“Gonna have a word with Abbas ‘bout her,” Spit-Take grumbled as the two left the building. The exit they took led them to the sidewalk back into the street, allowing them to blend in with the passing by pedestrians. “That woman’s getting too damn greedy!”

  “That’s what money does to people.” Shakar said. “Perhaps wager something else instead next time rather than fund her doll collection.”

  The ski capped man shuddered. “Don’t remind me of all those creepy things stacked in her cubby.”

  “Yeah, which reminds me, how do you know when it was safe to get in the shelter, but not out?”

  “’Cause this’s a first for me too. Like she said, whatever happened at the Head Precinct I’ll bet had something to do with some kind of big wig or somethin’. The cops keep watch on the shelter but this kind of check is completely random.”

  “Hmm,” Shakar said.

  The night provided a useful cover for the three to make their way back from where they came. Mr. Holdover scrunched his face at the familiar sewer lid coming into view.

  “Is this really the only route back?” he asked.

  Spit-Take glanced at him, “Yeah…” he continued walking, slightly smiling, “for now.”

  Suddenly, two police cars flew past them, twisting to the sidewalk to cut the corner, nearly running the three over if they hadn’t jumped out of the way at the last second. Mr. Holdover cursed, roiling to a knee.

  “The hell?!” he said. “I didn’t hear a damn siren!”

  “They must be trying to stay covet,” Shakar said, “If speeding on sidewalks is any indication.”

  Spot-take grunted, trying to get a good look past the smoke the car left behind. His eyes widened. “Hey, why’re they going that way?”

  “Which way?!” Mr. Holdover growled, “You know where we can find those pricks?”

  The man nodded and peered off. “I think they’re heading…oh no, the campsite near the bridge!”

  Before the other two could say anything, the man bolted across the street and hopped the fence into the park. They took off after him.

  “The hell you going?!” Mr. Holdover asked.

  “No time to explain! Juts know the camp under the bridge’s in trouble!”

  They cut across the pathways of the park and maneuvered through the woods. Using his stick, Shakar vaulted over a branch and got to Spit-Take’s side. “I thought the campsites were exterminated by the city?”

  They ran past a small lake. “Not all of ‘em,” the man replied, “Usually after a sweep’s the best time to set up camp again.” He gritted his teeth, “Damn! First the shelter, now this! What the hell’s going on?”

  Mr. Holdover leaped ahead of the two and broke to the side, breaking through the forests and hopping the fence out of the park. Spit-Take looked puzzled, “What’re you doing?”

  They ran along the familiar streets again, the bridge coming into view, “You talking about the bridge leading out of the city?” Mr. Holdover asked.

  He nodded. “Yeah, yeah that’s the one.”

  “Alright, I’m taking lead.”

  “Huh?” Spit-Take looked puzzled.

  “You said so yourself. Someone higher up is pulling the strings,” He said. “It’s better you don’t rush in until we know for sure.”

  “Heh, well I’ll be!” Spit-take said, “You sound like you know these guys.”

  “I know how these guys move.” Mr. Holdover focused ahead. “Just don’t do anything until I say it’s ok.”

  The ski capped man looked to Shakar who seemed content, then looked back head. “Well, this is your job.”

  The three arrived to the Bridge. While it was clogged and crowded at its top, underneath was barren and wet, from the water crashing ashore on the rocks. The two police cars had pulled over near the shore. Mr. Holdover, Shakar, and Spit-take arrived shortly after, hiding behind the hill of dirt piled at the bridges base.

  “The tents!” Spit-take pointed to them, “The cops didn’t get to them yet—”

  ‘FWHOOSH!’

  The tents went up in a blaze. Screams could be heard inside, people bursting out and dropping to the ground to stop the fire, but to no avail. Seeing no other option they jumped into the crashing water.

  “No!” Spit-Take yelled, running ahead.

  “What are you doing?!” Mr. Holdover exclaimed.

  “Those folk are gonna drown! That water’s too strong at night!” he yelled back, running to the shoreline.

  “Fuck,” Mr. Holdover sighed. He looked at Shakar then back at the water. “Uh—go help him.”

  “And you?” he asked.

  “Forget about me!” he said. “The last thing we need is our employer dying on our first night out!”

  With a shrug, Shakar ran ahead. “No need to fear, I have a rope!” his voice faded along with him in the distance. Mr. Holdover scratched his head quickly, glancing over his shoulder.

  Then saw them.

  A male and female silhouette moved just out of view from behind him where the cars were. Mr. Holdover carefully moved ahead, his body tensed.

  ‘There’s no way in hell she’s still alive after that. Still, I get the feeling I should’ve gone down and checked…’

  He got closer, so close now he could hear them laughing as he made his way behind the car. He took a breath.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  This is Mr. Holdover thinking he’s gonna see Anastasia again. Maybe build up his anxiety more?

  ‘It’s now or never.’

  “HEY!” he yelled shooting up from behind the car pointing at the pair. “YOU THOUGHT I WAS—”

  He stopped. Getting a better look he saw a blonde woman and a dark haired man looking at him, their faces in awe. Mr. Holdover however felt as if a massive weight was lifted from his shoulders.

  “Thank GOD,” He said, clasping his hands together. The two cops watched him put his hands on his hips and look around, letting out a massive sigh. He dropped his head to a chuckle, “Y’know for a second I thought I was actually in some trouble.”

  The two instantly drew their guns, aiming for the man’s chest and head.

  “Freeze!” the woman yelled.

  Mr. Holdover looked back at the water, “The hell’s taking them so long?” he said.

  “Get on the ground!” the man barked. Mr. Holdover felt his neck crane.

  “Would you two SHUT UP?!” he yelled.

  The woman shot a glance to her partner. “What’s with this guy? Is he on enhancers?”

  “Let’s say he was,” The man grinned. “It’ll look better on our report.”

  “You gonna add those tents you burned down to your ‘report’?” Mr. Holdover asked, placing his hand in his pockets. “Or blame that on enhancers too?”

  He squeezed the trigger, “I said FREEZ—”

  ‘CRACK!’

  His unconscious body fell to the ground as Mr. Holdover’s fist slammed into his cheek. The woman screamed and began blasting rapidly at the man. He fainted to the left, her weapon quickly following, pointing and firing another several shots, only to see nothing but ground.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” Mr. Holdover said from her right. The woman shrieked, throwing her elbow to his face, only for him to catch it and throw an uppercut under her chin.

  ‘POP!’

  The cop’s eyes rolled behind her head as she flipped to the ground backwards like a rag doll. Mr. Holdover shook his own head at the two and walked back to the shoreline where he saw Shakar and Spit-Take carrying three soaking wet individuals over their shoulders.

  “Ah, it looks like you did all the work for us,” Shakar said.

  “I thought I was a goner,” Spit-Take said, “Those waves are no joke.” He glanced at Shakar, “Couldn’t believe you brought a rope though! That really saved our skins—how’d you even know”

  “Well I always come prepared,” He said, “I firmly believe a rope of around seventy meters is the most versatile tool for man.”

  “Ha! I never thought of ropes like—wait, wait, where the heck you even keep that thing?!”

  “Can we leave now?” Mr. Holdover said, gesturing behind him to the nocked out officers, “Before they decide to send the whole damn precinct?”

  “Yeah, right,” Spit-Take said. He eyed the homeless man and woman over his shoulders, then the older child on Shakar’s. His eyes narrowed, “These folks are in rough shape. We’re gonna take a shortcut back.”

  “So we could’ve done that instead of the fucking sewer?!”

  “Well yeah, but no,” he said. He motioned for the two to follow and led them under the bridge. He looked around and spat on the rocks near the wall of dirt, causing it to explode. Mr. Holdover and Shakar shielded themselves, looking back to see what looked like a large molehill before them. Spit-Take kicked some dirt out the way, pulling up a trapdoor hidden beneath it.

  “We usually don’t do this ‘cause of city surveillance, but these folks are in bad shape.” He climbed inside. “C’mon, hurry!”

  Shakar went in next, followed by Mr. Holdover who gave one last look to the surrounding area before slamming the lid shut behind him.

  ...

  “This is our last Gi-Bar…” Patchwork sighed, tossing it to Trix who knelt next to Xole. She smiled and stuffed it into his mouth.

  “Eat up, eat up!” she said. Coughing, he was yanked back up before he could get it all down. He was quickly growing to hate the taste. Abbas himself sighed, looking over to the east.

  “Our time is running its course,” he said. “We’ll need to push him more.”

  “But how?” Trix asked. “I growled and hissed all I could. I thought that would be enough of a trigger.”

  “So she finally admits it,” Salamander said.

  “Well the other man’s not here so it’s okay for me to say that,” she replied.

  Patchwork got up from his seat, “Listen, Abbas, as much as I want to know when his body will manifest, pushing him any further is flipping a coin beyond our luck.”

  Abbas didn’t even look at him. “I don’t believe in luck.”

  “Do you even understand what I’m saying?!”

  Abbas placed his hand up. “I know what I’m doing, old friend.” He turned to Xole. “Are you ready, young one?”

  Xole nodded. “My body’s kind of numb, but the Gi-Bars were doing a good job keeping me going.”

  Abbas nodded, motioning to Snap, to which he grinned and rubbed his hands together, yanking out a few sticks of dynamite in each hand. Xole gulped.

  “H-hey uh, what’s that for?”

  “Snap is going to throw these at you.”

  “WHAT?!”

  “Don’t worry this is a necessary step in your training.” Abbas nodded reassuringly as Snap stated rubbing his sticks together. “Patchwork personally oversaw this batch to ensure it won’t kill you.”

  Xole’s eyes went to Patchwork’s who purposefully evaded his, looking off and whistling instead. He looked to Trix on his left who smiled at him, clapping her hands.

  “You’ve got this Xole!” she cheered.

  Xole then slowly looked at Salamander on his right, who simply shrugged and lit a cigarette.

  “So we’re just gon’ act like Snap doesn’t only specialize in blowin’ stuff up?”

  “Well, I’d like to think so,” Trix said, “Anyways, I’m pretty sure Xole trust us enough for this.”

  “Oh really? Cus’ last time we tried dis I ended up damn near in pieces!”

  “Shh! He’ll hear you!”

  Xole stared dead ahead.

  “Alright,” Snap said readying his aim. “Just hold still and—”

  “NEVER!” Xole yelled and started running, working his arms and legs like never before. But Snap was hot on his trail, throwing stick after stick behind him—to which Xole screamed, feeling himself jump after each ‘pop’ behind him. “FORGET IT! SCREW YOUR PSYCOTIC TRAINING! I WANNA BE DONE!”

  “Will you knock it off?!” Snap asked sounding annoyed. “I’m gonna get ya anyways! You’re just dragging out the inevitable!”

  “OH HO, well we’ll see about THAT!” Xole yelled continuing to run. He noticed the edge of the rope was near a parked car. He darted to it.

  ‘That’s right! I’ll get to the car and use that move I did against Spit-Take to fake him out—’

  “FREEZE!” Abbas voice boomed.

  Everyone went still at the sound. Even Patchwork stiffened, clutching the needle he was inspecting. Abbas looked over at Xole.

  “You may run where ever you like but you may not leave the circle.”

  “Why?!” Xole asked.

  “Learning to control the flow of battle on your own terms is invaluable, especially when it comes to fighting large numbers. The last thing you want is to be caught off guard by a horde of Blue Collard law enforcement.” He outlined the circle with his cane in the air. “As you get better, the circle will continue to grow smaller. See it as your progress.”

  Xole will ask Tess if he can train like the circle in arc 3

  Xole looked down to see his foot was just on the rope. Taking it off his blood ran cold as he heard Abbas once more.

  “Continue.”

  He spun to see a stick dynamite fly towards his face. With a cry he leaped to the right as hard as he could, the explosion propelling him further to the side. Feeling his legs catch the ground, he started running again.

  ‘That last one sounded bigger!’ he thought. ‘Mabey I should’ve just taken the first one when I could. No, wait…I have one last option.’

  Abbas watched in confusion as Xole darted towards him at top speed. “I see. You’re going to use me as a shield.” Abbas said. He suddenly shifted in place, vanishing, with Snap appearing behind him, arm reeled back for Xole. The older boy was dumbfounded, not even noticing the dynamite flying his way.

  ‘NO! WHAT! Wait how’d he know—actually, what happened—?’

  BOOOOOM!

  “WHOO!” Snap cheered, “Finally got the sucker!”

  “Oh no!” Trix said, “He went so high!”

  “I tried ta warn him,” Salamander shook his head, “Fool didn’t wanna listen.”

  Abbas reappeared, looking down at Xole’s unconscious body, shaking his head. “And here I was under the impression he wanted to help others.”

  “If you guys are done celebrating then can you clear out so I can make sure he’s still breathing?” Patchwork said, walking over and kneeling besides Xole. He placed two fingers on his neck…

  “Is he alright?”

  “Well he’s not bleeding.”

  “Well get him up then!”

  “No, I will.” A familiar voice said.

  Xole felt a hand pull to his feet. His ears must’ve been damaged because he couldn’t hear anything besides voices. His head pounded while his chest grew tight. The hand caressed his neck, then went to his face and tilted his chin up. Still dazed, his breathing became instantly easier.

  “Th…thanks. Thought I was a goner,” Xole panted.

  “My love…” his vision cleared, seeing Yesfir’s bright eyes staring into his soul. “You know I’d never let anyone hurt you.”