"You're going to get us killed."

"Lighten up and live a little Cupcake. What's the point of living without taking a few risks and letting go?"

"Letting go? Have you not seen Frozen? Have you not seen where 'letting go' got her? She put an entire kingdom through a ravenous winter!"

"Point taken, but it's not like we have ice powers, I have fire instead."

"Oh, that is so reassuring."

Next time Johnathan Lowell Spencer Storm throws me a puppy faced curveball, remind me to give Chase a call and get him to kick him all the way to Mars. Don't get me wrong, Conquest is all for adrenalin pumping activities – I'm a Horseman for Pete's sake – but Estelle Aveline?

The adventures she enjoys are usually of the literary nature.

The moment the Jet Ski's engine begins to rumble and purr like a lion, my iron grip around Johnny's mid-section tightens immeasurably, my face quite well buried into his shoulder. I feel his body tremble in attempts to quell his chuckles, and I can instantly tell the cocky bastard is having the time of his life.

Of course he's having the time of his life dumbass; you're clinging to him like he's your lifeline. He's rather enjoying the feeling of you pressed up against hi—

You know, if you don't go away any time soon, I think I just might shoot a bullet through my own brain just to rid myself of you.

The urge to purposefully drown us in the harbor just to hurt you is almost overwhelming.

When you – me – whoever you are – starts talking to me like that, it begins to worry me.

Good.... 'cause I'm dead serious.

My other half seems to be a pessimist, how reassuring.

I also love to make fun of you, it's my favourite hobby.

You're technically making fun of yourself you know.

Na, because if I was in control instead of you, I would have hopped on both Wade and Johnny by now—

You're sick.

Nup again, just your better half.

"You're doing great Cupcake!"

His nearly muted voice alerts me back to my surroundings, and I have to repress a squeal when I realize we're already reaching full velocity as Johnny steers the Jet Ski around New York Harbour. The cool water of the Hudson River spits at me as it diverges for the Jet Ski, the icy liquid spraying like a hose onto my attire and any revealed skin.

Daring a peek over Johnny's shoulder, the white foam of the ruffled sea water obscures the view of bridge ahead, so I as loudly as I can over the roar of the ski and wind squeak into Johnny's ear. "Why the hell are we doing this in the winter?"

"Cold bothering you sweetheart?" He laughs, casting a fleeting glance at me over his shoulder.

I scowl, squeaking again when we hit a small wave. "Hardly."

I can feel his self-satisfied smirk playing at his lips. "Good, then you won't mind another hour or so out here."

I blanch at the thought.

Amusing. My 'other half' as I have begun to call it chuckles inside my head.

Stay as long as you want out here flame brain, it's fun hearing her squeal.

******

"We did something you wanted to do, so now we get to something I want do."

Johnny groans dramatically at me, yet allows me to tug him towards the entrance of Bronx Zoo anyway, his feet teetering around as if he was drunk. "There's nothing to do here but walk around and stare at animals. How could you possibly find this fun?"

Keep complaining wiseass and I'll get Stella to feed you to the lions – that's when the fun will begin.

Scoffing at him, I pay the entrance fee and ignore Johnny's protests that he should be the one paying. Facing him for but a moment, my gentle smile manages loosen his tight expression in the slightest. "It's not like you see animals like this every day in your life – the things that animals are capable of are extraordinary sometimes! Like the dolphin's ability of echolocation, or the incredible speed of the cheetah –"

"I can look them up online. Anyway, I know a mutant who has the ability of echolocation and the Flash and Quicksilver run faster than the speed of sound – that definitely beats a cheetah."

Pausing in my strolling towards the first exhibit, my brows pull into a small knot at Johnny's depreciation. "You forget that not all of us live big super hero lives Johnny," I reply, my voice having dropped to a quieter and softer tone "you don't realize the privilege you have of possessing such wonderful powers. You devalue them and take them for granted. Normal people look at people like you in awe for what you've done and what you're capable of. Most dream of having the ability to wield fire, turn invisible, lift objects one hundred times their weight or even fly! You don't have to dream because you can do things like that, and you're use to people around you being able to do them same, but not everyone can do amazing things like that Johnny. Not everyone is surrounded by marvellous people with that kind of power. So seeing animals with those kinds of capabilities is sometimes the next best thing." I finish on a solemn note, averting his gaze in a stubborn refusal to see what emotions his eyes would be showing right now.

"You give out more life lessons than Reed," is what Johnny eventually mumbles under his breath, but when I'm about to chastise him for his unseemly response, he sincerely continues "but, unlike Reed, yours seem to matter more. You always manage to find a way to make your words mean something. If I didn't know any better, I would say you're a silver tongue."

A small swell of pride and bliss surges through me. "Hhm, funny enough, that's usually Jordan's job."

How can that man be so skilful with twisting words yet be so stupid at the same time?

It's Jordan, I've known him since I was seven and I still haven't the faintest idea how that boy's mind works.

Well, as long as he doesn't make you do any more stupid initiations, I'll try not to insult him as much as I will Chase. Key word: try.

Allowing a serene, happy grin to conquer my lips, my eyes begin to drift absentmindedly over the various exhibits while my mind reminisces over the old memories of my childhood, stopping on one memory in particular.

F L A S H B A C K

"You know, I've never heard of having to endure initiations in order for us to be a part of your friend group. Who suggested that I wanted to be your friend in the first place?"

Lightly jabbing my new friend Lucas in the ribs, I quietly rebuke "Be nice."

Ryan and Jordan laugh, Ryan once again asking "Okay, so you're sure that your mum and dad won't mind you turning up late?"

Its day two in my new school, and day two of hanging out with the other kids named Chase, Lucas, Ryan and Jordan. Yesterday, Jordan and Ryan mentioned some kind of 'initiation' Lucas, Chase and I have to go through so we could be a part of their group, but to do so, we needed permission from our parents to hang out with them today after school. I know my mum and dad don't really care where I go or what I do, so long as I'm in capable hands. Fortunately for me, according to them the hands of other parents are quite capable, so I just told them I was going to another student's house. Which of course brings us to here, the five of us standing outside the school while Ryan and Jordan give the other three of us instructions as other kids run to their parents or ride a bike home.

In response to Ryan's question, Chase, Lucas and I nod or uncomfortably shuffle around on our feet.

Chase admits "When I asked mum about it yesterday, she said she likes me making friends. She just wants me home in time for dinner."

When Ryan and Jordan's inquisitive eyes turn to Lucas, a guarded expression slips onto the eight year old's face as he defensively crosses his arms. "I'm allowed," is all he says, showing no signs that he plans to elaborate.

Finally landing on me, the two boys quirk their eyebrows in silent questioning, and as I think back to my dysfunctional little family, I meekly nod and murmur "Yeah, I just said I was going to a friend's house."

Ryan grins impishly. "Lying to your mum and dad Ellie? I thought you were one of the good girls," he teases playfully, earning a playful smile in reply.

"Good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught."

Jordan's blonde curls bounce on his head when he laughs. "Let's see if this good girl and her new friends can find us."

"What do you mean?" Chase curiously asks, the school gate creaking and moaning in the wind behind all of them while various children rush past it

"These are clues," Ryan elaborates, handing a sheet of paper to me while offering a small smile "they hint to where Jordan and I have our secret base. Find the base, and you'll find us."

"Is this it?" I ask, mildly surprised that all we have to do is figure out where to find them – which shouldn't be too hard between the three of us.

A small, mischievous twinkle shines in Jordan's eyes. "You'll just have to wait and see."

"We could always follow you," I point out, even though I don't plan on taking the easy way out of this.

"But that wouldn't be the point," Ryan reminds them "and it would ruin the fun."

"You have four hours to figure it out and find us," Jordan announces "or you fail."

Impishly grinning at the two boys in front of me, I cheekily reply "See you in two."

Neither Jordan nor Ryan says anything else, but they seem to have a silent conversation between one another just by the looks they're exchanging. Turning their backs on us, they step into the taxi they hailed earlier on and slam the doors shut, driving off and not even sparing their probable friends another glance.

"Are they hard clues?" Chase asks, breaking the silence that befell the three of us.

The two boys move to peer over my shoulder at the mysterious paper, Chase immediately perplexed whilst Lucas and I merely adopt an intense, concentrated look. Well, as intense and concentrated as we can get for an eight and seven year old.

"Okay, first clue says that the place has two words. First word is an animal." My petite eyebrows form a knot in the middle of my forehead, little lips puckering. "But there are a lot of animals."

"Well, there are about 950, 000 species of insects, but no one knows how many animals. Some scientists estimate around 8.7 million however," Lucas informs me, not helping in any way, shape or form.

Chase frowns, his small, chubby face tugging in a puzzled manner. "But there are only 26 letters of the alphabet, and each letter is supposed to have one animal. A for Alligator, B for Buffalo, C for Cats, D for Dogs –"

"Moving on! Next clue," I hastily interrupt, judging by how much I know him so far, that he'll probably get stuck on a letter very soon. "It says the next word is something we watch. An animal and something we watch? Lucas?"

Even Lucas appears confused at his, soft blue eyes narrowing in thought. "What's the last clue?"

I scrutinise the paper and the messy penmanship, reading aloud "Just says that it's also abandoned."

There it is. A knowing glint glazes over Lucas' eyes, a wry smile playing at his lips.

"I think I know where we need to go."

Unlike Ryan and Jordan, we didn't bring our pocket money from our chores, so we couldn't afford to use a taxi like they did. We spend at least an hour and a half blindly following Lucas throughout the big city of Chicago, and the whole time Chase is grumbling about how if he turned out to be wrong, he'd push Lucas in front of oncoming traffic.

Poor Chase, he's not exactly the fittest guy in the world. We had to stop a couple times for him to catch his breath, and even then I gave him a few of my tissues for the sweat.

"When I'm older, I'm going to start going to the gym. Mummy always says that's a place where people do exercise," Chase vows to me, hugging himself self-consciously. "And the big kids always poke at me and call me 'fatty' or 'hippo'. So, if I go to this gym place, then I won't be fat anymore! And they can't bully me."

"But why not start now?" I ask, curious. "You can play a sport, or do some running each morning or afternoon –"

"I don't like exercise. I would rather go to this 'gym' where they work their magic and I turn thinner in the hour."

I frown again, feeling sorry for the older boy. "Well, I think you're great the way you are. I don't see the point of doing something to make the bullies happy. Make yourself happy first, that's what's important."

He smiles at me, a smile so bright it shines brighter than a thousand suns. "Thanks Stella. You're a good friend."

A little while longer, and we finally arrive outside an old, derelict building squashed between a Laundromat and a shoe shop, both of which look like they're ready to follow their fellow business. "Mustang Theatre?" I ask Lucas, turning to him in perplexity. "You think they're here?"

"It said an animal, followed by something we watch, and the building is abandoned. I drive past here on the bus on the way to school, so I recognised it," Lucas explains, Chase finally catching up to us and resting his hands on his knees.

"Well I'm not walking anywhere else, so it better be it," Chase huffs, gripping his shirt and pulling it in and out at the chest to air it.

I watch contently as Lucas scans the front entrance, trying to discover a way in past all the locked doors, chains and padlocks keeping it firmly secured from outsiders. There's only a single, very narrow alleyway in between the theatre and shoe shop, and soon enough, Lucas ventures down it. Chase and I follow, and after five minutes of searching, Lucas throws his hands up in frustration.

"I seemed to have underestimated how smart they are. I can't find an entrance anywhere. Maybe this isn't the right place after all."

As if triggered by Lucas' magic words, Chase leans up against the stone cold, brick wall and snorts, quietly mumbling "Batman would have figured it out by now. He probably would have used the vents or somethin'."

Lucas' expression brightens, his first genuine, broad smile spreading on his face. "What a great idea Chase! You're a genius!"

Chase blinks. "I am?"

"Take it while you can," I whisper to him, eyes still focused on Lucas as he ventures further down the alley in search for a vent opening or something similar. Nudging Chase softly, I add on "They might have put some of these bins in the way of the entrance. Let's start moving them around."

Another five minutes pass, and begin to grow worried. We've almost hit the three hour mark, and this place doesn't seem to be showing any promise of being the actual base. I sigh anxiously, turning on my heel to Chase who is watching Lucas hopefully, and Lucas who is frowning thoughtfully.

I grab Chase by the shoulders, staring the eight year old dead in the eye and asking "Okay, vent thing? Not it. What else would Batman do?"

Chase shrugs unsure, sheepishly mumbling "I dunno, go in through another building? Oh! Or he would use his explosive gel and—"

"The Laundromat!" Lucas cuts in, already leaving us in the dust in his haste to visit the Laundromat on the other side of the theatre. Lightly grabbing Chase's hand, I jog as quickly as I can with Chase lagging behind to follow him.

The various scents of detergents and fresh clothing immediately washes over me when I enter, the only other person inside being a middle-aged, raven haired man attending to a seemingly broken washing machine. Looking up, startled, realisation seems to strike him after a few moments. "You three friends of Jordan and Ryan?"

"Yes," Lucas confirms, slightly put off. "Is there a way we can enter the closed theatre through here?"

The man rises to a stand, leaning forward with his hands on his hips and cracking his back audibly. "Yeah, but tell the boys to try and not tell many others about it would ya? I shouldn't be lettin' you kids in there in the first place." His eyes fall to me, a warm smile glowing along his cheeks. "Good to see not all kids are segregated by gender at your age. Having friends of opposite genders is always good, gives you a wider appreciation and understanding of others." The man nods his head towards the back of the shop, beginning to make his way down there. "Now come on, they've been waiting for a while. My name's Jack by the way; Jack Smyth."

"Nice to meet you sir," I greet, considering both Chase and Lucas have seemingly disregarded the thought of answering him at all.

He chuckles, a low and throaty sound. "Jack is just fine little lady. Nice to see there's still manners in the younger generations though."

We're lead to a rickety door at the back of the shop, and when he opens the door, allowing us through, the back room is rather small and unkempt, only with a few desks and chairs and clutter everywhere. Grimy pipes line the top of the ceiling, but not too many. On the far left wall hangs a large picture with four men in it, all of them smiling happily at the camera on what looks to be an expensive yacht.

"Yep, that's the boys and I," Jack points out, stopping momentarily with a proud smile on his face. "Connor is quite the wealthy man, a lawyer would you believe. We go out on his boat occasionally, for old times sake." His smile wavers, appearing wistful. "Growing up together we created more hell than the devil and all his demons ever could. In school, they even nicknamed us the Four Horsemen."

"The Four Horsemen?" I repeat, brows in a furrow.

"Of the Apocalypse," Lucas clarifies; face unreadable as he stares at the very large picture. "The book of revelation in the Bible. War, Death, Famine and Pestilence. Though, the last one has also been named Conquest. Much debate over it actually."

"Cool," Chase decides to throw in his input, scuffing the floor with his old, thread-bare shoes.

Jack gazes at Lucas rather appraisingly. "Rather bright for a kid your age, aren't ya?"

Lucas shrugs, hiding behind his longish fringe. "I suppose."

"Welp, go on in then," Jack instructs glibly, removing the frame from the wall to reveal an old, spacious, open vent. All three of us hesitate at first, sparing one another wary looks. After a little while I shrug, crouching and moving on in, engulfed by darkness immediately.

The pitter pattering sound of shoes hitting metal in succession with mine follows not too soon after, the light behind us disappearing as the photo is once again placed on the wall. For a couple minutes we aimlessly wander in the vent in the dark, the occasional word tossed here and there. However, when the ground abruptly disappear from underneath my foot when I take the next step, I stagger back to avoid falling directly down.

Huffing my blonde hair from my eyes, I proceed to warn "Guys—"

But I'm too late.

Like a cartoon, Lucas bumps into me but manages to stop before both of us plummet down, when Chase collides into us however, immediately all three of us fall onto a metal slope, sliding sliding sliding down like a slide from a carnival.

"Ahhhh!"

"Dear God!"

"WOOO YEAH!"

Oomp.

In an entanglement of limbs and clothes, be briefly bounce up one the mattress we all simultaneously land on, and when I glance up, I'm met with the sight of Lucas' stomach.

"Move you butt heads," Chase scowls, trying to squirm out of the bundle. When he finally does so, it's like a re-enactment of Jenga. By the removal of one, Lucas and I are freed and sprawl out on the mattress and off of it, painful groans from the air being whipped out of us escaping out throats.

On my back, I crane my head backwards with my eyes screwed shut, but when I open them, I'm met with the upside down image of Jordan and Ryan.

"Knew you would find us," Ryan chirpily comments, followed by Jordan's sarcastic "Took your time."

"Great!" I announce, rolling over slowly and stumbling clumsily to a stand. "We proved we can think and get around the city! Can we be friends now?"

When the two of them exchange a cheeky glance, I instantly know the answer is not a simple 'yes'.

"Actually, there's one more thing you gotta do," Ryan grins, rubbing his hands together evilly.

When the three of us are silent, Jordan crosses his thin arms and smiles smugly. "You have to audition for the part."

E N D  O F  F L A S H B A C K

A carnival. Why doesn't it surprise me that Johnny would take me somewhere cheesy like a carnival?

Nothing against carnivals, in fact, I haven't been to one since I was a teenager. It's nice basking in the humorous, welcoming, warm, exotic and lively presence of carnies and families and friends. An assortment of sweet and greasy carnival foods brushes and taunts my nose, many iconic songs and tunes attributed to carnival rides and side shows dancing in between my ears in delight. People on stilts, clowns, contortionists, magicians, the whole lot are here, there and everywhere. It all awakes an ancestral memory of when the boys and I went to the carnival many a year ago. Then, however, it didn't end so fortunately.

But we've already has one flash back this chapter, so I'll just store that away for a rainy day.

Can we get arrested for pushing over that carnie on stilts? My other half inquires, quite seriously entertaining the thought. I want to see him fall into that cotton candy machine.

Don't even think about it. It's hard enough getting up on those things, pushing the man over would be like a tree falling.

It's going down, I'm yellin timberrr ~

Shut up.

Make me.

"Your choice Johnny," I remind him, brushing my hand down my dark skinny jeans, grateful I changed into them before heading out with the hot head. "What do you want to do first?"

"Win you something," he distractedly murmurs, eyeing the side shows in contemplation as we manoeuvre around cheerful, bustling families and loved ones. He scans each side show very closely, like Gordon Ramsay judging an assortment of dishes lay out before him.

Where's the lamb sauce?!

You are really beginning to get on my nerves. You're like an unfunny, irrelevant version of Wade.

All these flavours and you choose to be salty.

A strong, able hand lightly curls around my shoulders, excitably dragging me to a side show where you have to shoot the small, moving ducks. The man working there is beyond the state of bored, a burly finger stuck in his ear as he wiggles it around, only to pull it out, smell it, and flick the ear wax elsewhere. Ew, gross.

"Five bucks for three shots," the filthy man grumbles out roughly, meaty, sausage-fingered hand held out expectantly.

Johnny's nose scrunches back in evident disgust, an act I would reprimand him for generally, but even in this instance I feel my own manners waver within. Whipping out a five, he slaps it into the opposing man's hand and cheerfully turns back to me, like an excitable puppy. "Check the Torch out on this babe."

Babe?

Do I look like a pig to you?

He takes a steady aim at the targets moving in the far back, firing in rapid succession three shots, two of which miss. A frown forms between the brows of the superhero, like he expected to land a hit on all three. The carnie in charge gives a hearty cackle, cigar jumping up and down from the act, and hacking up something towards the end of his laugh. Reaching lazily behind him, he fishes out a little unicorn the size of my palm and carelessly tosses it at Johnny. "Spend more time at the shooting range hot-shot. At this rate, you're making Stormtroopers look good."

The both of us glower heatedly at the man, and within seconds, I blink to find myself slapping down my own five dollar note directly in front of the man with a face of stone. "My turn."

That nerve grating chuckle returns, a condescending, shit-eating grin curling up his lips. "You'll be lucky to hit the backdrop princess." Nonetheless he gestures sardonically for me to continue, a gesture I take up quite obligingly.

Fingers curl around the gun like second instinct, face falling even firmer into an impassive, deadly determined mask of non-existent emotion. I raise the rifle to my eye level, completely blocking out Johnny's inquisitive glance that burns like two searing coals into my face. Breathing down the barrel of the gun, I inhale steadily, and as I gently exhale, my finger pulls at the trigger.

One. Two. Three. All find their mark on three of the most arduous targets with the skill of an expert marksman, for fortunately, despite being the least skilled fighter of the Horsemen, my aim with a gun has always stumped Chase, Lucas and Jordan.

The carnie's cigar comically tumbles from his mouth in jarring disbelief, that same shock wiping Johnny's face clean before he breaks into an open mouthed, wide grin.

With a tight-lipped, polite smile delicately gracing my face, I turn to the grotty man expectantly. "I'll take the Panda, thank you."

Breathily, Johnny laughs at the man a couple times. "Told."

After many grumbles and sneers from the carnie, Johnny and I depart from the side show quite smugly; him holding the giant Panda toy, and myself cuddling the small unicorn.

"Where did you even learn to do that?" He continues to get worked up, ecstatic for reasons beyond my comprehension. Like a kid after watching a super hero movie.

I shrug as we walk, an almost shy smile ghosting my mouth. "Went to the shooting range a fair bit growing up. Plus, I've always entertained the idea of being a cop."

"You would be a badass cop," he heartily confirms, waving his free hand out flatly in a 'no room for discussion' kind of way. "I would totally come down just to see you work."

Lightly bumping his side in our languid ambling, I tuck a lock of my golden hair behind my ear. "You would disrupt the peace more than Jordan does when he enters the room, and that's saying something."

Dramatically he clutches his heart with one hand, even staggering back for a second. "Me-owch. I felt that."

"Good, you were supposed to Tinkerbelle."

"Ooh name calling – so fearsome."

For a long time after that, we enjoy each other's company between the innumerable, whimsical rides and bizarre side shows, from dodgem cars and rollercoasters to animal attractions and magic shows. However, despite the overwhelming cliché of it all, it's the Fortune Teller that truly grasps my attention.

The violet, ebony and gold tent is undeniably the most extravagant and grandiose tent of the whole carnival, the only modest aspect of it being its actual size. Fortune Telling and Psychic Readings is glowing in a golden light above the tent's front flaps, a peculiarly ominous yet irresistible compulsion drawing one in like a moth to the flame. Licking the leftover sweet, sugary, pink cotton candy attached to my mouth, I manage to neglect the way Johnny's eyes skim over and fervently remain fixed on the way my tongue darts out of my lips, instead excitably tugging on his right arm hooked with mine. "Fortune Telling! Come on come on! Let's give it a go!" A rare display of childish behaviour on my behalf.

His eye roll is painfully palpable. "Really? You believe in this hogwash? It's just a scam for people's money. There's no such thing as magic."

My nose crinkles in displeasure as I stare back at him. "I believed in aliens and they were proved real. I believed in Gods or beings beyond our existence and they were proved real. I believed in super powered people and they were proved real. Is it really so far-fetched to believe in stories of magic that are as old as time itself? Told before all the legends of Gods, aliens and people with super powers?"

Still rather put off and sceptical of it all, Johnny surprisingly agrees to follow me into the tent, mumbling about the nonsense and absurdity of unadulterated, ancient magic.

Inside is far more expanse than one would expect looking at it from the outside, like a tent right out of a Harry Potter novel or movie. The colour scheme of black, purple and gold remains religiously intact, knick knacks and outlandish talismans lining the tent walls and few tables and cabinets within. Scents of herbs – namely sage – burns in my nose in a relieving delight, immediately demanding a sense of serenity and tranquillity I have never before felt in my entire life.

"Bonsoir, mes amies."

Head whipping towards the disturber of the peace, my eyes drink in a tall, lean, dark skinned man with an alluring gap tooth grin, and an air of charisma that is irrevocably charming. Purple dress shirt clings to him in a complimentary manner, a bewitching talisman of three crocodile teeth peeking through the partially unbuttoned shirt. Dark as night hair is immaculately tied back in a small, frizzy, curly ponytail, the faintest hint of a five o'clock shadow dusting his jawline.

I can feel Johnny's immediate dislike to the man roll off of him in waves of displeasure. Smiling at the man, I courteously take a few steps towards him in greeting, gently but confidently extending my hand. "Bonsoir, Monsieur."

"I don't speak baguette," Johnny huffs, venomously staring at the way the man's hand takes mine. "Let's keep it English, alright?"

"I shall try to slow down for you, tête chaude," the man's lips twitch, but throughout his promise, his dark eyes keep fixed unblinkingly on me, as if he actually possessed the capability to pierce into my soul.

Cliché.

Bending down, his lips greet the back of my hand in a gentlemanly kiss, like butterfly wings firmly fluttering against my hand's sensitive skin. They remain there even when he begins to talk. "Your beauty, ma chère, is so unprecedented; I would be able to see it even if I were a blind man."

He must be able to sense the irritable heat amassing around Johnny, for he additionally tags on as he rises to his full height once more "From an entirely platonic perspective, of course."

"Alright Pepé Le Pew, we're here for fortunes, not pick up lines from the internet," Johnny intervenes, aggravated. The hand of the super hero comes strictly between the man and I, resting on my shoulder and drawing me back one step. Frowning, I would have reprimanded Johnny for his disrespect, but the suave French man beats me to a response by two seconds.

"Ah, but is it not a fortune in itself to be graced by the beauty and tenderness of such an exquisite woman?"

"Yeah, but keep your baguette in your pants Frenchy. She's taken."

"I am well aware, but by another man, no?" The man's smile mirrors the attributes of a fox, yet manages to avoid being lecherous, suggestive or outwardly seductive.

A gentleman-fuckboy. Never thought I would see the day.

"You know?" I partially gape, gently pulling Johnny's arm down from where it held me back on my shoulder. "Incredible! Johnny, I told you there was such thing as magic," I poke him in an 'I told you so manner' whilst maintaining my lady like pretence.

The hothead sniffs, arms crossing over defiantly in a show of stretched t-shirt fabric and annoyance. Grumbling something unflattering under his breath, the Human Torch turns his head to the side in irritation.

Someone's peanut butter and jelly.

He's coming off as a possessive, overly jealous boyfriend. He needs to lay off a little.

For once, I actually agree with you.

What was that?

Like hell am I saying it again.

Dramatically taking a step back, the fortune teller heavily bows at the waist, peering up through his lashes with an alluring smile. "But, my manners seemed to have escaped me. I, am Bastien. Ç'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer." (It is a pleasure to meet you.)

"Estelle," I daintily tip my head in a bow in return, running a soothing hand up Johnny's brawny arm in an attempt to calm him in the midst of introductions. "And this hot head here is Johnny."

"Enchanté," Bastien smiles, charisma and charm not wavering for even a moment. "Estelle, a French name, meaning star. And quite a star you are, ma chère. Now come, fortunes must be told."

Star. That's what he used to call you.

He is dead.

We share a head, so am well aware of that. But when a man who died almost ten years ago is still holding you back from whole-heartedly dating fine specimens like Firecracker and Slice and Dice, a man whose name you still struggle to say even in your own head, you should start properly addressing this ridiculous entanglement of human emotions and acceptance with it all. Ryan Rutherford is dead. Move on.

I have.

No, you haven't. I'm in your head, I know.

You have only started talking to me in the past few days. Like hell am I believing anything coming from you.

Snapping back to reality, an entirely unreadable mask slips over my face when I notice a peculiar, inquisitive stare thrown my way from Bastien, a suspicious glint glazing over those dark eyes so quickly, I nearly miss it.

Guiding us to the circular table saliently situated in the centre of the room, he gestures for Johnny and I to seat ourselves on the side closest to the entrance, while he himself sits opposite. Resting the stuffed Panda and Unicorn toys on the table, I glance back up to Bastien expectantly to catch his long fingers roll the purple dress shirt up to his biceps, straining against the muscle every time he moves. Masculine, but not as much as Johnny. Or Wade.

Directly before him rests an impossibly translucent crystal ball, but I could swear for the briefest of moments, a minuscule, piercing white spark ignited within it. It stirred a tangible pinch inside my chest, like the smallest prick from a needle.

I don't like this. Guy may not be a charlatan like I previously thought. Give it up, get out of here.

No. I happen to be very intrigued by all this. And him not being a charlatan should be a good thing, that's what we want.

That's what you want. Now beat it, I don't trust him.

Tough luck.

"I... am having second thoughts about doing this with both of you in the room," the psychic's voice palpably hesitates, French accent weaving in and out splendidly in opportune moments. "Perhaps separate readings, mes amies?"

"Separate?" Johnny snaps, instantaneously shooting down any possibility of the sort. "No, nup, nope, no way. I don't trust you Frenchy—"

"I know when to appropriately keep my hands to myself, Monsieur," Bastien solemnly swears, very serious about the entire ordeal. The mischievous nature within the psychic seems to temporarily spark again afterwards, though. "I promise nothing about my tongue, however."

Once singe marks begin to eat at where Johnny grips the purple tablecloth in furious ire, Bastien throws his hands up in prompt surrender. "A joke, Monsieur Storm! I am a gentleman at heart, I swear to the spirits. I merely have an inkling that you both would prefer to hear your fortunes individually."

Turning to Johnny, I lightly rest a hand on his knee where he sits, gripping it through the pants fabric reassuringly. "Johnny, it'll be fine. Have a little faith in me, okay?" Something about the way my green eyes pleadingly fall on the Fantastic Four member seems to get through to him, cerulean gaze softening immeasurably.

Grudgingly, he once again agrees, Bastien politely kicking him out because 'Ladies are first'. The fortune teller even assures me that his tent is 'charmed', preventing any kind of eavesdropping from the hot-headed super hero.

Instead of inspecting the palm of my hand as I had originally thought, the suave French man smoothly slips both of his hands into my own and holds them on either side of the crystal ball. "I must admit, I am a little unorthodox in these practices ma chère. I use varying forms of divination to offer a more accurate experience. Because of the impatience and scepticism of your companion however, I shall keep this as short as need be."

As his fingers rub reassuring circles at the base of my palm and over my fluctuating pulse, Bastien's lips thin into razor sharp fine lines as he vehemently focuses on the crystal ball starting to cloud with white smoke from within. "Mm, such pain, from such a young age too." He noticeably winces, as if empathising with a brief burst of all the agony and anguish that has warped my emotions over the last twenty six years. "Old pain seems to cross with pain you have yet to know. You have not seen the worst ma chère. Von Doom may not be your most dangerous adversary, but he knows how to pit the right people against you. Watch your friends closely, for without your guidance and the touch of a gentle soul, Armageddon will surely knock on your doorstep. Try not to listen to that voice too often either, Estelle." That burning gaze settles precariously on my head. "It may have wisdom worth heading in life and death situations, but do not owe it anything."

Now you listen here —

His hands squeeze mine almost painfully. "Most important of all, do not fall to the mercy of fear. It may treat you kinder than most, but do not mistaken that for genuine kindness. Fear controls. Fear destroys. Fear is a product you create."

The serious mood cracks like old, dried, flaked blood, allowing warmth to seep into his expression once more. "Ah, but what a killer of moods, eh? To hear of love is all people come in here for these days, and what a love life you have ahead ma chère! A love life just as interesting and eventful as your secret life. That babouin outside knows nothing yet. Old love clings like a possessive ex, does it not?" That teetering grin is downright scandalous, an impish act on behalf of the fortune teller. "You have two men lined up my dear, but you can only choose by shaking off ancient memories. And you and I know which one is truly right for you, don't we?"

Gaping, words are stolen from the back of my throat by the thief before me, just as my breath was several sentences ago. There are so many ways in which each one of his words could be interpreted, and yet, even with the wisdom and training of Lucas Davids, am I left stunned by most of his mysticism. Most. Not all. The love advice was painfully transparent. The fact he's aware of my hurtful past, that I have a 'secret life' which he discreetly avoided naming, the voice constantly commenting in my head, and my current predicament with Von Doom, speaks lengths of his capabilities. Hogwash or not, Bastien's words should be regarded carefully.

Tongue running over my semi-dry lips; I strain to grasp the right words to form an appropriate response as he retracts his smooth, nimble hands from mine. "I would ask for more clarity than the few riddles you just gave me, but that would be asking for too much, wouldn't it?"

A lop-sided grin twitches back on his lips. "It is dangerous to know too much of one's future, Mademoiselle Aveline. But, I'll admit, it isn't just your beauty that has me enraptured." With a subtle, slick flick of the wrist, a rich purple business card materialises between two dark fingers on his left hand, the card barren of any script bar the golden numbers winking at me in the dim light. "I cannot interfere as much as the two of us may wish, but I offer my service in dire situations nonetheless ma chère. Use this card wisely," he cautions, fingers outstretched towards me with a charming wink.

My smile captures all the gratitude of the world. A one up on Von Doom and Dirk, something they would never have predicted. This could be extremely useful. "Words could not describe my gratitude Monsieur Bastien," I graciously thank, accepting the card benevolently with a brief brush of fingers. "You have been far more insightful than you can even imagine. How much do I owe you?"

He waves off the mere thought of payment, stretching back in his seat with a content, kind expression settling in his features. "No payment, ma chère. Entirely my treat. Your mere presence and beauty is payment enough." He pauses, a thoughtful, cat-like smile tugging his lips up that much further. "Ah, but perhaps you could do one small favour for me?"

"Anything."

"Do not lead the boy on if you truly wish to choose that regenerative Merc with a Mouth. Despite putting on the pretence of a self-centred playboy, you are the first woman he has ever considered more than just a pretty face."

Unlikely.

With one weak, thoughtful nod, I bit Bastien farewell for now, retrieving the unicorn from the table as I exit through the front tent flaps. Johnny stands around outside as the sunset's colours bathe him in an alluring assortment of pinks, yellows and oranges, the super hero scuffing his shoes against dirt floor in impatience. The sound of the tent opening must have garnered his attention, but I manage to pocket Bastien's card before he even has time to register it.

"My turn I take it?" He unenthusiastically asks, as if the taste of dirt lingered in his mouth.

I beam with as much consolation I am capable of after experiencing the largest riddle in my life that I have yet to entirely solve. "Mm hmm, but don't look so down." I tap his nose with the nose of the stuffed unicorn toy childishly. "I can almost guarantee there will be a little bit of good in there."

He snorts, lightening up from the playful display. "Yeah, well, doesn't mean I'll believe it. Better not keep Frenchy waiting thought I suppose." Without another word, I watch as the playboy is engulfed by the purple and black fabric of the tent, and I refrain from even attempting to listen on to his predictions. Not only, as Bastien had said, is the tent charmed, but Johnny deserves his privacy just as much as I did.

The wait is longer than I expected, but flies nonetheless as emotions and thoughts pull, stretch, tear and warp my heart and brain as if they are nothing but play dough at the mercy of a child. Old pain? New pain? The voice in my head? Watch my friends? Did he mean Jordan, Chase and Lucas? And what on Earth did he even mean by Armageddon knocking on my doorstep? Was that a euphemism?

Could've been one for the Firecracker. Or that mercenary you are adamant on dating.

I don't think it was, he had a whole other segment dedicated to my 'love life' and those two. Which, I'm not even going to begin trying to go over. Love can wait, my friends and team can't.

I would say chicks before dicks, but your friends are guys sooo.... wait; does the bros before hoes still apply? Pretty sure Firecracker is a hoe.

Aren't you charming tonight?

One of my finest qualities.

You really are campaigning for asshole of the year, aren't you?

As the defending champion, are you worried?

The sound of disturbed fabric reaches my ears quite quickly, prompting me to spare the tent a glance and take in the sight of Johnny exiting with a panda in one arm, and a peculiarly happy grin broadening his cheeks. His attempts to suppress it are obvious, but are in vain nevertheless.

I arch an eyebrow inquisitively, but not overly prodding. "Someone's happy," I state as a matter of fact, not a goading question.

That immense satisfaction doesn't even falter. "I rather believe this is was an enlightening experience Cupcake. I shall have to keep myself a bit more open to things like this in the future."

I barely withhold my own jaw dropping in shock. "You... Wait wha—"

"Come on! Plenty to still do before the day and night are over!" He beckons, dusting off my incredulousness and lazily throwing an arm around my shoulder. The rest of the walk around the carnival is completed with an extra kick in Tinkerbelle's step, like Bastien had told him that the entire world was for his grabbing. I bring it up a couple times, but each time he continues to swap subjects to the point where he nearly blatantly ignores any inquiries that escape my mouth.

Bastien probably fucked with him and said he was going to get laid tonight.

Refraining from replying to... well... myself, I come to accept that Johnny won't be spilling any beans any time soon, merely basking in the happy glow the super hero has to offer.

That is, until we reach the mirror fun house.

"Johnny, these things creep me out to no end. What if a clown pops out of nowhere and starts beheading people?"

"Beheading people? Cupcake, you'll be fine. I'm a super hero, remember? Saving the day is my specialty. Pretty sure I can save you too."

"Oh no, I can take care of myself. I was actually concerned for you."

At that, I receive a flat look.

"Cute, Stella. Real cute."

I giggle. "I happen to think so."

When we enter, walls upon walls of mirrors encompass us dauntingly, a foreboding, ominous air stealing the breath from my lungs and twisting all sorts of organs within me. Staring at reflections of myself left, right and centre can be more disconcerting than one may think, especially when I notice the absence of a certain flameboyant hero.

I turn in frantic circles, plush unicorn held tight with a grip of iron. A chill begins to bite in the air, rolling up and down my shoulder blades agonisingly slowly like a pair of eyes are devouring every inch of me at an excruciatingly lethargic rate. Mirrors reflect nothing but my marginally panicked self and more mirrors, but the slow click clack click clack of boots meeting concrete echoes in my heart. I can handle terrorists. I can handle government officials. I can handle super heroes. I can handle super villains. I can handle aliens. I can handle common criminals. But this? Horror-esque situations? Those are a profound weakness in me.

Face of stone and heart of progressively melting steel, I clear my throat once to steady the quiver my voice may take on if I didn't. "Johnny? Not. Funny. Not funny at all. Where did you even go off to?"

Nothing. Nothing but click clack click clack.

I turn again, heart picking up in pace. No one is behind me. "I'm serious, Storm. Your sister will look like a field day when I'm done with you."

Click clack click clack.

Another turn, another futile attempt to find out who else is in the mirror maze with me. "Johnny?"

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

"I thought I lost you back there."

A squeal bursts past my lips when I spin yet again, finding a very concerned Johnny taking in me increasingly anxious state. "Stella? Stella, what's wrong?"

"Don't you hear that?"

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

Johnny's face falls quicker than the speed of light. His hand immediately slips around me waist firmly, pulling me protectively towards him like it's an instinct. "Do you know who that is?"

"If I did, would I be freaking out right now!?"

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

Heels of boots, but not the feminine heel kind. Heavy steps hold a heavy person. Muscle, perhaps?

Could be someone after Johnny. Could be someone after me. Could be some random criminal off the streets deciding to make a debut right here, right now. Yet, it's as if this person knows what buttons of mine to push. Like he or she knows exactly what makes me tick—

Exactly what makes me tick.

The bastard.

"Fancy meeting you here, Jonathan Storm," the disfigured, hauntingly deep yet familiar voice flippantly comments, conducted in a manner than conveys the triviality of discussing the weather, but with a tone used to strike a fearful threat into the heart of one's worst enemy. "On a date no less, it seems."

Both Johnny and I snap our necks to the source of the intrusion, a heated scowl that outdoes any animosity held towards Bastien earlier on.

Chase, the prick, stands a few meters away quite contently, adorned in his iconic, crimson red Horseman suit like the devil incarnate. Muscles roll in an intimidating manner as he stretches his large, imposing shoulders, tilting his head to the side like a lion toying with his dinner.

Chase, you brick-headed cock block. Gtfo of here.

Minus the cock-block part, I whole-heartedly agree.

"What could be so important that you couldn't wait until I got back to the Baxter Building?" Johnny seethes out through grinded teeth, his mere acrimony conveying more than words probably could in this instance.

I swear I'm going to throw him off the Parkcorp building balcony later on. Lucas won't even mind. Jordon will probably post it on Instagram.

"Individual updates on the four of you," War the Horseman indifferently shrugs, beginning to circle us agonisingly slowly in a continuation of the lion vs. prey pretension. "Doom makes his next move at the end of tomorrow, and here you are, winning stuffed animals and going on rides in the midst of a date." Chase's head briefly tilts to me.

That was definitely meant for both of us.

Johnny pulls me even closer, putting him between Chase and I as Chase continues to hauntingly circle us. Watching infinite reflections of War crossing over mirrors in the dim, eerie light would terrify anyone else, but after spending most of my life with the man, knowing he would never in a million years hurt me, and also knowing that he'll be getting an ass-whooping when I get home, makes me rather desensitised to the whole display.

"Not that I could particularly blame you," he adds on, briefly looking ahead of him before coming around behind me and momentarily stopping. "Not with this... delicious creature on your arm." Even with a ski mask covering the lower half of his face and a hood tugged over the upper half, the act of him checking me out up and down my body is slightly exaggerated as a means to piss off Johnny.

Throwing him off the Parkcorp building would be too nice at this point.

Johnny growls. As in, growls. Like a damn dog! His grip increases to the point where it's almost hurtful. "Back off, now. She's not involved in this."

Chase continues his circling. "Eh, even if she isn't, does it matter? I do what I want, Flame Brain." I could understand why people are put off by the boys; they look and act imposing enough, but when you include the daunting malformation of their voices into something so deep and, dare I say, nearly sinister, they truly have the capability to haunt the nightmares of almost anyone they wish.

With a look thrown back in my direction, I can feel Chase's idiotic smirk growing under the mask. "After all, I'm a Horseman, and Horsemen don't follow the rules of order... we reap the agents of chaos."

A/N: I knowwwwwwwwwwww it's been yearssssss, but hey, updated eventually! It was just the other day I finally had a creative stroke of ideas for this chapter, having re-written this chapter with completely different story plots and ideas twenty nine times.

I really, truly am sorry it took so long. Luckily, by telling myself that I couldn't post the new Bucky Barnes fanfic until I updated here, I managed to motivate myself with this story again! I am also now running off new ideas for this story, so it shouldn't be another couple centuries before I update! And there's a new Bucky Barnes fanfic up! So double yay!

Thank you everyone so much for your patience! All of you are loyal and amazing and incredible to a fault.

In particular, I would love to give a whole lot of love to my friends Tricia (@ bizzleslayswag) and Stephanie (@ smarvelousuniverse) who, despite half the world separating us, have non-stop motivated me to update this like crazy. They also graduated during the week, so big congrats to them!!

Thanks so much for reading and sticking around, and that's all for now, bye! :) xxx

~ T.L