Birth of a Phantom part 11

Flakes of orange and red rust scattered into the air as they fell through two more balconies, which snapped through webs of old wires, before finally crashing to the bottom.

An explosion of plastic bags, crumpling cardboard and clattering cans echoed through the narrow alleyway. The operatives plunged into a pile of trash.

Maria wrestled her way out of his tight embrace, gasping deeply, before immediately pinching her nose. Her face contorted in disgust from the scent surrounding her. She looked around and noticed Felix lying unconscious right below her, protecting her from the fall.

“Thanks…” She muttered, brushing his bangs to the side.

In the dim light, the two of them were sitting in an old alley, pressed between grimy brick walls plastered with faded fliers, covered with dangling wires, and rusted meters. She was surrounded by abandoned things; a discarded drawer, a torn up sofa, and an old dressing table with a shattered mirror reflecting the festive yellow lights.

Maria got up and squeezed through the corridor, following the sound of the festival. The faint pop of a firework echoing in the distance.

Her fingers grabbed the edge of the old walls and peered through. She saw metal gates of the building opened, and several of the men in uniform started marching out in search of them.

With a bead of sweat rolling across her cheek, and she rushed back to Felix, “Get up, we have to—”

A faint buzz stopped her mid-sentence, noticing a camera drone hovering right behind her.

But all it managed to capture was a glimpse of Maria’s startled face, before a bag of tin-cans came crashing its way.

“Persistent gobshites…” Felix huffed in exhaustion, his arm trembling after the throw.

“How’s your arm?”

His face contorted, “… Awful, what about you?”

“Alright so far, thanks to you. You know, besides getting shot in the back of my head.” She shrugged.

“Right…”

“So, not to be the harbinger of bad news, they’ve opened the gate and are now looking for us, what do we do now?”

“They’ve probably locked onto our position because of that drone… Let me just—” He tried to get up, but his legs buckled beneath him. As he collapsed into the garbage, he muttered, “I can’t… I can’t move…”

His shoulder burned where the bullet had struck, while the rest of his body screamed in agony.

“Right. You got shot just now, not counting all the other times you got shot today. You’ve fallen down two consecutive buildings, thanks for keeping me safe both times, by the way. You still have wounds sustained from your fight with Harbinger, not to mention the trouble we had to go through just getting inside the building in the first place.” She scoffed, listing down everything that had happened.

“Don’t… underestimate me…” His voice strained.

“You’re overestimating yourself, actually.” She pinched his thigh, making him bite his lips. “Now that the adrenaline’s gone, just getting you to stand might be asking too much.”

She rummaged through the old drawer.

He let out a deep exhale, asking, “…What are you doing?”

“Making disguises. Luckily there’s some old fabric in some of these.” She tugged out a handful of worn, stained clothes, piecing them together.

“Do you have a thing for disguises?” He groaned.

“Not really, but that’s why today was so fun. Take off your coat.” She tossed him old clothes.

His eyebrows furrowed, “These stink…”

She folded his black coat into something that vaguely resembled a purse, “Yeah, well, I think death would stink worse.”

As the fireworks decorated the sky, the two barely disguised agents evaded their pursuers.

No longer able to fight, the two operatives ran through crowds and navigated through alleyways. She was dressed in a dirty yellow, while he wore a vibrant red.

While the scent and stains still made them stand out, they were much less noticeable now, which was enough to let them switch between the corners and squeeze through corridors every time they saw a group of men in uniforms.

Slipping beneath the festival’s dancing dragons, and disappearing with every flash of the fireworks, the two made their way to a particular stall in a particular street.

Maria knocked on the half-empty stall, exclaiming, “Robin, we need disguises. We have coin!”

“What are you talking about?” The durag wearing merchant asked, still chewing on gum.

Felix inhaled deeply, then explained, “Do you… have anything that could let us blend into the crowds undetected?” His hand pressing against the wooden counter to support himself.

“You look like you went through something traumatic. But if you’re looking to switch outfits, you’re at the wrong shop. But… I do have these.” The man rummaged through his shelf and pulled something out.

“Ta-da, superhero masks.” The old man smiled with mild enthusiasm, handing them two masks, one pale white with blue markings and the other gold with red markings.

“Masks?” With an uneasy look, the blue-eyed operative picked up the pale mask with the sad face.

“Look around ya, lotsa people are wearing masks. At the very least, they’ll hide your face.”

He glanced over to Maria who continued to stare at her mask, a small grin forming on his face as he put it on, “Look, Marie. We’re superheroes.” His voice was weary, forcibly upbeat.

“We’re not heroes.” Her voice instantly went cold, her expression hollow.

To which Felix lowered his mask an exhausted look, “Right.”

She changed her tune the moment his expression faltered. Quickly, she grabbed his hand and placed the mask back to his face, “Mhm… that’s actually a good look for you.”

“You’re covering my face.”

“Exactly.” She beamed brightly, much to his chagrin.

The two turned their heads over to the side where they heard footsteps from the distance.

Several guards then came out of the corner and approached the stall. The man in the middle, the head guard from earlier, walked up and looked down on the robin.

“Anything I can do for you gentlemen?” The robin asked nonchalantly.

“We’re looking for two people, a man and a woman with black hair. The two of them were wearing dark outfits. We saw them coming this way.”

“I believe there are a number of couples out here tonight, sir.”

“I’m not playing games!” He slammed his hand against the wooden counter, “The two of them went through here wearing what appeared to be rags from the garbage. One of them had a blue eye.”

“Is that supposed to be like, a black eye?”

The head guard grabbed the merchant by his hair and slammed him against the counter. “I said I’m not playing games.”

“Oh, those two?” The merchant groaned, his head spinning as he bled out of his nose, “They… they bought two hero masks a bit before you got here. They headed straight over there.”

“Masks?” The guard inspected the old man’s stall. “Which one?”

“Sorry sir, I don’t have any to spare. But one was red and the other was orange.” His face twitched as he spat out the gum.

The head guard raised an eyebrow as he barked orders: “Surround the town — two suspects, red and orange masks. Find them.”

Once the sentries vanished down the street, the two agents crawled out from beneath the stall.

“Thanks a lot, old man.” Without looking behind, Maria quickly ran.

But Felix turned around and spoke, “I’ll be sure to credit you accordingly.”

The robin weakly chuckled, wiping the blood dripping down his chin, “It better be a lot of credits.”

Felix’s eyes widened before changing into a smirk and nodding. He put on the mask and followed after Maria.

Though the sentries unsettled the crowd, the festival churned on—bright, loud, too alive. Ignorant to the violence that occurred just a few steps away.

With masks hiding their faces, the two operatives blended better into the crowds. But as soon as they were out of sight, a gunshot cracked behind them, followed by a wooden thud.

Screams of fear and panic erupted from behind them, as all of the civilians started to run.

Maria stopped in her tracks, instinctively drawn to the sound. But before she could turn her head, Felix grabbed her hand.

She looked at him and saw the blood stain the fabric on his back.

He squeezed her hand. She understood and kept moving.

Both operatives knew who it was and why it happened. It was simply the consequences of their line of work, collateral.

~