16: This Just In

Delta tossed her belt on the desk and slumped in her workshop chair with an exhausted sigh. The temptation to steal some sleep weighed on her, though events with the brand new schizophrenic feral they’d just brought in would pass her by if she did. Nomad had left to keep the feral calm, leaving Delta alone to fill out paperwork. She’d given her verbal report as soon as they’d come back, all that was left was to see what the powers on high would decide. I can’t wait for this to be over with. 

The whole situation reeked of strange-ness. Sanchez’s gang somehow beat them to the feral. The feral went from berserk to curling into a terrified ball after a quick nap. The MHU had no prepared cell or anything to deal with the feral once they got it, despite dealing with powers being their sole reason to exist. We’re missing something. Or I’m missing something, and someone else is keeping it from me.

A curt knock on the door grabbed her attention. Cyrus walked in uninvited as Delta spun in her chair. “Back from your feral hunt. How are you doing?” he asked.

“Good,” she replied, not bothering with anything more. The whole MHU meandered in confusion, the head had to take blame at some point, or at least take charge. Yet here he was, wasting time on a techie only barely related to the feral in the building.

“Were you aware that Lock Corp. has opened a new office in Westward? Only a block away, in fact.” Delta froze, thinking, Wait, when the fuck did this happen? Cyrus gave her a look, fully noticing her reaction. “I know that it is a bit of a personal matter, but it would be remiss of me not to let you know.”

Admit nothing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You doubt the word of the head of the city’s MHU?” He gave her a small, rueful smile. “You wouldn’t be the first. Or has that not happened yet? Regardless, there is a reason I’m telling you this.”

“I have nothing to do with Lock Corp. What are you-”

He leaned forward. “Miss Lafitte, we have precious little time. I am trying to help you, unless you simply play coy.”

Delta leaned back in her chair, considering her options. Her baton lay on the desk attached to her belt, a mere foot away from her tense hand. I can’t just zap him and dump his body somewhere. Her eyes briefly flickered towards the door, though Cyrus blocked the way, intentionally or not. I can’t run and I’m flying blind. “You knew,” she probed.

“Recently learned,” he corrected. “As did Marcus and the quartermaster. And that is the problem.”

Something about his word choice struck her. “Not me?” she asked.

“No. Though Marcus very much thinks it is.”

“What does Marcus have to do with this?” asked Delta.

“A little bird, is that the phrase? A little bird told me a warrant will be out for your arrest from a judge today, for espionage for Lock Corp. against the MHU and US government. Marcus fully intends to carry it out.”

“That’s insane.” I have gone out of my way to avoid doing exactly that. It’s an arrest warrant, not a death penalty, but they’ve already started digging. Is this why everything is confused?

“Is it? Why were Sanchez’ men exactly where you thought the feral would be? That, and you are constantly disgruntled,” replied Cyrus. Delta studied his serene face as best she could, seeing nothing other than placid anticipation of her answer. Is he trying to drag me down with him? Fuck it, I’ve got to get out of here anyways. If he knows, others can figure it out.

“What do you want?”

“I would be rather disappointed if you didn’t have a contingency for this exact situation.” Of course he knows. How much can I give away? She nodded, volunteering nothing else. “I believe there will be a few other scapegoats. Gather them in the garage, if we scatter we are doomed.”

So Delta found herself sweating in a corner of the garage, pretending to look busy for the pair of mechanics also in the room. Nope, I’m not suspicious at all. Just an engineer, doing engineer things. The fact that I just nuked my workshop is not suspicious. Nope, nope, nope. 

She and Cyrus had agreed on no signal, no hidden communication of any kind. The entire headquarters shaking from a shockwave of air and everyone running for cover did, however, tip her off to get moving. With keys to a van she’d grabbed, she pulled up to an open garage door and waited, hands locked onto the wheel. Hurry up, I don’t want to be here a nanosecond longer than I have to. 

The double doors to the garage shot open as Nomad charged in like a demon was chasing him. Huh, he looks like what Cyrus was talking about. Of course it was the new hires who got blamed. Delta leaned out of the window, grabbing his attention from something across the room. “Get in!” He jumped in the back, followed by a second set of footsteps. Who is that?

The sound of a metallic thud rang out as Nomad slammed into the panel separating Delta from the back of the van. She twisted around, nearly jumping out of her skin when she noticed the feral also in the back alongside him, sitting down as if this were the most normal thing in the world. “Go!” he yelled. 

“Is she going to try to kill us?”

“No,” he replied as the feral flinched away. Fine, whatever. Does she even have a name? I don’t think she’s ever said anything to me. 

Delta gunned the engine, peeling up the ramp and out of HQ. Nomad filled her in on what happened in her absence, the feral sitting in silence in the back. Cyrus got himself shot but shrugged it off. Marcus smelled a rat and went scorched earth.  

Without warning, a bright flash struck the front of the van. The wheel spun in Delta’s hands, and the van flipped as she lost control. She slammed against the door as her whole world spun, the shriek of metal drowning all else out. It took her eyes to adjust once movement stopped. Blood rushed to her head, and the late afternoon sun appeared below what should have been the horizon. Upside down. She released her seat-belt, ignoring the rapidly forming bruise on her hip and shoulder where it yanked at her through her armor, and checked on the others in the back. 

Light blue greeted her eyes. Nomad had burst into goo, saving him from the tumble. A pounding on the door next to her pulled her back.

“Hey, wanna talk to you,” barked out a voice outside the van. Fuck. Now what? Delta wrestled with gravity, trying to free her baton. “Don’t try it.” Delta found herself face to face with a leering, grinning mask of gunmetal grey, along with a pistol aimed at her chest. Delta froze. Smiley mask. Skulker, I think. Vigilante. “You know anythin’ about a feral? Big girl? Quiet? Y’all brought her in this mornin’?”

“No,” she replied.

They both paused at the sound of rumbling hissing. The van jostled as metal shrieked and broke. Is the feral going insane again? 

“That was easy.” Skulker leaned up, out of Delta’s view, and called out, “Hey, Olivia, havin’ a day?”

The feral, Olivia, finally spoke, in something other than incoherent hissing or whispers, “What?” Delta got back to freeing her baton. Skulker couldn’t see her at the moment, but she could see his gun, now pointed at the ground in front of her. When he convulses, his hand will clench, pulling the trigger. I’ll have five to ten seconds to move.

“What’cha doin’? Let him go an’ let’s get outta here.”

“He’s hurt. They’re helping me.” Delta adjusted herself, readying the shock baton and getting out of the way of the gun. 

“Really? You sure?” he asked. 

Delta struck, thrusting the tip of the shock baton into his thigh. He let out a choked shout as every one of his muscles tensed. His pistol fired, the bullet slamming into the asphalt. Delta jumped half out of the broken van window as Skulker fell, diving on his gun hand. Just as she began prying it from his stiff fingers, something sharp grabbed her by the collar and lifted her off Skulker and the ground.

“Stop!” said Olivia placing herself between Delta and the vigilante. She wore what looked like old, extra large MHU fatigues, a trade up from the bloody rags when Delta had seen her last.

This lunatic tried to kill us! Delta reached in vain for her baton, dropped so she could wrestle with the gun now on the ground beside Skulker. Nomad appeared beside Olivia. “Put her down. Everyone, stop,” he said. “You too, Delta.”

With a groan, Skulker climbed back to his feet. To Nomad’s credit, he’d put his foot on the loose gun, instead of assuming everyone would just listen. Delta didn’t immediately dive for her baton the moment Olivia set her gently down. 

“What are you doing?” he asked the vigilante.

“Lookin’ for her. She seems alright though,” replied Skulker. “Fuck that sucked,” he grumbled under his breath, rubbing his thigh. 

“Great. We’re in broad daylight, so maybe we should all stop fighting out here before the MHU catches up to us,” explained Nomad. Delta looked around, spotting a couple parked cars down the street, their drivers looking out at them with phones out.

“Only reason we ain’t gettin’ swamped already is cuz they look busy.” Skulker pointed back at HQ. A column of dust drifted in the air, towering above the cracked concrete dome of the building. Did Cyrus do that? “I’ve got a ride if we got a place to be.”

Delta looked over their van. Skulker had, somehow, reduced the engine block to a molten, twisted crater. This isn’t going anywhere. “I’ve got a place we can lay low,” said Delta. I guess we were heading there anyways. 

Skulker led them off through a side alley to an old green jeep. Delta squeezed in the back, pressed between Olivia and the door. Olivia noticed her wing shoved in her face and twisted, giving her some room. The jeep started with a rattle, and Skulker drove them to Delta’s safe house. They skirted around the street with their ruined van, then headed west, toward the mountains. 

Olivia leaned forward after a minute. “Um, Be-, I mean, Skulker, how did you find us?” she asked, her voice barely audible over the engine. 

“Cops put out a presser. Said they caught you,” replied Skulker. His accent sounded vaguely mid-Atlantic, though with how fast he talked Delta couldn’t tell for certain.

“So you were just going to attack the MHU?” asked Delta, incredulous. “Also, your turn is up here.”

“Fuck no! Lookin’ for opportunities,” replied Skulker, spinning the steering wheel. “Like a van tearin’ outta HQ for some weird reason.”

Nomad took a break from staring out the window to ask, “How do you two know each other?” 

“Ran into each other,” replied Skulker. “Decided to help each other out.” Delta leaned forward to get around the wing, catching Olivia’s attention for confirmation. It took a few awkward seconds for Olivia to get the unasked question, but she nodded. 

OK, there’s got to be more to it than that. “What were you doing when this happened?” asked Delta.

Olivia opened her mouth to respond, but Skulker beat her to the punch, saying, “Fuckin’ with Sanchez.”

“Did you even know who that was?” Delta asked Olivia.

“A bad guy?” replied Olivia. Delta nodded, thinking, That’s it, huh? You had no idea what you were doing, did you.

They pulled into a light industrial park. Two single floor off white buildings ran in parallel to each other, each a row of offices and attached warehouses half a block long. A battered old “FOR SALE” sign fluttered in the breeze near the roof alongside one of the broken cords that had kept it in place. A single dead tree stood out in a bleak landscape of concrete and asphalt, the parking lots completely empty save a few cars at the far end of the park. 

“My unit is over here. Park in the back, it’s out of the way,” said Delta. 

It had been one of her uncle’s auto shops, until he died of a heart attack a few years ago and summarily closed for lack of business. She doubted anyone remembered it, or cared, so she ‘borrowed’ the keys. In bits and pieces over the year since she’d moved to the city, she’d turned it into her own safe house off the grid.

“You sure? Looks like there might be another Olivia lurkin’ around in here,” said Skulker.

“What?” asked Olivia

“You don’t live here. Know if this place has been broken into while you’re away?”

“I made a special security system for this myself. I would have installed it in my MHU workshop too, if Cyrus would have let me.” Nomad snorted out a reluctant laugh.

As they approached, Delta hit a button on her key chain. With a happy beep, the lock on the steel door disengaged, letting them into the main workshop area. The automatic lights flickered alive. Oil and grease stained the concrete floor.  

The shop wasn’t big, with room for only six cars, and a small office space connected to it out front. She’d left the office empty, keeping up the appearance that the shop was abandoned. The city grid didn’t officially connect to the building. Unofficially, Delta had tapped into it anyways. She even paid utilities under a ghost address to reduce the likelihood of questions being asked by some accountant somewhere. She had shoved the remaining automotive equipment into a corner when she’d moved in, constantly forgetting to sell it off when she had free time. Joke’s on me, I never have free time.

“Looks like you were ready for this,” observed Skulker.

“Seems like it,” replied Delta.

“Why the fuck does a cop do somethin’ like this?”

She shrugged, unable to muster the energy to argue further. “Who knows?” Olivia swayed on her feet. Nomad stared off into the distance when he thought no one watched, eyes tight with worry. “I wasn’t expecting guests. I’ve only got a cot for myself. I’ll see what I’ve got stored away for you two.”

***

They slept like the dead for twelve hours. Skulker left them alone after they got settled, promising to be back later. Delta was the first to wake up to a blessedly silent shop. She got her backup workshop organized, at a loss for anything else to do. I could run, I guess. I don’t think the new identity trick is going to work twice, the MHU busted me once already. Nomad and Olivia woke up a little later. Both said little to nothing, beyond bare necessities. What are we going to do? Is there even a we? I guess we have to figure out what’s going on.

“Hey, we’re on the news,” Delta called out to the others. She turned up the volume of her computer speakers so the others could hear. 

Delta only had one chair, the one she currently occupied, and there was no other furniture beyond the desks she had covered with various electronic devices. Most everything that had been in the shop before her had been sold off after her uncle’s death. The monitor she had displayed the news on, the largest she had, rested on an old toolbox. I should make sure there’s nothing important in there at some point.

“Recovery efforts continue at the Westward City Meta-Human Unit headquarters this morning,” began an attractive blond anchor for the morning news of one of the local channels, shuffling her papers and maintaining a plastic smile. “The damage left by Cyrus, formerly the head of the MHU, is extensive. Thankfully, the unit has reported no casualties, and the damage to the headquarters will be repaired within a month. Marcus Vandeberg has stepped in as acting head in the meantime.”

Her older male co-anchor, plastered with a similar smile, continued, “Also at large are Cyrus’ accomplices, Amanda Broussard, also known as Delta, and Christopher Smith, also known as Nomad. These two are meta-humans and former officers of the MHU.” Pictures of Delta and Nomad appeared on screen. “The two appear to be in possession of the feral spotted several times in the city, taken into custody by the MHU just yesterday.” The picture of Olivia in her bed sheet popped up.

“After the clash, the suspects fled the scene. The suspects are believed to be working with a vigilante known as Skulker. Representatives from both the MHU and city hall declined to comment.”

A hotline number appeared at the bottom of the screen. “If you have any information regarding these four, please contact this number provided by the USMHD.” They changed camera angles, moving on to the next news story. “Is your teen truly safe from drugs? The answer, of course, is no. A concerning trend is rising among high school students, called Getting Fucked Up, where they smoke all of the drugs at once, while drunk.”

Delta exited the window the news was opened in and turned to the others. Nomad lay on his back on the floor, using a lumpy bag as a pillow. He checked his phone for the fifth time in as many minutes. I need to talk with him about that. The moment he walks out of here they might ping us. Olivia sat nearby, arms wrapped around her knees.

“Well, everyone knows our names now, if they didn’t know before,” Delta said.

“Did they say you owned me?” That was from Olivia, who hadn’t spoken a word since waking.

Delta hesitated, as did Nomad. Oh well, she’ll hear it eventually. Delta said, “I think, like, by law, you aren’t a person. Somewhere in between animal and person, in terms of rights at least. So, you know, feral fighting rings are illegal, no torturing them for fun, and so on, but I don’t think voting is in your future. Or taxes! See? Silver linings.” What the hell am I babbling about? Taxes? You just told her another way she’s getting screwed. But Olivia smiled slightly at the tax thing, though she looked at the ground, and didn’t raise further comments, so Delta was willing to let it lie. ‘Possession’. Poor girl.

Three knocks on the back door caught their attention. They froze. The next three knocks cut the tension in the room. Skulker had bothered to come back, instead of leaving them out to dry. 

“Hey! Got food,” he said as Nomad opened the door. Plastic bags rustled as he walked in. He looked around as he unloaded. “Sad an’ quiet today, are we?”

“Fuck you,” replied Delta, helping herself to a bagel. Skulker laughed, tossing what looked like a plate sized cut of ham towards Olivia. They stirred to life, the need for food cutting through depression induced stupor.

Skulker sauntered up to Delta once they’d finished. “Hey hon, my rifle’s been real banged up lately. Got time to take a look at it? I think Overlord made it. Not sure, those mercs weren’t the sharin’ type.” Crude innuendo and resulting fury came to mind, before he slung a giant rifle off his shoulder and offered it to her. Oh, it is just a rifle.

Delta stopped herself from reflexively saying no. Overlord? How in the hell did you get a hand on that? Even if Overlord himself hadn’t touched it, his undercover research companies based everything on his technology, which was some of, if not the most advanced created by man. Learning is power. She hadn’t known how a circuit board worked as a child, but her power went haywire the first time she experimented with the insides of a computer when she was twelve. 

“Gimme,” she said, turning around and extending her hands. If he’s lying I’ll figure out real quick.

“You’re a real techie after all. Just say Overlord an’ they all perk right up,” he said, handing over the rifle and heading over to Olivia.

“Uh huh.” Delta set down the rifle on the desk and began disassembling. Let’s see here. This has got to have a crazy power source. Tracing this back here…no. This? Yeah. Holy… She stared at the power source. She continued to stare, until she was dragged back to reality by a hesitant tap on her shoulder.

She jerked a bit and turned. There stood a concerned Olivia and an amused Skulker. “Are you OK?” asked Olivia, while Skulker craned his neck to get a look at his rifle.

“Are you gonna put it back together?” he asked. “Been starin’ at it for fifteen minutes now. Can’t shoot anythin’ with it like that.”

“Yeah, sorry,” said Delta. Nomad paid them no mind, still glued to his phone. Ungh, headache coming on. But if this puts out the power I’m thinking it does, it has some insane heat sinks or something. Dissipated energy has to go somewhere. She continued, confirming her suspicions with various devices along the barrel. If I could put these on a large scale, I am one step closer to my own set of power armor. This is definitely what melted our van.

Delta could cover the electronics of a suit just fine, but there was so much more. She wasn’t a mechanical engineer, so the joints, strength enhancement, and overall design were beyond her. She could develop a power source just fine, but thermodynamics had been her stumbling block, at least until now. Got to keep the pilot from being roasted alive, after all. While a staple of front line engineers, sets of power armor were few and far between. There were a limited number who could afford to build and maintain them. 

She checked over the rest of the rifle, rerouting the few wires a little further away from the barrel, and reassembled it. Skulker and Olivia might have talked to her at that point, she didn’t really pay attention.

She practically shoved the rifle back at Skulker before wheeling over on her chair to her main computer to start writing down all the different ideas her power provided her. Skulker led Olivia away, and she was blessedly alone with her thoughts once more. She couldn’t remember it all on her own, and just letting it simmer in her mind would bring the headache to full force. She lost track of time again. She would prefer to bounce some of the ideas off of some other engineers, see if they had any insight she had not considered. Wait a minute, all the ones I know think I’m a traitor. Damn you, Marcus.

“What are we doing?” asked Nomad, his voice bringing Delta back to reality once more. He’d put down his phone and now paced back and forth in the shop. “We can’t just sit here.” Looks like he finally woke up.

“I’m just here in case anythin’ interesting’ happens,” replied Skulker.

“I’m being serious,” replied Nomad, his face betraying no hint of annoyance.

“So am I,” said Skulker with a shrug.

“Wish granted. We can’t sit here. What are we doing? Or are we just going to scatter and hope for the best?” Olivia flinched at the mention of scattering.

“Marcus is who got us into this mess,” said Delta. 

“Marcus is a bit out of our reach,” pointed out Nomad. “And I really doubt this was all just him.”

“Sanchez probably wants all us dead,” said Skulker. “Definitely wants me and ‘liv’.” Liv? Oh, Olivia.

“Cyrus seemed to think Sanchez had a rat in the MHU,” said Nomad. 

“Not the only thing he’s doin’,” added Skulker. “Movin’ stuff for Overlord, too.”

“We’ll need to figure out how to deal with him. That will probably put us back in people’s good graces, prove that we aren’t working with him. We’ll get vigilante or mercenary status, better than arrest on sight. Are we all on board with this?”

“All of us?” asked Delta.

“Divided we fall,” said Nomad. “I’m not sure who else I can trust. Do you?” No. Delta kept silent. “Then let’s do this.”

15: USMHD

A shiver ran through Olivia. The cold metal of the wall of the van kept her on the edge of her bench opposite Nomad. The silence, save for the rumble of the engine, only made the piercing sourceless ringing in her ears all the more noticeable. Since the attack, nothing about her seemed to work. Moving hurt her bullet bruises, her joints ached with every jostle from the van, and her brain kept her from concentrating, buzzing between awful possibility to awful possibility. 

She snuck a look at Nomad, the only other person she could see in the van. A dark blue bandana wrapped across his face, just below the eyes. He pulled off his grey camo cap, matching the rest of his combat fatigues, and ran a hand through sweaty blonde hair. She flinched at the sight of the short rifle on a strap across his chest. 

After a couple minutes of otherwise silent driving, one of the officers called out to the back, “Everything alright back there?”

“We’re good,” called out Nomad in response. To Olivia he asked, “How are you holding up?”

Olivia hugged her arms tighter around herself. Bad. Does he care? The other officer seemed mad at him for not hurting me more. “I’m still here,” mumbled Olivia, staring at her feet. She was silent for another minute, gathering her thoughts, then asked, “Why are you doing this?”

“What do you mean?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

She took a deep breath. “Weren’t you looking for me too? Like the guys who attacked?”

His head rocked back a bit. “We were looking for you, yeah. But to help, not murder you.”

“Help? The same police that are with animal control, hunting me down?” asked Olivia. Why all the guns? Wait, because I’m a monster. 

Nomad focused on the hat in his hands for a moment. “Have you seen someone with animal control here?” he asked. Only the police. After she shook her head, he continued, “I won’t claim I’ve been exactly where you are right now, but I’ve been close. You aren’t the first person to get powers and panic.”

“Everyone is scared of me,” she mumbled. 

“People would be forgiving but you’re a feral,” said Nomad with a weary shrug. “I don’t know about you, but that seems wrong, dismissing someone out of hand like that.”

They shifted in their seats a bit as the van slowed. She could hear sirens everywhere, though there were no windows in the back of the van to see where they were.

“Here we are,” called out the driver.

Nomad put his hat back on and straightened up. “Alright, there’s going to be a lot of people. You’ll get out first. Just stay calm, and we’ll get this sorted out.”

Olivia nodded, fighting back the churning feeling in her stomach. I don’t have much of a choice, do I? The van came to a stop, and with a heavy metallic thunk the back doors opened. She found herself greeted by a good dozen MHU officers in the same grey camo as Nomad, watching her like hawks from a distance. Olivia ducked her head down to attract less attention. 

 Delta rejoined them, as the other officers milled around in confusion. 

“This isn’t Processing. Why’d they drop us off here?” asked Delta.

“Something’s going on,” replied Nomad. He turned and called out to the van driver over the engine, “Why are we in the garage?”

The driver leaned out of the window and shrugged. “HQ told us to. Processing is still under renovation.” Olivia stiffened. They keep saying that. What is Processing?

From across the room, Olivia could hear Bob, barking into a phone, “What do you mean it’s still being worked on? They were supposed to finish that months ago!” She couldn’t hear the other cop’s response through the ringing in her ears, but Bob’s voice boomed out, “It’s already over budget, what are we paying for? Fine, we’ll put her in a normal room.”

“A normal room?” asked Olivia. 

Delta looked at her, then at Bob, still arguing over the phone. “You could hear that?” she asked. Olivia nodded. I guess he was too far away for her. 

“He might be talking about a temporary room,” replied Nomad. To Olivia he said, “Processing is just slang for registering a new meta-human. We’ll give you a room while we file the MHD paperwork.” He noticed her confusion. “The USMHD is the US Meta-Human Department. It’s mostly paperwork, like I said. There are a million laws you can run into with powers. We’re not throwing you into a pit or anything. It’s for your protection as much as ours.” 

Why is everyone being so vague? I’m stupid, there’s probably something I don’t know. Olivia nodded along. I guess Nomad knows. He’s OK. Bob gave a signal, and half of the officers with Nomad and Delta led her through a series of hallways. She ducked to keep her wings from smacking into the solid concrete walls and ceiling. The sheer weight and presence of the building pressed in on her, the usual noises of the city completely cut off. 

Finally, they came to an open door. Inside lay a clear, neat room, with a bed, desk, and TV built into the wall. Bob motioned for her to go in, saying, “You’ll wait here until we call you for questioning.”

She hesitantly moved forward, then stopped in the doorway. Half turning, she asked, “Excuse me?” 

“Hmm?” he grunted curiously.

“I’m not going to be sent to a lab or something, right?” she asked, stumbling over the words. 

Confusion briefly crossed Bob’s face, but he responded, “It’s not for me to say.” With that he motioned to the room again. 

Nomad leaned in and tapped a panel on the inside of the room. “Just give us a shout if you need anything. I’ll see if we can find a change of clothes that will fit you.”

The door slid closed behind her with a deep, metallic clunk. Now alone, Olivia let out a shaky breath, tension she didn’t realize was there releasing from her shoulders. The lack of dust in the new room caught her off guard. The bed, the desk, everything was clean and neat, like nothing she’d seen before. Despite that, she couldn’t help but notice the lack of windows, or the locked door behind her. On autopilot, Olivia headed in the direction of the walled off section to find a small bathroom with a shower. The smell of cleaning chemicals in a confined space made her eyes water, but the mirror above the sink gave her a good look at herself.

Bullet holes riddled her shirt, with the occasional splatter of reddish brown blood. She poked at an isolated hole on her side, and flinched when she aggravated an ugly black and blue bruise on her rib. The shirt was originally plain green with some small company logo on it, but was now a mixture of green and blood, and her mouth… She dry heaved in the direction of the toilet, but managed to keep it down. She grabbed a towel, soaked it in the sink, and scrubbed with all her strength, not daring to look at the mirror again until finished.

I should get clean. Get everything clean. Olivia spat out a few strands of towel caught on her shark teeth, then stripped off her ruined clothes and stumbled into the shower. After poking at the unfamiliar controls and getting a blast of ice water to the chest for her troubles, she got the thing working and warm. Streaks of brown ran into the drain as weeks of grime washed off of her.

Now what? Something gnawed at the pit of her stomach, far worse than when she had stolen food and clothes. Who did I kill? Did they deserve it? How could I even do something like that? She leaned against the wall with her shoulder with her head hanging low, in part to get her hair wet, in part out of lack of energy. Why am I not crying? I should be crying, shouldn’t I? Is something else wrong with me?

It only dawned on Olivia to exit the shower once a tingling sensation spread under the scales on her hands and feet. After drying off, she lifted her bloodied rag of a shirt. I don’t want to wear this again. She wrapped the towel around herself as best she could and poked her head into the main room. A soft green light shone above a panel set into a wall near the door. Inside she found a t-shirt and khaki pants, which after cutting managed to be both too wide and too short, but beat the towel.

According to the small digital clock on the stand next to the bed, she wound up waiting about an hour. At one point she tried to stretch her wings, only to smack against the walls halfway through. The soft clean bed did have appeal, but the strange chemical and oil smell of the cell kept her pacing and agitated. What are they going to do? What’s Ben doing? Am I going to a lab? Maybe that would be better for everyone. I wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone there. 

She jumped at the sound of a beep from over the door. It opened a few moments later to reveal three armored officers, including Nomad. He’d removed his bandana, revealing a square jaw that completed a blocky head. He gave her a nod and asked, “Feeling better?

What am I supposed to say? She nodded back. That’s what he does. I guess that seems right.

Once it became clear she had nothing to add, he asked, “Would you come with us? We’d like a record of your time in the city so far.”

She mutely complied. They led her through the maze once more. At some point, the concrete walls opened a bit, looming less and allowing her to walk without stooping over to accommodate her wings. They came to a stop in a well lit concrete room with a metal table in the center, with two chairs on either side. A black glass window took up the wall to the left. They indicated she should take the far seat, then two of the officers left, leaving Nomad standing at the door. 

Five minutes passed in awkward silence. Olivia fidgeted nervously on the edge of her seat. Stupid backrest. She could hear faint murmurs from outside the room, occasionally rising in volume, then falling again. Finally, the door opened and in walked a tan, middle aged man with a long dark beard. Her brow furrowed as something made her hackles rise. 

He introduced himself as he sat across from her, “Good afternoon. My name is Cyrus. I’m here to ask you some questions. For the record, please state your name.” He opened a folder on the table before them and pulled out a few sheets of paper.

“Olivia.” He seemed to be waiting for something else. She fixed her eyes on the desk in front of him. “That’s it.” It took her a moment to recognize what felt off about him. After the whirlwind of the last few hours, the calm he radiated struck her. His heart beat slowly, regularly, his breathing the same. Maybe I just haven’t met anyone who is calm. Everyone is always moving and shouting. Why is he so weird though? He smells normal.

He nodded and said, “We would like your account of the events this morning.” 

I killed people. “Um, OK,” she said, thinking of what to say. She mumbled out what she could remember, as best she could. Cyrus listened without reaction, interrupting only to ask short clarifying questions. 

“What were you doing in that building in the first place?” he asked, once she stammered to a halt. 

“I lived there.”

He pulled out a piece of paper from the back of his folder and started at it for a moment. As the silence stretched on, Olivia glanced at Nomad, who let a brief look of confusion cross his face at Cyrus. Finally, he asked, “Are you familiar with the experiments of the Italian?” She blinked. What? “I can’t seem to remember his name, never mind. Of all places in the city, why live there?”

Once Olivia recovered from the whiplash from the first nonsense question, she replied, “It was there.” He paused, eyes narrowing. Did I say something wrong? “I mean, when I woke up,” she added. 

He nodded, accepting her explanation. Olivia flinched slightly, eyes still firmly planted on the desk. After a quick glance at his papers, he asked, “You woke up there. How long ago do you remember? We know some strange things happen to feral minds.”

He ran through a battery of questions with her, most the same as the ones Skulker had done a few days ago. No, I don’t remember anything. No, not even names and faces or anything else. Yes, I got my name from a newspaper. Sorry.

“No. I kind of…learned everything from scratch. Or relearned, I guess,” she said,  I know, I’m weird. 

“Why hide, instead of trying to find help?” 

Because look at me. She managed to mumble, “I…I don’t…know. I didn’t…didn’t know what…was going on.” Why am I stammering so much? “I don’t want…to be dissected or anything.” Shut up, I should just shut up.

“Have you ever been to the Balkans?”

Previous thoughts cast aside, she asked, “What?”

He nodded, as if the question and her answer made an ounce of sense. “That’s right, no. Good. You weren’t completely by yourself though. I’m given to understand that you had an accomplice, correct? Someone else with you?”

“Oh. Be-” she cut herself off. I shouldn’t tell them his name, right? “I mean, Skulker was there… sometimes.”

“Would you mind explaining who that is.”

“Um, a vigilante?” That’s the word he used, right? 

“What were you doing with him?”

“He said… said that there was… a bad guy, and I could help him… Skulker stop him, the bad guy.”

“And you just did?”

“I don’t… don’t know. I thought it was, you know, the right thing to do.” They were trying to hurt people. 

“Are you aware that your attackers from this morning were part of that gang?”

“No.” I guess that makes sense though. They got angry.

“Did any of your attackers have any powers?” he asked. “Any abilities out of the ordinary?” Why is he talking weird and formal?

“Yes.”

“Could you describe them?”

“I told someone this already. Right?”

“We already have Nomad’s testimony. We need a record from you, though.”

Record? It’s the same thing. He probably said it better, too. “OK. Um…the Tod guy. He hit me a couple times. He moved really fast when he did. I think I hit him back though.” And he screamed and, no, no.

“Solid Tod hit you?” asked Cyrus, bringing her back to reality.

“A couple of times,” she replied. “Um…three or four times, I think. It hurt.”

“Could you describe him? If you saw a picture of him could you identify him?” 

“I don’t…I don’t remember it too well.”

Cyrus remained silent for a moment. I messed up something didn’t I? Olivia looked around, but found nothing helpful in the featureless walls of the interrogation room. Nomad shifted around since Cyrus’ nonsense questions, though he’d remained completely silent the whole time. Does he want to say something?

Olivia took a deep breath, readying herself. “Um, excuse me, um…Cyrus?”

She waited until he said, “Yes?”

“What…exactly, is going to happen…now?”

Cyrus seemed to consider his words. “I will advise that you receive no charges, you fall under current USMHD guidance despite the nature of your power. You will need to register in their system, but I’ll confess I have no idea what forms will be applicable to you.” 

OK, that’s not so bad. 

He continued, “You will be sent to the feral institute in Houston.” Nononononono. “There you can receive medical care, safety, and education.” Institute? Isn’t that a fancy lab?

It took Olivia a moment to find her voice. “I don’t…” What if they get angry? “I don’t think that… I would like that.”

“The Department helps new meta-humans test their powers. Additionally, you would be well cared for. No squatting in an abandoned old apartment. We might be able to figure out your past and real name.”

But it doesn’t sound like he’s giving me a choice. She glanced at the door. I don’t want to get shot again. “OK,” she whispered.

“Good. I believe we are done here, if you have no more questions for me.” She shook her head. “Nomad will see you back to your room.” With that, Cyrus rose and exited the room.

Olivia followed Nomad out with heavy footsteps. What am I doing? The two other officers from before followed after them. I’m going to a lab.

“Nomad, you stay here,” called out a curt voice from around the corner. 

Nomad grunted softly. “I’ll talk to you when I get that over with. It’s not as bad as it sounds.” He hurried off, leaving Olivia with her two guards. She trudged after them. I’m going to a lab. The hallways twisted and turned, leading her deeper into the tomb. They returned to her room, a cell for all intents and purposes.

“Here you go,” said one of  the officers.

A thud shook Olivia and her guards, the solid walls of the building vibrating from some impact. The air tugged at her wings, half outstretched from surprise. A dull roar built up in her ears, growing closer and closer. She dug in and covered her face just in time for a wall of air to slam into them. The guards were thrown off their feet and sent tumbling ten feet down the hallway. Olivia found herself forced to take a step to keep her balance. 

One of the guards groaned and rolled over. What was that? Olivia looked at them and the open cell door. I don’t want to go to a lab. The other struggled to get back to his feet. What do I do? What if they get mad? The one on the ground coughed out some of the dust that the air had kicked up. I need to do something. 

“No, don’t!” The guards noticed her line of sight as they got their bearings. “Fuck! Stop!” they yelled out as she took off. She thundered through the halls, heedless of her wings smacking into walls and an unfortunate fire extinguisher. A gunshot went off right as she rounded a corner, sending a bullet ricocheting off the walls and away. They’re mad. 

She sniffed the air once she got some distance from the guards, following the smell of fresh air. Shouts and alarms filled the air. Another rumble filled the building, though this time not accompanied by a shockwave. She backtracked as best she could from where they’d brought her in from, though she took more than one turn into a dead end. At one point, she found a shattered window with a set of bars she couldn’t budge. Finally, she burst through a door and found herself in the vehicle bay where the van had brought her in. 

The bay was nearly abandoned, save for a van idling near the one open garage door. The sirens shrieked louder here. On the other end of the room, the double doors burst open. Olivia and Nomad stared at each other. The panic on his face mirrored her own. 

“Get in!” yelled Delta, leaning out of the open window of the idling van and waving to Nomad. She’s here too? Why is she here? What’s going on?

Nomad didn’t hesitate, sprinting for the back of the van. Olivia followed a moment later. They piled in, Nomad slamming the door shut behind them. He scrambled up to the front of the van and slammed his fist on the panel in the front. It slid down to reveal Delta in the driver’s seat. “Go!” yelled Nomad.

Delta jumped at the sight of Olivia. “Is she going to try to kill us?”

No! Nomad glanced at Olivia. “No.”

Delta shrugged and gunned the engine, pulling out of the garage doors. Nomad groaned as he leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his hair. “Marcus shot Cyrus in the head. He was coming for me next.” Oh god.

“Holy shit,” said Delta. 

Nomad stared at the back of her head, jaw slack and eyes distant. “You don’t understand. He got back up.”

“Cyrus?” asked Delta.

“Yes!”

“You just said he got shot in the head,” she replied, bewildered. Olivia tucked in her tail and wings as best she could, head whipping back and forth between the two cops as they spoke.

“I know. He did. He got back up.”

Delta took her eyes off the road to face Nomad. “He just controls air. He doesn’t have a freaky resurrection power.” Air? Did he do that to the building? He didn’t seem worried about me.

“That’s what I thought. Jeremiah yelled out something about resisting. I didn’t get a good look, they were putting me in cuffs too. I turned around and saw Cyrus get up with half his skull missing. He told everyone to run and I didn’t argue.”

“He said something was going to go down when we came back, and that I should keep a van ready. I didn’t think he’d be shot. He didn’t say anything about Marcus going off the deep end.”

Delta nodded. “He said that would happen. Marcus freaking out, I mean.”

“They were yelling about you,” said Nomad.

“I bet,” replied Delta. Instead of elaborating further, she said, “I’ve got a place we can go.”

“Did you do it?” Nomad asked, voice dead serious. Olivia felt her hands open, revealing claws. What is going on? With everything? Why is the crazy guy dead? And not dead? And Delta is here? Why was he crazy? He seemed important, how does someone crazy get important?

“What?”

“They said you were leaking info. That you were messing with HQ computers.”

“No and yes. I wiped my workstation when Cyrus tipped me off and-”

A bright flash struck the front of the van, leaving it a molten crater. Someone screamed, or perhaps all of them, as Delta lost control of the van and it flipped.

14: Spiral

Every time Olivia looked out, it took her a moment to recognize the city without the lights on. While distant towns and suburbs still had power, forming patches of soft light on the horizon, darkness shrouded most of the city. Olivia, on the roof of her apartment building, craned her neck up. Hey, I can see a couple stars. They’re so pretty. The constant blaring of sirens all around broke the otherwise tranquil early morning, just before daybreak. She took a deep breath of fresh air, steeling herself for a trip to a familiar fetid dumpster, and headed back down the stairs.

In the hour since she and Skulker had gone their separate ways for the night, she’d finally tackled the task of cleaning up her only recently inhabited apartment. She’d tucked in chunks of carpet torn by time or her own clawed feet where she could, moving an old rug from another apartment over a massive hole where she couldn’t. Dust, collected over an unknown number of years, filled up most corners of her home. Old wrappers, nearly a dozen empty plastic water bottles, and more had piled up as she tried to figure out what to do with it all. What if I need the bottles for something else? But I guess if I haven’t used any of this stuff I may as well get rid of it. But what if I need it? Maybe keep half. With a salvaged intact garbage bag in tow, she gathered up everything she didn’t need or want in her apartment and headed downstairs to toss it out.

The dumpster smelled exactly as foul as the day she’d woken up behind it. Just as she dumped her trash, the rumbling of multiple engines caught her ear. A series of headlights approached, screeching to a halt on the street right in front of her building. She pulled back, getting the battered door closed just in time as a car door opened.

They aren’t the police. Why are they here? She hurried away, keeping her ears focused on the outside. Footsteps and hushed voices reached her.

“You see this door? It’s here,” said a husky woman’s voice, barely above a whisper.

“Careful, there might be someone with it,” replied a different, male voice. The damaged door squealed as they forced it open.

They’re looking for me, she realized. Who are they? She ran as fast as her clawed feet would allow for the stairs, back to the relative safety of her apartment.

“There!” someone cried out before Olivia could get her tail through the doorway. 

She scrambled up the stairs, taking steps two at a time. A sudden, low boom shook the building, enough to trip her up. She dug her claws in and got moving again as she thought, Not my apartment, just a window. More booms in rapid succession rang out, getting closer. She tore through the first exit she could, the booms right behind her. A sudden impact threw Olivia off her feet, slamming her into the nearby wall. Half of her torso shattered the wood and drywall, leaving her partially embedded. Her eyes struggled to focus, dazed from the sudden hit.

“You find it, Tod?” called out a man’s voice from down below.

“Yeah.” Through the blur, she spied the brick of a man who’d spoken across the hallway, filling the doorway.

Olivia placed a hand on the ruined wall and forced most of herself out, regaining a foothold on the floor. Dust and small chunks of rubble rained down, forcing her to duck her head down to keep her eyes clear. A low, threatening hiss escaped her throat in a desperate attempt to warn him off.

“Whoa, it’s still moving. Get up here!”

She wrenched herself free of the wall. Her wings tried to spread, though her right wing was sore and bent at an odd angle. “Go away!” she roared. This is my home.

Despite the distance between them, Tod began to wind up a lazy punch. Then, a now familiar boom rang out and he shot forward, almost too quick to see. His fist slammed into the center of Olivia’s chest and sent her careening through the already ruined wall. With another hiss, she hit the floor and pulverized the remains of the wall beneath her.

He stared at her for a split second. “Fucking die already!” She took another boom and a hit before she could get free.

This time she bounced off a solid concrete wall. Her claws rolled under her feet instead of catching solid footing, bringing her down to her hands and knees. She ducked her head down, taking the next impact on her shoulders. Without anywhere to fling her, the man was now right beside her. She didn’t know who he was, but she didn’t care, this was his fault. Her hand swung out and caught the edge of his leg as a boom rang out and he pulled back. The iron smell of blood filled her nostrils. Shouting echoed in from the Olivia sized hole in the wall as she forced herself back onto her feet.

A handful of people rushed into position, heavy rifles at the ready. Go away. The first bullet went wide, hitting the wall off to her left and ricocheting off with a spark. Most hit their mark with sharp strikes that knocked the wind out of her. Stop. She covered her face with a scaly hand and rushed for a window. Four steps away the gunfire petered off. Two steps away a fist slammed into the back of her knee, bringing her down a few feet from freedom. 

I can’t run. The big man drove a hard kick into her chest, tossing her away from the window as the boom shattered the glass. Two bullets snapped through the air just above her head. She rolled to a stop, lungs burning as they struggled to take in air. One hand digging into the wall, she hauled herself to her feet, bracing herself. With a now familiar boom, he shot forward, slamming into her shoulder. Rather than simply take the blow, she pushed into it. 

Something broke. 

His arm bent in the middle of the forearm as she shoved into his fist with her shoulder. Her sheer mass slammed into him, knocking him aside. With her heart pounding in her ears, she continued her charge towards the others. They reacted almost in slow motion, only a few shots hitting her before she closed the gap. Survival took over, and they abandoned their ruined wall, their few parting shots going wide. 

One man didn’t dodge out of the way fast enough, blocked in the hallway by the backs of his retreating friends. Her claws dug into the side of his gut, hooking him in and slamming him against the wall. He crumpled to the ground, unmoving. With the sound of his cut-short scream, others found their nerves. The nearest man spun around, finger pulling on the trigger with wild abandon. One bullet caught her in the side of the neck, leaving her choking with a half-clogged windpipe. Another of the attackers grabbed the unmoving man by the back of his collar and began dragging him away. By the time she hacked and coughed her throat clear, all she was left with was a series of shut doors and a blood smear along the floor.

She wiped a lock of sweaty hair out of her face with the back of her hand. Attackers were still here, hiding. She could hear them. Smell them. Someone spoke, voice hushed and frantic, behind a door at the far end of the building. The smell of fresh sweat and blood oozed from the crack below. She shoved her claws into the old wood and ripped it off its hinges, tossing it aside.

For her efforts she received a bullet to the shoulder and bicep, forcing her out the doorway. With a snarl she tried to push in again, only to be forced back by yet more bullets. Frustration boiled over in her with the smell of attackers so close. The third try only one bullet hit her, before the shots stopped entirely. Two attackers knelt at the far end of the room with the injured one laying behind them, fumbling with their weapons. She charged, long strides closing the distance before the attackers could do more than cry out.

A familiar scent caught her nose as she towered over the attackers with an overhead blow. She turned and dug her claws deep into the floor, just in time to catch the boom and hit that would have sent her careening back. An uppercut caught her in the chin, sending her rocketing into the ceiling. Her wings flailed out, failing to deaden the fall as she collapsed back on the ground at the big man’s feet.

Her hand slammed into the floor just inches behind his bloody calf as he withdrew. Another attacker kicked her across the back of her head from the other side. It didn’t hurt too much, so she ignored it to keep watch on the big one. He kept his distance with her eyes on him, stepping to the side while cradling his crooked left arm. Another step would take him out of her sight from her vantage point on the ground, and a second kick to the head didn’t help her concentration.

She ducked her head and rolled over, the attackers shouting something to each other. The one kicking her stumbled out of her way. She took a boom and hit on the shoulder once more and continued rising to her feet, until a metallic click caught her ear. The third attacker held a rifle at her chest point blank and fired. From five feet away they couldn’t miss, and they didn’t spare the trigger.

Her hand flailed out as she spasmed in pain, a claw catching a flute in the barrel’s edge. She pulled in and grabbed the rifle with a roar, shoving it in any direction other than her’s. The armed attacker pushed back, the other two jumping in and throwing themselves on her other arm. She lunged forward against all of them, biting into the throat and twisting head as she withdrew. As the gun fell to the floor, her tail lashed out and caught an attacker in the hip, knocking them back.

She turned towards the big one, hands wrapped around her arm but frozen. Her gaze jolted him into action. Her free hand shot out and her claws raked deep into his already broken arm. He pulled back before they could get too deep, though blood poured from the wound.  

Reeking of desperation, the man ducked low and to the side. As she spun towards him, he lunged forward with a boom, shoulder checking her in the gut. Instead of hitting another wall, or stumbling on clawed feet to the ground, glass shattered around her as she burst through the window he’d put at her back. Wings and limbs flailed as she grabbed at air.

The pavement knocked the breath out of her. Bits of broken glass rained down around her. Wrath pushed her through the pain and onto her feet once more, the smell of more attackers in her nostrils. Two more stood before her dressed in grey, saying something. She roared and charged the bigger one. 

Just as her hand reached him, he exploded into some strange, light blue goo, her claws carving harmlessly through. The goo flowed around her on its own accord and engulfed her head. She thrashed against the suffocation, her leg spasming as something painful thrust into it with a shock. Lungs burning, vision fading as the air ran out, she slashed at the goo, even as she lost her balance and toppled to the ground. The world went black.

***

Flashing lights hit her eyes, dragging her back to consciousness. Loose gravel from the asphalt dug into the back of her skull. She hurt all over, as if people had been beating her with chains for several hours. There was a strange taste in her mouth. She could hear and smell people near, very near. She tried to roll over away from them, her movements clumsy and slow.

They weren’t shooting or hitting. Just talking, clearly and urgently. “We’ll give this one last try.”

Where am I? Who am I? “Nonononono, not again,” she mumbled. Not again? “No, I woke up… a couple weeks ago. I got food. I got some weird… monster body. Some people found me. Feral. Olivia. That’s… that’s my name.”

Then she remembered people talking. She looked over to the source of the voices. There stood a bulky man and a figure in grey riot gear, just watching. The earliest morning rays broke the horizon behind them.

“What happened?” asked Olivia, attempting to stand on wobbling limbs. The arm she was pushing up with stopped cooperating and she collapsed. The bruises covering her chest ached with every move. 

“Easy, easy! Can you hear us? Can you understand us?” replied the man. Through clumps of sweaty hair, she focused her tired eyes on them. Both kept their distance from Olivia, hands on weapons and shoulders hunched and wary. She got herself upright, wings splayed to either side.

“Yes, I understand.” I can hear, I can understand, Olivia thought, more for her own benefit than theirs. “What happened?” she repeated. 

“A group of people were attacking you in there,” he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at a familiar apartment building. “Then you took a swing at us.”

Did I? Olivia stared at him blankly, then to the woman. She looked down at herself. Her hands were a muddy red. They should be green. Right? “What? Who are you?”

“My name is Nomad,” replied the man, slowly and clearly despite the blue bandana covering everything below his eyes. “This is Delta. We’re with the MHU.” Nomad knelt beside her.

“Don’t get close,” said Delta, her voice hushed.

“It’s fine.”

“There’s blood on her mouth and chin.” 

“I know,” he replied.

There is? She scratched at her chin with a tentative claw, feeling something flake off. How did…

Nomad placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, agitating a massive bruise there. “We’re going to have to figure out what happened here and get this mess sorted out,” he said, right up to the point Olivia doubled over and vomited.

She would have fallen over had Nomad not grabbed a hold of her. She was busy trying and failing to form some sort of coherent thought, there was only static in her mind. Eventually, other cop cars pulled up, along with a massive metal van. Out came about a dozen armored figures in grey.

A blur of people and talking swirled past Olivia, keeping a healthy distance. Four of the cops formed a semicircle around her twenty paces away, with her back to the van. They, too, didn’t shoot, though their hands never left their rifles and their eyes never left her. Delta peeled off to join the newcomers as most went into Olivia’s apartment building. Nomad kept by Olivia’s side the whole time talking. The words were calm, though they got lost in the haze. She pulled her knees in under her arms, keeping out of the way and out of sight as much as possible.

Another cop, a heavyset man, approached. “Nomad, that thing alright? Not giving you any problems?” he asked in a booming voice. One of the cops watching Olivia jumped with that voice in his ear.

“No, Bob,” replied Nomad.

“Good. Get over here.”

“I’ll be right back,” he said to Olivia. He got up, brushed the dirt off his knee, and joined the man who’d called him past the semicircle.

The two retreated a good distance away. Olivia looked up, focusing on what they were saying. “I’m going to need you to walk me through the short version. What the fuck just happened here,” said the other cop, Bob.

“We were checking out a few places of interest Delta had marked. We heard shots fired, investigated, and the feral was tossed out the building. We restrained her, you got here,” explained Nomad.

“And why do we now have an unstable feral to deal with?” asked Bob, his voice a strange mix of patience and fury. Olivia pulled her limbs in tighter at the sound.

“Sir?”

“Do we have any way to guarantee our safety with that thing up and moving? Solid Tod was here, and he hits like a truck. It looks like he got the feral at least twice, and it’s not a grease smear on the side of a wall. Do you think that van of ours can hold it if it wants to get out? And what will happen to all the squishy people in the way, us included, if that happens?”

“She’s good now.”

“Do you know that or do you hope that? Look me in the eye,” demanded Bob. “What kind of guarantee can you give me we’re not all in danger here? Actually, now that I think about it, why were you sitting right in claw range of the damn thing?”

Nomad replied, “I was talking with her. That’s what you do with someone with new powers. Deescalate.”

“Deescalate before it rips apart two people with its bare hands. Did you go in there yet? It’s a bloody massacre.”

“But it worked. She’s just sitting there right now.”

“You got damn lucky. Damn lucky. For all you knew, that could have gotten your throat ripped out too.”

“Doesn’t seem right,” said Nomad, voice quiet. “To just kill her while she’s out like that.”

“Between you and her, choose you,” replied Bob, the anger gone from his voice. “I would choose you. Delta, Jeremiah, all of us. And it’s not all about you. Without you there’d have been nothing between that feral and Delta.” Nomad’s back stiffened, and Bob raised a hand. “Later. It’s alive, and our job was to get it alive. Let’s get out of here. You’re the only one I can put close to it until we can get Cyrus on the horn.”

13: Nomad

Chris stomped into his apartment, throwing his blue bandana and keys into a dark green, homemade bowl on a stand beside the door. He stretched, popping his aching back, and headed for the kitchen. Alicia looked up from her notes and textbooks strewn about on the coffee table before her. The laugh track of some god-awful sitcom she insisted was good background noise blared from the TV.

She mustered a weary smile and said, “Hi dear! Late night again?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “Marcus is super pissed. Me and Delta can’t go five minutes without him bitching at us.” He grabbed a beer from the fridge and called out over his shoulder, “Want anything?”

“No, it’s eight in the morning.”

He blinked. “Really?” He checked his watch and said, “You’re right. I thought it was earlier.” Of course our feral had to get involved in a running gun battle on the streets. How dare I get some sleep? he thought.

“You thought it was earlier? That’s not better.” She moved over on the couch cleared a small area on the coffee table for him to rest his feet, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You need to shave again.”

“I know. Gearing up for another exam?” he asked shooting a glance at the medical textbooks that may as well have been written in Greek to him. “I thought you finished midterms.” She looks as tired as I feel.

“I’ve still got Unnatural Diseases tomorrow,” she replied with a sigh. “You know it’s bad when the textbooks says get a mage and pray.”

“Maybe poke them with a stick,” Chris suggested.

That got a smile out of her. “They frown on that in most hospitals. Are you almost done with your craziness?”

He sighed and leaned back, taking a drink. I know, I want this to be over with too. “It’s been almost a week and we still don’t have the feral. If it hurts someone, that’s on me.”

“It’s already attacked, hasn’t it?” Alicia asked.

“No. Well, a few thugs here and there. It’s only a matter of time before it runs into someone we have to care about.”

“Really? I’d heard that it was attacking certain people already.”

“That is true.” Chris stopped for a moment, considering his words. The vigilante is a hush hush detail. “It’s a strange case. I’ll tell you about the rest once this is over with.”

“Oh, cheating on me with a coworker I see,” she said, in the same placid tone of voice used to discuss what was for dinner.

“Yes. It’s a torrid romance. Stolen kisses in the armory, dodging detectives in the building, all that,” he replied, maintaining the same deadpan expression as Alicia. It took only a moment before their facades cracked and they burst into laughter.

She punched his shoulder and said, “You’re not going to be able to find it at all if you keep working fourteen hour nights.”

“We’re close. I’m probably going to be heading out in a couple hours. We think it’s nocturnal, and we’re trying to catch it in the day when it’s tired.”

She nodded, settling back in the couch alongside him. They enjoyed their rare moment of quiet, the terrible sitcom with its intentionally idiotic characters forgotten on the TV. Chris let the stress of the day seep out, eyelids growing heavy. His head jerked up as someone patted him on the cheek. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes to see Alicia smiling at him.

“Alright, go get some sleep,” she said. “I’ll have a lunch ready for you when you wake up.”

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, even as he stood and headed for the bedroom.

Hours later, he found Alicia curled up in a ball on the couch, notebook and highlighter in hand. On the kitchen counter lay a wrapped peanut butter sandwich. Oh hell yeah. He planted a light kiss on her forehead, then began the trudge back to MHU headquarters.

***

Chris skirted around the wall of empty instant noodle cups around Delta’s chair and tapped her shoulder. The morning shift at the MHU gave him pitying glances as he had come in, but no one said anything. He sighed. His partner threw herself at every problem like it was her last, even if she had no idea how to do it.

Delta waved him off, eyes still glued to something happening on the laptop in front of her. Two others lay off to the side, fans spinning faster and louder than Chris thought was healthy for a computer. He tapped her again.

“What?” she demanded, spinning in her chair to face him.

“Did you sleep here?” he asked, careful to keep his expression neutral. I get that spinning our wheels is frustrating but this is unhealthy. You are exactly where I left you six hours ago and smell like you haven’t taken a shower in the last day.

“What? Yeah. It’s almost done,” she said with a yawn, flicking a lazy finger over to the screen, as if Chris could easily decipher the code without context.

“What is?” he asked.

“The drone path-finding,” she replied. At the sight of his blank stare, she added. “So we can check rooftops

“No, I got that. It took you all night to make a drone go in a grid?”

“No, that took thirty minutes. And it’s five drones that I made prioritize certain areas based on the density of abandoned buildings on that list you made.”

“Good. Did you have anything to add to that?”

“Only a couple things. Oh, and I removed one or two that weren’t actually abandoned.”

“Great. Do you need me to do anything?” he asked. You look dead tired. “You don’t have to do this on your own.”

She beamed a smile at him. “Great!” In a flash, she grabbed reams of paperwork and shoved them into his unsuspecting hands. “Fill these out. Thanks!”

With that, she returned to her computer, leaving Chris little to do but return to his own desk and pull out a pen. He settled into the familiar, if mind numbing, routine of paperwork, simply approving anything Delta wanted so long as the number didn’t stick out as insanely expensive.

Cyrus approached the desk in a hurry, his black beard longer than Chris had ever seen it before. He looked almost nervous, eyes scanning Chris’ nearly unadorned desk.

“What are these?” he asked, eyeing the forms on Chris’s desk.

“Requisition forms,” replied Chris. Did I do something wrong?

“Why are you doing them? These are for engineering.”

“Yeah, Delta asked for help. You partnered us up for the feral,” Chris explained, apprehension filling him. How could you possibly forget that?

Cyrus started at him for a moment, expression blank. “Oh, right!” he said, realization dawning. You aren’t old enough to have Alzheimer’s, are you? “Sorry, there’s too much to keep track of lately.” He hurried off before Chris could question him further. Oh god, my boss is losing it, he thought, leaning his head on his hand. What was he even over here for originally?

“What did he want?” asked a slightly lisping voice from Chris’ side as two sets of footsteps approached. Jeremiah, the short haired, clean shaven man who’d spoken, grabbed a nearby chair and sat down across Chris’ desk. Bob beside him shoot a concerned look at the retreating back of Cyrus.

“I don’t know. Cyrus is going insane. Delta is going to work herself to death. One day I’ll get used to this job.”

“Techies, man. They’re weird,” said Jeremiah with a grin. As tall as Chris, though not nearly as broad shouldered, Jeremiah was part of the same squad as Chris and Bob, serving as the second in command.

“I’m just trying to lighten the load for her,” said Chris, motioning to the paperwork on his desk.

“Give her little tasks,” said Bob, his booming voice carrying through the whole office. “Techies aren’t used to dealing with things they can’t cut through in a day.”

“You’ve worked with techies before?” asked Chris.

“Yeah, a couple times,” replied Bob. “How is you two’s hunt coming along?”

“Slow. We’re planning on checking out more of the city today. We could use the help of the rest of the squad. Just house clearing, they’re probably abandoned.”

“Makes sense,” said Bob. Jeremiah nodded along behind him. “I can spare a few men. Where will we be heading?”

“I’ve got a list of locations for the rest of the squad to check out. Delta and I will be checking out everything south of Kipling.” Chris dug through the cabinet and handed him the list with the targets circled in marker.

“We’ll get on it,” said Bob, taking the paper. “Good hunting.”

***

Less than an hour later, Chris watched five small black drones buzz as they took flight. If the feral was camped out on a rooftop, it would show up on their bottom mounted cameras. They rose in perfect synchronization and spread out, far above the city. It didn’t take long for them to fly completely out of sight.

“Everything is green,” said Delta, eyes glued to her laptop.

“Then let’s get to work.”

They went from store to ATM to store, checking camera record after camera record in the time span they knew the feral to be active. And every time came up empty. Chris found himself forced into the role of talking, and occasionally smoothing the ruffled feathers from Delta’s brusque manners. As he listened to the old owner of a computer repair shop gripe at Chris about the rudeness and moral degeneracy of his generation, his eyes wandered to the window.

Across the street stood a huge cluster of buildings in terrible shape. Most hadn’t seen work done on them in decades, and thus a perfect place for a feral to hide. And there are no homeless around. We’re a good ways away from the shantytown, but this would be perfect for a little homeless community. This little shop they found themselves in, that reeked of cigarette smoke and desperation, was the only place in the area still in operation. But a little cluster of numbers caught his eye. Though he’d been the one to comb through the catalogued buildings that were slated for demolition in the next century when the local government finally got around to it, the address of the shabby six story apartment building hadn’t been one.

Once Delta confirmed there was nothing to be found in the shop’s records, Chris smiled and nodded to the owner as hurried her out and to their patrol car.

“Well, there’s nothing here,” Delta grumbled.

“What about that building over there?” he asked, eyeing the seemingly abandoned apartment building across the street.

“What about it?” she asked, following his gaze.

“I went through a ton of records, and found a lot of potential hiding places around here, but not that one, even though it looks perfect for the feral. Can you find anything on it?”

Delta opened up her laptop and began typing. “That’s bizarre,” she said, after a full minute of silence. “It’s not anywhere.”

“Not abandoned?”

“No, there are no official records of it.” She typed in something on her keyboard. “It’s apparently haunted, according to this old shitty site from twenty years ago. That’s about all I can find on it. Scratch that, that’s the only thing I can find on it.”

“There’s something going on there. That seems like a good place to check once we’re done checking cameras.” Not that that’s getting us anywhere. But we’ve already called ahead, the store owners will complain and than Marcus will actively make us miserable.

“I don’t think a feral can just delete buildings from public record.”

“No,” he said. But someone did, and might have made a perfect area for a feral to hide by accident.

***

Early the next day, Chris drove them back to the area around the hotel. The power to the city came back on in fits and starts, just in time for the sun to make the lights redundant. There’s so many abandoned buildings here. We can’t just work down a list with something like this staring at us in the face. If we keep hoping for a lucky break with cameras we’re going to be too late.

“Should we start with the apartments?” asked Delta, still upset that the drones came back with nothing, and she’d spent all night examining the footage they’d come back with to discover nothing.

“No. Our feral is avoiding people, so whoever is messing with the apartment building probably spooked it off. But there are a few unsecured shops right next door that would appeal to it,” explained Chris, climbing out of the car and grabbing his carbine and three magazines. “We’ll end there, just in case.” He shoved a magazine into his carbine and checked that the safety was on, pocketing the other two in his grey combat uniform.

She nodded, letting him lead the way, pistol drawn just in case. The baton at her hip, dull black metal instead of the standard hard plastic, practically reeked of techie tinkering. If their feral attacked, it would be in for a rude awakening.

The first building they came to was a boarded up shop, the sign long ago stolen or faded away. After testing the handle to find it locked, he motioned Delta to stand back. He shifted, body and everything on him turning to a pale blue liquid blob. Now free of pain receptors, he slammed into the door, breaking the lock and shoving it open.

Nothing but dust greeted them. Chris popped back into human form with a brief shiver and raised his carbine, keeping an eye out for any sign of life. Delta followed, pistol similarly raised. Not more than ten steps in, however, nearby popping sounds cut through the still air, in the direction of the apartment building. He and Delta exchanged worried looks.

“That was gunfire,” he said.

12: State of Mind

Olivia flexed her wings as she paced back and forth in her apartment. I’m never getting into a car again. I’m just going to fly everywhere from now on. The ache in her neck had only partially receded over the course of the day, though her gunshot bruises from the warehouse had healed over. What else do I have to do? Ben’s question echoed in her mind, What do I do?

As was becoming her ritual, she thought, I’ve been stuck in the same apartment forever so no one accidentally sees me. I just sleep away the day. At least I’m not under a microscope in some lab. She sighed. That seems like a low bar, though.

With soft hiss as her aching joints protested, Olivia wandered over to the window. Outside, a faint brown haze hung over Westward City. In the waning daylight, the constant hum of cars from the major road reached her from two streets over. Down below, a handful of people walked along the street, all on the opposite side of where Olivia’s building stood, a far cry from the near ghost town the city turned into at night.

What if someone looks in the window? Ben said I should keep out of sight. She shied away, then paused. Am I just going to keep doing this? Just never leaving my room because someone might see me? I can just go up to the roof, nothing is stopping me. No one can see up there. Besides, the sun is nice and warm, I should enjoy it before it goes down.

She headed to the rooftop, stretching out her wings to catch the sun. The city had so much more color during the day. The leaves of half of the trees along the sidewalks were budding, now that winter had ended. The other half seemed dead, brittle branches blowing stiffly in the breeze.

A car with “Police” emblazoned on its side and a set of lights affixed to the roof pulled up to a dinghy computer repair store across the street. Olivia pulled back from the edge of the roof. The doors opened, and out of the squad car came two figures, one a bulky man, the other a short haired woman. Both wore rough and baggy grey camo pants and jackets, with pistols strapped to their belts. They walked with purpose to the storefront.

Minutes passed, with Olivia hunched over at the edge of the roof, torn between fear and curiosity. Why are they here? They don’t have a computer to fix, and they don’t look like normal police officers. Don’t they usually wear blue uniforms? The sun hung low in the sky by the time they came out, both looking unhappy. The male officer started at Olivia’s building, his eyes climbing higher and higher. She ducked down, holding her breath until she heard the sounds of car doors opening and closing. When she poked her head back up, she found the two talking for a few minutes. Finally, the woman started the car and drove off towards the skyscrapers to the north.

Olivia smiled, wings slumped in relief. They’re gone! They didn’t see me! She gazed at the snow capped mountains in the distance, a handful of clouds cresting over their peaks. I could just go there. I can fly, I could just do that. Why am I just sitting here? Maybe I’ll like mountains. Wait, I’m not supposed to fly. Ben said so. But he also said I should know stuff and like stuff. And people only found us when we were driving. I won’t be in a car. I’ll fly really high. And it’s almost night time. I’ll be fine. The police didn’t see me.

She took off during a lull in the nearby foot traffic, heading west. The air grew thin and cold as she flew higher than she’d ever flown before. She passed over the sounds of construction crews working on a stretch of road covered in rubble, the clinks and engine noises still reaching her high above. A handful of geese flew in a V pattern far above her, heading south. Barely half an hour of flight passed before the city gave way to suburb, and suburb to hills covered in brown grasses and scrub brush. As she climbed, trees clung to the sides of the mountains. From up high, she could still see a small handful of roads and trails, winding and twisting through the mountain valleys.

Before her rose a severe mountain, one of several along the range, the trees giving way to grey stone a few hundred feet below the peak. Unlike some others she’d passed over, she saw no hiking trails carved into its side. She landed on a particularly large boulder, facing away from the slope. Up close, the mountain resembled more of a massive pile of rocks, rather than one of the monolithic entities they appeared to be from afar. It was quieter here. No cars or people talking or AC humming or any other one of the thousand things she constantly had to blot out in the city. A gust of wind swept by her perch, tugging at her partially folded wings.

I’m tired. Tired of not knowing what to do. Tired of being weird. Tired of being afraid. Tired of being cooped up in the same building for days. What am I doing? I still don’t know who I really am. I don’t know anything about where I am, or what to do. Ben is the only one helping me, but we haven’t gotten anywhere yet.

She looked out from her vantage point. Just over a tall hill, the city she’d fled stood under the clear blue sky. From a distance, it looked almost pretty, dozens of silver and glass towers rising from the brown plains. Mile upon mile of housing stretched out from downtown, broken up by trees.

Maybe I should save him the trouble. I could just live out here like a normal feral. He wouldn’t mind. Right? It’s not like anyone else knows or cares about me. It wouldn’t be that bad. But where would I get food? And what if it rains?

She perched on her rock until the sun finally set behind her. What am I doing?

***

Near empty streets greeted Olivia’s return. A familiar scent caught her nose as she stomped down the stairs back to her apartment. Oh no. Ben. He’s going to know I was flying around. She froze on the staircase, unable to take the last few steps down to her floor. The claws of her feet clenched, digging into the concrete steps. What if he gets mad? He’s going to know I was flying around. She cast a look over her shoulder, back up towards the roof. Maybe I should go fly somewhere else, and just wait until he leaves. But I’m not supposed to fly. I should just get this over with. He’s here for a reason.

She took the last few steps down and reached the door to her apartment, taking a deep breath. Here it goes. She found Skulker lounging on the couch, boots slung over the edge of the armrest. Both his rifle and pistol were absent, and his mask rested on his chest as he drummed his fingers along its forehead.

“Hey!” he said with a wave. “Perfect timin’. Just got here a couple minutes ago.” She nodded, mute. He swung his legs and jumped upright. “Why you lookin’ so scared?”

“I thought you’d be mad,” she mumbled in response, still halfway through the door. “I was flying, you know, before the sun set.”

He shrugged. “You do you. I ain’t gonna tell you it was a good idea, but I ain’t gonna tell you how to live your life. What were you doin’?”

“I was just in the mountains.” He isn’t mad?

“You never been up there before?” he asked.

“No,” she replied with a small shake of her head.

With a laugh he said, “You’re a real Coloradan now. Coloradoan? However the fuck you say that.”

An awkward silence filled the room. I should say something. “What do you know about?” she asked.

Skulker started at her for a moment. I’m stupid, I should have said that better. “What? About what?” he replied.

“What do you know about so I know what to ask you about?” I hope that made more sense.

“Donuts. Metal,” he said, holding up a finger for each thing he listed. “I’m a big fan of action movies. Guns an’ stuff. American Military history. Yeah. That’s pretty much what I got.” Olivia’s head tilted at the specificity of the last topic, but before she could ask about it Skulker pushed on and said, “We’re gettin’ off topic. I was thinkin’ it’s high time to figure out where the fuck you came from.”

“OK! We were just going to look at security cameras around here, right?”

“That’s right.”

In stores, right? Isn’t that what he said? “Oh, yeah, I saw some police officers earlier this morning. No, afternoon. Sorry. It was when I woke up. They went to one of the stores nearby”

The moment she mentioned the police his smile faded, and he seemed to tune out her following babbling. She flinched.

“What were they wearin’?” he asked, voice serious.

“I don’t know. Police stuff?” she replied, eyes fixed on the ground.

“What color? Grey, black, blue, tan?”

“Grey.”

“OK. Those were MHU cops. That’s bad.”

“What are those other colors?”

“Blue an’ tan is your standard cop or state patrol guy. Black is when they’re there for killin’. Grey is MHU, an’ they ain’t fuckin’ around. Where did you see them at?”

“That one store over there,” she replied, pointing to the computer repair shop through the window.

“OK. They weren’t wearin’ armor or anythin’?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s a no. You’d know it if you saw it,” he said, nodding to himself. “What did they do?”

“They went in for a little bit, then came out and left.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know,” she replied reflexively. “Maybe ten minutes.”

“You just fly around, right? No walkin’? No chance they coulda spotted you?”

“I don’t really walk around here,” she replied. “Because, you know, I can just glide off the roof.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Great! We might have just dodged a bullet there. It don’t sound like they found anythin’. I’m gonna take a look around, see if there’s any MHU guys waitin’ to bust in. You stay. There lookin’ for you, not me. You hear more than one person comin’ in, you get the fuck out, any way you can.”

“OK,” she replied, folding her wings tight against her back. But if there’s bad people out there, he’ll be all alone.

Skulker teleported out without another word, leaving Olivia alone in her apartment once more. Far from the window, she paced back and forth, keeping an ear out for anyone in the building. The minutes stretched on as she thought, What if the police are here right now? Could I just get out through the window? Is Ben OK? She tensed as she heard footsteps, before realizing it was just one set. With a few teleports, Skulker jumped back in

“We’re good. They wouldn’t have fucked around if they thought you were here,” said Skulker with a grin, flashing her a thumbs up. “Damn near gave me a heart attack. Wouldn’t be able to do much else but run. I ain’t shootin’ a cop.”

Olivia nodded, mute.

“It sounds like they’re searchin’ the area for you,” he explained. “Maybe they were lookin’ into somethin’ else, but I don’t think we should rely on a coincidence like that. I don’t think I can shove you away in my apartment, too many eyes around. Keep an ear out, just in case.”

Skulker teleported over to the couch and plopped down. Olivia remained standing, keeping her wings behind her and out of the way. She cast a sidelong glance at the barren walls and empty rooms. His apartment had so much stuff in it. Mine just has a couch and a pile of clothes.

Skulker drummed his hands on his thighs as he said, “I took a couple hours to scout out what’s in the area this mornin’. There’s nothin’ right next to us, but there’s a couple shops that look like their security is iron bars, rather than a dude with a shotgun. We’ll wanna go there, avoid murderin’ anyone. Not all had cameras, either. That computer place was one of them, but if the cops came through I don’t wanna go anywhere near it. If they come back they might notice somethin’ wrong.”

Olivia nodded. I guess that makes sense.

“Once we’re in, we take a look at their camera footage. They all got a place to watch an’ review it, so we don’t gotta drag equipment around, but we gotta e fast. We’re lookin’ for any big cargo car in the minutes leadin’ up to you wakin’ up. Or anythin’ suspicious.”

“Like what?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. We’ll know it when we see it. Now, to be clear, this ain’t legal. We’re breakin’ an’ enterin’. You OK with this?”

I don’t know. He seems to be OK with it. And we’re not hurting anyone. “I’m OK.”

“Let’s get goin’.”

***

Skulker waved to Olivia from the roof across the road from her. She took the cue and glided over, landing on the gravel of the roof with a crunch. Skulker jumped and teleported down to the fifth store they’d hit that night. She suppress a yawn as she followed. The sun should be up soon.

Without a word, they slipped into their roles. Skulker pulled out a bit of wire, and after ten minutes and many muttered curses, finally forced the door to the shop open, while Olivia pretended like she knew how to keep watch behind him. I don’t see anyone. I guess that’s good enough.

Once inside, they swiftly tracked down a dingy little room towards the back, away from where customers would be. Skulker rifled through poorly organized tapes labeled with black marker while Olivia stood behind him, pretending she knew what to look for. Sure, that tape seems right.

Olivia bent over double behind Skulker as they watched tape after grainy tape, cars moving past on the screen in slow motion. And just like the previous four stores, they found nothing that stuck out. They watched for a half hour before she woke up, and watched the same handful of nondescript cars pass by.

“Mostly the same fuckin’ cars. The church van, two motorcycles,” Skulker muttered under his breath, listing off the vehicles as they paraded past on screen. “Two black cars, the one missin’ a bumper. Fuck.”

“I don’t see anything,” whispered Olivia.

“Neither do I. Maybe we need to check if any stick around for too long, but that’d mean we gotta steal a bunch of tapes. If there’s cops sniffin’ around we’ll have the hammer of God comin’ down on us real quick if there’s missin tapes. Come on, let’s get outta here. Meet me at outside the donut shop”

The left, Skulker doing his best to lock the door behind them, and split up, heading for the donut shop. She passed far over the neighborhood on the way. She’d never walked through the area since she figured out the whole flying thing. There was precious little food to be found, and the power lines throughout the neighborhood didn’t have any lights. She couldn’t dodge every single one if she flew too low, though the lack of wind that night made it easier.

She found the roof of her favorite building to overlook the donut mall. After a minute and some hollow metallic echoing sounds, Skulker climbed and teleported up to join her.

“That didn’t go great, not gonna lie. Hear any sirens out there?” he said once he got within normal speaking distance.

She paused. Nothing that really stands out. There’s a weird little ringing sound. I can’t tell where that’s from, but no sirens. “No.”

“Cool.” Skulker pulled out the wallet. “Do I have cash?” he muttered to himself. “I do! Wanna get some food?”

“OK!” she replied, standing up straighter immediately. I will never say no to food.

“You can read the drive thru menu from here, right?”

“Yeah.” Of course I can. Those giant, bright panels outside with all the colorful pictures and words on them? How could you not?

“So read it. Make a decision. What do you want?”

She leaned forward and read through a dozen similar sounding names for the same basic cheeseburger. “The bacon burger thing. Triple? There’s one that says double and another that says triple and the triple has more meat on it.” And bacon is meat, too, right?

“Anythin’ else? Want a shake?”

I think that’s food. “Sure.”

“Flavor?”

Olivia glanced at the menu again, finding the bright desert menu in the lower right corner. “Vanilla,” she said, picking the first option on the list.

“Really? The most borin’ shake flavor?”

Boring is great. Nothing is shooting at you when things are boring. “Why not?”

“Fair enough.” With that, he teleported off, walking once he got close enough to the restaurant. He came out of the building a few minutes later carrying a large bag of food with one hand and a couple drinks in the other.

After a minute, he rejoined her at on the rooftop. “Jumpy little fry cook in there. Your plain-ass shake,” he said, offering her a large cup with a straw sticking out of the lid. He joined her in sitting on the edge of the roof and lifted his mask to eat, leaving it resting on the top of his head. They divided the burgers and ate.

“What do you have against vanilla?” asked Olivia after a moment, eyeing the shake in her hands. Did I mess up? Is it bad? Or does he just think it’s boring?

“Nothin’s wrong with it, I’m just givin’ you shit,” he said.

“There’s nothing wrong with boring,” she whispered to herself, taking a sip. Shakes are good! It tastes like that cinnamon thing I had earlier. But without the cinnamon. I think. I want more.

They finished their food in silence, Olivia finishing off her food far before Skulker. At some point the light of the drive thru menu started dimming over the course of a few seconds then flickering fully back to life in a regular pattern.

Skulker crumpled the last of his three value menu burger wrappers and threw it in the bag. “I’ve had just as much fast food in the past month than the rest of the year combined,” he commented.

She nodded in agreement, still drinking. I can’t remember ever having much healthy stuff. I guess water is healthy.

“No complaints? From a chick?” asked Skulker.

What? She shrugged. I don’t really mind. I mean, it’s better fresh. “You don’t care?” asked Olivia.

“Nope. Me an’ my brothers are some of those infuriatin’ fucks who don’t gain weight no matter how much we eat.”

All the streetlights died. Olivia looked around. A tiny handful of lights twinkled off in the distance; nothing near them. This is strange. She shot a look at Skulker, who just sighed. Or not?

“Come on, people!” he exclaimed to the sky, throwing a balled up wrapper at the half moon. “I thought we got this shit sorted out last year!”

“What?”

“The power’s been spotty since forever. But they said they got their shit together. Hell, that was part of the mayor’s campaign. Or was it governor’s? Whatever.”

“That doesn’t seem very good.”

“Well, they say if New York goes four month without a blackout, the US economy is back on track. We got like a fraction of the people in New York, you’d think it’d be easier to keep the lights on, but no. Anythin’ you wanna do while we’re out?”

“No. Not that I can think of. And thank you. For, you know, coming.”

He laughed as he put his mask back into place. “No problem. See you tomorrow, we’ll keep huntin’.”

“OK.” It’s too quiet out right now. Kind of dark now, too.

He jumped and teleported down to the ground, and Olivia took flight back to her apartment. The lack of wind made the air noticeably hotter. Is that tapping I hear? She checked over her shoulder to find nothing but empty air and lights on the horizon. Weird.

11: Alive

The worrying rattling noise coming from Skulker’s Jeep’s engine vanished after two minutes of driving. Oh thank god, he thought. If it keeps getting longer I might have to do something about it. No clue what, maybe Rob can help. At an unreasonably long red light, he twisted in his seat to take check on his passenger. Olivia took up most of the back seats, neck bent at an odd angle. Each wing pressed against the windows for lack of anywhere else to go.

He grinned and said, “Get comfy, we got about forty more minutes of this. Apparently there’s somethin’ out east we need to see. I think it was a little airstrip out in the fields.”

“I thought we were in mountains,” she replied, voice as timid as ever.

“Nope. We’re right at the foothills. East of the city is just empty fuckin’ corn fields, same as the rest of the Midwest.” The light ahead turned green, and Skulker resisted the urge to simply gun the engine into the empty intersection. “This would go quicker if we were on the highway, but cops watch the fuck outta those, so we gotta take little streets. They probably don’t got checkpoints set up where we’re headin’.”

“So what happened to that guy you had? Did he tell you where this was?” she asked.

A chuckle escaped Skulker. I thought she was going to turn a blind eye to that. Maybe she’s finally growing a spine. “Me and him just had a little chat. He ain’t dead, don’t worry. He’s got a nice prison cell right now, havin’ another chat with the cops,” he replied.

“He went to the police? Why would he do that?”

“Here’s the thing. He knows I can do whatever I want with him. So I let him run to the cops instead, in exchange for info. They got laws. They need proof. If I just stabbed him, he’d say whatever he’d think I’d wanna hear, not the truth.” He glanced at the rear-view mirror, catching a look of horror on her face at the casual mention of stabbing.

They drove on, the screaming metal band on the radio at half volume the only sound filling the silence, until Olivia cleared her throat and asked, “Why do you cuss so much?”

Cuss? “What? Like shit an’ fuck?” he said.

“Yeah.”

“That a problem? They’re just words.”

“No, never mind,” she said, eyes fixed on the window to her right.

Skulker gripped the steering wheel tight in frustration. God damn it. You almost had a personality there! Put some force behind your voice or something. I feel like I’m talking to a bowl of oatmeal.

“You know, you’ve been askin’ all these questions, but I don’t really know anythin’ about you.” She shrank in her seat, shoulders hunched forward. “Tell me about yourself.”

“I don’t know,” she replied, voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t remember.”

“Yeah, that’s just extra bullshit. Who are you? What do you do? What do you like? What opinions do you got?” Silence reigned for a full minute. “Well?” he prodded. These aren’t hard questions.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “I’m just me.”

He twisted in his seat to look her dead in the eye. “What does that mean? What do you do for fun?”

“I like flying.”

He nodded. “Great! Good start. What else?” She stayed silent. “Who are you? You just gonna sit around an’ wait for the answer to fall in your lap?”

“I fly around,” she stammered out. “I look for food.”

“That all?” This is like pulling teeth. “You don’t remember anythin’, I get that. Olivia, why’d you pick that as your name? You gotta remember that,” he said.

“I don’t know.”

Lazy. “Think.”

“It sounded nice. Sorry,” she whispered, eyes fixed firmly on her knees.

“Less apologizin’, more doin’. An’ don’t worry, that ain’t a bad reason.”

Skulker let the topic drop, and they drove through the dark streets in silence as they skirted around the edge of a part of Sanchez’s territory. His mask rested on the seat beside him just in case anyone happened to look through the window, though they’d only come across one or two other cars in fifteen minutes. He flicked a button jury rigged to the radio, swapping out the music with the chatter of the police band. Good, it’s quiet. Less chance for something stupid to happen.

He spotted a couple of women leaning on the wall of a closed bar, phones in hand. One glanced at the car for a brief moment before returning her attention to her little glowing screen. A few minutes later, they drove past a man walking down the street, notable only because there had been no others in twenty minutes. No fear there. Something’s not right. We’re not driving through the heart of gangland here.

A light turned on in the back seat, straining his night adjusted eyes for a moment. “Whoa, turn that off. I can’t see,” he called out.

“Sorry!” Olivia fumbled around, her claws scratching at something plastic, before finally figuring out how to turn off the light. “My head hit the switch,” she added.

He put on the gas, eager to get out of the neighborhood. After a few minutes, a car pulled up behind them, dark blue and low to the ground. From around Olivia, he noticed a second, larger car just behind it, a split second before its high beams turn on and blinded any view behind him. Fuck.

Skulker put on his mask in one fluid motion. “Ready! This is gonna suck,” he shouted. He gunned the engine just as a short, unmarked truck with its lights off shot into the road in front of them. Skulker yanked the steering wheel hard to the left, feeling the right tires leave the pavement for a moment. Olivia, caught completely off guard, slammed into the door with a startled yelp.

His hands desperately twisted the wheel back towards the road, the corner of his Jeep coming within inches of ramming into the curb. With a straight, empty road ahead of him, he shoved floored the gas pedal, leaving the ambush site behind. The muscle car caught up with almost contemptuous ease. Skulker struggled with a brief glance to make out the headlights of the second car past the glare of the muscle car’s high beams

The muscle car pulled up, passenger window rolled down. I’m about to get filled with lead. Just as the muscle car reached the Jeep, he hit the brakes. Two shots whipped past, one breaking his door window. He swerved into the back panel of the muscle car, sending the surprised driver spinning out. Now without high beams burning his eyes in a mirror, he could see a black SUV swerving around his friend.

Even it was more than a match for Skulker’s old, weathered car, though the muscle car had lost precious ground. He slammed the brakes once more, twisted the steering wheel, and gunned the engine down another road. The other cars scrambled to adjust, though not far behind. My car is too shitty. We’re in the middle of the city, no dirt road I can fuck them over with.

“We need to lose these guys.” Someone got off a couple shots, forcing him to duck, though only one hit the car. “Ideas?” he called out. Olivia simply looked at him with fear.

Good talk. OK. Options? Cops might make them back off, but they’ll come after us too. In the rear-view mirror, he spotted a man leaning out the side of the SUV, gun in hand. Skulker faked a turn to the right, than cut hard to the left, down yet another street. It took a moment for the headlights of an oncoming car to register. It blared its horn and swerved out of the way. Glass shattered and metal shrieked as the muscle car, having taken the turn much sharper than the much higher profile vehicles it followed, collided with the oncoming car.

Poor dude. Skulker slammed the gas pedal into the floor, keeping inches ahead of the black SUV as it swerved at him, attempting the same maneuver he’d used on the muscle car. Heart racing, knuckles white on the steering wheel, he felt a wide grin split his face. This is living! He was jolted back to reality when the SUV swiped at them once more, causing him to over correct. For a split second that lasted an eternity, his car drove on two wheels before gravity helped him out. More gunshot went off. Skulker yelled to his passenger, “Keep your head down!”

One more car, he thought, We’ve got room to maneuver. Could we just kill them?

“Can you shoot?” he shouted over the roar of the engine. He leaned over, one hand reaching for his handgun resting on the passenger seat beside him.

“What? No!” replied Olivia.

Great. He rolled down his window, swerving to the side to keep the gunners behind them on their toes. A few bullets his the asphalt near his tires. I can’t hit that shot either. Unless I do this. With the road empty and straight in front of him, he took a deep breath, and time froze.

Everything stopped, color receded. The bleached world around him made no sound, no movement. His head pounded. He reached for his pistol and began to lean out of his car.

One.

Still moving, pistol and arm now out.

Two.

The rest of his upper body followed his arm outside. The pulse of his heart sent a lance of pain through his brain.

Three.

His free arm grabbed the door, steadying himself. He raised his knee to press against the unmoving steering wheel to keep it nominally under control once time resumed.

Four.

He took aim, directly at the driver of the SUV. He didn’t bother firing, one bullet probably wouldn’t get the job done, and any more would freeze in the same spot the moment they left the barrel and collide once time resumed.

Five.

His finger rested on the trigger, aim as good as it would get under the circumstances. Blood trickled from his nose.

Now.

Time resumed forward progress. Three bullets, aimed perfectly at the driver of the SUV, fired from Skulker’s pistol in quick succession. Without a foot on the gas, his car began to decelerate. The SUV rear ended his car as he was halfway back into his seat, slamming his ribs into the window frame. He dropped his pistol to wrestle back control of his vehicle. The SUV slowed down as Skulker and Olivia hurdled off into the night.

***

“We kicked a fuckin’ hornets nest. I shoulda known. Too many guns in that warehouse,” Skulker grumbled as they drove meekly down the country road.

All windows were down, airing out the smell of sweat and adrenaline from the car. The trash bag taped over the shattered rear window fluttered in the wind. They’d stopped for a few minutes to cover up the handful of bullet holes and other damage the car had taken as best they could in case they drove past a cop.

“They were watchin’ for us,” he continued. “We were already suspicious, when that light went on they probably saw you.”

“Sorry,” Olivia mumbled. She’d shown the glimmer of a personality by jumping at the chance to get out of the car earlier, but now found herself crammed back in, wings bent on either side of her. As always, she’d spoken up only rarely, and then only to ask clarifying questions.

“Ain’t your fault, I shoulda steered us way clear of that. Thought it was just a risky shortcut. Be real fuckin’ careful where you go from here on. They’re gonna be watchin’ the skies too, it’s hard to miss those wings.”

They drove on, Skulker ignoring the new rattling sound coming somewhere from the back of the car. There’s nothing dragging back there when we checked. Not much I can do about it right now. They’d left the city a few minutes ago, and now drove down a deserted country road to the east of the city. Row upon row of desolate corn fields passed them by, punctuated by the occasional sleeping herd of cattle or bison.

“Hey, Ben?” said Olivia, breaking the silence.

So many questions. “Yeah?”

“When they were chasing us, at the end, you teleported, but you didn’t move that much. And your nose was bleeding. What was that?” she asked.

“I froze time for a few seconds,” he replied, ignoring the mounting pressure behind his eyes. “Gonna give me a bitchin’ migraine in about four hours.”

“I’m really sorry,” she mumbled, eyes fixed on her lap. “I shouldn’t have touched that light thing.”

He snorted out a laugh and said, “Hey, it was an accident. We’re both in one piece. I’m pissed about my car, but I’ll live. Let’s get to this place an’ go home.”

After a few more minutes of driving, they finally came to the field the captured gang member had told Skulker about. The sun began its march over the sky, the weak light providing just enough to see. Beyond obvious signs of upturned dirt and tire marks, the place was devoid of any structure of any other feature. Might wanna check on whoever owns this land, he thought as he stepped out of his car. Just behind him, Olivia’s foot twisted and she nearly fell flat on her face as she climbed out of the car.

“You OK?” he asked with a grin.

“Yeah,” she replied, cheeks reddening.

He checked his phone. “This should be it. Thought it was weird he gave us lat long coordinates.”

“Lat long?” Olivia repeated.

“Latitude and longitude. It’s a universal point on earth thing. I’ll show you a map later, it’ll make more sense. Our guy mentioned unwillin’ people comin’ in an’ outta here.”

He looked up from his phone to catch her staring off into the sky. The reptilian eyes made it hard to tell if she was focused on anything.

“What’s up?” he asked her.

She paused, sniffing the air a few more times before replying, “There’s a weird smell here.”

“What’s the smell?”

“I don’t know. It’s almost like oil. There’s nothing else like it out here.”

He thought for a moment. Of course, this is an airstrip. Why is she pointing it out? “Plane fuel?” he asked.

“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “The plane stuff smells similar to car stuff. This is different.”

“Can you track it?” God damn. If she can be a bloodhound too this is gonna be great!

He followed her through the field, keeping an eye out in case anyone else happened to be out in the middle of nowhere at the crack of dawn. She led them about two hundred yards into the dirt, than stopped.

“There isn’t a source,” she murmured. “It just ends here.”

A dull glint caught his eyes. He knelt down and dug up an unfired grey bullet. Not brass? What is this? Oh no. The rifle cartridge had more than a few similarities to the ammo he used for the long rifle on his back.

“Fuck. The kid is gone,” he sighed.

“What? Why?” asked Olivia.

“This casing,” he said, holding it up for her to examine. “Looks like unpolished stainless steel, right? It ain’t. Better than brass, a quarter of the weight, same strength. See how short it is, compared to the other rifle ammo you saw in the warehouse? Less weight again, right? Powder in this is some voodoo alchemy, don’t need much to make the killin’ bit fly. Only Overlord uses somethin’ like this.”

Her head tilted to the side as she asked, “Who is that?”

“The boogeyman. Techie. Real bad news. Probably where Sanchez got those rifles from.”

“Why didn’t we see any of these before?” she asked, motioning to the bullet in his hand.

“Good question. This ain’t for those rifles in the warehouse. He probably just makes shit like that to make ends meet. Well, I say shit, those rifles are probably top of the line anywhere else. Shit for him. This? This is for his real guns. They probably made one to pay off some mob boss or another. Hell, maybe even Sanchez.”

“So what about the kid?”

“He could be halfway across the world by now. Overlord ain’t fuckin’ around.” He lifted his mask and spat on the ground. “Let’s get out of here. We’re done.”

10: Q & A

Olivia coasted through the air, ignoring the aching bruises on her chest from last night. The cool night air helped to clear her head and let her focus on something beyond the faint ringing in her ears that hadn’t dissipated fully. I hope those guys I hit are OK. After helping Skulker, she found herself with nothing to do but fly, sleep, and wait. There should be something I’m doing, right? I can’t just do this forever. Maybe when I figure out who I really am, than I can figure something out.

A familiar scent caught her attention as she approached her apartment building. She circled around a few times, catching sight of Ben walking the streets below in his normal clothes, mask nowhere to be seen. He waved up at her after she swooped down, then pointed to her building. A few minutes, later, they met in her apartment.

He snapped and pointed a finger at her the moment he barged in after her. “Hey! Quick question, do your organs feel alright?” he asked, just slow enough to be comprehensible.

“I’m sorry?” she asked in bewilderment, desperately searching for some sort of context clue to make sense of his question.

“Your insides, do they feel bad?”

She stared. I mean, my bruises hurt, but that’s just my skin. “No. I hope not.”

“Great! Just makin’ sure. I realized yesterday that gettin’ shot might lead to internal bleedin’. Sounds like your fine, though,” he said with a grin.

He strolled through her apartment, one hand tapping against his thigh in some unheard rhythm. He tried a light switch, getting no response out of the dark bulb above him. Should I do something? She spotted her box of donuts on the kitchen counter. Food. Food is good. Maybe I can offer him some. Oh, wait, it’s empty. Say something.

“What would happen if I did have internal bleeding?” she asked. That doesn’t sound that bad. Blood is supposed to be inside anyways, right?

He shrugged and said, “I’d probably wind up draggin’ you to a hospital.”

“I thought I was supposed to stay away from people.”

“Whatever would happen would be better than dyin’ slowly on the floor.” Oh, I guess it is bad.

“Are those drapes?” he asked, pointing to her makeshift bed on the couch.

“Yes.” I think that’s weird, though. “They’re warmer than nothing,” she added defensively.

He gave her apartment another look, eyebrow raised. “You sure you wanna do this?”

I don’t know. Everyone has a gun. But they’re bad, right? Ben is alone otherwise. And they kidnapped someone. And if I say no, maybe Ben wont help me. She nodded. “Yes. But have you figured out how to figure out who I am?”

“Yeah!” he said, leaning on the wall between the living room and the kitchen. Olivia sat on the couch, tossing the apparently offensive drapes off the side to make room for her tail.

“I have a plan,” he continued. “That’s actually what I was doin’ before you flew over. This is what I’m thinkin’. This is a skeevy area, but there’s a couple shops in the area. I’m willin’ to bet at least some have got security cameras. We take a look, see if they picked anythin’ suspicious up. Now before you say yes, this is gonna require breakin’ an’ enterin’. We ain’t gonna steal anythin’, but this is super not legal.”

If he’s willing, I guess it’s alright. “OK.”

“For this to work though, I need to know when you woke up. Do you know?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she replied with a shake of her head, getting a clump of hair in her way.

“You were outside, right?” He leaned forward, eyes locked with hers. “Where was the sun? Was it still up?”

“Yes. I think it was just setting.” Is that right? I think that’s right.

“Hold on.” He pulled out his phone. “No fuckin way,” he said with a grin. “You can fuckin’ search when sunset an’ sunrise were for any day. OK, some time around nine PM. That gives us a specific time to work with when we’re goin’ through the video records. This ain’t a guarantee, keep that in mind, but it’s a start.”

“Why do you think we’ll find something?” she asked.

“I’m thinkin’ someone dumped you there. You didn’t have anythin’. That seems like it’d be on purpose,” he said.

“I didn’t have any clothes,” she mumbled, eyes fixed firmly on the ground in front of her.

“That ain’t super surprisin’. There ain’t many seven foot chicks in the world. What is surprisin’ is you haven’t mentioned anythin’ near you. No torn clothes, no jewelry or bags nearby. It’s a rare day when someone walks down the street buck naked. Someone took all that off you after you turned.”

“I don’t know how long I was there.”

“Not long if no one reported you. Remember, the first time anyone knew you existed was when we ran into each other. An’ you’re pretty tough. Remember gettin’ shot? I bet you were up an’ runnin’ in no time.”

I wasn’t really up. I was super scared. She didn’t bother to correct him, instead asking, “So when are we going to do that?”

“Tomorrow. If tonight goes well. Don’t want to just break in an’ leave evidence of us everywhere. Need to plan that out a bit.”

“What are we doing tonight. Did you find something about the missing kid?”

“I did, but we got time. They’re movin’ someone early mornin’” He looked over her apartment, smile wavering. “If you don’t mind, you could come over to my place. It’s smaller, but it’s got runnin’ water, electricity, an’ a fridge with real food.”

Food? “OK.”

“Wow, that didn’t take much convincin’.” Ben pushed off the wall and headed for the door. “I’m parked one street over. Unless you wanna hoof it for miles.”

“Oh.” I’ve never been in a car before. “I guess that’s OK,” she said, following after him. What’s wrong with flying though? Is it too far?

True to his word, his car was only one street over, parked next to a long broken parking meter.  Lights flashed on an old forest green car that had seen better days. Olivia eyed the small door opposite of where Ben entered. Wing tip first, she agneld herself in, stopping halfway when she felt Ben’s hand on her side.

“Maybe try the back,” he said, leaning around her wing to look at her with a grin. “Can’t drive with a wing in my face.”

She wedged herself in the back, wings splayed to either side, head tucked nearly into her chest, and tail wrapped around her waist. Out from speakers in the front blasted a horrible noise which took her a moment to recognize as music. Oh god, it’s terrible. And angry. Why is he listening to this? Why would anyone listen to this?

To give her something else to hear, she leaned forward and said, “You mentioned a Mexican emperor before.” That sounded interesting.

“Yeah. You still hung up on that? It’s common fuckin’ knowledge. How do you not know that?”

Her shoulders slumped. “Because I’m stupid and don’t know anything,” she mumbled.

He laughed and said, “Welcome to the club.”

“Could you help?”

He cast her a sidelong glance over his shoulder and asked, “With what?”

“You know stuff. I need to know stuff”

“Stuff is a pretty big word. I don’t know all things.”

“No. How about just history?” she said, picking a subject at random.

“I really ain’t the best guy for this,” he said with a shake of his head.

“You know more than me.”

“OK, world history: Ben edition. Someone invented farmin’. People built cities. Egypt, uh, existed. Some goddess popped up in Germany. Then Greeks conquered a bunch of shit. Then Romans conquered a bunch of shit. And Persians conquered a bunch of shit. Not in that order though. Some dude teleported some poor fuckin’ Chinese people into the Mediterranean, an’ that was the Silk Road. Maybe that was earlier, I dunno. Rome collapsed and then knights did their thing. Europe discovered the rest of the world an’ decided they didn’t like it. Except the Glass City, everyone gets along fine with them. They fought everythin’ else, an’ invented factories. An’ kicked off a couple World Wars. Us an’ Russia decided we hated each other. That stopped when aliens crash landed an’ gave us other things to worry about. Overlord tore shit up when everybody was busy with the genocidal aliens. Some nukes were thrown, an’ here we are.”

That’s a lot to process. Maybe too much. “I don’t think that helped.”

Ben threw his hands up in exasperation, sending the car swerving before he regained control of the wheel. “What do you want from me? That was just random bullshit I remember from history class. I spent half of that asleep.”

“OK.” Smaller questions. “You’ve mentioned gods twice now. Who? What?”

“I did? Oh, yeah. So, the Mother is in smack dab the middle of Europe. She’s spent thousands of years dancin’ naked in the forest or some shit, I dunno. She tried purifyin’ all humans or somethin’, those were those World Wars I mentioned. She lost, an’ she ain’t done much lately, far as I know.”

“So she made a world war on her own?” asked Olivia.

“Two, an’ no, she made friends, an’ then they dragged in their friends. She didn’t tell them about her eugenics. Probably smart of her.”

“OK. The other guy?”

“Right. Cuauhtémoc, the Aztec emperor. Or Mexican, same thing. Remember when I said Europe fought everyone? Well, first thing that happened was Spain showed up an’ attacked Mexico outta nowhere. Or was it Portugal? I dunno, I think they had a bunch of succession wars or somethin’. Anyways, he said no.”

“That’s it?” You can just tell an invasion no? That works?

“No, he killed a whole bunch of people. I think the empire had two civil wars after that. Disease killed everyone he knew. He’s immortal, his people ain’t. Thank god.”

“So wait, you’re happy his people can die?” That can’t be right.

“Yeah,” he said.

Her jaw dropped. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”

“We’ve fought like three wars with the fucker. If it weren’t for that little fact we’d be gettin’ our hearts ripped out right now. I dunno if this is clear yet, but he ain’t a nice guy.”

“Why hasn’t he taken everything over?”

“Just cuz he’s immortal don’t mean he magically knows how taxes work. Or how to keep his toadies from gettin’ murdered by the locals the second he turns his back.”

“But he’s had all that time.” He said he was immortal, right?

“You’d think so. But Mexico is held together with tape an’ fear right now, an’ that’s cuz of him.”

“Are there any more gods I should know about?”

“Nope, just the two.” Oh, great. Two isn’t so bad. I thought he was going to say there were seven more.

“That was a lot of war you just mentioned,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, everyone thinks their superpowers are the best superpowers.”

Olivia shifted in her seat as the conversation lulled. Leaning to the side relieved some of the bend in her neck, though her left wing was shoved against the window.

“You mentioned a bunch of people being teleported led to the Silk Road. What does any of that mean?” she asked. That doesn’t sound like a war.

“Some Roman dude with powers got the emperor to give him a metric fuckton of drugs to make his powers better. Or was that some British guy? Whatever. He made a portal that connected Rome an’ China. Even after the portal closed, they still tried to trade. I guess that was important. Everyone kept sayin’ it was.” Ben finished with a shrug.

“And the Glass City, what is that?” Maybe that will be cooler.

“A city made of glass.”

Olivia took a moment to bite back a mean retort and said, “I don’t think that’s very helpful.”

“You can’t fight in the city. Can’t use weapons, long range shit doesn’t work. Someone tried launchin’ a missile, it just swerved away. They set up the League of Nations there. It’s somewhere in Africa, I forget where.”

Olivia received a slapdash lesson in world history through the fifteen minute drive. Despite his protests, Ben seemed happy just talking as fast as possible, no matter the subject matter. The conversation came to a stop once they reached his building. They slipped into his the third floor without incident. The building reminded Olivia of her home, dilapidated, in bad repair, and otherwise worse for wear.

Whatever Olivia expected of Ben, the apartment wasn’t it. The walls were a light grey, adorned only with a mounted tomahawk. There was a couch across from a small TV, hooked up to a cable box on a table. A tiny, clean kitchen was off to the right. To their left were doors to the bedroom and bathroom.

“Don’t have to just stand there you know,” he said, beckoning her further inside. “Go on, grab a bite to eat. I gotta check on somethin’.” He teleported off to his bedroom.

Food. She lumbered over to the fridge in the kitchen, claws catching on the carpet. A delicious scent immediately caught her nose once she opened the door. A barely touched package of sliced ham lay at the bottom. She opened it up and ate the entire thing in two bites. This is his food. I shouldn’t take any more. She wandered after Ben.

As sparse as the living room was, Ben’s bedroom was chaotic. She saw three pistols on the ground the far corner. Two crowbars, a fire axe, and a sledgehammer leaned against each other in another. A couple movie and videogame posters covered the walls at odd angles, tacked onto with a thick grey tape. The closet was thrown open, clothes clean and dirty spilling out. This seems more like him. She approached the unmade bed next to Ben.

Do I just sit? She walked in and sat on the edge of his bed, tail dangling off the side. Ben spun in his chair to face her directly and said, “You always seem nervous. You still worryin’ about everythin’?”

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t know what I am. I hurt people when we went into that warehouse. I almost hurt you too, I think.”

He said, “Well, to be fair, I just walked up to you in the middle of a fight, that was a bad call on my part.”

“Yeah, but still, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Yeah,” then he suddenly leaned over and jabbed her in the eye.

“Ow, why?” she asked, holding a hand over the poked eye. What did I do?

He considered her with a grin, stroking his chin in mock contemplation. “Interestin’. You see, if you were dumb monster thing, as you seem to think you are, you woulda bit me or attacked or somethin’. Instead, you’re makin’ me feel like I just kicked a puppy. Not a classic monster trait, I’ll tell you that for free. Also, I didn’t getcha too hard, did I?”

She blinked her eye a couple time and removed her hand, her eye was fine. “I’m fine, but please don’t do that again.” He smiled and nodded, holding his hands up to as if to say ‘I’m innocent’. She sighed. “Why?”

“Huh?”

“Why did this have to happen? All of it, everything.”

“You want the short version or the long version? Never mind, I’ll tell you both.” He grinned and settled more comfortably in his chair, leaning forward. “The short reason is cuz fuck you. That’s why.”

She stared at him for a moment, then said, “That’s not a reason.” Why do I bother?

He burst into laughter. “OK, OK, OK. Lemme explain. Long version. You an’ I an’ everyone else are insignificant specks on a chunk of rock, which in turn is an insignificant speck, hurtlin’ through the icy screamin’ void of space. We mean nothin’. Everythin’ we do is ultimately meaningless. No matter what happens to you, trigger or no, means jack shit. Tha’s the truth. You with me so far?”

“But you can’t look at it like that. In spite of what I just said, people still do amazin’ shit. Moon landings, pyramids, you get the picture. You may be one in a billion, but you never know what’ll come outta what you do until you try. Ninety nine point nine repeating percent of all 9.7 billion people on Earth wouldn’t care if I died, so why do I continue? Because I want to. Because I’ve got my brothers, I’ve got friends an’ acquaintances, I’ve got stuff I wanna do before I kick the bucket. It matters what you do more than anythin’ else. So what are you gonna do? Mope about somethin’ outta your control, or do somethin’? I watched you eat bullets. Bullets. There’s a reason we use those to kill each other, an’ you just shrugged ‘em off. You can do a lot of shit if you put your mind to it.”

He leaned back and took a deep breath. Olivia barely heard him breathe during that entire tirade.

“I get what you’re saying. But I don’t know. I’ve been afraid of nearly everything for weeks now.” Ben started coughing at that. “What?”

“Nothin’. Continue.” He waved her off, hiding his smile with the other hand.

Olivia was getting tired of Ben treating everything like a joke. “What, you’ve never been afraid that some government agency is going to swoop in and dissect you? You’ve never been afraid that you were going insane because you didn’t even know your own name? Never been afraid of how you’re going to get by day to day, if you’re ever going to get a job or fit in anywhere?” Her voice was raised at that point.

Unfortunately, he still grinned. So help me, I’ll… I’ll do… something. Ben spoke up before she could think of something suitable, “You got a point. Several actually. Sorry ‘bout that. Never really thought about it. But let me tell you this: even without the whole dragon thing goin’ on, you look like you could break me in half, no problem. So it’s kinda funny when you get all scared and uncertain. Kinda jarring.” He caught her look. “Hey, hey, it’s a compliment. The breaking in half part at least.”

He did sound apologetic, as much as she had ever heard him before. As well, not lying seemed to be his thing. “Sorry, I kind of lost my temper.”

He looked incredulous. “What, you lost your temper? That sounded like a normal conversation with me. You’ve spent more time around me without snappin’ than anyone who’s not my brother. An’ what the hell are you saying sorry to me for anyways? I’m a jackass. My job is to hurt people. You saw me stab  an’ shoot people. Guess what? No moral repercussions for me. None. They had it comin’.”

“What, you’re OK with killing other people?”

“Yeah.”

“How are you a good guy then?” she asked.

“I’m not. My brother Rob, he’s a techie, goes by Gears. He’s in Pennsylvania as a freelancin’ fixer. Sam never got powers, I don’t think. He joined up with Lock Corp. a couple years ago when we split. Haven’t heard from him in a while. But the thing is, Rob said he’d go into the crime business, Sam said he’d be a merc. I said I’d be a vigilante, which is basically a criminal who hurts other criminals.” He motioned around them to the room full of weapons. “Hell, I stole most of this from criminals, or bought it with money I stole from them. We do what we do because we said we would. I said nothin’ about bein’ a good guy.”

He kills people. How did I forget? “You were going to kill me if I was feral, weren’t you?”

Without hesitation, he said, “Yep. Wouldn’t have lost any sleep, either. But, you ain’t a standard feral, which I don’t think has been drilled into your skull quite enough yet. I’m thinkin’ you’re bein’ a bit hard on yourself. So I tell you what, we track down those kidnappers, an’ murder ‘em. Until they die, of course. How’s that sound?”

Olivia studied her knees instead of responding. One claw played with a worn hole on her pants. I think he wants me to say yes. I don’t know. That seems like something he wants to do. But what else can I do?

“I’ll take that as a maybe. God damn, we’ve been talking for hours,” said Ben, bringing her back to the real world. “It’s time to get movin’. Give me a minute to pack an’ get everythin’ to the car.”

“Do I have to be in the car?”

“It’s on the far end of town. Might save you some leg work. Or wing work, whatever.”

“OK,” she mumbled. But that car is so small and uncomfortable. I guess he knows what he’s saying.

Ben pulled out a duffel bag from under his bed with the butt of a long rifle sticking out of the side. “Just needs some ammo,” he said with a grin.

9: Miyahuatl

The hum of a small plane engine filled Miyahuatl’s ears. The heavy canvas sack covering her head did little to deaden the noise. A bout of turbulence shook the plane, sending her bouncing on the tiny bench she perched on. She reached out with her bound hands, steadying herself on a metal crate beside her. It’s been hours, she thought with resigned numbness. We have to land sometime. They’re not going to kill me. They’ve had months. Or maybe we’re over the ocean, and they’re going to shoot me and dump me in the middle of nowhere.

She shivered in her threadbare clothes, the plane barely heated for its only living passenger. The stubble on her head didn’t help, exposing the surgical scars across her skull to the elements. The ones across her spine didn’t feel much better. She had no idea what the day was, though it felt like months had passed since she’d been free.

In the weeks leading up to Christmas, when Arizona didn’t resemble the surface of the sun, Miya ducked out of the house to avoid her family and wandered off to a nearby convenience store. Grandmother bitched at her for not taking the heat “with stoicism befitting Aztec blood,” though neither of them had ever set foot in Mexico. She’d kept her magic quiet, not wanting an earful about whatever archaic tradition demanded of her. Unlike powers, she couldn’t just use them from the word go. Dozens of schools for mages were scattered around the country, all too expensive for her to even think about.

Shoplifting saved enough money for books from Don’s shop. Trial and error into the arcane nearly killed her, but the books and amulets from the Italian man made more sense than eleven years of public school education ever had. With the camera of the convenience store blocked by the shelf, she stuffed plastic sunglasses into her oversized pockets.

Keeping her expression neutral, she headed out to find a deserted front counter. She spun around, expecting the employee to ambush her. Instead, dull green and wrinkly tentacles tore open roof above her. A tall, thin man, tentacles emanating from beneath his skin, dove on her. One grabbed her foot as she tried to run, her head hit the ground, and the world went black in the span of five heartbeats.

She awoke some indeterminate time later strapped to a hospital bed, a handful of humanoid robots preparing her for surgery. She only met a handful of humans in the windowless facility, though she caught one name: Overlord. Once stable, they started testing their clumsy control of her power. She imagined having a stroke was similar to the experience of someone forcibly extracting an otherworldly force using her brain as the conduit.

The cold, firm grip of a robot grasped her upper arm, breaking her train of thought. It hauled her out of the plane, and her feet hit dirt. They stood a few paces away from the plane for a couple minutes, moon and star light barely filtering through the bag over Miya’s head. Over the idling engine of at least two cars, she could hear movement. Not only precise, measured movement from robots, but the breath and grumbling from other humans as well. Her heart rate picked up. Now what? Who the fuck are these guys?

“Got it,” said a human voice, the first she’d heard in nearly a week since Dr. Orange wished her luck in her future endeavors as robots strapped her to a gurney and carted her off.

The robots grip on her arm released, replaced by one of flesh and blood. She stumbled over a clump of earth she couldn’t see as a man dragged her towards one of the cars. After a long drive over a miserable dirt road, they reached pavement. Some time later someone finally pulled the bag from her head. She blinked, eyes adjusting to the sudden influx of light.

They drove through what appeared to be a district composed of abandoned buildings, lots of homeless and few lit buildings. Graffiti coated most walls. Where the hell are we? She looked around, and nearly jumped out of her skin as she realized the man sitting next to her was a robot. Its head whipped towards her at her sudden motion. It looked identical to the dozens she’d seen patrolling the halls of the labs. Shaped like the average human, with burnished steel instead of anything resembling skin. It wore clothes, a utilitarian jeans and jacket. I guess a naked robot would stick out. A screaming face set in steel met her gaze, then swiveled back to the front, where two humans sat in the front of the car. The one in the passenger seat took a nervous look over his shoulder before swiftly returning his attention to the road.

They pulled into the garage in the back of what appeared to be an office building. The sign near the roof read Lehman Construction. They marched her into an elevator to the top floor, three other waiting men unloading the second car that had been at the landing site with Miya.

She heard talking as the four approached partially opened double doors at the end of the hallway. The robot ushered her in, the two men who’d driven them waiting outside. A massive desk dominated the center of the well lit room. The man behind it took in the arrivals, one hand stroking his full, well groomed black beard. A scar ran across his forehead, aged nearly to the point of invisibility. Well muscled, he dominated his high backed chair, a suit jacket thrown over the back of it. Thick blinds covered the floor to ceiling windows behind him.

The man he spoke with was rail thin and taller than anyone she’d met. Miya, just shy of five feet, craned her neck as far as she could to see his face. It’s him. Her breath caught in her throat as she jumped back, though the robot inexorably shoved her forward and into the room beside the man who’d kidnapped her however many months ago. Now that she saw him up close, the man had next to no body hair, save for his eyebrows and eyelashes. He had almost no body fat, and his skin had no tattoos, or freckles, or blemishes of any kind.

“Another delivery will be made next month,” said the kidnapper.

“Sure. Same place?” asked the man behind the desk.

“No, we’ll be moving it again. We’ll let you know ahead of time. I believe fifty handguns will be more than enough to compensate your crew for the trouble.”

“Music to my ears.” The man behind the desk let out a quick, sharp whistle. The double doors opened once more, and a man came in with a heavy black leather briefcase and presented it to the mercenary. “Your pay, as agreed upon.”

“One more matter, Sanchez,” said the kidnapper, his voice inflection-less. He swept a hand towards Miya. Sanchez turned towards her, curiosity returning once more. “This is a defective prototype. We offer her as a bonus, free of charge.”

Sanchez paused,  “She ain’t a robot?”

“No, flesh and blood,” replied the kidnapper. Despite your best efforts. Miya stood up a little straighter as he placed a familiar grey box on the desk.

Sanchez leaned back in his seat, considering. “Defective prototype. What can she do?” he asked.

“She is a mage of not inconsiderable power,” said the kidnapper. “This power would be yours to control and wield as you see fit, through the controller before you. I’m told the control is imperfect, and the head of the project would like to his extend his apologies for this. As I said, defective.”

“Sure, sure.” He asked Miya, “Aztec, huh? Can you speak English?”

The mercenary turned towards her. “Yes,” she said, voice hoarse from disuse. I guess I should be happy the scientists didn’t cut my tongue out when I was screaming profanity at them.

“Sounds good,” said Sanchez. “Could always use a good mage. Can I assume there are instructions,” he added, eyeing the controller and its myriad buttons.

“Of course. They’re with the rifles.”

“Knew I’d say yes, didn’t you,” Sanchez grumbled. The mercenary simply stood there, with neither a smile nor a frown. “Well, pleasure doing business with you. Tell Overlord the construction crew should be finished up in the next couple days.”

The two men shook hands, and the kidnapping mercenary left Miya with Sanchez. No more experiments? Sanchez headed towards a door on the right. “Come here,” he said with a wave of his hand, the other with her remote control. With no other choice, Miya followed.

“Where are you from?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Arizona,” she replied. She coughed a couple times to clear her throat. “A little town south of Phoenix. What month is it?” she asked.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Mid April.” Half a year. I lost half a year of my life. She slowed to a stop, eyes fixed on a point a thousand yards away. Sanchez gave her an awkward, hesitant pat on the shoulder, the most human gesture she’d received for six months. “Come on.”

The large conference room he led them into stretched on before her, nearly as large as his office. A massive round table with eight chairs stood in the center, with a collection of alcohol and glasses in the center. A door opened on the opposite end of the room, and people began trickling in.

Sanchez pointed to a couple of chairs shoved in the corner of the room. “Sit there, keep quiet. We’ll figure out what to do with you.”

When everyone settled, six of the eight chairs were filled. Miya cast a weary glance at the eclectic bunch. A man build like a shithouse brick caused his chosen chair to creak under his weight as he sat, sunglasses hooked onto his collar. The black man who entered last with a pronounced limp gave a friendly nod to Sanchez. A few shot curious looks at the woman with dyed blond hair to the right Sanchez, though the overwhelming majority were in Miya’s direction.

“Tod?” began Sanchez to the man with sunglasses. “I believe you have a bit of important news for us.”

“More bad news, Boss,” said the solid looking man. “The warehouse on 34th got hit by a vigilante. Cops swarmed the place. We lost most everything.”

“Purifier?” asked Sanchez.

“Nah, we haven’t seen that bastard for months,” replied Tod.

“Guardsman?” asked the woman, the only other in the room besides Miya.

“No, fucking let me finish.”

“Tod,” warned Sanchez.

“Sorry,” he grumbled to the woman. “No, this was the guy with the smiley face. Skulker, that’s it. Charles and Tammy got out before the cops showed. They said there was a feral with him.”

Miya looked up from the patch of carpet she stared at. There’s a feral here? Where is here, anyways?

“A feral?” asked a mustachioed man with a cigar dangling from his lips.

“That’s what they said,” replied Tod. “Tammy’s got a good head on her shoulders, she insisted.”

“This isn’t the first time,” added Sanchez. “This vigilante’s got a pet feral with him, we need him dead.

“They said it had glowing eyes like a demon.”

“Well, they’re dumbasses. Break out some of the heavier firepower, that’ll kill it real quick. Tod, get some guys on finding these two. Talk with our rat, the cops have got to be looking for this feral too. Level whatever rock they’re hiding under before they can so much as sneeze in our direction again. I want you with them, make sure the thing is dead.”

“You got it,” replied Tod.

“We just received, from our benefactor, two crates of weapons. Take you pick, Tod. We also got her,” he said, pointing to Miya in the corner. He beckoned her to the table beside her, though she got no chair. “She’s got a bunch of control implants in her. She does what we tell her or she dies.”

“So we own a human,” said the black man sitting two seats from Sanchez’s right hand.

“Pretty much.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“She’s a mage, Omar” said Sanchez.

The general murmur died down. Here it comes.

“What kind?” asked the woman.

“Well?” Sanchez prompted her.

“Bones,” said Miya. She reached for magic in vain, whatever implant blocking her free access to her power still the one to work consistently.

“Show us.”

“You need to push one of the button on there,” she replied.

“One of these kills you, doesn’t it?” asked Sanchez with a frown.

“Yeah, the covered one,” Miya replied, recalling Dr. Orange’s cheerful explanation of the iron blades millimeters from severing her spine.

“And this one?”

Her bleary, sleep deprived eyes examined the controller for a moment. “I don’t know,” she finally said with a shrug. If you’re going to kill me, just kill me.

He shot her a dangerous look, than returned his attention to his council. “I’ll look over the manual later. I’m inclined to believe Overlord.”

“I still don’t like this,” said Omar.

“What do you want me to do?” demanded Sanchez, wheeling on him. “Tell Overlord no? Is that what you want me to do? Get us all killed? I don’t know what else to do with her.”

“She can’t be more than eighty pounds,” said Tod. “We can’t just throw her in a fight, magic or not. That feral will rip her up before she gets any magic off.”

“You said she’s got implants. Get those out, hire her,” suggested Omar. Can you do that?

“My cousin just had an appendectomy, it set him back ten thousand after insurance,” said the woman. “Getting whatever those implants are out will cost so much damn money. Plus we’d need to find a quiet doctor, and the equipment, because if the doctor recognizes Overlord’s fingerprints and talks we’ll be drowning in Feds.” Never mind. It’s shit on Miya day after all, just like every other day.

“Would Overlord even want us digging his toys out of her?” pointed out the final man at the table, quiet until then. He drummed his fingers against the table.

“If Overlord didn’t want us to know about it, he wouldn’t give it to us. Nothing so far can be traced back to him,” said Sanchez.

“Except for us,” said Omar.

“Believe me, I know,” replied Sanchez, darkly. With no other complaints or suggestions forthcoming, he turned to Miya and said, “If you do right by us, we’ll do right by you. Work with us and we’ll see if we can get those metal bits out of you, but we can’t afford to do this out of the goodness of our hearts. Omar will be in charge of that, since he seems to have taken an interest.” He shot a look at Omar, who nodded. “Do you accept?”

She looked him in the eye. “I don’t have many options, do I?”

8: Ram

Olivia and Skulker stood atop a building overlooking their target. A handful of streetlights below them flickered, the rest broken and dark. A half moon did more to illuminate the area. No one walked the abandoned streets, save for the two men in front of the old brick warehouse, guns hidden from casual observation. A third man stood atop the warehouse roof, lit cigarette dangling from his lips.

Skulker nudged her with an elbow. “Get goin’,” he prompted her. Oh, we’re starting this now?

Olivia spread her wings and leapt off the side of the building. What did Skulker say to do? “Flatten him?” So just hit him? I think I did that to a guy before. She climbed higher into the air, than tucked her wings and dove. Her speed built up, momentum aimed at the man on the roof. The wind rushed past her face, sending her hair whipping around.

Learning from her previous attempt, she tucked her head and lead with her shoulder, colliding with the man’s chest. With a strangled cry, he crumpled. She rolled with the landing, climbing to her feet the moment she came to a stop. The man let out a groan, clutching his chest. OK, flattened. Is Skulker OK?

The commotion from Olivia’s entrance hadn’t gone unnoticed. As she spun around, one of the men below called out, “You alright up there?”

Movement caught her eye in the night. Skulker, pistol drawn, emerged from an alleyway. He teleported across the streets while the two men below were busy craning their necks to see what was happening on the roof. Olivia jumped back as two, than four shots rang out into the night.

Scraping noises caught her attention. The man behind her struggled upright. She froze, shying away. His fist glanced off her shoulder. Before she could react, another drove into her stomach. They both stared at each other for a split second. She shoved him away, sending him flying. His head smacked into the roof, and he lay still. Oh, he didn’t really hurt me. Her ears still rang with the sound of gunshots.

“Come on down,” called out Skulker.

She glided down, averting her eyes from the dead men and the blood on the ground. Skulker jostled the doorknob of front door to the warehouse. “Fuckin’ locked,” he grumbled. He gave the metal door a sharp kick. “I’ll see if one of these guys has the key.”

Should I kick it too? It didn’t work for Skulker. Maybe a second will work. Wobbling, she placed her foot on the door and shoved. It didn’t budge, though something metal creaked.

“If you’re gonna do that don’t just nudge it. Put force behind it,” said Skulker, hand rifling through the pockets of one of the men he’d killed.

Oh, OK. She took a deep breath, raised her leg up, and shoved it forward as hard as she could. The claws of her feet punched into the metal. The hinges shrieked and gave way, the door slamming into the ground. She caught herself on the doorframe before she could topple over, foot still stuck into the door. With a few shakes, she pulled her foot free.

She spun around to see Skulker staring at her. “Holy shit. Nice. Let’s get in there.”

He led the way into the warehouse, jumping over the bent and broken door. I did that? She followed after him, into a cramped and grimy hallway. In a split second, her eyes adjusted to the unlit interior. Her wings smacked against the walls as they walked. Olivia tried to keep her footsteps light, imitating Skulker, though she kept wobbling on her feet and bumping into the walls.

“That wasn’t quiet, they know we’re here,” murmured Skulker. “Keep your eyes open.” He stopped them at an office, its window covered over. A second lay on the opposite end of the hall. “Watch the hall,” Skulker whispered.

She nodded, attention split between Skulker and anything down the hallway. It definitely smells like people here. But all I can hear is ringing. With one shoulder pressed against the wall, he twisted the doorknob, pistol at the ready. In a flash, he shoved it all the way open and teleported in. Olivia waitied, breath caught in her lungs, as she listened to Skulker’s footsteps inside.

Finally, he poked his head out and said, “Empty. Try the other one.” He nodded towards the door on the opposite side of the hallway.

“It’s locked,” she replied.

“Kick it.”

She took a deep breath and steadied herself. This time she pushed forward, letting her momentum carry her into the room. She stumbled over the broken door and into what was once an office. Haphazard crates of ammo covered the desk in the center of the room, and several coats covered the back of the office chair behind it.

Before she could free her foot from the door, a sharp intake of breath and a metallic click caught her ears. Shots rang out. Olivia threw herself to the side, a sudden pain lancing through her ribs. Skulker teleported in over her and fired. Silence fell over the room as a body hit the ground.

“That was fast,” grumbled Skulker as he cast a look at Olivia over his shoulder. He stiffened. “Oh shit, you’re still alive! You OK?”

She pressed a palm to her ear, failing to deaden the ringing sound. “I’m fine. I think.” She rubbed a bruise on her ribs. That guy didn’t get close. But I’m not bleeding. How?

“Whoa,” said Skulker, pointing to her ragged shirt. “You sure?”

“Oh, um,” she mumbled. With a claw, she hooked the hem of her shirt up and revealed a massive purple and yellow bruise nearly the size of her palm underneath.

“Wait, put it back,” he said, gesturing to her shirt. Once she let it fall, he leaned in and said, “Yeah, a fuckin’ bullet left that. You really OK?”

She paused, feeling no other pain beyond the bruise and her ears. “I think so.”

“That guy was packin’ a nasty lookin rifle an’ he just give you a bruise. An’ you can rip steel with your hands.”

“Is that weird?”

“Fuckin’ hardcore is what it is. Talkin’ with you is the best decision I ever made.” He offered her a hand and threw his entire weight into hauling her to her feet. “We’ve wasted too much time, gotta move quick now.”

She trailed after him, knees weak. What am I doing here? That guy had a gun. He shot me. What am I doing? The ceiling rose, though the walls remained only slightly higher than Olivia’s wings. The carpeting cut off, replaced by concrete. Dim fluorescents dangling from metal roof supports flickered ahead. They turned a corner, and found half a dozen men in a semicircle around them, immediately opening fire.

Skulker pulled Olivia back behind a wall as gunfire ripped through the air where they’d stood just a moment before. Two bullets grazed her partially outstretched wing.

“Keep ‘em busy!” he shouted, teleporting off and leaving her alone against half a dozen armed men.

What? How? Why? Olivia flinched as bullets punched through the thin drywall, a mere foot from where she stood. She let out a stifled shriek and threw herself to the ground. More bullets shot above her, shredding the wall.

“I think we got it!” called out one of the gunmen as the firing ceased. Heavy footsteps approached, the fumes of gunpowder wafting through the air.

Olivia stared in horror as a pair of shadows approached in the doorframe she’d just dove away from. With rifles at the ready, two men, one broad shouldered and dark haired, the other balding, burst in and swivel towards her. Familiar pistol shots rang out. The men froze for a split second, half turning back towards the others.

They’re going to shoot him. They’re going to shoot me. She forced herself to her feet and rushed towards the two. The nearest one, the broad shouldered one, managed to react, firing directly into Olivia’s chest. Her moment carried her into him, slamming him into the brick wall behind him.

Out of instinct, she whipped her tail around, catching the balding man in the hip.

More shots came from the warehouse. Go away! She let out a primal scream and grabbed the broad shouldered man by the collar and slammed him into the wall once more. He slumped to the floor, unmoving and bleeding from the shoulder. She turned around to find the balding man had fallen to the floor. One hand clutched his hip, the other reached for the rifle he’d lost. No. She stomped down on his arm, which snapped with a sickening crack. He screamed and rolled over as she let him go, turning her attention to the warehouse beyond.

Skulker teleported behind a wall of shelves, barely keeping ahead of the rifle fire. One of the gunmen was down, the remaining three oblivious to Olivia’s entrance. Leave him alone. She charged into the back of the closest one, raking her claws down his back. He stumbled forward, rifle still in hand. With a wild cry, he spun and swung his rifle like a club at her, catching her arm, just as her other arm came down for a second swipe. He caught him in the shoulder, sending him crumpling to the ground.

Someone approached from behind, and Olivia spun, claws aimed for the gut. She froze when she caught sight for a grey grinning mask. Silence reigned for a moment, with only the sound of their heavy breathing as she and Skulker stared at each other.

He flashed her a thumbs up. “God damn, no mercy for the weak. Let’s have a look around.”

Olivia half collapsed against a wall, chest aching and lungs burning. Skulker had shot the other two gunmen, their bodies sprawled out on the concrete floor. What just happened? She looked down at her bloody claws. I think I hurt people. She wiped them of on her pants as best she could. Oh god. What am I doing? Am I supposed to be looking for something?

Olivia looked over the main room of the warehouse, now able to take her time without people shooting at her. A dull grey pickup truck was parked beside one of the garage doors in the very back. The gang had shoved various bits of furniture into the corner, making room for shelves upon shelves of ammunition. Skulker flipped open one of the crates near where they had first entered. Bits of drywall and bullet shrapnel slid off the top of the crate as he tossed it aside.

“They got so many goddamn guns. Want one?” She craned her neck, looking over his shoulder at the dozen sleek black rifles, identical to the ones the gang members had used not more than two minutes ago.

“No thank you,” she replied with a shake of her head. They’re so loud.

He shrugged and moved on to the next crate. “Damn it, why do these guys always got real fuckin’ nice ones? Where are they gettin’ these? Why do they need all these?”

Olivia moved on to a desk beside the truck, opening an empty drawer. What am I looking for? She glanced at Skulker, now moving from body to body on the floor. He seems to know. I’ll look stupid if I ask. I guess I’ll know if I see anything.

“Here we go.” Skulker lifted the head of the man she’d clawed and twisted it so he faced Olivia. The man slowly breathed through a crooked nose. Long dirty blond hair partially obscured his face. “This fuckin’ guy. I’ve seen him before. Works for one of Sanchez’s lieutenants. Solid Tod, I think.”

“Solid Tod?” Olivia repeated. What does that even mean?

“Don’t ask me. He’s got a power an’ good reputation, though. I think this guy might be up to answerin’ question for us. Well, me, you look beat.” Olivia just stared back, too tired to form a proper question. He reached up and patted her shoulder. “Come on, let’s go see what we missed back there.”

Skulker dragged the man back to the entrance. They stopped to search where Olivia took a bullet to the ribs. They continued their pattern, Skulker combing through the handful of ammunition boxes, while Olivia stood around and tried to look helpful.

Skulker began laughing as he reached the dead man Olivia had spent her whole time avoiding looking at. “What is it?” she asked, eyes still averted.

He popped the magazine out of the dead man’s rifle and showed her the top bullet. “He fuckin’ shoot you with a 300. That’s a big, mean bullet.”

“Is that bad?” What does that number mean?

“Most rifles are somewhere around 200. I ain’t great with numbers but I think the 300 is supposed to make you around fifty percent more dead.” He tossed the magazine to the floor. “Let’s get outta here.”

Sirens in the distance approached as they finally exited the warehouse. “You hear ‘em too?” he asked. She pulled a sweaty lock of hair out of her face and nodded. “Yeah, we don’t wanna stick around. Great job! This took a bit longer than I thought it would,” said Skulker. “But we gotta move quick if we’re gonna find this kid. I’ll chat with this guy an’ figure out where to go next. First thing tomorrow night work?”

She stared. Is that normal? Just getting shot at and hurting people? But what will he do if I say no? And I guess we’re going to help find a kid. “I guess,” she replied.

“Perfect. Go on, I’ll be fine.” She took flight as the weak light of the morning sun began to shine over the horizon, leaving Skulker with a battered and unconscious man in his grips.

7: Fast Track

Olivia closed the front door to her apartment once Skulker left, fighting the urge to simply slam it shut. She un-clenched her feet, pulling the claws out from the carpet. As Skulker’s footsteps faded, she slumped against the wall. OK. He’s gone now. That wasn’t a disaster. Her stomach grumbled as she thought, What did I just agree too?

Last moments of sunlight or the day trickled in from the window. Olivia took a deep breath and pushed off the wall. Though she hadn’t noticed at the time, she was covered in a cold sweat. I think I smell kind of bad. I can’t use the bath here. She paced, the simple act of moving easing her tension. Her tail brushed against the old drapes she was using as blankets. They had been thrown halfway across the room when she’d woken up to Skulker’s knock. A few messy knots of hair drifted in front of her face as she remade her makeshift sheets on the couch. Now what? Her stomach rumbled, sending a jolt of pain through her.

She checked the donut box she’d bought that morning. She’d torn through them the moment she got back, leaving only two and some crumbs. They’re better than dumpster food. Her stomach still ached, even after finishing them off. I need more food. I always need more food. Maybe I should wait, though. Maybe I can look around in here. Didn’t Skulker say this place was haunted?

Her apartment on the fourth floor at least seemed lived in. Most of the dust had dissipated thanks to her keeping a window open, and the random stuff she’d gathered was scattered around. She began a more thorough check of the building. When she’d first woken up, she’d only given it a cursory look over. Contrary to what Skulker had said, the first two floors had very much been looted. A few rooms even had graffiti, though most looked faded.

Things changed on the third floor. In one of the rooms she’d overlooked before, she spotted a half looted apartment. A washer and dryer stood in the middle of the room, next to a partially rolled carpet. The washing machine had 1983 printed on the side. Half the carpet was still attached to the floor, as if someone had stopped pulling it up halfway through the job.

Is this weird? This seems weird. Why would anyone just leave a washer here, even if it is old? Could I use these? I need to clean my clothes. But wait, there’s no electricity in here. A washer and dryer probably need electricity. Right? That seems like something they would need. She moved on. Her own floor and fifth floor seemed completely unscathed, with random bits of old furniture scattered around. She climbed the stairs one last time to find herself on the roof.

I guess that’s the whole building. It doesn’t seem haunted. Now what? She sat at the edge of the roof to enjoy the feel of the breeze on her wings and the lack of weight on her feet. The city stretched on before her, a mass of twinkling lights and roaring engines. There’s so much stuff here. How far does the city go? She relaxed, stretching out her tail behind her. Where did I come from? I probably came from somewhere in this city, right? I couldn’t have just popped into being. Or could a superpower do that? She sighed, unwilling to delve further into the rabbit hole.

Well, Skulker was asking about the stuff from when I first woke up. Maybe I missed something down there. She spread her wings and hopped off the edge of the roof. She glided and pulled a sharp turn, heading for the alley in which she had first awoken during a rainstorm more than a week ago. To her left was the main door she used, a metal door that had buckled in the middle, featuring four long scratches from her claws. To her right was the dumpster her head had rested on. Beyond that, the alley was as nondescript as they came, the only notable feature being a pair of cracks vaguely forming the shape of a dog.

The sheer amount of rot coming from the dumpster surprised her. Does this ever get emptied? It doesn’t look like it. Maybe there are some clues. She held her breath and forced herself to lean in, eyes watering as she surveyed the dumpster. I have no idea what I’m looking for. This is all just rotting trash.

She looked back at the six story building she called home, the tallest around for a block in any direction. The area seemed to mock her with a lack of answers. With little else to do, Olivia took flight. I haven’t gone towards all the really big buildings over there before. Maybe I can do that. Maybe there’s food there.

She flew in parallel to the mountains, heading towards the skyscrapers of the city’s center. The closer she got, the taller they seemed to loom, lights along their rooftops flickering on and off in some set pattern. What caught her eye was a strip of land devoid of any buildings. A park, empty of any people stretched on below her as she coasted down. Beside it stood an old looking building with a golden dome. Massive trees, many times larger than the ones she’d seen along sidewalks or in yards, grew all throughout.

Distracted, she failed to notice a handful of branches in the night sky. Her wing clipped them and folded, sending her spinning and plummeting towards the earth. No! With the ground fast approaching, she twisted herself face first towards the ground and spread her wings, catching the air once again. Trees are stupid. At least I didn’t hit the ground this time.

She coasted along. The inner city seemed much busier than the outskirts she was used to. Though the park seemed deserted, every streets seemed to have people walking along it at any point. Between two skyscrapers, she caught a whiff of something that made her mouth water. That kind of smells like the burgers. Where is that. She followed her nose to the back of a butcher shop, but flashing lights between her and her target made her stop.

Around the corner, two cops stood beside a car pulled over on the side. One leaned against the car with a pad of paper in hand, saying something the driver. The light on top of the police car flashed red and blue, lighting up the whole area. She circled, weighing her options. I shouldn’t go near them. If they spot me they might shoot me. But the food smells good. They’re over here. The food is over there. I should be fine.

She coasted over the traffic stop and maneuvered through the nearby buildings, making sure to keep her wings from brushing up against the walls. A trash bag laying against the wall behind the butcher shop caught her eye immediately. There! It smelled better than anything she’d ever come across.

Olivia stopped when she overheard the police talking.

“You alright?” asked one police officer, the same one who’d spoken with the driver.

“I thought I saw something fly by,” his partner replied, his voice far deeper. “Something big.” What? Me?

“The feral?”

“Maybe.”

In the brief pause that followed, Olivia scrambled away from the trash bag, food forgotten. Oh no.

“No, it’s just the two of us. We’re not wandering after it alone. Call it in.”

A car door opened, and Olivia heard, “Dispatch, we may have spotted the feral, please advise.”

She took flight, bolting directly away from the cops. She looked over her shoulder a minute later. Sirens and flashing lights swarmed the area where she’d been. OK, that’s bad. I’m not going anywhere near the police ever again. Darn it, they looked up. People never look up before.

With Skulker’s explanation of how he’d found her ringing in her ears, she circled in a wide arc around her apartment building, checking the streets for anyone who might have been following her. Only when the coast was clear did she land on the roof and head back to her apartment, the sun just beginning to rise on the horizon.

Her stomach convulsed as she headed down the steps. Her feet slipped, and she tumbled down the last pair of stairs Something burned the back of her throat. She spat to the side, willing her stomach to calm down. I needed that food. She struggled back to her feet and staggered the rest of the way to her couch.

***

Olivia woke the next evening to yet another knock on her door. “Hey! You ready?” called out a familiar, rapid voice. She cracked her eyes open and tumbled off the couch, ignoring the pain in her gut.

She opened the door to find a masked Skulker standing just outside, this time with the rifle slung over his shoulder. He looked up at her and said, “Wow, you OK? You look like shit.”

I shouldn’t bother him. “I’m OK. Just hungry,” she replied.

He gazed at her for a moment longer. “Let’s grab somethin’ to eat first. We got some time. You got any preference?”

“I don’t know. Um, burgers?”

“Great! Follow me.”

“But I don’t have any money,” she said, eyes fixed on the floor.

“Don’t worry about it. Come on.” Skulker lead the way to the roof, stopping occasionally to let her catch up.

She followed him to a fast food restaurant, with its lights still on. Below her, Skulker teleported from rooftop to rooftop. It was strange to watch. One moment he was there, and the next he was simply gone. She stopped on top of a short, squat building with a sign out front that read “Tax Law Firm” and waited. In a moment, he returned with a paper bag and handed her a fresh cheeseburger.

He had just sat down when his head whipped towards her. “God damn. Was that all in one bite?” he asked.

She looked down at the remaining half of a burger in her hands, wrapping paper in shreds around her claws. “Maybe.” I wasn’t paying attention.

“What have you been eatin’?”

“Just stuff. Stuff that I find.”

“Stuff,” he repeated. “Sure. I’ll get a bigger one next time.”

“Thank you.”

“Sure thing.” Once he’d finished, they headed towards the mountains. He brought them to a stop ten minutes later.

He pointed ahead. “This place been on my radar for a bit,” he said. “Never could figure out an easy way in on my own, but with the two of us this should be doable.”

A pair of men patrolled outside the rundown warehouse in front of them. They had no guns visible at first sight, until Olivia checked their belts and noticed strange gun shaped bulges at their hips or backsides. On the roof stood a man smoking a cigarette, a long rifle hidden behind the edge. They all have guns. What am I supposed to do?

“I have a question,” she said as she and Skulker observed from a few buildings away.

“You don’t gotta ask my permission. What?” he replied.

“Oh, sorry. Why me? What if I’m not good at this?”

“You got claws, wings, an’ are built like a tank,” he pointed out, pointing to her hands, wings, and chest in turn. “You’ll do fine. See those guys? They’re part of Sanchez’s gang. Now, Sanchez is a problem we’re gonna get to later, but the immediate problem is his guys are organized an’ well equipped. Never seen anythin’ like it before. My money is on outside help. From who, got no fuckin’ clue. Mexican Emperor springs to mind though, he’s been too quiet lately.”

“Sorry, what emperor?” asked Olivia. Did I hear that right?

“The Mexican one. Or Aztec, whatever. Who else?”

She blinked, thoroughly confused. “What was that about Aztec? I don’t think I know what you’re talking about.”

“Cuauhtémoc. The immortal god emperor of the Aztecs, sovereign of Mexico, an’ blah, blah, blah. We’ve had, like, three fuckin’ wars with him,” he stated, as if it were basic knowledge. “What did you think they had?”

“I don’t know. A president?” I’ve never thought about governments before. That seems right.

“No. We got a president. They got an emperor. He’s a dick.”

She hung her head and shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

“That’s the spirit!”

“Is he really a god?” she asked.

Skulker shrugged. “Dunno. He’s been around for hundreds of years or somethin’. He can’t be everywhere at once, though. But we’re gettin’ off track. The dicks in front of us kidnapped a kid, ten years old, for ransom.”

He pulled out his phone and pulled up a picture. A ten year old blond boy with a bowl cut grinned on the screen. He was missing a front tooth.

“This kid might be in there, might not. If he ain’t, well one of the guys in there might know somethin’ important. An’ if they don’t, they can tell us about somone who does. Make sense?”

“I think so.”

“Problem is, they’ve been keepin’ everythin’ real…” Skulker trailed off, looking off into the distance.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No, tryin’ to think of the word,” he replied. “Compartmentalized! That’s it! They’ve each got their own little unit, an’ they don’t know too much about what goes on outside of it, besides broad strokes that anyone would know. They get paid well, though.”

“So what are we going to do?” she asked.

“See that guy on the roof?”

She nodded.

“Flatten him. Keep him from spottin’ me too early when I go up. I’ll take care of the two other guys. Once we get inside, I’ll lead the way, do any talkin’ if we need it. You just watch my back.”

“OK.”