5- Tracker, No Tracking!

Aster strides to the front of the alley and turns to The Gentlemen crouching in the darkness. Nobody looks up. She clears her throat but they continue to look at the pavement, some rocking back and forth as they whimper. With a sigh Aster begins talking, a harsh whisper penetrating the suffocating silence.

“What have we become?” Several heads pivot towards her, fingers pressed to pale lips in the darkness, a desperate plea for her to remain silent. Aster shakes her head. For too long she has been silent. Now she must speak.

“You’re not in charge anymore, little girl,” one of the men spits.

“I know. That’s why I am not standing here trying to lead you.”

“But-”

“Listen,” Aster snaps. The sound of bikes is closer than ever now. They only have minutes before Tracker finds them, and this realization seems to dawn quickly on those around Aster. For the first time the men are silent, a primal fear in their eyes. “As long as Tracker lives we will be hunted. Myriad is not one to give up easily.”

“We will not fight with you,” one of the men growls.

“I know. But if you value your lives, you will follow my orders.” Someone spits at Aster’s feet, letting out a snarl. She continues, unfazed. “Myriad is threatened by me. That’s why he didn’t attack sooner. I am a bigger threat than you, so Tracker will follow me when I confront him. Oscar will kill him. And you? You will run. As far away as you can.”

Eyes peer back at Aster from the darkness, but nobody speaks. The bikes are louder than ever, and Aster can swear she hears a gunshot in the distance. “Please… run,” Aster whispers, her voice finally breaking. She turns towards the street before anyone can respond. There is no time to persuade these people, she can only trust they will listen.

She is dimly aware of Oscar running beside her.

“Y’know, when I said I would stand beside you I didn’t really mean I was willing to put my life on the line.” He chuckles, trying to play the statement off as a joke.

“You aren’t going to die,” Aster pants, slowing to a walk as she turns towards him. “There is one bullet in that gun. Look for Tracker, pull the trigger, and run. It will give you enough time to get back to The Gentlemen as they run away.”

“But… what if I miss?”

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll know you’re there if you get more than one shot off, and then you would be dead for certain.”

“What about you?” Oscar asks, his voice brimming with concern.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m immortal, remember?” Aster gives him a weak smile. The words sound false, even to her own ears, but they seem to satisfy Oscar. “Besides,” she adds, “if you were to die, Luca would kill me.”

“Wait…” Oscar starts, but Aster cuts him off.

“Look at that building. Go up the fire escape on this side and cross the roof. I’ll lure Tracker down the street on the other side, and you’ll take your shot,” Aster murmurs.

“Alright… but about Luca.” Oscar stumbles, turning towards Aster in the darkness.

“Don’t worry about it. We only have three minutes to get in position.”

“But…”

“Go,” Aster hisses, shoving Oscar into the street. Seconds later she is sprinting, legs screaming as they carry her around the street corner… and directly in front of the largest group of Enforcers she has ever seen.

There were easily fifteen bikes, each topped with an Enforcer. Though Aster is still a half-block away from them she could hear the air crackle as they removed rubber gloves, bikes screaming to a halt as she stepped in front of them.

Several bikes inched forwards, seeming to contemplate how stupid someone would have to be to step between an Enforcer and Myriad’s bidding. Aster tucks her shaking hands into her pockets, and takes a hesitant step forwards. One of the Electrics raises a sleek gun, pointing it at Aster’s chest.

The sound of the safety turning off seems deafening to Aster.

“You have three seconds to exit the road.” The Enforcer’s voice is vaguely feminine, but her helmet distorts the noise, making it sharper. Dangerous.

Aster hisses, pushing the fear away. She focuses on the anger in her stomach, using it to contort her face into a mask of rage.

“You have no idea who I am, do you?” Aster snarls, stalking towards the Enforcers. Out of the corner of her eye she is aware of Oscar darting across the rooftop, and feels a spark of fear in her chest. If so much as one Enforcer were to glance up this hopeless charade would be over.

“Oh, you poor, precious, things,” Aster grins, trying desperately to keep their attention. The Enforcers are seething now, and if she squints she can see white arcs of electricity dancing between their fingertips. She forces herself to continue. “My name is Ace… but you can call me The Baron.” Aster watches the enforcers hesitate, still fingers resting on the triggers of their guns.

She feels a moment of relief, but as she scans the Enforcers she realizes Tracker is not among them. Her grin softens, deepening to a scowl as currents of fear race down her spine.

“We know who you are, girl,” a familiar drawl sounds from behind the group. Suddenly, Tracker shoves his way between the Enforcers.

Aster snarls, a feral, vicious noise, though internally she lets out a sigh of relief. She hasn’t been this close to Tracker since he rammed a blade through her father’s neck. The man lets out a low laugh, stepping away from the Enforcers.

“My sources told me you were no longer The Baron. Why do you still claim the title?”

“Perhaps your sources were wrong.”

Aster risks a look back at Oscar. He is crouched at the edge of a rooftop, but a streetlight stands between him and a clean shot at Tracker. Aster needs the man to move closer.

“Hmm. It is unlike my sources to be unreliable… but perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself. I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. You know, Myriad could use someone like you around,” Tracker murmurs. He shifts on his feet, but does not move forwards. Aster closes her eyes for a moment, knowing all too well what she must do. Tracker is a cruel man, but he is cunning as well. He wouldn’t come any closer unless she gives him a reason to do so.

“Sir, are you fond of gambling?” Aster’s voice is calm, betraying nothing.

“Not at all.”

“Well, then. Perhaps you are more drawn to chess.” The man is silent for a moment, looking at her with an odd intensity.

“Quit this empty banter,” he growls, bringing his fingers to rest nervously atop the gun at his side. Aster grins. The man was not as thick-skinned as he appears.

“Pathetic. We both know my ability makes bullets mere inconveniences.” She pauses for a moment, taking a threatening step towards the man. “My ability is flawless. I have reason to believe, however, that your miserable excuse for a power is flawed.” Tracker cackles at this, forcing a grin, but before he can suppress it Aster watches a hint of fear glint in his eyes.

“Silly girl. There is a reason Myriad keeps me on hand.”

“Oh, but of course. It would be terribly inconvenient for your handler if his precious dog were to be… flawed.” This hits a nerve.

Tracker takes a menacing step forwards. Aster holds her breath, but the man thinks better of it and steps backwards to the Enforcers around him before Oscar can get a shot off. Aster curses under her breath. She had hoped things would not go this far, but she is left with no choice. “I propose a test.”

“I have nothing to prove.”

“Alright, then. Using your ability tell me which side of the street I walk to.” Tracker frowns, regarding Aster with suspicion. She meets his gaze with a cool smile. The Enforcers shift nervously behind Tracker, whispering as they glance at him.

“So be it,” he snaps. The Enforcers move forwards, surrounding Tracker in a practiced motion. Aster bites the inside of her cheek. She had been counting on Tracker staying away from the Enforcers, but she supposed she should have seen this coming. Tracker could only sense the powers of others with his eyes closed, and was not about to leave himself exposed.

“Are you ready?”

“Of course,” Tracker replies. Quietly Aster crosses to the right side of the street, directly under Oscar. She gives a nod to the Enforcement agents, and one of them taps Tracker on the shoulder. She watches as he turns around, eyes closed. There is a calm smile on his face… until there isn’t. Seconds later his eyes fly open. He looks at Aster, then closes them again, only to open them a moment later.

“What have you done,” he screams, stepping forwards. “Why can’t I sense you?”

“I have done nothing. It seems that you’re just… damaged goods.” It hurts Aster to say the words, but she forces them out. She, of all people, knew what it was to be damaged.

She finds it ironic that she had turned the same words her father had spit when she developed no ability against one of the most powerful people in Frey. Tracker is seething from across the street, but stays still. Aster hasn’t done enough. Slowly she turns away from him, spitting a single word. “Weak.”

Tracker’s face contorts in a mask of rage and he sprints towards Aster. One of the Enforcers attempts to hold him back but he shoves them aside. Aster watches as the distance between them shrinks. Twenty feet. Ten. Five…

“Now,” Aster screams, and a single shot echoes through the air.

As Tracker reaches her a spray of red erupts from his back. He collapses, convulsing for a moment before going still. Aster lets out the breath she has been holding. No amount of healing could bring back the dead.

For a moment the world seems to go still. She looks up, meeting the eyes of the Enforcers as they look at her in horror. One glances towards the rooftop as an empty gun falls to the ground, but Oscar is long gone. Aster sighs in relief. It’s better this way. He won’t have to watch her die.

The moment passes as quickly as it came. The Enforcers swing onto their bikes and suddenly fifteen motors are screaming down the street towards Aster. She knows she stands no chance against them, but she turns and begins to sprint away, if only so The Gentlemen can say she died fighting.

This part of Frey is familiar to her. She slides around a corner, sprinting through the alley connecting two streets. One of the bikes flies into a wall. As she pivots around an abandoned car, long since gutted for anything of value, two more bikes are forced to give up their pursuit.

For a fleeting moment Aster grins, thinking she may be able to overcome these bikes after all.

Then the first bullet is fired.

Aster lets out a gasp of pain as the metal kisses her back, leaving a deep gash where it grazed the skin. She throws herself to the ground as a spray of fire sounds overhead.

She rests her cheek against the cool concrete under her for a moment, but then forces herself to get up, to keep running, feeling eerily like a lab rat in a maze. She darts around a corner, sprints into an alley… and finds herself trapped. She screams, pounding at the brick wall sealing the opposite end furiously. A dead end.

She must have lost track of the streets when she fell. She had trapped herself. As five bikes scream into the alley Aster turns towards them, blinking tears from her eyes. She would not greet death sobbing.

The first bike reaches her. Its rider steps off and raises her gun. Her finger hovers over the trigger and…

FLASH

Aster hears a scream, and wonders if it is her own. A hand rests on her arm, and she smiles softly. Luca used to do that. Maybe she would get to see him again when she died.

Then, the hand tightens. Fingernails bite into her skin and someone begins to pull her across the pavement.

“Aster, we have to go. We don’t have much time.”

Her eyes fly open. Oscar is standing over her, pulling her from the ground. Drunkenly she stands, swaying as stars explode behind her eyelids.

The door of a shop backing to the alley is propped open behind Oscar. She follows as he pulls her through it, locking the rusting metal behind them. He sprints through the building, grabbing onto her sleeve as if afraid they will be separated.

He tows her onto the street, forcing her to run as they weave through the city. Aster hears the confused shouts of Enforcement behind her as they begin to stir.

“How…” she starts, frowning.

“Flash grenade. Before Enforcement burned headquarters I was asleep in the attic of the armory. I heard them coming and managed to grab a few things before getting out.”

“You should have left,” Aster grumbles pathetically.

Oscar whips her around yet another corner. She had grown up in the city, but with all these turns even she was lost.

“Where are we going?” Oscar does not respond. They run in silence for what feels like an eternity before Oscar suddenly stops in front of a decrepit storefront. The windows are covered with rotting boards, and as they approach he expertly leads her to one that is loose, swinging it aside so Aster can climb in.

As she passes him he lets out a muffled gasp, looking in horror at the gash across her back. Aster had almost forgotten about the cut as her adrenaline surged, but it begins to sting fiercely as Oscar watches rivulets of blood run down her back. She meets his eyes, but he remains silent.

They swing the board back into place behind them and sit in the darkness of the shop until their desperate gasps for air ease. Eventually Oscar stands, retrieving pillows for them from what seems to be a back room. He moves around the space with an odd familiarity, and Aster finds herself looking at him in confusion.

“When I was on the streets I used to spend the night here. Enforcement rarely sends patrols,” Oscar murmurs. He pulls a dim flashlight from his pack and places it on the floor, pointing to Aster’s back. Wordlessly Aster turns, exposing the gash. Oscar flinches, inspects the wound, and then places his hands atop it, all without saying a word. The silence grates against Aster. Finally, Oscar speaks.

“So I guess this means you’re not immortal.”

“I’m sorry,” Aster whispers, voice breaking.

“About what?”

“I lied to you… to everyone. Waltzing around like I was some goddamn savior when I was really just a scared little girl. I’m not immortal. Hell, I’m not even bulletproof. That’s the only reason Tracker couldn’t use his ability to find me. There’s nothing to find. I have no powers”

Oscar chuckles under his breath.

“You’re an idiot, you know.”

“... What?”

“Here you are, apologising for the very lies that saved my life. That saved the lives of The Gentlemen. You were ready to die for people who had cast you out.”

“And that makes me an idiot?”

“No. You are an idiot for lying to me. Facing fifteen Enforcers and Tracker by yourself, though? That makes you a hero.”

“I am no hero.”

“Not yet. But you could be,” Oscar whispers. The first rays of dawn slip through the boards covering the windows. Oscar’s eyes glint with possibilities. Dangerous possibilities.