Walk for a few minutes, pause to take pictures. Walk for a few minutes, more pictures.

He was on chapter four when he reached the intersection where the one hallway met three others. He took the pictures while he assessed where he was going.

He walked down one hallway, saw it was a dead end for the most part, and backtracked. He was on chapter six of his audiobook by the time he was back. His body felt battered and bruised from constantly pushing up against the wall of mud.

So it went. So it always fucking went. It was a chore, but it was a chore that was safe. Before Seattle it had been a once-a-week thing, but it got him nowhere. Then he’d signed on with others in Seattle, and they’d done okay. He’d had to scout like this daily, get in a fight a month, but he’d made enough to pay his share of rent. After Gold Morning, it had been much the same.

With Prancer, he had had to use his power multiple times a day. Different suit, less of a walk through mud, but more taxing on his body, to the point that skin had been bruised, blood vessels in eyes and skin had broken, and his teeth had been loose. He had pissed pink and shit black, and he’d picked up a cough that didn’t go away. It had nearly killed him, and only the improved costume had kept him going, putting him in a place that was denser, but safer, that required a more methodical approach. He’d endured with that improved costume and motivated himself with the hope that rep they were picking up and deals they were striking behind the scenes were building up to something. They’d talked to the Crowley Fallen, they’d partied with them, and once that became a regular thing, it had given him enough to look forward to that he’d been able to get through the weeks.

Amusing, because the time spent with those guys had meant they weren’t in Hollow Point when half the shit landed in the villain’s laps.

Now investments were paying off. This was probably the most he would have to use his power in the next few months. He would be free to use it however he wanted, to target enemies or to have fun.

He finished the book by the time he found the stairwell. Capricorn and Antares were there. The boy in goat armor mid-run, and the girl in black and gold, flying. Heading in the direction where they’d heard the blast. Orange motes swirled around Capricorn’s outstretched arm.

Mid-run was hard to work around. If they were standing still, he could have canceled his power, waited until it was ready to use again, covertly planted the charges, and used his power to escape.