Chapter 9

Peter realized he was being followed. It wasn't surprising and even a day earlier he wouldn't have cared, but now he had a kid following him around. The boy had also noticed their tail. Peter was calculating his next move when his train of thought was interrupted.

"What are you gonna do?" The boy asked in a voice that was missing the fear Peter would have expected.

"I'm still figuring that out."

Their train car was full now, practically overflowing with people. He didn't want to fight there, too big of a risk. The easiest option would be to quietly stab them using one of his shadows, but there was a risk in that as well. The train car was cramped and if he did that, he would be a suspect in a public investigation of a murder. He found himself leaning towards guiding his follower into a less crowded section of the train where he could dispose of them quickly and cleanly. 

He breathed a heavy sigh. He didn't need more enemies, but they found him more quickly than he could make peace with them. "Stay here…" Peter began to speak but then realized he didn't actually know the boy's name.

"Grayson."

"Stay here Grayson." He put a paternal hand on the boy's shoulder before getting to his feet. "Make sure no one takes my seat."

It was a long journey, one that would be much more comfortable with a place to sit. He dwelled on the mundane before switching his mind to business. He double checked the placement of his knife,

It was still there. Close to his hip, where he could pull it out in a moment's notice. The train became more congested as he pushed his way towards the back cars. Bodies crowded together like canned goods; he felt other peoples' breath on his face. Hands brushed against him, some threatening to steal whatever he had. He pushed them away. The bodies that seemed to get closer and closer vanished as he pushed out through the back of the car. The sounds of hushed voices turned into the howl of wind. The horribly humid air of the car was stripped away by the frigid gales. For a second he paused, sure that his tails would continue their pursuit.

He leapt to the next car. A scrap wood sign was hung on the door with the words Stay out. Perfect. Inside it was empty, a hollow shell with nothing but a few boxes. He waited at the far end, hands in his pockets. Peace. A wordless offer for peace.

Four men pushed their way into the room. Three had their arms concealed by black cloaks. The fourth had a mechanically augmented eye and freely barred their augmented arms. He stepped forward and pulled a pistol out of its holster. With the soft motions of a musician he examined the steel instrument.

Peter spoke first. "This doesn't have to get violent."

A bullet flew at him. 

He tilted his head and let the bullet fly past him. Glass shattered behind him.

Shadows rolled on the floor like waves for a millisecond. A shady form took hold of the leader's ankle and pulled him off balance. Peter pushed the tip of his shoe into the floor of the train and shot himself forward. Like a boulder tumbling down a hill he crushed his target. His body, reinforced by Lumes, collided with the falling ruffian. The force of his strike sent the other person through the wall of the car, and he was gone.

"Please, this doesn't have to go on." He said in a level voice. 

The nearest ruffian shifted their cloak and prepared to strike. Peter didn't give them the chance to follow through. With the pommel of his knife, he struck like a rail worker driving a spike into stone. He seized the head of his quarry and pulled it down. It cracked like lightning against his knee.

One quick step and he was once again on the other side of the train. "Enough of this." He shouted. He held his knife at his side, it was cold and dark in the half-light. No heart of life to it, a tool that held a thousand stories that needed to be forgotten.

The two remaining men shifted with apprehension. Peter began to walk forward, a hunter's stalk. His feet were silent and brisk. He was behind the agents before they could blink. "Get out." 

There was a rush of movement to escape the car, like a pack of scared dogs trying to get away from a faceless threat. And Peter was alone in the car. He sat down on the splintering wood floor, feeling the rough grain. He tired, so tired of always running. The wood floor greeted him with a creek as he flopped onto his back. The hum of the wheels rushing beneath him was comforting, it reminded him of the buzz of the generator next to his old room in the Watch's training program. How long since he'd left his place? Five years? No six now. 

Not the time. 

Peter made a wispy shadow standing above him and trade spots with it. Now on his feet he forced himself to return to the boy. Grayson? Right, yeah that was his name. Peter rolled the name around in his head. It was a bit too long for him. Just gray would work, yeah. He'd just call him Gray.

Peter pushed his way through the crowded car until he reached the boy. 

They were leaning against the shoddy window, watching the landscape pass steadily by. 

"Have you been on a train before?"

He nodded. 

Peter sat down and breathed out heavily. He still held his dagger, though it was sheathed now. "Have you left the city before?"

"No. Mother didn't want me going out."

Peter tapped his foot, holding in his curiosity as to where the woman was.

"So, are you excited?"

A shrug. No one said anything. Finally, Gray asked.

"Do you have a house?"

"I'll work something out."

Peter laughed to himself. Gray glanced towards him; he seemed uneasy. Peter understood why; his laugh never sounded quite right. 

Looking around the car, he smiled at his good fortune to still have a place to sit with the many bodies that crowded the walkways between the hastily added aisles of seats. Fortune wasn't often his friend. He sighed, content to rest. The M.R.M agents were nowhere near, so he allowed himself to shut his eyes and rest. Sleep took him quickly.

When he opened his eyes, it was dark. Most of the occupants were crouched on the ground attempting to sleep. He didn't envy them.

Outside the car he saw distant city lights drifting on the horizon like golden islands on a sea of shadows.

He loved the look of the wilderness at night. It reminded him that people didn't have hold over the whole world. They weren't all powerful. Even with their deviations they were still just human. Some lucky few might rise above the rest, but everyone was still mortal. Everyone was just climbing ladders trying to reach God. 

Peter sunk deeper into his chair. The feeling of the engine thrumming and the tracks running beneath him was like a lullaby urging him to sleep. He fought it just to spite his body. There was no good reason, but he wasn't a creature of logic. But sleep, like the rising sun, came in its time. He felt his eyes grow heavy and then fall shut. When he opened them, the lullaby of the engine was gone; garish sunlight flared through the window and people were pushing past each other like ants rushing about their business. Gray was waiting patiently for him.

"Sir?"

"Let's go."

Peter shoved his way through the crowd towards the exit. His eyes slowly adjusted to the light and as he pushed out of the train he was greeted by the distant skyline of New York City. It had been six years since he'd last seen it. He'd been running then.

The irony of him returning wasn't lost on him. Six years ago, he'd started in the career he'd stuck with since, and now he was coming back for that same job that had sent him away. He fidgeted with his knife, spinning the blade absently. Gray watched it blur in the half-light.

"Where are we going?"

"I'm figuring that out right now." Peter pulled out his phone. Even after six years there were still friends that lingered in the city. Two jets rocketed overhead shaking the world. Peter glanced up at them, there was a smaller black outline that shot past both. It moved too quickly for a normal eye to follow.

What is Levi doing here?

The beeping of the phone stopped, and a voice spoke into his ear.

"Hey, I haven't heard from you in months. What's up?"

"I'm in the city. Would you mind if I stopped by?" Peter doubted it would be a yes, after all he hadn't been to the city for years, "You still there?"

"Yeah, sorry I had to ask my wife. She said it's fine."

"Alright see you soon."

He hung up. Gray was watching the jets as they slowed and banked back around in the direction they'd come. Once the planes passed out of sight he turned and looked at Peter with questioning eyes.

"Alright. I found a place to stay for a bit."