It's definitely Hedera helix. The way it's perfectly glued to the wall, coiling itself around the dead body. The same way it would around the pillars of Maven Academy. Nasty little buggers, they are, requiring no human assistance to thrive. It would take ages to get rid of them.

That's why the sports arena at Maven Academy had to be reconstructed. Tom hates the new one.

Not because they've removed the ocean-deep swimming pool, the permafrost pond and the Huygen cave range, but because Tom's parents won't be there, cheering him on as he would compete for the annual Challengers' Cup.

How on Earth did this happen? Tom wonders, finding himself inches away from the cocooned corpse. A slight creak echoes from one of the dingy spaces of No. 62.

He should be scared, like any other person when they'd see a dead body buried within the wall of their new home. Tom Banks would've been, if he hadn't seen something worse than this.

Here, the corpse looks like an Egyptian mummy, the green-black creeper covering every inch of decaying skin and cloth, their open eyes displaying a cloudy grey. Whereas back then, Tom puked, even fainted three times, when he had seen the two shriveled bodies at home. He could clearly recognize his parents' ashen faces.

Tom gazes down, at the scattered fragments of the wall before him, taking in a deep breath as the refreshing Stability serum courses through his veins. I must've bumped into the wall while de-transforming.

A sudden pain erupts from his left shoulder, a confirmation to his assumption, making him rub it; he notices the green-black ivy branch, mistaken for the oozy slime. He shrugs it off his shoulder, directing his gaze back to the corpse. Tom takes a step forward, overstretching his hand. There's no rotten smell now. Weird.

The ivy is slimy in his touch. It must be a few weeks old...we couldn't have known this. He raises his head, staring at the corpse's eyes, whispering, "Who are you? And who did this to you?"

He catches a glimpse of something, either on the leaves or what's left of the corpse when-

"Could you just step away from that, for God's sake!" a trembling voice yells from behind.

Tom exhales slowly, shaking his head. "There's nothing bad. It's completely covered."

"Urgh," Tony's voice responds. "Can't you get away from it? It's a dead body!"

Tom nods, accepting his brother's behavior. Tony's never seen a dead cockroach, let alone a dead human. "Okay, fine." The shapeshifter steps away, though his gaze lies on the corpse. Report to the police. He nods to himself. "Yeah, once I've recovered."

He turns around, expecting a knelt down Tony. But except for the blue handbag on the floor, there's nobody, nothing in the bare living room; if he doesn't count the spider dangling from its web in the top right corner.

"Tony," he calls, inching toward the blue handbag, scanning the wide room. Its walls are tainted, covered with numerous greyish blotches, surprisingly not of mold. "Tony?"

"I'm right here," his brother's voice responds, as if standing a few steps ahead of him. But there's nothing between Tom and the front wall, save the handbag.

"Stop joking and come here," Tom says, glancing around and peering through the open door on his left, at the dark corridor. Tony wouldn't be there. He turns back. "The corpse won't eat you or anything."

"Why are you looking there? I'm here," Tony's voice calls.

Tom furrows his brows. No way. If he were invisible, then I can still- He stops, realizing when a gush of cool energy settles within him. My powers...the serum's weakened it. And his clothes would adjust to his powers...But still... He shakes his head. "I'm serious, Tony."

Tom's eyes go its widest when a sudden force tugs at his sleeve. He turns to his right. Scrambled cheese-

"Are you blind?" Tony's voice asks in a quivering tone. "Did the serum do something?"

Tom steps away, focusing on his pulled sleeve. The grip tightens.

"Tom, what's going on?"

The shapeshifter takes in a shallow breath, slowly extending his free arm and waving it forward. He gasps when his hand hits something soft and wet.

His brother's soaked forehead.

"Ow!" Tony's voice cries. "What was that for?"

"Invisible," Tom mutters, pulling his hand away. He waves it again, this time carefully, until it grasps something wooly.

His brother's turtleneck.

"Tom, you're scaring me."

"You're invisible!" Tom gasps, patting what should be his brother's shoulder. "Your powers- Oh my God, you have invisibility powers!"

"What?" Tony's voice replies, baffled. "You're not joking?"

"This is real," Tom mutters to himself. "My brother's an Invis."

"Tom, why are you-"

A screeching tone rings in the shapeshifter's head, causing him to slam his eyes shut and grit his teeth.

"What was that?" Tony's muffled voice asks. Tom opens his eyes.

The shapeshifter steps back, seeing his short brother in front of him, his face drenched in sweat and tears.

Tony rubs his ears. "O-ow, my ears are still ringing."

A grin begins to mold Tom's lips. "You're back."

"Can somebody bring me out! It is suffocating in here."

The Banks brothers flinch upon hearing the shrill voice in their heads, turning toward the wall-mounted mummy. Their gazes drop down to the blue handbag that trembles in place.

"G-grandma Sue," Tony manages to say, rubbing his aching forehead.

Tom rushes to the handbag, carefully taking out a hand-held mirror. A tensed lady appears on it, straightening her green combat uniform, her face matching the same tone of her hair that's pulled back to form a tight bun. Crimson.

Commander of the Henwrichian Army's Fifth Regiment, General Suzanne Banks, clears her throat. She doesn't look a day over 38, though she's been trapped in this small mirror since the Pearl Harbour Bombing.

More than forty years ago.

"Well," Sue says, in her thick British accent, stern gaze on her first grandson. "What took you boys so long?" She fishes out a bronze pocketwatch from her trouser pocket. "You were supposed to finish by 11."

"Yes, grandma Sue," Tom answers. "There was a lot of traffic this morning."

Sue reacts with a brief nod, staring at him for a moment. "You're in a terrible condition, Thomas." She peers around. "Where's Anthony?"

"Here," Tony answers, rushing toward the mirror his brother holds onto.

Sue gasps when she looks at her younger grandson. "Good Lord." She moves closer, the mirror now showing her face and neck. "You look dead-er than Great-Grandpa Joseph."

Tom turns, eyes widening when he sees black blotches etched into his brother's clammy face.

"What?" Tony asks, gasping when he sees dark grey marks swirling on his arms.

"Quick, Thomas," Sue says, her eyes still inspecting her younger grandson. "Get a bag of Forrester's-" She stops, seeing Tom already near the handbag, pulling out a bright green bag labelled "Forrester's Neutro Toffees - For Rookies Only".

"How many should I give him?" Tom says, rushing back, the bag clenched tight in his right hand.

"One would suffice for now," Sue says, shifting her gaze back to the rookie Invis. "You need to let some oxygen to enter and cool off your overheated brain, Anthony."

Tom takes a small toffee wrapped with a flashy red wrapper from the green bag, and unwraps it. For a moment, he stands there, staring at the heart shaped toffee with a small smile. You were right, Mom. Tony's an Invis.

"Thomas," Sue's voice snaps him out of his daze. "The toffee?"

He lifts his gaze to his brother, cringing when he sees the circular blotches squirm all over his face.

"Sorry," Tom mumbles, handing him the caramel-colored toffee. "Here, don't chew on it-"

A nauseated Tony grabs the toffee amidst his hazy surroundings, eyes slammed shut as he bites onto it.

"Told you not to bite into it," Tom says, shrugging his shoulders when he sees his brother's face scrunch up. The sour toffees he's had three years ago invades his taste buds. Having the bitter Stability serum is much better than this.

"Now don't spit it out," Sue says, watching Tony about to hurl out the neutralizing toffee.

Tom steps in front of his brother, holding his arms. "Just swallow it."

I don't want to, Tony muses, his scrunched face now purple. He shakes his head, slowly opening his mouth to spit out the bitter-sour medicine.

"No," Tom says, covering his brother's mouth with his hand, forcing it shut. "I know it tastes horribly sour, but if you don't want to lose your sight or hearing like second cousin Williams, then you must swallow this."

"Yes, Anthony," Sue joins in. "If you have this now, you'll be able to have your Turkish delight right after."

Tony barely opens his squinted eyes upon hearing the name of his favorite sweet. Yeah, we still have a few of them left.

Tony manages to gulp down the bitter-sour medicine, his mouth a jagged grim.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Sue asks, looking at her first grandson who stands with his head sagging. "Thomas, get the Turkish delight."

Tony grumbles when he sees his older brother stammer and rub the back of his neck. He manages to ask with a scoff, "We don't have it, do we?" His pallid face is scrunched into a scowl.

"Um," Tom says, shifting his gaze from his feet to Tony and Sue. He nervously laughs. "I might've eaten the last three."

"Wh-what!" Tony exclaims, clearing his throat. "You ate my Turkish delight!"

"Anthony," Sue calls, feeling her surroundings shake within Tony's grip. "You need to calm yourself down."

Tony exhales sharply, gaze still locked on his older brother.

"I'm sorry, alright," Tom says. "I had to keep up Nicole's role, and there was nothing else I could eat that would instantly recharge me."

Tony's gaze drops, his blood boiling. Now he can't even stay mad at Grandma Sue's favorite grandson.

"Look here," Sue calls, making him glance at her black eyes that flicker a neon blue. "You can still be mad at your brother, Anthony."

Tom raises a brow. This is the first time Grandma Sue's taking Tony's side. Never once, even by his pleading in the last few weeks, did she ever support her second grandson.

Tony stares at the redhead in the mirror he's holding, the hazel in his irisis clashing with the sudden neon blue. The sour residue in his mouth dissolves into something sweet and tangy.

The orange Turkish Delight he had brought with his last pocket money.

"Just remember that the same energy can be used to fix problems," Sue smiles, a blue-orange ribbon webbed around her overstretched hands.

Tony's irisis revert back to a dark hazel, his lips curved inward to lick the remnants of the Turkish delight. How did she do that?

"I'm a Master Telepath," Sue answers, the blue aura around her diminishing. "Now tell me, Anthony. What did you see or hear before you turned invisible?" She shifts her gaze to her first grandson. "When did he turn invisible?"

Tom glances at the embedded corpse, pointing a finger. "After seeing that."

Tony looks down. God, I don't want to see it again.

"Turn this around," Sue says, knocking into the mirror surface. "I can't see what it is."

Tony continues to look down while slowly turning his grandma's mirror. Tom helps him tilt the mirror, for its occupant to clearly see the sight before her.

"Can you see it, Grandma Sue?" Tom asks, after a moment of silence. He steps forward, baffled when he finds a composed Sue.

A pair of silver glasses appear over Sue's slender nose. Her eyes are squinted, her forehead creased in deep thought. "Bring me closer to it."

Tony blinks rapidly. What?

"Quick," Sue says. "I want to inspect this man before the creeper squashes him."

Man? Tom muses, glancing at the corpse. How did she find out..the ivy's completely covered the body...he-they're dead. He turns to his brother who stands frozen, the mirror slightly shaky in his hand.

Tom places his hand over Tony's trembling one, nodding. The latter loosens his grip.

"This can't be a normal homicide," Sue whispers, examining the corpse that's inches away from her. "Yes, it's one of us."

Tom, who holds the mirror, frowns, "What do you mean, Grandma Sue?"

Sue nods, "It means that you boys are in deep trouble."

Tony snaps out of his daze, "What? How?"

"Turn this back," Sue says, crossing her arms. She glances at her youngest grandson who approaches.

"Listen carefully boys," she says, pointing toward the corpse. "It's not safe to stay here anymore. That man was murdered by...a Xenoxian."

Tom furrows his brows, while Tony's rise till the edge of his forehead.

The Xenos gang. Highly notorious in the ICJ's eyes. Several clashes between them since the latter's founding in 1728 have left deep scars in both. But Tony didn't have anything against them; they just wanted to reveal to the modern world of the existence of superhumans. That people like Tom, and now him, exist.

But that was until a member of the Xenos gang, referred to as a Xenoxian, was caught responsible for the fire that caused his parents' deaths.

"How can you say that, Grandma Sue," Tom says, glancing at the corpse. "You can't see anything."

"What I'm seeing is different from what you can see currently," Sue says, adjusting her rimmed glasses. "You're weak right now."

Tony closes his agape mouth; if this is really true, that this is a Xenoxian murder, then they'd have to look for a new home.

But there's no other house like No. 62 Claremond Street. And if they don't find a new home by the end of this month, it would be back to Saintsburg Church.

Or worse.

"Boys," Sue calls, her glasses now resting on the top of her head. "You don't have to worry about looking for a new place. You have me now."

Tom bites on his lip, gaze on the mangled corpse. If it weren't for Grandma Sue, he and his brother would never escape the long chain of wretched orphanages that would toss them around. And, their guardian Diselhock would never bat an eye to them, until Tom's of legal age.

That's four years from now.

"The deal with Diselhock," Sue says, glancing at Tom. "It won't be broken, as long as I'm with you both. So, we should move out of this place and report it to the ICJ."

Tony catches a wavering glimpse of his brother, slowly shaking his head when he meets his gaze.

Tom sighs, glancing at the floor, and then at the corpse.

"Can we report this, without moving out?"

A smile begins to brighten Tony's haggard face. He turns to his grandma, nodding repeatedly.

Sue firmly presses her lips together, studying her two grandsons. After a long moment, she answers, "Would you both want to stay, if there is a way?"

The Banks brothers exchange glances, and then nod.

Sue exhales slowly. "Then yes. You can report this without moving out. But you would be investigated."

Tom nods. The ICJ's already aware of Nicole, since Grandma Sue obviously can't deal with other normal people. Plus, they've done nothing wrong their entire lives.

Well, Tony hasn't.

"We don't want to move out of No. 62 Claremond Street," he says, the Serum diminishing the shred of sudden guilt. "What do we have to do?"

Sue smiles. "You would have to contact the Covert."

* The Fifth Regiment of the Henwrich Army comprises of highly-skilled superhumans and is jointly funded by the ICJ and the Government of Henwrich. Recent talks suggest the current group of twenty-eight to be part of Henwrich's Department of Justice as well as the Emerald House's Secret Service Agency, under the name 'The Epsilon Squad'.