Chương 20: Bk 1 Ch 18: Coercion

The apartment is pretty nice, probably close to twice as big as mine. It's two bedrooms, one of which has been converted into a home gym, and even has its own washer and dryer. I can see how it would still feel like a major downgrade to someone who'd previously owned a house, though, and the furnishing feels pretty half-hearted; the living room contains only a single sofa, a small table, and a TV, leaving plenty of empty floor space.

There's definitely a bit of a temporary feeling about it, even though I know it's been occupied for more than six months. I give the place a quick search just in case there's anything obviously incriminating lying around, but I'm not really expecting it. Then I settle down on the sofa, conveniently placed against the wall opposite the coat rack, in the front door's blind spot. I end up waiting a little longer than I expected, around twenty minutes or so, but not too long.

Eventually, the door rattles as it's unlocked, and it swings open. A man walks in, closing the door and flicking on the lights without looking behind him. I wait for him to finish hanging up his coat with a sigh before I speak.

"Good evening, Officer Maloney." To his credit, he's got his gun out and pointed at me before I even finish speaking. He doesn't lower it, even as he registers what he's looking at. I'm sure he knows it can't actually hurt me, but the noise would still attract plenty of attention that I don't want. He glares at me silently for a few seconds, while I stare back impassively, my legs crossed and my hands folded in my lap.

"Schwarzschild, I presume?" he asks eventually.

"Correct," I reply.

"Working late again, I see? I do hope the department is paying you overtime. It really is a travesty, isn't it? Alimony and child support for a child that isn't even yours. You'd think the law would have treated you better, after all you've done for it." He snorts.

"Not very subtle, are you?" He glares for a few seconds longer, then slowly lowers his gun.

"Pretty well informed, though. Alright, I'm listening. What do you want, and what are you offering?" I hold up my hand, and a roll of bills appears in it, two hundred dollars. I toss it to him, and he catches it, briefly examining it.

"That's for hearing me out," I say. Another, much thicker roll of bills appears in my hand, and I show it to him before making it vanish again.

"This is for telling me what I want to know. Everything the Franklin Police Department knows about me and the Sun Eaters, I want to know as well. What your plans are, how much you're putting into the investigation, how hard ABRA is leaning on you for results. Two thousand a month, as long as the information keeps coming."

"I'm not assigned to that investigation," he replies after a moment.

"I'm aware. Get yourself assigned to it, and maybe we can renegotiate rates. For now, you'll just need to exercise a little creativity." He stares at me for a moment longer, then says, "Five thousand." I tilt my head slightly to the side, the best way I can emote behind my mask.

"After you just told me you aren't actually assigned to the investigation?"

"That makes my job harder, not easier. You're not gonna get much information if I get caught snooping in records I'm not cleared for, are you?"

"You've yet to demonstrate that you can tell me anything at all."

"Two thousand now, for whatever I can tell you off the top of my head. Then another twenty five hundred after I actually have a look around. Forty five hundred a month after that."

"One thousand now, if you can actually tell me something useful. Another fifteen hundred later, and twenty five hundred a month after that."

"I can always just tell the Chief about your little visit, instead. Fifteen hundred now, four thousand a month."

"I can always just kill you and see if the next prospect is more agreeable. Three thousand."

"Please, we both know killing a cop in his own home is more trouble than you can handle. Thirty five hundred."

"Done. Fifteen hundred now, two thousand more after you come through with the rest."

"Fine." I stand and approach him, he puts his gun away, and we shake. Then I make the roll of bills reappear and start counting out fifties and twenties.

"Fifteen hundred, as agreed." He counts it as well, examining the bills for any signs of counterfeits, but they're all real so far as I know. Eventually, he puts them away in his pocket and nods.

"Alright. I'm gonna make myself some damn coffee first, so get comfortable." I have a seat at the table, watching as he putters around the kitchen and deliberately ignores me. I let him play his little game without reacting, and after about five minutes, he sits across from me with a steaming mug, conspicuously not asking if I want one.

"Well?" I ask. He takes a long sip before replying, then sighs.

"Dammit. Alright. So, the guy in charge of the Sun Eaters case is Sergeant Miller, he got assigned to it sometime last month after that thing at that party. But the guy who's been looking into you the longest, insisting there was a new black mask in town before there was any hard evidence for it, is Detective Turner. He's convinced your case is gonna make his career, so he's giving it a hundred and ten percent. Don't remember who else is on the case, but not more than three or four others."

"Like I said, I dunno how much they've actually got on you personally, but if I had to guess? A big bunch of fuck-all. Doubt they would've treated finally learning your name last week like a big break, otherwise. They're not even a hundred percent sure your power is really gravity manipulation. I know they got some files from ABRA, dunno if they got any matches in 'em, but the grapevine is that Turner's been in a shitty mood the last few days, so I'm thinking probably not.

Most officers are still pretty sure you're an out-of-towner, but some are starting to think you might actually be a local." He observes me carefully for any reaction, and I carefully show none. The more he can figure out about me, the higher the chance he'll double cross me, especially now, right at the beginning. After a moment, he continues.

"The gang, we know a bit more. Those three guys that idiot Valkyrie pulled in- or, I guess two guys now- they're still persons of interest. Dunno how much observation they're under, but I haven't heard about any warrants. Heard some talk that they've maybe ID'd a few more potential members, but I don't remember any details. I know they've been squeezing anyone pulled in for possession in west Franklin in the last couple months, dunno if they've actually gotten anything.

There's also that shark Sterling, but no one's quite sure exactly how close his relationship with you is, or when it started. In terms of size, we're assuming somewhere in the neighborhood of a couple dozen to a few dozen members."

"As far as ABRA goes, the original instructions were to keep an eye out for an unknown Syndicate magical. Working theory now is that you were already stalking Firestorm, either from a grudge or just to eliminate the competition, and used that little shitshow with the Syndicate as cover to knock him off while staying under the radar. We've been told to prioritize you over Surf 'n Turf for now, just in case you make any rookie mistakes.

So far, the only other thing we've done that I know of is tell Pine Creek and West to keep an extra careful eye out for any gang activity. Heard a little talk about setting up some sting operations, but nothing concrete yet." He shrugs.

"That's about all I can think of off the top of my head." I nod slowly.

"What about the Syndicate and Surf 'n Turf? Have they changed their behavior at all recently? And what can you tell me about Barracuda and Obsidian in particular, that isn't already public knowledge?" I ask after a moment.

"Syndicate's pretty much business as usual, as far as I've heard. Surf 'n Turf seem like they've given up on trying to take territory on the north side of the river, but I dunno if that's because they're building up against you, or just because they finally realized they weren't doing anything except throwing away people. Don't know a whole lot about Barracuda or Obsidian, that's not my case either.

But I have heard that Barracuda's originally from Washington, and she came here trying to get away from the Syndicate. She definitely wasn't happy when they started moving into town. Obsidian's supposed to have history with the Chicago Outfit, but I dunno if that's true." There are other questions I want to ask, but I can't get too specific without giving things away.

Even asking about general procedures would reveal that I lack that experience, and it sounds like they currently think I might be significantly older than I really am. Instead, all I say is, "I see. You've been helpful. Now, I need a list of all the persons of interest related to the Sun Eaters, preferably with whatever the investigators know or suspect about them. Anything more you can learn about Surf 'n Turf is also welcome, but that's a secondary priority.

Do that, and inform me immediately if you hear anything new, and the second payment is yours." A cellphone appears in my hand, prepaid with cash by one of Mark's people. The only number in it is a similar prepaid phone which won't be used for any other purpose. Officer Maloney stares at it for a couple of seconds, then reaches out and takes it with a sigh.

"Yeah, shouldn't take me more than a few days."

"Then I believe our business is concluded for now," I say, standing.

"Schwarzschild," he says as I turn to leave. I turn back.

"You go after any officers, and I'm going straight to the Chief, even if it means my ass."

"Understood," I reply cooly. I turn and leave through the back door without saying anything else. I'm actually somewhat reassured; now that he's drawn a clear line in the sand, he's much less likely to find his conscience as long as I don't cross it, which I wasn't planning on doing anyway. It's not too late, not even nine o'clock yet. I'm meeting Elliot later tonight, but I might as well take care of a couple things now since I've got time.

I pull out my personal cellphone, noticing a message that my prepaid minutes are almost used up; I'll probably just dispose of it and have an entirely new phone bought for myself, just to be safe. For now, I dial one of my contacts, the call picking up after a couple of rings.

"Samuel Sterling. How can I be of assistance?"

"Apologies, I must have dialed the wrong number. I hope I didn't disturb you."

"Not at all, have a pleasant evening." It hangs up with a click, and I nod; that means he's available to meet. Instead of flying to his office, I fly to his house. He volunteered his address himself, a display of trust I appreciate. It's also useful not to have to keep going to his office in my civilian identity.

It's not a huge risk, the building his small office is in contains another dozen assorted offices all accessed from the same entrance, but the connection is still one I want to avoid strengthening even indirectly. He assures me that he was in no position to turn down clients before signing on with the Sun Eaters exclusively, so the fact that there are a few pieces of paper somewhere with both our signatures on them shouldn't matter as long as I don't do anything to make myself stand out. Mr.

Sterling lives in a small house in southeast Franklin, just a few blocks from Pine Creek High. I land in his backyard and tap lightly on the door. He opens it quickly, ushering me inside, only speaking once the door is safely closed behind us.

"Welcome," he says, smiling slightly.

"I hope you were successful?"

"I was. We agreed to three and a half thousand per month." He hmms.

"A bit expensive, but not unreasonably so. Any initial return on the investment?"

"A little. Assuming he's right, the cops are looking in the completely wrong direction. They're trying to match my power and weapon with known magicals from other cities." Unlike a costume, those things can't be changed.

"Useful, although I expect they'll try other approaches when that fails to pan out. Still, the longer it takes for them to realize that you're native to Franklin, the more difficult it will be for them to narrow their search. What else?" I tell him, having a seat in his living room. Most of it is stuff that Mr. Sterling was already able to discover on his own, or at least suspected, but it's good to have confirmation.

He agrees with me that Officer Maloney is most likely to stay turned for now, but stays firm that it's not something I should absolutely count on.

"You should make turning a second officer a high priority. Having two informants gives you a degree of warning if one double-crosses you. Three or more is even better, since you can never absolutely guarantee that none of them aren't already on someone else's payroll."

"I agree in principle, but our finances are already starting to get stretched a little thin," I reply.

"I assume we're still on track to buy the community center?"

"Yes, the deal should be closing within the next week. It may prove to be less of a financial strain than anticipated, though. There's been quite a bit of interest from the local neighborhood, in the form of both requests to rent the space and outright donations. In the end, I suspect the center will bring in enough legitimate income to pay for itself, or nearly so."

"Good to hear," I say, nodding.

"What kind of groups are looking to rent it?"

"I have a list. Give me a moment." He stands, rummaging around in the other room for a minute, then comes back with a notepad. I take it and glance through it. Several of the groups, I recognize as being linked to various members of the Sun Eaters, like Anna's yoga class. But I'm a bit surprised by how much of a minority they are compared to the completely organic applications.

Apparently everyone from an alcoholics support group to a bridge club for retirees to a swing dancing class is interested in renting a relatively large, low-cost space. Mr. Sterling and Anna really did do an outstanding job drumming up interest. I pause over one entry in particular, an idea tickling at my brain, then turn the notepad around and show it to Mr. Sterling.

"Make sure this guy gets approved."

"As you wish," he says, considering the entry for a moment.

"Any reason in particular?"

"Call it a favor for a friend," I tell him. He simply nods, not questioning it any further.

"Beyond that, you should still have plenty of room to increase your revenue without recruiting more members, especially now that you've begun hosting your own events. I have a few recommendations…" I wrap things up and head out a few minutes before 10, heading for the park where I always meet Elliot, and then out into the countryside. He doesn't bring up Anja right away, but when we spar, he definitely puts a little more energy into it than usual. I don't mind, it's good for him to let a little frustration out.

After a couple of loses, he even manages to nail me with an arrow for the second time.

"We've been over this, I'm fine, seriously," I say, waving off his apologies.

"I know what I signed up for, I need some incentive to keep improving too. You did good. You should try getting annoyed more often, it makes you fight better." He blushes.

"Sorry. I, uh, I didn't mean to-""I told you, it's fine," I interrupt.

"But now that you've gotten it out of your system a little, you wanna talk about it?"

"I…" He sighs.

"I dunno. I…" He hesitates, sighs again, and then asks, "Would we still be friends if I weren't a magical?" I consider briefly how to answer, then say, "Honestly? Probably not. But we'd also have a whole lot less in common if you weren't a magical, wouldn't we? Just because a friendship is based on one specific shared thing doesn't mean it's somehow fake."

"And… what about Anja?" he asks.

"Would you have forgiven her so easily if she weren't a magical?"

"That's a more complicated question, and I'll explain why in a minute. But I think what you're really worried about is that I might just be using you, right?"

"... I guess, yeah," he says, looking away.

"Then lemme promise you, right now, that I won't ever pressure you to get more involved with the Sun Eaters," I say. He looks back at me in surprise, and I shrug.

"I won't lie, I think there's a solid chance you'll choose to join eventually, officially or unofficially. But it's your choice, and I'm not gonna stop being your friend if you decide you'd rather keep your distance. It's not the reason why I became your friend, except in the sense that you never would've agreed in the first place if you didn't have at least a little bit of… flexibility." He's silent for a few minutes, then laughs slightly.

"That helps a little, I guess. Thanks. It's just, you seem like you've always got a plan or something, you know? And sometimes it's hard to feel like I'm not getting dragged into it. Every time we hang out, I always have to wonder if you've got some kind of angle you haven't told me about."

"Sometimes I do," I tell him bluntly.

"If I'd been completely upfront with you the first time we met, you never would've agreed to be friends at all. Same with Anja, if you'd known who she was going in, you would've looked at her completely differently. But the point hasn't ever been to trick you, just to ease you into things a little. And the fact that you're pushing back a little is good. You're right, I do keep dragging you out of your comfort zone, but the bigger your comfort zone gets, the less it'll happen." He snorts.

"I kinda feel like I should be offended, but… I guess you're not really wrong. And I don't want you to think I'm, like, ungrateful. These last couple of months have been… Well, honestly, they've probably been the best of my life, at least in a real long time. But at the same time, I kinda wish you'd warned me to be more careful with my identity around her. I know it's mostly my fault, I should've been more careful anyway even if I didn't realize she was a magical, but…"

"No, you're right, I should've handled that more carefully as well." Anja was the one who started it, after all, and I already knew she doesn't exactly have the best judgement. I should've anticipated that she might do something to give herself away, although I had kind of assumed that Elliot at least had a little more sense.

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't think she knows anything for sure, neither of them have asked about you at all or acted weird otherwise. It's Lisa who was suspicious anyway, I dunno how much she's managed to convince Anja she's right, and I think she was mostly just scared you'd figure out who Anja is and turn her in."

"I wasn't planning on it, but… part of me does still feel like I should," he says. It's not phrased as a question, but I understand what he really wants to know.

"You asked why I forgave her so easily," I say.

"Part of it is just that I sympathize. I did something very similar, just a couple of weeks after I became a magical. It was at my first rave, a couple of guys cornered me and another girl outside and wouldn't take no for an answer, so I punched 'em. At least I wasn't transformed, but I still didn't realize how strong I was. Someone found 'em a while later, still unconscious, and they wouldn't wake up. Turns out knocking someone out doesn't work like the movies, where they wake up and they're fine.

I never found out what happened to them, if they recovered or not. So I get how easy it is to hurt someone by accident, especially when you're stressed."

"... Damn," says Elliot.

"But that was, like, self-defense, right? I don't think anyone would really blame you for that. Um… Do you think your guy was trying to, you know, with Anja?" If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

"He better damn well not have been," I say, scowling.

"I made it extremely clear to all my people that that kind of shit wouldn't fly. I'm not sure exactly what happened, but I think it really was some kind of legitimate accident on her part. But that's not the main reason. See, it turns out those two guys were actually my first introduction to the Wildfire Boys. Every single interaction I had with them was like that, or even worse. It's why I decided to be… thorough, when I finally tracked down their hideout, and I don't regret it.

The problem is, Anja's brother was in the Wildfire Boys."

"Oh, shit," says Elliot, his eyes widening.

"You… killed her brother?"

"I don't know that for a fact, but most likely," I say.

"I'm pretty sure that's the real reason why she went after Ryan, to try and get to me. I won't say that means it wasn't her fault, but… Well, I'm honestly more worried about earning her forgiveness than I am about whether or not I should forgive her. I think you could make a pretty strong argument that the world is objectively better off without the Wildfire Boys, but that doesn't mean she'll see it that way."

"Have you considered that you wouldn't be having these problems if you hadn't killed a bunch of people?" asks Elliot flatly.

"Even if they arguably deserved it?"

"Of course I have," I reply.

"But what's the alternative? They were about to leave town, thanks to Huntsman's ultimatum. If I'd let them go, how many people would they have assaulted or killed, before they inevitably pissed off someone else enough to get killed themselves? I guess I could've made an effort to only target Firestorm himself, but fights between magicals aren't exactly known for staying contained. Even our little sparring sessions could pretty easily kill a regular human who happened to be in the area.

You know strike teams use lethal force sometimes when they go after full gangs too, even if they try and minimize it."

"I…" He sighs.

"Look, I'm not, like, the best with words, but I still think 'don't kill people' is a rule you should do your best to follow."

"It's not like it's something I do at the drop of a hat," I say.

"I haven't killed anyone since I wiped out the Wildfire Boys, no one's done anything bad enough to give me a reason to. But, you know, most people don't object to killing nearly as much as they pretend to. It all depends on the context. Soldiers go off to war and kill people, and then they come home and we thank them for their service."

"Just… Forget all the philosophical stuff for a minute, okay? How do you, like… do it? How do you just… kill someone, and not be bothered by it? I just, I… I really can't imagine being okay with that. I feel like I deserve some credit here just for not completely freaking out at this whole conversation."

"... It's really not as hard as you think it is," I say eventually.

"In fact, it's easy. The first guy I killed was pointing a gun at me and Cassie. In the moment, all I cared about was removing him as a threat as fast as possible, and that's what I did.

'As fast as possible' doesn't really mix very well with holding back, especially for magicals. If it'd just been me, maybe I would've tried something different, but I wasn't gonna risk Cassie's life for his sake. And then afterwards, I was mostly just glad she was safe. I never really felt any need to dwell on it, if he didn't want to escalate things then he shouldn't have pulled out that gun."

"... Jesus," says Elliot, shaking his head.

"He was a Wildfire Boy too?" I nod.

"I mean, I still don't really like any of this, but I guess I'm starting to see why you were so pissed at them. I dunno. Let's not argue about it anymore right now, I'd probably just lose anyway, and I'm not even sure you're wrong, but… I don't want to be like that. I don't want to have to find out whether I could kill someone to protect someone I care about."

"Then I hope you never have to," I say.

"But Anja's got a similar view as you, and she's… she's having a real hard time coming to terms with what she did. She does a good job of hiding it, but it's really eating her up inside. I want to try and help her figure out how to forgive herself, and then maybe she'll be able to forgive me as well. The only reason I invited you along the other day was because I thought both of you could use another friend. I guess that'll probably have to wait until she knows who I am now, though."

"I guess, yeah." He looks away, and thinks silently for a long time. I don't rush him. Finally, he turns back to me.

"Will you promise me something?"

"What?"

"Promise me you won't kill her, even if she finds out who you are and doesn't forgive you." That's a dangerous promise to make. My civilian identity getting exposed would bring everything crashing down faster than almost anything else. But not making the promise would be just as dangerous, because Elliot feels like he's at a tipping point. If I don't give him this, a line I won't cross, I don't think he's ever going to fully trust me. And just as importantly, I don't want to kill Anja.

The safer thing to do, maybe even the smart thing to do, would've been killing her during our fight. But if I were the kind of person to do the safer thing, I would've just registered with ABRA to begin with. I'm not going to compromise away my vision of the future piece by piece. Some risks need to be taken. So I nod and say, "I promise."

"Thanks," he says, and a little bit of tension goes out of him.

"I doubt there's really much I can do to help, but I hope you do work things out with her somehow." Elliot definitely seems like he's in a better mood by the time I fly us back to town. I feel like I've passed a bit of a hurdle with him. It's certainly still possible that things will go wrong somehow in the future, but he's now pretty much fully aware of what he's getting into with me, and it hasn't scared him off.

Like I told him, I'm definitely not expecting him to sign up with the Sun Eaters tomorrow, and in fact it would probably be a disaster if he did. But the more comfortable he gets with me, the more disillusioned he'll naturally get with the system that's been screwing him over for pretty much his whole life. The deal on the former church and new community center does in fact go through just a couple of days later, on Friday.

It leaves the gang dangerously short on cash, but Mark fortunately already has a few parties and stuff lined up to start moving the ecstasy we bought from the Syndicate. I'm expecting it to sell fast, and it should increase our revenue significantly. I DJ one of the parties myself Friday night, a house party thrown by a few guys who all rent a big place together. It seems like a cool setup, one I wouldn't mind trying out myself once I'm eighteen.

The event isn't huge, maybe thirty or forty people at the busiest, but Cassie tells me she still made upwards of five hundred dollars by the end of it. Assuming our other dealers are having similar success, our cash reserves should be pretty comfortable again by the end of the weekend. Unfortunately, it turns out cash isn't the only thing they've brought in this time. Saturday night, I get a call from Mark asking me to come meet him ASAP. I'm just doing homework for a change, so I head over right away.

When I get there, I find Zach and AJ waiting for me, too. They look nervous, but I hide my irritation at yet more apparent consequences from their fuckup; they've already paid more than enough for it.

"Hey, boss," says Mark.

"Might have a problem. These two have a message they're supposed to give you."

"A message?" I ask.

"Yeah," says Zach.

"From Surf 'n Turf. They say they wanna meet with you. Except, uh, it sounded like they weren't really asking." He offers me a slip of paper, which I take. It's got an address on it, along with the words Sunday at midnight.

"I see," I say slowly.

"Why don't you tell me the entire story?" Apparently, they were dealing at another college party in south Franklin. This one was even further from Surf 'n Turf's territory than the previous one, which suggests to me that they've been actively looking for us. In fact, they're pretty sure it was the same lieutenant from before who gave them the message, so it was probably the two of them in particular that Surf 'n Turf noticed.

That means they probably haven't managed to identify any other members, and it's reassuring that their reach is a lot shorter than the Syndicate's, but it's bad news for Zach and AJ personally; both the cops and the other gangs are now focused on them as a means to track down the rest of us.

"What d'you think they want?" asks AJ when they've finished.

"Hard to say," I reply after a moment.

"A message is better than an attack, even if it's an ultimatum. Hopefully, they just want to clarify exactly where we stand. But I wouldn't be surprised if they make demands."

"You're planning on going, then?" asks Mark.

"Yes. Even if they are hostile, it's best to know exactly how hostile. And even in the worst-case scenario, I may be able to buy a little extra time to prepare."

"Could be an ambush," he says.

"They're welcome to try." I turn back to Zach and AJ.

"The two of you should consider moving, ideally somewhere that doesn't require your name on the lease. The cops certainly already know where you live, it's not unlikely that Surf 'n Turf might as well."

"Right," says Zach, scratching his head nervously.

"I got some buddies I might be able to crash with for a while." AJ nods as well.

"What'll you do if they do want to start a fight?" asks Mark after a moment.

"Fight back," I say.

"There's a limit to how far we can withdraw and how quiet we can stay before it starts to seriously impact our business. If they're just testing us, we need to prove that we're not worth the trouble. If they're more committed than that… We'll see. But you should start reaching out to your people, and ask them who's willing to fight if it ends up being necessary. I'll pass the word to the others as well." The next night, I fly out to the meeting.

At least the spot Surf 'n Turf picked for the meeting is mostly neutral, the roof of the event center in the city fairgrounds, closer to the eastern edge of our territory than to the western edge of theirs. I arrive early, around fifteen minutes before midnight, and fly all the way around the place a few times. Nothing seems obviously out of place, so I hover a couple hundred feet overhead, waiting to descend until I see a pair of figures jump up onto the roof.

Like when I met Huntsman, I land about twenty feet away from them, and we all keep our weapons out for a few seconds while we study each other. Barracuda's costume is one of the more revealing I've seen, almost a bikini. She's wearing boots that go up to her mid-calf and an open skirt that flares out a little behind and to the sides, sort of evoking fins, all of it made of silver fish scales. Her mask covers her lower face up to her eyes, fashioned like a gaping jaw filled with rows of needle-sharp teeth.

Her brown hair is up in a ponytail, and if I had to guess, I'd say she looks around eighteen. Her weapon looks like it's made of bone, an inward-curving sword serrated with teeth similar to the ones in her mask. I know she has water magic of some sort, but I haven't been able to find out any further details. Obsidian is a stark contrast, covered from head to toe in a suit of shiny black armor, including a full-face helmet. His weapon is a sword as well, an enormous greatsword with a blade matching his armor.

I know more about his magic, which lets him summon sharp spikes from the ground, and potentially from other sufficiently solid surfaces as well. There's rumors that the two of them are a couple, but none that I've been able to verify. Both of them have been magicals for a couple of years now, so it's no surprise that they're considerably stronger than Firestorm, Elliot, or Anja. What is a surprise is that they feel only barely stronger than me.

The sense I get from them isn't at all like what I got from Huntsman, where I knew with certainty that he could kick my ass without even breaking a sweat. I'd give myself decent odds against either of them alone, although I obviously can't take both at once. I wonder if I really am growing that quickly, or if their power has just already plateaued, which Huntsman implied was a fairly common occurrence. Eventually, Obsidian dismisses his weapon. I follow suit, and then Barracuda a couple of seconds later.

"So," he says, stepping forwards.

"You must be Schwarzschild."

"I am," I say, coming to meet them and stopping when we're around six feet apart.

"I apologize for our unfortunate first encounter. I hope we can come to an understanding." He hmms.

"I'm glad to hear that, but I'm sure you know how rare trust is for our kind. Neutrality isn't something we can afford. If you're not an ally, then you're an enemy waiting to happen." It's a very black-and-white view of the world, but I do understand where he's coming from.

"Allies might be too strong of a word, at least to start with," I say.

"But I'm not opposed to building business ties."

"Allies are what you're gonna need, if you don't wanna get swallowed by one of the big fish," says Barracuda.

"Only reason the Syndicate hasn't already offed us is cause we're together. But we're gonna need more than just the two of us when they come for us in force." That tells me two important things. First, they don't know I've already made a deal with the Syndicate. Second, whatever her grudge is against the Syndicate, it's serious.

"If you expect me to make a difference in a fight against the Syndicate, you're going to be disappointed," I reply after a moment.

"Every little bit helps," she says, shrugging.

"If you wanna beat the Syndicate, the first step is convincing enough magicals that they're beatable. The two of us have been enough to stop 'em from taking any more territory in Franklin. With three, we have a real shot at actually pushing 'em all the way out. But it's gotta be soon, while their big guns are stuck up in Washington." Even if they can somehow rally enough independent black masks to match the Syndicate's numbers in the next year or so, they're never going to match them in power.

I'm not about to tell her their plan is completely delusional, though. Instead I say, "I was under the impression that your conflict with the Syndicate was dying down." She snorts.

"There's no such thing as peace with the Syndicate. They like to play at being all nice and reasonable, but they never ask anyone to join twice. Once you make it clear you're not interested, their next step is to wipe you the fuck out." Now we're getting to the heart of the matter.

"You have history with them."

"You're goddamn right I do," she says.

"Started off in this gang up in Tacoma, the Party Crashers. It was me, and Smokescreen, and Blitz was the founder. I'd only been in for a couple months when the Syndicate rolled into town, asked if we wanted to sign up. We said thanks but no thanks. So they started pushing, and we started pushing back. But after a couple more months of pushing, Smokescreen got it into his head that we couldn't win, and maybe we should make a deal after all. Blitz said fuck that.

So Smokescreen went and fucking sold us out, piece of shit led Surtr straight to us. Blitz kept 'em busy enough that I managed to make it out. Dunno what they promised Smokescreen, but what they gave him was a bullet in the back of the head. That's how they think. If you can switch sides once, you can switch sides again. Once you're their enemy, you're their enemy forever."

"You aren't making a very good case for becoming their enemy," I say dryly once she's finished. It's Obsidian who responds.

"It's like I said at the start. If you don't jump to sign up right away, you're their enemy by default. I won't tell you my whole backstory, but all the big cartels think that way. Your only two choices are to fight back, or bend over and take it. And you don't strike me as the type to just bend over and take it." I don't think they're necessarily lying to me, but they're certainly biased.

That doesn't mean I should just blindly trust Huntsman, of course, but the impression I've gotten from him so far is that he puts a lot of effort into saying exactly what he means. Either way, the reality of the situation is that I can't fight the Syndicate, not right now, and not for a long time even under the absolute best-case scenario. I have to commit myself a hundred percent to working out a deal with them, because if I can't, my remaining options won't be pleasant.

And given what Barracuda just told me, that means playing along with her to buy myself some extra time is way too risky.

"You've given me a lot to think about," I say eventually.

"For now, the only thing I can promise is that I have no intention of joining the Syndicate. I want to take some time to consider things. How can I contact you when I'm ready to meet again?"

"That's not gonna work," says Obsidian.

"I told you, trust is a rare commodity for our kind. What if you make a deal with the Syndicate and set us up? Took us a long time to find one of your people and pass a message, they won't be far behind. We won't force you to give an answer tonight, but if you wanna meet again, you're gonna have to give us some insurance."

"Insurance?"

"As long as there's a chance you might join the Syndicate, you're dangerous. Off one of their people, and we'll know for a fact that won't ever happen. You can have a couple weeks to think about it, but if you take too long, we're gonna have no choice but to assume you're siding with them."

"And what exactly are you offering, if I side with you instead?"

"A full partnership," he says immediately.

"You seem pretty strong. Join us, and we'll give you an equal say in running the gang. Join the Syndicate, and you'll never be anything but their bitch."

"Generous," I acknowledge.

"Look, I get it," says Barracuda.

"You'd rather just mind your own damn business, right? But the Syndicate isn't gonna let you, not forever, so we can't either. You gotta pick a side. And I guarantee if you listen to them, you'll regret it. I was there when Huntsman came and talked to Blitz, all friendly and reasonable. Don't buy the act. He'll put a bullet in your head with a smile the instant Surtr tells him to."

"I appreciate the warning. If and when he does approach me, I'll be on my guard. If there's nothing else?"

"No," says Obsidian.

"I hope for your sake that you make the right choice." I nod, then shoot away into the air. Only then do I let myself frown. Firestorm was an easy enemy to hate. Barracuda and Obsidian are going to get themselves killed and they're trying to drag me down with them, but I still can't help but sympathize with them a little. The smarter thing to do in their position would be to run, maybe try and start over again somewhere further away, or maybe sign up with some other big cartel.

If it did come to it, though, I'm not sure if I could force myself to swallow my own pride like that. And it will come to it, unless I dance perfectly across this tightrope I'm on. It's a frightening thought, but it's also exhilarating. No one forced me step onto the tightrope. I chose it for myself, and my fate is entirely in my own hands. Sympathy or not, if only one of us can have Franklin, it's going to be me. There's no doubt in me at all about that; I can't afford it anymore, and I can't afford to flinch.

As I fly home, I start preparing for war.