The crowds are thin today, surprisingly. Obviously officially, regulation is to evacuate any area they can where an event happens and leave the capes to fight the crime, so they should be entirely empty. But unofficially, there’s always the thrill seekers who will sneak back in as close as they can anyways.

Usually, when there’s some activity in town, there’s a crowd of people trying desperately to see their favorite capes in action. Well, waltzing around post-action. Only idiots want to hang around while it’s happening, where they could get froze to death, or ate by a manticore, or whatever. But a relatively benign baseline criminal, already sealed away, usually won’t stop people trying to get a signature of one of the top capes around. 

And yet, there’s no crowd for me to blend in with, no mobs for me to hide behind. I still try to look as casual as I can walking down the street by myself. The last thing I ever want to do is be perceived, after all. Doubly so during a raid! Hence, the costume.

No one knows about this side of me, not even David or Katherine. And I work very hard to keep it that way. As far as they know, I’m still slinging coffee as some kind of java ronin.  

I’ve been at this for years now, and I learned my lesson when I almost got caught after my first few raids. Some schmuck fanboy took a photo of a cape with me lurking around in the back rooting through the garbage. Turns out that fanboy was my boss’ son; I somewhat managed to convince him to keep it (and the photo) to himself at the cost of my cushy barista job.

So, lesson one, make sure no one can tell it’s you out there, even if you get caught. Every rookie’s first idea is to go with a hoodie, baseball cap, sunglasses, bandana. The kind of things that scream ‘I am either a scalper or I am about to rob you at knifepoint.’ Sure, they’re good for hiding your features, but the goal is to blend in, not stand out. You may as well be wearing a balaclava at that point. 

I, however, was a theater kid in high school, and that stays in your blood forever. That’s a big advantage! I know how to do costuming, makeup, and I have enough acting skill to handle bit parts as background monks and fishwives (surprisingly difficult to convincingly be both a fish and a wife!) And best of all, little-to-no masculine pride left to bruise that hadn’t been beaten out of me by middle school. 

So, the mops got ripped outta the side closet in my bedroom, and a second wardrobe started getting built up instead. Never smart to keep it too static, so it’s ever growing and shrinking; use a few times and then purge it. A guy dressed like he’s about to tag ‘worldstar’ on the side of a crime scene may stand out, but a ditzy fangirl is a dime a dozen. Luckily some people still mask up in the city, so I can cover my face without suspicion. Add some cutesy hoodies and hats, a little eyeliner to change what’s left on my face they can see, and some padding here and there to change my body shape. Mix all that with throwing my voice to be as sweet and feminine as I can, and suddenly I’m entirely unrecognizable, while still blending right in with the crowds that naturally gather around these things!

Or at least, blend in when there’s people around. But it’s a total ghost town. I expected to see at least some cops around at some point, or some barriers. They usually (and very annoyingly) rope off any area that the capes have even thought about too hard. I expected to have to weave though the Central City PD goons at least, if not the Heroic and Investigative Patrol grunts. Still, better safe than sorry. I zip up the cute kitty cat-eared hoodie I’m wearing, tighten the laces on my pink chucks, and break off running into the back alleys when I start making out the mess Jackknife left out and about. 

I’m fine back here, bobbing up and down on the fire hatches, over fences and under awnings. I basically know this city like the back of my hand at this point. That’s lesson number two: no reference guides, no help. Leave your phone at home, nothing that can be tracked or alert the news drones. Besides, this skirt’s too short for pockets anyways. The seller forum I’m on has the infamous story of the scalper who literally used his GPS to walk him to crime scenes so often that his digital footprint tipped off a villain. Imagine nearly dying to someone as scary as Viral Load, and then going to work to see everyone you know making fun of you for it. Sucks to be him, but I’m gonna make sure that ain’t me.

I know I’m where I need to be when I see loose cash littering the alley. I peer around quickly to make sure I’m still clear. No sign at all of CCPD or CCHIP, or any news drones hovering around. I’m completely crystal. I spot my prize up in a particularly thick tree, right before the backway merges to the main road. Damn, if I knew I was going to be climbing I’d have worn pants. At least I had the forethought to put some modesty shorts on, too…

I climb up another fire escape, one that touches what looks like a nice, firm branch. A little shimmy leap to it and I’m on. I can feel my heart pulse as the branch sways a bit, but it holds firm. I shimmy my way over to the base, straddling the branch with my legs, before climbing up at the trunk just a body length up. There, inside the foliage of the tree just starting to turn brown, is a bright little black and red trucker cap. I reach out, it just within my fingertips, gripping onto its snapback. Got it! A quick inspection of its design shows that it’s unique too! Don’t have to worry about getting proof it’s genuine this way. Not with text on the front that reads: “Women want me, CCHIP fear me.”

I shove it into my backpack, and do a quick scan for the bandana. It would have been extra lucky for it to have been with the hat, but I won’t complain. A score is a score, after all. However, I don’t see anything, so I start to shimmy down the floor. It’s best to get going right away. It’s tempting to try and hunt for extra items or scoop up some of the loose cash, but incredibly foolish. Wasting time hanging around is just more time for the cops to catch you, and using stolen cash is a direct line to a jail cell. I’ve had enough close calls while milling about that I learned to get in and get out. Lesson three, don’t get greedy. 

I’ve nearly made my way down to the bottom branches when a loud explosion rattles the area; it seems to have gone off just a street down across from me. It’s powerful, though. The explosion can be felt in the entire street around me, and I lose the grip I had on the branches of the tree as it shakes. I fall down to the sidewalk below me, landing hard on my side. Pain erupts from my shoulder, jabbing deep little spikes into my spine. What the hell was that! That couldn’t have been Jacknife, right? The event should be long over! 

Slowly I get back to my feet, pain erupting when I even think about moving my right arm. Damn, it feels horrible. Might have even dislocated it… Running isn’t going to be an option for me. 

Before I can decide what to do, the building in front of me breaks, a figure being thrown through the glass facade of the little restaurant, and another leaping out after it. I scramble behind the tree, breath catching in my throat. No, no no no, this isn’t supposed to happen. There’s never two events in the same day! 

Panickedly, I peer around the trunk, trying to hide behind it as much as possible, but still find out what’s going on. Lesson four: never be in the dark, know everyone there's to know with capes. You never know what you’ll run into while scavenging. 

The person who got tossed is lying on the road just a stone’s throw from my hiding spot, but blocked from view by the other cape. The other is standing above him, weapon drawn, pointing down. A glistening sword that almost seemed made of glass, short and thick, held by arms that slowly fade from glass down to skin. That means the one with the upper hand is a hero, one of CCHIP’s newest, Shiftra. A woman dressed vaguely like a valkyrie, golden hair flowing in the wind, strappy boots planted firmly on the ground. “You’re done,” she calls out to the figure on the ground. “This is the end of the road, sweetheart. Did you really think you could keep this up for months without us noticing?” She pivots, circling around the man on the ground, giving me a good look at…

Black schlubby jumpsuit, disheveled and hastily thrown together, with a deep green bulletproof vest thrown on. Fingerless gloves show gnarled, blackened digits, one hand held up to block his face, clad in a mask-helmet with deep green scales pressed into it. Almost never seen in public, but kept in the discourse by endless most wanted alerts and high danger warnings. Basilisk, villain code level red; extreme caution advised, all defensive force authorized. One of the most dangerous villains around, and one of the only ones who have never been captured. Just feet away from me. 

“I wouldn’t come any closer, Shfitra.” He waggles his fingers at her slowly. “Unless you want your lungs to be more mycelia than tissue.” His voice is all gravel and confidence, but he’s still shrinking away from her. He’s hurt. More than that, he’s nervous. 

She gives a haughty laugh, pressing the sword up towards his throat. “Empty threats, Basilisk. You’ve never met someone who dared to throw you around like a rag doll then? Gawd, how pathetic. First person you can’t scare with that little party trick of yours and you melt.” 

He glares up at her, a snarl on his lips. “So you’re going to put me in a cell, then? Stick me in a zoo with the rest of the animals?” 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? We could bury you six feet underground and you’d just waltz out of that. No, I have clear orders.” She hesitates, looking down to the ground for a second, before staring at him with daggers in her eyes. “This solution needs to be permanent.” What. No, that’s not how they’re supposed to operate. He's down! I grip the edge of the tree harder, leaning in further. 

Basilisk snarls, gripping the ground, trembling. The area under his hand cracks, blisters, starts to fade and powder away. “Another cover up then? Off a few witnesses, destroy a few feeds–”

“What witnesses!” She gestures around her, pointing everywhere. “Your little plan backfired! There’s no one around for miles, not a single camera in the sky, no one to watch us. What’s to cover up, that someone who’s threatened to kill so many people lost a battle? You wanted to operate in the shadows, Clark. Now you get to die in them.” 

She lifts her sword up above her, ready to swing down. I… This isn’t right. This isn’t how it should work! He’s dangerous, yes, obviously. But in all the events involving him, I can’t remember a single casualty he’s caused. And even then… 

Before she can slice him in half, I hobble out from behind the tree, making my way as fast as I can down to them. “Wait!” I shout, trying to make my way to them. “I’m a witness! Please, don’t!” 

I expected to see the shock on Shiftra’s face, but the worse shock on Basilisk takes me by surprise. Minutes ago he was facing death with a steel gaze, but now he looks horrified. “No,” he mutters under his breath, before he looks up and shouts. “Run, kid, get out of here!” I ignore him, making my way over. 

Shiftra backs up, lowering her sword, clearly panicking having been seen about to play judge, jury, and executioner. I use the space given to stand in between the two of them, staring her in the eye. “I… I’m just…” she says, before looking between her sword and me, hardening her glace. It seems like she’s decided on her position now that the shock of being caught is wearing off. “Move, civilian. Think about what you’re doing. You’re aiding and abetting a monster.”

I try my best to block her from him, but my shoulder is starting to scream at me, so I’m hunched over gripping it. Still, I hold still. “No. He’s down, you can take him in. You don’t have to do this.” I know he’s a monster, but I can’t let this happen. It’s not right. “Please, you don’t have to do this.”

She hesitates for a moment, before snarling. “Forget this, I don’t have time to be playing around!” She pivots around me, lunging for Basilisk. Everything moves into slow motion for a minute. I yell out, leaping, hoping to push her over, push her sword, stop this from happening. I feel myself impacting with her, us both falling to the ground, her on top of me.

Everything is quiet, calm, still. She and I are eye to eye, her hovering above me, her mouth parted lightly. We both look down at the same time, looking at her arm, holding her sword, bent inward, plunged directly into my heart. I grab it with both hands, it slicing effortlessly into my palms. I don’t feel it at all, though; I don’t feel anything. She trembles, tries to roll off me, to pull the sword with her. It must be impaled into the ground hard, though, because instead of coming out clean, it gives an audible creaking whine before shattering completely, showering me with little shards poking everywhere.

She stumbles onto her ass, looking at me on the floor, at her trembling hands, then to Basilisk laying beside me. Eyes as wide as saucers. “No… I… I didn’t mean to… I…” 

I spit up blood in response. Breathing is getting really hard all of a sudden. Panic strikes her face, before she stands up, wings sprouting from her back, her taking off up into the sky, leaving us here. 

I pull on the sword, as little good it would do me; the little it slides out mostly just unpins me from the pavement before a warm wet pool floods out underneath me. I can vaguely hear Basilisk getting up beside me, yelling for me to wake up, slapping my face, trying to shake me awake. But I’m fading fast. Everything is getting dark and blurry, the veins in my eyes going visible and taking over my vision.

At least I got my lessons up to a clean five now.

CassieSandwich

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