The good news: I managed to sleep for a few more hours. Actual sleep. And while I might have woken up from a dream full of disembodied parts and more bleeding bones than I would normally prefer...my headache is mostly gone. Plus, dad's already gone to work. So I can go down and reheat the breakfast he left me without having to explain my hand.

The bad news: that's a temporary reprieve, at best. And reflecting on my situation over a plate full of leftovers is almost enough to bring the headache back with a vengeance. It is enough to kill my appetite, which...kind of sucks.

In the past two days, I managed to potentially bring Armsmaster down on my head, fucked up my first friendship in two years, and went out of my way to piss off a murderous Tinker by burning down his workshop.

Oh, and I died during the last thing. Which...should really bother me more than it does, but doesn't actually seem relevant right now.

God, what am I going to do about Victoria?

The short answer, the easy answer, is 'nothing'. After all, she made her position on things pretty clear. And...it isn't like she wasn't justified in leaving like that. I've done enough, at this point...at this point maybe it'd be better if that was the end of it. Leave well enough alone.

It sucks. It hurts...a surprising amount. But with the way things are, it is probably for the best. It feels like everything is spiraling out of control, and I shouldn't want to drag her into it any more than I already have.

I'm keeping the phone, though. And keeping it on me, because going out without it last night was probably stupid, and I need to stop acting stupid. This whole thing…

Ugh.

My next problem (the most immediate one, anyway) is what the hell I'm going to do with all of the stuff I pulled out of the Tinker's workshop.

I clear off my desk to lay them all out. Sixteen runes from the workshop, seventeen with the one from the body I'd found. There are at least four more out there, still buzzing away at the edge of my perception. And the pair of Charms, on top of all that…

Victoria would have thrown them away (she did, the first time), but I'm not sure I can bring myself to do that. Putting aside that I was able to use one of the Runes to find more of them...could I do the same for the Charms? Maybe I'd be able to find the Tinker himself, then. He's got to be carrying at least one.

And if that didn't work...would they be useful as any kind of evidence? If I could prove who made them maybe. It'd give someone an idea of how many people this guy has killed, anyway.

But then, so would the dead bodies he's been leaving behind. So…

So no, that's another stupid idea.

I pick up a Rune, then another. Similar, but not identical. Obviously hand-made, like I couldn't have guessed that at any point. Still nothing about them that might indicate that they're anything other than vaguely disturbing knick-knacks...and I'm just sitting here and staring at them. Like they weren't cut out of a person. Like-

Pain lances up my arm, and I loosen my grip, setting down the rune I'd been holding (clutching) in my left hand. The dull, steady throb that I've been ignoring hits me again in full, and I grit my teeth. Try not to move it anymore, just for a little bit. It's gotten worse, I think, which can only mean bad things...I think of Amy, and how easily she'd just wipe the pain away, and somehow that manages to make me feel worse than before. I wouldn't have made it nearly as far as I have, if it wasn't for her healing, and...I thanked her, I know I did, but words don't really mean much, do they?

I got used to it pretty quickly. Not having to worry about injuries any more than I've worried about death lately. But there's a reason I was so insistent on using that Charm, why I went back to it even after all of this; I'm no Brute. Bullets don't bounce off my skin, and I can't just take a hit and keep going like it's nothing. And as irritating as the pain is, as much as I just want it to stop, maybe it's a good-

The Rune in my right hand cracks suddenly, and I drop it reflexively. Watch, wide-eyed, as it burns away to ash, metal and all...along with two more, beside it.

The pain...doesn't vanish. But it's muted, somehow. I know it hurts, I can feel something like discomfort, but it's not...important? Or...it's not quite pain anymore. And when I hold it up, out, when I flex my fingers and clench my fist, the feeling doesn't change.

"What the fuck?"

[EnHAncE. sUsTAin.]

I swallow, and stand away from the desk, eyeing the remaining Runes a little warily. Because that…

Last night. Last night, I used that Rune to track the rest. And I can still feel them, the ones I haven't already taken. This...I wanted the pain gone, and now this? Only this time...no blood, no power. I wasn't even touching two of them. Why...how? What's different?

[deVeLoPmenT.]

I wince, press a hand to my head. [Behind me, I feel sOmeThing withdrawing.]

This...this whole thing is just…

I shake my head, and go to my closet for...something. Sheet? A spare sheet, and a pillowcase. I'm very careful not to touch any more Runes, folding them all into the sheet before shoving the whole thing in the pillowcase. That, I take it to the basement, and shove it all into the most out of the way corner I can find.

I'm going to get on with my day now. Whatever that might entail.

xxxxxxxxxx

In the end, it mostly involves staring at the TV and trying not to think about...anything. I get mixed results, there...try to give it up sometime around lunch, only to wind up back on the couch. At some point I almost doze off.

And then Dad comes home, and I have to pretend that everything's going fine. When he asks how my day went, I smile and honestly say that nothing much happened. When he asks about Victoria, I smile and tell him I didn't feel like going out today.

When he doesn't ask about my hand, I do my best not to freak out in front of him. Don't worry about the fact that the swelling, bruises, and 'pain' are all gone.

Dinner is...stilted, and quiet. A couple of times, he tries to strike up a conversation, but it doesn't stick. I try myself, once, but can't really bring myself to follow through.

I retreat to my room. He retreats to his paperwork.

Just...just another night in the Hebert household.

(And how did I not notice how bad it's gotten, before…?)

xxxxxxxxxx

It's a cool night. The wind, as it hisses across the rooftops, has just enough bite for me to feel it through the thinner parts of my costume.

In the alley below me, huddled up in a tattered jacket, the man I've been watching for the better part of ten minutes is shivering for reasons I'm pretty sure have nothing to do with the chill.

"Fuck, man, I'm tellin' you-"

"I swear to fucking god, Lenny, if you don't shut the fuck up I'm gonna set you on fire."

I would feel a little more sorry for 'Lenny', if I hadn't seen him passing out drugs to kids who couldn't be any older than I am. As it is, I keep watching him. And pointedly avoid watching his partner for the night.

"You're seriously not gettin' the fucking creeps hanging around this shithole in the middle of the fucking night?"

Lenny's partner snorts, hacks, and spits on the ground. With my vision enhanced like this, I can just make out a splotch of something dark against the alley floor. "Are you fucking high tonight? It's the same goddamn spot as every other night…"

"Yeah, and most nights we're not bein' watched!"

"Nobody's watchin' us you dense motherfucker!"

What follows is an argument that involves way more creative language than I'm entirely comfortable with...and actually, it circles all the way back around from 'horrific' to 'absurd' pretty quickly. For the first time tonight, I find myself smiling beneath my mask.

I hadn't really had a plan, when I came out here. Wander aimlessly. Find trouble. Put a stop to it, and maybe figure out these new Charms in the process.

I've managed most of that much, so far. Mostly because apparently you can't throw a stone in Brockton Bay without running into some kind of shitty situation, but also...well, luck. Luck, a talkative gangster, and a poorly timed gust of wind that should have sent me falling to my death (but didn't).

I lean back from the edge of the roof, take a minute to work out the stiffness in my neck...when I return to my post, catch sight of Lenny again, he immediately tenses, looking around uncertainly. "Shit."

"Don't even start."

A few more muttered curses, before they settle into silence again.

It's an interesting effect. And despite my irritation at the first (and second...and third) failed ambush, I'm starting to see the utility of a Charm that makes sure the bad guys know I'm watching them. Maybe not something I'd want to use all the time, but...well, if nothing else, the results are satisfying.

...which probably isn't a good mindset to approach this stuff with.

Good mood soured again...I stand, and creep along the ledge until I have a solid angle on both of them at the same time.

The gruff voice, Lenny's partner, looks about as sleazy as he sounded. And by the time I've actually made that assessment, he's gone for the gun in his waistband and started looking around like he's expecting someone to jump out at him. "The fuck…?"

Lenny perks up immediately, pointing an accusing finger. "I knew it! You feel it too, man! You fucking asshole, I told you-"

"Shut. Up."

"No, no way, I was right. Somethin' ain't right here-"

The other guy pulls his gun, and I tense despite myself. "One more word, asshole! See what happens!"

Silence. The tension builds peaks...before gun-guy finally lowers the weapon. "Shit, whatever. Doesn't look like anyone else is gonna show up tonight. Let's just get out of here."

"What if somebody's followin' us?"

Gun-guy looks about ready to shoot Lenny again, and again, I get ready to...intervene, I guess. But, again, nothing happens. "Then, I dunno...we split up. Ditch the fucker, then meet up at the spot."

"...which spot?"

"Are you...are you fucking serious? The spot."

"There's fucking a dozen 'spots' around here!"

"The fucking spot on 25th! Where we just fucking came from!"

"I thought that was 'the place'...?"

Silent disbelief from gun-guy. I can (unfortunately) empathize.

These are the people that the police have so much trouble putting away? I just…

"Lenny? Stop talking, and just...just fucking walk before I shoot you in the face. A lot."

I watch them, as they make their way out of the alley. And, after thinking it over, I let them go. Because, apparently, there's a 'spot' not far from here.

That sounds like something a little more interesting than a couple of street level dealers.

xxxxxxxxxx

Watching people through obstructions doesn't seem to alert them to the fact, which, on reflection, is probably a good thing. It means that I can let the two morons relax a bit as they lead me to what looks like a hideout. And it means when I do settle on the rooftop, I don't immediately alert the people inside to the fact that someone's here.

Four floors. At least a dozen people scattered around the top two...a few of them are splayed out, one or two seem like they're just on the floor. The rest don't seem to be paying them that much attention.

I walk the perimeter of the building to get a good feel for the place, stop and crouch above the alleyway that runs behind it. Seems clear...one door at street level. Considering my last attempt at attacking a gang headquarters ended when everyone decided to clear out, maybe I should do something about that.

Or maybe I should use the cellphone I brought with me to...call who? The police? There aren't any Capes involved, so the PRT is out. Victoria…?

Why am I even bothering?

...because I'm already here, I guess. And because I'd rather be out here doing something than struggling to sleep at home.

I'm going to have to figure this stuff out, at some point. But right now...right now I'm just going to get this done.

That's a good plan. First order of business. Block that exit.

I teleport down to get a closer look. Nobody near the door; it's locked, obviously from the inside. Blocking it off...well, there is a dumpster right over there. Too heavy to push...but I don't necessarily have to push it into place, do I?

I know I can 'port at least four people. So I should be able to teleport a dumpster, right?

As it turns out, no, not right. Multiple attempts leave it no closer to the door than before. Improvising with a couple of plastic trash-cans...it's just not the same. But it might be effective, which I guess is the important part.

Potential exit taken care of. Now, back up to the roof. There's no real patterns in the way the people are moving, inside, but nobody looks like they're standing guard or anything, either. I don't know if it would change anything if there were guards, but it's good to know that there aren't any.

And it's not like I have any grand plans, anyway. I've got about one strategy. Another thing to work on, I decide as I flick my baton out to its full length.

Inside, just below me, a man passes by. And in an instant-

-I'm behind him. Dim light. The stink of unwashed bodies. Smoke curling in the air as bloodshot eyes widen. Before anyone can react, I move again, taking my baton in both hands and looping my arms over my target's head. The metal digs into his throat as I pull him off his feet-

-and I twist as I fall, dropping us both on our sides.

But I'm not startled and disoriented; hell, I barely felt the impact beyond a dull not-pain in my shoulder and ribs. So while he's trying to pull himself together enough to react, I'm getting to my feet and...well, I actually just kick him in the back a couple of times, and stomp on his shoulder when he tries to roll over.

There's a wet crackle. He screams. Below, his friends' panic ratchets up another notch.

I pointedly don't hit this guy in the head. He'll...run out of breath eventually. And I don't think he's going anywhere, anyway.

I'm on the other side of the roof a moment later, and I watch as a few stragglers rush into the room I'd pulled this guy out of. Before the last of them can catch up (and, more importantly, before he can enter their line of sight) I crouch-

-and lash out at his ankle, catching a handful of stained denim in a death-grip before yanking-

-as I bring us back up. His weight comes down on a foot that isn't touching the ground, and he doesn't have the time to get his arms up before he hits the head bounces, blood spurts, and he howls in pain, rolling onto his side and trying to cover his bleeding nose.

That's two.

I'm below again. No time to screw around, no time to reconsider. I waited, last time, and look how that turned out. This time, I'll keep up the pressure, the momentum. I won't give them a chance to do anything but react.

There are eight people gathered in the room ahead of me, and two more that still haven't bothered to move from where they're laid out. I think I can safely ignore them, for the moment...there are a few milling around on the floors below, though, and I can't ignore them quite so easily.

Something like fourteen, all told, and that's not counting the two I've already put down. Or whoever might be on the ground floor…

I need to...split them up. Get them moving.

Also, I should probably take care of the front door. Dammit.

My vision finally goes out, but I don't bother to refresh it yet, 'porting down to the street out front. A moment to recover…

The entrance is clear, at the moment. At least five guys on this level, only a couple of them visibly reacting to anything happening above. Inside-

-is a poorly lit hallway, liberally strewn with cans, bottles...literal garbage, in places. Things I probably shouldn't walk on if I want to maintain stealth. A glance back at the door...I can't think of a way to block it. Maybe if I broke the handle off? If it stayed shut, then it wouldn't be easy to open again...but I don't know that it would work, for sure. I'll come back to that. For the moment, though-

"Fuck, fuck, I knew it, I knew it'd follow us, what did I tell you, fucking fuck-!"

That would be Lenny. My guess is that he's the twitchy one, edging toward...yeah, those are the stairs. Good to know.

"Shut up man, seriously. We don't know shit. Could just be...something else."

Lenny's partner. He doesn't sound too confident. It'd be funny, if these guys weren't complete scumbags.

I'm getting distracted, though. Without stopping to second-guess myself, I turn, lift my baton, and bring it down on the handle of the door behind me. It breaks, sticking down at an angle...a quick turn, a quick tug, a push...the door stays closed. And I'm outside again, before anyone can move to investigate.

No easy way out, now.

Back to work.

xxxxxxxxxx

Crouching on the outside wall of the building, peering 'down' into the window at my feet as the gangsters inside creep nervously down the hallway...I actually start to think this night might be worth the effort.

For instance: I figured out more about what the second Charm does. I'd had my suspicions earlier, when I'd teleported to the edge of the building just in time to get blasted by a gust of wind. When I hadn't been immediately thrown off my feet, I'd stumbled back to safety...and yeah, I'd chalked it up to the Charm. I'd figured maybe it was some kind of defensive thing, another passive safety net.

When I'd accidentally stuck myself to the railing of the fire-escape five minutes ago, I'd realized I was wrong about that. Less 'safety net' and more…'stick the landing'.

Which leaves me here, casually defying gravity.

I'm not even going to question it, at this point.

The group I've been watching finally turns a corner, and the guy in the lead freezes as he steps into my actual line of sight. The ones following him do the same. I let them stew like that, for a few seconds-

-then abandon my observation to return to the roof.

The ten men (and two very mean women) that I've already taken care of are still here, still in various states of discomfort. Still bound together, wrist to ankle, by whatever I was able to lay my hands on. A couple of those that are actually facing me flinch as I appear. Others glare.

And that's fine. I don't really care whether they're angry or not.

Besides, even those guys start looking nervous when rats swarm out of my coat.

"First person to tell me where the building's electrical panel is doesn't get a new friend to play with."

The rats chitter loudly. And a few seconds later, I'm headed for the basement.

It's not actually hard to find the thing. I just hadn't been up for exploring. I waste no time in flicking each breaker off, the steady clack-clack-clack echoing in the quiet. Once it's all done, I drop off a few rats, refresh my vision, and head back up to where I left the 'brave defenders'.

I find them in the same hallway I'd left them in. Huddled together around a glowing smart-phone. The second they're in my sight, there are a few embarrassing screams, and one of them actually fires a shot toward the nearest shadow before one of his friends can force his arm down.

They're jumpy. They're scared. And when I send a rat down the hall a little ways to mess with the garbage there, they aren't paying attention to the guy at the back of their huddle.

He's standing on the roof a second later. And, after another few seconds, I've driven the breath out of him and forced him to the gravel, digging a knee into his back as I put him in line with the rest.

When I return to the group, it's just in time for them to realize they're down a member.

They're not having a good time.

This isn't what I imagined being a hero would be like.

I sigh, as I walk down the empty hallway, not bothering to hide my footsteps, or to avoid the garbage everywhere. There's only one of them left, by now. Either that, or my count was off. And either way, there's not much point in sneaking.

Not much point in acting like this isn't...stupid. And, in the long-term, meaningless.

Being a hero is supposed to be good, isn't it? It was supposed to be 'getting out' and 'doing something'. It was supposed to be 'making a difference'. Being a hero...was supposed to be my out. Relief. It was supposed to make me feel better.

This? This doesn't feel like much of anything. I beat up some bad guys. I'll probably call the police, once I'm done, and they may or may not actually do anything about it.

I push another door open, glance around. Nothing that looks useful, nothing worth taking with me...but I did just get close enough to the straggler to spot him, cowering somewhere on the floor below. Back to the stairs, then…

It doesn't take me long to find him. And when I finally get close enough to hear the constant stream of muttered curses, I have to shake my head. This just isn't his night...

He freezes, as I teleport in so that I'm standing on the ceiling behind him. With a flashlight and a handgun trained on the room's only door, he shudders. Let's out another, breathless curse. Slowly, carefully, he starts to back away from the door. Towards me.

"Hey Lenny."

He whirls to face me. I can't make out much of his expression, with the way his eyes burn so brightly in the false light, but I can imagine it's not a pretty picture.

His back hits the wall. The gun falls from nerveless fingers. He curses, and pleads, and slides down until he's just sitting and staring.

I sigh again. Take half a step, and twist as the effect holding me in place ends. I aim to land in a crouch, but it's a little rougher than intended; I don't think it was noticeable, but my knee would definitely not have appreciated that move a day ago.

Lenny's crying, as I stand up. There's something really disturbing about seeing a grown man cry.

"Stay here, Lenny."

He sobs, and nods, and I waste no time in teleporting outside. Taking a seat on that dumpster I couldn't move, so I can take a load off while I call the police. Nothing to lose on that, after all. Maybe they'll find something incriminating in the building somewhere, I don't know.

With all that done...I leave. A little more tired, in need of a long shower, and I'll probably want to wash my coat, at the very least…

This...wasn't nothing. Even if it doesn't feel like I did much, I still did something.

"That's important." It's a whisper, a reassurance. Maybe it's a little stupid, trying to reassure myself, but-

Two streets over, a roiling cloud of black is pouring out of an alleyway. I haven't made it five blocks.

I guess the night isn't over yet?

"No shit."

I feel uncomfortably alone, as I start towards the darkness.