Chapter 81: 73. The Start of Team Noir

On a rainy Friday evening, Jay was sitting in the back passenger of a buggy as Tim jerked around the steering wheel and shifted gears. They entered a powerslide off a small compost hill at the dead end of a Junkeside road.

Jay sighed pleasantly as the dune buggy slid off the edge, the wheels whirling and slinging mud everywhere. Which included the passengers in the backseats–him and Emily. She let out a small squeal as the buggy came out of its sideways flight with a crabwise slam.

The left-side shock absorbers creaked. The entire vehicle rattled–while still moving at speed. This led to the buggy tilting heavily on one side while Tim kept the vehicle moving. Emily flopped against Jay, her straight black hair getting in his mouth. Ack! They held each other, Emily hugging his face into her chest.

Jay wasn't going to stop her.

The buggy squeezed through a small gap between two shanty shacks.

Once Tim got them on the other side, he had the buggy slam back down on all four wheels, shaking up its passengers. A heap of water splashed everywhere. Then Tim hit the brakes. They slid to a stop in a flooded courtyard with narrow footpaths coming and going from different directions. The dirt mound in front of the buggy would serve as their exit if they needed to drive out. The mound and the surrounding shanties, trailers, and fences would conceal the vehicle well enough.

A bunch of hard, squinty faces peered between their curtains, behind their door screens, or out of their windows. Jay’s spatial-g noticed each Junker packing heat. They were prepared to shoot first and ask questions later depending on the Champions’ next action.

Tim unbuckled and climbed onto the roof.

“O’Kelly Family. Who wants three months' rent?” Tim announced.

A little girl in red boots darted out of her trailer house and splashed through the foot-tall water. She stopped a dozen feet away while holding a small pistol.

“Nobody touches the buggy.” Tim tossed her a roll of cash. The girl unrolled it while still holding the gun. She counted it quickly and nodded. She ran back inside. The hard squinty faces disappeared inside their homes, the Junker business concluded. Jay trusted nobody was going to jack Tim's ride.

“Wait,” Jay said. “Anyone got any good waterproof boots?”

Nobody responded.

“Wet sneakers it is.” Jay sighed, looking uneasily at the brown-gray water.

Once Tim switched off the headlights and killed the buggy’s engine, the water looked dark and muddy to Jay. He had way better night vision than a Systemless human, but the shin-high water still unnerved him.

It brought back memories of an awful ground-floor apartment that flooded any time it rained. It had smelled, got moldy all the time, and had a mean landowner renting it out. 

No longer was Jay that helpless little boy watching his mom get into heated arguments with the landowner. Jay could sense anything in wait under the water. Or inside the homes. Or anywhere within his range.

His gravity studies had borne fruit.

Everything was getting attracted–or manipulated–relative to earth’s gravity. Nothing should block his spatial-g sense just because it was in an enclosed space, underwater, or underground, even.

Once Jay had figured that out, his Intellect seemed to communicate his new understanding to his Perception. One Attribute corrected the issue with the other, upgrading his sixth sense organically. Like he had uncovered a mental block because of his former lack of basic gravity knowledge.

His magical mental map of the world became more detailed, which felt ridiculous and easy to abuse thanks to everything having gravity. That was part of the far-reaching extent of Jay’s powers and the many things he’d learned from a week of Champion meetings and personal pursuits. He’d even gotten rewarded by the System for it:

You’ve improved your knowledge and removed a personal limitation. +3 Intellect.

At Jay’s level, +3 anything didn’t feel like much. But it was good to see the System had acknowledged his efforts.

And it perked up the other Champions when Jay had shared his discovery. In return, he’d learned he wasn’t the only one receiving rewards for personal growth.

Emily had gotten +3 Conviction after concluding her week with Brit by making some hardline and soulful character changes. Foundational stuff, really, but still significant.

The future looked bright with personal challenges and changes for the Champions. For the better, hopefully.

Still didn’t make the squishy feeling of wet sneakers feel any better, though. Jay suppressed a shudder as he joined Tim and Emily on top of the mud mound in front of the buggy. Speeding from school to here had soaked and splattered the trio to the bone, but they walked it off anyway.

Jay’s attention fell on an overflowing field-turned-pond in front of them. The overflow had the misfortune of a large storm drain dumping sewage water. A couple of Junkside homes were flooded up to knee height as a result. Looking beyond that, the homes in the area looked like wet and scrambled puzzle pieces surrounding the huge and darkened Junkyard. 

“Junkside,” Emily said, glancing carefully at Tim. “A child of crime, corruption, and catastrophe. Tolerated and ignored at the local and state level.” Emily flicked out a metal case from the pocket of her soaked sweater and pulled out three dry cigarettes. She passed some around. “Second time seeing this place in my life. All in one week.”

Tim nodded stoically.

Jay eyed the more silent O’Kelly twin as Emily lit up their cigarettes. Tim struck a bladed, angular figure as if he came to life as an arrow in flight. His jaw was sharp enough to leave a mark on rock, and his dark-rimmed and green eyes under a shock of wild ginger hair added to his Irish and hotblooded roots. He was the stereotypical Junker, the shadow of his more friendly and rowdy brother.

Rick had turned out unavailable. He had some business with the O'Kelly Patriarch and uptown mafia. That left his brother to act on the distress call.

Jay squinted at Tim.

Tim squinted back.

Emily looked between them both in confusion.

“We’re not complete yet,” Jay said, looking away.

Kleo crawled out of Jay’s pouch, looked around, and crawled back into his pouch. That was a nonverbal sign, which meant Jay was on the money. Kleo wouldn’t be her more active self without a complete party for this evening.

Completing the party might improve their Chance Statuses, too.

Jay was down to Chance x2 out of x10. Emily was at Chance x4/x8. Tim was a full Chance x3/x3. Since this place was Tim’s home turf, it made sense for him to have all of his Chance Modifiers here.

Jay and Emily’s lowered Chance Statuses didn’t mean they lost power–Chance was essentially a mechanic magnifying plot armor, deus ex machina, narrative direction, and critical modifiers–so what they had was plenty, anyway. Unless they met with something with a higher Chance, then that would be concerning.

Still, Jay could feel that completing the party would improve their Chance. That might be the Discovery Attribute talking, which he should start using more. A lot of these Attributes seem to have personalities if you got to know them.

“Where from here?” Emily asked, rolling her cigarette from one corner of her mouth to the other.

“Cutie,” Tim said after a long draft. 

Tim killed his cigarette fast and flicked the butt into someone’s ashtray two dozen feet away–score. He led them down a narrow and slick footpath between a fence and the sewage water. Jay’s gravity powers made him too light to slide. Emily struggled, so she graciously accepted Jay’s gravity aid–their arms linked smoothly as if they hadn’t missed a beat.

“Even when I dress more comfy, I’m a klutz,” Emily muttered, her ghosts becoming more turbulent and cold.

“Balance, Emily,” Jay reminded her.

She’d said that was her thing now. A little more positivity. A dash more of kindness. Achieve balance. Then Death Affinity would align with neutrality rather than cultivate evil as Emily feared.

She adjusted her glasses nervously. “Yes, right. Thanks.”

Tim remained wordless as he led them along the highest footpaths. There weren’t that many. Jay’s feet rose in and out of the flood a dozen times. He helped Emily avoid potholes, random cinder blocks lying around, and concertina wires waiting under the water’s dark surface.

Tim didn’t need any help. He might have actual night vision. Or his Dog Boon guided him on the best path to their target–Cutie.

Things improved when Tim said, “Let’s move,” and jumped onto a cement wall. He ran across the top of it.

Jay grinned as Emily hopped into a bridal carriage without question. Her arms encircled his neck smoothly. Jay bounced and soared with his passenger as Tim moved like a ninja over Junkside rooftops.

They found Cutie at a small tiki hut bar raised high on sturdy stilts. Her Zion Soldier gangsters waited in the water while she sat with George up top.

Tim dropped from a roof and hit the water with a noisy splash.

“Who’s that?” shouted a gangster, raising his rifle and flashlight.

“Timothy O’Kelly,” Tim answered. “Here for Cutie Brown.”

The gangster lowered his rifle. Before he could turn and say anything, Cutie ran down the wooden steps. She hit the water with a long stride. Her hot pink raincoat did little against the splash.

“Oh good. It’s just you. We don’t need them Champions, just us Junkers,” Cutie said proudly.

“Ahem,” Jay said from above.

Cutie’s gangsters fumbled with their flashlights for a few seconds. They swung their flashlights up to illuminate the bar’s rooftop.

They found Jay crouched on the bar awning. Emily hurriedly wiped rainwater off her glasses and waved down while taking a stance behind Jay. She was totally trying to pull a JoJo reference without making it too awkward.

Jay approved.

“Why you Champions gotta be weird?” Cutie complained.

“Long story short, our deific queen influenced a school with a touch of fantasy and magic. She cultivated some of the most extreme personalities you can meet by slotting them into nicknamed archetypes with hyped-up notoriety,” Emily answered. “Then she gave us real magic powers, sent us out to do a ludicrous amount of killing, and left us to figure things out on our own.”

“All within a week,” Jay said, “plus three to seven days depending on the timelines.”

Cutie’s mouth flapped open and closed. She whirled on Tim next. Failed to find her voice. Then she looked back at the bar.

“George! They’re too weird!”

“Just follow their juju.”

Cutie’s overbite peeked out as she chewed on her bottom lip. Jay saw that as a cute character quirk of hers. But that flustered and uncertain gesture bothered her fellow gangsters and could lose her points on her cred. Apparently, they must’ve forgotten what the Champions could do–or the guys here hadn't been a part of the Night of Knives.

Jay decided to be more diplomatic. 

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He offered his hand to Emily. She gladly took it before he walked them off the edge. By carrying her hand–and using that as an extension of her–he applied his two most used Skills and floated down like Mary Poppins’ proteges.

Jay ensured to dim the usual purple glow. That made them less flashy and ridiculous–the usual–and more dark and mysterious. He was trying this new thing where doing less could lead to more oomph, a truly revolutionary idea for a [Freak] like Jay.

“I don’t like you,” Cutie muttered to Jay once they were on even footing.

“What happened to Junkers showing respect to the strong?” Jay asked with a smirk.

“You’re too weird,” she huffed before turning to Emily and giving her a nod in deference.

“Ouch,” Jay said.

“Fewer jokes might earn you more cred,” Emily offered.

“Never.”

“What’s the situation?” Tim said, cutting to the point.

Jay arched an eyebrow. Tim’s timing was good. The twin had waited out the initial theatrics–Jay couldn’t help it, and he was sure Emily enjoyed a good entrance–then Tim found the best time to refocus the group.

Sharpshooter, this guy.

Cutie straightened, chest puffed out, rifle held dutifully.

“A lemon seller from around here. Found his corpse. Gutted with the limbs gnawed. The tracks before the water rose looked like… something bad. Then we got word from around these blocks saying there are more. We found another over there.” Cutie pointed. “A welder. Found floating four homes down. Gutted. Limbs gnawed. Face gone.” Cutie swung her arm in a different direction. “A seamstress. The door to her home was on the ground. Hinges cut by no tools I know. None of the neighbors heard anything. She was laying face down when a neighbor found her. Back gone. Limbs gnawed. Back of head open with the brain taken. Other Zion Soldiers say they found more victims like these all around the North Quarter. Nineteen and counting.”

Whoa.

This sounded like nightmare fuel. Jay filtered through his limited experiences of horrors and found nothing matched.

“Darker. Grosser. Weirder.” Emily sighed. "And I knew the deaths were happening, too. I didn't know where until now."

"The story's keeping its cards to its chest this go around," Jay said.

Emily scanned the area, her school of ghosts swimming around her more actively. Jay sensed her getting ready to work. But Kleo crawled out of his pouch again. Everyone stopped to look.

The [Faerie] climbed to the top of her master’s head and took a seat.

“Should I back up?” Cutie said, wrestling with her fear. “Will it curse me if I look it in the eye?”

“I’m Creepy Kleo, a girl,” Kleo said. “And you will stay where you are, cute human.”

A slight ripple of graven voice passed through Cutie. She stayed rooted to her spot.

“What’s up?” Tim asked.

“Hm.” Jay looked in the direction his [Faerie] stared. She was paying attention to the sky.

Emily followed his gaze and waited. Tim had no idea what was going on due to his lower Chance-based Attributes. But he had good instincts from what Jay could tell. So, Tim went on standby like a racked weapon or a waiting dog.

“Wait for it,” George said, still up in the bar while nursing a beer.

They waited. The gangsters felt more nervous as time waned. The Champions were standing with a stillness that was not quite normal. Either through the discipline of Conviction or the bodily control earned by Agility, they could become like statues almost, barely breathing under the rainfall while standing in a flood.

They seemed barely human, although it was definitely inhuman in the case of Jay.

Cutie was about to burst with frustration when Jay heard the whoop of a helicopter. His higher Perception caught it before anyone else. His mood shifting into annoyance clued in Tim and Emily.

Without Jay explaining himself, he reached into his bag of holding and pulled out his short sword. Its steely silver surface had more of a sheen than metal should at night.

Tim pulled out a basic recurve bow, all twisted brown wood with tiny vine-like engravings–Elf-made stock packed with Agility. No quiver. No arrows. Tim provided arrows for himself.

Emily flipped out an antiquated pistol with thick hinges for breaching the bore–dwarven-made. Good for one-shot attacks between reloads, but it could kill with that one shot alone–Conviction type.

Jay’s short sword had been forged by another culture of humans somewhere in the Multiverse. The most common stock anyone could get–Strength and Agility infused. Small difference.

YoAnna’s orders wouldn’t let them use the better stuff outside of a dungeon crawl. But that was fine. These weapons had actual magic, a step above the mundane. These weapons could do more damage than the rifles the gangsters toted. And the Champions honestly didn’t even need the weapons, but it sent a message.

Cutie got her gangsters ready as the helicopter entered Tim’s range of hearing. Then Emily’s range of hearing. It eventually became noticeable to the gangsters, the whud whud whud growing louder.

The helicopter soared over Junkside rooftops and neared the Champions’ position.

“They land, I shoot?” Tim asked.

“No,” Kleo said.

“We’re supposed to listen to that demon?” spat an unruly gangster.

Jay could tell that wasn’t normal based on Cutie and George’s instant flare of anger.

These other gangsters were probably newbies. They were getting put through evaluations or training, perhaps. They didn’t seem as disciplined and capable as the gangsters from Sunday now that Jay saw it.

It made Jay a little kinder when he dropped the offending gangster eight feet into the air. The dim coat of purple magic disappeared as quickly as it appeared around the offender, letting him hit the water with a splash. The other gangsters broke formation, looking at Jay and Emily with wide-eyed fear.

“Halt!” Cutie barked. “Form up. Ready arms. Now.”

For a teenage gangster, she had a surprisingly strong commanding presence. Whatever street cred she held that put her above bigger and stronger men must be great. The newbie gangsters listened right away. That included the guy Jay dropped up and down.

Kleo didn’t pay any of the tomfoolery much mind. She watched the helicopter whip up the air above them as it entered a hover. It was a smaller bird compared to the helicopters the assassins had used. Still black but lacking in missiles and guns. The riders tossed out a length of rope. They repelled down into a yard across from the Champions and Zion Soldiers.

Six heavily armed men formed up. They secured their landing zone, signaled for the bird to leave, and started approaching Jay first. From the jump, the [Freak] could tell they weren’t MPC.

The CWG black ops had made their third appearance. And at the front was a tall and stocky man with a militant stride–someone new, too. He let his rifle hang by the strap while raising one arm as a sign of peace. He used his other hand to remove his helmet so they could see each other's faces unobstructed. A positive gesture. But a pointless one for Jay.

Even with the darkness and limited lights, Jay saw too much of Commander Steele’s likeness in this guy’s face. Graying hair. Bluish eyes. Common stock soldierly face.

“Kleo, no,” Jay said, exasperated.

“Sorry, Master,” Kleo said, raising a hand.

“Her.” Kleo pointed at Cutie.

“Him.” Kleo pointed at the new CWG black ops leader, cutting him off before he got a word in. “That’s the last of our party.”

“They weren’t kidding about the kid having a fucking [Faerie] to play with,” said one of the unchosen CWG agents.

Jay dropped the unchosen doofus sideways. Then Jay reversed the fall before the doofus got to land safely with a splash. Kleo’s more reserved and intense mood had gotten Jay feeling protective over her. At the very least, Commander Steeler #2 calmed his guys down before they started a fight they would lose.

“Wait,” Cutie spat. “I’m supposed to go. With you. And the Narc?”

“Yes,” Tim said.

Cutie grunted unhappily but said no more.

Commander Steele #2 kept his mouth shut, not pushing whatever leeway he had with the magical kids. Jay hated that Steele’s doppelganger could actually play it smart.

“Hm,” Emily hummed, her breath coming out as chilly fog. “All of us are touched by the many shades of death. We’re definitely linked tonight.”

“And we’re meeting at a tavern,” Kleo added, waving up at George as he waved back. “Good. Good. This is proper.”

Jay glanced at the Chance Statuses. They had gone up except for Tim staying capped. 

Jay: Chance x3/x10. 

Emily: Chance x6/x8.

Seriously? He’d gotten a single x1 CM out of this while Emily rose by x2 CM. He was not favored down here at all.

Fuck it.

“Champions. Gangster. Agent,” Jay said, nodding at each of them, even if forcefully.

Thankfully, the agents and gangsters staying behind didn’t raise a fuss–especially that doofus who got dropped side-to-side. 

“Let’s go,” Jay said, “we got searching and killing to do, Team Noir.”

And just like that, their third Word of Power of the day rippled into creation. Punch, Herald, Noir. This was going to be an interesting night.