Teleport the Devil

Wind tugged at Noah's clothes as he stood on the ten-story building's edge. Below, the city sprawled under a grey sky. 

He held a man with a Mohawk hairstyle over the edge. The man's face was pale, sweat beading on his forehead as he stared down at the distant pavement. His knuckles were white where he gripped Noah's arm, trembling violently. A choked whimper escaped him.

"You already saw what I can do," Noah said, his voice steady over the wind. "The moment you fall from here, I can teleport somewhere else."

The Mohawk guy squeezed his eyes shut, then snapped them open in renewed panic. Noah adjusted his grip slightly, making the man gasp.

"Not only will you die, people will think that you killed yourself," Noah stated coldly. He leaned forward just a fraction, emphasizing the drop. "So think hard about what you need to do. But do it fast, because who knows how long I can hold you."

The guy's breath hitched. "I-I understand! Please, don't let go!" he pleaded, almost crying. "I will do whatever you want!"

---

A few hours earlier, Noah walked through the bustling streets of Cardio City. 

Sunlight filtered through the gaps between towering buildings. He turned down a narrower side street, then another, the atmosphere shifting. Clean storefronts gave way to boarded-up windows and faded graffiti. Groups of rough-looking men lingered in doorways and alley mouths, eyeing passersby with suspicion.

Noah kept his gaze forward, his stride purposeful and unconcerned, ignoring the muttered comments and sharp looks. He reached a set of worn concrete steps leading down below street level and descended.

The air grew cooler and carried the scent of damp concrete and stale tobacco. At the bottom, a heavy, unmarked wooden door stood slightly ajar. 

Noah pushed it open. 

Inside, the space was cramped and dimly lit by a single green-shaded desk lamp. Behind a large, scarred wooden desk sat an old man with an impressively thick, grey mustache. He was deeply engrossed in a large, leather-bound book, his brow furrowed in concentration.

The creak of the door disturbed him. He looked up, irritation flashing across his face.

But when he saw Noah, his expression immediately brightened into a wide, genuine smile.

"Oh, it's you!" he said, his voice warm.

Noah smiled back, stepping fully into the small room. "Long time no see."

"Yes, yes, it's been a while," the old man replied, carefully marking his page and setting the book aside. He gestured to the worn armchair opposite his desk. "Don't be shy, sit wherever you want."

"Thank you," Noah said, settling into the offered chair.

The old man named Landon leaned back, steepling his fingers. "So, what did you come for?" he asked calmly. 

Noah met his gaze. "I'm sure you know about how people with superpowers have appeared more recently."

"Ah, yes," the old man said, nodding slowly. He stroked his mustache thoughtfully. "Probably around a year ago I started to hear about that here and there. Whispered rumors at first, now louder stories. Hard to miss."

"Do you know why it's happened?" Noah asked, leaning forward slightly.

The old man sighed, twirling the end of his mustache. "Unfortunately, not really." He gestured vaguely at the world outside. "Seeing how many people with superpowers there are right now, it kind of makes me nostalgic." A faint, almost wistful smile touched his lips. "I remember back then when you were the only one I knew."

"So, nothing at all?" Noah pressed, his tone level but insistent.

"Well," the old man said, spreading his hands, "it's happening all over the world at least. News reports, whispers from my contacts abroad... all the same. So this isn't a special event that only happens here." His expression turned serious. "I think big changes will happen soon because of it." 

"That's to be expected," Noah said, a flicker of understanding in his eyes.

The informant leaned forward conspiratorially. "I do hear some rumors, though," the mustached man continued, lowering his voice slightly. "Like some people believe a hidden experiment happened in Restia, where they were trying to force people to experience awakening. Big secret project, supposedly."

"And this is the result of that?" Noah asked, raising an eyebrow.

"So they say," the man replied, sitting back again with a shrug.

"How credible is that?" Noah inquired directly.

"Nah," the mustached guy stated dismissively, waving a hand. "Not credible at all. Sounds like the kind of thing people cook up in basements after too much cheap vodka. Just a random theory people crafted." He chuckled dryly. "Some even believe this was the sign of the end of the world. Silly things!"

"Can't blame them," Noah said, a faint smirk touching his lips. "If they saw someone fly like Superman, their imaginations would run out of control. Fear makes people see patterns."

"Exactly!" the old man agreed, slapping the desk lightly. His expression softened. "But enough of that. I doubt you came just for idle gossip about the state of the world."

"Ah, right," Noah replied, shifting gears. "Have you heard of a criminal group that has appeared here recently? A bunch of guys with superpowers."

"Oh, *them*?" the old guy said, his tone shifting to mild distaste. He wrinkled his nose. "A bunch of brats who just experienced awakening. Think their new tricks make them kings of the gutter." He tapped his temple. "What do they call themselves again...?" He snapped his fingers, pretending to search his memory.

"Joker Roulette," Noah offered calmly.

"Yes, that!" The mustached man snorted. "Silly name. Sounds like they just randomly picking two words and mashed them together." He shook his head. "They haven't done anything big yet, mostly petty theft, intimidation. Annoying, but not major players. I'm surprised that you even heard about them." He paused, his expression turning thoughtful. "But... they do have potential. If only they start making a big move."

"Potential, huh?" Noah mused, his gaze sharpening. "Sounds good."

The old man studied Noah for a moment, then reached into a drawer. "I do have some information about them," he said, pulling out a thin file. "But how much do you want to know? Names? Powers? Hangouts?"

Noah kept his eyes on the informant. "For now, can you tell me about one of the members?" His voice was even. "It's fine even if he's low-ranked. Someone... accessible."

Landon flipped open the file, selected a glossy photograph, and slid it across the worn wood of the desk towards Noah.

"Then how about this one?" the old man said. 

The photograph showed a young man, maybe early twenties, smirking at the camera. His most striking feature was his hair, styled Mohawk, dyed an electric blue at the tips. He wore a leather jacket over a ripped band t-shirt.

"He's the newest member, joined a couple of days ago," the informant explained, tapping the photo. "This fool is often seen around the Game Center and Casino around here on 5th and Bleaker. Love to gamble. His name is Asher."

Noah picked up the photograph. His eyes lingered on the Mohawk, then the arrogant smirk. 

Smile spread across Noah's face. "Sounds like a fun guy."

---