Mr. Holdover entered a single door at the top of the staircase. He kicked open the door to a windowless room with red carpet and smooth white walls. A single desk, computer, and chair were propped in the back with a portrait of the bank owner—a blonde man with gelled hair—and Brandon Amesworth shaking hands. To his left and right were adjacent wide bookshelves as tall as the ceiling, filled to the brim. He grabbed the one on his right and yanked it forward, spinning it around to reveal a file cabinet instead.

  ‘Just like what those black web sites said,’ he thought, ‘written information’s made a resurgence due to so much digital piracy over the last couple decades. Hopefully it’s around here. Hate computers.’

  He pulled a few drawers, seeing an endless amount of files stuffed inside each. He stared, and then yanked the entire thing out, letting it crash to the floor. Despite many of them being pinned and clipped together, most of the files had become undone by the time Mr. Holdover was done emptying both cabinets. Dropping to a deep crouch, he immediately started rummaging through them, glossing over, and discarding any over his shoulder if they didn’t interest him. However, he quickly realized that there was a lot of paper that didn’t interest him, and the font was very small, not to mention the lights started to flicker. He wiped sweat off his forehead, ‘Damnit, it might not be here after all—’

  The building suddenly rocked, causing the bookshelf to tilt. Mr. Holdover glanced at it from the corner of his eye, carefully watching it sway until it finally stabilized. He took a deep breath and went back to shifting through the documents—

  ‘CRASH!’

  “SHUT UP!” he yelled, the papers flying from his hands. His gaze shot to the bookshelf, which had fallen through the computer and desk. He could feel his knuckles turning white. He stormed to the fallen monitor, his mind exploding into cursing. Through clenched teeth words he’s rarely used or didn’t even know began to spill before noticing something a beige color sticking out from the cracked monitor. Shaking it, a file fell out. His eyes widened

  State of New York, master purchase history: empire city

  “HA, HA!” he laughed, “Hahaha! Found the little bastard didn’t we?!”

  He tore it open, quickly noticing its length. It looked like a phone book but it was longer, and felt three times as heavy. Opening to the front, he was immediately met with walls of endless text in that same tiny font. He groaned. ‘How the hell do people write this much?’ He began flipping through, careful to avoid skipping, ‘It’s gonna take me forever to find him.’ He thought.

  Then, something peculiar caught his eye:

  TRANSACTION TO: NEUTRAL STATE

  LAST UPDATED, 9/16/2020:

  PRESIDENT HAS BEEN SAFLEY REMOVED FROM PREMISE IN LIEU OF DANGEROUS TALENTED: BUYER REQUESTS SPECIAL COLLAR(S) FOR NON-LETHAL NEUTRALIZATION.

  STATUS: PENDING

  ‘Special Collars…’ he thought, ‘they must’ve been those guys Kuf was talking about back in the van.’ His brow creased at the text, ‘But if they’re here now, then why does it still say ‘pending’?’

  He continued rummaging through the piece, his eyes quickly scanning over the preface:

  First opened by, Mr. Willsworth Whitherton, and states ‘hidden underground city houses copious amounts of unregistered Talented. Their objective: Assassination of the President of the Collective States

  Mr. Holdover stared at the text. He looked over the record one last time. Then, calmly, he sat it on the side.

  ‘Snap out of it. Gotta focus on why I came here.’

  He kept going through the files. Finally he found the’ highest earners’ section with the name he was searching for.

  Brandon Amesworth.

  He went under the ‘sold’ tab and began searching to what was purchased, ‘I know after his business went under, every white collar started devouring the scraps like the damn vultures they are. The question is; who were those vultures?’ Still looking over, he then felt the building shake again. A deep rumble reverberated from the below him. He shot his head in the direction of the stairs, about to tell whoever it was to shut up before catching himself. ‘Just count to ten, count to ten, count to FUCKING ten—wait, there it is, the buyers!’

  WASHINGTON: NAME, BATTONY ESTATES LLC, ASSETS PURCHASED: 10%

  “Ten?!” he said. “Then who bought the rest?”

  NETURAL STATE: NAME, *REDACTED*, ASSETS PURACHSED: 90%

  “Tch!” he recoiled slightly from the file. He picked up the first one and held the two side by side ‘There it is again!’ He thought, ‘Damn it! At this rate I’m not gonna find that machine! This can’t be a coincidence. Whoever this is has enough pull to keep their name out of even the top banks. Then he shuddered, a familiar odd tingle trickling down his back, ‘Unless whoever took it was—’

  ‘BWOOF’

  Now the building jolted, this time even more violently than the first, causing him to stagger, the file fumbled from his hands ant hit the floor, spilling loose papers everywhere. Now he shot to his feet and stormed to the stairs, cursing under his breath.

  ‘Swear to God if those guys don’t shut the fuck up—!’ he stopped just short of the door and looked back at the scattered paper. ‘I should probably grab those—’

  ‘KA-BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!’

  Xole tried to breathe but ended up gagging. His nose, lungs, and sight all were filled with smoke. He tried to crawl to his feet, but the ringing and throbbing in his ears sent him right back to the ground. He pulled his jacked over his nose and crawled forward, feeling broken glass and rubble under his hands and knees.

  ‘Everyone…where is everyone…?’ the thought. A hand grabbed the top of his head and yanked him behind a ruined wall. Xole tried to struggle but a hand was out over his mouth. Abbas looked down at him.

  “Young one,” he whispered. “It seems you’ve survived.”

  Xole coughed, “Everyone…what happened to everyone?”

  Abbas motioned to Xole’s left where Patchwork and Snap were knocked out. Xole’s eve widened and looked back to Abbas, “But what about everyone else?”

  The man didn’t say anything, instead looking on into the smoke.

  “Abbas,” Xole grunted, forcing himself to his feet. “What happened to the other three?”

  “Xole,” he said, “You need to focus on what’s before you…not behind you.”

  Xole gritted his teeth, “What does that mean?!”

  The sudden sound of footsteps stuttered from behind them, “It means you don’t know how to let go, my student.”

  Xole spun around to see Shakar drop in, holding Trix and Salamander on his back. He laid them next to the other two Groundhogs. The younger man let out a breath, arching his back.

  “But then again, neither do I.” he said. He looked at Abbas who seemed calm at first, but his hands trembled, for only but a moment.

  Xole looked away, his ears turning red with embarrassment. ‘And here I was trying to toss this guy aside. What’s with him?’

  “Well!” Spit-take said walking in behind him, face dirtied with soot and dirt. “Looks like the lot of us owe you an apology, my immigrant friend.”

  “Let’s stick with Shakar,” he said, hiding his annoyance.

  “Spit-Take!” Xole said. “What happened to you? What happened here?!”

  Spit-take sighed and sat down, “Whenever we fight, Snap runs around and lines whatever battlefield we’re on with explosives. The usual land mine types to aid us, but he can also activate them at once by infusing his Gi with the cables he carries.” He took off his ski cap and waved his head. “Think of it as a last resort.”

  Xole looked around, “So that’s what took out these guys.” he then realized the full night sky as above them, meaning there was no longer an upstairs, “Wait Mr. Holdover! We forgot about—”

  “Me?” a voice said as the smoke cleared with a passing breeze. Everyone looked in horror to see Strongarm standing there, arms flexed at his sides, mustache half missing, and his face bloodied. His usual smile was replaced with a wide eyed gritted-tooth glare. “You all miss little ‘ol me, right?!!” he roared

  Spit-Take spat at his side, chuckling. “Well, well, look whose still here. What’s our total now, Blue? Ten? Fifteen? Twenty?”

  “Twenty-Four.” The officer said. With the smoke gone, the bodies of the officers were visible; their limbs stuck from the rubble, while the visible bodies were slung over, charred and broken. Strongarm dropped to his knee, his badge had fallen off and been completely destroyed. He slammed his fist on the ground, his hand trickling with blood. “I’ll give you all this,” he said. “I never expected to be outwitted by a bunch of homeless folks.”

  “Outwitted?” Xole said. “What’s he talking about?”

  “This was a three part assault.” The officer said. “The first attack with the fire and blades was just to wear us down while you separated me from the rest of my men. From then on, you let things play out even when my boys began to ‘win’, lowering everyone’s guard so you could buy enough time to take us out in one swoop with that damn explosive!” Strongarm glared at Abbas. “You wanted us here, isn’t that right?”

  Abbas looked back at the other Groundhogs “Had I known it been your force, I would’ve prepared differently.” He looked back at the cop, “But as it stands now, it seems Empire City’s so-called ‘pride and joy’ is nothing more than humility and grief.”

  “…”

  “A shame,” Abbas continued, “especially on such an important night too…”

  The air suddenly rippled with pressure. Xole’s body felt compressed, he struggled to stay standing as his vision began to shake. Strongarm’s body began to emit a red aura as he raised himself to his feet. Abbas pushed Xole back and Spit-take and Shakar took the lead alongside the man. The officer threw one last look around at the fallen officers. Suddenly, he placed his hand to his hips and threw his head back in a belly filled laugh.

  “You boys did a PHENOMONAL job! Ya hear me?!” Strongarm shouted. “Thanks to your service I can finally enforce the law with these thugs!” he began to wind his right arm back. “And when I’m done here, I’ll head on home and enjoy some home-made apple pie on top of a nice overtime bonus!” he gritted his grin, “I’ll even save y’all a slice!!”

  Xole looked back and forth between him and the Groundhogs franticly. “W-what’s going on?”

  “He’s liberated his talent,” Shakar said placing his stick horizontally over his head. He eyed the man’s missing badge as he slowly approached the group. ‘Though his talent is strong, putting this much strain on his body now is practically a death sentence if he doesn’t finish us in the next few minutes…’

  “Everyone, I have a theory.” Shakar said.

  “Oh really?” Spit-Take said keeping an eye on the slow approaching cop, “Well spit it out then!”

  “If we can survive the next three and a half minutes, we’ll have won.” He said.

  Xole’s lips quivered, “And if we don’t—”

  “Here he comes!” Abbas said. The cop was at them in a flash, faster than before. His right arm swung at Abbas, who quickly twisted to match the strike. However before he could, the officer vanished and then reappeared behind Spit-Take, who was already spiting on the man’s fist, but he’d already crammed it into his side with a heavy ‘crack!’ sending him across the destroyed bank. Shakar sent his stick into the back of Strongarm’s neck, who looked behind him and tilted it to the side. Shakar tried but he couldn’t yank his stick free.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  ‘He’s trapped my kalinda stick between his neck muscles!’ he thought. He tried extending his stick, but the cop didn’t budge, instead yanking the weapon and reaching for the younger man, but he continued to extend his stick anyways, sliding just out of reach from his swift grasp. Abbas charged again, striking the man’s jaw before sending another wide punch to the other side of his face, repeating the process over and over again, faster and faster. The cop staggered, reeling back a couple steps. Then, out of nowhere, the cop’s eye shot opened, and he swung his cheek into Abbas’s oncoming fist in a shockwave, stopping it dead in its tracks.

  “The!” Strongarm said. “So that’s all ya got, ey?” His right arm steaming, it became a blur of movement as it shot into Abbas’s gut. The man groaned, sliding back on his feet. Strongarm charged him, winding back another punch but was suddenly frozen in place just long enough for Abbas to recover and quickly strike him under his chin with clasped hands. Strongarm’s head went far enough back to look behind him, seeing Xole reaching for him, his arms shaking. “So, it was you!” he said.

  ‘Crap!’ Xole thought watching the man charge him. Bolts of Spit hit the officer but he didn’t slow his pace. Spit-Take landed in front of Xole, grabbing him and hocking a loogie, shooting it at the ground and blasting them into the air just as the cop’s fist shattered the ground they were just on.

  “Kid!” Spit-take said, “You need to stay—”

  “Behind you!!” Xole yelled. Spit-take spun to see Strongarm—above them—send his elbow into the side of his head. The ski capped man cried out and the two crashed to the ground. Xole tumbled from him, rolling to his feet and falling back. Strongarm landed before him, grinning. Shakar and Abbas ran towards him as fast as they could, but the cop was already to close. With a cry, Xole burst forward and took the cop’s waist—only for the man to knee him in the stomach hard enough to raise him off his feet. The older boy gagged, looking up in time to see the man’s steaming fist shooting towards his head.

  ‘TING!’

  Xole tensed, shutting his eyes. He peeked then open in—his mouth dropping in shock to see Trix and Salamander in front of him, bandages hanging off each. The woman using two daggers in each hand to stop the man’s punch while salamander was already reeling his chest back.

  ‘WHOOOOOOOSH!’

  Strongarm cried out as the pressure of the flames forced him back. Abbas’s open palm then suddenly exploded through the wall of fire, striking the man’s chest with a sickening ‘crack’ sound. Strongarm was sent flying on the ground, feeling is back crash into a wall, coughing up blood he looked on at the group.

  ‘Looks like the party’s back.’ He grimaced, spitting out a tooth.

  Xole looked at the two. “Where—where did you two—?!”

  “Patchwork!” Trix said. Xole looked back to see him bandaging Snap, who smiled, giving Xole a weak wave. Salamander lit his black cigar again.

  “We ain’t at our best, but this’s gonna half ta do!” he said taking a long puff from the cigar. Trix shot a glance at him.

  “Remember Salamander, three puffs only.” She said. “You know what that does to your lungs.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He replied. He eyed Spit-Take on the ground. “HEY! Get up lazy ass, you gonna let a kid show ya up?”

  The hunched man chucked, climbing to his feet, feeling his jaw, “Oh, the things you missed, Salamander.”

  Abbas shook the flames from his hand and looked on, grinning. His face then shifted back to normal and looked back to Shakar, “How much longer, Shakar?” he asked.

  “Thirty seconds,” he said. He motioned to the cop, who’d gotten in a running position, his aura becoming larger. “And it looks like he knows that too.”

  Everyone stepped ahead of Xole, preparing for the officer’s assault. Xole gritted his teeth, feeling his strained arms. Ignoring the pain, he clenched his fist and stepped alongside them.

  “Guys,” he said. “All I need is twenty seconds.”

  Everyone shot a quick glance at him, their faces skeptical. But Abbas looked on, a small grin forming on his face again. “Twenty seconds it is then.”

  “…”

  ‘WHAM!’

  Strongarm and Abbas’s hands were clashed together in a joint lock, their feet breaking through the concrete below them. Spit-Take leaped over Abbas, shooting a stream of spit on the cops face as Trix’s poncho casted a silhouette over them, countless blades raining down on the cop as the spit exploded.

  ‘BOOOOOM!’

  The cop’s head snapped back as Shakar landed down from above, slamming is stich on top the man’s head and grabbed the back of his shirt, rapidly beating him. Angrily grunting, the man and tried to throw his head backward at him, but Abbas gripped his hands tightly and held him. Strongarm then grinned and dropped his knees close to the ground. Burying his heels in the dirt, he yelled, lifting his arms over his head and taking the large man off his feet.

  “Alleyoop!” he said, flipping Abbas over his back towards Shakar, who could only see his massive shape as he came down on him.

  ‘WHAM!’

  “Ha!” the man laughed—only to see the bright light of Salamander’s flames, the man standing just behind Abbas.

  “Ya heard da lady!” he said, flames falling from his mouth. “Dis my last smoke!”

  Strongarm growled and charged ahead. ‘Imma deal with him real quick,’ he thought, ‘then that boy. Somethin’s up with his Talent. It’s not Bodily, but it sure as hell ain’t Material either…’

  Just then, Salamander’s mouth opened wide at the cop, forcing him off the ground and in the air. ‘Damn, already?! Wait a minute…’ peering down, he saw the homeless man grin and wave to him.

  ‘He threw a blank?!’ he thought.

  Just then, he felt legs wrap around his neck and before he knew it, razor sharp metal was being repeatedly plunged into his eyes, ears, mouth, and nose.

  “RRRRAAAARGHHHHH!” he roared and took the woman’s legs. His mind suddenly flashed back to the Precinct, of a scientist, Bennis, then or Rickard. He clenched his teeth so hard he could feel them start to crack.

  ‘Well get that seventh star boys. It’s a promise!’

  Throwing his shoulder in front of him, he took her legs hurled the two to the ground, flipping into an explosive crash.

  ‘CRASH!!!’

  “GRA!” Trix croaked, her body fell limp as Strongarm was already on his feet, dashing towards Salamander who’d gotten even father back. His leg exploded off the ground, within inches of his face already.

  But it was too late.

  ‘WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH!’

  What was a bright burst of suffocating wind collided with the man, his clothing burned to paper-thin ash, blowing off his skin, which now bubbled and baked, cracking and bursting, only for the blood to vanish before he could even bleed, he could smell his own flesh literally cooking. With enraged cry, he punched the homeless man in the gut, sending him to the other side of the bank. However, he didn’t feel the pain until after the fire had stopped, making the man scream as his skin was exposed to the chill air.

  “Five seconds!” Xole yelled.

  ‘W-w-WHAT?!’ Strongarm’s eye burst open, ‘that wasn’t it?!’ He spun behind him to see, his twitching eye catching Xole standing a near the doctor and another younger man, gripping his right wrist. The officer was already on him.

  “Ya should’ve stayed quiet boy!” he yelled. He was but a foot away from Xole, his right arm coming down at him.

  ‘Even if he does got that Talent,’ he thought. ‘I ain’t in any position to being him in alive—’

  ‘Boom!’

  The officer’s fist missed Xole’s face by an inch as he was thrown off. Strongarm looked on in horror while Xole heard Snap’s voice.

  “That’s the last second. It’s all on you, Xole.”

  With an angry cry, Xole’s body lurched forward, his arm aimed at the man’s upper chest point-blank, feeling for the clearish glow in his body to swell and surge over.

  Instead, his arm became limp and his body collapsed.

  Patchwork, Snap, Trix, Spit-take, Salamander, Shakar, and Abbas could only watch. Xole didn’t have to see their faces to know they’re dismay towards him had all but peaked.

  ‘My body,’ he thought. He lay on his stomach, unable to move or even feel his limbs. His face scrunched and his teeth bared, ‘My stupid, stupid, STUPID body!’

  His knees buckled and he fell to the ground, not bothering to try and stop himself. All he could see before him was the officer looking down on him. His body black and burnt, bleeding from his open still flaming skin, his eyes and nosed gauged with chunks of his flesh missing. Still, his arm steamed yet again. Xole could feel his eyes grow wet with tears.

  “Xole,” Abbas could only say. He forced himself up only to see he was too far away, as well as everyone else.

  They weren’t going to make it.

  “Kid,” Strongarm said, “I’ll be honest, ya didn’t really do much. Hell, you couldn’t even put up much of a fight at all!” he raised his arm above Xole’s head. “To make it up for ya I’ll it you as hard as I can.” He winked. “After all, I’ve still got five seconds.”

  After all I’ve done,’ Xole thought. He could hear the Groundhogs screaming for him, but they were too far away. He could see the officer’s red, smoking arm flying towards him like a rocket. He choked back a sob, ‘Damn this body! Damn this talent! Damn this stupid life! Damn it! DAMN IT ALL!’

  He waited.

  And waited.

  But nothing happened.

  Looking up, Xole’s blurred vision could make out the sight of a man in a torn and burnt flannel standing in front of him, holding the cop’s fist.

  “Mr. Holdover?” he said.

  “Huh?” Strong arm looked at the man, who glared back at him. The officer forced his left arm to move, “Just where’d you—”

  Mr. Holdover tore his arm clean off his shoulder.

  ‘RIIIIIIP!’

  Blood splattered on Strongarm’s face, howling and fell back. Mr. Holdover looked down at him, tossing his arm to the side.

  “So,” he said, “You’re the one making all that noise.”

  Strongarm looked on helplessly to see the rest of the group had made their way to him, the doctor helping the boy up. The cop smiled and sighed. “Yeah, it was me alright.” He watched the man stare for a few more seconds. Then, he put his hands in his pockets and turned to walk back to the group. Strongarm gritted his teeth, “Hey! Just where do ya think your—”

  “You’re arms gone and you’re body’s completely Gi depleted.” Mr. Holdover said looking without back, “Even when your ‘boys’ come get you, you’ll never fight or serve again.” He stopped, “You’re damn helpless the way you are now, not to mention you couldn’t kill anyone here. Make sure to write that in you report—”

  ‘SMASH!’

  Everyone spun back to see the cop’s headless body fall to the ground, and Abbas standing there, blood on his hands.

  “What. The. FUCK?!” Mr. Holdover yelled. “Why do you just DO shit out of nowhere?”

  Abbas looked on at the cop’s body, “three thousand seven hundred sixty six.” He said.

  Shakar looked at the cop, then back at the large man, “That number meaning…”

  “The lives of our brothers and sisters, whose lights were wrongfully snuffed out at the behest of these men specifically,” he gave officer Strongarm one last look. “Though they are now unshackled while we continue to thrive as warriors, men like him are no different. At one point burned by responsibly. He is now free.”

  “I don’t know what you just said, but that’s fucked up.” Mr. Holdover said.

  “You don’t understand,” Trix said. “These men are better off gone.”

  “Yeah, ya shoulda seen what they did ta us!” Salamander said. “We almost died!”

  Mr. Holdover let out an exhausted sigh, looking at Shakar who seemed indifferent, then Xole, who couldn’t stop looking. ‘Shit,’ He thought.

  “Really, Abbas?” Patchwork said, marching up to him. “You had no better lesson to teach the kid?”

  “Rivers,” Abbas said.

  “What?” the doctor said. “Do you finally realize your wrong?”

  “What I realize is we’ve made a grand step on our path to equality.” Abbas said. He looked at the rest of the group. “You may not realize it now, in fact the three of you as well, but this isn’t vengeance, it is pure righteousness. It isn’t matter of writing wrongs or fixing what is broken, but ensuring every person under the sea of oppression has an opportunity to breathe, and one day fight.”

  Patchwork’s chin fell to his chest, “All this for a ‘fair and equal world’ huh? Then is that why you went to these lengths to set this all up?”

  “Set up?” Snap said.

  “Hey,” Spit-Take pushed the other man back gently but firmly, glaring. “Just what the hell are you on about now? You think Abbas would compromise the safety of the Network?”

  “I’m saying he did!” Patchwork pushed back. He looked at the large man, “That’s what you meant right? And when you told that officer ‘had I known it been your force’, and then you replied ‘on such an important night too’.” He jabbed a finger at him, “Just what do you know?!”

  Spit-Take, Salamander, and now Trix glared at the doctor. Xole could see Snap quivering, moving a few paces away from the main group. He looked back at them, “Look, maybe we should talk about this back in Haven—”

  Abbas held his hand up, shaking his head, “Its fine, young one. I suppose I owe everyone here an answer.” He placed both hands on his cane. “I’ve received word from an inside source that Skinner was going to be transferred tonight.”

  “An inside source?” Shakar said, “I don’t suppose you’re referring to law enforcement, are you?”

  “I am,” Abbas said.

  ‘This guy,’ Mr. Holdover thought, ‘It’s all coming together now.’

  “Huh?” Snap nearly jumped, “Since when?”

  “I’m guessing since our recent explosion in activity within the last year,” Patchwork said. “It only makes sense as to why we haven’t been caught yet.”

  “You say it like it a bad ding!” Salamander shrugged, “I say we doing jus’ fine.”

  Xole could only look back and forth between them. He was too weak to say anything.

  “There’s a slippery slope to this,” Trix said folding her arms, “On one hand while we do have inside info, they could just as easily sell us out.” She eyed Abbas, “If I didn’t know any better, I would think tonight would’ve been that night.”

  “Like I stated earlier,” Abbas said, “Even I didn’t know. This was our first time running into a force with that many Bodily types. But I know they wouldn’t sell us out, their reputation depends on it.”

  “Bullshit, there still cops!” Patchwork exclaimed, “We had plenty of sources above, yet you felt the need to resort to this! Why?”

  “You all should know why.” Abbas said eyeing the Groundhogs.

  “Does it got something to do with that ‘code red’ thing last night?” Mr. Holdover challenged.

  “…” He turned to him, then, Xole and Shakar. “The police have increased their presence. To what extent I’m still not quite sure of but I do know it’s been much more difficult to gather information.” He waved his hand around the destroyed bank, “This was the only way.”

  “I still don’t get it,” Mr. Holdover said, “If you knew all of this, then why didn’t we break his ass out tonight then instead of putting all this junk up instead?”

  “It ain’t junk!” Snap cut in.

  “Divide and conquer,” Shakar said, much to everyone’s surprise. “I’ll bet finding this ‘Skinner’ was the original plan, however when the Bodily unit showed up,” he looked at Abbas, “I’m guessing you thought it be wiser to deal with them now and fight a weaker force later. Is that about it?”

  Abbas didn’t say anything. Shakar knew he didn’t need to.

  “Abbas, I understand,” Trix said, “but you still should’ve told me. He’s my brother.”

  Abbas gave a single nod, placing a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “You, as well as everyone else here, have my sincerest apologies, Trix.”

  The sound of distant sirens reminded them of where they were. Abbas picked up Xole over his shoulder and led the way, “We may have lost the bank, but we’ve still secured some power. Now, all we need is Skinner.”

  “Speaking of which,” Spit-Take said. He pointed to the shelter nearby. “I’m gonna make a pit stop at our usual, try to get some of our surveillance back up there.”

  Abbas nodded and Shakar called out, “If you could get our clothes back that’d be most appreciated!”

  He gave a thumbs up, disappearing into the park. The rest of the group made their way from the bank, sticking to the sidewalk and avoiding street lights. Mr. Holdover looked ahead at Abbas and Xole, shaking his head. They then passed the sight of his destroyed business, making the grimace on his face even wider. “Hey, this look familiar to any of you?” he asked the group.

  “Eh?” Salamander looked to their left to see a burned down massage parlor. “Oh, dat place. Torched it myself!”

  Mr. Holdover’s head snapped to the man, “So it was you!”

  “It was owned by Amesworth,” Snap said. “C’mon, it was asking for it.”

  “You’re asking for it you little punk!” Mr. Holdover said.

  “Well, if it makes you feel better,” Shakar said. “That place was nothing but bad memories. You didn’t even let me buy it.”

  “Don’t start.”

  “And we’ve since downgraded to that awful used RV that you’ve managed to lose too.”

  “Would you shut the hell up?!” Mr. Holdover yelled.

  Trix smiled, feeling her temple begin on pound her forehead, “Abbas, how far until the subway?”