Felipe didn’t like to think about the activities he filled his nights with when he couldn’t sleep as “prowling.” For one, it felt very predatory in a way he didn’t vibe with. No, Felipe thought as he scaled down the wall of The Castle and jumped onto the nearest roof, a considerable martial feat that nonetheless registered as little more than routine, what he was doing was way more relaxed, way more casual. Not a big deal for anyone or anything as long as nothing weird and scary were to happen anyway. Weren’t it for the other things the term referred to, Felipe would have no objection to call it “cruising.” Hell, he might’ve gone for it anyway if Lex had stopped giving him shit about it for a single solitary second. Maybe it was for the best this way though.

Felipe started his patrol across the roofs of Thereafter. There wasn’t much to observe, but there was more these days than there used to be. As best as Felipe understood it, the average Thereafterian had slept as much as possible in the earlier days of the city. Now, after the discovery of Camp and the almost immediate establishment of the Trade Route bringing new culture, and maybe more importantly prodigious stocks of meat, there was spare energy around to do things and get ideas.

Felipe had never considered himself much of a foodie. Sure, food tasted good, and you needed to eat, and OF COURSE his grandma (maternal, his paternal grandma had no flair for that sort of thing) made the best food in the world, but he had never had much interest in it past that. Even so, the triumph march of meat making it back to the larders of Thereafter had been noticeable. It had also been challenging in some respects since the inevitably heavier meals that followed this change, aided by the delicious soft cheese that Camp also provided, made it harder to keep up the pace. Felipe would never go so far as to admit he missed the days where malnutrition was more of a “when” than an if, but there was no denying it was easier to find your edge under such conditions.

If the city that sprawled under him as he utilized what Lex so callously had nicknamed his “ninja run” to move quickly and quietly over the uneven terrain, experienced any similar Meat Daze, it gave no sign of it. No, rather Thereafter felt alive these days, in stark contrast with the ascetic living that it had managed with before. Felipe found himself zeroing in on a particular part of town as he ran. It hadn’t been a conscious decision, but sure as the sun shined and rain fell, except in Thereafter where neither did either, he found himself heading towards the Port District. It was no wonder now that he actually took a second to consider it. As the one and only connecting point with the Void outside Thereafter and thus the incredibly important trade route, it would also be the chief place for ne’er do wells and other scumbags to go ply their shady trade.

The Port District was almost abandoned at nighttime. Due to the lack of a day/night cycle out in the void, trade dispatches could arrive at any time. Seeing, however, as there had grown a solid sense of practicality in the absence of formal worker’s rights in Thereafter, there had been made a shared agreement for expeditions who returned late to schlep their goods out of the port crystal’s range and then go home to get some sleep and the goods themselves would be sorted once morning arrived. It was, perhaps, not the most efficient system, but Felipe didn’t think absolute flawless efficiency was the right solution for Thereafter. At least the way things were now.

There were, Felipe couldn’t help but notice, one fatal flaw with the system as it stood today. It was perhaps most elegantly illustrated by the three hunched figures around one of the crates, showing that, indeed, any idiot could just waltz in and take what they felt like taking.

Felipe didn’t do a flip as he leaped off the last warehouse roof and touched down on the mostly wood piers of the port. He could do a flip just fine, and it looked pretty cool, but he tried not to do one unless he was specifically trying to impress someone these days. Sure, Thereafter gravity was weaker than earth gravity, but it was just about, and his knees was a well-known failure point. Demigod of athleticism or no, cartilage bowed to no mortal authority. It was a most stubborn substance like that.

The men were squabbling among themselves over the broken-open crate when Felipe spoke up, approaching at a pace he himself considered languid. Try as he might, he could not avoid picturing himself as the confident cat approaching easy prey.
“Well well well, boys, you out airing out the goods tonight?”

The men spun around. One of them, Felipe assumed the de facto leader, took a step ahead rather than back and looked angry rather than scared. “This is none of your business prettyboy.”
“Ah, not true at all, I’m afraid,” Felipe shook his finger in a ‘no no no’ gesture. “You see that’s not yours. That crate there. “ He gestured towards the opened crate. “It belongs to the people of Thereafter, and before its all logged and measured and handed out, you’re not really supposed to be putting your grubby hands on it.”
“And who decided that?”
“We have.” Felipe answered, like he was talking to a child. “As a community, although the process in particular is governed by the good folks over at The Castle. You know, Council and their nerd friends.”

Felipe couldn’t help but notice that Big ‘n Angry clearly was stalling him, no doubt expecting his two de-facto underlings to move into position to rush him. Dumb and Dumber, as Felipe had come to dub them, were not getting into position. If anything, they were sidling into a position where making a run for it would be easier.

“The Council’s days are numbered you perfumed twerp, once we get rid of….”
“Masley!” Dumber exclaimed, silencing Big ‘n Angry. “We’re not s’posed to talk about that!”
Felipe whistled.
“No, do go on, what kind of cockamamie scheme are you goons brewing? I would be FASCINATED to know.”
“Won’t matter none to you once we’re done with you. For the Organization!”

As in response to this warcry, the three men charged at Felipe, proving yet again that while he was a dab hand at reading body language, there was such a thing as missing a cue.

In any even faintly realistic scenario, a three-on-one fight was a losing proposition for the one nine times out of ten. Felipe, however, relied on two facts to even the odds. One, this meant there were no excuses to not fight dirty as all hell, and Two: he had brought some odds-equalizers, after all.

Felipe sent a throwing knife at Dumb before stepping into and past the arc of Big’s swinging fist as he drew his next knife in a slashing arc at chest height before body checking the larger man with a leaping tackle. He had no idea whether his attacks had done anything to anyone, even as he landed with an elegant roll and scrambled to his feet.

Now presented with a brief second of reaction time, Felipe took in the scene. Dumb had flinched from the knife grazing his arm, which was a bit off target but Felipe’d take it. Big, had landed in a heap, pain adding to the confusion of him trying to right himself. Pretty decent results, but where had the third one…

The thought did not finish in time before Dumber hit Felipe with what probably was a two-by-four, he had no eye for practical concerns like that. Regardless of what kind of plank it was, exactly, it was only Felipe’s hasty boxer’s guard that stopped it from hitting his head, and only his last-second backward leap that stopped it from breaking anything. Felipe knew there were ways of absorbing a fall on your back in a mostly painless way. He, unfortunately, also knew that he didn’t know how to do that.

Felipe hit the ground, feeling gravity getting him back for that comment about its strength as his breath was knocked out of him. Felipe scrabbled, desperately searching for purchase to get moving before Dumber moved in to finish the job.

“Alright now fella,” Dumber spoke as Felipe got on his feet. He wasn’t rushing in to finish the job, but there was a guarded certainty in his stance where he stood with his plank like a club, that told Felipe it was at the very least on the menu. “No need for this to escalate, don’t you think?”
“Doesn’t seem like it has a lot to escalate to at this point, if you ask me.” Felipe shot back, taking this brief pause to take inventory. Big ‘n Angry had not gotten up yet. Dumb, however, seemed to be back in fighting form, and had found himself a wooden chair that some dumbass had left on the docs. This next clash wasn’t going to go as well.
“Oh, I’m afraid it still could get worse,” Dumber said, he clearly was not a good fit for his nickname, but that was always the risk one ran with these kind of operations. “But let’s instead talk about how it could get better. If we call it a night right here and right now, me and my boys leave. No muss. No fuss.”
“You’ll be back.”
“Oh aye. With more men probably, once the boss realizes this wasn’t quite as painless of a smash and grab as certain sources had made it sound.”
“Do you reckon it’ll make any difference if I kill you?”
“Immense difference for me and the boys, surely, but then there is always the chance that one of us gets in a good hit on you…”

Felipe clutched the throwing knife, he could feel that annoying Performance Sweat on his palms. This was supposed to go much smoother. In a life-or-death battle he gave himself decent odds of coming out the winner unless his opponents had any concealed blades on them. The sharp sting of a knife was just one of those things it was hard to discount entirely in matters martial, especially with unarmored foes like these bandits. That said, there similarly were very few scenarios where he didn’t get beaten to absolute shit in the process of stabbing these men, and then there WAS that whole ‘thou shall not kill’ thing.
“Get outta here.” Felipe said, swallowing down the bitter, embarrassing disappointment. “And if I catch any of you low-lifes around here again, I WILL kill you.”
“Sure thing.” Dumber didn’t quite wink in response, but Felipe could tell it was by inches rather than miles. They’d be back. Probably with weapons and lookouts and maybe even some light armor if they could get their hands on some. They had claimed to be Organization, which meant that the resources backing them up were considerable, provided they could swing the favors of their bosses. Their Boss, singular, really, but Felipe didn’t want to think about him right that moment.

Felipe folded his arms and pointedly watched the three men put down their improvised weapons, gather themselves as best they could, and leave with little more than nicks and scrapes for all his effort. It wasn’t a great resolution, but then again, Felipe hadn’t gone out just to beat up goons.

It was a bit harder to get back on the rooftops after the fight than it had been descending from them. Felipe could feel a dull ache in both of his forearms that he was decently sure were contusions forming, and try as he might he felt like he couldn’t quite catch his breath all the way after his unkind meeting with the ground. Still, experience and what Felipe called his Base Layer of Athletic Awesome prevailed, and he had little to no trouble catching up with the retreating goons, or at the very least reaching and maintaining a safe prowling distance.

While Dumber had been anything but, he had also been a bit of a chatterbox, and Felipe was going to leverage that. Sure, most of all he wanted to go back to the Castle, retrieve his bow, and show that jerk and his crew why they called him Eagle Eye Espino, but some times it was more important to do what was Right. Figuring out what had Organization goons out stealing from the common goods seemed like one of those things that were Right, as it allowed Felipe to better understand what was going on in town, and whether his pessimism about the lack of law enforcement (and laws, when he thought about it) in the city was well-founded. Thus convinced he was in fact doing something Heroic and Important and not just self-destructive and petty, Felipe sneaked after the goons, moving so silently it’d take superpowers to catch him in the act.

Author’s notes: So, I may have forgotten my own update schedule this month, which is the reason there wasn’t an update on the 10th. Mea Culpa for that.

Moving on, this scene was considerably more badass in earlier iterations of the story, but I figured showing our hero having some room to grow… and maybe coming up with more solid plans for his engagements was a good starting point. Felipe is fun like that, in that his natural confidence makes him a natural magnet for Getting His Just Deserts type outcomes. One of my chief concerns, other than a certain relationship needing to hit JUST right, with this story is balancing Felipe taking Massive Ls and Felipe having reasons to feel confident still. It’s an interesting equilibrium to maintain, as your humble author isn’t really very confident, but I take it as a challenge rather than an absurdity.

Catch you later

V.S.D