Unheroic Life of a Certain Cape

176 BunnyLabs Inc.

I didn’t know how long it had been since I left Markend. Time didn’t move straight anymore. It looped, snagged, stuttered. My memories here felt preserved in amber, while the rest of me had aged in ways I couldn’t measure. Maybe it had been months. Maybe a lifetime. Returning now felt like revisiting the corpse of a person I once pretended to be.

I forced the elevator doors apart, metal screeching as they peeled open. The moment I stepped inside, the stink hit me with rot, smoke, piss, and chemicals I didn’t want to identify. The cabin was vandalized with graffiti and melted plastic, and someone had clearly slept in the corner not long ago. Even the flickering light overhead buzzed like it was dying.

This entire building used to be mine. Now it was abandoned, claimed by vagrants, junkies, and whatever gang currently held the block. They’d painted their colors over the old walls, tagging every surface they could reach. Half the hallways smelled like someone had cooked drugs in them. The SRC might have seized the property once, but they clearly didn’t bother maintaining it.

When I stepped onto the top floor, the noise of the lower levels faded. No squatters dared come up here. The entire level was taped off and listed as dangerous, but that never stopped me. The top floor hadn’t been touched since the SRC investigated it, though the signs of their search were everywhere from the shattered tiles, peeled wall panels, scorch marks, and ripped wiring. They had dissected the place from top to bottom.

I turned toward the far corner, crouched down, and pressed my fingers to the angle I remembered. Even after all the destruction, the faint seam was still there. I phased my hand through the wall, feeling the cold interior of the hidden cavity. My fingers brushed a metal edge. I pulled out the small steel box, set it on my knee, and pried it open.

The old camera lay inside exactly as I remembered. When I lifted it, the weight hit harder than expected. Inside were photos of me, Silver, and Onyx. Some candid, some shy, and some embarrassingly soft for people like us. They were the kind of memories I should’ve destroyed the moment I became a public menace, yet I kept them anyway. Maybe I always knew I’d come back for them.

Beneath the photos sat a small black velvet box. I opened it with a thumb.

A wedding ring gleamed inside.

Mom’s ring, the surviving half of the pair. Dad’s had been lost the night I killed him. The night everything changed and the version of me I knew died along with him.

I swallowed and closed the lid. I slipped the box and the camera inside my coat, securing them deep within the inner pocket.

“I’m done here,” I said quietly, “so you can come out now.”

A sharp buzz vibrated from my pocket. The phone flickered, light bent outward, and George burst from it in a flare of luminescent pixels. He materialized at my side, his form settling into the shape of a young man in a white hoodie covered in questionable drawings.

“You’re seriously not thinking straight,” he said, his voice crackling like static. “Coming here of all places? Are you out of your mind?”

“What?” I raised a brow. “I just wanted some fresh air.”

“Fresh—?” He dragged a hand over his face. “Nick, this is practically a shrine to every horrible thing you did when you were Markend’s most violent cape. Of course the SRC still monitors this area. Of course they scan for anomalies. Why return here?”

“Relax,” I said. “I had a reason.”

He pointed at me, sharp and accusing. “And how did you even know I was here?”

I tapped the side of my head. “Empathy. You’re loud as hell.”

George blinked, then groaned, shoulders slumping. “Right. Of course. I forgot you can sense emotions like an alarm system with legs.”

I shrugged, letting the silence settle.

He studied the ruined room, then shook his head again. “Just… don’t do that. Don’t come back here. Not alone. Not without telling anyone.” His tone softened but only barely. “Places tied to your past aren’t safe. Especially not this past.”

He looked at me, exasperated and worried.

“Promise me you won’t make a habit of this.”

“I won’t come back here again,” I said. “This is the last time.”

George let out a sharp sigh, hands on his hips like some irritated parent. His light-constructed body flickered in a pulse of annoyance.

“Good,” he muttered. “Because you’re impossible to track when you decide to pull stunts like this. And while we’re at it, change your clothes. All of it. You’re screaming look at me in the worst possible neighborhood.” He pointed accusingly at the porcelain mask on my face. “And that thing? That’s basically a beacon.”

“It isn’t just a mask,” I replied. “It’s tech from the otherworld. High-level tech.” I gestured to the porcelain surface, then to the suit I was wearing. “The suit too. It has regenerative properties and invulnerability built in.”

His eyes brightened with a glow of interest. “Then let me analyze them back at the lab.”

I stared at him. “Lab? What lab?”

“Oh, right.” He puffed up his chest slightly, pride sneaking into his expression. “Guesswork and I have been busy the past four months. We built a support base. And… we might’ve started a company.” He cleared his throat. “Bunnywork Group.”

I blinked, and then chuckled under my breath. “Bunnywork? Please tell me you have bunny girls.”

“Shut up,” he snapped, cheeks tinting with a faint light-pink glow. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“No, it isn’t. We worked hard for that name.” His voice wavered between annoyance and wounded pride. “It was supposed to be a partnership, but the damn thing grew faster than expected. We’re officially a company now.”

“You’re telling me you two built a company in four months?” I asked, still trying to process it.

George nodded vigorously. “We liquidated Guesswork’s assets. Used his connections. Plus the information you gave us last time, remember? That was gold. So, yes, we grew fast.”

I rubbed my forehead. “Where is Guesswork anyway? We should meet.”

George’s shoulders sank. “He’s working as Director of Division Five now. He got roped into an upper-brass assignment, something about securing more data on the Entity. A mission involving another world.”

My stomach tightened. “You’re letting him handle that? That’s how Prophet happened. That’s how Light was created and thrown into our world. Do you understand what kind of disasters that led to?”

“I know,” George said quietly. “I’m not stupid. I understand the risk. You don’t have to remind me.”

“Guesswork is brilliant,” I admitted. “But he also has a habit of being too curious for his own goon. Also, he’s quite ambitious. If he flips on us, we’re screwed.” I paused. “What then?”

George tilted his head, expression suddenly too calm. “If you’re that worried, why not kill him now?”

I shrugged. “Because it would be a waste.”

A faint smile tugged the corner of his mouth. “Still the same old you.”

I exhaled slowly. “I’m not thankless, George. I don’t kill people who helped me. Not unless I’m forced to.”

He nodded at that, the irritation melting away.

“Well,” he said, “your people should be fine for now. The safehouse Tigress set up is perfect. It’s far from SRC routes, off the grid, and quiet enough to lie low. As long as you don’t do anything stupid like this, no one will track you.”

I stepped out of the ruined apartment building, the porcelain mask hiding whatever expression I had left. George drifted beside me like a second shadow, his light-constructed body flickering faintly in the sunlight. The sidewalk was crowded with office workers, students, and homeless drifters spread across the block. No one paid us any mind. Markend never changed; people only saw what they wanted to see.

George floated backward in front of me. “Hey, Nick. What do you think about taking in the homeless and turning them into capes?”

I glanced at the clusters of vagrants huddled near the alleyway. “That’s your idea of charity?”

“Not charity,” he said. “Strategy. With the right setup, we could replicate conditions for a controlled artificial pull. Plenty of groups have done it. The Monarchy used psychics to force trauma loops on victims, basically nightmare fuel.”

I stopped. “How the hell do you even know that?”

He smirked, proud. “Cut a deal with the Monarchy a while ago. We also have agreements with Deadend… and a few big factions whose names I should probably not drop on a public street.”

I stared at him through the blank porcelain. “You made deals with them?”

“They have resources. You want to kill an Entity? You’re going to need everything. Even alliances you don’t like. Various pharmaceutical companies had been also working on a drug that induces an artificial pull. Recently, they’ve been working on hallucinogens.What do you think?”

Before I could respond, a black sedan rolled up, braking sharply in front of us. The window lowered an inch.

“Get in,” George said, already opening the back door.

I slipped inside. A pair of startled eyes stared back at me from the rear-view mirror. It took me a moment, but the face clicked.

I snapped my fingers. “Wait… aren’t you Crow’s driver?”

He jolted so hard the steering wheel shook. “N-no, sir. You must be mistaken.”

My Empathy told me he was lying. His anxiety spiked like a dying heartbeat. I settled back in the seat.

“Small world,” I murmured. “Didn’t think I’d run into you again.”

George buckled in, purely for comedic effect, since he couldn’t die from a crash. “He’s exactly who you think he is. He used to drive for Crow. Knows the business, knows the underworld, and he’s a low-tier cape with decent reflexes. We needed drivers who wouldn’t panic at the weird stuff.”

The driver swallowed hard, hands tightening on the wheel.

“Relax,” I told him. “I’m not going to kill you.”

Outwardly, he calmed. Inside, fear roared like a storm. At least he tried.

George added, “He pulled around the same time you went on your… spree. When the Murder of Crows started dying off one by one.”

“Ah,” I said. “So you pulled during that mess. Rough timing.”

I leaned forward a little. “Sorry for punching you in the face back then.”

He let out a thin, terrified laugh. “I’m just glad I survived.”

George stretched lazily in his seat. “We hired a lot of people from the remnants of the three gangs. Even the Crows. Lots of talent left over after you tore through them.”

A faint ripple of satisfaction ran through George. He tried to hide it, but I felt it anyway. The Murder of Crows nearly killed him once. His grudge ran deep.

The sedan slowed as we approached a towering glass structure, its shape clean and modern. The sunlight glinted off the bold logo near the entrance:

BunnyLabs Inc.

I stared for a long moment. “You’re kidding.”

George lifted his chin proudly. “Guesswork’s idea. He said every company he start should have ‘work’ in the name, and every company I start should have ‘bunny’ in the name.”

“So this is… what? Yours?”

“Yes,” he said with a grin. “It’s my idea.”

I followed George toward the glass doors of BunnyLabs, still staring at the ridiculous rabbit-shaped logo stamped beside the entrance. “So tell me,” I said, “what’s the point of a research lab? You running a science fair now?”

George walked with his hands behind his back, posture a little too proud for someone wearing a glowing humanoid shell. “The public answer,” he said, “is that BunnyLabs focuses on software research. Coding frameworks, predictive systems, adaptive interfaces, and stuff that benefits me since, well…” He tapped his chest, making a soft ringing sound. “My physiology works better with clean data input.”

“And the real answer?” I asked.

He grinned, eyes bright. “We hire anyone. Heroes, villains, mundanes… no discrimination. That alone makes the SRC sweat. But that’s just the surface. The real reason BunnyLabs exists is because we’re conducting research the SRC would lose their minds over. If we do this right, they’ll be frothing with rage.”

“Sounds like your kind of fun.”

“Absolutely.” Thɪs chapter is updated by novel·fiɾe·net

We entered the lobby, bypassed the reception desk, and headed toward the elevator bank. George pressed a button, and the doors slid open. Inside, the panel displayed no basement floors, but after he swiped a card across a hidden reader, the elevator began descending anyway.

I leaned against the wall. “Secret floors now? You really did start a whole company.”

“You think small, Nick,” he said. “We’re changing the world.”

The doors opened into a long hallway lit with soft blue lights. We walked through several turns—left, right, left—until we stopped before a reinforced glass room. The moment I saw what sat at the center, the air left my lungs.

It was a machine. Twisted metallic arms, circular coils, and humming plates. Burnt edges. Fractured conduits. A core that refused to die even after catastrophic damage. I knew it instantly. I’d seen it before, through Light’s memories and through the NDS labs I tore apart.

A multiverse transit device.

George stepped forward, hands tucked behind him. “After you and Tigress vanished, me and Guesswork started hunting down every scrap of multiverse tech we could find. And we hit pay dirt. This one was locked away in one of Dr. Sequence’s old labs. A ruined prototype, but it still had its schematics intact.”

I circled it slowly, eyes tracing the altered joints, the refined coils, the reinforced casing. “This isn’t just a recovery,” I murmured. “Someone modified it. This is cleaner than the NDS models. Probably Sequence’s work.”

“Guesswork made some educated guesses based on the fragments you left behind,” George said. “We’ve been rebuilding it from scratch, but the SRC is guarding all the materials you’d need to make a stable version. They’re terrified someone like you will open doorways again. That explains why they didn’t like you in particular despite cooperating so nicely.”

I touched one of the metal ribs, feeling the faint vibration beneath my palm.

George and Guesswork had been very busy. I wondered if Guesswork had predicted this… me and Tigress returning to this exact place. It felt like too perfect of a coincidence.

I folded my arms. “Let me work on it.”

George stepped back and gestured dramatically toward the machine. “Be my guest. Do whatever you want. This one’s yours now.”

I nodded, already thinking of which parts I’d tear open first. The hum of the ruined device echoed in my mask, steady and familiar, like an old heartbeat waiting to start again.