Wednesday: The Strongest Psychic

Brownsville - 00:45 a.m.

In a dimly lit alley, a scene was unfolding that was all too common in this neighborhood at such a late hour.

"That's not enough money, bitch!" exclaimed a man with a criminal appearance, slapping a woman with long, disheveled hair and a desperate expression.

The woman, frail and barely able to stand, fell to the ground from the force of the blow. With what little strength she had, she crawled and looked up at the man. "Please, it's all I have!" she cried desperately, clinging to the man's legs.

"Don't touch me!" the man shouted angrily, punching her in the face, knocking her back and splitting her lip as he shook her off.

"We're drug dealers, not a charity, bitch," he added with a look of disgust, dusting off his pants.

"Haha, she's really desperate," laughed one of his companions, who had been watching the whole scene.

"Tell her to blow you; maybe you'll change your mind," joked another of his companions, a tall man wearing a black tank top, his arms covered in tattoos.

Meanwhile, the woman lay sobbing on the ground, her hands pressed to her mouth as blood trickled down.

"Not a chance. Her teeth must be rotten," the man replied with a grimace.

"Besides, it's no joke, idiots. We're not selling much lately. That means those other bastards are stealing our customers," he added with a scowl.

"Tsk, tsk. No respect for the lady," came a voice from a dark corner, just a few meters away from where the scene was unfolding.

The three men turned their heads in alarm toward the unknown voice, watching as a figure walked toward them.

Their expressions shifted to confusion as they took in the stranger's appearance. He wore a hooded leather jacket that obscured most of his face, leaving only his mouth and part of his nose visible. On his back was a bow and a quiver full of arrows.

'Not a cop, or any dangerous bastard?' thought the man who had hit the woman, feeling a bit more at ease since it didn't seem to be the police or a rival gang.

"Who the hell are you?" asked the man in the tank top, taking a step forward and pulling a sharp knife from his pocket as he moved toward the stranger.

"I am Justice," replied the hooded figure in a calm tone.

The tall man in the tank top stopped in his tracks, unable to hold back a laugh. His two companions joined in, laughing.

"What... do you think this is, a Marvel movie or some crap like that?" the man in the tank top asked, trying to control his laughter. He was now close to the hooded figure but no longer felt he was a real threat.

"Pfft... must just be a kid who spends too much time on the internet," said the man who had hit the woman.

"This is the real world, kid. Go home to your mother before you get hurt," he added, his tone turning more menacing.

The man in the tank top, ready to throw out another taunt, didn't get a chance to open his mouth before a punch slammed into his face, breaking his nose. And that wasn't all—a flurry of blows rained down on him.

A punch to the stomach, another to the chin, and yet another to the nose. Pain surged through every nerve, and before he even realized it, he was unconscious on the ground.

"Weak…" murmured the hooded figure, who was none other than Luke, working as a vigilante. He realized that the tall, muscular man had lost consciousness by the second hit.

'What the hell?' thought the man who had hit the woman, alarmed. He couldn't believe that his partner, nearly two meters tall and over 100 kilograms, had been knocked out in seconds.

The two remaining men exchanged glances, and recognizing the danger, they reached for their weapons. But before their fingers could even touch the triggers, a whistling sound cut through the air.

Two black arrows flew and pierced their wrists, forcing both to drop their revolvers, which hit the ground with a loud metallic clang. The criminals looked at their bleeding wrists, shock freezing the blood in their veins.

Before they could even process the pain throbbing in their hands, a strange, strong black cord whipped out from the darkness, wrapping around the neck of the man who had struck the woman. He felt the cold pressure of the noose tightening, making it hard to breathe.

'Now... what the hell…?' he thought, bewildered by the suffocating sensation closing around his throat.

From the shadows, a female figure emerged. It was Wednesday, dressed in black like Luke, though her outfit was more form-fitting. A hood obscured her pale face as she looked down at the criminals like they were worthless trash.

With a quick, controlled yank, Wednesday pulled the man toward her. He tried to resist, but the force dragging him was brutal, almost inhuman.

She drew him close until their faces were mere inches apart, allowing him to glimpse her pale face and dark, abyss-like eyes.

"You like hurting others, don't you?" she whispered icily, her lips barely forming a sarcastic smile.

'A killer…' thought the man, feeling a fear he hadn't felt in a long time. He could recognize a killer's eyes when he was face-to-face with them. Since he is a little boy he lives a life of crime, full of deaths, gang fights and more.

Meanwhile, Luke knocked out the other man, who didn't stand a chance.

The woman, still on the ground with blood on her mouth, watched the whole situation with wide eyes. Since when did superheroes show up in her city? Was this some kind of movie?

"Interrogate him. We need to know who leads their gang or whatever it is. We're going to take down these damn traffickers," Luke said as he walked over to Wednesday and the low-level criminal.

Since they'd chosen not to use their auras to make the hunt more thrilling, Luke couldn't access the criminal's memories; they would have to use old-fashioned methods.

"You think you'll make it out alive after this? I won't say anything," the man muttered, finding a fresh sense of bravery, convinced that a couple of wannabe heroes couldn't take down an entire gang. This was real life, not some movie.

"You really think you're the first to tell me that?" Wednesday murmured, leaning closer, her eyes fixed on his. "They all start the same… full of bravery. But, eventually, they all tell me exactly what I need to know."

The man swallowed hard, unnerved. There was something terrifying in her cold, monotone voice. Wednesday shoved a piece of cloth into his mouth to stifle his screams and began her work.

Luke watched from the side with an academic air, as if Wednesday were giving him a private lesson in the art of torture.

In just fifteen minutes, the man had tears in his eyes, desperate to talk, though he couldn't with the cloth still in his mouth.

'In the first five minutes, he would have talked,' Luke thought, arms crossed as he watched everything.

Wednesday removed the cloth from the man's mouth and began asking everything she wanted to know. Within five minutes, they had all the information they needed. She also questioned him about his crimes; his name was Jacob.

"Hmm, he didn't kill anyone," Wednesday remarked with a hint of disappointment, wiping blood off her hands with a handkerchief. The blood, of course, wasn't hers.

"So he was saved. But I'm sure the leader of his gang deserves death. From him, we'll take the first limb. Maybe it would be good to start with an arm," Luke said, deciding on which body part to mutilate first from the gang leader.

'Mutilate a limb?' thought the woman, shuddering as she witnessed the torture and overheard the conversation between the two hooded figures.

The supposed heroes who had come to save her behaved in a much darker and more sadistic way than she had imagined. She'd thought they were eccentric heroes in a good way, but they were something far more sinister.

Luke and Wednesday had decided they would only kill murderers—people who had killed an innocent in cold blood. Those would be their targets to gather the body parts needed for their ritual.

"Yes, although this gang only handles local drug distribution. They aren't the real cartels, but it'll be helpful if these cartels lose their distributors," Wednesday said, giving the man a quick blow and knocking him out.

They discovered that several criminal gangs in New York were competing for the right to distribute drugs supplied by two main cartels from Mexico.

The gang these three men belonged to was one of the three main ones in New York, mostly involved in drug and weapons trafficking.

"Let's head to that club where they meet. They should be there," Luke said, turning around.

"Where's the other piece of trash?" Wednesday asked, noticing that one of the men Luke had knocked out was missing.

"I let him go. I figured you might go overboard, and the normie might end up dead. This way, we have a way to trace them back to their den," Luke replied with a slight smile.

"Besides, it's better if he warns the others. He was so scared that he fled without even helping his companions," he added.

"I never kill my prey before knowing everything I need to," Wednesday said, her gaze landing on the woman, who shivered under the attention of the two hooded figures.

Luke looked at the woman and sent a mental command for her to fall asleep. Then, he sat beside her and began reading her memories. It served as practice for improving his memory-reading abilities, especially with others' memories, including very old ones.

After almost fifteen minutes, he stood up and gestured to Wednesday that they could leave.

"I thought we weren't using our auras," Wednesday commented as they started walking toward the criminals' base/club.

"We agreed not to use them on enemies. I used it to get some practice, plus I erased a few traumas. If all went well, she'll stop being addicted to fentanyl," Luke said.

"How generous of you to manipulate a stranger's memories without their consent," Wednesday replied, picking up her pace.

"Helping people is my duty as a vigilante," Luke commented with a faint smile, keeping pace.

That same night, New York City witnessed a brutal shift in its criminal underworld. In just one night, one of the city's most feared and violent gangs was practically wiped out.

In the days that followed, the other two main gangs met the same fate. All the drugs they had in stock for distribution were also destroyed, resulting in millions of dollars in lost merchandise.

The gang leaders, who had committed murders and heinous crimes, didn't see the sunrise. They were found dead, with parts of their bodies missing.

The members who hadn't committed murders but were still violent and corrupt suffered serious injuries. Luke and Wednesday made sure they wouldn't have the chance to commit crimes again, leaving many in wheelchairs, with broken limbs, or in vegetative states.

Since more than three body parts were needed for the ritual, Luke and Wednesday had to interrogate other gang members, searching for killers of innocents who deserved death. It wasn't hard to find them—these gangs were filled with members steeped in crime. Several had committed murders, not just the leaders.

In no time at all, they gathered all the parts needed for the ritual, with plenty of time left before the lunar eclipse.

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