And found Newton crossing the rooftop at a prowl. She passed by in near silence, her figure dark against the spraypainted ground. She didn’t seem to have spotted me.
I ducked back down, sweating. Where was she going? I hesitated briefly, considering my options, and then peeked out to watch her cross the roof.
Then I followed her.
This is stupid, a part of me thought. I had no preparation, no plan to negate her powers. She was a High Epic—her powers actively protected her from harm. If my surveillance went poorly, I wouldn’t be able to simply shoot her, as my bullets would bounce back at me.
But she was involved with Regalia directly. Whatever was really going on in this city, Newton would be part of it, and watching her might give me important information. I moved in a crouch, taking cover behind old shanties as I tailed her. When I had to cross out into the open I did so quickly, and only once Newton had gotten far enough ahead. The buildings in this stretch were all about the same height and had been built very close together; you didn’t even need bridges to cross from one to the other, though ramps did connect some where the height difference was larger than a few feet.
I kept pace with her, and in so doing passed a few people lounging against the side of the otherwise-deserted building. Their clothing glowed with green paint, and they gave me a strange look before glancing toward Newton.
Then they scrambled to hide. Sparks. I was glad they had some sense to them, but I didn’t want their sudden motion to startle her. I hid beside a fallen wall.
Newton turned toward a long rope bridge. Sparks, that would be difficult to cross inconspicuously. How would I follow? Instead of crossing the bridge, however, Newton hopped off the side of the building. I frowned, then took a deep breath and snuck up to the edge of the roof. A small balcony rested below, with an open doorway leading into the building itself.
Right. Inside the building. Where my visibility would be limited, and I might stumble into a trap. Of course. I swung over the side and carefully climbed down to the balcony, then peeked in through the doorway.
The glowing fruit here had been harvested recently, probably for the party several rooftops over. That left the place dark, only a few phantom pieces of immature fruit giving light. It smelled of humidity—of that strange scent of plants and earth that was so different from the pristine steel of Newcago.
A rustling sound in the distance indicated the direction that Newton had gone. I climbed in through the broken doorway and followed cautiously. This had been a bedroom, judging by the bed overgrown with vines spilling onto the floor. I glanced out the door and found a narrow hallway. No—not a bedroom … a hotel room.
The confines were cramped—these rooms hadn’t been large in the first place, and a hallway lined with trees didn’t help. How did these plants live in here? I snuck forward, crawling over piled-up roots, when a dangling half-grown fruit tapped the side of my head.
Then it started blinking.
I stopped immediately, turning my head and staring at the strange fruit. Looked like a pear, and it was blinking off and on like a neon sign from one of the old movies. What …?
“They were at the party,” a female voice said.
Sparks! It came from a room just ahead of me. I’d almost crept right past, oblivious of the open doorway. I ignored the fruit, sneaking up and listening. “Three of them. Steelslayer left early. I followed, but lost him.”
Was that Newton talking?
“You lost him?” That deep voice was familiar. Obliteration. “I thought you didn’t do that.”
“I don’t.” Frustration in her tone. “It’s like he vanished.”
Sparks. I felt a chill run up my arms and wash across my body. Newton had been following me?
Quite aware that I was exhibiting a special brand of crazy, I peeked into the room. The foliage had been cleared away inside, the plants chopped down, opening up the small hotel room, making its bed and desk usable. One of the windows even still had intact glass, though the other was open to the air.
It was dark inside, but some spraypaint around the window gave just enough light for me to see Obliteration. He stood in his long black trench coat with hands clasped behind his back, looking out the window toward a city full of neon paint and partying people. Newton lounged beside the wall, spinning a katana in one hand.
What was it with people in this city and swords?
“You should not have allowed that one to slip away from you,” Obliteration said.
“Because you did such a good job of killing him?” Newton snapped. “Against orders, I might add.”
“I follow the orders of no man, mortal or Epic,” Obliteration said softly. “I am the cleansing fire.”
“Yeah. Whatever, creepshow.”