(A/N: Disclaimer - Mature language and scenes that may make readers uncomfortable. Viewer discretion is advised)
"Woooohooooo!" I hollered, the adrenaline rush of rooftop racing, pumping my blood in a way I hadn't felt before. Coming up on the edge of the current rooftop, I gauged the distance from here to the ground and stepped back. I leaped, aiming and firing my slinger claw at a water tower on the next building, yanking myself forward. Tucking and rolling, I'd finally caught up with Stampede, the both of us neck and neck to the border between Merchant and E88 territory. Requisition had us beat by two buildings, using his insect glaive and slinger claw to perform dizzying acrobatics.
We kept like this for several minutes, eventually stopping to catch our breath on a tall apartment building overlooking a good portion of the city. In the distance was Medhall, the skyscraper hospital, a landmark to Brockton and the only business really keeping her economy open. On the other side, run-down homes mixed with suburbs and other living complexes dotted the cityscape until they gave way to ratty suburbs and other unkept parts of the city.
Stampede had changed into what she called a wingdrake to get to the top of the building with us, changing back into a Tzizti-Ya-Ku once we reached the top.
"Hey, Stampede, think you could find us some heads to smash?" Requisition asked, a bowgun on his back and a telescope held over one eye, scanning the city below for any crime, or so he said.
"Yeah, give me a second," she replied, her head morphing to accommodate large, bat-like ears. They whisked back and forth, searching like this for a few minutes. Finally, both ears honed in on a direction, and she pointed with a clawed finger. "About two and a half blocks that way, brewing territory dispute."
"Roger that. Reck? Can I call you that? Requisition's a bit of a mouthful for callouts," I called. The cape in question sighed and folded his telescope, disappearing into wherever he put his equipment.
"Sure, but I get to call you Killy," he replied, holding a hand over his eyes to lessen the evening sun's glare.
"Hey, Achillean isn't that big of a mouthful," I said, elbowing his arm.
"And wasn't he killed by a literal act of a god?" Requisition asked back.
"Irrelevant, but fine. Call me whatever. When it gets to interviews, I want you to use my name," I told him.
"If you two are done swapping numbers, I'm hearing guns being drawn," Stampede intervened, changing into her wingdrake form and taking off.
"Aim for the bushes?" Requisition asked, a grin on his face.
"Okay, that one was just bad," I deadpanned, jumping off the apartment and onto the next building several stories below.
I hit the next roof in a roll, the motion still uncomfortable. I probably could've tanked a straight fall with my brute rating, but I didn't want to risk any strain on my body before an actual fight. Requisition fell beside me, his maneuver instincts giving him a textbook roll into a ready stance. Even though we shared the same brute rating, his power was sometimes unfair to the rest of us.
We raced across the rooftops, jumping from one ledge to the next, a mix of grapple claw and acrobatics propelling us over the busy streets below. At the next large intersection, we were forced to climb to the ground, crossing the street and avoiding a swerving car. Requisition stayed with me this time, and neither of us was willing to risk lives with a game.
After another block and a half and an intersection, we found ourselves over a wide alleyway connecting two streets. Peering over the ledge, I saw four E88 skinheads on one side, recognizable by the various Nazi regalia they wore on their clothing and skin. Five merchants were Facing against them, although only two seemed to be in a somewhat lucid state.
"How are we going to de-escalate this?" Requisition asked, the humor from earlier dropped. I looked back and saw several of the thugs had drawn weapons and started shouting at each other, handguns and knives pointed at the other.
"You have those tranq rounds you made with Johhny?" Stampede asked.
"Yeah, but I don't think I can tranq all those guys without getting a few holes in myself…" he replied.
"Wait, I've got an idea," I started, a plan formulating itself in real-time. The other two looked at me, listening closely…
"Now, why don't you take your methed-out heads and skedaddle on outta our turf! Last warning!" Brady shouted, waving his pistol in a side grip.
"Nuh-uh! Skids would be pissed if we came home empty-handed. You back outta ourturf, skinhead, or we'll snort a line over your warm, dead body!" came the response, the nearly rabid Merchant jerking closer, his body twitching from some drug or another. Brady could never tell.
"Then how about I-" he started, cut off by a very large, very purple oh shit, is that a dinosaur?!
The thing was right in his face, sharp teeth and jaws closing in on his faceandohgodohfuck-
With a thunk, the E88 ganger at the head of the skinheads collapsed, falling unconscious from the close encounter with the saurian. The other gangers jumped back in surprise, one turning around to run, only to be stopped in his tracks when a cape jumped down in front of him, cutting off the alley's exit.
On the other side, one of the less stoned-out addicts finally caught on to what was happening and sluggishly turned to flee, only to feel a prick on his chest. He looked down and pulled a dart from his chest.
"Preeettyyyyy…" he muttered, dropping like a sack of potatoes as the tranquilizer spread through his system.
Two more merchants fell to tranq darts in the rear of the formation, neither really understanding what had just happened. The shots had come from above, but in their state of mind, they couldn't be expected to be looking at birds, could they? The last one looked between his fallen comrades behind him and the dinosaur in front, uncertain what to do. Stampede decided for him and roared in his face, the merchant simply choosing to sit down and wait for someone else to deal with this.
On Achillean's end, he was facing off against the last three E88 gangers. The one closest, who'd stopped before, started to bring his gun to bear on the cape. A yellow glow appeared around Achillean's fists and feet, shooting forward in a burst of speed. His left fist caught the chest of the first ganger, a million volts of electricity transferring into the skinhead's body. Before the ganger could hit the ground, Achillean dashed to the side of the alley and jumped against the wall, propelling him towards the next ganger. The capes's foot caught the second in the chest, sending him flying against the opposite alley wall with a crack of thunder. With a groan, the stunned ganger slumped into a heap on the ground.
The last ganger tried to turn around, deciding he would take his luck with the dinosaur. Unfortunately for him, he was met with a blinding flash of light, disorienting him, until he felt an electric shock from behind, passing out nearly instantly. From the roof, the saurian and armor-clad hero could hear a call to nine-one-one being placed.
"That was some quick thinking," Stampede said, one foot resting on the strangely compliant Merchant.
"We got lucky. If any of them had gotten to their senses, at least one of us would be heading to the hospital right now," I replied, lining the incapacitated thugs against the wall of the alley. Police sirens could be heard in the distance, quickly growing closer.
"I'm glad you volunteered me for overwatch. No way I was going down there with anything else. Besides, out of all of us, you have one of the most non-lethal powers here," Requisition said, his bowgun holstered.
"Hey, people can die from taser shocks. I'm relieved we didn't need to use our first-aid training." I said.
"And most of my weapons are designed to kill, not stun. I only have so many nonlethal options," Requisition replied.
"I could take some forms with sleep venom, but they're all either very large or very aggressive," Stampede put in, putting a clawed hand to her muzzle in thought.
Finally, two squad cars and a few ambulances arrived, parking near the mouth of the alley. They quickly exited their vehicles, the police holding their hands on their sidearms.
"This your work?" the lead officer asked, a tall man with a pale complexion.
"It is, officer. I speak for my team," I told him, gesturing to the two behind me.
"Capes… alright, can you give me your names and statements?" he asked, giving a sigh.
"Names as in, our actual names or alter egos?" Requisition asked nervously.
"Kid, I'm not the PRT. I'm just here to do my job. I don't want your real names, and I'd be breaking some pretty big rules if I did. Wait, I'm guessing this is your debut?" the officer said. By this point, his companions had begun handcuffing the others, the EMTs checking the condition of the newly arrested criminals.
"Yeah. We haven't got a team name yet, but you can call me Achillean," I told him, shaking his hand. "The dinosaur's Stampede and the knight in tarnished armor is Requisition. We've got another, but he's sitting out our debut."
"At least you're polite. Now, your statements?" he asked, pulling a notebook and pen from his pockets. I began the story from our search on the rooftops, telling him about our search methods and answering any clarifying questions. When he finished with me, he approached and asked Stampede for her version of events, seemingly unfazed by her appearance. Granted, to be a cop in Brockton Bay, it was a soft requirement to have a will of iron and a willingness to ignore cape bullshit. I could respect that.
Requisition, being who he is, gave his own embellishments to the story. While exaggerating a detail or two, he did stick close to the events as they unfolded. The other officers had finished loading the criminals into a transport van, the EMTs giving the all-clear for transport. They asked Requisition what the contents of his tranquilizer were, and thankfully Johnny and Stampede had prepared us for that question. While Requisition knew how to make the tranquilizer, he didn't actually know the chemical formula.
Requisition formed a slip of paper from his inventory, given to him with instructions on exactly what to say to inquiring individuals. The EMTs looked over the slip, handing it back to Requisition. I didn't hear what was said, but the EMTs seemed satisfied.
The officer speaking with us closed his notebook and returned to his car. Holding the door open, he turned to me.
"Word of advice, kid. If you guys are going to be independent, I'd do a lot of reading before doing anything. I've seen too many good heroes die from carelessness and being underprepared. I hope you make it," he said, giving us a nod and closing the door. With a meaty thrum of the engine, he pulled out and tore off, activating his sirens.
If anything could be said about Brockton's crime scene, it would be that crime happened a lot. So far, we'd stopped three muggings, broken more drug deals than I could count on all appendages, and even stopped a pharmacy robbery, all in the span of a few hours. With sweat coating my body, I sat down on the apartment complex's roof from where we started our debut. The view was good, considering the complex dwarfed the buildings surrounding it. Below were mostly storefronts or mixed-use housing, the interchange between the suburbs and more urban parts of the city.
"Catch!" I heard from my right, Requisition tossing me a wrapped bundle procured from his inventory. Opening the wrap, I tore into the sandwich viciously, downing the snack in less than a minute. Requisition and Stampede did the same, the latter electing to swallow the whole thing in one gulp.
"Does that even do anything?" I asked, wondering how she would process food.
"While my body may be in here, the monster part still requires sustenance. Do not ask me to explain the digestive tract of this thing," Stampede replied, a serious look on her face. Or, as serious as a dinosaur could be.
"Hey, she told me when I asked. I shouldn't have, and trust me, you don't wanna know," Requisition said, the reference familiar. I couldn't place it, so I let it slide.
"You got any more?" I asked, my stomach still rumbling. While we all thoroughly enjoyed our enhanced physiques in our cape personas, the caloric burn needed to maintain it was frankly ludicrous.
"Nah, man. I only packed three. I didn't think we'd be this hungry," Requisition said, flipping down his visor. Thankfully, my helm had an open mouth. Requisition had said the original leather set came with goggles only, but he'd managed to fashion a basic helmet from some spare work gloves. In fact, the visor of his own helm was just a metal sheet with eyeholes punched into them.
"Welp, night's getting on," I said, watching the setting sun touch the horizon. "I think we should hit Fugly's and head home. Sound good?" I asked, getting grunts of approval from my team.
I sat up, pushing off from my knees and stretching the soreness from my limbs, walking to the roof's edge. I deployed my slinger claw against a nearby vent, the mechanism grappling onto it without denting the metal. Thanks to some of Requisition's modifications to the device, we didn't have to worry about property damage when using it. While cape insurance covered a lot of damages, we would still like not to get caught up in legal issues, please and thank you.
I jumped off, followed suit by Requisition and Stampede. We descended rapidly, using the claw cable like a climbing rope, running down the side of the building, hitting the sidewalk below feet first. Stampede flew down in her wingdrake form, transforming into a Tzitzi-Ya-Ku at street level. The landing garnered a few odd looks, but most of the people turned and walked on, living in a cape city nothing new to them. Several did stop to snap pictures and ask for selfies, which we obliged. Stampede even managed to do a peace sign with her claws, high-fiving her group as they left.
"Looks like you being a dinosaur isn't hurting our reps," I teased.
"Hey, dinosaurs are statistically co-" she began, interrupted by a defenestration in progress occurring down the street. The three of us turned, ready to charge in and help, until we saw an armor-clad figure step from the broken window. He wielded a long polearm held in both hands and pointed it at the groaning criminal.
"Halbeard, twelve o'clock," I muttered, the others standing down. The hero in question began to handcuff the criminal, citing his Miranda rights. When he was finished, everyone who'd just been excited to meet with us flocked to the Protectorate cape.
"Well, that's just hurtful," I complained.
"Should we…say hello?" Stampede asked nervously.
"It is our debut…" Requisition pleaded, giving me puppy eyes behind his visor.
"Guys, it's a democracy, not a dictatorship," I told them.
"Says the one who's been making all the important decisions tonight," Stampede shot back.
"And you could've protested any time," I deadpanned, raising my arms in a shrug. With a scoff, she turned to walk down the street, Requisition and I following.
The protectorat hero was swarmed by a slightly rabid mob of fans, each vying for his attention. At Stampede's presence, the crowd parted and allowed us passage to the hero. Armsmaster, to his credit, didn't seem fazed in the slightest, turning his visor to address us.
"I've been hearing about you. You've been causing trouble for the gangs," he stated matter-of-factly, crossing his arms and a frown forming under his visor.
"Hey, crackin' heads is what heroes do," Requisition said proudly, unfazed by the criticism.
"I will commend you for minimizing civilian casualties and property damage. However, recklessly angering the gangs will put others at risk," he said in a deadpan customer service tone.
"You know, some people would find it polite to ask for names beforeyou start criticizing them," Stampede accused with a clawed finger. A thoughtful look played itself from Armsmaster's mouth, twitching in a way suggesting he was reading something.
"You are correct. My apologies. I was simply advising you to improve the probability of your mission's success. Although, we could give you some better tips if you came down to the PRT HQ for testing," Armsmaster offered, his tone slightly apologetic.
"As much as we'd like to, our day's almost up, and we need to head home. We'll think about it," I told him, cutting between him and Stampede.
"Understandable. The offer is open. I hope we meet again under favorable circumstances," Armsmaster finished, getting onto his bike as police sirens closed in. He ignored the flashing lights of cameras and cries for more autographs as he started his motorcycle, tearing off down the street and around the corner.
"He was kind of an asshole," Requisition muttered, Stampede stalking back the way we came.
"I'm sure he meant well," I offered, not really feeling the sentiment. We walked in silence, taking to a rooftop to break lone of sight to anyone looking. We traveled for another half hour before finding a suitable alley on the Boardwalk to change.
I doffed my armor and handed it to Requisition to put away, Stampede crouching behind a dumpster to change back. Jaiden McKay emerged with a slithering of folding flesh and cracking bone, her familiar brunette hair and tall physique taking the place of the dinosaur. I blushed, looking away to Requisition, who'd just finished depositing his own armor.
There was no true downtown Brocktinite that hadn't tried Fugly Bob's at least once in their life. Some would say it's even a coming-of-age ritual to try and finish a Giga Greaser, their unholy amalgamation of meat, cheese, bun, and grease. I bit hungrily into my order, Luke and Jaiden laughing at an inside joke in between bites. Every now and then Luke would look out the window of our booth, observing the pedestrians passing by.
"Hey, Luke. Are you excited for school tomorrow? We're going to be famous!" I said, driving his attention away from the window.
"Who in their right minds would be excited to attend Winslow?" he asked incredulously. Granted, he wasn't wrong in his opinion.
"Still, there is no way we aren't a hot topic on PHO right now. We've even got a talking dinosaur on our team," I said, taking a large bite of my Giga Greaser.
"The dinosaur nerd war over what kind of dinosaur you are is going to be so funny," Luke said to Jaiden, playfully punching her shoulder.
"Spoiler alert, the both of you are the biggest fucking nerds I have ever met," she teased back.
"I am offended! Why, I've only memorized half the Protectorate capes on the Eastern seaboard!" I teased back, a laugh coming from Luke. Jaiden struggled to contain a smirk at my theatrics, giving in and cackling. When the joke had run its course and my mission had been accomplished, I turned serious.
"Still, what about Johnny? I get he's not ready, but he's gotta debut at some point," I asked.
"His situation is complex, and you know it," Luke said. He was about to go into one of his lectures again, thankfully cut short by our next round of Giga Greasers. I knew our conversation wasn't over, but at least we didn't have to deal with that this instant. Now, we had dinner.