Mod Superhero (Book 6 STUBBING on Oct 27th)

Chapter 6.62 - Wight

Wight threaded his way through crowds, working his way from Champion Street to progressively narrower and less-traveled ones.

Almost everyone he passed was on a leisurely stroll, enjoying their day off or taking their lunch break. No one noticed the former Spymaster of the Summit of Heroes as he passed.

No one noticed that he was on the run.

They paid even less mind to the drones in the sky and the biomech patrols on the street. From the news, most people felt the same way about old supers and dissidents being disappeared without a trial and without a trace—they either didn't care, didn't know, or were terrified to be next. The Brotherhood was controlling the narrative now, using TV news and internet traffic to smother narratives and misdirect the public. Anyone that opposed the Brotherhood were villains and terrorists. Midas had already joked about the next election cycle...

Wight had seen the same thing before—always in other countries, always somewhere else. He had even helped in two of them. Like so many others, Wight didn't think it could happen here.

The fall of democracy.

It wouldn't happen right away, but with Midas at the helm, it was just a matter of time.

The weather was turning. Wight pulled the collar of his jacket up to guard against the wind and the first drops of rain.

His old training had taken over after he'd left the Summit headquarters. He'd obscured his route, doubling back and phasing through walls to throw off any tails. He avoided drones and biomech patrols. Wight couldn't turn invisible, but there were other ways to avoid detection, and the old spy had a lifetime of knowledge and training at his disposal. He hadn't been on the run in almost two decades, and yet it all came back as easily as flipping a switch.

It was both comforting and unsettling how easily those things came back to him.

That must be where the old stereotype came from—the spy and the soldier who try their damndest to leave the old ways behind, but couldn't.

~

He turned the corner of 19th Street and ducked into an alley. Halfway down was the green facade of a storage shed. He sighed with relief.

The Summit of Heroes had their own safehouses scattered throughout the city, and Wight knew of nine more from various organizations he'd worked with. Of course, he had to assume that all of those were now compromised. He knew firsthand just how much data the Brotherhood could dredge up.

Wight would make do. He had a half a dozen of his own personal safehouses hidden throughout the city. This safehouse just happened to be one of the closest.

He quickly looked over the entrance, checking for any signs of tampering or intrusion. But there was nothing, except for a fine layer of real dust and rust overtop of the facade. Wight could phase through the door, but he checked one more thing.

He flipped open a hidden keypad and stopped.

The keypad was clean. Too clean.

It was little more than a gut feeling, but it was enough. Someone had been inside recently. They could have tampered with supplies, laid a trap... or even an ambush.

Wight didn't care.

He punched in the code.

A series of locks disengaged, and the fake wall of the storage shed slid open. Lights powered on. The safe room was roughly as big as an office-suite. The only thing visible was a tiny bathroom stall in the back of the room. Right then, it felt empty—the furniture and computer stations were collapsible, and made to fold up into the walls. There would be other supplies hidden too—dried food, bottled water, medical supplies, burner electronics...