by Alana Melos
“No!” she said.
“Kill him?” I asked.
“No, not that either,” she replied, holding up a hand. “And before you ask, I don’t want to avoid him either. I want him to change.”
Upon hearing that, I shook my head. “He’s not going to, Rebekah,” I said, rolling my eyes. “It’s the way he is. You either have to accept it if you want to work with him, or don’t… and either avoid or kill him. You can’t turn him into the cops--even if the charges would stick, no one would work with you… uh, ever. But he’s not a father figure. He’s not a family man. It’s not in him to be one. I could have told you that the second I met you.”
“Why didn’t you?” she asked, sounding both wounded and angry.
“Would you have believed me? Being all… ‘oh daddy, I just wanted to meet you! It’s been a dream all my life!’” I rolled my eyes and gave her a scornful look.
Rebekah opened her mouth for a moment, then closed it as she thought it over. “No,” she said slowly. “No, I wouldn’t have.”
I glanced up at the clock on the wall, “It’s growing late, and I’m going out. You can stay here if you want, or you can come with. I don’t care which, but I’m leaving.”
“I don’t want to be alone,” she said, fingers picking at her coat.
“Then come with,” I said. “You’ll fit in great in the Underground, and afterwards we’ll stop by Ger’s place and get him to take the bracelet off.”
“We will?” she asked, looking at the silver band on her wrist. “You’ll help me?”
I nodded firmly. “Yeah. I don’t… don’t really hold with the taking away of choices, and you did pretty good on your own. He just needs a little incentive, is all.” I clapped her on the shoulder and smiled, “Look when you get to know the real him, he’s really easy to deal with.”
“I shouldn’t have to ‘deal with’ people,” she replied sourly. “That’s not right.”
“You did all the time in your home,” I observed. “It’s the same here. The steps are the same, though the dance has changed a little, that’s all it is.” I got up, and she followed suit. “Go clean yourself up, and we’ll go out. We’ll have something to drink, maybe meet a few people, and then go fix Ger’s little red wagon.”
“He doesn’t have a little red--”
“It’s an expression,” I cut her off. “Go.” I shooed her towards the bathroom. She left the room with reluctance, still shaken by the whole thing. I fell into a broody silence when she was gone, thinking I needed to extend my rules to Gerard… but I was so against control, did I have the right to exert the control I hated over him? Yet if I were to continue to work with him, he would have to get his jollies somewhere else. The more I thought about it, the more it bothered me. It wasn’t like him to be so clumsy. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, even though I couldn’t see any of Rebekah’s emotions or really know what she was feeling, a certain sort of kinship stirred in my breast. I’d had the thought before that speaking to her was like speaking to a younger, more naive version of me, and that thought still held true. Then again, I’d learned on my own not to trust people more than I had to and certainly she would learn the same lesson.
I knew what it was like to be violated by a parental figure too, though I would argue mine was much more severe. That she didn’t think of killing him right away told me volumes about her character as compared to my own. I cast my mind back to when I’d first realized what Mother had been doing and how angry it made me, how the anger seemed to well up and color everything until I just couldn’t bear to stay another second. The additional betrayal by my father who did nothing to stop it made it sting that much more. I tried to cast this situation in the light of that one, and I thought… that I was like my father in this, and that I had a choice to make. Step in… or step aside.
Rebekah bounced out of the bathroom, all sunny smiles. “I’m ready to go!” she chirped. One thing was for certain; when it came to putting on a false face she was just like her father.
Chapter Three
Normally, when I’d go to the Underground there wasn’t a line. For FU Night, everyone came out to play. I’d known it was busy, but I hadn’t seen it for myself until now. As Rebekah and I stood in line to pay the cover and get in at one of the many entrances to the underground club, I looked on with disdain at the people who had already started to party. Drunken idiots out of control ran around us, whooping and hollering it up to rival even the worst redneck hootenanny.
It wasn’t quite all morons. Here and there some familiar faces peeped out at me, black hats I knew from either working with them or rubbing shoulders in the club below us. No one I would call a friend, but not an enemy either.
I floated just above the ground, saving my feet. I did like my heels, but walking in them all the time made my feet scream bloody murder after a time. Rebekah stood neck to me, looking around at all the people, smiling and waving at those who smiled and waved at her. The feel of the crowd kept me jazzed; the positive energy flowed into me, psyching me up.
“Hey, baby,” a guy next to me said. “You look hot.”
I glanced over at him, and he wasn’t bad looking, but that wasn’t why I was here tonight. Still, the positive feelings from the crowd let me smile and almost mean it. “Thanks.”
“You wanna hook up?” he asked, edging closer to me. I read his mental state with a flick of my mind--nothing but eagerness and horniness. I checked a sigh, still trying to be polite.
“No thank you,” I replied and turned away, giving him the cold shoulder. A polite cold shoulder, but still one nevertheless. The yahoo didn’t get the message.
“Hey, I’ll buy you a drink when we get inside, then we can get one of those private rooms,” he insisted, stepping into my line of sight again.
“I said no, but thank you,” I said. The Siren looked back and forth between the two of us, watching the exchange with unreadable eyes.
“You look really hot though, I love your cosplay,” he said. “I dunno that costume though, and I know all the hot villain chicks around here. Is she new?”
I snorted at the word cosplay, but I had to give him props for complimenting me even though I’d already shot him down. “Capricious Whim,” I said, grudgingly. I had changed the look a bit, and… well, I had to admit I was curious to see if he really had heard of me. A lot of villains had hangers on and groupies.
“Rock on,” he said, eyeballing me. “I don’t see the sword… must be under the trenchcoat?” When I nodded, he grinned. I couldn’t help but to smile. I did have admirers! The next words wiped the smile off my face in a hot second. “She’s a complete slut, you should totally fuck me. It’d be just like your hero!”
I blinked. “Hero?” I snarled the word. “Hero?” In a second, my pleasure at having an admirer blinked out of existence to be replaced by the hot red of anger. That wasn’t right. I wasn’t a filthy white hat. I advanced on him with a dark scowl. “Take that back.”
He looked confused. “Take what back?”
“That I’m anyone’s hero,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.
The guy’s confused expression deepened. “I didn’t say you were,” he said. “I said your hero--”
I reached behind and underneath my trench to pull out my blade. As the blade began to slide into my hand, another guy stepped in between us, “Whoa, whoa, whoa.”
“Hey, man,” the first guy said while I stepped back, bumping into Rebekah. “Find your own.”
“I don’t think the lady wants your company,” the second said, flashing a big smile.
“Who in the fuck asked you?” the first one said, his brow darkening with speed.
“Mind asking me if I want either of you around?” I said, glancing to Rebekah and rolling my eyes. With the second’s interference, I shoved my sword back into the sheath fully and snapped the leather strap shut over the hilt to keep it in place.
“Just this way,” the second said. I looked him over. He stood pretty tall, righ
t around six foot or so, with light brown hair. When the light hit it one way, it shone gold. Another way, it was red. He was fairly built, not a lot of girth to go with his height, and clean shaven. When he looked at me, he gave me a tight smile.
“Wait a second,” the first guy said, getting that obnoxious look on his face. I spied his hand curling into a fist and couldn’t help but to sigh and roll my eyes again.
“Trust me, friend, you don’t want to do that,” the second said, stepping back and holding his hands up, as if the first had a gun on him. When the guy swung at him, I expected him to duck or move out of the way or do some fancy martial arts move, but he didn’t. The punch hit him square in the jaw, rocking his head back. Blood spurted from his mouth and, when he turned back, his lip was split. “Alright, my turn.”
Without further ado and any warning, he grabbed the first guy by his jacket and pulled the man into his head. At the same time, he moved his head down in what was probably the most vicious head butt I’d ever seen. A sharp crack, a yelp of pain, and a bright flash of pain-red in the first one’s thoughts told me his nose had been broken.
“What the fuck?” he asked, stumbling back.
“You hit me first,” the second one said. “I defended myself. Now, that’s actually assault, so if you want to find an officer--”
“Ow, man, fuck off…” he said, grabbing his nose and tilting his head back, as if it were just a bloody nose. He moved away and his friends nearby howled and laughed at his ignominious defeat.
“Nice work,” I said, “but I was going to defend myself.”
“With that blade under your jacket?” the second one asked. “Don’t you mean you were going to cut something off of him?”
“Same thing,” I said. When I smiled, he smiled back, then wiped his lip and chin clear of blood. His split lip had vanished, healed during the few seconds of conversation we’d just had. “You’re a meta.”
“Me? Of course, can’t miss this night,” he chuckled and took out a handkerchief. As he wiped his hands clean, I examined his clothes with a critical eye. It was all casual: a dark heavy long coat to protect against the wintery winds, a thin grey sweater with a v-neck, jeans, and hiking boots. His eyes matched his sweater; they were a light muddy blue, almost grey. His hair was completely normal, cut short in a trendy hair cut and styled immaculately. He appeared, for all intents and purposes, completely and boringly normal. Those were the ones you really had to watch out for, in my experience. Most metas did have a little something extra about them… either differently colored hair or eyes, or some quirk in their genetic make-up like Rebekah’s weird brain chemistry. When you couldn’t see what was different, that either meant they weren’t one of the big guns… or they’d taken steps to conceal their abnormality. You could never quite tell the difference anymore, not these days.
“I’m Caprice,” I said, offering him a hand. “You can call me Reece if you want.” Obviously, he regenerated, which was roused my curiosity. I couldn’t help but to stare at him wondering how long it would take him to die if I started bleeding him. Could I run his body out of resources so he would wither away? Or would he just keep replenishing himself, over and over again? I shivered at the thought, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“I’m Septimus,” he said, taking my hand in his warm one and shaking. “But you can call me Tim, or Timmy.”
I choked back a laugh. “Where are the Lords of the Underworld?”
Both Septimus and Rebekah gave me an odd look. “The what?” he asked, quirking a brow.
When he dropped my hand, I waved it, “Never mind, Timmah.” No one ever got my jokes and references. That’s what happened when all your parents watched was from practically ancient times. “This is Rebekah,” I said, gesturing to the Siren.
“Happy to meet you!” she chirped and offered her hand. Septimus took it and shook it just as he had mine, matching her bright smile.
“Both of you ladies here for FU Night? Are you anyone I should know?” he asked as he let go of her hand.
Rebekah opened her mouth, but I elbowed her. “Maybe, maybe not,” I said. “What do you do for a living?”
“Me? Oh, I’m not… I’m a consultant on different things,” he said, chuckling. “I’m not, you know, ‘in the business’. Not really.”
“A consultant? What do you consult on?” I asked while Rebekah bounced next to me. I could feel the nervous energy pouring from her.
“This and that,” he said. He gestured to his face, “The, ah, trick isn’t that… you know, you can’t make a living by it. Unless I wanted to just give blood, over and over again.” Tim quirked another smile and looked around, “And I’m real sorry. Just saw your piece under your jacket, and knew you were going to… take care of it. Not … it wasn’t anything I wanted to see.” He looked bashful, then admitted, “I hate the sight of blood.”
I laughed, “That’s… you’ve got the wrong power then.”
“I’d say he’s got the right one,” Rebekah said. “I mean, he heals, so he won’t see any more.” She had me there and I shrugged.
“Looks like it’s going to be a good night,” he said, looking around. “And I didn’t mean to interrupt, really.” He inclined his head in a nod and turned to leave the two of us.
“No, stay,” Rebekah said with a bright smile as she grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “You’re nice, and I don’t know that many people--”
“Who would help someone out like that,” I finished for her. “Help him out, I mean.”
Tim smiled as he turned back to us and gestured, “I think we’re just about up, ladies. They must be working overtime tonight for the line to move so fast.”
When I turned, I saw he was right. Only a few people stood between us and the sucky-bus at the door. Standing in comfortable silence for a few minutes, when it was our turn I paid the cover charge for myself and Rebekah and stepped inside. A moment later, our new companion joined us. We moved through the coat check and into the Underground proper.
I’d been here when it was in full swing on a Friday or Saturday night, when every wanna be and meta were here trolling for sex or information. Tonight, it blew anything I’d seen before away. People were packed in wall to wall, ceiling to floor. I’d never seen this many people in one place, including the Reich’s invasion army. Not jammed in an enclosed space like this, anyway. I wasn’t one for sporting events either, so I may have been a little over-impressed by the amount of people. I hadn’t realized what a big holiday this day really was for the black hats.
Many folks had dressed up. There were the suits and dresses in what was cutting edge style for the time. On the other side of the coin, so many people dressed down as thugs and vagrants… hell, they might have been. The punk attitude prevailed here, telling everyone they didn’t give a damn and would do what they wanted, when they wanted. About half were dressed in costume, or a variation of a costume. They were either villains (or heroes, I supposed) themselves or cosplaying. I shook my head looking around at the various costumes, some of which I knew, and some I didn’t. A lot of them hearkened back to the bad old days.
When I lifted my eyes to the big screens on the walls--which usually had some some of lightshow playing on them--I found those bad old days costumes as Malech played old news reports over and over again. I stopped on the edge of the dance floor and watched as epic battles between good and evil played out on old telecasts. Buildings were destroyed, whole blocks were decimated with fire, and of course, the floating platform known as Uptown tipping as the engines were destroyed to crash down upon old New York. It was there I saw my parents, over and over again, central figures in several of those key fights. No sword for her. She used only her psychic might to defeat her foes. I saw my father too, his face disguised as always. He threw fire with ferocity and I imagined the scowl on his face while he did it. The hate he held for heroes was legendary. He’d gone through them like a hurricane, not stopping until the last of the original team of superheroes had all bee
n killed.
It was odd seeing them like that. I knew what they had done, but to see it in front of me was something else. I ground my teeth as I watched them and their comrades cut loose and lay waste to whole parts of the city. It galled me to admit they were the A listers, the stars. At best, I was a B lister, trying to follow in their footsteps. I was part of the Rogue’s Gallery as opposed to being a member of the Legion of Doom.
It was kind of depressing and I remembered in vivid detail etched out with lines of anger why I didn’t go out on this day.
“Where are we going?” Rebekah shouted in my ear, urging me onward.
I pointed to my usual spot and together we made our way across the dance floor packed with hot, sweaty bodies to a less packed spot. People swarmed around us, but we managed to make our way upstairs to the balcony I usually hung out at. Upon seeing it was filled with people, I gave up thinking it was my spot for tonight and gestured to the other side nearer the bar. There we found a corner booth to lay claim to and sat down opposite each other at the table.
“This is a madhouse,” I said, looking around.
“It’s busier than normal,” Rebekah offered. “But it looks fun!”
I cut her a look, then shrugged. “I think we lost Tim,” I said, which was just as well.
“No,” she pointed. When I turned, I saw he was at the bar, getting drinks.
“Ah, free drinks,” I said as he came to the table and set down the glasses.
“I wasn’t sure what you would want, so I played it safe with wine,” Tim said with a shrug. Even though there was plenty of room on the padded bench around the table, he swiped a chair and sat down on the edge of the booth. “Hey, that’s an interesting outfit,” he said as he picked up his glass, pointing to Rebekah. “I was going to say something before. Is that Axis Earth?”
