Chapter 9: Blood in the Water
POV: Ben
The Vought Foundation fundraiser at the Manhattan Aquarium gleams with false charity three nights later, corporate benevolence disguised as champagne and tax-deductible morality.
Ben adjusts his borrowed suit while walking through glass tunnels where sharks circle overhead, their predatory grace a pale imitation of the monsters wearing hero costumes who mingle with donors below. Maya had insisted they attend together—her excitement about meeting actual heroes infectious enough to make him forget, temporarily, that he'd murdered her employer's business partner seventy-two hours ago.
"She still believes in them. Still thinks enhanced individuals are just people with abilities instead of weapons with marketing departments."
Maya's hand finds his arm as they enter the main ballroom, her touch warm despite the aquarium's climate-controlled chill. She's dressed in navy blue that makes her empathic eyes look like deep water, and when she smiles at Vought executives who nod in recognition, Ben remembers why normal people believe in heroes.
"That's Director Harrison," Maya whispers, nodding toward a woman whose expensive dress can't quite hide the particular tension that comes from managing superhuman egos for corporate profit. "She oversees community outreach. And there's Marcus from legal—he handles the NDAs when things go wrong."
"NDAs. The paperwork that turns atrocity into acceptable losses. I'm drinking champagne with the people who make Robin Ward's death disappear into statistical footnotes."
Ben's danger sense pings softly as his Compound V Detection sweeps the crowd. The readings paint a map of enhanced individuals scattered throughout the ballroom like landmines disguised as party guests. Most register as low-level—corporate Supes with abilities just impressive enough to justify their paychecks but not dangerous enough to require serious containment protocols.
[COMPOUND V DETECTION: MULTIPLE SIGNATURES]
[THREAT ASSESSMENT: LOW TO MODERATE]
[TARGET OF INTEREST: GILL - LEVEL 8 AQUATIC VARIANT]
[LOCATION: NORTH CORRIDOR, MOVING TOWARD PRIVATE AREAS]
Gill. Ben recognizes the name from his growing database of targets—a D-list aquatic hero whose "overzealous rescues" have a suspicious tendency to end with suspects drowning before they can face trial. Not powerful enough for The Seven, but connected enough to avoid serious investigation when his body count gets uncomfortable.
"Perfect. Low-level enough that I can handle him, high enough to be worth the extraction. And in an aquarium, where accidental drowning is plausible cover."
"I need to powder my nose," Maya announces, her supervisor approaching with the particular expression that suggests work discussions disguised as social pleasantries. "Mingle, network. Try to have fun."
Maya disappears into conversations about quarterly reports and community impact metrics while Ben follows Gill's signature toward the aquarium's restricted areas. The D-list Supe moves with the casual confidence of someone who's learned that minor celebrity opens doors that remain closed to normal people.
Ben tracks him through corridors lined with maintenance access and staff-only warnings, his footsteps silent on industrial carpeting designed to muffle the sounds of people working while others enjoy themselves. Behind him, the ballroom's warmth fades into the aquarium's functional spaces where climate control is about fish comfort rather than human pleasure.
The private pool area opens into a space designed for marine mammal rehabilitation—industrial lighting over concrete surfaces that echo with the sound of filtration systems working to keep captive oceans clean. It's here that Ben finds something that makes his blood freeze in his veins.
The Deep holds court beside a maintenance pool, his costume gleaming under harsh fluorescents while a circle of increasingly intoxicated party guests laugh at jokes that probably aren't funny when you're sober enough to understand their implications. In the pool, barely visible unless you know where to look, a young woman treads water with the desperate efficiency of someone who's learned that drowning quietly is preferable to drowning loudly.
"Intern. Has to be—too young to be staff, too terrified to be here voluntarily. And The Deep..."
The Deep's hands move beneath the water's surface with movements that make Ben's shadow stir with killing intent. The woman's eyes are wide with pharmaceutical compliance and the particular terror that comes from understanding that screaming will only make things worse.
"Please," she whispers, the word barely audible over filtration pumps. "I can't... I need to breathe."
"You'll breathe when I say you breathe," The Deep laughs, his voice carrying the casual cruelty of someone who's never faced consequences for anything. "Hold still. This is character development."
Ben steps forward before conscious thought catches up, rage overwhelming tactical assessment. "Hey!"
The Deep turns with eyebrows raised in mild annoyance, as if Ben's presence is a scheduling inconvenience rather than witness to sexual assault. When he speaks, his voice carries the particular authority that comes from believing your costume makes you untouchable.
"Private party, civilian. Find your own entertainment."
"Let her go." Ben's voice carries heat that surprises him with its intensity. "Now."
The Deep's expression shifts from annoyance to genuine amusement. Here's someone who doesn't understand the hierarchy—normal human thinking he can give orders to enhanced individuals. The kind of misunderstanding that requires immediate correction.
"Level 28. Aquatic powers, enhanced strength, probably enhanced durability. I'm Level 6. This is suicide with extra steps."
"Or what?" The Deep releases the intern with casual indifference, letting her swim toward the pool's edge while he focuses on Ben with predatory interest. "You'll call security? File a complaint? Take pictures for social media?"
Ben reaches for his phone, and The Deep moves.
Enhanced speed in water becomes weapon as The Deep launches himself from the pool like a corporate-sponsored torpedo. Ben registers movement, begins to dodge, and then superhuman strength connects with his chest in a impact that sends him flying twenty feet through empty air.
Ben hits the maintenance pool with enough force to displace water that's been chemically balanced for marine mammal comfort. The Deep follows him down, enhanced lung capacity meaning nothing when your opponent controls the aquatic environment with supernatural expertise.
"Can't breathe. He's holding me down, and my shadows can't manifest underwater. Going to drown in a maintenance pool while a rapist laughs about teaching civilians respect."
The Deep's laughter echoes strangely through water that tastes of chlorine and industrial filtration. His hands press Ben deeper, enhanced strength meaning struggle is pointless when your opponent can bench-press small cars.
"Respect," The Deep explains with the patience of someone providing essential education. "That's what you're learning. Respect for your betters."
Gill appears at the pool's edge, his aquatic abilities letting him appreciate the artistry of what The Deep is demonstrating. When he speaks, his voice carries the particular amusement that comes from watching someone learn painful lessons.
"Looks like this one's never been taught proper etiquette around enhanced individuals."
"Vision going dark. Lungs screaming. Shadows trying to manifest but water disperses their forms. Need air, need leverage, need—"
Ben's thrashing connects with something metallic—pool maintenance equipment stored within reach of desperate hands. Industrial-grade chemicals in containers designed for adjusting pH levels and eliminating bacterial growth. His fingers close around a valve release just as consciousness begins to fade.
The chlorine cloud erupts like toxic salvation.
Whatever Ben triggered creates a chemical reaction that turns pool water into an atmospheric weapon designed to irritate every exposed mucous membrane within thirty feet. The Deep surfaces cursing, his enhanced senses making him more vulnerable to chemical assault rather than less.
"Fuck! What did you—" The Deep's enhanced hearing becomes liability as he staggers away from gas that burns like industrial-strength pepper spray.
Gill tries to help, his aquatic adaptation meaning nothing when the water itself has become poison. He slips on chemical-slick concrete, enhanced reflexes insufficient when your environment has become hostile to life itself.
The impact echoes through the maintenance area like a gunshot. Gill's skull meets concrete with enough force to crack both, enhanced durability meaningless when physics applies itself with sufficient leverage and unfortunate timing.
Ben crawls from toxic water on hands and knees, lungs burning with chemicals that were never designed for human consumption. Through tears streaming from chemical exposure, he sees Gill twitching beside the pool, blood pooling beneath a head injury that's probably fatal even with enhanced healing.
"Opportunity. He's dying, The Deep's fled, and I'm alone with a target whose skull just got fractured by industrial accident. This is what hunting gets me—chances disguised as disasters."
Ben crawls to Gill's convulsing form, his hands shaking from chemical exposure and oxygen deprivation. The D-list Supe's eyes are wide with the particular confusion that comes from discovering enhanced doesn't mean immune to environmental hazards.
"ARISE," Ben gasps through lungs that taste of chlorine and possibility.
The shadows that explode from Gill's dying body are smaller than his previous extractions—Common quality, probably fifteen to twenty percent power retention. But aquatic abilities flow into Ben's consciousness like cold water, knowledge of underwater breathing and enhanced swimming settling into muscle memory he's never earned.
[TARGET ELIMINATED]
[EXPERIENCE GAINED: 400 XP]
[LEVEL ADVANCEMENT: 5 → 6]
[SHADOW EXTRACTION SUCCESSFUL]
[SHADOW QUALITY: COMMON]
[POWER RETENTION: 20%]
[NEW ABILITIES: ENHANCED SWIMMING, UNDERWATER BREATHING]
Security arrives to find Ben performing what appears to be CPR on Gill's corpse, industrial chemicals still burning his throat as he plays the role of someone desperately trying to save a life instead of someone who just claimed it. The intern huddles in a towel, too traumatized to provide coherent testimony about what happened before the toxic cloud changed everything.
"Hero narrative. Civilian tried to save Supe who was accidentally killed by chemical exposure during attempted rescue. The Deep's assault gets buried under paperwork, and I get credited with trying to prevent tragedy."
Maya arrives with the EMTs, her empathic abilities picking up the genuine trauma radiating from Ben's chemical burns and near-drowning experience. When she takes his hand, her touch burns with concern that makes him feel guilty for reasons he can't name.
"What happened?" Her voice carries the particular care reserved for people who've narrowly avoided death. "The emergency alert said chemical accident, possible drowning—"
"Tried to help." Ben's voice comes out as chemical-burned whisper. "Girl was in trouble. Gill tried to save her, but the equipment malfunctioned. Toxic gas everywhere."
Maya nods with the expression of someone who's seen enough trauma to recognize authentic damage. Her empathy reads his physical pain accurately while missing the satisfaction hidden beneath layers of chemical burns and oxygen deprivation.
"She believes me. Believes I'm the kind of person who risks his life for strangers instead of the kind who manufactures opportunities to murder enhanced individuals."
The hospital smells of antiseptic and second chances, Ben's throat raw from chemical exposure while IV lines deliver saline and sympathy in measured doses. Maya sits beside his bed with the particular vigilance that comes from caring about someone who attracts dangerous situations.
"The news is calling you a hero," she says, showing him tablet coverage that frames the evening as tragic accident prevented from becoming worse tragedy by civilian intervention. "Gill died trying to save that intern, and you almost died trying to save him."
"If only they knew. If only they understood that heroes are just monsters with better marketing, and I'm becoming something worse by choosing which monsters deserve to die."
"Just tried to help," Ben manages through a throat that feels like he's swallowed broken glass soaked in industrial cleaner.
Maya squeezes his hand with strength that suggests her empathic abilities are telling her stories about emotional states that don't quite match his cover narrative. When she speaks, her voice carries the particular caution that comes from sensing deeper truths.
"Your colors changed tonight. During the emergency, when they were treating you. Storm-gray shifted to something... sharper. More focused. Like you were satisfied about something even while you were in pain."
"She felt it. Felt the moment I extracted Gill's shadow and absorbed his abilities. Her empathy is deeper than I thought."
"Adrenaline," Ben lies, wondering if Maya's abilities can detect deception or just emotional resonance. "Survival instinct. Makes everything feel different."
Maya nods with the expression of someone who wants to believe explanations that answer questions she's not ready to ask. Her empathy tells her Ben is hiding something, but love makes her interpret secrets as trauma rather than predation.
"She's choosing to trust me despite sensing inconsistencies. That makes her either incredibly naive or incredibly strong. Either way, it makes me the kind of monster who accepts that trust while planning worse violence."
Outside the hospital window, the city breathes with the rhythm of eight million heartbeats, most of them belonging to people who believe tonight's news coverage instead of understanding that heroes are manufactured and heroism is usually just violence with better PR.
Ben closes his eyes and feels Gill's abilities settling into his nervous system like cold water finding its level. Enhanced swimming, underwater breathing, aquatic adaptation that will serve him well the next time he faces monsters in The Deep's territory.
"Three shadows now. Juice Box's strength, Popclaw's density manipulation, Gill's aquatic abilities. Building an army one extraction at a time, one lie at a time, one lost opportunity for normalcy at a time."
Maya falls asleep in the chair beside his bed, trusting him enough to be vulnerable while he plans violence she can't imagine. Ben stares at their joined hands and wonders if he's becoming the predator these waters need or just another monster learning to swim in deeper darkness.
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