"Things snowballed from there," Downs added. "Wagner started taking matters into his own hands. Not the way Bounty does or anything like that, but... he'd assign himself cases, just to dig up dirt on people in power. Then he'd turn to the media to shine a spotlight on them. He even managed to get a few dirty cops locked up, but I guess that wasn't enough. Before long, he started getting violent."
"But I don't see how that's relevant now." Richards shook his head. "Wagner's serving a life sentence. I was in the courtroom when they sentenced him."
Downs' twin pursed his lips and pulled a sheet of paper from the overstuffed manila folder in front of him. He cleared his throat and slid the sheet across the table. "But look who's not."
Richards studied the paper, a cold shiver running down his spine when he saw the name atop the page and the accompanying mugshot. He shook his head and scrubbed a hand over his face, staring at the ceiling and wishing the cup in front of him held something stronger than coffee.
Unfortunately, he had left all the good stuff in his office. Not that he needed to be drinking right now. But the urge was still there.
"You've got to be shitting me..."
"Patrick Gordon," the other bald man said. "Wagner's platoon mate. Dishonorable discharge, violent tendencies, outspoken in his support of Wagner's cause in the months before his arrest. Gordon had been serving a ten-year sentence for assault, but he got out two years early because of good behavior."
Downs frowned. "When did he get out?"
Richards shook his head. "Last month."
CHAPTER 22
As soon as he wheeled into the conference room on the third floor of The Baltimore Sun offices, Brian Andersen felt like he had just been ambushed. The editors had led him to believe his question-and-answer session with them regarding his positions leading into the district attorney's race would be a solo affair—as in, he would be the only one joining them. And yet his opponent, hard-nosed defense attorney Scott Lannigan, was already sitting with them. Brian hadn't yet prepared for having to face his opponent; as far as he knew, that wouldn't happen for another couple of weeks.
Then again, Lannigan's connections were probably enough for him to change anything he wanted. After all, his father was owner of a media conglomerate who had twice attempted to buy the Sun. While Brian considered screaming conflict of interest, he knew he would ultimately have to win on his own merits, not by tearing Lannigan down. Though, given the gusto with which Lannigan did his job, the low road was mighty tempting. It was hard to look at Lannigan and not want to bash in his nose.
Brian was already on-edge, considering he was probably in The Collective's crosshairs, to say nothing of his sister. It wouldn't surprise Brian if Jill had gone on TV herself, in part, to keep The Collective off his back, but that didn't make her plan any less dumb.
Even worse, Brian had called Jill as soon as the broadcast ended, but as he had feared, the call went straight to voicemail. A call to Daniel Richards suffered the same fate, and Brian almost called her former colleagues at the Seventh Precinct. Brian never actually placed the call, though, realizing he was almost late for this little pow-wow.
Not that Brian could think about Jill right now. Despite his relative lack of expertise when it came to political campaigns, he knew focus was key. If he was off his game even just a little, Lannigan would likely jump on that. Sucking in a deeper breath, he wheeled his way into the room in question and put on the best fake smile he could.
His cheeks hurt from the effort.
As soon as Brian made his way into the conference room, Lannigan stopped his train of thought and painted on the best plastic smile he could. Apparently, such an expression came with the territory in this line of work. "There's the man of the hour!"
Brian shook the other man's hand, trying not to squeeze too hard, before taking the empty space next to his opponent and pouring himself a glass of water. Lannigan, all freckles and red hair, sank into his chair and began twirling the pen between his fingers.
"Now, where was I?" he mused, glancing at the three men sitting across from him with their notepads and digital recorders. "Oh, right. I believe, ultimately, that this city needs a fresh start. A new face with new ideas... because clearly, what's been happening hasn't been working."
The man in the center, news editor Anthony Spencer, jotted down a note before removing his glasses and turning his attention to Brian. "Our apologies for starting early, Mr. Andersen. Mr. Lannigan is on a tight schedule today... we were simply asking him what his overriding philosophy was, and why he's running to serve as our next District Attorney. We would like to pose the same question to you."
Clearing his throat, Brian sat up a little straighter. "Because I'm from here." When the editorial board chuckled, he licked his lips. They were awful dry for some reason. "Obviously, that's not the only reason, but... having spent my entire life in this town, I've seen it at its best and at its worst. In a lot of ways, my own family represents that dichotomy. But in the time I've worked in the DA's office, and even before then, I saw how great Baltimore can be when justice and fairness win out. That doesn't happen as much as we would like, but I believe in carrying on Ramona Parish's mission to make Baltimore a safer, more just city."
Lannigan arched an eyebrow. "Even if that means letting your sister roam free?"
Though the three men across from them were taken aback by the question, Brian had expected it. Not just because of how tenacious Lannigan was in all aspects of his job, but because it was the obvious question to ask. His sister being a costumed vigilante wasn't just the elephant in the room; it was a pack of elephants. After all, a district attorney was tasked with enforcing the law. Vigilantism was against the law. Brian understood the moment he decided to run that he'd have to face this issue sooner or later.
Therefore, one could make the argument—rightfully so—that Brian was derelict in his duty in not pursuing charges against Jill. Between that and the fact that his father had just been executed not even a year ago for three murders he had committed... the questions were obvious, and to an extent, they were fair.
"There is no denying the good Bounty has done for this city," Brian answered.
"That's not what I asked." Lannigan straightened his tie, leaning back in his chair. "There are no moral quandaries here, Brian. No gray area. None of this 'legal doesn't necessarily mean right' bullshit. This job, you have to enforce the laws that are on the books, whether you agree with them or not. Whether they are convenient for you or not."
"I don't disagree—"
"How long have you known?" Lannigan interrupted. "Did you find out who she was with the rest of us, or did you know before that?"
"Mr. Lannigan," Spencer said. "Let's get back to the question."
"And ignore the fact that the man who is running for this seat, a man who has already been working in the DA's office, might not be willing to do the job?" Lannigan sneered and shook his head, sitting up and stabbing the wooden table with his finger. "The sort of lawlessness that Brian is protecting is the reason we have those... freaks going on TV lopping people's heads off."
Brian's hands balled into fists. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to raise his voice. "What did you say?"
"One freak inspires all sorts of other freaks to crawl out from the shadows." Lannigan tossed his pen into the air and caught it. "If someone had put Bounty behind bars the second she first showed up, we wouldn't be sitting here right now, wondering who The Collective was going to decapitate next."
Spencer sucked in a deep breath and tightened the grip on his pen, casting nervous glances at the colleagues flanking him on the other side of the table. "Mr. Lannigan..."
"You want this city to be great again?" Lannigan asked, ignoring the glare Brian threw his way. "You want people to walk around downtown, or anywhere else, confident that they'll return to their families at night? Start giving a damn. Start enforcing the law. Which means empowering law enforcement. Letting the police do their jobs without cons
tantly looking over their shoulders for fear they might get sued. And it means getting costumed freaks off the street."
Spencer sighed and ran his free hand down his face. This had gone off the rails far sooner than he had expected. "Mr. Andersen, your response?"
"Hearing you talk about enforcing the law's funny," Brian began, "considering you've built an entire career out of helping people circumvent it."
Lannigan shrugged. "I just play the hands I'm dealt."
"So do I." Brian wheeled closer to Lannigan, leaning in. "And so does my sister. Maybe she became who she became because of people like you."
Lannigan clenched his teeth and shook his head, his hand tightening into a fist around his pen. "Don't you dare—"
"Did it ever occur to you that she became a vigilante precisely because the law wasn't working? Which, by the way, goes far deeper than the DA's office." Brian turned his attention to the three gentlemen on the editorial board. "My sister saw that things were wrong, and that those who could make it better weren't. Not because they couldn't, but because they simply chose not to. She decided to do something about it. I'll grant that it's illegal. I'll even argue it's not all that smart. But she did what most of this town's citizens wouldn't: she decided to make a difference.
"And that's why I'm running. I can't leap from rooftops or punch bad guys in the face or topple multi-national corporations. But if I can make a difference, in any way, as this town's District Attorney, then that's what I'm going to do. But I'm done sitting back on the sidelines and watching."
The three men with recorders muttered amongst themselves and Lannigan sat with his arms folded over his chest. Brian scribbled something onto the legal pad sitting in front of him before tearing the top sheet off, folding it in half, and sliding it in front of his opponent. When Lannigan's scowl turned from anger to confusion, Brian nodded once at the paper.
Lannigan unfolded it and read.
Come at my father or sister again, I tell the paper Daddy's little secret.
The look on Lannigan's face was worth it all. Maybe meeting together like this wasn't such a bad idea after all.
CHAPTER 23
It was so dark when Jill opened her eyes that she wasn't convinced she had actually come to. The pain in her side had dulled to a low throb, yet Jill had trouble sitting up. Her muscles felt as if they had been stapled to her skeleton. Each movement sent a grunt of effort and discomfort from Jill's lips. The only thing more unnerving than the pitch black was the complete silence, yet there was a familiarity about this nagging at her. Then a column of white light burst from nothing, and Jill couldn't help but roll her human eye. Apparently, she was incapable of losing consciousness without her psyche playing games with her.
Yet when Jill finally looked into the light, it wasn't Paul standing there. Adrenaline loosened her muscles, and Jill was on her feet before she could truly register what she was doing. She ran toward the light, gritting her teeth and letting the tears in her right eye fall on their own. She ran as quickly as her legs would carry her, and it felt like she would never reach the light.
Once she did, Jill dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around another woman's legs, burying her face in an apron.
"Mom..."
A thin hand rested on the back of Jill's head, fingernails coated in blood. Janice Andersen's eyes were sunken and hollow, her shoulder-length hair stringy and there was a gray pallor to her skin. Her lips curved in a permanent frown, and she tilted her head to the side as she watched her daughter sob at her knees. A grown woman acting like a small child... were circumstances not so dire, Janice would chide her daughter for such behavior. Then again, if things weren't quite this bad, she would still be tucked away in eternal slumber, content that she no longer had to shoulder the burden of being an Andersen.
"My poor, sweet Jill," she whispered in an ethereal voice, shaking her head. "What have they done to my little girl?"
Jill sniffled and looked up at her mother. It occurred to her this was the first time Janice had ever seen her eyeplate, the most obvious physical manifestation of Project Fusion's effect on her. Yet Janice never flinched; instead, her eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips, as if she were biting her tongue, keeping her disappointment to herself. The hand that had been on the back of Jill's head moved to her left cheek, and Jill flinched at how cold her mother's touch had become.
"What's going on?" Jill asked.
"Your stupidity is catching up with you." The calm behind Janice's words made their bite even worse, and Jill shuffled away. "All of this is your fault, you know."
"What...?"
"Think about it, dear." Janice knelt in front of her daughter, her lips twitching as if they were trying to form a smile. Yet they stayed flat. A crack formed in Janice's forehead, and there was a jagged red line along her neck. "If you hadn't volunteered for that horrible procedure when you were in the Army, none of this would be happening."
Jill shook her head, opening her mouth to protest—only to find the words stuck in her throat.
"Come to think of it, you should've never joined the Army in the first place." The line on Janice's neck began to bleed. "It was bad enough you wanted to follow in your father's footsteps and become a cop. What in the world made you want to fight in a war? A war you were against, no less? If I didn't know any better, I'd swear my little girl had a death wish."
"What?!" Jill sprung to her feet, taking a step back. "No! How could you say that?!"
"You enlisted in the Army," Janice began, ticking off her points with each finger. Blood poured from her neck to the point where her chest was coated in a waterfall of red. "You volunteered for an invasive, unproven, and highly dangerous medical procedure. When you returned home, you instantly enrolled in the Academy, and then you decided your badge wasn't enough. You decided you had to play superhero too." The next time Janice's lip moved, it was to curl in disgust. "I bet Brian fucking loves you now..."
"How can you..." Jill shook her head, her lower lip quivering. The wound in her side had reopened. "How can you say those things...?"
"Was it me?" Janice cocked her head to the side. "Was I a bad mother? Did I not love you enough?"
"No!" Jill ran toward her mother again, cupping Janice's face in both hands. The way her mother's eyes flashed black before returning to their normal state caught Jill off-guard, but she kept her grip tight and made sure not to avert her gaze. Even as the tears streamed down her face. "Mom, you were everything to me and Brian. You were our rock. When Dad was arrested, when he went on trial... you have no idea how much we leaned on you."
Flames burned in Janice's eyes. "Then why did you spend so much time with Detective Richards?"
The name took Jill aback, to the point where she flinched and clenched her jaw. Her hands balled into fists every time she heard her former boss' name, the betrayal fresh in her mind and heart. For him to have done all that damage, to have taken human life, in her name—on her behalf—left a sickening weight in the pit of her stomach. She wasn't proud of the thoughts that crept into her mind whenever she thought of Captain Richards these days, but she supposed such thoughts were normal.
And it wasn't as if she was going to act on them. Right?
"Daniel was a friend of the family," she said. "Hell, he practically was family."
"Even though he's as responsible for everything as Paul?" Janice shook her head. "As you?"
Jill let out a primal scream, socking her mother across the face. Yet the other woman held her ground, not even so much as turning her head at the force of the blow. Instead, Janice finally cracked a smile, one that featured cracked teeth as blood seeped from the crack in her forehead. It trickled down the side of Janice's nose, and she didn't appear to be the least bit concerned.
"How does it feel, dear?" Janice's smile disappeared. "To be so powerless? So pathetic?"
"Honestly?" Jill stood taller; her hands squeezed into fists so tight that they shook. "It's one of the worst feelings in the world. You wanna know why I
did all those things? Because I got tired of feeling helpless and finally decided to do something about it."
"And what have you accomplished?" Janice folded her arms over her chest, a loud crack at her elbows. "From what I can see, this town's the same worthless shithole it was when you found me swinging from the clothesline. You look me right in the eye, Jill Michelle Andersen, and you tell me what actual good you've done in that silly little costume."
"I've put killers behind bars," Jill argued. "I've tackled corruption within the BPD. I work for the FBI now."
"Yes, slinking along in the shadows, doing Uncle Sam's dirty work," Janice spat. "I'm so proud..."
"I..." Jill shook her head. "I got justice for Devin Buckner's family..."
"No, the other vigilante did that. He did the one thing you're not willing to do."
Jill's frown deepened, and she cupped a hand over her mouth. Hearing her mother talk like this, seeing the shape she was in, Jill didn't know how she hadn't gotten sick yet. Her other hand went to her midsection, and her fingers came away bloody. In the heat of the argument, she hadn't noticed the pain in her side anymore. Now the blood was flowing from her the way it was from her mother.
"Face it, dear, unless you start acting more like your father, nothing's ever going to change."
Jill took a step toward Janice. "What are you saying?"
"You know exactly what I'm saying." Janice rolled her eyes, and they stayed that way. "Oh, don't look at me like that. You know full well killing runs in the family."
"I am not a killer."
"Did you tell Yuki that before she fell off that roof?" Janice cocked her head to the side, her head separating from her body at the bloody line. "How hard did you really try to save Piotr?"
Jill shook her head, tears building in her human eye again as she pressed both hands against her temples and paced back and forth. "Stop it. Just... just stop!"
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