Almost nothing went down in the West End borough without Rope Trick knowing about it. This wasn’t his superpower, though; going without sleep was. Everything else he had to scramble for: investigating, going undercover, connections . . . all in the after hours of his day job. The ropes? They were from the day job too. It took a little crime to stop big crimes. Well, as big as the street-level could sustain.
This was an easy night. He just had to tie a few ropes. One–across a sidewalk where The Heist Gang was going to escape on foot from yet another heist. The rope would trip and bind them, giving the pursuing police the minute they needed to catch up. Another rope–on the corner of 29th and E, with a special knot that, when pulled by a passing car, would tell Rope Trick when on this night someone would drive there. You can get a lot out of the tidbit about when a car drove where it shouldn’t have.
The rest of the night should’ve been patrolling, good for the soul, 82% chance of no crime on the muggy summer night. Just sleepy projects, cooling blacktop, distant dog barking.
What Rope Trick didn’t expect was seeing a stranger–clearly not a west-ender–studying a day-old tag gracing a red-brick wall, with aloof curiosity like they were in a gallery. The person was hard to make out in the spotty street light, but the silhouette, Trick decided, was female; and too thin to be practical on these streets.
Great, Rope Trick thought, Another rich kid’s fun ride into vigilantism.
There weren’t talking these folks out of their street adventures. They took too seriously the joke that money was itself a superpower. And there weren’t saving them either if they managed to bump into real action. The only valid strategy was to track their movement for the few days until they get bored, then to figure their disruptions into the grand picture of the West End crime world.
Rope Trick approached, taking care to produce footsteps instead of silence. Hopefully his white cowboy hat conveyed "hero" to the stranger more than the cloth mask over his eyes invoked "bandit".
“Hey, kid,” he said.
“Hey, old man,” she responded without looking.
He frowned.
“Are you lost?”
“Aren’t we all,” she said and turned, facing Trick. “You look like a local. Help me find someone?”
He still couldn’t make out her face or even if she wore the suit. If there was a superpower he craved, it would be night vision. And invincibility.
“Sure thing,” he said. “Who are you looking for? And what’s your name?”
“It’s . . . Sara,” the girl replied, like she hadn’t gotten used to saying the name yet. “I’m looking for Brick’s crew.”
“I’m called Rope Trick,” he introduced himself, shrugging the shoulder with the coil of rope around by way of explanation. “Sara, huh? No superhero name?”
This produced a chuckle.
“No.”
Doesn’t fit the profile, Rope Trick’s internal alarm sounded. Not a rich kid vigilante. Proceed with caution.
This, the Trick’s line of work, meant: Get closer. Study them. Know what to expect.
“Come,” he invited, mentally going through the list of available well-lit places. “There are tunnels, if you don’t mind the subway.”
“Lead the way”, she intoned, and he almost heard the eye rolling.
***
The subway was closed for the night, but for the crime world, it was open 24/7. Everyone had keys to the service entry and knew the night watcher’s routes. Rope Trick did too. The "Staff Only" inconspicuous door in the back of the station opened for him with a familiar moan.
In the dim incandescent lighting, up close, Sara looked . . . ordinary. Thin as she was, she could be anything from 13 to 25. Her fashion sense placed her West End midtown. Her confidence hadn’t. Highrisers may have thought themselves above everyone, but they knew it didn’t count when they visited the West End. They knew to fear. She didn’t.
Trick settled on the silent treatment as they followed the subway back rooms to the closed station hall. Most people couldn’t stand silence, and it cracked many cases.
Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
“Nice ‘hood you got there,” Sara offered.
The silent treatment was working, sure as a clock. So he didn’t respond.
“How many people are there in Brick’s crew?” she asked in half a minute.
“Not many,” Rope Trick replied.
“Huh,” Sara grunted and seemed to brood.
In truth, Brick was a loner. There was no Brick’s crew. And lately, there was no Brick. This was one of the few things on Rope Trick’s agenda: where was Brick?
This girl might hold a clue to that. Then again, at what cost? Rope Trick’s mind, perpetually in motion, was seeing fewer and fewer safe outcomes for this encounter. The girl was giving off wrong vibes, and his deception and intentional studying of her weren’t granting him any points.
Also, there were the maze-like tunnels they were just now entering. Rope Trick knew this level by heart and often used it to get around. Few lights shone here. Good for a disappearing act if things went south. Unless you disappear forever. But today should be safe.
“Do people disappear here often?” Sara asked suddenly, as if reading his thoughts. Which was not out of the question.
“What makes you think that?” Rope Trick asked.
“Oh, I don’t know . . . The darkness, the smell . . . The damn xenoplasm all over the walls?!” she raised her voice, and it echoed down the tunnel–the tunnel that was, according to Trick’s eyes, dusty but otherwise mundane.
“What?! Where?” he said, trying to discern anything that fit the description.
“You ignorant planetsiders! Are you even good for your own housecleaning?!” she turned to him, her eyes glowing--literally. The disguise that was Sara had started to slip. “It’s been here for at least three years! What’s your excuse?!”
Trick mentally noted the date. The unsolved disappearances had been on the rise for the last two years. Once a month, someone would disappear: a kid, a subway worker, an unhoused person. Everyone knew there was something going on down here.
And, in fact, at one point the West End Citizen Community had asked for help. The police “did all they could”, saying it’s the supers’ job. But the local supers–which meant Rope Trick (can go without sleep), Engarde (war veteran, no powers) and The Seed Bomber (green thumb)–barely managed the crime busting. Engarde ended up another disappearance statistic a few months in. The Midtown Super Dispatch turned down the request due to “insufficient danger”. Crime took more lives than the tunnels, so this was not on the radar. Eventually, the neighborhood learned to live with that, to recognize the signs and the times to avoid yet another part of town. Crime did take more lives, after all.
"There's nothing there," Trick said.
"So you planetsiders don't see into the Xeno dimension, that ain’t no excuse!" she kept piling on, the glow overwhelming the darkness. "There are still ways, even in this gravity pit, to detect it! It's on YouTube, goddamnit. Don't you think it's important?!"
“What's important?” Rope Trick's frown deepened.
“The star larva. Okay, fine, I’ll do it for you,” “Sara” said irritably and levitated. Her features blurred into a shadowy silhouette outlined silver. Before Rope Trick even finished going through his mental list of super beings, she was gone, off through the wall.
image [https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/4e2c64fe-5fa7-4e98-bb61-dafc8f27c54c/dg1z7l8-5a65b6f0-b839-46b6-ad24-d75965e17662.png?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzRlMmM2NGZlLTVmYTctNGU5OC1iYjYxLWRhZmM4ZjI3YzU0Y1wvZGcxejdsOC01YTY1YjZmMC1iODM5LTQ2YjYtYWQyNC1kNzU5NjVlMTc2NjIucG5nIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.mdj-4BDTP5Zma2wHfjPKF6EyEPG1x1Ivkzi1lOg3OVo]
Shadowquest! He finally remembered. She’s an orbit-based supervillain, the menace of space programs all over the world.
“Done!” she returned through a different wall in less than a minute.
“Done?”
“It’s dead. So are most drones. It would cocoon in just two more years, then you’d lose the planet! The city and the studio for sure! What were you thinking?!” Shadowquest literally steamed.
“ . . . The West End Cinema Production Studio,” Rope Trick guessed, confused.
“Yes!! The Cin+ original content would stop! Everything cancelled and off-streaming!”
“Ah.” he managed. “I need to tell you something about Brick--”
“So do I,” Shadowquest interrupted. “Pass it along. To whomever. Brick is dead. If somebody cares, they should know. But nobody does, huh? You don’t even care enough to install a xenoplasm detector. Goodbye, I now need to back up everything!!”
With that, she went up and melded through the ceiling, leaving Rope Trick with too many mental notes for one night.
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