Gatehound: No Gate No Break

The plaza was slowly clearing, and Mr. Q casually lit another cigarette, as if the public showdown were just a warm-up.

"Nice form," she said. "Shame about the laws of reality."

Xavier slumped onto the edge of a planter, wheezing. "You cheat."

She smirked. "I bend the rules. That's leadership."

"Yeah? Well, I bend knees," he muttered.

"Poorly," she replied.

He looked up. "You said if I landed a hit—"

She cut him off with a wave of her cigarette. "I said I'd answer your questions. I never said when you had to land the punch."

Xavier blinked. "That's... not how deals work."

"You're new to this world, Xavier," she said, stepping past him. "You'll find the rules are flexible. Painfully so."

As they walked, the city buzzed around them like nothing strange had happened—no glowing fists, no warped air, no woman casually rewriting space like she was flipping furniture.

"Where are we going now?" Xavier asked.

"Lunch. You think I smoke all day and forget to eat?"

He stared. "That was basically a war crime you pulled, and now you want Chinese?"

Mr. Q glanced over her shoulder. "Do you want answers or not? Besides, I was thinking Sushi."

He sighed. "Do I at least get to eat?"

"If you're quick."

Dim lighting. Jazz that felt like it was judging Xavier's anxiety. The smell of soy, wasabi, and overconfidence.

A hand waved across the restaurant. Nat—cheeks puffed with sushi—grinned and pointed at the seat across from her. Zayn sat beside her, silent and towering, drawing enough stares to qualify as a tourist attraction.

"You never told me they were coming," Xavier muttered.

"Does it really matter?" Mr. Q said breezily.

She moved to the table like royalty returning to court. Xavier followed, sitting like someone still trying to decide whether this was a date, a trap, or both.

She sat across from him like a queen surveying her province.

Xavier poked at his miso soup like it owed him answers.

"So," he asked finally, "what are Executioners? Really?"

Mr. Q raised an eyebrow. "Straight to the heavy questions. Good."

"You already said I'm one. Nat called it a 'Gate.' Zayn just looked like a protein bar with legs. I'm confused."

She leaned forward, smoke curling from her lips like a question mark. "Executioners are people who've touched the edge. The edge of existence. The crack between 'here'... and 'what shouldn't be.'"

"Very poetic," Xavier said. "Totally unhelpful."

Mr. Q gestured toward Nat. "Didn't she fill you in?"

"Don't look at me," Nat said through a mouthful of tuna roll.

Q flicked ash into a soy dish. "When your emotions fracture—fear, guilt, rage—that's when it happens. A Gate opens. And from it? Power leaks."

"Dejhan," Xavier said quietly.

Mr. Q nodded. "Yours is fist-based. Strong, dense. Probably close-range. But that's just a sliver of what's possible. Executioners grow stronger the more they open their Gate. But…"

"There's a price," Xavier finished.

"The kind that breaks people," Mr. Q said.

"Or turns them into monsters," Nat added, still chewing.

"Wow," Xavier said. "Thanks for the uplifting message. Also, you're not supposed to talk with your mouth full."

"Oh, shut up," Nat snapped.

Xavier leaned back in his seat, eyes narrowing slightly. "And Ezra?"

The name changed the air.

Zayn's face darkened. Even Nat stopped chewing for half a beat.

Mr. Q exhaled a long ribbon of smoke. "Ezra… is a scar in human form."

Xavier blinked. "That's not very specific."

"It wasn't meant to be," she said, her voice quieting.

Mr. Q stubbed out her cigarette in the soy dish like it was a ritual offering and stood up from the table.

"Break's over," she said. "You two have an errand."

Xavier groaned. "Please tell me the errand is 'buy ice cream' or 'do literally anything that doesn't involve combat.'"

She smiled. "I'd love to lie to you, Xavier, but no. Monster. East sector. You're going."

"With her?" Xavier asked, jerking a thumb toward Nat.

Nat was licking sauce off her fingers. "Relax. I'm your upgrade patch."

"Some civilians will see the monster. Some won't. But once it's gone… the memory fades. Like it never happened."

"Wait, seriously?" Xavier asked, standing. "People just forget?"

"That's how it's always been," Nat said. "It's not us they forget—it's them. The monsters. The moment they die, the world just… snaps back."

"Like closing a browser tab," Q added. "Now go. Before it starts snacking."

The wind carried a strange tension. The streets were quiet—too quiet. Trash rolled across the pavement, and a streetlamp flickered like it knew what was coming.

Xavier stared down the alley. "So, where is this monster?"

Click-click-click.

Long, sharp claws scraped against pavement. Then it appeared.

It had the body of a monstrous greyhound, stretched and hunched like it had been pulled too far. Its mouth split vertically—opening like a cursed curtain, revealing multiple rows of flickering, snake-like tongues. Its skin was a cracked grey, like dried cement.

Nat took a step forward and raised her right hand. In an instant, a shimmer of light twisted beside her, like a zipper opening through thin air.

From that invisible space, she reached in—and pulled out a sleek black bo staff with metallic silver ends.

Xavier blinked. "You just… had that in your pocket?"

"Dimensional storage. Handy when fashion and death coexist."

The monster screeched. Nat's grip tightened.

"Let's go, greyface."

The beast lunged. Xavier stepped back, preparing to fight, but Nat was already moving—fluid, fast, controlled.

She spun her staff, ducked under the monster's lunging jaw, and cracked it across the side of its skull. The sound echoed like a steel bat hitting concrete. The creature staggered sideways. Nat didn't wait. She dropped the staff, reached back into her dimensional pocket, and yanked out a collapsible baton and a combat knife, dual-wielding them with expert speed. She ducked under a whip-like tongue, slashing it cleanly.

Xavier blinked. "You're really not normal."

"Focus, rookie!"

The monster turned toward him now, enraged. It leapt. Xavier dodged and rolled behind a car.

"I'm getting real tired of being this thing's chew toy!"

Nat tossed him something—a pair of steel knuckles. "Use these until you light up."

"Thanks. Now I can punch with slightly more dignity."

Nat flipped backward onto a nearby dumpster, then vaulted off, flipping through the air and slamming both feet into the monster's back. She landed beside Xavier.

"Your turn," she said, breathing only slightly harder.

"I don't have a dimension full of armaments!"

"No," she said, stepping away, "but you've got Dejhan."

Xavier focused. His fist began to hum.

The creature snarled again and charged. Xavier slipped under its swing and rolled forward. His fist sparked—closer now. That familiar heat in his hand.

"NOW!" Nat shouted.

Xavier's fist ignited with force as he landed a clean, earth-shattering punch to the monster's torso.

A blast of kinetic energy roared out.

His punch slammed directly into the creature's chest, sending a shockwave through the air.

For a moment, the world turned inside out.

Two pedestrians stood frozen across the street, staring in horror. One pulled out a phone. The other screamed. But the moment the creature turned toward them—something shimmered. They blinked, staggered—and suddenly… walked away. Like they forgot. The creature twisted, let out a sound like glass cracking under water—and burst into black ash, disappearing into nothingness.

Xavier's mouth dropped. "They… they saw it."

"And now they didn't," Nat said. "Told you. Reality edits itself when these things die. It's like it doesn't want to be remembered."

"That's terrifying," he whispered.

"Better than explaining it in court," she shrugged.

Xavier looked up. "Did you just carry a whole arsenal in there?"

"Knives, spears, guns, chainsaws, caltrops, darts, a crowbar, and one tactical umbrella," she said casually. "I travel light."

They walked a little before reaching a crossing where their paths diverged.

"I'm heading back to work," Xavier said, rubbing his jaw. "I don't even know why. It's not like spreadsheets make more sense than monsters."

Nat nodded. "Be careful. Things are moving fast now."

He paused. "Hey… one more thing."

She turned. "Yeah?"

"What's a Gatehound?"

She tilted her head. "A what?"

"Gatehound," he repeated. "Ezra said—"

Nat frowned. "Never heard that term. You sure he wasn't messing with you?"

"…Maybe," Xavier said slowly.

But Nat's eyes had flicked to the side for just a second. A flicker of something unsure. They parted ways.

Nat stepped into a quiet corridor between buildings. The air was still.

She pulled out a thin communicator from her coat, pressed it to her ear.

"He said it," she said.

A voice crackled on the other end. "Gatehound?"

"Yeah. Brought it up like he knew what it meant."

There was silence.

"Could be Ezra. He's been whispering again."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing," the voice said. "Not yet. Just… stay close. And if he remembers more than he should—"

Nat cut them off. "I'll handle it."

She ended the call.

And for a moment, her expression hardened. Just a flicker. Then she smiled to herself, as if amused by some private joke.

"Gatehound, huh? That name still floats…"