Where once there was one pin, now a forest of light blue juts out of the map in the back of the van. The past three nights have been the busiest I’ve ever had, with Jaeger picking me up from home after sunset and dropping me off in the early hours of the morning, just before the sunrise.

I haven’t been seeing as much of Ember – our hours don’t quite match up – but, when I do see her, I’m full of so many different stories that I just can’t wait to tell her, even if I have to do it on sheet after sheet of paper because I haven’t the faintest clue how to say “drug lab” in sign language.

I still wouldn’t say I know Jaeger, even though we’ve been spending hours working together. He’s nothing like Ember, who’s so eager to explain each and every detail of her life and this city. If I have a single impression of Jaeger’s character, it’s that he’s cold, almost detached from the world.

He doesn’t seem to mind switching over to a fully nocturnal schedule for this, even though I know it’s not normal to only ever see the city under moonlight. Whenever I come back to the van, he’s usually just sitting there like a machine that’s been turned off. When I bring in a new location – a new pin to add to the map – he simply gets out a notebook and pen and starts fiercely writing things down.

I asked him about his notebook – through stilted sign language and a fancy bit of charades – and he told me that using a ‘computer’ in Triad territory is too risky, with Bloody Mary potentially hiding in every reflection. He discussed the possibility of us being murdered by a brutal madwoman like it was the possibility of us getting rained on; just an inconsequential bit of information.

Still, I must admit he’s very good at what he does. Each time I’ve brought a pin back, I’ve written out a little bit of tape explaining just what each building is. Drug labs, warehouses, arms depots, a couple of bars popular with the rank and file, and even a building full of accountants in suits who’re hard at work on some arcane accounting that I didn’t even try to make sense of.

Jaeger has taken those disjointed bits of information, plus whatever other information I can give him, and put together a complete picture of the Triad’s operations in the city. I don’t think he was using any sort of power either – I don’t know what his power is, exactly, but I certainly didn’t notice anything obvious. Just cold, logical reasoning supplemented by what he knew about the Triad’s operations from when they worked with us.

We’ve been able to build up an almost complete picture of their sources of income, with a clear line from the port to the distribution centres to the dealers and clients, but we’re still no closer to finding wherever they’ve tucked away their Capes. Jaeger thinks they can’t have more than one or two in a safehouse, because most Parahumans are apparently volatile enough that sticking three in the same place would run the risk of only one leaving, but that means there has to be at least half a dozen targets that I simply haven’t run into.

So, I’m broadening the net. Until now, I’ve focused on the flow of goods through the city. I found a courier who led me to a dealer, then hung around there until another courier came, before following them to their hideaways. At the end of the night, I followed the guy in charge – and his money – to the strange accountants and, from there, I could map out the whole network with ease.

But the safehouses won’t be on the network, which means I need to pick a different target to follow. The people, rather than the process. That’s why I’m standing on the rooftop of a low-rise tenement near the centre of Ballard, trying to remember if I want the third or fourth window along.

There’s a girl that lives here, called ‘Kel’ or ‘Kelsey’ or something. I ran into her yesterday, as she was coming out of a Triad building with a backpack on her shoulder. I followed her as close as I could, hoping she’d lead me to another useful site. Instead I got a good earful as she chatted on the phone to her boyfriend, who seems to be someone halfway important, and ended up having to sneak out of her bedroom window once she’d finally turned in at three in the morning.

Tucked among inane gossip was an invitation to work for a few hours guarding her boyfriend’s warehouse. It seems she’s short on cash, and could use a boost, but it sounds like he’s just giving her the wages as charity, and really it’s an excuse to hang out after dark. My plan is to listen in, and hope they let slip something important.

It might not be the most thorough plan, but it’s all I’ve got.

Ah, now I remember. It was the third window.

I slip down the side of the building, counting myself lucky that she lives above the height of the streetlights, and pass through her window before drifting down the back of her curtains and into her room. It’s been a minute since I saw her step through the front door of the building, which means I need to hide right away rather than looking around.

It only takes me a second to decide to creep under the bed, hugging the underside of her mattress as the sound of footsteps and chatter comes even closer. Kelsey is making her excuses to her flatmates about why she’s going to be back late tonight, which means they don’t know she’s part of the Triad.

A shame. It was probably a bit too much to hope this was some sort of gang flophouse, which would have meant another pin on the board.

When Kelsey pushes the door open, casting a deep patch of light on the floor, I pull back even further under the bed. When she flicks the light on, I have to retreat to the furthest corner of the bed to avoid being forced out of the shadows. The problem is that now I can’t see anything, because the light-bleed is blocking off every possible vantage point.

I need to know what she’s doing, so I decide to take a risk. I form my head underneath the bed, upside down so that I can crane my neck forwards to be able to see out into the room. It doesn’t let me see much more than the sneakers on her feet and the base of her thick leggings, but that’s enough for me to get an idea of what she’s doing.

I almost flinch back in panic when she drops to her knees, before slowly creeping back out as she fiddles with a small grate in the wall on the other side of the room to my hiding spot. She undoes a single screw by hand, before pulling the grate off and setting it aside. When she reaches in and pulls out a matte-black handgun and holster, fear and exhilaration rushes through me in equal measure.

I watch as she buckles the holster to her thigh, over the top of her leggings. I need to be careful about this; the street downstairs is well-lit, and if she gets into a car then she’ll probably reach it before I can get to her. I need to follow her, and this time I can’t just do it from a distance; I need to be able to hear every word she says.

So I creep out of the shadows and edge forwards under her bed, as every instinct screams at me that she could spot me at any moment. There’s just barely enough space between the bed and the floor for me to push myself along on my stomach, but whatever strange trick of my power it is that muffles my movements is enough to keep me quiet as I creep closer and closer to the edge of the bed.

I can see everything below her shoulders now, as she opens up her wardrobe and pulls out a thick pleated skirt. I watch as she slips it over her leggings, hiding the gun and its holster from sight, before shrugging a thick jacket over her shoulders. Either one of those would be good places to hide.

She steps over to the door, and I inch my way out from under the bed as quietly as I possibly can. The ceiling light feels like it’s burning my skin, and I feel more exposed than I ever have in my life. As Kelsey takes a step towards the door, I take a half-step closer to her.

I almost leap for joy as her hand drifts up towards the light switch, rather than the doorhandle. It’s a small window, a half-second gap of darkness, but that’s all I need. The moment she flicks the switch, the room is plunged into darkness. I pounce, leaping across the room and curling up beneath her skirts before her hand has even left the switch. It was a split second decision; she’s wearing the jacket because it’s cold outside, but she’ll probably take it off when she goes indoors.

She opens the door, and I let out a metaphorical sigh of relief as the light doesn’t bleed through her skirt. It must be a tight weave; meant to keep out the chill as well as hide her gun from sight.

I listen as she says goodbye to her flatmates, who wish her luck on her ‘date,’ before she leaves her apartment and heads out onto the streets.

Her walk is hurried, almost like a jog, as she rushes through the frigid streets. A cold snap has moved in, bringing with it occasional bouts of near-freezing rain, and it’s driven most people off the streets. In many ways, it’s made my work a lot easier; with the weekend over and the cold coming in, there are a lot less people on the street after dark. It makes it easier to pick out my targets from the crowd.

Kelsey doesn’t walk far; within a few hundred feet she’s turned off the main road and up a set of stairs. If I remember the street right, I think this is the multistorey car park. Sure enough, I hear the click of her car unlocking before she practically slides into the seat. I couldn’t actually see what car it is, but the upholstery doesn’t look anywhere near as nice as the plush leather of Ember’s big blue monster and there’s a load of dust and junk that’s gathered behind the pedals.

As we pull out into the streets, I hear a distinctive click as Kelsey flips her phone open, followed a few moments later by her voice.

“Charlie, I’m on my way now. Should be there in ten.”

“Don’t sweat it.” I can just make out the voice on the other end of the line; deeper than hers, but not by all that much. “Things are quiet here anyway.”

“Alright, see you soon. Love you.”

“Yeah, see you.”

“Charlie,” she interjects quickly, before he can hang up. “You have to say it back.”

There’s a distinctly awkward pause, before the voice on the other end of the line lets out a sigh.

“Love you too, Kel.”

From the chorus of ‘oohs’ and ‘awws’ that I can hear even this far from the phone, it’s clear that he’s not alone. That’s good; the more people, the better the chance that they’ll let something slip.

“Hey, shut the fuck u-” Kel clicks her phone shut with a chuckle, as Charlie snaps at whoever he’s with. I can see her feet pushing down on the pedals as she drives through the streets, the movement of the car only visible by the little windows of streetlights that make it down into the footwell. After another few seconds, she switches on the radio and fills the car with music that’s a little too wild for my taste, but it doesn’t do to impose on a host. Especially when they’re being as generous as Kelsey is.

After another few minutes of driving – long enough for one entire song and most of a second – I feel the subtle shift in the car’s momentum as Kelsey pulls up outside her destination, stepping out and immediately shivering against the cold. I feel the pleats of her skirt shift as she idly brushes her hand against her pistol, before she seems to centre herself and sets off at a hurried pace.

Rather than knocking, there’s the sound of a buzzer as Kelsey idles outside of a pair of metal double-doors.

“Who is it?” a gruff voice asks with a put-on sing-song lilt.

“It’s me, you fucking idiot,” Kel snaps back half-heartedly. “Open up already; it’s freezing out here.”

“Me… me… Sorry, we’re not expecting anyone named ‘Me’ tonight. Hey, boss” – the voice grows fainter, as he shouts to someone away from the microphone – “you know anyone called Me?”

“Yeah” – it’s the same voice from the phone – “Me girlfriend. Now stop dicking around and let her in.”

Less than a second later, there’s a buzz and a sudden lurch of movement as Kel pushes open the now-unlocked door and steps inside. I prepare myself to jump out at the earliest opportunity, only to be presented by a well-lit corridor without a single patch of darkness I can see. I’m stuck here, for the moment.

Still, it’s strange that the building has the lights on. Most of the places I’ve found have had the lights off, to stop anybody from noticing something odd about a building that’s still lit up at four in the morning. It might be that I’m somewhere new, or I might just be in a building I’ve scouted before. I won’t know for sure until I can get out of here and catch my bearings.

I can hear conversation coming from up ahead. It’s what I wanted, but I was hoping to watch from above, or from some other dark corner. Instead, I’m uncomfortably close. When Kelsey pushes open a set of double doors and is met by five different voices all raised in greeting, I feel like they can see right through the tartan pattern to the creature hiding beneath.

Kel circles around the group, the hem of her skirt fanning out just enough to let me catch a glimpse of an old leather sofa. Sure enough, I feel her shifting above me and hear the sound of her jacket as she takes it off and slings it over her shoulder in a move that would have exposed me to the room if I’d hidden there. There’s a second sound, as she tosses it over something I can’t see, before she sinks gracefully into a chair.

No. Onto someone’s lap.

“Hey, hun,” she says to her boyfriend, leaning in a little closer. “How’s things?”

“Quiet,” he replies, as his legs shift a little. “There’re only a couple of shipments going out tonight. Got five cases of ammunition going out at three. Pickup’ll be done by one of our guys; it’s headed south to deal with the clusterfuck down there. Then there’s a big shipment going out at four; ten crates of those fancy Russian assault rifles, headed to some cult out in Idaho. They’re being picked up by one of the cult, so expect some weird bastard.”

“When do you get off?”

“Stroke of midnight. Thanks for covering the late shift.”

“It’s no bother. Like I said, I could use the cash.”

“You bring a piece, or you need me to get one from downstairs?”

“I’m strapped,” she says, shifting a little so her pistol is pressed against his chest.

“You’re strapped?” a voice shouts from out of my sight. “Shit, Charlie, I didn’t realise you were into that sort of thing. You’re a braver man than me, bro.”

Laughter echoes around the room, but I don’t get the joke. Honestly, I just feel like I don’t belong. This isn’t what I was expecting; I was hoping for a meeting in a shady conference room, not a group of friends chatting to each other. I feel like a voyeur.

“Go fuck yourself, Tom,” Kel snaps, though I can hear Charlie chuckling to himself. I can feel the vibrations of his laughter, travelling through his legs.

“There anything to drink here?” Kel asks, once the chuckles have died down and the murmur of conversation has started up again.

“There’s no beer, if that’s what you’re asking,” her boyfriend replies. “Not on the job. But there’s some soda in the fridge back there.”

“Sweet,” she says, and I lurch as she stands up and brushes down her skirt. “I need my sugar rush.”

My mind is racing as she steps around the back of where I think her boyfriend is sitting. This is getting ridiculous, and dangerous. I need to find a better hiding place.

Kel moves around what looks like a long kitchen counter, and I think I’ve found my window of opportunity. I wait, as she opens up a fridge and pulls out a can of soda, then make my move the moment she turns away to head back.

Soundlessly, I slip out of her skirt and onto the floor of what looks like a small kitchenette, with a microwave, a fridge and a long countertop keeping me out of sight of the people who’re still talking.

I almost let out a sigh of relief until I look around and realise there’s absolutely nowhere to hide. The light mounted on the ceiling above me leaves no shadows deep enough for me to use, and the one window I can see has been boarded up to keep in the light, as well as being in full view of the Triad gangsters sitting on the other side of the countertop.

And then, things get worse.

“Hey Kel,” someone asks, “could you grab me one while you’re up there?”

“Grab your own, you lazy ass.”

I hear a long, drawn out sigh, followed by the sound of leather easing as a heavy-set man stands up from whichever sofa he’d been sitting on. I have seconds, at most, before he rounds the corner and sees me. Then it’ll be bullets and knives, and that’s it. Life number three, down the drain.

I panic, looking around the kitchenette for any possible hiding place, before my eyes land on the cupboard built beneath the counter, right next to the gap that holds the fridge. I pull it open – just a sliver – with one hand, while reaching in with my pinkie finger until it hits darkness.

Then I’m hidden, the cupboard door closing behind me and sealing me inside my little island of safety. I curl around coffee mugs and colourful boxes of breakfast cereal, listening intently to the sound of approaching footsteps as the gangster approaches, followed by the click of the fridge opening.

I can’t stay here. It’s only a matter of time before one of them decides to come get a coffee and looks in here for a mug. I need a way out, no matter how bad it might be. So I wait until the very second I hear the fridge close before pushing open the cupboard door and sending my tail out to the retreating pant leg of the gangster.

It brushes against his shoe for an agonising moment before hooking onto his pant leg and getting just high enough to hit the darkness behind his jeans. With a metaphorical sigh of relief, I slip from one patch to the other. Ember says I look like a cloud of darkness when I do this, but it always goes so quickly that she’s never been able to get a clear look. It could be that my body does materialise and disappear again, it’s just going too fast for her to tell.

Either way, now I’m trapped between a hairy leg and a pair of jeans, being walked right back to the same space I tried to flee from. I can hear the sofa creaking again as my host sits down, before the back of his pant leg presses inwards as he leans forwards, pushing his ankle against the base of the sofa. As he opens up his soda can with a distinctive snap, I curl an exploratory finger out the bottom of his pants and use it to escape to the underside of the sofa.

There’s nothing down here. From one side, I can see the pair of legs I just left and a second pair sitting next to them, smaller and wearing ankle-length boots attached to what look like thick leather trousers. On the other side, I can see out of the room and into what seems to be the hallway of a repurposed house, stacked high with crates of ammunition. It’s just as bright of the rest of this place, which means I’m still stuck.

If worst comes to worse, I can poke a hole in the flimsy fabric base and hide inside the sofa until the coast is clear, but for now I’m not going to waste this vantage point.

“So, what’s this I hear about some biker in town?” my former host asks, immediately snatching my attention back to the conversation.

“Word is that he was from the Spartan Legion,” Kel’s boyfriend, Charlie, explains. “They’re some bigshots who work all over the North East, which is why the Red Pole rolled out the red carpet for him. They’re transport specialists; run a lot of interstate and cross-border ops.”

He pauses for a while, as something seems to occur to him.

“Hey, Mika, you were running escort, right? Get any juicy gossip out of your fellow biker?”

“Please,” the woman in leather scoffs, her feet shifting as she leans forward above me. “He was riding a fifty year old American fossil, and he looked like he’d had an accident in a leather shop. I’ve got a Yamaha. Now that’s a proper bike.”

“I thought Yamaha made pianos,” Kel pipes up, sounding a little confused.

“Yup,” Mika agrees. “Pianos and motorcycles. Dad used to work at the piano factory before everything went to shit, but I was always useless at music.”

She seems to shift unsteadily, her right food idly drifting along the ground.

“Anyway, I didn’t say anything to him. Well above my paygrade. From the way he was talking to some of the others, though, I got the impression that what’s going out of the city isn’t as important as what’s coming in.”

“Think it’s something to break the stalemate? Bombs, maybe?” a new voice pipes up, from the sofa opposite me.

“If the boss wanted bombs,” Charlie interjects, “he’d order them in bulk through the same contacts we get the guns from. My guess is Capes. A couple of reinforcements could drive a wedge between all the bastards who’re out to get us. Whatever fucking alliance is keeping them together, it can’t last forever. They’ll get pissed, or tired, and they’ll splinter.”

I hear a sharp beeping noise, before Mika’s legs move as she shifts about, fumbling for something or other.

“Shit,” she swears. “She’s fucking hungry again. Anyone know where the fuck I can find Kimchi at this time of night?”

This sounds promising…

“The Covered Market might still be open,” Charlie replies, “if you’re quick.”

Mika audibly slumps back against the sofa, letting out an angry sigh.

“Why the fuck can’t she ask for a fucking cheeseburger or something easy like that. Better yet, why the fuck can’t she pay for her own goddam food? And why do I have to be the delivery girl?”

“Because you’re the one who owns a motorbike,” Charlie explains.

“Yeah, a fucking motorbike. It’s an enduring legacy of my lost homeland, not a fucking scooter I can lash a couple of pizza boxes to.”

This sounds promising. If they’ve got the Capes stashed away in safehouses when they’re not crushing heads on the streets, then they have to have couriers who’ll fetch them food and run odd jobs for them. I think I might’ve hit the jackpot. The only question is how I’m going to get there.

Her boots are attached to her leather pants, leaving no way for me to sneak in like I did on the man sitting next to her. I shift over to the other side of the couch, forming my eyes and a small part of my head so that I can look out a little further. It’s as I thought; the way out will bring the leather-clad girl past the back of the sofa. I can’t just leave the sofa and walk out – I’d be spotted for sure – but, if she’s wearing some sort of jacket, then I can hide in that and hitch a ride with her all the way to the safehouse.

It’s a pretty big ‘if,’ but it’s all I’ve got.

When Mika’s boots move as she stands up, I pull back to the very edge of the couch, as close as I can get without being forced into the light. When she steps around the sofa, I lean half my head out into the light, three pairs of eyes and most of my upper jaw emerging from the shadows.

When she steps around to my side of the sofa, a motorcycle helmet clutched in one hand, the first thing I notice is the unzipped leather jacket hanging loose over her upper body. I could almost cheer!

As she turns back to say something to the others, I take my chance and exit my hiding spot, standing out in the open less than a foot away from the back of the heavy-set man who’s still sitting on the sofa, nursing his drink. I reach out and slip my palm up the back of the woman’s jacket, my fingers accidentally brushing up against her back before they hit the shadows.

I panic, pulling myself in as fast as I can and nestling in the gap between the inflexible leather jacket and her vest. She shivers a little, but seems to dismiss it as nothing. When she zips up the jacket, compacting my hiding space to almost nothing, I know I’m safe.

My anxiety starts to fade away as I feel her back shifting as she walks away from the uncomfortably bright room. It was hard, and probably one of the scariest situations I’ve ever been in, but it all paid off in the end. By the end of the night, I’ll know where at least one of the safehouses are. From there, I can follow the Capes and the couriers and hopefully find the rest.

Once that’s done, maybe things will finally get back to normal.