The fighter grunted and swallowed half of the medicine in one big gulp.
“I guess so,” he said, processing the information. So, he was at the famed Headquarters. It wasn’t so difficult to get in here, after all.
“Do you feel well enough to answer a few questions?” the man asked, raising his eyebrows and taking off his glasses.
The fighter downed the rest of the medicine and nodded. He put the glass on the bedside table and suddenly found the man standing in front of him with his hand outstretched, his eyes smiling.
“I’m Doc, by the way,” he introduced himself.
“Mar- ” the fighter cleared his throat, “Marco.”
He shook Doc’s hand, but still watched his every move with suspicion.
Doc took out his cell phone and called his boss. As it seemed, Marco would be honored with the presence of Michael, the oh so important leader. That was a surprise: he hadn’t expected the Ghosts’ leader to deal with minor things like this one. He had never met Michael, but had heard enough to know that he should be careful about anything he said from now onwards. He tried to prepare himself for the meeting, trying to be as alert as possible, but all that alcohol wasn’t helping. His brain still felt as if it were trying to squeeze out of his skull, and his limbs were too heavy.
He checked his pockets as he waited for Michael, but everything was there: some cash, three credit cards, his keys. Well, these I might as well throw out now, he thought, looking at his keys, and then cast around for his short sword. It was nowhere to be seen, of course. While he didn’t blame them, he didn’t see the point, either. That sword was more of an accessory than necessity. Still, it was the only thing he had taken with him when he left, and he would kill to get it back, if necessary.
Michael didn’t make him wait too long. The door banged open, and he strode inside followed by two more men: one with graying hair; the other much younger, bigger, and scarier. The giant stopped by the door while Michael and his companion came straight to Marco and reached out their hands.
“I’m Michael, and this is Peter,” he said, introducing himself and his comrade in a husky voice. “As you might have figured already, you’re at the New York Sky Ghosts Headquarters.”
“Marco,” he said simply, looking the men over and shaking their hands.
He had expected Michael to be somewhat different, though he didn’t know how. More imposing, he supposed. Instead, the man before him was average, fit for his age and broad-shouldered, but not as big as Peter. He had light hair, so the white in it didn’t stand out so much, which made him look younger. His face looked haggard, though, with his cheekbones standing out sharply. His green eyes were tired and surrounded by thin wrinkles. Marco could feel his mind-reading gaze, and was sure that nothing had slipped the man’s attention. He remembered that Eugene didn’t look very special, either. Maybe it was a trait of all outstanding people: the ability to blend in with the crowd.
Michael studied him with narrowed eyes, lingering on the short Mohawk on his head and the tattoos on his forearms. In contrast, Peter just gave him one sweeping look, as if taking in everything about him with one glance. He clasped his hands behind his back and stood by his comrade’s side like a statue.
Michael cleared his throat.
“We’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind,” he said, giving Marco a serious look, “We’d like to come to some agreement on the situation that occurred in Port Morris. I hope you realize that what you did tonight casts suspicion on our organization, and that means we’re involved, even though we had nothing to do with it.”
Marco only nodded, reluctant to speak.
“I suppose you know that it was Eugene’s men you killed there?” Michael asked. “Do the names Ramon and Jax sound familiar to you?”
Marco smiled inwardly. Ramon, that bastard.
“Never heard of them,” he lied, “They just were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was at the bar, some guys got me mad, I came out and ran into them. They attacked me, and I don’t remember much after that.”
Michael didn’t seem convinced, and his eyes narrowed to catlike slits as he bombarded him with questions.
“Can anyone confirm your story? People from the bar, friends? Where do you live?”
“I was just passing through the city. I don’t have anyone here, and I don’t do any business with the Beasts.” Marco shook his head, ignoring the dizziness it brought. He got off the cot slowly and drew himself up to his full height, expecting Michael to back off. Instead, the man didn’t even blink. He just craned his head back and stared into Marco’s eyes, reading him like an open book and prepared to catch any slip-up. A living polygraph.
“Where are you staying, then?”
The question, simple as it was, made Marco freeze.
“Nowhere in particular,” he muttered slowly after a moment and looked away.
For a minute, Michael just watched him silently while Marco looked out of the window, lost in thought. Given his connections, it would take Michael no more than a day to dig up everything there ever was on Marco. He didn’t even bother to ask his full name, as he didn’t need to. His picture would be enough.
Marco could tell that Michael didn’t buy a single word he said. Maybe he should have left before he got into more trouble than he was already in. Now, he doubted he would have the chance. There were too many of them, and the giant with the skull tattoo on the back of his head, the one that stood by the door, could be a problem.
“I’ll be honest with you, Marco,” Michael said at last. “We’re a bit short on people lately, and you’re obviously well trained if you finished those Beasts by yourself, and in this… condition. I’m inclined to offer you a place here, but you should know that we’ll do a very thorough background check on you. So if there’s a chance that we won’t like what we find, you can leave right now. We won’t hold you here, and neither will we point Eugene in your direction. But if you decide to stay, we have a few ground rules and they’re not negotiable.”
Michael stopped talking, and Marco stood there bewildered at the surprising turn of events. A job offer instead of punishment? Did they really take in any guy they found in the streets?
“Okay. Continue,” he said carefully, and Michael nodded.
“You will stay at the Headquarters and will not set foot outside by yourself until we’re sure we can trust you. That may be a month or a year: it’s up to us to decide when you can have any contact with anyone out in the city.”
Michael’s voice changed as he recited the terms, becoming the no-nonsense, the voice of an army officer giving orders.
“No cell phone: if you need to make a call to family or friends, you’ll have to do it under our supervision. You will be under constant watch, and I don’t recommend communicating with any of our young fighters one-on-one without witnesses. If anything should happen to them, you will be suspect number one. You will join our training program, and attend all classes. Alcohol and drugs are strictly prohibited here. You will receive a copy of the rules and schedule, and you will stick to them. If we find something in your record that we don’t like, you will leave without any trouble. We won’t track you afterward, and we won’t punish you for anything you did in your past. When a Sky Ghost joins our organization, we don’t dig up the dirt, but we have to know what we’re dealing with. Later, if you pass the tests, you’ll have a chance to become one of our agents and join the bodyguard program. But don’t be misled, it’s hard work, and it requires dedication. If you want, you can take a day to sleep off your hangover and make up your mind.”
The room was silent again, and Marco’s mind was a battlefield. All the rumors about the Headquarters that he had known since he was a child; all the confusion he felt about the place, all rebelled against what he had just heard. It was just too simple, the way Michael described it. No catch, no price for the safety they promised him. Or at least, what he saw as safety.
Perplexed, he looked at Peter, who was wat
ching him from above with his careful brown eyes. He didn’t betray any emotion, unlike Michael, who seemed moved by the situation for some reason. Maybe, he’s worried about Eugene getting back at them for this, Marco pondered distractedly. Or maybe, he knows something that Peter doesn’t. It was luck that brought Marco here: had the Beasts found him first, he’d be dead by now. And no matter what his common sense was yelling at him, he actually had an alternative now. A place to stay, aside from the street.
“I need money, and I don’t have any clothes with me…or anything else, really,” he mumbled at last, subconsciously drawing out the moment before he had to give his agreement, although deep inside he already knew what his answer would be.
Michael’s eyes brightened again, the shrouded look from his own reverie stripped away in the blink of an eye.
“You can get everything at the supply room, and you will receive a decent sum every month. There’s a small shop downstairs, which takes orders if you need anything special. If it’s medicine, Doc will provide you with everything. Do you need time to make your decision?” Michael’s eyebrows quirked questioningly.
“No,” Marco answered quickly before he would give in to doubt. He could always run away if he changed his mind. After all, that was what he’d been doing lately. “I agree to all your terms. I don’t think my past will be a problem.”
With a short nod, Michael turned to Peter.
“Make sure- ”
The entrance door flew open suddenly, and another fighter strode in: tall, black, his gear splattered with blood.
“Michael, we’re done in Hunts Point, but we’ve got two wounded,” he boomed, his deep voice resonating off the walls as he stopped in front of his boss. A second later, a group of young men in gear carried two others through the door.
Marco peered at them: covered in blood, they talked nervously, too agitated to control their shaking voices. He saw Michael wince as he watched them put the wounded fighters on cots, and then the boss hurried them out of the room, looking even more worried than before.
In the hallway, he turned to the giant who had stayed silently by the door during their conversation. Only then did Marco notice the angry scar that marred the left-hand side of the man’s face, running from his cheek to his eyebrow.
“Skull, show Marco to his room. Third floor, if possible. When the papers are ready, make sure he gets them,” Michael instructed, and the giant nodded, pushing Marco in front of him down the dim hallway.
“Wait!” Marco tried to stop, but behind him, Skull was an unstoppable force, pushing him forward without even noticing him resist, “My sword, when do I get it back?” he yelled over the giant’s shoulder.
Michael raised his eyebrows, as a glint of humor crept into his eyes.
“We’ll give it back to you after we check your record,” he assured him, “don’t worry.”
Marco turned away with a sour face, deciding there was no point pressing the issue. He would have to wait until they trusted him.
As Skull and Marco disappeared in the elevator, Michael turned to the others.
“Rob, keep an eye on him. He’s agreed to join the program, but we have to be careful. Keep the kids away from him, too. You and Skull will be responsible for the others’ safety, understood?”
Rob nodded and wiped the blood off his face.
“Yes. Do you know him?”
“No,” Michael shook his head and looked away, “but he looks familiar, with that Mohawk and tattoos and everything… I’ll need a full profile before I make any decision. Put a guard outside his door for tonight.”
He chewed his bottom lip for a moment and then turned to Peter.
“Tell Rooney it’s his shot if he wants to take Kenji’s place when he leaves. He’ll have to hack into our surveillance for Marco’s picture… if he hasn’t done it already, of course.”
Peter smiled somewhat proudly at that.
“Yesterday, he called to tell me that Pain sneaked out last night, so I’m pretty sure he has. I’ll just check on the girls and get right on it,” he added and strode off, his tall, broad frame blocking the little light there was.
Michael nodded absently and looked at Rob, who towered over him, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. His distress could be cut with a knife, and it had nothing to do with his own injuries or the amount of blood on his gear.
“Don’t worry about the boys,” Michael said, patting the fighter on the shoulder and earning a surprised look from him. “They’ll be alright. They learn from their fights, and that was a big one. I didn’t expect you back so soon. Go take a shower and write the report tomorrow.”
“Okay,” was all Rob said, his look fixed at the floor, and then left.
Michael stood alone by the door for a minute, thinking about Marco. If he was right about him, the boy could bring him trouble. Hell, he could bring him war. But could he throw him out on the street?
He exhaled loudly, shaking his head, and disappeared behind the infirmary door once again.
Chapter 3
It had been two days since Marco agreed to stay at the Headquarters, and he was bored out of his skull.
The place was alright: he had a big room with his own bathroom and plenty of clothes; the food was good in the canteen; he got to use the gym, and he’d heard there was even a pool. But it was the training hall that disappointed him. When he got there on his first day, there were only six young fighters who obviously didn’t know what they were doing. He had never practiced alone and wasn’t able to find anyone he knew, so he left and spent the rest of the day wandering around the building. His classes were supposed to start next week, and he was sure he would die of boredom long before that. Still, on the second day he decided to check the training hall again, just in case something had changed.
It had.
It now looked like the hall was divided into two zones, the first crowded with fighters. They fought sluggishly, pausing often to stare at the other end of the hall, where something spectacular was going on – Rob was sparring with a girl.
Marco perked up, coming in and closing the door behind him. He was wearing gear like the others: they had measured him on his first day and provided him with a jacket and pants. The jacket had gone into his wardrobe right away, as it was too uncomfortable. The pants were good for fighting, though, stretchy but tough. He had replaced the jacket with a black T-shirt and prepared to fight Skull for his right not to wear full gear ever, if he had to.
Unable to tear his eyes off the two fighters, he went and sat on a bench. He was vaguely aware of the eyes on him – probing, assessing – but he didn’t care enough to miss even one move from the fighters in front of him. Rob was good, and his big size gave him an advantage – he could reach the girl easily from anywhere, without even fighting at full strength. But her speed didn’t leave him a second to breathe.
She was a ball of fury, a tangle of arms and legs, raining expertly placed blows on Rob without a single pause. They weren’t powerful enough to really hurt him, but every one of them that hit its mark made him a little bit more breathless. She might actually have a chance to knock him out, if she could continue like this. And if Rob didn’t catch her by one of the limbs, because then she would be done. A fighter like him would crush her like a very angry origami doll if he happened to get too close.
For some time, Marco just watched them fight, unable to even tell what style they were using. More often than he expected she brought Rob down, and he nodded in approval. He was holding back, obviously, but it didn’t matter. Marco could imagine what she would do if she could get her hands on the Beasts out there. And this was only hand-to-hand.
He looked around and spotted another girl, a younger version of her, sitting on a bench watching. The same black hair, same slim form, same suspiciously narrowed black eyes stabbed into him. Must be her sister, he thought. She couldn’t be more than fourteen, but he wasn’t surprised. He had begun his training when he was seven, even before his Initiation, and the
y were probably the same.
He had finally decided that it wasn’t a bad idea to stay at this place, when he heard the big sister’s voice.
“Okay, let’s take a break,” she said, pausing.
Marco frowned without realizing it. He remembered her voice. Can he talk? Something inside him snapped and started burning, small at first, but creeping into his veins like poison. He breathed out very slowly, trying to calm his fury, and then someone’s voice broke into his inner battle.
“Hey, Marco!” It was Rob, who had just spotted him and waved for him to come over. “I’ve been looking for you today, let’s see what you got!”
Marco nodded and got up, but his gaze was on the girl as she stood by her sister and stared at him. Her face glistened with perspiration, and her long black hair was a mess, but her eyes were trained on Marco’s every move. He knew she was measuring up his skill even now, as he was just walking across the room. Whatever was going on in that head of hers, it didn’t matter, because he already had a plan how to get her out of here, fast.
“Ready?” Rob asked him with a shake of his head.
“Always,” Marco muttered, taking a stance.
He and Rob started sparring, while the girls sat there watching. It distracted him and got on his nerves, because all he could think about was how to get his hands on that girl and teach her some respect. Rob soon noticed that he wasn’t paying attention, and switched to full strength. Marco had to focus now, to avoid being injured because Rob was landing punches and kicks on him whenever he was too slow.
They had been fighting for a half-hour before the girls started practicing again in a few meters from them. Finally, it was time for Marco to make his move. He would steer the fight, using the unsuspecting Rob, to get as close to the girls as possible before he would strike. His plan was simple: pretend to avoid Rob’s blow, then jump backward with all his force and knock the older sister down. He waited for what seemed like forever for the right moment, and then she was right behind him, and her sister was far enough away. He jumped…
Sky Ghosts: Marco (Young Adult Urban Fantasy Adventure) (Sky Ghosts Series Book 1.5) Page 2
