I went flying, and my destination wasn’t one that would answer the nagging feeling, but one that could answer other, more concrete questions. With luck, I’d be able to distract myself.

There were cities and areas I’d considered for the therapy group’s expedition. Ones in need, ones I knew didn’t fall neatly in one jurisdiction or another. I used the highways and major roadways as my waypoints, so I wouldn’t pass them or find myself flying too far north or south.

The sun was rising by the time I reached the first. Sherwood span. Too low a population, I could tell right away. Too many farms, the houses too spread out.

It took me twenty minutes to reach the next. The area was slow to wake up, which was a surprise, given the amount of construction sites I could see from above. Usually the work started first thing.

It was a nice slice of city, with a view of the water, tall buildings, shiny, modern, with nice, large houses, but it was only halfway erected. There were cars in driveways, but there wasn’t much life.

I flew low, stopping at one of the gates to a construction site for a taller building.

Laminated sheets had been put up on the gates.

Construction suspended until we’re given what we’re owed.

The same was on display in other places, with laminated sheets of paper and graffiti. Some of it was angrier.

I was reading a very bold, large bit of text about how certain people should be choking on cocks, when I saw I had company, standing in the corner of my field of view. A cape.

I turned to face them.

Not anyone I recognized. A man in armor with spikes on it. Plate mail, and plate armor was hard to get done right, especially in this modern day. He carried no weapon I could see. Spiky plate armor wasn’t exactly original or new, either.

He didn’t say anything or do anything, but he was holding a piece of paper.

I approached him, my forcefield up. He didn’t budge.

When I was in arm’s reach, he put his gauntlet toward me, paper in hand. I dropped my forcefield to take it.

“What’s this?”

He wasn’t someone who sounded more intimidating from the inside of a helmet. His voice was very normal as he said, “We saw you fly in, we discussed, we called some people, this is our message to you.”

“Got it,” I said. I looked around. “Quiet town.”

When my head was turned, he reached for my throat.

I put my forcefield up, and I knocked his hand aside, forcefully enough I almost put him on his ass. The sound rang in my ears.

“Our town,” he said.

That said, he trudged off.