StarFall Comics
A Division of Pullemouttayerhat Productions
A Wholly-Owned Subsidiary of StarFall Innovations
Proudly Presents:
City Streets
#14: Troubles
cover: Pete, standing on a rooftop in New York City, gazing out at the sky.
Pete stood on the roof of the brownstone that served as the kids' hideout, looking out over the rooftops. His thoughts were racing, several thoughts acting in his mind at once.
Behind him, Lee stood in the doorway of the staircase, a concerned expression playing on her face. Robin came up the stairs behind her.
"He's still there?" Robin asked.
"Yeah. He hasn't moved in the past ten minutes. I'm worried."
"So'm I." The pair wandered across the roof to stand directly behind him.
"Hey, Pete, are you just gonna stand there all day?"
"No, I'm gonna jump," Pete sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Behind Lee, Robin made a whistling noise, ending with a soft "Splat." Lee glared at her sister, before turning back to Pete.
"You really are taking that girl's death too hard,*" Lee said. "From what you told us, it was a simple enough mistake. You didn't know what damaging that equipment would do."
"So I shouldn't have touched the junk at all! Why don't you guys just leave me alone? I can deal with this myself!"
"Have you always been this stubborn?" Robin asked. "We're only trying to..."
"I don't want your help!"
Storming past the girls, Pete slammed the staircase door behind him as he headed for street level.
"You gonna buy something, Pete? It's the lunch hour and you're taking up a paying seat," Jack told the boy.
"Yeah, sure," Pete mumbled back. "Gimme a Jolt."
"Sheez, kid. You are in a funk. What's you're problem?"
Pete merely shrugged and stared at the bar surface. He knew enough about Jack by now to know the older man would likely understand, but it was a busy time of day and he didn't want a bunch of strangers knowing his business.
"Right, then. We'll talk later when we have some privacy. Just keep your head on its shoulders until then."
An hour later found Pete wandering around the docks of the harbor.
Things have changed over the past few years, he thought. Five years ago, Dad brought me out here. He always said that if I ever had a problem, I should ask him. But he's... gone. Who do I turn to? Who?! Jack's too busy running his bar whenever I need his advice. Allan and Josh wouldn't understand. Heather? She's nice, but she's too messed up in the head to help. Kinda like me. The twins? Bah, no help there! He glanced over at one of the large rusting freighters docked along the pier. Story of my life, right there... one big floating mess. Allan shoulda never freed me from the bag's control.
Turning, he headed back the way he'd come.
"Where the hell is Pete when we need him?" Josh grumbled. He was in the dumpster behind the South Bronx Orphanage, waiting for Runt's weekly information drop.
"Runt has got to pick these meeting places on purpose." He pushed something rotten and smelly out of the way, making sure it wasn't moving on it's own. "Way of the Ninja," he muttered. "See the world, visit interesting places, discover new and exotic smells. And I never studied ninjitsu."
There was a knock on the wall of the dumpster. He glanced up, to see Runt drop three large green trash bags on top of him.
"I am not digging through the garbage this time, Runt," he hissed up at her.
"Kwitcherbellyakin," she muttered. "Middle bag. Now toss me my money."
"Always the bookie," he muttered, grabbing the bag she'd indicated. He tossed her a small roll of bills, and started climbing out. She was faster, and slammed the top down on him.
"If that kid wasn't so valuable," he muttered, "I'd kill her. As it is, Jack'd adopt her in an instant."
The can went whizzing through the air and rebounded off the curb. Continuing his aimless wandering, Pete turned the corner and bumped into someone. Looking up at whoever this someone was from where he had landed on his butt, he was surprised to see who it was.
"Hey, Pete. Gotta watch where you're walkin' in this town."
Helping the boy to his feet, Booter brushed him off and stood back to get a better look at him.
"You look like you've got something on your mind. Troubles?"
"You might say that. You gonna offer 'help', too, big guy?" Pete asked with a sneer.
Booter shook his head. "Only if you want it. C'mon, Renewal's got a gig a few doors down. I'll buy you a Coke and a backstage pass, you can tell me about it between sets."
Shrugging, Pete followed the burly drummer into a seedy nightclub.
Jack set the receiver down on it's hook, and turned to Allan and Josh.
"That was Brooke. Pete's with the band now." Josh sighed with relief.
"At least we know where he is," he stated. "I'm sure the band'll take care of him. They might actually help."
"I hope so," Allan commented. "I'm worried that our life might not be the best for Pete."
"But we can't kick him out," Josh told him. "He'd see that as a rejection, and become even more morose."
"I might have the answer," Jack remarked. "School opens in a few weeks. I could pull a few strings, have him enrolled someplace. He'd still live with the rest of you, of course."
"Jack, you're a genius."
"Ain't it so."
"And so humble," Allan retorted. Jack just grinned.
Hours later, Pete sat with the band at a table in the nightclub, finally talking to Booter about what had happened.
"Wow," was all Booter could say when Pete had finished.
"Yeah. One minute she's alive, the next, she's dead. And it was all a blunder on my part that did it."
"Well, kid," Booter took a sip from his beer before continuing, "you ain't the only one with some harsh baggage. The trick is to learn from it, so that you don't make the same mistake again."
"Sounds rough."
"It is. I... we've been there. But we've managed to cope. But it will take time."
"How long?"
"Sometimes you never get over it," he said, looking over at Brooke.
Prologue:
Laura Harnagorn stood in the doorway of the Orphanage gymnasium, watching with a careful eye at the spectacle in front of her. Out on the mats, Joe Smale stood, finally freed from his wheelchair. His legs moved with a slight electric hum, servos at his ankles and knees visible through the skin. A dozen other orphans laid on the mats around him, gasping, having had the air forced from their lungs.
"Excellent," she muttered. She approached Joe. "How do you feel?"
"Like a fuckin' cyborg," he replied. "It's kinda weird, after being cooped in that wheelchair for the past few months. When are we going after Allan?"
"We're not," she told him in a low tone, glancing around to make sure Runt wasn't listening. "I leaked Runt some information. Allan will come to us."
"And I'll be ready."