The sudden rush of vertigo was hell for my stomach. A rumbling displeasure lurched through it, even though it was barely filled with anything. Roxy hadn’t hesitated at all to facilitate my odd and out of the blue request. My words and instincts trusted fully. If I had more than a brief second to roll my mind across that thought, I probably had some soft compliments for the super.
Instead, my feet landed on the tiles of the roof, and I spun in place. Facing the workshops, Overcharge flashed through my gun-arm as my disorientated brain made the decision before it was too late.
Thonk. The solid metal ball blasted from my shotgun and across the garden at incredible speed. Rather than zip off into the darkness of the wastes beyond—or even, heaven forbid, strike the workshop itself—there was instead a short and brief crunch and it jettisoned off at a different angle with much less power to it.
With a quick fizz, the sound of a cloaking device filled the otherwise quiet area, and a figure appeared.
A long beak open in surprise. Black feathers over their face and exposed lower legs that ended in taloned feet. The slim bird-person was wearing a tight outfit somewhere between a super suit and tactical gear, almost as dark as their feathers, with several pockets and pouches.
My shot had struck them just above the right knee, completely shattering their more hollow bones. Even as two wings opened up to try to take them away, their now suddenly floppy limb caused them to topple forward, a muffled squark of pain shrieking from their hastily closed beak. Panic illuminated their red eyes as they toppled to the ground like a sack of rocks. A long rifle clattered down beside them.
Before they could gather their composure and make plans to escape, Roxy was there. Her foot went up and came down on the bird who was trying to draw something from their belt. The super’s bare foot collided with the elbow joint of the potential assassin, her drunken state putting far too much strength into the action. With a pop, their forearm severed from the rest due to the pressure of her crushing strike, Roxy’s foot buried a good four inches into the dusty rock below.
I hit the grass and rolled twice, any minor flare of pain nullified by my own inebriation. Back on my feet, I gave a glance back to the house to make sure Clara was okay. The techie was leaning against the doorframe now, the light of her cybernetic eyes wavering between the super and her prey. Reading my mind, she gave me a thumps-up to satisfy my nerves—right before she threw up on the porch.
My attention went back to the pair making a mess just outside the lawn.
After splitting the limb from the bird-person, Roxy had grabbed them by the suit and lifted them up. Her teeth were bared and I could see the glowing reflection of her eyes on the dark matt outfit of the figure.
“You’ve got five seconds to explain why you’re here before I tear your head off,” she growled.
[They won’t respond.]
She glanced at me as I stood up beside her. It was already too late. We both watched the red of the bird’s eyes flicker before going dull, their body shaking slightly before going lax.
“What the fuck?” Her brow furrowed. “I didn’t do that much… damage…”
The feathers fell one by one from the figure, graying slightly before they dropped. The blood dripping from their ruined limbs ceased, as if a faucet had been turned off.
[We don’t have much time.]
I reached forward with my left hand and gripped at their neck, my fingers digging through their softening flesh with ease. With a sigh, I grasped at something and pulled it out - sinew and decaying meat coming alongside the flat square of metal.
“Holy fuck.” Roxy dropped the body to the ground as it wasted away at an accelerated rate. “That’s not contagious, I hope?”
I shook my head, waiting for the remnants of bird gore to slip away from the implant I had removed.
“Do you know who the fuck they are? Why they’re fucking here?” The sour end to our day was clearly sparking the super’s anger. I could feel the furnace-level heat her body was generating.
[Government drone.]
Felt myself unable to say more than that. I hadn’t come across one in my hitman days, yet I knew. The World Government had found me, if I was even lost to them to begin with.
Was assassination the idea here? They had waited until I didn’t have my lense on to pick up the warning signals from Erin. Clara was passed out. Roxy was just as drunk and didn’t pay as much attention to those signals if they weren’t an overt warning.
Dark, so no sunlight displacement. The bird-people were experts in holding their breath, and with wings they had been able to come in from an unexpected angle. They must not know what I was really capable of, however. I had felt their presence. It was reasonable to assume that they didn’t know about our Krellian tech and had gotten partially lucky due to our inebriation. A coincidence that worked against our favor.
Their cloaking was at least part magical, however. A noisy thing, in terms of magical energy… something a lot more rudimentary than what Silhouette used. I gave the rifle laying beside the now near-skeleton figure a glance. Nothing particularly powerful, so it wouldn’t be something for killing Roxy. Clara or I would have been the target.
I held up the chip. Part of it was a small glass capsule that probably held whatever evil juice caused the bird-person to melt away. A kill-switch they had activated when left with no way to escape the super’s grip.
“But they’re not… like a robot or something? Bastard bled like anyone else.” She shuffled uneasily, glancing around the rooftops in case there were more waiting around. The anger and adrenaline had sobered her, and I briefly wondered if her internal heat had just burned off the alcohol itself.
[I am not sure I hold that answer.]
Real enough to be a threat. Roxy grunted and kicked at the corpse in frustration, the hollow bones of our assailant breaking and bursting into dust.
[It is better that we get inside and rest. Even the weapons will degrade at a greater rate.]
“Are we even safe?” Her now concerned gaze looked at me in earnest, before glancing at the occasionally heaving techie.
[Yes. I promise you.]
She sighed. “Ok, I trust you.” Roxy gave the sickly Clara a nod as we walked over to her. “I’m worried about this fragile one, though. She’s not built like us for this bullshit.”
[We could probably make a bed on the floor in our room?]
“I’m too tired for fucking about.” The super rubbed at her brow before glaring at the techie. “Get some water in you, and you can share with us, but you’re on my side.”
“Okay,” Clara replied, not really with it enough to give more of a response than that. She turned and shuffled her way toward the kitchen.
“I know she’d be out like a light if she was allowed to snuggle your arm,” Roxy said, pausing to raise an eyebrow at me. “But I’m too on edge to risk her getting frisky. Not that it…” she trailed off, giving an exasperated shrug.
I placed my hand on her lower back and ushered her inside.
[I’ll take the spare room if that makes things easier.]
“No. I need you close to me.” We stopped in the lobby to wait for the techie. “I’m worried now that we’ll just keep getting attacked here. I need my home to be safe, Dubs.”
I ran my hand across the side of her face. This wouldn’t work if I couldn’t guarantee their safety. I knew this—and by 'this' I didn’t mean our relationship. My ascension needed the strength of those around me to prop me up. Constantly needled by my past, it just went to show that even having the best of days could end up with one of us dead. I didn’t even bother with the what-ifs.
The World Government had come back to reclaim or erase me. Maybe just spy and see if I was who they thought I was—although they should know I could Detect Magic. The puzzle pieces weren’t fitting together, even if they looked like they were part of the same design. From what I knew about the Gov, they were inefficient and inept at times, but unrelenting.
I would have to rock the boat to get what I want.
[Tomorrow, I will make sure we are safe. I promise this to you.]
Her fiery eyes read mine, and a few moments of silence were only interrupted by the sounds of a filling glass from the kitchen. “I… believe you, Dubs. Honestly. I’m sure not sure what the fuck you’re planning on doing, but I trust that you’d do whatever it took.”
[The two of you are my anchor in this world of light and joy.]
Clara stepped out of the room to join us. “Maybe I misheard you, Gunquake, but I’m game.” She went to lean against the doorframe, but completely misjudged it, stumbling to the side awkwardly and spilling some of her recently obtained water. In her other hand, she had a chilled canister for me.
[Is she usually this bad?]
“Only when we drop the Firebrand.” Roxy gave me a humorless smile. “It’s rare we do, without a good—or terrible—reason to. Last time we committed a little arson, so almost getting assassinated is a reasonable outcome.”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
I wasn’t too sure there was anything salient I could say in response to that. Perhaps it would be better to pretend she hadn’t told me. As we ascended the stairs, for some reason, my mind was drawn to my current moral compass.
Throughout my hitman years, I had tried my best to avoid killing any innocents. As far as I knew, I had been successful. How did that pair up with my previous life? Killing things was in my nature, but superheroes were just that - the good guys. Or meant to be. Did I really kill them, or was it just villains? How much active duty did I serve in this role before the… vague betrayal? My decommission.
Boss must have known a lot more about me than he let on. To push me to be a killer, and then eventually cut me loose once I emerged from the shell. I still owed him a punch in thanks for the bullshit he had put me through, but…
Hmm. His letter from the safe had called me a songbird. That paired up with me being Bard, I supposed. Was he just leaving clues I was either too dense or ignorant to yet understand?
I shook all these question-marks out of my skull as we reached the bedroom. No point in dragging myself through the mud, not tonight.
Clara handed me the fresh canister, which felt divine as I placed it in my neck. I sighed and sat down on the bed, while Roxy unclipped the techie’s hair and took her sweatshirt off. The cat's face on it had a little vomit on it, so the super chucked it out of the room to deal with in the morning. Clara had a white undershirt on underneath, which suited the fact that we had silently decided to go to bed still dressed.
With Roxy in the middle, I was too tired to focus on anything but all the spinning plates I had in motion tomorrow. At least, until I slipped away into uneasy darkness.
----------------------------------------
The bacon sizzled in the pan as I put the fried eggs onto a white plate.
Footsteps on the stairs drew my attention, and I looked over to see Clara step into the lobby and pause at the doorway.
“I do not have the time or brain capacity for a normal conversation this morning, Gunquake. Instead, I will just leave you with a verbal list of notes.”
She looked a little rough this morning. Dark circles around her eyes and already a fed-up expression, which was a first for a day at the doctor’s lab. I gave her a gesture to continue.
“Do not break your rappel, but try to give it a go today. I didn’t want to bring them out in front of the ogling crowd yesterday, but there is a case of five Quake shots in the workshop.” Clara took a deep breath. “The scanner has confirmed the tactical vest did indeed have your blood on it. The encrypted drive progress has slowed. I will require a portion of your time this evening to go over some purchases. That is all.”
[Have a good day today, Clara.]
She paused before she left to give me a slight smile. “Good luck, Gunquake. Do not hesitate to message me. I’ll be waiting.”
I rolled my eyes as the door closed and the soft footsteps of the techie wandered off to the van. Roxy had already given her a warning about saying we had technically slept together, but neither of them had their usual pep beyond that this morning.
With the spatula, I shuffled the meat around. It wasn’t even a minute after the van rolled away that another set of footsteps came down the stairs. The super had made the effort to put on her gym clothes, but with her hand rubbing at her eyes, she looked as though she was dead to the world.
“Thought I might be dreaming,” she murmured, and stepped through into the kitchen. “Slept like shit and I have a hangover because I didn’t take any water like a dumbshit. But this, Dubs.”
She gestured to the pair of plates, already laden with buttered toast, sausages, fried eggs, and hash browns.
“Maybe Clara is right - I should just marry you.” Her grouchy expression turned into a grin as her eyes eagerly ate at the prepared food. “I’d much rather have this than flowers and shit.”
[I doubt flowers would taste as good, although I am still learning to cook.]
“Bullshit.” She grabbed a slice of toast before I could admonish her, biting off some with a crunch. “You know what I think? You’re not a lute playing bard at all.”
[We had already established that, I thought?]
“Mm.” She shook her head. “That would be a literal translation of the class, but a bard could just as easily be a motivational speaker, an actor, or… a proficient chef!”
[I didn’t realize you were such a nerd.]
“Hey, fuck you. When Clara and I lived in the League dorms, we had a couple friends who were into that kind of thing. Of course, I always played a barbarian type character, because I’m soooo two-dimensional.”
I made the show of giving her a look up and down.
[You’re three-dimensional as fuck, Roxy.]
“Charismatic asshole,” she said with a smile, despite rolling her eyes. “You’ve definitely earned a bubble bath today, and perhaps more if you want company.”
[You had me at bubbles.]
“Prick.” She watched me switch the grill off and scoop the bacon onto our plates. “You want to eat in the garden? It’s a decent morning and I can look around, paranoid for more assassins.”
I shook my head.
[Let me get mine in the machine, and then I’ll join you in the lounge.]
“As you wish.” Roxy finished off the slice of toast as she gave me a bow.
It was only after I dumped the food into the open draw of the canister fabricator that I realized her food would have long cooled before mine had even finished processing. Would be unfair to make her wait, and on my walk back to the house I wondered if her proficient chef idea held any weight. I certainly had an aptitude for it coming from somewhere.
Once I made it back to the lounge, I saw I needn’t have worried, as the super was already halfway through hers.
“Sorry, Dubs. I needed this bad. Good food is hard to leave waiting.”
[The fact that you enjoy it is enough for me.]
She gave the couch a pat. “Sit with me though. I yearn for your presence.”
I checked the time on the wall-mounted clock. Just in time.
[Sure. You’ll want to switch the news on, however.]
Roxy shuddered. “Ugh, that’s a weighty amount of dread you just jammed into me. But… sure, fucko.” With a narrowed glare my way, only slightly diminished by the fact it didn’t stop her from shoveling food into her mouth, she switched the television on.
Almost timing it perfectly, we tuned in to the local news channel halfway through their short cinematic intro and booming tune.
“I’m on edge,” Roxy complained, her attention switching between glancing at me and the news anchor.
I was too, but was too focused to say anything. All risks had ways of going wrong—this one included. Sometimes you needed that long shot to actually make a connection, like the possibility was always there, but nobody else would gamble to win.
“We switch to our local reporter on the scene of an accident,” the man with glasses said, shuffling his paperwork as the scene transitioned to a young woman standing out in one of the city streets.
“Thank you, Jacob,” she began. “I’m here on the corner of Grimwall and Hepway at the scene of a vehicular collision that has turned out to be more than all parties had expected.”
Roxy furrowed her brow, actually pausing her food consumption to focus.
“I have with me the victim of the accident, who is thankfully unscathed. Could you please explain what happened, Mr Van Michaels?”
Our delivery driver appeared beside the reporter as the camera turned to the side. “Yes, ma’am. I was just on my way with Darla, doing my deliveries—when this large truck came out of the junction much faster than he shoulda been.”
“Apologies, who is Darla?”
“That’s my van,” he replied, grinning widely with pride straight at the camera. “Poor beaut took quite the beating. She’s normally extremely cautious about this sort of thing.”
“Right…” the woman nodded politely, before regaining her composure. “Thank you, Mr Van Micheals.” The camera now panned back to solely her. “However, this was no ordinary accident. A known vagrant and elusive smuggler was in the opposing vehicle, en route to no doubt commit a crime and tarnish the great city of Goldarch.”
“No fucking way,” Roxy whispered, mouth open.
“Thankfully, one of our valued heroes was soon on the scene, and the criminal has been apprehended. Here with me is Captain Snaps, who I understand has been on leave from your League of Heroes duties?”
The camera panned to the other side, to reveal Roy in some casual clothing, looking just as fresh—if not more so—as yesterday.
“That’s right, Janice,” he said. “I happened to be in the area going for a run to keep up my cardio while on rest from my duties. Once I heard the accident occur, I rushed over as fast as I could… which is pretty quick.” He gave a cheesy grin to the camera.
“Even though you are currently not active with the League of Heroes, you stepped in to assist and also apprehend the criminal.”
“My work has always been more than a day job to me,” Roy said, his face becoming a little more serious. “When I see the citizens of Goldarch in need, I step up to do what I can. Keeping the residents of this fine city safe is my priority, and I couldn’t help but do what I feel is my duty. Lady luck blessed me with the opportunity to not only assist someone in need, but also take a criminal off the streets. That’s not a bad way to start the day.”
“I can see you are all smiles, Captain Snaps. On behalf of the public, you have our thanks for going above and beyond your station—that is something we all hope to see more often in the near future, not only from you but all heroes.”
“The pleasure is all mine. Thank you, Janice.” The speedster gave her a nod before turning to the camera and giving a brief salute.
“Back to you in the studio, Jacob.”
Roxy turned to me slowly, as the news switched to a piece about the latest toy fad. “What the fucking fuck, Dubs? That was Snake that Roy just booked, right?”
[It was.]
She lifted up the last rasher of bacon and just held it as if she had never seen one before. “Well… fucking don’t give me that. Out with all the details, asshole.”
[Simply put, a big fluff piece in front of the public will have people clamoring for Roy to return. The League will want to capitalize on the publicity. It might bring his reinstatement forward, if not make it immediate. A boost for the group as well as his own career.]
“But Van Micheals… and Snake?”
[I had to pay the former a few credits for the inevitable Darla repairs. The latter… I had Clara tell him to meet us this morning at a place that Van Micheals would be waiting for him to get into the accident. That area of the city has terrible camera placement, so wouldn’t be suspicious for the smuggler to meet at, and keeps some of the finer details of how the accident occurred out of the greater picture.]
Roxy stared at me blankly.
[As Snake was not in the process of committing a crime, his sentence would be lower. I’m not sure what rap sheet he has with the League, but this was the least of all evils. Nobody died and now the League will have to assign me a different trial.]
“Motherfucker,” she murmured. “Remind me to never make an enemy of you. That could have really fucked things.”
[There’s still a chance it did. I would have thought you of all people would be used to playing with fire, though.]
The super did nothing but sigh and roll her eyes.
For the most part, I was happy enough. It hadn't taken long to coach Roy on exactly what to say. I had solved a problem without resulting to violence—aside from some dented panels on the sturdy Darla. The trouble with large organizations like the League is that they often ignore the granular nature of reality. There was too much political and bureaucratic influence in all their processes. Capitalism, where us supers were the profitable assets.
To set ourselves aside from the other heroes who nodded and toed the line, we’d have to break some rules and play the League at their own games.
Of course, this was the easy part of the day. The actually difficult and risky part came after. If at all.
In answer to my thoughts and set things in motion, I put my goggles on to see my notifications.
//Stacy: Did you see the news, GQ?
//Stacy: I am… unsure as to if you set this up?
//Gunquake: If anything, I am disappointed.
//Gunquake: This means I failed my trial?
//Stacy: It has been rendered void, but they will assign you something else.
//Stacy: They didn’t seem pleased about the fact.
//Gunquake: I am happy that a criminal is off of the streets.
//Gunquake: But saddened that I was not able to impress you
//Gunquake: and the League.
//Stacy: You’ll have other chances, GQ.
//Stacy: Don’t worry, I’ll keep pushing to get the best for you.
//Gunquake: There was actually a favor I wanted to ask…
//Gunquake: If that’s not too forward.
//Stacy: No!
//Stacy: I mean, what is it I can do for you, GQ?
I sighed and looked over at the super, once again pecking at the remains of her food, but somewhat withdrawn and apprehensive now. There was no doubt in my mind that I would regret this, but it’s what I needed to do.
The most important thing was to keep us safe.
//Gunquake: I need you to arrange a one-to-one meeting. Today if possible.
//Gunquake: With Director Kingston.