Little Hunter

Angelica's growling brought a scowl to Rachel's face.

The small enclosed space looked no different from usual. The pallets were set out by the door. All arranged and wrapped against rain. Food. Medicine. Nothing appeared missing.

She didn't see anyone present. The camera was there, but that was nothing new. It only existed to confirm no one stole the delivery.

Rachel couldn't think of any other reason to be behind the store.

Weaver's husband's memorial was the only other thing around. Only Weaver ever visited it anymore. The woman's scent wouldn't set Angelica off.

The dog began barking, a high-pitched shrill sound with her small size and damaged throat.

"Heel," Rachel commanded.

The dog obeyed but kept growling at the shadows.

Rachel removed the phone from her pocket and pressed the third button. The machine dialed and beeped the numbers out. Rachel wasted no time—she hated wasting time—and set it to speaker as she turned to check her back.

Cassie looked out from the truck curiously. She raised a hand as Rachel looked her way, and Rachel shugged. The girl tilted her head and shrugged.

Nothing else on the street so late a night.

No ominous parked cars she could see.

No one on the rooftops.

The line picked up, and a groan carried across.

"Bitch. It's two in the morning."

"Someone was here," Rachel said.

Lisa sighed. "Define here?"

Rachel would never stop seeing the word 'thinker' as ironic. And she knew what 'ironic' meant. "The pickup."

"Your supplies?"

Rachel restrained her own growl. "Yes."

"It was probably one of Weaver's people. You know she's always checking in on things. Woman's a damn helicopter mom."

"Angelica knows them." She shouldn't have to explain this, but she endured. "This is someone else."

Rachel wondered why she bothered.

She could just track the scent herself. Find whoever it was and get answers. Lisa and Brian would complain later, and Weaver would give a lecture, but that was nothing new.

Her supplies were hers. She paid for them like people wanted. The least they could do is not mess with anything.

She had better things to do than babble.

"You thinking this is related to Rain's little temper tantrum?" Lisa asked.

Rachel hadn't thought of that, but maybe.

The Empire had it out for her back when they were around. She'd busted up enough of their dog rings. They had it coming, but the stupid were fucking stupid. She didn't expect Nazis to make smart choices.

Nazis.

Fuck'um.

A sound clicked on the line, and Lisa said, "One sec. Let me call around. See if anyone knows anything and is simply too polite to wake me at two in the morning."

"We used to do everything at two in the morning."

"That's the fun part about making it, Rachel. We don't have to work at two in the morning anymore!"

Rachel scoffed. "I'm waiting."

"I can—"

"I'll wait."

"Rachel."

"Waiting."

There was a third sigh and the sound of resignation.

People had a habit of saying they'd call her back as a way to get rid of her.

They thought she was too stupid to notice.

Some guilt set in.

Rachel wasn't heartless. She'd been as affected by how they found Tattletale years ago as much as the rest of the Undersiders. As ironic as her 'thinker' name was, no one deserved that.

If Rachel had simply been more cooperative, then, they might have saved her sooner.

That weighed on her. People talked like she only cared about her dogs—and Tattletale had annoyed her—but she had limits.

You wouldn't treat anything the way Calvert had treated his 'pets.'

She wished they could kill him twice.

"Sorry," she offered.

"It's fine. Just tired. If someone is messing with your shit, they might be trying to send a message. We need to know."

Rachel nodded. The girl spoke with an airy tone, but there was tension in her voice. She was annoyed and trying to hide it.

That was Rachel's fault.

She didn't enjoy it.

She tried. "You okay?"

Lisa snorted. Rachel wasn't sure how to read that.

"Fine," the girl said. "Three years clean in three weeks. I get a cute little coin and a pat on the back for what a good addict I am."

Rachel thought she'd messed something up already. That wasn't what she intended to ask about. She meant more generally.

Annoying.

"I say addict," Lisa continued, "because that's the line you're supposed to say. You're never not addicted. Have to talk the talk in group, or everyone gets all offended and preachy."

Her voice dropped at the last line, and Rachel silenced her first response before speaking it.

It was true, but not the right thing to say at the moment.

She knew that.

Lisa wouldn't care that no one in her group was like her. They took drugs because they were weak or stupid. Desperate. Not one of them was held down and had the needle jammed into their arm because they kept tonguing the pills.

They drugged themselves to escape.

They weren't drugged to make them easier to control.

Rachel really wished they could kill Calvert twice.

Or that they could do it all over again, and listen when Weaver tried to warn them.

"Huh," Lisa exclaimed.

Rachel cocked her head and waved Cassie back into the truck. "What?"

"J isn't answering his phone. That's not good."

"Pure found him out?"

"Maybe. Still working on who is doing the real thinking because it sure as hell isn't Rain. Not knowing who they are… Maybe they sniffed him out. Let me call the rest. See if anyone else is dark."

"I'll wait," Rachel repeated.

"Right. Right."

While she did, Rachel turned and searched the alley closely. Just in case. The pallets looked undisturbed. No traps or listening devices. A good cape—or even a person—could hide things, though.

Angelica's eyes looked elsewhere.

Rachel glanced at the memorial. She couldn't read the letters, but Weaver told her what they meant. The woman must have loved her husband a lot. She never visited, but the plaque was always clean.

It didn't seem tampered with to her eyes.

Nothing looked out of place. Angelica simply smelled something she didn't like.

"Cass," Rachel called.

The door opened. "Yeah?"

"Load it."

The girl jumped down and hurried to the back of the truck to retrieve the hand crank. Sunny and Capey followed after her, the two dogs stiffening for a moment as they sniffed the air. Sunny growled, and Capey whimpered.

Not just Angelica, then.

"Alright," Lisa said. "Rachel, you're at the center, right?"

"Yeah."

"Everyone else answered my calls. I'll keep checking to be sure, but it might just be J in trouble."

Rachel didn't reply. She knew where this was going.

"Cass, finish here."

The girl nodded as she hauled the jack out of the back. She was the only one Rachel trusted. The rest were all hired hands. Weaver's and Lisa's. They wanted to keep Rachel out of trouble, not help her.

Rachel didn't need or want the babysitters.

She endured them so others could be comfortable.

"Sending you the address now," Lisa said. "I've traced his phone. Go scout it out while I wake Imp and Regent."

"It's Thursday," Rachel noted.

"I know it's Thursday, and yes, I know what they do on Thursday, and I'm waking them anyway! If J's in trouble, we need to pull him out before—"

She stopped herself as her voice began to crack.

Rachel said nothing.

She wasn't good with people. Certainly not emotional stuff. Quiet was her best option.

"I'm going," she declared. "Cass, finish up here."

"Okay. What—"

"Sunny, stay. Capey."

Rachel snapped her finger and went to the truck. As the dog approached, she pulled two sturdy chains from the floor of the passenger seat. She secured one end to Angelica and Capey's chain collars. The other end she wrapped around her arm once before grabbing in a firm hand.

Lisa texted the address, and Rachel got walking.

It was far in Downtown. The area the Pure had become centralized in. The address was non-specific. With how big the buildings were, J could be anywhere. She wanted the dogs to sniff him out.

Not a place Rachel normally went. She didn't like people. Downtown had too many.

But it was two in the morning.

Rachel pulled the hood of her jacket up over her head and got walking.

Most people in Brockton Bay would think of her seeing a girl with two dogs on a chain. Fortunately, there were lots of idiots who loved dressing like her. She was a 'fashion style' according to Imp. False calls were so common a fuss would be easy to walk away from as long as no one got stupid.

Rachel never thought being popular would make her life easier, but it somehow worked out that way.

The hood over her head would do well enough. Not like anyone would do anything but call the heroes if they did see her. And everyone knew how that would go.

Rachel crossed paths with few people as she went.

A few cars came and went. None paid her any mind. The only busy places were clubs and bars. Drunk people usually retained enough sense not to pick fights with girls and their dogs. Not in Brockton Bay.

She trekked unimpeded.

The address Lisa gave wasn't a place she knew. A collection of older apartment and office spaces a few blocks away from the PRT building. It was a lot close to the 'good' guys for how things in Brockton Bay worked, but that's where the Pure were doing a lot of their Nazi shit.

Rachel started by circling the block, but she'd barely turned one corner before Angelica and Capey began snarling.

Her eyes turned to the alley to her left.

Rachel reached out with her power. She kept the tap firmly held but dribbled just a bit into the dogs on either side of her. Their growls grew deeper. Teeth longer. Hackles higher. Angelica grew to twice her size quickly, while Capey became longer and more muscular.

She entered the alley cautiously.

It was dark.

Something smelled. A chemical scent. Strong, and with a hint of burnt flesh and shit mixed in.

Angelica barked deep and rumbling.

Rachel searched her pockets and found a flashlight. Cassie put small ones in everything, among other items like burner phones and such. Stuff she said Rachel forgot without thinking.

Cassie was useful like that.

Turning the flashlight on, Rachel lifted the light and stared at the trail of blood running up the wall.

Like someone had been grabbed and just hauled up to the roof. Looking around the alley itself, she found a few splatters and some discarded items. Wallets with no money. A trio of phones. One was the type the Undersiders used for burners.

Rachel got her own out and dialed.

"Beige Kiwi?" Lisa asked.

"Dead."

"Rachel."

"Codes stupid anyway."

"And like that, you passed. Dead?"

"Dragged up a wall to the roof. Wallets and stuff in an alley."

"Wait. Dragged up a wall?"

"Blood trail."

"Don't know anyone in the Pure who'd do that. If they found J somehow, they'd put him on display. Not kill him in the dark an—Dragged up a wall? Really?"

"What I said," Rachel grumbled. Thinkers needed to practice listening better.

"Is one of the phones ours?"

Rachel looked. "Think so."

"This is weird."

"Smells too. Like something was burned."

"So much for sleep. I'll call Weaver. See if she knows anything about any new players or capes in town. Warn the White Hats we might have a chaos element if nothing else."

"Only three phones."

"Hm."

"Only three phones," Rachel repeated.

Lisa was quiet for a moment.

Then, "The fuck? His burner to us is there, but his personal phone is gone?"

"Maybe."

Rachel only saw the three, left out like whoever did it couldn't care less if anyone found them.

She shined her light back the way she'd come to check. She swatted a few flies as she went. Damn things were everywhere.

Along the length of the alley, there was one spot of asphalt more stained than the rest. Black like something had burned up. It wouldn't stand out in the day due to the shadows of the alley but with the light on it… Rachel turned her head.

"Rachel? Still there?"

"Hm."

She went over to the dumpster and pushed it open.

It stank, but she'd smelled worse.

The phone was right there. Just sitting on top of the garbage like it had been thrown inside.

"Found it," she said.

"His phone? How?"

"Thought of what I'd do."

The phone was locked, of course. With a fingerprint check thing. That would be annoying, but Lisa had her ways.

"Alright. Get me the phone," she said. "It got tossed aside… They might have used it for something. I'll crack it and take a look."

Rachel stuffed the phone into her pocket and hung up.

Lisa couldn't talk through all the stuff she was going to do with herself. Rachel wanted to be done with the night and head back for some sleep.

Angelica's head turned as they left the alley, and Rachel followed her eye.

"Vista."

"Bitch."

"Wow." The girl beside Missy looked over. "You really just call her Bitch?"

"It's my name," Rachel replied.

"More power to you," the girl said. "Weird choice, though."

Missy took her turn to look over. "You wanted to call yourself Swansong."

"And those assholes in PR wouldn't let me." She waved a hand over herself. "Then they stuck me in this dress."

She was short. Almost as short as Vista used to be, and Vista was still on the petite side of short. She wore a black dress for a costume, with padded sections set over her chest and at her hips. Her arms looked off. Like they had lines on them.

"It does have a good ring to it," Vista conceded.

She wore an updated version of her old costume. It tossed the skirt for more practical pants in the vein of Miss Militia and Weaver's costumes. Her helmet was more streamlined and less bulky too.

Rachel frowned. "I'm going."

"And this, Parode"—Vista held her hand out—"is how it works. We get a call about a villain walking through town in the middle of the night, but she's not causing any trouble, so we walk up to show some face. Then we turn around and leave."

"Seriously?"

"Yup. See—"

"Her name is Parody?" Rachel asked.

"No. Parode." The girl flourished her hands like that was important. "It's the opening choir to a Greek play. The start of the story. Get it?"

Rachel stared. "Stupid name."

"Well, who asked you?"

Vista's visor hid her eyes, but Rachel saw them roll regardless. "See you around, Rachel."

"Yeah," Rachel replied.

The two Wards turned—though, Rachel thought about it and realized Vista wouldn't be a Ward much longer—and started to leave. Probably why her costume was changed. Something about moving into the Protectorate.

"Vista."

"Hm?"

"Leaving?"

The girl cocked her head.

Rachel and Vista had known each other for nearly eight years. There was history there. Hero or villain. It didn't matter.

Rachel didn't really care for the distinction anyway.

Every idiot with power was their own hero. Didn't make it true, but still.

Between Leviathan, the mess with Coil, Leviathan, Echidna, and everything else… Vista was okay, and she seemed to get what Rachel meant without Rachel having to repeat herself.

She hated repeating herself.

"Yeah," Vista answered with a smile. "Not sure where yet, but it won't be here."

First Clockblocker and Aegis, now Vista too. Gallant transferred out after that whole deal with Panacea. Rachel didn't really get whatever happened to Armsmaster. Out of the capes she actually knew in Brockton Bay, that meant it would soon be just Weaver, Dauntless, and the rest of the Undersiders.

Rachel felt an odd pang at that. A dwindling feeling.

"See ya."

Vista raised a hand. "You too. See you around, Bitch."

Rachel grunted and continued on her way. She needed to get the phone to a drop so Lisa could send someone to get it. Then they'd have one of those stupidly long team meetings she hated.

Just thinking about it was exhausting.

It had been a long night, and she was tired.