Sporemageddon

Death Cap - Twenty-Seven - Running Fast Enough to Avoid the Consequences of Your Own Actions

Walking up to the bullies and dropping a bomb at their feet would be the height of stupidity. Instead I observed from afar. The first couple of bullies to arrive waited and chatted with the stall-keeper, an older gentleman who probably didn’t have any thief problems judging by how chummy he was being with the police.

They stepped aside to let another gentleman order a warm drink. Bullies had priority in the line, but they weren’t the only customers. The stall had a tin roof and a big rack at the front that sold newspapers.

I squinted at it, then had an idea.

It was moderately high risk, but not impossible to pull off. “You’re going to have to stay here,” I said to Sir Nibbles as I grabbed him by the middle and placed him on the ground of the alleyway.

He looked around, then back up at me.

“Yes, really,” I said. “I’ll be right back, okay? Keep this safe.” I left my bagful of mushroom bombs next to an over-full dumpster, and Sir Nibbles climbed atop it. If anyone tried to grab my stuff, they’d have to deal with him first. Or he’d just let them take it for a scratch to the chin. The little asshole was too much like a cat sometimes.

I fished out a few coins from my pockets. I hated the expense, but I’d be making so much more if it worked that I couldn’t afford to hesitate about it. Then, before I left, I fished out one of my mushroom-filled nets and stuffed it down the front of my shirt. It gave the impression that I had a bit of a belly.

Good. That might actually help in this case.

With money in hand, I loitered by the entrance of the alleyway until I saw the two bullies by the stall being joined by four more.

Six targets. That wasn’t too bad.

I had no idea how many bullies there were in City Nineteen, but they were common enough. Maybe one or two for every thousand people? The city had a pretty big population for what it was. It needed a constant influx of people to keep everything going.

Skirting around some traffic, I crossed the road towards the stall and then skipped the line waiting for the old man’s attention and headed right for the rack of newspapers. It was literally within five feet of some of the officers.

“Hey, kid!” the old man said as I knelt down before the rack. “This ain’t for gawking.”

“Oh, sorry sir!” I said. “Foreman sent me to grab his paper!” I fished my change out and slapped it onto the counter.

The coins disappeared in a blink and the old man returned to serving folk their tea and coffee with a grunt. That worked for me. Now I was just some brat doing a shitty chore, nothing worth paying attention to.

The rack was built as a set of angled shelves where the newspapers were sitting for people to grab them. I dropped to one knee and picked up a copy of the newspaper on the bottommost row. It was a less popular tabloid paper. The Economist’s Gazette. Not exactly riveting morning reading, but probably important to this world’s equivalent of a stock broker or whatever.

I made a show of unfolding the paper as if to check if it was the right one, then I nodded to myself and started to fold it back up.

My free hand reached under my shirt and shoved my mushroom payload into the bottom-most shelf. I angled some of the papers up to hold it in place out of view.

That would severely limit the explosive range, but needs must and all that.

I turned and darted off to the back of the line, paper in hand, then took my place just before a man in a suit and tie arrived. He gave me a look as if I’d just crawled out of a septic tank but didn’t comment.

People in City Nineteen, at least the well-bred ones, made a point of not commenting. The queue was a sacred thing, not a place for gossip and complaining.

I closed my eyes and felt the direction of the wind. It was coming in from one side, pushing towards the stall and heading towards where the bullies were gathered.

Perfect. I was going to wait until I was closer up to the front of the line, then detonate it. Then I saw another pair of bullies arriving. One of them had golden insignia on his shoulders and his hat was both taller and more ornate.

I saw a chance, and I took it.

Moving my magical aura as quickly as I could, I snaked it along the ground, around the line, then into the newspaper rack just as the sergeant was moving to the stall to chat with the old man. He had a metal thermos in hand, raised as if to give it over.

My mana touched the [Green Burn Lichen] and everything happened in a flash.

The bang was a lot louder when it wasn’t covered by a cement tunnel and I wasn’t around an intersection. Bits of torn up newspaper and one of the shelves flew off into the air even as a cloud of glowing purple motes rushed out and up.

Someone in line shouted, and I took that as my signal to run.

I wasn’t going to gawk with my mouth wide-open like some idiot. The moment the echoing retort of the mushrooms going off was done I was zipping across the street. I’d managed to time it so that I slipped between a car and a horse-drawn cart whose horses were panicking from the sudden noise and screaming.

Pushing my [Running] skill, I slipped into the alley where my stuff--and Sir Nibbles--was waiting for me and started to pick it all up in a hurry. “Let’s get a better vantage,” I told my badger.

We reached the end of the alley where a fire-escape led up towards the flat roof of one of the buildings, then we climbed. Or rather, I climbed and Sir Nibbles hung onto me.

By the time I got onto the roof and moved to the edge to see what was going on, a good three minutes had passed and the situation was calming down.

There was still some spore dust around, but a couple of street-sweepers were picking it all up with long brooms and what I suspected were some sort of skills.

A fresh batch of bullies had arrived and were taking care of their comrades and some of the civilians caught in the blast. I grinned at the sight. Three of them were on the ground, twisting and turning, while the other three were sitting on a bench and looking out of it.

The sergeant was bent over double, clutching at his stomach while someone--a nurse?--checked on him. Judging by the shading on his pants, my mushrooms had done their job.

Sir Nibbles chittered and I nodded along. “We did good. That’s... at least six of them out for the count. We’re net-positive for today. But... yeah, I still have a heap of mushrooms.”

Just then, I noticed a bully wagon screaming into the intersection. It was one of those nicer motorised vans, with the driver sitting at the top above a big boxy carriage-like space that opened up to disgorge half a dozen bullies all at once.

“Oh, now that’s a beautiful opportunity,” I said. How had the bullies contacted each other so quickly? If it was a skill, then there wasn’t much I could do about it, but if it was a piece of technology, then I really wanted to know.

I glanced out and down the street and noted a second bully wagon coming down. This one was longer, with an open rear. I could see half a dozen heads covered in those familiar helmets bobbing along in the back.

They’d be passing right under me.

“Oh, oh this is too easy,” I muttered as I opened my bag.

The traffic had jammed up on the road below, but a few of the newly arrived bullies were working on untangling the mess. Those that I’d blasted were being tended to and were chugging down potions while others watched on.

Of course they had potions that could get rid of my poison effects. I should have figured as much. The good thing was that they didn’t seem to carry them as part of their normal kit. The potions were stored in one of the wagons.

I unpacked a few mushrooms and waited on the edge of the roof while the second bully wagon crawled along.

Then, right when it was passing below, I tossed the mushrooms down.

I didn’t even need to trigger them magically for them to burst apart. The first two burst too soon in front of the wagon, the third smacked the side next to the driver and burst apart uselessly, but the fourth, oh the fourth landed right in the back as if guided by divine chance.

The bullies looked at the mushrooms held together by a knit net for all of a second before it exploded in their faces.

I cackled.

Then I noticed that a few of them, those outside the blast radius, were looking up at me.

“Time to go, Sir Nibbles!” I said as I scooped him up and ran.

***