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GM

 

The inside of the tumbledown building looked very much like the outside, except worse. The smell was enough to putrify Arrowhawk's nostrils, so one would imagine that the Nose would be tortured. Inside, it was cool bordering on cold, with dusty air that seemed to do an excellent job of holding dirt. 

 

The scared woman was huddled in a rag blanket that looked like it was harbouring lethal microbes and probably was. She was admittedly slightly less scared. 

 

The Detective was sitting by her, in his trench coat, with pale silver eyes, trying to talk to her. A mixture of calm words blended with an insistance on trying to get the facts from her. 

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Arrowhawk shrugged off her invisibility, revealing the battered and bloodied woman to the detective and the homeless woman. What was visible of her face was smeared in blood and dirt, her armour rent in several places, some pale skin visible, but also a lot of dried blood. She was favouring one leg much more than the other.

 

"Most of the pursuers are gone, but not all. We need to get you somewhere safer," said Arrowhawk abruptly, knowing it seemed uncompassionate, but in too much pain and running too low on time to sacrifice brevity.

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GM

 

The woman got up, quite scared, trembling in fact. The detective calmed her down. "Don't worry, don't worry. She's an idiot, that's all. Not the dangerous type of idiot, the one that sucks their thumb and wears a silly hat" he said, kindly. 

 

Well, kindly to the trembling woman anyway. 

 

He turned to Arrowhawk, hands in his pockets, silver blue eyes glinting. "You remember me, right, Detective Marcus Moon. One of the good guys round here" he said, his voice soft but with a kind of velvet steel behind it, born of wisdom and intelligence. "What happened out there? Looks like you got the wrong end of some lead. And more besides. I hope you gave out as good as you got?"

 

He did not move but cast those strange silver eyes over her in more detail. Despite the dim light, his vision was apparently excellent. 

 

"You need medical attention. I'm no doctor, but I can try to patch you up. I know a bit..."

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Arrowhawk kept a healthy distance, looking the man up and down. "In this city? The 'Detective' is hardly a reassurance of you being one of the 'good guys'. Particularly when a couple of the hunters oh so kindly reassured me their father, the judge, would ensure nothing untoward happened to their freedom and reputation." She cocked her head, a wry smirk on her face.

 

She took a couple of steps forward, locking eyes with the detective, taking in the silver of them. She dropped her voice to a harsh whisper. "I've yet to see a Midgardian with silver eyes."

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GM

 

"No, it is not" replied Moon, in response to the quite accurate assessment of the police force of Bedlam. "And I can't change that. I doubt you can. Maybe nobody can, least, not today or tomorrow"

 

He looked back at the girl. 

 

"That's why we ain't going to get the police down here. Or get you patched up at a police station" he said, slow and deep. 

 

"I don't know what you mean about my eyes" he continued. "They are blue. Must be the moonlight" he smiled, knowing quite well that it wasn't the moonlight. And knowing quite well that Arrowhawk knew it wasn't the moonlight either. 

 

"Let's just say I got some ways of lookingf at things that are quite...unique..." he said, a smile now. "If you trust me, I can help you in the future. But I'm guessing you ain't really the trusting kind..."

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"I'm not," said Arrowhawk bluntly. "But..." She trailed off, looking thoughtful. She glanced over Moon's shoulder, seeing the woman there, looking vulnerable.

 

"It does not help her if we're at each other's throats until I collapse of blood loss. What was your plan? Because if you do not get her somewhere safe, the man in the metal mask is still at large. He is more dangerous than the children of wealth he drags along with him. I would likely be able to defeat him if I were fresh, but I had been shot with a sniper rifle multiple times before I engaged him, and he has had time to seek medical attention too." Osla eyed the detective, skeptical he had a plan that could withstand the tenacity and level of influence this group of hunters had amassed.

Edited by Ecalsneerg
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GM

 

"I hadn't much time for a plan" conceded Moon. "One step at a time. Getting her somewhere safe was the idea..." he looked around. "Not sure here is entirely safe. This is Shotgun Simon's digs. He is a crazy as they come, and, yes, he has a shotgun" he explained. "He isn't exactly safe, but on the other hand he usually doesn't have a bone to pick with the downtrodden. Usually..."

 

He was a little nervous now. 

 

"Best bet in a bad spot, however. And as crazy as Shotgun Simon is, he isn't as dangerous as the Man in the mask, and that guy in the shades. Yeah, I saw them..." he said, his silver eyes glinting. "I can see anything in the city, if its bathed in moonlight. Even you..."

 

"If they are still around, the city ain't safe. And you aren't in any position to hunt the hunters. Not today. Not even next week, by the looks of you. At least the woman is safe..."

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"For how long? This not a long-term solution, Detective," said Osla, a little angry at the notion she was in no state to fight. Was she not upright and walking? "It is barely a short term solution. She can not stay here."

 

Arrowhawk cautiously glanced back over her shoulder, not wanting to get caught by surprise. Or worse, shot in the back. "What was your plan long term?"

 

The implication he was able to see through the moonlight was going to have to wait until later, but she did not like having seiðmenn walking around the city without her knowledge. 

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GM

 

"Its not a long term solution, but its the only damn solution I have, kid" said Moon, irritated now. 

 

I ain't seeing bow-girl coming up with better. Maybe that thought was just in his head. Maybe he muttered it half-audibly. Such was his vexed reflex. 

 

He cooled down quickly though, giving a smile and a glinting eye. 

 

"I save one life, its a net win. Thats a good day in Bedlam. Much as I'd love to clean up Bedlam, I ain't got a plan for that, other than a nuke" he explained. "What's your plan for that?" he asked, his question having a taunting edge. It was, after all, easier said than done. 

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Arrowhawk tilted her head to one side, teeth bared. "We find a more secure safe house. Even another city. Remove her from the situation. Like you said. This 'Shotgun Steve' is not as dangerous as the man in the mask. He will go through him to get to her. He will go through me and you to get to her."

 

She took a step closer, using her full height and musculature. "Like you said. One life at a time. Only I don't intend to stop halfway through saving each life."

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GM

 

And as it happened...

 

Marcus Moon saw Shotgun Steve first. Such, it seemed, was the nature of his moonlit eyes. But Arrowhawk was not far behind, hearing the soft shuffling of feet. 

 

And the smell. 

 

Shotgun Steve was a hobo. And he dressed and smelled like the very worst of them. He had a stocky build of average height, and lank, infested hair that reached to his waist both from scalp and beard. He was dressed in thick and disgusting garbs, and was caked in dirt. 

 

And yes, he carried a Shotgun. 

 

His speech was cracked and garbled and without any hint of candendance or intonation. "Whotcha dooin here spi'in the beams gotcha inmahead gotcha aint getting in there no I gotcha you givin me dabeams?" he mumbled, eyes staring intently at the three of them...

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Arrowhawk moved slowly and cautiously, knowing her compromised armour probably wouldn't stand up to a shotgun blast. She pivoted to face Shotgun Steve, barely understanding a word he was saying. She glanced sidelong at the detective, part of her feeling vindicated that she was right, that this plan was foolish. Part of her was wary about the mess this detective had got them into.

 

"This was your plan?" she muttered.

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GM

 

"I had to improvise" said Moon, not so sure of his plan. 

 

"Calm down, Steve, we just here to help out this girl" he said, pointing to the shocked homeless woman who had started the nights proceedings. "She one of yours. Lives on the street..."

 

"Poor gal" muttered Steve, his hands still on his shotgun. "You gotta makesure they dont beam ya, girl..." he said, rather severely, to the woman. "Stay out of the lights. They beam ya if ya let them beam the FBI straight into your bones in the brain makes a stain stains bad real mixed up placebonic..." he said, his level of chaotic waxing and waning. 

 

"Wants she want.." he asked Moon before turning his gun to Arrowhawk. "No dont you answer, they probably got you with psychotronium big needle up ass...no...you!" he said, snapping at Arrowhawk. "What you doing here? Come to bleed over my carpet?"

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Arrowhawk looked a little blank, unable to decipher much of this man's ramblings, and also not wanting to set him off so she, or worse, the poor homeless woman, would get shot. "Steve, right?" She decided to appeal to the man's nature. The detective had mentioned Steve was at least kind to his fellow homeless.

 

"Have you heard of men hunting those who live on the streets? Chase them down for sport? Anything in that vein?" She spoke softly and slowly, not wanting to set him off.

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GM

 

Shotgun Steve scratched his long tangled beard. This was quite a feat given its length, tangledness, and filth. 

 

His shotgun did not move but one could detect something of an easing of his tension. 

 

"I heard o' em, sure. Damn scum. FBI I think. Or funded by them. The TV told me" he said, fairly certain of his conclusion. "Been doin it for a couple of months now. Ol' Shotgun Steven been extra careful, now. Nobody goin' to get the jump on me and my beauty here..." he said, stroking his shotgun lovingly. 

 

"Man, I hope he doesn't stroke it so hard it goes off..." muttered Moon with a little smile. Fortunately, Steve did not hear. 

 

"They been on the prowl again, tonight? I felt something in the air..." he said, sniffing at the moonlight...

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Arrowhawk cautiously took a couple of steps towards the man. Clearly he wasn't all there, while the men had links to law enforcement, they were clearly not members of it themselves. "Yes, they have been out tonight," she said, nodding to indicate she agreed with Steve's assessment. She gestured back at the homeless woman sitting, clearly traumatised her. "They were trying to kill this woman. I am here because I don't wish for them to succeed in their twisted goal. I do not want them to get either of you."

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GM

 

This time, the shotgun swept away, coming up to rest on Steve's shoulder and away from its previous targets. "Fair enougfh then. Maybe you ain't one of them alienators shut up" he muttered, putting a grubby finger in a grubby ear. 

 

"They come here, they get a barrel full of ol' beautiful, yer can be shure of that" he added, firmly. "They call me crazy, but I tell ya one thing for shure - I look out for the people o' the streets" he said, firmly. Despite every flaw and misfortune he endured, he shone with some nobility for a moment. 

 

"Whatcher goin' to do? Yer can sleep here. Ill even give yer a can of beans. Courtesy of Shotgun Steve" he added generously. 

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Arrowhawk looked at the man compassionately. She knew he'd try to fight them. He'd maybe get a few. But he was one man with a gun. "Steve, I don't think this place is secure enough. There's too many of them. Too well armed."

 

She glanced back at the detective and the homeless woman, before leaning in closer, speaking in a quiet voice. "You must have somewhere else you know, somewhere more secure."

Edited by Ecalsneerg
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GM

 

"Nothing secure here" answered Moon. "Out of town, maybe. Freedom CIty, perhaps. I know an Indian reservation where i have...contacts..."

 

He grinned and his eyes glinted like the silver moon. 

 

"I can hide you out a bit. The Bad Beat, maybe. Dick Young took it over last year after it burnt to the ground, Jazz club, used to be an old haunt for crooks but it's full of eclectics and musicians now. Can't say its secure, but it is anonymous" he explained. 

 

"Id still prefer to get you right out of town" he said to the woman, who nodded. 

 

"The question" he continued, stroking his stubble, "is how, and when?"

 

And to this, he looked at Arrowhawk. He spared a glance for Shotgun Steve, but whilst the man knew the streets of Bedlam like the back of his filthy hand, he wasn't exactly reliable, or safe. 

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  • 2 months later...

"Daylight," said Arrowhawk confidently. She turned and looked at each of the three in turn. "They won't hunt in the day. Too risky for them. Even with connections, even with guards, anonymity fades in the daylight. They'll rely on anonymity. Trust me," she said, standing before them in a costume and cloak. 

 

She inclined her head to Moon. "We get her to that 'Jazz club', hide out until noon, leave the city then. All we need to do is stay hidden and safe until then."

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GM

 

"Daylight" nodded Moon, in agreement. "They surely will not. I cant say I work to well in the daylight. More of a lunar man" he smiled, his lunar eyes glinting. 

 

"But you are right. The Sun shines and the scum scuttle back to their holes, at least for the most part..."

 

And so...

 

The Bad Beat it was. Old Dick (and his unaged cat, Young Pussy) was quite happy to oblige; at least for a day or two. Since it was Burned down and rebuilt, it had become a kind of Switzerland in Bedlam City. Possibly partially because no crook wanted the Burner, the crazed vigilante, on a warpath. 

 

Yeah, they could do with out that heat. 

 

Bdum dum tish! went the Jazz band drummer. 

 

And a day later, out of the city it was. Anonynimity in a busy daytime train. 

 

And that, it seemed, was a small victory. 

 

...for now...

 

~ Fin ~

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