The Outcasts~ Series 2

[William Talbot]

Impromptu Prelude

“I want them found! I want their boss here! And I want his balls roasting in a fucking skillet, so I can shovel them down his own throat!”

A heavy glass cup partly full of cheap vodka and fruit slices smashed upon the granite countertop, to punctuate the rant, as a raging man in a fitted and pocket covered red jacket stormed from one end of the room to the other, his normally clean and pulled low knit cap in his hands, strangled and twisted up into a mass of fabric no one could identify, his lightly scuffed boat shoes squeaking on the kitchen tile, as he turned and then pushed, and threw all the items setting on the end of the mini-bar top off into the floor of the kitchenette, more glass breaking, and plastic bouncing and skittering into the living room beyond.


The handful of people, in the near vicinity cast wary low glances at the man as he fumed and then stopped and looked at the collection of enforcers, errand boys, wheelmen, messenger girls, dealers and other such peons that had gathered in the ground floor of the up-scale three story suburban Fremont house, which was currently the only place he felt safe given what all had been happening.

“What are you all standing around looking stupid for?” he asked incredulously, his green eyes flashing wide with over-exasperation; “GET OUT THERE AND FIND THEM! NOW!” he exploded when no one offered a reply to his question, the room and even the whole floor of the house emptying rapidly, outside the sounds of cars SUV’s and Motorcycles starting and leaving in a hurry drifted through the open front and side doors, which where closed by a few of his closest and most trusted companions.


“Darius, man every one’s been looking, but these guys are good, fast and stealthy, and word on the street is they’re freaks so-”

“SO then why can’t our contact with the cops get us some goddammed HELP?” Darius raged as he resumed his pacing, this time moving into the living room before turning back to the kitchen again, the thin pale skinned young man who had been talking rolling his eyes and following his crew boss like a parent trying to sooth an irate child.


“Because they aren’t on their radar, so the cops aren’t doing dick about it, near as we can tell, the only thing this crew is doing is playing with you and the other crew bosses, lifting things, tipping the cops every now and then, and chasing off our recruiters, dealers and enforcers from the gray areas and contested turf, and my guy Rick tells me they just shut down and chased off that indie racer crew, the ahh… The Razors I think they where called, chased them, clear outta Kempton Holdings north of twenty-first street.”

Darius looked to Peter and blinked sullenly before snorting out “Big deal, the racers are never going to be able to hold onto Kempton anyways, and the dealers can’t sell there because of the turn around, Downtown is what I’m worried about, our second biggest market is in the Hash, and if we can take little Europe, then Chinatown will be isolated, and from there all Yumi will hold will be the Hospital district, plus Kings and Meadow park, from there we can squeeze her out.”


“I don’t think she’ll be the problem by that point boss.” Peter said as he poured himself a drink of stiff but cheap liquor, and then took a drink before looking to his boss as he kept pacing.

“By that point Hiro will have either snuffed her or taken over her turf, he and his crew are getting ambitious, and there’s talks about him taking on Wolfe and his crew.”


Darius stopped and then roared with laughter, leaning over and placing his hand on the wall, his hat smashed between his quivering fingers and the wall as he fought to catch his breath; “Aaahhh hahaha! Funny Pete! Really! Hiro’s not THAT stupid, he knows that Wolfe and I have a pact, he rules Fortuna, and I Fremont, everyplace else we split up as we see fit.”


“Then why has Wolfe not moved on Downtown? You know he wouldn’t touch Kempton with laser pointer if he could help it, so why is he just sitting pretty up there in the college n’ fashion districts sipping his champagne and driving that ugly British sports car?” Peter asked Darius as he licked his lips and looked down at his drink, and then realized that what he had to say would mean he would have to leave soon, and he didn’t want to drive buzzed or tipsy at all, things where bad enough without some rookie cop pulling him over and hauling him off to jail for the night, plus the headache of getting his car back, which needed a fill up anyways, but still… Well, sure he could always cap the pig in the face and get out of there if it was on a sufficiently dark enough back road somewhere, but that was a whole other set of issues more stressful then the former option of just putting his glass down.


Darius scratched his chin and the thick but closely trimmed goatee he had, his chiseled chin one of the many features including his green eyes that gave him a movie star look, to his face, and it was likely one of the tools he used to get girls into bed, god knew he had a freaking revolving door to his bed room half the time…


“Well boss? Any ideas?” Peter asked once more as he set his glass down next to the cracked remains of the vodka glass that had by now fallen apart and leaked it’s fruit tainted contents everywhere.

“I’d guess he’s doing what I should be doing, consolidating his base and trying to figure this mystery crew out, what do you think he’s doing?” Darius asked as he realized that he was still thirsty, and his last drink was not running over the counter into the sink and down the drain. Dammit, he’d need to clean that mess up and fix another, oh well.


“I think,” Peter started as he raised his hands and started to gesture, as he did when he was really, REALLY trying to explain something, and he wanted as much attention as he could get so he didn’t have to repeat himself, which he often had to do anyways; “… That it’s not as simple as that, I think that Wolfe is somehow using this new mystery crew, likely brought in from Rockport and hooked up with some local solo talent, but brought in to stir things up, and unsettle the lower ranked crews, get then nervous, and lashing out at us, then once all the smaller territories and disputed areas are either snapped up or up for grabs, he moves in, and takes over downtown and then sets up some kind of puppet crew to run Kempton for him, at cost, and he takes his profits off the top, and gets ready to squeeze you out of everywhere but Fremont, before he moves in on you.”


“Jesus, are you kidding?” Darius asked as he set his newly filled replacement glass down on the countertop and stared at Peter for a few moments then whispered; “You’re not joking are you?” he asserted as his free hand reached up and ran through his closely cropped, lightly spiked dirt blond hair, the weight of what had been said fully settling onto him as he looked off into space.


“Look Darius, you don’t keep me around because of my good looks, my jokes, or my fighting skills, you keep me around because I can drive, I get all the info first, and I can think, and right now, it makes sense, but I know you’re thinking that this will happen by new years and you’re wrong, remember who Wolfe is, he’s arrogant, snobbish, and boring as hell, but he’s also dammed good at being patient, and being precise, and he won’t move until he’s sure he’s got every advantage he can muster up, so this could take years, understand? Years. So the more pressing issue is to find out about this new crew, who they are, where they work out of, where do they hang out, where do they run the most, what are they good at, and why are they moving into Palamont. All of that is vital to know, and I think the best, first move is to try and figure out if they even HAVE a connection to Wolfe and his Empire crew, right?”

Peter stood there looking at Darius from the doorway of the kitchen as his boss looked off and listened, holding his drink in his hands for a few more moments before standing up straight, and slamming the whole thing down in a single gulp.


“Do it, everything else you do for me is now on hold, no more races, no more runs, no more ambassador duties, not until you give me something solid on this fucking ghost crew, you get me Pete?” Darius looked at the thin, and slightly taller, dark haired young man, and his almost black brown eyes and plain face.

Peter nodded then shot a sloppy salute as he turned and walked for the door, his hand snagging his jacket from the rack, the garment falling down his arms and onto his shoulders before he paused at the door, and looked back to say something, but saw that Darius was already swirling a fresh hand full of fruit in his glass of vodka, that distant, slightly wild look in his bright green eyes, as they gazed past the wall and into space, off at whatever had gathered his attention now.


The tall thin young man just sighed and shut the door behind himself as he walked out to the low black sports-car of his parked in front of the house, a bad feeling sweeping over him as he looked around the darkened street, the rows of Mac-mini-mansions all quiet and nice looking, but the distinct feeling of eyes on him made it seem like a scene from some obscure horror movie…



The pair of shimmering silver eyes in the leaves of the massive oak tree in the yard across the street would have been happy to have taken even a small part in staring in such a story, but tonight, like every night, her motives where not bloody…


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Suffer!

[William Talbot]

Initiation

“C’mon! Put you’re back into it! Weak! She can’t feel it! C’mon! Tap that!”

Keira jeered and cheered as a young boy of about fourteen wailed away at a punching bag, his glove covered fists starting to throb slightly as he pounded away, his body growing tired, but his resolve just as strong as ever, and as he punched at the black leather bound padded bag of sand, he could see the long slender fingers and hands, bound in wide strips of tape, that held the bag in place for him, the long raven locks of hair swishing barely around as the deep blue-violet eyes of his teacher looked around the bag at him and she nodded some then smiled playfully and faked a yawn before she pushed the bag back towards him as he hit, his arm stopping dead still at the counteraction, his arm jarred slightly and the developing muscles in his arm wobbled under his olive skin and he blinked before hissing and shaking the sting from his bound and padded hand.


“You’re not following through right Tony, too much with you’re crosses, and not enough with you’re jabs.” Violet explained as he looked at his gloved hand then to her, a sigh whooshing out as he rolled his eyes.


“Why can’t Will teach me? I thought you taught the karate stuff Vi.” Tony, the stereotypical Italian boy through and through, asked with a cracked whine, his voice hitting both ends of his range twice during his short discourse.


“Because Will isn’t here today, that’s why, and besides, he taught me how to box, so I can teach you.” She said as she rotated the bag and then reached over and took his glove into her hand and checked the laces for slippage, as Tony, despite his long arms and legs, had rather smallish hands and feet, and even the smaller gloves tended to slip up on his hands.


“That’s not fair! I bet he only gave you like two lesions!” Tony screeched and rumbled back, his face red from effort, rather than embarrassment, his self-confidence was enough to make Will’s same attribute, seem laughably shy, and that was saying something. But then guys seemed to get some strange boost in that area when they had certain ability’s and traits, namely bull-headedness, and the knowledge that they did in fact have an advantage, whatever it might be. But then being such a tomboy herself, Violet had likened traits, and understood this as well or better than anyone.


“Hardly, if not for the fact that it was friendly and that I'm a girl, he would have pounded me to mush… Now for you’re cross, try a slightly more arced swing with a little less follow through, okay Tony?” Violet adjusted the bag and held it in place once more as the boy sighed and nodded before trying it her way, a satisfying “Whack!” sounding as his glove bounced off the bag, Keira’s cheering again resuming over the mild din of the gym.



“Gracie sweetheart, when you’re done with the clean towels, could you go to the back and check on our muscle rub supply’s please?” Joe said as he flipped through some papers on a clipboard, and frowned in thought, a pencil in his hands as he leaned on the counter at the front window, the little ticket office like nook giving him a clear view of the door and the gym, the shelves across from that having just been refilled with clean white towels by the slender blonde haired girl.


“Um-kay Gramps!” Grace replied with a nod as she straightened the last stack she had placed on the wooden plank, before turning to her wheeled basket and pushing it to the back door into the rear area where the washers, dryers and hot water heaters for everything sat, more shelves and supplys, from extra towels, to Gatorade, mop ends and bleach where kept, each on it’s own shelf, in some semblance of order not far removed from how they had been for years, only now sorted into proper groups, per Grace and Violet’s insistence and Will and Keira’s doing.

Finding the shelf with the liniment and other such creams and gels, Grace then did a fast count and then wrote it down on a scrap of paper with a pen, both of which had been sitting on the beat up and stained metal desk that had been pushed up against the far wall by the double door way that led into the back third of the building, which had been part way rebuilt as an office space, from a small private warehouse and shipping center, some years ago.

Walking back into the main area, which had been the warehouse and shipping area for some time, Grace trotted across the room, knowing in the back of her mind that her snug blue leggings and black leotard left rather little to the imagination of all the pre, mid and post pubescent males, she was glad that the matching blue gray and black windbreaker was over her shoulders and covering most of her still rounding out figure.


She hopped up with ease to the counter, her hands and bottom planting as light as a feather onto the solid oak counter, right next to the clipboard Joe had set down and turned his back on.
“Here’s a fast count Gramps, muscle rub, fast heat gel, and spearmint lotion too, anything else?” she asked as she set the scrap of paper on the clipboard and tucked it under a paperclip, her teal eyes looking over to the older man questioningly as he walked over and looked at her, then the paper.


“Nope, I think ya’ can go and take it easy for now, I’ll have to talk to Marc or Keira about runnin’ and getting’ our next order from the depot in the next day or two, mean time, you’re free to go Gracie m’ girl. Try not to drive all the boys to distraction if you go and use the big mat for some tumble practice.” He smiled at her almost absently as he picked the clipboard up once more and studied it, with the prompt return of that ever present thoughtful frown of his.


~Elsewhere~


“The lady asked you to leave man, cause’ I don’t think she’s interested in buying what you’re selling, so… Yeah, I don’t see why you have to be so…” Will paused for a moment as if searching for the word, to which Marcus interjected; “Pushy.”

Smiling Will gave an upward nod at the colorfully clad thug, and repeated the word: “Yeah, pushy, thanks.”


The green and yellow jacket and hat wearing enforcer sized the two of them up, both tall, the paler skinned guy taller than any white boy he’d ever seen, and with a chest three times as wide as his last lay’s ass, fists the size of turkeys it seemed, and his partner, black, bald, lean, and ripped was at least a good twenty pounds lighter than himself, yet looked like he could hurt an SUV if pissed enough.

In a one on one confrontation, Demar felt he could likely take either of them, provided he could get his hits in first, but two on one was a fools fight, even if you had a knife in your pocket, and a crowbar tucked up on your bike outside.

Good thing he had backup, moving around to outmaneuver them even now.

“I don’t remember asking you a dammed thing white boy! In fact, I wasn’t even talking at you! Now why don’t you sit you’re ass down before things get a little unpleasant here?” Demar rocked from one foot to the other, his head tilted up in a challenge as his hands spread out from his sides in total macho thug posturing mode, not ready to back down.


William arched an eyebrow at the gang-banger before glancing over his shoulder at Marcus, and as such seeing the two others who had adjusted their spots at the main counter behind there spot even now, as if he wasn’t smart enough, or “Street” as they liked to call it, to know who they where and why they had moved.

“White boy?” he asked as he looked back to Demar, with that eyebrow arched still, his thick arms crossing over his chest, as he smirked back and chuckled; “Wow, I may be half Irish, and named William, but I’m also half Native American, and I don’t remember using anything even remotely slur like when addressing you…”


Demar sneered as he rocked and bopped his way forward, glaring at them with angry eyes and pointed fingers; “Well I did, and I think you should get off’a my turf before I figure on showing people what happens when you fight the Ice…” he stepped closer, looking up at Will with a daring sneer that was so prideful it almost flavored the air in the room with sour testosterone.


“The Ice?” Marcus asked with his own eyebrow arching slightly, the irony now too suddenly apparent to ignore, even for him. “The hell kind’a name is that?”


“Hey… I do not want any trouble, if you can’t settle down, then I’m going to ask you to leave.” A portly Latin woman with graying hair, and worried brown eyes said as she held her ground behind the register, the scarce other patrons all but hiding in their booths.


“Bitch please, you work here, and own this place because I allow you too! Because the Ice allows all o’ you too come here and eat crappy food and buy over priced drinks, and it’s time you recognized that if you want to work, or play here in Kempton Beach, you gotta’ pay the piper!” Demar gave a smirking sneer of triumph as the woman was cowed, if only just, but the smirk vanished at two simple words uttered by the tall and bulky Indian Irishman in front of him: “Fuck it.”


Before Demar could even frown, his face was pummeled by a fist that seemed to be the size of a thanksgiving turkey dinner, with cranberry jelly and stuffing on the side, which was about how his whole body felt as he realized that his feet had left the ground and the floor had risen up to meet him much faster then he ever thought the floor should be able to move except during an earthquake, maybe.


His two friends saw what had happened, but didn’t even get to yell out any insults as Marcus wheeled around and lept at them, throwing himself across the stools they sat on, his full body tackle knocking them both to the floor so suddenly that the closest of the Ice members to Marcus could feel the chill from the Cryo’s skin, as an icy fist crushed his mid-section, the air driven from his lungs so hard and fast, he was sure that he was now dead, due to the lack of feeling in his body.

Five seconds later he was painfully made aware that, he wasn’t even close to dead yet.



It was over before it had started, the blows felled by Will and Marcus where so sure, fast and hard, that other than a bent stool support, and a few cracked or broken plates, there was no damage a screwdriver or a rag couldn’t repair, and as such, as Demar and his cohorts where pushed out into the street, stacking themselves like the piles of trash they now felt like, the portly owner, and operator, Rosa Marquez by name, couldn’t help but jabber excitedly in both English and Spanish to the young men, her cook and the other waitress about how they where giving a free meal, to the two young heroes, any and every time they so wished.

“Gracias servir de Madre, but that’s not--”


“Nonsense! You save me, and mi restaurante! Muchachos you are most welcome, you and you’re friends are my friends, I insist!” Rosa spoke so passionately that Marcus gave Will and lop sided smile and shook his head; “C’mon man, she won’t take no for an answer, and besides, free food? And since can you speak Spanish?”


Will brought his hand over his face and blushed as he looked down at the toes of his boots and sighed. “Fine, and it’s really Tex-Mex, I understand way more than I really speak, I’m hardly fluent.”

Looking back up he smiled and shook the woman’s offered hand, nodding as she fired of something else he only caught about half of, but understood that she would gladly feed him or his family or friends anytime, free of charge. A tad much in his option, but then she said something about gang members having come around and tried to intimidate her and her lat husband before, and that caused Will to tilt his head and hold a hand up to slow her down and quiz her; “Ahh hold on, what was that? What about your husband again?”


Rosa paused and took a breath then repeated herself in rather well, and practiced English; “I’m sorry when I get excited I, uhh, I slip up and then talk much too fast for my own good.” She smiled slightly even as her eyes went sad and she relaxed some; “About a year ago, my husband started to be harassed by some of the hoodlums in the area, from a few different gangs in fact, but he never gave into them, he did not think he should pay someone for breaking his windows as much as NOT breaking them, again even. He called the police and they went away, and bothered someone else, but six months ago, my husband was working late here, and when he left work to come home, he was struck, run over by a mystery truck, right out there in the street, and from that day until now…” she paused as her face took a firm and disgusted set to it, a hardness that both Will and Marc understood well; “Until today, they come, every week they come, and they ask for free food, and for money, to ‘protect’ me, well I tell them NO! I do not need protection, I need business, the one thing they cannot give me. And now, I have you boys to thank for this, you have driven them away!”

William looked over to Marcus as he cleared his throat and replied softly; “Well miss Rosa, I’m not sure if we’ve driven them all away, for good or otherwise, but they aimed to do something bad to you, and we couldn’t let that happen.”


Rosa Marquez nodded her understanding then smiled; “Ahh but you, you I like, you are good boys and I have no trouble feeding you, if you come here from time to time and look out for those bandidos, and scare them away, then I would feed you, because you are good growing boys who need good food for your good deeds.”


Will smiled slightly and nodded; “We would be grateful, but you don’t need to, it would not seem fair.”


“What’s fair? They have blades and guns! Do you boys bother with that foolishness?”


Will glanced at Marcus again then looked to miss Marquez and whispered semi-loudly; “We don’t need them.”

She smiled encouraged; “Ahh, I knew you where good boys! You are smart, and stay away from that foolishness.”

Leaning in William shook his head at her and then whispered again; “No miss Marquez… You don’t understand, we don’t NEED them…” his eyes glowed softly for a few heartbeats, as he held his hand up, the fingertips glowing softly, as tiny flickers of flame danced on them then faded like spent candle flames…


“Jesús Cristo!” She gasped at them and took a step back, her brown eyes wide with shock before she softened and then smiled softly and nodded; “I do not care… You are good boys, I know this, I see it in you’re eyes… I know here…” she rested a rag filled hand between the aging bounty of cleavage he had, as she nodded and tapped her chest; “I know in my heart… You are not monsters… You are… Los grandes protectors, si?”


Will nodded as he closed his eyes and bowed his head; “Thank you miss Rosa… and yes, we are… At least, we are now.”


Marcus leaned over and whispered into Will’s ear softly; “I don’t know jack about Spanish, but did she just call her the big protectors?” the curiosity in his voice tempered with a veiled warning.


Will shifted his head slightly and whispered back as he raised his hand and waved, he and Marcus now turning to leave; “Almost… She called us the GREAT Protectors…”


“And you said we where crazy? Just what have you gotten us into now I wonder…” Marcus retorted as they walked down the sidewalk, and he realized that they had taken a solid, no shit, non-deniable stand against the crews in Kempton Beach, and as such, likely most of the crews in Kempton would take notice, and if that happened…


Knowing how things worked, and what would happen if one messed with the gears of the city’s underground enough, Marcus could see a lot of trouble coming their way, but then he also could see something else, something that could mean freedom from the crews for everyone in the city, but it was like a dream, fading, fogy, never quite in reach, and utterly foolish.



But then, where would anyone be if no one dreamed?

[William Talbot]

A Preemptive Folly

~Palamont Police Department central, Downtown Palamont~


“So just what the hell HAVE you been doing Bennet? Handing out speeding tickets to geriatrics on their hover-rounds?”

On a good day, Captain Mark Flowers, (Captain of Detectives, Organized Crime Division) was gruff, snarky, and all business, however, on his bad days, he was biting, sarcastic and profane enough to peel paint from the walls of a church on Christmas, but most days he was someplace in between, much like today as he chewed on his top three Detectives and Inspectors, (of fourteen total officers under his direct command) while the three Lieutenants and five Sergeants sat back in their seats in the meeting room, trying to stay straight faced, knowing that sooner or later, his wrath would turn to them as well, as it was his “time of the month” meaning it was really the time during which his wife left town for the east coast to visit family, leaving mister Flowers to fend for himself at home, which boiled down to a constant diet of TV dinners and Ramen noodles, with the oh so lovely discomfort of gas and heartburn, which meant that the men under Captain Mark Flowers got to feel their own brand of discomfort as well. Such is life.


As Flowers went on reviewing the results on the current batch of cases, and the lack of progress on some, and the status of wrap up on others, Detective Malcolm Myers allowed himself to dwell on his current top case, which was finding and identifying this list of talent that had drifted into town, still as of yet, for reasons unknown, and of course, the thing that had been bugging him the most; who was the mystery girl?


“Myers! Earth to Myers! You’re ass is on fire!”


“What?” Malcolm grunted as he shook his head and looked up at Flowers, who was pointing his unlit short-roll almost into his own face, the sickly sweet smell of grape flavored tobacco, hitting him like a finger jab to the chest.

Blinking at his superior dumbly, Myers looked to the cigar, then back up at Flowers and then tilted his head and shrugged; “Oh, well, the Yn-Chung case is almost over with, we have trace that places a repeat offender named Alexander Stathand at the scene, and GSR confirms that Al not only fired the weapon, but did so more than once, and it was in some kind of contained environment, as proved by the damage to the gun, and the scorching on Chung’s jacket, the lab thinks that Stathand bunched up Chung’s jacket to muffle the sound of the shots, but when one of them hit rib bone it shattered the bullet, and the fragments mangled the end of the muzzle. Cheap little thirty-two caliber one time Chinese pistol, a Saturday night special if ever there was one. Anyway we’ve traced the gun to a pawnshop off of Reynolds and Twenty-first, but the trail goes cold there, as the owner of the shop took over that place just two months ago, and the gun was purchased from that location nine months ago… We have yet to locate the previous shop owner, but I’m not sure what we might learn if we do, not that we need it to give the DA’s office all they need to nail Stathand, everything else is clean and tidy.”


Flowers grunted as he placed the lightly frayed cigar into his mouth again and then walked back to the small lectern at the head of the room and rumbled over his shoulder; “Hmmhh… Good work, try to tie that one loose end up if you can, but if you can’t clean that up by the end of the week, then close up and move on, I want you’re docket clear so you can head up the case on that out of town issue we’ve been getting dogged about from up stairs.”

Leaning heavily on the wood and metal stand, the Captain shifted some then pointed to the rows of lower ranked officers and barked out some names; “Miller, Reilly, Di Maurizio, I want you three attached to Myers hip for this one…” reaching down he pulled a transparency from a folder and set it on the projector, which he switched on and then pointed to the list and pictures on the screen.

“Myers and Bennet are aware of this, and now all of you will be informed since the bosses want answers to this query.” Pointing to the projection screen, which dominated a good third of the ten foot long back wall, Flowers danced a red dot pointer over the whole screen as he went on; “Rockport P.D. sent us this, attached to a whole file on this bunch, who are, by their reckoning, some movers and shakers in their underground, and as such, they felt we should be forewarned since at least four of them have been reported to have been headed down here as of a month ago. Nothing was confirmed until one of our people saw these three,” the small red dot danced over the last three pictures as he moved to the side some to make sure that everyone could see clearly; “Who at the last the Rockport Gang and Organized Crime units established, are the three prime lieutenants for the Shadows, one of the three largest Crew’s currently running about Rockport.”


Flowers adjusted his notes and then looked to the screen again, flashing the red pointer at the second picture in the lineup, a black and white artists rendering; “And this, near as they can tell, is the last known leader of the Shadows, no known names, no known record, and no sightings in Rockport in just over six months… Needless to say R.P.D. has surmised that if she’s still alive, she’s not in Rockport, and the only logical explanations that fit, assuming she’s still amongst the living, are that she’s either recruiting, establishing a new chapter, or is on the run from a power shift in the gang. Myers, Bennet, please tell me one of you two has something?”


Myers shook his head no, while Bennet nodded yes, which earned him a wave up front, from Flowers.

“Okay,” Bennet said, his rich tenor carried across the room with ease as he pulled a few pages from a spiral spine notebook and walked to the front, pausing just in front and to the side of the lectern; “This girl, is about eighteen or nineteen, the only place we got any kind of hit off this render was in Saint Louis, however the one picture they have on file is older, shows what seems to be the same girl, aged about thirteen or fourteen, and nothing else. Seems she had been staying with what the local law thinks was some family member or friend, an old immigrated French national named… René Von Zont, or something like that, ex legionnaire apparently, anyway, a car at a crosswalk struck him and he died about a month later… Uhh… That was five years ago, and the girl hasn’t been seen since.”


Myers had to nod with an impressed arch of his eyebrows and turning of his lips, the slight grimaced twisting of his face the silent version of an impressed “huh” at the new information, which had likely taken a concentrated amount of digging over the last four or five weeks since they, himself and Bennet that is, had been informed of the situation and the persons on the screen. But then how did this new information Bennet had unearthed help them find her or the others?


Bennet had the answer in his notes; “Next time she seems to surface is about two or three years ago, during one of the more violent gang clashes in Rockport, right about the time they start to call themselves crews both there and here in Palamont. It seems around that time, the Shadows underwent a shift in leadership, and when that happened, they starred doing less and less in the drug and gun trades, and they seemed more concerned with consolidating their hold on their turf, and from there, they seemed to become quiet enclosed, the only known crimes they really bothered with being theft, and most times it was shoplifting, primarily food and other such goods, a handful of grocery stores falling into their territory reported that their distribution and disposal of food was constantly being subjected to raids… Then about nine months ago, during a turf war with the Cobarie’s, things went to hell, their leader, a guy named Josie Rawlins, shows up dead in a car, shot to hell, and then the leader of the Shadows, again with a description only,” He pointed to the sketch on the screen to tie it in; “Gets herself shot twice by a former lieutenant named Elias Aquista,” Once more he pointed to the screen, this time at the first picture on the page; “Who according to the word on the street, had stabbed her two months before this, because he wanted to make a play for leadership, and bring back the drug trade.”


Everyone looked around to Bennet, and then back to Flowers who frowned around the shaft of his chewed up cigar as he groused; “So are you telling me Bennet that we could have not just one, but two movers and shakers from the Rockport underground, moving into Palamont?” he tilted his head at the Inspector as the officer shifted and sorted he few notes and then cleared his throat to reply.


“No sir, what I’m saying is that according to every scrap of info I could dig out on this, of the six up there, we only know five of them for sure, and of them, three run together, as the combined leadership of the Red Shadows Crew from Rockport, the other guys a hired gun from a crew called the ten-eighty-eights currently the only crew with chapters in both Rockport and Palamont… The mystery girl, by all accounts, is an outcast crew boss, without a crew, and a mark on her head for death…” Everyone looked hard at Bennet at that, as a crewmember marked for death, boss or underling, didn’t live for long. But he didn’t slow down; “If she’s a threat, I don’t see how, and thus far, we don’t even know if she’s here or not, for all we know she could have headed north to Tacoma or back east, or hell, even all the way to the next state, either way, she’s still pretty much under the radar.”


Flowers grunted as he rose up from leaning on the wall, a long low and exasperated huff filling the room before he barked out at his men; “Alright, enough daydreaming, Myers, Bennet, you two are heading this up, so clear your desks, I have a feeling this will get interesting before it’s out of our hair, and understand that the bosses are wanting this to be dealt with, and now, so I want updates, every time one of theses pukes takes a shit, understand?”


Myers and Bennet nodded as they stood, knowing that it was time to get out the door and get the little fish fried up quick.

“And Find that dammed mystery girl!” Flowers yelled out after them as they two officers left the room.



“So you have Miller, Reilly, Di Maurizio for manpower huh?” Bennet asked Myers as they walked to the main office area, where they both had desks, but Bennet got to have small, low cubical walls around his, but no door or glass, yet.


“Yeah, the trio… They work well together and with me, so I guess it makes sense right? Only you’re not going to pull rank on me over anything are you?” Myers asked as he tossed his jacket over the back of his chair and sat down, pushing his finger to the mouse pad to wake his computer up from its over night slumber.


“Hell no, this case gets dealt with right, you’ll be an Inspector too, and anyways, I gotta treat you nice because Flowers has busted my ass for giving you low boys a tough time lately, so either way, I’ll play nice, but do your job Myers and you’re golden.” Bennet hooked his own jacket onto the small hook he’d placed on the cubical wall of his tiny office, which was really somewhat of a joke, and he knew it, but even so, it was HIS dammit, and he’d earned it, kissing ass and busting his feet out there on the streets.

Myers nodded with a distracted hum as he checked his email and case dockets, and then sighed, as he went to the task of ear marking the smallest cases to be passed onto one of the Sergeants in the unit, the poor suckers worked harder than anyone, and they where constantly getting more crap dumped on them, but when Flowers wanted his desk cleaned off, and the one case worked over, then Flowers got it, because he was the first big fish in this strangely shaped pond called the government of Palamont…



~City hall~

The trappings of power, are many, and varied, due mostly because there are as many levels of power, as there are kinds, from physical power, to emotional power, to political power, and ideological power, each flavor held it’s own ever growing levels and lines of perks, based on one’s power, which was, based solely on what was for all practical and logical reasoning, the perception of others…

Ahh, the truth behind politics, so blatant, and yet so hidden, as it was by nature, and as it should be.


At this little string of thought; a smile crossed the older, wrinkling face of a lightly tanned man, in his late fifties, with silvery hair, streaked with gray and black, the hue had once been reversed, but after almost ten years of office, and the stress that invoked, the now dominant hue was sliver, rather than black, and while part of him hated loosing that battle, he also knew that it made him look, rather regal, and as the shapely redheaded assistant pouring his third cup of morning coffee knew, it was hardly a reflection on his vigor and potency, but then eating right, exercising every now and then, and some wonderful little pills helped as well.


“Mister Donaldson? You’re first appointment is at ten-thirty, a mister Combs to see you about a city business matter, in the Downtown and Kempton areas… He rescheduled due to a personal matter last month.”


Richard Donaldson, mayor of Palamont, had always insisted on being called by his last name, rather than his proper title, as a way to foster a close knit feel to his office, and it worked… The tiny twinkle in Brea Ann’s eye and extra sway in her hips as she moved from his office proved that to him, as much as the efficiency of the rest his office, despite him down sizing or moving former members to help cut down on costs, which the tax paying citizens and members of the city counsel seemed to just love, and to be honest, he preferred the smaller number of people here, it had allowed him to redo the offices, and make more room for everyone. And there had yet to be any complaints from the tax payers for cutting almost a hundred thousand in salaries from the office, and then spending just over half that savings on the remodel, saving the city in fact, a tidy thirty-nine thousand dollars, on a quarterly scale.

“Also Mister Donaldson,” Brea Ann said as she paused at the door, and looked at her notes, before turning her dark green eyes back to him; “You’re friend, Darius Marks? Brittany picked up a message for you last night, while you where… Indisposed… Shall I send it to your phone?”


Mayer Donaldson glanced up from the run, along her legs to her face and smiled again nodding; “Of course Brea Ann, send it to my cell please?”



Ah yes, perks, back doors, and hidden agendas, the life of a politician…

[William Talbot]

Predisposition

The rain was torrential, like a monsoon or some kind of tropical storm had moved itself all the way from the middle of the gulf to the west coast, just to dump itself out on her head, her hood drenched, sticking to her blond locks, which where plastered to her cheeks and forehead as she ran, the sounds of laughter behind her, but she dared not look back, not now, she had to see where she was going, she had to make sure she didn’t trip or fall, because she had to get away, it was the only safe bet, it was the only—

A hand, large, limp, and heavy came across her face, and she felt herself spill across the ground, suddenly falling down a flight of stairs that where somehow in the alley, her face burning, stinging as she felt it bounce along the smooth cold steps before she felt her feet suddenly flip over her head and crash into a garbage can, trash, mucky water, wet papers, and old rotten food crawling up her arms and legs, lead filled as they where, they could still tell her that she was being pinned, back, down, somehow, in some direction, she couldn’t move, and it scared her, as dirty rough hands grabbed at her, peeling her clothing from her body like a wrapper from a candy bar, her flesh suddenly hot, as a forbidden feeling crept up her legs and spine into the back of her brain, a cold shiver tearing at her flesh from the inside out, a terrible fear gripping her insides as she felt hands and lips, press into her, and a low hissing voice cut into her ears from everywhere; “You little slut… Gracie, Gracie, eyes so blue, can’t you see just what you do? Bare your arms, and flash some thigh, kiss the boys and make them cry… Taunt the men, with your charms so sweet, sway your hips and pat your seat, laugh and smile and dance away… You’re such a monster… I’ll kill you one day…”


Shaking violently she struggled from the hand that struck her, and the leering face that slowly formed behind the hand, the cruel smirk and cold hard anger behind the dark blue eyes, as he struck her, all manner of names flowing from his lips, lips that barely moved, hands there where both weak, and yet hard, rings formed from gold digging into her face, as other hands, dirty and grabbing, pulled at her bare body, making her feel oh so dirty and worthless, until it felt as if her skin was peeling from her body, exposing her muscles, and veins to the air, which burned and ate at her until she cried, not in fear, but in anger, in hate filled rage, and broken misery, hot blood tinged tears leaking out as she felt a wild untamed beast rise up inside of her, her bones cracking, the last shreds of her flesh tearing, ripping, and growing, a pain like razors burning into her bones consuming her as she faded into a feral rage that exploded with fear, anger, and darkness…



Bolting upright with a gasp for air, Grace felt herself clawing at her own throat as if she was trying to force it open, the cool air of her room hitting her windpipe like a punch to the face, her gasping suddenly choking, which turned into a coughing fit that shook her slim slender body head to toe and caused her a more than mild headache, her fingertips running up the sides of her face, a hot slick moisture under them, her skin soaked in it, but her neck, and face held more than sweat on it, a thin layer of blood was mixed in as well from the claw marks she had left on herself, her neck and collarbone a raw red road map of fear and terror.

Shaking still, she reached over and switched the small lamp by the bed on, as her feet came to rest on the floor and she held her head in her hands again, and then slowly curled up on the edge of the small double bed and laid down on her side, heaving slightly, her stomach churning at the nightmare that had been stalking her the last few nights, the last few weeks in fact, ever since Paul had called her cell phone, looking for her on behalf of her drunken mother, who had managed to dry up enough to realize that her one and only daughter was gone, and had been for over six weeks.

Paul of course had tried to play the worried and caring stepfather card right off the bat, but Grace Sanderson knew better than to trust Paul Hoffman, and when she had boldly called him on his act, he had exploded with rage, reverting to his more common persona of the vindictive, and mildly perverted user of a stepfather, a string of threats and promises being shouted over the device at her from all the way in upper Fortuna, the gut clenching fear worming its way into her before she ended the call.

Ten minuets later, her cellular service was cut off…


Closing her eyes and stealing herself from the memory of three weeks ago, the teenaged girl rolled over and put her back to the wall, her arms wrapping around her slim frame, as she debated on pulling her blanket up, the slightly musty, slightly “athletic” scent of the cool air moving through the single vent in her office-turned-bedroom was cooling the sweat from her body, and very soon her sharp nose realized that there was a distinct taint of blood in the air, and after another moment, she realized it was her own.

With a soft resigned sigh, Grace sat up and unfolded her nimble frame, and walked to her bag, pulling her soft gray zippered hoodie out and slipping it over the small, tight blue tank top she wore, the short snug black gym shorts she wore was all else she was going to bother with for now, since she was pretty sure no one else who was at the gym, was up at this hour, which according to the tiny lime green luminous watch she had on, was far too early in the morning to be healthy in her mind.


Moving from her door into the small hallway that connected the row of half finished offices turned private rooms for her and the others, she walked to the small kitchen area, recently completed by Gramps, Marcus, and Will, the painted wooden counter tops not exactly the most expensive she’d seen, but who was she to complain? They where smooth, clean, and worked, and that’s all that really mattered.

Reaching into the cabinet she pulled a plastic glass down and then went to the fridge for the pitcher of water, as she really wanted something cold, soothing, and flavorless, her nerves still frayed, the scent of her own stress, and fear no longer prodding at her own senses, her nose now used to it, and as such, was tuning it out now.

Suddenly, there was a scent she couldn’t tune out, a smell that pressed into her nose, and mind like a sudden weight of warmth and power, the musk of warm skin, hot muscles, testosterone, burned wood and dog, her nose flaring at the tingle someplace inside her pelvis that triggered a quick wave of goose bumps to cascade down her back, chest and arms before she placed the water pitcher back into the refrigerator and nudged it closed with her foot as she turned and looked at the tall Lycan, his bared arms and perfectly chiseled torso covered by a second layer of skin pretending to be a gray undershirt, the baggy green cargo shorts he wore hanging low on his narrow and well shaped hipbones, the ripples of muscle that defined his abs, flanks and hips ended at the waistband of his shorts which covered what she assumed to be perfectly delicious thighs, his calves certainly where plenty strong looking, the thin layer of hair that covered his forearms and lower legs was soft and smooth looking and…


“Hi?” Will asked her again as she stood there, looking at him with what looked to be a mixture of wonder, lust, and boredom, an interesting mixture of facial expressions to mash together for sure, but not exactly unknown to him.


“Hi…” Grace managed to respond as she refocused her gaze on his face and forced herself NOT to look back to that gorgeous body of his, or to breathe too deeply, since he smelled wonderful, and she felt like crap.


Moving slowly into the room, Will’s sharp eyes caught the edges of some of the claw marks on her neck, which where all most totally covered by the hoodie, but that was just almost. Giving her a quick once over, and letting his nose take stock of her, he could tell that she was attracted to him, stressed, and was either currently fighting down a massive wave of fear, or had just pushed said fear away. But what had scared her so bad as to make the room reek of fear and stress?

“You okay Grace?” he asked as he moved past her and reached for the refrigerator, and pulled a bottle of vegetable juice from the door, popped it open and took a long pull, empting half it’s contents in two massive gulps, as he absently pushed the door shut with his free hand.


“Uh yeah, just umm… Thirsty…” she said dryly before at last taking a drink, as if to justify her tiny lie, was as good as not telling it to start with. God she felt terrible, her joints ached, her head hurt and her mind was all but numb, the lack of sleep was going to get to her sooner or later too, and when that happened, she’d be able to keep it hidden for only so long before everyone was aware that she had more than a few daddy issues, and that she became increasingly unstable when sleep deprived, her control falling off, slowly before the ability to morph went away and she fell into a catatonic state.


“Hmm… You never took drama and acting in school did you?” Will observed as he swirled the remainder of his drink around in the bottom of the bottle before slugging it down in another massive gulp, before screwing the lid back on, and single-handedly tossing it to the side, into a small waste basket in the corner of the room by the other door to the smallish kitchen/lunch room area.


Grace tilted her head in a tired but questioning manner as she licked her lips lightly and felt a deep pull tug at her hips as she inhaled deeper than she meant to, and was rewarded with a strong wash of that hot, earthy, masculine scent he had rolling off of him in waves she almost could see, if not for real, then in her minds eye.

“Uh no, why do you ask? And how’d you guess anyways?”


Will gave the faintest of smirks as he leaned back on the uncovered brick and concrete wall behind him, his arms crossing over his chest, the motion giving his form a flex, that taunted Grace in ways she both didn’t fully like, or understand, and yet just seemed to know about somehow, which frustrated her all the more, as his stunning steely blue eyes locked onto her and he spoke in that wonderful baritone; “You’re just about the worst liar I’ve ever met, and for a girl, that’s pretty sad.”


Instinctively Grace felt her eyebrow arch at him over the rim of her glass as she took another drink, again, trying to deflect him with a half-baked truth of convenience.

“Really? Hmm, I’m thinking Keira’s right, you are rather sexist.” She fired back tiredly, suddenly feeling rather bitchy and more spent then she felt she should be, her hand now holding an empty plastic blue glass as she turned her teal eyes onto William and tried her best to give him a bored look, even while she started to wonder of her period might be coming early this month, she certainly felt pre-menstrual right now, a warm flush tinting at her cheeks as she gave up and let her eyes roam him again, and her nose drink in his delicious scent, her mouth feeling like it wanted to water with hunger at him, that now ever more familiar twitch between her thighs suddenly standing up and poking her brain.


“After a fashion? I recko’n I am… But you don’t look so good for a girl who’s been in one of the more stable and safe situations of her life for the last month.” Will said as he pointed at her neck before leaning forward and moving in close, his finger lightly teasing the edge of the neck line, pulling it open some and exposing more of the rash of lines that where slowly fading way.


After a moment of resting there under his gaze and the weight of his finger barely touching her hoodie, Grace at last shied away slowly from him, her shoulder rolling the hoodie back into place before her free hand reached up and zipped the front totally closed.

“I’m… I’ll be okay, it was just a bad dream.” She said softly, her teal eyes averted as she suddenly remembered just how much bigger than her he was, his shoulders so wide, and packed with strength, his arms thick with power, his torso seemed to go on forever as he towered over her, standing there just a few scarce inches away, well within reach, and yet…


“You’ve been having a lot of them lately huh?” he asked softly as he leaned back and stood up straight, giving her some breathing room, his eyes soft and understanding, his voice low, lumpy, and soothing as he could make it, his hands finding his pockets as he looked at her concomitantly.


She felt as if he could see right through her, his steely blue eyes piercing and yet inviting, and kind, warm, the faintest of glows rimming the irises as he stood up straight and gave her just enough space to breathe without practically drowning her self on the scent of testosterone and burning wood. God she wasn’t sure if she was afraid of him or in awe of him, but she just knew that he was there now, and that she was still scared of her dreams.

“I guess.” Was all she could say as she felt herself shrink up into a tiny little speck of nothing under his warm gaze, the duality of her feelings making her head ache all the more, as she felt both safe and comforted, as well as small and afraid all at once.


“I only ask because this isn’t the first, or second time I’ve been woken up by you crying out in you’re sleep.” He slid a foot back and rested most of his weight on it, to give her just that extra little bit of space as he tried to read her better, but either his skills where slipping, or she was such a mess she didn’t know how she felt herself, or more likely, was still trying to sort it all out, which if not for the sharp, bitter sweet scent of fear that still whiffed around her, she likely would have settled herself by now.


Looking back up at him, Grace’s eyes lit with a hidden realization, as that little detail about him being a werewolf walked up and slapped her mind silly, the fact that he likely could hear pretty much any and everything going on in the building, to one extent or another, settled onto her and caused her stomach to twinge in embarrassment.

“Oh… Umm…” She said as her feet started to shuffle of their own accord, and her lower lip tucked up between her teeth, her gaze shifting into a sad thoughtful, setting before she whispered out; “Yeah… It’s been bad…” her voice was small, barely over a soft whisper, and more like a loud thought, her teal eyes slowly falling to the floor between them before she coughed and raised her voice; “But I’m sure you don’t want to be bothered with the ranting angst of a fifteen year old girl with nightmares and daddy issues.” She shrugged her shoulders back and then brushed a golden lock back behind her ear as she turned and placed the glass into the sink, a tiny bit of frail steel creeping into her posture and voice before she turned and faced Will the smallest shadow of a smile tried to show on her lips, even as her eyes shimmered with slowly growing tears that crept up despite her best efforts; “Good night Will… See you in the morning.”


“Grace… It’s already morning… And you’re trembling…” he reached out his hand and caught her by the elbow as she turned, pivoting on her heel, her knees buckling under her as her insides clenched and she felt a knot of bile rush up her chest into her throat, a ripple of thunder sounding outside as she at last realized that the small grating sound that had been bothering her was the sound of the rainstorm outside.

Holding her arm firmly, Will moved his other hand to her back and let her regain her footing, her sleek athletic body still shaking as she stood and then leaned back on the counter, her hands reaching back with a shudder as she held herself up with his help.


“Th-thanks… I kinda f-feel sick…” she said shakily before turning and emptying her stomach into the sink with a huge retching sound, a muffled moan following the spew of matter. “Oh god…” she whimpered softly as she shook for a few more moments and then stood up straight, and pulled a paper towel from the roll and wiped her mouth clean.

Taking the fresh glass from the cabinet Will offered her, she filled it with water and drank slowly, her eyes closed as she prayed and begged for her stomach and the sick, weak, helpless feeling she had gripping her, to go away, so she could stop making a fool of herself and just go back to bed…


“Easy now… C’mon lets take a seat.” Will said, as he gently led her to the plastic picnic table against the wall. Holding her arm he let her lower herself down and take a breath before he sat next to her and gave her another look over as she leaned her elbows on the tabletop and bowed her head, her hands clasped in front of her as she slowly leaned forward and flopped her head onto the cool white plastic and moaned semi-loudly; “God I feel like crap… And I bet I look like it too…”

Tangling her fingers in her own hair, Grace groaned, and huffed, feeling good and sorry for herself now, as she felt her composure crumble, right in front of this insanely hot man-wolf who had helped take care of her, and was now watching her fall apart into a heap of blubbering tears and sick stomach. He must think she was just some floozy goofy crazy girl with rocks for brains.


“Not exactly, but your working for it aren’t ya?” Will said softly as he leaned forward on his elbows and looked over at her with a faint warm smile, his eyes drifting to hers as she looked up at him with an almost confused yet exasperated look on her face.
Turning slightly to face her more directly, Will reached up and pushed her hair back out of her face and behind her ear before he sighed heavily and just looked at her, as if he was deciding just what to say or do.

“Grace… You know you can talk to me about it, if you want.” He offered in his lumpy baritone, his steel blue’s soft, warm, and un-judging as he chewed on his bottom lip; “Unless it’s like something Violet or Keira would be better equipped to address, in which case please don’t think I’m being pushy or nosey or something.”


She looked up at him and blinked slowly, his face, was so handsome, and kind, his eyes deep and comforting, and the heat that was always flowing from him was also soothing, his voice reaching out through the nerves and phobias, offering her a place to anchor herself, not unlike his now outstretched hand.

She took it.

“I… I’m kinda scared Will, honestly… Honestly I’m worried that my step dad will find me, and what he might… What he will do, when he does…” She brought her feet up to the bench, and tucked her bare knees under her chin as her arms wrapped about her long strong legs and a small soft sigh fell out of her lips, her eyes at least leaking out the tears she had been holding back, a sob forcing them out; “He hates me… Just like my mom… Only now that I’m growing out and maturing, he’s started looking at me like… Like I'm some piece of meat… And when he found out about my… My…” she bowed her head and buried her face in her own lap and sniffed before crying out; “I’m not a monster! Am I?” she lifted her head and looked to will, her teal colored eyes going red and bloodshot as the trails of warm salty raced down her fare cheeks.


Will bit his lower lip and listened, then shifted so that he straddled the bench and faced her fully, his elbows resting on his knees as he clasped his hands and looked into her wet, enchanting teal eyes and then shook his head; “No Grace, you’re not a monster.”

Reaching up, Will pointed at her, right in her face and spoke, soft but firm, his voice low and breathy; “You’re the furthest thing from a monster… And if I ever hear you refer to yourself as a monster, even in a roundabout way, I’ll be half temped to take a swat at you…”


Grace sniffled and wiped at her face as he looked at her then spoke, a disbelieving look on her face before she tilted her head and almost sneered at him; “Oh sure, I’m a one girl walking zoo and yet I’m not a monster, try selling that to someone stupid Will, I mean look at me!”

She stood up and turned around, flopping her hoodie arms around before she pulled it off and stood there, as if on display, her hands landing on her hips as she then glared at him; “I look normal, but I’m not, I’m twice as strong as any of the other girls my size, I can bend and contort myself into impossible positions and I haven’t been sick a single minuet of my life since I was nine, and then I turn around an hit puberty like a friggen brick wall last year, and now I feel all funny and tall and I have curves, and I don’t know what to do with them half the time, and the way boys look at me makes me feel weird, and then sometimes I have this wild urge to just act like a fool and then I just… I just…”

She stopped and turned blood red, the scents of embarrassment, arousal and frustration flooding the air suddenly before she turned back to the table and flopped down and threw her head into her arms and whooshed out a heavy sigh; “I just don’t know what the hell to do with myself half the time… I feel like a crazy raging bitch.”


Will reached out and rested his hand on the table top next to her and tapped his fingers lightly before he chuckled; “Feel free to punch me after I say this, but, well, you are… You don’t understand or even know what the hell is going on in your own head half the time, right? It’s called being a girl Grace, and me being a stupid guy can say, you’re confusing as hell sometimes, all girls are, but it hardly means your crazy, it just means that… Well, you’re human…”

Pulling his hand back after a moment, Will then turned and leaned back on his elbows on the table top and gazed off into space as he kept speaking; “You’re not a monster Grace, trust me, I know what monsters are, and you’re not anywhere close enough. Yes, you have a great power, but you’re hardly what I would call some rampaging monster.”


Grace looked up at him, his profile seeming wise and thoughtful, his head tilted to one side as it was, his gaze on the far wall, as if he was doing more than just thinking, but also remembering, as to what she couldn’t guess, but maybe, something not too removed from what they where talking about now?

She could only guess, but then, she realized that, other than the way he smelled, and what he had said, she had never really seen him in his werewolf form, all big and furry and savage, but then it also seemed that unlike the somewhat normal conventional thinking, he could transform whenever he so chose and wasn’t purely subject to the lunar cycle as most people thought was the rule. Still, a part of her was bugged at this mild little detail, as silly as it might be, as interesting as it might be.


“All I can really tell you Grace, is that you’re not alone, obviously you have all of us, we’ve banded together for protection, we do whatever we can to take care of each other, you’ve seen to that in your own way, in a sense being the most helpless of us, or at the least, most vulnerable over all, but then that can even be a strength, I mean, you helped us come together as much as anyone, you asked the questions we either didn’t know how to ask, or where embarrassed to ask, and you’re always willing to help everyone, as best you can… You’re not weak, and that’s something.”

Looking back to her he gave her that oh so gorgeous impish half grin of his, her heart fluttering in her chest slightly, as she looked at him, his mild dimples, and that entrancing shade of blue his eyes gave off when he laughed, his smile seeming to fill the room with warmth, something that she realized didn’t happen often, despite his easy and friendly bearing around her and the others.


“You’ve got a good heart Grace, and I can’t see how you could ever be some kind of monster, at least not some mindless beast… Just remember who you are inside, the outside is just a wrapper, its nice and pretty, but it’s not what most honest people really want. Okay?” He nodded to her then reached his fist out which after a half second of uncertainty, she reached out in kind and bumped her fist into his, her own lips slipping into a small smile, nothing over the top or even telling, but her eyes lightened some, and she could feel herself relax a bit as she realized that Will really was her friend, and that he wanted what was best for her, or at least, he seemed to, and she really hoped that it was true, even when he had done nothing contrary to such an idea, Grace was still wary of trusting others, given her past betrayals, still… She had little choice but to trust Will and the others, and thus far, it had paid off, so she could keep on with it for now, and that would likely keep her safe, at least until she could care for herself, and properly return the favor to her new, and now she realized, close friends.

~Elsewhere, later that morning~

“The key to our future, in business… Is the future of humanity, of people, and… Our advancement as a race… As our business.”

Average height with clearly Scottish jaw line and cheekbones, intelligent and piercing pale blue eyes behind narrow black-framed glasses, closely cut mild brown hair, and a sharply cut, perfectly tailored charcoal gray suit.

This was Martin Christopher Taylor, businessman, industrialist, scholar, and visionary.

Founder, owner and CEO of the Paxton-Quinton conglomerate, he was the model of success, modern money and power. Fit and trim, the former college athlete, turned scholar and businessman, had degrees slowly stacking up like papers on the average CEO’s desk, while he also slowly, and surely grew his empire, Paxton-Quinton being both a major distributor and a producer of all manner of goods, from household items, to sub-components for major military projects, the diverse number of things that Martin Taylor’s personal company was involved in, was staggering, as was the amount of money he spent keeping all of it going, never mind the amount of revenue the conglomerate was pulling in every year eclipsed the cost by such a wide margin that some on his board of directors wondered why he had called this meeting, and was speaking to them as if the whole organization was on the brink of collapse.

But the truth of the matter was far from that.


“Martin…” Started one of the older members of the Board of Directors, a short, wide, and yet fit man in his late fifties named Robert Collins, head of the Automotive industry branch, which, while the conglomerate did not make cars itself, did however back a number of parts and component manufacturers, and was a 20% partner in a small European upstart company that built small light cars and trucks for much of southern Europe and the Mediterranean, with a pending launch in the US slated for late the next year.


“Yes Robert?” Martin said as he mentally recalled, ordered, and then put away the information and looked over to the shorter gentleman as he stood to speak, as was the custom for this setting, the fine dark wood table polished to a sheen, the heavy leather bound chairs gliding over the thick yet tightly piled dark carpet with a fluid easily afforded by the large brass spun casters they sat on.


“I would like it if you could clarify what you mean by all of this? You call this meeting, and then proceed to tell us that everything that’s been done for the last twenty years, since you started this whole endeavor, is now no longer important?” he looked at the younger man with a slight tilt to his head, his face questioning, and puzzled, more than some of the others in the room, a few of which where both younger and older than himself or Martin.

“I think that you need to explain why it is you wish to sell off a third of this company, reorganize the conglomerate, and then expand our various R and D departments to the maximum allowances of our liquid funds and assets? I mean, our projections are constantly in adjustment, but always upwards, since our first year on the market, we’ve only had one year not turn a profit margin as impressive as last years, and have only once failed to turn any profit at all… I’m utterly mystified as to why you want to treat the organization as if it was in a tailspin to ruin, when we’re poised to be stronger than ever.”

Robert gave a single nod to the room, then sat back down, and settled himself in his high backed chair and awaited his requested answer, something that was expected, in such a setting as this board meeting.


Martin gave a curt nod then turned his back on the board as he moved to the far wall, a white screen lowering and a set of pictures was projected onto it.

“Officially, there are estimated to be over six point, two billion human beings on earth as of right now, slightly lower than expected, due to the last hand-full of natural disasters and the always blossoming conflicts around the globe, however I’m more interested in the unofficial numbers…”

The pictures, showing pie charts and a bar-graph, changed to a slightly blurred image of a young girl, aged no more than nine or ten at most, with glowing red eyes, her hands held up in a defensive posture, a grown adult male flying backward as if struck by a car, flailing wildly, a look of pure shock and surprise on his face, a fearful, and terror riddled look to the girl, dressed in what had once a long time ago been threadbare overalls and little else, her pale skin dirty and scarred along her arm, the faintest red glow flowing from her hands, pushing the man back.

After a moment, the image animated, and the surprised and pain filled cry of the man could be heard along with a mysterious ripping crackle sounded, like thick paper being shredded with razors, the girl then shouting out pitifully; “Leave me alone!” before she turned and ran, the camera turning to follow her after the man landed some dozen feet away with a heavy thud, two of his comrades at his side, pistol’s drawn, as the girl vanished from sight through the dust of an abandoned warehouse.

Two sharp, loud, and clear gunshots rang out moments later, punctuated by two sprays of some kind of fluid flying back out the darkened exit and the girl’s hand, covered in what could only be her own blood, flopped out of the door way, some of her dirty, long brown locks splaying out next to it, the grainy black and white image lingering just long enough to show a trail of dark fluid flowing out on the ground past the small dirty hand, cutting into the dirt and dust of the concrete floor.


Everyone at the table was shocked, and a few even looked down right scared, or sickened. All where dumbfounded when Martin turned and blacked out the screen, speaking slowly, and clearly; “This is not a movie trailer, or doctored in anyway… A Government taskforce, assembled to find and either capture or eliminate specific persons recorded it… The taskforce was formed to deal with what some might call “unnatural gifting’s” under the guise that these people, these persons, where conspiring against the Federal Government with illegal substances and devices. However, I personally have been approached by the Secretary of Homeland Security to head a counter taskforce, to investigate an underground movement, that apparently… Alters how we should view our world.”

He waited for a moment to gauge their reactions, then proceeded as he had planed; “As we know, we as human beings are rather amazing, in the biological sense, and as we know, we as a species have evolved over long periods of time, thousands and thousands and millions of years of progress has made us what we are, we know from historical records that we are bigger, stronger, faster, and smarter than at any known point in human history, but, as has been supposed by some of the more liberal members of the scientific community, Humanity has reached two key crossroads in it’s hopefully continuing history… We sit at the cusp of a critical mass like moment for humanity, because, the planet cannot support such a growth rate as we have seen over the last fifty years, and for the last thirty, we’ve know that, and yet have done little to quell the impending disaster. And with the high numbers of people, we have found that there is a wide spectrum of afflictions, both naturally occurring, and self inflicted, but with that, we have also seen the potential for humans to adapt, over come, and change… As you saw in the video, that little girl, had… What many would assume to be, unnatural powers, however, upon examination of her body, she was found to have some peculiar subtleties that set her apart from a normal ten year old girl. Namely, she had a highly developed center brain, and a super densely backed brain stem, and twice the normal number of nerve endings, and cells in her nervous system.”


He let that hang in the room for a moment before Charlotte Drake, the head of Medical sub-divisions of the conglomerate, a former trauma doctor herself, stood slowly and cleared her throat; “Mutations?” she asked simply, to which Martin nodded in answer, “From what the examiners could tell, she had experienced said anomalous growth during two of the major growth periods children undergo before puberty, but that, while impossible to tell for sure, the conclusion is that she had not been born with said… Variations.”


Charlotte locked her gaze on Martin for a moment longer, then nodded before speaking; “I’ve read a few papers by some of the… Less regarded, experts in genetics and cellular growth and mutations, and they have repeatedly drawn conclusions that within the next hundred years, humanity will begin a marked shift towards developing specific traits, pertaining to everything from procreation, to self-defense and advanced mental functions… So my question is this: Are we talking mutants here? Like in the movies? Because while highly improbable, it is unknown if it is in fact impossible.”


Martin made a thoughtful face and then reached up and scratched his chin twice before he walked back to the lectern and replied; “The experts I’ve spoken with, work for the Government, because they are simply the best, and most of them are unknown, and their conclusions are, based on all the tests, observations, and data they’ve been able to gather, is that we’re dealing with science fiction becoming accepted science fact, because they have also found that not everyone they’ve tested could even been considered as human, despite outer, and even inner appearances, due to a very select few facts.”

Waiting for a moment, making sure they all understood what he was saying he gave a small smile and then nodded, and an intern walked in and started handing out sealed folders to each board member, then left, before Martin spoke the final word on the matter; “Ladies and gentleman, understand, that much of this I’ve told you is in fact, somewhat old news, but the ideas have been with us for years, hiding in plain sight in comic books, on TV and in movies and stories and videogames for years and years… Super humans are real, as are… Other super powerful beings… Our job is to ensure that this world will survive the next hundred years with the pending upheaval that is about to shift society’s around the globe, one person at a time.”

Looking about, Martin declared the new secret mission for the Paxton-Quinton conglomerate; “We’re going to find out all we can about the supers, and we will find a way to market this to the rest of the world, to fix all it’s troubles, without wearing a cape or a mask or endangering their life’s.”

All of course, for a price, he didn’t have to add.



But the true cost, was a fee Martian was more than willing to pay, would be in the blood of children…


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bwhahahahahahaha! Oh noez, what now?

[William Talbot]

Comprehension

“This is too easy.” Remarked a burly, head shaven Latino as his crew members offloaded a number of boxes from the back of a delivery truck, the signature brown and gold paintjob having been hastily painted over with a green, that had unintentionally turned three shades darker than had been expected, but that had given their wheelman a momentary flash of inspiration, to paint a bright yellow tree over where the old logo had been, the truck now apparently one of the first for the “Forrest Parcel’s and Packages” something that could be explained as a new local delivery service should anyone ask, and while the stolen licenses plates wouldn’t stand up to any kind of police computer search, they wouldn’t be driving it much longer, and it had been so long since it had been retired to the junk yard, that it had taken seven quarts of oil, new sparkplugs and a prayer to get it running. The fact that it didn’t smoke was incredibly lucky, but then so was the fact that this shipment of illegal performance parts from Japan was now less than a half hour from being in place, and the second half of his payment was due an hour after that, made Mateo smile to himself as the last box was put into the back seat of a small two door import with trick wheels that had also been lowered, and was in need of a paint job to finish the total package.


“That’s the last of it M, we can bounce when you’re ready.” A portly black boy with a nose ring and dreadlocks said as he waddled over to his own car, a large and freshly painted mid eighty’s Impala with black chromed wheels almost as big around as he was, and windows that where just a shade darker than was legal for anything other than a VIP or government limousine.

Nodding in understanding, Mateo looked around one more time, trying to shake the feeling that something was wrong, since given the luck of all the crews that had been working the ear south side of twenty-first street, and while he was deep in the heart of The Projects, an area that had always been good for hiding and distributing contraband such as this (or guns or other things) it WAS also only about ten blocks from Eastman Downs, an area that had over the last ten or so weeks, become a gray area after all the smaller crews that had been eking out a living by splitting up the turf, had started fighting each other again, and then had been systematically driven from the area from the boundary between Downtown and Kempton at Twenty-first, all the way down to Thirty-ninth, which was just short of the Forty-first street boundary between Eastman Downs and Kempton Beach.

The thing that worried him, was that while Eastman Downs had turned gray, no other small time crew was even trying to move in, all the major crews where content to hold steady, and the other mid-level crews like his own, had yet to make a play for it either. And while he himself could see the advantage of taking Eastman Downs, he still wanted a larger slice of the Projects and The Rail Yard areas first, since his specialty was moving products into and around Palamont, and owning the Steel Mill area was next to worthless, aside from the cash the Mill paid for scrap metals and such, of which Mateo could get in a never ending, steady supply since his turf included the largest junk yard in all of Palamont, and the Steel Mill dealt with individuals just as much as major suppliers, rather than local business.


Looking back over his shoulder, Mateo nodded to his chief lieutenant, Roger, a massively built Caucasian man with dirty blond hair and a shortly trimmed goatee that matched his muddy brown eyes better than his hair. “Okay,” Roger said as he pulled his cell phone out and then sent a mass Text message that inform all their contacts that the next batch of outlawed car parts was about to be heading their way; “Message sent M, the guys are ready to roll out.”


Mateo nodded approvingly before he walked to his car, a newer black Mustang, with faded gray flames along the nose, climbed in, and buckled up before he started the car, revved it a bit and then pulled out of the back alley with minimal fuss and noise.
Hey why attract any unwanted attention, right?


What he and his crew didn’t realize was that they already had someone’s attention, more than one group in fact was watching them, however, only one of the other two entities was aware of the other, and when one was blessed with such great, god-given night vision, keeping tabs on everyone around you was easy when under the cover of a cloudy half mooned sky, and the dark shadows of a Cell tower receiver dish.


“Hey Will… They’re moving the car stuff now, and the cops are tagging them all for later.” Keira said softly into the small cheap pre-paid cell she had called Will with, the landline number being the extension Joe had in the back, attached to the Gym’s Office numbers account.


“Good job Keira,” Will replied quickly as the sound of a keyboard clicked softly in the background; “Stay put until the coast is clear, then head on over to Kempton Beach, the manager of the Car Zone there just closed up shop, but he didn’t turn on the backdoor light or lock it up yet, so I think we’re going to move in on that first, Marcus and Violet are already on the way.”


“Okay, I should be able to pop over in a few, the van they have just started up, and the unmarked car is pulling away… Okay, they have two other cars and one is staying put to watch the mule truck, I’m gonna go ahead and leave now, see you there Willy.”





~Back In Eastman Downs~

Will looked to the receiver and shook his head in mild exasperation, then hung it up before he looked to Grace who was working at a slightly aged, but still perfectly functioning laptop, her teal eyes locked on the screen as she tapped and typed away.

“Did you get all of that?” Will asked as he pulled his jacket on and then checked the laces of his work boots, and stretched his neck, popping it.


“All of it, the feeder line works perfectly, Keira’s idea is brilliant, and thanks to it I’ve been able to clear this thing off and upload the newest software I can find for free, and while that may not sound so hot, I know a few other places to get top of the line programs, that’s all free ware, and twice as good as anything you can buy in the stores…” she trailed off for a moment, before the computer chimed and she smiled; “Perfect! Okay, now we can monitor the police band from here, and I can route any info you want to you guys via the pre-paid cells, either myself, or directly if you want.” She smirked at him as he shook his head in closed eye disbelief.

“Told you it would work.” She reminded him as he walked to the back door and shot her a look over his shoulder; “Hey, I’m not a computer kind of person, but I know imaginative fixes when I hear them… Props girls, but now its time for some direct action kind of stuff, see you in an hour or two.”


Grace smiled and nodded then bit at her lower lip for a moment then called out to Will as he stepped through the door; “Will! Hey… Uh, be careful, okay?” she said tentatively as she leaned forward over the small computer.


Looking back over his shoulder, Will smiled and nodded; “Always Grace, don’t sweat it okay? Oh and be ready to order them pizzas for when we get back.” And with that, he left, shutting the security door firmly behind himself, leaving the young blond haired girl alone in the back of the Gym, as Joe slept soundly in his room, in the apartments across the street.



Somehow, Grace knew that William meant what he had said, but that this would be the first of many times, she would still worry, not just for him, but for all her friends, even if admittedly a tiny bit more worry went towards Will…



~Later~

“And when Marc lifted that drive shaft up and put it through his car with one hand? Oh god I thought he was going to pee himself!” Keira laughed as she held her slice of pizza up and rocked back in her seat, the cheese and pepperoni starting to slide off slowly, heading for her plate.


“What, a second time?” Marcus teased as he chewed his own slice, a smirk on his large black lips, a sparkle in his dark brown eyes as traces of cold blue danced behind them, as he looked to her and she doubled over in laughter, her slice falling to the paper plate with a splat as she giggled herself out of her seat, much to the amusement of the other, Grace’s hand flying to cover her mouth to hold in her own laugh at Keira’s antics.


“I think the fact that we destroyed the contraband is what really set off the driver, but for a crew that’s so mid level as Los Machete, they where far more organized than I would have thought…” Violet observed before she took a sip of her soda, and then started up on her breadstick once more, her violet blue eyes thoughtful, even as her face was as neutral and calm as ever, everyone had figured that to get any read on her, one had to know her eye expressions as much as one could read other’s body language, facial expressions, or even vocal tones.


Will nodded as he smiled and chewed his own slice, before he cleared his throat and chuckled, speaking; “Yeah, as entertaining as that was, we should take note that not all the crews are as loose and sloppy as some of the other’s we’ve rebuffed from Eastman Downs, or from around the whole Twenty-first street line… In fact I’ve been thinking--”

“Oh brother, take cover gang, the doggie’s got a plan!” Keira interrupted with an eye-roll and smirk, to which William shot her an annoyed glare before going on:

“As I was saying before the peanut gallery jumped in, I’ve been giving some major thought to this, and I think we should start trying to get a read on the bigger crews in the city.” He said before picking out a fresh slice from one of the trio of boxes that sat in the middle of the table, two other pizza boxes already having been discarded by the large trashcan at the back door.


“You mean the last of the middling gangs in Kepton right? There aren’t too many right now, Downtown’s currently the most diverse territory but…” Marcus shrugged as he stuffed the last of his pizza crust into his mouth and started to again chew quietly.


Will shook his head and set his slice down as he spoke; “No Marc, I mean for the whole city, Kempton to Fremont, Downtown to Fortuna, the whole city has crews, some bigger than others, a few bigger than all of them, and I want to know the how and why and where.” He said simply, his steely blue eyes locked onto the dark skinned cryo-kinetic male.


“Holy…” Marcus said in reply as Keira suddenly stopped giggling and stared at him, with a mixture of awe, shock, and mild disbelief.

“You’re nuts man, anyone ever tell you that? You could be a poster child for the local asylum, Harper Home, it’s in the western part of downtown near the Hospital district, I’ll take you there some time… And leave you there.” Marcus’ tone was shock, horror and even some anger, as he shifted in his place and leaned forward onto his elbows and locked his cold dark gaze on the slightly taller, paler skinned male, his gaze intense, so much so, the girls froze in place, the air suddenly electric in the room, as the scent of a pending fight filled everyone’s nose, the hush almost deathly in its totality.


“I’m not crazy Marcus, I’m just saying, knowing what the big boys are doing will give us the edge in dodging them for the moment, the smaller crews aren’t a match for us, and I figure by the end of the week, they’ll all know it, so that leaves the middle sized crews, and the big dogs, now I’m pretty sure the big players don’t know and don’t care about us, either way, but the mid sized players are about to become the bottom of the food chain, and that will make someone, do something stupid, and I’d rather like to not be close at hand when it happens and trust me, it will, it always does.” Will was so calm about the gravity of his statement, that Marcus wanted to be even madder because of it, but, he couldn’t because Will was again, making some pretty dammed good sense, even if it didn’t fully ring true for him at the moment, Marcus could hardly fault the guy thus far, still…

“What is your end game Will? I know you, you’re always thinkin’ at least three steps ahead of everyone here, and almost ten ahead of everyone else… You’ve got an idea, a plan or outline of some sorts, so level with us, what’s going on here?”


Violet looked from Marcus to William and then back again, her mind racing, piecing together everything she could think of, into the current context, and something seemed to form together, but it was… Vague, just a notion, and until she had more information, it was just an idea that was likely just as good or bad as any other, even given what Marcus was implying.


Will looked around the table and then cleared his throat after swallowing his pizza slice, and then he spoke softly to everyone, in that clear, lumpy baritone of his; “The crews are going to ruin this city, we all know it, but we can stand up to them, maybe get ourselves into a position to get the cops and City Hall in on this, and clean up the city some… I mean, I don’t know about all of you, other than maybe Violet, but living on the road sucks ass, it’s hard, you end up sleeping wherever you can, its hardly safe, and I’ve personally be run outta more towns and threatened outta more cities than I’d care to count or name, and I’ve decided that I have just run out of road to walk on, and I’m sure as hell not taking a boat across an ocean to just keep walking, no I rather like it here, so I think I’ll stay and take my stand against the stupid and immoral people thank you very much.” He folded his arms and leaned back some and waited for comments or questions.


It was Keira who spoke first; “Dude… Noble and all that jazz, but the harsh truth is that the local government is rotten, dammed near through and trough, and they’ve started to call in the feds to deal with people like us, we don’t have rights or anything to stand on or anyone to stand up for us as far as they care, and as for the crews, well who cares? There will ALWAYS be some group of people like that who will find ways to make their money, and survive under the radar like that, hell, we’re practically a crew ourselves!"


William looked to Marcus who clenched his jaw at Keira’s words, his comments made about not wanting to be a part of a gang or crew, ringing in everyone’s ears, until Will spoke up in reply; “We’re not a crew… We’re an anti-crew, we don’t take anything not offered freely, we pay when we can or must, and we stop others from robbing and scaring others… Last time I checked, that’s the polar opposite of what a crew is or does, am I right?” he looked around the table and after a moment, everyone nodded in agreement, even Marcus.


“So our goal is to do what?” Grace asked quietly as everyone settled into a slightly uneasy silence at the shift in the atmosphere, her teal eyes wary and inquisitive as they swept the room, trying desperately to figure out who felt what and where they all stood, but sadly, other than Keira, everyone else was fairly passive in their facial expressions, which was starting to frustrate her to no end.


Violet replied softly, her French born accent barely slipping out with her words; “We keep doing what we’ve been doing, we protect each other, and we do the right thing by the people in the neighborhoods around us, and we keep the Crew’s from causing problems where we can.” She looked from Marcus to William, a shade of understanding in the almost nonexistent nod she gave to him, the unspoken words that passed between them where a mystery to all, but whatever it was, Will just smiled as if some deeper meaning and understanding had arrived between he and Violet, and she seemed to think so as well as she allowed a tiny smile before she looked to Marcus and calmly tilted her head and spoke; “Well Marcus… What do you think?”


Marcus looked from Will to Violet and back again, twice in fact, then he sighed, his face hard, and his eyes fierce, as he flexed his jaw muscles a few more times before he sighed out a chest full of air and groused; “I don’t like this, but honestly, I don’t see anything wrong with it, Eastman Downs is my home, and I’ll be dammed if anyone tries to move a crew in here while I can have a say about it, and if doing that means we give a hand to the rest of Palamont, then fine, I can live with that...”


++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


Series 3 sneak peek!


The heat was exquisite…

Violet, could feel him there, in so many ways it was as if he was the whole wide world wrapped around her, and it was why she felt so alive, and despite her highly stimulated and aroused state, she also felt so at peace, right there next to him, her hands resting on his shoulders as she nuzzled his chest and let him hold her there, his lips on her neck, dancing over places she had either forgotten of, or didn’t even know they where there to begin with, hot goose bumps rising up on her skin, a tingle of pleasure arcing along her neck and down her back, her inner flame swelling with heat and flaring with the sudden spike in feeling and passion she had as his hand rubbed up her back and her lips reached for, then found his neck, the low soft humming in his throat at her contact sent tiny pleasant tickles along her lips, making her smile slightly as his own lips found hers for a moment, a hot, intense, blinding moment that made her knees weak, and her arms tighten up around his neck in weakness.



The feel of her, the slight weight of her, the heat of her body pulled at him, the scent of hot orchids and ashy lavender, with the taste of sweet hot cinnamon drew him to her, closer and closer, his hands slowly and gently memorizing the shape of her body pressed into his as their lips met again, her arms holding onto his neck, keeping her upright as his hands gripped the narrow part of her waist, her knees slowly shaking free of their burden, her long athletic body now hanging from his wide, powerful frame as their mouths danced to an increasing tempo, the music unheard, and yet shared, the feel of her inner flame pressing back against his, their close proximity giving them a rather sensual experience that was more than equal to a far more advanced expression of desire for most other people, but when one had something in them as powerful as literal fire, and you found another person so much alike yourself, and that something reverberated so strongly that you felt bonded to them beyond normal attraction and affection, it tended to move you to act rather… Well, recklessly… Even if you where the picture of self-control and composure.


“Hmmm… Will…” Violet cooed as her lips danced from his down to his chin, where her kisses became smaller and lighter, her hunger changing its texture as one hand gripped his neck and the other gently brushed along his cheek and then ran playfully through his hair, her lips lightly swollen, and plump as they smirked pleasantly at him, her deep violet-blue eyes shimmering with hints of lavender down inside them, the apples of her cheeks a rosy red flush as she leaned back some and then laughed as he blew a kiss onto her bared neck at a rather tender spot, the soft wet popping sound followed directly after with a loud smacking pop of lips pulling away from warm wet flesh.

“Stop that! You’re so childish sometimes.” She giggled softly, a sound like the wind swept melody of a mystical goddess to his ears, she knew, because he had said as much, and more, all of which caused her to blush, since he had not only addressed, but had in fact found and uncovered her femininity rather unexpectedly, a part of her she had almost always down played the bulk of her life, because the streets where not often kind to girls who used their sex as a weapon and a reward carelessly…

Smirking at her Will gently pushed her back against the wall and leaned on one hand over her, his smile a bit hungry, but his eyes warm and happy, the steely blue soft, and inviting, rather than hard and piercing as she had so often seen them when it wasn’t just them, but then she so highly valued these rare times where they could just be alone, and not worry for the rest of the world, and this dammed city they where in, where they where lost, outcast, and despised because they stood against both shades of wrong, and as such where branded as outlaws, where everyday was a test of brains AND brawn, of instinct and luck, but here, alone in her room, or alone anyplace they could be, where there wasn’t some other pending situation, other than the next breath to be taken, she could look at him, and openly, shower her attention on him, and as such, her affection and love, her kisses always gentle, yet wanting, and forceful, hungry for contact with his lips, and his kisses where always strong, firm, commanding, and yet, kind, loving, and caring…


“Hmm, okay, okay…” Will replied as he slowed his attentions down to the barest of smiles and the random kiss on the cheek, his arms lowering slowly to wrap around her middle, her arms resting on top of his, her hands gently gripping his shoulders as she gave him her small Mona Lisa smile, her eyes warm, happy, and bright, that lovely shade of violet that matched her name perfectly, her hair falling in a slow straight wave just over her left eye, the light shine of its softness seemed to catch a hue of lavender in the raven tresses that flowed from her head.

Leaning in Will gave her the softest, most gentle peck on the end of her nose before he winked at her and slowly let her go with a whisper; “You need to go, Joey’s going to pitch a fit if you’re late again…” his smile was knowing and amused as she gave the slightest of eyes rolls and slowly let him go, pulling away as if the loss of contact was physically painful, which he had to admit, sometimes it really was...



~~~~~

Suffer fangirls... t-shirts are pending! xD

[William Talbot]

Observations

“Interesting… Number tee’ ess’ dash oh three is showing an progressing level of perception of it’s surroundings, even with the blinders on… It appears to be auditory based, as whenever I speak, it stops and listens, and then when I pause… Yes, when I pause it resumes it’s navigation…”


The dimly lit room held but a few lights, carefully placed to maximize the coverage of light, without totally illuminating the whole area, leaving plenty of darker gray and black corners, with soft white pools of light trained over work spaces ranging from tables to desks, each covered with some sort of equipment, from a rack full of chemist beakers, tubes and Bunsen-burners, to more mechanical set-ups, one such table had what appeared to be a coffee can sized motor of some sorts, in the midst of being either built, or disassembled, the exact method or end result known only to the person who worked at that table, however, at a large side table, at what was the north side of the room (the fact that there where no windows did not prevent the users of this room form using such simple navigational cues) was a large blocky construct, with small transparent windows into the object, a simple yet sturdy wooden platform with a single step leading to the deck, served as the raised observatory for the maze of passages, a small desk like countertop with a set of electrical wall outlets mounted in the corner, wired into a heavy cable that ran off into the shadows to the power source, had two power-strips plugged in, one running the set of small black and white cameras that where mounted in all the small blind areas that could not be seen from the main observation window, made of inch thick plexi-glass, the three level maze was simple three normal lab mazes stacked upon each other, with simple ramps or stairs in each corner that connected the three levels, much like a miniature apartment building.


Only the small rodents that often occupied this place would hardly have called it home.

Small plates hidden in the floor, each with mild electrical current running through them, all on the bottom level, while the middle level held small spring loaded, pressure activated plates with dull spikes, designed to hurt, without injuring or drawing blood, and yet the springs where tight enough that the force of the small devices being tripped, could and did toss the smaller rodents into the air for a few inches, which as far as raw numbers went, wasn’t much, but was still at times, twice or three times the height of the poor creatures being tossed by blunted plastic spires, the squeals of flying mice and gerbils where thankfully muffled by the countless layers of cardboard and plywood the maze was made of.

The top level, was one with but two “obstacles” in it, however they where the ones that would cause real harm, and pain to a careless creature, the first obstacle, was a tube in which a mouse or rat or even a ferret could crawl into one way, and then work it’s way out the other, however, due to it’s elastic nature, it hugged the creature just so, as to make many try and back out.

This would cause thousands of tiny piano wire like barbs to catch, and fold out, digging into the small beasts fur, and then hide, most times causing them to stop the backwards motion, and move forwards, however, more than a few had tried to turn around in the tube, only to become stuck halfway, and as such, they had to side step out, or be stuck, as the tube only allowed movement in ONE direction.

Some rodents had in fact become so scared as to jump backwards, skewering themselves almost instantly with dozens of wiry steel barbs, killing them, and most times, not instantly…


The ones who got out of THAT, never went near it again if they could help it, and if confronted with it a second time, they moved smartly through without stopping, and most would never even venture to the top level if they were lead to it more than a few times.


And that was the more “humane” of the two obstacles on the top level of the maze.



Blinking almost tiredly at the screen of the laptop that was mounted on the tiny workspace built into the small raised platform’s frame, an aging man with no hair, wrinkles like an elephant’s trunk, and beady dark green eyes, with freckles and age spots covering his face, observed silently as a large white mouse, it wasn’t exactly big enough to be a rat, but it was close, slowly worked its way through the lowest level of the maze, following its nose and ears, as it wore a small cap like object that covered its eyes, causing it to thrash and wander clumsily for the first week or so that it had worn the device, but now, it had adapted nicely to working without its sight, which for the coming experiment was critical.


Behind him, standing on the floor, was a younger man, in his late thirties, dark hair trimmed short, a goatee and matching mustache trimmed perfectly, his slightly olive complexion showed the right amount of wrinkles for a man of his age, his eyes and mouth however, had the exact expression that he was constantly reprimanding his step daughter for wearing, a bored, slightly hostile, and highly arrogant expression on his face as he crossed his arms, his own white lab coat bunching slightly as he watched the old fool play with his mice.

What a waste of time.


“Arnold, you’re wasting time with the mice, in the time it will take you to condition one, we could have…” he stopped when the older man, his boss in theory, held a withering spotted hand up rapidly, almost with a level of anger.


“Be quiet Christopher,” he rasped softly, almost too low for the younger man to hear, damm the stupid things one does in college… Too many front row centers at local music spots did that to ones hearing after all.


Doctor Christopher Bishop, frowned deeper and was quiet, as Professor Arnold Stackman observed his little rodent navigate it’s way onto the second level, where it slowly found its way into the middle chamber, where its prize was, this time, a bit of orange, rather than the stereotypical chuck of cheese, which almost ironically, most of the mice hated anyways.

“I don’t see the point of this, it’s just a courtesy study on the long term effects of the various conditions and parameters that are effecting the adaptations we’ve forced onto them, to see--”

“To see if we can enact a forced hereditary change on the bloodline, with various inputs, and the mutated genetic codes we’ve implanted, Christopher really, it’s my own theorem and proposal of study, and I’ve been working on this test study for the last ten years, that’s over one hundred generations of mice I have bread, trained, modified, and studied, you’ve only been here the last two years, you’ve not seen all the growth and progress, so you cannot appreciate the subtleties of change as I can.” Stackman kept his back turned as he adjusted a small camera with the laptop, and then brought up a logging program, and rapidly made a careful data entry, his aging fingers flying along the keyboard in a well practiced dance to an electronic tune he himself had authored.

Turning at last, Arnold took a careful step down, and then limped his way from the wooden platform, a worn black notebook tucked under his arm, his wrinkly bespectacled gaze brushing over the younger man as he grunted; “Recover Daphne please, I must compare some notes before I have Harry run the maze next.”


Doctor Bishop bristled slightly but nodded once and then strode to the maze to do his chore, even as he began formulating the next steps for his own project, which, unbeknownst to the old has-been who was muttering away at a dimly lit desk behind him, was the outgrowth of the early work and projections, which where being fallen short of, due to the now apparent limits of rodent testing, which the old fool would not acknowledge.

Not that it mattered, his time was soon over, and then Chris knew he would be leading the way into the next wave of genetic decoding and in discovering all the wonders of human biology and the outer limits of mankind’s potential.

Besides, Chimpanzee’s where so much closer to actual humans anyways…

~Elsewhere~

“Bennet, how the hell did you ever get off the streets and out of blue? You’re almost as bad as the people we try and stop, you know that?”

Malcolm Myers was shaking his head with a look of utter distain at his fellow officer, and while the Inspector did, technically out rank him, it was his own case to run, and that meant he had the authority, and James didn’t.

It also meant that Bennet was attached to his him like an extra gun, a gun that was always going off when he least wanted it too…


“Dry up Myers, you can’t have a bleeding heart out on the streets, I thought you knew that. A snitch is a snitch, no matter if you pay em’ off or threaten them to talk, you get you’re info anyway you can.”

James Bennet was slightly short, dark haired, blue eyed, and smart mouthed, and he was also a natural born politician and strong arm, which meant that he was about as cunning as a starving shark, he would get whatever he needed or wanted, even if he was less than subtle about it.


Malcolm just shook his head as they walked down the sidewalk back to their car, after hitting up one of Myers street informants, something Bennet thought should be taken literally, but they had found out that a small time gang had recently been evicted from their own tiny patch of turf by the people of a small corner of Eastman Downs, near Kempton Beach, the snitch, a nervous eyed and slightly rangy middle aged man, whom Myers called “Uncle Mike” as the only name he’d ever been given by the man was Mike, and he had an almost kindly if not jumpy uncle like manner to himself, almost laughably, he was like the stereotypical tattle-tale from any umber of TV shows or books, a point Bennet had deflected by observing that “Stereotypes exist for a reason” and while flawed on some self-righteous level, Myers had to admit that there was sadly, more than a little truth to that statement.


Uncle Mike had pointed them to a small local Tex-Mex restaurant off of Fifty-second and Montgomery hardly a half-mile from Kempton beach, right on the edge of an area that was a known neutral zone, due to its close proximity to the Interstate, and had also been in the midst of a constantly shifting number of crews for the last two years. But that was all pretty much on the down low, kept under the view of the common citizen in Palamont, and all but masked under a totally obscure and perfect facade to the average tourist or casual passerby. But then for the cops of any city, when one worked this kind of job that placed one in the deepest flows and currents of your home, you got to see the depth and breadth of the spectrum humanity offered, and as both lawmen knew, often times you needed to peek just below the surface to see both the best, and the worst in society.
“I rarely have to grab a hand full of a guy’s shirt to get what I want.” Myers groused as he unlocked the doors and slid in behind the wheel.

Bennet rolled his eyes as he took his seat; “Whatever. So ‘Rosa’s Hacienda de’ Mexicano’ huh? Ever been there before Myers?” Bennet asked as he and Malcolm fastened his seatbelt then started the dark colored sedan that all but screamed “UNMARKED COP CAR!” to the world, save for the off color rear bumper, and severely dented left passenger door. That helped it blend in a bit more but still, the blacked out steel wheels and extra quiet burble of the exhaust where tells that had yet to be fixed, or even thought of yet.


Malcolm shrugged; “The house of Mexico huh? No I know where it is, can’t say that I’ve eaten there, but I know a great little burger joint a few blocks away from it, why are you hungry?” Myers asked as he merged into the light flow of traffic, and headed for the expressway that paralleled the Five freeway, just one small offshoot of the Interstate, which bisected Palamont almost perfectly down the west side, dividing off Fortuna and most of upper and middle Fremont from the lower part, Downtown and Kempton as well as the East Canyon and the state highway that led westward into the city from the east.


Bennet made a slight face as they drove on in the midday traffic; “Ehh, not yet, but I’m thinking that we can likely canvas the area, see what we can find out from some of the local shop owners and such, if your source downtown heard about it, then someone there talked, and despite how tight lipped people can be sometimes, all we have to do is ask the right questions…”


“And we’ll get the right answers, I know how to do my job Bennet, the trick is getting the questions out without spooking the folks on the street, something I doubt you’re very good at.” Myers asserted as they exited off the freeway onto Martin Boulevard, which would take them straight through the projects, to Eastman Downs, and Kempton Beach, which of course, was where they wanted to go, according to “Uncle Mike” and his story about this fringe of gray turf turning full on Switzerland.

But any cop worth his badge knew that when it came to turf, the lines could be hard for outsiders (namely themselves) to quickly or easily ascertain, and any gang unit officer could tell you, there where times when the boundaries themselves could shift daily, and that no territory became gray without some kind of help. In the case of this little corner in Eastman Downs it might not be a really big deal, since it was close enough to the freeway to be counted as a fringe area, but it was still a good mile distance within some of the most firmly held territory in all of Kempton, which given the recent trends of change, was both worrisome and encouraging.


Bennet fished in his jacket pocket as Myers drove on through a green light then slowed to let a Mail truck merge; “So do you really think a few of the residents chased off the enforcer on their own? Or that some OTHER Crew made a better deal, and bought their silence?” he pulled a package of cigarettes out and then thumbed a single from the pack, and stuffed the thin cardboard box back into his pocket, the small combustible stick slipping between his lips as Myers glanced over at him while slowing once more, this time to pull into a parking space on the corner across from a row of shops and restaurants, one of which was Rosa’s Hacienda de’ Mexicano.

“Look’it, a trio walking into the place Mike told us about.”


As they got out, Bennet lit up and took a long drag on his cancer stick, before he sighed heavily and let the smoke billow past his lips as he leaned on the roof of the car and squinted across the street, giving a slight nod up at Myers to direct his attention, a cue that Myers took as he answered; “Won’t know until we ask will we?”

Looking over the three young people that walked in, he was struck at how they all seemed to fit together, without really fitting together.

The girl wore a worn, dark gray (it might have been black at one point) military style canvas jacket, her raven locks long and down, slight ripples showing in their flow to her shoulders, the fit of her black cargos was fitted and yet also loose, her gait was both relaxed, and yet… Restrained, as if keeping pace with the other two was holding back some sort of speed or grace of sorts, not that she was lacking in that area, as Myers could say that, back in the day, he could have gone for a girl like her, pretty but also tough and smart looking, with full, slightly pouty lips and intelligent dark blue eyes.

Much like the two males she had escorting or following her.

The darker skinned male was clearly the oldest of the trio, but as to how much older he was, it wasn’t easy to tell, his face was somewhere between mid-twenties to mid-thirties if he had to guess, yet he looked to be just as young and fit in body as the other two, and then his eyes looked like they could be of a far older man, with the wizened way they swept the street, saw him and Bennet, and then moved on, as if he’d seen both nothing, and everything all at the same time, his closely shaved head and light stubble just slightly out of fashion for the street, he snug fitting jeans and green graphic t-shirt showed that he was very fit, and likely highly athletic.


Looking to the other male, Malcolm had to blink a few times as he realized that the tall, dark haired young man had a face that was both kindly, and world weary, and he was in fact ducking his head a few inches to ensure he didn’t bump it on the doorframe, his leather jacket looked like it had been around the world a few times, and his jeans where so worn and faded they looked ready to fray away into nothing, if the plain black shirt he wore didn’t do so first, as it stretched tight over his chest, his arm extended to hold the door open as his companions walked into the Mexican eatery, a melodious exclamation of joyous greeting carrying out the door in Spanish, which the tallest male replied to in kind as the door slowly swung shut.
Myers looked back to Bennet and shrugged as the other officer took a very long drag on his smoke and nodded his understanding while pushing off the car to stand up and brush his jacket off and adjust his belt before following Malcolm across the street.

“Play it nice, and cool Bennet, we’re two cops going to lunch, and asking a few nice and thoughtful questions about how things have been lately, don’t go in being an asshole trying to bully answers, they look pretty local so don’t expect chatter boxes.”


“You’re the boss, boss.” Bennet replied as he flicked the now burned up cig into the drain grate before they stepped up onto the sidewalk and Myers opened the door and held it for him.


Stepping inside they where greeted by a pleasant variety of hearty scents, and before they could get a good look at the layout, a young teenaged Latino girl with large brown eyes and a ready smile stepped up and greeted them; “Hi, welcome to Rosa’s Hacienda de’ Mexicano! I’m Maria, would you gentlemen prefer smoking or non-smoking?”


Myers glanced to Bennet and then shrugged replying; “Smoking’s fine.” Before he at last swept the room with his gaze, and noted that the trio they had seen walk in, where in a front corner booth, the circular bench allowed all three of them to keep their backs to the wall, and their eyes out front, not something most normal people really cared about, but someone who was either smart, observant or paranoid would do that, so they could see who or what was coming into the room. It was something that was mostly done by police, private investigators, war vets, and crew members.

Those three could logically fit into but one of the aforementioned categories.


Nodding with a smile, Maria gestured to a set of booths and tables at the other end of the room as she walked over and pulled a pair of menus from the slim wooden box on the low wall by the register and then picked out a small square table near the edge of the dining area, by a line of booths that where currently being bussed by an acne faced boy of maybe fourteen years in an apron, stained jeans, and dark red polo.

“Here are your menus, take your time and I’ll be back in a moment to take your drink orders.” Tilting her head with a polite smile Maria set the menus down and then backed a step away before turning and walking off to another table where an older couple was enjoying some beans, rice and tamales, with bottles Mexican soda.


Bennet glanced at the waitress’s backside as she walked away and gave a tiny low whistle; “Hmm… Dear god make me ten years younger but just as smart as I am now…” his eyebrows wiggled slightly as a sneaking grin swept across his face for another moment before he tore his gaze away and looked to the menu, Myers grousing as he rolled his eyes and shook his head.



“Either cops or Empire crew, or just some businessmen who went off the plushy beaten path for lunch… Low level businessmen or peon crewmembers.” Marcus observed as he played with his straw before at last sticking it into his drink and sipping it some as he looked to the kitchen while Rosa herself stepped out of the kitchen with three good-sized platters of hot fresh goodness.

Will shrugged as he adjusted his cutlery and slid his own drink over to make room, Violet mimicking the actions as she covertly studied the two new comers indirectly, her deep blue eyes dancing across the room once more before Rosa paused next to the round table and started to set the plates down.


“Ahh, my friends, your food! Marcus, you’re Ranchero platter, be careful its hot! Violet, nina, you need some more meat on your bones, here is your salad, and some freshly made chicken fajita tacos, with some vegetables and other things if you like on the side… William, my dearest nino, here is your Tour of Mexico, with extra everything.” She smiled as she slid the plates into place and then stood back a moment and beamed like a mother hen over her chicks, before she thrust her hands forward in an urging motion; “Eat! Eat! Please, its hot but it is not for decoration!” which garnered a laugh from the trio and a motherly giggle from herself before she waddled back towards the kitchen smiling to the few customers at the bar like counter, eating and drinking their own meals and beverages as a baseball game played on the lone TV, the speakers turned low to hide the fuzziness of the sound quality.


After a few quiet moments of eating, Violet at last spoke, her voice soft, low and clear as always; “I’m glad you two stood up to the enforcers, having a place where we can get good hearty food, even for cheap, is important, I’m not sure about Rosa’s insistence on it being free, but I will not complain, the food is good, some of the best I’ve had, which is admittedly not saying too much, but still.” She left it at that, her hand moving to her drink to slide it closer to her plate, as she glanced across the room once more herself.


“Their cops…” Will asserted after swallowing a bite of enchilada and then took a drink of his soda, his hand then moving to his napkin, bringing it to his lips for a moment before he glanced up as well then shifted in his place a moment and then slid from the booth, going around to the other side of the three-quarter circled bench so as not to disturb Violet or Marcus while they ate.


“Will?” Violet asked, her eyes questioning, shifting from the newest patrons back to his gaze, where he replied with a slight twitch of nose and lips, and single shake of his head, a single word exchange that consisted of her asking him if he was going to do something in the context of the plain-clothes police, and him answering in the negative and warning her and Marcus to follow suit.


Marcus glanced from Violet to Will and then back again, before he went back to his food, while Violet leaned back in her spot a dozen inches or so from him, her drink in her hand as she took up a kind of watch over the whole dining area, as William vanished behind the door to the men’s room.


In the quiet that followed, Marcus watched as the two men talked between them selves, and then ordered their drinks when Maria went back to their table and spoke with them for a moment before leaving to get the drinks.

As she left, Marcus noted that they seemed to be rather observant of the space and everyone who was in it, but he didn’t watch them too closely, as anyone should know, staring was a dead give away, and the last thing Marcus or the others wanted to do was give up anything, even if they where cops, as Marcus and Keira could attest to, there where plenty of crooked cops in Palamont, and plenty of others who got a power trip off their position and level of authority.


When William came back to his spot, he went straight to his plate of food, and the rice and beans, his gaze wandering aimlessly, as he was clearly in thought about something, which he seemed as of yet unwilling to share with his friends at the moment.

“No matter what happens, watch what you say and do here… If they’re just grabbing lunch, then fine, but if they start to ask questions, of anyone, don’t lie, and don’t deflect, just give them a short, simple answer and then let them do as much talking as they care to, let them think they’re doing a good job or whatever and they’ll leave us be…”


Violet and Marcus glanced at William and nodded slightly in understanding, as they went about eating, Violet’s slender fingers assembling the extras for one of her tacos, as Marcus went about eating his tamale’s thoughtfully.


For the next half hour, everything proceeded just fine, nothing interesting happened other than a soft cheer from the counter as one of the baseball teams on the TV shut out the other, some friendly debating and discussion amongst the small group that had been assembled there with their drinks and lunch filling the audio undercurrent beneath the softly playing music that was everywhere.

A few stray comment’s from William or Marcus garnered little more than a thoughtful nod or shrug from Violet as she took her time eating her food, her gaze never truly fixed to one place or person it seemed, Marcus also seeming just as distracted, until he coughed slightly in a way that directed his friends attention towards the police officers who had got to the register, and where paying their tab, and chatting to Maria, some, her smile still warm despite her slightly tired eyes, that is until one of them said something that made her smile fade some, and Will shift slightly.


“What is it?” Violet asked softly as she scooped up the last of the tomatoes from her salad onto the last flower tortilla she had, some mild sauce awaiting next to the last of her rice.


Glancing at Violet Will then rolled his head about slightly, as if tired and muttered; “They just asked Maria about the enforcers from two weeks ago, and she said she wasn’t sure what exactly they meant, then the smoker asked to see Rosa…”


As if on cue, Rosa came bustling out with a tray of drinks that she distributed to some of the patrons at the bar like front counter, the rest where given to the older couple in a booth near the front.

With a tiny wave and a worried look, Maria waved Rosa over, and the large older woman walked up with a questioning look on her face, matched by her tone of voice; “Can I help you gentlemen?” she said in her slightly accented way.


Myers looked back to the woman with the extra wide build and tightly wrapped bun of black hair, before pulling his coat back slightly to show his badge; “Yes mam, I just wanted to say thank you for the great meal, and to ask if a rumor I head was true or not… Mam, was there a group of young men here a week or two back, asking for money in exchange for… Services?”


Rosa looked at the badge, then to the man, who seemed curious rather than distastefully greedy or power hungry like some of the police officers she had encountered, so she nodded slowly and replied; “Yes, three young men came in, and tried to bully me, but I told them no… Then some others, from around the neighborhood, they came, and told them to leave.”


“Others? You mean other crew members?” Myers asked as he glanced at Bennet, who was scratching a pencil across a notebook. “Like the first ones?”


Rosa shook her head; “No, these boys are good boys, they do not bother with that foolishness. They told the thugs to leave me alone, and then they pushed them out.”
Rosa nodded, her face firm, as she looked to the officers then smiled slightly; “Is there anything else?”

Myers looked to Bennet, and Bennet shrugged, so Malcolm looked back up and smiled, shaking his head; “No mam, I think that’s all—Oh! Before I forget, did you have any other customers here when this happened?” Myers kept his face neutral but inquisitive as he shifted slightly in his seat to face the woman more fully.


Rosa shook her head side to side as she brushed her apron slightly, “No, it was during our down time just before the dinner time customers start to come in.” she looked at the officer and then to the table, and noted that the drinks where getting a bit low, so Maria had best get back to her job at servicing her tables, and put her phone away.


Bennet nodded slightly to Myers, who then smiled once more to the woman and nodded his thanks; “Well thank you again, for your time, and for the wonderful food and service.” He reached his hand up, and offered it to her, and she of course paused but a moment before returning his smile and shaking his hand, then she bustled off into the kitchen, calling for Maria, who a few moments later came back out with fresh drinks.



“She didn’t even flinch…” Will said lowly as Violet glanced to him, then smiled thinly as she looked to Marcus, who nodded in agreement as he chewed the last of his food before replying.

“Of course not, Rosa’s good people, she knows that we don’t want to get looked at by the police, and that we won’t cause trouble, so she’ll feed us and deflect em’ so long as we behave ourselves.”


Violet nodded lightly as she assembled the last of her food in her last tortilla, then at last commented; “Well, I think that’s only a good thing so long as we don’t get into anything too… Dicey, I believe is the word…”


Marcus and Will nodded in agreement as the two detectives got up, looked about, left a tip, and then paid their bill at the register before leaving.


“Did you get a good look at the girl in the far corner?” Bennet asked as they crossed the street, Myers slipping a pair of sunglasses on, and nodding lightly as he fished the car keys out of his pocket and unlocked the doors.


“Yeah…” Myers said as they shut the doors and he started the car.
“She looked a bit like that composite for that former Crew boss we’ve had floating about for the last month or two, you don’t think that’s her do you?”


Bennet shrugged as he buckled his seatbelt, then looked out the window across the street at the Café, and thought about that a moment.

“Maybe, but I got the feeling that there wasn’t a clear cut leader in that little group, and once you’ve lead, I personally don’t think you want to go back to following.”


Myers nodded thoughtfully as he merged into traffic, a thought occurring to him which, after her turned it over in his head a few times, he voiced it; “For the sake of argument, let’s say that was her, but that rather than trying to start up a new crew or recruit for her old one, what if she’s just laying low and going straight?”


Bennet snorted at that, giving Malcolm a look as they drove on; “The odds of someone who’s been living off the grid, running along the underground for as long as she has, turning their back on that kind of life, are low, and you know that, still even if that was the case, she should know that she’s marked for death, you don’t leave a crew or gang and that life behind, unless it’s in a coffin. I don’t see it happening Myers.”


Malcolm nodded slowly, then shrugged; “Either way, we don’t know that it was her, and if we doubled back now, then it could cause more problems than needed… We’ll task the local patrols to keep their eyes open see if we can get a feel for her habits, and I’ll ask one of my locals to keep an eye out, if she haunts Kempton at all, we’ll see her again, and next time, circumstances will favor us picking her up and question her.”



But the next time Detective Myers would see Violet, it would be under a set of circumstances that be less than favorable to that end…