay. Stay safe out there!" Lucian stepped back, and the door slowly closed. That goofy smile was still on his face as he watched Quake's face through the peephole, studying every tiny shift in his expression.

Only when Quake actually turned and headed toward the stairs did the smile gradually disappear from his face.

Lucian breathed a sigh of relief. Luckily, he worked part-time at a convenience store and still remembered the products Quake had endorsed. He was already doing the math in his head. I'd better move out as soon as possible. I can use the money I saved for college tuition. This dump is way too unsafe.

Outside, Quake took a few steps, then suddenly stopped. He had noticed something. From the open door of 402 to the entrance of 401, dark red footprints formed a broken trail. Those were his footprints. But at the threshold of 401, a noticeably smaller shoe print lay over the blood, dragging a thin red streak all the way inside. Would someone who had just woken up and seen nothing step in blood as he backed into his room, yet never ask a single question about it? He spun around and fixed his eyes on the door of 401.

"You saw!"