I'd been prowling around in the cold night for about half an hour, searching for targets, but the Estate seemed oddly quiet. I checked some of the usual haunts of the Syndicate goons, but they were empty. Had they given up? I didn't think so. That felt too easy. They wouldn't give up prime real estate just because a couple of their goons got beaten up. So I continued from rooftop to rooftop, skulking and searching.

  It was another 10, maybe 15 minutes, when I finally spotted some likely targets. As had become the norm now with these goons, they were demure, quiet, and paranoid. Their eyes were never still. They roved everywhere, especially the rooftops, even though they were too high up for them to be able to see anything. Despite the height, I clung to the shadows and tried not to move too much.

  They had chosen a spot out in the open, nowhere near any fire escapes or alleyways for me to ambush them, and they were under street lights. There were six of them, and I could tell they were armed. I saw hands dropping to waists whenever they heard a noise. There were poles lined up against the low wall they were hanging out by, and they were all watching each other's blind spots. Two of them seemed to be dealing the drugs, while the other four were on lookout, posted in a rough square shape.

  I watched drug addicts come and go, and each time I saw the goons twitch nervously at their approach. They would only let them come one at a time, forcing them to pull down their hoods if they were wearing one, and patting them down before they were allowed into the square, where they were given their drugs and quickly moved on. It seemed like I was having some sort of effect on the Syndicate and the way they behaved. They were no longer trying to harass and bully random people; they just wanted to deal with their drugs quietly and not draw any attention to themselves.

  I began formulating a plan of attack. It wouldn't be easy, and I would more than likely have to attack them in the open, which wasn't ideal. For all the advantages that my powers and my gadgets gave me, at the end of the day, fighting six human beings was almost impossible for anyone. Let alone six armed men, who were already jumpy, and ready to commit violence. The more people, the more limbs, the more chaos, which meant the greater chance of something going drastically wrong. And the fact that we were out in the open meant that I couldn't even approach stealthily and maybe take one or two out before the others spotted me. This was going to require some careful planning.

  Even though my instincts told me to just go down there and unleash my power upon them, I knew better than that. I remembered what it felt like to get stabbed. I remembered what it felt like to bleed out, and I didn't look forward to repeating that anytime soon. From the way they were treating the addicts and interrogating them, I knew that pretending to be one of them was also out of the question. I scanned the scene below me and frowned, whoever had picked this spot had done a good job, there didn't seem to be any lines of sight that weren’t covered. I sucked my gums, running my tongue over my split lip, unconsciously tasting the blood there.

  Of course, I had the Wrist Rocket, and while I was somewhat confident in my aim, I definitely wouldn't be able to hit them from up here. But from closer I was confident I could land my shots. I was fairly certain that if I managed to hit them in the face or the head, I could render them unconscious, but it would have to be from ground level. I felt the Chalk Bombs in my pocket and began to formulate a plan of attack when I noticed something shifting in the corners of my eyes.

  My head snapped round, and I saw a thin, almost gaunt, black cat walk across the rooftops. I could only really see its black silhouette against the low moon. It froze and then whipped its head around to look at me. I saw the shimmering of its silver eyes. Those eyes were unnatural. Was that the cat I had seen on the bus? I had completely put the strange occurrence out of my mind, dismissing it as a result of too many blows to the head and not enough sleep. I sat completely still and watched the cat. It stretched its back and slowly crept along the rooftops edge, never taking those ethereal silver eyes off me. I shifted towards the cat. It was a minute movement but the cat sensed it and leapt. It disappeared over the edge of the roof and was gone. I had an urge to chase the thing, to pursue it through the alleys and across the rooftops, but I quickly shook my head and dispelled the ridiculous notion. I wasn’t here to chase cats.

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  “Come on Alex!” I growled at myself. “Focus!”

  I turned back to the scene below and resumed my task, filing away the strange cat with the mountain pile of things I didn’t want to deal with right now.

  It was time to go, now or never. I licked my lips again, secured my balaclava, made sure my hood was down and my Grandad’s bat was loose enough to pull, and then I descended from the rooftop using my Grapple Cord and the Magnet Runes on my palms to slither down a lamppost. I dashed across an alleyway and hugged the shadows, watching the four men in the open square between the buildings. Wait. Where did the other two go? I peeked around trying to see them but I couldn't spot them anywhere. Grimacing, I had to assume that they'd gone for a piss or something, or maybe to get food. Perhaps they wouldn't be returning. I couldn't wait around to find out.

  Now that I was closer to the goons, I was able to see them better. They were the typical Syndicate hooligans: biker chains, mohawks, leather gloves cut off at the fingertips, baggy jeans, and piercings in strange places. I could smell the anxiety radiating from them. I expected them to be paranoid, but this was more than that. They were afraid, and that made me feel powerful. All my life, thugs like this had made me feel scared, and now I was the thing they feared. I grinned wolfishly underneath my balaclava, silently withdrew my Wrist Rocket, and pulled down my see-in-the-dark goggles, before taking out two Chalk Bombs. I had improved the Chalk Bomb recipe and how to wrap them, and I was confident now that they would work… more often than before at least. I hurled them both into the air straight into the middle of the square, and they exploded upon impact with the ground. A great puff of white chalk dust went up, and I sprinted towards the men.

  I heard them crying out in confusion.

  "What was that?"

  "He's here! He's here!" another one cried.

  "Quickly! Get him!" the third shouted, and then I was on them.

  I had a Bang Rock loaded into my Wrist Rocket. Even as they tried to turn and grab their weapons, I fired into the cloud of chalk dust and hit one of them square in the chest. The clay shot exploded and took him off his feet, throwing him backwards into a heap. I loaded another one, spun, and fired. My aim wasn't fantastic, shooting from the hip like that, but I still hit him in the shoulder and the explosion spun him off his feet. That was two down, just two left.

  I quickly folded up the Wrist Rocket, tucked it into my pocket, and leaped over the low wall. I found one of the men blindly swinging a pole, which I grabbed hold of with my Magnet Rune, yanked the pole out of his hand, and then zapped him in the neck. He fell, gargling and twitching. I discarded the pole, then looked around for the fourth.

  Something thudded into my back, and I spun to see a thug with dirty blonde hair gripping a baseball bat, swinging it wildly in the haze of the cloud dust. In such an open space, the cloud dust wasn't as effective and was already beginning to dissipate. I pulled up my goggles and faced the man. He swung wildly in fear, screaming something I couldn't understand. It sounded like garbled nonsense, as if he was calling for imaginary backup. I kept an ear out, but I didn't hear anyone approaching from behind. Maybe he was expecting the other two men to come back.

  I dodged as he swung at me again, but then I felt a hand grab my leg, and I stumbled to one knee. It was the man I'd shot first with the Wrist Rocket. He was wheezing and gasping, and I don't even think he meant to trip me. He was rolling around and gasping for air, and grabbed at the first thing he felt. The man with the bat was back on me, swinging it at my head. I just about managed to curve my skull out of the way and took the blow across the shoulders. I lashed out with the Zap Knucks and caught him in the stomach. It was only a glancing blow, but the sting of it was enough to send him skittering back. Then I punched the downed man, hitting him twice in the face until he let go of my leg. I pulled myself free and ran at the man who was still standing. He pulled a small flick knife out, swiping wildly at me while backtracking. He was still yelling, and now that the chaos had died down a little, I was able to make out what he was saying.

  "He's here! He's here!" the man screamed. "Come on, he's here! Get him! Get him!”

  What the hell was he talking about? I turned around and looked over my shoulder, but there was no one else there.

  "Sorry mate, I think your friends have left you," I said to him. "Now drop the knife before I have to hurt you.”

  The man suddenly stopped backpedaling and grinned at me.

  "I'm not the one that's gonna get hurt tonight," he said. "You're fucked now, mate.”

  That's when I heard the sound of shutters flying open. My head spun around. The chalk cloud was already clearing, and I saw ten more goons come running out of the abandoned shops, armed and ready, shouting and swearing. They poured out of three separate vacant lots, and surrounded the square.

  “We got you now,” the man with the knife sneered at me. “You’re a dead man!”