Ahndrian Archives

The police quartered off the alley. The flashing lights were nothing new in the slums. Most of the locals made themselves scarce around Gloshaven’s finest, but a couple of passersby rubbernecked, caught up in the intrigue. A clearly agitated officer shooed them away. Behind him, a few of his brothers-and-sisters-in-arms had their weapons trained on the fallen colossus, others gave him a large berth, keeping their distance in case he rose and started his rampage anew. The walls lining the alley were fractured, and small craters dotted the ground. The struggle here had been more than the police could’ve handled.

“Where are the damn SACs? We won’t be able to do anything if this Ahndrian bastard wakes up from his power nap!”

“You know they don’t care about the slums. They’re probably too busy eating caviar and rubbing elbows with the bougie fucks uptown,” another cop complained.

“They were all out of caviar—this time,” a gruff voice replied curtly.

“Oh, shi—,” the police officers hadn’t noticed the older man in the gray trench coat approach.

“Agent Roan, we didn’t mean…”

“Leave it,” Agent Roan said, waving a hand dismissively.

The other SAC agents spilled into the alleyway, slapping aura-suppressing cuffs on Dustbowl. They heaved the large man onto a gurney and shuffled him into the back of their transport. Roan surveyed the area. His eagle-eyed stare intimidated the officers, but one managed to approach him.

“Sir, we think this might’ve been the work of—”

“Red and his cronies,” Agent Roan cut in before the officer could finish, “Who else would it have been? They’re a damn menace but everyone down here treats them like goddamn saviors. What happens when they go too far and kill a perp? Or a civilian gets caught in the crossfire?” Roan balled his fists up by his sides.

“Find them,” he commanded firmly. The Special Ahndrian Criminal Division agents spread out of the alley like a swarm of soldier ants.

“Ugh, even with my tech distributing and minimizing the burst of aura through my muscles, I’m still sore as shit. I think I overdid it,” Zephyr whined as they made their way through the slums of South Gloshaven.

The other vigilantes argued back and forth about who did the brunt of the work in the battle with Dustbowl while Red peered out the dark tinted windows of the self-driving car. Even though he grew up here, it was always jarring to see this part of the city, dingy and brown, as if some sick rot had taken root and refused to let go. It was a dark stain against the bright backdrop of the other illuminated districts of the shining city.

Red and his allies had battled foes all over Gloshaven. He had originally just wanted to be a champion for the slums, but Scale had scoffed at that idea. Scale was former military. After losing his family to an act of domestic terrorism, he had vowed to become a protector of the people—anti-hero laws be damned. Red would never forget what the gruff older man had said to him.

We don’t get to pick and choose, kid. You’re either a hero for all, or not a hero at all.

The car turned down another darkened alleyway, there were tons of nooks and crannies like that tucked throughout the slums. It slowed to a stop. A hiss of hydraulics broke the uneven silence of the night as the ground began to lower. Even if Zephyr could be ridiculous, he was a genius. Trekking outside of the city limits into the forest wasn’t exactly inconspicuous.

Their hideout had belonged to a former gang. Banding together to put a stop to them was really the first time the New Heroes had come together for a common purpose. The gang, The Gnashers, didn’t care if people knew that they gathered in the old water mill; no one dared step to them. But Red and the others knew that discretion was part of the game. That was why Zephyr had converted this passage.

The car rolled through the abandoned sewer system until they arrived at the mill. The vigilantes poured out of the car and made their way inside. Dustbowl was a strong Ahndri. Red had hoped he would stick to the straight and narrow after he severed his ties with the gang.

“Like I said before. I put in work against ol’ Dusty. My muscles are screaming at me! You know what that means, right? Time for a hot bath—anyone wanna join?” Zephyr said while wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Hard pass,” Red scoffed.

“Not in this lifetime,” Cure laughed.

“I don’t think the tub would be big enough for the two of us,” Scale replied.

“You guys are soul-crushing! Oh well. Guess I’ll just have to go solo,” Zephyr replied as he dashed away, ignoring his oh-so-sore muscles.

The hideout was less of a base of operations and more of a home. It wasn’t nice by any means. The vigilante business didn’t really pay, after all. Most of the furniture was made up of items that had been abandoned in the slums or traded for at the Swap.

Cure made her way to the area they used as a kitchen to make tea. That was her post-mission ritual. Scale settled into a chair as Red hopped over the couch and plopped on it with his legs splayed out.

“Display on,” Scale commanded. The projector began to beam out a crisp image. All of the technology in the mill was next level. That was courtesy of Zephyr...and SAC. They had been after Red and his friends for so long. Sometimes altercations were unavoidable. Sometimes innocent surveillance trucks or drones had to pay the price. And... sometimes that tech made its way back here to be repurposed.

Red and Scale were greeted by the news. Probably just some fluff piece about North Gloshaven, Red thought. The reporter on the screen was actually in the slums though. That was unusual.

The South Gloshaven police department was instantly recognizable. It was a joke of a place. There were barely any Ahndrian officers. They were all needed uptown. The thoughts made Red bitter.