Authors: Matt Stephens
Yasi catwalked, her feet making no noise as she wandered through the cubicles. She should have gone to the 10th Precinct first and investigated Officer Grey. But Vincent was a friend, even if she only met him a few times and hadn't seen him in more than two years. She wanted to know if he was in danger. She doubted he was at work that late, but if he was, she could kill two birds with one stone.
She noticed an office roster on the wall and went over to take a look. According to the roster, Vincent's workmate Owen hadn't been in today.
She went to Vincent's cubicle. The opposite desk was fairly Spartan by comparison. Vincent had pictures, train timetables, notebooks, a few photos...
The opposite desk had office supplies. No plants, no photos, no mementos. There were post-it notes all over the computer monitor as reminders, so it hadn't been tidied up deliberately...
Owen's desk drawer was locked, but locks were childhood toys to the Lostkind. She had the drawer open in seconds. More office supplies, no address book...
And in the bottom drawer, what looked like a fob watch. Feeling a chill of familiarity, she picked it up and flipped it open.
The watch face had four hands.
Yasi paled. Owen had a Lostkind watch. The kind of timepiece that told the time above, and the day-night shifts of their underground world.
She quickly went to the phone on the desk, and hit redial. The phone rang once. Twice. Someone picked up on the third ring.
"This is Grey." Responded a grizzled voice on the other end. "What could you possibly want at this time of night?"
Yasi paled. "Sorry, wrong number." She hung up.
Owen had been talking to the officer in charge of solving a murder. A murder that was clearly covering something up. A crime that had several effects, not the least of which was to put Owen at this desk for two years, three feet away from her friend Vincent.
The light switched on.
Yasi spun. She had never met him before, but Wotcha had described him from the time Vincent was spending with her. It was Owen.
"Find anything interesting?" Owen asked her. He seemed nervous, but not surprised. It was an odd combination of emotion given the fact that he wasn't supposed to be there, and she wasn't on staff.
But the question had been asked, so Yasi took advantage. "Who is Officer Grey?"
Owen shrugged. "Someone I know."
"Mm. He was looking into the murder of a small time Loan Shark named Monroe. A case that was just closed with the suicide of the killer this morning. I'm betting the Precinct call sheets will say that Grey spoke to you just before, or soon after." She seemed to relax, but her hands were free, inching toward her weapons... "Discuss anything interesting?"
"This and that. Nothing that should concern the great Yasi; Lightning of the Lostkind." He grinned at her.
Yasi froze. He knew her name.
"But you had to go and get curious, didn't you? Tell me, was Monroe's fate really so interesting, or did you just want to give your pet McCall closure? Even after two years?" Owen waved that off before she had a chance to answer. "Doesn't matter. We've got far more interesting things to deal with right now, don't we? And McCall... won't be part of it."
Yasi turned and bolted for the window.
~oo00oo~
Vincent was on his way to the restaurant, when he got a message on his phone. He checked it. It was a photo of Connie, in her underwear, with a naughty smile on her face. She was holding up two dresses to the camera, a red one, and a black one. The message read:
Getting Ready for Tonight
.
Any Preference?
Swallowing automatically, he quickly answered:
Black
A moment later, he told the cab driver to take him home. He knew he wouldn't catch her before she left, but if she was in a playful mood, then he wanted to make a greater effort than putting on a tie over his work clothes.
~oo00oo~
Yasi knew the Rhythm as well as she knew her own pulse; both in the Underside, and in New York. She knew where the traffic would be this time of night; where the most pedestrians would be walking; where all the cameras were placed, what time and what speed the trains were running...
Her whole body focused on her motion. Everything was motion. Her long stride ate up the length of the rooftops as she ran. The wind was against her, blowing in off the river. She cursed the wind for slowing her down. And cursed herself, for not being faster.
She had none of her traveling equipment. Some Ninja fought with a hook on a long chain, able to strike at long distance. If you used that on the right jump, the right street, you could clear a huge multi-lane road instead of having to go the long way round. She had to take the long way, and hated it.
She lost a few seconds waiting for a truck big enough to not notice her. That got her across the Midtown traffic, but riding a train would be faster.
"Come on!" She urged herself. "Come on!"
She didn't know what was happening, but knew it wasn't going to be good.
~oo00oo~
"Tonight is going to be good." Vincent told himself in the mirror.
He was glad he went home first. Changing into a nice suit, a quick shave to get rid of the five-o'clock shadow, some new aftershave… He looked better than he had in a long time.
"So." He said to his reflection, feeling happier with his life than he could remember. "Gold cuff-links; or silver?"
He checked his watch, and quickly decided on neither. Connie was probably waiting for him at the restaurant by now. They were never on time, either of them. Since getting together, they'd had no qualms about blaming their lateness for events on each other. But tonight was a special occasion, and Connie was almost certainly looking forward to it as much as he was.
Hurrying down the steps of his apartment building, he went looking for a cab, walking in the general direction of the restaurant.
~oo00oo~
The train moved as fast as she wanted it to, but Vincent's house wasn't at the door to a station. In that part of the city, the buildings were close enough together that she could leap it, but she was wearing out from the speed run. She saw the street she needed and leaped off the speeding train, into power lines. They were strong enough, and had enough give to break her speed without cutting her in half. She twisted her body sharply to avoid the opposite set of wires, inches away from electrocuting herself. The contortion cost her hands the grip, and she landed badly, falling fifteen feet from the power lines.
Swallowing the scream as her legs twisted under her, she forced herself to keep moving. Her eyes focused on a payphone. Staggering towards it, she searched her leathers for a coin. She didn't have one.
Not bothering, Yasi snap-drew her sword and slashed the payphone open. Coins rained out and spread across half the sidewalk. She grabbed the first one her fingers touched and picked up the receiver.
~oo00oo~
Vincent was whistling to himself as he looked over his shoulder for a cab, yet again. They were supposed to be everywhere in this city.
His cell phone rang, and he answered it. "Hello?"
"Hey, it's me." Owen's voice answered brightly. "Just wanted to see if she got there in time."
"She who?" Vincent asked in unconcerned confusion.
"Doesn't matter." Owen chuckled. "Goodbye Vincent."
~oo00oo~
Yasi heard the line connect, and got a busy signal. Letting out a frustrated sob, she hung up and started moving again, looking for a car she could flag down, a motorcycle she could hijack, a child on a bicycle she could mug…
"Too late." She croaked. "I'm too late. God, Vincent, I'm sorry!"
~oo00oo~
Vincent felt his head explode suddenly, and he dropped to the ground, his eyes rolled in opposite directions as his skull cracked against the pavement.
An inhuman growl filled his ears as something picked him up savagely, thrashing him back and forth like a wild dog with a bone. His head cracked back and forth from the shaking; he honestly couldn't tell down from up.
Another explosion erupted in his ribcage, and he heard the sounds of bones snapping. The pain hit him a moment later.
He was shoved back down again, fire racing through his whole body, except for his stomach, which was made of ice. His skin was prickling with something horribly, there was a wet, sticky feeling from his clothes, and he saw six of everything.
And what he saw came straight out of a childhood nightmare.
His attackers were vaguely humanoid, but not human. They had gray rubbery skin, and didn't seem to wear any clothes, apart from thick black gloves. Their hands and feet seemed webbed somehow, and their faces were unformed and expressionless; except for enormously large red eyes that glowed with an unnatural inner fire. They were terrifying, cold-blooded beasts, and at least three of them were closing in for the kill. There was the sound of metal on metal, and one of them drew a long, wicked blade, already stained with dried blood.
They closed in on him, and Vincent pathetically waved an arm, trying to make his limbs move. He couldn't gain enough air to scream over the tight pain across his ribs…
Thwapp!
One of the Monsters howled as a crossbow bolt speared into its stomach, the others quickly spinning around to face this new enemy. Vincent couldn't see anything in the dark, but the Monsters could. The one with the throwing knife hurled it into a dark shadow that Vincent could barely make out, and there was a shout of pain. It was a familiar voice.
The Monsters went into the dark, suddenly becoming invisible in the shadows, and emerged a moment later with Wotcha. She was thrashing around like a wildcat, the long blade embedded in her shoulder. She grasped it with her good arm and yanked it out, slashing back at her attackers.
The monsters threw her down next to Vincent, and the blade went skittering. Wotcha came up with a can of pepper-spray, and a heavy webbed foot came done on her hand, smashing the old woman's grip. Wotcha howled, and sent a bleak look to Vincent, who could barely focus his eyes enough to look back at her.
"Where's the crossbow?" The Voice of The Monster was a cross between Darth Vader and a feral wolf, savage and hungry for blood.
Thwapp!
Another crossbow bolt speared out of the dark, and missed completely.
"How could you
miss
!?" Wotcha roared, indignant. "I was the perfect diversion!"
The Monsters turned again, and Tecca emerged from the shadows, running in terror down the street, clutching a crossbow that was almost as long as his arm.
Vincent expected them all to chase after him, but they paused professionally, to check on their target.
On me!
A clinical part of his mind thought distantly.
I was the target!
"How's he?" One of the monsters growled; with a voice that didn't sound human.
Vincent wanted to rear back in fear as the nearest one got in close to his face, the huge red eyes coming unnaturally close. "He's alive, but won't be for long."
"Let's kill that kid before he gives us away." The Leader hissed, a low vacuum sound that made Vincent's hair stand up on end. "Kill the Watcher too."
Three of the monsters took off after Tecca, the wounded one holding his stomach around the bolt, collecting the knife from where it dropped.
Vincent rolled his head to the left barely; saw Wotcha fumbling for something in the folds of her clothes. The Monster that stayed stomped on her again, kicking her hand out of her pocket. Vincent heard her cry out futilely, unable to get a deep breath. But in her hand was a flare gun.
"What?" The Monster blinked.
Wotcha pulled the trigger, and a bright red light flashed out, faster than his bleary eyes could follow, as it smashed into the monster's face. It may not have been a bullet, but the flare canister was big and heavy and moving fast enough.
Vincent passed out.
~oo00oo~
Yasi half ran, half limped to Vincent's apartment building, knowing he wasn't there, but having no idea where else to go. For a long helpless beat, she just stared up at his windows. He had moved since the last time she'd visited. It wasn't even the building she knew as his home. It was a home and a life he had had built for himself after letting her and her world go, building a future with somebody else.
And he wasn't there.
Frustrated, she shut her eyes.
What do I do now?
"Help!" She heard a voice yell. "Somebody help me!"
"Tecca?" She hissed to herself in disbelief, quickly hurrying out into the street. The familiar boy was running for his life, clutching an unloaded crossbow… with three armed Riverfolk giving chase.
A demonic grin crossed her face. The panic was gone in an instant, and the pain in her legs went with it. Without a trace of her limp, the warrior woman stalked out into the street, casting aside her long coat. There was a ring of cold steel, and her blade was drawn.