By four in the morning, there had been 315 deaths and 135 lives saved.

In other words, there had been a massacre.

All the crimes so far were senseless homicides, only differing in execution, ranging from shootings to arson to stabbings. Half conscious, Cadell swayed back and forth in front of another cursed house. Cursed. Everything was cursed. It was most definitely, without a doubt--

“Cursed,” Cadell mumbled. “This city is cursed. Cleanse, cleanse. Focus. Must be cleansing.”

The Voice’s murderous rants were now too quick to be deciphered, squirming around his mind like maggots inside a long dead corpse. Remaining in the “Psycho” state for a prolonged period of time on top of witnessing bloodshed throughout the night had left Cadell a little more unhinged than usual. With each life failed to save, his concentration had lowered. His physical limit hadn’t been reached but he was almost on the brink mentally. There was no way in hell he could risk forming a portal.

Hallucinations briefly flickered to show the house from a unique perspective; Orange and crimson stained the driveway and every brick. A murderer’s inside. Too late?

Cadell staggered to the open porch door. The hallway was familiar. And he knew this living room. The photos were gone. The furniture was different. But long ago, he once lived here.

“Hey, Cadell.” Ejiro stood by two bodies sprawled in a pool of blood. His eyes transfixed on the victims. “I was getting worried you wouldn’t show up. How was your night?”

A hollow, empty stare hid under the Psycho mask.

The assassin dropped into a crouch, seemingly inspecting the bodies. “Everyone knows Psycho’s origins. You committed a double homicide here. Like the one I’ve replicated, it was a spectacular stabbing. 112 knife wounds in total.”

“Stop,” Cadell whispered.

“I have a theory,” Ejiro continued. “It’s quite a common one most seem to believe. You killed your parents, Miles and Kalice Akindele, because you lost control, so you decided to fight crime as a pathetic attempt at redemption. As a way to redeem yourself.”

“You don’t know.”

“Oh but I do. It’s a fascinating murder case actually. Your response after you had realised what you’d done must have been remarkable.” Ejiro paused, finally looking at the superhero with a wide smile. “Can I re-enact it for you? I’ve been practicing. Feel free to send me to outer space if you don’t like it.”

There was no reply.

Cadell had grown accustomed to death and atrocities over the years. He had grown accustomed to lacerations, broken bones and blood all over the place. He had become desensitized to violence a long time ago.

This was nothing. And yet, he couldn’t move an inch.