112.

  Fire filled the hall shockingly quickly. I suppose that was the problem with making things entirely out of wood: it was like a tinderbox waiting to go up. As the fire lit up the darkness, I remembered there was a mountain of ammunition piled up in the middle of the floor. If that went off, it'd be like being inside a shrapnel bomb.

  “Shit, shit, shit!”

  I looked to the back exit. It was still clear! Around the hall, three of the Lear Street Thugs had pulled themselves to their feet and had run already. The woman with the torch had disappeared, but the guy who had been shot was still on the floor, unconscious. The black-bearded leader sat up groggily, looked around at the burning inferno, and his eyes went wide. I swore again, sheathed my Grandad’s bat, and then ran over to the bleeding man, trying to heave up his unconscious body. I looked at the Lear Street Thug’s leader.

  "Help me pick him up," I spat. "Come on.”

  Through a fugue of possible concussion and definite shock, the leader scrambled to his feet. He pulled the unconscious man's other arm over his shoulder, and I steered them towards the back exit. The front was no good as the flames had already consumed the front half of the building. Worryingly, the flames were starting to lick the pile ammunition.

  "Come on," I yelled as the smoke filled the room and began choking us.

  We just made it through the back exit in a billowing cloud of toxic smoke when the bullets started going off. I hurled the unconscious man into the undergrowth, grabbed the leader, and leaped from the door. We hit the concrete hard and both covered the backs of our heads with our hands as bullets began flying. It sounded like there were thousands of tiny explosions going off, as the bullets tore through the community centre, ripping it to shreds. There were more bangs and more bullets flying and whizzing around, so many that I didn't even want to lift my head to see. I just kept my face buried in the ground and tried to curl my body up as small as possible.

  Finally, after what felt like an hour of bullets flying, but was probably only minutes, they stopped. I looked over my shoulder and saw the community centre was up in flames, dark clouds of smoke billowing above it. Then I heard the sound of sirens. The Lear Street Thugs’' leader looked up, looked at me, then scrambled to his feet and started running.

  "Oh no, you don't," I snarled through clenched teeth. I shot my Grapple Cord at him, caught him around his foot, and tripped him up. He fell hard, smacking his face off the side of a parked car, and he slumped over unconscious.

  "Oh great," I muttered before dragging myself to my feet. The epic return of the Gutter Mage wasn't going as smoothly as I'd hoped

  *

  The bearded thug finally came round. I was worried I might have knocked the idiot into a coma. He groaned and lifted his head, his eyes unfocused and heavy, and then he began panicking when he realized he was hanging upside down. He fought wildly for a second before I appeared from the shadows. I'd found a handy little grove of sorts with a strong enough tree to hang him from. I'd learned that trick from interrogating goons before. There was something about the helplessness of hanging upside down that really upsets them. He thrashed and spat curses, looking wildly around.

  "What the fuck is this? What's going on? Oi!" he screamed into the darkness.

  I let him thrash about for a few more seconds before dropping the cloaking charm only a few feet from him. That got a good reaction. His eyes widened and his face went red.

  "Who are you?" he said, staring at me.

  "You know who I am," I replied coldly.

  "Listen, do you know who I am?" he spat, pointing at his own chest.

  "Well, the silly little name tag on your vest calls you Devil Dog," I replied, "but I don't think that's the name on your birth certificate.”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  "Yeah, I'm Devil Dog," he said. "I'm the fucking leader of the Lear Street Thugs. You don’t hang me upside down and set my gang house on fire! You cut me down from here and watch how I'll fucking tear you into pieces," he snarled.

  I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms.

  "I didn't set your gang house on fire, you idiot. Someone else did that," I said.

  He looked at me confused for a second.

  "So who are you then?" he said. "Who you with? You G13?”

  "No," I replied incredulously, and then indicated my outfit. "I'm the Gutter Mage.”

  He looked nonplussed for a second and then burst out into a hacking laugh.

  "Oh, bullshit," he said. "That's not real. There ain't no Gutter Mage. That was just made up to scare people.”

  "Why does everyone say that?" I said. "Do you think Brick beat the shit out of himself and then called the police?”

  "Brick got done over by the Syndicate. Everyone knows that. He was in deep for fucking up that shipment.”

  "I fucked up the shipment," I said to him. I couldn't believe I was having to stand here and prove my resume to some feckless goon who called himself Devil Dog.

  He looked at me for a second.

  "You're real?" he said.

  "Yes, I'm very real, and I'm very annoyed. Why are you trying to muscle in on the Mulberry Estate?" I said.

  "Mulberry's wide open. Syndicate's gone. Brick's gone. We thought we'd just get in there, you know, make a bit of money, that's all," he said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

  "Well, I'm here to tell you the Mulberry is off-limits to scumbags," I said.

  "Alright, alright, fine, fine," Devil Dog said, suddenly putting on a reasonable tone of voice. "My bad, I didn't know. I thought you was just some made-up story, you know," he said, holding his hands up.

  "Well, I'm very real," I said, "and I need to know, where are you getting these weapons from? How the hell does some little shit-tip gang like yours end up with enough automatic weapons to take out a small country?”

  Devil Dog's mouth closed quickly, and his eyes narrowed.

  "I ain't no fucking snitch," he said.

  "Fair enough," I replied. "I respect that," and then I drew Grandad's bat.

  "Wait, what're you gonna do with that?" Devil Dog said, eyeing the bat.

  "I'm gonna use you like a pi?ata," I replied. "I've had a very frustrating evening, and I'm gonna take out my frustrations on you. I mean, I already know where the guns are coming from. I just wanted you to confirm it, so I don't actually need you to be, you know, conscious… or alive."

  I let the threat hang in the air as I took a few practice swings with the bat.

  "You wouldn't do that," Devil Dog said. "I'm all tied up and helpless and all that. You wouldn't do that," he repeated.

  I cocked my head and then shrugged.

  "Guess we're about to find out, aren't we?"

  I reared back and Devil Dog let out a very unbecoming yelp before holding his hands out again.

  "Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, okay, fine, fine, I'll tell you, I'll tell you," he said.

  I kept the bat raised but didn't swing. "It's from an old boy from the Firm, alright, from Brick's Firm. He was Syndicate, but really, he was one of Brick's lads, and you know, with Brick gone, he's just trying to make a bit of cash, I guess. I don't know, but he's been coming around selling hardware, proper guns for like half price and shit, you know. He's also got plenty of smack, plenty of crack, whatever you want. And it's all going for good prices, that's all. It was just a bit of business," he said.

  "You got a name?" I asked.

  Devil Dog licked his dry lips, and I heaved the bat up again.

  "Danny. Danny," he said. "His name's Danny, alright."

  "The bald-headed geezer?" I asked.

  "Yeah, nasty-looking, like, you know, that's Danny," Devil Dog confirmed.

  "And he came to you with the guns?" I asked.

  "Yeah, he just, you know, turned up one day, said he could get plenty of shooters, told us, you know, Mulberry Estate is wide open, someone's gonna take it," Devil Dog said.

  "Wait, it was his idea to go after the Mulberry Estate?”

  "Well, I mean, you know, I guess he thought of it first, kind of," Devil Dog said.

  I lowered the bat and then sheathed it, putting this new information together. Why the hell was an ex-Syndicate goon selling guns to several different street gangs and also telling them to try and take over the Mulberry Estate? Was he trying to start a war? What the hell would he have to gain from that?

  "So, are you gonna let me down?" Devil Dog asked.

  I looked over my shoulder and shrugged.

  "I don't think so," I said.

  "What? Wait, hold on! You can't leave me here like this!"

  I half-turned and looked at him.

  "Stay out of the Mulberry Estate. No more automatic weapons, no more drive-bys, no more shootings. Your days as a tough guy are done. If I catch you again, I won't be stringing you six feet off the ground, they'll be burying you six feet under it. You understand me?" I said.

  Devil Dog's eyes widened, and he nodded stupidly. I walked away, leaving him to swing under the tree. What were the Syndicate up to, or was this Danny operating entirely independently? What the hell was going on?