[Life is Good] Chapter 54

As I said—this was a brilliant idea.

At least, that’s what I kept telling myself as we stood at an intersection of underground tunnels, silently staring at three possible paths.

Petra had realized the problem the moment we got down here and saw multiple routes branching off, but now, with three ways ahead of us, the issue was glaring.

We took turns glancing at each passage and saying absolutely nothing.

Me? I didn’t trust myself not to be sarcastic.

Parker? She was actually trying to think of a solution.

And Gwen? No idea—either she was thinking too, or she just didn’t want to say something that would make her friend feel worse.

"I say we go straight," Petra finally offered hesitantly.

"Doesn’t really matter which way we go—it’s all a guessing game at this point, Spider," I sighed, accepting that I should stop my little silent protest. Acting like a sulky kid wasn’t going to help. Neither muttered complaints nor shutting up entirely would magically give us a map.

I took another long look at each tunnel, lighting up every crack and crevice in search of any clue.

"We’re probably looking for something smart," I continued. "There was no blood up top, no sign of a struggle. That means our missing dealer—whether she’s alive or dead—was taken cleanly. And unless one of you has a map of these tunnels…"

I trailed off, already guessing the answer as the girls exchanged looks.

With a sigh, I pulled out my phone. The signal was weak, but I managed to load something that vaguely resembled a map. Too bad it was full of cryptic symbols and notes that meant absolutely nothing to me.

So, for the next ten minutes, we debated where the hell we even were.

Eventually, I gave up and melted some arrows into the walls, marking where we came from. Not too deep, just enough to be noticeable if you knew where to look.

Sure, there were exits to the surface, but having breadcrumbs down here? Not the worst idea.

We pushed forward, taking the middle tunnel without turning.

I quietly hummed an old tune from my past life—something about a space marine crashing into a guy’s girlfriend.

Yeah, I did miss some of the music from back then. A lot of the stuff I loved didn’t exist in this world—and probably never would.

Petra and Gwen stayed silent, scanning our surroundings for anything useful. My singing wasn’t exactly appreciated—probably because they couldn’t understand the lyrics and because I had a voice like a drunk, forty-year veteran janitor who smoked too much and sang too loud at karaoke.

If my life was a fanfic, I’d have a deep, velvety voice. Powerful, commanding—hell, I’d be beating enemies with the sheer force of my vocals.

Instead, I was stuck at the level of Ivan the Boozed-Up Groundskeeper.

I was mid-lyric—"How could you, Space Marine, crush my love?"—when I spotted a heat signature just around the next corner.

A human body.

Not moving.

I placed a hand on each girl’s shoulder and whispered, "There’s someone up ahead. They’re not moving. Just barely hit my range. Move quietly. If I spot anyone else, I’ll let you know."

We crept forward, carefully stepping over the damp ground.

At first, I thought they might just be asleep or unconscious.

But compared to the heat signatures of living people?

Nope.

This person—presumably our missing dealer—was cooling down.

Her outline was already duller than Parker and Gwen’s, and the area where her body touched the cold floor was noticeably cooler.

So, yeah.

No surprises when we turned the corner and found a corpse.

The girls, however, took a few seconds to process before they launched into a synchronized performance of The Aria of Vomiting.

I politely looked away while they lifted their masks and emptied their stomachs.

Yeah, okay. Not unexpected. The stench was horrible, and the sight wasn’t much better.

The woman—who probably wasn’t a stunner even before death—looked horrific.

Even I was a little nauseous, though not as much as them. Guess my experiences at Stryker’s base had dulled my reaction to corpses.

Not exactly a pleasant thought, but hey—it helped.

Crouching, I examined the body closely.

A stick—no, a stake—was lodged in her eye, and her throat was a shredded mess. Multiple deep cuts turned her neck into something resembling deli meat.

As for the stake?

Yeah. I had nothing. Just a random stick, best I could tell.

"Salamander," Petra’s strained voice broke the silence behind me.

Judging by the continued gagging sounds, Stacy still wasn’t doing great.

"Why?!"

"Why what?" I asked, glancing back.

"Why kill her? And like this? The drugs were still upstairs…" There was confusion, disgust, and horror in her voice.

"She was dead before her throat got sliced open," I pointed out, gesturing toward the corpse. "Look at the blood—or lack of it. With her throat cut like that, there should be a fountain. Instead, there’s barely a puddle. What does that tell you?"

"That… she was killed with the stake first? But there should still be more blood!"

“Exactly. She was eaten, Spider—more precisely, drained.” I raised a finger for emphasis. “And around here, there are only two kinds of sapients that ‘suck’ like that: Aquaman and vampires.”

"Who the hell is Aquaman?" Gwen finally spoke up, her voice shaky and distant.

Oh, poor girl. Welcome to the real hero experience. No censorship here.

“A fictional character. A superhero, fish fucker, ichthyo-phile, gill-lover.’” I shrugged indifferently. “Read about him somewhere on the internet.”

"Fish-fucker? What?" Silk sounded completely thrown off.

I was just about to launch into a dumb joke when Parker cut in, voice rising in a furious whisper.

"Are you seriously talking about some pervert when there’s a corpse right here?!"

"Chill," I held up a hand. "I wasn’t joking about the vampire thing. And just so you know, I’m keeping my energy vision up at all times—ten-meter range, so keep alert, too."

She crossed her arms but stayed quiet, so I continued.

"Listen—this body was alive not even half an hour ago. Then, something dragged her underground, sprinted straight through these tunnels, drained her dry, shoved a stake in her eye, shredded her neck, and left her here for the rats."

I gave her a pointed look.

"Now tell me—who else needs blood and would go out of their way to hide a bite mark by turning the neck into ground beef? And, side note—the rats? They’ll probably start with that spot first. Since, y'know. Fresh meat."

A simultaneous, deeply disgusted "Ew."

Gwen turned away and clamped a hand over her mouth, mask lifted slightly. Petra copied her, full-body shudder included. 

I patiently waited. And, surprisingly, Silk was the first to speak again.

"How the hell can you talk about so nasty so casually?" She jabbed a finger at me, her voice rising with indignation. "You're a guy!"

"Uh… yeah? And?" I raised an eyebrow. "Look, I’ve seen some shit. This?—" I gestured toward the corpse. "—This isn’t even the worst of it, trust me. And you should get used to it. Patrolling the city isn’t just rooftop gymnastics and punching bad guys—it’s bodies, blood, and filth. So I’d recommend not romanticizing this gig too much."

"You don’t even care that someone was murdered?" Petra’s voice had that judgmental edge that really started to piss me off.

"First of all, she’s already dead," I said, a little sharper than I intended. "If I could have helped her, I would have. Second, she was probably a drug dealer—selling poison to anyone with cash. Gangsters, scumbags, kids, pregnant women. Yeah, the buyers aren’t saints either, but I’m not about to mourn the loss of someone making a living off ruining lives. I used to believe in that ‘just following orders’ crap too—until some of those ‘just doing their job’ types beat a ten-year-old to death right in front of me. So no, I’m not about to sit here and cry over the tragic circumstances that led to her making bad choices. Don’t ask me to."

"Tobias?!" Gwen suddenly gasped. "It is you, isn’t it?! I saw you on TV! That whole thing with the lab! And you know Spider because you were classmates! And you’re a mutant!"

…Well.

Shit.

So much for a secret identity, huh?

How the hell did comic book heroes manage to keep theirs? Clark Kent got away with just glasses and a different haircut! How!?

"Not here, Silk. Not now." I exhaled, rubbing my temples. "Masks on, we use codenames. Who knows who’s lurking in the dark just beyond my range, listening in? Let’s deal with the actual problem first—the body. And just so we’re clear, we’re not catching that vampire. They probably just dragged their dinner down here, had their meal, and booked it."

"Sal, vampires don’t exist," Petra groaned.

"Oh sure they don’t," I scoffed. "Mutants exist. Girls with super strength exist. Venom is out there eating people, supervillains with magic powers are running wild, there’s a flaming skeleton cruising around on a demonic Harley—but vampires? Nooo, that’s too ridiculous. You’ve completely convinced me, Spider. Bravo.

"Now, let’s head up. I’ll call the cops—we shouldn’t be touching a crime scene anyway."

Thankfully, no one argued this time.

We made our way back in silence. Gwen was lost in thought, probably freaking out over unmasking me. Not that it mattered—my secret identity had the lifespan of a cigarette near a gas leak.

Honestly, this was my own damn fault.

I talked too much. People listen. They connect dots. Just slapping on a mask and changing my voice wasn’t enough—not when people had, you know, brains.

Petra, though…

She was mad.

I could feel it in her posture, in the stiff way she walked.

I sighed, sped up a little, and tapped her shoulder.

"Spider, don’t be mad, okay? This sewer is putting me in a shit mood." I tried to soften my tone. "I’m sorry I was acting like a dick. I know you want to help people, but sometimes… it’s just not possible."

She sighed heavily but didn’t pull away. Instead, she put a hand over mine.

"It’s fine," she said, and—surprisingly—her voice was warm. "I just… I hate that we were too late. That we couldn’t help."

She fell quiet for a few beats, then added, "Sal, I get where you’re coming from. It’s enough to know that you would have helped if you could. Expecting you to feel the same way I do… that’d just be selfish. Your attitude still rubs me the wrong way, but I get that you have your own way of looking at things."

Huh.

Props to Parker.

I was expecting more scolding, more righteous fury, more attempts to fix my morally grey ass.

Instead, she was just… accepting it.

And honestly?

I respected those that respected other’s opinions even if they disagreed.

When the two girls and their masked tagalong finally vanished into the night, the crime scene fell silent once more.

Then, from the shadows, came the softest sound of footsteps.

Had anyone been able to see through the pitch-black tunnels, they would have spotted a small figure—no older than fourteen—stepping toward the corpse.

Her delicate face was twisted in irritation and mild disgust.

She was wearing a light, powder-blue dress—far too thin for the underground chill—draped over narrow shoulders. Long, silky black hair tumbled down her back. And in the gloom, her red eyes glowed like embers.

Dried blood crusted around her lips, staining her chin. The front of her dress was splattered with dark patches—doing nothing to improve her already foul mood.

Wrinkling her nose at the lingering stench, she let out a small, frustrated sigh before gripping the corpse by the ankle.

With zero visible effort, she dragged the body deeper into the tunnels.

There were places ahead where she could hide it—let the rats strip the flesh away properly.

She shouldn’t have played with her food.

It was stupid.

A dumb little game, scaring the woman for fun—delaying the feeding just because she could.

That idiotic mistake had almost cost her.

She had slipped. And the woman had time to scream.

And then—of course—the damn heroes had shown up.

Good thing she had sensed them coming—three bright, pulsing signatures of life, one of them laced with something strange. Something… unsettling. Alluring.

She just barely got away.

In the end however, she had to flee into the reeking sewer with her catch, leaving the manhole only half-closed in her rush. 

As her friend Marisha would say, relying on “it’ll be fine” didn’t work out, and those three ended up following her down there. 

Luckily, she felt them approaching again and tried to hide her trail.

Any blood left behind would only spur them on, so she decided to abandon the corpse. There was no one to save, no one to chase, and the darkness would keep her secret.

Hiding deeper in the tunnels, too far for the light coming from the boy to reach her, she had listened. She had watched. And she had learned something new.

Salamander—the boy in the mask—knew about her kind.

That was surprising. As was the absolute blasphemy coming out of his mouth. Equating noble predators with some perverted fishman?

Utterly disgraceful.

And his entire attitude—so flippant, so crude. It was offensive. In her time, men had been far more refined. More dignified. More proper.

The girl let out an indignant huff, then immediately winced at the choking stench around her.

She hated strong smells, loud noises, bright lights. Everyone in the nest knew to stay quiet around her and to avoid wearing strong perfume. A vampire’s senses were delicate—far superior to a human’s, but also far more sensitive. It was both a gift and a curse. Eavesdropping on conversations was effortless, but so was suffering through the absolute filth of the world’s worst smells.

In the end, however? Things hadn’t gone too badly tonight.

She had her fun and got a good look at the object of romantic daydreams for one fifth of the brood.

The boy was interesting, she’d give him that. He was the source of that strange feeling she’d picked up earlier—his life force didn’t feel like that of a regular human. Not even like the other mutants she’d encountered.

And then there was the way he’d examined the corpse—completely calm, just thinking, making logical conclusions. The fact that he’d outright said he wasn’t about to shed a tear for some dead drug dealer? She liked that.

Sure, officially, the nest disapproved of those who hunted humans. But the truth was, as long as you weren’t a mindless glutton devouring people left and right, the worst you got was a finger wag and a stern lecture. Clean up after yourself, don’t be reckless, and it was all fine. And his attitude? Almost identical to her own.

She grinned to herself. Just yesterday, she’d been the one scolding one of her fledglings for hunting irresponsibly, and now here she was, doing the same damn thing.

A predator needed to hunt.

But she just shouldn’t have played with her food.

She was almost discovered, carelessly handled covering her tracks, and if it had been Spider or Silk, by themselves, they might have taken the body. Luckily, their man knew how to think. So she gotten lucky, but that was a fluke.

If anyone else in the nest had made a mistake like this, she’d have broken their damn legs herself—at least twice.

So yeah, no one was going to hear about this little misstep. Not even Marisha.

She’d die of shame otherwise—no sunlight required.

Speaking of Marisha… she needed to check out this Tobias guy from TV. It would be hilarious if she discovered who Salamander really was. Her friend, who ran the Salamander fan club in the nest, would be gnawing her slippers from sheer envy.

But as for tracking him down? Sending anyone after him? No. That’d be stupid. Hunting heroes was the fastest way to ruin the peace they had in the shadows.

That fat bastard Kingpin had already stirred up enough trouble, putting out that damn bounty.

Now they all had to be extra careful.

She wasn’t about to make things worse with some dumb idea.

…Though later, she was going to Google this ‘Aquaman’ guy.

Something told her she’d regret it.

But she’d be lying if she said curiosity wasn’t both her greatest weakness and biggest thrill.