I shift uncomfortably after getting a glimpse of the distant white walls. Turning away and letting myself slouch down with a sigh as I feel the pain killers finally starting to take effect. My thoughts turning slow and skin pleasantly numb as my many aches and pains grow distant. The worry that I might have thrown back too many not quite enough to stop me from giving in to the temptation to rest just a little longer.

  It’s not like I’ve had the opportunity since yesterday. My brief nap in uncle Owen’s car and the crashed out sofa-coma that followed don’t count. I’d been filled with so much nervous energy and exhaustion that waking from them had still left me feeling tired. My body using the sleep to heal my injuries was probably a part of that. Although, I’ve never really been able to sleep easily in my dad’s apartment. Just because I’ve never found any cameras doesn’t mean there are none and the security answer to him before me.

  That old worry is enough to wake me up and, helped along by Selic’s warning about detention, gets me moving again. Opening my eyes and raising my head from where I’d unconsciously leaned back to enjoy the newly revealed sunlight. Another long sigh slipping out of me as I reach into my Pocket for Archie’s phone.

  The sudden crack of colliding metal followed by a small explosion far above has me ducking low to the roof instead. Pulling my legs in tight to get more cover behind the HVAC and wondering what fresh new piece of bullshit has arrived for me now.

  ‘Did the tracker get me after all?!’

  A panicked glance over the top of my cover doesn’t help. My eyes squinting against the sun’s glare and seeing little. My eyes blinking furiously to try and get out the dust kicked up by the wind. My heart skips a beat when my vision does finally clear. Just enough to make out the silhouettes of three humans surrounding a Verti-bird far above me. Barely having time to start hyperventilating at the prospect of a whole supe team with MEA support hunting me down before I realise that they’re already leaving.

  The Verti-bird belches out black smoke from its tail as it sways unsteadily. Rotors pointed upward as it spins in drunken turn before pulling away from what I now realise was an encirclement. One of the heroes, the only one wearing a cape, floating aside to let it leave while gesturing sharply to the man who’d been blocking it. His hunched posture and raised hands displaying a panic I can just barely make out.

  I smirk as I watch his discomfort, easily able to imagine the tongue lashing he’s likely getting after almost starting a fight above a school. The reminder that I’ve just done something similar sours any relief I might have felt on realising the heroes are not here for me. The sensation then killed entirely when the sun falls just right across the caped hero to reveal the sloped pauldrons and silver cape of Valiant.

  I barely have time to start panicking at the prospect of her having come to personally hunt me down before she’s gone. Giving one last gesture to the near cowering hero, an angry point at the school below, before she launches herself after the likely stolen vehicle. The last of the three, a male hero with an odd-looking backpack, ignores the chase a moment longer to throw something to the chastised hero.

  My eyes just barely able to make out how he almost fumbles the catch before the thrower disappears without warning. A teleporter then. My eyes don’t stay long on the now lone hero, switching instead to where the smoking vehicle is just leaving the district’s airspace. Rising into what few clouds are left as it exits the safety provided by the packed in houses and strip malls that surround the school. All of them in the process of being replaced by more efficient tenancy buildings that have begun to fight with the older constructions for height and sunlight.

  The silhouettes of the two heroes chasing or blinking after the escaping aircraft as they head towards the dense business district to the west. The skyscrapers that Osterholt had once intended would form a foundation for their extra-territorial enclave rising high above the bare handful of portals they’d managed to secure.

  The American mega-Corp that helped fund this segment’s expansion had lent their name to everything that they could. Including my school, Osterholt Associate’s Academy, as well as a number of ill-thought out ‘cultural’ projects that had been meant to preserve their roots. The expense of funding so much growth, and gaining the control that comes with it, had led directly to their bankruptcy when the expected density of portals failed to appear.

  I watch for as long as I can from my hiding spot. Not willing to move just yet due to the pain it will cause and the shape of the third hero still far above me. Getting to watch a fight between powerful Supes in person, even from a distance, is another good reason. I gasp as the male hero appears on top of the vehicle. Staying there only a moment before it performs an ungainly roll to force him off. The manoeuvre slows it down however. Enough that Valiant manages to catch up and seemingly collide with one of the propellers on the machine’s side. The figures are too small to make anything else out as more smoke hides even what little I can spot from view.

  I rise up a little higher from my cover as I squint and shade my eyes for a better view. Ducking back down again with a flinch as the Verti-bird finally manages to engage its jets. Breaking away with a crack of air that seems loud even from here. The pursuit changing directions as it flees to the north east with the two heroes still following.

  I lose sight of the three soon after that. The tiltrotor aircraft still smoking from one engine, dipping low and rapidly losing speed while the heroes stay in dogged pursuit. The three quickly obscured as they draw closer to the greatest reason for Osterholt’s collapse. My eyes just barely able to make out the walls of towering white that is the condemned zone not quite two districts north of the school. Likely, the hijackers are hoping to lose them in the overgrown suburbs that surround the place.

  I glance back up to the sky after losing sight of the chase. Looking for a sign of the hero who stopped the Verti-bird and had then been left behind. Wonder at getting to see a real supe fight fading to panic as I fail to spot him. A painful shift in my position just lets me catch sight of him as he drops down somewhere not far from the school’s campus. A brief glimpse of his costume, just clothes from what I can see, enough to let me guess he’s a boy around my height and little else.

  I breathe easier after I lose sight of him. Trying to capture the relaxed state of a few minutes ago while listening to the students below me still freaking out over the battle that had nearly occurred above us. The shouts and screams mostly sounding excited rather than scared and I take a second to wish the teachers the best of luck in trying to get anyone to go back to homeroom now.

  It’s not long before the cold starts to get to me however. A shiver going through me as the wind picks up again and the sun suddenly feels further away. With a grumble of annoyance, I do a quick check of the skies to make sure nothing else is about to happen before pulling out Archie’s, as well as my own, burner from the pouch in my hoodie.

  A sigh makes its way out of me as I pick up my own ‘work phone’, holding it up to better catch the light off of the many cracks in its screen. It had only been a few days ago that Jason had bought it for me. My paranoia over owning one extending to being seen buying it as well. A worry that seems justified after how Archie had reacted to seeing me with it.

  Although other people do use them, the stigma of the barebones smartphones being used by criminals is well deserved. They have just enough functionality to be useable in a city like Throne whilst still being cheap enough to be considered disposable. A mix that makes them admittedly popular with lots of people beside villains and gangsters. Although, we’re definitely the target market. Few other phone companies get sponsor villains to promote them. Even if it’s never official.

  Not that I’d actually been worried about the underpaid store clerk thinking I was a villain. It’s more that phones in general have always been a sore spot for me. Ever since I realised dad could track me with the new one that I got each Christmas.

  ‘So long as he didn’t try to track me (or call, hah!) while my actual phone was in my Pocket yesterday then I should be fine.’

  I pull my mask out with a huff that pushes away any more thoughts of dad, returning my burner to my Pocket along with his presence in my mind. Leaving my own phone at home would’ve been worse if he’d called and found out I wasn’t there. Better to have some chance at making an excuse than none at all.

  I shake my head to again push out the pointless worries, annoyed at myself for not being able to stop thinking about them. Either he’d noticed or he hadn’t. Nothing more I can do. Instead, I look at the slightly torn fabric of my garishly pink half ski mask and the scratched plastic of the visor. Removing my glasses and pulling the mask quickly over my head after a glimpse of my reflection. Clearly, all the running I’ve been doing has done bad things to the makeup hiding my cuts and scratches.

  ‘More foundation before I go back down.’

  The roof seems different when looked at through the anti-glare of my mask. The light from the sun is dimmer of course but the gradient between shadow and light also seems harder to discern. I carefully edge my way around the jutting box of the HVAC unit I’ve been leaning against. Settling myself comfortably in its shadow where I can see the screen more easily while I finish inputting the fences number.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  My finger hesitates above the call button. Mind again going over how the text could have been a trick. Using Archie’s phone should let me avoid being tracked or having the conversation tapped but there’s nothing I can do if the fence doesn’t believe it’s me calling him.

  I sit paralysed by my worries for a long moment. Finger needing to occasionally tap against the screen to stop it from locking and wasting all my effort. With each one I feel more and more unwilling to actually call the criminal on the other side.

  ‘This is ridiculous.’

  Before I can think about it any further, I press a little longer on the next tap. The dial starting immediately and at once making me regret my impulsiveness. I could have planned more. The call goes through on the last possible ring. A man with a hard-to-place accent coughing violently into the receiver before, with what sounds like a spit into something beside him, he finally answers the phone.

  “Who this?”

  “Pocket. Legit’s partner. You just texted and asked I call you back… and you agreed to buy some jewellery?”

  I hold in a wince as I let the final word become a question. Silently cursing at myself for not taking a few moments more to plan out the conversation and instead just jumping into things yet again. It doesn’t help that I’ve never actually spoken with this guy. Nor that his text has put my back against the wall. Professional villains don’t need anyone but themselves… but I definitely need this guy. Without Jason, I have no other contacts to this part of the world.

  “Yeah, I tell ‘Legit’ that I take any watches or, similar, off hands. I do same for you, yes. But nothing from mess you made yesterday!”

  “What! Why not?!”

  “It’s too hot. You think you can just empty jewellery store, put guard in coma and then have running battle along highway and expect no one to be angry at you? Just knowledge that you live, if you are Pocket, is worth good amount.”

  My mind goes blank at the mention of the guard, not really hearing the rest of what he says as the sound of a metal bat cracking against bone replays through my mind. The, what I’m now reasonable sure is a mix of a Greek and Czechoslovakian accent, making my mind work hard to parse his words and so not getting into the more immediately important part until he’s almost moved on.

  “Why would that be worth anything?”

  “Hah, you Supe’s… Read the news, little girl. Pinball was arrested. Manslaughter.”

  ‘Oh shit.’

  I feel myself go cold as the news of the hero’s arrest works its way through my head. Vindictive joy after his interfering with our escape, and almost killing me, warring over worry for what this means for the future. If Jason thinks I’m dead, and they obviously haven’t found a body to identify me, he might tell them who I am.

  Unlike him, people would definitely notice if I suddenly went missing and he wouldn’t want to leave uncle Owen waiting for a girl who’s not coming home. Those two had a weird bond over engines. Jason’s Power giving him all the skill with the tools needed but none of the knowledge to use it until uncle Owen had shown him what to do. If not for that, our bike could never have outrun Pinball for so long. I think Jason getting more and more into the street-kid life had hit uncle Owen harder than his own family.

  My thoughts keep skittering away as the man keeps talking and, this time, I really don’t hear what he’s saying. Mind instead spinning up and discarding plan after plan about how to let Jason know I’m alive without giving myself away as Pocket. It’s not like I can just go visit him. Even the worst monsters locked up in Fairhurst are still allowed to keep their identities a secret and there’s no reason for Millie Carew to visit Legit. In the end, only two solutions come to mind. Both suck, and both need money.

  “-bike. Course, I still take as scrap though. Pry out jewels, melt down rest. Will need bigger uhh, markup. For my labour.”

  “How much?”

  My course set, the decision to act puts some steel back into my tone. Doing my best not to grit my teeth too hard in expectation of the incoming reduction to our hard-stolen loot. We’d ended up taking far more than we planned but, from what little I know about the cost of hiring Supes, I’m likely going to need even more.

  “Ehh, there will be, lower price, of re-sell… I give you fifteen K.”

  I breathe out in a slow hiss as he gives me the number. Biting down on my lip hard enough to taste blood being the only way to avoid insulting the man over his shameless theft. I don’t have any other contacts, nor any idea how I’d get them, but fifteen K isn’t anywhere close to enough for what I now need or what the haul is worth. This would be another time when having a Power that was suited to just punching things and shrugging off bullets would be useful. No way some fence would try and cheat Collateral or Last Dawn.

  “Or, for ‘small’ cut, I put you in contact with someone who is happy to shift rest. Call it, thirty K’s worth.”

  “What the fuck?! You’re not even doing anything!”

  The words slip out in a furious hiss. Blood seeping into the fabric of my mask before I can pull my volume down to a whisper-shout that I still feel certain can be heard from too far away. The bastard on the other end of the line just coughs out a laugh before he answers.

  “Cost of introduction and… cost of silence, over you being alive.”

  I think it over as his voice trails off. Unsure if I even care about people still thinking that I’m dead. The chances of Jason finding out from inside Fairhurst, unless the council wants him to, which they definitely won’t, is pretty much nil. Maybe if he was in general pop but from what I read this morning, the area they’ll have taken him to is designed to convince people to switch sides. And that means controlling everything an inmate hears and experiences.

  ‘Staying dead also means being unexpected… and it’ll keep Pinball in lock-up a little longer.’

  The thought of the hero who tried to kill me being made to suffer even a day more does a lot to shift the needle. My mind still wavering over the expense until my thoughts turn to current contents of my Pocket. It’s not like I don’t have an entire jewellery store in there and if, by meeting this new contact, I can sell the rest for anything close to market value…

  “Fine. Tell me where to find you.”

  “Hah! No, we do dead drop. I leave info you want in certain place. You leave jewellery. I’ll tell you weight needed. You not cheat me if you want my contact to listen to you.”

  “No, I want to meet so I know that I can trust you.”

  “Too bad. I text you location.”

  The phone disconnects with a beep that leaves me staring at a string of flashing numbers before the call screen fades to black. My hand trembling as I swallow down my reply and feel the numbness of shocked disbelief start to leave me. The coldness replaced by something I’ve grown far more familiar with in the last month or so.

  Slowly, carefully, I put the phone down on the felt beside me. Proceeding to pull my legs up to my chest as I push myself against the cold steel behind me. Wrapping my arms around my knees and squeezing them tight while I bury my face into the ruffles of my skirt. I breathe in as deeply as I can.

  Then, I scream.

  The noise is muffled by the folds of fabric. Barely reaching my own ears before being pulled away by the wind now whipping constantly over my head. Rising higher until my throat starts to hurt and my chest burns from lack of breath. I stop with a sudden cough as I feel snot staining the skirt and leggings underneath. Sucking down cold air and holding in a sob as I wipe tears from my eyes with a snarl.

  I pull my eyes up with a final sniffle, leaning back as I pull out some tissues and wipe off the mess before I start reapplying foundation. Glancing to the left as I see the fence has texted me a location not far from school. Another hint he might have some idea of who I am. Or at least, who Jason is, from the way he said his Supe name. If he knows that, then it’s hardly a great leap of logic to assume that Pocket goes to the same school.

  I stare down at the screen until it goes dark again. Wanting nothing more in that moment than to ignore him, or, better yet, find some way to figure out who he is and then make him regret fucking me over like this. A deep ache working its way into my jaw as I grind my teeth together in frustration. A thought of my dentist billing dad for a repair, and the call I’ll get about it, having me pull the molars apart with a click of stuck enamel.

  Unfortunately, the bastard has guessed me right. I am desperate and I don’t have any other options. Not unless I want to abandon Jason and any other chance of making the money I need to get out of here. With a grimace, I swipe the phone from the floor. Pulling out my personal phone to snap a picture of the fences text before crushing Archie’s burner into so much useless scrap. The sound of shattering glass and cracking metal is remarkably cathartic and its almost a minute later before I’m stuffing the scraps left into my Pocket.

  Feeling marginally better, I use the HVAC to help myself to my feet while shaking out the worst of the chill that has seeped into me. Keeping hold of the shiny box, I step out of its shadow and then push myself away from the shelter of its side. Leaning into the still building wind as it tears across the roof and whips up a dust devil from the bird droppings and scraps of old felt all around me.

  With trembling legs, I squint into the gale while my hair is pulled into a streaming tail behind me. Closing my eyes as I pull off my mask and then undo the tie that feels like its pulling at the roots to let my curls billow freely behind me. The distant heat of the sun once more being covered by clouds as another distortion far above spits out a mess of crackling thunder that adds a slanted sheet of icy rain to the already building gale.

  It falls near sideways from the oddness of its entry. Levelling out rapidly as it rises higher towards a more natural spot in the atmosphere. The little spits already growing stronger as they patter against my head. I don’t react even as the excited chatter of the several thousand students below is quickly replaced by the coming rain. The sound of rushing feet and joking screams reaching me as they now hurry to follow the teacher’s instruction to go inside.

  I know that I’ll need to join them soon. Know, that I’ve spent too long up here already and that at any moment Selic could come back. That he, or anyone else, might close the window which is my only way back down. Know, that I’m either going to need to eat quickly or go without if I want to get back before I end up with a detention that’ll have dad calling me. Know, that I’m going to have to lie to Claire about who I was talking to and that she’s going to see right through me.

  Still, my steps are firm and steady as I force my way forward against the now raging wind. Getting closer with each trembling breath to the roof’s edge while my fear of heights does all it can to stop me. Only letting my feet come to a halt once my toes are peeking over the roofs lip. My focus now split as much on resisting the call to jump as the urge to throw myself back to an imagined safety.

  I hold myself there as long as I can while the sound of students beneath me grows fainter. Fighting the screaming terror overtaking my limbs with clenched teeth and bloody-minded stubbornness. Pushing away reason and safety until fear surpasses rage and I drop back down to the roof. My hands digging into the felt in a white knuckled grip while my breath comes in short gasps that do nothing to slow the beating of my heart. A few seconds longer this time and at a far greater height than the apartment’s kitchen table.

  ‘A few more years of this and I might even be able to walk near a window without freaking out.’

  I laugh softly into the wind at the thought. Not having to fight my shaking hands quite so hard to convince them to release their grip as before. One of them at least, the still somewhat painful left staying lodged in the roof no matter how much I demand it listen to me. The fingers of my right feeling thick and clumsy as I pull out something to eat before climbing back down. I let my one-handed attempt at opening the plastic tube of scop fade into the background while I focus on mastering my breathing.

  My mouth already trying to rebel at the prospect of eating the ‘meat’. The protein lump is meant to be heavily flavoured before eating and usually hidden in something else so you don’t have to actually deal with its texture. Enough additives and the Corps can get it to taste like real meat for only a fraction of the price. Unfortunately, I only Pocketed raw ingredients.

  It goes down hard. My hands working automatically as I force my eyes not to look at what I’m eating. Heart slower but still pounding loudly as my now calmed mind goes through what I need to do next. Get to the dead drop without being recorded. Leave the weight of jewellery where I’m told, which will almost certainly be worth more than the price the fence demanded, and trust that I’ll be able to get what I need from his contact. All things I don’t have a choice in if I want a chance to get Jason back. All things I need to do, if I don’t want to be eating scop for the rest of my life. After that though, I’m going to make sure that no one can ever do this to me again.

  20th (21st, that headache stuck around another day and kept me from doing anything besides feel like throwing up so I'm a little behind where I want to be). See you then!