The gaunt one charged across the darkness straight at me like a fool, and I didn't miss my chance. In one fluid motion, I reloaded the Wrist Rocket and fired. In my haste, my aim was slightly off and I only clipped his shoulder, but that was enough to send him spinning into the dirt.

  "Arrghhhh! He’s shot me!" the thug squealed, as writhed in the dirt clutching his shoulder.

  I leapt over the fence and charged, intent on putting him down before he could get back up. But the gaunt man was whiplash quick, and he slashed at me with his machete, almost cutting my face in half. I lurched backwards, narrowly avoiding it, and fell into the dirt myself. Then the bag man and the girl were on me. The girl had a heavy chain in her hand, and the bag man had a baseball bat. The girl whipped the chain at me, hitting me across the side of my head and shoulders, and I immediately felt wetness spewing down my mask. I grunted and rolled, narrowly avoiding the baseball bat, and to make matters worse, the gaunt man was scrambling back to his feet.

  I pulled myself up, taking another nasty whip of the chain across my back and legs. The girl snarled and wielded the chain with venomous hate on her face. I spun around and caught the chain on my Magnet Rune, yanking it out of her hands, and out of pure muscle memory, I lashed out with my Zap Knuck, catching her in the throat. She gargled and then screamed as the volts of power rocked through her body. I pulled my fist back and she slumped to the floor her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

  I didn’t have time to consider the morality of hitting a woman because the bag man was on me, thumping me with the baseball bat. I just had time to get my arms up and take the blow across my forearm guard. I stumbled into the darkness and hit the railing fence, throwing myself to the floor as a machete flew at my head. I heard the clang of the blade against the steel railings and heard the goon wielding it cry out as it sent vibrations up his arm. I crawled out of the way, then rolled back up to my feet, turning around and threw a handful of Bang Rocks at them. I had no aim; I just threw them wildly. The bag man threw his bat up to protect himself and one of the Bang Rocks exploded off his knuckle. He roared in pain as the small explosion split the skin on his hand and the baseball bat tumbled from his nerveless fingers. I whipped out Grandad's bat and swung it at him. He dodged the first swing but couldn't get out of the way of the second, and I hit him full in the gut with the Rune, sending him flying backwards, head over heels.

  The machete-wielding goon lurched towards me. I had to throw up my Grandad's bat to protect myself from taking the machete full in the shoulder. It bit into the bat and buried into the wood. The machete goon yanked at the blade, but it was stuck fast in the bat, so he toe punted me in the gut instead. I staggered backwards but managed to keep hold of Grandad's bat, yanking it as hard as I could and pulling the machete towards me. We tussled and jostled over the blade and the bat, snarling at each other and taking potshots. He tried to kick me in the groin, but I managed to turn my knee just in time and took the blow on my thigh. Retaliating, I lashed out with the Zap Knucks and caught him in the side. He had a thick leather biker jacket on, and it nullified a lot of the impact, but it was still enough to smart and make him hop. His grip loosened for a second, and I yanked the bat and the blade away from him, spun, and cracked him across the head with the bat. He fell into a heap, unconscious, snoring fitfully as his arms went rigid and his body twitched.

  Gasping for air and feeling dizzy, I looked up, and saw the bald-headed one was running. I spat blood out of my mouth, yanked the machete out of my Grandad’s bat, then stumbled to the fallen bag man. I ripped the bag from his shoulders, but I knew that the leader had got away with the real cash. I opened the bag and saw that it was maybe a third way full of small plastic wraps. Well, that was something at least.

  Man, my head hurt. From the amount of blood I could feel seeping down my mask and neck, the chain wielding woman had split my skull open. My arm was starting to go numb from where I'd taken the blow from the bat. I gnashed my teeth in anger, annoyed that I had made such a mess of this. I willed my body into a slow jog and then a full run. As I cleared the park, I could just about see the bald-headed man in front of me. Fortunately, that stupid coat of his stuck out in the darkness. I could see him hurtling down alleyways, turning left and right as he tried to get away from me. I forced myself into a full sprint, with the drug bag over my shoulders and my Grandad's bat in my hand, determined not to let him get away with the stash of money.

  I rounded a corner into what I thought was maybe Ebbot Street and then skidded to a halt, my eyes going wide in shock. The goon was standing there, his chest heaving, sweat glistening down his bald head, and he had a gun in his hand pointed directly at me.

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  "Stop right there!" he growled through clenched teeth. "Or I'll fucking kill you, I swear!" I froze, looking down the quivering barrel of the gun. "What do you want?" he yelled at me. "Why are you doing this? What are you, some fucking superhero?”

  I didn't say anything. I just watched the gun in his shaking hand. The gun weaved back and forth. There was maybe only eight feet between us. There was no way he would miss. Could I cover that distance? No. I didn’t even want to attempt it, getting shot was not on the list of wounds I wanted to try out. The gun was some old rusty six-shooter that looked like it'd probably been on the streets for decades, but I wasn't about to find out whether or not it worked.

  "Now I want you to give me that bag," the bald headed man said to me. "Drop it on the floor."

  I slowly took the bag from my shoulder and threw it on the floor.

  "Good," he said, seeming to gain confidence from my compliance. "Now I want you to get on your knees, and put your hands behind your head.”

  "Why?"

  "Because I fucking told you to," he snapped, jabbing the gun at me for emphasis. "I'm gonna take you back to Brick, and he's gonna fuck you up! Now put your hands behind your head and get on your knees.”

  I slowly raised my hands, my heart thumping in my chest as I tried to search for a way out. Was the Tank Beetle’s carapace bulletproof? Again, it wasn't something I wanted to test for the first time in front of a live gun.

  "On your knees," he snapped at me. "I'm not gonna tell you again.”

  Slowly, I began to drop to my knees, my breath rattling in my ears. How the hell was I going to get out of this? I looked up and down the alleyway, but there was no escape other than the way I'd come, and I couldn't imagine I'd be quick enough to turn and sprint before he got a shot off. The goon pulled out that old brick phone I'd seen him use before and began dialling a number.

  "Oh, you're so fucked, mate," he said. "Brick's been waiting to get a hold of you. They're gonna keep you alive for days and take fucking bits off you. You're gonna wish that I killed you here in this alleyway…”

  Suddenly a black blur flashed across the alley and the bald man turned his head at the movement. I heard the feral yell of a cat and a second later the black blur leapt at the man’s face, raking him across his eyes and biting into the hand that held the gun. It was the silver eyed cat! I saw its alluring eyes glint in the streetlights as it bit the man's hand. The goon howled and swiped at the cat, and then the gun went off.

  “No!” I screamed.

  The bullet tore through the silver eyed cat.

  The creature yowled and slammed against the wall in a cloud of blood, slumping to the floor completely still. Before I knew what was happening, I was on my feet. I whipped my Grapple Cord at the goon and caught him around the wrist. The gun barked again, two more times. I threw myself to the floor, yanking at the gun, and it went off again. The bullet pinged off the floor just next to me. I yanked in desperation and the gun dropped, hit the ground, and it went off again.

  Adrenaline pounded through my body, and I was on my feet again, charging towards him. He turned to try and run, but I caught the ends of his long coat and bundled him to the floor. He turned and raised his bloody hands, but it was too late. With clenched teeth, the taste of blood in my mouth, and the pure adrenaline of a near-death experience pounding through my veins, I threw punch after punch after punch at him, slamming my enchanted fists into his face, neck, chest, and the sides of his head. I kept hitting him until he stopped moving, and then I kept hitting him some more. Blood splattered my face and I just kept hitting him. Finally, the adrenaline wore off and my arms trembled weakly. I raised my quivering fist one more time but didn’t have the strength to hit him. I collapsed to the cobbles, laying down next to the thug. My head lolled over and I looked at him. His face looked like mincemeat that had been dropped off the kitchen counter.

  I shuddered and felt bile rising in the back of my throat. I pulled my mask up just in time to vomit on the cobbles. I coughed and spat bile out of my nose and mouth. I wiped my face on the back of my sleeve and pulled down my balaclava again. The man wasn't moving, and for a terrifying instant, I thought he was dead. After a few seconds, I saw his chest gently rise and fall and heard the rattle of his breathing through his broken face.

  The cat!

  I lurched around to where the cat had fallen. There was a pool of blood. But where was the cat? There was no way it could have survived. I saw the bullet tear through its midsection. Maybe it had crawled away to die somewhere? I thought of going and looking for the poor thing when I heard the first mournful wails of police sirens. I looked desperately around the alleyway but couldn't see any sign of the feline, not even a streak of blood, it was like the cat had just vanished.

  Panicking, I patted down the goons pockets, found the wad of cash, spilled half of it in my haste as I jammed it into my pocket. I released the Grapple Cord, kicked the gun to one side, grabbed the bag of drugs, and ran into the night a trail of blood dripping behind me.

  What can one young, stubborn Bremorian do without magic?

  A fantasy set in 1930s, filled with magic, murder, and secrets.

  Books 1–3 are complete. Books 4–5 are currently in draft.