“Okay, be there in a bit,” I said, hanging up the phone.

  I butted out the cigarette I’d been smoking, only half-done but whatever, and pocketed my phone. No time to rest of course, Tattletale had to check in and then give me whatever the fuck we were doing next. Frankly that was better, less time to sit around wallowing in self-pity. I went back into Papa’s house and kicked off my shoes, then frowned.

  “Hey,” I said, walking into the living room where Papa and Zeke were sitting in front of the TV. “Where’s my gun?”

  “What do you need it for?” Zeke asked.

  “Work,” I said shortly. “Where?”

  “You planning on using it on yourself?” Papa said flatly, looking me dead in the eyes.

  “No,” I spat. “More likely to use it on the cunt I’m meeting.” He nodded and rose from the couch, heading down the hall. I sat down on the couch, and he returned a moment later, putting it on the table along with a cloth, a bottle, and some tools. “What’s all this crap?” I asked.

  “Ain’t cleaned your piece since you shot it,” he replied, settling back. “Go on.”

  “Uh.” I stared at the pistol, then looked at him. “I um, haven’t taken it apart yet. Don’t know how…” He sighed and grabbed it off the table.

  “Watch close,” Papa said, fiddling with it. “This is a Beretta 92, never used one personally but a couple homies did. Not the hardest thing to take care of. So what you wanna do here is…”

  He showed me how to take the weapon apart, and it really wasn’t that complex at all. The barrel was stained with soot from me using it a couple nights before, as was the slide. Once it was taken apart, he put it back together and handed the gun to me. I gave it a couple tries until I wasn’t cursing at the thing when trying to put it together, then grabbed a rag and the bottle of what I assumed was oil.

  It wasn’t the first time I’d cleaned a weapon, Miss Militia made us do ours after every range trip. More fiddly than the rifles I usually got to shoot, but not too dirty since I’d only ever put a magazine through it. When I was finished, I went to put the pistol back together, but Papa stopped me.

  “One more step,” he said firmly, taking the barrel from my hands and grabbing a tool from the table. He held it up in front of me, beside the part. “This is a file. You ice someone with a gun, then you either throw it in the bay or run this down the barrel a few times. See if the cops take it, they can do what’s called ‘forensic ballistics’, match the marks on the bullet to the ones in the barrel here like a fingerprint. This here changes that fingerprint.”

  “Huh, really?” That seemed almost Tinker levels of crazy but...Tinkers existed. “Thanks for the advice, I guess.”

  “One shooter to another,” Papa said, nodding as he scraped the insides of the barrel. Once he was finished, he gave it back to me to put together.

  “I hate to ask, but can I borrow some ammo?” I asked while assembling the pieces. “I uh, used all mine.”

  “Hundred bucks and I’ll fill your clip,” he replied easily.

  “That’s a ripoff,” I complained, only getting a shrug. “Whatever, fine, take it out of the bag.”

  He rose and wandered off to get the bullets, while I tried not to think about putting one in my head.

  I drummed my fingers on the surface of the picnic table, shivering as a gust of wind cut through my jacket. It was a chilly, grey day, though fortunately the weather was holding off for now. Lisa sat across from me, fixing one of her tight braids.

  “How’d it go?” I asked at last. She remained silent until she finished working on her hair, then cleared her throat.

  “You first,” Lisa said. “Because for some reason I feel like you’ve got bad news.”

  “Stormtiger’s dead, but you know that already,” I said, shrugging. “Smashed up the lab, took some money, it went fine.” She frowned, staring at me, then her eyes widened.

  “Ah, so that’s...never mind.” She shook her head. “Well, then at least there’s some good news, because I haven’t got any.” My stomach sank.

  “What do you mean?” I asked shakily.

  “We managed to destroy one truck,” Lisa said, a bitter frown pulling her lips down. “More capes than we thought, and we didn’t have everyone we really needed. Most of the weapons got through.”

  “Are you fucking kidding?” I shouted, gripping my pistol in my pocket as she flinch. “You fucking failure!”

  “Relax,” she snapped, glancing over her shoulder. “And keep your voice down.” I took a deep breath and flicked the safety on my pistol, glaring at her.

  “So it was all for nothing,” I said bitterly. “Great, fucking amazing work Lisa. If you ever need any more help, how about you put a gun in your mouth instead?” She narrowed her eyes.

  “I didn’t ask you to walk out on your girlfriend, dumbass,” Lisa said. “In fact, I specifically told you it was a bad idea to talk to her at all. Don’t blame me for the grave you dug with a smile.” My teeth creaked and I felt my hands start to shake. “One loss isn’t the end of the world Lia, no matter how rough it feels.”

  “Easy for you to fucking say.”

  “Ha!” She laughed sharply, slapping the table. “Look you’ve got two options: sit here, wallow and give up, or realize there are still Nazis in this city that need stopping.” I breathed deeply, slowly, shutting my eyes. After a minute, I let my pistol go and put my hands in front of me on the table.

  “Fine,” I said, barely keeping the anger from my voice. “I assume you have a plan to unfuck this?”

  “Working on it,” Lisa said simply. “But tally it up, they’ve taken way worse losses than us, right? Things might get a little more dangerous, but that just means you can’t stop now.”

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  “Stop talking it up or I’m going to shoot you,” I said coldly.

  “Alright, alright, sheesh,” she said, raising her hands. “Relax, not like I broke up with you.”

  “Lisa.”

  “Chill,” she said. “Seriously, Lia, take a breath. Your team got beat to shit and you don’t have healing hands to fix it. They need rest and you need rest. Take it, I’ll call you when I have something.” I rested my chin on my hand, glowering at her.

  “Can’t wait to be your patsy again,” I mumbled, getting a roll of her eyes.

  “We’re more like partners at this point, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I wouldn’t,” I said, shaking my head. “Not now, not ever.” She gave me a look that screamed ‘we’ll see about that’.

  “Have it your way,” Lisa said, shrugging. “You planning on wasting more villains, like with Stormtiger?”

  “I didn’t plan that at all,” I snapped. “It just...it’s how things went.”

  “Not judging, it’s an effective method,” she continued. “But keep in mind the response you’ll get, from Werwolf and other heroes.”

  “I know exactly how they’ll respond,” I said, knitting my brows. “Badly, like with everything.” She snorted and gave me a nod.

  “Well, at least you know your audience.” She took a baggie out of her pocket and set it on the table. “For your trouble.”

  “What is it?” I asked, grabbing it and looking it over. “Some kind of plant bulbs?” She cackled.

  “That’s weed, Lia,” Lisa said dryly. “You know, cannabis sativa, sweet Mary Jane, the Devil’s lettuce?”

  “I don’t do drugs,” I said, pushing the bag back. She pushed it towards me again. “No seriously.”

  “First, you need it.” I scoffed as she held up a second finger. “Second, pretty sure you could be on better terms with your host. Peace offering.” I frowned, then snatched the bag and stuck it in my pocket. “Good girl.”

  “Fuck off.” I stuck up my middle finger.

  “I’ll take that as a ‘thank you’,” she retorted, rising from the bench.

  “Was that it?” I asked quickly. “Just...that?”

  “Yup,” she said. “Unless you want to talk about the end of the world.”

  “I…”

  “Exactly,” Lisa said, nodding. “See you around, Lia. Also, you need stitches.”

  She walked off, leaving me alone in the cold, wondering how she’d known about that when I was wearing gloves and a scarf.

  “Where’d you get this?” Papa asked as I handed him the bag of weed.

  “Why do you care?” I said, sitting across from him on the couch. “It’s all the same stuff.” He looked at me like an idiot.

  “You smoke any random shit someone gives you?” he said.

  “No,” I replied with a frown. “I don’t smoke at all.” Well, except a couple cigarettes here and there.

  “Mm, you know if this is just weed?” Papa asked, popping open the baggie. “Could be laced with any kind of shit. Zan, ket, smack, you understand?”

  “I...guess.” He sniffed it and I cocked my head. “Can you tell somehow?”

  “Well it smells like good weed.” He made a face and turned his head. “Yo, Zeke! Get your ass out here.”

  “What’s good?” Zeke said, striding out of his room. “Yo Lia, how’s it going?”

  “You wanna smoke?” Papa asked, holding out the baggie. “Don’t know the strain, the dealer—”

  “Tattletale gave it to me,” I said quickly. Zeke gave me a glance, then stared at the bag.

  “Shit, do I gotta pay for this?” he said.

  “Free of charge,” I said, and Papa nodded.

  “Well if you ain’t gonna treat yourselves…”

  “That boy’ll smoke anything,” Papa chuckled, shaking his head as Zeke returned to his room. “Don’t worry, it smells fine. Not a guarantee, but I got a nose for these things after a while.”

  “Uh huh,” I grunted. “Hey where’s Joy?”

  “Said she’d be back in a couple hours,” he replied with a shrug. “Had to get some special supplies or something, medical stuff I think.”

  “Huh, okay.” I sighed, picking at the scab on my neck.

  “Hey, stop that,” Papa said firmly, cuffing my ear. I glowered up at him and he prodded my collar bone, then held up a bloody finger. “Fucking yourself up.”

  “Shit,” I cursed, striding quickly to the bathroom. “Fucking ruining another shirt,” I muttered, pressing a fresh piece of gauze to my wound.

  “You’re gonna need stitches,” he said warningly.

  “Yeah yeah, already got a second opinion,” I grumbled, shooting him a glare. “Not exactly a seamstress.”

  “Can give you a hand, for the right price,” Papa replied, shrugging. “Wouldn’t be the first kid I stitched up, hell Zeke was—”

  “Behold the queen of blu— Shit Lia, you good?” Zeke said, poking his head into the bathroom, a cone-shaped cigarette in hand.

  “I’m fine,” I said tersely. “Just opened up again, that’s all.”

  “Good thing Joy’s getting a needle and thread,” he said. “You wanna share this cone til she gets back?”

  “I don’t smoke weed,” I snapped.

  “Alright alright, chill, just an invitation.” Zeke sighed and scratched his chin. I noticed he hadn’t shaved in a bit. “Well don’t wait up for me then.”

  “You gotta relax,” Papa said after Zeke left, crossing his arms. “If not for your heart, then because you’re gonna push these guys away.”

  “I don’t want to do drugs dammit,” I complained.

  “So don’t, but don’t be a bitch about it,” he said, shrugging. “Now come on, better go make sure that boy doesn’t get knocked on his ass.”

  “Ow, fucking ow,” I complained as Joy kept a firm hold on my jaw.

  “Hold still,” she ordered. “Making this harder than it needs to be.”

  “That’s because you keep stabbing me,” I said, wincing as she did so again.

  “Tends to be how stitches work,” she said flatly. “Zeke, you doing okay?”

  “This shit’s fiiiire,” Zeke groaned from the couch. “God daaaaamn. Yo Lia, can you call Tatertot and get some more?”

  “Tatertot?” I snorted. “Shit, I’ve got to remember that one.”

  “Can’t believe he smoked weed from Tattletale,” Joy muttered, shaking her head. “Can’t believe you gave it to him.”

  “Hey, Papa said it was okay,” I retorted. “And it’s not like I was going to try any.”

  “Fair, I guess,” she sighed. I heard a quiet ‘snick’ and Joy pulled away from me. “There, you’re all done. Now don’t fucking pick it.”

  “Fine, god, it was like one time,” I said, rolling my shoulders. “Thanks though Joy, seriously. It’s...it means a lot, you putting up with my crap.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said, giving me a brief squeeze around the shoulders.

  We rose from the floor where she’d been stitching me up and joined Zeke where he lay, taking up most of the couch. We huddled together at one end, chatting quietly while he zone out, stoned out of his mind. I still needed to bring him up to speed on things, but right now probably wasn’t the best time to say ‘hey I’ve died a few times’.

  “Zeke?” Joy said.

  “Yeaaah,” he sighed, staring up at the ceiling.

  “Want to come out on the porch?” she asked, shaking his leg.

  “Ain’t we there already?” he replied. “Oh, wait, naaah that’s the ceiling. Okay yeah, let’s go.”

  Despite that, after Joy and I went outside, it took Zeke another five minutes to join us. He sat down heavily in a lawn chair, eyelids drooping, a dopey smile on his face. He looked like an idiot, but he also looked...relaxed. Joy gave me a cigarette, then lit one of her own before helping with mine.

  “It’s going to be a bit before our next job,” I said as we smoked.

  “That’s okay,” Joy said, bumping her shoulder against mine. “We need a break, you need a break.”

  “I guess,” I mumbled. “Wish we could afford it, you know?”

  “We can,” she replied. “Really, we must have done some damage to Werwolf. They lost a villain and a big lab. Even if Tattletale fucked up, it’s not like they can just magic up a replacement for all that in a day or two.”

  “Yeah,” I sighed, leaning back and exhaling a cloud of smoke. “You’re right, I know it, just feel...I don’t know, wound up I guess.”

  “Shit this weed’ll unwind you like a fishing reel,” Zeke commented, giggling. “Y’know like vrrrrrr.”

  “Sure thing Zeke,” I said dryly, shaking my head.

  “I might try a puff,” Joy said, taking the half-smoked joint from the ashtray.

  “Good luck,” I said, shaking my head.

  Joy lit up as I butted out, and I wondered if I’d ever sleep well again.