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Interlude 9: Homeless

"How's she holding up?" Trickster asked. He could tell from the pounding that Noelle was in another one of her moods.

"Angry, as usual. She calmed down for a few minutes, but got agitated again while you were out. What have you got there?" Oliver asked.

"Don't ask if you don't really want to know," Trickster said. He dragged the large sack a little further down the hall until he could see a hefty pile of equipment, and swapped their positions. It only saved him a short walk, but he wasn't in the mood to drag it much further.

The pounding and inhuman wailing from the deepest part of the base paused temporarily as he approached. "Krouse? Is that… are you there?"

"I know you're hungry, Noelle. Don't worry, I got something fresh for you." Trickster pulled out a pocket knife and cut open the sack. Inside was an moaning, bloody, and clearly drugged-out man. He started to stuff the person through the chute that led to Noelle's chamber, but they were floppy, awkward dead weight.

"I smell it… I smell meat! MEAT!" The impacts and shaking got stronger again. The shaking only made it more difficult for Trickster to get the person into the chute.

"Is that guy… alive?" Oliver asked.

"Yeah. You know how Noelle likes it. Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help?" Trickster snarled.

Oliver quietly joined him and helped align the body with the chute, which slid in easily enough afterwards. There was a crunch of breaking bones, and Noelle calmed down again.

"MORE! No, wait… I don't want… but I'm so hungry."

"Don't you worry about that, Noelle. I'll get you what you need. Just hold on a little longer," Trickster shouted back.

"Won't the police or someone come investigate?" Oliver asked. "Who was that guy anyway?"

"A nobody. The police ain't gonna give a shit about some homeless druggie. Nobody's going to miss him. And it's not like the police are gonna find this place anyway."

Oliver gave a sigh. "Uh, about that… the cloaking system in this base, I think it's failing."

"What? You sure about that?"

"Sure? No. Who even understands this Tinker bullshit anyway? But I think it's failing. The machine's starting to make weird noises, and none of us know how to fix the thing. And who even knows if we're still going to have electricity for much longer. Coil sure isn't paying the bills any more."

"Fuck that guy. We never should have accepted him as our boss!" Trickster snarled as he kicked an already-broken table. "That cheap lying fucker. I'm feeding him to Noelle if I ever see him again."

Dealing with villains was always a gamble. There was obviously no legal recourse when a villain stiffed you. Villains lived and died by their reputation. Accord had done his job. Expensive, but the favours they had performed had arguably been worth it. Accord's word was worth more than most. The man was a total freak, obsessive-compulsive about being neat and tidy. He took offense to anyone who didn't do things properly. He loved contracts. He loved being specific. He loved his image and reputation. A man like that, even though he was difficult to work with, was easy to trust.

So when he recommended Coil, the Travelers took him at his word. Coil at least looked the part. The man legitimately owned an actual secret base with a fancy cloaking system and a private army equipped with crazy technology. And a few spare secret bases too. He had the ability to immediately renovate and reinforce a room just for Noelle. That kind of power seemed like it would have meant something. Maybe powerful enough to find a solution to their problem.

But apparently not. He didn't even have the fucking decency to tell them shit was about to go down. They only found out when the mercenaries decided to move out on their own. Their boss hadn't paid the bills, so they were leaving. Simple as that. The boss hadn't said anything about getting Sundancer out.

That was the worst of the bullshit of all. They found out Coil was literally the Director of the local PRT branch. He literally had the keys to Sundancer's cell, and yet he didn't let her out. That grated on Trickster's nerves more than anything else. He always got a slimy feeling from Coil. He followed orders, but always had a bit of doubt in the back of his mind. Now that doubt was up front and center. Coil had never wanted to help them. He had been lying the whole time. A fool in over his head. A control freak who kept Sundancer locked up because it allowed him even more control over their group.

They didn't have many sources of information about what was happening to Sundancer. The PRT had been pretty quiet on that front. No news of major captures or transfers – having Coil arrested probably meant a whole lot of things were put on hold, so the two of them were probably still in the PRT jail in town. But Trickster couldn't rescue her alone.

Genesis could help, but only sometimes. She could be as much of a liability as help. Ballistic was still injured. Oliver was just useless in combat, but at least he could keep watch on Noelle and the base. In short, even though this was when the PRT was at its weakest, they couldn't take advantage of it.

They knew they had to skip town soon. Maybe go for another consultation with Accord. But Trickster knew Oliver and Genesis wouldn't want to abandon their friends, and Noelle would be even harder to manage without all of them working together.

Trickster was having a hard enough time keeping Noelle calm. Robbing some grocery stores and butchers could only go so far. Coil had maintained a steady supply of meat from wherever. Trickster didn't have the money and needed to steal it himself. Maybe with enough live food, Noelle would have her hunger sated long enough to calmly sneak into Boston.

At least the town provided a steady supply of homeless and white supremacists. With the nazi gang broken, there was no real retaliation for feeding skinheads to Noelle. Hell, he'd be doing the town a service. Trickster headed out once more. He heard about a bar that was popular with that group. He'd find a nice fat one for Noelle while he still could.

On the way out, he checked up on Ballistic. "Yo, Luke, you ready to get off your ass and help for once?"

"Fuck you, Krouse. You try getting hit by a car. I can barely stand up with crutches. Maybe if I had a fucking doctor…"

"Well, maybe next time we can find a boss that'll give us health insurance and not ditch us. I'm heading out. If you ain't gonna help me, then at least help Oliver figure out that damn cloaking system."

Trickster knew of a place that Nazis tended to gather. He knew because, out of costume, he had accidentally wandered into the diner, expecting to pick up a quick meal. What he got was terrible service and almost received hot lead instead of a hot meal. Now, it would be his hunting ground. With the collapse of the Empire, these bastards were clueless and disorganized.

Many of the less-dedicated members fled quickly. But the so-called "true believers" were even more dedicated, and so they met up in their usual spots. What used to be common neo-nazi hangouts were now outright bases for them.

Trickster walked towards the diner through an alleyway route. He made note of all the things that were roughly human-weight along his route. It was something he found himself doing subconsciously these days. He remained out of costume and inconspicuous until he reached a secluded vantage point that had the diner in view. He hung out by a pile of boxes he knew was just under two hundred pounds. He didn't even need to lift them to check, he just knew.

He changed into his costume and kept a crowbar in hand. It didn't take long before he saw some skinheads leave. They were a group of three, and thankfully all around the same size. That made things easy. He kept an eye on them until one fished out keys from his pocket and they all started to get in the car.

Trickster swapped a large garbage can with the guy in the back. The other two didn't notice right away, and the one he swapped was thrown off-balance by the teleport. He fell on his ass from his semi-seated position. Trickster swung his crowbar, and with a heavy crack, smashed the man in the skull. He crumpled down instantly. He then swapped the unconscious man with another one of his buddies, who had turned in his seat to figure out why the hell there were suddenly boxes of trash in the back seat.

The second man appeared facing him, but again he was in an awkward, twisted seating position. He wasn't fast enough to react to a crowbar swinging to his face. The man screamed as he was hit. He tried to fight back, but blinded and knocked off balance, Trickster was able to rain down multiple blows unimpeded. He was still conscious enough to moan loudly, so Trickster stomped on his throat to silence him.

Unfortunately, by now the third one had noticed what was going on. He was out of his car, crouched low, looking for a cape. He might have even recognized the power and known it was Trickster. A second before Trickster was about to make the swap, the Nazi pulled out a gun and started shooting. His impressive draw speed meant he probably had a lot of experience using it.

Trickster dodged out of the way, then swapped the man with the body in front of him. Like the last guy, this man appeared facing him. But he was holding a gun. And he was alert, ready to fight. And because he had tried to dodge the first few shots, Trickster was out of reach.

Fuck.

The neo-nazi pulled the trigger as fast as he could, and the best Trickster could do was dodge again, while swapping him with something else. One of the bullets grazed him, and his arm burst out in pain.

The man wasted another shot hitting a brick wall across the street before he managed to reorient himself, and this time, Trickster was ready. He swapped the man three more times, adding to his confusion. Meanwhile, he positioned himself better, and readied his crowbar. But he had to swing it one-handed this time.

One final swap put the man facing away from him when he hit him in the neck with the crowbar. But this guy was a tough one, and he fell to the ground still holding his gun. He rolled to face Trickster, who swung the crowbar again and knocked the gun away. The man kicked him in the balls.

That fucking HURT.

"You dirty fucking nig-" That was all the nazi managed to say before Trickster swing back at him and smashed his jaw. He didn't stop there, and kept on swinging over and over. The man had shot him. And kicked him in the nuts. And he was a nazi skinhead. If there was any target for his frustrations, this was it.

He was only broken out of his rage when other people noticed the bodies in the car. That was when Trickster knew it was time to leave. He did one more swap, grabbed the man's keys, and drove off before anyone called the cops.

Three fresh bodies, two of them alive even. This would probably keep Noelle calm for a few days. Hell, Trickster might even be able to have a normal conversation with her. He had to stop off at the infirmary to clean up the gunshot wound, but thankfully it was just a graze. Not that the infirmary even had much more than gauze and bandages left. The mercs had taken all the drugs and useful equipment with them when they left.

"Noelle? I got something for you."

"Krouse? I can smell it…"

He opened the chute and shoved the first guy in. The dead one was the easiest. The next two tried to resist, however weakly. Trickster knew living food was for Noelle, so he hadn't beat them too badly, but now one of them was actually trying to fight back. Trickster hit him again with the crowbar, but that only woke him further with a burst of adrenaline.

"Stop… please… I done noth…" the man mumbled groggily as he weakly tried to push Trickster's hands away.

"Finally starting to beg, huh? Where's that fucking white pride of yours gone now? Don't worry, you'll finally get to do something useful with your life," he sneered as he shoved him down the chute.

"You got three of them this time? Who were they?" Oliver asked.

"What, you think I give them interviews? Go out for dinner with them before bringing 'em home? Quit asking stupid questions, Ollie. They're Nazis. That's all you need to know. The streets are three Nazis cleaner now. Now start helping, my arm's fucked up."

"Krouse? Is that you? I… I think I'm okay now," Noelle's voice echoed up the chute.

"Noelle! I'm here. How you doin, babe?" Trickster called down.

"What's been happening? Things feel different. I can't remember…"

"You've been hungry for a while. I'll keep getting you food, babe. Don't worry. But the boss ditched us. The dumbass got himself caught. I think we might have to go back to Boston."

"I don't know how long I can stay like this, Krouse. Where's Marisa? I haven't talked to her for a while I think…"

"She got caught too. Don't worry. We'll find a way to get her out. We're going to get out of this together. But we might have to leave soon."

His eyes flicked to the ceiling when he noticed a drop of water drip onto his neck.

"This damn place is falling apart already. I thought this shit was supposed to survive a nuke."

Author's Note:

- Short one, but I realized there was one more loose thread I needed to address before the next arc.