Chapter 234 Nightcrawler Back

Liam had spent the last few days drifting between sleep and soft conversation. His body was still weak from everything he’d endured, but slowly, his energy had begun to return. Most of that time, he’d spent with Dickson. Not just resting, but talking—really talking.

He told Dickson everything.

The system.

The stats.

The gangs.

The supernatural threats, the Crimson Hand, the Sokolov legacy—every thread of madness that had rewired his life since the day his father died.

Dickson didn’t blink.

In fact, he laughed more than he flinched.

"Dude," Dickson had said, sprawled across the couch as if they were talking about comic books. "You’re basically a goddamn anime protagonist. This is the coolest shit I’ve ever heard!"

Liam tried to warn him—tried to drill the danger into his thick skull. That people died. That the enemies were real. That he could wake up tomorrow and find one of them dead. But Dickson just grinned, eyes wide, childlike with excitement.

Liam eventually gave up trying to scare him. If the idiot was going to be part of this madness, he might as well enjoy the calm before the storm.

That morning, Liam finally stepped outside for the first time in nearly a week.

He wore nothing but a dark grey robe that flapped slightly with the breeze. His hair was a mess, his bare feet touched the cool, dew-soaked grass, and he just stood there for a second.

Breathing.

No guns. No powers. No system windows. No blood.

Just morning air.

His eyes flicked to the sky. It was blue, with only faint strands of clouds drifting lazily. Birds chirped in the distance. For a moment, Liam felt like a normal human being again. A rare moment in a life that had gone completely off-script.

He hadn’t wanted any visitors this week. Not because he didn’t care about them, but because he needed space. He had personally told everyone—Lana, Lilith, Ella, even Dickson—to leave him alone until he called. The only one he hadn’t explicitly banned was Ann.

And she hadn’t shown up.

Not once.

Liam knew why. Guilt. What she did the night he got hurt—she probably couldn’t even look him in the eye now. Part of him wanted to say something, but another part knew she needed space just as much as he did.

He let out a deep breath and turned to head back inside—

Then everything changed in a blink.

Danger.

His body moved on instinct. One foot slammed into the ground as he twisted sideways, diving off the path and into the grass just as a car skidded to a stop in front of his house.

A police cruiser.

Liam blinked, his heart still racing.

Vanessa.

She threw the door open and practically jumped out. Her blonde hair was tied up, uniform tight on her body, and her face was flushed with panic.

"Oh my god, Liam! I’m so sorry!" she blurted. "I didn’t mean to—I didn’t know you were back, I just got excited—!"

Liam stood up slowly, brushing grass off his knees, eyes hard.

"That doesn’t even make sense," he snapped. "You saw me, then you got excited and almost killed me? In front of my house? Are you trying to take me out now or something?"

Vanessa’s expression softened with a guilty smile. She scratched her cheek. "It’s not like that... I was just surprised to see you, that’s all. You’ve been off-grid for days."

He sighed and crossed his arms. "You’re unbelievable."

"Get in, Liam."

He blinked. "What?"

She motioned toward the car. "Get in. I want to show you something."

"Get in where?" he asked, knowing damn well what she meant.

Vanessa had already turned back to the driver’s seat. "The car. C’mon, trust me."

Liam stared at her for a beat. Then he looked back at his house, then down at his robe.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered, but moved toward the passenger side anyway. "Life just can’t be normal, can it?"

Vanessa looked at him sideways as he slid in. "What are you talking about?"

He shook his head, staring out the window. "Never mind. Just drive."

And with that, the car pulled away from the quiet street, the engine rumbling low as another strange day in Liam Carter’s life began.

---

Liam grabbed the cup of coffee sitting in the holder next to Vanessa without thinking. He popped the lid and took a long sip, eyes still half-lidded from days of rest and exhaustion layered over each other.

Vanessa side-eyed him almost instantly. "What the hell are you doing?" she asked, flicking her eyes from the road to him.

Liam exhaled after the sip like he’d tasted nectar. "Drinking coffee."

She narrowed her eyes. "That’s not for you. That’s for my boss."

Liam glanced at her, shrugged, and took another sip. "It’s mine now."

Vanessa groaned. "You’re unbelievable."

Liam smirked as he leaned back against the seat. "Where are you even taking me anyway?"

"My house," she said plainly.

That raised his brow. "Your house?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"Trust me," she said. "You’ll want to see this."

Liam narrowed his eyes. Whenever someone told him "trust me", it never led anywhere simple. Still, he said nothing more and stared out the window, letting the silence grow.

Then he spotted something else—a paper package, the kind only one kind of heavenly item came in. Doughnuts.

Without thinking, his hand drifted toward it.

"Nope," Vanessa said instantly, her hand dropping over the package before he could touch it. "That’s mine. You’re not taking it."

"One hand on the wheel, Officer."

"Don’t test me, Liam ."

Liam snorted and sat back, hands up in defeat. "Fine. I’ll starve. Enjoy your sugar."

The rest of the ride passed in silence—comfortable for her, contemplative for him. As she drove them out of the city and toward the quiet suburb tucked near the hills, Liam’s eyes traced every tree, every house. The wind carried the scent of freshly cut grass, something calming, but it did little to ease the tension creeping into his spine. Something about this detour felt off, even if she seemed relaxed.

When they finally pulled up to the gates of a wide estate, Liam blinked.

Vanessa pressed a button on her dashboard and the metal gates swung open slowly.

"Fancy," Liam muttered.

"You really need to get out more," she replied as the tires crunched over the gravel driveway. "You look like you’ve never seen a remote gate opener."

He didn’t reply. She was right—there was a lot about normal life he’d forgotten. Small things, like sleeping through the night or hearing wind through the trees instead of gunfire.

They parked, and Vanessa stepped out casually, grabbing her doughnut—before shutting the door. Liam followed wordlessly. She didn’t talk much now, just walked ahead like she had something serious on her mind.

He trailed behind her, eyeing the old-money aesthetic of the house. He’d been here once before, but this felt different. More personal. She had a purpose.

She led him past hallways and rooms until they reached a door at the far end of the hall. Vanessa unlocked it and pushed it open.

Liam took one step inside... and froze.

The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn. All over the walls were photographs, newspaper clippings, and printed digital captures. Bloodstains. Crime scenes. Limbs. Faces distorted in pain. Chests ripped open. Carved symbols.

And across nearly every photo—written in blood, either on walls, mirrors, or bodies—was one word:

Nightcrawler.

Liam’s eyes widened, breath halting in his throat. For a moment, he couldn’t move. The images were too close. Too accurate. Too familiar.

"What... the hell..." he murmured, taking another step in. His voice was quieter now. "Who the fuck did all this?"

Vanessa crossed her arms, her face unreadable. "Don’t know. But whoever it is... they’re leaving behind that name."

Liam’s eyes scanned the photos. Some were real murders. Others looked like staged scenes. But all had the signature. His signature.

Except this wasn’t his work.

This wasn’t him.

Someone was mimicking the Nightcrawler.

He felt the blood drain from his face as he turned toward her. "These... are all real?"

"Every single one. And they’re getting bolder. The last one was two nights ago. Left a woman gutted in an alley on 9th Street. Guess what was on the wall?"

He already knew the answer. "Nightcrawler."

She nodded. "We’ve got people thinking it’s some cult. Others think it’s just one psycho. But none of them have a clue what it really means."

Liam clenched his jaw. The Nightcrawler persona was something he’d never wanted to explain. It was methodical, surgical, cold. Not this... mess.

This was someone trying to imitate him.

Vanessa was watching him carefully now, eyes narrowing just slightly. "You okay?"

He didn’t answer. His heart was pounding too hard. His mind was spinning. If someone was copying him... they either knew about him.

They were trying to bait him.