Heavy Artillery

“What new cape?” Johnny asked, risking a narrow glance up at Webster.

Webster hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “The guy down in Riverdale.”

Johnny huffed a sigh, shuffling his notes into a neat, if still slightly sodden, stack before leaning back in his chair. He folded his hands in his lap and arched an eyebrow up at Webster, who was doing a decent impression of looking amiably earnest without any ulterior motive, though Johnny knew him well enough by now to be sure that there was some darker purpose lurking under the surface of this exchange.

“Ain’t no guy in Riverdale."

“No?” Webster asked, eyebrows quirking. “You sure about that? My source tells me he stopped a corner store robbery a couple days ago and trussed up a mugger last night, left him outside the local precinct.”

Johnny tapped his thumbs together and put his head to one side, considering. Hand-delivery wasn’t quite the man’s style, but he suggested, “We got the Tin Soldier in Hegewisch. That who you’re thinking of?”

“No,” Webster shook his head, squinting in thought. “No, this guy is definitely in Riverdale. Dresses up like a - ” he swirled a hand around in the air, “ - a cowboy or something?”

“I don’t think so,” Johnny said. “We only got a handful of capes in the Windy City, and don’t none of ‘em look like they just walked in off the range.”

“Maybe you missed one,” Webster offered with a shrug.

Johnny stared him down and held up a hand with one finger outstretched. “There’s the Tin Soldier, like I said.” He unfurled another finger, and then another, and another as he listed off names. “You got the Baron working the Gold Coast and that guy in Lakeview that can change shapes.” The shape-shifter was new enough to the Chicago scene that he hadn’t earned a moniker, yet, but folks up there seem to like him so Johnny doubted it would be long now. “Then you got All-Star in Old Town, and Fleetfoot and the Green Knight in Canaryville. That’s all the capes we got.” He considered for a second and conceded, “Except for maybe a guy out in Grant Park.” He raised a hand and see-sawed it back and forth. “But I ain’t found him yet, if he even exists at all.”

A muscle in Webster’s cheek twitched when Johnny mentioned Grant Park but he didn’t say anything about it, just pulled his mouth down into an exaggerated frown and gave a little shrug. “Huh,” he sighed. “Well. My mistake, I guess.” He flashed Johnny a small, self-satisfied smirk. “Sorry to interrupt your morning.”