In Phinks' not very humble opinion, there was nothing quite like the feeling of a successful job. He could do all the fighting, killing, and stealing he wanted on his own time, but doing it with the Phantom Troupe made it seem grander. He was a part of something bigger. He had somewhere he belonged. Naturally, he had wanted to hang onto this feeling as long as he could, so while most of the Troupe had gone their separate ways after their most recent theft, he, Feitan and Shalnark still hung around the church they had used as their base of operations, celebrating.

Shalnark took another swig from his beer. "I wonder what the Boss will have us do next!?"

Feitan waved his hand dismissively. "We just finish one job. Too soon be worry for next." The more he drank, the worse his grasp over his adopted language seemed to become. They had all drank a lot, even by the standards of their nen enhanced bodies. The mountains of beer cans piled around each of them was evidence for that.

Phinks grinned and leaned back in his chair. The buzz of alcohol wasn't quite the same as the buzz of a job, but it would do for now. He reached into the pocket of his tracksuit and pulled out a cigarette and his lighter. Placing the cigarette in his mouth, he brought his lighter up and gave it a flick.

Nothing.

He flicked again, and again, before crushing the lighter angrily in his hand. Empty. "Someone give me a light."

"No have." Feitan grumbled, popping open another can.

Shalnark didn't even look up from his phone. "Mah, me neither. Those things will kill you, you know?"

Phinks cursed and cast his gaze around the hideout, looking for anything that might give him the flame he needed to light his cigarette. Then his eyes fell on his small, dark haired companion.

"Hey, Fei." He grinned stupidly at his comrade. "Give me a light."

Feitan snicked his tongue angrily. "I already say I no have, idiot."

Feitan, caught unawares, and quite drunk, couldn't react in time as Phinks' hand came down and gave his forehead a nen-enhanced flick. Feitan's entire head snapped backwards from the force of the blow.

Shalnark leapt to his feet. "What are you doing Phinks?"

Feitan slowly turned his head back to face Phinks, his narrow eyes burning with anger, and an angry welt beginning to grow on his forehead.

Phinks was still grinning dumbly. "No, Fei," he said, his words slurred. "Give me a light."

Feitan's eyes narrowed further, before widening in gleeful realization. "Piece of shit," he began, in his native tongue, "know your place."

Shalnark took a step backwards. "Guys, I really don't think this is a good idea." He turned and ran out of the church as the aura began gathering around Feitan's body, Phinks still sitting next to him. He reached the exit, throwing the door shut as he heard Feitan speak, still in that alien tongue. "Now I return your pain." A harsh orange light shone out of the church, and the door creaked and moaned against the heat. But inside, Shalnark could hear both Feitan and Phinks howling with laughter. Moving to a window, he could see their silhouettes framed against the light of a very miniature sun, barely bigger than an orange. Phinks rose up, with the cigarette still in his mouth, to light it inside the sun. All of the sudden, he screamed, the cigarette falling out of his mouth, and clutched at his forehead. Feitan's raspy laugh grew more maniacal as Phinks rolled around on the floor, clutching his brow. But in a flash, the sun went out, plunging the church into darkness.

None of the three ever revealed to the other Troupe members just what had happened to make Phinks' eyebrows disappear that night. The rest of the bandits only knew that it was an extremely sore subject for Phinks, and an extremely amusing subject for Feitan and Shalnark. And if they noticed that Phinks quit smoking for a while around the time he lost his eyebrows, and was a little jumpy whenever Feitan began speaking in his native language for a while, well, no one put the pieces together. For which Phinks is eternally grateful.