193I was on patrol again. Colin had somehow swung me a miracle, overriding all protests about my physical safety and mental wellbeing to get me back on the beat. I guess I'd been seriously underestimating the thick heft of his clout.
I was determined to not disappoint. My armour has been polished, my hair cut by the PR department, both my Armsbeard and Twinkling Smile were on and I had a stack of pre-signed press shots from my interview last night. Beside me, Vista strode with all the confidence being the highest rated Shaker on the east coast afforded.
It wasn't that I didn't want to talk with her, I did, I had a lot of things I could say, but I could tell she didn't want to talk to me very much; in the past, I had bothered her far more that she wanted to take, so we walked in a silence broken only by our adoring fans. Hers more so than mine despite that I was on national television last night and also that I was leeching off of Canary's fame. But, whatever, she'd been around years longer than me so I could understand that the public's shit taste was simply because of the propaganda model.
Someone walking toward us, a guy of about twenty, caught my eye with his unblinking, shocked stare. The man practically vibrated with excitement with every step, reaching into his heavily sagging jacket pocket, his arm making the triangle which activated my crime prevention autism, causing me to reflexively Observe him just in case he was a shooter. He pulled out a photo of Canary and I and thrust it out in front of him as he neared.
"Hey, hey, you're Dark Smoke Puncher! My buddy said he'd seen you, but I thought you were in Boston! Can you sign this?"
Dark Smoke Pun-Cha!
Missy recoiled slightly out of the corner of my eye, but I ignored her as I stepped up to shake the guy, Adam's, hand.
"Of course, my friend!" I placed my other hand on his shoulder as I shook his hand, the last jingles of my entrance riff fading. "You a big Bad Canary guy?"
"Oh yeah! I heard her first-ever song, on the very day it came out! Imagine that?" he said as I took the photo from him and equipped my signing pen. "I love your song with her too, of course, I recognise the opening riff of it you used just now with your little," the guy flapped his hands to indicate a totally sick power caused sound. "Thing."
"Amazing! I've been a long-time fan myself, not quite as long as you, unfortunately, but she does great work, doesn't she? I was stoked when she agreed to produce a song with me, she's such a nice person to work with."
I jotted down my signature with machine precision, leaving enough room on the other side for him to get Paige's signature at some point.
"And you," I smiled at him cheekily, "have impeccable taste in music."
He took back the photo with a little less reverence than I'd like. "You're just saying that because I like your music," he returned my smile.
"You got me!" I clapped him on the shoulder. "Have a great day, man."
"Yeah, you too," he smiled one last time, then strode away digging in his pocket for his phone so that he could tweet about this.
I gave him one last glance, squinting slightly against the setting sun, a bubbly pink feeling rising in my chest. Being proud of myself over something worthwhile actually felt really, really nice.
Our, and then my, song had been fairly popular, but what had gotten the PRT frothing to no end was that I wasn't even supernaturally good at music yet, but in a quite short amount of time I could be. Oh, I could be. I could be good at anything. My Youtube channel was going to be so popular, I'd be a household name even before my ascension to the Triumvirate. I could do live streams of myself doing whatever I wanted. Painting, singing, even playing video games or watching anime. I could introduce the world to good taste, for the first time in its existence I could make things as they should be.
A world where little Greg boys and little Greg girls could be included in normie circles.
That was a dream worth having.
We walked on along our route, still bubbling with the praise of our fans. Ah, no, I was doing that while Vista was probably taking no joy in my massive achievements because she was a little stick in the mud who couldn't get over the fact that I used to be annoying a few months ago. I'd gotten my enhanced memory perk before I'd even met her, so I remembered how it was better than any.
I gently bit at the tip of my tongue as we walked. I'd resolved to not apologise for or mention my past behaviour partially as revenge for their petty snubbing and partially as an attempt to take the high road and let my attitude speak for itself, in theory letting us both fall into a better relationship without anyone having to lose face. I wondered how long it would take.
The late afternoon wound down into evening and we reached the last loop of our patrol, the peak of it looping around into the fringes of ABB territory. I heard them before we saw them, the clicking rattle and hiss of spray cans echoing around the corner. Four skinny teenage boys loomed out of the twilight, bits of red and green clothing peeking out of unzipped jackets. The rest of the street was deserted but for an occasional car, leaving the boys free to deface shop windows with Christmas coloured dicks.
Beside me, Vista sighed the quiet uncomfortable sigh of someone face with a heap of unexpected and tedious work. I decided I should take point with this fucking ABB scum.
"Hey, guys," I took a step forward. "I'm sure we're all having a lot of fun but I would appreciate it if you could put the spray cans away."
"Bet you would, gay boy," the tallest one quipped, prompting a series of jeering sniggers from his friends which would have aggravated my Betamax genes if I still had any.
"I really, really would," I smiled, making sure to keep my posture in the safe PR zone so that when I heemed these faggots for attacking me Vista would back me up. "Defacing property ain't cool."
"The guy who owns this," the taller one gestured to the shop with his can, punctuating the gesture with an infuriating spurt of paint. "Said we could paint his place up, so how about you fuck off?"
I suppressed a seething hiss. God damn scum-sucking little shits, did they even think I'd buy that utter load of shit? Sparks roiled under my skin, a million little pinpricks of energy I barely held in; I hoped to fucking god one of them touched me.
"No, come on, graffiti is a misdemeanour crime and we are law enforcement," I took another step forward, my posture invitingly naive, jaw perfectly placed for a surprise attack. If only I wasn't wearing this fucking armour they might want to have more of a go. "So instead of getting the cops involved you either put the cans away or give them to me."
"You think the cops will do shit, huh, gweilo?" one of the shorter ABB gangbangers scoffed while flipping me off. "We own this part of town."
"Personally," I said with calculated condescension. "I'd go with community service when you get charged. I'll suggest it to the officers when they get here, and I'll see if we can't get the charge expunged when you finish on account of age. I think you boys would find it rewarding."
Come on, fucking hit me.
The sparks roiled closer to the outside, but I drew them back. At this level of ambient light, they might be faintly visible through my skin and I wouldn't want to spook them before they electrocuted themselves. It would be in self-defence!
"Call the cops," said the tall one, thrusting his chin out. "I don't give a fuck."
"Of course."
My phone appeared in my hand, but the light and noise were all my power. I made sure they could hear a voice on the other side of the line faintly ask my what my emergency was, and I could see the moment where they fucking god damn pussied out. Shit. They spat and clicked their tongues and made rude gestures, but turned around and ambled away. I suddenly had the most amazing, marvellous idea.
"Hey!" I hopped forward, thrusting out my hand as they turned back around. "Thanks for being cool about this-"
The leader slapped my hand away, "eat my dick."
I smiled as they walked away, the twinging sensation of my tracking tag moving off with them. It will be you who will eat my dick, faggot, for you see I'll be seeing you again very soon and not only will you lead me to a gang hideout, you-
"How did you do that?"
"Eh?" I looked back over my shoulder at Missy.
"I could have done that," she continued. "But how did you do that?"
The question, while harsh, was fair. But, fuck you Missy you literal child I could have always done that had I chosen to.
"We did this awesome training week in Boston with the New York wards, we got to do all kinds of cool shit. Learn to drive, obstacle course stuff and, we did a half-day on alternative policing methods," I walked back over to her and we fell into step back towards the PRT building. "I'll bring it up with Emily, though I'm pretty sure Brockton is way too underfunded to ship in and house a few teenagers for a week for some reason."
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Vista's mouth contort into the dim gape of the low IQ as she tried to process the concept of learning and the existence of Wards in other cities.
"I think that would be a really good idea," she finally said. "I've always known there's more to the job than this. I don't… remember what kind of training I got, I think they just gave us a handbook and showed us how to use the console."
Oh, Missy. If only you knew how bad things really are.
The cool night breeze stole my sigh. Apparently, those four ABB gangbanging shits had nothing better to do than wander around the town for hours, acting tough, eating hot chips and occasionally tagging walls. Makes me fucking sick. I hopped off the roof I was on, crossing the gap to the next and sticking to the wall like a gecko as they swaggered like idiots through the alley beneath me. The didn't even have the good grace to lead me to a hidden gang safe-house, weapons cache or illegal brothel!
Even their conversation was just stupid shit about which girl they wanted to fuck, or how totally drunk they got that one time, or inane banter about everyday minutia. Give me some information, you fucks! Or, at least a reason to hit you.
Sneak has levelled up!
Sneak has prestiged into Hidden Movement!
That was really interesting. It was almost like a SEP field, so even if someone could see through my invisibility they might just not notice me. God damn, I loved being a ninja.
For realsies though, what was with this stakeout shit? First I went to a known ABB joint and got absolutely fucking nothing, and now following these guys around I was getting equally fucking nothing. I thought I was supposed to chance upon some key happening or scrap of information, not listen to four hours of absolutely nothing of value.
There was a burst of laughter from beneath, they were talking about vidya. Shit opinions of course, on strictly normiecore games.
A small click caught my attention, echoing softly from somewhere behind us. I craned my neck around, it was some guy whose boot had clipped a broken chunk of concrete. He was walking toward the ABB gangers, the half-moon reflecting off his bald head and, man, he was really walking quickly. He had the weirdest look on his face, like he-
The man reached into his coat and withdrew an Uzi.
The wind whistled in my ears as I dropped from the wall, landing quietly in between the man and the group as bright blue mana poured from my skin. The man jerked, pulling the trigger early, the first spray of bullets sending up a shower of gravel until they hit the whirlwind of my shield.
I flinched at the sound, throwing my arms over my head, getting as much of my armour in the way as possible. Hans' pistol rang out, again and again, dark shapes flashing across the brilliant blue cutting through my eyelids. I whimpered as something got through my shield and pinged off my side, the sound hidden by the endless barks of the gun and the mystic whooshing of my shield. I wasn't back there. This guy wasn't Hans. I grit my teeth until it hurt, forcing myself into the present moment and away from that street.
The barking of the Uzi ceased. I turned invisible. Within a second I was in touching distance of the hitman, my fingers grazing the warm barrel of the gun, vanishing it out of his hands and into my inventory, then gripping him around the neck and choke-slamming him into the ground. I picked him back up, jumping to the wall I'd been hiding on and slamming him into it. I held him there, grip shaking until the red bled out of my vision and I definitely wasn't back on that street and I had the situation under control.
I dropped the man and shied away from him, he hit the ground and collapsed into a dazed lump. Not dead. I observed him; close, but not dead and he'd live.
For some reason, the four boys were still there, gaping like stunned fish.
I was a fool.
"Get out of here, you dumb fucks!" I growled at them, throat raw and dry. "Fucking leave!"
The boys left, a scrambling tangle of awkward limbs that had obviously never seen anything higher up the gang chain than their weed dealer.
I looked back down at the half-dead Empire man and shivered, though it wasn't cold.
Gunshots echoed in the distance.
