82.

  The shotgun went off behind me.

  Whichever one of the idiots was wielding it now was an even worse shot than the ones before. Pellets brushed against my shoulder, but he had fired from such a stupid distance that they had lost almost all their momentum. They still stung, but a shotgun blast should have ripped my shoulder apart, not just cut and burned my flesh. I staggered and spun, falling to one knee. The second redhead with the bat took her chance. She teed off on my skull, swinging like a World Series golfer. I just about managed to lurch backwards, the bat whistling past the tip of my nose. Heavy footsteps pounded down the alleyway behind us.

  The first redhead was back in action, but she wasn't trying to fight me now. Instead, she ran around me and hurled her chain at the approaching thug, snatching the shotgun from his grip as he tried to reload.

  "What are you doing, you stupid bloody bitch?" the thick, potato faced thug barked at her.

  "The bounty's ours, fatty," she spat back at him.

  "What's a little girl like you getting involved in all this for? Why don't you toddle off home, sweetie, before you get hurt?" he growled back, and I saw him reach into his pocket and pull out a gleaming pair of knuckle dusters.

  "Only one of us is gonna get hurt here, and it's not gonna be us!"

  The thug looked from her to the brunette who was crumpled on the floor, and a stupid grin appeared on his face.

  "You sure about that?”

  “The Gutter Mage is coming with us," the first redhead said, her bat resting on her shoulder. "So why don't you fuck off back to the burger shack? You've had your chance, and you messed it up."

  And then my Chalk Bomb went off. The alleyway was a cramped space, much better conditions for the Chalk Bomb to be effective. Dust exploded just as the not-so-witty repartee continued on, and all three of my would-be assassins caught mouths and facefuls of white dust.

  I dropped Grandad's bat for a moment, knowing in these current conditions it might be more of a hindrance than a help, and then I was on them. I felt bad, but I punched one of the redheads square in the gut, the Zap Knucks charging up and then exploding into her midsection, sending violent volts through her body. She screamed and convulsed, falling to the floor and dropping her bat. And then I was on the second, but she was quicker. Even in the chalky haze, she managed to avoid my punch. But that chain-whip thing was absolutely useless this close-up, so all she could do was stumble backwards away from me, which put her straight into the grasp of the heavy. He didn't seem to have any qualms about striking a lady. He punched her straight in the back of the head with the brass knuckles. The blow took her off her feet and she slumped bonelessly to the floor. The spud faced heavy wafted his meaty hand in front of him to clear the dust smoke and stepped casually over her limp body. He raised the knuckle dusters, adopting a traditional boxing stance, and it looked like he knew how to fight. Perhaps he had even been a fighter in his younger days and maybe a hundred pounds ago.

  I raised my fists in my own version of a made-up boxer's stance, and then he swung at me. He wasn't particularly quick, and I was able to slip the punch and slam my electrified knuckles into his gut. However, he was much chunkier and thicker than the poor girl had been, and he was able to absorb the blow much better. He did cry out in surprise, though, before slamming his fists into my shoulder. He aimed for my head, but he was too slow to get hold of me. I felt the brass knucks dig so far into the meat of my shoulder that it hit bone. I stumbled against the wall, narrowly avoiding getting my face caved in by a straight left. I ducked and then began to rapid-fire blows into anything I could reach: his stomach, his thigh, his chest, his arm, his neck. Each one sent more zaps of energy into his body, and he twitched and snarled as they did, fumbling, trying to get hold of me. He grabbed a fistful of my hoodie, holding me still and lining me up for a finishing blow. I fought against his grip, kicking his thick thighs but the man wouldn’t budge.

  “I’m gonna smash your fucking head into… aahhhhhhh!”

  He didn’t get to finish what I’m sure would have been a colourful and very original analogy because I reached up and zapped his hand with as much energy as I could force through the Knucks. He screamed and let go, and then got a throat full of Zap Knucks, and that sent him falling backwards like a great tree being felled in the forest. I rode him all the way to the ground, zapping him the whole way. His scream cut off when his head bounced off the concrete. The impact of his falling body sent up a great whoosh of air that cleared the alleyway of chalk dust.

  I gasped for breath and looked around. The alleyway was strewn with fallen bodies, but I was still standing. I limped over to Grandad's bat and picked it back up, sheathing it over my shoulder. I waved my hands in the air, trying to cool down the copper plates. I could feel them burning my knuckles and the smell of melting plastic was overwhelming. I looked at the fat man and then at the gleaming brass knuckles on his fists. I bent down and pulled them off, pocketing them for later, and then turned around, and started running.

  I had to get off the streets. Sherbert had been right, I was a dead man if I stayed out here. But to get back to my flat I would have to go deeper into the Mulberry Estate, and who knew what was waiting for me there. I needed to get back to the rooftops but there was no access to any of the rooftops around here. I tried to get my bearings and figure out a route home and realised I would have to enter the main roads again, I didn’t have a choice.

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  I ran out of the alleyway onto the main road and looked from left to right. No thugs seemed to be waiting for me. I felt like a mouse scuttling around the house at night while the cat slept. I hugged the shadows, my eyes darting madly around, searching for any sign of predators. I dipped back off the main road and sprinted through the near darkness of another one of the Mulberry Estate’s winding alleyways, coming out by the small river and to the underpass where I had my first battle as the Gutter Mage.

  The tunnel was dark… too dark. Someone had put out the lights. I quickly ducked into the shadows provided by a crooked old tree and wiped fresh blood from my lip. I gathered my focus and pressed the bloodied finger to the Runes on my belt. The enchantment flared and shadows swallowed my form. I felt the immediate suck of energy and knew I had to be quick. I pulled down my goggles and crept towards the mouth of the tunnel. I saw the green outline of 6… no 7 figures waiting in the tunnel. They were lined up on either side of it, various weapons in hand, waiting. They were shuffling around nervously, looking up and down and fidgeting constantly. I recognised some of the faces in the tunnel, they were local thugs, low level dealers.

  I needed to get through the tunnel, on the other side, was my escape route back to the rooftops. I took a deep breath and focused on my shroud. I had to get through and I had to do it quietly. I stepped into the tunnel, careful to avoid any puddles that might give away my presence.

  I saw one of the goons staring at his WristPod, the light from it illuminating his face.

  "Oi, put that away, thick head!" one of the goons, a short stocky teen with a thick golden chain around his neck, snapped. "You're gonna give us away to him!”

  "There's gunshots all over the Estate,” said the youth who was staring at his WristPod. “Apparently, they've chased him down the main road past the Llewellyn Lane shops. That means he must be coming this way.”

  "I told you he'd come this way," the yob with the gold chain said.

  "I don't know about this," another one said quietly. "Maybe we shouldn't be messing with the Gutter Mage.”

  "Don't go soft on me now," the golden-chained one said. "Come on, boys, it's 200K if we can bring him in. That's like…" He stopped and looked around at the seven of them while quietly doing maths. "That's money!" he said eventually. "More money than we get selling bits and bobs to fiends on the street, and all we gotta do is take out one guy.”

  "Yeah, but that one guy is the Gutter Mage," another one said, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "They say he's got powers."

  "Oh, leave it out," the golden-chained one said. "All that magic hocus pocus crap. You don't really believe that, do you?”

  "I mean, he's taken out half the guys on the block," the one leaning against the wall replied.

  I stopped prowling then. I was almost upon them, and the golden-chained one had stood up and was right in the middle of the tunnel. I didn't have the space to get around him without potentially brushing past one of the others, and even though it was pitch black, I still didn't fully trust whether my cloak could hold up so near to them.

  "Listen, he's just one guy, and there ain’t no magic powers, alright? Those lot were soft; they got run off the block, but we're still here, and the money is there for us to take," the golden-chained boy said.

  "No, man," said another. "I heard he got shot in guts and walked it off.”

  "Who says that?:”

  “Stabber. He got sent down for busting his gun off and nearly hitting that civilian.”

  "No, that's bullshit man. He's just chatting shit," the golden-chained one said. "He just wanted everyone to think that he shot him. He ain't really. Who can survive a gunshot to the stomach? Come on, boys!"

  "I've heard," another one began, "that he's a spirit.”

  "A what?" the golden-chained one said.

  "He's a spirit, you know, like a ghost or something from someone that Brick must have done over back in the day. I heard Brick chopped his body up and chucked him in the river, and now his spirit’s come back for revenge.”

  The golden-chained boy let out a mirthless laugh, but I saw the others looking at each other nervously.

  "That's such bullshit," the golden-chained boy said. "I'm not gonna let fairy tales and ghost stories stop me from making a 100K."

  "You might not believe in ghost stories, but I’ve heard he took Black John out last night,” said the one with his arms crossed.

  The other boys all looked at each other; even the golden-chained one suddenly looked uncertain.

  "No way," said another one, shaking his head. "Black John's a tank. Ain't no one taking out Black John, bro.”

  "I'm telling you, there was a big shootout down by the riverside in Greenwich. They're saying my man took out Black John with his bare hands and left him there to get nicked by the police. Black John's locked up right now."

  The boys all went quiet again, and I didn't blame them. Brick was suddenly on the run for the murder of a police officer. Black John was nowhere to be seen, and apparently, I was a vengeful spirit. Life has certainly become a lot more complicated for a mindless thug on the Mulberry Estate.

  The golden-chained one had walked away a little bit and resumed his stance on the wall. A path opened up between them. I quickly stepped through, dodging over feet, curling around hands and bodies, holding my breath the entire way and focusing as hard as I could on keeping my cloaking charm intact. Just as I was about to creep past the boy with the golden chain, he suddenly flung his arms out to say something to the others, probably another speech to get them hyped up to kill me. Instead, he managed to slap me straight in the side of the head.

  "What the fuck?" he yelled.

  My cloaking charm went down as my concentration slipped, and even worse, he'd knocked my goggles askew so that one of my eyes was completely blind and the other only saw half-shades of green.

  "He's here!" the golden-chained boy cried out. "Kill him!”.