Chapter Text

Chapter One

Winters in Brockton Bay were rarely all that cold.  Something about that sea breeze just really seemed to bring in mild air year-round.  Tonight was different.  The winds from the northwest had picked up and blown down Lord’s Street, roiling over the spurious territories marked by the Azn Bad Boyz, the Empire 88, and God knew what other gangs that existed here.  The wind blew with it the telltale signs of incoming snow, reminding me a bit of the first winter I experienced in America.  Cold, long, and requiring much bundling up and snuggling with my dog. 

So, I walked down the street, wrapped up in all sorts of winter clothes.  I had two layers of pants and leggings on underneath a skirt, snow boots, a thick sweater on over my blue blouse and a long black leather snow coat to top it all off.  My black knit-cap and scarf really tied the outfit together, or so Dad said when he was trying to be funny. 

My dog, on the other hand, just went out in his long, shaggy fur.  It covered his body like one of those shag rugs that I’d only seen in one movie once, but for some reason it never got tangled.  He stuck close to me, giving some significant slack on his lead as we walked.  I knew that if he wanted, he could probably just bolt right off, but Mouse wouldn’t do that.  I knew that, and he knew that.  We trusted each other.

The wind really had started to pick up about halfway through our walk.  Dad was out doing Dad things, which usually meant he was helping people, and it doubly meant that the walk could take as long as it needed.  Of course, given the weather, I definitely wanted to get back to the house soon.  Even with the snow and buildings around us, there was still just a bit too much sky.  Still, I needed the exercise and so did my dog.

“Come on Mouse, just a bit further, and then we’ll go back.”   I smiled at him and gave him a slight shooing motion. 

Mouse chuffed in response, looking me over.  He was worried about me.  Or maybe he was worried that we were getting close to gang territory.  I really wasn’t fully sure about what he meant these days.  Mouse was a smart dog, though.  We’d been together since I first came to America.  Later, I found out that he was Dad’s first, and the big reason he watched over me was because Dad asked him to. 

“We’ll be careful, Mouse,” I said, ruffling his fur.  “Just a bit further.  I want to beat last week’s record.”

Mouse gave me a doggy grin, and the two of us started to walk.  About half a block further down, Mouse stopped, and I did too.  I expected him to do whatever he needed to, but instead, he stared down the street, not quite baring his teeth.

Mouse was tense, and I looked around through the falling snow, trying to get a bead on whatever it was my dog had spotted.  Brockton Bay might not have looked it, but it had more monsters than just capes.  I wasn’t too sure that the gang capes even knew that some of their gang members were monsters, but then again, most parahumans were blind to that sort of thing.

“Well, what do we have here?” A sneering voice said.  The man it belonged to was definitely Empire.  He wore the colors, a red jacket with a black hood.  It didn’t quite have all the usual Nazi imagery, but the hatred I saw in his face verified it for me.  “A mutt and her… damn.  Hookwolf’ll love you, big guy.”

“You can’t have my dog,” I said, softly.  I wasn’t so sure that he heard me.  The wind was picking up, and the snow came with it. 

“Little spic, you’re in Empire territory.  Everything in it belongs to the Empire,” said the man, and he flicked out a gun.  “Even your life.  Give up the dog.”

Maybe he did hear me, after all.  Too bad.  I was my father’s daughter, after all, and Mouse was my dog.  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“You shut up, mutt and give me the leash.  I’m taking the dog.”  The man’s face turned a bit red and he brandished his gun.  I didn’t exactly want to have to explain to Dad why there were bullet marks on my jacket, so I considered his offer. 

“Just give you the leash, and you won’t hurt me?” I asked.

The man sneered.  “Yeah.  Something like that.  Little spics like you are why there’s no good work here.  I ought to just do you now.”

“Please don’t.  I’ll give you the leash,” I said, rubbing Mouse’s head.  He knew there was no way in Hell that I’d give him up.  I mean, stars and stones, this guy was a Nazi that wanted to put Mouse in a dogfighting ring.  Mouse knew the plan as well as I did.  It was a good enough plan.

“Yeah, you better.  Give it to me,” said the Empire guy. 

Mouse and I looked to each other. We wouldn’t get a better line than that, and I knew my dad would be proud.

“Catch,” I said, tossing Mouse’s leash into the air.  As it fell, I looked at Mouse and snapped my fingers.  “Get him!”

Mouse let out a snarl that had been known to stop monsters in their tracks, and he tackled the Nazi.  The gun barked once as it hit the ground, but I’d moved out of the line of fire.  I ran up and kicked the gun away.  Dad had taught me a little about them, but he’d said he had a friend who knew a lot more.

“Aah… you bitch!”

“Mouse, he said a bad word!” Not that I hadn’t heard worse, but still.  I looked a lot younger than I was.

Mouse bit down on the man’s shoulder, digging his teeth into the Nazi.  He didn’t shake his head or shake the guy, but I could smell the blood drawn. 

“Now, mister, I want you to go and leave us alone,” I said.  “Mouse and I are going to go home.”

“Little mutt,” growled the man.  He was maybe in his mid-twenties and burly, but Mouse was a very special dog.  He was my dog.  “When Hookwolf finds out about—”

“Shut up.”  I cut the man off and looked around.  A fell feeling settled over the area as a group of three junkies approached.  Well, they wore the clothing of junkies, anyway.  Junkies usually smell of a combination of urine, feces, and whatever they were on, but these junkies didn’t smell of any of those scents.  Death, decay, and rage wafted off of them, and I tensed up. 

In a city like Brockton Bay, people die or disappear all the time.  Casualties of the gangs, the Endbringers, whatever.  People like Lung, like Kaiser, or like the Merchants made people disappear, sure, but despite that fact, the capes weren’t the true problem plaguing this city.

The apparent junkies spotted the downed Nazi, Mouse, and I, and as they approached, their bodies changed.  Their mouths extended into fanged muzzles that dripped with drool and half-eaten flesh, their outstretched hands into claws caked in dried blood and skin.  They’d eaten tonight, but they would want more.  They needed more.  Ghouls.  God, I hated ghouls.

Monsters.  Beings of the supernatural got brushed off as capes often enough.  School mentioned the Adepts and Myrddin in Chicago as those who thought they were magic.  Maybe they actually were.

“Mister Nazi guy,” I said.  “When Mouse gets off of you, you need to run.”

“I’m not listening to anything a Spic like you says.”

I reached into my coat, and I pulled out a carved wooden rod.  Dad’s old blasting rod.  I wasn’t my father, but I could do something.  “This Spic is going to save your life.  Mouse, heel.”

Mouse got to my side, and I placed my left hand on him as I held out the rod with my right.  As I focused, the tip began to glow. 

My name is Margaret Angelica Mendoza Dresden, and together with my dog, I hunt monsters.

The ghouls charged at about the speed of a city bus.

“Incindare!” I snarled, and with a swish of the rod, a gout of flame erupted between us and the ghouls. 

Call me Maggie.