Roach Rider's Awakening

It was his last chance to do this. He already ran down so many 'last' chances that this being his final option was hard to come to terms with. Time was running out. It had taken him nearly two years of cutting deals, laws, and people to get this close. If it was just as easy as getting a bunch of money, he would've tried a long time ago, but he couldn't even with all the money in the world. He wasn't about to fumble it now. He shivered in the cold weather as he glanced at his watch. 12:29. They were always so punctual in their timing. Gave them a sense of professionalism and an air of mystique as they could be anywhere at anytime. It also made them damn hard to track down, but sooner or later someone always gets sloppy. Or at least eventually deal with someone sloppy. He could have never gotten to this point if not for the loose lips of some arrogant drunk bragging about being able to gain the powers of a god. And after some... less than gentle inquiries from him to the man while they were alone, along with friendly follow up interviews with family, friends, acquaintances, and people who could've passed them on the street, he gained enough information to start the journey towards peering through the cracks of the normally impenetrable veil casted by the world's secret societies and try to pull off the most important heist the world will ever see. No, not try. He will.

He coughed into his fist as he looked down at his watch again. 12:30. The sound of an engine signaled that a car had rolled up to the far side of the building. It was time. Clearing his throat, he took off the watch and set it down on the curb. A old habit he did for luck. If all went well, he'd be back for it. If he didn't, well, he wouldn't be needing it anyways. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he crossed the street in a hurry. He looked up at the tall and imposing warehouse as he approached. He was in one of the furthest sections in the docks, where no lawful eyes would be overseeing any unsavory actions. It made sense that this would be the spot out of any other place in the city, but it slightly disappointed him how cliché it was. He took a risk staying right outside the place of interest, but there was no other choice he could've taken to intercept the deal in time. Hopefully the dirty jacket and tattered gloves complimented his worn and tired expression and gave off the idea that he was just one of the many homeless people that resided within the Bay area. They were invisible to society in day to day life, why wouldn't they be now? The disguise didn't matter anymore though, so he stripped the clothes off as he made his way up to the fire escape. He patted the holstered pistol at his side as though to reassure himself that it was still there. Hopefully it would only stay as a tool for negotiation. His hand traveled up to his chest, reaching for the cellular camera in his breast pocket. This would be his most vital tool for this mission.

He had already scoped out the area a week beforehand, learning that the general location for the trade was in an abandoned section of the docks from one of his many gigs to climb his way up the information ladder by any means necessary. Trying to narrow down which specific building it could've been would have been impossible, so he broke all the locks for the emergency exits ahead of time to be safe. The group actually choosing this location so close by was simply luck. He had positioned himself in a spot with the most points of interests in view so that he could be able to watch over as much as possible. He would've been fine with running all the way across the docks if he had to, despite the strain it would have placed on his lungs. He slowly crept his way up the steps until he reached the door, giving it a gentle push until it was wide enough to slip inside. The sounds of idle formal talk could be faintly heard from within. Careful not to give up the silence lending him his chance to be here, he crouched lower and crept forward.

Crouching behind some discarded crates and other abandoned industrial material, he used the various objects as cover as he made his way close towards the source of the conversations. Peering out from his hidden vantage point, he took inventory of all attendees. Only five men stood on the ground floor. It was easy to distinguish which parties the individuals belonged to in this transaction. One sharply dressed man stood with a displeased expression, backed by two other similarly dressed members. From this angle he could only make out the back of the heads for the other party, but he could tell that they were obviously the buyers as they came comparatively underdressed in casual clothing and relaxed postures. He raised a hand over his mouth to stifle an incoming cough. Pushing it down, he took a look closer to see if the object of his search was still there. It didn't take long as he could see a metal briefcase in the hands of the person accompanying the buyer. He took out his phone to take a recording of the transaction. All seemed to be going well, from what he could tell the exchange had just happened and both parties were preparing to leave. All that he needed to do was wait for the Suits to leave, go down, and demand that the buyers hand over the briefcase for evidence so that he could- shit, no, what are they doing?

His glance back at the group informed him that they popped open the briefcase instead of carrying it out like planned. He could only watch as they drew out a thin vial filled with a strangely colored substance. He rose up from his hiding spot, making sure that he was still unseen but able to more easily move closer to the group. It wasn't supposed to go down like this, they should have separated at this point so he could make a move. He curled his hand into a fist and lightly rapped himself on his head. He didn't consider that they would down it on the spot. The pain building in his chest threatened to make him give up his position but he bore it and withdrew into careful thought. The only thing left to do was try to stop them in these next few moments before the opportunity was gone forever. The probabilities of taking down five individuals with unknown abilities and weapons ran through his mind, and by the time he stood up to start moving again, a loud BANG shuddered through the warehouse.

He quickly crouched back down behind cover. Shouting voices started to speak up, and responded to by firm tones of authority and pressure. He peered around the side and looked below. The three Suits had taken out their weapons and held them at ready against a new group of incomers doing the same, composed of half a dozen members. They seemed to be shouting something that he couldn't fully make out in the mixed chatter, though the demands of 'Hand over' and 'Give us' came through easily enough, making it was obvious what they were here for. The same thing as he was. The body now laying on the floor made that especially clear. He closed his eyes and rubbed them, before moving his hand to clutch the bridge of his nose as if to stop the impending headache from forming within him. This complicated things quite a bit, as not only was it far easier to intrude onto one of these deals than he thought making his long search feel meaningless, it also provided much more competition that stood between him and his goal. Though it could also be considered a blessing in disguise, as it could provide the window he needed to nab the case for himself. He quickly scanned the ground to relocate the prize. He saw the companion of the now dead buyer shakily clutching the valuables and hiding behind a nearby stack of metal barrels, taking quick glances at the standoff between the Suits and Burglars. Luckily for him, it seemed that no one noticed his presence yet. As the two armed parties engaged in tense conversation, he made his way to the ladder, putting his phone back into his breast pocket while it still recorded, and started to descend. He had to hurry before someone noticed him and-

A gunshot impacted into the wall beside him, causing him to reflexively flinch and lift a hand to shield himself. He whirled around to look back at the group, who were now pointing and shouting at his location. Apparently this was the distraction the Suits needed as they started firing into the preoccupied thieves. He couldn't look long as he turned his focus towards descending the ladder as fast as possible and getting out of view of any ambitious firearm. After sliding down the remaining distance and landing with a heavy thump, he took off sprinting, ducking down behind cover and lying low to avoid incoming fire. His hand flew to the side of his waist and quickly drew out his pistol. The time for caution had long passed, he had to be quick and daring if he wanted to get out of this with something to show and his life. He decided to take the risk to lean his head around the side of his cover and evaluate the situation. The warehouse had rapidly turned into a battle between the different factions vying for the briefcase. The Suits seemed to be preventing the Burglars from advancing as they sought to make their exit. He briefly wondered if he should consider himself as a Burglar as he had technically broken in to steal the vial as well. He tossed the thought aside, he had far more important reasons for doing this than they probably had. He searched for the bearer of the package, finally spotting the remaining buyer, who was stuck in the middle of the action and trying to crawl away. A stray bullet caught them and they ended up falling over, the briefcase spinning out of their hands and sliding across the floor, temptingly unattended.

Without hesitation he dove forward to snatch it off the ground, to the apparent displeasure of the other interested parties as he found himself suddenly under fire. He scrambled on the ground, kicking forward and pushing himself back into cover. That decision spurred by a moment of weakness of finally having it within his grasp paid off, he finally had it in his hands. His hands were shaking from the adrenaline and shock of obtaining hard evidence about the existence of manufactured heroes. With a unsteady hand he took out his phone and flipped open the briefcase to take out the single vial that laid within, hastily repacked by the previous carrier. As he turned the vial in his hand and stared at the mysterious shifting liquid within, he noticed a red smear appearing on the casing. A sharp burning pain started intensifying in his side. He looked down at himself and saw the stains of red discoloring his shirt and hands. His mind went blank as he processed this new information. The sharp sound of gunshots snapped him out of his shocked stupor, and with gritted teeth and a grunt of pain he clutched his bleeding wound and limped his way to the sides of the warehouse, trying to stay under cover as much as possible. He could hear the footsteps advancing to his location, so he raised the gun with his other hand and fired off shots into their general direction. He hurriedly half-limped half-sprinted to one of the other fire exits and slammed into it with his shoulder, busting it open with a loud bang and sending him sprawling onto the ground. Pain sprouted from his hand, and as he tried to adjust himself to stand and to tend to it, he felt an exploding pain travel through his back and chest. He looked down, seeing a blossoming red flower forming on his front. He could also see his hand embedded with bloody glass shards, the vial he had held onto so tightly now shattered, the contents flowing onto the ground.

Another gunshot rang out and he heard a thump behind him. He couldn't turn around to see what had happened even if he wanted to. He couldn't feel much at all. He fell over, his face hitting the concrete. He could barely hear the words of those above him reporting that the deal had been compromised, and declaring that the product was "a lost cause". One of them walked over him and reached down, taking his dropped phone and stashing it in their pocket as they walked off. He stared off into the alleyway, seeing a door of light forming out of the air and lowering to the ground.

He thought about how he was seeing the light to the afterlife, as the chill crept up his body. He thought about how the door to heaven shouldn't be able to have those Suits going in it, as the light faded away and left nothing in its wake. He thought about how that was probably how they were able to constantly move about, as he laid there, dying. He thought about how he was going to die in an alleyway, alone, and unremembered, along with his meaningless efforts.

He thought about how he couldn't let himself die here.

He stretched his tongue out, using the last of his strength to lean his head closer to the ground and scrape off the liquid from the ground. He tasted the grit coating the city. He felt the glass shards leaving lacerations in his soft flesh. He licked up the discarded leg of a dead bug. He searched for the remnants of what it was all for. He couldn't die now, not when he still had so far to go. He imbibed in whatever liquid was left to be offered, his blood, the rain on the ground, the contents of the vial. If just to go a bit further. Just a bit more. He could go further... he could...
The last thing he remembered was feeling everything fading away until the rush of pain overtook him.



Roach Rider sprung up with a start. A hand shot up to touch his mouth before he remembered where he was, and who he was now. He sat back down in the dingy couch he had been sleeping on. Although he didn't really need to sleep, as he effectively had infinite stamina and no need for it, he had accumulated a large amount of damage from his recent fights and needed to rest his body in order to heal. Usually being unconscious was an effective way to pass the time, if not for the memories of the past clinging onto him. He felt his breathing come in rasps. His chest was still badly crushed, and it was more than likely that most of his lungs were rendered useless as a result. There would be no sleeping this off. He would have to find a healer. While he could go on without his major organs for a theorized infinite amount of time, having a gaping wound such as this left him vulnerable to even more attacks to the same area.

Roach Rider looked at the small and dirty apartment he was living in. He didn't know of any parahuman contacts he could rely on, much less a healer at that. Or even normal contacts. If he really wanted help with something like this, he'd be forced to purchase the services of a Bio-Tinker and get augmentations to replace his shattered bones and failing flesh. And with his reputation, no one would be willing to operate on him. He didn't trust Tinkers anyway. As far as he could see it, he really only had one option. Roach Rider looked to his tried and true partner for all these years. A bloodied black stapler stared back at him, sitting on the table. As long as he kept his insides in and his outsides sealed, he'd be fine. And besides, ribs grow back, don't they? Maybe he should try to glue them back together when he has the chance. But the time to think about that was passing, as right now he had to worry about having enough remaining stables to cover the length of his torso.