by Travis Brett
“We’re not sure.”
“Then how do you know it was him?”
“When Spencer suspiciously vanished, we sent a squad of militia to his home. Six men. They were all killed. Do you really think an ordinary human did that on his own?”
Roman grabbed a piece of paper from the desk and used it to wipe the blood off his knuckles. “So, Candle killed Ashton, then killed the militia who came for him.”
Juliette laughed. There was no humour in it. “Your prejudice against the Adrenalites makes you such an idiot sometimes. Why would Candle kill Ashton? They’re working together.”
“A human and an Adrenalite as a team? That’s bullshit.”
“Last I heard, you had an Adrenalite in your team.”
“That’s different. That’s . . .” Roman trailed off, pausing mid-step. Unfortunately, she had a point. “How can you be sure they’re together?”
“There was a message left at the scene,” Juliette said. “A written letter.”
The implication was clear. Literacy was rare in Legacy since only ministry officials had a reason to learn. A literate Adrenalite was unheard of.
“What did it say?” Roman asked, although he suspected he knew the answer.
“Death to the Captain. Death to the Ministries. Death before defeat.”
Roman sat, his anger fading as quickly as it had come. Now it was replaced with fear. Never before had an Adrenalite shown a sense of purpose like this. Now that one had, what would he be capable of? Plus, the security of the wind farms was compromised. “We really are fucked, aren’t we?”
“You wanted information. This is it.”
Without his anger to distract him, Roman was agonizingly aware of how much his body hurt. His arms still throbbed from his stunts last night. It felt like his joints were held together by rusty nails. But he ignored the discomfort. “I can do this,” he said, more to himself than to Juliette. “But I’m not bringing him in alive. If he’s escaped the farms once, I won’t risk it happening again. I’m going to kill him. Both him and Spencer.”
“No. I need Ashton Spencer alive.”
“Why?”
Juliette opened her mouth as if to speak, then quickly closed it again.
So that’s what she’s hiding. “Why the hell should I let him live?” Roman asked again.
“Spencer worked as . . .” Juliette paused, obviously struggling for words, “. . . a researcher for the ministry.”
“And what does the Security Ministry need a researcher for?”
“He was studying Adrenalites.”
“And you kept this from me because. . . ?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Roman. He was experimenting on them. Surely you understand why we don’t advertise that fact?”
Roman felt sickened by the idea of Adrenalite experimentation. He had a mental image of Sparks tied to a table, needles sticking into him. He didn’t like the kid, but that thought made him want to puke.
“Anyway,” Juliette continued, “Spencer was working on a serum for permanently deactivating Adrenalites.”
Roman sat up in the chair. “That’s possible?”
“We were close to a breakthrough.”
“Holy shit! With that, you could—”
“We could supply it to gangs disguised as defoxican, and when they inject their pit fighters with it: suddenly no more Adrenalite. We could inject every new Adrenalite we find. It would change everything, solving the Adrenalite problem once and for all.” Juliette laughed at Roman. “You mock me, Roman, saying that I’m doing nothing to stop this city from falling into chaos. But what good has your heroics truly done? You’re not making a meaningful difference. But this would.”
“This is—” Roman’s excitement died in his throat. “But you need Spencer? You can’t do it without him?”
Juliette shook her head. “He was the lead researcher.”
Roman frowned. Something is wrong here. If anything, this gives Spencer less reason to betray the ministry. “If you’re lying to me about this, then it won’t matter how large an army you have, or how far you run. I will track you down. And I will fucking enjoy killing you.”
“Roman.” Juliette leaned forward, folded her arms on the desk, and looked him square in the eye. “I’m not your enemy. But if I was, you’d be dead for making that threat. Now get the hell out of my office.”
Roman stood, went to the whiteboard, picked up the chalk and wrote: I am a coward. “Just in case you forget who you are.”
He walked out.
He had a secret to uncover, a man to capture, and an Adrenalite to kill.
04
That evening, Roman and his team sat in their regular booth at the Mutt's Tail. Griff, the barman, shuffled between tables, keeping the alcohol flowing freely. One lonely, dim light did little to pierce the cloud of rado-weed smoke swirling in the air — so thick the punters in the opposite corner appeared to Roman as little more than dark smudges. Griff liked keeping the windows closed, said the smoke gave people privacy. Roman liked privacy.
Tradition dictated that Roman toast to the completion of their last job, so he raised his drink and said: "To another rogue off the streets. May Burrstone rot in hell."
Ruby smirked as she clinked her glass with his. "To me for saving the day."
"To drinking," Tan added. The two empty mugs in front of him affirmed the enthusiasm behind his toast.
"To still being alive," Caleb said.
And Sparks finished: "To fucking shit up.”
Griff approached them, his ragged woollen shirt and slacks contrasting against his spotless blue tie. "Celebrating tonight?" he asked, laying a full pitcher on their table. The handful of stray wisps of white hair on his head were outmatched by his bushy eyebrows that were so overgrown they threatened to cover his eyes. Between the eyebrows and the smoke, it was a wonder he could even see the patrons he served. Although maybe he couldn’t. Maybe it was better that way.
"Aye," Tan took another chug of his drink. "We survived for another payday. Sorry mate, but you're going to have to deal with us a little longer at least."
"Better you than others." Griff offered a polite nod before returning to the bar.
Griff had an arrangement with the team. They got cheap drinks and a table constantly reserved, while Griff got protection — no one dared start trouble when a group of armed bounty hunters watched from the corner. The Mutt’s Tail had earned a reputation after Caleb had finished with the first set of drunken punters who tried to start a fight here. Griff had never been able to completely remove the bloodstains from the floor. Or, possibly, he purposefully left them there as a constant reminder.
"Ah . . . I missed the beer here." Tan finished his tankard. "I was starting to think all alcohol tasted of goat spit. Don't think I could've lasted another couple nights with Lady Luck's muck."
"The taste didn't stop you drink drinking it," Caleb said.
Tan shrugged. "A drink is still a drink."
"And a drunk is always a drunk.”
"Hmm . . ." Tan paused mid-sip. "I prefer to think of myself as a . . . student of the states of man's consciousness. You know . . . someone who examines something. What's the term Roman?"
"A scientist."
"Aye! That's it. A scientist of inebriation."
"Just don't study too hard tonight," Roman said. "We've got business to discuss."
Tan pulled a sulking face. "What's the rush? Is one night off too much for you?"
"This can't wait. We're going after Candle."
"Who?"
Roman sighed. "The man Burrstone mentioned, before he, you know, killed himself. Honestly, Tan, do you ever pay attention to anything?"
"I try not to. Besides, we don't need another case, Boss. We've got enough to keep us busy. We've got two decent leads on the BX34 case, and my informant—"
"Put that on hold. This is our new priority."
Caleb raised an eyebrow. "You reckon he's that dangerous?"
"I do."
/> Caleb grunted, returning to his drink, and Roman’s gaze wandered over Sparks. The boy leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, obviously fatigued from yesterday’s events. It would pass by tomorrow; he had only been activated for a couple minutes, after all. Up close, Roman couldn’t ignore just how wrong an Adrenalite appeared. There was no doubt Sparks was a boy — still in his mid-teens — but the toll of being an Adrenalite was obvious. The bags beneath his eyes. The wrinkles forming on his forehead. It was a disorienting blend of young and old.
He knew why Tan and Ruby had wanted him in the team. They wanted to prove to Roman that not all Adrenalites were monsters. It's not working so far, he thought as he recalled last night events. The boy had been laughing while he nearly killed another of his kind. Laughing as he fought like no one Roman had ever seen before. It wasn't human to fight like that.
"Roman." Ruby's voice pulled Roman from his contemplation.
"Hmm?"
"You were talking about Candle?"
Ah. Right. Roman summarized his conversation with Juliette, although he left out the part about Ashton's serum. He didn't want to talk about that in front of Sparks. Roman doubted Sparks would be receptive to the idea of being deactivated forever.
The team listened in silence. By the time Roman was done Tan had finished his drink and was pouring another. Ruby carefully fletched an arrow, while Caleb’s face held its usual stony blank expression. Sparks stayed slumped in his chair, eyes still closed.
"Well shit,' Tan said. "This is more than a little . . . unconventional."
"He escaped the wind farms?" Ruby asked. "Even with help, I didn't think that was possible."
Caleb lit a rado-weed cigarette. "Something isn’t right here. I wouldn't trust Juliette with cleaning my boots. I certainly don't trust her with this."
Roman frowned at the cigarette. He already felt suffocated by the smoke inside the pub, but he knew better than to ask Caleb to put it out. "I don't trust her either. She's a two-faced, cowardly, sack of damp rat-shit. But even if she's not sharing everything, this is still a serious threat. And she's not an idiot—"
"She is," Ruby muttered.
"—who would ignore what we can do. She needs Adrenalites captured, and, because she doesn't do enough about it herself, she needs us."
"Then why didn't she come to us straight away?" Ruby asked. "Why wait for us to hear about Candle ourselves?"
"Because she is hiding something. We just don’t know what yet."
"Do we need to get involved?" Tan asked. "This isn't something we know we can handle."
"We’re taking this job," Roman said firmly. He turned to each of his crew in turn. "Listen, I know none of us like the Ministries," he said. "I know we'd all feel pretty satisfied seeing them collapse. But if that happens, what do you think will happen to the rest of Legacy? Who else would run the granaries? The wind farms? Hell, who else would pay us for hunting down rogues?"
Sparks eyes briefly flickered open.
So, not asleep then. He is interested.
"We need to do this," Roman continued. "Or, at least, I need to do this."
Ruby sighed. "You should know I'm going to help, for better or worse. I've stuck around for all your past insanities, haven't I?"
Roman smiled.
"I'm with you, Boss," Tan said. "If I didn't stick around you folks, I might have to make some new friends. And I can’t be bothered with that shit."
Caleb rubbed his broad jaw. "I don't know, Roman. I like getting paid, but money’s useless when you're not alive to spend it."
"If we succeed, you'll get half my share of the earnings," Roman said.
Caleb chuckled. "Now we're talking. I'm in."
Money speaks to the ex-mercenary. No surprises there. Caleb was simple: he did what paid best. Roman appreciated that — as long as hunting Adrenalites was the most profitable business in Legacy, there was no doubting Caleb's loyalty.
Unlike Sparks.
Roman turned to the boy. "What about you?"
Sparks’ eyes opened lazily. "Let me get this straight, old man. Candle wants to bring down the ministries. The very same ministries who did this to me." He turned his head so Roman could see the tattoo imprinted on his neck. "The same bastards who said I was someone else's property. The same motherfuckers who wrote the law that says I'm not allowed to walk the streets alone. And you want me to help you stop him."
"Yes. I do."
"And what do I get out of it?”
Roman didn't know what to say. Apart from threats, there was nothing he could offer Sparks.
Ruby answered for him. "What do you want?"
"I want . . . " Sparks paused, tapping his fingers against the table while he considered. "I want to choose when I get activated. So, if I do this for you, then I want you to trust me enough to let me carry my own adrenaline needles."
Roman opened his mouth to say it was impossible – that no one had ever trusted an Adrenalite with his own activation needles – but he quickly shut it when he saw the look Ruby gave him. He glared back at her. Could she actually be considering this?
"Why would you want that?" Ruby asked.
"Because you brought me into this team to fight for you," Sparks said, "but then you’ve done everything possible to not let me fight. I know you wouldn't have activated me last night if you had any other choice. And I'm sick of it. I'm a fighter, and I'm damn good at it. That's why I want to choose when I'm activated — I want to be sure I do get a chance to fight."
If Roman refused, that might inspire Sparks to betray them and join Candle. And if that happened, Roman would have to kill him.
Caleb was the first to speak. "If the security ministry finds out that we do this, it wouldn’t be good."
Sparks laughed. "What are they going to do, set a bounty on me? You’re the only real bounty hunters in this city."
Roman turned to Ruby. He suspected he knew exactly what she was thinking. She wanted him to agree. She believed Sparks could be trusted, that Roman should give him a chance.
And Roman didn't want to disappoint her. Anyone but her.
"I'll think about it," he said at last.
Sparks opened his mouth to speak, but Roman held up a hand to silence him. He didn't want to talk about this any more than he had to. "Tan, you're going to find and search through Spencer's home — where the militia were killed,” Roman said. “He had to leave some kind of clue about where he was going next."
"Sure thing, Boss. Investigating is the best way to cure a hangover."
"Ruby, you'll be working with me," Roman continued. "We're going to set up a meeting with Gavin tomorrow. That bastard always knows something."
Ruby nodded.
Roman turned to Sparks and Caleb, frowning. He didn't want Sparks involved with this, but that would mean leaving Caleb out too. And, as always, he needed all the help he could get.
"Caleb, use Sparks to get in contact with other Adrenalites," Roman said. "If Burrstone knew about Candle, it's likely others will as well. I want to know everything."
"So you do need my help." Sparks thrust an angry finger at Roman. "But you can't promise me anything in return. Why should I do this for you?"
“Because, in case you’ve forgotten, I own you.”
“Then use me for what I’m best at: fighting. Give me my own needle and I’ll—”
"Listen to me, Sparks," Roman growled. "Do you know how many innocent people in this city have been killed by Adrenalites like you. Do you truly understand why we hunt rogues? It's because each and every one has found a way to activate themselves and then slaughtered everyone they came across. So, if you expect me to just give you access to adrenaline, you’re an idiot. If you want me to trust you with this, you better earn that trust. And you can start by getting me some damn information about Candle."
“I thought I would have earned your trust last night.”
“It’ll take more than violence to convince me. And that’s the end of this discussion.” Roman looked around the ta
ble. “Everyone clear on their jobs?”
Everyone nodded, included Sparks, albeit sullenly.
“Thanks.” Roman stood, tossed a couple coins on the table, said “Goodnight all,” and left.
Once outside, he took two deep breaths, glad to be free of the bitter tang of rado-weed. There was a chill to the evening breeze. He wrapped his coat around himself tightly and headed south, towards the Haven, to arrange a meeting with Gavin.
Roman hadn’t seen Gavin since he had brought Sparks from him. In all honesty, he had hoped he would never see the bastard ever again. Because whenever Gavin was involved things tended to end, at best, rather violently.
Then again, Roman reckoned the same thing could be said about himself.
PART TWO
The Haven
05
Sparks skipped along the sidewalk, stepping as close as possible to each crack in the footpath, but without ever touching one – a good fighter always practiced his footwork. He whistled a tune that he had learned at the Haven. All the kids used to sing it before a fight, for good luck. Not that Sparks ever needed luck.
But still, he whistled it today, as he strode down the street with Caleb behind him and the sinking sun in front of him, because he was on his way to a fight. And some old habits never died.
Roman had ordered Caleb to get Sparks in contact with other Adrenalites, so Caleb had set up a private pit fight for Sparks. That would give Sparks a reason to talk to the other fighters, and hopefully one of them would know something about Candle. Sparks suspected that Roman wouldn’t approve of Sparks entering a pit fight. But fuck Roman. He wouldn’t have to find out. He would be busy at the Haven this evening, most likely watching a different pit fight.
As for finding information on Candle, Sparks hoped it wouldn’t be too hard. He was a fighter, not an investigator. Maybe if the Adrenalites didn’t volunteer any information, he would just have to beat some out of his opponent, after he won his fight. Because of course Sparks was going to win. He never doubted that.
The few pedestrians they passed keep their distance. An older man flinched away, eyes averted, as Sparks stepped too close. Most walked at a hurried pace, eager to return home before the last of the light faded. Sparks despised them. Boring people living boring lives. No fight left in them.
