“Man you guys been busy without me,” Zeke drawled, taking a swig of whiskey. He passed the bottle to me and I took a sip of my own. “Making bank?”

  “I think we took eighty thousand in the last raids,” I replied, coughing and offering the bottle to Joy, who turned it down. I shrugged and took another shot before passing it to Zeke. “Minus pay...there’s not much left, but it was enough to buy ammo.” I had my mind on a new gun too, since we were running out of the carbines we’d taken off Werwolf’s raiders.

  “Damn, still pretty good,” he said.

  “What have you been up to?” Joy asked, refusing the drink once more. “Haven’t seen you around here too much.”

  “Yeah I been keeping scarce,” Zeke said with a shrug. “Don’t want to get in your way, y’know? But I’m doing good, I’m uhh...investing. Making sure that money I got don’t go to waste.”

  “Oh yeah?” Joy cocked her head. “How so?”

  “Bought into a little barber shop,” he said. “I give ‘em some money to keep the lights on, they give me some of their cash. Pretty good little thing. I’ve uh, been in the studio too. Gonna be putting out a song soon. Got it on my phone, if you wanna listen.”

  “Hey, that’s cool!” Joy said with a smile. “Yeah, put it on.”

  Zeke pulled out his phone and I gave joy a look. She just shrugged and elbowed me. Well, I guess I could humour him. I’d been finding rap to be...fine, not as obnoxious as I’d expected. There were some good beats, fun flows to sing along with. Besides, Zeke was pretty funny, so it ought to be entertaining if nothing else.

  The bassline was a classic I’d heard in a dozen other songs, a little faster than usual but still good. It was undercut with a dull throbbing, like a beating heart, that set my nerves on edge. Zeke’s voice came in, a low whisper like he was creeping on a job. I realized in a flash, that’s what he was singing about.

  “Dim lights, ride up, muzzle flash, buck buck buck. Skinheads down, fuckin’ clowns, get the fuck out of my town.” I stared at him as he bobbed his head, singing along. “Killer dogs off the leash, playin’ on these fuckin’ streets. Poppin’ pills, poppin’ heads, takin’ all they fuckin’ bread.”

  Joy eyed me warily as the song continued. I wasn’t going to rip his head off, hell I wouldn’t even be too pissy, but this was a lyrical indictment. This was the kind of shit that would give my lawyer a heart attack, and earn me a lecture and subsequent Birdcage sentence. Then again, it wasn’t like I’d been clean in all my dealings. With the rising numbers of casualties...I was Birdcage bound anyway.

  “It’s a little...direct,” Joy hedged. “I mean, we’re still out there you know?”

  “Yeah but they can’t use lyrics in court,” Zeke said. “First amendment and all that.”

  “It’s fine,” I sighed. “Like being honest, a song isn’t going to make or break our work. They’re going to come for us no matter what so...whatever. Go crazy Zeke.”

  “I’ll keep your names out, don’t sweat,” he reassured me. “Besides, not like anyone’s gonna listen to it. This is just for fun, something to keep me busy.”

  “Just be careful,” Joy said. “Don’t want to see you behind bars.”

  “Shit, that’d just sell the image,” Zeke said with a grin. “But I’ll be chill, no worries. I wanna drink with y’all when I sell my first shit.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” I said dryly, taking a sip and wiping my mouth.

  “Man we killed that,” he said, chuckling and pulling a blunt from his breast pocket. “Head out for a smoke?”

  “I’m game,” I said, returning his smile. “Joy?”

  “Sure, why not?” Joy said, rising from the couch. “Planning day tomorrow, right?”

  “Yeah, but that’s tomorrow,” I said, shrugging. “It’ll wait til then.”

  “Amaranth, can we speak with you a moment?” Fidel asked as our teams filed out of the room, post-planning. Richard waited by the table, arms crossed.

  “Sure,” I said with a nod, turning to Nadir. “Take the guys home and make sure they’re set up for tomorrow. Sidearms too, give them the best we have.”

  “Got it,” Nadir replied. “Hey, we’re going to need more plates soon. Reese took a hit last raid, just a pistol but we should still replace it.”

  “I’ll make an order,” I sighed. “Fidel, Richard, you want in?”

  “We can discuss that after,” Richard rumbled.

  “Sure.”

  I patted Nadir’s shoulder and joined Richard and Fidel at the planning table. It was covered with floor plans printed out from the city archives, expected enemy troop strength, and a long list of the villains we had left to deal with. We’d made solid progress, whittling down Werwolf’s cape-strength, but we had a long, long way to go.

  “So what’s going on?” I asked. “Not happy with the spoils? Should be better tomorrow, with the warehouse.”

  “That’s the issue,” Fidel said. “You seem to be making this decision to attack the enemy based on material gain. Look at what we’re supposed to be up against.”

  “It’s even odds,” I retorted. “Thirty gangsters, most of whom are going to be drug dealers, not soldiers; plus two villains who aren’t going to be a match for me and Nadir. What’s the issue?”

  “Your flippant attitude for one,” Richard said evenly. “You’re assuming they haven’t fortified, knowing what kind of forces they face. You’re assuming they don’t have the capability to teleport in more troops; which in fact they do, because you seem to have forgotten about Bifrost.”

  “He’s limited in how many he can move,” I countered.

  “He can move their entire cape force,” he snapped. “That’s enough to kill all of us, no matter how many.”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “They wouldn’t commit to a fight like that,” I said sharply. “The Protectorate would come out in force to wipe them out.”

  “Like they have for us?” Fidel said icily.

  “That’s different,” I said, glaring at him.

  “It’s gang-on-gang violence as far as they are concerned,” Richard said, leaning on the table and making it creak. “They’ll respond if innocents are threatened, not gangsters.”

  “And even then, what good would that do us?” Fidel asked. “We would be dead.” Well, even if so, I’d get another chance.

  “If you guys want to back out, that’s fine,” I said flatly. It wasn’t but I could cope. “I’ll go in alone and burn the place down. No money, no drugs, no problems.” I could probably do it, especially with our new Tinker.

  “That would be incredibly reckless,” Richard said warily.

  “Yup,” I said, nodding. “And I could pull it off. But we are fighting a war, and like it or not we need money to do that. You’re right, money is my motive here. I can buy more and better guns, better transport, armour to protect you. We can expand, pay to have people trained and bolster our forces even more. I’ve got about a million in savings, but that’s not nearly enough for a fight like this, not when Werwolf has help from the outside.

  “I get it, you’re communists.” I didn’t get that at all, personally. “You don’t believe in money or whatever. Doesn’t change the fact that we need it though.”

  “And what about your gang, are they all of the same mind as you?”

  “That’s not your problem to deal with,” I growled. “But the money goes into the war chest first, and that’s where they get paid from; and where you guys get ammo and supplies, since you decided you work for free. This raid is a springboard to tip the odds in our favour permanently. Even if we only bag a single cape and torch the place after taking the money, it’ll be a big swing for us.” The men shared an uneasy look. “Either you know I’m right and don’t like it, or you’re telling me you’re out.”

  “I...would be willing to perform blocking duties,” Richard said after a tense silence. “Like at the precinct, we would cordon the area and prevent reinforcements reaching you by road. It should allow you to operate without worry during the raid.”

  “Perhaps my team could hold the exterior,” Fidel said with a sigh. “If the enemy does teleport in, we can kill them before they reach you. We can also warn you if more villains arrive.”

  “Alright,” I sighed. Better than nothing. “I’m going to see if I can get some radios. Not the best since they can hear us if they tune in, but it’s quicker than phone calls.”

  “Maybe that Tinker can encrypt it,” Richard suggested. “I’d rather not use Nazis but...it would be advantageous.”

  “Lucky for you she’s not a Nazi.” I didn’t actually know what she was, besides someone who didn’t like parahumans too much. “And she’s been cooperative so far. I’ll talk to her. Anything else?”

  “We could use better weapons,” Fidel said cautiously. “Semi-automatics are well and good but—”

  “Semi-automatics are good enough,” I cut him off, shaking my head. “I can no-sell the recoil on those carbines, and even I usually fire one shot at a time. You want to pay for your own ammo, your own guns. then go wild; but I want to keep it practical.”

  “We may look into that,” Richard said. “Could we have the number of your supplier?”

  “I’ll have to talk to them first,” I hedged. I was sure they wouldn’t be happy if my guys randomly knocked on their door. “I will get you armour though, don’t worry about that. If we’re lucky, tomorrow night will pay for it all, and then some.”

  “I hope you’re right, Amaranth,” Richard said flatly.

  “Oh I am.”

  Probably.

  “Reese?” I called into the garage. “You wanted me for something?”

  “Yeah one sec,” Reese grunted in reply. He crawled out from under his car and sat up, wiping his brow. “Doing okay boss?”

  “Fine,” I replied with a shrug. “Was getting our stuff prepped for tonight. You still need a new plate right?”

  “Yeah,” he said, massaging his chest. “Gonna put my back plate up front tonight at least.”

  “Alright,” I said, nodding. “So what’s up?”

  “Come on,” Reese said, standing and gesturing for me to follow him. “I’ll show you.”

  I pursed my lips, but followed him. We left his house and began walking up the road. I kept my eyes moving, this was a dangerous neighbourhood after all. Quiet today though. The streets were slushy, the sidewalk dusted with a thin layer of snow. Nearly March, but winter seemed to be lingering longer than ever.

  It wasn’t too bad, if I was honest. We drove everywhere, and with all our gear we were plenty warm. Probably wouldn’t be so easy if I was out on the street, but I was lucky. But I could see, as we walked, not everyone was. Down every alley, there were people huddled under blankets and trash, trying to stave off the chill.

  I wasn’t sure what it was that had me paying attention to them today. Maybe the feeling that everything was so tenuous lately, like my life was hanging by a thread. If things had gone a little differently, if I didn’t have powers, I could be right there with them. How would I handle that? Probably about as well as everything else in my life…

  “We’re here,” Reese said, elbowing me. I looked up at him, then the building he was gesturing to.

  It was a pretty normal looking car shop, with two garage doors currently shut. There was a small storefront to the right, which Reese led us towards. A sign above the door proclaimed it was Jorge’s Customs in graffiti-style lettering. The chop shop, if I had to guess. A bell above the entrance tinkled as we walked inside, and a heavy-set Hispanic man gave us a look from the counter.

  “Reese, you’re late,” he said, looking me over.

  “Sorry, I was working on my ride,” Reese replied, not sounding the least bit apologetic. He jerked a thumb at me. “This is my friend, wanted to show her what you were helping me out with.”

  “Sure,” the man said after a moment, shrugging. “Won’t ask too many question. Come, come.”

  He beckoned and we followed him through a set of double-doors onto the shop floor. There was a car up on the lift nearest the door, with no wheels on its body. Further on was the sedan I recognized as Jeep’s. A frown touched my face as we walked over to it, stopping at the driver’s door. The man, Jorge presumably, turned to us and crossed his arms.

  “Not a hard job, once the truck was stripped,” Jorge said. “It’s out back, by the way. Not sure you need it, but I don’t like to throw things away.” He opened the door and gestured to the inside, which looked a lot more spare than the last time I’d seen it. “Stacked two plates on each door, then some around the engine. Should stand up to rifle rounds without much issue.” He frowned. “A lot of armour.”

  “Shit man it looks great,” Reese said, looking down at me.

  “Yeah, it’s cool,” I replied with a shrug. “Armoured car, but it looks normal.”

  “A sleeper,” Jorge offered. “I also strengthened the suspension so it doesn’t look suspicious, riding low. Any trouble you get into, this should get you out.”

  “Three grand, right?” Reese asked, getting a nod. He took a wad of cash from his pocket and payed the guy.

  “You sure you want to cover it?” I said.

  “Yeah, gotta pull my weight,” he said. “Wanna keep our guys safe as much as you.”

  “Alright,” I said, nodding. That was...pretty cool of him. “We’ll keep the van too. What’s it look like now?” Jorge looked at me oddly.

  “I’ll show you,” he said after a moment. “Come.”

  I wasn’t sure what his damage was, but at least he was sticking to the ‘no questions’ promise. Charging three grand for working on a car he’d better… We headed out the back of the shop to a small yard full of parts and wrecked cars. The van was off to one side, stripped down to the flat bed underneath the armour. The police emblem, I noticed, had been painted over. For all intents and purposes, it looked like a squat flatbed truck.

  “A nice truck,” Jorge said, patting the door. “Cab is still armoured, there was plenty in the rear. Reese, next time you give me goods this hot, it’s triple.”

  “Yeah, but you still owe me,” Reese replied, flashing a grin. Jorge sighed and shook his head.

  “You okay keeping this in your garage?” I asked him.

  “Sure, no sweat,” he said. “Be a little easier with the ass off it. What you planning for it?”

  “Nothing yet,” I said, shaking my head. “But who knows what the future holds.”

  “You kids be careful,” Jorge said, wiping his hands on a dirty rag. “Dangerous times we live in.”

  “Don’t I know it,” I muttered, opening the door. “I’ll drive the car back to our friend’s, you take the van back to yours, cool?”

  “Sounds good,” Reese agreed. “Wait, do you got a license?”

  “Some questions are better left unanswered,” I said flatly, getting a snort from Jorge.

  I collected the keys from Jorge and left Reese with the van. The sedan was easy enough for me to figure out after a couple false starts and stalls, and soon enough I was heading for Jeep’s place, a smile on my face.

  Werwolf had no idea what was coming for them.