15 – Repaying Debts and Owing Favors

“So, about your parents—”

Erika stopped Leslie before he could begin, holding up her hand. “The Fixer said they knew what they were doing, that they had escaped these kinds of situations before, and that they didn’t have time to elaborate. It’s been three days. I have seen no sign of them or Leah, and I don’t know what to do beyond trust that they’ll show up again, eventually.”

As far as Erika was concerned, there was nothing more to say on the subject. Leaving like she had pissed her off—she didn’t know that she could fight that thing, but she sure as hell could have tried. Now, she had made her choice and had to live with the reality that her mother might not be coming back this time. Thinking about the situation caused an ache that she didn’t have the time to feel at the moment.

Really, she wasn’t sure what she had expected. The Fixer was an absentee father and her mother had known everything her whole life yet hadn’t bothered to fill her in on what Erika considered to be vital information. This was no different. They could have told her more about what would happen if they ever had to fight off one of the Reality Terminators, but they hadn’t.

Realizing that she was tensing up, with her fingers straining her truck’s steering wheel, Erika stopped and took a breath. “Thank you,” she said, “for keeping an eye on Carter.”

With The Fixer gone, and Erika unwilling to take Carter into situations she knew were likely dangerous even despite his assurances that he could slip into the future until after the danger had passed, the King family had taken him in for the time being, until Erika figured something else out… or until The Fixer and Leah showed up.

Erika wasn’t holding her breath.

Even if The Fixer did show up, she wasn’t sure that she should be trusting them with Carter’s safety. They wouldn’t deliberately hurt Carter, she was sure of that, but they sure would disappear without notice and leave everyone in a lurch. The Kings would at least treat him like one of their own kids.

They were too good—their generosity bordered on being unsettling.

Feeling her heart thumping faster as her temper rose, Erika clenched her jaw and shoved the anger aside. “So. Beyond what you already know, I’ll add a few quick notes to The Puppet. The Warrior seems fairly easygoing, but might also be some kind of adrenaline junkie based on how she acted after the hotel. The Stalker is calm and morose most of the time, but don’t bring up The Hanged Man or especially The Art around her or she might flip her lid—I think she has some serious psychological issues and most of those issues relate to one of the two, if not both of them. The Strategist needs to be the smartest guy in the room, I think, but he doesn’t read as very threatening to me.”

All three would be there today. Erika still hadn’t met The Healer or, if they even existed, The Puppet—the one after whom they named the faction. “Everything I’ve heard about The Healer indicates that they’re someone who is extremely grumpy or extremely depressed,” Erika said, continuing her assessment. “Either way, the rest of them have a hard time getting her out of bed. I don’t know a thing about The Puppet—the person—beyond that they’re some kind of rallying figure who guides the group philosophy of freedom… and maybe they have some beef with The Eclipse’s suppressive rules. I don’t think either will be there, so no need to worry about them.”

“All of them sound dysfunctional,” Leslie said, arms folded across his chest as he sat in the passenger seat.

“Yeah. That’s something I’ve been thinking about lately.”

“Oh?”

“I think superpowers, directly or indirectly, significantly affect the behavior of the people with the superpowers,” Erika said as she pulled to a stop. She turned off the engine and turned in her seat, giving Leslie her attention as she put her ideas into words. “Not like superpowers are semi-sapient brain parasites or anything, just… When you have the ability to watch a target of affection from afar, see everything they do and everyone they interact with, it starts breeding feelings of obsession. Living for an extreme length of time might make someone view themselves as far more knowledgeable, rejecting meetings with ‘younger’ people simply because they think they know best.”

At least, that was Erika’s reasoning for why The Hermit still hadn’t deigned to meet with her. She didn’t have any clear reasoning for why The Emperor also rejected meetings—other than her title being The Emperor and Erika was just some nobody.

“Have you considered how that might affect yourself?” Leslie asked.

Erika let out a scoff. “Of course. I don’t want to say I thought I was better than other people, but I always knew I could do things that other people couldn’t, and that definitely gave me some arrogance. More specific to my skill set…” She trailed off with a small frown. This was a topic she had been thinking about ever since she woke up in The Castle’s care. “When you can break anything, you think about what you can break to achieve the result you want, instead of trying to fix things… or that you can fix things simply by breaking them further.”

Leslie said nothing, choosing instead to simply offer a neutral hum as he pursed his lips behind his bushy beard.

Waiting for a car to go by, Erika hopped out onto the street, kicked the pickup door shut, and trudged through the muck-filled snow to the sidewalk. “Of course,” she said, donning a grin as Leslie stepped out of the truck, “it comes in pretty handy when I need to break some kneecaps. Round three with that naked woman won’t go well for her now that I know how to break her.”

“It seems introspection is not a cure for arrogance.”

Erika gave a deliberately haughty laugh. “If people could change that easily, the world would probably be a better place.”

“Still might be good to break those kinds of habits,” Leslie said, even smiling a little. Probably. His beard made it difficult to tell for sure, but his tone sounded humorous.

“I don’t know, seeing how easily breaking things can lead to The Mummy popping up, I probably shouldn’t try to begin with. Best just be my usual, arrogant self,” she joked in kind as she stepped up to the laundromat door.

It was the same abandoned laundromat where she had first met The Warrior. The boarded-up windows and For Lease sign were still there, just as they had been two months ago. Inside, however, was a different story. The first time around, The Warrior had a fancy table and little fairy lights set up, giving the place the atmosphere of a fortune teller’s tent. Now, it seemed more like The Strategist had been in charge of decorations.

Two whiteboards flanked an industrial table, all three containing posters, drawings, and even some printed building diagrams. A bad feeling welled in Erika’s chest as she scanned down a list of potential disguises marked out next to a timetable. It felt like she walked onto the set of a movie about a bank heist. She had been hoping for a simple break the gold bar, walk away like last time.

This looked… far more involved.

Given her faction’s newfound neutrality, it could be problematic. This was a favor she had owed since the end of October, long before she even knew about the scope of The Eclipse, let alone before they had come to their agreement about only taking neutral jobs. Somehow, she doubted The Emperor would care much about that excuse.

The Strategist was present, stroking his slim, thin goatee as he faced one whiteboard with a marker in hand. The Stalker sat at one end of the table, leaning back with her bare feet propped up on its top. Her eyes shimmered with the active use of her ability, staring off into the distance. Over to the side of the vacated laundromat, The Warrior stood at another table where a series of bullets were arrayed out in a small pentagram. Five candles burned at opposing points, each with a different colored flame.

Beyond the three supernaturals of The Puppet, Michael, Simone, and four others who Erika didn’t recognize worked in the back, checking over a small armory of firearms and blades. Given the latter four’s association with the two she knew, they were probably unpowered henchmen—cultists was apparently the proper terminology for that sort of person.

“Good morning,” Erika called out despite her feelings, announcing her presence as she stepped inside.

The Strategist turned and The Stalker’s eyes lost their shimmer, but The Warrior and the cultists remained focused on their tasks.

“The Agent,” The Strategist said with the faintest nod of his head. “And…”

“This is the leader of The Hunters,” Erika introduced. “The Longshot.”

As a proper faction, The Adjustment had advised that all The Hunters should pick out proper sobriquets—although no known fae lived in the city, tradition demanded that everyone go by such titles unless with people who they truly trusted. Even outside the threat of fae, an offered name held power that knowledgeable sorts could exploit. The region had no registry or official process for claiming a nickname. Apparently, any nickname would work as long as someone in the region hadn’t already picked it. Most supernaturals didn’t travel, so it didn’t really matter if someone else elsewhere used the name. Supernaturals who did travel often altered their names when they entered a region with someone else bearing their title.

After a long debate with Daniel, Leslie settled on The Longshot—a name Erika found disappointingly literal, as if guns summed up his entire identity. Then again, Erika wasn’t sure how much room she had to talk; The Agent hadn’t even been her idea, it was just what The Stalker called her on their first meeting before she knew anything. She had seen no reason or opportunity to change it up now.

That said, The Longshot was probably a better title than what Rick had put out: The Sword. Erika had ordered him back to the drawing board.

Sofia said she would think about it and Daniel wasn’t really, technically, a full-time member of the group just yet—he had to graduate high school before Leslie planned to allow him into the really dangerous side of things, though that had been back when they thought ghosts were the be-all and end-all of the supernatural world.

“The Hunters,” The Strategist repeated, humming thoughtfully as he lightly stroked his goatee.

The Stalker, dropping her feet off the table, adopted a scowl as she eyed Leslie. “Who the hell are The Hunters?”

Before Erika could explain, The Strategist tutted and said, “You’ve met two of The Agent’s associates already, do try to keep up.”

“But…”

“Always good to encounter other open-minded groups,” The Strategist said, speaking directly to Leslie. “Those not content to sit beneath The Eclipse’s heel.”

“Technically speaking, we are a neutral faction,” Leslie corrected immediately and bluntly. “We lack the resources necessary to fight off The Eclipse if they take issue with us, but even if we didn’t, the only umbrage we truly take with The Eclipse is being told who we can and cannot aid.”

“Naturally,” The Strategist agreed, taking no apparent offense. “I’d say that’s all any of us want, but The Eclipse would see us as little more than puppets on strings, marionettes to be wielded alongside their bought politicians, influence with law enforcement, and overarching reach throughout the rest of the city.”

Erika cocked her head, wondering if the faction—or the individual—had picked that name as a protest.

Leslie carried on, forcing the conversation onward before Erika could ask. “We must pick and choose our battles, and I’m afraid The Hunters are focused on a smaller scope.”

“If fighting will not result in victory, then you must not fight,” The Strategist said with a firm nod, then held out his hand.

Leslie accepted the handshake with a firm grip before turning slightly, enough to clearly signal that Erika should take the lead once more. The whole interaction left her mildly impressed; she didn’t think Leslie was foolish or anything, but she also hadn’t exactly expected a sudden… grilling? The Strategist spoke politely, but she wondered if that could have turned hostile if Leslie said the wrong thing.

“Well,” Erika said, taking the offered lead. “What’s on the docket today? Hopefully nothing that will directly offend The Eclipse.” She emphasized the word, trusting that The Strategist would pick up on it. “This all looks a bit more involved than I expected, frankly.”

“You’ll be pleased to know that you won’t be participating in the majority of the operation,” The Strategist said, turning partially to one whiteboard.

Erika kept the relief off her face. Even if robbing a bank did sound somewhat fun, Erika didn’t think she had the time to spare. There was too much going on, too much to worry about, to risk pissing off The Eclipse.

She shot The Stalker a sidelong look, searching for any hint of approval or resentment simmering beneath the flat expression on her face. Erika’s favor was supposed to be for The Stalker, not for The Strategist or The Puppet, but it sure seemed like The Stalker wasn’t the one calling the shots anymore.

The Stalker sat with clenched teeth, but Erika couldn’t tell if it was because of The Strategist or whatever she kept searching for in the distance.

“We will perform most of the work,” The Strategist continued. “All we need from you is to be in the right place at the right time, ready to break an object much like the one you broke for us during our brief test.”

“A gold bar with an enchantment on it?”

“It might not be a bar, but essentially, yes.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Erika said. “Breaking that bar took, what, two minutes? Most of which was me poking at it before I actually tried breaking it.”

Hearing an offended harrumph from The Warrior, Erika turned to find the woman holding one of her bullets over a green-colored flame with a pair of tongs. Erika didn’t know much about bullets, but that didn’t seem safe. Even though nobody else looked worried, Erika took a few steps to put The Strategist between her and The Warrior’s worktable.

“The main problem is that we don’t know exactly when or even where the right time and right place will be,” The Strategist said, pointing out a list labeled Possible Opportunities. “Having you busy, asleep, or otherwise occupied should we try to call you in could be… catastrophic. Even if you are sitting by your phone, waiting and ready, it might not be enough. There may not be time for you to physically move to the needed position as we don’t know where that might be.”

“And coming with you is not an option?”

“It would be suboptimal,” he said without further elaboration.

Erika hummed, wondering how much this would piss off The Eclipse if they found out. It could be mere operational security, but it felt like he was being deliberately scant on details, probably because of her and Leslie’s self-professed neutrality. She wouldn’t put it past a man titled The Strategist to be able to change up his plans on the fly like this; she didn’t know if he was classified as a Genius or what, but someone wouldn’t take a name like that if they couldn’t come up with a lot of plans.

An idea started to form in the back of her mind. Not one that she really wanted to use, but one which might be an option. The sooner she got rid of this favor, the better, in her opinion, so a little risk might be worth it.

“A quick clarification,” Erika said before speaking her idea, “breaking this object isn’t likely to cause any abrupt apocalypses in Chicago… or anywhere else, I suppose, is it?”

“No.”

The Stalker raised an eyebrow. “Is that something you’re worried about?”

Erika shrugged. “Not really. A fortune teller gave me some doom-and-gloom—two disasters in the future, one hitting Chicago any day now.”

She doubted this had anything to do with it. Judging by when The Strategist had her break that gold bar, the timeline didn’t match up for when The Eclipse instigated their anti-maggot plan. Whatever this was, it had been on the task list for a lot longer than that. It could still lead to that other problem that The Prescient had mentioned, but Erika figured the tattooed group would be the far more likely group to bring about that end, judging by the murals and The Fixer’s claims.

With the way he looked at her, The Strategist noted her words, but he didn’t look overly concerned. If not for The Adjustment’s abject dismissal of The Prescient’s forewarnings, Erika might have been more concerned about his lack of reaction.

“Suppose,” Erika said slowly, moving back to the topic at hand, “that I have a way of moving about the city faster than a normal individual might manage. How would that alter your plans?”

“It would depend on how fast ‘faster than normal’ is.”

“Not sure I can give an exact number,” Erika admitted. She could bend time a little, and maybe shave off a few minutes here or there, but if Carter helped out… “Assume I can get anywhere in one quarter of the time that you would normally expect.”

The Strategist turned away, eyes dancing over the whiteboard once more. “That makes this more workable. I think,” he tilted his head back and forth, then nodded to himself. “Yes. Very well, here is how this will work…”