Thomas Finn’s legs still didn’t work. But he had something way cooler than legs. As Thomas returned to Neonight, he needed to take care to avoid large areas, as he still wasn’t quite sure his new animal companion would be non-hostile to other humans. He had managed to quickly tunnel into the city, but he wasn’t sure where to go from there. He had known where to find Violet, but it seemed in retrospect that he needed to interrogate her for the locations of her colleagues. That’s going to be sort of impossible now. Thomas thought, looking down at Rocky as he sat on his scaly back, giving him a little pat on the side of the face.
“I feel like whoever made Rocky is a member of the Rainmakers, but I don’t even know where he or she might be,” Thomas said, thinking aloud as he skulked just outside of view of nearby city-dwellers and pedestrians. “I could just go back and wait at my apartment—maybe ask Helena for some more intel. I don’t know where else to go,” Thomas said. “But how am I going to get Rocky inside? Is there somewhere I can leave him maybe? What environments do crocodiles like?” Thomas was looking around the nearby streets from his hiding place just outside the city. “I’m also not sure I can walk yet. I’ll need to get to the hospital.” Thomas pet Rocky again, with the terrifying chimaera returning the affection with a low guttural sound and rubbing his snout on Thomas’s hand.
“Arf! (Translation: Crocodile Rock!)” Rocky barked, and dove into the ground with Thomas on his back and steering him with the phantom reigns. Suddenly, the two popped up behind a large building in Central Neonight, carefully remaining in the shadows as Thomas hopped off and began to shamble around the side of the building, rain drenching him as he hobbled along, leaning against the brick wall for support.
“Okay, boy. You hide in the sewers. I’ll be back out soon. Just wait down there and sit tight, okay?” Thomas asked, pointing at a nearby sewer grate. “And if they have any spare corpses, I’ll bring them back out for you!” Rocky answered with a yip as Thomas removed his suit, placing it against the side of the building out of view before stumbling inside. Thomas went to the hospital very frequently, but very little of note ever happened there. He’d just get his wounds fixed up, make up a lie about how it happened—it didn’t need to be believable; it just needed to be non-incriminating—and then go about his day.
But it turned out he wasn’t at a hospital at all. As he crawled along his hands and knees, inchworming along the side of the footpath, he looked around and saw no hospital building, only apartments and storefronts littering the sides of the road—their black finishes and neon lights making the rain glow. He had made a wrong turn somewhere, either due to the mental toll of missing his legs or because Rocky was just especially hard to control. He had no idea where he was. He knew he was close to a hospital, but he knew it was raining and there was nobody outside to help him. He had been isolated by his injuries, the price of taking that job was that he might die without his legs in the rain. If it weren’t for Rocky that is.
“Hey boy, we have to go somewhere else!” Thomas shouted, crawling back to the sewer grate to check on Rocky, but when he sent an eye into the grate, he saw that Rocky was gone.
* * *
Rio Beaudoin always got MarsDonald’s after school on the day before a weekend. It was a ritual he had carved for himself, a reward for his hard work that week. Rio was looking at the report card he had asked his mother to sign just a few days ago—the one she hadn’t gotten around to yet. He was staring at his marks—straight As—and smiling cleverly to himself as he took the train from his home to the nearest MarsDonald’s. Of course, Rio didn’t know the parts of the human body or how to do long division—and he likely never would. But despite these facts, he was a fourth grader testing far above his grade level in every subject.
Rio walked into the MarsDonald’s, a cheery, colourful little building that didn’t reflect the black metals of Neonight. He sat down at a table, which was covered in french fry oil and ketchup stains and took out a book from his backpack. It was a detective novel, one in a series of e-Books that were normally just beamed right into your brain. But Rio had been lucky enough to get his hands on a physical copy. Rio poured over the pages, drinking in the chilling adventures of his favourite crimefighter as he ate a hamburger and fries, spilling grease and crumbs all over his small denim jacket and blue jeans.
Suddenly, he felt someone very large walk up from behind him and knock his denim hat off of his head and onto his saucy napkin. Idiot. Rio thought, picking up the headpiece that finished off his all-denim outfit. Sure, denim hasn’t been popular in over a century, but that’s no reason to knock it into the sauce. Rio frowned, sullen. And then he pulled out a steel bottle of water, unscrewed the cap, and looked inside. “Wet Hands.”
Suddenly an image appeared in the reflection of the water. It was an image of a very tall man with a long white beard walking up to the MarsDonald’s counter. Rio leaned into the water bottle, placing his ear up against the opening. “Piotr Ivanov, age fifty-six. Civ: Move the Headstones. The user is able to fill small objects with kinetic energy and upon striking an object, can reshape it using the energy inside. I hope that’s helpful,” a strange, almost mystical voice whispered from inside the water bottle.
“Interesting. I assumed he was just being clumsy then.” Rio could see him talking to a woman with long crimson hair and wearing black motorcycle gear. “Who is that?”
“Blair Aureo, age twenty-three. Civ: Superhot. The user is able to fill objects with thermal energy and then restore them to a previous, unheated state. I hope that’s helpful.”
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
Rio nodded his head. The two seemed to be looking over the counter. Suddenly, a woman’s voice came from the water bottle.
“He said he’d be working here. It was this location, right?” Blair asked, turning towards Piotr.
“Yes. Where could he have gone?” Piotr answered, looking around the restaurant. He didn’t see any other employees. In fact, he didn’t see any employees at all. All he saw were androids and robotic terminals. “Do people even work here?” Piotr asked, looking towards Blair.
“I wouldn’t know, I don’t eat fast food. Except for after I work out. Or if I was going to work out but I had to cancel, since it wasn’t fair for me to miss out on that de . . . eply unhealthy and immorally produced food.” Blair caught herself, turning her near recommendation into a condemnation. “I guess Thomas must be working at another location.”
“You were about to say ‘delicious,’ weren’t you?” Blair and Piotr heard someone say. The pair didn’t see who was speaking to them, but that’s because they were six and seven feet tall respectively.
“Who the hell said that? Is this some sort of Civ attack?” Piotr asked, jumping into a fighting stance.
“No, it’s a little boy.” Piotr looked down to see a small, dark-skinned four-foot-tall child standing below them wearing all denim and holding a book and a steel water bottle like he was a satirical portrayal of a nerdy millennial. “How the hell did you know I was going to say that? Uh, I mean how the hell did you think I was going to say delicious . . . because I wasn’t. Also is hell a bad word? And who are you? Answer in reverse order.”
“My name is Rio Beaudoin, my mom doesn’t let me say h-e-double-hockey-sticks, and I knew because of my Civ. Wet Hands.”
“What’s that do?” Blair asked.
“Well, have you ever heard your name in running water?”
“All right, smart guy, cut it with the metaphors. I don’t have all day,” Blair answered curtly.
User: Rio Beaudoin
Civ: Wet Hands
The user is able to divine information from sources of water. If the user wants to know a specific piece of information, they could see it as a reflection on the water’s surface, hear it as a voice in running water, or watch the water flow into a specific shape. The information the water can give the user is limited to information that the water has been close to. The user can also use Wet Hands to see future enemy attacks in order to dodge or counter them. Any body of water within proximity of the user will attempt to defend itself in order to continue serving the user. This means flowing out of the way, attacking with a watery hand, or firing icicles. Wet Hands must be asked to do anything.
“Cool, huh?” Rio beamed after clinically describing his Civ’s ability.
“That’s . . . a bit scary, but yeah, cool,” Blair answered, clearly nervous about the life-ruining capabilities of Wet Hands—and, perhaps, the fact that they were in the possession of a child who was barely in the double-digits.
“Actually, young man . . .” Piotr leaned down about two feet and put a cheerful smile on his face. “We need some help finding our friend. Could you please help us?” Piotr asked in his warm grandpa voice that he used to put on for his own child.
“Piotr! You can’t just ask a powerful and scary child to follow you around! It’s . . . weird.” Blair whisper-yelled at Piotr, reprimanding him for approaching this random boy to go adventuring with them. “You’re also a wanted criminal!” Blair somehow said that part louder.
“What’s your friend’s name?” Rio asked as Blair turned away and theatrically slapped her forehead in frustration.
“His name is Thomas Finn.”
“And what do you know about him?”
That question gave Piotr and Blair pause. “We . . . actually don’t know much of anything about him. We know he’s a Civ user. He lives in my apartment. We uhh . . . he likes . . . he’s gay? Is that helpful? He could be at a gay bar?”
“Good idea, Blair. Let’s take the child to a gay bar!” Piotr exclaimed, raising a finger in the air and turning the heads of nearby patrons.
“All right. That was unhelpful info, but . . . wait, you were being completely serious, weren’t you?” Blair responded. “Piotr, you have a kid!”
“Did you say his name was Thomas Finn? I think my mom mentioned him before . . .” Rio responded, scratching his chin in thought. Rio opened his steel bottle. “Wet Hands! Who is Thomas Finn?”
Rio placed his ear against the opening, and a wet voice began to whisper to him as he stirred it around, getting the water moving. “Thomas Finn is a Civ user who lives in the Night 41 Apartment Building. He has a challenging relationship with your mother and was friends with your brother before his death. He knows your father as well. I hope that helps,” concluded Rio, pulling the bottle away from his ear.
“So? Do you think he’s working at one of the MarsDonald’s?” Blair asked.
“I hate to disappoint you, but nobody ‘works’ at MarsDonald’s, unless they’re a technician. But I’ll ask my Civ.” Rio walked up to one of the soda vending machines and began pouring water onto the drain. “Wet Hands!”
Suddenly, a cleaning robot began to move towards Rio and the water that was being dispensed from the vending machine and spoke through a speaker on its robotic face. “Excuse me, but I’m afraid you need to purchase a cup. I will need to ask you to stop.” As the boxy white robot began to roll on its wheels towards Rio, clutching a large mop in its mechanical vices, the water began to freeze. Suddenly, an icicle flew out of the stream of water and directly into the robot’s servos, causing the machine to shut off and slump over.
“Thomas Finn doesn’t work at this MarsDonald’s. I hope this helps.” With that, Rio took his finger off the “water” button before turning towards Blair and Piotr.
“If he told you he works at this location and he doesn’t, then I hate to say it but he’s probably lying.”
“But why lie?” Piotr asked and turned towards Blair, looking puzzled.
“It might be to protect us from something. I don’t know a lot about Thomas’s past, but I know he’s a decent person who’d do anything to protect his friends.”
“If so, then he might be in danger. Or being pressured to do something he doesn’t want to do by some unknown enemy.”
“Or a known one.” Blair thought about the Krokodil Crime Family and Thomas’s relationship with Chorus. It seemed for a while that he might’ve tried to quit, but if that wasn’t the case, then he might have given up on hunting the Krokodils. Or worse, joined them. She knew it wasn’t a charitable interpretation of her good friend, but she couldn’t rule it out either. “Or he just got the name of the MarsDonald’s wrong, AND he’s secretly a gifted engineer. There’s only one way to be truly sure.”
“I have nothing going on.” Rio chimed in.
“Um, that’s great Rio, but this is sort of a grown-up thing,” Blair answered apologetically. “Despite what Piotr might suggest.”
“You sound just like my mom.”
“Excuse me?”
“She never lets me go anywhere. I want to have adventures, too!” Rio held up his novel. “Like this! Please let me go on an adventure with you! Pleeeeeeeee—” Blair didn’t change her expression. She wasn’t going to let herself get outwilled by some little kid. “eeeeeeeeeeeee—”' Blair was determined. Which means nothing was going to get her to budge.
“Blair, let’s let the boy come with us. He’s very loud,” Piotr pleaded, glancing nervously between the stoic Blair and the whining Rio, who had resorted to rolling on the ground. “He’s very persistent . . . and annoying.”
“Not as persistent and annoying as me,” Blair answered, her face not changing.