His intel indicated that Vigil crashed the party, leaving the Furies in police custody afterward. That would hurt Khan slightly, dependent as he was on their support. Hopefully, it would give Eight-Baller enough time to make some moves to fully secure his turf. First, there was the meeting with Pharaoh. The Helmer of the Golden Blades wasn't pleased with the current state of the syndicates and demanded a personal explanation. If Eight-Baller could convince him to provide some Daggers to bulk up security, maybe he'd be able to breathe easier. Even Vigil would have a hard time facing off with—
He looked up as the skimmer slowed down to a halt. "Hey, why are we stopping? And where the hell are we? This isn't—"
He cut off when he saw the tall, imposing figure stalk out of the darkness of the alley and approach the car. "What in the…?" His eyes widened, and he pounded the partition glass between him and the driver. "Step on it — that's Vigil!"
The glass slid down, revealing a teenage girl with oversized goggles over half her face. She blew a large pink bubble until it popped. Then, chewing it back into her mouth, she winked. "I know who it is, yo. Nice helmet, skuzzy. Makes we wanna shoot some pool."
Eight-Baller stared. "What did you do to my driver?"
He never got an answer because the door unlocked and the door opened, letting in a gust of heated air. Vigil slid inside and sat beside Eight-Baller as if entering a public cab. The girl hit the thrusters, and the skimmer took off, quickly picking up enough speed to turn the buildings and people into blurred silhouettes.
Eight Baller eyed Vigil uneasily. The man's size was nearly as intimidating as his silene. In his matte-black armor, he looked invulnerable, towering over Eight-Baller even when seated. Vigil's head turned toward him slightly, voice rasping like an electronic blade over static.
"Tell me about the memory laundering."
Eight Baller swallowed. "You mean the Moneta nightclub?"
"We'll get to that. Start with the Haze parlors. Where do you get the data?"
"It's on the dark web. I don't ask questions, just purchase the files."
Vigil held up a gauntleted hand in front of Eight-Baller's face. When he flexed his fingers, blue energy crackled from his palm, humming dangerously.
"Piece of advice: this goes a lot easier when you tell the truth."
Under the glossy helmet, Eight-Baller's brow broke out in a sweat. "Diabolis supplies the files. I don't know where they get them from, I swear."
Vigil stared for an unnerving amount of time, scarlet visor pulsing softly. "The sex den under Moneta. It wasn't just a cash trap for perverts, was it?"
Eight-Baller hesitated.
Vigil leaned in, practically exhaling violence. "Don't make the mistake of holding back now."
Eight-Baller cringed. "It was a profitable enterprise. I got high-paying clientele, Diabolis got the downloads. Everyone who plugged in had their brains scanned. I don't know the particular of the tech, but Diabolis called it harvesting."
"For what — random memories to collect?"
"No, it's something else — blackmail, I think. We get a lot of high-profile customers, people with secrets. And there's something about psionic energy, whatever that means. Look — I gave you what you asked for. If Janus finds out, I'm a dead man. What more do you want?"
"One last thing: Styx."
Eight Baller felt his heart pump liquid fire into his veins. "What is that, some kind of weapon? Never heard of it."
Vigil glanced at the girl in the driver's seat. "Spitfire — auto-drive and jump ship."
"Got it."
To Eight-Baller's astonishment, she opened the door and leaped out of the vehicle while it still drove at full speed. He turned and stared out the rear window, where he saw her survive the stunt by repulsors in her modified boots before she dwindled in the distance. Whirling back around, he gasped as the dockyard hurtled toward them at frightening speeds.
"What the hell is this?"
Vigil glanced at him. "End of the road. Let's hope you're better at swimming than you are at answering simple questions."
"I can't tell you anything about that, understand? You don't know what he'll do to me!"
"You mean Janus?" Vigil settled back in his seat. "What he'll do won't matter in few seconds."
"This is a skimmer, you idiot. It'll hover over water the same as the street."
Vigil tapped a sequence on one of his gauntlets. "Not anymore."
The lights on the dash flicked out ominously. Eight-Baller threw up his hands and shrieked when the skimmer plowed through two sets of metal guardrails with a sadistic crunching sound. For a moment, they were weightless as the vehicle soared over the waters of the East River. Then a nauseating drop followed, flinging Eight-Baller from his seat when the skimmer slammed into the choppy river with metal-crushing force.
Water immediately seeped into the cabin, gurgling as if eager to invade. Eight-Baller gave his head a dizzy shake, clambering back onto the seat. "Please… you can't do this. I don't deserve this!"
Vigil hadn't moved, sitting calf-deep in churning water. "You're a proprietor of sex slavery and memory theft. This is exactly what you deserve."
"What are you gonna do — sit there and watch me drown?"
"If that's what it takes."
"You think my helmet doesn't have emergency air reserves? It's gonna be a long wait."
Vigil's fist glowed electric blue right before he punched Eight-Baller in his face. His rounded visor splintered across his vision when his head snapped back from the force. Hands flying to his ruined helmet, he stared at Vigil in horror.
"Not that long," Vigil said as the water passed his knees.
Eight-Baller stared at the rapidly-rising liquid. "You can't do this. You're not a killer."
"I'm a soldier. I do what's necessary to win the war. And right now, I need to know about Styx. You're going to tell me, or hope you can hold your breath for the rest of your life."
Eight-Baller crouched on the seat, but the cabin continued to fill rapidly. The view beyond the windows was murky, just greenish-black water, air bubbles, and darkness. His heart pounded so forcefully that he nearly passed out from the adrenaline. There was no way he was going to die like that. Not drowning at the bottom of the river, lungs flooded, screams muted…
"Okay. I'll tell you what you want to know. Just get me the hell out of here!"
Vigil glanced at the water that was up to his chest. "Better talk fast. Time isn't on your side."
Ronnie stood on the steps in front of the massive Precinct 51 building, bathed in bright light from the news cameras that fixated on her. Most reporters were remotely linked to hovering orbots that circled around, seeking the best angle for their viewers. A few, like popular Cam Danvers, were present in holographic form, able to be on-site without leaving their news studio.
Ronnie took a deep breath. "Many of you have asked questions about the RCE's official stance on the rise of vigilante activity since the appearance of Vigil this past winter. We've taken our time to answer because our investigation and the subsequent response have been fluid, adapting to the changing circumstances. But our stance on the matter is simple: vigilantism is not tolerated in our city. The Enforcement division's response to criminal activity and anyone who takes the law into their hands will be arrests and charges. I call upon the so-called Vigilant movement to stand down and let us do our jobs. While we empathize with your frustrations, we cannot condone your actions. Justice isn't perfect in this city. It isn't always on time. But our officers are dedicated to their jobs and do their best, risking their lives every day to make sure Neo York's citizens are safe. This rise of vigilantes has led to increased violence, creating a scenario where no one is safe. This cannot continue, and in response, the RCE has created the AVD: Anti-Vigilante Division."