Morning had rolled around, and I'd woken up bleary-eyed and starving. To make matters even worse, Marilyn had said she was going to drop by this morning to bring me a few more supplies and check that I was okay. I tried to fob her off, but she was adamant. Since then, she'd sent me three more videos of the so-called Mulberry Estate Vigilante. All of them were from different angles, and a couple were even from different nights where I fought the Syndicate goons. How could I have been so stupid to think that people weren't taking videos and recording my escapades?

  I scoured each video, but fortunately, most of them were dark, and my disguise hadn't been breached. At most, you might be able to tell that I was a man, and that was about it. I pulled myself up; the ice packs had completely melted, covering my carpet and legs with freezing water. I didn't even dare to dry myself down. The bruises and lumps had gone down only slightly, and the last thing I wanted to do was touch them. I didn't even want to look at them, if I was honest. I put on the loosest pair of jogging bottoms I had and an equally loose-fitting jumper, making sure to try and cover as much of my bruises as possible. Fortunately, I didn't have very many new ones on my face, and I was hoping that would allay Marilyn's suspicions.

  I took another handful of painkillers, washed it down with about a gallon of water and vitamin powder, and slumped down in my Grandad's chair, hugging my arms to my body, trying to wait for the painkillers to kick in. Then I heard a knock at the door. Damn, Marilyn was always an early riser. I limped towards the door and opened it, forcing myself to smile.

  "Morning," I said to Marilyn.

  She smiled back at me and bustled into the flat as if she lived there. She had a carrier bag in her arms filled with the most basic essentials, and she went straight to the kitchen and plonked them down on the countertop.

  "You okay, Alex?" she asked me, busying herself with putting away some of the groceries.

  "Yeah, I'm okay, I just…" I stood awkwardly in the kitchen door, rubbing my arm. "Listen, Marilyn, I just wanted to say I'm sorry for…"

  She held up her hand and smiled at me sweetly.

  "It's okay, Alex, honestly. I'm sorry for poking my nose into your business. People always tell me that I'm too much of a busybody, but I didn't mean to be rude or nosy," she said, tucking her hair behind her ears.

  "You weren't, honestly," I replied quickly. "It's just that I didn't want to talk about it.”

  "Which is absolutely fine," Marilyn replied. "I just want to make sure that you're okay, Alex. It's not easy to lose your job and to worry about money and stuff. I get it. I was trying to make sure you're okay and your Grandad's okay.”

  "He… is," I said, feeling tears prick my eyes.

  "He's not here again?" Marilyn asked.

  "No, he's out," I said quietly.

  "Fishing again?" Marilyn replied, and there was something in her tone that made me feel like she didn’t believe my cover story, but she didn't push.

  "Well, I've got some breakfast stuff here. Do you want me to put something on? We can have a cup of tea," Marilyn asked.

  "Yeah, that'd be lovely," I replied. "I feel like I haven't eaten in days.”

  "You look like it too," Marilyn said, tutting reproachfully as she looked me up and down.

  She put together another hearty breakfast of eggs, toast, and tea, and we both wolfed them down in silence, but it felt like Marilyn was bursting to talk about something. I looked up at her, and she grinned.

  "Did you watch the videos?" she asked me quickly.

  I swallowed a thick mouthful of yolky toast and took a long sip of my orange juice before nodding.

  "It's so cool, right?" Marilyn gushed, her reaction catching me off guard.

  "You think so?" I replied.

  "Don't you?" she said.

  "Umm..." but Marilyn cut me off.

  "I can't believe there's someone actually running around out here taking down these thugs for real. I thought it was just stupid rumours, you know, like that time they told us the old Court Street playground was haunted by the ghost of Mrs. Pennyweather.”

  I cracked a wry grin at that and remembered when we were little, how we tried to stay out late one night to see the ghost for ourselves. We got too scared and ran home.

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  "I mean, what do you think it is?" I asked her.

  "What do you mean?" Marilyn replied. "He's clearly a vigilante, I mean, you saw the way he beat the crap out of those Syndicate goons in less than a minute. He was so outnumbered too; there had to be like 20 of them!" Marilyn’s eyes sparkled brightly.

  I felt an odd pang of something akin to pride.

  "Yeah, he must be pretty tough," I said, unable to help myself.

  "Super tough," Marilyn replied. "And I think it's true what they say," she said, dropping her voice. "I think he does have magical powers.”

  "Really?"

  "Yeah, like, no one could fight off that many goons like that. You'd have to have some sort of superpowers," she said.

  I just shrugged my shoulders and winced as pain lurched up my spine. Fortunately, Marilyn was too distracted to notice.

  "I mean, he's been popping up everywhere," Marilyn said. "I've seen videos all over Mulberry Estate of him taking down thugs and drug dealers and scaring them off the Estate. Who do you think it could be?"

  I knew I had a terrible poker face and was a horrible liar, so I chose to shrug and stay quiet. Marilyn filled in the silence for me.

  "I mean, it could be anyone, really, couldn't it? He doesn't look particularly big, but it could be anyone on the Estate. You know, I've been checking out people all day long, trying to see if they've got the same kind of boots or whatever," Marilyn laughed and then sipped her tea. "But whoever it is, I would shake their hand and thank them."

  "You would?" I replied.

  "Yeah, of course! Do you know how long we've needed something like this on the estate? Someone to actually stand up to these thugs, someone who's not afraid of them. I'm telling you right now, Alex, if I had the power, I'd be out there too," she said fervently, her eyes shining. "My whole life, I've wanted to see these thugs get what's coming to them, and I wish it could be me doing it. I'd beat the absolute crap out of them." She swung an imaginary punch and then sipped her tea with a grin on her face. "Wouldn't you?"

  I laughed and looked down.

  "I wouldn't be able to do something like that," I said.

  "Well, of course," Marilyn replied. "Neither would I, but it's fun to think about."

  "Yeah, I guess so.”

  “But if this guy was really serious about cleaning up the estate, then he wouldn't stop at just the street-level dealers. You're never going to get rid of them like that, right?" Marilyn said. "I mean, you've got to take out the high-level guys, right? Well, I mean, at least that's what they do in the movies. There's always some big kingpin or whatever who's at the top of the food chain, and if you take them out, then you take down the whole Syndicate, right?”

  “Right.” I muttered, remembering that idiot in the park who said he worked for a guy called Brick. “But how would you find them?"

  Marilyn shrugged as she cut up her eggs.

  "But knowing these Syndicate thugs, the money’s all they care about. If this vigilante is really serious, he’d start hitting them in their pockets. That would really hurt them."

  "Yeah," I replied, surprised that the thought hadn't really occurred to me.

  I'd been so focused on just surviving and taking out a few street-level goons, I'd never really considered that they were expendable and that a new crop would just be brought in once that crop had been dusted.

  "You follow the drugs, you get the money, and you follow the money, you find the head of the snake," Marilyn said. She then raised a fork and brought it down, slicing through her egg. "And you chop off the head of the snake, and the body dies with it."

  "They say that in movies too?" I asked.

  Marilyn laughed and looked suddenly sheepish.

  "I probably heard it from somewhere.”

  We fell into silence and munched on our breakfast.

  “Have you managed to get any more work?” Marilyn asked, and I shook my head.

  "Yeah, me neither," she replied. "I've been going around everywhere handing out applications, but nobody's hiring. Things are starting to get a bit tight at home," she said, looking down at her plate.

  "Listen, Marilyn, let me pay for this stuff. It's not right that you keep buying me food," I said to her.

  "No, no, no," Marilyn said, clearly embarrassed. "I didn't mean it like that. This is nothing. It's just, you know, with the twins at home and Mum hasn't worked in a while, and you know the unemployment credits don't really go very far nowadays. I could do with just a bit of luck, you know.”

  I bit my lip, remembering the giant carrier bag full of drug money in my room. Should I give it to Marilyn? Would she accept it? But more importantly, how much suspicion would it raise if I just gave her a bag full of obvious drug money? I couldn't tell her where it came from. I looked down at my plate and sighed. Being a vigilante kind of sucked at moments like this.

  "I'm sure you'll find something," I said to her. "You're really smart and you're a hard worker. Somebody's gonna hire you.”

  "Yeah, fingers crossed," Marilyn said, her smile returning to her face. "Just gotta keep getting out there and knocking on doors, I guess.”

  "Right," I said. "And if I hear anything, I'll definitely let you know.”

  "Thanks." Marilyn smiled brightly up at me.

  We talked a little bit more, and for just a short while, life felt normal. Then Marilyn left to go back out on the job hunt, and I limped back into my room and stared at my cupboard where I knew the carrier bag of money was. I could help her, but I couldn't risk revealing that I was the vigilante. I trusted Marilyn, but it just didn't seem wise to let anyone know what I was doing, and I didn't exactly know how to explain that I knew how to do magic either. That wasn't a conversation I was prepared to have right now.

  I sat down at my desk and thought about what Marilyn had said about cutting the head from the snake, and I thought about the mysterious man at the head of the snake: Brick. Brick was the man in charge. Brick was the one running the Syndicate. I needed to find out who he was. But all I had was a street name. For now, the best thing I could do to hurt the Syndicate is go after their pockets because that was the only thing these scumbags cared about. I looked up and screamed, then fell out of my chair when I saw a pigeon standing at my window, staring at me.

  Fucking Pigeons!