Chương 23: Bk 1 Ch 21: Storm

"Start from the beginning." Cassie nods, taking a deep breath and letting it out.

"So, there was this show at the skatepark, heard about it from Hailey. Seemed like the kind of thing Surf 'n Turf might check out if they were looking for us, so we figured it'd be a good idea to show up in strength, just in case. Then Zach says that since they might already recognize him and AJ, they should be the ones actually doing business, the rest of us could back 'em up, and we'd all split the profits. I wasn't gonna say no to that deal, so that's what we did."

"Turns out, it was a pretty good idea. I assume Surf 'n Turf had someone there keeping an eye out, cause a whole shitload of 'em showed up around 11: 30, like eight or nine, went right after Zach and AJ before we even realized they were there. Me, Hailey, and Sean saw 'em getting grabbed, so we followed from a distance. They took 'em down under the freeway onramp, we managed to get pretty close and hide behind a pillar. They already had Zach and AJ on the ground, couple of 'em had guns out.

Wasn't sure if they were actually gonna use 'em, but I didn't want to take the risk, so… I said we should strike first, and we fuckin' opened up on 'em."

"Took 'em completely by surprise, three of 'em went down right away. Couple of 'em tried to shoot back, the rest tried to get behind something, but Zach managed to get his own piece out and nailed two more from point blank. It was all kind of a shitshow, we laid down covering fire while Zach and AJ made a break for it, that's when Sean got tagged by a lucky shot. Wasn't sure how bad he was hit, so I tied a belt around his leg, and the rest of Surf 'n Turf decided to run for it.

We figured they'd have reinforcements coming, so we cleared out as quick as we could too. Put Sean on a towel in the back seat of Zach's car, the wound didn't look too bad, so we decided to come back here instead of the hospital. Called Mark so he could pass the word up. Pretty much all there is to it."

"First of all, you did the right thing," I say, and everyone relaxes slightly.

"Even if they only intended to beat Zach and AJ, I refuse to let that sort of attack stand, and escalating to lethal force was the only way to stop it. Is there any chance they could have identified the three of you?"

"Don't think so," says Cassie, shaking her head.

"We all blended in with the crowd pretty well, and we got our masks on as soon as we left it." I nod.

"Good. What about Surf 'n Turf? Do you know how many casualties they took?"

"Honestly, I'm really not sure," she says.

"The whole thing was over in like a minute tops, it's all kind of a blur."

"There were definitely five guys who went down around us," says AJ hesitantly.

"I'm sure at least a couple of them were still alive. Dunno if they stayed that way, or if any more of them got hit."

"We should assume that at least some of them were in fact killed, then," I say.

"Surf 'n Turf clearly underestimated us this time. If we're lucky, they'll back off now that we've shown we have teeth, but I'm not expecting that. Most likely, next time they'll come at us with lethal force right from the beginning. Zach, AJ. The two of you should lay low until you hear otherwise. Not only is Surf 'n Turf after you personally, the cops will likely be looking for you as well now that things have escalated into open violence. You have a place to stay?"

"Yeah, we were gonna stay at Sean's place, give him a hand while he's hurt," says Zach.

"Perfect. If he gets worse tonight, you have my permission to take him to the hospital. We can get people out of jail, but not out of the morgue. Otherwise, I'll find a doctor who can be discreet within the next couple of days to have a look at him." I suppose if worst comes to worst I can ask Elliot to heal him, but I'd rather not put that on him quite yet. I glance over at Mark.

"We certainly got the better of this encounter, so I don't intend to retaliate yet. But I want us prepared to retaliate at short notice if we need to. Let everyone know we're going to start identifying potential targets."

"Got it," he says.

"Should we pull our people back at all? Pause any business?" I consider for a moment, then shake my head.

"No, not yet. We can't afford to, not for long. But tell everyone to be extra cautious, and always have someone watching their back whenever possible. Make sure the customers know to keep their mouths shut about who they get their product from."

"Right," he says, nodding.

"All of you, give me the guns you used tonight. I'll dispose of them, and make sure you get clean replacements." They hand them over, and I make them vanish, noticing that Cassie's gun is the same one we took from Jason all those months ago.

"If there's nothing else, then you should get home. You've done well tonight, all of you. If war with Surf 'n Turf is inevitable, it's best we start it off with a victory. Sean, rest as much as you need to, we'll take care of you."

"You got it, Boss." Zach and AJ help him to his feet and then limp his way out to the car. I'm relieved he's capable of it, I think he probably is gonna be fine. After they all drive away, I take off. First, I fly over to the skatepark under the freeway where everything went down. I'm not surprised to see the cops swarming absolutely everywhere, it looks like every single cop car in the city has turned out. I keep my distance, circling a few times at a hundred or so feet in the air.

Unfortunately, I can't find a spot to peer under the onramp they're all centered on without being seen myself. It's not really that important, I'm sure I'll find out how many of them we killed soon enough. Afterwards, I fly back out to the lake, dumping the incriminating guns somewhere near the center. I float overhead for a couple of minutes, until I see another shooting star. Shaking my head slightly, I turn and fly back towards town. The next day at school, there's rumors but nothing else.

I find a moment to talk to Cassie privately.

"Hey. You doing okay?"

"... Yeah. Yeah, I'm doing okay," she says.

"It's… I dunno. Like… I guess I know I could've gotten shot last night, but it doesn't really feel like it. Like, maybe it should bother me more than it does, you know? But nah, I'm fine, you don't need to worry about me."

"I'm glad," I say, nodding. She's right; she could have gotten shot last night, but it doesn't really feel like it to me, either. I'm kind of glad I can't really imagine it, because it wouldn't be fair for me to try and keep her away from danger just because she's my friend. I'm doing everything I can to keep my people safe, and I trust her to look out for herself as well. Worrying about it beyond that won't accomplish anything except making myself miserable. After school, I've got work to do.

Although we have a sizeable list of suspected Surf 'n Turf members, I'm not about to take its accuracy for granted given the state of the cops' information on us. It's also fairly sparse on details, just names, addresses, and maybe a few details about jobs or suspected crimes. I've already set my people to investigating several of them, but this is a job I can contribute to directly.

I still have a small hope that my next contact with Surf 'n Turf will be an envoy proposing a ceasefire, but I'm certainly not going to count on that. The Sun Eaters have already become heavily tied to the underground rave and party scene. Although it's working out pretty well so far, we aren't staying away from the actual nightclubs by choice. Nearly all of them are downtown or by the university, and firmly under the control of Surf 'n Turf.

That makes them great starting points to try and identify some of their dealers, but I'm unfortunately a few years too young to handle that. What I can do is try and get some actual photos of our potential targets. I buy myself a Polaroid camera, since taking these photos to a developer is obviously out of the question. Then, once it gets dark, I go on the prowl. After spending 45 minutes laying on someone's roof while I wait for him to get home, I decide "prowl" might have been a bit of an exaggeration.

When he does eventually get home and I snap a picture of him getting out of his car, I find that his face is barely more than a smudge thanks to a combination of the poor lighting and movement. I make a second attempt, hiding behind some lawn furniture in his backyard and snapping a second photo through the window as he closes his blinds. This one comes out a little better, enough that someone could at least theoretically recognize him from it.

Of course, I still don't know whether he's actually a major supplier for Surf 'n Turf like the cops think, or just some random unlucky guy. It's going to take a lot more work to confirm it one way or another, but the photo will hopefully be at least one small piece. I only end up getting two more usable photos of potential members that night, which is a little frustrating.

There's one close call, when a guy hears the click of the camera from the tree I'm hiding in, but I keep absolutely still, and after a few seconds of staring around, he seems to decide it was just nothing. Getting caught would be less than ideal, both torpedoing any faint hope of a peaceful resolution and putting Surf 'n Turf on guard. At the end of the night, I leave the photos with Mark to show them around.

Ideally, someone will recognize one of them from following other leads, which will be pretty conclusive proof. The second night is slightly more productive, since I'm starting to get a better idea of the conditions needed for a usable photo. I end up with five decent photos by the end of the night, one of which I actually recognize myself; it's the guy who showed up to confront Mark at the party which started this whole shitshow, whose name is apparently Brent.

I tell Mark to have one of our enforcers stake his place out, get photos of anyone who comes and goes. The third night, I hit unexpected paydirt. Lewis and Rachel, the couple in question, is listed only as "possible associates," with nothing about suspected crimes or positions within the gang. But when I go to their house, I find the backyard taken up by a very familiar greenhouse setup, confirming that it's full of weed in about five seconds.

It's pretty well hidden, the house is up on Osbourne Hill and surrounded by pine trees, but that's no protection at all from the air. There's unfortunately no good place to stake the house out without being completely obvious unless I want to do it myself, but I take photos of them anyway. Thursday night, I'm obligated to take a break due to Alex inviting me over for Thanksgiving dinner. Coming up with a good enough explanation to cancel isn't really worth the trouble, and besides, I don't want to.

It's nice, pretending to be a normal girl for a few hours, a little taste of what I could've had in another life, even if I wouldn't take it over the life I actually have. Me and Alex watch The Blues Brothers while her mom works on dinner, which has me in stitches. Honestly, she's been really good about picking movies I'll enjoy. Unfortunately, dinner itself is a little less enjoyable despite the excellent spread of food.

"So, did you see that story about those three young men who got killed last Sunday, Gabby?" asks her mom.

"Yeah. Well, actually no, but everyone's been talking about it at school, so I heard about it." Apparently seven of Surf 'n Turf's people got shot in total, but four of them survived. It would've been better if they'd all lived, I might've approached them about a ceasefire myself in that case. Failing that, it would've been better if they'd all died to further weaken our enemies, but they'll probably be out of action for the foreseeable future anyway.

"What do you think about it?" she asks. I shrug.

"It sucks. Hope it doesn't escalate into a full gang war."

"The story said the shooting happened at some sort of underground concert." It doesn't take a genius to figure out where she's going.

"Not actually at the show, right? It was like a block away. And it was, like, a rock show, not really my scene." She lets out a small sigh.

"Let me just be straightforward, then. Jeff and I are worried about you, Gabby. I know you probably won't ever be in any danger, but probably isn't the same thing as definitely, especially if things do escalate. I think telling Alex no more parties for now was the right decision, and we're both impressed by how maturely you've been handling it, Alex. I know it's not quite as simple for you, since you rely on the income from playing at those shows, but…

Jeff and I have talked it over, and we'd be willing to help you out a little financially, until this all blows over. You're such a nice girl, Gabby, and Alex would be absolutely devastated if anything happened to you."

"Oh, I couldn't do that," I immediately protest.

"I'll be fine, seriously. It's all gang stuff, no one's gonna just randomly open fire on a crowd."

"Well, I certainly hope you're right. But please give it some real thought, especially if there are more shootings. I promise it's really not an imposition."

"... Alright, I'll think about it. Seriously, though, I'm sure it'll all be fine." She nods, leaving it at that for now, but a bit of tension remains for the rest of dinner. It stays even when when me and Alex go back to her room. Eventually, it gets irritating enough that I tell her to just spit out whatever's on her mind.

"... I don't really like lying to my parents," says Alex, sighing.

"Like, it's not a big deal when it's just little stuff, or private stuff, I don't think anyone tells their parents literally everything. But isn't this kinda bigger? You know all those drug dealers at raves and stuff are almost certainly in a gang. Shouldn't… Shouldn't you be a little more worried?" Again, part of me just wants to come clean with her. At the same time, though, she just said she doesn't like lying to her parents.

I'm not sure if giving her a vastly bigger secret to keep is the best idea, especially right now. Instead, I say, "It's really not as bad as you think. It's like… You always hear about gangs killing each other, and you always hear about fresh black masks massacring a bunch of people, but it's pretty rare to hear about an established gang murdering a bunch of civilians. As long as the gangs stick to killing each other, the cops and the white masks… Well, they still care, but it's not really their highest priority.

If you wanna be cynical, you can even say it makes their jobs easier. But as soon as a gang starts killing civilians, or even looking like they might start, that all changes. So they've got a lot of motivation to make sure they don't do that, if they don't want the white masks kicking down their door."

"I'm not sure if I buy that," says Alex slowly.

"Like, are you saying gangs don't ever murder anyone except each other?"

"I mean, maybe not never. But it's probably stuff like, you know, you make a deal with them and then try to cheat them, or don't pay them back, or something like that. Like, you've gotta at least be involved with them to be in danger. I think they're pretty careful not to kill people by accident, is what I'm saying."

"... Are you involved with them?" asks Alex hesitantly.

"... Not like you're thinking," I reply after a moment.

"Some of what I get paid is probably drug money, yeah. But the only thing I do at raves is play music and dance, that's it."

"And… What about Cassie?" she asks, even more hesitantly.

"... You'd have to ask her about that," I say, which is kind of an answer in and of itself.

"It's not really my place to say. But I trust her to take care of herself."

"Is she the one who told you all this stuff? I mean, I guess that's not really a fair question to ask if you don't wanna talk about it, sorry. I just… I dunno. I like Cassie, and not just cause she's your best friend, she's cool. She's… not what I would've pictured when I thought of a gangster."

"I… You're not gonna, like, say anything, right?" I ask, and I don't really need to fake anxiety.

"No, no, of course not. Like, I obviously know she sells drugs, she has to get them from somewhere. I dunno if she's in any deeper than that, but even if she was, I wouldn't do that to her, or you. It's… I'm not sure if I'm totally comfortable with it, but I don't think she's a bad person, I can't see her ever, like, shooting someone just for pissing her off or something like that. I'm just worried, mostly, but it's her choice.

Maybe I'd try and convince her to get out if I thought it would work, but I wouldn't ever turn her in or anything."

"Good. Thanks," I say, relaxing slightly. I'm glad she's not gonna do anything to put Cassie at risk, but I didn't think that was real likely anyway. Mostly, I'm just glad her worldview might be flexible enough to fit all of me into it after all. We leave the heavy stuff alone for the rest of the night, and she drives me home around ten. I already let everyone know I wasn't gonna check in tonight unless there was a problem, so I take the opportunity to catch up on my neglected homework.

As important as the stuff I'm dealing with as Schwarzschild is, I don't want to let my civilian life just fall by the wayside, or what was the point of maintaining it in the first place? I'm not entirely surprised that Surf 'n Turf hasn't responded yet. We're not exactly making it easy for them to find us, either to attack us again or to ask for a meeting. I am expecting some sort of reaction by the end of the weekend, though, since that's when our people will be the most active.

I don't have anything planned for Friday, Saturday, or Sunday night, making sure I'll be available to respond to anything that goes down. But whatever happens, I'm expecting it late at night, like before. So when Jess calls my cellphone as I'm getting ready to leave for work on Friday, my first assumption is that it's something unrelated; she and David have preferred to stay as uninvolved as possible with the brewing conflict.

"Yes?" I answer calmly. I hear her let out a breath on the other end.

"Boss? There's… Something's, uh, something's happened. You should get over here, now."

"Understood," I say, keeping my voice calm even as my heartrate spikes.

"Is there an immediate problem?" Are they in danger, right now?

"No, not… not like that, but you should hurry."

"I'll be there soon," I say. I hang up and allow myself one small breath of relief that at least they're okay. Then I take another minute to call in sick to work. Unfortunately, I can't get there as fast as I want to, because it won't be properly dark for half an hour or so. Unlike last weekend, it is at least raining a bit, but I still can't risk taking off directly from my balcony. Instead, I jog for five minutes, to a little stand of trees by the bike path which runs along the western section of Pine Creek.

Once I've confirmed no one's around, I transform, immediately shooting up towards the cover of the clouds. It takes me a few minutes to locate Jess and David's house from that high up, especially through the rain, but hopefully that means no one will notice me, either. I drop down into their backyard as quickly as I dare, slowing myself at the last possible moment, still landing hard enough to leave a couple of gouges in the grass.

Several gallons of water splash down around me, rain caught by the edges of my gravity field as I descended. At least my costume resists getting wet the same way it resists any other kind of damage. The trees concealing their backyard greenhouse should hopefully cover me as well, but I still don't waste any time getting inside. Jess and David are both in the living room, and they're not alone; Ben is also here. All of them look grim.

"What happened?" I ask. David grimaces, takes a deep breath, and lets it out.

"It's Mark. Surf 'n Turf went after him. I… I don't think he made it." A ball of lead drops into my stomach. I knew Mark was the most exposed of my lieutenants, I knew Surf 'n Turf had seen his face before. Why hadn't it occurred to me to suggest he go into hiding like Zach and AJ? Had I thought there'd be a warning, if they were going to target him? I forcibly push my shock away after a second; there'll be time for self-recrimination later.

"Tell me." It's Ben who answers.

"I went over to his place around four, just to check in before I went to start my shift on the stake-out, you know. Soon as I turn onto his street, I see cop cars fucking everywhere. At first I figured he'd been arrested, but I got a look as I drove past. I think they were waiting for him across the street, opened up on him right as he was getting out of his car. The whole driver's side was covered with bullet holes, probably a dozen at least, windows all shattered. I…

He was already gone by the time I got there, but it didn't look good." I don't let myself swear like I want to.

"Have there been any other attacks?" I ask instead.

"Not as far as I know," he says, shaking his head.

"I already put the word out to his people, told 'em to stay away from home if there's any chance Surf 'n Turf knows who they are. Dunno how many of them have checked in yet, though." I nod.

"Were the police inside his house?"

"Didn't look like it, the door was closed and all the lights were still off, but I can't say for sure." Probably waiting for a warrant, then, but I doubt it'll take long. I'm sure Mark was careful not to leave anything that could lead the cops to the rest of the gang just lying around, but that doesn't mean there's nothing incriminating for them to find.

He had all the information we've gathered on Surf 'n Turf, that's not something I can afford to let them get their hands on before we make use of it, and losing the cash and product he had on hand would be a major blow as well. I'll have to act fast, the moment it's dark enough to be safe. For now, I turn back to David.

"Contact Mr. Sterling. Have him confirm Mark's status as soon as possible, and tell him to take whatever steps he needs to, to guarantee his own safety. After that… Contact the other lieutenants, Mark's cell, and all of our enforcers. The community center, tonight at 11."

"Right," he says, nodding shakily.

"We'll hope for the best, but there's nothing else we can do for Mark right now," I continue.

"All we can do is make sure this doesn't happen to anyone else. If Barracuda and Obsidian want a fight, then that's what they're going to get." I linger for a few minutes longer, waiting for phone calls to be made and for at least tentative confirmation that no one else was targeted. Ben heads out a few minutes later, and I pause to speak briefly to Jess and David in private.

"How are you holding up?"

"... It doesn't quite feel real yet," says Jess after a moment.

"I… We didn't know Mark that well, but he was still a friend. This is sort of what we were always afraid of."

"I know. I'm sorry," I say.

"If it's any comfort, the two of you don't seem to be on anyone's radar, and I intend to keep it that way. But if you want to stay somewhere else for a few days just to be safe, I'll see what I can do." They glance at each other.

"I think we're alright for now," says David.

"But we might take you up on that at some point, depending on how things go."

"I think for now, we'd like to just keep stepping back from selling, focus completely on growing," adds Jess.

"That's fine," I agree easily.

"Demand is probably going to take a hit after this anyway."

"Thanks," she says. She hesitates for a moment.

"Be careful, okay? It feels kinda weird saying that to you, but…" She trails off.

"I'll be fine. And I'll do everything I can to make sure everyone else is fine, too." It's still not quite completely dark, but I can't afford to wait any longer. I take off from their backyard, once again shooting up to the clouds as fast as I can. Then I head towards Mark's house. I drop down to a couple hundred feet, probably not quite invisible from the ground, but someone would have to be looking in exactly the right spot to see me.

Four cop cars are parked out front, but as far as I can tell, the inside is still empty. A few cops are still poking around in the street and front yard, but when I fly around back, I find it deserted. Letting out a small breath of relief, I fly further away, then descend at an angle so the house itself blocks me from view. There's a significant chance someone else will see me and report me, but as long as I can get in and out first, it'll be okay.

A gravity field unlocks the back door, and I slip inside, pausing to listen carefully. I don't hear anyone inside, but I still close the door as quietly as I can behind me, floating forwards in complete silence. I head for Mark's office first, where he was keeping everything about our investigation into Surf 'n Turf. He's got an actual posterboard set up, complete with strings linking together photos and notes of different potential members.

It's way too big to fit in my backpack, which means I can't just make it vanish. Instead, I start yanking everything out as quickly as I can, vanishing the photos and notes one by one. It's going to be a pain to reassemble, but at least I'll have the information and the cops won't. Once I'm done, I just leave the empty posterboard leaning against some filing cabinets, like he hadn't gotten around to putting it away. Next, I go through his desk, taking anything that looks even slightly incriminating.

I doubt I can get everything, but hopefully anything left will only incriminate Mark himself. Even in the unlikely event he's alive after all, it's the best I can do right now. That's hammered home when there's a loud knock on the front door.

"Franklin Police Department, we have a warrant to search the premises." Swallowing a curse, I dart out to the living room, peering around the corner so I won't be visible from any of the windows. Thinking quickly, I float the sofa over, setting it down against the front door just as it's unlocked from outside, probably using Mark's own keys. The door opens about half an inch and stops, and I hear a muffled, "What the hell?"

I'm damn lucky they followed procedure and announced themselves even when the house was empty as far as they knew, but I'm still almost out of time. Fortunately, I already know where Mark keeps the product. I scramble over to his bedroom and open his wardrobe, shoving shirts out of the way, then finding the little latch that opens the false bottom.

Two big ziplock bags of weed, a smaller bag of ecstasy tablets, a brick of coke, a handwritten sales log, and a lunchbox full of cash all vanish into my currently interdimensional backpack. I put the shirts back as naturally as I can, then close it up and rush back to the living room. It sounds like they've given up on the front door, so I float the sofa back to its original position. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

Just as I finish, I hear the back door unlock unnecessarily and open. I float over into the bathroom, the only room I can reach without being visible down the hallway.

"Alright, let's see what we've got." Their steps approach down the hall and past the bathroom without stopping, and I carefully float out after them. I peer around the corner just in time to see them open the front door without resistance.

"Huh, what the hell was it stuck on?" one asks.

"Probably just jammed in the frame or something," the other one replies. That's all I hear as I glide silently back down the hall. The kitchen is thankfully deserted, and so is the backyard. I once again close the back door as silently as I can, and let out a small breath of relief as I shoot up into the air. It's finally fully dark, and with the continuing drizzle, I'm the next best thing to invisible. I fly home, now feeling safe enough to land on my balcony.

Inside, I drop my transformation and take off my now-full backpack. The drugs, I'll redistribute tonight. Right now, what I'm interested in is the information. I spend the next couple of hours going over everything, reorganizing it as best I can. I end up with a handful of targets, the ones I'm most certain are legitimate. If we're lucky, Surf 'n Turf will expect us to also need a few days to prepare before we strike, and we can catch them flat-footed. A little after nine, I get a call from Mr. Sterling.

At this point, I'm pretty much just killing time, so I'm glad to have something to do. I fly over to his house, taking the summarized intelligence with me.

"Schwarzschild," he welcomes me as he opens the back door.

"Allow me to get the unpleasant news out of the way immediately. I've confirmed that Mark King is unfortunately deceased."

"Shit," I sigh, although I'm not really surprised.

"A true shame," he agrees.

"He was turning into a quite respectable and competent lieutenant. I will also miss working with him. Unfortunately, although I was officially still on retainer for him, he did not have any form of will, and I have no legal power to settle his estate. The police have already executed a search warrant on his home. Were you able to remove anything… problematic?"

"I was. Barely."

"A small silver lining, then," he says.

"So. What do you intend now?"

"I intend to hit back, immediately." He nods, unsurprised.

"May I offer a bit of general advice, before we get into specifics?"

"By all means."

"First, then, I suggest you refrain from acting personally, at least for now. Although this is clearly a conflict between magicals, the only killings so far have been of the mundane variety. So long as that remains the case, ABRA is unlikely to directly interfere. Taking the field yourself would give them the excuse they need to do likewise."

"I thought ABRA only comes after you once they've tracked down your civilian identity," I reply, frowning slightly.

"Yes and no," he says, moving his hands up and down.

"That is certainly their preferred method, but not their only one. It's not uncommon for part or all of a strike team to be temporarily reposted to a city lacking one, to suppress an escalating conflict between black masks. Although they'll certainly take the opportunity to kill or capture you if you hand one to them, their main priority in that case is simply to keep the peace.

However, there are also a small number of more specialized strike teams, often not permanently assigned to a specific city, whose magic is more suited to investigation than combat. Although ABRA is usually happy to let the police work at their own rate, they're certainly capable of… speeding the process up, shall we say, if you give them reason to."

"You mean, like, telepaths? I thought their job was just to guard the politicians and rich people."

"That is their primary duty, yes, and they do consider it an important one. But unlike what ABRA officially claims, it is not their only duty. Telepaths and similar magicals are rare, white masks more so. Their time is extremely valuable, but they will spend some of it on black masks who cause enough of a ruckus. I suspect that was a line which Umbra crossed, here in Franklin. I doubt it's one you're likely to cross yourself, but it is something you should be aware of."

"Noted," I say, nodding.

"Would you say it's too much of a risk to act myself, as long as I make it look like a regular hit?"

"Most likely not, so long as you're careful. We can discuss the specifics in a moment. But before that, my second piece of advice is regarding the mundane police. As you said, their typical approach to gangs with magical support is strictly investigative. Usually, they only actively make arrests when they believe it will lead them to the black mask in charge. Then, once the black mask has been dealt with by a strike team, they sweep up everyone else all at once. However, that can change during a full gang war.

Then, like ABRA, their main priority becomes restoring the peace. They'll pull in anyone and everyone they can regardless of whether they think they can make any charges stick, simply to get them off the street and out of the fighting. It's a practice they dislike, as it can significantly hamper their own investigation, but it's something you can likely expect before long, perhaps even immediately."

"I see," I reply.

"I'll pass that warning along, let everyone know to be extra careful to keep their heads down, but not to panic if the cops do grab them."

"Good," he says, clapping his hands together.

"Then, shall we proceed to the actual plan of action?" By the time I leave for the meeting, I'm feeling pretty confident. I'm still pushing down the grief, of course, and I'm still pissed as hell, but it's a focused sort of anger. I can't bring Mark back, but I can sure as hell make Surf 'n Turf regret ever laying a finger on him. When I reach the community center, I'm glad to see that pretty much everyone has shown up.

Most of them are pretty clearly scared, but the fact that they're here means they trust me to protect them. It's a bit of a crowd, more than twenty people, probably about half of the Sun Eater's total numbers. Everyone turns to face me as I walk through the crowd to the front of the room, once again floating a couple of feet into the air as a substitute for a stage.

"Thank you all for joining me," I begin.

"Before anything else, you should all know that it's been confirmed Mark is dead." A few people swear softly, and I let the silence linger a little before speaking again.

"Mark was a good man. This is a heavy loss for the Sun Eaters as a whole, as well as for all of us personally who considered him a friend. But if Surf 'n Turf think it will be enough to break us, I intend to show them exactly how mistaken they are."

"First order of business," I continue, turning towards Mark's former cell, who are mostly clustered together.

"Phillip. I'd like you to take over Mark's position as the leader of your cell." He jerks in surprise.

"I, uh… Why me?"

"Two reasons. First, because as far as I can tell, your name isn't on the radar of the cops or of Surf 'n Turf. Please try and keep it that way. Second, because you have at least some experience in managing. I'm not expecting you to take over all of the things Mark was handling, just distributing the product." He takes a deep breath, then nods.

"Right, yeah. Yeah, I can do that, sure."

"Good," I say. The product, cash, and logbook I recovered from Mark's house appear in my hand, and I send them floating over to him.

"I suggest you and your cell take a moment to familiarize yourself with everything. If there's anything you need, I'd like it dealt with tonight."

"Got it," he says, gesturing for the rest of his new cell to join him a little further towards the back of the room.

"Next, I need people to take over Mark's other duties," I say, glancing between my other lieutenants. They're all here: Jess, David, and Anna, who've been with me the longest; Brian, Leah, and Rick, who joined a little later; and Steve, our newest supplier.

"The good news is that we're growing enough of our own product now that we shouldn't need Mark's connections for weed any longer. But we will need a new contact for the Syndicate, and a new event organizer." I can tell right away that there's a not exactly a surplus of enthusiasm. Right now, anything that could out you as a member is a serious risk.

"Not sure how much interest there's gonna be in events right now, to be honest," says David after a moment, saying what they're probably all thinking.

"Maybe not for larger events, but I still need someone to make contact with the local DJ's and reassure them that we haven't gone anywhere," I reply.

"And I expect there will still be regular smaller parties happening. We can't afford to miss them, not with our finances already taking a significant hit." He grimaces but nods.

"Well, we've dealt with the Syndicate once or twice before. We can probably handle that for you."

"Good," I agree. I don't miss that he's volunteering for the less risky job, at least assuming our relations with the Syndicate stay good, but I don't comment; I certainly owe them that much.

"Eh, fuck it," says Rick after a moment.

"I got a couple buddies in the rave scene. I can give 'em a call, see where things stand."

"I appreciate that," I say.

"No need to push them for now, just put out a few feelers." I might be able to push things a little from the other end in my civilian identity, but probably best to wait and see how things shake out first. The others all eventually volunteer at least a couple of connections each, mostly things that require minimal exposure, but that's fine. Every little bit helps, and I do need my people to stay safe, I can't afford a repeat of this.

"Make sure all of your people have contact with at least one of our enforcers," I tell them.

"If anything ever feels off in any way, don't hesitate to call for backup." I sort out a few more details, then dismiss everyone except the enforcers. With Sean still hurt, there's only eleven of them now, including Sarge. That's not quite the ideal force to fight a war with, but I'll do the best with what I have.

"You've all been putting in long hours this past week to track down Surf 'n Turf's people," I begin.

"Now, it's time for all that hard work to pay off. Wherever Mark is now, tonight we're going to make sure he's got plenty of company." I wait for the murmur of approval to die down, then continue.

"There are four targets I intend to hit tonight. You'll be operating in three groups, and I'll be hitting the fourth target myself." I float down to the ground, moving closer, and they all gather around me. A folder appears in my hand, and I open it to display the photos and information inside.

"First, Brent Stephens. As far as we can tell, he's Surf 'n Turf's chief problem solver. It's good odds that he was the one who put together the operation against Mark. He lives in a condominium complex on 3rd street. There's no gate, but he lives on the second floor, so you'll need to break in to get to him."

"Second, Theo Boyd. The police believe he's Surf 'n Turf's main connection for cocaine. They may be able to replace him, but losing him will still make their lives significantly more difficult. His house is on Oak street, and his bedroom window faces the street. I want you to put as many bullets through it as you can in thirty seconds."

"Third, a couple, Lewis Webb and Rachel Harrison. They have a small grow operation set up in their backyard which the police are unaware of, so losing it should be an unpleasant surprise. Their house is located on Osborne Hill, fairly private and somewhat difficult to access. It's also two stories, with the bedroom likely somewhere on the second floor, but I'm not sure exactly where."

"Fourth, a restaurant, Linda's Diner. It's located just east of the University, on 7th street. The police are almost certain it's a money laundering front, and possibly more than that. We've observed multiple suspected members visiting the location over the last few days. You're going to put a few Molotov cocktails through the front window. I leave the choice of groups and targets up to you."

"Which target are you hitting, boss?" asks Zach after a moment.

"Either Brent, or Lewis and Rachel, as those will be the most difficult," I reply.

"I think me, AJ, and Hotsauce wanna go after this Brent asshole, then, if it's all the same to you. Get a little payback. Hotsauce knows how to pick locks, right? Get in all nice and quiet?"

"Yeah, no problem," agrees Hotsauce.

"Done," I grant easily.

"You'll be Team One. Sarge, you're with them, make sure everything goes smoothly."

"Roger that."

"Never burned anything down before," says Cassie.

"Hailey, Ben? You wanna hit the restaurant?"

"Yeah, sure," says Hailey. Ben nods as well.

"Fine. That should be the easiest target, so it'll just be the three of you. You'll be Team Two. Dylan, Watson, Kurt, Tre. Are you willing to hit Theo's house?" The four of them glance at each other and nod.

"Yeah, we'll get it done."

"Then you'll be Team Three. I'll handle Lewis and Rachel myself. I want all the attacks to happen simultaneously, at exactly 2AM. Based on what we've observed, they should all be asleep by then. You'll be observing your targets beforehand, to make sure there aren't any problems. But first, we're going to go over some possible complications, and how you should handle them."

There's plenty of things that can go wrong, from the plausible (one of the targets has his girlfriend over) to the extremely unlikely but not impossible (one of the targets is actually the civilian identity of Obsidian). If things go too wrong, no amount of preparation is going to help, but I'm determined to cover anything less than that. We head out a bit before one. I do a quick circuit of all the targets myself, just to make sure there's nothing obviously out of place.

There's a few cars still parked behind Linda's, but it shares that lot with several other businesses, and the front windows are dark. After a few minutes, I settle into a tree behind Lewis and Rachel's house to wait. I keep my phone in the pocket of my costume's coat, since it obviously doesn't get a signal in whatever alternate dimension my regular clothes and backpack are currently in. The house is the same as it was the last time I was here, dark and quiet.

Five minutes before two, I make three calls, getting brief go-aheads from all of them. I wait a couple more minutes, then float down against the back wall, landing directly in front of of the door. As I silently ease the door open, there's a sudden scramble of movement. I almost lash out before realizing it's just a cat, fleeing to hide under the sofa. Smart cat. I hope someone ends up taking care of it. I glide upstairs, finding that the bedroom door is already open. The couple is in bed, sound asleep.

My staff vanishes, and a gun materializes in my hand instead. The more I can avoid acting openly, the less attention I'll draw from ABRA, and disguising this as a regular hit will make our numbers look slightly more impressive as well. For just a moment, I hesitate. I can't help but be reminded of Jess and Dave. The two of them haven't done anything to directly harm me; we probably could've been friends under different circumstances. But Mark didn't do anything to directly harm Surf 'n Turf, either.

I haven't come this far just to start flinching now. The bang of the gun is deafening in the small room. The bullet goes straight through Lewis's head; he jerks once, then goes still. Rachel lurches upright with a startled yell. Before she can wake up enough to understand what's happening, I put a bullet through her head as well, and she slumps back down. I wait a couple seconds, then put two more rounds into each of them.

They're clearly already dead, but I want to make sure at least one of the neighbors calls the cops. I don't waste any more time, giving myself two minutes before I need to be gone. Rushing out of the bedroom, I throw open the next door down the hall; just a bathroom. The door after that is what I want, a former spare bedroom. A dehumidifier hums in the corner, and bundles of drying weed hang from a large rack.

A big ziplock bag of fully prepared weed sits on the table next to the rack, which I immediately grab and vanish. The box of ziplock bags is also on the table, so I pull one out and start cramming the drying weed into it as well. I'd like to find where they keep their cash, but that'd take a fair amount of luck in the time I have, so I'll settle for the guaranteed profit right in front of me. I'm interrupted by my phone ringing. Instantly, I drop the partially filled bag to answer it.

"Yes?" I barely even get the word out before I hear Cassie yelling at me on the other end.

"Team 4, case black! We're outside the restaurant, the car's stuck, we can't- Oh, shit!" There's a loud noise, and the call cuts off. I'm already snatching up the half-full bag of weed, vanishing it as I dash out of the room and down the stairs, probably leaving a couple of dents in the wall behind me. I take off at full speed the instant I'm outside. Luckily, the diner is the closest target to me, less than a mile away. I cover the distance in about thirty seconds, making no effort to slow myself as I close in.

That leaves me with less than two seconds to take in the situation as I come into view, possible thanks only to my supernatural eyesight and reflexes. Ben's car is in the middle of the street about half a block from the restaurant, speared through the front hood by a six-foot spike grown out of the asphalt. The passenger side door is lying on the ground next to it, ripped completed out of the frame. The other doors are just open.

Relief surges through me as I see Cassie and the other three behind the car, in the process of laying down with their hands behind their heads. Obsidian stands behind them in full armor, his greatsword pointed threateningly. Further back, I pick out a few figures scrambling around in front of the restaurant, illuminated by the growing flicker of flames from inside. I adjust my aim and brace my spear horizontally in front of me with both hands, still not slowing at all.

Obsidian whirls at the last instant, snapping his sword up into a guard position. Then I slam into him at somewhere north of two hundred miles an hour. There's a brilliant flash of paradoxical black light as our weapons impact, but that's not nearly enough to stop my momentum, and I plow into him shoulder first. It fucking hurts. Even with my magical resistance fully intact, I still feel my collarbone snap. We both go tumbling down the street.

Obsidian comes to a stop back in front of the restaurant, skidding slightly as he turns the uncontrolled tumble into a graceful roll back to his feet. I stay in the air, bringing myself to a stop about thirty feet past him. The impact knocked Obsidian's sword all the way out of his hands, causing it to vanish. He promptly resummons it, stepping back into a guard position. I keep my spear held casually in one hand, mainly because moving my shoulder seems like a bad idea right now.

His armor is dented in the chest where I hit it; it's just cosmetic, not actually providing any extra protection on top of his magic. I'd be shocked if he didn't have at least a couple of broken ribs, but he's hiding it just like me. We regard each other for a few seconds, as surprised yells and curses come from the handful of Surf 'n Turf members running around. A couple of them try to approach him to back him up, and he quickly waves them back towards containing the fire.

"Schwarzschild," he says eventually.

"That was impressively quick, in both getting here and in retaliating as soon as you did. A shame you didn't take our warning about the Syndicate more seriously. You would have made a valuable ally." I snort derisively.

"I have no interest in a drawn-out suicide. And for someone in desperate need of allies, you seem rather eager to make more enemies."

"You were already our enemy, by your own choice," he retorts.

"Did you think we'd give you time to settle in and fortify yourself, or decide the Syndicate's offer was worth taking after all? Don't pretend you weren't prepared for a fight."

"Yes, I was," I agree.

"But I would have been perfectly content to ignore you until the Syndicate removed you, one way or another. How exactly do you intend to fight them now, after crippling yourselves against us? You should leave Franklin while you still can."

"Crippled?" he asks.

"Is that what you think you've done here? You're badly underestimating us if you think burning one business is crippling." So he doesn't know about any of the other strikes, then. Good; that probably means none of the others ran into trouble.

"This isn't a fight you can win. I'd hoped killing just one of your people would be enough to make you see that, but apparently it's going to take a harsher lesson." While we've been talking, Cassie and the others have ran for it, vanishing around the corner. Meanwhile, several members of Surf 'n Turf are still inside or in front of the restaurant, spraying everything with fire extinguishers. The gasoline fires are still flickering defiantly, but they're not spreading anymore.

I could kill all of them with barely a thought, and it's tempting to do just that. I'm pretty sure Linda's is more than just a front business, it's a meeting place just like the community center. That's the most likely reason why they'd all be here this time of night, and it means the members I'm looking at are probably important. If I do, though, I'd have to race to snatch my own people away before Obsidian can catch up with them.

I don't know exactly how his magic works, but if it's line-of-sight, a single glimpse will be enough for him to kill them. My shoulder is already hurting less than it was, but I won't be in a condition to fight for at least a couple more minutes. Also, I can already hear sirens in the distance. Obsidian's left physical evidence of his presence here tonight, but I haven't, which means any attention from the white masks will most likely fall on him.

I can't afford to think about it forever, so I follow my instincts and decide to err on the side of caution for now. Assuming the other strikes were successful, we've already hit back hard tonight without taking any further casualties of our own. Even if we're still weaker in absolute terms, the momentum is clearly ours. There's no need to gamble and risk a reversal at this point.

"We'll see how long that confidence lasts," I say. Then, I shoot up into the air without waiting for a response. I rise a few hundred feet, hopefully taking me well out of eyesight even for Obsidian, then fly a block over and descend again. Cassie and the others startle when I land in front of them, stumbling to a halt, but then relax.

"Thanks for the save, Boss," says Cassie. I can't see her grin behind her ski mask, but I'm sure it's there.

"Yeah, I thought we were fucking done for," adds Ben.

"I look out for my people," I reply.

"Brace yourselves. We're flying back to the center."

"Right," says Cassie, nodding. I get in the center of them and lift us all into the air without wasting anymore time. They've all flown with me at least once, but Ben still reflexively grabs my arm, then quickly lets go like I'd burned him. I don't comment, hiding my amusement. The flight back to the community center takes a while, around ten minutes, since I don't want to go too high or too fast while carrying them.

Aside from worrying about dropping one of them, they can't just ignore the cold like I can, which could be legitimately dangerous given the wind. At least they're all dressed warmly, their ski masks actually serving the intended purpose. Still, they don't try and hide their relief when we land. I'm a bit relieved too, since my shoulder has thankfully stopped hurting. We're the first ones back, but only barely. Zach's car pulls into the lot just as I'm unlocking the door.

I leave it cracked open for them as we head inside. Sarge is the first one in, the others following.

"Bad news, boss," he says.

"Mission was a bust, target wasn't home. Don't think he was expecting us, we searched the place and at least found some cash and guns, but no info." Damn.

"I see. Unfortunate. I suspect I know where he was."

"Yeah?"

"Turns out, the restaurant wasn't just a front," says Cassie, grinning.

"We crashed all their bigwigs having some kinda meeting, including Obsidian himself. Ben's car got impaled on a biggass spike. Boss had to pull our asses out of the fire." AJ whistles.

"Shit. You actually fight him?"

"Not tonight," I say, shaking my head.

"Getting everyone out safely was more important." Everyone nods, standing a little straighter. At least the final group didn't run into any problems, although they didn't stick around to confirm the kill after unloading through the target's bedroom window. Hopefully he wasn't also at the meeting, our counterstrike won't land nearly as hard if we only fully succeeded with one out of four targets. Still, even if the attack wasn't quite flawless, we avoided losing anyone else, which would've been a disaster.

I apologize to Ben for his car, promising that he'll get a much nicer one once the war is over. He brushes me off, telling me he's just glad to be alive, although he doesn't turn the offer down, either. He's gonna have to go into hiding as well since the cops will be able to ID him from the license plate, but on the upside, they'll probably assume he's dead as long as he keeps his head down and won't look for him. I don't keep them for much longer.

As everyone heads out, I manage to catch Cassie lingering a little behind.

"Hey," I say quietly.

"I'm sorry. I should've taken a closer look at that restaurant."

"All good," she says, smiling.

"I wasn't worried. I knew you'd get there in time." I hesitate for a moment, then smile back.

"Count on it. Try not to make a habit out of personally pissing off magicals, though."

"No promises," she says with a grin. I wait until she's left to fly away myself. Tonight wasn't like the shootout a week ago, where I only heard about it afterwards. The thirty seconds it took me to reach the restaurant was the most scared I've been in a while. I can't help but wonder if Cassie's lying to make me feel better, but I don't think she is; I think she really does trust me that much. Part of me wants to ask her to step back, but I can't bring myself to do that even to keep her safe.

She was the first one to push me to found the Sun Eaters, because this is what she wants. I'll just have to make absolutely sure I keep my word, and try to trust her as much as she trusts me.