Scene 17 - October 15th

Interior MLED Compound, Evening

Abraham Armstrong

“Ready to go, Canaveral?” came the warm voice of Miriam Wright over his earpiece as I changed into my costume.

I pulled on my other glove, flexing my fingers to get it settled properly before I answered. “I’m ready, Anima,” I responded. “What have we got tonight?”

“Anything you see on patrol, as usual,” she told me. “We also have two things for you to check out in particular. One is that tip-off about the Buff Boys making a large sale around midnight - the other just came in, a security guard reporting a metahuman making a ruckus in the junkyard that he’s patrolling. Sending both locations to your heads-up display now.”

“Thanks,” I said, glancing at the miniature map of the city that hovered at one corner of my vision - the lenses of my mask added a number of useful details to my field of view. “Any details on the junkyard meta?”

“They’ve been mostly tossing around the junk, apparently. No hostile actions towards the security guard - although he said that he hiding in the booth, so he may not have been noticed. His description doesn’t match any metas we currently know of, though. Shortish, full-body costume, wearing a flannel shirt over it.”

“Probably a new meta testing out their powers. That description sounds like a homemade costume.”

“Probably, but don’t take any chances,” she warned.

I grinned. “What’s life without taking a few chances?” he asked.

The response that came through the commlink was a sigh. “You don’t know what’s good for you, Abe.”

“Hey! I’m in costume,” I scolded. “You never know when someone might be hacking the comms lines, right?” I struggled to hold back a laugh as I continued, “no sense taking chances!” Another sigh from the motherly woman. “Seriously though, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Powers testing in a junkyard at night? This is not a person who wants to hurt people.”

“Probably.”

“And, just to confirm, I’m not waiting on one of the Journeymen tonight?”

“Not tonight,” Anima confirmed. “It’s Hypnos’ night for patrol, but since he’s excused from patrols where combat is expected, I have him on console with me. Say hello, Nic.”

“Hello, Nic,” a deep, tired voice commented.

“Hey kid,” I said. “How you doing?”

“...”

“Great to hear it.” I stretched, pulling my arms behind my back and bending backwards until my palms touched the floor, then rose again. “Alright, no sense in waiting for Starling and Loki to get back when we don’t know how long junkyard kid will be there. I’m heading out a few minutes early.”

“Understood.”