“You can be my ride,” she told Coma.
The doll in the Gothic Loli dress grumbled as she placed Casper in her pocket.
Coma, Casper, and Celia hung out in front of the bodega while Roman performed his shift-changing duties.
As his dolls waited outside, Roman explained to a coworker named Jasmine that this would be his last night, something that took her off guard.
“I thought you liked it here,” the dark-haired woman said as she finished balancing out the till.
“At the bodega?”
She nodded, and in that nod Roman saw someone who had never worked a different type of job before.
It wasn’t easy getting a position in the Centralian government. And strangely enough, the work at the bodega was actually more time- and labor-intensive than his former desk job.
But Jasmine would never know this.
She would continue working at this bodega until she worked at another one, or perhaps she would transition to a different type of retail job altogether.
“Things have changed,” Roman said.
“Have you told Paul?”
“I’ll leave him a message in the morning.”
Jasmine walked over to Roman, a hesitant grin on her face. There were times when she looked gorgeous, and other times Roman felt absolutely no attraction to her. She was a few years younger than him, and while she was nice, she was also incredibly…
Normal.
After what Roman had been through, normal just wasn’t going to cut it.
“We can go get a drink sometime,” his soon-to-be-former coworker said, finally making eye contact with him.
“Sure,” Roman lied. And he was just about to let her step away with that lie when he spoke up: “Actually, I don’t want to lead you on or anything. I am in a…” Roman gulped. “Serious relationship right now. So I don’t know if a drink will ever happen. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”
Jasmine breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s fine. I figured you’d say something like that. Good luck with whatever you do in the future. You know how to get in touch with me.”
Roman waved at her as she left, her bag tucked under her arm.
He felt cruel for the way he had just rejected her, but then he remembered what had happened to Harper—hell, what had happened to almost every woman he’d met since getting his power.
Jasmine would never know it, but Roman had just done her a huge favor.
Coma and Celia entered the bodega, Casper tucked in the front of Coma’s dress. The tiny doll hopped to the ground and climbed up an energy-bar advertisement near the register.
The advertisement featured Mister Fist, the strongman grinning amidst a cloud of mist with the energy bars all in slots along his chest.
“What a job,” Casper said as she sat on the corner of the register, crossing one leg over the other. “And with all the money you must be making here, you can totally afford new clothing for us. Thanks, Flesh Daddy!”
“Flesh Daddy?” Roman shook his head at the doll.
“How can I help?” Celia came to Roman and lightly placed her hand on his arm. “What needs to be done? It looks like the floor could be mopped. Would you mind if I mopped the floor?”
“I can unpack the boxes back there,” Coma said, nodding her chin at a stack of boxes near the walk-in cooler.
“Sure,” Roman said. “And I appreciate the help.”
Over the next couple hours, Roman and his two life-sized dolls took care of all his nightly duties, Casper commenting along the way.
He thought about deanimating her a few times but decided against it, glad to finally have the company. Glad to finally have his life back.
Roman sort of expected Ava to send him a mental message, but one never came through, and he wondered how this was going to play out. He kept expecting the Centralian government to show up in some form or another. Perhaps they would send Mister Fist and his crew, or maybe they’d send another group, like Team Saint.
There really was no telling.
At a little after midnight, the Western Province man named Orange came into the bodega, a leather briefcase strung over his shoulder.
Celia and Coma were both in the back, Casper keeping quiet in Roman’s pocket as per his instructions.
The man with dark hair took a look around the place, nodding. “You’ve finished some of your work early tonight,” he commented.
“It’s my last day,” Roman told him.
“Is that so?” Orange stepped up to the register and took a long, hard look at Roman. “I suppose I should get right to it, then. You told me previously that your name was Marcus Strong, but I happen to have documents here telling me otherwise.”
Orange drummed his fingers on his leather bag.
“I am who I am,” Roman said, feeling Casper move in the pocket of his smock.
“Is that so?”
Roman’s breath was suddenly cut short.
He glared at the man from the Western Province.
“So it is you.” Orange brought his hand to his own chest, his mouth agape and the color draining from his face. It was interesting to see how quickly he went from shock to acceptance.
“Please leave,” Roman said, suddenly able to breathe again.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d let go of my heart,” Orange told him with a hint of rage in his voice. Coma and Celia came out of the backroom, Coma immediately lifting her fists and Celia getting behind her. “And these must be your dolls.”
Roman gritted his teeth. “I don’t know what the fuck you want with me, but this won’t end well for you.”
“I don’t think you know who I am.”
“I don’t give a fuck who you are.”
“I’m the only thing keeping you alive right now,” Orange said, his eyes narrowing on Roman. “And this is the last time I’m going to warn you. Release my heart.”
Roman let out a deep breath, releasing the hold he had on Orange’s heart and ribcage.
“There, that’s better.” Orange ran his hands over the front of his black jacket. “And just so you know, my ability is faster than yours.”
“Your ability to manipulate oxygen?”
Orange nodded. “Do you want to try me out? Or can I go ahead and tell you why I’m here?”
“Make it quick,” Roman said as Casper peeked out of his pocket.
Orange looked from Roman to this tiny doll and back again. “How fascinating. You know, you really are just like her when it comes to creativity. Well, not just like her, unless your dolls are actually corpses.”
“You know… Margo?” Roman asked, his fists tensing at his sides.
Seeing Roman tense up also caused Coma to tense, the combat doll again bringing her fists to the ready and nodding to Roman, letting him know he could transfer some power to her and she would take this guy out from behind if need be.
“Margo, Margo, Margo,” Orange said with a shake of his head. “The woman has become the bane of my existence.”
“She’s dead.”
He smirked. “Is that what you think?”
“I was there when it happened.”
Orange took a look around. “Is there a better place we can talk than this shitty bodega?”
“I need to finish my shift.”
“What do you care about finishing your shift?”
Roman nodded, seeing his point almost immediately. “I just wanted to do the right thing.”
Orange shook his head. “Let non-exemplars do the right thing; your priorities are all wrong. I saw a small wine bar two blocks away. Let’s go there. Your dolls can run the bodega while we talk.”
“We’re going with you, Roman,” Celia said.
Coma nodded, and Casper simply kicked her heel back, letting Roman know that she agreed with Celia.
“Then everyone can come. I don’t care. But not here. We will not have this conversation here. So lock up, and I will meet you outside.”
Orange turned away from Roman and pa
used at the door of the bodega before stepping out, a gust of wind blowing past him and whipping up the ends of his dark jacket.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Coma asked, her red eyes flaring up behind her black mask.
“We should see what he has to say.”
“I don’t like that motherfucker,” Casper added. “But I agree with Roman. If he knows Margo, we should at least hear him out.”
Roman locked up and met Orange outside, his dolls with him, Coma never taking her eyes off the man from the Western Province.
The two walked to the wine bar that Orange had suggested, a hole-in-the-wall type of place that was dimly lit with a sweetsick smell wafting through the air. Nothing was said until they took a booth at the back of the bar, a bottle of wine set between them. Orange readily poured up two glasses.
“Cheers,” he said, tilting his glass toward Roman.
“Why am I here?”
“Roman, I’m about to tell you something that may change the way you look at yourself. It could also affect relationships with people you care about, it may upset you, and it will definitely shock you.”
“That’s fine.”
“Do you understand why you have the power you have?” Orange asked, taking another sip from his glass of wine. “It is a truly unique power. The ability to animate inanimate objects stems from a particular tribe hailing from the Western Province. The people of this tribe have white hair, like you, and like…”
“Margo,” Coma said.
“Your creations are very smart. And yes, like Margo.”
“You’re saying that I’m related to Margo?”
“You are not from Centralia. You were not born here, and the unique power you have doesn’t come from this region.”
Roman studied the man for a moment.
He thought about telling him about how his power had been stripped from him, how it had just returned a few hours ago. But in the end, he bit his lip, letting Orange continue his explanation.
“And that’s where these documents come into play,” Orange said as he opened up his leather briefcase. He slid some papers across the table. Roman used his power to sift through them until he found a page of a birth certificate.
“What am I looking at?”
“It is your birth certificate. Your original name was Malusai Black. You were born in the Western Province to a man named Malus Black and a woman named Maria Mulhara. Malus was a teacher of mine, and he came from the same tribe you hail from. He was a wicked man, but that is a discussion for another day. I don’t know anything about Maria, but I’m assuming she is someone he did not stay with for very long.”
“No, I was born here…”
“The Martins adopted you, which you can find information about on the next page. It is common for Centralians to adopt orphaned children from the Western Province. Surely, as a former immigration advisor, you are aware of this.”
Roman nodded after he’d sifted through the adoption paperwork. “They never told me about this…”
“That is between you and them. Perhaps you could pay them a visit and ask for yourself if you’d like further confirmation. You can show them those papers too.”
“I don’t really talk to them much any longer. We sort of had a falling out about my lifestyle at the time, and…” Roman took a deep breath. “Things have just been easier without them in the picture.”
“That sounds like something you need to work out with a therapist or a telepath,” Orange said as he finished his glass of wine and poured up another. “I don’t know the reason Malus and Maria gave you up for adoption, but I do know there was another person Malus gave up for adoption, one he later became intimately familiar with.”
“What are you saying?”
“It was about a decade before you were born, when Malus was in his twenties. He fathered a girl named…”
“Margo,” Coma said.
Celia brought her hand to her mouth. “Margo?”
“Holy shit, you’re related?” Casper blurted out.
Orange narrowed his eyes at the tiny doll in Roman’s pocket. “Margo was fostered by a Western Province family, who later gave her to the State once her powers were revealed, as per the agreement they had signed. I should say that she later killed this family, but that’s not important at the moment. Not only did Margo and I grow up together, but we fought in the Western Plague together too, before things turned sour for her.” Orange brought his hands together for a moment and stared down at the table. “She wasn’t always like that, you know.”
Roman downed his glass of wine. “And you have documents for this?” he asked, breathing heavily now.
“I do.” Orange placed a manila folder on the table and slid it over to Roman so he could take a look. Sure enough, he saw the names on the birth certificate and the adoption paperwork confirmed what Orange had said.
“So she’s my half-sister?” Roman swallowed hard, and at that moment he felt Celia reach for him and squeezed his hand.
“I’m afraid she is,” Orange said carefully. “And that brings us to an even more pressing issue, the reason I have contacted you.”
“What else could you possibly have to tell me?” Roman asked, feeling a vein bulge on the side of his head.
Orange, too, finished his glass of wine. “Margo is still alive.”
Chapter Four: Surprise Visit
The two men at the front entrance to the Lottery Council shifted their attention to the beautiful blonde who had just turned the corner.
They watched as she approached, one nudging the other, a grin on his face as he took her in.
He would never know what it felt like the moment his brain ruptured.
His counterpart, on the other hand, saw him fall to the ground as the blonde approached. The man immediately pointed his wrist guard at her.
“It’s too early to be playing with that thing,” the woman said.
The man’s arm naturally started to lift until his fist was tucked under his chin, the wrist guard aimed at the back of his skull.
“There, there,” she said as she stepped up to him, a smile on her face.
The man didn’t know who she was, but he did notice something peculiar about her skin. The woman seemed perfect in every way, not a single blemish.
“You’re going to scan me in and lead me to the Council,” she said, “and I want you to act as naturally as you can about it.”
“I…” the man started to stutter.
“Too late.”
The woman forced him to trigger his own weapon. The back of his head blew out, bone and brain matter misting the air.
As she walked past the two, she cast her hand behind her, and their bodies dragged along the ground.
She reached the side entrance and brought both men to their feet. The one with the back of his head blown out slouched forward, his arms slung at his sides.
The blonde stepped aside as the man with his head still intact keyed her in.
Leaving the guards behind, she moved into a hallway, where she immediately came into contact with a strongman in a shiny exemplar uniform.
“What the hell?” he asked. Muscles bulged from his arms and veins rearranged themselves as he doubled in size.
“Hi, I’m looking for the Council,” the woman said in a sweet voice.
She lifted her left hand and the strongman’s muscles shriveled, a few of them popping. He went down to one knee, leaving a crater in the ground, gasping for air as she approached him.
“Who… who are you?” he asked, blood in his eyes. His teeth had started to press back into his gums.
“I’m just a doll,” the woman told him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Now be a doll yourself, and tell me the easiest way to get to the Council. Or do you want everyone in here to die today?”
“Fuck you,” he said, offering her a bloodied grin. “You’re dead.”
“No, you’re dead,” the woman said as the man’s eyes rolled to the back of his head.
They stayed that way as he stood, his muscles reforming.
“Better guards, better guards,” the woman said as she continued down the hallway. The strongman followed behind her, dragging his feet as he walked.
It wasn’t long before she ran into a heavyset lady with a clipboard in her hands.
The woman brought her hands to her throat almost immediately and fell to her knees, her clipboard clacking against the ground.
“Nod me in the direction of the Council. I’m tired of searching.”
The woman’s eyes started to tear up when she saw the strongman, the veins in his body bulging, his eyes dark.
“I didn’t tell you to cry—just nod me in the direction I need to go,” said the blonde. “That’s all. I will let you live if you do that.”
Tears now streaming down her face, the woman slowly tilted her head to the left. “That… that way.”
“Thank you,” the beautiful blonde said, and the woman’s rib cage pressed out of her body, her spine cracking as she yelped and died.
Rather than go through the doors, the beautiful blonde looked at the wall and cast it away. Then she swiped away the wall in the next room, and the next.
“Stay here,” she told the strongman, “and don’t let anyone bother us.”
She came to a final wall, which quickly melted to the ground to reveal a central space with seven people sitting behind a raised desk.
“Hello, Lottery Council,” she said, and three of the people immediately fell forward. Two of them leaped out of their seats and tried to fire upon the beautiful blonde, only to be devoured by the wall, leaving two councilmembers alive. “What are your names?”
“What kind of…?” the man asked, his lip quivering.
“Be strong, Gary,” the woman in the center seat said. There was something indignant about the way she looked at the powerful blonde who stood before her, a fire behind her eyes. “You realize what you have done, don’t you? You have attacked the Centralian government. Backup forces will be here in a matter of seconds.”
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