“One mag, rapid rate, go!”

  The sound of rapid gunshots filled the morning air, the concussion from our short barreled weapons slapping us in the face as we put dozens of rounds downrange. By the time we were done, the air was full of gun smoke and we’d probably woken up everyone within ten miles of the range.

  “Cease firing!” I bellowed, unloading my empty magazine and locking the bolt open. My team all made their weapons safe, then we went downrange to collect our targets, circling up together afterwards. “Alright let’s see what the damage is…”

  It looked like most rounds were at least on the paper, if not the target itself. We were only shooting at fifty meters, I figured beyond that was pointless. For one we weren’t engaging targets that far away, except the last fight with Purity; but that had also shown our carbines weren’t made for it anyway. And that was okay, but had me considering my next purchase from Salomon’s.

  “Man these things kick,” Wick complained, rolling his shoulder as we walked back to the cars. His voice was nasally, eyes still blackened from the beating I’d given him when the video surfaced.

  “That’s why I’ve been telling you to stay on semi-auto,” I said. “These things are a lot, even for me. On auto, I imagine we’d have one round on paper and the rest in the clouds, you know?”

  “I could handle it,” Reese said confidently, flexing a bicep.

  “Okay maybe you could,” I admitted. “But you’re going to literally knock your teammates out with the concussion. Besides, ammo is expensive, and anyone shooting on full auto is paying for their own.” That got a groan from my team. “Alright, now—”

  “Well god damn.” I snapped my head up, barely avoiding raising my carbine. A couple guys were getting out of a beat-up pickup truck, old hunting rifles slung on their backs. “Hey, what’re you guys shooting with?”

  “Get in the car,” I muttered under my breath, walking away from my team and towards the guys. I had my mask on, as did the rest of my team, so we weren’t going to be recognized or anything. “Hey, what’s up? This is just a uh, it’s called an MC-51.” I hefted it and showed it of, taking a moment to look the two over. No obvious tattoos, and between their beards and shaggy hair they clearly weren’t cops or PRT.

  “What’s it fire?” the other asked, scratching his chin. “Never heard of it before.”

  “Fires seven-six-two, full size,” I replied, getting a whistle.

  “Shoot, my rifle fires that,” the first said with a chuckle. “Outta a barrel that short? Must be all over.”

  “You have no idea,” I said dryly.

  “So who you all with?” he asked, leaning against his truck. “Seen a few units practicing out here, National Guard, ERT, you know?” I narrowed my eyes. “Alright alright, secret squirrel shit, no sweat.”

  “Appreciate the confidentiality,” I said flatly. I pursed my lips, then opened one of my magazine pouches and slipped a cartridge out, slotting it into the chamber. I smacked the charging handle, Then held the carbine out to the guy. “Tell you what, for zipping your lips, you can fire one round.”

  “Shit, really?” He grinned and pushed himself off the truck, eagerly grabbing the gun. “Hey Greg, get a picture would you?”

  “No pictures,” I snapped before the guy could pull out his phone.

  “Aww, well, fine.” He raised the carbine and popped the one round off. Both he and his friend winced, and I couldn’t help smiling. “God damn.”

  “Slaps doesn’t it?” I said, taking the carbine back when he offered.

  “How do you manage?”

  “Lots of practice.” I hefted my carbine under my arm and gave them a wave as I headed to Zeke’s car. “Stay safe.”

  “That was weird,” Zeke said after I shut the door.

  “It’s cool, they’re just guys,” I replied.

  “I took their plates down, just in case,” Nadir said as we pulled out, unwrapping her scarf. “Can’t be too careful.”

  “Fair enough,” I shrugged, putting my carbine on the floor and pulling off my own mask before turning around. “How are you guys feeling about today? Good practice?”

  “I mean, we got to put a bunch of rounds through the biggest little guns in town,” J-Dog said. “That’s always a good day.”

  “J-Dog said it,” Jeep said, grinning. “And we weren’t running around a damn kill house neither. Can’t complain about that.”

  “I figure our kill houses are Nazi trap houses, you know?” I said with a grin. “The way it should be.”

  “Hell yeah,” he agreed.

  “I’m going to get in touch with Tattletale tonight,” I continued, turning back around and looking out the window as we got onto the interstate. “Should get a target list figured out soon. We’ll be back out there before you know it.”

  “The break’s been okay,” Joy said. “We shouldn’t rush.”

  “Not rushing, been nearly a week,” I countered. “But if you’re not ready, then say something, please. I’d rather know you’re not up for something before we get stuck in a firefight.”

  “I’m good, I’m good,” she said quickly. “Just...yeah.”

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  “Yeah.”

  We headed home, hopefully ready for more.

  “What’s with the goon squad?” I asked, eyeing the quartet of people behind Tattletale, flanked by two, armed mercenaries. They were masked with black balaclavas, hands clasped behind their backs where I couldn’t see them. I rested my hand on my pistol and paused a few meters from her, across the warehouse floor. “And the venue, feels like an ambush.”

  “Shut up,” Tattletale said sharply, snapping her fingers. A merc grabbed the arm of one of others, and I realized they must have been bound. “Go ahead and introduce yourself.”

  “This who you selling me to?” the guy spat hoarsely.

  “Uh, Tattletale?”

  “This bunch of dipshits burned down a skinhead bar last night,” she explained. “We caught them before Werwolf did, but frankly I can’t decide what to do with them. Normally I’d recruit them but—”

  “Fuck you you crime lord!” one in the back interrupted, getting a rifle but to the stomach for their trouble.

  “I see,” I said dryly. “So tell them to leave. Don’t really see why I’m here, unless you found swastikas on them and don’t want to get your hands dirty.”

  “They’re ANTIFA, dipshit.”

  “And that is?” I snapped my fingers a few times. “Spanish?”

  “An acronym,” Tattletale said, rolling her eyes. “They hate Nazis like you do, that’s all you need to know.”

  “Ah so you want me to recruit them.” I looked them over. “Well?”

  “And who are you?”

  “Amaranth, Terriers,” I said. “Might know me from—”

  “You killed Purity!” one in the back exclaimed.

  “Yes, that.” I cleared my throat and nodded. “Feel more eager to talk about who you are?”

  “We’re ANTIFA – Brockton Bay,” the one who’d been led up said. “I’m Fidel, cell elect. If you are who you say...we can talk.”

  “Cool, guess you’re my problem now,” I sighed. “You want to cut them loose, Tattletale?”

  “Walk with me a minute,” Tattletale replied, jerking her chin. I frowned, but followed her to a quiet corner of the warehouse. She looked more exhausted than ever, eyes red like Zeke’s after too much weed. “You need to tread damned lightly,” she said, lowering her voice.

  “I have been,” I said with a shrug.

  “I don’t know what Cauldron promised you, don’t assume they’ll hold up their end,” she said, and I suppressed the urge to grimace.

  “We’ll see,” I said flatly. “I trust they want me around for Jack.”

  “And now you know they can keep you around in the Birdcage, then get you out any time,” she retorted. “You do a lot of stupid stuff Amaranth, but trusting them would take the cake.”

  “Do you have a new target list?” I asked, changing the subject and getting a sigh.

  “Amaranth I know you don’t listen to anyone but please,” Tattletale practically plead. “You fucking caught on, don’t tell me you’re this dense.”

  “Caught onto what?” I asked, brushing at a prickling sensation on my leg. “Don’t tell me Cauldron are the ones making me hallucinate, not even I’m that dumb.”

  “Who’s to say they’re all hallucinations?”

  “You, for one,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Quit trying to screw me around and give me the intel I need.”

  “Oh my god you dumb shit,” Tattletale groaned. Her hand snapped out and grabbed my ear, and she leaned in close, hissing. “Skitter is alive and she’s working for them.” A chill ran down my spine and I recoiled as she let me go.

  “Bullshit,” I said, voice shaking. “Quit fucking with me Tattletale, or we’re through. I saw the reports, DNA evidence.”

  “You think an octopus like Cauldron can’t fake that?” she countered. “You have absolutely no idea what you’re fucking with Amaranth, I barely know. The fact that they had me convinced…” She shook her head.

  “Stop it,” I said, hands balling into fists. “Just stop. I...I don’t believe you, you’re wrong or fucking with me. Skitter’s dead, she’s been dead for months, and it’s my goddamn fault. Stop pretending you care about your best friend’s killer.”

  “Don’t you hear me dipshit? You didn’t kill Taylor.”

  “We’re done here,” I snapped, taking a step back. She was lying, doubling down, trying to screw with me. I knew, how could I not? This was Tattletale after all. “You want to talk again, you give me what I want.”

  I ignored her calling after me as I turned on my heel and walked out. The four ANTIFA or whatever guys were standing by Zeke’s car, guarded by one of Tattletale’s mercenaries. I opened the back door and got them herded inside. The bitch herself stood at the door of the warehouse, staring at me like a vulture after a carcass. I brushed at the tickling sensation crawling up my legs, not looking down as I slammed the back door shut. I got in the passenger seat and ordered Zeke to drive while I scratched at my skin.

  “Okay,” I sighed once the awful feeling of spiders wrapping me up had subsided. Got them...for now. I turned around and glared at the idiots packed in the back seat. “I don’t have the brainpower to deal with you right now. We’re going to take your details, then dump you wherever you want. We’ll talk later, and we will talk, or I’ll give Tattletale ten grand and tell her to do what she wants with you.”

  “I thought she was supposed to be a hero,” one of them hissed, getting an elbow from her friend.

  “I’m willing to give you a shot,” I continued, ignoring the dig. “But what we’re doing here, annihilating the Nazis? That needs to be coordinated. One united front, got it?”

  “Sensible,” Fidel said with a nod. “We would be open to cooperation with someone with your kind of pedigree doing this. And we appreciate you getting us away from that villain. How do you know her?”

  “I buy information on where to find Werwolf’s shit,” I replied. “Grow ops, trap houses, whatever. She gets some money, we get a city without Nazis.”

  “But she’s a criminal,” another complained.

  “You’re an arsonist,” I said flatly. “What matters is that Tattletale isn’t a Nazi. That’s good enough for me, and if you want these monsters gone it better be good enough for you.”

  “Villains are as much a cancer,” Fidel said darkly, then sighed. “But I see your reasoning, they’re not exactly committing pogroms.”

  “It’s just prioritization,” I said with a shrug.

  “We’ll discuss this before we give our answer,” the complainer said, getting another shrug.

  “Where are we dropping you off?”

  Fidel gave Zeke directions to a neighbourhood only a half-mile from Papa’s place. On the way, I got his phone number and promised to call tomorrow. I wasn’t kidding about not having the brainpower, I was fighting to keep reminding myself that Tattletale was a known liar and manipulator, that the only reason she’d tell me Taylor was alive was to screw with me. With her power, she would have known from the start it was bullshit. No, she just wanted me under her thumb, reliant on her, that was it.

  “So who were they?” Zeke asked as we drove away after dropping the group off, tugging down his mask. “Another gang of vigilantes?”

  “Sort of,” I said, waggling my hand. “ANTIFA, they called themselves.”

  “Wait, that was ANTIFA?” He cackled and slapped the steering wheel. “Shit man, me and Jeep beat them up a bunch of times, tagging over our turf. What they do to piss off Tattletale?”

  “Burned down a Nazi bar,” I said, shaking my head as I unwound my scarf. “Dumb.”

  “We burned down a place a few weeks back,” he countered.

  “An armoury,” I retorted. “Not the same thing at all. Look, dumb or not, we’re giving them a chance because frankly we need allies. Is that going to cause problems?”

  “Doesn’t matter to me,” Zeke said with a shrug. “Other guys might not be happy, splitting the take more ways though.”

  “We’ll deal,” I said. “I’ll make up the difference myself if I have to.”

  “You really want this huh?” I gave Zeke a look and he offered a smile. “Ain’t a bad thing. Makes me feel like I’m not just some buster banger anymore, sort of.”

  “Well, okay,” I said, not sure what to say. “Uh, thanks Zeke.”

  “No problem boss,” he replied smoothly. “No problem.”