"-killed my baby girl, killed her!" the speaker, a red cheeked white woman, yelled, "Killed her, melted her alive! My baby girl!"

"If it can happen to me, it can happen to you! How can we be safe, how can we forgive, why do we have to wait for another victim before something is finally done!"

I winced. A victim of Ooze. I'd seen what he had done, and to call it horrifying didn't do it justice. There were faces half melted I still saw in my dreams.

But there was shouting from the other side of the park. Counter-protestors, not as many as the thick crowd holding up signs calling for an end to the 'para-freak' menace.

A small band of mostly students, lead by a sign saying 'para-rights are human rights.'

And under the sign was a familiar face, scowling with uncharacteristic anger. Ayesha.

Clusters of the anti-para group broke away, confronting the small band of counter-protestors. Usually at these things I figure you can split a group along certain lines. Race, class, gender. But this was different. The men and women who went to confront the student protestors were as mixed as the ones rallied behind Ayesha's sign. The only thing uniform was their anger. High emotions lanced through both crowds, a thunderous energy building as the gap between them closed.

"Get lost with that shit!" a grown man spat in Ayesha's face. She didn't flinch, just glared up at him from under her sign. It was hard to make anything out in the generally angry buzz of the crowd, but he grabbed at her sign, and when she pulled it away, he grabbed at her.

A fist was flung from behind Ayesha, catching the man in the chin.

It was the starter gun that turned the angry buzz into a roar, the crowd's crashing into each other. Ayesha's sign and Ayesha herself disappeared from my view, swallowed up by the press. In a panic I looked for her in the mess of the crowd, protesting turning to riot. I'd have better luck looking for Waldo.

Slowly realizing something was up, the cops began to stir into action from their resting place by their cars.

>leap down to help Ayesha
>stay out of it

Previously on With Great Power Quest: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=With%20Great%20Power%20Quest

>>4706759
>>stay out of it
If we go down as Hotspur we start a riot. But as Eric, we could. If we could change clothes somehow.

File: 1602934022521.png (26 KB, 447x386)

26 KB PNG

>>4706759
>stay out of it
These people are completely justfied by the way, at best paras are ticking time bombs, and at worst they're a livng and breathing weapon of mass destruction, maybe even worse depending how bullshit their power is (though in all fairness the power levels here are somewhat grounded).
Power corrupts absolutely. Give a man invisibility and he'll probably become a voyeur just because he can do it with zero repercussions. That's not even beginning to consider that these powers could fuck with your brain somehow.
Hell, Eric's already one bad day away from becoming a schizo rorschach style, we've already broken people's arms and shit

>>4706759
>stay out of it
Eric=/=Hotspur
Not unless he's ready to own up to it

>>4706759
>stay out of it

I have to step out for a sec but I'll keep the vote open until I get back

I do think I should remind everyone that write-ins are always an option

>>4706866
>>4706799
>>4706798
>>4706765
back

and locked in

I watched the protest turn into a brawl. Part of me wanted to leap down and pull Ayesha out of it, the other part knew Hotspur bounding into things could only make them worse. And if I was being honest the protesters weren't wrong for being scared. I'd seen what guys like Ooze did up close.

The woman on the megaphone shouted for the fighting to stop but her words were washed out by the furious crowd. Maybe if I ditched the costume I could get in and pull Yesha out of there.

But then the police made their play, with sirens blaring in the distance as more arrived to the fray. Nightsticks fell on raised arms, men kicked and pulled from the crowd. I saw Ayesha reappear, dragged from the crowd by a cop, thrown around by a guy who could have been a linebacker. A nightstick caught her behind the shin, dropping her. Someone tried to run up on the cop to pull him off, but got a nightstick in the belly, driven hard to buckle him over.

Rage built the fire inside me but I pulled back from the ledge as a police truck drew up, armor plated and mean, with riot cops pouring out of the back all done up in riot armor with shields and sticks. When the gas canisters went off I knew it was too late to do anything, smoke fired to disperse the crowd, cops taking no prisoners as they set into both sides.

I watched Priscilla Takanawa jostle with the crowd as her producer tried to pull her into the safety of the media van, shouting into her microphone as she tried to lead her crew into the fray.

A fire started somewhere, sending up light into the building dark

The city was going crazy. There wasn't much I could do to stop it.

I bounded out of there, taking to the sky, leaving the riot behind me.

I had to focus on what I could do, not what was outside my hands.

Whatever else was going on in the city, I had a mission to focus on. Clearing Misfit's name.

>investigate the scene of the crime directly
>check in with Ms Grant for leads on the police side
>look into the Russian crew who had been the target of the murder

>>4707010
>investigate the scene of the crime directly
Maybe we can see if a para actually killed the guy and work from there

>>4707010
>investigate the scene of the crime directly

might be cleaned up by now, but it's a whole lot quicker than looking into another crew

>>4707010
>check in with Ms Grant for leads on the police side

>>4707010
>investigate the scene of the crime directly
use our super senses to find our own leads

>>4707098
>>4707032
>>4707015
locking the vote in

The scene of the crime seemed a good place to start, even after the cops had picked through it, it should still give up something. And I could see with eyes sharper than any human being.

It was a butcher's called 'Goran's', a front for the Russian mob. We called them 'Russians' but they were really a collection of Eastern European types, Poles, Slavs, Czechs, Ukrainians, and your garden variety Russians. I came in the twilight, winter stars overhead. It wasn't empty. The butcher was closing shop, a few track suit wearing goons out the front, keeping look out while fighting the cold.

Outside shadowing Sullivan and Baby Girl I'd never rumbled with the Russians, but I didn't expect them to be para-friendly. No gangster wanted a superhero poking around. They kept their guns hidden, this was Chicago not Donbass, but I knew they were strapped.

An old lady came out the shop coated for warmth, the little babushka moving with the slow gait of deep arthritis. The goons said good night but she gave them a sour look back. No illusions here about who the scumbags were.

The guy they claimed Misfit had killed was some boss figure, Anatoly Sharapov. Killed in his office, which from what I could tell was on the second floor. I vaulted high over the street, landing soft on the roof, cat burglar quiet. I was getting good at sneaking around.

There was no roof entrance so I shimmied down to a window. Enough of a finger gap to get a handhold, and then a flush of power opened it with a shark squeal. I flinched, listening for feet storming up the stairs. But I heard nothing as I slithered through the gap, closing it behind me. Just the flush of chill into the warmed upper floor could have been a giveaway.

I crouched in the dark, the lights all off. I figure gangsters aren't going to install cameras around where they did illegal business, but I did spare a thought for an alarm system. An untrusting people, gangsters.

Not much I could do about that though, except hope.

I looked for the office. The police had cleaned up the forensics, tape taken down, business allowed to return, so it took a couple of tries before I found the right seeming room.

It was small with no windows, and a small desk.

If there was anything still to find, I'd need to expand my senses,

>roll 3 x 1d100+10 dc 75

Rolled 26 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>4707134
The scent of blood, the signs of a scuffle, the pin to a flashbang. Anything

Rolled 20 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>4707134
Come on

Rolled 11 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>4707134

>>4707141
>>4707143
I guess the only thing we smell is our own fart kekw

Jesus this went downhill

Looks like we're not exactly detective material. No suprise there

I focused on my inner flame, and through it expanded out my senses. Smell, taste, touch, everything increased exponentially.

The first smell to hit was the chemical bleach. The place had been cleaned, scrubbed of gore. Then the oak scent of the desk, the leather of the chair. The whole room felt far too clean, as if another living being hadn't stepped foot in it until after the unliving one had been carted out. What I didn't smell, and I couldn't know if this was proof of anything, was the smell of gunshots or explosives.

Maybe time and a thorough cleaning had stripped the room of its scent. Maybe it was a clue.

Then I opened my eyes, searching the gloom, gaze travelling over the desk, the chair, the filing cabinet. I paced around the room, wheeled back the chair to take a seat. He'd died sitting, Misfit had told me as much. She'd found him sitting at his desk, his head blown off. I looked across the room to the door, slumped the way I remembered the body being slumped, for whatever good it would do me.

It was strange but, if it had been an explosive, the sort Misfit made, wouldn't the force have knocked a wheeled desk chair over? Maybe not proof of anything, but curious.

I stared at the open doorway, churning over thoughts.

Anatoly Sharapov, why him?

Then I heard the stamp of feet on stairs, coming up.

I closed off my senses, moving fast and low.

Russian voices rose up the staircase with the stomp of their feet. I moved for the window I'd come through.

Wedging my fingers under it, the thing squealed again as I pushed it open.

This time though, there was a loud 'Hey!' behind me.

Chill air sucked into the warm hallway. I looked back to see guns drawn out from tracksuit bands.

Bullets splintered the glass above my head, showering down on my shoulders as I pulled myself out the window. Then with my feet pressed to the side of the building, I lunged off onto the next door roof.

Russian curses chased me out into the night, along with a few impotent gunshots. My heart pounded in my chest, sweet adrenaline flooding my veins. It wasn't a full night until someone shot at me.

I ended up deep in the west side, wondering if I'd figured anything out. It hadn't been a wealth of information, but I'd picked up a renewed certainty of Misfit's innocence. Everything about this was weird though. I could only hope to piece it all together in time.

For now a yawn cracked my jaw. I wished Misfit was the only person I had to worry about, but it was halfway home I got a text, then a second, then a third.

Kay - OMG Ayesha's in jail! In jail! :crying:
Ivy - Ayesha's been arrested. got caught up in a protest. parents are going down to bail her out.
Kemal - dude did you hear about the riot? I heard some girl from school got dragged off by the cops.

Shit. I put my phone away, let out a breath. It could never just be one thing at a time, could it?

And I still had to meet with Dr Zamani about the stone.

Of course the news about Ayesha didn't stay on my phone. When I got to school the next day it was all anyone could talk about, the riot, and Ayesha being arrested. We waited for her to show, a silent anxiety, until she walked into home room with Ivy, a bandage on her forehead and a skip in her step.

"Yeesha!" Kay cried.

For all I'd seen her get walloped around by a cop just the night before, she looked good. All she did was wince when Kay hugged her.

"You idiot!" Kay followed it up, "What were you doing there?"

"Yo, what was prison like?" Zeke asked.

Ayesha crossed her arms, putting on a somber face. "Doing time changes a woman," she said, but couldn't keep it up and cracked a grin, "Pretty whatever, like waiting to be seen at the hospital really."

"They going to arraign you or whatever?" Dane asked. Ayesha shrugged.

"You could have been killed," Kay said, tears welling in her eyes, "Yesha you shouldn't be so reckless."

Ayesha's smile dropped. "Girl, after everything guys like Hotspur do for the city, dodging bullets every night, did for me, getting punched by a cop is the least I could do to stand up for him," she said.

"So you were on that side of the protest," Rufus said from his desk, "I'm not surprised." He said it with contempt. She glared back at him.

"All in the air we got people trashing on para-folk," she said, "Someone has to speak up."

"Paras are dangerous," Rufus said, "Whatever your 'boyfriend' might do, most of the rest are too dangerous to just let walk around."

"You hear what you sound like?" Ayesha said, "There was a time in Chicago folks like us weren't allowed on the North Side."

"It ain't the same," Rufus said, "Black folk can't blow up a train load of people with a bad thought, just because their coffee was cold. Neither can gay folks or whoever else. Para-freaks are different to us, Yeesha."

Dane flinched at the term 'para-freak'. I kept my face blank.

"Don't act like I don't know, Rufus," Ayesha said, "You didn't have the Creep come up into your home, looking to do...to do...and when he did what did you do? Hid in my room while Eric fought him off."

Attention swung around to me on that, most of the class both friends and acquaintances. Rufus looked put off by it, I hoped he didn't blame me.

"Don't even both, Rufus," Hunter said, "She's been brainwashed, part of the para-lover cult. It's not about logic with those types."

'Those types?' Rufus mouthed the words, as disgusted a look for Hunter as the one he'd had for Ayesha.

"Let's all just calm down," Kay said, "As part of the student council-"

The boo that ripped from the class had her back off.

"The student council should be looking into who the para-freak at school is!" Jeremy said, "We all know someone here is pretending to be normal. They're putting us all in danger."

"Shut the fuck up," Zeke spat at him.

I tried hard not to look at Dane, and was glad Ivy kept her gaze detached, but Kay. Kay gave me a small, guilty look.

The tension in the room was boiling, I was worried last night's riot would be reenacted in the middle of the classroom.

>put my hand up and confess
>keep quiet, let it blow over

>>4707188
>keep quiet, let it blow over
Confessing to this crowd would be the end of our civilian life

>>4707188
>keep quiet, let it blow over

>>4707188
>keep quiet, let it blow over

>>4707240
>>4707196
>>4707194
locked in

Still hate Kay. Dislike her more than the para-racists, some how.

I kept my head down and my mouth shut. The hollering back and forth grew to a fever pitch, friends were getting in each other's faces as Ayesha drew back with angry tears, grabbing her ribs with a pained ache, while Kay stood in the middle of it all, floundering to keep some kind of order while tears of her own started to pour down her cheeks.

Then someone threw a chair.

It smashed against the white board, shutting everyone up, even made me jump with the hard bang.

"You're all infants," Ivy said, picking up another chair, "Sit down, shut up, or the next one is going at your head."

It cowed everyone, but no one was happy. No one except Jeremy, who took a vicious delight in the foul mood flooding the room.

The teacher came in to find us all seated, a low bitter mumbling passing between each friends.

My phone rumbled on silent and I pulled it out into my lap. It was a single word.

Dane - scared.

The Cold War carried through to lunch break, and my friends didn't sit together. Camps were forming, and guys like Dane were caught in the middle. He went and sat with Zeke and Hunter, down with the nerds. Trying to protect himself by throwing in with the anti-paras. I understood.

I stuck with Kay, Ayesha, Zeke, with Ivy attached next to Ayesha. It wasn't a happy lunch. Everyone was muted, with Kay and Ivy still not talking to each other. Kay sat half in my lap, marking me out with half an eye for Ivy. Ivy just rolled her eyes.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Ayesha said, then when she took a bite out of her sandwich stopped, dropping half chewed food out of her mouth.

"Gross," Kay said as Ayesha rubbed her jaw.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Just a bit sore," she said.

"Fist fighting a cop will do that," I said.

"Heh, yeah, maybe you should give me some boxing lessons," she said.

"It's like when we cha-cha but you try to punch your partner in the face," I said.

"I'd pay to watch Ayesha punch you in the face," Ivy said.

"No way, your face is too sweet for punching," Kay said, putting her head next to my neck. The gagging sound Ivy made made me smile.

"Now that's gross," Ayesha said, trying at her sandwich again.

"It's getting crazy out there," Kay said in a sing-song voice.

"It's just going to get crazier," Ayesha sighed.

"Nothing we can do about it," Zeke said over his lunch.

Ayesha gave him an annoyed look. "We can try," she said, "Like Hotspur tries."

"Or Semper Fi," Kay said, "Sometimes I think Hotspur would be better off letting Semper Fi handle things."

My guts squirmed as she hugged me tighter.

"Hotspur is an idiot," Ivy said, "So if you want to be an idiot too, go right ahead. I guess I'll be an idiot too and we can be a gang of idiots."

"Well then I guess I'm an idiot too," Zeke said, "What about you Eric, are you an idiot?"

"Oh Eric is king of the idiots," Ivy said, "Biggest idiot I ever met."

"Harsh," Zeke said with a laugh.

"Well I don't think you're an idiot," Kay said, hugging me tighter.

"I wasn't joking though," Ayesha said, "About the boxing lessons."

>I can show you a couple of things
>Maybe you should talk to your uncle

I'll be back tomorrow

>>4707282
>I can show you a couple of things
No way this could possibly alienate kay further

I tried doing the math on where we'd be in this quest if it was a one post a day quest and I think we'd be halfway through thread three

but I'd have probably paced it differently too if that was the case

>>4707282
>I can show you a couple of things

>>4707282
>I can show you a couple of things

>>4707282
>Maybe you should talk to your uncle

I mean her uncle is our coach, what could we possibly teach her that he couldn't?

>>4707282
>>I can show you a couple of things
Also, try to encourage the others including Kay to take up boxing. That might ease up Kay's jealousy, it's not like we're trying to get alone time with Ayesha... right?

>>4707806
>>4707364
>>4707341
>>4707308
locked in

I was surprised to be asked, and kind of flattered too.

"Sure, yeah, I can show you a couple of things," I said, "Meet you at the gym?"

"Oh no, Uncle Roy would throw a fit if he saw you teaching me to fight," Ayesha said, "He's got some old school ideas about girls fighting. Come around sometime, we can train in the backyard."

"Sounds good," I said.

"If you're going to keep going to protests maybe it would be a good idea to learn how to handle yourself," Kay said. I was glad Kay reacted positively to it, she wasn't jealous of Ayesha the way she was of Ivy. Not that Ayesha wasn't cute. She was really cute. I guess Kay either trusted me or trusted her. I mean it was Ayesha that talked me into asking Kay out after all. There was nothing to be jealous of...right?

Anyway, I arranged to hook up with Ayesha for private lessons. I mean, not hook up. Uh. Meet up.

If that was all I had on my mind maybe I could sort it out, but Misfit's case hadn't gone anywhere, and while I'd assembled some ideas, I didn't really have any evidence. And I knew Misfit was still holed up in Ms grant's safehouse, on account of the texts I kept recieving from her.

Misfit - bored
Misfit - BORED
Misfit - BORED!!!

As far as I was concerned her being bored was better than being dead or in prison or hell, being dissected by whatever federal agency was collecting paras like the Creep had implied. But I knew she wasn't the type to enjoy sitting alone in a room by herself, and the longer this took the more impatient she'd get. I didn't need her making any slip ups.

>check in with Ms Grant for leads on the police side
>look into the Russian crew who had been the target of the murder
>hit up Luis to see if he'd heard anything on the street

>>4708023
>check in with Ms Grant for leads on the police side

>>4708023>check in with Ms Grant for leads on the police side

>>4708103
>>4708049
locked in

I figured the best thing to do now was to talk to Ms Grant and get a better idea of the law enforcement side of things. We arranged to meet at Comiskey Park down in Armour Square around seven.

Like the Sears Tower it technically wasn't called Comiskey Park anymore, but try convincing the locals and you'd get a disgusted look. No one told anybody they were going to 'Guaranteed Rate Field'. You'd look a damn idiot saying something like that.

It was dark out, the only light coming from the stadium itself, a warm glow against the black sky. She waited for me in a wedge of parkland between the stadium and a neighboring school in a thick trench coat looked like it came out of the Eastern Front. Anyone looking for trouble was looking in the wrong direction if they went after Ms Grant, she packed a gun since her kidnapping and wasn't afraid to use it.

I landed in the tree behind her, perched on a winter bare limb looking down over her.

"Hotspur," she said.

"Ms Grant," I said, sitting on the tree limb, letting my legs dangle, "Thanks for meeting me."

"Your friend has really made herself at home in the safehouse," she said, "I've been getting complaints from my own friend about motor grease on her good towels and muddy boots in the kitchen."

"The perils of being a hero," I said, "Hopefully we can sort this out before things get dramatic there."

"You wanted to know about the investigation," Ms Grant pulled out a usb, threw it up to me. "The initial report with crime scene photos. Getting it required cashing in a couple of favors. I'm not Miss Popular with the Chicago PD."

"Do you know who they have working the case?"

"You can guess and it won't take you long," she said, "Detective Bohauer, you know her? The police liason with the DPA. Before they shunted her off to the DPA she was a homicide detective, good one too, but not good at the political game. Made an enemy out of the police commissioner, and didn't make enough friends to cover her ass."

"I don't trust cops, and I don't trust the DPA," I said.

"Smartest move is to not trust anyone," she said, "They gave her the case because it crosses jurisdictions, paranormal crimes and homicide. Maybe they figure she'll run with the set narrative for political reasons, or maybe they figure she'll be too busy putting out Penderose's fires to give it serious attention. If ever there was a man who knew how to piss people off."

"Last I checked the DPA was more concerned with harassing teenagers than finding real criminals," I said.

"A fair assessment, but since they've deputized Semper Fi they've been having more luck," she said, "They have her working the Shark case. Last I heard they have his home turf pin-pointed on an island out on the lake."

All I'd ever seen Semper Fi do is rescue kittens and help old people cross the street. The idea of the blonde stick fighting a monster like Shark seemed almost ridiculous.

"They'll be moving on him soon," Ms Grant said, "Once they have him, you can bet Misfit will be her next focus. All while the Black Claw is running around robbing people while launching into theatrical soliloquies."

The Black Claw, that joker. I'd met him once, out of costume. Theatrical was an understatement. "I guess sticking up a few diners isn't on the same level as murder," she offered. "You know oit might be possible your friend is guilty."

I shook my head. "It doesn't track," I said, "If Misfit wanted to kill people she could do a lot more than just one gangster, and the way he was killed doesn't match up. I went sniffing around. I don't have hard evidence, but I know it wasn't her."

"All right," she said. I had her faith at least.

So the question was, what next?

"The move on Shark is tomorrow morning," she said, "This morning, technically, at dawn. Police boats will be backing Semper Fi up."

Maybe it was worth checking out.

"Bohauer might be there as part of the DPA, could be a chance to question her," Ms Grant said, "Or if you want somewhere more private, I can find her address. There's risks either way. I doubt the DPA will appreciate you crashing into their investigation."

"I don't give a shit what the DPA likes," I replied. Ms Grant smiled.

>tail the Shark raid
>visit Bohauer at her home

>>4708128
>tail the Shark raid
We owe him one.

>>4708128
>tail the Shark raid
We can see how the DPA and semper fi operate when the cameras are not on them.

>>4708128
>tail the Shark raid

>>4708128
>tail the Shark raid

>>4708128
>tail the Shark raid
spy on the secret to semper fi's popularity

>>4708170
>>4708155
>>4708145
>>4708135
>>4708132
locked in

"I didn't think there were any islands in the south of Lake Michigan," I said, but my knowledge of geography could get hazy.

"There aren't," Ms Grant said, "Or there weren't. Shipping manifests reported the appearance of an island several months ago but it was dismissed as sailor stories. With the appearance of Shark though, and through satellite tracking, we found an island has appeared in the middle of the Michigan-Illinois nautical border. Whether it was Shark who made it or he's just taking advantage of it, either way its put a bullseye on his location."

Raising up earth from the sea didn't sound like it was in Shark's powerset, but I couldn't be sure. Still, it could just be another weird quirk of the Chicago Explosion. I'd never considered it might have a geological effect. Whatever had created the island though was besides the point, I wanted to get a look at Semper Fi and the DPAs operation.

If I could figure out how they'd framed Shark, maybe it could unlock how they'd framed Misfit, assuming they were the ones responsible.

The taskforce would be departing from Station Chicago, in Calumet Harbor, departing in the early hours to reach the island at dawn. A joint operation between the Coast Guard, the DPA and the Illinois State Police, all under the supervision of Special Agent Penderose.

"Operating off the USCG Mackinaw," Ms Grant said, "Meant for ice breaking and ship assistance, this is going to be a whole new kind of mission for its crew. The DPA is really putting things together as they go, an improvised federal agency, I have to give their director credit for that."

"Penderose?" I said.

"Penderose is just their head field operative, the DPA is run by Michael Miscampbell, used to be a station chief with Homeland Security before getting the director's job," Ms Grant explained. I hadn't considered there was a man above Agent Penderose, but of course there was. Everyone had a boss in the government, even their bosses had bosses.

"Well I should get moving if I'm going to crash their party," I said.

"You should be careful too," she said, "I know you think Shark is innocent, but he's still highly dangerous. Even if he was framed for killing the kid, he's still ripped living men apart."

I knew that better than she did, remembering the sight of bodies torn apart, the death screams as his jaw threshed into their limbs, the soft part of their bellies, spilling innards out across the wet docks. The gore dripping from his mouth beneath cold black eyes. I was under no illusions about what Shark was, only he didn't seem the type to kill a child.

"Good luck," she said.

I gave her a smart salute before launching away. While this detour wasn't specific to Misfit's case, I felt I owed Shark one after he'd pulled me out of Lake Michigan, and I had a suspicion their circumstances were connected. Helping one might help the other.

I found my way down to Station Chicago, lit up in the dark as they readied for a night time operation. Boats chugged on the water, motors buzzing over lapping waves, the organized frenzy of activity as ships and personnel were readied for the mission. I was expecting some great big industrial site. What I found instead was a handsome white building with a broad red roof, looking like it could have been the home of a well to do family or some kind of surfer club house. It was only the presence of men and women in dark blue fatigues with bullet proof vests, handling guns, that spelled out what it really was.

Small boats in the harbor gathered around a much longer ship, the Mackinaw Grant had mentioned. There were no guns on these boats, just bright flood lights illuminating Lake Michigan's dark waters.

I lurked among the trees squatting, watching, my senses heightened to watch and listen.

A familiar sight waited on the steps to the Coast Guard station. Penderose in his long flapping coat, hunched forward in vulture-like posture, a smile on his waxy face. He spoke with a man who must be some kind of commander, a crew gathering in a school circle under them. The sight of Penderose made my fists tighten.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Penderose began, his voice caught on my power-sensitive hearing, "Some of you may already be aware of the purpose of this mission. We are taking bold steps to rid our country of a deadly menace. You've all heard of the Lake Michigan Shark, perhaps you've seen the video clips on youtube. Rest assured he is real, he is worse than you imagine, but today we resolve that threat forever. We will bring security back to the Great Lakes."

How many drugs had Nicky Bellevanche brought into and out of Chicago over the years, and how little urgency had these people reacted to it? But the threat of a 'monster' got things working much faster.

"We are not alone," Penderose said, "We know you are all experts in your fields, professionals with consumate experience, but to fight a para-freak we need a para-freak of our own."

As if on que she appeared, gliding down from the night with a flutter of her golden skirt. Semper Fi, floating an inch off the ground beside Agent Penderose, smiling with her hands on her hips. Golden haired and shockingly pretty, with a down-to-earth smile that sparked her eyes.

"I'll be with you every step of the way," Semper Fi said, "We'll wrangle this monster together. With your help we'll keep our city and our country safe."

A cheer went up from the Coast Guard. She flew up several feet with a twirl, her white half-cape fluttering behind her. The coast guard ate it up, cheering louder. I heard the snap of cameras, shutter stocks going off. There was media mixed in with the crew, hand selected no doubt.

Maybe that's all she was here for, the PR. Penderose joined in the applause.

"Get ready to ship out," Semper Fi said, "We have a fish to catch."

Laughter broke out though I thought it was a weak quip, and the operation began. Now it was down to what I'd do. Getting into one of those boats wouldn't be easy, no matter the choice I made.

>steal a uniform and sneak onto one of the ships
>stay in my costume and find a place to stow-away

>>4708287
>stay in my costume and find a place to stow-away

Penderose has talked with our civvy identity multiple times, taken an unnatural interest in us even. He'd recognize us for sure.

>>4708287
I wonder if we could steal a camera and pose as media, scarf covering our mouth or something to protect our identity. Only if the media is actually tagging along for the mission though I guess.

>>4708302
Pretty unlikely that they'd come along, but we could keep an eye out for someone with our height and build.

>>4708287
>stay in my costume and find a place to stow-away
>>4708317
Media will definitely be onboard, probably to take a pic of the Shark once they catch him
Would it be ethical to have to Shark eat Pendrose? I wonder...

>>4708287
>steal a uniform and sneak onto one of the ships

Maybe we can sabotage the Mackinaw before it gets to the island. Maybe buy us some time to warn shark boy

>>4708318
I think it's more likely that the media will wait at shore. If the mission is a success, they'll get pictures when the agents bring back Shark. If the mission is a failure, they won't get any embarrassing footage.

>>4708318
>>4708292
locked in

Damn didn't even know we were live, I strongly suspect that semper fi isn't just a flying type, she probably has something like air mastery since she's capable of flight

I really think Dane has to have some sort of other abilities he's hiding from us. Not having to sleep anymore is not on par with any other powers we've seen

I briefly considered ditching my costume and sneaking on board the Mackinaw as one of the crew, but if Penderose was on board it would just take one run in for everything to go wrong. He'd met Eric Miller multiple times and would recognize me right away. I then thought about disguising myself as one of the journalists taking photographers. I could pass for a photographer, right?

But they remained on shore, happy to take snaps of the operation underway, more a PR team than actual journalists, reading tomorrow's brief on a successful mission.

So that left me with only one real option other than to ditch the whole thing, and it wasn't great. Sneak on board and hide out until we reached Shark's mysterious island.

I waited for the attention of the media to be fixed on Semper Fi before launching myself from the cover of the trees, to the far side roof of the station. Landing on its dark side, I looked down into the light flooded harbor, patrol boats being manned as the Mackinaw waited further out on the water, a long vessel heftier than the small unit boats circling around it. Penderose climbed onto a boat to be ferried out to the command vessel.

It wasn't a difficult leap, the ship being at rest. I landed above the bridge, skirting quick into the shadow beneath the crow's nest.

If it was cold in Chicago, on the waters of Lake Michigan it was brutal. I huddled down to wait, not sure how long this would take, stoking the fire inside me to keep out the cold. My suit was built for warmth, but the wind whipping down the waters had the bite of the Arctic to it. The crew of the ship felt the sting worse than I did, jackets zipped tight with watch caps pulled low.

I was glad for the dark blue of my costume, drawing into the shadows, but just in case I threw my senses out again, breathing in the crisp lake air, the diesel smell of the boat, and listening to the whirr of the engines and the soft chatter of the crew.

Chatter was right, more than a few had chattering teeth from the cold.

"-might get the Lake freezing over this year," one said, in a soft Minnesota nice.

"Setting out in winter seems crazy to me," said another, "You know how the lakes are, can go from nothing to madness in an eye blink. We're as like to sail into a squall."

"My uncle's boy got swept off couple years back workin' a freighter over on Superior."

"Oh yeah? That's a bad one."

I listened on to other groups, listening to the armed soldiers on the open deck, a man and a woman.

"You think she can take him? Semper Fi I mean."

"Saw her benchpress a car on Good Day Chicago last week," the woman said, adjusting her rifle, "This para-freak is tough, is he that tough?"

"Benchpressing a car is one thing," the man said, "But it ain't fighting. And anyway, what kind of car was it?"

"Honda Civic I think," she said, sniffing.

"So a sedan right, that ain't no SUV or nothin'. You think she ever been punched in her perfect white teeth? Strong ain't all there is. She looks more a Playboy centerfold than a fighter, know what I'm sayin."

"She's a Marine though, I bet she knows how to fight. And if she can't do it, why don't you take a run at the Shark then?"

"Fuck the Marines, man, overrated jagoffs..."

The ship went underway, the chill picking up with the speed, a howling wind carrying over my hunkered down spot. As we were carried over the waters talk gave to quiet which became a pervading silence broken only by the chug of machinery, the whisper of the water split by the ships. I spied the skies for sight of Semper Fi.

A cloudless night on the water, the lights of Chicago fading behind us, opened up the stars above. It made the cold worth it. The cosmic arm of the Milky Way wrapped the sky like a comforting arm, the multitude of stars making up its white lane sparkling bright for the darkness of the sea and the sky, reflected in still waters, merging together to make the world disappear as if the ship moved through space itself with only its lights for guidance.

It stilled my thoughts, the sweep of stars all around me.

Who else did I know who had seen a thing like this? Whatever danger I faced, how lucky I was too, to be here right now in this moment.

Then I saw her, a moving dot on the sky, staying ahead of the ships but not racing ahead. Semper Fi.

We'd only met once but I saw her face everywhere. On magazines and in twitter feeds, grinning her perfect grin, blonde hair perfectly arranged on her shoulders. Heard her name in the gushing conversations of my friends.

Never a wrong word or a misstep made. And did no real good for anyone, as far as I could tell.

Maybe there was a little jealousy in my distrust. Maybe there was something rotten under her manicured apperance.

Either way I meant to find out just what she was made of.

I listened for Penderose on the ship but where ever he was he was keeping to himself. What I did catch was the ship's commander complaining about him, and complaining about the operation. It had been pulled on him suddenly, orders coming down from 'the top'. But that's what you get when you work for the military, your life not your own. I don't think I could live that way, taking orders. Cops, soldiers, spies, not doing what was right just doing what they were told and hoping someone else was making the right call.

Couldn't do it. And if Penderose was part of making the decisions, I'd bet 'right' didn't come into it.

Smaller boats raced at the flank of the Mackinaw, search lights off, skimming over the star-reflecting waters. How many all up in this operation? Felt like they weren't taking chances.

How much longer until we reached the island? I had to be patient. I hugged my knees to the chest, looking forward, waiting. Patience was a skill I'd had to cultivate as a super hero. I wondered what Dad was up to. I think he had a date with Ms Flores tonight. I wondered if he would ask her to move in.

I wondered what Kay was doing, then I wondered what she was wearing, then I tried not to think. I had a date with her coming up. She'd sure be mad if I died before we could make it.

I must have fallen asleep, as my chin jerked up from my chest. The boat started to slow, the lights turning off. The stars began to lose their shine, a mark of dawn coming.

Ahead on the water was a low shape, breaking up the flat horizon with jagged teeth. Shark's island, it was little more than a rocky outcrop jutting out of the lake. I rose into a crouch, hard hammering.

"Is this an arrest or animal control?" one of the crew joked, the clatter of their guns getting ready as the Mackinaw and its support gliding up slow on the island.

The closer they got the bigger it got. No vegetation grew on the uneven rocks, the water spraying white against its flanks. It looked a miserable cold place. But there was a parting in the rocks, a nasty uneven hole. A cave, and no doubt Shark's dwelling.

Above us in the glow of dawn light, Semper Fi stood, her cape fluttering behind her, white boots untouched by the waves as she began to descend.

"Come out Shark!" Semper Fi called, "Come on out! We have a warrant for your arrest!"

"Come out with hands raised or we're coming in!"

Beneath me Penderose stepped out onto the deck smirking, head bowed forward.

The world was silent, waiting for a response.

Then a large hand hooked the lip of the cave mouth. An armed built of muscle, covered in scarred gray skin emerged, then the pointed face with its open mouthed row of teeth under small dark eyes. All eight feet of Shark emerged, birthed from the darkness of the cave.

"Who stands upon my threshold?" he asked, the alien voice carrying over calm waters, "Disturbers making demands of a shark. By whose authority are demands made?"

"By the authority of the United States of America," Semper Fi replied, smirking as she drew lower to the water, until it leapt to lick the toe of her boot.

"No mortal power compells a shark," Shark said, "Least the rotting corpse of a dying dream. We are childer of greater things than thy masters, with greater purpose."

"You're a criminal and a murderer," Semper Fi said.

Shark's small nostrils flared. "There is a smell to truth, yet you stink of lies, and lies are the enemy of all natural things."

"I'm here to arrest you, not endure riddles," Semper Fi snapped, "Now will you make this easy and surrender, or are we going to do this the fun way?"

"A shark cannot surrender," he said.

Semper Fi's grin grew across her perfect face, a strange light appearing behind her eyes. "The fun way it is," she said, and with a shocking speed streaked toward the hulking Shark.

>dive in to help Shark
>sit back and watch
>deal with the crew while Shark and Semper Fi fought

>>4708483
>sit back and watch

>>4708483
>deal with the crew while Shark and Semper Fi fought

I'll be back tomorrow, and I'll leave the vote open until I'm back

>>4708546
Thanks for running bullpen

>>4708483
>deal with the crew while Shark and Semper Fi fought
Our boy Shark has got this

>>4708483
>sit back and watch
I am not sure why you guys are intent on helping Shark, he's not a friend or anything. This is super bad PR for us.

>>4708483
>deal with the crew while Shark and Semper Fi fought
From the little we've seen him of, he can handle himself for a little while we'll do a little clean-up

>>4708483
>deal with the crew while Shark and Semper Fi fought
I want to find a way to stop this that doesn't end in sharks capture or a bunch of people getting torn apart by shark

>>4708600
I didn't realize we were more concerned with PR than doing the right thing.

>>4708783
That's just classic PR guy, he really cares about it a lot and talks about it at least once per thread

>>4708785
Dead wrong cockfag, I care about pr but would never advocate betraying an innocent for it

>>4708783
I'm not convinced this is the right thing, though. Shark is in fact a murderer, even if he didn't kill that child he's being framed for killing.
>>4708785
I think there's a couple of us PRfags.
>>4708808
He's not an innocent.

>>4709181
For me it's less about his innocence and more about how he saved our life and seems to have some kind of insider knowledge about the nature of the Chicago explosion. And he's a possible imperfect ally against the shadier forces involved in this whole shitshow.

I really hope this progresses toward an eventual Justice League-esque group of parahumans. I picture Hotspur as the goodhearted but more jaded guy with less than reputable connections that's a mostly unofficial member of the group.

>>4708502
>>4708563
>>4708693
>>4708758
locked in

I'm not in the best shape today but I'll pull something together

>>4709486
nah
the good thing about the setting are the grounded powers, no one is JL tier.

>>4709495
Don't push yourself Bullpen, hope everything is okay!

>>4709500
you're probably right

but I'm also an idiot

>>4709498
If relative power levels are low across the board in the setting then nobody needs to be JL tier

>>4709525
Hard to be a global authority when people with guns are still dangerous.

>>4709527
Yeah that's fair, by JL-esque I just meant an organized group of superheroes with a common goal. Not necessarily the same power level.

Semper Fi drove fist first toward Shark in a blur of white and gold. He swung an arm up, caught her by the arm before her fist could drive into his nose, and swung her overhead, bringing her down hard onto the rocks. Wind burst out of her in a gasp of pain, but she didn't lie still. Instead she rolled onto her back, swung her feet up over her head, and sprung up into a handstand, driving a double kick into Shark's chest and breaking the grip he had on her arm.

Semper Fi had some moves, and from the dazed look crossing Shark's face, she had some real strength too.

The guns on the boat tracked the fight, soldiers moving closer to the stern, fingers closer to their triggers ready to pop a shot off if their girl looked like she was in trouble.

Hardly fair, in my opinion.

I sprung from my hiding places, down to the ship's deck to even the odds.

>roll 3 x 1d100+25 dc 60

Rolled 18 + 25 (1d100 + 25)

>>4709548

Rolled 41 + 25 (1d100 + 25)

>>4709548

Rolled 65 + 25 (1d100 + 25)

>>4709548
they made semper fi in a lab!

>>4709555
trips on a pass

>>4709563
lmao that's basically a crit right?

>>4709566
Not even close, I only rolled 65. Don't think the bonus factors in or we'd have crits everywhere.

"Yo!"

A soldier turned to take my fist on his chin. I don't know if 'soldier' is the right word for the Coast Guard, but they were wearing military fatigues and carrying rifles, so 'soldier' would do. Either way he crumpled as I kicked him into his friend, sending them over board.

My surprise didn't last, I grabbed the barrel of a gun swinging for me, felt it buck as the soldier let off a shot, then brought me fist hard through it, bursting it into pieces. I threw the left over length of rifle barrel at another, then weaved low among them before they could scatter.

A liver shot hurt generally, a liver shot from me left a woman writhing on the ground. I controlled my blows as best I could, I didn't want to kill anyone, but the soldiers weren't doing me the same favor. Gun shots burst around me, and I could only credit fear for hitting their friends for their poor accuracy. One of them had the bright idea to pop some smoke, rolling a hissing smoke grenade under my feet, a thick plume of gray smoke opening around me.

I kicked it back into them, my eyes protected from the stinging smoke by my goggles, face mask keeping my lungs from being overwhelmed by the choking gas. The soldiers weren't so lucky, and I was a shadow in the smoke hunting each one, taking them down.

But while I was doing that, the fight on the island continued. Shark threw Semper Fi, skimming her over the water like a stone, but she turned mid-air and rocketed back toward him. The hit she landed was a thunderclap, buckling his knees, sending him wobbling back. She followed it up with a snap kick to the side of his head, knocking him to his knees.

"Yes, now there's a good look," she purred, floating above him, "On your knees." Then her smile turned into a vicious snarl as she drove her clenched fists down onto his beck.

"Hotspur!" Penderose's voice cut through the smoke and caught my attention, "What do you think you're achieving here? This is obstruction of justice, and I can have you in cuffs as sure as the Shark."

"Penderose," I said, "You call this justice? I know Shark was framed, he's no child killer. If you call this justice I'll be happy to obstruct it."

Penderose's flat look was as good as a furious glare from someone else. "You stupid boy, you don't know the waters you're jumping into." He didn't draw a gun or make any threats, he didn't need to. He had the authority of the government behind him.

Behind us Shark rose, swinging a massive fist that caught Semper Fi on the chin, cracking her head back. The bulging fury on her face, blood streaming from her perfect nose, would never make the cover of Time Magazine. She swung forward, grabbing him by the head, pulling him off the ground. Pulling him up into the air.

"Son of a bitch," she snarled, "I'll pop your head like a grape."

"No!" a new voice, and we all looked to the mouth of the cave. A girl in a wet suit stood in the opening, hair wet and tangled around her shoulders. She could have been a teenager, she looked Asian, she also looked terrified and desperate. "Let him go! Hiu! Hiu!"

Her English was broken from panic.

She picked up rocks and started throwing them at the hovering woman, but they missed their mark.

Shark thrashed in Semper Fi's grip, punching her in the gut, grabbing at her arms, her legs, gnashing his teeth at her face, but she was either too tough or too blinded by rage to feel it. What she did do was keep squeezing as he dangled, a long catch in her grip, a long drop to the water. She was going to kill him.

>intervene directly, attack Semper Fi
>tell Penderose to call her off

>>4709618
>intervene directly, attack Semper Fi

distract her by asking if people are getting good video

>>4709618
>intervene directly, attack Semper Fi

>>4709618
Intervene directly

Do we have to attack her? Could we take a picture of her with flash to get her attention instead

>>4709618
>intervene directly, attack Semper Fi
2v1
Hotspur loathes fair fights

>>4709658
write ins are always an option

>>4709658
I'm not sure that would tear her out of deathgrip mode.

We could try pulling her off him instead of hitting her though. I'd be down for that.

>>4709658
I sort of think that Shark's appearance would kill any sympathy anyone would have for him, making Semper Fi still look like a hero in the midst of a life or death battle for the protection of everyone.

Hiu is Indonesian for shark. Talk about foreshadowing. Postshadowing? Idk.

>>4709674
>>4709691
Fair enough, guess we're punching GI Jane

Also popping heads like grapes sort of seems like Semper Fi's modus operandi, especially if she's actually responsible for the framejob on Misfit

>>4709668
One day some anon is going to suggest a completely idiotic write in and win the vote with it I hope to be that anon.

>>4709666
>>4709653
>>4709626
locking in you guys fighting her

I feel the write-ins didn't have enough broader support

I took a running leap, lunging up into the air.

"Yo GI Jane!" I yelled, "Put the fish down!"

Hurtling across the lake, I swung a power burning fist for her head.

She spun.

"Hotspur?" she said, confusion overriding her rage.

Before my knuckles could find her perfectly sculpted cheek, she swung Shark into me, knocking me down and sending us both into the water with a heavy splash. Shark got up, body trembling. Water soaked into my trousers as I rose up from the water, boots slippery on the rocky beach of the Shark's desolate little island.

She hovered above us, staring down with blank eyes, dawn's light a halo around her shoulders.

I swallowed, falling into a boxer's stance.

"We fight together?" Shark asked, water dripping from his hide.

"This time," I said, switching to a southpaw stance.

"You've made a big fucking mistake, Hotspur," Semper Fi spat down at me.

"She smells of death, and death dealing..." Shark groaned. I don't know what that meant but it didn't sound good. Either way, I'd made my choice.

And when she swooped down from the sky, she gave us no other choice.

>roll 3 x 1d100+10 dc 80

Rolled 71 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>4709763
All right so she can fly, she has us and definitely Shark beat in mobility. Lean on that boxing experience and use her anger against her, get her pissed enough to attack us full on and hit her with counters.

>>4709773
barring a crit-fail...

Rolled 77 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>4709763
Kick his ass seabass!

Rolled 22 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>4709763
first roller saves us
not to avoid critfails

>>4709777
Nice roll anon

She came for me, head hunting, a falcon swoop. I swung my head out of the way, feeling the force of her blow whistle past my ear. A counter punch lunched from my right caught her above her eye, swinging her off path and right into Shark.

He grabbed her by the calf, swung her overhead, slammed her down on the rocks. Swung her up to do it the same way the other direction, but she twisted her legs, catching his arm in a lock as she brought him down with her, some kind of jiu-sitsu shit. She grabbed him by the arm and I heard the pop as it came out of its socket, Shark thrashing in pain.

She rolled away before the heel of my boot could stomp her face.

Problem with ground work I figure, is when you're fighting more than one guy.

She got to her feet, a vicious snarl on her face, chin streaked with blood. This was far from the photoshop perfect model they trottted out on 'Good Morning America', there was nothing wholesome about the killing rage in her eyes.

"You stupid little shit," she spat, "You're fucking with the government now."

Instead of trading threats I shot a jab for her throat. First one missed, which made her smile, but my next one was a feint, twisting into a back hand blow which knocked the smile from her face. She flew back out of reach, breathing hard, seething. Made to look a fool and not liking it. Beside me Shark got up, popping his arm back into place. Pain didn't show in those small black eyes.

"I'll paint this goddamn rock with your guts," She hissed, the mad light in her eyes.

Behind me the girl called, "Hui!" again, grabbing at the side of the cave.

Semper Fi saw her, and smiled. I twitched with concern, seeing her play. She dove between us, straight for the girl.

I tackled Semper Fi mid-flight, dragging her onto the sharp wet rocks. We tumbled down the jagged surface, water spraying around us. I pulled at her face, trying to hook her eyes, her nostril, something to get leverage and pain. But for all she could fly she knew the ground better than I did. I battered at her but it didn't help as she twisted her position, slippery from the wet, getting under me, getting her arm around my neck until I was struggling in her grip, breathing fast as her arm tightened, breathing hard as air struggled to get through. My brain getting fuzzy.

She was under me and behind, twisting me up.

But I wasn't alone. Shark's foot caught her behind the ear and her grip eased, enough I could slip my hand between her arm and my wind pipe, driving my elbow into her side.

I rolled free, struggling to breathe, my throat tight and sore.

Semper Fi crouched on the wet rocks, a wet blonde cat hissing at us both.

"She's a bag of crazy," I croaked.

"She stinks of mistruth and violence," Shark said, "The violent hand of a cruel master."

Semper Fi rose up from the rocks, breathing hard, eyes wide.

"Enough!"

Penderose had stepped off the boat and onto the rock, hands stuffed into his coat pockets, head crooked to one side.

"That's enough Semper Fi," he said, "Stand down."

"But sir," she started.

"Goddamn it Emma that's an order," he said.

She wilted at his barked command, floating down to earth. So her real name was Emma.

Penderose looked to Shark, looked to me.

"So here we are," he said, "And what have we achieved?"

The gunboats circled the island. Circled us as the Mackinaw sat still.

"I stand with the full authority of the federal government," he said, "If you think beating up a few federal agents will keep us away, you're mistaken. Now I don't know how you think this will go, but I am placing the Shark under arrest. The question now is, am I placing you under arrest as well?"

I turned to face Penderose, keeping my boxing stance. "He's innocent," I said.

"That's for a court of law to prove," he said.

"Hiu!" the girl stumbled from the cave, running to grab Shark, like her skinny body could offer any protection, "Please no. He rescue me. Me and us, others. Bad men take us, make us do things for them. Bring us so far here. Then Hiu come, free us. Please."

Penderose's nose wrinkled in disgust. "Human traffickers," he said.

Then other faces appeared in the cave mouth. Young faces, some as young as six or seven, boys and girls. They wore the same wet suits, some wrapped in blankets. Shark stood motionless as they crept down from the cave.

"We could call this child abduction," Semper Fi said, gliding around to Penderose's side, "Paint a really bad picture for the press. 'Shark abducts, eats children'."

A certain sympathy entered Penderose's face. "No," he said, "What we have on him is enough."

Penderose whistled for the battered crew.

"Let's get these children back to shore, get them some where dry and warm," he said.

Semper Fi nodded, and as if she'd never promised to murder us, picked up one of the smaller kids, held him to her side.

"Don't worry, Semper Fi is here now," she told the boy. But he stared, not understanding a word she spoke.

Penderose glared at both of us, me and Shark, then looked back to Semper Fi.

"Wait," he said to her, then smiled his greasy smile, "I have an offer for you, Mr Shark."

"A shark has no title," Shark said.

"Shark, then," he said, "I'll offer you a choice. If you surrender yourself I'll see to it these children are given the best possible care, protected under the UN asylum charter, given a safe home and a pathway to citizenship. Or you can resist, and they go straight into ICE detention. Which do you prefer?"

Anger roared through me. Using children, the victims of sex trafficking, as blackmail material. There really was nothing beneath him.

"Make your choice," he said, "If a shark can choose."

Shark didn't move. He looked down on the children being gathered up by the soldiers.

"You motherfucker," I said. Penderose's smile grew.

Then Shark looked to me. "A shark cannot see the righteous path," he said, "Please, fire-bearer, choose for me."

>tell Shark to surrender
>tell Shark to run

>>4709869
You're trying to bluff me with cards you don't have, Penderose. You and I both know the media is waiting for you on the shore, and you're gonna use these kids against Shark either way. You can't get away with "rescuing" them and then throwing them into a detention center.

>>4709869
>tell Shark to surrender
"I'll come back for you."
The "righteous path" is to save the children, and that is what Shark wants. If Penderose doesn't keep his word, when we break Shark out (and there will be a when), there will be all the more hell to pay.
Is what I was going to say but this Anon >>4709882
has a bigger brain than I do so supporting him

>>4709869
>tell Shark to run

Nothing is stopping him from throwing them to ICE even if Shark surrenders. On the other hand, if he really wants to do the right thing he'll give them asylum even if Shark runs.

Also thanks Semper Fi for confirming that they're just making up whatever shit they can to justify arrests.

>>4709882
>>4709869
Yea this basically. Also kinda looked like Penderose might have a soft spot for kids

>>4709882
okay I guess this wins out and is a variant of telling Shark to run?

either way locked in

"You're trying to bluff me with cards you don't have, Penderose," I said, "You and I both know the media is waiting for you on the shore, and you're gonna use these kids against Shark either way. You can't get away with "rescuing" them and then throwing them into a detention center."

Penderose made a ghoulish smile. "You make a great many assumptions about me, don't you Hotspur?" he said, "Have it your way. We'll turn a blind eye to your friend the Shark today, finding these children will at least keep this operation a success, but tomorrow expect us to come with more...prejudice."

He looked to the Mackinaw, to the sunrise, then back to me. "We should be going," he said, "I suppose you should find a way back to shore as well, unless you plan to be late to school."

My brain went numb at the implication.

"I can assume many things as well, Hotspur," he said, "But be sure, I am gathering the evidence. We'll have your name soon enough, then we'll have you. Just as we'll have your little Misfit too."

Semper Fi strode past with a smug grin, holding the child on her hip.

The Coast Guard gathered up the hollowed eyed children, ushering them onto the Mackinaw, unsettled by the looming presence of Shark. The girl who had tried to help Shark grabbed for him, sobbing 'Hiu! Hiu!' as she was pulled away.

"Cahaya," Shark said, "Do not fight them."

She settled, nodding through fat tears, letting the soldiers guide her away.

It couldn't have been easy living on this rock in winter, with only a cannibalistic shark man as a guardian. The children looked sickly and weak. He may have done his best but these kids needed more than he could provide. Kids, some of them were my age. They'd all seen and done things I'd shudder to imagine. I couldn't entirely fault Shark his methods when it came to dealing with scum like their abductors.

We watched the children load onto the ship, then watched the ship draw away, patrol boats flanking it.

I was a long way from shore, with no clear way back, alone with the hulking Shark.

"We are comrades now," Shark said. It was all he said, before turning to slink back into his cave.

Penderose wasn't wrong. If I didn't get moving I'd be late for school.

>ask Shark for a ride back to shore
>explore his home , school can wait

>>4710031
>ask Shark for a ride back to shore

no offense Shark but your home doesn't look too glamorous and we really don't want to be late if Penderose knows we're in high school

>>4710039
Supporting
Shark is a chad

>>4710031
>ask Shark for a ride back to shore

>>4710031
>explore his home , school can wait
This island is linked to the explosion and I can't guarantee it'll stay intact for long

We might also want to advise Shark to relocate

So semper and her squad can't just nab him tomorrow

>>4710048
>>4710043
>>4710039
locked in

I'll update tomorrow though

tired

>>4710167
Thanks for running!

sick today. I'll be back next week. I'll try to notify everyone the day before

>>4711292
Sorry to hear that, hope you feel better soon.

>>4711292
no worries we'll be waiting

>>4711292
Sorry to hear that Bullpen, hope you feel better!
Do you think it's the coof?

I'll be running tomorrow

>>4714492
with my trip this time

The Mackinaw disappeared on the horizon, the girl Cahaya standing alone at the back, holding us in sight for as long as possible as we did the same. Shark and I watched it dip over the line and then fall out of view, alone on the rocky shore with only a cold wind for company.

"You can't stay here," I said, "They'll be back for you."

"I can live in the waters," Shark said, "This island was only needed for the children, discovered by chance."

Fair enough. I looked back to the open mouth of the cave. Deep, dark, and gloomy. Curiosity itched the back of my hand, but Penderose had been right. If I wanted to get to school I'd need to head back to shore now.

"I don't suppose you can give me a lift back to Chicago," I said, "Its just I'll be late for school and attendance effects my grade so uh..."

He looked down at me with the same fixed gruesome expression he always wore.

"Your efforts to live a normal life border on the farcical," he said, "You are no longer a human being as they are, you are meant for a higher purpose."

I pulled down my mask to scratch my neck. "Maybe," I said, "But that doesn't get my chemistry homework done."

Whatever Shark thought he knelt down so I could grab a hold on his dorsal fin, then once my grip was secure, took a step before diving into the cold waters of Lake Michigan.

The shock was as bad as Semper Fi's blows, the cold water soaking into my costume, rushing across my face and up my nose, choking for a second as we cut through the waters at a shocking speed. Then we rose, breaking from the water. I gasped for air, sucking it down, near as cold as the water itself. For my benefit Shark swam close to the surface, skimming his way toward the distant Illinois shore.

We must have swam for hours but Shark showed no sign of tiring. Why would he, after all, he is a shark. When we stopped it was at the mooring of a north side harbor, private yachts bobbing in the waters. I climbed from the freezing waters, water splashing off me, soaked through the thick material and the spider-weave undershirt. Merriweather hadn't designed the costume for swimming, and it sagged heavily on my frame. The only thing keeping my teeth from chattering was continual flushes of power, but it was starting to wane, tiredness taking its toll.

I looked down at Shark, his head bobbing above the waters.

"We'll fight together again," he said, "We who were reborn in the light of the Falling Star are bound by fate, for good or ill."

"If its against the DPA goons you can bet on it," I said.

"Against all who would twist good to evil and truth to lies," he said.

"Sharks sure have a sense for the philosophical," I said.

"A shark knows itself, and is not easily decieved," he said. Then with that last pronouncement, his head dipped beneath the waters, and he was gone.

Great.

I had enough power to get back to my hideout and to change, drying out when I did. The cold was starting to get to me so I tied my Bulls scarf tight, buttoned up my denim jacket. Hunger pangs buckled my legs, I hadn't been so hungry in a while. It wasn't as bad as the time after fighting Houndmaster, but it still put a crimp in my step.

Before heading to school I stopped by Luis' store.

Christmas decorations had been set up, trees stencilled in the windows with holly and jingle bells strewn under the window frame. D-Mark and Smokey were inside helping decorate, wrangling a plastic tree into the corner, fake presents set up underneath it.

"Careful, careful, careful," Luis told his employees as I stepped in, the electric chime singing 'Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer. "Hey, Rico, how you doing? You look like shit."

He got a pack of donuts out from under the counter and slid them over to me as his cat wrapped its tail around my leg while rubbing up against me, drawing its mouth across the toe of my shoe.

"Feel like shit," I said, popping the day old powdered donuts in my mouth.

"Man I figured you must have come from there, wild story," he said. So the media had broken the story about Shark already? I hoped Penderose had done the right thing, and put the kids in protective custody. "Fire burned down half the complex."

"Fire?" I said through the mashed up donut in my mouth.

"Oh, so it wasn't you?" Luis said, "There was a fire over at the big science lab last night, what's it called."

"Fermi," D-Mark said, getting the tree placed in the corner, Smokey starting on the decorations.

"Fermilab, that's it yeah, burned out the main building. TV said it was an electrical fire but I figured it was something else," he said, tapping his nose.

Fermilab was where Dr Zavani had taken the stone, some kind of Large Hardon Collider style project out Batavia way. I swallowed.

"So that wasn't you?" Luis said low, bending close at the pale shock on my face.

"No," I said, "Not...not directly."

Had the owners of the stone found where it was, or had the lab's experiment on the stone started the fire? I couldn't know until I checked it out, and either way it was alarming. But that would have to wait until after school. I chugged a can of pop and ate another couple burritos before Luis gave me a ride out to school. I didn't talk on the drive over, just let Luis' chatter pour over me.

There was a lot to think on. Not just Misfit's case, who I was starting to believe was framed by Semper Fi directly, but the problems surrounding Shark, the mystery of an island appearing in the middle of Lake Michigan, and potentially an attack on Fermilab. It could never be simple, could never be one thing at a time.

And that was before remembering my problems with crime gangs, and my personal stuff. Kay and I were still in a weird place, a date might help fix it Saturday night, but I also had agreed to train Ayesha, and there was all the tension at school around paras and the paranoia that was hurting friendships and causing needless drama.

And the suspicion that Penderose knew who I was, he just couldn't prove it.

Getting dropped off at school felt like getting dropped off at a different combat zone, one that could be just as devastating.

Despite trying to get to school on time I was still on the late side missing home room and the first ten minutes of English. Ms Flores didn't give me grief over it though, benefits of her dating my Dad. Not that she would have anyway, she was a nice lady, who perked up bright when I slid her my homework.

"Take a seat Eric," she said. I slid into the one next to Dane.

A pencil jabbed into my back. "You look terrible," Rufus said.

"No sleep," I said, starting to yawn. Maybe I should have called in sick, it was a struggle to concentrate. It had been a full 24 hours since I'd last got any sleep, and I could split it with fistfighting a super powered jackboot too. I might be super human some of the time, but I had my limits.

"Same," Dane said with a smirk. If we could trade powers right now I'd do it.

It was hard to focus on the whiteboard, even with Ms Flores writing on it.

>just put my head down and get a quick nap
>focus Eric, don't be weak

>>4715832
>just put my head down and get a quick nap

>>4715832
>focus Eric, don't be weak

My extreme paranoia is telling me napping now would be a sign that we were doing something earlier that could get back to Penderose.

>>4715849
I feel like being visibly super exhausted is just as incriminating

>>4715832
>just put my head down and get a quick nap

Yeah we are just a regular kid who sleeps during class. There is always one kid who wants to sleep.

>>4715844
>>4715890
locked in

I couldn't resist my book as a pillow.

Just five minutes, I thought. Just to rest my eyes. My eyes were heavy and my head fogged up. Just enough to clear my head...

Dead eyes on living faces stared up from the earth.

The bell rang and I jerked up in my seat, gasping. The classroom was clearing out, Ms Flores wiping down the whiteboard. I pushed my bags into my backpack, stumbling out of my chair mumbling, staggering to the door.

Ms Flores watched me go with lips pursed in concern. I rubbed my eyes. I don't know if the nap had done any good, my head was still foggy. The hallway seemed disjointed, people going from one class to the next all in a rush, but it had an unreal feeling. Or maybe too real, my brain too tired to cushion the strangeness of life. The noise of people little different from ugly animal sounds, their movements odd and uncoordinated. Ignorant of everything outside what was in front of them.

I stopped to get my head, leaning back on a locker squeezing my eyes shut.

"-know Martin? I heard he-"

"-Christie's pregnant, and it's not-"

"-into that shit, man, try someone-"

"-dunked on hard, we suck this season-"

"-beneath the earth, waiting to rise-"

Aimless chatter all about nothing. What was important. Basketball, children in wet suits with hollow eyes, mystery fires in laboratories, going bowling with a girl. Farce, pantomime, play-acting. I was too tired, but my thoughts were starting to organize.

I shook my head. Not farcical, not a joke, the stupid, mundane normalness was important. Getting to talk trash about nothing was something to be protected, should be the way things are. Let my head be full of horror and no one judged worse for not sharing it.

"Hey," a warm hand on my shoulder, "Are you okay?"

I opened my eyes to Ayesha's concerned frown, eyes twinkling behind her glasses.

"Tired," I said through a yawn. She massaged my shoulder gently.

"Burning the candle at both ends, huh," she said, "Make sure you don't burn yourself out." Then she handed me her notebook. "Here, my notes. I don't need them but since you slept straight through."

"Thanks Ayesha," I said, slipping it into my bag, "You don't have to."

"Yeah, I guess I don't," she said, then squeezed the bridge of my nose like she'd done the night we'd followed her on her date. "Anyway, Dane wanted to talk to us all about something. You coming?"

I blinked. "Sure," I said, hiking up my bag. I didn't like what he might be saying.

We skipped out on class to meet behind the library. Me, Rufus, Zeke, Hunter, Ayesha, Kay, even Daphne, brought by text message to wait for Dane in the little garden kept back there.

He was waiting, sitting on a bench, looking nervous as hell, reminding me of Jude right before he'd come out to me. I guess it was like that in a way, waiting on the judgement of his friends.

"What's up?" Zeke asked, sitting down next to him.

"You wanted to talk to us about something?" Kay said, "If you're coming out well, you guys all know I help run the LGBTQI support group through the student council, tragic bisexual that I am."

"No, uh," Dane said, "No, I'm not gay or bi or whatever. Not that I'm, you know, not that it's bad to be or..."

"So what's the score then?" Hunter asked, "You've been real squirelly about something."

Dane swallowed, looking at me. "I think you guys should know something," he said, "I wasn't going to say but...but we've all been at each other's throats and I thought, if I told you, maybe it would..."

"Tell us what?" Ayesha asked.

He breathed deep. "I'm a...I'm a para-freak. Or a para-folk...para-human, whatever the term is."

A stunned look swept over Zeke's face, then realization had him spring up from the bench. But it was Hunter who spoke first.

"Wait," Hunter said, "No, that's...you're wrong."

"I know what I am," Dane said.

"No, see, there are signs," Hunter said, "I heard Dougie Hicks say-"

"Fuck Dougie Hicks!" Dane spat, "I know what I am and I know what I'm saying. And I don't have brain worms and I'm not a lizardman from beneath the earth. Goddamn it Hunter, would you listen to me instead of some jagoff you don't even know?"

Hunter blinked. "I..." he said, "I'm listening, dude, sorry."

"Are you Hotspur?" Ayesha asked.

Dane snorted. "I wish," he said, "No, I'm just...I was walking home from a pizza joint that night, you know. You guys remember, when the Explosion happened. And there was a bright light, and it hit me, punched through me. Then I...I woke up in bed at home, but that was the last time I woke up. I don't need to sleep, haven't slept in months and I...I don't need to eat either, or use the bathroom, or get tired when I run. I tested it once, I ran three hours straight without losing a breath."

"You're serious," Rufus said with growing belief.

"Yeah Roof," Dane said, "I've been wanting to tell you guys, I told Eric but...but I haven't told anyone else, not even my parents."

"Why tell us now?" Rufus said, "Like, why not earlier or not at all?"

Dane looked tired despite his powers. "Maybe I thought if you guys knew, if you could put a face to the term 'para-freak', you'd all calm down, be less scared. I'm still me, I'm still the same Dane I always was. You guys know that right?" he said.

"We know that," Ayesha said, "Right guys?"

But everyone was less certain, most of all Zeke.

"You told Eric?" he said, a strange injury in his voice. Dane and Zeke had been friends since elementary school. Dane had barely known me half a year.

"He kind of figured it out," Dane said, "But I had to tell someone."

Zeke grabbed his friend by the shirt. "You could have told me," he said, "You could have trusted me."

"I'm trusting you now Zeke," Dane said, bewildered, "I'm telling you guys but...but I need you guys not to tell anyone else. Please."

"You can trust us," Daphne said.

Could he? I looked to Rufus, and to Hunter. The prejudice in their eyes, and the uncertainty in everyone else's. Something flickered inside me, a touch of power and an odd instinct.

>maybe we could swear an oath
>let Dane handle this

>>4715990
>maybe we could swear an oath

Peach Garden oath parahuman edition.

>>4715993
>maybe we could swear an oath

>>4715993
>maybe we could swear an oath

>>4715993
>maybe we could swear an oath

BLOOD OATH

>>4716001
>>4716003
>>4716010
>>4716048
locked in

"Maybe we could swear an oath," I said.

"An oath, what is this Ancient China?" Rufus said.

"What do you know about Ancient China?" Daphne said.

"Only what I've pieced together from Dynasty Warrior," he replied.

"I'm serious," I said, the flicker of power inside me rising into a steady flame, "We make an oath to protect Dane's secret, swear it hear, together."

"Okay weirdo," Daphne joked, rolling her eyes. Maybe it was being tired, or maybe it was something else, but her glibness sat wrong with me. Still, I put my hand forward.

"There's some really bad people out there," Kay said, "Who do bad things to para-people. So, you know." Kay put her hand on mine, smiling. "I'm in it."

Ayesha's was next. "If this is what Dane needs to feel safe," she said, then elbowed Zeke, "Come on." Zeke's hand went on hers, a small pile. Next came Daphne's, quick to join in. We waited on Rufus and Hunter.

The ugly look on Rufus' face softened. "You know what, fuck it, you're my boy Dane, whatever I think about para-freaks as a whole I'm with you."

We waited for Hunter. "Man I..." he said, shaking his head, "I don't know if I...but..."

He closed his eyes, then put his hand on the pile. "Okay, but this is weird," he said.

Dane was last and I locked eyes with him.

"We swear to keep faith with you," I said. My palm clenched into a fist, knuckles whiteneing as a shudder of power went up my arm, words not really understood coming to my lips. I was seized by something, something like the feeling I'd had when I fought Houndmaster on the rooftops of Chicago, and tapped into something deeper, something alien, "We swear to tell no one your secret. On fire unburning, we swear."

"This is goofy," Zeke started but an elbow from Ayesha shut him up.

"I swear it," I said.

The fire in my arm grew hot, my skin pimpling, sweat starting to crawl down the back of my hand. I saw a shudder go through the others, a disturbed look cross their faces. They pulled their hands away as if burned, shaking out their fingers. Daphne sucked the tip of her finger, tears in her eyes, while Ayesha stared at her palm.

"What was that, did you do that?" Zeke asked Dane, a painful look on his face.

"Did what?" Dane said,

"I thought...my hand was burned," Rufus said, "Like the hot end of a lighter got stabbed in it."

"You guys just imagined things," Dane said, "Got caught up in the moment."

"It didn't feel bad to me," Ayesha said, "Felt like...warm water."

"See," Dane said, "It's just imagination. If Ayesha felt something different..."

"Maybe," Rufus said, holding his hand close.

It was Kay who was looking at me with a soft frown, which turned into a little smile when she hooked my arm, laced her fingers through mine. "That was a good idea," she said, and kissed my cheek.

Then Ayesha also gave me a look, tongue planted in her cheek with thought, while the others kept looking at Dane.

"Well I hope you feel better now," Zeke said, "You goddamn freak of nature."

Ayesha elbowed him again.

"I'm just teasing," he said.

"Thanks guys," Dane said, face flushed with relief, "I really needed you guys to know. Maybe we can all go back to being friends again?"

Maybe, I thought, looking over the others. But the bell for next period rang, and whatever we wanted to say fell to silence as we rejoined the school.

Me, I walked in silence mostly wondering what I'd done, why I'd done it, and what it could mean. I walked holding Kay's hand, soft and warm in mine, and she gave it a gentle squeeze. There was something more to me and more to my powers than just being able to run and jump faster than everyone else. Just like there was more to the Explosion and more to the stone. I had been talking weird, speaking words out of a scholastic fantasy book, but everyone had been so swept up in Dane's confession it must have slipped their notice.

Mysteries in mysteries.

One thing was for sure, I had a lot of work to do.

I threw the Latin Reaper into his friend, knocking them both down in the alley way, before stepping forward and driving my foot under his chin, snapping his head back.

There should be a sign or something hanging in my neighborhood, like a line-up for gangbangers and hoods. 'Ass Kicked Here - Free Of Charge.'

I'd taken a break from my investigation into Misfit to clean up a corner. It had been collecting garbage, both literal and human. The last of the garbage booked it down the street and I let him go, breathing hard, fists tight.

It felt good, an honest fist fight. It was simple. Don't die, put down the other dude. We all knew the rules.

Investigating wasn't as simple, running down leads, clearing names, handling the complications.

Agent Penderose had made front page news 'busting' a human trafficking ring, rescuing a band of exploited children. Talk was they were going to give him some kind of medal. All while Shark was treated like a horror villain, demands being made for his, or as some papers said 'its' arrest. Illinois didn't have death row, but the argument was he was more animal than man, and should be 'euthanized' for public safety.

Load of shit if you ask me.

And the closer it got to Christmas, the year drawing shut, the colder it got.

What a time to be hitting the streets.

>pick a primary and secondary focus

>keep working the Misfit case, run down leads
>keep working Navaja, the cartel and crime fighting
>investigate the mystery of the stone and the Chicago explosion
>focus on training, boxing and powers, to up my game
>focus on daily life, take it easy. I'm burning hot and maybe burning out
>focus on school, can't let my grades slip

>>4716117
>investigate the mystery of the stone and the Chicago explosion
People died for that fucking rock. Not going to let it get taken away
>keep working the Misfit case, run down leads
Lets finish what we started. Need her back on her feet asap so she can help us with stuff. Bind her to us with the oath

>>4716117
>investigate the mystery of the stone and the Chicago explosion
>keep working the Misfit case, run down leads
The stone is super important and we've neglected it for too long

>>4716117
>investigate the mystery of the stone and the Chicago explosion
And secondary:
>focus on training, boxing and powers, to up my game

>>4716126
>Bind her to us with the oath

best not to make assumptions about what happened there

what it was and its effects are unknown to Eric

>>4716117
>investigate the mystery of the stone and the Chicago explosion
>keep working the Misfit case, run down leads

>>4716134
>what it was and its effects are unknown to Eric
oh snap stuff is serious when the QM steps in

>>4716117
>investigate the mystery of the stone and the Chicago explosion
>keep working the Misfit case, run down leads

If only because we should probably follow up on that bigass fire.

Also if we can clear Misfit we can probably clear the other paras and ensure we don't stumble on a corpse we get blamed for later on.

>>4716170
>>4716146
>>4716129
>>4716127
>>4716126
locked in 'investigate the stone' as primary and running down misfit's case as secondary.

but Eric still has a date with Kay and boxing lessons with Ayesha

Bros, I think we might end up burning out like this.

This stuff was on my mind all through the week, all into my Saturday, and my date with Kay.

I hadn't heard from Dr Zamani and I was worried. I'd left the stone in his keeping, and he'd promised to contact me with any results, but so far I'd had a deep and troubling silence from his end, even after I sent him several texts. I'd have to check his office out at U of C at some point, if only to make sure he was okay.

The crash of bowling pins broke my attention though, jerking me from my thoughts.

We were at Waveland Bowl, same place as our first date, and Kay had just made her first strike. She hopped on the spot hissing a long 'yes!'

"What's up with you, hot stuff?" she said, dancing her way over, "Something on your mind?"

I managed to smile but it wasn't convincing, so she ran her fingers through my hair, trying to pull me out of my brooding.

"Your problem, Eric, is you don't know how to switch off," she said, "Anyway, you're up."

My bowling skills were above average, but I was distracted enough I got a split and failed to pick up the spare. I was still beating Kay, who was just happy not to get a gutter ball, but not by much.

We weren't the only ones here on a Saturday night. Kemal and his cousins had a lane to themselves not far away, and we'd swapped a word over the urinal. Brian, the school drug dealer, was skulking around making deals. I didn't recognize anyone else.

"I'll get it the next time," I muttered, taking a seat as Kay stepped up.

"You getting hungry yet?" she asked, picking up a light pink ball. I was always hungry. "I could kill for a hotdog and a shake."

Waveland Bowl had a little kitchen thing attached called 'Alley Dogs'. The food was greasy and a bit nasty, but it went down okay and it was convenient. I got out a twenty Dad had given me for the night, went over to order some food. The girl behind the counter turned around, blonde pony tail tied back from her face.

"Welcome to Alley Dogs, what can I get you?" Ivy asked. Seeing me though and her forced cheerfulness dropped. "Oh, hey."

"Yo," I said, swallowing, "Uh, what are you doing here?"

She looked at me with a smile that spoke the depths of my stupidity.

"Working, right," I said, "I thought you uh, your parents are rich."

"If I want to be emancipated I have to prove finiancial independence," she said, "So its between this or a sketchy modelling contract. I don't know about you, but I think paying a fifteen year old to lie on a car in a bikini is pretty dodgy, don't you?"

"That can't be a serious job offer," I said.

"Sweet, naive little Eric," she said, "Now what can I get you?"

"Couple of dogs, milkshakes to go with it," I said.

"With fries?" she said.

"Of course, I'm not a heathen," I said. She smiled, punching in the order. "So how are you doing with the Carvers?"

"It's sickeningly wholesome," she said, "Can you imagine, a family that loves and supports each other? I could gag. The sooner I'm out of there the better."

"Yeah, I had a kind of crazy Thanksgiving," I said, "Turns out my cousin is in love with his adopted sister."

"Oof, now that's my kind of steam," Ivy said, swapping the change. "How are you doing?"

"What, me and Kay? We're good," I said, "Great even."

"Yeah, I didn't mean about that," Ivy said, serving up the dogs, "I heard you crashed out in English."

I shrugged. "I can handle myself," I said.

"Sure you can," she said, "You're a big tough guy. Not fifteen years old and trying to figure stuff out. Couldn't be you."

"Tell you what, if I take an L I'll let you tell me I told you so," I said, picking up the dogs and shakes.

"I won't though," she said.

"Won't what?"

"Tell you I told you so," she said, "That's not...what I want."

I stopped a second before heading back to Kay, checking Ivy over. "Just get home safe, don't worry about the 'I told you so's," she said, turning away to occupy herself with the soda fountain, head down.

My throat was tight as I walked back to the bowling lane. Kay waited, smiling pretty in my denim jacket, and attacked her hotdog with glee. I slung an arm around her, not much appetite but eating anyway, picking at the fries.

Get home safe. Well that was never a certainty.

Kay and I made up that night, the two of us, ending it sweating despite the chill in my hideout, a mattress laid down with a worn out comforter. If my night ended there I'd call it a night well spent, but I meant to find out what was going on with Dr Zamani sooner rather than later.

Kay watched me get dressed. "You are one sexy bastard," she said as I pulled on my costume's jacket. "I just love the way it fits." She got up, feeling over my chest and shoulders in the costume. "My boyfriend is a bonafide superhero."

"Yeah well, give me a kiss for good luck," I said.

She did just that, and took her time about it. Our tongues returned to their respective mouths.

She grinned as I picked her up, throwing her over my shoulder as I leapt up to the high window, laughing as I launched out into the night. She threw her arms out, cheering as we sailed through the cold dark night. Always a thrill to walk her home in a way only I could.

But once she was safely home, skipping up the drive with her cheeks glowing warm, the joy inside me turned to something serious, a sober mood coming on.

Fermilab had been burned out, with no word from Dr Zamani. I had to get to the bottom of it.

>cut to the chase, head to Dr Zamani's office at the University of Chicago
>don't go direct, call Ms Grant first to see what she'd heard about the incident

and I'll be back tomorrow

>>4716293
>>don't go direct, call Ms Grant first to see what she'd heard about the incident
i feel like we should have some more contacts within the gov. other than Ms. Grant and all, spread our connections.

>>4716293
>>don't go direct, call Ms Grant first to see what she'd heard about the incident

>>4716293
>cut to the chase, head to Dr Zamani's office at the University of Chicago
If the lab was burnt down we might not have time to involve Ms. Grant

>>4716293
>don't go direct, call Ms Grant first to see what she'd heard about the incident

>>4716293
>>don't go direct, call Ms Grant first to see what she'd heard about the incident

>>4716293
>cut to the chase, head to Dr Zamani's office at the University of Chicago

>>4716421
>>4716481
>>4717043
>>4717066
tied in

>>4717414
locked in

shit

Ms Grant had introduced me to Dr Zamani. They'd gone to college together, and as far as I could tell good friends. Maybe she had heard something I hadn't.

Crouching on the top of a skyscraper, I called her. It was late, but I doubt she'd refuse to pick up.

It took a couple of calls when she picked up.

"Hotspur, do you know what time it is?" her voice was slurred as if pulled from sleep.

"Sorry Ms Grant," I said, "But I need your help, it won't take long."

"Maddie is everything all right?" a man's voice faint from the other side. Ms Grant got lucky, good for her. Good for him.

"It's fine Albert," she replied, voice muffled like her hand was on the reciever. Then to me, "What's this about?"

"I heard there was a fire at Fermilab," I said.

"You think it was arson?" she said.

"I'm trying to get in contact with Dr Zamani, but he isn't returning my calls," I said.

"Javid?" she said, "You think it has to do with Javid?"

"I loaned Dr Zamani something, something he took to Fermilab for experimentation," I said, "Now there's been a fire and I can't get in touch with him."

"I saw him yesterday for lunch," Ms Grant said, "He didn't seem himself, as if he hadn't slept. But he's a nervous guy anyway, I didn't think much of it."

"Do you have his home address?" I asked.

"Of course."

She texted it to me.

"If he's in danger, Hotspur," she said, a drawn out silence ending in a breath, "If he's in danger, please help him."

"If he's in danger Ms Grant, its most likely my fault," I said, "So I'll do my best. Sorry for calling so late."

We hung up and I looked down at the city. It wasn't much but I knew he had been alive as of yesterday, which was something. The question was what to do next.

>head to Zamani's office
>head to Zamani's home address

>>4717462
>head to Zamani's home address

>>4717462
>head to Zamani's home address

>>4717462
>head to Zamani's home address
At this hour he wouldn't be in the office

>>4717462
>>head to Zamani's home address

>>4717481
>>4717498
>>4717504
>>4717506
locked in

I decided to check his home address. The odds of him being at his office weren't good anyway. I punched it into Google Maps then bound my way through the city, above the light gloom too high for the people bellow to see.

Dr Zamani lived in one of those neighborhoods that could generously be called 'formerly poor' but could more accurately be called 'gentrified', the working class priced out as their flat houses were bought up for the 'charm' and affordability, then torn down and replaced with commercial units meant to sell for a good dollar price. They'd tried something like that in my neighborhood but had the bad luck to do it right before the housing crash way back when I was little, long before we moved to Chicago.

The address I got was for a handsome two floor house, the kind of place in a worse neighborhood might fit three households but here only had one. Trees shaded out the front, black ink impressions in the night, the lights off inside. There was a car in the drive.

Walking up the front porch, the door was half open. It tickled suspicion in me, and I drew on the flame of power inside me until it was a soft roar, my senses picked up, strength drawn forward and ready for trouble. Still I walked slowly, quietly, angling my way through the front door.

The frunchroom had carpet lain down, an old and often used couch sat in front of a tv. Pictures framed on the wall showed foreign saints and holymen, with a tapestry written over with scrawling Arabic text. A beaded curtain seperated the room from the kitchen, and a staircase lead to the next floor.

In the dark I listened, hearing the squeeze of old floorboards under bare feet above, soft breathing coming down from there, and from in here.

I looked for the hidden stranger I knew was lurking, and I saw him by the glint of his gold chain.

He didn't look like a member of the Zamani household. He leaned against the wall at the foot of the stairs, watching with hooded eyes. He was a light skinned black man in a black turtleneck and black blazer, black jeans, with dark gloves. The only color on him was in the thin gold necklace he wore, the gold clip on his earlobe.

And he sat on the sofa too, frowning in thought, and leaned on the wall next to the tv, looking up to the cieling. And stood behind me, beside the door.

And he carried a gun.

"I know you," he had a tired voice, to match his tired eyes, "You're the superhero."

The one who spoke was the one by the stairs.

"Hotspur," he said, gloved hand flexing on the grip of his gun. Even though he was talking to me he kept his eyes on the staircase.

"They call me Sundowner," he said.

The one on the couch stood up, the one by the tv smiled. I didn't like the smile, it was vicious, coyote like. I didn't know what they were. Clones, duplicates, something else. but I was surrounded.

"Javid?" a voice from upstairs, an old man with a thick Persian accent. "Javid?" then something I didn't understand, barefeet fitting into slippers, beginning to shuffle to the stairs.

"I'm looking for the doctor," Sundowner said, "If you want to do this here, I'll have to do for the old man too."

"You were going to do for him anyway," I said. Sundowner, the Sundowner who was talking, smiled the same coyote smile.

"Javid?" the old man called.

"Here or outside, either way," Sundowner loosened his jacket with a roll of his shoulder, "The doctor isn't home."

>here is fine by me
>step outside

>>4717567
>step outside
this vote is about where we're gonna fight him right

>>4717571
well its not to swap business cards I'll say that

>>4717567
>step outside

such a depressing name, sundowner. why not sunriser? how does it even tie into the clones?

>>4717567
>step outside

>>4717578
maybe he specializes in killing old people at night

>>4717611
>>4717578
>>4717571
locked in

"Outside," I said. I didn't want the old man caught in the crossfire.

Sundowner smiled, gesturing with his gun. The copy by the door gestured to the open door. "After you," he said.

Outside on the frost covered grass, I listened to the crunch of his shoes before turning around.

Sundowner popped his tongue in his cheek, looking me over. "That's a nice fit," he said, tugging at the lapel of his coat, "I should get myself a costume. Maybe a mask, but I'm too pretty."

The other Sundowners, his copies or his duplicates, wandered around the yard, casually ambling until they were all around, under the tree, checking under the hedges, looking everywhere but at me.

"What kind of name is Sundowner anyway?" I said, "I can't figure what that's got to do with your powers."

He smiled, rubbing his chin. "See, I had the name before the powers," he said, "You know what a 'sundown town' is?"

I shrugged, it sounded familiar.

"There were these towns back in the day, still are in some places, where traveling black folks are told bu good white folks, 'if you're still here by sundown, there'll be trouble'. A lot of people like to think they were only a thing in the South, but you could find places like that all over. Many a wandering black man went missing on account of sundown in the wrong town. It's a cold story, horror story. Still gets oldheads twitchy."

"So what comes with sundown these days?" he said, "Well these days I guess I do. Sundowner."

The eyes he had spoke of stacked bodies in unmarked graves, lives disappeared into the night.

"Cute story, a killer with a sense of social justice," I said, voice dripping with contempt.

He grinned. "But you know also there's another thing," he said, "Sundowning, when old folks get confused, they see things, don't know who they are or what is what. I guess that..." his image blurred and then three of him stepped away in three separate directions, "...is a good reason for the name."

Shit. There were six of him now.

But something he said, were they all real? I'd only heard the one talk, only heard the one breathe, only seen the one interact with anything physical. So these 'clones' were just illusions. I listened for the scuff of feet, the crunch of frost covered grass, watched for the mist from cold breath on a cold bruising night. But even if there were tells he still moved fast, his copies moving faster, and he had a gun.

He only needed one good shot.

>roll 3 x 1d100+15 dc 80

Rolled 71 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>4717697
Only one is real? Phew, I was worried that no matter how well we did here he'd still have a backup clone in the house ready to take a hostage.

Rolled 42 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>4717697
check my 100

Rolled 42 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>4717697

>>4717701
pass

I'm wondering when the first critfail will happen though

>>4717711
I thought we had critfailed once already? I definitely remember the one crit success. I like how they're rare enough to actually feel special.

>>4717703
>>4717707
no love for the dubs I see

The copies rushed around me in the small backyard. I expanded out my senses, my hearing, my vision, until the thin street light filtered through the trees became enough to light the dark.

A glint of gold on an ear lobe was my warning. I turned in time as the gun shot split the night, missing me but pocking a hole in the tree and splitting my ear drum. The silencer made it hard to know just where the shot had come from, and he didn't stand still long enough for me to check.

"So who are you working for?" I said, lunging to toward the hedges, "Navaja, the Alphanet Gang, someone else?"

The questions weren't for no reason.

"Call me a free agent," he said, "Working by commission."

My ear twitched and I drove for the source of the voice, bursting through a copy sending it coiling away into mist.

"Clever," Sundowner grunted from behind me, the next shot clipping my shoulder. A thin smear of blood and a hot needle through my skin, but it had only been a graze. "So I guess you've figured some of it out."

I turned to the barrel of a gun raised. I lunged to the side, but the copy just smiled, mouthing a 'bang' and miming the recoil. Then the real gunshots opened up and I leapt behind the tree, breathing hard. Sundowner didn't play.

"Dr Zamani's got something doesn't belong to him," he said, "I mean to get it. Figured I'd snatch up his old man, get it back that way. Better than what others have planned. I'm not the only one looking for him."

"My guess is he got that something from you," he said.

I closed my eyes, listening for the crunch of grass.

"So in a way, you're responsible for all of this," he said, "When you cut to the bone of it."

Anger flared the fire inside me, guilt too. He wasn't wrong, but there was nothing right about it either.

"Playing with fire and putting innocent lives on the line, you're cold blooded Hotspur."

For all my guilt I was glad he was a talker. I had his voice, and I had where he was.

I ducked out from under the tree, the gunshot ripping over the top of my head as I dived low, sprinting for the real deal. A copy leapt in the way like it would do some good but it broke apart against my charge as I narrowed in on Sundowner. He brought his pistol up, silver plate glinting in the moon's weak light, a look of alarm behind the sights.

The gun fired a fraction of a second after I knocked the barrel aside by the silencer, bullet splitting twigs from the hedges. My fist walloped Sundowner in the jaw, staggering him back. I grasped his gun hand, jerking it away. He squeezed the trigger in desperation, bullets gouging the lawn, the beat of the gunfire probably waking up the neighborhood. He raised his free arm up to block, grabbing himself behind the ear in a protective stance. He knew boxing, but with my second punch I mixed it up, landing one under his ribs and maybe breaking a couple, then again in the gut until he doubled over retching.

I pulled the gun free from his hand, crumpling it into a fist, dropped the twisted metal on the grass next to him.

"Call it sunrise or sunset, but you're done Sundowner," I said. He held himself on his knees, spitting up.

But then he sprang, a switch knife flicking open in his hand. Pain lanced across my thigh, the deadly point stuck half an inch in before I could catch his hand by the wrist. I ripped his hand back and twisted his arm, his cheeks flaring in pain.

"You should know when you're beat," I said, the pain in my leg alive even as I stood tall over him.

"Shit, you got me," Sundowner said, but to make sure I put a fist in his face, knocking him out cold, hanging limp from my grip.

I dropped him on the cold grass. Blood was starting to seep from my leg. My costume was stab proof around the chest but my arms and legs were a different matter. Sundowner had picked his spot, an inch off from a major artery. Lucky it was shallow. A throb of power and the pain ebbed. I didn't have time to bleed.

Staggering back into the Zamani house, I found the old man in the frunchroom standing in a bath robe. He was an old Persian gentleman, hair bright white on a yellowing brown face, nose so bold it put me in mind of an eagle.

"Javid?" he said, "No, you are the hero, the Hotspur." His English was imprecise but mostly fluent. "You have seen my Javid?"

"No sir," I said, "You should call the police, there's a very dangerous man knocked out on your lawn."

He nodded. "Yes, yes, but my Javid, he is not home."

"Where is he sir?" I said, "His life is in real danger."

The old man shrugged. "Maybe at his office, maybe with his girlfriend," he said, "Nice girl, but not muslima."

"Do you have a number or an address?" I said.

"Yes, yes," he said, taking pencil and paper, scratching one out. He handed it to me. "You'll find my boy?"

"I mean to," I said. Despite the cut on my leg and the graze on my shoulder.

"Good, good," he said, "I call police now."

He shuffled to the kitchen, where a landline was attached to the wall. Retro.

>check the girlfriend's address
>check Zamani's office

>>4717744
>Alphanet
Alphabet

>>4717745
>check the girlfriend's address

>>4717745
>check the girlfriend's address

>>4717745
>check the girlfriend's address
man we're gonna look really stupid if he's just hanging out at his office

>>4717774
We may never recover from that level of embarrassment. I think chances are good he's hiding out at his gf's though, since people after him know his home and office addresses.

>>4717774
>>4717764
>>4717750
locked in

The girlfriend's address was...all the way over the other side of town. My leg throbbed, so did my shoulder. I'd taken Sundowner down but he'd gotten his own in.

Before the cops could show up I booked out of there. I wasn't sure but I might have a warrant out on me after my run in with Agent Penderose.

When I landed near the heart of down town I sat on a ledge, grabbing my thigh, squeezing. Blood dribbled out of the cut but it was starting to scab over. A bit of power had the pain ease up. Then I touched my shoulder, grabbing the bloody graze, squeezing it, sealing it shut. Good, okay. I tried Zamani on his phone but still no answer, so I tried his girlfriend.

I tried a second time, then a third, just looking to reach one of them to leave a warning.

"Hello," a man's voice said, "You're looking for Shelley? I'm afraid she's tied up right now."

I knew the voice. I knew it.

Houndmaster.

"Nice and tight, she isn't going no place. So if this is the thieving piece of shit muzzie, I'll give you one chance to save her life. You bring the stone back to her place, and I'll let her go. But you, kid, sorry to say but your number is up."

I listened, stone cold with rage.

>I'll be right over
>hang up, try to find Dr Zamani first

>>4717840
>hang up, try to find Dr Zamani first
Damn, of course that would happen

>>4717840
>hang up, try to find Dr Zamani first

dang where all these mercs coming from
tell houndmaster he has some nerve taking to us like that after our last encounter

>>4717840
>hang up, try to find Dr Zamani first
Fuck

>>4717849
I don't think pissing him off would go well for the hostage

something came up, so I'll be back tomorrow

vote stays open until I do

>>4717840
>hang up, try to find Dr Zamani first

He thinks he’s talking to the doctor, but last time I checked we beat his ass pretty badly in our last fight, if he knew it was us...

Better to just hang up, as much as I love the idea of scaring him chances are he’d just get more prepared, and even if he got scared he’d just endanger the hostage more.

I hope we crit against him again though, it’d be hilarious if we actually get him hesitant to fight us in the future

>>4717840
>I'll be right over
Yeah actually fuck this guy, I bet he's still scared shitless of us.

>>4717840
>I’ll be right over
Oh shit I just realized the hang up and say nothing option doesn’t mean we still head right over and take him down. I don’t want to leave him alone with a hostage any longer than we have to

>>4717840
>I'll be right over
Use that same spooky monotone voice we used last time we kicked his ass. Tell him we'll tear him apart if a hair on her head is harmed.

>>4717844
>>4717849
>>4717854
>>4717988
locked in

I hung up the phone without saying a word. The last thing I needed to do was to tip off a sadist like Houndmaster.

But he'd answered a question for me. Dr Zamani was most likely at his office. Good, I wasn't far from the University. As much as I was worried about the hostage, I was as worried about Zamani and the stone.

Running to the edge of the building, my body still aching from my wounds, I leapt out into the night, stars spiralling around me as I flung myself across the city toward the segregated little town called the University of Chicago.

Dr Zamani's office was in Eckhart Hall, a red roofed building in a big gothic style on the University campus. It housed the mathematics department, his haunting ground. Winter had stripped the trees outside and lain frost across the windows, icicles beginning to build along the sills. Winter had left the ground barren, and as night advanced a light snow began to fall, flecks of white drifting through the sky.

It looks like we'd be having a white christmas, and the University was suitable decorated, with fairy lights and tinsel strewn around. Couldn't call it a merry one, not for Dr Zamani at least.

I crouched in my best impression of a gargoyle on the medieval style slats of the Eckhart Hall roof, peering down on the barren grounds of the college campus.

Empty, save for a pair of motorcycles, bright white and parked out the front.

Stunt Crew MC. I could only believe they were here for one thing.

Going through the front door was a waste of time. I think I remembered where Zamani's office was. I shimmied down the side of the building, gripping on sills and railings until I had the right window. A power driven kick stoved it in with a smash of glass, myself and the winter chill bursting into a cramped office.

A man broke away from a woman sitting on his deck, a tight scream of shock from both of them, her dress pushed up her hips, his jeans half open, a knocked over bottle of wine hissing out white bubbles into the carpet. She pulled the top of her dress up while he slapped his hands over his crotch. A Chinese couple.

Not Dr Zamani.

"I'm looking for Javid Zamani," I growled, trying to mask my embarrasment with affected grit.

They both pointed to the wall. One over.

"Thanks," I said, hurrying out of the room into the hallway. Christmas cards were hung up down the hall as decorations along with twinkling lights.

I wasn't alone.

A pair of bikers came down the other way. Bikers with shotguns, bikers I knew.

Sullivan had let the peroxide fade out of his hair, had growin it long into looping brown curls. Baby Girl on the other hand had chopped her hair off and dyed it blonde. But I knew them in an instant.

And they knew me.

"Hotspur," Sullivan said, but he didn't raise up his gun, not right away, "Best you walk the other way."

"I was thinking the same to you," I said, "Shouldn't you two be on the run?"

"There's no running from the Midwest Cartel," Sullivan said, "We got a shot to save our lives though. Get back the package from the doctor, and we earn Navaja's clemency."

"Then you can see where we have a problem," I said.

Baby Girl cocked her shotgun. "Indeed we do," said Sullivan.

>fine then, let's dance
>maybe there's another way

>>4718875
>maybe there's another way
And here I thought you guys were smart. You're already persona non grata with Navaja for life after the shit we pulled. I've made contact with the source who is gonna tell me where your friends are. And this is just one more thing getting in the way of me finally holding up my end of the bargain.

>>4718875
>fine then, let's dance

>>4718875
>>maybe there's another way
Cartels don't forgive & forget. The only way she doesn't take your heads is if she isn't able to.

>>4718875
>maybe there's another way


Yeah I'm also pretty sus about them getting clemency. Why does Nav even want the package? Did Ixion just put a billion dollar bounty on it or something?

>>4718989
>>4718955
>>4718901
locked in

I bet Navaja is gonna be in deep shit if she fails yet again to get the stone, might be worth bringing up

"Maybe there's another way," I said.

"One that doesn't get our heads cut off?" Baby Girl said.

"If you think getting the stone with Navaja will square things with her, you might not be thinking things through," I said, "But you play ball with me, and I'll get you your friends back. I've contacted my source who can locate them."

"You been dragging your feet on that score, Spur," Sullivan said.

"I've had a lot on my plate," I said, "Like a bunch of assholes trying to hunt down an innocent scientist."

Sullivan grinned. "Fair," said Baby Girl, slinging her shotgun on her shoulder.

"Now I don't want to break your jaw or give your girl another concussion," I said, "And you don't want to pepper me with that birdshot. You know it won't end well for you, we've danced that tune enough times by now."

"So what's the play?" Sullivan said, "Navaja expects something. She's put a call out on Dr Zamani. Unless you mean to help us run and hide, but that takes time."

"I can help you hide," I said, "Maybe. As for Navaja, I'll figure that out. But if we throw down now you know how that will go."

"Maybe it goes the other way this time," Baby Girl said, but I could tell she didn't believe it. With the shotgun or the sword on her hip, either way I was a paygrade above these guys now. Didn't make them harmless, but the odds were in my favor.

But Sullivan nodded. "Shit you just had to show up right as we find a get out of jail card," he said, "Okay, we do it your way Hotspur. Between you and Navaja's mercy I figure you're the safer bet."

"Let me go in and talk to Dr Zamani," I said, "Then we'll figure this out."

I moved to the door, the outlaws watching. I didn't trust them exactly, but I think I understood them now. They weren't suicidal, and I knew they kept their word.

I opened the door.

And two prongs struck my chest with an electric crackle.

Dr Zamani's teeth clenched behind a taser, the wire hissing, but the fabric of my jacket was too dense for it to penetrate. When he saw it was me though, he lowered the taser with the decency to look embarassed.

In a word he looked like shit. The pits under his eyes were dark and ghoulish, his face unshaved with wiry, patchy black hairs. His clothes were dirty. There was a sleeping bag behind his desk in the cramped little office, papers mixed with junk food packets. He must have been camping out in his office since the fire.

"I told you to be careful Dr Zamani," I said.

"Hotspur," he said, then glanced over my shoulder to the doorway, "I was, I am. It wasn't...they called it an electrical fire but...there was a dead janitor, a custodian, missing uniform. And the stone, lucky I had it but...They have called, they have e-mailed, thy have left letters. They know me."

He was barely coherent. He picked at some sugary treat on his desk, scarfing it down, then slurped from a thermos. He was jittery, uncoordinated.

"Are they going to kill me, these boogeymen?" he said. He knocked over his sphinx paperweight as he opened up his bag. He didn't notice, just pulled out the stone in a trembling hand. "Here...take it..." he said, "I don't want...want to be involved with this."

I took it from his trembling hand in my steady one, slipped it into my jacket's inner pocket.

"Did your friends at Fermi discover anything?" I asked.

The sound Zamani made was either a laugh or a sob.

"I did not used to believe in evil," he said, teeth clenched in a tired face. "Only energy, but what's inside the energy? What lives inside a particle? I do not know, I do not know anything." He grabbed his framed phD off the wall, then dropped it in the paper bin. He looked at me as if I might understand. "I can't hold onto it," he said, "I'm a coward. But someone has to, you can't let them have it."

"I won't," I said.

Then my phone buzzed. Dr Zamani's girlfriend.

I answered.

"Rude!" Houndmaster said, "Hanging up mid-conversation. Now hold on, I have someone else on the line."

Then whimpering came over. "J-Javid," a woman's voice, "He...he's..."

But before she could say more the voice cut back to Houndmaster.

"Me and Shelley have been having a grand ol' time," he said, "Just killing the hours waiting for you. Now are you going to be a man and bring me the package? There's no rush, but you should know I'm enjoying myself a bit too much here. God this is a real dynamite gal you've got!"

"Javid!" her distant scream cut off with a hard crunching blow.

"Now quit dragging your feet," he said, "I'm waiting."

I looked to Javid, who sat on his desk with his face in his hands, trembling. He wasn't built for these things.

>I'll be right over
>hang up, let Houndmaster think he was talking to Dr Zamani

>>4719048
>I'll be right over

>>4719048
>I'll be right over

>>4719094
>>4719055
locked in

Can't wait to fuck houndmaster up. He should hope his prosthetics come off easily, they're all getting torn off either way.

"I'll be right over," I said into the phone.

There was a dragged out silence, followed by a soft 'fuck', then he hanged up.

I looked to Dr Zamani, sitting on his desk. "A very bad man has your girlfriend hostage," I said, "I'll do what I can to rescue her."

"Shelley?" he said. I could tell I'd just made a bad night worse. Let's hope I could stop it from becoming a night of horrors.

"There was a hitman at your dad's trying to do the same thing," I said, "I dealt with him, your dad is safe. I'll do the same for your girlfriend, now what I want you to do is get yourself somewhere safe. I have a couple of...friends outside. They can help protect you until morning. Now call Ms Grant, she can arrange a safe house."

"I'm coming with you to Shelley's," he said.

I shook my head. "No, you aren't. I move faster alone and you'll just get in the way. Call Ms Grant."

"Madeline," he said, reaching for his phone. While he did that I stepped outside, where Sullivan and Baby Girl were waiting.

"Your night's just getting flipped upside down," I said, "I'm going to need the two of you to run protection for the professor."

"Bodyguarding a geek, you're asking a lot of favors, Spur," Sullivan said.

"Are you in a position to say no?" I said. Sullivan sucked a tooth, then shook his head. "Now you're going to meet up with someone, the DSA you kidnapped, she's going to help you all out."

"Oh we're bound to be her favoroite people," Baby Girl mocked.

"She'll see the sense in helping you, whatever your history," I said, "I can't come with, and I can't hang around, so I need to trust you here. Trust I have your word."

I held out my hand.

Sullivan looked at it, then with a pained look grabbed it.

"Word is all an outlaw has," he said, "You got mine on this, for tonight."

"Sully has my proxy," Baby Girl said.

It would have to do, I was in a hurry and had to book.

I left Dr Zamani with them, a nervous lamb guarded by wolves. I ran for the window, crashing my way out, glass and frame splintering around me as I cannon balled out of Eckhart Hall.

Snow was falling in gentle flurries, with a cold rain starting to drizzle through it. A cute picture in doors, in the warmth of a home, a bad night to be out. Snow melted on my shoulders as rain soaked into my suit, a bone biting chill setting through that only my power kept from slowing me down.

Shelley lived in an apartment downtown, near the Loop. One of those highrise buildings that could fit a thousand or more lives inside, all stacked on top of each other, pressed in by buildings much the same, a cramped condition of humanity and city living which was some how spun as a luxury. I searched for it among the city lights, buildings half dark from people put to bed, others lit up from lives being lived. The street lights beneath my feet became a glowing carpet of light as I dived from building to building, ignoring the chill.

The festive season was in swing, though Christmas was still far away. Some buildins had set their lights to red and green to paint a festive picture on the skyline, banners declaring holiday spirits were draped from banner poles. Barren trees were strewn with twinkling lights to make light in the dark and electric life in the dead of winter. Spruce trees festoned with lights stood tall in park spaces and on boulevards.

People were out even this weather, carols and other Christmas tunes blasting over speakers, with carolers busking for the foot traffic.

For Christmas, Chicago went hard.

But it barely registered as I flicked from building to building, my purpose set, destination urning in front of me. I checked the address, the apartment number, counted the floors and the windows, looking for light.

But when I found it I saw darkness, a black pit in the side of the building. The riot of noise from the city benaeth my feet died away as I stared at the black hole.

It was a long jump.

I stepped back, then running, lunged from the roof.

Glass broke around me, breaking into the darkness, breaking into silence.

The room was dark. The lights cut out.

I listened.

I heard nothing but the hum of the fridge.

Then a crack of light to see by. The apartment door just opened, the chain broken, the lock busted out. Dark glass on the carpet, and something else. Stains. I brushed my fingers along the tracks, fingers coming up dry. I sniffed, drawing in with a hound dog sensitivity. Blood.

My heart struggled to beat. The stains made a trail.

I traced the carpet with my hand, stroked it. I pulled up something, a clump of hair, long and curling, torn straight from a scalp, strands glued together with dried blood. I looked up to where the trail lead.

An open door leading to greater darkness.

A bedroom.

I rose from a crouch, willing my heart to beat, willing myself to breathe. I stepped for the doorway, senses high in case of ambush. But I heard nothing, nothing. But the smell....the smell...

I reached for a light switch, flicked it on.

And the breath went out of me as my heart dropped.

Large blue eyes stared from an ivory face, framed by locks of curling chestnut hair. A beautiful face, perfect save the red crust running down from her nose. Staring. Staring at nothing but a last moment of horror, her lips slackened, eyes gleaming. Arms outstretched to either side, tied to the headboard of her bed. Naked, with blood all down her perfect pale body, with what had been cut out of her pooled between her legs.

Shelley.

I had watched Jude gut a deer over Thanksgiving.

Bile rose in my throat. I flicked off the light, hand to my mask as I swallowed back vomit, stumbling out of the bedroom.

My phone buzzed.

"Sorry for standing you up Hotspur," Houndmaster's voice cracked with malice, rage and fear, "But I left you a little present, its the giving season after all. Afraid I made a little use of it first, but I'm sure you can forgive me."

"You're a fucking coward."

He laughed.

"Don't worry, I got plans for you," he said, "You and anyone else who gives a shit about you. I'll make what I did to Miss Shelley there look like a dream. I owe you after all, for my drones."

No," I spat, "Not for the drones. For scaring you. I scare you. And you aren't used to that are you? You're used to being the scary thing, the demon in the night."

He was silent on the other end. "The night is made for demons," he said, "You're walking in our world now. Now you know what that means."

"I walk with a fire," the words were strange and not all my own.

He was silent, I could hear his rage and fear in his heavy breathing.

"We'll settle this, you and me, soon enough," he said, then hanged up.

Coward, I thought again. Coward. Hot rage and a sickness grasped my chest. Hot tears burning my eyes. I should have come when he'd first called. I shouldn't have trusted a creature like him to wait. I shouldn't have lost sight of...of an innocent woman in danger. My mind so fixed on the stone.

I'd brought them into this. Dr Zamani, his family, his friends. Houndmaster had killed her, but I'd put her in his sights.

I...I...

I fell to my knees, choking back a sob.

How could I...how arrogant was I...

The smell of her came from the darkness. I pawed at the carpet, shivering. I couldn't stand to look back, to face her.

"I'm sorry," I said, and how empty it sounded, how childish. I struggled to stand, slumped down on the couch in the dark. I stared at the phone.

>call Zamani and tell him what had happened
>call the police
>call home
>don't call anyone, just leave

>>4719192
Hunt down Houndmaster immediately, let's finish this on our terms.

(someone was likely to die tonight. if you'd gone to Zamani's office first he'd have recieved a call from both Sundowner and Houndmaster, and you'd have picked who to rescue, Shelley or Zamani's dad. If you'd gone to rescue Shelley instead of looking for Dr Zamani, Sullivan and Baby Girl would have walked away with his head, possibly the stone. Unfair, but that was the plan. You can't always rescue everyone, or know every variable)

>>4719197
Yeah I figured as much. Still hurts though. I think the logic about going for Zamani first was that if we had the stone our chances of saving Shelley would have improved.