99.

  2 months later

  “Alex!”

  I turned to see who was shouting. Marilyn ran up behind me. She smiled and waved warmly, then linked her arm through mine while I awkwardly hunched my shoulders, walking with my hands in my pockets.

  "You thought I was gonna be late, didn't you?" Marilyn said.

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  "I knew you'd be here eventually," I replied, giving her a small smirk.

  This had become our morning routine. Marilyn had managed to find a part-time job as a waitress while I sort of floated about, trying to put my life back together. Eventually, days and days of sitting in my flat staring at the ceiling became too much, and I decided to volunteer at the homeless shelter where Marilyn worked part time between shifts.

  After my time spent working with Sherbert, I had grown more of an affinity for the homeless population of the Mulberry Estate. Even though I wasn't fighting crime and breaking bones, I could still help those who needed helping. And if I'm honest, it got me out of the house and gave me something to do.

  With arms linked and Marilyn chatting away happily in my ear, we strolled down the main thoroughfare of the Mulberry Estate. The place was transformed after the horrors of that forty-eight hours: dead police, gunfights in the streets, gangs roving with weapons, police swooping and finally arresting Brick. The community had really come back together and decided enough was enough. The Gutter Mage had inspired some good, at least in these people. Community watches were established. Graffiti was being cleaned, rubbish was being picked up, the community was literally cleaning up the neighbourhood. Slowly, week by week, the estate changed.

  And the gangs hadn’t returned. The fear of the Gutter Mage lurking in the darkness was enough for them. Their entire criminal hierarchy had been disbanded, and they knew one thing for certain, even if they had no idea what had actually happened or who the Gutter Mage was, they knew to stay the fuck away from the Mulberry Estate. Crime still continued elsewhere; of course, it did. Drugs were dealt, lives were ruined, people were hurt. But the Mulberry Estate became an oasis in the middle of all of that.

  You could actually walk around the estate now without being bothered. People waved and said hello. Sometimes, there were even old folks who would take a lawn chair and sit outside their ground floor flats, just watching the day go by, waving and smiling. The ever-present fear of getting jumped or harassed seemed to melt away surprisingly quickly. Of course, you didn't want to attract attention to yourself; it was still the Mulberry Estate, after all. But, there was a sense of peace that I’d never felt on the estate before. People were happy, people were glad to see each other, and the estate wasn't infested with thugs looking for trouble or addicts looking for their next fix. But that didn't mean the homeless shelter wasn't just as busy as always. When we arrived, we were set straight to work.

  Marilyn was always kept on serving food. She was bright and bubbly, and the homeless people genuinely seemed to enjoy seeing her and having a chat with her. I lacked any sort of social grace, and I think I put some of the homeless people off the first time that I served the food, so I was usually kept in the back sorting clothes, washing, and sorting donations. I didn't mind; it was good work and it was quiet. People realised that I didn't require the perfunctory small talk and instead they would just accept the small smiles and the meek nods that I would give in greeting and leave me to it, only speaking to me when they needed to tell me something or ask me to do something. It was the perfect way to spend my time.

  Of course, it couldn't last forever. My cash reserves were dwindling. I'd pawned the last of the Pigeon King's gold when I got out of the hospital. My closet was still stuffed with thousands of pounds in drug money, but it wasn't even an option for me to spend that. Instead, I had been quietly siphoning it through the homeless shelter, dropping in twenty, fifty, a hundred here and there, but at this rate, it would take me months to get rid of all of it.

  Today, I'd been put on duty to sort clothes and hand them out. The weather was just beginning to turn. The cold rains of early winter would soon be turning into the dry, frigid cold of December and January, and we were sorting through piles of donated winter wear. It was my job to sift through the piles to see what was fit to be worn and what needed just a wash, perhaps even a few holes sewn. I liked sewing. Marilyn had taught me after the sketchy stitching and self-repair jobs I'd been doing on my gear as the Gutter Mage. It was nice to actually learn how to do it properly, and I found simple joy in fixing broken things.

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  Today, I was bundling up winter coats when the homeless people began to arrive. First, they would stop for their meals then for their free health checkups. Others made a beeline for the clothing, assuming that while hot or cold the food never got any better, the clothes would surely run out. So I was busy all morning until I heard a familiar voice followed by an even more familiar guffaw. My head snapped up immediately, and I looked around the corner, and there he was. Six and a half feet, unusually broad for an indigent man, and with a bright, beaming smile, was Sherbert.

  My heart leaped every time I saw him. His wounds had healed for the most part. He had an apostrophe-shaped scar above his eyebrow, and one of his eyes seemed to be constantly half-shut from the damage he received at the hands of Brick during his kidnapping. The first time I'd seen him at the shelter, I wanted to burst into tears and run up and hug him, but then Sherbert had just looked straight through me. Of course, Sherbert didn't know Alex; he knew the Gutter Mage. He was friends with the Gutter Mage. Alex was just another scrawny teen working at the homeless shelter. Even though he'd taken my balaclava off, I imagine with my face so swollen and beaten that it would have been hard to recognise me then, plus I'd let my hair grow longer, covering some of the scars on my forehead. But of course, he wouldn't recognise me. Who the hell would ever guess that this gawky teenager was really the Gutter Mage?

  I wanted to tell him straight away who I was. I was desperate to have perhaps one of two friends in my entire life recognise me, but another more logical part of my mind realized that Sherbert was safer not knowing who I was, safer not having anything to do with me. So, I just kept an eye on him from afar, and he looked good. He looked happy.

  A couple nights after I’d run away from the hospital, I snuck out of my flat and recovered his coat. I dropped it outside of his home and quickly departed after knocking on the corrugated metal door. I hid in the shadows and watched him open the door to find his coat. The big man had stood in shock for a few seconds before falling to his knees and burying his face in the coat. I heard his howls from where I hid, and they thankfully masked my own sobs. But then I saw him look up and there was that bright beaming smile.

  “I knew you were alive!” He shouted into the night. “Thank you, Mr Mage!”

  I swallowed a lump in my throat and scrubbed my eyes. The last time he'd seen me was in a congealing pool of my own blood in that alleyway after he ran to get help. That made me feel good. At least he knew that his friend, the Gutter Mage, had survived.

  And there he stood now, wearing the coat, laughing, patting other homeless people on the back, directing them towards food and warmth. Sherbert was always like that. He was kind of like a leader to the homeless people, and I'd imagine that had no little amount to do with the notoriety he gained from being the Gutter Mage's ally. They looked up to him, and he seemed to gain something from that—a pride in himself. I noticed that Sherbert never ate first, never took the clothes when other people needed them more. He always waited; he made sure everyone got fed and had warm clothes. He knew everybody's names. He would laugh and joke with Marilyn; heck, I'd even seen him serving on a few occasions. It warmed my heart to see my friend doing so well.

  A lot of things warmed my heart nowadays. It was like all the anger, all the hatred, all the self-loathing that had festered in me for so long had been exorcised in blood as the Gutter Mage. Laying there, bleeding on the pavement was the death of all those things. I'd been given another go. Well, technically this was my third try at life, and I was grateful for it. I was happy for all the small things in my life. I was happy to not be hunted, and I was happy to see the very small handful of people that I cared about were happy too. In my life, that was more than I could ever have hoped for.

  The rest of the day passed. Marilyn had to leave at lunchtime to start her shift in the restaurant. I stayed because I had nothing else to do. I sewed clothes, washed and folded, and sewed some more until darkness began to descend outside. The shelter usually closed around this time, so I helped them get the shutters down and made sure everything was padlocked and ready for tomorrow. I dug my hands into my pockets and strolled home in the dark.

  The Mulberry Estate might have changed a lot, but it still didn't feel entirely safe at night. The criminals hadn't completely disappeared, but they had definitely been beaten back. I actually felt safe walking home, although I didn't dilly-dally or stroll too casually, and I most definitely kept one eye over my shoulder. But, walk home I did, with no gear, no weapons, nothing.

  On the odd occasion, my eyes would be drawn to a fire escape, and I'd have the urge to fly up them and leap across the buildings as I'd once done. That urge would pass quickly, especially when I felt the twinges of pain in my knees and abdomen. Admittedly, it did feel strange now not to be wrapped in the carapace, not to be wearing a balaclava, not to have my gloves or my Grandad’s bat. But all those things were lost to me now. I hadn't gone back to Sherbert to try and recover them, and I decided that it was better that way.

  I didn't know who Alex was, really. I'd gone from an abused child to a scared teenager, to being alone, to a violent menace stalking the nights so quickly that I wasn't really sure who I was anymore. I knew for certain I wasn't that scared, lonely teenager desperate for validation and a place in the world. I wasn't that anymore. I looked around the estate, and I realised they didn't need the Gutter Mage. Where that left me, I wasn't sure, but I was alive, and perhaps for the first time in my life, I was actually happy about that.