#neeon

Her grin cut a gash of light in the dark of the alleyway.

“Now, who does that nice little bracelet belong to?” Fen Kiran said it like she was making idle conversation, cool and collected in a comfortable lean against one of the most putrid dumpsters the City could produce. It was a place that stank of fish and sweat but she looked unbothered, almost pleased.

“No-no, we’re not doin’ this,” the Target was instantly coy. He plunged his hands into his pockets like everyone might just forget what they saw a moment ago, “I ain’t steal nuffin. And-and if I did, it would be my haul, fair and square.”

“Hey now, I’m just curious!” Fen said. In another life, she would’ve been meant for the stage. She pulled up off of the wall in one fluid motion, cut the distance between them in another, drawing one hand innocently into a half-hearted shrug, “I’m no narc, don’t worry. Just love a good story,” She affixed her startling hazel eyes to his, “You wouldn’t deny me a good story, would you?”

He was mesmerized, uncomfortable and yet unmoving all at once. She was a boa constricting prey, and he did not know it but he was already surrounded. Fen drew closer.

“Of course, I could find that story out myself if you just hand it over, right?” She nearly whispered, “Nothing a good Identify couldn’t fix. Why incriminate yourself? Just hand it over…”

“Fen-” Her comm blazed to life sharply and she winced. What the fu-

And then she was stumbling backwards. A spray of red flew through her peripheral vision just a second before the sharp pain in her collarbone announced the blood as hers. Her hand flew to the knife, finding no purchase. The target had already started running.

“Goddamnit, Fen,” Neeon’s voice came across tinny over the connection, “Told ya’ you’d need backup!”

“Clear comms.” Verdin's voice cut any further complaining before it could start, “Cleo, target’s on the move. Visual?”

“I have them”

A good four stories above where Fen was currently cursing every god in the pantheon (plus a couple more), Neeon split her attention towards where she knew the ranger was posted up, a couple of blocks away on the ceiling of a hotel that still came up every time tourists brought up the city, even though the last time it’d had more to offer than bed-bugs and a crappy meal was over a decade ago.

Sure enough, there was Cleo, almost imperceptible and keeping low but moving quick along the ill-maintained rooftops of the Dock Ward, skipping over where they joined like mangled teeth. 

“They are heading towards Adder Street. I’m going to cut them off,” Cleo said, “Neeon, my position. Brick, cover the exit onto Kip.”

“Heard.”

“Heard.”

Neeon was racing. It didn’t matter if she was seen, and stealth wasn’t much her style anyway. She hopped, skipped, somersaulted up and round walls to make up the space between them. In a couple of seconds, she was halfway across the gap. In the same amount of time, Cleo was gone, melted into the surroundings in a way that was almost impressive if she wasn’t such an insufferable cad.

Down by the cobblestones, Brick was looking for something big enough to block an alley with. He had a good number of seconds, but not enough to be clever. Stupid would have to do. One quick glance around - A couple of planters, a some trash bags, a passing cart. 

The twang of a bow and yelp ahead meant even less seconds than he wanted. Fuck it, cart’ll do. 

“M’bad,” He grumbled, then heaved it onto his shoulders, doing his best to ignore the protestations of the original driver. The Target was running up, his other exit blocked by Cleo’s net arrow. He realized his mistake a little late, but soon enough to avoid being crushed.

“Shit, shit!” The cart with the monstrous man was just ahead, that stupid fucking net was blocking Adder St, and there were footsteps coming up behind. Not exactly a lot of great options. 

He didn’t get the chance to choose. The creepy lady from before rounded the bend looking quite a bit less cordial, just as the crumbling of some pebbles and a wall slide deposited a small, tank-topped halfling out in front. With a creak and some mumbled sorrys, the cart moved out from behind too, but he was sure whoever replaced it was worse.

“Cough it up, jackass,” Neeon sat deep into a squat, picking up a dislodged cobblestone and throwing it up and down dramatically, “It’s not worth it. Promise.”

“Fuck you,” the Target went for a gun buried deep in the folds of his pants. It was a long shot. He didn’t even make his waistline.