109.

  "So stupid," I snarled at myself as I stood in the bathroom mirror, dabbing my various cuts and scrapes with iodine.

  The razor cut on my forearm was particularly bad and stung almost worse than any cut I'd ever received. I'd fallen asleep pretty much as soon as I got home as the exertion and the late night had completely wiped me out. I'd woken up in the morning stuck to my bed sheets by my own blood. That used to be a familiar feeling but now it felt alien and bizarre. Fortunately, the surgery pain hadn't completely faded yet, so I was used to waking up in pain.

  I stumbled to the bathroom and began putting myself back together with antiseptics and gauze, the whole time admonishing myself for my foolishness. I was supposed to just go out there and watch, find out what was happening, and instead, in one moment of insanity, I relapsed into violence. I stared at my swollen knuckles; flashing images of punching goons in the face and seeing teeth and blood fly flashed across my eyes. I shook my head, disgusted with myself, and was even more disgusted with the fact that I had enjoyed it so much. All I wanted to do was go back out into the night, hunt down more of these goons, and drive them away from the estate.

  I sighed, washed the blood from the sink, grabbed myself a meager breakfast of two slices of toast, and then slumped back into my room. I had already slept most of the day away. It was 3:00 in the afternoon by the time I resurfaced. My stomach growled, and my head ached. I looked at the floor of my bedroom and saw my blood-covered clothes strewn across it, a rucksack full of drugs, and several wads of stolen cash. I wasn't even sure why I'd stolen the money. Sure, it was so that the gang couldn't spend it on more weapons or drugs, but why I'd kept it, I wasn't sure. Probably because my bank account was literally two digits at this point, and Grandad’s pension was stretching less and less far. I sighed and looked away from the grubby money.

  I grabbed my laptop to distract myself, opened the news app, and began scrolling through the day's news, wondering if I would see anything about myself. Stupidly, I had the idea of "The Gutter Mage Returns" as a massive headline. Instead, I was in for much more of a shock. There were reports of an early morning drive-by followed by a broad day shooting. All of them were concentrated around the Mulberry Estate. I read further and saw that it was potentially linked to gang violence within the area. Two shootings in one day was definitely unusual for the Mulberry Estate, and it looked like these were retaliatory shootings.

  The article I was reading said that there had been a shooting on the Toxteth estate and then another shooting to the west of the Mulberry estate, where I had fought those weird, biker-clad goons. I suddenly felt sick. Were these revenge shootings because of what I had done? Of course they were! These gangs were at war with each other, and then I came wading in and beat the crap out of two separate gangs and robbed them both. Of course, they were going to think it was one of the other gangs, and the retaliation had been remarkably swift. One of the shootings must have taken place just hours after I'd gotten home. It was a drive-by shooting, and the pictures of it looked horrendous. An entire street of buildings had been peppered by automatic machine gun fire. Windows had been smashed, parked cars had been hit, and there were bullet holes riddled in the brickwork of people’s homes. Thankfully, no one had been killed or even hit, such was the amateurishness of the shooters. But even amateurs could be deadly.

  The second shooting wasn’t so lucky. A teenager had been shot. Reports said that his injuries were not life-threatening but that he was in intensive care. I didn't know if that was just an innocent person walking the street or whether it was a gang member involved, but it was obvious that these gangs were willing to shed blood and spread violence without hesitation, and they had the tools to do it. This war was going to escalate, and it might be my fault. I sat back and ran my fingers through my greasy hair. Whether I liked it or not, I was involved now, and this was happening on my doorstep. I thought that I could take a step back now that the Syndicate was gone, but it was obvious serious violence was brewing on the estate and even more obvious that I couldn't sit by and do nothing.

  I looked at my blood-covered black hoodie and rolled my tongue around my mouth, tasting blood. A voice in my head was glad to be back.

  *

  That night, I was back on the rooftops prowling, but the shootings early in the morning had drawn a lot of attention from the police. While that never lasted long, the police presence was always enough to put off hooligans from loitering. So it took me longer than usual to track down some likely goons. Fortunately, the Blood Brothers were still stupid enough to come out fully dressed in bright red, making them easy targets. However, now they were back in numbers. I'd spotted two different groups of them, four members in each little pack, and they were staying mobile. Even from up here I could smell the fear and paranoia radiating off them.

  I didn't understand it. Why the hell would you go out and sell drugs after two shootings, the police, and the spectre of the Gutter Mage lurking in the shadows? What the hell did they have to prove coming back out here tonight when they were so obviously frightened? But I suppose that was the problem with greed and ego, they trumped every other emotion. If they weren't out here selling drugs, somebody else would be, and that was their money and respect they'd be losing.

  I crept along the rooftops behind one of the groups. They were gathered by an abandoned row of shops, the same one where I had been jumped at the beginning of my time as the Gutter Mage. It was a good spot: open sightlines, no one could sneak up on you, and at least four different alleyways to disappear down. The way these goons were moving today, I had a strong feeling they'd run rather than fight, which was perfect for me. I only needed one of them.

  I was still lamenting not having my full gear. I felt hamstrung by the cobbled-together bits that I did have. I'd managed to put together a few Flash Coins and a few Shock Coins, but that was about it. I'd contemplated trying to recreate some of my old gear but I didn't have the time or the energy. I needed to get back out, so I'd just have to make do with what I had.

  I slunk down from the rooftops, watched the gang for a few minutes, picked my target, and then struck. There was no subtlety or subterfuge to my attack, I wanted to scatter them and make them panic. So, I just launched myself out of the shadows, snarling as I did. Two of the gang members were quicker than the others. They turned, saw me coming, and just as I thought, they bolted. I let them go and focused on the podgy one of the two remaining. He'd been the one holding the bag. He stumbled over from where he was sitting, ran into a low wall, and struggled to hop over it because of how low his jeans were sagging. His mate hung around for a second, then turned and ran, leaving him.

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  The podgy one managed to hobble over the wall and sprinted down an alleyway.

  "Don't leave me! Don't leave me!" he screamed to his friend.

  I broke into a light jog after him. I knew exactly where he was going, and he was heading into a dead end, so I didn't feel the need to exert myself. Eventually, he ran smack bang into a wire fence. He charged at the fence and leaped, not even getting halfway up it, his hands scrabbling and his feet gaining no traction on the slick fencing. He slipped down into a heap while I strolled up behind him. He turned and looked at me, his lip quivering in fear, his eyes wide. Man, he was young. He was probably younger than me, 15 or 16; he still had teenage acne, and he was no fighter. I could see that from the way his hands were shaking. He wasn't a hardened criminal. He was just some idiot kid trying to make a quick buck and play gangster.

  As I stalked closer to him, he tried to bolt over the fence again. He slipped and went down in a heap. He backpedalled away from me until his back pressed against the fence. He raised his hands and began mumbling something.

  "Don't… don't…don't hurt me," he managed to choke out.

  I stopped so that only the last streetlight at the mouth of the alley cast my long shadow across him. Then I knelt down in front of him, only the twinkle of my eyes visible under my hood and scarf.

  "That depends on if you make me," I said, my voice a low growl.

  "I won't! I won't!” he said quickly, his breath coming sharp and quick.

  "Then you're gonna answer some questions, understand?" I said, and he nodded his flabby face.

  "What's your name?" I asked.

  "Jimmy. I'm Jimmy."

  "Okay, Jimmy, what's been going on? Why the hell are you Toxten boys here on the Mulberry?”

  His lip quivered for a moment, and then I reached into my pocket like I had a concealed weapon there, and his eyes widened again.

  "We're trying to take over," he said quickly. "Everyone knows that Brick's gone, and the Syndicate's gone, and the Mulberry's wide open, so Keith…"

  "Who's Keith?" I said.

  "He's our leader," Jimmy replied.

  "Your leader's name is Keith?" I said.

  "Well… we call him Canine."

  "Canine?"

  "Yeah, like a dog," Jimmy confirmed for me, and I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes. I suppose Canine is an upgrade from Keith.

  "Go on," I said.

  "Well, yeah, Keith said that it'd be easy, that the Mulberry was wide open, that we could just come in and, you know, start making easy money and that," Jimmy said.

  "But it hasn't been easy, has it?" I said.

  "No," Jimmy mumbled in a quiet voice. "The other gangs had the same idea. We've been at war with them, fucking Beth Boys and G13 has been running us all over the place. If it wasn't for all those weapons we was getting for cheap, we would have been done out a long time ago.”

  "Weapons?" I said to him, and he looked up sharply like a child who had accidentally snitched on one of his mates in class. "What weapons, Jimmy?"

  "Just, you know, just like knives and stuff," Jimmy said lamely, and I cocked an eyebrow at him.

  "That's strike one," I said. "If you lie to me again, I will hurt you. Understood?" Jimmy nodded his head. "So, the weapons are?" I prompted

  “It’s Keith! He's been getting like automatic shooters and stuff like proper hardware,” Jimmy said.

  “Where's he been getting this hardware from?”

  Jimmy hesitated and, this time, I raised my fist, making him cringe.

  “I don't know, I don't know! It's some bald fella, alright? I don't know his name. Apparently, he's, you know, a proper nasty geezer from around here. He used to work for Brick or something, I don't know. He's got a bunch of shooters, and he's selling them all for cheap. He's got… he's got drugs to sell,” Jimmy stammered.

  “So, he's selling you cheap drugs and guns?” I asked.

  “Yeah, that's right,” Jimmy said. “That's why we've been out here trying to sell. We've got so much of the stuff and we can't get rid of it on our estate. So we thought, you know, Mulberry's wide open, so why not?”

  “Why not?” I replied, staring at him darkly.

  “Listen, man, we were told you weren't real,” Jimmy said quickly. “Everyone said it was just bullshit, you know, there's no such thing as the Gutter Mage. It was, you know, just Brick fucked up and got taken out. That was it. If we knew you was real, we wouldn't…” he petered off, his breath too short to continue begging.

  “And what's Keith planning to do with all these guns?” I asked. “Were you lot involved in those shootings this morning?”

  Jimmy just nodded his head glumly.

  “A couple of our boys got taken out last night, so we, you know, grabbed a bunch of the guns and went down Lear Street. You know, thought it might be them and we shot the place up,” Jimmy said, sounding not exactly proud of what they had done. “It was fucked up, man. We shouldn't have done it. But Keith was mad. He said that if people kept getting away with fucking with us, then we're all gonna get done, you know? We had to make a statement.”

  “Well, you certainly made a statement,” I said. “You've drawn so much attention to all of this.”

  “I know, man, I know,” Jimmy said. “It's all fucked up, man. I didn't know we was gonna get this deep into it. But them G-13 boys and them Lear boys, they're fucking nuts, man. Like they're really out to kill people, and it's only gonna get worse. They've been bumping heads, you know. We're just a distraction, man. Once they start going at each other, it's gonna be bodies everywhere, I'm telling you.”

  “And they've got the same sort of hardware?” I asked.

  Jimmy nodded.

  “Yeah, man, we've been seeing videos for weeks now. Them boys have got all sorts of guns. I've even heard they got grenades.”

  “Grenades?” I said.

  “Yeah, man. Those G-13 boys are fucking tapped. They're mental.”

  I stood up and looked down at Jimmy. “Give me your hoodie.”

  “What?” he said.

  “Give me the hoodie,” I said again.

  Jimmy scrambled to pull off his red jumper and then handed it to me. “I don't think this life is for you, Jimmy. Ask me why.”

  “Why?” Jimmy asked.

  I crouched down, grabbed hold of his shirt, and pulled his face close to mine.

  “Because if I ever see your fucking face on the Mulberry again, I’ll put you down like I did to Brick!”

  I left Jimmy there quivering, and threw his red hoodie in the bin. I felt bad for Jimmy, he was just some dumb kid way in over his head. Hopefully, this was the scare he needed to leave all this gang nonsense behind. I grabbed his backpack and slung it over my shoulders before activating my Jet Boots and shooting up to a fire escape.

  It sounded like things were about to take a deadly turn on the Mulberry, and there was no way I could just sit on the sidelines and watch it happen.

  The Mulberry needed the Gutter Mage and I needed my gear.