Farisia Rising

Part III: Jenny Bomb

The Farisians were ecstatic.

That night, Reggie was given a hero's welcome. There was a bonfire and a cookout. Every soul at the park packed around, dealing shoulder-slaps and hair-ruffles. Friendly cuffs and headlocks and noogies. Reggie wasn't a fan, but he didn't complain. Relief kept him sedated.

He smoked and watched them act like idiots, the teenaged father to a bunch of thirtysomething kids.

"Good to have you back, boss," Gino beamed. "Sounds like you saved our skins again."

"Oh, not to spring this too early," Rocco added, "But the Doc's got more info on those bubble bombs that've been tearing up the city."

Reggie sat on a foldout chair, warming his hands. "Oh?" he grunted. "That'll be interesting to hear."

He didn't sleep.

Come morning he straggled into Dr. Collier's office, enough luggage under his eyes to fill the baggage claim at an airport.

"You had info on those bubble things?" he pressed.

"Yep," Dr. Collier was eager to unload. "Apparently the Royals aren't the only ones smuggling tech in from America. They're called jenny bombs, pearls, there's all sorts of slang for them on the American blackmarket. They weaponize mass amounts of compressed air. And given they're the size of a marble—at best—when ruptured, that gargantuan quantity of air yields a rather...violent reaction. The manufacturer is thus-unknown, but I managed to unearth an alias. Dr. Ledger."

"I'll just go to America and see," Reggie shrugged. "Besides, I want some for myself. They're kinda cool."

"YOUUU—youuu—you just got back," the Doc countered, "from one of your little dalliances with danger. Surely you wouldn't be so stupid as to leave us again. And for another country! We're wide open without you."

"You're big boys. I think you can handle yourselves."

"Wasn't the whole purpose of 'Mission A' because we couldn't handle ourselves?"

"I won't be long," Reggie promised. "Just give me your notes, scout for anything else you can find, and I'll take care of the rest. I wanna track down this Ledger guy, and recruit his services."

"You're hopeless," the Doc lamented. "And here I am, stoking the fires. What a fool I've turned into. This is what happens when you don't finish your degree."

"Who needs a degree?" Reggie smiled, like a true suckup. "You're a 'doctor' to us."

***one week later***

Alvany, 9:02 AM

On his way to the docks to board a cargo ship (rather, to stow away on a cargo ship en route to America), Reggie spotted a gathering of constables, drawn tightly to the mouth of an alley. He sobered to where he was, then. Baker Street.

He knew that alley. It was there he'd escorted Eva, so she could be with Otto and the vagrants.

Curious, if a little worried, he drifted toward the riffraff. Their urgency was magnetic.

A few rubberneckers followed in-tow. Some were already there, baying at their restraints, trying to muscle their way through the wall of constables. By the time Reggie arrived, the constables were beginning to lose their patience.

"Alright—stay back! Back! Back, you!"

Reggie heard crying, past the human barricade.

It galvanized him to shove and tunnel, into the files of uniforms and business suits and pillbox-hatted dresses. He knocked into a cop with a giant mustache, and the man was less than cordial.