Memories flooded to the center of Levi's mind as he pushed open the apartment door. He'd bought the apartment some seven years ago with the help of his mentor. Or more accurately, his mentor had bought the place for him and his small circle of friends. The only reason he could say he'd bought it was that he'd insisted on helping with part of the payment.
There was a layer of dust atop every surface. As he hung his coat in its hook, he thought about the hundreds of times he'd done it before, times when other coats had filled the hooks. It was pointless to reminisce. Nothing would change. Nothing would fix what had happened.
"There's a few rooms, pick one you like."
He sent his feathers around the room to start cleaning up. He pulled a broom from its resting place and found the cleaning supplies. It didn't take more than ten minutes to clean the apartment. The dust that buried the room was gone, but his memories had only been buried deeper. Most of them.
He thought about the last night he'd truly lived in the apartment. The arguments, and the false words. It hadn't seemed like a big deal, he'd planned to take his words back later, apologize later. He never got his 'later'.
Nora settled into one of the three rooms. It had been Kayla's.
At the thought a sudden pang hit him in the chest. He forced a bloody thought out of his mind and drowned the feelings it brought.
Levi suddenly wished he could apologize to Peter. No. It was too late, and he had work to do. A harsh laugh came from his mouth. He wasn't convinced that Peter was still alive. Armstrong hadn't even mentioned it at their meeting. It felt like something that should have been mentioned, something important as hell. He'd handle it later. There were more important things he had to do first.
"Nora."
"Yeah." Her head popped out from the room. She wasn't much younger than Kayla had been the last time she was in that room.
"Stay here. I have something I need to take care of." He was already putting his coat back on. He turned away, there was a swooshing of cloth behind him.
"Take me with you."
He was tempted. "Not this time." The door squealed open. He looked back at Nora, there was struggle on her face. "Practice your lumes craft." And he left.
Once on the street he lifted himself into the air. In the night more fliers took to the sky. Beneath the inky sky the city glowed like a neon star. Felix settled on the ledge of a billboard and pulled Armstrong's instructions out of his pocket.
His eyes ran back and forth across the page. A few words jumped out at him. Reconstruction commission. Lloyd Moord. Jason Roque.
One powerful thrust of Levi's wings sent him back into the air. The sunbaked asphalt of the city provided updrafts he allowed himself to lazily drift along. He'd occasionally dip to the side, drift through a half-completed construction and surge out the other side. On the fourth building, he folded his wings and came to a measured stop.
As he'd drifted along the updrafts he'd kept a vigilant watch. It hadn't been without fruit. After finding out the general location of the reconstruction commission he'd simply drifted to the right part of the city and started looking for pieces that seemed out of place.
It didn't take long to find those pieces.
He landed on the fifth story. Buzzing construction lights illuminated the empty floor. The light outlined his body as he moved towards the edge of the floor, and then he was gone. For less than a second he fell and then for a silvery second his wings caught him and set him gently on the ground. The building across from him had a red neon sign that proudly announced 'gambling'. It was the main front for Lloyd's operations in this part of the city.
Levi tucked his hands into his jacket, hid his wings beneath the fabric, and put a mask over his face. Tonight was for gathering information, no violence. No violence, as long as it remained a possibility. He reached out to open the door.
Then the gunshots began.
+ + +
Peter left Gray with his old friends. He considered letting them have the boy. It would be better for him. It would be better for who? A question for later.
The city was more open than he'd remembered. The wide streets were like canyons between glinting walls of metal and glass. The sky was clear and black above his head like the depths of the ocean. Despite the great canyons and open air, the streets were nearly empty. A tramp here, an exhausted office worker there. In an alley he passed a few teens shared a pack of cigarettes. He didn't let his eyes linger, and stepped out of the wide streets at the first subway stop he found.
He pulled the info-disc from his back pocket and reviewed the information for his mark. The subway was practically empty. The smell of the metal tube was strong; the mix of sodden cigarettes, acrid sweat and piss, and every little piece of life that had found its grave on the subway floor. The tube brought back unwanted memories. The feel of steel pinning his leg, the burning smell of flesh. Peter ignored the memories and the smell as he pulled out his phone and verified, he was heading in the right direction. New York's Reconstruction Commision. A cardboard prop that Moord was using as a face for his expanding influence. The commission would supposedly improve commerce in the city and help restore its place on the world stage.
Peter climbed out of the subway and gazed up at the towering half-finished construction. If Moord played his cards right the city would find a new golden age, and he'd be at its head. The man would earn a place at the table with other major players. Peter supposed the Guild didn't want another variable to account for. Best to eliminate it as quickly as possible.
If he succeeded, the Guild would finally grant him the title of A Rank. Not that it mattered much. But A Rank would grant him access to the guild's pilfered records on The Watch. How much quicker could he find targets with that information. How much bigger of a thorn could he become?
What would Kayla think of it?
He killed the last thought and walked towards a large building heralded by a burning red neon sign. A well-dressed man stood by the main entrance. Peter decided this would be as good a place as any to start his work.
The front door was unappetizing to him. Instead, he slipped to the back of the building and in through an unlocked door. Once inside he found himself in an unseemly kitchen that smelled of onions and sweat. He was through the room before any of the cooks had registered his presence. Swift steps and a little help from his deviation brought him to a locked door. He checked the base of the door for a gap. If he could see into the room, he could make a copy to switch with. There was no gap. But there was a group of guards that saw him investigating the door.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" One of them grunted.
A second held out an arm. "Wait. It's probably just another drunk. I'll grab-"
Peter didn't humor them. He turned and shoved an armored hand through the jugular of one. A shadowy husk slit the throat of a second. A second strike reinforced by lumes shattered the jaw of the final security guard. Peter's husk stabbed between the man's ribs four times.
Each guard was carrying a pistol. He searched each body and found keys on the third. A shadow guarded the hall behind him as he tested the door.
On the third key it opened.
The new room was nothing special. A dank break room populated by a stained couch, cheap tables and chairs, a cracked television, and a bouncer fooling around with one of the casino's patrons.
Peter walked into the room quietly. A shadow formed in front of the bouncer and killed him before a cry for help could be sounded. The girl he'd been flirting with rushed away. Peter switched places with the shadow and stopped her with an iron grip.
"If you tell anyone about this, I'll have to kill you." He let go and the girl ran whimpering. It was a pathetic sight, one that hardly encouraged him to follow through with his threat. Back to work now.
Peter kept searching through the building. The first floor was dedicated almost entirely to the casino. It wasn't until he broke onto the second floor that the trip began to feel worthwhile. The moment he opened the door he knew he'd entered a world that wasn't meant to be seen. There was nothing particularly sinister about the office halls he walked into, just an immediate itch between his shoulder blades, an unyielding desire to make sure he wasn't being followed and air that wasn't hot or cold. Peter slunk into the first empty cubicle he could find.
He took a piece of Guild tech out of his pocket and inserted the USB into the computer. Five seconds later the PC whirred to life and Peter started pirating all the information the system had to offer. While the information bled into his USB he searched through the computer's files for any and all information he could find on Moord. As he'd expect there wasn't much, a few emails, a mention in a text message, and most valuable a picture of the man. He looked to be about forty, with a heaping of cosmetics and drugs to make him look younger, a double chin adorned his thick neck, and he had squinted pig-like eyes. A dull notification popped onto the screen to inform him all the computer's data had been downloaded. Peter pulled the USB from its port and resumed his search through the building.
A few tired workers toiled at their desks, falsifying finances, sending bribes, and finding ways to skim money into their personal accounts. Maybe a minority of them set themselves about honest work. Peter doubted it.
He found a larger office at the end of the stifling halls. A man was having an argument over the phone. A shadow knocked him out with a palm strike, a second shadow caught the body before it could make any sound as it fell. Peter grabbed the phone from the man's hand and hung up. The man's laptop sat open on the desk. Peter plugged his USB into the device and began searching through its contents. Reports of blackmail, bribery, and such filled the computer. Along with a meeting date. In one-month Moord would return from a vacation in Europe and dedicate the first finished skyscraper of the commission.
He sighed and leaned back in the swivel chair. One month. So much for a quick job. He pulled the USB and then his luck came to an end.
Ten security guards came rushing towards the door with their weapons drawn. Peter wasn't in the mood for killing so many. A shadow formed outside the office window, and he vanished into the night. The window over his head shattered with the impact of countless bullets. Two guards came rushing out the window. Peter saw them illuminated for half a second before one grabbed onto him.
A sudden burning sensation began to grow on his shoulders, then a light. Before he hit the ground he'd switched with another copy. His knife was drawn now, and he had four shadows ready to strike. Three swarmed around the woman that had grabbed him, their ghostly blades biting flesh. Peter lunged at the other guard. They activated their deviation before Peter landed his strike.
A sudden numbing sensation coated Peter's body. The familiar sensation of electrocution. His shadow didn't feel the sting and killed the man with a dagger in the neck. They'd both been hasty. Peter silently scolded himself for it and then limped into the night.
He hoped his foolishness wouldn't come back to bite him.