2.10

“Take a right, then it’s at the end of the —” I hear a crash over the comms. “The street,” Rory finishes, panting heavily. I feel a little bad for making him do this while trying to fight a monster.

A little. “Remember, it’s the tattoo parlor,” he reminds me over the radio. As I round the corner, jogging into a more commercial area inside the quarantine zone, I see the parlor. It’s strange to see something like this in such an upper class area of the city, but apparently the neighborhood pretty much unanimously agreed it was a nice place.

It looks like a nice place, too, in the sense that the place looks particularly expensive. They have a nicely-decorated nameplate hanging above the door, the windows are clear of flyers and clutter. From what I can see out here, the booths are clean and the desk up front is nice and tidy.

The place is also, at the moment, infested with Nazis. And from the way they’re moving around the lobby, this isn’t a new development.

Three of them. They seem nervous, at first glance, but they lounge on the couches and mess with the equipment like they own the place. They’re also all openly carrying firearms.

This is a good sign. For the most part. It means Einherjar might still be here.

It also means I’ll have to be careful not to get shot. I’ll need to be quick. Maybe I can use the tattoo chairs?

Something like that. No time to plan. As I come up to the parlor, I break into a sprint. When I reach the front door, I’m running full tilt, bursting through with a bang and heading straight for the guy closest to me.

All of them cry out, not expecting my advance, and I’m able to get my hands around the first guy’s tactical vest before any of them can react. I fall back on my meager judo training, shifting my grip and heaving him overhead, slamming him onto the carpeted floor with a hard thud.

Before I can seize my momentum, though, I feel my head snap to the side with a frightening amount of force, and belatedly, a harsh bang filters into my mind.

One of the guys farther into the shop holds a handgun pointed at my helmet. I feel myself getting a little hysterical, but I try to shove it down. I kick away the gun laying next to the guy I flipped, and then dash back behind the front desk, the sound of gunshots and small geysers of wood chips following behind me. I take a moment hidden behind it to take a breath and listen.

I hear the two remaining Nazis whispering to each other during a pause in the gunshots, and then sudden footsteps. Are they approaching the desk? I tilt my head upwards.

A gun barrel slides over the counter and down towards me. I react, grabbing the barrel and pulling it down and away from me, barely avoiding the shot my assailant gets off before I rip it from his hands. Then I spring up from behind the counter, tackling the other one over the desk and onto the floor. His head hits the ground hard, and I think he goes out cold. It’s easy to snatch his handgun and quickly aim it at the only one left standing.

I don’t actually know how to use a gun, but I’m not planning on shooting him anyway.

“On the ground,” I say, panting. He nods quickly, and drops.

I quickly fumble with a ring of zip-ties stashed in my utility belt. Two of them are out cold, and the last one doesn’t resist.

I consider knocking him out, too. He absolutely deserves it.

Something cold lodges in my throat.

I don’t knock him out. After I’ve finished zip-tying them, I head into the back. There isn’t a lock or anything in the back room, and for a second I think I’m going to have to find a secret room or something, but no.

The hideout is here. Einherjar is not.

I feel a hot flash of rage flicker beneath my skin.

The back room is very obviously connected to Front 18, maybe as a hangout, or a safe house. Minor bits of equipment, vests, weapon attachments, all of it lies scattered around the room. On the desks, tables, some of it sitting on the floor, and all of it decorated with their distinct yellow, black and white colors.

As well as the gear, it seems like they left behind some documents. Walking over to peer at the paper littered over the desks, it looks like leftover internal paperwork. Heavily redacted.

Is that odd? This is supposed to be a gang.

I clench my fists. This is basically nothing. They took everything important and left — maybe they were already gone by the time we got there. The disturbance at the nearby checkpoint must have been them leaving, not an initial encounter.

I raise my shaking hand above the counter.

“Motherfucker!” Papers flutter off the wooden surface, gliding to the concrete floor.

I take a breath. It’s fine. Next time. Next time.

Next time.

Sighing, I spread my hand flat against the wood grain. I should probably call this in…

Something catches my eye, nestled underneath the remaining paperwork. A small, black notebook, tied together with a slightly mangled ribbon.

I take it, on a whim. Opening it, it seems… coded? The main body of text is illegible, but it looks like someone already took a crack at decoding it, and left notes in the margins. Their work is definitely subpar.

Guess that makes sense? From what I can understand, the notebook documents…

I squint. Is that…?

Front 18 movement records, specifically as they relate to Einherjar. And… a psychological profile?

My eyes widen. Who did they take this from?

I snap the notebook closed, and, impulsively, slip it into a pocket on my belt. Then, I check in.

“This is Redline, reporting in. I found the Front 18 hideout, it’s just leftover equipment and some… documents I can’t really make sense of.”

My radio crackles. “Good,” I hear Rory’s voice respond. “I’ll notify USMW on my end. Be advised, the Brightheart Hero Association has arrived on-scene, and they will be handling suspect apprehension from this point forward.”

I sigh. Great. “Got it, Rory.”

“It’s Shield Warrior on the field.”

“Whatever you say.”

The comms cut out. I resolve not to tell them about the notebook. Not yet.

—

“I don’t fucking get you,” Olivia spits abruptly on our way to the changing rooms. “How come all of a sudden now you’re on board with the whole crime fighting thing?! Like, three days ago you were getting all pissy about me beating up that robber — and then on literally our very next mission you absolutely have to go after the Nazi for completely pure and just reasons, I’m sure.”

I don’t respond, even as we enter the room and I take off my helmet.

“What happened to the fucking confidence, y’know?! You used to be so — so manly, back in high school! And now, it’s like —” She cuts herself off as I hang up the helmet. It strikes me as weird, actually. I turn to face her, and she’s staring at me with something foreign written across her face.

“It’s like you really did die in that accident. I don’t know you anymore. I don’t even know if you know you.”

I don’t mean to, but I end up letting the silence hang. “...I don’t. I never did. It was an act,” I say honestly.

Her face crumples. “All of it?”

I think back to that last year, before Sera died.

“No. Not all of it.”

Olivia heaves out a sigh, shoulders shuddering behind her ducked head. Then, she pulls herself inward, and stabs a finger into my chest. “You better pull yourself the fuck together, Red! I’m not gonna be teammates with a bitch who doesn’t know what she wants!” She shouts, turning and marching into one of the changing stalls, grumbling something obscene under her breath.

I stare at her as she leaves. She just called me Red? And used my pronouns? And called me a bitch?

Even as I start walking towards a changing cubicle on the other side of the room, I can’t really keep a slight smile off of my face.

—

Something I would have never expected from Rory; he is absurdly good at Tekken. So is Eva, actually, but I’ve come to expect that from her over the past few weeks. Rory, on the other hand, I would not have guessed in a million years.

“How are you even doing this; there’s so many fuckin’ buttons!” I shout, wrestling with the old Xbox controller. Eva cackles and Olivia smirks from her spot on the sofa, pretending to ignore us.

“There’s only around twelve on the controller —” Cooper points out, as Rory hits me with a low and I forget to block.

“The move list is like seven pages!” I retort, watching my character pull himself up off the stage’s floor. At least I’ve learned Rory’s preferred wake-up move by now, he’ll definitely go for another low. And even if he doesn’t, his character’s normals are pretty slow.

“You absolutely do not have to know all of the moves in order to be proficient,” Rory points out as his fingers contort over the controller and his character throws out a blinding move wreathed in special effects that I’ve never seen before. It kills me instantly.

I slide to the carpet from my spot perched over the back of another sofa, dropping the controller to the cushions in front. “Oh my god. Oh my god. That’s not even a real move. You made that up.”

He chuckles. “That move was introduced in Tekken 2.”

“Fuuuuck,” I respond. “Eva, avenge me.”

“Yes, ma’am!” She snatches the controller. Eva’s much better at this than me.

“Punch him!” I shout encouragingly.

“Go low!” Cooper calls out next to me, pointing out a route for Rory.

The fight is heated, so much so that I barely miss the moment Eva kicks the controller out of Rory’s hands and his character goes down on-screen.

“Sorry. Didn’t see that coming,” Cooper says.

Rory lets out a put-upon sigh while Eva and I cheer.

“Well, I think this might be an omen,” he says, collecting the fallen controller. “Who’s taking my place?”

“Olivia hasn’t gone yet?” Cooper suggests.. We look at Olivia. She rolls her eyes, and motions for Rory to pass her the controller.

Olivia’s not good at the game, but she plays a grappler, and only Rory knows how to tech grabs.

“Don’t let her grab you!” I suggest. Eva’s character gets thrown across the screen.

“Try blocking?” Eva blocks reflexively and gets grabbed again.

“...Dodge?” Olivia’s character uses a different grab this time. We have a collective moment of silence.

“Augh!” Eva exclaims. “Red!”

“What do you even do against that?” I mutter.

“Fuckin’ die,” Olivia comments, smirking.

Eva throws the controller at me. “Your turn!”

“Huh? Wait —” Olivia starts the game and sumo throws me immediately.

“Rory! How do you break grabs!” I plead. She throws me again.

“You just —” I accidentally press a button, and my character breaks the grab.

“Nevermind, I figured it out,” I say, starting a really basic combo.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Eva chants, grabbing my shoulders. I drop the combo.

Olivia throws me again.

“Ugh.” Eva and I sigh simultaneously.

“I have work I need to finish,” Rory announces, standing to leave. “I’ll see you all in the training room.”

“Love you too!” Eva calls sarcastically, waving.

“Actually, I also kinda need to do the worksheet still,” I say. I’ve been putting it off.

“Oh, you too? Help me with mine, I don’t get it,” Eva insists.

“Neither do I,” I point out.

“Help me anyway! We’ll get it with the two of us!”

“That’s not how it works,” I mutter, standing from the couch. “Buh-bye you two.”

“Bye,” Cooper chirps, while Olivia fake-yawns.

I had actually been planning to look at the notebook tonight, but as Eva snags her laptop from her room and steals my bed, I scrap the idea. The cipher’s complex enough that it’d probably be a good idea to come up with an excuse that lasts more than a couple days in a row.

Not for the first time, I wish I could talk to Vincent. He loved ciphers. He didn’t get much time off from work usually, but both him and Sera had a thing for puzzles.

Whatever. I’ll make it work on my own.