The walk back to my house was a harrowing experience. Partly because of the half-flooded streets choked with debris. Partly because of the openly armed looters I passed more than once. Partly because I was just afraid to die. I had survived the loop I'd been stuck in, but what did that really mean? Wouldn't it be just my luck that I die and wake up...fuck, how long ago?

Oh, only four days ago. 'Only', like four days wasn't the longest I'd been alive so far. Yesterday hadn't been bad at least, after I'd gotten patched up. The Protectorate took me aside for a chat, I guess Alexandria had loose lips. They hadn't exactly interrogated me, like they would if they thought I was a villain probably. Mostly they were just checking I had shelter and stuff.

The sad answer was that I didn't know, hence my current walk. At least they let me stay at the hospital that night, even though they were sort of over capacity. The floor was fine with a blanket at least. But if my place was no good, they'd offered me quarters. I was...hesitant. They'd said no strings attached, but I wasn't convinced and certainly wasn't ready to sign up as a child soldier...again. Still, it was an option and I had to keep it in mind.

While I walked, I kept salvage at the back of my mind. Salvage...like I wasn't just looting like everyone else. I had specific stuff in mind though. I'd seen a couple cop cars that had been busted open by Leviathan, with empty weapons lockers. I was hoping to find one that hadn't been cracked. If I was lucky...ideally a carbine. Pistols were fine, arguably better because they could be concealed to not draw attention. But Brockton Bay was a dangerous city, and about to get a hell of a lot worse.

I'd been so fixated on Leviathan that I forgot what came after. Right now the city was in chaos, there were literal street battles between looters, cops, and gang bangers who were distinct from the looters. I had avoided the worst of it by staying overnight, but even now there were gunshots echoing in the distance. Needless to say, I was keeping my projection close at hand, consciously more than not.

I rounded a corner and saw a bunch of overturned and smashed up cars. As I drew closer, I saw the logo of the BBPD and stopped. I looked up and down the street, seeing only a couple figures almost a block further on and walking away. I took a deep breath and approached, getting a closer look at the car.

It was a Crown Vic, like all underfunded police departments used. It was upright, but the driver's side door had been sideswiped and crumpled in. I saw the marks from crowbars, but testing the door proved they had failed to get in. On the other side, it seemed they hadn't been able to get purchase in the narrow gap. The windows were smashed, but the bars had held, as had the lock. The trunk too hadn't been opened, so I was feeling a little lucky.

I stuck my finger in the gap, then frowned. I slid my finger all along it, but there was no real purchase to be found. I tried forcing my projection in anyway, but only succeeded in making a dent. Dammit. I scratched my chin and stepped forward, sticking an arm inside. I pressed my fingers to the edge of the door and smiled. That was a bit better. It was an awkward angle, but I was able to push and push with my fingers and projection, wedging the door til the lock made a loud 'pop' that echoed down the empty streets. Oops.

I quickly got my hand in the now-sizable gap outside and forced it the rest of the way open. I wasted no time, getting inside and forcing open every compartment. The glovebox had OC spray, which I took, and taser cartridges that I left; no taser to use them. The top level of the console compartment only had some notepads and pens, which I promptly tossed and exposed a keyhole.

There was more below, maybe where they kept sidearms, I wasn't sure. The car didn't have a carbine locker here, so it was a reasonable assumption. There was the thinnest seam around the edge, but nothing I could get into. At least, not here. I looked around the side til I found a seam in the plastic. It bent under a little force and allowed me to force my projection into it, cracking it. I tore the siding away and exposed the metal body of the safe.

The side had a wide seam where it had been bent on the driver's side, from the Endbringer hit-and-run. I got a pinkie in there, then my ring, then middle, and soon it peeled back to reveal the fruit inside. A pair of black, polymer-bodied pistols with two magazines each. Lucky me. I snapped the gunlocks by wedging them out with my finger, then took both pistols and all four mags.

I stuffed the ammo in my pockets and the pistols in my waistband, then slipped out of the car before anyone came by and found me. Fortunately the streets were empty, and I beat a hasty retreat with my new protection. I stopped two blocks later in an alley, drawing one pistol and examining the markings. What had I got here...

Glocks. Honest to god Glock 29s in 10mm Auto. BBPD you are fucking killing me. Sure, why not, so they had special snowflake guns with ammo that's hot as hell. Well, at least the mags were loaded for fifteen. Sixty shots, should be more than enough for a while. I didn't intend to go looking for trouble where I'd need it, but I was a cape. Better safe than sorry.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Now armed, I made a beeline for home rather than the indirect route I'd been on. It only took ten minutes to crest the hill that the little park sat at. I paused, looking down at the bay below. From here, the city looked ten times worse. Little within sight wasn't at least a little damaged either by waves or Leviathan himself. A mess was an understatement.

I shook my head and kept walking. I was a little surprised to find my home...completely intact. Maybe I shouldn't have been, considering the most damage I'd seen in this neighbourhood had been broken windows. Here though, it was seemingly untouched. I went around the back and retrieved the key under the third planter from the right. I slipped it in the lock and quickly headed inside.

It was quiet, seemingly empty. I considered calling for my mom, but that would have been stupid. She would have reacted to the door opening, probably, and if anyone was in here then they were laying in ambush. I wasn't nearly that important, but the thought kept me on edge as I crept through my empty house.

I went downstairs first, finding in filled with three inches of water. Oh great. I tried the lights, and sure enough they weren't working. I hadn't expected them to but...it would be nice. I headed up and into the kitchen, digging through the drawers of the island til I found an old, L-shaped flashlight. Military surplus, I recognized the sort. I checked and found the batteries worked, then grabbed a couple more from the drawer just in case.

Equipped, I headed downstairs and straight for my room. I grabbed a duffel bag from the closet and loaded some changes of underwear, lots of socks, and sweats. I loaded the extra pistol and magazine in there too, along with the batteries. In my jacket pocket, I kept one loaded gun and the pepper spray. Close at hand...just in case.

I looked around my room and sighed. 'My' room. It was now though, or at least it had been. I wasn't stupid enough to try staying in a place with a bunch of standing water and a pilot light that may or may not be out. Well...then I needed everything vital. I grabbed my wallet and phone from the table, then went to my closet and retrieved a small handkerchief. Not enough for my usual wrap, but it would keep my identity intact while I relied on the heroes' good will.

I took a last look around my room and sighed. I was...kind of going to miss this place. At the same time, I hoped I'd never wake up here again. I slung the duffel bag over my back and headed out the back door. I sat on the back porch and fished into my pockets, digging out the small business card I'd been given by Miss Militia. I took out my phone and dialed it. On the third ring, the line clicked.

“Miss Militia,” her sharped, clipped tones answered. “Make it quick.”

“It's Amaranth,” I replied shortly. “I...need a place to stay. And a pick up, if possible.” A grunt.

“Wait one.”

The line beeped twice. Was I on hold? Beep-beep. I was on hold. Beep beep. This was a fucking surreal experience, listening to the. Beep-beep. Of the hold tones, while just out of eyesight was a devastated city that by all rights shouldn't exist and certainly shouldn't have contained me. And yet. Beep-beep.

“Apologies,” Miss Milita came back without warning. She sounded out of breath. “What is your address? I'll have someone dispatched.”

“Wait, really?” I expected conditions.

“Please be quick,” she snapped, and I heard a gunshot in the background. Ah.

I rattled off my address, she put me on hold for another thirty seconds, then came back and told me to be out front in ten minutes. I decided to go around and just wait on the porch now. It was a bit conspicuous, but what was a regular looter going to do against my projection? Besides, I'd just brandish my new gun to drive them off a boom, problem solved.

I'd have to do some work, getting familiar with it. Drills, drills, and drills until I could draw and aim in my sleep. A weapon was only as effective as the training I put into it, and the last time I had a gun that was near zero. I wouldn't make those same mistakes this time. Hopefully the Protectorate wouldn't complain too much about my...precautions, if I even told them.

I sighed and tied the kerchief around my face like a bandana. I put the hood of the hoodie up and rose, walking out to the sidewalk and looking around. No one and nothing yet. In fact the neighbourhood was...silent. In the distance there were sirens, gunshots, but nothing nearby. An island of tranquility in a sea of chaos, or so it seemed. A rumble soon interrupted the stillness and a large, armoured van rolled up. The blocky letters 'PRT' were painted on the side, and the passenger door opened to reveal Assault.

“Amaranth?” he asked flatly.

“Yeah,” I replied, taking a step closer, stopping when he held up a hand.

“Armed?” I stiffened. It didn't sound like he was asking because he was worried but... I nodded slowly. He sighed. “If it's a firearm, is it on safe?”

“Can I check?” He sighed and nodded, tensing as I drew the pistol from my hoodie and took a look. “Yup, it's fine.”

“Where'd you get that?” Assault asked. Now there was the judgy tone.

“Here,” I lied. Definitely wasn't telling them about looting a cop car. “Mom insisted we be ready to defend ourselves and...well, better me than some looter.” His lips pressed together in a thin line, but he nodded.

“Get in.”

He shuffled over and let me up. I had to crawl over to him, but sat on the front bench seat between Assault and a heavily armoured driver. The trooper driving glanced at me once, then returned his attention to the road and got going. I stayed quiet and shrank back, trying not to draw any attention to myself. I wasn't looking forward to this but...I was hoping it wouldn't be too bad.