For the first weeks we'd known each other, months even, I had tried to tell myself that I didn't like Logar Iris much. And perhaps I hadn't.

So, I noticed only barely his physical appearance, and that was one of a handsome but sickly, pale and thin young man. The look in his beautiful dark blue eyes was always on edge and his cupid's bow was a sneer.

Still,  one day I noticed how different Logar looked after months of The Anti's madness. If he was thin before, he looked like he could be hospitalized now. His eyes and mouth were distorted, bitter, panicky. Everything we thought true about him was certainly true now, and it was entirely possible that before he'd just been an uptight albeit self-deprecating guy with ridiculous hair.

"I've seen how you behaved as Jonath," The Anti told me. "Good boy. But I see you've all been taking really hard the death of the President. What? When I appointed you Grenade, Sveta, I told you I would take your ideas and make them the reality. And the first day we met, it was you who asked me very naively if we were going to kill the President."

I felt really sick, because that other Sveta wasn't even there anymore. She was the product of ten years of abuse and poverty and other ten years in prison. I wouldn't have been able to reach her if I wanted to. Besides, there was a difference between asking if we would kill the President and really murdering an innocent man.

Logar looked at me with a puzzled expression, and looking vaguely disappointed, or perhaps it was just his normal face those days. Percie couldn't look me in the eyes.

"And the pills? If you are so into it, why didn't you take the medicine they offered you in the Dormitory to leave?"

"Because those make you a different person," I replied. I felt about to vomit.

"Yours give you a masculine voice."

"You know what I mean," I replied. It was the first time my voice was so rough when talking to Michaim Toutatis.

The Anti huffed. "I just realized a major flaw in my plan. A little late, but we can still make up for it. I told you you were going to change society, and you've been to the city maybe twice. You need to build up presence in Silkton, and you have to open your eyes to how things are. You've gotten fat and lazy."

Since it was the first time we had an exhausting all time job and we never got money, or anything to eat, it was hard to understand what he meant.

Still, that day we went into the capital. Perhaps The Anti was right, in a way, because we were not prepared at all for what we saw.

People recognized Jonath, and they cowered away from me, but it was worse for Logar.

"Devil!" an old man yelled, throwing a tin can at him. "Why don't we take him now? We need to finish the witchhunt we started!"

It was hard to tell if they'd started the witchhunt by killing Lix or if there was something else going on.

"They are not real people," someone dressed as a truck driver said. "So we don't have to worry about hurting them! But they're leading our country in ruins!"

"The Anti has crossed a line," another one booed.

Of course, we had fans too, or so we'd always been told. But that day we didn't meet any.

Jonath was called several slurls, and Logar picked on because of his tight pants which apparently many people thought didn't make him much of a man.

Then, a police officer arrived. We couldn't tell whether he was one of The Anti's people. "Logar Iris," she said. "You have to proceed with me, so we make sure you don't cause any uproar."

Logar was uncharacteristically silent. Then he started to laugh, and the laughter turned into a weeze. "I keep thinking," he said. "That someone will tell me that this is one of those televised jokes, but it's not, isn't it?"

"You're a televised joke!" someone shouted, which was not a deadly clap-back, but Logar winced all the same.

"I knew your father," another said. "Poor Scottish scum. They try to claw their way up to society with any mean they find. I heard the Power of Sight is just a well oiled machine and they're all in it for money. Don't give him any more relevance than the one he already has."

People took that man seriously, for some reason. But he'd been right --- we already had relevance. In fact, when we entered one of the most famous shops, we saw something we weren't expecting.

It was one of those that sold silk clothes, and they were all colourful, modern and beautiful. They resembled the clothes we got when The Anti actually got us something to wear. But that was not the worse of it. The worse of it was that pictures of us lined the walls! Logar with his black kimono, me, as Sveta, with my pink suit, Percie with the grey silk he always wore back then. Even Lix, with a purple silk cardigan.

"I don't suppose," Logar drawled. "That we're getting clothes for free?"

The shop assistant looked as if she wanted to smack him over the head. She didn't. She just smiled.

"I don't know," she said. "I would have to talk to the boss. But you have money, don't you?"

"Why," I replied, grabbing a handful of silks. "I've never had silk clothes before. When I joined the group, The Anti had already started acting stingy."

"That's true," Logar backed me up. "Everyone wants Jonath Cincinnati in silk. You can take a giant picture of him to put in the second floor of the shop."

"But we already have a picture there," the woman blinked. We followed her up the stairs.

"Jay," Logar ear-whispered me. "I think it's time you do the sandwich or any one of your positions."

I almost choke on the bubblegum I was eating. I spat it on the floor. "They're not called positions."

"Whatever, do your thing. Just get us some clothes."

I nodded, as the woman showed us what she meant. The second floor was like an exhibition, there were only the most exquisite clothes. And there was a black and white picture as large as the wall.

It was the picture of Logar Iris standing in front of the train.

"Well, well," Logar said. "If you don't give us free goodies, I'm going to ask my lawyer to tear your wall down. Ta-ta!"

The second place we stopped by was a pub where we wanted to eat. There was a man selling shirts with quotes and images for different charities. There was one with a black and white picture of the Power of Sight and Lix' quote, 'Where's our money?'. It was to give money to the poor communities before someone became a young deliquent.

"Love it," Logar said. "But I'm not gonna buy it. I don't want to wear my stupid face and it's a wonder other people actually go out with my sneer on their chests."

I was inclined to agree, but then again I had many PoS shirts that I loved to wear, especially as Jonath.

"I'd like it if they made Funko Pops out of us," I said. "Or Barbies."

"Jonath," Logar said. "Turn around, love. Here ya go. Take a good look at my face and try saying that again, this time with a straight face."

I couldn't, but mostly because he was making me laugh.

"I want to suggest a new theme for the shirts," I said. "I want to print a beautiful black and white picture of the Dormitory on it. And the quote will be, 'And the light will shine on the Dormitory girls.' And we will use the money to buy them food and stuff."

"The Dormitory is a prison," the man replied. "Besides, what are you concerned about?"

"My mother could have gone off to one of those places, if she hadn't left me before," I replied. "Might be in one of those now. I'll never know --- I guess Sveta would have known if she'd met a Lady Cincinnati there."

"I've heard your surname was a nom de plum."

"And you believe everything you hear?" I smirked. I grabbed a t-shirt with a black and white kitten on it and entered the place.

There was a TV turned on. We all gathered around it because we didn't have the high morale to turn it on anymore at our house. But the content is greener on the other TVs.

Oh well. You know what I mean.

"Leader of the cult, Logar Iris," the announcer was saying. "Is reported as possibly dangerous, but sources close to the group confirm the young man is simply a deviant."

A few people turned around to look at us. "Hi," Logar said.

"Either way, the police have issued warnings to report to them whether the young criminal is in your proximity, and behaves badly."

I hid my new stolen t-shirt behind my back.

"The Power of Sight is not even a cult," the TV said. "It's a sham. People have been gathering over the social medias overnight to share their theories about the four young people. Now that Jonath has joined the group, the cult has gained many young girls as followers but it's been heavily criticized by men for using a young nihilist as their poster boy. As for Logar Iris, everyone agrees that the man is probably a pathetic individual looking for fights to start and that he believes he's cultured and educated. Our sources tell us he actually graduated high school and he was a prodigy in Physics and English. This means that he's playing a dangerous game with us, and taking the piss out of us while we're letting him do it."

"It's one of those things," Logar commented. "That makes you laugh until you cry. How am I gonna order a cheeseburger now?"

The TV went on to show pictures of us. My pictures as Sveta and Jonath were as different as they come, except for my recklessness. Sveta's pic was censored, from an event where I showed my middle finger to the cameras and the dress The Anti insisted I wore was a little too tight. Jonath's picture had me the way I prefered, with short spiky hair and a flat chest, but I was wincing as if someone had just told a bad joke. It was a pose I called pathetic and traumatized, and that the others believed the pose of a junkie.

Percie smiled handsomely in his only picture, where he was in the background. Logar had most pictures than all of us, and they were the most famous, but also the most defamatory. Everytime he sneered or joked bitterly, every time he closed an eye or opened his mouth or flipped a finger, they were all there. But there were also a couple of pictures with Jonath where we looked like two secret lovers that made me blush.

"Change the channel!" I shouted, as some people looked as if they were about to pass out.

The waitress did. The next one seemed some kind of mockumentary about us. We were there cartoon-style.

"Logar Iris was a fanatic of soccer growing up," a background voice said as yellow-haired scarecrow-limbed Logar on the screen was chasing a ball. "He tried out for many teams, and they all accepted him. It was, of course, women's teams."

We watch mesmerized as cartoon Logar was playing. "The girls in the team, all of them with more metaphorical and literal balls than he had, told him he could be the goalkeeper. But Logar has trouble closing a fist on his right hand, and he always missed. Of course, he always missed because he's a loser. The hand had nothing to do with it."

"Bloody hell, who wrote it?" Percie asked. "Lix Aphopis?"

"Shush," I said, as cartoon Sveta was jumping on rooftops and robbing people like an evil Santa Claus.

The waitress changed channel again. This time, it was a music channel, and there weren't the likes of us. Though a punk singer on the screen had a shirt with the words 'I believe in JC' on it. At first I thought it was a Christian band, but then they zoomed in at you could read the smaller words, 'Jonath Cincinnati'.

After lunch, we left that wretched place as quick as possible.

"At first it really makes you laugh, if you have a sense of humor," Logar reasoned when we were back home. "It's exhilarating, to see that people talk about you. And some of the jokes are funny... but then it goes to a certain point, where you're like, I'm me! And I'm the only one who should get a saying about me, you know what I mean?"

Percie nodded. "They say so little about me," he confided. "I've never got past the point where it's exhilarating."

"I guess it's worse when they make fun of your weaknesses without knowing shit about it," Logar said, as he flexed the fingers on his right hand. "My right hand's fingers were broken. By my father."

Percie and I exchanged horrified looks. "Logar..."

"It was an accident," he shushed us, but his eyes looked distant. "We were arguing..."

"Was it an accident or not?"

"I tried to play baseball with him, and my mother had just died. We were grieving differently. He wanted to spend more time with me, and I was already insufferable. He made fun of my lack of coordination. I told him to stick the ball up his colon if he didn't want it to get lost. He took a swing at my hand. It wasn't on purpose."

"Fuck," Percie said, because we had a different theory.

"Either way, you turn on the TV, and they say those things about you, and is not fun," Logar exhaled. That was the moment The Anti came home.

"Iris!" he boomed. "Nothing, in this moment of your life, should be fun. You didn't get a seizure yet!"

"Mister Toutatis," I begged. "You told me yourself seizures cannot be anticipated."

"Where have you heard that word? My, you're all growing. I remember when you were dirty orphans and thieves I plucked off the ground."

"What a groomer thing to say," Logar said, and The Anti swung like his father must have done. But this time he swung with the umbrella he used for fashion purposes, and the object was Logar's face.

"It doesn't matter if the seizures cannot be provoked," he said. "I've asked you for over a year to have one. You live in this abandoned warehouse freely and you have little meals that cost me nothing for this purpose only. Otherwise you would have died alongside your father. You have an immense power, and I want you to show it to me now."

Logar's face was bleeding, but The Anti took his walking stick and aimed at Logar's forehead.

"From now on," he said. "Sveta and Percie are forbidden from talking to you. And no, Jonath Cincinnati doesn't count. What? He probably can't count. I know you all think I'm goofy and handsome and funny and my beautiful curls make a ladykiller out of me, not to mention my overflowing creativity and my nose for business. But those are not my only traits. I can be strict, and punish like a father does. You see, I did not have a Dad and I turned out alright."

"Yes, perhaps you should leave us alone, though it's a tricky situation," Logar said through mouthfuls of blood. "I don't want to end up like you."

"We are the same, and you know it!" The Anti said, and it was eery to see because he was wearing black combat boots, the fashionable sun-umbrella, a black and yellow kimono and his dark hair had been bleached and it looked almost yellow. "I made you and I can unmake you, and if I like you, but not enough to love you, I can become you."

"You sick bastard," Logar replied.

"You keep saying those words over and over. Already exhausted your troubadour skills? Oh my, what have you got left?"

That said, he helped Logar up and kicked him out of the house. Literally.

The reason we couldn't stand up to The Anti was because he had the umbrella, and the combat boots which I imagined had steel inside. And we had nothing, not even our own lives, because even those were his.

I would have done anything, anything, if it helped Logar. But it would never be enough.

When we were alone, Percie said, "Well, that was terrible. I hope Logar finds a place to stay."

I nodded, a little out of it. "I think my mother and my stepfather beat me, Perce," I said, for now I knew it to be true.

"I'm sorry," he said, and he sounded like he was. "I miss Ane Dioretsa. She grew up differently. She might have known how to call the police."

"He's The Anti, he can do what he wishes," I bit back. "We only have one way to stop him now."

"Which is?"

"Blackmail him. He's keeping secrets. Remember the prison's pictures?"

"How could I not? It was the first time in my life I saw ice. We don't even get it in movies anymore, not the ones they show on TV."

I remembered a lot of things I'd always found fishy. The ice, the sun not being more brilliant and sweltering in the centre of the city. Logar's nonsense about the house of The Anti not having air conditioning. There was something that didn't add up, and The Anti seemed old enough to know about it.

"Give me a few days," I told Percie. "We need to hack The Anti's e-mails. I'm sure there is something there."

"Why would he keep evidence in his own e-mail?"

"The way the pictures were in the abandoned prison. Not even him can delete every trace of what happened from existence. There must be something somewhere, and we will have to find what it is."

"In fact," I added. "Consider this our first and only mission as the Power of Sight. I finally found a place where I want my grenade to go off."

"I thought you respected The Anti, in a way."

"Oh, Percie. Part of me will always be conflicted, but that respect flew out from the window the first time he touched, directly or indirectly, one of us."