Talyesin's Tales

We get led down a flight of stairs and into what I guess was an apartment once. There’s all kinds of junk piled along the walls, and in the middle is a few folks - maybe a dozen tops - standing around or sitting on busted old armchairs. A quick glance tells me not all of them are norms. There’s a statue in the middle of the room, maybe nine or ten feet tall, of a very real-looking 55ish man sitting on a rough-carved chair.

Then the statue moves and looks at us. I recognize him.

“Shit,” Ragdoll whispers. I agree with her.

“I’m Peter da Great,” the statue says, his voice all low and gravelly.

“We know,” Ace answers.

Peter the Great, one of the bosses of a Downtown gang, had once been known as Stonewall, a lieutenant - a strongarm and a made guy - in Baron Zero’s criminal organization, back in the 80s. Stonewall had disappeared when Ice Maiden and Jailbait had turned states evidence on the organization.

And we had found him. Great.

“So da Mole sent yas ta me. Why?”

I step forward a bit.

“Someone is running Boost out of Downtown, and folks topside are getting antsy about it,” I say.

“So?”

“So folks topside get antsy about where the Boost is coming from, they start looking,” Ace says. “Maybe they find out Boost is coming from Downtown.”

“Get ta tha point, mask, yer startin’ ta bore me.”

“The point, Rocky,” Ragdoll says, angry now, “ is that if folks topside find out the Boost is coming from Downtown then they’ll get you know, upset and stuff. And you know how unreasonable upset topsiders are - they may insist the cops do something. Like actually come down here once in a while.”

That sends rumbles through the gang, although Peter doesn’t look impressed.

“So dey come down here an’ crack some skulls. What’s dat gotta do wit me?”

“You maybe help us out,” Ace says. “Point us in the right direction. You know what the scene is in Downtown, right? You’re the big man on campus here, aren’t you?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“We find the Boost runners, bring them topside, stop them, look like heroes,” I say.

“Yeah, dat helps me how?” Pete looks amused at least.

“Well, then... the cops won’t be coming down here any time soon.”

“Cops ain’t comin’ down here now,” Peter rumbles. “T’ree disappeared masks and dey still won’t be comin’ down here.”

Most people go all stiff when they get their lives threatened. Ragdoll gets all relaxed and loose - ready to move every which way at once. I feel her loosen up next to me, and my fingers start to feel that familiar hot-squeeze sensation when my claws are about to pop out.

Ace just laughs.

“You think we’re dumb enough to come down here without leaving half our team ready to swoop in?” he says.

“Team?” Peter raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, Rocky, like a gang only with a license and everything,” Ace explains.

“Endorsements and sponsorships,” I add.

“Health plan,” Ace says.

“Don’t forget teammates,” I say.

“I never heard a no new team,” Peter says, sceptical.

“We only started last week,” Ace says. “Still waiting on the paperwork.”

“But still, Clown and Harlequin are waiting on us,” Ace says.

Peter thinks about that one a bit, Ace just standing there, smirking. His strip-mask gives everyone a chance to see half his face, and he’s just smirking away. I’ve never been good at poker, so I’m glad my mask covers my whole face. Ragdoll just looks pissed off, but then she almost always looks pissed off when she’s on the job. Except when she’s beating up crooks. Then she grins this huge happy brilliant grin, and she’s gorgeous and I love her.

Right now she looks pissed.

Anyhow Peter thinks about whether or not Ace is bluffing, and decides maybe it’s not worth it, because he waves a huge hand and this girl jumps out of nowhere, over our heads, and into the centre of the room. We’re so on edge my claws pop out, there are cards suddenly in Ace’s hands, and Ragdoll’s twirled around to guard our backs.

The girl is skinny on the verge of scrawny, maybe eighteen or so, stringy blonde sorta dyed green hair, jeans cut off at the knee, lime tank top, and bug eyes. I don’t mean eyes sorta popping out, I mean eyes like a bug’s, bulging and shiny black. She squats down on the floor and looks at us, her head cocked to one side.

“Cricket, show these masks where the Dockside Dementos hang out,” Peter the Great says.

“Okay Boss,” the girl says, and hops off. Well, if covering about 20 feet in one bounce can be called hopping. She looks over her shoulder at us, waiting.

“Thanks Peter,” I say to him. “You’re a big man.”

“G’wan, get outta here, mask,” he rumbles, smirking at us. “Mole promised me a crate of oranges if I helped yas. I was just givin’ ya a hard time. Ain’t had much chance the last few years.”

Cricket leads us outside and through what used to be alleys. She doesn’t say much, just bounces these huge long leaps and then looks at us as if she’s saying, come on, slowpokes. We trot along after her.

“Team?” Ragdoll says to Ace at one point.

“It was a bluff,” Ace answers. “Besides, we’ve all been thinking it for a while now. We work together often enough that the public more than half thinks we’re a team anyway.”

“We’ll discuss this later,” I say as we catch up to Cricket again. “Hey kid, hold up, give us a breather, okay?”

“Whatever,” she says, but she stops. After a couple of minutes, we’re good to go again.

Cricket leads us through underground alleys to a place that I figure is close to the docks, topside, upriver from Crater Lake. We’ve covered a quarter of the city, underground. This is not a particularly comforting thought.

“Over there,” Cricket says, pointing across the ruined street to what had probably been a police station once.

“Thanks kid,” I say. She sorta shrugs and turns to go but stops and suddenly looks scared. I turn around to look at this patch of darkness moving and crawling on its own.

“You should have said yes, Cricket,” a man’s voice whispers from the shadows.

“I didn’t want to be your girl, Umbra,” Cricket answers.

The shadows sort of reshape themselves into a man-shape with glowing yellow eyes.

“Yeah, well, I don’t take no for an answer,” the shadow-man whispers.

“Excuse us for interrupting,” Ragdoll says, “But can you sort out this lovers’ quarrel later? Or can we go?”

“Peter won’t be happy about this,” Cricket says.

“Peter?” Umbra laughs. “He gave me the okay, Cricket. He sold you out, because you’re worthless street trash, and I’m an important asset to the Dementos. I don’t even know what I saw in you in the first place.”

Ace nudges me and I see that the street is filling with all kinds of goons and thugs. We’ve been sold out too.

“Shit,” Ragdoll says.

“Yeah,” I answer.