Henry, who we thought was taking his typical morning nap, cried out all the way on the other side of camp, “The fuck you mean by that, boy!?” followed by a bellowing laughter that could be heard all the way to the city if the old man wanted to be any louder.
Isaiah and Kata exclaimed in surprise and began to berate me while Khan muttered, “And I thought I was the fool.”
Breaking from the line, Isaiah walked up to me “Ain’t you supposed to be a mad scientist genius or something? Or maybe working with all that cauca finally drove you mad? Which is it?!” he was sticking his finger at my chest, poking at me.
The worst part about having Isaiah so close to you was that he had a unique aroma to him. Like unhatched eggs that were left out in the sun for too long and no one ever bothered to eat them. It was enough to make you gag, absolutely traumatizing. But what’s strange is sometimes he didn’t smell like anything at all. Claudia once told me his stink was strong enough to rub off on you if you weren’t careful.
I stared at his finger each time he kept poking, and the more he did it the more I wanted to bite it clean off. Maybe that was why he didn’t get close to people.
However, Chief stopped his tirade, firmly telling Isaiah to get back in line.
He tilted his head downwards in shame, as if he had any to begin with, “Sorry boss… I’m… worried is all. You know Superheroes are bad business.”
“Nonsense, my boy, there ain’t nothing to be worried about as long as we have each other. Only the feeblest of us do the government's dirty work and we are mighty.”
Isaiah swaggered back to his spot and everyone calmed down. Our leader then began to entertain my idea and asked everyone individually what they thought about making an alliance with the lone Superhero. It was mixed for the most part, leaning more towards mild dislike.
Kata said, “Sounds like a stupid idea, respectfully.”
Henry, who finally managed to get off the ground and waddled his way to us said, “Respectfully, I have to agree. You’re smarter than that, Walt.”
Khan pitched in quite angrily, “Superheroes are nothing but whores and mercenaries. A betrayal waiting to happen.”
Ina then said, “Oh come on guys. During the bank heist I sensed Power-Jack’s vibe while she fought Walt, I think it's worth a shot!
My brow arched downwards, “You knew she was fighting me?” I was partially glad the cat girl took my side during all this while simultaneously wondering why she did nothing to help me back then.
“You read her mind?” asked Kata.
She hummed in thought and tapped a clawed finger on her chin, definitely trying to give an explanation to non-psychics, “No… I sensed her energy. She lacked the unpleasantness capes usually carry.”
It was unpleasant when she was beating me up, but fortunately I could look past that and trust in my hunch and Inamorata’s mystical perception. Power-Jack was special, and I had to find out why.
Pharrel finally said in an awkward and almost forced manner, “It's not the… worst… idea we’ve ever had.”
I then looked at Claudia, her hands behind her back, and asked what she thought of it.
“I see the potential for success, our biggest weakness is our inability to make friends and adapt,” she side-eyed Chief as he pretended not to care, “But there is also the possibility of great failure.”
She looked apologetic as she said, “I’ll do as Chief says… there are too many variables when it comes to Superheroes.”
“Damn it.” I thought, “why do I even bother?”
Convincing everyone about the bank heist was nearly as impossible as this. I constantly pestered the big three just to even consider the score. Since that museum fiasco with Isaiah, Andre absolutely did not want me out on the field with anyone because of it. He tore into Isaiah for his lack of sincerity and if it weren’t for Chief and Claudia being diplomatic he might have done so literally. Claudia was glad I was alive and satisfied that we made it out with a few valuables. Some of the artifacts we stole even belonged to her tribe and took them for herself much to Isaiah’s annoyance. However the sheer… amount… of pigs we slaughtered didn’t sit well with her. She looked at me differently, or at least I felt something change between us.
But Chief? There was a twinkle in his eyes, he looked at me like I was a million dollars. He said that I was brave and the sorry excuses for men I killed deserved it.
He was right.
Chief took one big drag out of his cigar and let out a smokestack of thought through his mouth. He looked beyond us and the camp and towards the city. If there was anyone that would see us through to tomorrow it would be him. He was not a powerful quasi, but he was a great man. The greatest man we could ever know. The way he dressed was a slight form of mockery. He was well-kept and gentlemanly, had good manners and one hell of a charmer. But he wasn’t afraid of making the tough calls or roll around in the dirt with the rest of us.
Chief was a butcher and we ate well with him.
He said to me, “I see the vision, Walt. You are correct, the Apostates have stood alone for far too long. But placing our chances on an enigmatic up-start is not the way to go. Definitely not this far east. Regardless, your input is appreciated.”
I asked Andre what he thought of my idea for real, desperate to find anyone that could challenge everyone. People listened to Andre for a reason; he wasn’t a public speaker like Chief nor was he cool-headed like Claudia but he commanded respect, and he was smarter than he let on. He could have been the one to change things. He wasn’t afraid of anything.
Instead he couldn’t bear to even face me as he said, “The Chief’s wishes are my command.”
I felt so strange. An emotion I could not place a word to, a feeling that has stuck with me since I could remember. Gnawing at my core like a memento in the shape of a festering tumor. Once again I am the little boy sleeping inside a garbage can.
They let us go finally, everyone going on their separate ways to see about their errands. I had half a mind to go speak to Andre but he left without making a sound, maybe he had something secret and important to do, or maybe he went to sulk. Chief wanted me and Isaiah to go investigate the manufactorum in Vino Heights. He said we worked well together and that we should think about training with each other more.
Like hell I was.
Claudia was less than pleased at the order he gave us. But instead of protesting she just walked past, grabbing hold of Ina, and saying the two of them had a job to do. Pharrel and Khan were sent to go investigate New Geweld further, ask questions and try to get a feel of the criminal element. Above all: anyone going into New Geweld would have to be aware of how strong the AVIA’s presence has grown since the heist and to avoid Superheroes at all cost.
I felt as though that last part was directed at me.
Before I went with Isaiah in his rusty car, I decided to go back to my cabin. I needed my stuff, and also wanted to fix up a new arm.
I told him this, and he responded by spitting at the ground and saying, “Take too long and I’ll leave you, One-arm.”
I went inside my cabin, putting on my armor and black overcoat on top. Buckling up my gun belt and adjusting the holster I look to the table next to my bed. On it was my RatKing mask and glaz-gun; two items I stole from the museum.
The glaz-gun was an old Borchardt C93 pistol, over four centuries old and still in phenomenal condition. Of course sometimes to make something new you needed to take from something old. I stuck a shard of cauca inside a siphon canister to the back end of the bolt, giving the weapon a heavy behind in comparison to its skinny tube-like barrel. The single shard would be enough to power its shots forever. Laser lights powered by cauca energy were ruthless, and a dial on the side of the frame allowed you to either increase or decrease the intensity of the light.
The mask was something even more peculiar but still beautiful.
I wore it as I fought against the police assault, and during that I found out its maker was a genius. As a hailstorm of burning-hot lead poured down on me, one little bullet managed to strike me right between the eyes and I kept on shooting as if it was but a drop of water. It called to me when I first laid eyes on its exhibit, an enticing form that I could never hope to have resisted. It was so bad I didn’t have enough time or the patience to read its origins, but you could tell it was definitely tribal in origin. Primitive and Innovative. The only modification I did was add the rat-vision interactive lenses that glowed red, which were also powered by cauca. With it, I could see through walls, read vital signs, and other handy options.
I grabbed my busted up arm and went out to the tent posted behind the cabin. There I tinkered on my inventions and whatnot. One day I hoped that I’d have a more impressive workshop space, preferably one with four walls and a roof, although I once asked Ina and Claudia if it was possible to make a deployable one of my liking with their witchcraft. They said it was impossible, which I used to not believe. With cauca, anything could be possible. Your imagination was the only thing that held you back.
I hammered away at the frame, buffing out the dents, taking out ruined screws and old pieces of metal. Inside the forearm was a small box containing the electronics needed to summon Gutterwing with the press of a button. I pressed it, and a tarp beside me slowly rose up as engines hummed. I ripped out the box and threw it into the pile of junk I had mounting in the corner of the tent.
I didn’t need to just repair it, no.
If I wanted to fight in my family's war I needed to adapt.
That is the only way to live. If you reject change you will fall behind, and I was already used to that. I would not just sit back and watch the world get the better of me.
Isaiah was going to have to wait.
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