Jay Posey - Morningside Fall

“You sure?” Swoop asked.

“Positive,” Sky answered.

After a few moments, Gamble said, “Yeah, I confirm. It’s Painter.” Swoop cursed. Sky backed his optic out and found his wife, crouched on top of Painter’s sprawled form.

“Is he dead?”

“Oughta be,” Gamble said. “But no, he’s not dead. Ain’t happy either.”

“What’s going on?” Wick asked.

“Hold on.”

“We’re on the way out,” Mouse said.

“Check,” Gamble said. “Able, I need you on security. Sky, sit tight.”

“Alright, check,” Sky said. The kid had been anxious lately, agitated, and with good reason. Seemed like a real bad time to be out stretching his legs, though.

There was movement in an alley near Gamble. Sky recognized Able’s fluid stride as he moved into position about five yards behind Gamble. He dropped to a knee, facing away from her, his head up and scanning for threats. A few moments later, Swoop and Mouse appeared in the building’s entryway. Swoop flowed out onto the street and mirrored Able, watching the other direction, while Mouse went directly to assess Painter.

It looked like the kid was sitting up now, at least. Sky surveyed the surrounding area from his perch, watching for any sign of danger. Several minutes passed amidst the cold night air and the occasional croak or call from a distant Weir, but nothing seemed to be heading their way

“Finn,” Gamble said. “Location.” Her words were clipped, direct.

“Want me to ping it?” he responded.

“Negative, comms only.”

“North-west of you, six hundred meters. About fifty meters east of the wall.”

“Stay put, we’re coming to.”

“Alrighty.”

“Sky, you OK to move on your own?” she asked.

Sky chuckled. If anyone on the team was used to moving alone, it was Sky. “Yes, Mom ,” he said. She hated when he called her that, but a little dig seemed appropriate after the question she’d asked.

“Alright, rally on Finn,” she answered. Her tone was flat, all business, like Gamble hadn’t even noticed the Mom .

Sky asked, “What’s going on?”

“Just move, Sky.”

Something was definitely wrong. Down below, Sky saw his wife helping Painter to his feet while the other three formed a protective triangle around them. As soon as Painter was up, they started moving as a unit. Sky kept watch over them until they disappeared down a distant alley. Once they were out of sight, he slung his rifle and headed down the exposed staircase. Down one flight, he drew his sidearm. Just in case.

The whole left side of Painter’s face throbbed and burned, and any time he took too deep a breath, it felt like every muscle in his back went into spasm. He was sitting on the floor, trying to track Mouse’s finger by moving only his eyes. The whole team had gathered and taken shelter in a nearby one-floor building, and Mouse had insisted on giving Painter a thorough once-over. Gamble had apologized five or six times, which had been nice. But it didn’t make his body hurt any less.

“Well, that sly son,” Finn said, almost to himself. And then louder, “Check this out. It’s a siphon. They hid it in a co-routine, off our secure channel.”

“For stupid people, Finn,” Sky said from the door, where he was keeping watch.

“The kid’s right. They’ve got a trace on. Never would’ve noticed it if I hadn’t gone looking.”

“Custom job?” Wick asked.

“Nah, it’s really not that sophisticated. Only clever bit was where they stuck it, which makes sense if Connor’s involved. Otherwise, it just looks like an off-the-shelf solution.”

“Aww,” Wick said, “and I was about to start feeling special.”

“Can you kill it without anyone noticing?” Gamble asked.

“Sure, easy,” Finn answered. “Now that I know it’s there. I can spin it off, let it run isolated.”

“What about following it back?” Swoop said.

Finn went quiet, eyes staring up into the corner of the room, as though he was seeing something else entirely.

“Alright,” Mouse said, patting Painter on the shoulder. “I don’t think there’s any permanent damage. How do you feel?”

“Like I fell out a fifth-story window,” Painter said.

“She must’ve held back on you, then,” Mouse said, winking.

“Yeah,” Finn said. “Yeah, I think I could follow it back, Swoop. Only problem is whoever’s on the other end might be watching. Could tip ’em off.”

“Any way to tell?” Gamble said.

Finn shook his head. “Looks like it’s got two listeners running. I can run ’em back, but no way to tell what might be waiting until I get there.”

“C-c-connor, and Aron, I bbb-bet,” Painter said.

“Not if they’re dead,” Finn said.

“So, could’ve been as many as four, then,” Gamble said.

“Yeah, I guess so,” said Finn.

“Kill it.”

“You got it.”

Gamble approached Painter, and knelt in front of him. “How you feeling, Painter?”

“Still brrr, still breathing.”

“We need to get back to Cass and Wren, and we need to do it quickly. If you don’t think you can make it, I can leave a couple of the boys with you.”

“I c-c-can do it.”

“This isn’t a time to tell me what you think I want to hear.”

Painter answered by getting to his feet.

“Alright, then,” Gamble said, standing. “Pack it up, gentlemen, we’re moving out. Finn, are we scrubbed?”

“Yeah, channel’s clean.”

“Then I’ve got point. Swoop, Mouse, you’ve got the cargo.”

The team snapped into go-mode, wordlessly forming up. Swoop and Mouse took positions on Painter’s left and right. And a few seconds later, they were pushing out into the open, headed from a known danger into one unknown.

Cass sat at a table right in the middle of the Mister Sun’s main room, alone, eyes intent on the door. The lights near the entrance were turned low, all the others were off completely, casting the area in a dusky gloom. Painter and Wren were both upstairs in Painter’s small room, hopefully getting some much needed sleep. Though she wouldn’t have been surprised if they were both lying wide awake, listening for whatever might come. Mister Sun had retired to his side room. She was pretty sure he was waiting just on the other side of the door, just in case.

It’d been a gamble, sending a message through Able, but it was one she’d felt she had to take. If North was in on the plot, they would know soon enough. And they’d already done everything they could to stack the odds in their favor.

“One incoming,” Cass heard Wick say over internal comms. “It’s him.”

A minute later, the front doors slid smoothly open, and a hulking figure stood in the entrance, silhouetted by the street lights behind him. He stepped cautiously over the threshold, out of the shadows and into the softer lights at the entrance. It was North. He looked off to his right as he entered, lowered his head and squinted, trying to force his eyes to adjust as he peered into the darkness. But as he scanned back to his left, his eyes quickly locked on Cass’s, drawn no doubt by their soft electric glow.

“Lady Cass,” he said, with a slight bow. North seemed surprised to see her. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” He stepped forward.

“That’s close enough,” Cass said as North reached the edge of the light, near the first row of tables. The doors slid closed and the locking mechanism clicked audibly.

“Front’s clear,” Wick said.

“Street’s clear,” Sky said.

“Rear’s good,” Finn answered.

Cass didn’t answer. Just kept her eyes on North. He remained at the entrance, hands folded in front of him. Usually quietly confident, he seemed instead tense and uncertain. Maybe just a man awakened in the middle of the night. Or maybe a man fearing the unraveling of a plan. Cass let him wait in silence, knowing the less she led him, the more likely he was to reveal his own thoughts.