87.

  I arrived at the playground where I would usually meet Sherbert. I had no real time to prepare. I'd managed to craft just a few supplies before I suited up and headed out. The playground was completely empty and still, evidence of the previous night's mayhem was scarred across the grounds. Among the burns and the melted plastic were bullet holes, and only one single streetlight which hadn't been shot out. The solitary light cast an eerie yellow glow full of shadows across the still park. I strode into the center with my head high. If this was a trap, then I felt sorry for whoever was waiting for me, but I didn't think it was. Brick seemed to have set this up so that I would be fighting him on his ground.

  In the center of the playground was the large post that Sherbert and I had used to communicate with one another, and hanging from it was Sherbert’s new coat, spotted with blood. I felt my breath catch in my throat as I saw it, but I pushed away those feelings. I could use all of that later. For now, I had to stay clear-headed and calm. I approached the jacket cautiously, a thought flashing through my mind that it might be booby-trapped in some way. However, after walking around the pole once, I satisfied myself that there was nothing untoward waiting for me, and I unhooked the jacket.

  I looked it over and then rifled through the pockets until I found a folded-up piece of paper. I opened the paper, and there was an address written there: Moult Avenue, Building 4. I ran my tongue across my lips. Moult Avenue? I vaguely recognized the name. It was a particularly rundown part of the Boroughs, a place where no one other than junkies and criminals roamed, with an even worse reputation than the Mulberry Estate. It figured that's where Brick would be holed up. I stared at the piece of paper before scrunching it up and tossing it to one side.

  I folded Sherbert’s coat and secreted it beneath some bushes. He would need it when he was free. He'd be happy that I looked after it. The thought flashed across my mind to contact the police, to let them know where the most wanted man in New London was, but that wouldn't do. That wouldn’t be vengeance; it'd barely be justice. No, me and Brick had to settle this one on one, and whoever was left standing would be the one who was ultimately in the right.

  I pulled a fresh balaclava from my pocket, slid it down over my head, and then pulled my hood up, my eyes cold with righteous fury.

  *

  Moult Avenue was little more than a collection of old, rundown high-rises. The gentrification of the Boroughs has been a massive failure and the Government had given up before reaching this forgotten corner of Greater London. It was an area that bled into industrial wasteland somewhere in the southeast of New London. Really, it was so far out it was hard to even consider it part of the city, and the longer it went uncared for, unloved, and unnoticed, the more those exact types of people filtered in like dirt on a breeze. The place had become a living hellhole of junkies and those who served them. Apparently, it was Brick’s personal little fiefdom.

  I stole across the rooftops of the high rises, most of them disused and empty, until I saw Building 4. It was a monstrosity, all horrible grey slabs of concrete about 14 floors high, and probably could house a 1,000 people if they were desperate enough to live there. I saw new black cars parked outside and I knew Brick here. I could sense him holed up in there. It was the perfect place for an animal like Brick, one way in, one way out, with lots of vantage points. The police would need a small army to get to him. I didn't have a small army; I just had two fists and a lot of rage.

  I began to formulate a plan to sneak in, but I realized that'd be nearly impossible. Most of the windows had been barred or bricked up on the lower five or six floors. Anything above that would be out of reach for me. There was no metal for me to climb up and no other entrances for me to sneak in. I was just going to have to walk in the front door. I adjusted the straps on my gloves, checked Grandad's bat was loose enough to pull quickly, and made sure there was nothing in the way of my Grapple Cord. I stretched my neck, wondering if I'd ever come out of that building alive. I flitted down to the street using my Grapple Cord, then leapt onto a lamppost and slid down the rest of the way.

  None of the lampposts here worked properly. The place was bathed in half-darkness, lit only by a few solitary lights that flickered on and off. I saw junkies laying out in the street, babbling and coughing, and there were barrels with fires lit in them, where people crowded around, trying to ward off the cold of the night. I strode straight through them. There was no hiding in the shadows anymore. I wanted Brick to know I was here. I wanted him to feel fear that the Gutter Mage was coming for him.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Just as I was about to cross the street and walk towards the building, something flitted out of the corner of my eye. I looked over, and it was the cat, black with bright silver eyes, looking at me. Did it look worried? I didn't know if cats could be concerned, but if they could be, that cat definitely was. I made solid eye contact with the little creature, and I felt it almost calling to me, pleading with me not to go in.

  "Sorry, kitty," I muttered. "But this is what I gotta do."

  I turned away from the cat and crossed the street, boldly striding straight towards the front door. My Wrist Rocket was in my hand, and so was a Bang Rock. There were two men at the doors. One of them turned to say something to me, and I shot him straight in the mouth. His head flung back and cracked off the concrete wall behind him, and he slid down unconscious, leaving a trail of blood behind him. The second man raised his gun, only to be shot in the square of his chest with another Bang Rock, throwing him into the bushes behind him. The door opened just as I approached it and a surprised looking thug holding two cups of coffee made eye contact with me.

  “What the f…”

  I charged him, barreling him over and stepping over his body. I turned and punched him in the forehead, knocking him out. Without so much as a glance back, I continued my march into the darkness. Inside, what I guessed was once the reception area, lights flickered on and off, stark, horrible white ones. They threw shadows everywhere, creating monsters and enemies where there were none. But I kept moving forward. I knew Brick would probably be at the top of this tower, and I was going to have to fight every step of the way up.

  Just as that thought crossed my mind, two more goons appeared. One charged straight at me, recklessly screaming his head off with a pole in his hands. He brought it down on me, and I met him with my Magnet Rune, catching it and snatching it out of his hands. I punched him with my other hand, square in the nose, throwing him backwards. Then I took his pole and began to lay into him with it, hitting him in the head, chest, shoulders, and legs until he crumpled over. The second turned to run, and I threw the pole at him, hitting him in the back of the head and knocking him down.

  I charged up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. I met nobody on the first floor, but on the second, there was a pack of goons waiting there, sharing a cigarette, open bottles of alcohol laying around them, looking like they were just hanging out. There must have been seven or eight of them. I hit the landing, and now it was time to unveil my first surprise. I dipped into my pockets and pulled out a pair of gleaming brass knucks that I'd taken from the potato-faced thug. I slid them onto my fists, touched them together, and sparks ripped through them. It turns out brass knuckles were a misnomer; these were made of some sort of steel, and it turns out steel was a very good conductor of electricity. Carving the Runes into them had taken no time at all, and the Runes were deep and perfectly etched. The power that flowed through them was magnitudes stronger than the thin copper plates I had been using before. They fit perfectly into my hands, as if they were made for my fists.

  I grinned at the goons, the crackle of the energy around the knucks lighting up the dim hallway. They blinked in confusion for a second, and then the melee began. One charged and threw a clumsy punch. I ducked and hurled him over my head backwards down the stairs. I heard him shriek and then groan as he landed on the steps. The second got a face full of real Zap Knucks this time. I saw teeth go flying out of his mouth, and his body convulsed. Two more came at me; one smashed a bottle across my shoulder, the glass stinging my face, the alcohol burning the cuts that already existed there. The second produced a dagger and tried to stab me in the gut. I jumped back from him and punched him in the chest, shocking him hard enough to send him tumbling down the stairs. His hands waved comically in the air as he missed a step and he rolled out of sight. The one who'd smashed the bottle across my shoulder looked at him gawkily and then turned just in time to get a jaw and neck full of Zap Knuck.

  Then I was on the rest of them. They hadn't really seemed too game for a fight, but their numbers made them brave. They swarmed me, punching and kicking and smashing bottles, and I just windmilled and wildly punched back. Every time the Knucks made contact with flesh, I heard yelps and cries, and I sent more power surging into the new Knucks. Soon the goons were cornered, no longer trying to fight, just desperately trying to stop me from shocking them. They danced and leapt over each other, but I kept pummeling them until finally they collapsed and gave up.

  "Where's Brick?" I growled, kicking one of them in the stomach.

  He wheezed and pointed upwards.

  "What floor?" I snapped at him.

  "14th," he croaked, and I thanked him by stamping on his face with my boot before turning and marching my way up the stairs.

  Nobody was going to stop me from getting hold of Brick.

  Nobody.