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A/N: The subjects of the second edition of non-canon chapters have been decided by donators! For this story, the non-canon chapter will focus on a look at Cassidy as a villain, a member of La Casa. That as well as the HE non-canon chapter will be out for any donator regardless of level tomorrow/Saturday on Patreon, before being released for EVERYONE 24 hours later on Sunday. They will still be on Patreon, but you will be able to read them no matter what, even if you do not donate anything at all. Thanks again for everything!
My quick search over the phone to figure out where I was going had told me one thing about this warehouse on Gratiot. Back in the old days, like… before I was born, it had been a lot more rundown than it was now. Like most of the city, really. But, also like most of the city, it had grown in the past decade or so. Now, the warehouse part took up a little over twice the space it had before, while the rest of the city block was a parking lot. And there were other large buildings around it that hadn’t existed before. There was a bit on the page I’d looked at that showed the difference between the old neighborhood and the new one, and jeez. It had basically all been completely rebuilt, thanks to the new storage demands as the city itself had been expanding.
But the way the warehouse had been before didn’t matter. All that mattered was the fact that Paige was inside it now, and she was in trouble. Trouble I couldn’t begin to understand yet, but still trouble.
There were cars parked in front of the warehouse as soon as I landed on a building nearby, a dozen of them scattered around the lot. It looked like they’d come in a rush, all parking wherever they happened to stop, leaving the vehicles sitting at odd angles to one another. A few were up on the curb, one looked like it had mowed down a small chain link fence on its way in, and another had its front end dangling partway into a ditch. All had doors that were hanging open, where their occupants had leapt out and run inside without bothering to close them.
Suffice to say, it was pretty obvious that whatever was going on in there, all the people from those cars had come in a damn hurry. Paige… whatever she was doing, she’d managed to get a whole crapton of people to come to this warehouse.
I had to get in there before she went through with her plan. Whatever else was going on, whatever nasty shit her father had planned, I had to get in there and stop Paige from killing herself. I just… I had to. Not to mention all the people she was planning on killing. They might’ve been bad people, but they were still people. How Paige could even plan on killing that many–
I had to find out what her deal was.
Standing on the roof of that nearby building, I glanced at my phone while catching my breath. There was no response yet from either Pack or That-A-Way. And I’d heard a lot of sirens as I passed through the city. Something else was obviously going on. Whether it was an intentional distraction, or just more of that war between the gangs, I wasn’t sure. But it was obvious that the people I’d been hoping would come and help were busy.
Exhaling, I opened the tiny compartment on the back of the phone case, taking out the bluetooth earbud that was there before sticking it in my ear. Hitting the button on it made the earbud sync with the phone, activating the voice changer on it. I may not have my real costume, but at least I would sound like myself. Or rather, not sound like myself.
That done, I put the phone away and took out the radio I’d grabbed from the… the dead guy back at the house. It had been crackling off and on throughout my trip here. I’d heard men talking about arriving at the warehouse, about being close, about gunfire, about protecting ‘the vault’ and ‘the mainframe.’ Though the warehouse looked calm from the outside, it was clear from the radio that it was anything but. There were people shouting, calling out orders and responses about where ‘she’ was. There was running footsteps, loud banging from heavy things hitting metal, and even gunshots. Some of those were quiet enough that I had a hard time distinguishing what they were outside of context, while others were loud, clearly from guns that weren’t silenced.
And yet, standing out here looking at the building in question, it was impossible to tell that anything was going on. It looked quiet in there. I might’ve thought that I had the wrong place if it wasn’t for all the cars parked out front. Which were added to as yet another sedan came squealing around the corner. It fishtailed a bit on its way into the lot, spinning around before skidding to a stop. Three guys leapt out, guns in hand. They wore dark suits and ties, looking like any number of high-end private security I’d seen my entire life. But these ones didn’t just stand around talking into earbud radios. They took one quick glance at the street before starting to sprint toward the warehouse, guns held at the ready.
Nope. No, I wasn’t going to let even more people run in there to add to the chaos. Dropping the still crackling radio back in the pocket and zipping it, I painted my shoes blue to send myself hurtling up and forward. I still didn’t know exactly what was going on in there, or if I was going to get any help from That-A-Way or Pack, but it was time to get involved. I couldn’t wait anymore.
Apparently the men rushing toward the warehouse were laser-focused on what was going on inside, because none of them seemed to notice my approach as I sailed right over their heads. At least, they didn’t notice until I sent three quick shots of red paint down at each of them, activating all of it together to send the three slamming into one another. They collided hard, collapsing into a heap just as I landed in a crouch in front of them.
“Hey, guys!” I found myself blurting without thinking about it. “Sorry, can I see your invitations? Cuz this is a private party and the host is a real bitch about it.”
The trio immediately reacted by snapping their weapons up and opening fire, but I activated an orange star I’d painted on my back, letting the couple shots they managed bounce off me (stinging a bit) before hitting all three guns with quick shots of red paint. Activating my borrowed, red-painted motorcycle glove yanked their weapons to me, and I tossed the pile aside.
“Nope, these invitations look forged. You’ll have to come back later.”
The men… did not seem interested in coming back later. Instead, the three of them charged at me, producing some kind of batons. Yeah, they really weren’t in the mood to play nice. Whatever was inside that warehouse, they were willing to attack (including shoot at) me to get to it. This had to be big, even bigger than I’d first thought. It wasn’t just about stopping Paige from killing herself, this had to be something big enough to make all of her father’s men go this fucking insane about protecting it.
The orange paint had worn off by then, just as the first of the three men reached me, swinging down hard with his baton to hit my shoulder. The guy behind him was coming in lower, aiming for my stomach. They wanted me on the ground, fast, so they could bypass me and get inside. They were obviously really well-trained, and fast. Not to mention pretty well coordinated.
But they weren’t faster than me with my legs painted green. Instantly, I was quick enough to see the baton descending toward my shoulder in what amounted to slow-motion. I painted four purple stars across my right arm, boosting my strength beyond theirs as I pivoted away from the descending weapon, putting my left hip into the path of the second baton for a moment. My hand caught the first weapon just as it would have hit my shoulder if I’d still been standing there, stripping it down and away from the man to tear it out of his grip. Though it was harder than I expected. The dude was pretty strong.
With that baton in hand, I snapped it down to hit the second baton hard enough to send it flying out of that guy’s grasp. Simultaneously, my leg kicked up hard into the first man’s stomach. He was obviously wearing some kind of body armor or something, but it was still enough to make him start doubling over with the beginning of an explosive wheeze of air leaving him.
The boost to my strength wasn’t just good for my arms either. It also meant my legs were strong enough to launch myself up and over the three men while the first two were reacting to losing their weapons (and the one in the lead was doubled over from that kick). Flipping in the air, I landed behind the rear-most guy. Only a bare handful of seconds had passed, so I was still fast and strong. Using that, I lashed out with a kick into the third guy’s back to send him crashing into the first two. All three hit the ground in a heap.
While they were still recovering, I hurriedly pointed my hands at the ground on one side of them, shooting a spray of pink. Activating it, I lunged that way, shoving my hands down into the now clay-like material. With a grunt, I used my boosted strength to yank the pink-painted pavement up and over the pile of briefly dazed men before they could disentangle themselves.
The pink pavement I’d yanked up was about eight inches thick and a foot wide. Quickly, I shoved it down into place over the three men, securing the other end against the pavement there. The power ran out, putting the literal piece of parking lot back to normal and leaving the men trapped under what amounted to a loop of asphalt that was pinning them against the ground while they struggled and cursed at me.
Yeah, it wasn’t perfect. But it would do for now. The men might wriggle free in time, once they started cooperating. For the moment, however, they weren’t a problem. So, ignoring their threats, I hopped over the group and looked toward the warehouse. Three guys at least temporarily dealt with. But Paige was still in there, along with God only knew how many more, given all the cars that were out here.
I had to get in there. I had to find her. But the warehouse was so huge, how was I supposed to figure out where she was quickly enough to do anything?
Start at the top. That was my only choice. I had to search the building as fast as possible, starting from the top and working my way down. Hopefully, I’d hear something either over the radio that I still had, or in-person, that would give me a better hint.
Also hopefully, That-A-Way and Pack would show up soon. Because something told me I was really going to need their help before this was over.
Ignoring the men who were pinned to the ground by the arch of pavement, I took a running start before using red paint to yank myself all the way up to the top-most window of the warehouse. Hitting the wall next to it, I silently cursed the fact that I didn’t have my real costume with the shoes that would’ve let me stick to this wall without my paint. Fuck it, I was going to have to make do.
To that end, I took a quick peek through the window, seeing nothing but an empty hallway beyond. It looked like this top floor was offices. A tug at the window accomplished nothing, and my red paint was going to run out any second. So, I used black paint to silence the soon-to-be-shattered glass, then colored my fist purple and punched through it a couple times to clear enough space before hauling myself through.
Now I was in, and, thanks to the black paint, no one who might’ve been nearby had heard me break out the window. For a moment, I crouched in that cheaply carpeted corridor, listening and watching. There was an elevator almost directly across from me, with a closed door to the right and an open one to the left. The open door led into an office that was only lit by the streetlights coming through the windows. It didn’t look like anyone was in there. Nor could I hear anything at all for the mo–
Gunshots. And they were coming from somewhere below me. It was kind of hard to tell for sure where, given the echo through the building, but yeah. Definitely coming from some lower floor. Grimacing, I gave a quick glance toward the open office before running the other way, to the elevator. Hitting the button made nothing happen. Either it was locked down or… or something. Fuck, fuck! I bolted for the closed door, slamming into it while turning the knob. It opened easily, and I almost fell over into the corridor beyond. This one was also cheaply carpeted, leading to some other rooms. More importantly, there was another door labeled ‘stairs’ just to the left.
Another loud, echoing gunshot came as I bolted through that door. The steps beyond were made of cement, clearly intended for function rather than form. They continued down through the three flights in a spiral, with doors at each landing and an open space in the middle. The fact that there were multiple floors here in a warehouse seemed odd for a moment, but I figured this whole side must’ve been the offices. The actual warehouse part was probably further in. Though I sort of wondered why a warehouse needed multiple levels of offices. Was that normal?
Not that I had time to worry about it for long. Hearing that gunshot, I listened briefly. Shouts. There were shouts coming from the second floor. At least… I thought it was the second floor. I was pretty sure.
My level of certainty went up a moment later as I saw the first floor door bang open and a quartet of armed guys (also dressed in those same secret service-like suits) rush up the stairs and through that second floor door. They were in such a hurry and so focused on their target that they didn’t notice me peering down from above.
That’s where Paige was. Grunting, I painted my shoes orange and black, activating both before vaulting over the side of the stairs and dropping. The air rushed past me as I dropped a good thirty feet, landing easily on the second floor railing.
Ahead of me, the door was open, revealing some kind of computer lab. Wait, a computer lab? Yeah, it was a huge open room filled with those big computer mainframe things. Like, a lot of them. And I was no expert or anything, but they looked pretty advanced. They were in these sleek black shelving units with what looked like bulletproof glass covering the exposed parts and little keypad consoles beside each of those glass bits, as though you had to enter a code to even open it. Even more crazy, it looked like there was also some kind of retinal scan too. A retinal scan and a code to enter? What the hell was this place? Because this was definitely not an ordinary warehouse. Which I really should’ve expected, considering the whole thing with Paige coming here and all these guys being so obsessed with getting to her. There was something important about this place, and I was pretty damn sure it had at least something to do with these computers.
The room was big enough to house a basketball court, with row after row of those tall black shelves full of computer stuff. I could hear struggling going on clear toward the back, along with the sound of running footsteps as the guys I had just seen go in ahead of me rushed to join their companions. To my left, slumped in the corner, there was a body of another suited man, with blood and… and other bits of his insides splattered across the floor.
Paige. This was all Paige. She was doing this. How? Why? What did–Shaking off all those thoughts, I renewed the black paint to keep myself silent and raced around the side of the computers to head for the source of all the commotion.
There she was. At the far end of the room, I saw Paige, surrounded by what looked like a small mountain of dead guys. Seriously, there had to be like fifteen or so all piled up, along with a few more who were still trying to kill her. Even as I came around the edge of the computers in time to see that, she caught one guy’s wrist, twisted it to make him drop his gun (there was a loud crack as his wrist broke), and lashed out to kick another guy in the knee with enough force to break that as well. As that second guy was still collapsing toward the ground, Paige twisted the first guy’s gun toward his own chest and made him shoot himself.
Two guys further away who were still up each had their own weapons raised and were about to fire, when I hit them in the backs with a wide spray of red paint, using the other hand to hit the floor behind them with another spot so they were hauled off their feet and slammed down with a pair of yelps.
There were still a couple more. Paige pivoted toward the nearest one, head snapping just a bit to one side as he fired his own (actually silenced) pistol right past her ear, before her fist hit him in the throat.
Meanwhile, the other guy was coming at her from the side with some kind of combat knife, and the two guys I had knocked down were already sitting up and trying to shoot again. But I was already racing between them, and I quickly hit the back of their heads with more red before shooting one more blob back the way I’d come, sending them flying off that way. As they went sailing, I painted my back purple before slamming into the guy who was trying to stab Paige. I hit him hard enough to knock the man out as he crashed into the reinforced glass surrounding the nearby computer thing. And the glass didn’t even dent at all.
By that point, Paige had dealt with her own guy and spun back to me. “Paintball?!” she finally blurted, sounding totally taken aback. “What–what’re you doing here?” Yeah, I had definitely taken her off-guard.
“I…” I started, then stopped.
Paige was still staring. One of the guys started to move, and she lashed out with a kick to his face that put him back down without even looking. “Paintball…” There was suspicion in her voice by that point. “How did you get here? Wait, that’s not your normal costume. What…”
She had tormented me for years. She made me feel like shit, had literally brought me to tears when I was younger because of how I looked, because I was more like a cute little boy than a teenaged girl. She had been the worst thing about that school and had done her level best to make me miserable whenever she could.
But that… wasn’t her fault. That wasn’t the real Paige. The real Paige had been… my friend? The real Paige had been–no, was willing to literally kill herself to stop from being forced to kill me. I had no idea how her father controlled her, but he did. And the only way, at least in Paige’s mind, to make sure he would never be able to order her to kill me again in a way she couldn’t rules lawyer her way around was by killing herself. And she was willing to do that.
She was willing to kill herself to protect me.
And she already knew… more than I did about my family’s business, and was against it. She’d been working against them.
So, I said nothing. I remained completely silent, even as I reached up to the borrowed motorcycle helmet…
And took it off.