2103:11:18:20:25:25

  I was staring at the screen while lying on the couch. Well, technically. In reality, all of the movie’s scenes passed me by without noticing, my mind taken over by a depressive slump, a mix of boredom, anger, stung pride, self-loathing, etcetera whatevera.

  Today had not gone well. Masking itself wasn’t going well. I had learned many things since my first night out, I knew I had, but just because I learned it didn’t mean…

  Well, it was the same realization I had after I broke my nose. There was a difference between knowing something and knowing something. A difference I found myself having difficulty bridging.

  Another part of me whispered I was being overdramatic… which was true. Last week’s mistakes had led to my death – even if it hadn’t stuck – so by that measurement the car chase had gone far better.

  But better did not mean good. Letting the criminal go without interrogating him was one thing – shit happens, as Crowsong put it – but letting me get caught up in the chase without caring about all the civilians that got caught up in the mix? That was another thing entirely.

  There’d been news reports about what I did. It wasn’t the first one mentioning my actions – the trainyard had been a big thing on the news before the first bombing took its place – but it was the first time I’d read one that held a clearly negative edge to it. Crowsong taught me to ignore it, and I knew I shouldn’t let it get to me. But again, there was a difference between knowing and practicing what you know.

  The news reports themselves weren’t particularly long, and unlike the trainyard, I hadn’t found anyone physically talking about it on the news. But the reports I did read always included things like ‘reckless’, ‘damages’, and ‘irresponsible’. All of which stung.

  Thankfully, a Guardians press release had backed me up by stating that the man I’d captured was a high-ranking member of the Jannacht, and that his capture was bound to lead to further investigations. That, and that what I thought were drugs were apparently some kind of unknown maker-tech chemical compound, which lend some credence to Nth-Sight’s suggestion it was linked to the bombings.

  It was odd they said Jannacht, though. Nth-Sight had told me my target was a Motorgang henchie. While the texts he sent me didn’t say anything of the sort, my memcordings told me he’d definitely said Motorgang. I’d initially believed the criminal crying Jannacht was meant to be some kind of diversion, but with the Guardians backing up his statement, it seemed more likely Nth-Sight was at fault.

  Which was bad in and of itself, but especially for a rogue augur advertising himself as selling superpowered, super-correct intel. Something to discuss with Crowsong, along with why Nth-Sight didn’t want me to involve her and why he didn’t want us to dig into what the guy was doing in the first place.

  The request was weird all over.

  And it was one I’d accidently helped fulfill.

  I sunk deeper into the couch, wishing I could disappear within its folds.

  Keys rattled and the door opened. “Heya-hoya Sammy-ya,” Mom said, walking in with hurricane-levels of cheer.

  “Hi Mom.”

  “Hm?” she hm-ed, pausing midstride. “What’s wrong honey?” Her face appeared above me as she leaned over the back of the couch.

  “Nothing,” I replied, avoiding her gaze.

  “Nothing, you say,” she said. “Then what’s this frown doing here, hm?” She reached down and poked my forehead.

  I sighed and listlessly batted away her hand. She poked me in my side instead, which I again batted away, only to end up being poked in the ribs.

  “Stooop,” I groaned.

  She halted her assault for now, but threatened, “Not before you tell me what’s going on. Did you have an argument with your friends?”

  Memories of my lie flashed through my mind. Maybe an argument was in the future, but for now, “No.” I turned to face Mom, thinking how best to word it. “It’s just- Have you ever tried doing something, but no matter how hard you try or how many things you learn, you just… keep making mistakes?”

  “Is this about the soul-searching you’re doing?”

  She was referring to my revealed-to-be-lackluster personality matrix. Which was a convenient cover to talk my issues through.

  “Hm,” I affirmed.

  “Well…” she began hesitantly. “All things worthwhile aren’t done in a day. Or a week. It takes months, years and- hell, some struggle for their entire life and still find themselves…”

  She stopped talking for a moment. “When you were little, we used to own a cat, one we owned since before you were born. And as you grew older, you sometimes wanted to help out caring for it. Insisted on wanting to bathe him – something he hated – trim his nails, feed him, brush his fur…” Mom smiled in reminiscence, staring off with a faraway look.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “Of course, you were terrible at it. Your little hands didn’t have the strength to cut the nails, and whenever you tried brushing him, you pushed either way too hard, clumsily started clubbing him with it or just resorted to patting him with the brush in hand. You overfilled his bowl so many times – not that the cat minded.” Her reminiscent smile turned to a wide grin. “And one time, you lured the cat with some food to the sink and just, pushed him in and started washing him! Ohhh, he didn’t like that at all!” She laughed and I felt my lips twitch.

  “You didn’t like it any better. You got angry, you cried, threw tantrums. You once spend days moping about after the cat got a bit too angry with you. Your dad tried his best to cheer you up, but every joke he made just made you… Well anyway, the point is, you failed a lot. But you never stopped trying and never stopped caring. And because of that you didn’t just keep getting better and better, the cat started liking you more than us.”

  I thought it over, but in the end, the message was still, “So… just keep trying?”

  Mom looked away and shrugged. “Guess so. Asking for help, well, helps too. No one great got where they are all by themselves, or quick, or in a straight line.” She nodded to herself and turned back to me. “So ‘try things’, ‘ask for help’, ‘don’t stop’ and ‘it takes time’ would be my advice.”

  I opened my mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Isn’t that basically what I’m doing already?”

  She nodded a few times in quick succession. “Exactly. Which is why I think you’re doing great, even if you yourself don’t think so.” She stroked my hair gently, eyes filled with pride. I let her. “Just ask anyone and they’ll say the same thing.”

  Silence lingered after she was done, only broken by the soft noise of conversation coming from the flatscreen. A nice and quiet moment.

  One broken by a monstrous roar escaping the sound system.

  Mom startled backwards. “Jesus- What are you even watching?” She exhaled heavily, one hand clutching her chest. “God. I thought it was a romance film or something.”

  “It is,” I said. “Eldrich Hearts. A romance about two middle aged singles finding each other through the manipulation of a great old one.”

  At least, that was what the synopsis had said. I hadn’t really been paying attention to the movie, and picked it on a whim through algorithmic recommendation rather than because I wanted to.

  It wasn’t a good movie.

  “Oh!” Mom said. “Sounds fun!”

  Of course she’d think that.

  X

  I left home for the warehouse a little later than usual. Mom had tomorrow and the day after off due to the many late shifts she’d been running, meaning she might’ve stayed up later than usual. I’d of course communicated this with Crowsong by text with info on when I expected to be there. She’d responded to it with a thumbs up.

  I swooped down and turned human, walking in through the front door at an hour past midnight. Crowsong was already busy abusing the training equipment with her many knives when I entered. Only when the metal door slammed closed in its frame did she turn around and spot me.

  “Good, you’re here,” she said between panting breaths. “Let me finish my routine and get something to drink. After that we’ll talk.”

  I nodded, anxiety curling in my stomach, and headed towards the lounge to fetch Crowsong a bottle of Semminon Plus+. I handed it to her and she nodded thanks.

  “So,” she began, cracking open her bottle. “Nth-Sight. Did he say anything after you reported your success?” She started gulping down her drink.

  I was surprised she started on Nth-Sight’s rather than my actions, but I took it.

  “No,” I said. “Not really. He said I did well, but that’s about it.”

  She drank the bottle down to the last drop and unerringly threw it in the trashcan in the corner next to the fridge.

  “Hmm.” Crowsong sat down in her chair, contemplating. “Nothing about you contacting me or anything?”

  “No. He sounded pleased if anything,” I said.

  “Not even a hint he knew?”

  I shook my head. “Nope.”

  “That’s odd. You’d think an augur would know you contacted me – or would’ve have known you wouldn’t just take him at his word…” She was silent for a moment. “What did he say about me again?”

  I pretended to think for a moment, searching my memcordings for his exact words and repeated them verbatim.

  “Good memory,” she said. Crowsong remained quiet for a moment, parsing through the comment. “It probably has something to do with it being Motorgang,” she said wryly, leaning forwards with folded hands. “You already know about my-”

  “But he wasn’t Motorgang,” I interrupted.

  “Hm?”

  “The target. It turned out he wasn’t Motorgang. Both the guy and the Guardians said he was Jannacht,” I said. “You think the Guardians just took the guy’s words and ran with it? That he was really Motorgang?”

  “I doubt the Guardians would make such a mistake, and considering Nth-Sight thought you wouldn’t contact me...” She leaned back in her chair, thinking out loud. “Two mistakes. One about your decisions, and the other about your target…”

  “Do you think it has something to do with what he said when we met him?” How long ago had that been? A month?

  Crowsong tilted her head for a second. “Right, he did say something about you being… what was it again?” She sounded frustrated.

  “My actions having outsized influence?” I suggested.

  “Yes, that too, but there was something else,” she said. “Something more specific.”

  “Oh,” I said, realizing what she meant. “You mean the black box thing? When he said he couldn't see my actions, but could see their outcome?”

  Unfortunately, that was as much as I’d integrated about it, and I didn’t remember the exact date to do a quick search in my memcordings. My internalization had focused more on his warning of ‘not dying’ – which, thinking about it, I did kinda die huh?

  Crowsong nodded. “Right, that would explain why he couldn’t see you exactly, and since the outcome remained the same… But how does that apply to mistaking the Jannacht for Motorgang?”

  I shrugged. I had no idea. I wasn’t an expert on augur powers, let alone Nth-Sight’s specific kind of precognition.

  “Well,” she said, slapping her thighs. “No use overthinking it. When he calls with another solo requests, just do what you did today and we’ll see if we can learn something then.” She rose from her seat. “C’mon, let’s get you training before we end the day.” She started walking towards the training area.

  “Wait, that’s it?” I asked in surprise.

  Crowsong stopped. “Yes? Did you think of something else that might explain Nth-Sight’s weirdness?”

  I shook my head. “We’re not going to talk about… earlier today?” I asked, already regretting it. I could’ve just let it go, but…

  “About earlier today?” she asked. “What do you- ah. The chase.” I could hear the grimace in her voice as she said it and found myself shrinking. “Yes, that plan was poorly thought out. I wasn’t… in a good place, so I just said the first thing that came to mind. I’m sorry about that. I should’ve thought more before telling you to just… run and try to catch up to him. We should’ve set up an ambush near his destination or something. That way, we-”

  “No,” I cut off her self-recriminations. “I mean- I just ran off and-and nearly got people killed.” The admission stung. “I thought I had a good plan and got swept up in the excitement. I didn’t think ahead and…”

  Crowsong sat down next to me on the couch and started patting me awkwardly on the back.

  “Nearly got people killed?” Crowsong said. “Jester, the only person that got hurt was the Jannacht henchie, and all he got was a face full of airbag.” And a throat full of seatbelt, I didn’t say. “Everyone else was fine. Sure, some cars were banged up a bit, but that’s easily fixed. Masked damage is covered by Unified Insurance, so it won’t even hurt their wallet any.”

  “But I failed to-”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Crowsong interrupted. “If anything, I’m the one responsible. I should’ve made a better plan.”

  “But-” I tried again, but was once more cut off.

  “But nothing. Look, you’ve been through a lot these past weeks so you might think two months is a long time in the masquerade, but it really isn’t. You’ve still got lots to learn, but...” Crowsong hesitated. “You’re learning incredibly quickly. Far, far faster than I did when I first started. Sure, you got some… weak points, but those are things we’re already working on. And in the meantime, I’m the one responsible for what you do and don’t while masking. Not you, me.”

  It wasn’t exactly rare for Crowsong to praise me – she’d said ‘good job’ and ‘good work’ and such plenty of times before – but never like this. It was always about the specifics, never about the whole of it. It was nice. And the literal pats on the back were nice too.

  “In fact,” Crowsong continued, voice growing sterner. “What surprises me more is that this is the thing you get worked up about instead of you nearly dying just a week ago.” Her pats on the back got a bit harder at that, and I looked away shamefaced.

  Crowsong sighed. “But I’m also not your therapist.”

  Wait! How did she- Oh, right. A figure of speech.

  “Just… I know we’re heroes and all- well, vigilantes, but that actually makes it worse.” Crowsong snorted. “But try and think more about yourself for a change. It might be hypocritical of me to say, but the ‘mission’ is not all there is. It’s still important – lives are on the line and all – but if you don’t think about yourself sometimes, this life will wear you down. You’ll start making mistakes. Lethal ones. And you can’t help someone if you’re dead.”

  I nodded.

  Crowsong gave me a final slap on the back and stood up. “Now, let’s shake of this mood we got going and get to punching. It’s not therapy; it’s better.”

  I snorted and stood up.