Justice
He ran across the city, moving from roof to roof in one fluid motion. The usual fog that hung around every corner, painting the city into a dream, made the tiles slippery. But there was friction if he didn’t stop, and he didn’t.
He had the whole city after him. The distant howl of the ghouls told him they had found the body and smelled him, and as a kid like him, he wasn’t taking any chances that there would be understanding, not here, not in Necropolis, where justice was for those who paid the most.
The tile under his feet slipped off, shooting his leg to the right. He pushed all his weight onto his left leg and steadied his flight. He jumped high and landed on another roof. He dared to glance behind him and saw the wave of ghouls in blue roll over the roofs he had been on.
Kraken shit, he thought. You couldn’t outrun the ghouls. You might use powers against them, but he was that one poor sod in the city of necromancers, witches, and other specials with no specialty.
He had been at the embalming factory to get his own after unjust firing, but then his foreman had been there, dead. He should never have stopped to see if he could help the bastard. This was what you got tryin...