A light breeze passed through me, rustling my trench-coat. I crouched down at the edge of the building and looked down on the city. The cover of night had fallen once again. Familiar.

  The time between the party and my solo mission had gone by in a flash. Now I was on the rooftops, waiting for my target to make their move.

  Something simple to earn me a few good-boy points in front of the public. Not even a villain, which was a shame. The League had intel about a small criminal gang planning a robbery. My role was to turn up as the alarms blared, give them a telling off and make the arrests. Pose for the cameras.

  The ringleader was a scruffy egomaniac with no other strengths other than being able to keep the gang together and focused on criminality. They had two bruisers who were Advanced, and then two base humanoids toting illegal firearms.

  Naturally, I wasn’t allowed to kill them - or even maim them in ways that might be upsetting for those watching at home. While the populace loved justice delivered with a clean right hook, they didn’t have the stomach for the broken jaw and blood splatters that often followed. All stage direction for my new role.

  The League had even booked in some ‘brooding’ time, which is why I was currently moping about up here rather than getting closer to the impending action. I didn’t mind the showmanship of it because of how ridiculous it was. So distorted from everything I’d been through that it felt childish, almost. Fun and games.

  Of course, getting shot up by some minor criminals would be a pretty sad way to cut my career short - even if I survived it. I still had to maintain my professional integrity.

  //Clara: Important message incoming.

  //Accept encrypted video file?

  The video player popped up in front of my right eye, the screen buffering for a moment before playing the file.

  A close-up shot of Warlock, the cat purring as he sniffed at the camera. His tiny kitten teeth showing as he thrummed in contentedness. I watched it for the full eight seconds.

  //Dubs: Appreciated. How does the mission look?

  //Clara: On schedule, Gunquake.

  //Clara: Two more minutes of posing, and then move to Point B.

  //Dubs: Understood.

  Roxy warned me that patrols would often be more of the same. Appear present and deal with minor crime that cropped up. Unfortunately, the League would take a dim view of me having a more proactive approach to apprehending criminals. I knew a few places I could shake down for some easy wins, but… I had to do as I was told.

  Or at least pretend to.

  I stood up and stretched out. My grappling hook had now been upgraded in range and velocity, for only a minor bulk and weight increase on my arm. It was now also braced through a system running through the back of my tactical gear, connecting to my cybernetic gun-arm. The chance of pulling my human arm clean off was now a lot smaller.

  Drum full of Nerve. Smoke and Flash grenades. An assortment of the usual utility cartridges, with a Sanguine stake as backup.

  There was the temptation to feel that this was below me. That I was getting soft in running these low-stakes missions that were less dangerous than my kill contracts where I had not even half the tech I did now. In some ways, sure. The chance that I’d die to a handful of thugs was low. But the scope of the stakes had just changed.

  I walked around the empty rooftop, keeping an eye on the streets below. Quiet at this time of night. If I were going to rob somewhere, I’d do it in the daytime when there was more chaos able to obscure my escape. Rather ironic considering I did all my contract work in the nighttime.

  The target of the robbery was a jewelry store, which sounded like a pain to steal from. Word had gotten out that the store in question was in the middle of a refit and the security would be lighter. It had been enough of a draw for a few opportunists to try their luck. I almost felt bad for them.

  I hopped down from one roof to a slightly lower one - a drop of twelve feet that I walked off as if I had just stepped down a curb. Along the length of this wide apartment building, and then I was at Point B.

  //Clara: Hold until targets are located.

  I nodded. The techie’s drone had been hovering above the area for the last twenty minutes, just in case the criminals were ahead of schedule. They rarely were. From this edge of the building, I could see the jewelry store across the road. Closed and shuttered up. I scoured the patches of light provided by the streetlamps. No pedestrians walking about. Few parked cars nearby due to part of the street being marked off for construction work.

  Arranged by the League, or the criminals? Wasn’t worth speculating over.

  //Clara: Alert. Visual confirmed.

  //Clara: Northbound.

  I looked over at the left side of the long street. There was a van approaching at a decent speed. Unmarked, inconspicuous gray. Blacked-out windows. I continued to watch as it mounted the curb and sped across the pavement, drawing to a sliding stop just before the targeted store.

  Of course, I had to wait for the crime to be committed before being able to do anything about it.

  Seemed inefficient, but I’d had enough lectures from the others about laws and insurance policies that it was just easier to go along with what the League wanted.

  It would have been more efficient for the robbers to drive slightly past the store as well, for loading the stolen goods into the back of the vehicle. I glanced at the surrounding apartments and office buildings. Oh well, this suited me.

  The doors of the van opened up and five individuals hopped out. Masks over their heads and paranoid glances at their surroundings as they rushed to the storefront. None of them looked all the way up here, but I knew enough eyes were on me. A short, candid movie the League of Heroes was directing. Clips would be posted to the news and all over social media by morning. Gunquake stocks on the rise.

  Sparks flew from the metal shutters as one of the bulkier individuals used something to start cutting their way in. There were a pair with small firearms keeping watch for interruptions, but I wasn’t sure they’d want to catch a murder charge over a robbery. That said, many criminals weren’t so rational.

  //Dubs: Confirm targets.

  //Clara: Van clear. Five targets. Leader is wearing a blue vest.

  Perfect. I was only slightly sour that I couldn’t just hit all five with a Quake shot from up here. Clara had been hesitant about agreeing to create a Nerve grenade, but one of those dropped from the drone would end things pretty easily as well.

  No show for those watching at home, however.

  Glass shattered, and three of the figures entered the rough flap of metal bent out of place. An alarm sounded, wailing through the night. They were on the clock now until the police showed up. Almost seemed unfair that I was already on the scene.

  I stood and stretched once more, my STAR already flickering through the necessary calculations. At the count of three, I took a step off the edge of the building, a hundred or so feet up.

  Grapple lashed out of my gauntlet, striking the building opposite exactly where it needed to. It reeled me in as I dropped, causing me to swing at an angle. A little precision to avoid painting the road with a bloody streak of Gunquake, but it went perfectly - the practice with the techie earlier paying off.

  My legs powered up, and I lifted them for impact.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  I skirted over the street and planted myself against the side of the van with a burst of my V-Force legs. The vehicle crumpled from the impact, windows shattering as it slid across the sidewalk by several feet. Smoke grenade burst up from around me just as the criminals were escaping the building with arms full of stolen goods.

  Dense smoke whipped around as I stepped out of it.

  [Sorry about the van.]

  Nerve shot straight to the neck of the first armed thug, knocking him out. The second raised his weapon nervously, right before Clara struck him with her drone's Tazer.

  “Fuck, a super,” the leader screeched, his eyes clearly wild and panicked even through the mask. “Get him.”

  To his credit, the two unarmed criminals darted at me with little hesitation. From their stances, they were probably boxers or had similar training. Their Advanced biology would have put them top of their classes, but my STAR didn’t even bother to grant them a Threat level visually.

  Something reflected in our brief scuffle. While Agent W was a fighter very rough around the edges, Gunquake sparred with a speedster and a strength super. My reflexes were sharp, and I knew when to take—and how not to take—a hit.

  I ducked the first jab and spun to sweep his legs out. Stood and blocked the second fighter with my gun-arm, which was something that hurt him a lot more than me. Empty cartridge popped from the chamber as I adjusted my positioning.

  //Clara: Target moving.

  Backed away from a clumsy hook, grabbing the outstretched arm and pulling him into my metal elbow. Thud. Lowered my gun-arm and shot the other recovering thug in the chest with Nerve.

  The leader had picked up one of the pistols and made a run for it. Down an empty sidewalk, he wasn’t likely to be successful - which was something he realized upon turning and seeing that I had knocked out the rest of his gang.

  [You cannot escape justice.]

  He raised the weapon, shaking.

  My grapple shot out, zipping past him and adhering to the sidewalk further past down the road with the expanding foam. Winches and gears spun up, and I ejected some residual power from under my feet. I drifted across the ground toward him at speed.

  He found the courage to squeeze the trigger. We exchange a single shot each before I collided with him. I slid across the ground, creating sparks as I turned, hoisting the unconscious man over my shoulder.

  The pulsing lights of the police on their way were already illuminating the street, several cars and a van speeding over. I walked the leader over to the rest of the criminals as the cops slid into position around us.

  “Gunquake,” one of the cops said, taking lead. “Thank you for apprehending the robbers.”

  I nodded and glanced over at the sidewalk where the discarded jewels and watches glimmered in the emergency lighting. All this for shiny rocks.

  [Just doing my duty, Officer. I’ll leave the rest to you.]

  He gave me a nod and started calling orders to the others as I laid the criminal down. I turned and fired my grappling hook up to another building, zipping myself out of the scene to escape to the rooftops.

  //Clara: Preparing our wetroom for bullet removal.

  //Clara: Vitals are fine for now. Get to the Meteor.

  //Clara: Mission successful, Gunquake.

  Being bullet resistant wasn’t quite cutting it these days. I was thankful the thug was a terrible shot, and that my dark outfit obscured the blood soaking through my undershirt. Did shooting a superhero count as attempted murder when many could avoid or were unaffected by such things? I hoped so.

  I slid down a sloped roof, hopped over a gap between one, then a second building - before leaping down onto the street below. A thirty-foot drop that my cybernetics weathered with only minor damage to the road's surface. Clara had already parked her drone in the housing made atop the Meteor. Handy for when I didn’t want to lug around the backpack.

  Back of the vehicle opened up, and I stepped inside, sitting myself on one of the side benches.

  //Clara: Taking control and making a course for home base.

  //Dubs: Understood.

  The Meteor hummed into life. Smoke clunked out the back, obscuring the vehicle. A static feeling filled the interior as Clara activated the basic cloaking, and then it lumbered forth. She seemed to think it was a good idea not to have an easily trackable behemoth move directly from the scene of a crime to where we lived.

  One part of being well known that I hadn’t considered. I wondered how normal heroes dealt with it, since we were lucky enough to have a pseudo-fortress in the making.

  I let the stims flow through me, calming the pain so that I could meditate a little. One day, I’d take a bullet to the brain, and I doubted any of my current associates would have a way to put me back together again.

  Maybe it was time to have a private meeting with Director Kingston and turn the screws on him for better gear. Clara had some ideas, but those mostly involved extensive invasive surgery that could have complications. I’d lived through enough risk and wanted her to focus on my arm for now. Maybe I could ply some favors from the team.

  A few deep breaths later, and I had arrived home. Roxy was off duty and had been waiting in the garden for me to return. I stepped out of the Meteor and stretched, causing a slight pain in my upper chest from the bullet wound.

  “Already blowing up,” she said, meeting up to escort me to where Clara was waiting. “There was no need to be that extra, but the public are eating it up.”

  [What are your opinions?]

  “Swinging into the van and coming out of the smoke cloud was badass.” Roxy grinned. “Although, hitting them with a Quake would have ended things a lot quicker without you getting shot.”

  [Preaching to the choir.]

  I stepped into our makeshift surgery room, where the techie was already masked and gowned up. Roxy helped me take my trenchcoat off and unclip my tactical vest. With a grunt, I sat on the chair and leaned back.

  “Most of the impact was absorbed by your metal ribs, Gunquake,” Clara said, moving in closer with a pair of large tweezers. “Bloody, but not life-threatening.”

  Compared to how I came back from a lot of my contracts, this was nothing. A stubbed toe, comparatively. Not something I wanted to make a habit, but it explained why even these two weren't worried.

  “They’ve moved our schedules around a bit,” Roxy said, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. “We’re both on patrol tomorrow, then you’re off the next day, then… it’s our duo mission.”

  [What you’re saying is they’ve booked the talk show?]

  “Yeaaaaah. Day after.”

  I looked past the techie, at the super. She was definitely not looking forward to going on television and talking about our relationship. If only because she was a private person, and not because there was any shame in being with me. I was great, after all.

  An odd prick of self-doubt to align with the sharp pain of Clara pulling the bullet from the wound.

  [If you’d rather destroy the city and everything we’ve built instead, just let me know.]

  “Tempting.” Some of the worry left her face, and she smiled. “We’re both more comfortable fighting, but at least you’re good at talking. I’ll be putting my feet in my mouth the whole interview.”

  The bullet clinked in a metal tray as the techie put it down. “You need to prepare, sister. How can you spar and workout to get ready for fighting, but are at a loss when the scene changes? You even have the best coach on your side.” She gave me a pat on the arm.

  “I’m fine with the debriefing meetings, but going through my dirty laundry is different… especially with what happened before.”

  [Well, it’s different now. You have me by your side, no matter what happens.]

  Roxy rolled her eyes, but her smile widened. “Alright, asshole. We’ll kick the shit out of the interview and then go back to murdering mutants and foiling criminals.”

  [Careful, it almost sounds like you like being a hero again.]

  She flipped me off and turned to walk out of the door, pausing briefly to look back. “Get cleaned up. I’ve cooked us all dinner.” The super left, closing the door behind her.

  “Amusing,” Clara said, applying a healing cover to the wound. “Considering our dinners are just slices of toast and a canister, Gunquake. It’s about the tradition of it, however. A normalized routine.”

  [Things have certainly been more normal… domestically, at least.]

  “I’ve even been too busy to flirt excessively with you.” She sighed as she pulled off the rubber gloves. “I hope you know that my intentions have never changed, Gunquake, despite this fact.”

  [I’m not sure I even understood what your intentions ever were.]

  “Good.” She pulled the medical mask off and smiled. “Let’s go humor Rockslide so that I can get back to working.”

  With a nod, I pushed myself off of the chair, and we did just that. The cool night air was calming as we walked across the garden, and I glanced around our home base. It was hard to imagine that it had just been a rough shack at first, and now we were in talks about having a proper command center for a supergroup amongst our storage and workshops. The trajectory my life had taken was…

  I paused as we entered the house to look to the right. Warlock was currently sprinting around the living room, bouncing across the couches as he chased a feathered ball. Looks like I wasn’t the only one more active at night.

  “There isn’t any wildlife for him to bully,” Clara explained, “so I’ve gotten a few tech gadgets for him to play with.”

  We stepped into the kitchen where Roxy was already seated, eating what looked to be some curry and rice. A canister and a plate of toast had been placed on the island counter so that we could all sit around it. Like a proper ritual.

  “I know,” she said, before we could comment. “Let’s just pretend we’re a functioning family, though. It’ll be good practice for when we go meet my parents soon.”

  Hmm, my feelings on that probably mirrored hers for the talk show interview. I’d best behave and follow her guidance. I sat down at my designated seat and awkwardly began the process of replacing the canister already in my neck.

  [Oh, I forgot to ask you about my gun-arm, Clara.]

  Maybe not good practice for polite conversation around the dinner table, but if I kept my head facing the techie, then I could ignore any narrowed eyes the super might be giving me.

  “Indeed. I see where your priorities lie.” Clara lifted up a slice of toast. “You wanted to make some arrangement so that I would divulge all the secrets surrounding it?”

  I nodded eagerly, clicking the canister clips back into place.

  “It’s just one simple thing I ask for in return, Gunquake.” She narrowed her eyes, a slight smile at the corner of her mouth. "And I will tell all."

  Even Roxy paused to listen, halfway through eating her food.

  “I require your hand in marriage.”