by Jester Joker
Through the headaches, I've been replaying yesterday's dust-up in my mind like the Zapruder film. I figure there are two major flaws in how we approached the situation: we both stayed grounded (i.e., at the same level), and we attacked one at a time.
I can correct the first one easily. Stepping out of the joint, I activate the pack and feel the flames propel me skyward. From here I can hover on over to that bank and check things out, and hopefully get the drop on whoever, or whatever decided to fuck with my city!
My city. I can definitely fall in love with saying that.
I'm not so high up that people look like ants beneath me, but they sure do look less impressive from my vantage point. I haven't gotten used to this yet. I still feel as if I'm dreaming when I see the gawkers underneath go by. As long as it's not one of those dreams where I'm wearing a bra and nothing else, I'll be fine up here.
Something seems a little odd when I approach the bank and wind down the power, gently lowering myself. Will's standing on the bank steps and probably thinking the same thing. It's too quiet here... a couple of people, not enough to even call a crowd, are kind of meandering about. No alarms are going off here.
Finally, I reach the pavement and ask Will, "What's up?"
"Just waiting for you. Either this is the most polite forced robbery in history or we're in the wrong place."
"Okay, so where--"
Before I finish answering my question it's answered by a source almost directly behind me, saying something to the effect of "KRAKA-BOOOMM!"
"Right about there, I'd say," Will says. I guess he's in a helpful mood today.