And, Love

Part 32

Mikey parked the bike, adjusting his mask and gloves before pulling up his hood. Looking around he joined the foot traffic as seamlessly as possible. Gaze cast upward as he neared Times Square.

Surveillance was a non issue thanks to Dontron. Just a couple minutes of hijacked security, half an hour. All he'd really need. Hand tightened around the strap on his chest, cans rattling as he walked. Eyes taking in the scene.

He knew from experience most bystanders wouldn't do anything if they saw him. Most would think it was some promotional thing. Mikey stopped, pulled back against a wall, looking.

The smaller screen off to the left. The path up there would be relatively easy, quick. Eyes dropped to a cop car that seemed constantly stationed at the location.

That could be a problem. Mikey pulled out his phone, took a picture.

Whaddya think?

Waited for the response.

The fucking Times Square billboard? You text back. How insane are you?

Only a little. Mikey grinned, already sold on the idea.

Alright. You sent a clap. Get it. But maybe after dark to avoid being caught?

Mikey scoffed audibly, ignoring the few people staring at him. I won't get caught.

Look. You sent back, I'm nearby. Have dinner with me first and then go deface public and/or private property.

Mikey grinned wide. Hell yeah! The usual spot?

The usual spot. Be there in ten.

Mikey pocketed his phone. Casting a wistful glance at his target before pushing off the wall. The walk to the Cafe was short, but Mikey always loved it. The artwork on the walls, as high up as the rooftops, grew more dense and distinct.

A couple he could tell were by the same tagger. The stylistic drips, the political statements of the artwork, the decision to keep the paint sparse, accent colors only.

Those were his favorites. Mikey hadn't realized he had stopped there for too long, mind whirling, until footsteps came up from behind.

Mikey wasn't too concerned. He was too big for random thugs to fuck with, and most people- a punch to his shell.

Ah. With a grin Mikey spun, arms wide.

"Hey, boo." He teased.

"Babe!" You stepped into his embrace, head ducked into Mikey's shoulder.

He loved it. Hugging. The way you fit so easily in his arms. Hand rubbed over your back.

"How's business?"

You looked up at him, laughed while flicking his mask. "Take that bullshit off first."

Mikey scoffed, though he pulled the mask off at your request, spinning his bag around to put it away. You whistled, catching a glimpse of Mikey's supply.

"You're really ready for this, huh?" You glanced up at the mutant.

"You know." Mikey shrugged. "That guy who's always tagging over my shit really got to me this time."

"Really?" You pat Mikey's arm in exaggerated sympathy. "Must be rough buddy."

"Ah you don't get it." Mikey glowered as you both entered the Cafe, he started peeling off his gloves. "I just don't understand how he keeps finding all my spots?"

"Maybe cuz you post pictures of them online?" You suggested, ignoring Mikey's pointed glare as you both sat in your usual booth.

"That's not the point." Mikey jabbed a finger onto the tabletop. "It's like he's got a personal vendetta against. He keeps targeting me, and only me."