The following evening found Disjoint pacing down yet another empty street, itching for something to break the monotony. The daylight hours had passed by in a dreary blur; her rendezvous with Faultline in the depths of the night had bled into a morning patrol that revealed nothing more than homeless tucked away in the out-of-sight corners of the city. They were a different sort of problem, one that shrugged indifferently in the face of her strength.
Spending the time to personally walk the streets each day had begun to give her a feel for the moods of the Bay. Beneath the light of day a washed-out routine swallowed the streets, propping up a fragile peace that grew increasingly frayed as the sun began to set over the hills to the west. Doors shut and locked as the last trickle of light faded, and the gangs began to stir, stretching beyond their regular grounds in preparation for the night's activities.
Her own preparations had increased as well. A map of the city joined her notebook within her deep pockets, decorated with an ever-increasing array of notes and colored markings. More than just a navigational tool, it served as documentation of the places she had visited so far, as well as holding whatever observations she deemed important enough to set down on paper.
The original goal for the night had been to form an outline of the primary gang territories. Disjoint had sought to refine her own patrols; borders between rival gangs sounded like one of the most effective places to visit. However, reality had turned out to be far less neat and organized than she had expected. The gangs were no rival nations with clearly-drawn borders, or warring armies fighting amidst the front lines. Instead there were areas influenced towards one group or another, interspersed with dozens of enclaves that could belong to a rival gang, a Protectorate-patrolled territory, or simply unclaimed ground. In truth, it had gone a fair way towards explaining the state of the city; the entire bay felt like a battleground of contested land. The fact that any balance existed was a testament to the struggle of the Protectorate, desperately trying to hold the crumbling pieces together.
While some areas might be busier than others, in the end it was likely that the gangs would be lurking no matter where she patrolled.
At the moment Disjoint was exploring the southern edge of the city, past the nicer downtown areas and into the hills, where nature had begun to encroach on the concrete jungle. Here the Empire Eighty Eight had bloated out relatively uncontested to claim the streets, twisting its members together with whispered promises of supremacy. Hatred and demonization shaped the gang, aiming their aggression out towards any scapegoats they could find. They never ceased their attempts to expand, initiating many of the attacks across the city.
The night-dwelling loiterers had changed to reflect the different gang, pale faces and shaved heads visible even amidst the cold. The men weren't out in the open for long; apparently even they could show enough reason to duck out of sight of an obvious hero.
Beside the regular members, the odds of running into a powered villain had grown significantly compared to her previous venture through ABB territory. The Empire 88 possessed a disturbing number of capes that had crept into the city to follow Kaiser's banner. So far she hadn't run into a single one herself, but the clock was ticking down. Confrontation was inevitable; it was only a matter of time before she crossed someone's path.
It was unlikely to happen this far out, however. Here at the edge of the city there was no opposing gang to war against, nothing to draw a villain's attention. The only movement was a slow trickle of people departing apartments and alleys to head further into the city. It formed a twisted parody of the daytime commute, a subtle flow more akin to a swelling tide than a rushing river.
Had the gang members shown any signs of hurry Disjoint would have followed, hoping to track them to their destination. Instead she only paused to place another note on her map.
Ahead she could make out an opening amongst the lines of buildings, a gap where the ground dipped down and the brick walls vanished outwards into open space. Drawing closer the cause became apparent – a decently-sized pond stretched out before her, edges lined with trees whose branches trailed down into the water.
Along the ground in front of her ran a dirt path, curving away in both directions to vanish into the darkness, likely looping around to meet on the other side. Benches dotted the shore and she approached one that offered a clear view of the streets that she had just arrived from. It was a decent place to wait and watch for activity; the shadows beneath the trees obscured her form even as she gazed out on the gently sloping road.
Disjoint let her mind wander, waiting for a hint of motion that would bring her back to attention. Instead the minutes passed silently, gently swaying branches the only departure from the otherwise frozen vista. Finally her phone buzzed, a reminder to move on, and she smoothly stood. As she did, her phone buzzed again.
Frowning, she fished the device out of her inner pocket and flipped it open, scrutinizing the blinking screen. Routine transitioned to something more animated as she took in the words. Instead of her timer, a notice from the Protectorate sat highlighted upon the glass, calling out to any available heroes. An emergency call: a report of gangs colliding downtown and an eruption of violence. The location was printed at the bottom and she hurriedly unfolded her map, dragging a finger along the roads until she found the intersection. Over a mile away, but she could be there in minutes, provided she didn't get lost.
Her previous lethargy vanished as she eyed the fastest route, noting the handful of turns. Dashing along the rooftops might have been more direct, but without a suitable landmark it would be too easy to wander hopelessly off course. The streets would do.
She launched herself up the street, heading north and feeling pavement blur past as she found her rhythm.
Disjoint knew she was drawing close when, not long into her run, she heard the crack of distant gunfire. Her ears picked up a smattering of off-tempo echoes, before a staccato chattering lashed out in response. The burst of noise vanished as abruptly as it had come, and she redoubled her pace.
Whirling around the final corner Disjoint braced for action, but instead of a crowd of gang members the street was clear save for two costumed figures. They were hurrying down the road from the opposite end, moving quickly towards her, and she recognized Battery as the shining lines of her costume flashed under a passing light post. Beside her, another hero in red tore down the street. Disjoint thought for a moment that it was Velocity, but the profile was wrong, the costume a bit too bulky. Assault, then, if she remembered correctly.
The pair drew close, trailing to a stop in front of a dilapidated building, and she joined them. As she approached Battery flashed a smile, but immediately jumped straight to business.
"Disjoint, I didn't know you were coming. Glad to see you. I don't know if you heard the details, but there was a call about the Empire shooting up a bar." The woman was faintly out of breath, but continued hurriedly. "I'm sure you heard the shots – they can't have gone far. Assault and I will secure the area, would you be willing to search the nearby streets on your own?" Disjoint nodded, and Battery paused for a moment to breathe.
"Thank you. Let's meet back here in a few minutes, or give me a call if you do find them." The woman didn't sound too hopeful about the odds, but Disjoint was determined regardless.
She turned, moving towards the maze of alleyways and side streets as she left the scene behind her. The gang members had a head start; it would be up to her to ensure that it wasn't enough.
Passing by the edge of a building she reached out, letting her hand rest high on the brickwork for a moment before pulling down. Instead of cleaving through the exterior wall she soared into the air, wind rippling around her as she crested the crowded roofs and gazed out over the city. As she passed the peak of her vault and began to drop she spared only a moment to look down, trusting herself to land lightly atop the building.
Before her the streets unfolded, darkness claiming the edges but leaving what remained bare beneath her scrutiny. Her eyes flicked across the length of the road below, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, and she moved. Feet barely brushed the ground as she leapt from rooftop to rooftop, covering the distance to the next gap in silence.
Another open road, another empty street, and she moved on.
She let instinct guide her, familiarity rising as she hunted for a glimpse of movement, a hint of breath, a single footstep out of place. She did not stick to the shadows; instead she blazed forwards unceasingly overhead, the world flashing by below.
Finally there was a change, an interruption to the empty lines of concrete and asphalt before her. Slipping into view she saw a man emerge from between two buildings ahead, shaved head jerking back and forth nervously before he hurried across the street to vanish once again into the shadows. This time, however, she followed.
It was the work of moments to approach his useless cover, visible as day from her vantage staring down. The man had barely reached the end of the alley as she arrived, his breath coming in heavy pants as he paused, mumbling to himself. His arms pulled a leather jacket tight across his hunched shoulders, and she hesitated, contemplating.
It would be trivial to land beside him and reach out, zip-tie his hands together as he struggled futilely against her strength. However, precious minutes had passed since she embarked on her pursuit, and she had no idea where the additional gang members had vanished to. She could take her chances on her own, but before her lay an alternative.
There were decent odds that the gang members would reunite once they believed themselves safe, and she had her own unwitting guide below. Let him believe himself in the clear, and she would follow. Once they gathered, she would reveal herself, and secure the entire group at once. Besides, the man below wasn't going to get away even should they fail to rendezvous.
With a nod to herself, Disjoint drew back from the edge of the roof.
A minute passed before the gang member began to move again. His steps were hurried, moving with purpose, and she waited. Only once the sound of his steps had continued down the street did she flow over the edge of the roof and onto the next. Before she had torn through the sky without regard, now she would have to do her best to remain undetected.
The two of them began to form a pattern, a game of cat and mouse with only one participant aware. She would hang back, letting the man build a block or so of distance, before creeping forwards to narrow the gap. The only change occurred when he turned down a side street, giving her a chance to approach just a bit faster than before. Even with her continuous care however, the man never doubled back. Perhaps he was inexperienced, or simply believed he was safe and free. Indeed, his steps began to slow as he continued across yet another block.
Counting down the seconds in her head Disjoint peered around the edge of the street, narrowing her eyes. Halfway down the dim and narrow path the gang member had slipped in the darkness, and now lay before her, facedown. As she watched in confusion he made no move to struggle back to his feet, remaining as still as the rough ground beneath him.
Suspicion dawned slowly as she took in the form, a sight that stirred up countless flashes of memory. Reminders of similar scenes, repeated over and over. All with the same unifying detail.
Dropping towards the ground she approached, finally picking out the slight sheen on the street beneath her boots. Invisible from a distance, it grew stronger the closer she got, until she stood beside the unmoving body. The corpse, for that's what it truly was.
One shoe hooked under the man's shoulder and rolled him over, arm dragging limply at his side. As his head came around, blank eyes stared upwards into the sky, his other hand still clasped tightly to his waist. Around it was a stain more black than red in the darkness, but nevertheless clear.
It was curiosity more than anything that drove her to continue looking, curiosity and a vague sense of dissatisfaction. The shift had thrown her – only moments ago she had been eagerly awaiting the chance to capture the man, and then suddenly the anticipation vanished. Failure wasn't exactly the right word for what had replaced it, but it was something similar, an irritation. There had been no confrontation, no conclusion. The man had bled to death without even knowing she was there.
The street was empty by the time she returned, but through the shattered windows she could see Battery moving about within the bar. Bits of debris crunched underfoot as she passed through the entryway, taking in the scene of devastation. She hadn't gotten close enough to see previously, but it looked as if a whirlwind had passed through. Tables and chairs had been overturned, forming a waist-high barricade facing the street, spotted with splintered gouges and pockmarked bullet holes. Food and drink littered the floor amongst shards of broken dishes.
The room was almost entirely empty, with one notable exception. Besides the two Protectorate heroes, a casually-dressed man sat on the floor with his back to the large bar, hands busy winding a long strip of cloth around the bottom of his leg. A small stain was visible against the white, but it didn't seem to be growing. A far less serious wound, compared to the body Disjoint had just seen. Even as she watched, it vanished under another professionally-applied layer. In front of her the man tied it off neatly, before looking up at the three heroes. His face was pale, but maintained a carefully blank expression in response to the inquisitive gazes.
Assault was the first to break the silence, leaning forwards to scrutinize the seated man. "Hey, pal. Looks like someone clipped you real good there. Tell you what, before you go running off, perhaps you could answer some questions for me." As he spoke he reached to the side, rummaging behind one of the upturned tables. When his hands rose back into view, they were wrapped around a rifle.
Disjoint jerked in surprise but Assault only set the gun on the table, in clear sight of every person in the room. Turning back towards the increasingly-suspicious figure, she watched the seated man's jaw tighten as he took in the sight. Despite the tension, the man was very careful to keep his arms at his sides.
"A little more than I usually see around here," the hero continued. "This wouldn't happen to belong to you, would it?" The words came casually, inviting the other man to respond. Against her expectations, he did.
"Yes, that weapon belongs to me. It is a legally owned firearm, and my license is on my person," the man recited. The words sounded slightly awkward, rehearsed, but there wasn't any hesitation. "If you're done here, I need to visit the hospital." He was doing an admirable job at working through it, but the pain was evident in his tone.
Assault waved away his concern before he even finished speaking. "Ah, not just yet. The ambulance is on the way, but we've got some time, and I'm a little curious. I'm sure you wouldn't mind showing me that license while we wait." In response to his words the seated figure pointed towards his pocket, reaching slowly to pull out his wallet and slide it across the floor. Assault snatched it up, flicking it open to look through the folds.
"Mr. Collins. Mm. Look a little less pale in your photo. Maybe you could help clear some things up for me, tell us what happened here? You decide to even up the score after losing a round of darts?" The man's eyes narrowed as Assault continued to prod at him.
"It was self-defense," Collins ground out, anger coloring his words. "Some Nazi goons came by and opened fire, and we – I chased them off. Saw all five of them run away scot-free, before you all even got here."
"Four. At least one of them didn't make it." Disjoint interjected dispassionately, and the man swung his head to glance at her out of the corner of his eye, before snorting.
"Good riddance."
"And you and your friends were just unlucky passersby, was it?" Assault took back hold of the conversation. "I can't say I expected Empire goons to make good decisions, but it's a bit odd they happened to hit the only bar packed full of men with rifles. Which, speaking of, I notice your friends left without you." The questions had grown pointed, needling the injured man. As they continued he only shrugged up at the hero indifferently.
"Seems to me like your friends, or perhaps your boss doesn't care about you too much. I don't know how willing I'd be to work for someone like that." Assault changed tack, tone shifting to grow conspiratorial. "With an injury like that you might be out for good. Perhaps it's time to think about a career change."
Silence was the only response, as the seated figure clammed up further. Whether due to loyalty or simple stubbornness it was obvious to Disjoint that he wouldn't say anything more, and evidently Assault realized it as well, ending the barrage of questions.
"Something to keep in mind. Think it over, take your time. I'm sure the police will have some more questions for you once you're done at the hospital. In the meanwhile, your rifle's going into evidence. If you're lucky you can pick it up once the investigation is done." Tossing the wallet back, he picked up the aforementioned weapon and wandered over to the opposite side of the room, where Battery and Disjoint joined him.
"So, Brockton Bay's newest hero, in the flesh. Want to keep me company while we wait?" Assault was suddenly all smiles, patting the seat beside him. Battery only sighed, and Disjoint eyed him, unimpressed, before moving to stand next to the other woman. Assault seemed to take it in stride, raising a hand to his chest in an exaggerated wince.
Disjoint turned to Battery, raising an eyebrow that the Protectorate hero couldn't actually see behind her mask. Still, the tilt of her head was enough to clue her in, and the woman took a step back to introduce them.
"Assault, this is Disjoint, our recently-joined independent hero and newcomer to the city. Please, try to behave yourself," she added wearily. "Disjoint, meet Assault, one of my coworkers in the Protectorate. Don't hurt him too badly if he doesn't."
Assault shot her another despondent look, before returning to his wide smile as they exchanged greetings. Afterwards, Battery spoke up again, addressing Disjoint.
"I saw you came back empty-handed, but you mentioned you found one of the gang members?" she asked curiously.
At the reminder Disjoint glanced over at the injured man – the suspect – who hadn't moved much. He had wriggled into a more comfortable position against the bar with his injured leg stretched out in front of him, waiting for the medics to arrive. Even as they talked he looked happy to ignore them, focusing on breathing slowly in and out. Turning back to Battery, she answered the question.
"Most likely. Running away from here on his own, shot in the stomach. He bled out shortly after I reached him," she added quietly. "Someone else might be able to identify him for sure."
Battery nodded. "We'll send the ambulance to pick him up afterwards." As Disjoint wrote the address down on a spare sheet of paper from her notebook, Battery continued, "It's been getting busier this week. A lot of people out celebrating. You would think they'd be happy enough to leave each other alone, but instead the excitement causes even more problems. Not that I'm complaining, given the circumstances."
"Celebrating? Still?" Disjoint wondered aloud, as both Assault and Battery looked at her curiously.
"It's only been what, three days?" Assault responded, sounding confused. "I wouldn't be surprised to see this go on for a week. Even if nobody wants to say it, they know what the Nine being so close meant. There aren't that many big cities around here."
"February 5th, the final day of the Slaughterhouse Nine," Battery added with a smile. "Well, something like that. I guess nobody knows the exact date."
"I've never seen the Protectorate so stirred up," Assault chuckled excitedly. "People have been running around nonstop, trying to figure out what happened. You should hear the theories they're spouting in the office. Nothing has been revealed yet, so anything goes at this point. The only reason we've heard a thing is because they came by looking for some stuff from our branch to aid the Boston guys. Rumor has it the Triumvirate might even get involved."
Disjoint couldn't help the curiosity and apprehension that overcame her at the mention of the Protectorate's investigation. The reasons behind her decision not to reveal herself so early remained, but the strain of waiting for an announcement was growing by the day. Perhaps it would have been the right choice, to come forward and describe her independence from Manton and resulting actions, but the thought still frightened her.
"What kind of theories?" she questioned softly, intrigued despite the dangerous line of conversation. Even as she spoke she strained to hold herself perfectly in place, unwilling to betray any hint in her body language beyond casual interest. Luckily, it seemed Assault was too engrossed in the wild tales to notice.
"Some people think it was another villain team. Take out the biggest group in town, wait a few days to get everyone talking, then come out for the reveal. Guaranteed to make a name for themselves. Others are talking about one of Bonesaw's creations run amok, whispering to each other about strange sightings at the scene. Nothing confirmed, of course. Still more simply think they finally fell to infighting. So many monsters in one place, it was bound to happen sooner or later."
Disjoint felt her polite smile hold firmly in place, frozen on her face beneath the mask, even as her heart sank at the notable exception to the list. She wasn't sure what to do, whether to try to bring it up herself or simply leave it and accept the ache, but as she wrestled internally Battery weighed in.
"Or it could be a hero," the woman spoke optimistically. "A group, or a lone cape, who got rid of them because it was the right thing to do. Who didn't claim the credit because they didn't care about the glory, just that the Nine were finally gone." Assault began laughing lightly at her words, but her smile didn't fade. "I know it's a foreign concept to you, but there are decent people out there," she added towards her companion, elbow tapping his side.
"I think I like that theory the best," Disjoint finally replied as she let herself relax.