Holding my ribs I stepped into the main drag. My nose was well and truly broken and the rest of me was not feeling so hot. Still in the Old Town so ducking into an alley away from the crowds for some quick triage was a bad idea.

Heading towards one of my old watering holes, the Rusty Duck, I kept my head down and thoughts churning. Winding my way through the drunks and hopefuls looking for a score I made sure I did not meet anyone’s curious gaze. My ruined face was enough that the Stars or the Finches would take it as an invitation for a free snag. I could smell the Rusty Duck before I saw it, a mix of alcohol, mold and depression. Nodding to Immortal Man at the door which had been replaced so many times I had started to wonder why Haze even bothered with it.

The IM was an odd one, his name not the most original but it was on the nose. No one tussled with the Immortal Man, nothing fazed him. The poor guy always looked so down. No one tried talking to him as he had giving up speech a long time ago. Regulars with a skin full of juice or Supers primed to go nova, he could shrug it off without a worry and carry on his eternal job of throwing them out on the street.

Fronting up to bar I saw the old regulars nursing their pay cheques in one corner, some White Hands trying to impress a group of bored ladies of the night in another. The sound was subdued and fit my mood perfectly. Haze saw me coming and slid over to me without touching the intervening space.

“Always told you Sol, poking your nose into other peoples trouble would get it bent for you.”

Grunting I glanced across the unlabelled beer taps, wondering briefly how Haze knew what was what. He could always get exactly what I was after even if I didn’t always know myself. I always had needed my taps labelled, maybe because I was drunk all the time.

“You say that every time, Haze. This was a once off. Can I get something to pick me up?”

Nodding to himself he disappeared down the other end returning with a shot of something that looked like honey and a pint of a dark one. I went to grab the pint, suddenly my head was in his hands, thumbs digging into my face.

Crack.

Jerking back as I tried to pull my peacemaker I realised I could breathe through my nose again. I felt myself flicker slightly and a wave of terror hit me before I could concentrate and get it under control again. I glared at Haze.

“Can’t have you losing those looks of yours, only thing you got going for you Sol.” Haze said with a face splitting grin.

I snarled at him as I grabbed the pint and dropped the shot into it. I smashed down the whole mixture and felt a burn start in my belly, the fires warming me up from the inside.

Haze snuck another pint in front of me. I tried to think, my thoughts were jumbled from the pain but the dark liquid was working its familiar magic on me already.

The Seeker. The Barley Boys had shown that he couldn’t control his powers properly. He was still learning. Although he was a Prime himself at the time he was fair feral. Why was he running with them in the first place? Why did he run with the diamonds? Sure a grip of the stones could set anyone up for life but he needed to shift them. As soon as he bailed that put him into the red with the Boys. He had been running with them for long enough that he had to know they would keep to their sense of honour. He was a dead man.

The thoughts were getting snarled, I was losing it. The nose was still killing me and every breath my ribs were chiming in with their own brand of attention. Running was a fair call actually, the Boys had no truck with Supers. He could have joined any other crew though, having a Super with those powers? They would have kept in caviar and blow jobs for the rest of his natural, whatever that was for a Prime.

Start his own business? He had disappeared off the map, I couldn’t find him when I went looking last. The links were starting to fall apart, the colour fading. I grabbed the last one that threatened to go. The Mission. To understand his powers. Was that enough? I had found many a Levi that had abandoned the Mission, what about the guy sent to understand World Economics and had spent his days drinking himself into oblivion? No Mission was left there.

The amount of alcohol I had drunk today had caught up to me and was gleefully running ahead. I was struggling to keep upright, let alone thinking through this puzzle. I pushed down the usual shame and guilt that I was drinking again. I had made my choice.

Haze slid another pint in front of me wordlessly and moved on. The music in the joint had picked up as I surfaced enough to grab it and take a swallow. Why the Barley Boys? The Seeker was methodical or I would have caught him a long time ago. He could have gone to any group and signed up with his skills without revealing he was a Prime. The Boys were the best at the time. Did he go to learn? Run with them, learn the tricks, the contacts? He had been with them long enough maybe it was time for him to split. Going to work for anyone else and the Boys would have found him in no time. Grabbing the shinies was an odd choice. He was not hurting for cash if he was being tested for the inner circle of the Boys. Maybe he didn’t need cash, he needed a shitload of cash.

Why? For what?

The liquid was settled in my belly and stoking the fires. I allowed myself to sink deeper into it, the music washing over me.

The powers and memories of a Levi. The skills and contacts of working with the Boys. Enough money to choke a donkey. He had what he needed. What if he had finished his Mission? What if he had already mastered his powers. I chided myself, I was too drunk. Of course he had already mastered his powers. I now knew he had gone from just a copy to a full Prime. He could reabsorb copies he created himself. He could absorb from a distance, something that I know that Levi Prime could not do himself!

Time for him to put the Super to use. He had been on the lamb for years, being hunted by Levi and then me. Knowing that if he was caught he would be sucked into non existence. Revenge? Too petty for him. If he was a full Prime he could have tried offing me when I was hunting him. Over the years his anger at being hunted like a dog could have built to a keen edge. He had eluded both of us though. Not just eluded, he had played me like a cheap fiddle.

I was losing again. It was like last time. I had leads that dried up. I was following and hunting but always one step behind. I gingerly felt my ribs, the fire from the juice was building higher, another pint magically in my hand. Old habits. My breath was coming harder now. The threads were falling away. The Mission didn’t count any more, he had finished it. He had finished with the Boys. I needed to make a play, I needed to get ahead. All I could see in my mind was the vague shape of a Levi Prime, pulling the strings and watching me dance.

I was struggling to keep my thoughts running and I realised I was wasted. I had been drinking solidly all day and in the last few hours I had sunk a stupid amount of booze. I knew who I needed to see next, Bronski. The man was a legend in the under ground. He ran the Docks so anything going in or out of the city had his grimy tips all over it and he made sure he got a cut.

I was in no shape to front up to him now. I somehow paid my tab and headed home. I need a clear head to deal with Bronski.