Patron Round 2 - Muddy Water

George knew better. He knew he knew better. And he was going to try to prove he could do something about it.

George found out later on that the cop in the halfway house had been the competitor he was pitted against. That was an awkward realization to say the least, and he came off to be an utter jerk, leaving the place in flames for the cop to put out. Sure he didn't set the fire and he got the criminal turned in, but with the way McCracken spun it on the news the next day you would think he was talking about a vandalizing teenager. The barber's pride was a bit sore, but since he went out and dealt with his criminal on the first of the two nights he had a day to get over it and plan.

And by get over it, of course, he would go out drinking.

"Rob, my man, I'll have my usual doubled," George said as he walked in and plopped down in a stool at the counter. With his bruised side and jostled elbow his grin was a shell of an ache underneath. That drink would not come fast enough.

"Coming right up, give me a tick," came an answer from across the bar.

The place was bustling, which was odd, given the area. Giving the old pub a right around he realized there were a lot of the sort you would expect down on Fidele Street. He would lay it on that women snatcher he heard another pair were given to catch, but it was mostly men from the area who seemed to have migrated to his little drinking hole. He turned back towards the counter, leaning on his good elbow as the bartender arrived with two mugs.

"Quite the crowd, what did you do, give a free round for everyone who brought a friend?"

"Nah, George, they're defects from their old place. Apparently something's up down at one of the themed places in the good district. Safer here than sorry there, which is fine by me."

"Something up? What like a bad brew?"

"Like folks dropping ill, bad like," Rob clarified.

George took a gulp from the first of his drinks, thinking on it, while listening in on the new patrons of his haunt.

"This place isn't bad, but the tune on that platter is so dead."
"Could get Ben to bring his gobble-pipe on down."
"What no, he's got a gig up at the club with the rag on tomorrow, he wouldn't want to make pennies here."
"So long as it's not the Apple, why don't we go check that place out next?"
"Yeah, not going to dig to deep on that one, especially since Harold's kiss off, rest his soul."


Huh, seemed like it was more than just falling ill that drove these jazz lovers out. George took another long draught, draining the first and sliding it back to his friend.

"Well, I would wish you luck in keeping these folks, but the tin ear in me is hoping the place stays unlikeable so I can come for peace often as I do regular like."

"Oh can't you be happy for me the one time I got the bulge off someone else's beat days, George?"

"Maybe I will be if it gets me a dame."

The two laughed and George drank. Listening to the sounds of the city at night he forgot about his pains for his earned day off and out.

---

All togged up to the bricks, George made his arrival to the announcement for the next round assignments nice and early. He had doused his coat and gloves in some newly stirred dirt, swept from the floors this morning even. He was raring and ready to make a more respectable showing this time around, even if his idea of looking good was ridiculous. Let them snicker, he thought, but the dirt really did help his powers somehow.

There were lots of whispers around before the announcement, but George was doing his best to ignore them for the time being. He needed to be full focus so he didn't make another goof like he did with that officer. The Council came out, and one of them came to the microphone. As per usual they seemed a sombre looking group, even in the midst of this excitement stirring tournament they pulled out of retired years.

"For this portion of the tournament, candidates will be competing to capture a different brand of criminal the Patron must be ready to defend the city from, that is, Super Villains."

They rhymed off names, and George listened nice and carefully, avoiding hearing the buzz in the back of his head for each of the other pairings. He was assigned The Widowmaker. Classy sounding. And Ensign Phantom was too. Not as classy, but as the Rubble Rouser he really had no grounds to knock it.

Finally he let the whispers back in, having no need to listen to the rest of the pair offs. He zeroed in on his opponent's and his own monikers.

"Didn't that Rubble Rouser guy set his last mark on fire? He's really brutal."

"Phantom guy brought in that scum taking the skirts on Fidele, much better hero." – "Idiot, they got assigned criminals, who he got means nothing."

"Ensign Phantom's got this in the bag, I was there for his audition. Brought a guy who died a few before him back from the flipping dead and commanded him like a dog! It was amazing. Judges said he could see and talk to the dead too according to his sheet."

"Augh, why is the Rubble Rouser against him, now he might not even get knocked out. Anyone related to anti-Super nonsense should be banned from this I tell ya."

"Ensign Phantom's that one, in the green rimmed cape there, see Mary?"


George scanned the handful of Supers suited and gathered for the cape pointed out, and found his competitor. Tall fellow, pale, slick hair, and a shiny outfit that looked like it was out of a comic rather than source material to inspire one. This one talks to ghosts, huh? George strode over, grin on his face.

"Ensign Phantom, right? I've heard good things. I'm the Rubble Rouser, I guess we are squaring off on each other, so I thought I'd slip you a five before we start," he began friendlily, holding out a grimy gloved hand. Despite being gloved himself, the other Super seemed to quibble over it, and simply raised his own hand in a quick wave.

"Oh are we, I didn't notice. Did you just get back from a late night arrest then?" He was looking George up and down.

"Nope, finished on the first night," he answered, snapping his goggle strap with an idle finger.

"Oh, well you got something"- he gestured widely in a circle all around George, "Right there. Should do something it." The side of George's face scrunched up in irritation but he let the guy have it.

"Not all of us spring for freshly laundered capes, sorry."

The two stood silently there for a moment. The caped hero broke it.

"Well, villains to catch."

"Right, hope for your fancy threads' sake she hides somewhere clean."

The two parted in opposite directions. George wondered whether meeting the guy was going to help him in the slightest or if it was just a waste of time. At least he could commit his voice to memory for information later. Speaking of which, he stopped a block away from the gardens as a familiar grimy kid in a baseball cap stepped out from behind an alley.

"Hewie! Good to see you! Hey thanks for the help in that scrape, bud!"

"Pay up, Rubble Lug." The boy held out a hand, fingers twitching agitatedly. "And ya better be tippin' well for me puttin' my neck out an' betting on you."

"Right, hold on, I made sure to bring you some," George's gloved hand crammed into one of his deep coat pockets. Out came a bunch of coins and a few small bills poking out here and there from fingers. He held it out and dropped it in the kid's hand. The boy pulled it back and inspected seemingly satisfied, when George reached into his other pocket and pulled out a pristine five. The kid's eyes got big.

"Give it here, mister!"

"Now wait just a minute, I just paid you. This here is a proposition for some new low down, can we make a deal here Mr. Derkin?" George couldn't help but grin at the kid. He got a scowl in return.

"What do you want to know?"

"I'm looking into the Windowmaker, a doll down from Fidele, something to do with poison. Want to know what she looks like and where to find her. I'll be around the power district, you find me. Got all that?"

"Yeah sure, mister hero, you just keep that half sawbuck handy, don't go spending it." Hewie turned and ran down the street, quickly disappearing.

---

"Nora, I said I was sorry. You wanted to help and you did. Did it hurt or something? What's your issue, talk to me?"

George drummed his fingers against the wall and stared out at the river. He had to admit this was annoying him. Since it had helped him out last time, he had listened for his opponent's information gathering. He had hit a wall so to speak when it came to Ensign Phantom's methods. Ghost voices did not echo, and one sided conversations were not that informative.

"We stopped the guy, and now we have someone else to catch. I'm going to be Patron, with or without your help. There are plenty of dead out here."

George straightened and started down the side of the power station. No matter, he could get the gossip of strangers still, sift and sort it. He was going to be more serious like this. Think like a hero!

He knew this Widowmaker was moving on to bigger and better things, and this district was just to the place to go to escalate with poison. One on one was no longer good enough for this twisted sister, so the river had to be it. So here he was, toeing the shore while eyeing the ripples all whacky, trying to see if this gal was around. He hoped that salad was enough for Hewie to bring him something good and fast.

"They took me for all my tin back there. No more reds for me, back to hanging with the alligators tomorrow."
"So, tonight! You, me, and a shake for two?" – "You shred it, wheat!"
"These shifts are going to be the end of me, I tell ya."
"I'm glad we can come here again now that the creep is lock away."
"Can I get a light and a snipe?" – "Yeah here, lean on in"
"This pair up is not beneficial for us. Both of them are on the list. Should we deal with Drade first, or this Rouser fellow?"


George froze mid-step. That was the voice he heard after he had beat that robot. He had been listening for it since and found no sign, and here when he wasn't seeking it out, there it was, out and echoing. He focused in on that conversation. The other voice was a woman's, mid-toned.

"The matches were done this way to benefit other's targets. You will just have to deal with it."
"Then we'll do Drade first. Easier to make it look like an accident. Any word on who the Rubble Rouser actually is? His registration was vetted and he is clearly not Tom Feurgeson, but the office cannot confirm that while he is holed up. The guy was smart picking that name and address."
"Whoever he is, there is no need to sound an alarm on it. It is much easier to get rid of him in the field than through bureaucracy. The young Drade's father might even thank us if he ever figures this out."
"He will not figure it out. I do not leave a mark."
"It was a joke, you know that. I will see you when the deed is done."

George waited, but that was all. They must not be ones for longwinded goodbyes. But what were they ones for? Apparently ones for hits and making folks vanish. They didn't sound like the Riverrats, not enough familial connection, and he knew that gangs voices in and out. It was a touch disappointing to him, actually. He'd always wanted to test whether he could use his power on 'cement shoes'.

But Drade, that must be Ensign Phantom's name with the way they used it. It seemed pretty familiar, but George wasn't all that aware of business outside of his own neighbourhood most oft. He felt a brief pang of guilt when he thought about Tom. At least they knew he wasn't involved it seemed.

George slid a pebble up on his boot's toe and bounced it in front of him twice then tossed it up. With a kicking swing he rocketed the stone, quivering like a leaf, towards the river, where it skipped clear across to the opposite shore. If they were after competitors, he'd put it upon himself to catch them. That's what a Patron would do right? That's what the Patron…

There was that uneasy feeling again. How did Midnight Strike meet his end, and why this tournament? If someone was just picked, all these Supers would have stayed hidden in the woodworks. Was the point to flush them out, remove the undesirables? Was Midnight Strike another undesirable? Was he crossed out at the top of this 'list'?

George's patrol for the rest of the day and night was quiet, with only the Riverrats, beggars and night-lighters echoing around. He waited until about 2am before heading in for some shut-eye.

---

George closed up the barbershop at about one in the afternoon. He squeezed in four people that morning, enough to keep his early closing from causing him any financial trouble. He suited up and slipped out back. He liked walking around in broad daylight a lot better than he had at night, because friendly folks actually said hello and gave him little cheers of encouragement. There were people who genuinely thought he was heroic, and it was a huge ego boost.

"Hey what's swinging out here today?"
"Can you pick up some new jeans from the store for me, thanks."
"Oh my head kills, I think someone snuck me a Micky last night." - "Doss it off"
"Keep moving pally, I see those wandering eyes."
"Thanks again for the room, Alma. I'll see you tomorrow." – "Just remember, keep the funny for when you're done."


George turned his head in surprise. Ensign Phantom was talking to a real person now. Good on him! The guy clearly wasn't done in by his crazy haunting. Not that George should call anyone crazy, he LITERALLY heard voices. He was to Darning Square when Hewie ran out and nearly ended up under his feet.

"Murder! Where's the fire, bub?" George stepped back a few steps, the rest of the people on the street giving the pair glances and gossiping about how they were a matching grimy set. The boy straightened his baseball cap and crossed his arms, trying to look like a professional thug.

"You said you wanted my goods fast, well I ran around looking all over for yous. You sleep in or something?"

"You got some dirt on the Widowmaker?"

"'Course I did. 'pparently she's a real pretty broad, curly blonde top, nice knocks. When she's out and terrorizing she's in this red dress and this blindfold like mask with holes cut in it, also red. I think the red's got something to do with an apple or something from what I heard. She was out on Fidele last night 'cording to Jason, but didn't do much, just saw her stalk by. Think he's dizzy for her."

"Not doing your own work? Tsk tsk, Matthew."

"Hey I'm delivering, didn't say I had to go be eyes on everything! There's more!"

"Do go on."

"She saw you on the river last night, Jason said, 'round sunset. He followed her like a puppy, and said she was going for the water when he spotted a tall hobo with rat's nest on 'is head, that's you, and she turned on back."

"You done good, Hewie." George reached into his pocket and pulled the five and flicked it into the boy's face. With an eager snatch the informer took the bill and gave it a sniff. It slide into his jean jacket's pocket with a little crunch of it crumpling.

"Pleasure doin' business, hobo hero."

George headed towards the north end of Fidele. That apple mention and the street had him thinking back to Rob's place. Wasn't some of the discussing about the Apple like a location? Must be the bar they defected from. Surely they'd know something there if he found it.

Eventually he came upon The Withered Apple, and asked around. Seems a barmaid with the same hair as the illustrious Jason had told tale of, and she had skipped out on the evening rush the night previous. Her name was Annie, and she had a record of being passive aggressive with clientele. They lost a bunch of customers recently, and the owner thought it was because of Annie's sour attitude. George thanked the staff for the information, and turned to leave just as his opponent stepped into the establishment.

"Why hello, Mr. Drade, any luck last night?" George was all grins. He thought he was ahead of this guy, and knew he was (though apparently the latter wasn't much a secret). The masked man leveled a glare at George's goggles.

"As a matter of fact, yeah, lots of luck. I'm all ready to tie this thing in a knot nice and neat. You should go on home, get a head start on that shower."

The two sized each other up. Both of them was large and could manage intimidating, and neither wanted to give ground. George tapped a foot, sending a shudder through the ground, and shoved past the guy, not waiting for his reaction. He had a scorned woman to catch.

---

George was bored. It was about an hour until sunset.

This time he had hidden up against an old pile of boat making lumber so this time his patrol wouldn't be some red flag for this woman to turn tail. For someone threatening the city she was somewhat skittish. Then again, poisoning powers didn't seem the most useful in a direct conflict.

At first when he arrived there mid-afternoon it hadn't been so dull. He'd listened to the echoes of a new couple decide to go steady, probably barely teenagers, really sweet. He caught wind of Hewie's voice at a point, schooling some other kid on how to win right at pinball. The other guy was apparently winning wrong, whatever that meant. Then there was a lot of general chat. He overheard another one of Ensign Phantom's one-sided conversations, but it wasn't that useful. A whole lot of instructions for someone to meet back somewhere when something happened. George still couldn't get used to only hearing only half of a conversation. He was addicted to eavesdropping and this was circumventing it. Damn ghosts.

At this point he was wishing that this Super Villainess worked with a partner. He could have found her ages ago if she did.

But when she showed up at the river, he would see her. He would have an unimpeded view of this side of the shore from his hiding place. All he had to do was wait on her to show up and listen for Drade's progress.

So he waited.
And waited some more.

He glanced to the west and watched the sun disappear over the edge of the city. So either she didn't show tonight, or she changed up her time in an attempt to get passed him, whichever it was it had him thinking this was a trip for biscuits. All those hours down the drain for nothing.

"So you think you can stop me, Corporal Phantom? You're the same as all of those drinking pigs, ready for the slaughter."
"It's /Ensign/ Phantom, and you've got nowhere to run!"
"Who says I want to run anywhere?"

Well, crud. He'd made a major brodie.

George dashed into the street trying to figure out where the echo was coming from. There was a sloshing sound with it, but he'd looked, there was no one at the river besides some of the usual folks. It sounded indoors. Somewhere with metal, since he was hearing the reverbs. She didn't seem put out, but her plan was poisoning the water-

The processing plant.

George took off past the power station and swung a left. How could he be so stupid! If he was guarding the river it wasn't going to just stop her, she'd have a back-up plan! The water had to be processed and go through the pipes when it was pumped out of the river and that was the best point to spread it if the river was out!

"Look just step down and I won't have to hurt you."
"You, hurt me? Oh you are a dumb boy. I've had enough hurt at the hands of men in this city!"
"Freeze, don't you dare go near that tank!"

George got to the entrance of the building and slammed through the door. It was already unlocked. He ran down the halls, straining to listen for where the sounds in the building and the sounds in his head matched up. When he turned a corner he slammed the wall hard, giving the building a thorough shake, quivering through the whole structure.

He heard a shout and a clatter in both his head and his ear. He rounded the corner and ran through the nearest door, stumbling in on the delayed confrontation.

The woman was how the kids told him, thick blonde curls, blindfold mask and apple red dress. She was a bit big in the hips, something more noticeable with the way they were jutting out from her fallen position clinging to a pipe on the wall near her. Her lips were painted red to match the ensemble, and her long manicured nails as well.

On the floor closer to George and the door, was Ensign Phantom, splayed on his front, with his gun fallen a few feet out of his reach. The guy's face rolled to look up at him, and the expression was livid.

George stomped down hard on the floor, cracking the cement down the room in a big fissure towards the woman. She dived out of the way, rolling elegantly into a crouch, skirt fluttering out behind her like a fan.

"Oh look, another heartbreaker! What's with the mud, sweetheart?" She ran forwards speedily, and lifted her sharp nails like claws as she lunged for George's face. He straightened out of her reach, lifting his arms to protect his exposed areas in the same motion. They scraped into the forearm of his glove like knives, tearing at them. If they hadn't been thick work gloves from the construction site they would be fringe. He shoved forwards, throwing her off-balance.

"Hey little fuss, who's got your stem hoses in such a bunch!" He stepped forwards, ramming the foot down hard, shooting a piece of floor up under her. The Widowmaker fell left as it hit the back of her knee rolling her back to the floor near the pipes from before and George's opponent on the ground. The guy scooted forwards on his chest and grabbed her wrist. She slashed back at him with her freehand, and there was a yelp. The guy pulled back a bleeding arm, cradling it against his chest.

George realized what she was doing as she straightened and wiped her wet and blooding fingers on her skirt neatly.

"Hey, wash that out right now! She's trying to poison you through the blood!" No reason to let the gunsel pass out just to win. He wasn't having a repeat of last time. George conveniently didn't think hard about the damages he'd already wrought on the floor of the plant.

"Nuts to that, are you serious!? Oh man I can't wash out poison in the water here! There are only pipes that go out!"

He had a point. Speaking of which, the Widowmaker was already on the move back towards the tank. If he had to help this guy he'd have to hurry and pin her down. George jumped the fissure in the floor and ran at her along the wall-

"Agh, no I can't lose because of a worry like this! Harold, help me and grab her!"

There was a flash of light and there someone else in the room suddenly. The guy's back was to George, but he had blonde hair and a goatee, seemed to be tightly muscled, although average height. He jumped right onto the woman's back. Ensign Phantom scrambled to his feet and ran out the door and out of sight. What in the world is this?!

The woman was in a headlock as George reached the two, and drove her nails into his arms like tent pegs. The man didn't even make a noise!

"Hey watch it, those are poison tipped!"

George grabbed for the man's shoulder to yank him off of her pokers and got a look at his face. The vacant eyes were more than startling. Was this one of the dead minions of Drade's? He didn't get a chance to think more as the goateed guy elbowed him hard in the face.

He stumbled and landed with his hind between the sides of the fissure, clutching his nose. That hurt! He hadn't been hit that hard by anyone in ages when barehanded. Most folks were worried about hurting themselves when they hit that hard. Most folks weren't dead brunos.

"YOU?! I took care of you last week, how in the world are you here?!" She cried shrilly, getting a look at the minion.

The man was one-mindedly grabbing at the villainess again. She was struggling towards the big circular tank against the side of the wall. George rolled forwards onto his knees and away from the gap, and jumped to his feet to try and beat her there. He slammed into the tank right as she hit his back, clawing at one of the shoulder pads angrily. Behind her the ghoul was still coming. Desperately, the hero looked for an off switch, a valve close, a breaker, something! He slipped forwards into the water as a neatly nailed hand clawed up on his head. He let out a yelp, his manliness gone for the moment to any ghostly onlookers he might have. He figured there had to be some. He swatted, and found that the girl was straddling his next, trying to climb him like a tree. The man behind his started to try to follow her up. Like he was going to allow for this whacky business?!

"Last stop, every-body OFF!"

George pushed off the tank and fell backwards on top of the two attackers. His head was padded by the woman's midsection, while he heard something crack in the guy underneath the main of him. He pulled himself back up immediately, having dislodged all the clawing holds on him. He had no time to wait. He did not want his face anywhere near this crazy Betty! He whirled on the two, hands resting on the big pipe coming out of the tank.

"Hey Annie, dollface, why you gotta be like that! I can carry you if you want, right into the hoosegow! That'll be perfect for you!"

She climbed to her feet, stomping on the hand of the man trying to grab her ankle. Seems he broke something because he was having difficulty getting up. She looked infuriated.

"Don't mock me! I'm the Widowmaker! I putting snarky bunks like you to death in their sleep for fun! Watch me put the citizens into a plague of the miseries I have!"

By the time she jumped for him the pipe under his hands was already clanging and quivering. The metal burst, water spew everywhere. He pulled himself to the side with the side of the pipe with no feed now. Even if she poisoned this water it wouldn't be going out to anybody until a repair crew got at it.

The spray knocked her over and kept coming from the tank. It spilled over the floor and began to fill the fissure and go out the door. As she hit the floor sputtering the broken man grabbed her around the shoulders, locking his arms around her. George trudged forwards through the water stream grabbed both her wrists in a big hand, and started to drag the two towards the door while she kicked wildly. The fellow underneath her didn't seem to mind the dragging at all as long as he got to keep his hold on her.

Laboriously, George got the two of them out of the building. He was about to stand them up so he didn't hand to drag them down the street, which was a bit much compared to a smooth floor, when the man vanished. Annie dropped the extra foot to the ground and kicked, hitting the pan on George's knee. He rammed his other knee into her head startled, and knocked her clean out. He shrugged and slunk her over his shoulder. The girl wasn't that heavy, but her hip poked into his goggle vision like a finger over a snapshot lens.

"Hey Ensign! You out here?!"

George didn't know why, but he was uneasy about the guy not coming back. He had really wanted to win, you could see it. In that livid anger at the building shake entrance there was some raw competiveness. He wouldn't up and vanish just to wash his arm. And George could hear his voice in the whispers ANYWHERE.

Tossing the woman on a crate near the river, George looked for the guy. He had to be out here, it was the closest water, and he could have splashed it easy without getting poison anywhere. He was about to turn back and shout down some more streets when he spotted it.

The tip of a black and green cape was drifting in the roiling river.
George ran in the water, mud pouring off of him. He wasn't the best swimmer and the guy was deep. George took a deep breath and dove under and thanked god in heaven for his goggles being part of this cheesy mess. He could see the guy a good 3 metres out, just floating under the surface. George pushed hard, forcing himself to the bottom, and slammed his feet in the bank. Underneath the caped hero the river bottom shot up like a platform, bringing him to the surface with it. Floundering a bit, George brought himself out there to collect the guy and brought him to shore.  

He was relieved when the guy began sputtering. Kissing him might push this hero thing too far, and it was already stretched thin.

He lugged the guy out, wet and heavy with all his clothes retaining the water. The whispers and echoes around his were fuzzy, the dirty dripping off him into puddles. He couldn't make them out clearly and he really wished he could. He wanted to confirm it was those same conspirators. He knew it was them.

Getting his opponent and target to the side of the first building that was open, he borrowed a phone.

"Hello, Diesel City Hospital? I have someone who needs to be picked up."

He'd deal with Drade first. No way was he leaving him out here while he carried Annie in.
Being a real hero didn't feel that great, it seemed.