15. SUTTON

I was a little annoyed that Danya figured out the riddle before I did. I was usually good at figuring out riddles like that, but I didn't think it was a riddle. I thought it was someone trying to get in our heads.

Times Square was hell. Although on every other occasion, it was incredible. Tourists flooded in to take their pictures with the people who walked around in their cartoon costumes. Street performers and food vendors. It was also good for having a portable wireless network on hand too, the number of people who connected to free Wi-Fi was incredible. They laid all their data out there for my consumption. I hadn't had a real feast like that in over a month. Collecting the data from their fancy hotels and managing to transfer over all the reward points to me. That was one perk.

We didn't have time to do my free wireless network con. We had bigger issues to deal with, like finding people dressed in cat and mouse costumes. Strangely enough, today seemed to be a convention. A meeting of the minds. Everyone seemed to be dressed in a cartoon cat or mouse costume, or perhaps wearing a mask.

Wearing hoodies, we obscured our faces from all the nearby cameras.

"We might have to split," Danya said. "Someone is handing out masks. I'll go look around."

"It's not them," I told him. "When you want to disrupt something, or send a signal, you hire someone through a third party to do shit like that. They're not gonna know."

People passed us by as we stood still. Their pissed off faces, glaring at us like we were tourists, taking up space.

"Fine," Danya said. "But where will we find them?"

"On the line," I grumbled, recalling the text from memory. "Check for a line on the ground. Someone pacing in a line. Maybe it's in front of the steps." I nodded to the famous red steps tourists sat on to get their pictures. "There's that discolored brick in front of them. Maybe there."

It was within view, but it was also incredibly crowded. It was the middle of the afternoon. Of course, it wouldn't be easy to find out who those texts had been talking about.

"You check there, and I'll check in the opposite direction," he said. "We have a better chance if we split."

"Agree," I told him.

"Keep your head down, and don't make a move if you find someone. Call me when you do."

I nodded. "And don't shoot them."

"Shoot," he scoffed. "I didn't bring my gun."

Looking at the front of his sweatpants. "Oops, my bad. It looks like you're packing heat." I smirked.

"Stop flirting, dirty boy."

It was a distraction, and I couldn't help myself. I'd only had one coffee before we left, focus wouldn't come easy until I was on my third.

Parting ways, I headed to the red staircase. The flash of cameras and people shouting over each other was a little overwhelming. I made my way through the crowds until I was in front of the stairs and people shouted at me to move. There were too many people here. Whoever had sent that text clearly didn't want us to succeed.

Then through the crowd. A figure in an orange tabby cat outside stood facing me. It was unnerving to see the large eyes on the head glare at me. I knew that wasn't where they were looking through, but they were looking at me.

Grabbing my phone to text Danya, when I looked up, the figure was gone.

Through the crowd, I searched for the bright orange fur, seemingly blending in with the flashes from cameras coming from all sides of me.

I spotted it.

Heading away from Times Square down West 45th Street. With my phone in hand, I typed a message to Danya telling him to look out for someone in a giant orange tabby cat outfit and that I was headed to follow one.

It wouldn't send.

Hit back with error messages.

My phone had no signal. Not a single bar.

Chasing after the costumed figure, I got caught by the change in traffic lights. They weren't walking particularly fast. In fact, they paused to look at themselves in a window of a coffee shop. Then, as the lights changed, they picked up the pace.

I got half a block away before they turned into a small alley with a dead end.

"Hey," I called out to them as they waddled closer to the trash cans. "Hey!"

The costumed figure took a sharp turn, swinging an orange backpack around on its arm. I walked closer to it. Standing still.

"Why did you run from me?" I asked. "Do you know me?"

It took a single step closer.

"Hello?" I glanced at my phone again. The text message to Danya still hadn't gone through. "What do you want?" I asked. "Do you know something? Do you have anything you want to say?"

Another step closer.

At this point, it would take us all afternoon to take enough steps to be close. "Fine, I'll come to you," I said. "Are you the one I'm supposed to meet? You know, it would've been easier if you didn't text in riddles."

I didn't know what to think or who to trust. People didn't lead other people into alleys with dead ends if they weren't doing something suspicious. It was also possible that whoever was behind that costume was also like everyone else; paid to be a distraction.

"Is it in that bag?" I asked. My heart pounding in my throat as I closed in on them.

The bag dropped to the arm of the costume and into their hand.

"You know how to speak, right?" I asked. "Nobody is stopping you from saying anything to me right now, are they?" I looked around. There were doors on either side of the wall at the alley from the businesses at both sides. As I turned with my back, I heavy thud whacked the side of my head. I dropped like a heavy sack.

Heavy panting in my ear. "Goodbye, Sutton," the voice let out.

My body was dragged from behind. The blur of my vision made it impossible to see, mixed in with the searing pain of a headache, and I didn't even want to open my eyes. "Who are you?" I let out through a raspy groan.

A buzz in the palm of my hand vibrated as my body was dragged further back into the alley.

"Tell me," I whispered, feeling consciousness slip. "I was told to find you."

"You weren't told to come alone," it answered. "Now hush."

My head dropped against the cobbles of the alley, making it harder for me to keep my eyes open.

A thwip noise passed me, it was followed by a splintering thud.

"Agh, fuck!" the costumed person screamed.

"Sutton!" Danya shouted.

Fuck. He'd shot someone.

I tried raising my head.

The blur of orange stepped ahead of me and fled through an open metal door at the side wall.

He dropped to my side, placing my head on his knee. "What happened? I got your text." He gave my cheeks a couple gentle slaps.

"Did you shoot him?"

"No. I heard the shot. Like a rifle. Whoever it was, they were watching you."

"Let go." I turned my head. "Get the bag." They'd left it behind. Behind the haze of my vision, I didn't know what was going on, all I knew was that someone had whacked me over the head, and then there was a gunshot, and they ran off. "Are you sure you didn't shoot?"

Danya blew his minty breath on my face, stroking at my cheek. "No, I didn't even bring my gun. You told me not to. I didn't want you getting your panties in a twist, so I left it."

"Go get the bag then," I said, screwing my eyes shut. "It was heavy." It had to have had something in there to make my head feel like it was nearly removed off my shoulders.

In the space Danya had been in, I saw the roof of the building across the road. There was movement. Although there was a film of tiny stars falling in front of my vision. It couldn't be trusted.

"There's some type of machine in here," he said.

"A blocker," I grumbled. That was why the text didn't send until after he'd hit me. "Right. What else?" I tried focusing all I could on the roof of the building, but there was nothing else happening.

"There's a sandwich, and that's it," he said. "We can't stay here. Let's get a cab back and we can look at this machine."

He clearly hadn't heard me, for whatever reason.

Danya's strength was good for something other than intimidating people. He wrapped an arm under me, carried me out of the alley and hailed a cab. I knew I shouldn't let my eyes close for long periods of time, I didn't know if I had a concussion.

In the cab, he kept talking to me, making sure I was responsive.

It wasn't until we were back at the apartment when the flash of something happening right after being hit around the head came. Holding myself steady against the wall of the hallway into the apartment, the flashes grew intense.

"Sit," Danya said.

"Where? You tore the cushions on the sofa."

"Jeez, sit on the floor then," he said. "I can't keep you propped up all day. I have a flashlight. I'll see if you're concussed."

I waited in the hallways, pressing a hand against my chest as it tightened. My brain zapped, making connections; like dominoes, they fell, some of them into place, but others missing the mark completely. "He said my name," I said. "He—he—he said Sutton."

"Huh?" he called out from the kitchen.

"The person in the costume, they knew who I was," I told him, stumbling forward on my feet like they were anchored on the spot with cinderblocks. On my knees, I surrendered my body to the floor, rolling over on the spot and looking at the ceiling.

"I told you to sit," he grumbled, coming back to me with a small flashlight. "Ok. I think if the black part of your eyes doesn't grow, you're concussed, but if it does, then you're fine, right?"

"He said my name," I told him. "He knew who I was."

Danya kneeled above my head, tapping me in a grip with both of his knees. "I'm not a doctor." He shone the bright light into my eyes. I flinched, trying to bat the flashlight away. "The black parts got smaller. I don't think you have concussion. Maybe a headache. I'll get you an Advil."

"Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, but first, I need to make sure you're ok," he said. "You were hit over the head. And no offence, but it's your head that will probably save us."

"I know I'm good at head," I snickered, "but I don't see how it could save me, unless I start charging for it, and I'd probably get lockjaw by the fourth guy."

He shone the light in my eyes again. "I'll get you a muzzle too, you're not going around sucking dick," he said. "Not unless it's mine."

My jaw would've locked with his dick alone. "I feel like you're punishing me," I let out in a grumbling whine. "Can you stop squishing my head with your thighs please?"

"At least your personality hasn't changed." He scooted away from my head. "So, he knew your name. Do you think he really knew you? Or was he hired like those other guys handing out masks?"

It was impossible to tell. Staring at the ceiling, it was like staring at the clouds, the little markings were beginning to form pictures before my eyes. "I don't know," I said. "I thought you were getting me an Advil and some coffee?" I tried pushing my head back to see him. "And can you get me something comfy to sit on." I wouldn't sit on the springy mess he'd left from those sofa cushions.