Doe eyes round like saucers above a freckled face stare back at me for a fleeting second. Where have I seen him before..? I attempt to gently let some of his overlapping thoughts back into my focus.

/Taller... Worst... Rain... Body... Date... Car... Gave... Popcorn... Free.../

I rapidly shut out the unpleasant unfurling of indistinguishable sounds, having found a clue amidst it. Popcorn. That is the guy from Freakland Amusement Park, who was enthralled by Cheryl and thus gave us our popcorn for free. I am curious as to why she is still stringing him along, a month later.

Coaxed and complimented by my friend for the duration of the travel, Peter drove us to a fast food restaurant right at the bustling heart of Gotham City. The confusing agony of dozens of hundreds of people thinking simultaneously almost fried my sanity. It was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the worst dining experience of my entire life. Fortunately, she dismissed her boy toy early on, seeing as his only role was to offer us a ride.

Then, we spent more than two hours at that place, building endurance for my psyche and chiselling its limits. It took me the first forty minutes of our lunch time to silence my mind. We ordered our unhealthy meals before beginning the exercises, which I managed to do even with devastating mental pressure and a near total loss of any concentration whatsoever. The tests increased in difficulty, proportionally with my mental agility. The manoeuvres felt easier as we progressed thanks to my resolve.

I needed to succeed, because Cheryl refused to tamper with my brain in any manner. All she did was advise me, slip in and out of my mind to speak to me telepathically and protect my exposed psyche from any nefarious telepaths who might stumble upon it. I sometimes wished she would take control for a second, to facilitate my learning, even if it was not an option. In spite of this, her movements helped me situate the confines of my own thoughts. Closer to the end of our training, I could imagine the borders precisely and I distinctly perceived a breach within them. This opening represents the point where the gangster's brain and mine fused, where an intersection was created between the respective edges of our minds. This is a passage that, according to her, I will not ever need to close. Meaning that my mind can be considered impermeable, which will soon lead to me controlling it.

As we walk out of the fast food restaurant, the brunette woman tells me, "See? That wasn't so hard."

"Not for you," I tease.

A bus screeches past us down the street, and I trip on my feet, disconcerted by the shift of background thoughts. The appearance of newer ones in the mass startled me.

Thankfully, I am not working until Sunday, so hopefully that will be enough time to...

/Practice using your powers?/

I was thinking something more along the lines of hiding in my apartment, but I guess practice makes perfect... It is the smarter thing to do. This stage of transition - not unlike when I came out as non-binary - is bound to make even the most trivial day-to-day activities painfully awkward. Any social interaction might derail if I lose... Oh no.

Colin. And Joseph and Cedric's get-together! Darn it. Double darn it. I never should have agreed to that many - yes, two - events in such a short lapse of time. I already feel nauseous with guilt at the idea of having to cancel on them all...

"Who says you have to cancel?! These are perfect opportunities to grow your abilities!" Cheryl exclaims.

"I'm gonna look like a fool. People around me can't know that something weird is going on, they'll get suspicious."

"Of you?"

"I cannot risk it. If I am going to be seen as a junkie who can't align two words, it will be with strangers at the mall, thank you very much."

I sigh, redirecting the loud thoughts of a group of arguing passersby.

To this, the vigilante amicably retorts, "The minds of people you know are actually less challenging to deal with. In general, it's familiar ground, y'know? It should be less overwhelming."

~

It seems to be a recurrent event that Cheryl convinces me to do things, because I am staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, dressed for my date with Colin. I feel terrible about the dread in my stomach, but I cannot help it. What if I screw everything up..?!

Yesterday, the gangster and I spent the afternoon together as well. While we travelled back to Ozum's Marvellous Circus, she taught me how to send my thoughts to her, rather than just thinking freely and hoping she catches the right information. That is how she introduced me to the subtle difference between a sealed mind and a strategically opened one. Closing a mind completely sections it off from any contact; no personal thoughts can leave, but no outsiders can reach it. However, if instead of closing off their psyche's borders, one learns to herd their thoughts and control them to make sure they never escape the borders, contact remains possible. This "first" state of telepathic consciousness is preferred in any daily scenario when no dangerous foes are involved. I adapted - in Cheryl's opinion, fairly well - to gathering my thoughts within the barriers of my mind, and this allowed us to practice full telepathic conversations, as my damaged car was being towed back to my fake address near the Cock-and-Bull nightclub. She insisted on driving me home, which she did very recklessly, in case I had a sudden psychic reaction.

As I am glaring at my light aqua T-shirt, that I suspect is too brightly colored, my doorbell rings, creaking and faltering between the higher-pitched notes. I forcefully brush both shoulders of the oversized unbuttoned dress shirt I threw over my blue T-shirt, at least its muted dark sandy color should lessen the intensity of the clothing underneath.

Hurrying to my front door, I verify that Colin sent me a text message. He did, 24 seconds ago:

(I'm at your door!).

No one opens their door to strangers in Gotham City.

I slip my cellphone into the left pocket of my paletot, shrugging it on. Finally, I swing my satchel over my shoulder and unlock the door. I do not own a typical purse, however I have a leather bag that I can hang in a diagonal across my chest. I barely ever have a need for it, so I had to dust it off this morning, but I guess it is nice not to carry all my possessions inside my jeans and coat.

"Hi, Tanza. You..."

The paramedic's pale gray eyes nearly start glittering when he sees me and he lets his sentence float.

/They're so pretty, God. Of course, they're wearing blue, how cute. Calm down, man, play it cool..!/

I disconnect from his thoughts in time to hear the next part of his sentence.

"You look handsome and beautiful. Ready for a movie and dinner?"

His happy, amused grin encourages me to smile even wider.

"You aren't so bad, yourself. But no compliments before I see what you came to pick me up in," I joke, turning to lock my front door.

Laughing, he plays along, "It was easy, I just asked Dorothy if I could have an ambulance for tonight..."

I chuckle, hanging onto the strap of my bag.

"I didn't know you were such a romantic."

I immediately notice the only foreign automobile down in the parking lot: a bruised model, originally painted in deep sapphire, but black stickers were added to mimic the appearance of a sports car. In reality, his vehicle was manufactured by a cheap company. My colleague opens the passenger door for me, and I thank him with an appreciative nod.

I am refraining from listening to his thoughts, even if I can completely hear them buzzing and swirling, taunting me... I am definitely imagining that last part.

During our training, a handful of hours ago, I asked Cheryl about her powers.

"Ya want a list?" she snickered, visibly enjoying my prying.

"If you feel like it and you can list them, sure. I just wonder about what you can do. It's obvious that you are more powerful than you let on."

She giggled at this, before beginning an enumeration.

/Let's see, I got... Telepathy, telekinesis, teleportation, invisibility and flight, the basics, y'know... Immunity to poisons and self-healing... My brain can store infinite data, I can also connect it to any electronic source of storage, if I wished. I'm also able to replicate any ability that can be recorded by my mind and supported by a human body, which is how I got many of the Justice League's powers. I don't find much use for them, though. Super speed is fun and all, but it's rarely useful if I can teleport anywhere. Heat vision is pretty cool, but I can scope any place with my mind instead... You know what I'm sayin'? Oh, right, I can project my sense to perceive environments I am not physically in... And then I've got all the kryptonite manipulation and creation aspects. I can convert any radiation or current of energy into kryptonite to feed my powers, too. I could survive only on kryptonite, but I gotta fulfill my human needs to keep the body I have intact./

She suddenly burst into laughter aloud, finishing her monologue afterwards.

"Nobody wants me turnin' into a saggy, misshapen, radioactive blob."

"Is that what would happen?" I briskly inquired, doubting if she was messing with me.

Her reply was comical, yet blatantly serious: "Like a shiny green Clayface."