You were warned time and time again to stay away from Keltman Road. The little shops might have interesting trinkets and good quality items at affordable prices, but Keltman Road was where villains frequented.
You knew this, of course. You'd practically grown up there, tagging along with your mother as she sought out bargains and pinched her pennies so there would be food on the table later. The shopkeepers might not remember you, since your family moved away when you were 10, but you still remember them.
Mr. Vargas sold medicine and nutritional supplements (so long as you weren't worried about the lack of FDA approval). Miss Charles was an incredibly skilled tailor with a wide selection of second-hand clothes (and she'd always give an extra discount on anything with... questionable brown stains). Mr. Orozco made and repaired electronics (and they only sometimes tried to murder their new owners). The Seo Sisters grew almost any kind of plant you could think of, and quite a few hybrids (just don't ask about the ones they keep in cages in the back).
But perhaps that familiarity was the most dangerous part of Keltman Road for you. After all, you knew these people, the goods, the street. It didn't feel like a dangerous place to visit.
And now, here you were. Bruised, with a busted lip, shoved against the rough brick of the alley between Mr. Orozco's shop and a new place that sold refurbished furniture. The burly guard with her forearm pressed against your throat had a dazed look in her eyes you recognized from warning pamphlets about mind control.
"You should have given her the book when Summer asked nicely," a sickly sweet voice said as a petite person stepped into the alley. They were small, pretty, and androgynous. Flowing skirt, five o'clock shadow, leather jacket. A youthful face paired with grey-streaked hair made even their age seem indistinct.
"I... bought it... first," you gasped.
"Mm. And I need it," they replied.
They smiled, all daggers and ice. "That is what I am doing." When all you did was gurgle, they tsked. "Such a waste of my powers. Summer."
Summer let you drop to the ground. Before you could fully catch your breath, a small hand cradled your cheek.
"Listen to me," they cooed.
The sensation of fingers running through your hair became a probing pressure behind the eyes. The next symptom of mind control was a burning sensation that would make your thoughts fuzzy, before the crushing blackness of being taken over. Except, instead of feeling that burn, the villain in front of you screamed in agony.
A wave of coolness washed over your mind, soothing the ache, as they dropped to the ground, convulsing.
You staggered to your feet, woozy, and more than a little queasy.
The villain lay at your feet, dead.
Now, you'd need to call your mother. There was no way she wouldn't have felt someone trying to break through the mental shields she'd put in place. Sure, being the only child of a former world class villain had its benefits, but you always hated having to admit she'd been right. Still, hearing 'I told you so' would be infinitely better than having to explain to the Heroes' Council what the civie child of Psybolt was doing shopping on Keltman Road for ancient grimoires.
You wearily pulled out your phone and dialed. "Hi, mom..."
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