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~On the Edge~

Fanfic for @skipperwing, featuring The Crimson Fly (Below cut for length)

In retrospect, wearing a mask and leaping out into a stranger’s presence in the worst part of town could be misinterpreted as an attempted mugging. With a wry grumble, the Crimson Fly rubbed their aching shoulder. That old lady must have had bricks in her handbag! That’d be the last time CF would offer help with someone’s groceries. Well… last time for that particular night. Unless someone else was struggling with groceries. Then maybe. Probably. Okay, they’d definitely get help.

Blasted moral compass.

Steady dripping echoed in the depths of the city’s storm drains as the costumed kid trudged along the fractured sidewalks, choosing to save energy on flashy leaps and general acrobatics for the moment an audience was present. The cat following behind didn’t count. Yet. As desperately boring as the evening was becoming, though, no crime on the radar was a good thing, right? In theory it was. Of course it was. But… quiet nights were also uncomfortable; allowing whispering doubts to creep their miasma straight into any self confidence about the sort of difference a masked vigilante might be making in the world.

“Hey, kid! Halloween was last month. What the heck are you doing in a place like this?”

CF blinked and turned toward the voice. Just a patrolling officer.

“Uh,” CF paused to pick at the neck of their costume, stalling. “You know. Fighting the good fight? Keeping watch over a sleeping city? Trying to lose the cat who’s been following me for an hour because I smell like tuna because I fell in the dumpster behind the fish market because I misjudged a jump and it’s not like I need a reminder about-“

“Breathe, kid.” the officer interrupted with a wince.

“Right. Whew…”

“Officer Edge,” the badge on his chest was indicated by way of an introduction. “I’m just glad you’re not, ya know, a goblin or somethin’. This is a spooky shift, I’ll tell ya. It’s really been rustling my jimmies if you know what I mean. The jimmies. They aaaaare rustled. Probably best for you to scoot along home.”

Was that an attempt at humor? Something to calm a wandering child? How irritating. It was only sometimes that the mighty Crimson Fly was denied entry to a PG-13 movie, and maturity had nothing to do with a number anyway! Couldn’t the cop see the tricep definition? Did he need a ticket to the gun show??? Deflating a little from the internal argument, the Crimson Fly decided to forgo making too many assumptions just yet and simply responded with a forced chuckle of recognition. Pick your battles to win your wars. Time to make an exit.

“Thanks, officer Edge. I’ll do that.”

“Sounds like a plan,” the officer smiled. “OH! But stay away from 3rd Street, yeah? That’s where we’ve seen all those goblins, and holy moley you do not want to run into one of those! They bite. Dunno why I said that. The bus stop outta here isn’t anywhere near 3rd Street. Oh, well! Have a good night, pajama dude!”

As the officer turned on his heel, pajama dude squinted up at the street sign. 2nd Street was spelled out in peeling white font, paralleling 3rd Street just through a squat row of various businesses. Well, now it had to be investigated! To keep up appearances, CF marched in a completely different direction long enough to be certain that nobody would follow… besides that cat!!! GO HOME ALREADY!!!

Maybe up and over would be the best approach. With a bracing hop in place, they sucked in a harsh breath and leaped up to scale the wall of a tall apartment building, finger pads stuck fast to the aged brick. It was working. It wouldn’t fail tonight. One hand after the other… concentrate… don’t look down. It played on repeat as a personal mantra of success. Soon enough, a perfect height presented itself to launch in a flailing arc to force a fall or flight response spasming through their body to trigger the buzzing wings into action!

“Wooo! Aha, yes!”

Adrenaline pumped hard, assuring a safe flight (prompted mostly through sheer exhilaration).

“That’d better not be you, kid!” officer Edge called up, alerted by the sudden whoop of victory.

“Don’t worry! It’s not!” CF yelled back cheekily.

“Okay good!” was not the response expected, but it was the one given.

Perhaps this particular fellow was not the brightest taco in the apple stand. Shocked and delighted by the lack of obstacles regardless, the Crimson Fly darted in a quick zig-zag to the next street and came to light on a fire escape. Sputtering street lights offered little in the way of illumination. It was barely enough to drive the heavy shade of evening into submission even in its smallest doses.

“Allllright, ‘goblins’. What are you really?” CF mumbled quietly, struggling to ignore the funk the mask was giving off from earlier dumpster diving.

Thankfully, their patience wasn’t tested too heavily. A soft creak sounded below. Action! The warehouse next door rumbled and squeaked in protest as a metal grate was shoved aside to offer exit to a hoard of at least two dozen… goblins. Goblins?! They were real??? Actually real?! Whoa. This was a little above the Crimson Fly’s pay grade, but if it wasn’t looked into… moral… compass… argh.

Once the last creature had lumbered off into the night, CF nabbed the opportunity to drop and roll through the door before it screeched shut.

Giant tubes filled with viscous red fluids were sprawled across the interior, each with its own goblin creature suspended inside. Even in the state of supposed slumber, they were a creepy sight to behold. The vigilante slowly reached out as if to touch the container when a voice interrupted the bad decision.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you!”

CF spun in place, fists balled and legs poised, only to realize that it was officer Edge. The posture relaxed fractionally. At least the fuzz was showing up to help. A little action beforehand would have been more fun, but at the end of the day the authorities were doing their job. Weren’t they? Where was the backup? You were supposed to have backup in a raid, right?

“I told you to go home. I didn’t account for your clearly crippling disability of selective hearing.” Edge droned, his voice losing all of the bumbling, friendly overtones. “Since you’re here, though, perhaps… an opinion?”

“Yeah! My opinion is that you’re a crooked cop! You’re involved in this!” the Crimson Fly asserted, pointing an accusatory finger.

“We’re well past that, try to keep up.” Edge sighed, signaling for the returning hoard to close off the exit. “This is my brainchild. Aren’t you tired of seeing the world as it is? Don’t you find it demoralizing to know that sometimes there’s just nothing you can do to upset the apple cart for the better?”

“Oh-kaaaaaay? What do goblin monsters have to do with any of that?” CF asked.

“If you release enough pigeons, people will never notice the dove in the flock.” Edge replied with a strained smile. “While my goblins raid the streets, it will cause a bump in police activity by necessity. The media will be in a frenzy, spreading fear and unrest like a disease. Panicked people make poor decisions, you know. Very poor decisions.”

“…And?”

“And I’m afraid that’s all you’re getting for now. I’m not about to monologue the entirety of my plans. That would be foolish.” Edge smirked, signaling for the ranks to close in.

From the way the beasts had lumbered about on their initial exit of the building, CF would have thought them slow and stupid. On the contrary, they gave him a run for his money in a big way with their synchronized attack formations! He dodged, leaped, kicked, and flew, only barely keeping a step ahead of them to pick off each assailant one by one.

“Whaddaya think of that?” the kid panted as the last goblin tumbled dramatically to the ground.

“I think they’ve done a splendid job of herding you like a sheep among many collies.” Edge answered brightly.

A crane above suddenly released a moderate stack of wooden pallets directly on top on the startled hero. It fell with a splintering crack, splatting CF flat to the floor. All of the air left their lungs in a great whoosh, leaving them gasping in a desperate attempt to breathe as they crawled from the debris. Unfortunately, they only made it a few feet before a heavy foot pressed down on their back, halting any progress.

CF gave a strangled cry as the cuticle attaching wing joints to skin and muscle strained and stretched under the false officer’s boot. Wheezing breaths stained the fabric of their mask with spittle and coppery blood. This was wrong. The good guy charges in and the bad guy is defeated in a blaze of fancy footwork and jabs. That’s how it works! That’s how it’s supposed to work! Panic seized their chest at the realization that nobody would be coming to break this up. A missing kid would be static noise in the news, lost in the rabble, and they would die here, crunched under someone’s shoe like a helpless bug.

Help me.

CF wriggled and bucked, only to be forced back into place by superior weight.

“You won’t get away with this…!”

“You’re probably going to die here, and that’s the best thing you can think of? Pretty tired line, don’t you think, sport?” Edge commiserated. “I’m not going to outright kill you, as an aside. But I would love to study you… this fffffun little anatomy addition you’ve got. The power of flight. What a time to be alive. Flying goblins would certainly help in the fear factor.”

For a moment, Edge seemed lost in thought, as though he’d completely forgotten the Crimson Fly was there. In his mind, he could see something beautiful in the near distance that wasn’t quite within the realm of reality. It wasn’t enough of a fantasy that he budged his boot even an inch, but is was enough that he was oblivious to the ball of flying claws and fluff that leaped down from the rafters above! With a tiny meow, er, war cry, the cat which had been following CF all night latched itself onto the villain’s back. Beads of blood peeked through the dark fabric of Edge’s uniform, prompting an angry curse and a fair bit of struggling. Just enough for an escape!

Goblins all around were staggering back to consciousness, cluttering the floor with unsteady bodies. All the afternoons trying to dart through a busy subway station were finally paying off! Closely followed by the cat, the Crimson Fly darted though the chaos and out into the street. They only had a moment at most, so they gathered up the cat and beat feet to the bus station, clambering aboard the roof of it just as it veered out of the side streets. It wasn’t until they’d moved from an off ramp onto the highway that the hammering in the little hero’s chest slowed, if only slightly.

“This guy’s gonna be harder to deal with than I thought…” they muttered, idly stroking the cat.

To be continued...?

#on the edge #crimsonfly #fanfic #skipperwing

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