"Oh, there they are."

As it turns out, we are lucky after all. So very lucky.

Instead of having to deal with a warehouse full of E88 goons and, potentially, Capes, we're presented with the opportunity to catch up to a convoy of E88 vehicles carrying goods.

The correct kind of 'goods' too at that. I don't know how Lucy's so sure this particular convoy is carrying the right stuff we're after, but that's a question for later. Now, I have to stop that convoy.

But calling it a 'convoy' is too generous...

Two white unmarked vans are being escorted by two sedans, both also unmarked with window tints that are of questionable legality are what makes up this so called convoy.

They couldn't have been more suspicious if they tried. Honestly, I'm impressed that they're not being stopped by police. Then again, this area – the Docks – is a very infamous gang territory.

They're moving slow and following traffic rules, probably to make them seem less suspicious. It doesn't. It didn't take long to find them too, both thanks to Lucy's excellent directions and my own Psychic Sense.

She mentioned something along the lines of a van or several vans with vehicles escorting it, I just use my powers to scan the contents of the vehicles and that about covers up the first half of the whole job.

'Now comes the other half...'

Standing up from my perch, I let my powers flare.

The convoy is on a main road with a four way intersection ahead of it and, no surprise here, they're speeding up to avoid getting caught up in a red light. Although it's not busy at this hour of the evening, there are still a fair number of vehicles on the road.

I focus my powers on the traffic lights, manipulating the internal circuitry inside them and causing them to malfunction.

What happens next is exactly how I hoped it'd happen in my head. With the traffic lights glitched out, a localized traffic accident happened.

The lead sedan was hit by a grey pick up truck, causing a solid t-bone collision. The van directly behind the lead sedan is then forced to make a sudden turn, swerving into the pavement before hitting the brick wall of a building, and finally coming to a stop.

The second van isn't so lucky either. The driver has enough time to hit the brakes, but not enough to bring it to a safe stop. The tires screech as the van skids and slides across the road. It turns as it slides, causing it to flip multiple times before eventually landing on its left side.

Only the last escorting sedan is left unscathed, the driver skillful enough to hit the brakes just in time before it suffers the same fate as their friends. At the same time, while this is all happening, I blow up the transformers on the utility poles within the vicinity, causing a small scale power outage that disables the street lights in the area.

Immediately, I act.

Jumping off a building isn't so scary when you know you can fly. And boy can I fly. The Disintegration Field I have set up around my body negates any air resistance I should be feeling when I normally do this, it only allows me to get into the thick of it faster.

I land on the ground, making sure to let that part of my body uncovered by my Disintegration Field. I land not too far from the last escort car and already its passengers are quick to get out of it.

"Shit! Cape!" One of them shouts the moment he sees me, catching the attention of his fellow Empire members. I prepare myself for retaliation via bullets.

It's like a switch has been flipped in my head. I guess I've grown used to the threat of being shot that my body immediately knows when it's about to go down.

Without lifting a hand, I let my psychic powers flow and dominate.

Before they even can reach for their poorly holstered firearms, I have already set them off with my mind.

"FUCK!"

"AAH!"

"GAH!"

"FUUUUCK!"

Four gunshots go off simultaneously, followed by four distinct screams of pain and expletives ring out, indicating the success of my action. Four Empire goons fall to the ground with blood pouring out from the waist down.

This is what I meant by poorly holstered firearms, all of them kept their guns strapped to their waistband.

Wordlessly, I begin to make my way over to them, keeping a relaxed yet brisk pace. One of them, I see, still has the sense of awareness to react. He quickly moves to fish out his gun that has just went off, but he isn't quick enough.

With a single thought, I slam him back into the asphalt, the back of his cranium crashing just hard enough to keep him down and out for the count.

One of his friends sees this and quickly attempts to crawl his way out to safety. Yeah, right, as if anywhere but outside my range is 'safe'.

"W-Whoa...!" He finds himself lifted into the air, dropping his gun and whatever else he has on him, "SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!"

And then he's flung across the street to a brick wall just hard enough to make a loud 'thump' sound. He is no longer moving.

"F-Fucking... w-who the hell are you?"

I walk over to a guy who's on the ground. Unlike the rest of his friends, he's still got enough willpower in him to bear through the pain.

He glares at me, his angry expression twisting his already ugly mug into something even uglier if that's even possible.

Hm? Wait, isn't he-

"Jimmy Botez?" The widening of his eyes and rising of eyebrows are enough indicators to confirm his identity. "I finally got to meet you, Jimmy. I've heard all about you..."

"H-Huh?" What sounds like genuine confusion laced with a little bit of fear slips out of Jimmy's mouth. "Why would you ABB fucks care about who I am, h-huh?"

Ah, looks like the disguise is working.

See, Lucy has the genius idea of dressing me up as a rival gang member. She insisted that I go along with it because it'll do well to keep up anonymity and hiding my identity. It also has the benefit of directing E88's anger at a rival gang.

So, yeah, she wasn't kidding when she said that we're gonna stir shit up.

The mask I'm wearing, which is just a cheap plastic mask painted in the colors of this rival gang I'm not too knowledgeable about. It's pretty cringe and lame, honestly.

I feel like a Christmas ornament on account of it being red and green.

"Why do you think, idiot." I say back, playing up the role of the thug I'm trying to be. "Now... Where are the goods?"

It might seem weird to ask the question after inflicting this many damage, but Lucy and I aren't taking any chances here. Besides, we're both prioritizing speed. This needs to be done as quickly and cleanly as possible.

"Bastard...!" Even when he's scared and in pain, Jimmy's still calling me names. "Y-You're the guy who trashed our safehouse... definitely! You're making a big mistake, asshole!"

"Whoop-dee-doo, you figured it out," I say while rolling my eyes, not like he can see it, "what, you want a gold star for that?"

"You..." He hisses hostility at me like a cobra. "Empire isn't going to let this go... first the safehouse and now this... you're a dead man walking, you hear me?!"

"..."

I choose not to humor him. Instead, I call upon my powers and make him levitate, pulling his floating body close to me. I increase the pressure I have over his frame, squeezing him into silence. Only when he's close enough do I release a tiny bit of that pressure.

"I'm taking your shit, Jimmy."

"...bas...tard...!" It annoys me that, despite the position he's currently, he still finds it in himself to insult me. "You... don't know... these are important things, things that... people will go to war over...!"

What?

I'm thankful for the mask covering my face, otherwise he would've seen the confusion taking over my expression.

What the hell does he mean by that? War?

Shit, no time to wonder about that, gotta get the goods. Now.

"Do I look like I give a fuck?" I ask while applying just a little more pressure on Jimmy at the same time. "Now, stay down and shut up."

"Hrrrk!"

I drop him back to the ground. Then, I quickly make my way to the downed vans. I begin with the one closest to me, the one that's turned over its side.

A quick pulse of Psychic Sense is enough to tell me the people inside are still alive, although struggling to make their way out of the wreck.

Well, let's help them with that, shall we?

The van is easily put upright through the means of psychic powers. Unfortunately for the E88 members on the driver's and passenger's seats, they're suddenly telekinetically pulled out from the vehicle and slammed to the pavement.

"Gah!"

"Oof!"

Their groans of pain are indicative enough to their well-being.

Opening the baggage area, I can see four wooden crates stacked inside. I don't have time to scan through the contents, moving quickly to the other much further van.

This one, the driver's already unconscious. I waste no time with them and go for the contents of the van immediately. To my relief, it's also filled with loot, just of a different kind.

I count five, no, seven duffle bags. This time I make the effort to check its content via Psychic Sense.

"Jackpot."

No one can say I'm smiling on the account of the mask covering my face. Taking out a burner phone that Lucy gave me before all of this, I dial a specific number. I let it ring for a few seconds before turning it to scrap by crushing it telekinetically.

Then, comes the busy part, I begin moving the duffle bags and the crates out of the two vans out on the street. Looks like E88 think it'd be smart to divide their cargo into two separate vans, not having their eggs in one basket and all that.

Unfortunately for them, I'm quick and efficient when it comes to moving things.

"Just in time too."

A familiar looking grey pick up truck, with its front grills in caved in on account of initiating a T-bone collision, pulls up right beside me, barreling through the wrecked vehicles on the street.

The window of the pick up rolls down, Lucy's head peeking out of it with a harsh look.

"Get them in!" She shouts through the respirator over her face. "Now!"

I levitate all of the stuff I pulled out on to the truck bed, making sure not to drop them too hard and then cover them with a tarp. The truck's suspension helped with dealing with extra weight, thankfully.

I rush to the passenger side, practically launching myself into the seat as Lucy hits the gas before I can even sit. The truck's high-beams are on, lighting up the dark road due to me blowing up those transformers earlier.

"Good thing we switched the sedan for this truck, huh?" I ask Lucy, both as a way to express relief and ease out the tension that has been building up in me.

"A four by four pick up truck with a reinforced chassis and a four wheel drive isn't cheap, Jack." She tells me, snappingly. Unlike me, she has to drive, so I'm not offended by her tone of voice. "This is coming straight out of our paycheck."

Besides, she sounds like a female Bane due to the respirator she has over face.

"We can always use the truck for future 'jobs'." I say, shrugging my shoulders. "Consider it an investment."

"Yeah, right." I don't have to look at her face to feel her rolling her eyes. "Were you able to do it back there?"

"Yeah, I was, no worries."

That burner phone I turned to dust while I was busy checking out one of the van? It's a diversion.

Somewhere, Lucy won't tell me where but it's in an E88 controlled warehouse located in the Docks, a remote improvised explosive device exploded. She assured me it's nothing too dangerous, just enough to get the attention of local powers and authorities diverting it their way.

"Good," Lucy nods, "that should keep the cops and the ABB off our backs while we get everything to the drop spot. But keep your senses sharp, ABB have eyes and ears everywhere in the Docks."

"Already on it and like you said, we're mostly clear. Not a lot of people out this time of the night, and I can say that distraction of yours is doing its job judging by the amount of traffic converging on it." I say to her.

"You can sense all that happening all the way from here?" Lucy has to take her eyes off the road to look at me, disbelief showing even on her half-covered face.

"Yup, it's within my range." I confirm. "Never knew the Empire had a warehouse so close to a gas station, I guess that explains the number of emergency services I'm currently sensing. Two fire trucks... and at least five, no, six police cruisers."

"...Jack, your powers are bullshit."

"Oh, believe me, I'm still learning all about it."

I hear Lucy sighing, exhaling all the tension from her body. I thought she'll be more used to this than I would, but it seems that I'm wrong. Maybe she's never thought it'd be this... hands on, if that makes sense?

I get the impression that she's a 'behind the screen' type of person, the Otacon to my Snake, if you will. She's clever and smart, which also extends to her resourcefulness judging by the fact that she managed to get this truck on such a short notice.

I guess it's appropriate to say that we're playing to our strengths. I would've been completely lost on what to do without Lucy's planning and carefully laid out instructions and Lucy wouldn't have been able to execute said plan without me and my unique skill-set.

TL;DR, we make a pretty good team.

"Oh yeah, before I forget," I suddenly speak, grabbing Lucy's attention, "your 'friend Jimmy back there, he said something about the things we just nabbed being something people might go to war over, you have any idea what that means?"

"They're important gear, I'll say that much." Lucy responds, sharply. "I wasn't told very much, but if you're worried we're potentially transporting bombs or a nerve gas or something like that, don't worry."

"No, I know they're not bombs or anything like that... I think." I say, unsure of myself. "If they are, then they're unlike any bombs I know. Which isn't a lot, in case you're wondering."

"You can tell what they are?" Lucy asks me, curious.

"Oh yeah, it's my power. I can sense things through materials, pretty neat yeah?"

"...you're not using it to perv on me, are you?"

At that, I give her my most scandalized look.

"Oh, don't look at me like that." Lucy rolls her eyes. "What kind of guy wouldn't use an ability like that to perv on girls, huh?"

"My kind of guy." I clap back at her instantly, to which she merely snorts dismissively.

Then things get quiet. We're quite far away from the crime scene, but Lucy's still careful enough to drive discreetly. Our priority is to get to the drop zone or whatever without having the authorities or local gangs on our tail.

As my mind is about to drift to la la land, I feel something... existing just at the edge of my sensory field, only to disappear in a blink. Curious, I roll down my side of the window.

"What are you doing?" Lucy asks, her voice tense.

"Just checking." I say.

I let my Psychic Sense flare out, this time far extending beyond my usual range. I try to search for that feeling—sensation I felt earlier, scouring every street corner mentally.

In the end, I am unable to find it or recreate that sensation.

Rolling the windows back up, I give Lucy a reassuring look.

"I thought I sensed something," I then quickly say with a follow up, "no, I don't think we're being followed, I'd know if we are. It's probably just someone who went out of my range; we're in a moving truck, after all."

My explanation seems to have worked in reassuring Lucy, goes to show that we can never keep our heads down until the job's finished.

Just in case, though, I'll refrain from taking a quick shut-eye. Although...

"Hey, what does the ABB stand for?"

"Pan-Asian supremacy. Imagine E88 but with Asians." Lucy pauses. "No offense."

"None taken, but what I meant was, what's the acronym stand for?"

"..." Well, I'm waiting here. "It's... the Azn Bad Boys."

"..."

"..."

"Oh, you're not kidding."

"Everything clear?"

"It's all clear."

Lucy rolls the window back up, driving the truck into the pound – a rundown chop-shop somewhere in the middle of the Trainyards that is now used to store junk among other things. I stay behind to close the gates while being extra aware of my surroundings, making sure that nothing has been following us.

As expected, nothing sticks out. And by that I mean I'm not getting the impression that anyone – or anything – is actively searching for us.

It's close to two in the a.m, but there are still people out and about. There are still vehicles actively driving down the streets, but I don't feel like they're converging to our location specifically.

I can sense anything up to a kilometer of range, I can point out things with pin-point accuracy if I concentrate. So far, my senses – both psychic and gut – are telling me we're in the clear.

I make my way to where Lucy is, floating my way to cut down travel time. She's parked the truck inside shop, turned on what little lighting available, and already started to unload.

"Let me help you with that." I say, prompting Lucy to look my way and stepping back.

I let my telekinesis do its job, lifting up our 'loot' out of the truck bed onto the floor. I place the wooden crates first, stacking them on groups of two. The duffle bags, on the other hand, can stay on the truck for now.

"Thanks." Lucy says.

"You're welcome."

"Want to do the honors?" Lucy asks me, gesturing to the crates. I oblige.

The crates look tricky to open, but my control over my telekinesis is excellent to the point where I'm not worried of damaging anything. I rip off the metal nails keeping the crate lids shut, setting them down on the truck bed.

Then I peel off the lids, letting them down on the floor. Now, all of the crates are opened, showing us the contents.

I cheated and already knew what's inside of them already, but seeing them with my own eyes, I must say that I'm a little bit lost.

"Huh, these don't look like any guns I know." I say, scratching the back of my head.

Not like I know anything about guns in the first place, anyway. All I know about them is how to shoot one particular type and the fact that they tend to be pointed towards me in high stress situation. Especially that last part.

"You're not the only one..." Lucy says, stepping forward to get a clearer look of the goods.

"Heh."

"What's so funny?" She asks me, her tone clearly not amused. She's examining the cache, not paying attention to me.

"The American not knowing guns." I say with a smile, not even hiding my amusement as I join in her inspecting the contents of the crates. "That's got to be a first."

"Oh ha ha, funny." Guys, I don't know about you, but I think she doesn't find it funny.

Curiously, with all the focus and attention she's giving these... guns, Lucy's not touching any of them. That naturally means I will follow what she's doing and not touch them.

Besides, I'm getting the feeling that our job isn't quite done yet.

To start with, the guns in the crates aren't like the guns I've seen on... anywhere. They're more like prop guns used in sci-fi films, but realistic and convincing enough to look expensive.

Adding to that, there's no ammunition in any of the crates. No magazines either. I don't know if that's normal, but I find it odd that none of these long guns carry any magazines.

"These aren't like any of the guns I know because these aren't guns. Not normal ones, at least." Lucy says, standing back up.

"Huh? Did we get the wrong package?" Please tell me we didn't just do all that for nothing...

"No," Lucy shakes her head, adding to my confusion, "we got the right one. They told me we're going to be getting something a little bit different than usual, they just didn't tell me what it'd be specifically"

Huh?

"Who's they?" I ask, crossing my arms, my head tilted to the side.

"Our buyer." Lucy says, looking at me in that same unbothered and aloof manner. "What, you'd think I'd risk doing all of that without securing a buyer for all of this?"

"Well..."

"Don't answer," Lucy interrupts me, raising a hand while pinching the bridge of her nose with her other one, "just know that I'm... taking our well-being into account. Big risk doesn't always translate into big rewards, especially when it comes to this kind of job."

She's... right. I'd rather not swoop in and engage gang members directly like I did, but the nature of the job lands itself to be risky, especially since we're banking on a quick bag and grab type of scenario.

The disguise I have – still wearing, by the way – is only superficial. If any of those thugs happened to be one of the guys I encountered on the safe house raid, they'd be able to tell that I'm the same person on account of my build alone.

A mask and a hoodie can only do so much, that's why people shit on them so much as a costume to hide identity.

"It's one thing to piss off a big gang like the E88, which we've definitely done after all we did." Understatement of the freaking year right there. "They might not be good with getting caught off guard, but they can definitely investigate and track us if they really put their all into it. Not having a buyer at this stage of the job is just waiting for that to happen."

"I guess..." As usual, I'll defer to her here. "Who's our buyer, then?"

"A local villain group," Lucy says, drawing my curiosity, "they go by the name Undersiders. Ever heard of them?"

"Are they a big deal in Brockton?"

"Enough to have their own fan-page on PHO." So not really, seeing as they'll give pretty much anyone wearing a costume their own fan-page over there...

Still, can't hurt to find out more about them.

"The leader she..." Lucy lets the word drag on, hesitation showing on her face, "...had a hand in helping me figure out the shipment we just raided."

"Oh." I hum. "Are they, like, bad at doing the whole villain thing, then?"

"Huh? What makes you say that?" Lucy asks, genuine confusion on her face.

"Well, if they're any good then they would've just done the whole thing themselves." I say, pausing. "Wouldn't they?"

Lucy goes silent, which prompts me to follow suit.

Something isn't right here. Either that or maybe I'm reading too much into this. Eventually, Lucy snaps out of her trance, shaking her head clear.

"In any case, we've done the job. They'll pay us for the... guns and that's what matters. I'm more interested at what's in those bags over there."

"Here, let me." I say.

I float the bags, all seven of them, over to us. Lucy gives me a grateful nod before beginning to inspect one of the bags.

I hear the sound of a zipper opening, followed by an appreciative whistle. Again, I already know what's in those bags, so I just stand back and let her have her moment.

"There's got to be at least... two hundred thousand in each of the bags." I say to Lucy, even as she's already opening up the rest of the bags. "That's another one and a half million, more or less. You know how much are we getting for the guns?"

"Around six hundred thousand." Lucy answers, still inspecting the cold hard cash we've nabbed from the E88 convoy. "But deduct that by two hundred thousand for the truck."

Six hundred thousand for guns is a lot of money... but two hundred thousand for a truck?!

"Damn, that's expensive." I find myself blinking repeatedly at that revelation. "And we just used it as a glorified bumper car, shit, I hope we got insurance for it."

"It's probably stolen," Lucy snorts, "good luck claiming it."

"Damn it."

This is probably not the action packed chapter you're hoping for, but I hope it showcases just how versatile and potentially scary Jack's powers can make him be.

I tried to portray what a fast-paced ambush with a Cape like Jack on the scene could look like, especially with how useful his powers can be. Parahumans with nigh-limitless TK abilities are, probably, the third scariest thing next to mind controllers and your good old fashioned berserker psycho brute.

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