Young Writers Society

My chest was on fire.

The bandages and gauze wrapped around my torso tightened after every painful breath.

Legs and arms felt sluggish as if I hadn’t moved them in a millenia.

I smacked my gums, mouth opening and closing only to get dryer by the minute.

In my frustration I force myself to sit up from my bed, ignoring my cracked ribs which only led to them complaining even more. Scraped elbows on the cushy mattress propped me up slowly but surely. The blood from my head evens out with the rest of my body and the headache I’ve had since being forced to recuperate returned with a vengeance.

From outside my cabin, sounds of laughter and music could be heard. A broken glass here and a joyful holler there.

I was almost upright, when a large clawed finger held me back down gently. Scoffing, I looked to my right and there was Andre next to me, cross legged and taking up half the space of my room.

“You don’t have anything better to do, Andy?” I said while scratching at the scabs over my left eyebrow.

I stared at my mechani-arm, sticking out of a chest covered in a boar-pelt that one of the boys got for me. Its ramshackled nuts and bolt form was even more mangled ever since the bank heist. The springs were twisted, its chrome paint had been nearly scrapped off in just one job. The first thing I’d be doing when I got better was come up with a newer, more durable, and an even more formidable arm.

Andre yawned loudly, “Just go back to sleep.”

Shame filled my soul and I felt my dry lips turn into a frown. Another day of being in bed, another day I missed out on a job. The fact that no one has come to visit me today says everything I need to know.

“What about Claudia? She’s almost done anyways, you can leave. Go look after the others.” I said trying to hide my discontent in my tone.

Andre then carefully passed me a canteen filled with cold water. I took it begrudgingly and drank as I winced. There was still faint bruising on my neck from that Superhero’s iron grip. When I closed my eyes, I could see myself falling all over again with the rabbit girl. Her white tear-drop lenses blankly staring at me, and her grip on my neck like that of a noose.

“Yeah right. The only thing they need to be checked for is the amount of booze they waste tonight. Not much to worry though.” Andre laughed.

I chuckled through my discomfort, imagining the gallons of ethanol the others would throw down until morning. I then asked, “What are you afraid of?”

“Life of the party ain't you, little un’?” he grimaced.

Andre was big and tough, and to people who met him for the first time he looked like a living nightmare. With his thick gray fur, wolf head, and towering stature, most people don’t even consider saying hello to him. Which was all the more surprising when you find out how much of a softie he was under a certain light.

Staring at the wooden ceiling, support beams made of logs draped in cobwebs, I asked, “You think so?”

“No, not really.” he said as he tilted his head to the side. It was hard to tell if he could smile or frown, but you knew exactly what he was feeling. He then said, “I’m afraid of… you almost died, Walt.”

There was no doubt: Power-Jack did a number on me. But who cared really?

His eyelids fell slightly as well as his ears. His shoulders slumped as he let out a tired sigh, picking at himself with his large hairy hands, like the answer was a bothersome fat tick clinging on to his hide.

Until he stood up and made his way towards the door, avoiding my gaze, and he said, “Chief says… well you know what he says…. ”, he paused right before the door.

“Chief says a lot.” I said. I was disappointed by the lack of an answer. Which is to be expected with Andre. It didn’t matter anyways since Andre made his decision and bent his head down and walked out of the room. The next round of medicine should be enough to fix anything broken. Although I was sure my body would continue to ache for a while longer.

But before he truly left, he said from outside the doorway, “Just go to bed, little un’.”

I took out my journal from a small shelf behind the bedrest and flipped through the pages for the tenth time that day. Going over older rough sketches and notes on my inventions, it's harder to come up with something new when you're stuck inside all day. I grew bored of that so I tossed the journal back, I sighed as I stared at the ceiling once again. I already read all the newspapers and magazines the others brought for me to read on my nightstand and every piece of literature on the bookshelf on the other side of the room had already been picked apart front to back, full of notes, highlights, references, and bookmarks.

I wanted to fly away, into the sky, towards the west, carrying everyone with me.

Andre, Ina, Pharrel, Chief, Claudia, and the rest….

Maybe Isaiah if he earned it.

I tried to imagine what it'd be like if we went back to the open country. Away from all of this civilization. We could live together and not have to deal with any more of this AVIA business. I tried to think of what it would actually be like. Yet all I could see were their faces. In my attempt to envision a future all I received was a migraine. I cupped my hand on my face and let out a groan.

Sleep was calling to me, a simple means to escape the pain and boredom. I pulled the covers over my body as I slowly closed my eyes, ready to embrace a nap. Darkness filled my vision gradually as calming energy washed over me. It was futile in reality, for the second I wake up everything comes back to you like an avalanche. If only there was a way to sleep forever.

But right before I could rest easy, a shiny golden light woke me back up. The moon light coming from outside the window just happened to land on my bookshelf causing something to shine right at my eyes.

I grumbled words of frustration as I grabbed my pillow and slammed it on my face, searching for the sleep I so desperately wanted. However it never came, and the thought of the ridiculous golden book that I never bothered to throw away invaded my mind.

I threw the pillow at the shelf letting out a snarl from my bared teeth, only for it to do nothing and fall to the floor. Brilliant, I thought, as the ray of light never missed its mark on my eyes.

With no pillow to rest my head on I do what I had been trying to do this entire week: stand up.

I got upright, loudly exclaiming as my ribs moved and shifted inside my chest, my cracked bones on my hips and arms screamed in protest while I supported my weight. My legs moved past the covers and onto the warm rug, happy that someone put it there for if not my bare feet would have to deal with cold cement.

On some level I knew Andre was right, I had to rest, but I was better than I was last week or even the day I got back from the heist. I’ll never forget how angry Andre was seeing me fly back to base on Gutterwing as he barked at me, the hairs on his back erect with fury. He wasn’t so angry when I finally let go, succumbing to the pain and falling off my glider as I plummeted towards the camp. Pharrel flew up and caught me right before my head hit the ground.

That Power-Jack was something else. She was like a blur, running and jumping all over the place. It was like trying to fight a glass cannon powered by a nascarter engine. Even when I did manage to hit her she shrugged it off like it was nothing. She even had time to banter.

That was typical of Superheroes though.

She was a warrior like no other.

Yet with those same battle hardened fists she only gifted me bruises and cracked bones.

Merciful and elegant.

And kind of funny too.

“The money you stole… belongs to the people of New Geweld. You will face justice for your crimes, I’ll see to it.”

Finally, I found the strength to arise from my bed, gravity tried convincing me to go back, but I refused to listen. I was shirtless due to my bandages, I wore only slacks with the suspenders hanging down the sides. My legs carried my withered and patched-up body towards the bookshelf to deal with the golden book once and for all.

Big Book of Science by P.O Wellingham, Nikola Tesla and You by Nye Williams, Wilderness Survival Guide by Buck Gunn were amongst the most frequented works in my collection. Of course I also had some textbooks I stole from various universities on electronics and engineering. Every single one was a lovely and invigorating read in its own way. Chief lent me some of his own literature too, although he’s more interested in philosophy and politics. I tried reading one, forgot its title but it was from a guy called Huey P. something like that. It made me think, but I didn’t see how it could help us. I guess different time periods had different issues.

I pulled out the golden journal, and read the cover title scribbled in black marker:

Superhero Analysis! by Walter

On the cover was also the same rat symbol that the buckle of my gun belt was shaped after, only it was in marker and it was crudely drawn by ten year old Walter, nowhere near the sleeker design I currently used but still familiar.

My eyes stung a bit looking at the old golden journal, it was such a small thing yet in my hand it felt heavy. I cleared my throat as if to give a speech only to not utter a word, flipping through each page.

Each set of pages was dedicated to one hero or another. I detailed their strengths, weaknesses, the different powers they had. I even included fun facts that were either not so fun or completely made up by me to make them seem more interesting. And the sketches for each of them left much to be desired, but I couldn’t help but smile as I kept reading.

I came across Godspeed's entry. It was lackluster for sure, although most people would have fared the same. I drew an angel alright, but the sword was just a thin cross, his outfit is supposedly reminiscent of a civil war general’s uniform but all black but young Walter must not have had any black crayons so he used coal or dirt instead.

His powers were flight, super speed, super strength, invincibility to all forms of damage, feathers that were as hard as tungsten and as light as, well, feathers. He could command the feathers to move however he wanted them to, and his sword was much the same. Some people theorized he could do a lot more than that, resurrection, exorcism, power sharing, and even construct buildings where all were debated. But I believed some of those theories are, as Andre would put it, ‘a load of bunk’.

I wrote down that he disappeared around sixty years ago. The few who knew him closely claimed that he woke up one day and vanished into the Appalachian mountains without saying a word. His sword was left in a courthouse in New Geweld. Since the sword hasn’t been called by him people assumed he died, which left many folks (especially Superheroes) to believe that whoever was strong enough to pull the sword out of its resting place would become Godspeed's herald, taking his place as the defender of America.

I wondered if he would ever come back or if it was true that he died.

How does someone like that die?

Then I found a page titled: RatKing and I slapped the old journal shut.

I should have thrown it away years ago and at that moment I wanted Pharrel to burn it if he hadn’t blacked out yet.

A knock snapped me back to reality as I swiftly turned around to see Claudia standing by the door with an unimpressed look on her painted face.

Claudia was a woman of middle age, being slightly taller than I was and the top hat she always wore made her look even taller. She was of a darker complexion, with purple locs draped along her shoulders. Her face was colored to appear like a white skull with the spinal bones going down her neck. She was wearing a dandy jacket and a collared shirt with a purple bow tie and stylistically torn pants.

She was smirking, “Huh, looks like you don’t need this.” she said as she shook the newly brewed tonic in her hand. “Big strong man like you doesn’t need help.”

I shook my head, “It ain’t like that, Claudia.” I wanted to say more but a sudden feeling of pain caught me on my side.

I held the spot that hurt the most as she walked towards me, uncorking the glass vial allowing for the visible vapors of the sizzling liquid to escape.

Even though I was hurting, Claudia still found it appropriate to tease me, “Right, you're grown for some things and a kid for others?”

She passed me the tonic as I downed it in one shot, the spiciness of the bitter liquid left a lingering sensation in my mouth and throat. Not pleasant, but cauca could do wonders.

“Don’t be surprised… I’m barely twenty two! If you were nicer then maybe I’d listen to you every once in a while.”

She laughed and smiled brightly, “Well maybe I like bullying children!”

From outside my cabin, the sound of a wild rumpus trickled through the opened door. In my mind I imagined what sort of trouble they all got into to require such cheer. I hadn’t robbed a train before, and I figured it had its own set of complications and nuances. Being side by side with Andre, Pharrel, and Ina was like a rollercoaster, although I had never been on one. There was no fear of death or injury… only the fear of not having enough pockets for all the dollar bills we would claim for ourselves. Maybe being a non-quasi made it more exciting, allegedly there's more to lose.

I opened up my wardrobe and pulled out my black coat and put it on. No shirt tonight for it was a party!

I looked at the broken down prosthetic hanging out of the chest and opted to leave it there. You don’t need two hands to have fun.

Feeling invigorated and tired of being cooped up like a sick calf I walked past Claudia. I was ready to join my fellow gang mates, but of course the doctor wasn’t having it. She stopped me, getting in my way and blocking the exit.

“What?!” I asked unhappily.

“You still need rest. My potions are effective, but you are still flesh and blood. Sit your ass back down.”

“I could sit my ‘ass’ by the bonfire, Doc?” I sported a toothy grin in rebuttal.

Claudia was our doctor, and a personal mentor of mine, and I respected her greatly. But she had the same problem as Andre. I tried to laugh it off growing up and I still did in the hopes that they finally understood that I’m not made of glass. They were wise to it, which is why they can be extra hard on me.

Claudia folded her arms over her chest and looked down on me, “That rabbit girl almost killed you, boy.”

Power-Jack was an outlier in the plan, and if she was your typical Superhero then yes, Claudia was right she would have tried to kill me. If things were a little different, I would have died the second she laid eyes on me. That thought didn’t bother me, at least I didn’t think about it, so I responded to her concerns sternly, “Look, the plan worked, we got the money, the gold, and the cauca that was inside the vault. No one got killed, and those who did had it comin’! I got hurt, but I will not stay inside forever. I have the right to talk to other people, you know?”

“Watch that tone, mister.” she said authoritatively.

Who was worse to talk to: Andre or Claudia? I could write a fifty page essay on the matter and I still wouldn’t have enough for a conclusion paragraph!

I sighed, “I’m not trying to be disrespectful, Claudia. I just want to spend some time with the gang.”

After a moment of contemplation and with no help from how much fun you could hear everyone else was having, she conceded and let me pass. I practically sprinted out the door, cool air hitting me in the face as my bare feet slid across the dirt. In that moment I wished I did put on something underneath, and I was going to go back in for such a reason. That was until I heard a high pitched voice slur out, “There he is! The finest gunslinger in the east, ReyRata!”

A deeper yet equally joyous voice followed and said, “Where you’ve been Walt? Come on, the fire’s extra hot tonight!”

I made my way to the festivities and to the voices that called out to me: Inamorata and Pharrel, respectively.

Pharrel was doing his thing, flaming hot orange and red streams of fire shot out of his fingertips into the giant pile of wood in the middle of the old campsite. Ina was floating in the air, doing… I wasn’t sure… dancing? She was having fun. Andre was sitting on the ground singing along quite happily with Henry on his drums and Khan on his fiddle.

“Tengo el alma destrozado

Tengo el corazón partido

No me llega el olvido

Para dejar de llorar”

They were singing without a care until he laid eyes on me, and of course his gaze was disapproving. Before he got up to lecture me, I sang along too.

“Tanto amor que yo te he dado

Tanto amor y todo en vano

Por tu culpa me emborracho

Es tu culpa este dolor”

“Oh come on Andre, let the kid live a little, he almost died after all!” said Henry. He was an elderly man, with a gray beard, a large round nose and pink-reddish skin. He wore a dirty white shirt that stuck out due to his humble beer gut with stained blue jeans, and a wide brimmed hat that covered his balding head. He smiled at me with moonshine-stained teeth.

The other man, Khan, was slightly older than me, he too had a beard but his hair was a dark brown and on his head was a short crewcut. He was shirtless besides the bright red and black harness he wore with thick black military boots.

Khan put his fiddle down, and raised a bottle of Kentucky bourbon, and proclaimed as he slung his burly arms around me, “Give Walter a drink goddammit! This boy… he's a killer… ha ha! A real… KILLER!”

That word didn't sit well with me. It felt strange being associated with it, even though it was the truth. I knew Andre was going to call Khan an idiot or something like that so I took a swig of the drink in his hand and kept on singing.

“Amigos traigan cerveza

Quiero tomar para olvidar

Amigos traigan cerveza

Quiero matar este dolor”

The fire was indeed warm.

And it got even warmer with whiskey in the system!

Truth be told, I hated drinking, I hated drugs in general. You aren’t yourself when you do that stuff. And if I want to do any of my work, I had to be myself, it's the only way to make it happen. Claudia taught me that.

But a good time is hard to turn down.

Ina managed to convince me to dance with her floating above the ground. It didn’t last long since she fell on top of me, almost knocking me on my behind and further punishing my body. Andre barked at us and we both got up giggling and danced normally.

Inamorata was a petite cat girl, although her face was still pretty human in form. She was covered from head to toe in orange fur with brown stripes, her eyes were blue and as sparkly as the western night sky. Usually she wore a wide-brimmed witches hat she found in an abandoned costume store with a leather quilted corset, her puffy cleavage on full display, and a mostly black skirt with white laces on the top and bottom.

She danced with fervor, light on her bare clawed feet, her tail and hips swaying to the beat. I matched her energy, bringing a controlled heat, hands on her waist, each step played a percussive compliment to the music.

“You really… ah… ah… mmm-we missed you today, Ratboy!” she yelled into my ear.

I yelled back in hers, “I missed you guys too! Andre and Claudia bother me, at least you guys aren’t as depressing.” her cat ears recoiled back, though she still laughed.

“Depressing?! Ok sure, 'RatKing'. You only wear black.”

“Black is a threatening color. And besides, you’re one to talk.” I grinned.

From the corner of my vision, I see Isaiah, lurking far from us. He sat by himself, with a campfire of his own, cleaning his precious revolvers.

Suddenly Ina moved behind me as she rested her chin on my shoulder, “Um actually, black is a shade. Try again, genius!” she said, mimicking my accent.

I laughed off her pedantic argument despite the fact it did bother me that she was right. We danced for a few more songs, until she got tired and went to take a “small nap”. Curled up in a fetal position next to a log we all sat on like some kind of rock. And she stayed there for the rest of the night.

Pharrel bumped into me afterwards, bottle in his hand, spilling liquid happiness on my exposed feet. His skin was the shade of mocha, and his facial hair was well kept, although super powers and alcohol weren’t the best combination so his short hair had sparks of embers at the tips, and his earthly green poncho was ashen at the ends from years of use. His eyes were bloodshot as smoke sizzled out of his nose, and when he opened his mouth to speak the smell of bitter charcoal and sweet brandy graced me.

He involuntarily burped a fireball into my face, I dodged, and he apologized immediately.

“A little train robbery was enough to get you this lit?” I asked incredulously.

He coughed up more smoke as he attempted to laugh, “You're just jealous you couldn’t be there! It was a good take, not as good as your bank heist but not too dull. Anyways, how's it like being taken care of by mami y papi?”

Slinging my arm around his shoulders I told him, “I’m serious, man! Tell me all about it, give me details.”

“About Superheroes?” he asked with a sly grin.

I tripped over my words until I grumbled, “If you fought one then, yeah… spill the beans.”

“So you can put it in that little book of yours?” his grin turned into a wide obnoxious smile.

“Look… it's important you know.” I told him. Superheroes were the biggest threat to us, so knowing everything about them was key to survival. Yet even with that knowledge already in mind it still wasn’t enough for the drunken pyromancer.

“We didn’t fight no super powered merc. All just regular-degular humans with guns. But now that you mention it… did you write a page for her?”

The party had died down by then, daylight was but a few hours away as birds chirped and sang their early morning ballads for wretches like us. Most everyone was sleeping soundly, some outside others in their cabins. Andre laid on his back on the ground, his snout scrunched as his head twitched from side to side, tiny whines escaped his deadly jaws. Henry was upside down, his legs were on the table as his back inclined backwards, the dirty wide-brimmed straw hat he always wore covered his face. Khan was much the same, except he rested his head and muscular arms over the round wooden table. Isaiah was nowhere to be seen in the night's shadow.

The drinking had stopped, and me and Pharrel sat by the edge of the cliff that was right next to our campsite, and we looked over to the horizon peacefully. Our group found this abandoned “summer camp”, full of cabins and buildings used for whatever they used to do here. Good place to lay low, Heroes hated the wilderness.

In the far distance of many miles, past the thick forests of deadwood and plains of garbage was the biggest dump of all time:

New Geweld.

Cities all looked the same, no matter where you went in America. We moved around a lot, but we never made it this far east, not even before my time. Civilization was funny to me. So much wealth, so much power, millions of people all in one place working together to make one giant machine work every single day of the year, until the new one starts and they do it over again. One big wheel that needed to move a specific way otherwise collapse would be imminent. Some people say that's inspiring, but I think it's hilarious.

Pharrel on the other hand was not as opinionated as I was, rather he looked at the shimmering lights coming from the skyscrapers and blimps with fondness.

I asked if he liked cities, and he told me, “New Geweld is just like any other city… opportunity, adventure, money… shiny bright lights. I just want to grab it ya know? I like looking at them.”

“Cities are dangerous.” I said scratching at my neck.

He gave me a sad but knowing look as he patted me on the shoulder.

“No kidding.” he said to me, “We ain’t had much time to talk recently but I gotta ask, what was up with that rabbit chick? What was her name… Jackie-Pow-Pow?”

I laughed, momentarily distracted by the itchiness that suddenly appeared, “Close, it was Power-Jack.” I answered with a sigh. I didn’t drink much, I knew my limits, and I was very much not a heavy weight in any regards. And because of that I wasn’t tired at all. We were deep in enemy territory, far from real open country.

“She was like a pink blur. It was hard to see her in action. Her movements were exactly like a jackrabbit, only even faster, like a cannonball in human form! Her fists were as tough as diamonds, her body as nimble as a high flying flag! I’m not even sure she's part rabbit, maybe she is or maybe not. Maybe she has even more abilities because I don’t recall ever seeing a bunny create blasts equal to a hurricane with the flick of their fingers!!! Well paws… but in her case its fingers… you feel me?” I added frantically.

“Yeah ok, but what happened?”

I looked at him deadpanned, “I bested her. It’s that simple. I won, she lost.” and in that moment some creature out in the distance gave a haunting howl, “I got away.”

A moment of tension passed, yet the forest critters didn’t care. A soundtrack of owls, crickets, and coyotes to set the mood. I preferred nature anyways, human beings proved to be more complicated and a lot more cruel.

“She's not… dead, though.” Pharrel’s voice was not accusatory, since this was a fact, Power-Jack was still alive and doing her work in New Geweld. But he was running his mouth without thinking.

“Are you trying to say something?!” I asked angrily.

He straightened up and crossed his arms, “Yes! What I’m trying to say is why didn’t you kill her?”

Ah yes. Why did I spare that woman? Partly because she was trapped and had no way to harm me. Also partly because I read up on her when we first got here.

Power-Jack: upstart Superhero fresh out of the one and only Godspeed Academy. She spent a year cleaning up the streets of Vino Heights, which appeared to be her hunting ground. She never left it, since she was the only Hero stationed there, it was rather odd. But what was more odd was how safe her neighborhood was in comparison to the rest of the city. There were at least twenty or so Heroes per district not counting police departments, and each one was uniquely terrible and impoverished from the rest. The financial district was an exception, not many law enforcement there in the first place which was unwise for them in hindsight. How were the safest neighborhoods in this city filled with all manner of human filth, the ones with the least amount of surveillance?

At first when I saw those stats and heard stories of her helping people, I assumed she wouldn’t have even showed up to intervene with the bank robbery in the first place. I forced all the employees outside, hostages were not a part of the plan.

I wanted to see her again and ask her what the secret was. How did she keep people safe, in a place like New Geweld?

I told all of this to Pharrel of course, and he didn’t appear to know what to make of it.

“Walt… we are Supervillains. I thought you grew past this.”

The golden journal flashed my mind, a melancholic reminder of old dreams and ambitions that were crudely denied.

“You’re a Supervillain, Andy is a Supervillain; Ina, Khan, Chief, Isaiah, even fat old Henry. I don’t have any powers. Why even bring up the stupid diary in the first place if it's such a goddamn problem?” I countered with resolve.

“You’re one of us, Scrap-rat.” he pleaded.

“I’m not saying otherwise… it just- I don’t know….” Pharrel then placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. Somehow I found the words I wanted to say for a long time.

I looked at him dead in his flame colored eyes and said, “Nobody wants us, and for good reason. If we want to make a move in this town we have to make friends. And to me… it seems like Power-Jack can be that friend!”

Pharrel caressed his goatee in contemplation for a moment, and he asked, “You sure she didn’t scramble your brain?”

I wasn’t going anywhere with him. Pharrel was a good friend and a great fighter, but he struggled with self-awareness, like most of the other Apostates.

The rabbit didn’t work with the police, in fact, I had a sneaking suspicion that she outright disliked them. Within a year of her being active she did not have a headquarters constructed anywhere in the city, no merchandise deals, no promotional movies or shows, she wasn’t even endorsing political candidates, and her being a fed was out of the question. So that only left one possible avenue: she was involved with crime herself. But even that sounded absurd. Based on the way she spoke, she was either:

A full of herself corrupt Superhero that was really good at acting and will disregard the law at the sight of cash and blood.

Or.

A woman that truly believed in doing right by her community and used her powers to fight for those who cannot fight for themselves.

Whichever one it is doesn’t matter because she’d have to be insane regardless. It was risky, but we had to figure something out. We have been hunted by the AVIA for too long now. We’ve taken casualties in the past, our numbers got smaller by the years and months. I had nightmares of me waking up one morning and everyone would be gone without a trace.

“Look man.” began Pharrel, anxiety written on his face, “You did good with the bank… really good. I trust you and if it was just you and me then fuck yeah lets go make friends with the cape.” he then stopped as if he saw a ghost and turned his attention to the ground, “But I think you should shut up every now and then.”

I couldn’t contain my outrage, I started yelling at him, “Huh? Really?! Is that all you can tell me you jackass? Telling me to shut up when all I’m doing is giving suggestions!”

He winced at my outburst, raising his hands in surrender, quietly saying “I warned you.”

From behind me I felt the grumble of something very large and old.

“Lower your voice, little uns’, the forest is trying to sleep.”

Andre was standing right behind me and must have been listening to the conversation for who knows how long and only made himself known to try and get Pharrel to shut me up.

We were about to run back to our cabins and call it a late night but Andre yanked us back from our clothes and sat down with us.

“So, you fellas makin’ plans that the rest of us don’t know?” Andre asked in a mocking tone.

Pharrel was stammering big time now, trying to avoid any of the scolding the big guy had in his arsenal, “Andy! My good friend, my buddy, my pal; we weren’t making plans just… it's the brew! Me and Walt drank a bit too much and you know little ole’ Scrap-rat, since the day we got him he’s always got a crazy plot cooking up in that massive dome of his. He wants to open up a botanical garden… could you believe that? Sure if plants fed on cauca, then I say go for it.”

Ignoring such a blatant lie, I scoffed at the mention of my ‘dome’ and the fact he wanted to pin the blame entirely on me. He asked in the first place!

Andre then raised an eyebrow and said, “Pharrel… I have super-hearing, remember?”

My fiery friend then let out an unceremonious burp and said, “Ok I lied. I drank too much.”

That was enough to get a chuckle out of me and a small grin from Andre. He then told Pharrel to go get some rest and he did so without argument. That just left the two of us: the rat and the wolf. There was a subtle breeze in the sky that did cause me some discomfort. Andre’s fur looked very appealing then but I refused to nuzzle up next to him as I did when I was younger. Instead I opted to pet his arm, slowly as we both shared the bright vista.

“Mind telling me what that was about?” he asked thoughtfully.

I didn’t respond immediately, finding myself too preoccupied with petting him and figuring out exactly how to word my next thoughts without sounding like a complete fool.

I finally broke the silence, “It was just an idea.” I said hoping he’d leave it at that.

“That idea almost killed you.” Andre uttered low.

“We need allies, people we can work with.”

“We have that already. This gang, it's all we need, it's all you need.”

I stop myself from raising my voice, “What do we do besides kill, steal, and lie? We are more than this.”

“We live free, freer than most.” Andre said dismissively as he pointed towards New Geweld.

One truth.

One lie.

“You only say that because the Chief says it, have you ever had an original thought in your life?”

His eyes narrowed, “Watch it, boy.”

I didn’t mean to come off as disrespectful, so I apologized, and then I said, “Chief told me stories about how it was back then. You guys stole from those who had enough and gave to the needy. Why haven’t we been doing that?”

Andres' ears drooped down slowly like wilting flowers. His eyes shined thoughtfully as he let out a long huff, one worthy to be a part of the many air currents that made up the atmosphere. He was so sad to look at sometimes. If he wasn’t on a job with the rest he’d be out doing who knows what. Claudia said he had an adventurous spirit, even before I was born Andre liked to wander off from time to time, although a less dignified explanation from Isaiah reasoned that he was part wild dog, and at the end of the day a wild dog’s true home was the road.

Andy was no dog, he was my friend.

He raised his hand and ruffled my hair, “Things change.” He said quietly, “One minute you’re doing one thing, fighting for something true and good….”

The money we earned during our raids was stored somewhere hidden only Chief and Claudia know. We only took out from it in instances of emergency. The amount of money we actually had must have been in the hundreds of millions.

His head turned to me and I sensed an understanding that was unique to him, “You were right about that little un’, the world is better off without us. No more monsters, no more outlaws, no more ‘Supervillains’ or whatever the hell you humans call it. I feel a cage being wrapped around me, a sky that darkens by the minute, a forever night. What I’ve done won’t be forgiven or forgotten.”

“It's not fair. This life chose us.” I said as my eyes became moist.

He then let out a soft bitter laugh, only to see a very genuine smile stretch across his snout. It was home, being with him, being with the Apostates.

“Why are you so dramatic? It ain't too bad. Say, why don’t you write more in that golden book you got. You faced your first Superhero and lived to tell the tale, go work on your draftsmanship. And who knows, maybe it’ll come in handy in the future.” Andre said as he nudged my side playfully.

The one thing that set Andre aside from Chief. He was more real, less grand.

“You don’t think it's silly?” I asked, not daring to meet his caring gaze.

“Very silly! But it's even more silly they said no to you.” he then got up and stretched his limbs, to then let out a bellowing yawn.

I hummed as I rubbed the nub on my left arm, afraid that once again Andre would refuse to give me a straight answer. But fortunately he did say something,

“Little un’, I never wanted you to ride alongside us in the first place. You weren’t meant for… marauding. You are intelligent, brave, and loyal. You have done more than any of us combined in the last year or so. I will speak to the Chief and Claudia about this connection you wish to make and perhaps you could speak as well.”

After that we decided it was time to go hit the hay, it was a new day with new possibilities, and the inevitable hangover paired up with it. Chief would want everyone to be out and moving after the night's recreation. Usually Chief, Khan, Pharrel, and Isaiah would go to the city or town we camp near to and scope out some leads, sniff out anything rotten or sweet. Claudia, Ina, and I experimented and scavenged for resources that we needed, new gadgets and other advantages we crafted to even the odds. Henry would do things every once in a while, or if you kicked him.

As I walked towards my cabin, morning air entered my lungs and the distant sun peaking bashfully over the watery horizon, Andre had one more thing to say as he called out to me.

I turned to see the morning sun bask around his tall and powerful figure, the yellow glow added a warmth to what he would say to me,

“There ain’t no shame in fighting for a better world.”