Ochre Fountain 4.3
"Fuck you want?" Tall said, the two other red clothed members turning with him, arraying at his back.
I paid, my enhancer activating. I scratched at my cheeks and upper neck, and looked back and forth, checking the street. "My fix, man."
"Money, bitch." Behind him I saw the Flames go inside, followed by over half the gang. One of Tall's associates held out a small plastic baggie, with white powder in the bottom. He shook it in my general direction.
I held out a five.
He grabbed my extended bill, and pushed me back. "Fuck is this? Bring back real money."
I stumbled back, and left, muttering under my breath, glancing over my shoulder as I walked. The trio had gone back to laughing.
Drugs.
I went back to where I hidden my clothing, and pulled it out from underneath the plywood, and used it as a pillow. My disguise released, falling away into my shadow, and I pulled a scarf out, wrapping it around my face. A quick nap to recharge, and for it to grow dark.
I woke up, to daylight. I had slept all the way through the night. It sure explained why I was so damn cold. I got up, and saw the moon over head.
What.
I pushed my bag back underneath the plywood, rolling my shoulders as I stood. Surprisingly, I wasn't sore from sleeping on plywood. My full pool seemed eager, too. I had that feeling of missing something again. The connection between things. Things I couldn't grasp. I walked to the gangs last location.
The cars from earlier this evening were still there. Either they had spent the night, or there was a new Endbringer, tentatively titled, the goddamn Moon. Or, in what seemed to be more and more likely, I could see in the dark. Not just see in the dark, but see everything like it was high-noon. Half the street lights were out, and I could read the plates on the cars across the street. I checked up and down the street, and walked to my find. I crouched, looking at the date on the paper. Still Tuesday the 17th. I could officially see in the dark. And read a newspaper in the dark.
I stood back up, looking at the building the gang had entered. Three stories, the bottom's large storefront boarded up and covered in graffiti. The upper two stories still had lights on, and I could hear music coming from inside. The rest of the street was nearly abandoned, with only a few of the buildings having any lights on at all, with the few that did only having a solitary light, or two at most.
I discorporated, moving through the shadows. Almost had it. The feeling of making a connection, of understanding was so damn close. I looked back up at the lights. No one noticed me, especially here, with the nearest street light several dozen yards away. I crouched, running my hand through the shadows, which to me, were as bright as day. It wasn't a disguise power, or my quick change and not get hit power. But it was so damn close.
I paused. I burnt the remainder of my inner, scraping a bit from the outer. Perfect.
My body had become shadow, not for a brief instant, but holding steady. I moved, a snake of shadow across sidewalk. I found a chain link fence, and passed through it with easy. I reached to my face, and pulled my scarf off, watching as my arm solidified into its proper shape, before returning to flickering shadows after I tied it back on.
I couldn't help my grin. So cool. And something I could use, right now. Something I could use to put a halt to something, even if it was only a tiny victory. Something I could be proud of, my dad would be proud of, my mom would be proud of. I sprinted across the street, avoiding the pools of light. I was a silent wave, and I bounced, a stream of shadows, on to a car, an awning, and finally the roof next to my target. I slid across the roof, skirting the lights put out by windows. I slid down the wall behind the buildings, and found what I was looking for.
The breaker box. It was unlocked, and painted bright red. I opened it, and flicked every circuit breaker off. The music inside cut off, and I heard muffled yells. I tore out each and everyone, cradling them in my arms. I snaked away, and dumped them behind a set of trashcans.
Back to the building. I passed the breaker box at its back, and turned, coming down a alley that opened onto the street. I could see a flashlight illuminating the gang's cars. I slipped, silent, down the alley, but paused when I saw the door on the side of the building open, and a cone of light hit the opposite wall. My heart nearly stopped, and on instinct, I hid behind a line of trashcans, a flat surface, eyes barely peeking out from behind as the red jacketed man past me by, cursing. So, light is bad.
Easy enough. The door was closed, but it didn't have weathering on the bottom. I slipped underneath, flat as paper. I had hallway, and to my right was a large kitchen. I could tell by one stove burning a ball of flames about the size of a cantaloupe. More flashlights, too. I shot underneath a metal table in the middle of the room, reforming into myself on the crossbar.
"-taking him so damn long?"
"Because he's fucking stupid."
A shout from outside was audible, and the burner clicked off, the smell of burning gas ceasing. The two men with flashlights left, heading outside. I guess the found out about the lost circuit breakers. I slipped through the building, navigating with ease. It might as well have been perfectly lit, for my eyes. The bottom, which had clearly been a restaurant was decorated with a spray paint mural, and trash scattered all over. The layout hadn't changed, at least, and back in the hallway, I snuck up the stairs, a bouncing stream of shadows. A reverse slinky, almost.
I reached the landing, and heard low voices, I peaked around in to a room, eyes not an inch off the floor. A large TV dominated the room, and the couches and boxes (Milk crates, on second inspection) were occupied by the vast majority of the gang. The smell of food, alcohol, and some sort of chemicals blasted it out of it. Faint lights, lighters and pipes of some sort, briefly illuminated the dark, and ruined their night vision. Looking at cell phones, or using them as ineffectual flashlights didn't help either. A quick scouting of the floor revealed rooms full of beds, or even bunk beds, and lockers and trunks scattered around as well. Rooms for the peons, then. I ascended to the third floor.
Much larger space. It could be called a loft, if I was using the term correctly. Hung sheets, bookshelves, and half-walls separated the top story into a very large living room, and what I assumed were two bedrooms. A pair of couches set into an L were occupied by Orange and Black Flame, along with three girls. Girls, not women. If I was accurately reading them, they didn't particularly want to be here.
Especially with those two groping them, and trying to stick their tongues down their throats, even with the power out. A radio, from a boombox covered the rather unpleasant noises. Well, I'd give them something to take their mind off that. I slipped into one bedroom, right underneath a sheet. A pair of mattresses stacked on the floor worked for a bed, and several dressers faced it, along with a goodly collection of shoes.
I was tempted to do something, but received a better target. A large trunk, black, open. Rolls of bills, and paper bags like I had seen earlier occupied it. A single handgun was in the corner. Hmmm. I stripped the bed of its pillows, and had a brief moment of bemusement at the flowery pillow cases. Then I took them off, and stuffed the money in one, and the paper bags full of drugs in the other. I repeated my action in the bedroom over, ending up with a half full bag of money, and two full pillow cases of drugs.
I slid downstairs, carrying my finds on my back. Very odd feeling, being a length of sludge, going downstairs. I made it to the bottom, and peeked into the kitchen. No one, still. Several bottles of alcohol, clear to brown, were on the far counter. I set the bags of drugs next to them, and pulled a dirty pot over. I poured several bottles, marked with larger numbers in, and then put it on the burner. I could hear talking outside, and rummaging in trash cans. I pulled a box of matches to me, running out of time.
I dropped the bags of drugs into the partially filled pot, and turned every burner on, wincing at the heat and light. The latter seemed to burn me more than the heat. I slid to the door, opening it for my getaway. Moving back to the stove, I lit a match, and flicked it into the pot. The alcohol ignited, and the light burned me. I barely restrained a scream of agony, as the light tore at my shadow flesh. Right, light bad. Shouts from upstairs reminded me that it was time to go. They would have heard and smelled that.
Grabbing my bag of money, I fled, a whip of shadows across the alley and street.
A/N: Charm post below.
