Weiren put another trench coat back on the rack in disappointment. The color was too bright. Weiren was not a particularly noticeable person, with his black hair worn in an average style and his brown eyes which could have been anyone's eyes. Still, he knew if he was going to be asking dangerous questions and sneaking about fighting crime, he ought to disguise himself somehow. Most of all he feared what might happen to him if anyone traced stories of a vigilante with a wind talent back to him.
Of course, it would be bad enough if someone found out he had a talent. Those with the wind talent, however, were particularly hated in Galen. Once, it's said, the wind talent had been celebrated, the power of the plains, bringing peace to those living in a turbulent land. They cleared the air and cleared the clouds away.
Now, however, it was the winds that shook the city and destroyed buildings. Rather than blowing away the clouds and the smog, these spiraled around collecting in the dark purple skies. Outside the city, great twisters tore up the ground, and great gales swept unbroken across the flat plains until they reached the northern mountains. Most of those who lived out in the planes had long fled or moved into the city. Those faithful few farmers who remained to support the city with produce lived an unpredictable life of terror. Weiren had only seen the plains once, through the windows of a tall skyscraper, and it certainly terrified him.
Perhaps it was only natural then that those with the wind talent were viewed as cursed or as curses themselves; hated and blamed for the misfortunes of Galen. There weren't many with the wind talent anyway these days. Those who did posses it were rarely given a chance to get a permit before they disappeared off the streets, and nobody was quite sure what happened to them. Either way, at the end of the day, discretion was the best option.
Another trench coat failed the test, and Weiren sighed with growing frustration. He happened to look up at that moment, accidentally greeting the clothing store shopkeeper with his eyes.
"Shoot," Weiren tried to look down, but it was too late. The clothier, an older looking man with streaks of gray in his brown hair and large round spectacles, walked over to him and uttered the phrase loathed by introverts everywhere.
"Can I help you?"
"No thank you," Weiren offered awkwardly, "I'm just, uh... looking around."
"Nonsense," he said with a suddenly sly voice, tugging at one of the coats on the shelf, "I've been doing this for a while. I can tell when someone's up to no good. If you're looking to disguise yourself, you're going about it all wrong. You're up to something, and don't want to get caught doing it."
Weiren's heart started to beat faster. "He knows," Weiren though to himself in a panic. He began to back away to leave the store, but the man grabbed Weiren's shoulder with a strong grip.
"Slow down! Calm yourself, young man," he said all this with a laugh, "I'm here to help. What are you after? Wanting to see your girl without her dad or husband getting in the way? Need to get into the bank unseen?" He winked conspicuously. "We've got what you need."
Weiren was shocked silent. Could it be a trap? Even if it wasn't, was it really okay to deal with a man who was clearly engaged in helping criminals. For a moment, he thought to try and tell the man he was wrong, but it was clear Weiren was out of his depth. Maybe this man could actually help him out. He reluctantly answered, "Um, I'm trying to get some information, dangerous information. In the day that is, but I, uh, also need something for at night. I really can't have anybody figuring out who I am."
"Right, right, well I'll tell you one thing, you're most certainly in the wrong section. Strutting around in the daylight like a peacock, the only one with a trench coat! That's bound to draw suspicion. No, no, no, come with me."
The man led him past the clothing racks through a narrow back door into another room with more garments. As they walked he grabbed a dark grey beret style hat, which looked kind of beat up and ratty, and slapped it on Weiren's head. Next, he spun around in a puff of black powder, dabbing some kind of sponge all around Weiren's face. Shoving him forward, the graying manager pulled off Weiren's coat. By the time Weiren could turn around the man thrust some clothing into his hands.
"Put these on," He hummed. The garments were ragged, patchy tan pants with a grey shirt a size too big and sporting a few tears. The dirty cotton coat was frayed at the cuffs and missing a couple buttons.
Surely this was some kind of joke, Weiren thought to himself. In confusion and awkwardness he said, "If you don't mind me saying, uh... sir, these clothes look like they belong in the trash. I don't really understand."
"The trash?!" he exclaimed indignantly, bespectacled eyes widening in surprise, "Young man these are professional reconnaissance clothes of the highest quality, see here, put this on!" He grabbed the coat and Weiren's arm, leaving the rest of the clothes to fall to the ground, and dressed Weiren in the coat. Then, shoving Weiren through the room to a mirror, he said proudly with a gesture, "Look, look, look!"
Weiren decided to humor the man and stepped toward the mirror, and found that the man looking back at him was not him at all, but a beggar on the streets. Some poor homeless man, down on his luck, dirty and ragged.
"Do you see it now? Young man, it doesn't matter what disguise you wear, if you start boldly asking people strange questions, gathering information in broad daylight, I guarantee you you'll hit a wall right quick and draw unwanted attention to yourself? But who sees the dirty man sitting beneath their feet day in and day out? Who understands the secret culture coexisting just below their own, a potential network of listeners and informants?"
"So, you're suggesting I dress like a homeless person, to blend in and eavesdrop on people."
"Exactly! Naturally, there are other ways to get information in this great city, but with your level of experience, or rather your lack there of, this is a good place to start."
Weiren was still rather unsure what to think. Would he really be able to find the information he needed just by listening to passersby, or talking with the homeless? Of course, he couldn't ask the man about his particular situation to see if there was a better way. On the other hand, Weiren couldn't argue with the results in the mirror. He couldn't even recognize himself. If he was going for anonymity this seemed the way to go.
"Okay," he agreed reluctantly, "That should do for gathering information then. Still, I need something for at night. Something I can move freely in, and preferably unseen."
"Right, right, mmm let me see here." The man waddled over to a basket of clothes and began digging around, "Oh, yes, yes, these ought to do it."
Turning back to Weiren he presented a facemask, a pair of near black sweatpants and a hoodie of a similar color. "Now I know these may not seem glamorous, young man, but don't underestimate the power of every day kinds of clothes to get the job done. That's not all though, as for your first line of defense..."
Opening a closet door he pulled out a strange cloak. The cloak had patches of different colors on it, all of them dark and muted, but slightly toned like the grey blues, greens, and magentas like the stones the city was built of.
"It's a little, colorful, isn't it?" Weiren asked?
"It's my latest idea! Urban camouflage!" He boasted, "It should make you much more difficult to see, especially in the dark, assuming it works right." He chuckled a bit, "None of my regulars have been willing to test it out for me."
"So you're not actually sure if it works?" Weiren asked with anxious concern, "I think maybe I'll just take the other clothes."
With a sigh the man the man pushed past Weiren, bumping into him as we passed, "Alright alright, if you insist, Weiren was it? That will be 5000 notes for the disguises."
"5000 notes!" Weiren couldn't help but to raise his voice in disgusted shock, "Nearly half a years wages for this lot of rags? This is robbery!"
"Not rags, dear friend," he enunciated the next part carefully emphasizing each word with a gesture, "professional, reconnaissance, clothing. I assure you it's worth every last coin. Alas if you can't afford it, no worries, no worries, we can make a deal, Weiren. Hear this. You test the cloak for me in the field and report back with the results, and I'll settle today for whatever you have on you. 'How generous Mr. Clothier sir!' you say? Why thank you, truly, it's nothing."
"I think I'll pass today, but thank you," Weiren set the clothes down and began to leave.
"Now, now, Weiren, leaving so soon? You know, it would be a shame if it were to reach the ears of an Enforcer, a story about the young man trying to score some dirty disguises from an honest old clothes-maker."
It suddenly crossed Weiren's mind that he had never told the man his name. "What are you getting at," he asked warily, a sinking feeling in his stomach.
The man waved around Weiren's wallet in the air, and pulling out the notes inside he said gloatingly, "You know you really shouldn't carry around so much money Weiren."
He was caught. Weiren knew he couldn't simply walk away from this; the man knew his name, and probably other information too from the ID card in his wallet. If the clothier were to go to the Enforcers, and they were to come after Weiren, his goals would be destroyed before he'd even had a chance to try. Not that the Enforcers were always so interested in petty crime, but Weiren had a feeling, from the certainty with which the shady storekeeper spoke, that these particular Enforcers were in his pocket too.
"How generous, Mr. Clothier sir," Weiren muttered in defeat, "I'll take it all."
"Why thank you, truly; it's nothing!" The man tossed Weiren's penniless wallet back to him, then piled all the clothes and a tub of black powder into a bag, "Pleasure doing business with you, good sir. Come back again! Seriously, come back with that report, or our little secret may just slip out." With a wink he pushed Weiren toward the exit, "Bye now!"
Weiren stood out on the streets, trying to contain his anger and shame. He felt humiliated, robbed, trapped! Taking some deep breaths, Weiren calmed himself down. "Remember Weiren, it's better to just endure it, keep your head down. Calm. I am calm."
As Weiren began to walk down the street, a man walking the other way shouted "Here you go buddy, coin for the homeless," and tossed a coin in his bag. At least his disguise was working.