[REND] 11.2 - Marshy Rowy Reunion

The buses that pass near Poblacion Verde Hills run only until midnight, compared to the Metro buses downtown that run twenty-four-seven. It was only nine-fifteen. I had a ride out of here, but I’d have to travel on foot back home. Jogging was good for your health.

I got off the bus at a stop about five minutes to the train station. Hiding behind a dumpster—it was a huge dumpster that completely blocked my short self from view of the street—I turned my red hoodie inside out, wearing its black side out. Is this considered a rhyme if they’re the same word?

Then I set off for the train station.

I had been to this area twice before; there was a trendy bakery with delightful chocolate croissants. Sweet food always called out to me—it was a wonder I wasn’t gaining weight. However, it was my first time using this new route I had mapped earlier.

After nearly getting lost navigating alleyways in the shadows of buildings, jumping over fences, and avoiding a drunk dude vomiting into a bin, I emerged from behind Quality Mart right across Riano train station. I was proud of myself for reaching this place. Super difficult to find my way with only daytime pictures of this area on the internet as my guide.

I sure hoped all these roundabout secrecy shenanigans were worth it.

The police finding the corpses of Corpo Slave and Beanie Twig was a wake-up call. I should think more like a criminal. I am a criminal. But a mere beginner. I should recall all the mistakes of criminals featured on true crime shows that Mom and I used to watch.

I peered from the side of the convenience store, surveying the station across the street. The yellowing light of the decrepit but miraculously still working lamppost flickered from the corner. Other than a few people exiting the station and some cars passing by, everything was relatively peaceful.

Time to ride a train.

Just not in it. On it.

I could’ve found some way to enter the station without passing through the scanners, but cameras would still capture me on the platform. After that Crappy Monday, I am not sure those scanners even work though, but better safe than sorry. How self-preserving, me.

If the Marsh Row party later turned out rowdier than expected, it was best I had as few tracks as possible.

Most of La Esperanza’s train system was underground, but there were portions of the tracks that were on street level or elevated railways. Riano Station was aboveground. The tracks leading out of it ran through the middle of the road and descended underground right before the intersection of Riano and Mendez Streets.

That was my ticket. 

Here I was, looking over the concrete barrier that separated the tracks from the rest of the traffic, checking for the perfect place to jump down to the train. If somebody saw me, they’d think I was here to end my life. I’m never going to end my own life.

The tracks sloped down into the opening of the tunnel. About a fifteen-foot drop from the top of the concrete barrier down to the tracks. If the train were here, it would be just a few feet down to its roof. Since the train would start slowly from the station, only picking up speed after it had gone underground, I was confident I could land safely.

People did this in movies, right? There was that usual warning not to try movie stunts at home.

But I wasn’t at home. I was going to try it.  

A couple of minutes later, a train left the station and headed my way. I leapt on top of the concrete barrier and waited. One wrong move, and I might slip off the train and get squished.

Was this thrill I was feeling? It was more than excitement. Giddiness sprinkled with apprehension. A rare sensation. I liked it. I never had this much anticipation for a ride, even when on a roller coaster.

More of this, please.

The earth shook as the train rumbled below. After about half of it had passed, I held my breath and jumped down. A short drop, as I had estimated. I landed squarely on my two feet, bending down to maintain balance.

Yes!

The train accelerated.

Shit.

I tottered a few steps back, trying to stop myself from losing balance. A slimy grime made me lose my footing. I rolled backwards as the train descended into the tunnel. I slammed my hands on the train’s roof, fingers denting the metal. I flattened myself as I hung on, avoiding the ceiling of the tunnel. 

Whoops. The passengers inside might’ve heard the racket. Hopefully, they were too tired from a day’s work to give a fuck. They’d just think it was the clanking of the aging train.

What was that slime that nearly made me fall off? My hoodie and pants were covered in dirt and other repulsive stuff I’d rather not know about. This city really has a maintenance problem.  

There was enough clearance between the train’s roof and the tunnel’s ceiling for me to sit straight, but I decided not to risk it, settling on a weird crouching position. I held still, enjoying the rushing wind sweeping over me as the train sped to its destination. 

Getting on the train was the first hurdle.

The next hurdle came when the train slowed down as it approached the next station.

I dropped down the train’s side facing away from the station platform, hanging from the roof while waiting for some passengers to disembark and new ones to get on. I only waited for a minute and then climbed back on top of the roof as the train left the station.

As the train rattled over the tracks, I thought about true crime shows again. Mom watched them to forget about Dad’s disappearances. I wasn’t sure how it helped her, but she’d get invested in how they went, as if the criminals were stars of a reality TV show.

‘Don’t return to the scene of the crime!’ ‘Don’t take trophies from the victim!’ She’d often shout at the TV. ‘Keep a low profile, stupid!’ She was very… animated back then. The evening wine probably didn’t help. Or did help. Once Mom sorted her mind and returned to the corporate world, she became composed and controlled again.

“Am I doing the stupid thing, returning to Marsh Row?” I asked the city as the train snaked over an elevated railway.

I was fascinated by the behavior of criminals featured on the shows we watched. Only a few of them returned to the scene of their crime; the interesting part was how varied their reasons were. They could be afraid that they left traces, or they wanted to cover mistakes they belatedly realized. Those were the sanest reasons, and not why I was on this train right now.

I recalled one guy, an arsonist, who did it because he was aroused seeing the burned remains of his crime. I think he jacked off right after. Uncomfortable watching that interview with Mom. Another reason could be some form of narcissism, seeing the cops stumped to feed the ego. I didn’t think these reasons applied to me. 

No arousal whatsoever. I wasn’t some freaky, depraved, degenerate. Just a normal girl who wasn’t narcissistic either. I completely admit that Deen was more beautiful than me in every way. Smarter too. I wasn’t a dick looking down on people.

Analyzing myself, besides my, um, slight deviations from the norm, I was quite a good person.

Well… not as bad as other people. And certainly, better than most Adumbrae!

There. A better assessment of myself.

“This is dedicated to Beanie Twig,” I said, crouching as the train started to dip into a tunnel. “I’ll save his gang because he tried to save me from Corpo Slave.” I didn’t know why I kept repeating this reason to myself.  

‘Don’t return there like an idiot just for the thrill of it!’ I could hear Mom yell.

Whatever, Mom. I was twenty-three now. I could do what I wanted because I was a superstrong and independent woman living off allowances from my mother.

I couldn’t let the legend of Red Hood fizzle out.

No, no, no. I meant that I had to check what Tattoo Sleeves and his friends had told the cops. Yes, that was it. Throw in there wanting to learn about the disappearances at Marsh Row. The 2Ms were surely involved, with their warehouse compound nearby. Wasn’t I such a useful member of Dario’s group, investigating the enemy?

I rode the train until it approached Marsh Row, getting on and off the roof each time I passed by a station.

Onto my third hurdle—getting off the train!

I made my way to its end, crawling carefully on the roof, making sure I had a secure hold before moving forward. I bent down to see inside the windows. Only one guy sleeping. I slowly lowered myself to the back of the train.

I focused my attention on the walls of the tunnel, waiting for an exit sign. There should be a way out here somewhere, like the one I used to escape the tunnel during the Adumbrae attack. I wasn’t going to exit through the train station.

There!

I dove onto the ground, making sure to stay between the tracks. My cheerleading skills came in useful. Then I leapt to the walkway running the length of the tunnel and headed to the exit. A movie taught me that the metal tracks had an electric current running through them. Not sure exactly which of these were electrified, but better not to touch any of them.

I emerged above the street in the outskirts of Marsh Row. I couldn’t believe I just went through all of that, and everything went splendidly well.     

Now, to head to the Upper East area. I had a party to attend.

I switched my hoodie to its red side. This time, I had my hood up. Along with the face mask, I was as unrecognizable as could be. But the red was there. Red Hood returns to Marsh Row!

The supposed territory of Overdrive was empty. There was no one to ask about the party.

I climbed a two-story building—easy to do with superstrength—for a good vantage point. There was an island of light among the darkness of the streets. I wasn’t saying I had a thousand IQ, but I think that was the party.

Music blasted as I neared the place—an old building with lights pouring out of it. Through the windows, I could see shadows dancing inside. Sports cars lined the streets, with young people smoking and drinking. Tsk, tsk, tsk. This is the youth of today? They should be more like me.

I saw some people wearing Eloyce sweatshirts. They were really proud of our university, wearing that while at a drug dealer’s party. There were also people with yellow bands around their arms, displaying a familiar fist symbol. PCM sympathizers? The rumors Tattoo Sleeves told me were true?

“Hey, there!” someone called to me. “Red hoodie guy, drink with us!”

I ignored them. Rule #10. Plus, I aimed to get inside, not hang out with these drunk morons not important enough to be invited to the actual party. I strode purposefully toward the door of the building. No one stopped me until the bouncer right at the door. Bouncer Gorilla looked incredibly muscular that he could wrestle a gorilla. But that was just looks. I could actually wrestle a gorilla.

Bouncer Gorilla stretched out a hand holding a clipboard. “Where’s your invite, little man?”

“I don’t have one,” I said with a cutesy voice.

“A girl? Sorry, girlie. You’re not hot enough to enter without an invite.”

This piece of shit! That was considered an attack! I could kill him according to Rule #4, right? But I held myself back. I had no intentions of massacring the place. Just the minimum number of casualties to get Tattoo Sleeves’ gang out. Heroes didn’t kill unless they had to.

“I think Overdrive will want to see me,” I said.

Bouncer Gorilla exasperatedly exhaled. He had probably heard someone say this a few times before. “If the boss was expecting a little girl, he would’ve told me. We don’t want your Girl Scout cookies, okay?”

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“I’m Mr. Not-Letting-You-In,” he said. He looked behind me. “Yow, Leslie! Go right inside.” A brunette with fake tits threatening to burst out of her skimpy clothes walked past me. Bouncer Gorilla slapped the woman’s obviously fake butt. “See that?” he said, turning to me. “Grow up to be like that.”

My transformation’s hotter than her. Though having a monster mouth might be a problem.

“And even if you do become like Leslie, your name’s still not on the list,” said Bouncer Gorilla. “I don’t know who put the dumb idea in your head that you can get in.”

Guess that counted as his introduction? Working around Rule #2 can be an inconvenience sometimes. “Tell your boss that I’m the Red Hood that Teflon’s talking about.”

“Red Hood, what?”

“Go on. Tell him that I know what happened to Corpo—I mean Dillon. He’ll want to talk to me.”

Bouncer Gorilla’s expression turned from annoyed to serious at the mention of Corpo Slave’s name. “Who the hell are you?”

“I told you that I’m Red Hood. Teflon should know me. Bring me to Overdrive so you can return here and keep slapping butts.”

I was surprised that he let me enter. I thought I’d need to spread some violence. Good for Bouncer Gorilla that he chose to live. He led me down to the basement. The exclusive parties of VIPs were always either in basements or penthouses—the movies taught me that.

As we descended the stairs, I wondered if I should transform into my monster self. That’d assure I could take on Overdrive and whatever private army he’d muster. I did miss those powerful jaws lined with long fangs and the feeling of overflowing strength.

But that’d be giving points to Spooky Erind. She wanted me to transform and become monster-like. What if I lost control and just ate and ate and ate?

Just stick to my cute self. I didn’t need to fight all of these guys, and I was plenty strong when it came to that. I could feel myself getting stronger. Was this the Core’s effect? Once they realized I was an Adumbrae, they’d know to back down. I couldn’t wait to see their reaction.

“Huh, why are you here?” the guard in front of leather-covered double doors asked Bouncer Gorilla. The guard could be Bouncer Gorilla Two because he was equally as large and menacing. He even had a small machine gun slung over his shoulder. “And who’s this kid?”

“She says she got information about what happened to Boss Dillon,” said Bouncer Gorilla.

“You just let her in?”

“Yeah. The boss would want to know about this. She’s a friend of Teflon’s, too.”

“We gotta search her then.” Bouncer Gorilla Two reached for me. “Even a kid with a gun can shoot the boss.”

I pointed a finger at him. “Touch me, and you’ll lose your hand.” My face was Red Hood, the Adumbrae of Marsh Row. This was the debut of this face, and I wouldn’t mess up the badassery of my first episode. Break a few bones. Intimidate people.

The Bouncer Gorillas looked at each other.

They burst out laughing.

Bouncer Gorilla Two wiped the tears from his eyes. “Fucking adorable, man. You’re no harm. Come along, girlie. Tell our boss about the school play tickets you’re selling.”