Dusk fell over Guarly. Detective Matias Surgiri Welter could still hear the angry shouts and the cries of many relatives as he headed to the Caída Gym. He stopped his patrol car in front of the place, put on a pair of aviator sunglasses and fished a cigarette from his pocket. He lit it and walked in, exhaling a long stream of smoke. The scene inside didn't surprise him — he just kept going, taking in the ceramic floor marked by tire tracks. That gave him something to think about: how long had the place been abandoned? Crossing through the back door, he ran into the teenagers. He holstered his weapon and asked, "Well, any luck, kids?" He noticed the dark-haired boy holding a plank. "Why do you have that?" he asked. The boy answered sheepishly, "A replacement until I get my bokken back." The detective crouched beside the blonde and the dark-haired girl near the tire marks. The prints were recent — no more than a few hours old. He stayed calm; it took just over fifteen minutes to get out of the city.
Alexa watched the detective as he looked up and blew smoke. She asked, "So what do we do now?" Matias inhaled and answered, "Options are few, Alexa. Most likely they're already far away or hidden somewhere in the city or…" He squatted and examined the tire marks. "As I feared — these are about three hours old. Finding the green-haired guy will be impossible."
Emily: "What can we do?"
Matias flicked his cigarette to the ground. "Nothing for the moment. There are patrols all over the city looking for suspicious people."
Emily: "Could you do anything with the photo of the tracks?"
Matias pulled another cigarette from his pocket and lit it. "Yes — I already sent them to the lab. At least we'll know—" His phone rang. "Hello, Natalia. What do you have?"
Natalia: "Matias, the prints you sent are from a Ford F-100. Before you cut me off, be careful…"
Matias exhaled smoke. "All right, kids. I have a lead: a Ford F-100. Look for one around the city." He was about to call another officer.
Alexa whispered to Emily, "What did he say?"
Emily: "Basically a truck." She prepared to jump.
Francesca: "Wait, Mr. Matias, I have an idea. Splitting up to search every vehicle would be inefficient."
Matias, hanging up the call: "What do you propose?"
Francesca: "The police probably have the address of the woman who survived Erinios. Give us that address — we'll go to her. She'll likely have useful information. After all, she's the only one who escaped an attack by Erinios; she's probably alert and wants revenge on whoever hurt her."
Matias stubbed out his cigarette with his foot. "Sounds fine…" He checked his phone. "She lives on Avenida Cortés, number 516."
Emily and Alexa moved ahead, which let Tyron ask the blonde, "How did you think of that?" She answered seriously: "It was simple. I don't know what a Ford F-100 is." Then she leapt onto a rooftop. The dark-haired boy shot the detective a look. "Stop smoking — you're going to die," he said. The officer lit another cigarette and replied, "Go away. It calms me down."
That night, in a two-story house, a solid woman with black hair and pale skin marked by some wrinkles walked into her study from the living room near the entrance. She grabbed a pistol, returned to the living room, and propped a couple of pieces of furniture against the front door. From the second floor came a voice: "Mom, do you need help?" She leaned the gun against her shoulder and answered, "No, sweetheart — just stay in your room. I'll be up soon." She moved to the kitchen, cleared out a cupboard and then removed part of the wall, revealing a hidden compartment stacked with bundles of cash, a bulletproof vest, an assault rifle and several packages wrapped in paper. She grabbed the Russian-style rifle, overturned her desk to use as cover, and pointed the windows and main door. A metallic crash was heard; some soft moans and whispers followed. The woman kept her aim steady, beads of sweat falling to the floor. Suddenly the bulb lighting the living room exploded, followed by the one in her study. She moved to a corner and shouted, "What are you waiting for, you son of a—? Come in, you coward! I'll send you to the next world!" A shadow flashed across the entrance to her office. She swallowed and crept to the opposite corner so she could see whatever had moved. At first she only saw faint shadows cast by the furniture, lit by streetlights. After staring at one shadow for a long time, a figure began to emerge from the furniture. She tried to fire, but something struck her forehead and she dropped the rifle. When she reached for her pistol, a person in gray clothing was already in front of her, holding a wooden sword to her throat. She tried to pull the trigger but the wrist that held the gun was gripped, squeezed hard enough that she had to let go of her last weapon, and then she was knocked down and rendered unconscious.
The woman heard muffled voices and felt some pain. She kept her eyes closed so as not to alert those before her. She wiggled, but her hands were bound. Before she could think how to free herself, a slap opened her eyes and nearly sent her to the floor.
Emily stopped Alexa by the shoulder. "That wasn't necessary."
Alexa: "At least she's awake now."
The woman blinked several times to adjust to the light. Hate twisted her face. "I can't believe it. So the news were right — Plata works for Maximus!" Emily stood in front of her firmly and said in a rough voice, "If by the green-haired man you mean the one you just named, we don't work for him. But we came to ask you something, Mrs. Leit Ginter." Leit smiled as she tried to untie herself, but the turquoise-clad girl grabbed her wrists, causing her great pain. The criminal resisted the double bind, but when the pain nearly pulled her hands out of their sockets she nodded.
Emily, looking Leit in the eyes: "Who is this Maximus, and why did he do the school attacks?"
Leit, annoyed: "So it was him. That bastard. Look, the truth is I don't know where he came from or who he is. All I know is his name: Maximus. And if you're not his attack dog, then fine. About the schools — I don't know the reason either. All he did was fill parents with fear, as he did to me. To get straight to it, the guy showed up a month ago with his damned gym. From the start we all knew about Crissing. That shit spread through the streets like hot bread, and before we could sink his business everyone started falling."
Francesca: "Crissing is the needle stuff, right? Do you know where he makes it?"
Leit looked down. "I wish I did. There are rumors about old warehouses in the city, a few places, but that's all — damned rumors. Believe me, if I knew I would've gone and burned his lab down with Maximus inside long ago."
While the vigilantes talked, Leit worked on the ropes. With her hands freed, quietly and slowly she reached for the pistol on the two-seater sofa. The moment she pointed the gun, the yellow-clad boy struck her wrist with a plank. "Don't even think about it," he said. The woman lunged at him; he sidestepped and put one of her arms behind her shoulder, slamming Leit's face into a wall and holding her there. Francesca approached and said, "Tell us — if you had to guess where he ran off to, where would it be?"
Leit thought. "There's a place — an old abandoned estate about five kilometers outside the city. If I had to go after him, that would be it."
The young people nodded and released the woman. Footsteps sounded on the stairs; they hid. A small girl with black hair and blue eyes in pajamas peeked out: "Mom, will you come read me a story?" Leit avoided looking at the vigilantes' hiding places. "Yes, I'll be right there, sweetheart. Just wait." The little girl went back to the second floor. Leit sighed that the child hadn't noticed the piled-up furniture or the weapons on the sofa. As the door to the upstairs bedroom closed, the teens slipped from their hiding places and headed for the kitchen window to leave. Before they got out, Leit called, "Wait! If you're really going after Maximus, at least take some weapons. I'm not saying this as a rival — I'm saying it as a mother so he isn't free." The turquoise-clad girl replied quickly, "We know how to defend ourselves with these things. Look how many of your dealers we beat with them. If you don't believe us, go back to your office and watch what we did." Then she left the house. Leit went back into the living room, grabbed a book from a shelf and only then noticed that the thing they had hit her with when she held the rifle had been an apple — she smiled.
It was eleven at night. The teenagers were about two hundred meters from the estate when a patrol car pulled up nearby. It was Matias's. He stepped out and said, "Okay, kids. I called in several units. They'll be here in about thirty minutes. Are you sure you're going in? Remember — those are adults and they won't hesitate to kill you if they get the chance." Realizing the kids were gone, he let out a great sigh, put on a Kevlar vest and returned to his car.
A couple of guards finished their rounds and were about to be relieved by two others who were assigned to watch the sides of the barn. The men were large and burly, faces covered with balaclavas; only the color of their jackets distinguished them. Their entire outfit — pants and boots — looked military. Three more left the barn and walked to some trees near the woods to relieve themselves. While one of them stood with his weapon, he noticed the others were gone. He found that odd but assumed they had returned to the house. As he zipped up, a shadow fell from the tree, striking his trachea and preventing a cry, then a wooden plank knocked him unconscious. The gray-clad figure slipped out from some bushes and dragged the man behind some scrub, leaving him with the others. Tyron and Alexa crept silently behind the house and opened a window; Emily and Francesca jumped onto the roof to keep watch over the guards patrolling and the ones at the barn door.
Alexa broke into a small room and knocked out two men there. Someone knocked at a door; Alexa kicked it open and broke the knocker's nose. Three more saw this, but before they could raise the alarm a yellow blur slammed into their faces. After knocking out the last one, the plank broke. "Crap — hey, is my bokken around here?" Tyron asked. The dark-haired girl shook her head and went to the kitchen, grabbing a frying pan as a weapon. They dragged the knocked-out guards into the room they'd entered through, grabbed a rope from the living room and tied them up. Tyron took a position by the house's main door while Alexa climbed out the window again. When the two men stationed at the estate's entrance discovered their replacements hadn't come out on time, one of them went to check. Opening the door, he was hit with a frying pan in the face and dropped. He looked to see if his comrades would help — they'd already been knocked out. Tyron finished him off with a blow to the back of the neck.
After tying up the last guards inside the house and locking the door, the four positioned themselves beside the barn entrance. They slowly slid the big door to avoid suspicion, and it worked. They peered inside: about twenty armed people were guarding five vans and roughly ten others were packing boxes full of needles. They didn't see the muscular man anywhere, which worried them, but moments later his figure appeared behind some bales of hay. He wore an armored suit with metal plates similar to Erinios's, carried two assault rifles and a large pistol. Maximus looked toward the door, and the teenagers backed away fast.
Francesca whispered: "Remember rule number two: they outnumber us, so stay calm. Like with that freckled guy — they're more, but we can do it. And rule number six: use the shadows; they are our home. Ty, point the pan at the ceiling bulb. Alexa and Emily, get ready; we'll have to adapt to the dark fast. Tyron, when you throw it, move — bullets will rain on you." Everyone nodded. Tyron positioned himself in front of the girls, one foot ahead of the other, hand pushing the door slowly to sight the targets, breathing in and out until his nerves settled. The girls signaled they were ready. Tyron pushed with all his strength and flung the barn door open. The girls rushed at the opponents and he hurled the frying pan at high speed. Those with guns opened fire. Tyron rolled to one side and charged at the enemy. The pan shattered the bulb. Alexa leapt and struck one shooter in the head. Landing, she kicked another attacker in the stomach, then jumped and hit seven more in the neck and face. When she landed she didn't hesitate; she had knocked nine people unconscious. Emily and Francesca worked together: Emily disarmed opponents while Francesca finished them with powerful strikes. The two together defeated fourteen.
Tyron climbed atop one of the vans and headed straight for Maximus, but the man stepped back and grabbed one of his rifles. The dark-haired boy dodged a buttstroke from a burly guard and landed a blow to his abdomen, then moved to the side and punched him in the cheek, turning him toward the green-haired man. Two other men appeared on either side, so Tyron pushed the burly man with a kick toward Maximus, punched the man on the right in the face, elbowed the one on the left in the stomach, grabbed that man's arm and threw him into the other, knocking both to the ground with a kick. Tyron counted on the burly man blocking Maximus from firing, but Maximus did shoot. The teens dove behind the vans while the enemy wounded his remaining allies.
Tyron, annoyed: "You okay?"
Alexa: "Yes. Here." She tossed him a bokken.
Tyron caught it. "Thanks!"
Francesca: "Hey — I have an idea."
Emily, scared: "This is too risky! Let's retreat — the police will be here soon."
Francesca looked Emily in the eyes. "No. If we retreat he might escape." She turned to Tyron. "Run to his left like this…" she pointed at Alexa, "—she'll have a chance to jump, which will distract him, and I'll get close enough to strike." Then she looked at Emily. "Plata — if we let him go now, he could do something worse than today…"
Emily didn't need to hear the rest. The blonde had already fired them up again. They put the plan into action. Tyron dodged bullets until he reached a table, flipped it over for cover, and scattered needles across the floor. Maximus kept shooting at the table, then noticed Alexa behind him. He aimed at her and was hit from another direction, stumbling back. A strike from the turquoise-clad woman to the side of his knee brought him down, and the blonde finished him with a knee to the chin that left him on the ground. Francesca took his weapons, but the man dropped to his knees and tried to shoot at point-blank range — Emily disarmed him, took his arm, hoisted him onto her back and slammed him into the floor, burying him. Maximus injected himself with four needles and rose again. Alexa punched him hard in the head so he bled, but he seemed to ignore it and continued his assault. He threw a punch at the turquoise-clad girl; Tyron intercepted, striking the back of his leg with the bokken and causing the blow to miss. The blonde kicked him square in the face, leaving him kneeling.
Maximus, spitting blood: "How can you still fight? I'm doing the same thing as that redhead."
Emily: "That was your mistake. We fought Erinios so much that now we're prepared for the injection trick."
Maximus, rising: "I see. But that won't stop me from skinning you alive with my own hands!"
He charged. Francesca and Alexa exchanged looks. The blonde dodged his punch and landed a blow to his abdomen, allowing the dark-haired girl to get behind him. The blonde moved Tyron and Emily out of Maximus's path. The dark-haired girl formed a small whirlwind in her palm; when the muscular man turned, he was launched and embedded into one of the van's metal sides, leaving Emily and Tyron speechless. Before they could react, the police arrived and the kids disappeared.
Near Antonio's apartment building, Tyron waited seated when a great gust of wind arrived. Jayden appeared holding an unconscious redhead. "Here you go," he said, handing the boy over. Tyron thanked him and took his best friend. Before disappearing, the warrior asked, "Whatever you're going to do, I hope you have an excuse ready for Matias." He vanished. Tyron jumped across rooftops carrying Antonio on his back.
A woman sat worried, waiting for her son to come through the door. She feared he might have been beaten at school or run over, but all those fears faded when she saw a yellow-clad boy lay her son on the bed. She tried to pull him away, but he calmly sidestepped each attempt and said, "Ma'am, I brought your son to you." Once she saw Antonio was okay, she thanked Tyron and asked him to come to the living room to tell her something.
Ginger: "Thank you for bringing my son back…."
Tyron pulled an empty syringe from his pocket. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, but I have to tell you: your son has been using drugs."
Ginger, angry: "That's a lie. My son would never do something like that!"
Tyron handed her the syringe. "If you don't want to believe me, that's your choice… but right now your son needs help because of this. If you want proof, get a blood test and compare. I'm telling you the truth." Then he left the apartment.