I was really liking this whole vigilante shit. Sure, I was breaching my Wards contract by acting as a cape outside PRT jurisdiction, but it was so freeing. Weeks and weeks of being cooped up inside with nothing but my thoughts were a maddening struggle and, even though there were Nazi's in this city, I wasn't going near them.
I drained the last sip of my strawberry and pomegranate sorbet cocktail and stood up, leaving the glass on the table. I was in the same ABB club as last time, but this time I'd found a mark.
My disguise for the night, of an ugly, hugely jacked guy with tacky tribal tats up his arms and neck, let me pass unmolested despite my choice of drink; people moving out of my way without me even having to ask. I swaggered out into the night after my targets, a trio of scrawny men in suits whose Observe bio's had some interesting things to say, as had their mouths as I read their lips from across the room.
Drinks, illegal gambling and a visit to an illegal brothel were on their menu tonight after a long day of laundering gang money. It honestly would have been a totally boss schedule if it weren't illegal and morally reprehensible. Like, drinks, legal gambling and legal brothel? Hell yeah, I'd do that shit. Ah, maybe not the brothel considering things were going ok with Savannah even if we were only messaging. It wasn't right to fuck around on people like that, but if I didn't have a chick on the go, brothel all day erry day.
As I followed the men I began to fade from existence, unnoticed by the thinning crowd as we walked further away from the strip of clubs and deeper into the grimier part of Brockton's Chinatown. Things were noticeably quieter since the shootings even here in the heart of ABB territory, people who were previously confident to galavant in the streets were staying indoors. I didn't know what happened to those four boys I'd saved, but I hoped they'd left the city.
They reached some dingy looking restaurant and I slipped in the door after them on silent feet, tiptoeing down into the concrete basement where a big mahjong table was set up and some rake thin old men were playing under a single wan light bulb sticking out of the nicotine-stained ceiling. As soon as the men I was tailing entered the room rapid conversation erupted in Mandarin, of which I couldn't understand a word. I really needed to fix that and buy a skill book, but Armsmaster's translation program would be able to handle this easily.
I slunk into an empty corner, trying not to gag at the thick smell of cigarette smoke which as it turned out I enjoyed no more than when Amy and I used to smoke.
Not to self; go visit Amy.
I equipped my phone, opening my camera app and doing my best to get the entire room into the frame, then settled down for what would no doubt be a really fucking boring night. What was I going to do when they went to the illegal brothel, though? I couldn't well follow them into the rooms. That would do for the night, get the incriminating footage for Colin to decode, snoop around a bit for cooked accounts books or something, then go home for my nightmare ridden four-hours-sleep.
It was amazing how many things could scare a boy in the six months he'd been working for the government. I wouldn't be surprised if this was all Cauldron's fault, they'd found out I had read Triumph and Battery's associations with them and this was their subtle way of driving me into an insane asylum. Maybe I should have just gone with my original plan of being a busking cape, I'd probably be much happier and I wouldn't be having to sit in grubby gambling dens as a way of escaping the suffocating confines of my house arrest tier protections.
I sighed internally, sliding down the wall until I was sitting, then balanced my phone on my knee.
Maybe I should just ask if there's anything I can do that wasn't a breach of contract that would also satisfy my need for freedom. It's not like Piggot would just tell me to fuck off and put up with it. She was a tough bitch, but she wasn't out to get any of us.
I equipped my work phone and brought up my and Savannah's conversation, a silly smile coming to my lips as I brought up the selfie she took of her in a tight tank top, gesturing to a half-assembled engine on the workbench beside her, a smudge of something on her nose.
I think I loved her. How could I ever have thought she was an annoying, bossy bitch? She was my soulmate.
Greg: hey ;) I'm sitting here pretty bored on a stakeout, watchu up to?
She was going to save me, drag me out of this hell my life had become. We'd get married and have six kids, who'd then get fucking killed by Endbringers god fucking dammit! End of the god damn fucking world, fucking Endbringers, fucking Cauldron, fucking fuck! I guess I'd just have to settle for maybe achieving some level of happiness before society collapsed and we Mad Maxed in a self-destructive spiral.
I shivered. Weirdly cold all of a sudden… how often did I even feel the cold anymore? I hadn't felt the chill since my vitality had hit forty. Something was wrong.
I slowly rose to my feet, equipping my uniform, observing the changes in the men I'd followed and their friends. They were feeling it too, something was putting a [Fear] debuff on them; oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. I recognised this feeling.
[Fear] has taken hold!
Hans stalked into the room, face blank as he drew a pistol from his belt.
He wasn't real.
"Time to finish vat ve started."
I closed my eyes, but I could still see him. He wasn't real. He was still in prison, I checked every other day. Taylor was making me hallucinate.
I fell back against the wall, turning away and burying my face in my arms.
We're fucked now, bro!
He's not real.
Get us the fuck out of here!
He's not real.
If he was real he'd have shot me.
"Did you know ve have already had ze Armsmaster? Your family will pay next."
Not listening. The sickening, gut-clenching cold retreated.
"Armsmaster?" said a rasping female voice.
I opened one eye a crack, turning to face the room. Where Hans used to be stood Taylor, inhumanly lankier and spindlier, a scarecrow mask half-covered by that long, curly dark hair of hers.
"Why does an ABB shitheel care about Armsmaster?"
My Observe turned out nothing, she was another hallucination. I screwed my eyes shut and took a ragged breath, trying to speak but no words were coming out.
"One last time," the gut-clenching terror intensifying as hallucination asked, still seen against the inside of my eyelids. "Why does an ABB shitheel care about Armsmaster dying like that?"
I dropped my invisibility, exposing myself.
"I'm a Ward. I'm Dark Smoke Puncher."
The fear vanished, leaving behind another thing for my perfect memory to torment me with during guilty nightmares.
Fuck us.
A tinnitus-like whine rang in my ears, my Wards uniform soaked to my body by bitter sweat. I realised I could taste bile, having thrown up in my mouth a little bit.
I peeked out through my eyelashes at the sound of boots walking closer. The real Taylor stood there, this time wearing a thick, ragged trench coat. She crouched, arms resting on knees, observing me keenly. I Observed her back.
Jesus Christ, Taylor, what the fuck have I done to you?
"You look familiar," she mused, voice hard, raspy in a way it hadn't been last time we spoke. "Have I threatened you before?"
I dry swallowed at the bitterness, "no."
"Hmm, well, my mistake then," she stood up. "Anyone who hates the Empire as much as you is alright in my books. I assume you're here for the sex slaves?"
Oh. That was here?
"Yep."
"Good, call it in. I have places to be, and these guys will confess" Taylor turned and stalked off, stepping over one of the men as he sobbed and pleaded with his cruel hallucination. She paused at the doorway, turning back to look over her shoulder. "I like 'Smoke and Mirrors'."
I got the sense she was smiling at me.
She left, leaving me alone with the broken gangsters, any vague ideas I may have had about turning up at her house as Greg and apologising evaporating with her leaving. I turned invisible again, drawing my knees in and wrapping my arms around them with my face pressed against my leg armour. How could I have done that to her?
"Never do that again."
Armsmaster didn't look up from his reports and I hadn't even sat down yet.
"Never do what?"
"Thank you for the footage and the call in, but you are to never do that again."
I gingerly sat in the spare office chair. I was sure I'd gotten rid of all the things that could trace the footage back to me, but he was Armsmaster.
"I'm already putting myself on the line for you, do not ruin both our careers."
"Sorry. I did come to that realisation while I was there if it makes you feel any better. I just need something to keep myself busy, and not just the same shit I've been doing," I interlocked my fingers and stared at my hands. "I need something fresh, you feel?"
"Yes, I feel," Armsmaster sighed, finally looking up at me. His face was deeply lined, eyes bloodshot with heavy dark bags under them. "But-"
"You don't have to worry about it though," I added hastily. "It's Emily's job to handle this kind of crap. I'm going to ask her about it, or Renick if she's too busy too."
Colin closed his eyes for a long moment. "Thank you," he said, opening them.
Maybe I should ask Amy about getting him some better meth.
"Was there anything else?"
My jaw clenched as though to stop myself from saying it. "I saw Scarecrow."
"What does that have to do with anything… Oh, yes, you knew her. What about it?"
"She's fucked up, man, and it's my fault."
"Everyone makes mistakes."
I frowned. He was trying to placate me so I would leave, but I needed to tell him this.
"No, I really, really hurt her. She wants to kill me, she thinks I'm Empire if she ever found out I was a Ward she'd have a complete meltdown! I've never seen someone who's second triggered, but I bet she would if she knew."
"Look, I don't know how to help you on this one, Greg," Armsmaster said, irritation colouring his voice. "Life is like this sometimes. You shit the bed, life shits on someone else for your fuck up, etc. The cycle continues. Do better next time, that's all there is to it."
"No! I have to break the cycle-"
"I forbid you from revealing your identity to her."
"No, not that, she'd melt my brain. I have to do something though, don't I?" I looked at him imploringly.
"Not really, no. The damage has already been done. Think Tank analysis, which you don't have access to, has her pegged as another statistic who will either get herself killed or become a villain-"
"Why is she getting Think Tank looking at her?"
"They do a once a year sweep," Armsmaster waved a hand to dismiss the sidetrack. "The point is there's nothing you can do, some people are just self-destructive."
"You didn't give up on me."
"I can see you're trying to 'get a gotcha', Greg," Armsmaster rubbed his eyes tiredly. "But the circumstances were extremely different. You may have been an insolent fool, but you were putting effort into being a better person. I've spoken to Scarecrow, she's not interested in anything but revenge and she's willing to hurt a lot of people to get there. If she lives another five years she might grow some perspective, or she might spiral downward, but nothing you do can help someone like that. Give it up, don't jeopardise both our careers over this it is not worth it."
We'll find a way.
"Right, I get it. I promise I won't screw us over, thanks, Colin."
"I can see you scheming something, stop it."
"Right."
