3.15

“Sometimes, I do not like what this city has molded me into.

Selfish, I know.”

— Vincent Hall, Encoded Notebook; Section 8, page 52

The sun is pretty bright today, thankfully. Chloe complains about the lack of cover, but I’m just thankful that the sunsets are sticking around for a while longer. Sometimes the city remains overcast for months, and I still vaguely remember flicking on a flashlight on the way home from school.

My mom bought me that.

I put the thought aside, shielding my eyes with an outstretched hand against the afternoon sun.

“Ugh,” Chloe grunts, laying horizontally on a nearby bench while I cast my gaze over the plaza. It’s not the same one I met…? Her at, months ago, but it’s not too far away.

“Way too fuckin’ bright,” Chloe mutters. I sigh. She’s been complaining about the heat for the past thirty minutes, and it’s almost enough to make me reconsider bringing her along.

Almost. Ava had seemed confident in my ability to heal a couple people in a row. And it’s not like I don’t agree — something like that would be fairly easy.

I still have a bad feeling about it. Something wriggling at the back of my mind, telling me I’ve forgotten something.

I drop my arm, huffing. Maybe it’s just leftover paranoia from that night at the bar. I’ve more than learned my lesson from that, and as much as I’m glad the sun is out, I can’t say I don’t understand Chloe’s hesitance.

Nothing for it, really. Until I find a way to deal with Cook, the paranoia’s here to stay, I think.

“Claire!” I whip my head around in time to watch Ava walk briskly, hands in her jean pockets, along the opposite sidewalk. I give her a wave, and she nods back. Subtly checking my phone, I note that she’s as punctual as always.

I also note that she has a couple tag-a-longs. Three, to be exact. A taller person with scruffy black hair leads two shorter people by the hand, shoulders hunched and heads ducked nervously. A parent, or an older sibling, maybe? The state of their clothing, as well as their posture, suggests their living conditions might not be very stable.

Obviously. They’re coming to me for help, after all.

Ava glances across the street, motioning for the patients to follow as she jaywalks over to us.

I scowl. “Really?”

She laughs. “You’re one to talk!”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever. These the patients?” I ask, motioning behind her. The taller kid — I’ve already classified all three as children in my head — remains resolute, but the other two —

One flinches, and the other ducks their head further. I make a note not to perform any more sudden movements.

Ava grunts. “Mhm. You can probably guess why separate meetings wouldn’t go down particularly well.”

I shrug. “Sure. So, who’s going first.”

The taller one steps forward. “I’ll go.”

Protective, I note. Probably for the best. I nod, and slowly approach. “My power allows me to perform biological modifications to myself and anyone I’m connected with. I’m going to extend a needle in order to make that connection. Get it?”

They nod. I warp the flesh under my wrist, extending the needle. The kid startles, but quickly gather themself. “And you’re just gonna…?”

“I’m going to slide the needle into your wrist, and perform a number of general modifications to ensure your body is in peak physical condition. Kind of like a check-up,” I explain. “Any pre-existing medical conditions you know about, that you think I should be aware of?”

I think being blunt is my best bet here, but it’s not an easy thing to describe without sounding ridiculous.

The kid looks vaguely sick. “N — no.”

“Alright. Then, are you ready?”

They take a deep breath. “…Yeah.”

I nod. “Hold out your arm.”

They do, and just as I carefully take their wrist and turn it palm-up, I hear a soft thwip near my ear.

The kid’s torso jerks, a thin red stream erupting from their shoulder —

A grunt from Ava, a vicious curse from Chloe — the other two kids look like they’re two seconds away from screaming —

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Who the fuck would want to assassinate a homeless kid?!

I dart forward, grab the kid around their waist, attempting to hold them up, and bark at the two remaining civilians.

I jerk my head to the side. “Go!”

Both of them panic, but the sound of my voice seems to shock them out of their stupor, and they scramble around the corner. I wrap an arm around the wounded kid’s shoulders and shout back over my shoulder.

“Help me out!” Ava comes up next to me and shares some of the load, supporting the stumbling young adult with both arms while I risk a glance back at the bench.

Chloe’s already up, bolt gun in hand, kneeling next to a nearby trash can and scanning the buildings opposite to us. If I remember correctly, the bullet did come from that direction —

She’ll be fine for now. Ava and I drag the last kid around the corner and set them down heavily on the concrete. I watch them visibly suppress a hiss of pain.

I scowl. “Gonna heal you, okay?”

They nod, shakily. I take only a moment to wish I could be a little more gentle.

I jam the still-protruding needle into their wrist, activate my power, and slam everything into place. I eject the bullet, patch up the wound, and use what little fat stores the kid has left in combination with my own to do the entire check-up in less than a second. By the time I remove the needle, they look about to puke.

“You good?” I ask, resisting the urge to tell them to suck it up. We can’t waste time here —

A crack rings out, and then another couple follow in quick succession. I glance over past the building in time to catch Chloe ducking her head as concrete bursts in little pockets near her. She ducks her head, and begins digging through her pockets, bolt gun hefted against her shoulder.

“Chloe!” I call out, before cursing myself. Stupid.

Her head jerks up, and we make eye contact.

The gunshots let up. “Got attached, ‘ey Doc?! Boss really didn’t think you were the type!” A rough voice, from somewhere down the street shouts. It takes me a second, but I recognize the thick accent and wheezy undertones.

“An’ wit’ the Rat, too! Guess you know what they say ‘bout vermin, huh!”

Suckup. Fuck, what does he do again? Some kind of matter manipulation…? The voice moves closer.

“How ‘bout you just fork over the goods, Rat, an’ maybe we’ll let ya scurry away? That way, none of this got to… escalate.”

Chloe scowls. “Drop the guns, and maybe I’ll consider it,” she barks, yanking something from her pocket.

“Hah! That’s a good one —“ She chucks the device over the trash can towards Suckup. I hear a clank as it hits the ground, a couple surprised shouts, and a sharp hiss.

The sounds of whirring and metal impacting concrete resume, and smoke starts to pour out from the corner. Chloe grins, darting to her feet and sprinting the distance from the trash can to our location.

Behind her, Suckup screeches, and the ground beneath my feet starts to rumble. Just as Chloe slides against the sidewalk next to me, the trash can she’d been hiding behind crumples, impaled by several concrete spikes that erupt from the ground.

I must be wearing some kind of baffled expression, because Chloe snickers as she drags me down the sidewalk at an almost sprint, motioning for the civilians to follow. “C’mon, we’ll take the tunnels,” she hisses.

“The what?!” I protest, lagging behind while I try to herd everyone after her. Ava is more than cooperative, but the taller patient ends up having to half-drag the kids around the block.

Chloe ducks into the next building, kicking open the rotten door. Inside is —

It’s abandoned. I don’t take the time to look it over. Chloe makes a beeline towards a wooden pallet leaning against the back wall. I stand next to the open door, every muscle in my body wired with tension.

Boots on concrete, getting closer. Suckup’s berating one of his henchmen, sounds like.

I turn back at the sound of wood splintering, seeing that Chloe’s kicked the pallet aside and is ushering the other four through a large hole in the wall, revealed by her forceful debris clearance.

Chloe waves me over, but I hold up a hand, leaning slightly out of the doorway.

Suckup, clad in patchwork leather and a ratty hat, still adorned with thick metal canisters, stomps down the street. He’s flanked by a number of armed militia — I don’t have time to count before he snatches up a canister and slams his boot into the ground.

The concrete under his shoes ripples, lurching outwards and forming a number of sharpened spines that reach towards the doorway.

I duck inside, shielding my face with an arm against the explosion of dust and flying concrete shrapnel torn to pieces by the wave of spikes.

“Dammit Claire, come on!” Chloe’s shout spurs me into motion, and I push myself out of an ungainly stumble, sprinting for the tunnel.

“You tryin’ ta’ hide, Doc?! Cook said you liked doin’ that!” Suckup cries, voice muffled by layers of concrete and steadily growing quieter as Chloe and I sprint through the tunnels. We catch up with the others easily, and as soon as they see us Ava hustles the kids into a run beside us.

The tunnels blend together in a sick slurry of broken concrete and half-hearted coverings. We sprint past shattered concrete pillars, darting through thick patches of dark and past blinding openings, broken windows and forgotten door-frames.

I glance back every so often in an attempt to keep track of Suckup, but it’s difficult to see him through all the scattered openings, and —

The shock of turned earth makes me stumble, and abruptly, a cluster of stone spires plows through the wall behind me. The patients — I don’t know which ones — shriek, and I barely make out Ava’s very creative string of curses as she helps them along.

Chloe drops to a knee, pulls out another device from her pocket, and tosses it out of a nearby window.

Suckup screeches, and we break into a run before another series of spikes takes out the wall, carving through concrete and rebar, making the foundations of the building rumble.

“He’s alone,” Chloe huffs, breaking into another run beside me. “Left!”

Ava grabs the taller kid and hauls them into another tunnel off to the side, obeying Chloe’s barked instruction.

“The militia — ?” I grunt, dread worming its way through my gut. Chloe starts to go for the left opening, following the civilians, when I check for Suckup.

My eyes widen at the sight of a dark figure just beyond a small hole in the wall up ahead. On instinct, I grab Chloe’s arm and dig my heels in.

The ground in front of us erupts, spines angled towards the wall tear through stone floors, shattering furniture and piercing the ceiling.

Chloe drags me off to the side while I stare at our now-blocked-off exit, shoving me through another tunnel and away from the stone barrier. “We can get back to them through here,” Chloe assures me, “Just —“

We burst into a larger room, a lobby, seems like, and freeze immediately.

This time, I get an accurate count. Two, near the exit, one, next to the hostages, another in front. All armed. Suckup is still somewhere outside.

I don’t stay frozen for long.