110.

  It was amazing how quickly I had fallen back in, and if I was honest, I hadn't put up much of a fight. It wasn't like I explored a bunch of different options before throwing myself back into the firing line. The reality was, I wanted to be the Gutter Mage. I had chosen to become the Gutter Mage in the first place, and now I had a responsibility to the people of the Mulberry Estate.

  Anyway, my actions sparked this new wave of gang violence. I removed Brick, I created the power vacuum, and I had to take care of the consequences. Whatever moral rationing I did, the reality was I couldn't let teenage criminals with automatic weapons carry out brutal and indiscriminate gang warfare on my streets. That was it: the long, the short, the cut, the dry… all of it. It was as simple as that. The Mulberry Estate was my home, and the Gutter Mage wasn't about to let anybody turn it into a war zone again.

  And… besides, I was sick of being afraid. Sick of hiding away from the world in my room. Hiding from the monsters in my own head. What else did I have? Becoming a plumber?

  I made a beeline for Sherbert's home and actually ran into the big man on my way there. He was down at his favorite spot by the river, searching for scrap metal, his well-worn slacks rolled up to his knees as he waded through the turgid stream. I strolled along the riverbank and watched him for a second, then shouted to him, "Sherbert!"

  His head snapped up, and he looked around, peering into the darkness.

  "It's me," I said, waving my hand, and he waved his big hand back.

  I could see his cheesy grin from here, even in the darkness. He waded out of the stream and shook my hand warmly.

  "Mister Mage, what can I do for you on this lovely evening?”

  I took a deep breath and readied myself for the disappointment I knew I was going to see in his eyes.

  "I need my gear, Sherbert," I said to him. "You still have it?"

  I watched the smile drop from Sherbert's face. He hesitated, looked down at the ground, and then back up at me.

  "So you're fully back, then?" he said.

  "Yeah," I replied. "Things are about to get bloody on the Mulberry. I can't stand by and do nothing.”

  Sherbert nodded his big head solemnly.

  "It's because you're a good man, Mister Mage," he said. "But I don’t wanna see you get hurt again.”

  "And I don’t want to see some innocent little kid walking down the street getting gunned down by thugs with automatic weapons," I replied, sounding colder than I intended to. But I didn't need Sherbert talking me out of this now that I'd made my mind up. Sherbert looked aghast for a second, then he nodded.

  "This is those gangs, isn't it? The ones shooting the place up?”

  "Yeah," I replied. "They've all got their hands on some pretty heavy hardware. It looks like one of the old Syndicate big shots has been selling them guns and drugs on the cheap. And we’re not talking revolvers and handguns. They’ve got submachine guns, Sherbert.”

  Sherbert's eyes widened, and he muttered under his breath, then nodded again.

  "Of course, I've got your gear, Mister Mage. I've kept it all safe and sound for you back at my place.”

  "Is it alright if we go now, Sherbert?" I asked. "I need to get back out and put an end to this before something really happens.”

  "Of course, Mister Mage, just give me a second." Sherbert shook water from his massive feet, rolled down his trousers, and then pulled his shoes onto his still dripping feet. He retrieved his trolley, and we walked back to his home. Sherbert grunted and pulled aside the heavy corrugated metal door, then came out a second later with a bin bag stuffed full of my gear.

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  "Here it is, Mister Mage. Sorry, I wasn't able to really wash the blood out of any of it, but I did the best I could. I'm afraid the jumper was ruined, though.”

  I looked down at the heavy bin bag in his hands and then up at him. I clapped him on the shoulder and squeezed it for a second.

  "Thank you, Sherbert. Thank you so much.”

  Sherbert looked away, slightly embarrassed.

  "Of course, Mister Mage. Whatever you need, you just let ol’ Sherbert know.”

  "I could do with some info on these gangs, their hideouts, their whereabouts, their numbers, anything you’ve got.”

  Sherbert pursed his lips for a moment, then said, "Well, I do know where those Lear boys are.”

  "You do?" I replied.

  "Yeah, sure, they hang out down at some old snooker hall. Used to be like a community hub sort of thing, you know, youth center type. But when the government pulled the funding for all that stuff, it just sort of rotted away. Now they post up in there. I'm fairly certain that's their little hideout down on Lear Street.”

  "Then I guess I'm paying the Lear boys a visit tonight," I said.

  "Be careful, Mister Mage. These young kids, they'll shoot before they ask any questions. Just look after yourself, okay?”

  I patted Sherbert on the shoulder again.

  "Don't worry. I'm not the one getting hurt tonight." I took the surprisingly heavy bin bag from him, slung it over my shoulder, and then walked away before the worry on Sherbert's face could dissuade me from my task.

  I was back on top of one of the seven-storey yellow brick buildings, laying out my gear on the lip of the structure. The moon was bright, so I laid down each piece of gear one after the other, feeling the electric crackle of energy as I touched them. I couldn’t tell if that was just my imagination, but it definitely felt like these were the missing parts of myself. For two months, I'd been away from them, and just holding them made me feel whole.

  First was the carapace, the main bulk of the bag. I hefted the plate carrier out and laid it down. I could see where Sherbert had done his best to scrub my blood from it, but the thing was still stained and it stank of sweat and blood. Not to mention, there were several large slashes in the tough fabric. I chose not to examine those too closely.

  Next, was my heavy leather jacket, the one that made me feel like a real badass vigilante. It was torn in several places, with several worrying knife holes around the torso region. Good thing I'd learned to sew, I could fix that. I laid it down, then took out the Wrist Rocket from the inside pocket and inspected it. It was still in one piece. I tapped the pockets and felt a few Bang Rocks in there.

  Next came the Grapple Cord, which I definitely missed in my traversal of the rooftops, and my forearm guard, the battered piece of steel that I'd fashioned into a wonky brace. Then I pulled out my enchanted belt, laid it down, and checked the Rune under the moonlight. It was still there. I touched a finger to it and felt a crackle of energy come from it. Then came my gloves, or more correctly, one glove. I'd lost the other one while hanging from the side of building 4 on Mote Avenue. I looked at the battered, melted thing and knew it was beyond saving. I'll have to put that on my list of things to do next. I turned it over and saw that the Magnet Rune was still there; that could probably be saved at least.

  I fished around in the bottom of the black bag and came up with a single brass knuckle, and I licked my lips. That was really what I'd been looking for. Fighting those goons without my Zap Knucks just wasn't as much fun and a whole hell of a lot harder. I ran my fingertip across the knuckle and felt the zap of electricity. The Rune was definitely still there and still worked. I laid the brass knuckle down and then took a step back and inspected all of my blood-stained, sweat-soaked gear.

  Then, I pulled off my hoodie and began. It took me only a few minutes, most of that was sorting out the carapace, which had sort of crusted over into a weird shape thanks to all the sweat and blood. But once that was on, my hoodie went back over my head. I didn't have a balaclava unfortunately, so I was going to have to stick with the scarf for now. Next came my belt, then my leather jacket with the Wrist Rocket tucked inside. Then I slipped the brass knuckle into my pocket for now, attached the steel forearm guard and my Grapple Cord to my wrist, and then I took a deep breath.

  There was one more item that I hadn't taken out of the bag, one item that I was so desperate to see again. I knelt down, felt in the bag, and pulled out Grandad's bat. The second I touched it, all the hairs on the back of my neck stood up and my eyes became wet. I turned the battered, bloody bat over in my hands and then hugged it to my chest. I could feel the energy running through it, and I could have sworn the damn thing was happy to see me too. I attached my makeshift scabbard over my shoulder, kissed the face of the bat, and then slid it in there. I stood up, adjusted my coat for a second, and then grinned wolfishly. The Gutter Mage was back, and for the first time in months, I felt whole again.

  The insane urge to whoop in delight filled me, but I forced that down. I had business to take care of. I oriented myself quickly enough and figured out the fastest route to the Lear estate. It was time to pay the Lear Street Thugs a visit and put an end to this madness before it truly began. I was going to nip this gang war in the bud and make sure that the whole of New London knew the Mulberry estate was off-limits.

  The Gutter Mage was back!