NOVEL NEXT Iris and Me
Chapter 54 : Tempus fugit (The morning after/Meeting on a rooftop)
Chapter 54 : Tempus fugit (The morning after/Meeting on a rooftop)
The Thompson’s basement, the Thomspon’s house, Forest Hills, Queens, New York, 25th of February, 9:27
I walk down the stairs as the music playing on Flash’s speakers starts reaching me.
A smile curls the corner of my lips and I sing along as I cross the last steps.
♪I watched a change in you
It's like you never had wings
Now, you feel so alive
I've watched you change
It's like you never had wings♪
Flash is sitting cross legged on the basement floor, eyes closed in concentration. He is the nexus of a maelstrom of activity centered around himself. Simple tools and metal sheets are digging into the basement’s floor, widening it and straightening the support pillars. Strangely, all that flurry of activity is nearly silent, the music barely louder than the low drone of the permanent digging, isolating and renovating that occurs around him.
I wordlessly join him and his cd player to sit myself next to him, only halting the motions of the various metallic objects flying in my path for a beat as I cross the edge of the silent storm.
We sit in silence until the song ends.
I approve, Deftones does at least deserve that much respect.
I’m still gazing at what is happening around us when the cd player shuts down.
The silence stretches for a beat until I bump my shoulder on Flash’s own.
“How are you holding up?” I softly ask.
I would be lying if I pretended that I wasn’t feeling a little bit guilty for having subjected him to our earlier experience.
Even Iris, perched on my shoulder as she is, is throwing him a concerned look.
My blood-sister has, after all, a previous experience in dealing with someone who’s beating themselves up over the fact that they had to pull the trigger in a decisive manner.
Around us, all motions halt and the levitating metallic objects start to align themselves lightly on the basement’s floor.
I’m actually suitably impressed by the level of control he had managed to reach in a rather short lapse of time because it is a thing of beauty to watch.
He only opens his eyes to look at me and answer once it is done.
“Couldn’t catch a wink of sleep.” Flash slowly answers, “I kept remembering the sounds of my fists hitting their bodies, their bones breaking and the floor caving in with a groan as I half-buried them with way too much strength.”
I make a little noncommittal noise to show him that I listen.
“...The smell doesn’t leave me either.” He admits after a while, eyes going downcast, “My mind is tricking me, making me think that my nose is still clogged with that unholy mess of a mix between blood, urine and bowel released in death throes. I tried shutting down my olfactory center, but it didn’t work.”
I lay a hand on his arm to squeeze it in a comforting manner.
Flash side-eyes me for a beat, before closing them and sighing.
“...And I have trouble conciling the image I have of you with the brutal display you’ve subjected me to earlier.” He admits under his breath.
“I’m not sure I would be able to if I wasn’t bonded with an instinctually predatory alien symbiote either.” I answer back, one of my hands losing itself in Iris’ tentacly-hair in gratitude.
My blood-sister leans deeper in my touch, choosing to remain silent.
She knows that us mere humans aren’t as geared to senseless violence that she is and accepts it. This is not the time for her to butt in the conversation.
It doesn’t mean that I have to ignore her, though.
“That’s how you deal with it?” He curiously asks after a beat, “With Iris’ support?”
“Not really.” I muse aloud, “She has been a great help, what with the cuddles and soothing gestures and all of that, mind you. But no.”
I look at him in his baby blue eyes.
“No, the one that helped me the most when I was still reeling after putting the purple prick down was your dad, Flashy.” I explain softly.
Flash blinks, then proceeds to do a double take.
“What?” He asks, going wide-eyed, “You told him that?”
“I actually did not.” I answer while sighing, “No, in the middle of a conversation, he mentioned that he had to put down someone at some point. I was beating myself over what I did at the time, so I latched onto that like a drowning woman on a buoy amid the sea. He caught on quickly after that.”
“He can be surprisingly perceptive actually,” I carry on, “And what he told me actually made sense, in a Harrisonesque way.”
He snorts lightly, gesturing vaguely for me to go on.
“You made a choice.” I explain, “A choice between them and you as they went for your life. The fact that you’re here now and that they aren’t creeping in the streets anymore won’t change no matter how much you beat yourself about it. And the fact that you do, actually, beat yourself about it probably makes you the better person since I sincerely doubt they would if they had managed to carve you up in little pieces.”
I stare at him with a sterner gaze than I probably should at this point.
“It’s ok for you to doubt yourself and to despise the fact that you had to kill them, but that won’t change the fact that there are eleven less of these assassins roaming around.” I declare heavily, “As long as you keep feeling that way and as long as you keep your own humanity and choose, and I’ve said choose, to direct the worst of it to those who deserve it, I think it’s ok.”
“In short, as long as they are guilty, it’s alright in dad and your book?” He ponders aloud.
“No, it’s not alright.” I clarify, “It’s just not something worth martyring yourself upon.”
We stare at each other for a beat more.
Flash turns himself away, eyes looking in the distance.
He slowly exhales while closing his eyes.
“Alright, I’ll try thinking about it that way.” He concedes after a while.
I drop my hand from his arm at the same time as Iris pat him gently on his shoulder, silently assuring him that I’ll always be there if he needs to talk.
“So, what are you doing anyway that early in the morning?” I ask convertianoly.
“I’m building myself a lab.” He easily answers, “I need somewhere where I can work on my prototypes, after all.”
I hmm under my breath.
“Did you ask Rosie before doing all that?” I ask him with a lopsided smile.
He snorts.
“Nah, I did not. After all, I’ve started at four in the morning.” Flash half-shrug, “I’ll ask for forgiveness later, I’ve already included a space for her to do the laundry in my design.”
I’m pretty sure she will still chew you out even if you did.
“I’ll be digging further down while increasing the strength of the walls and the structural integrity.” He carries on, a calculating glint in his eyes as he scratches his chin, “Figure I’m going to need at least thirty feet between the ceiling and the ground to be on the safe side.”
“You should definitely rig the structure, just in case.” I helpfully point out, "With explosives, maybe?"
“Really?” He asks archingly while side-eyeing me.
“Yes.” I answer seriously, “Especially since there will be dangerous, potentially military grade, gear and devices stocked in it and the place still doubles as our emergency exit.”
I point a finger toward the portal’s sigil, the lone place that hadn’t been touched in the room.
“You’re right.” He concedes after trailing a look toward it, “I’ll cobble something up. I’ll probably need the chemicals you pilfered for it and I’m going to need a hand in mixing the explosives.”
“Happy to help.” I answer back with a little smile.
The both of us come back to a companionable silence.
Shortly after, the flurry of activity starts once more as the cd player turns on to play the next tune.
Iris and I stay a while longer, leaning on Flash’s shoulder in a silent display of support only occasionally interrupted by my singing.
***
Unspecified rooftop garden, unspecified skyscraper rooftop, Manhattan, New York, 25th of February, 19:00, in Madame Gao’s mind.
The old lady of chinese descent waved irritably with her cane toward her bodyguards to stay back as she started to amble her way toward where the huge man in his white suit was seated.
She was moving slowly, the state of her body not allowing her much freedom of movement after all those years spent weaving her webs in the various metropolises of the world.
She leaned on her cane each other steps with only the crunching sound of the gravel under feet following her procession.
The very old lady was in a foul mood and so she reached the bench the huge bald man was seated on faster than she could’ve thought possible.
She took a seat next to him, one of her hands coming to rub her lower back to sooth one of the multiple semi-permanent aches she had been plagued with for years, sighing under her breath.
“Madame Gao.” The man acknowledged her after giving her enough time to compose herself back, “You wished to see me.”
“That I did, Mister Fisk.” She clipped.
“This is something out of the ordinary for you to contact me on such a short notice.” The Kingpin observed calmly, “What happened to prompt that change of behavior?”
The old lady side-eyed the massive man, mulling over her thoughts for a beat.
She wasn’t foolish enough to disdain the man’s intellect because of its appearance. The Kingpin was a man of culture and refined taste, whose planning was only as ruthless as it was meticulous.
He was entertaining her right now and the both of them knew it.
Her eyes gazing back on Manhattan once more, she took her time to answer.
“This early morning's incident has shown itself to be troubling,” She started slowly, “I’ve lost some of my men to it.”
“They’ll be right as rain in a few days.” The Kingpin offhandedly commented, perfectly aware of the nature of his allies.
He had been trained by the best the Hand had to offer, after all.
“They will not.” She answered back.
Her statement made the man pause.
He slowly turned his dark and calculating eyes to look at her properly.
“They were pinned under the rubbles of the smuggling cache as it collapsed and the fire started.” She explained plainly, “What is left of them is burnt to a crisp body-parts.”
The old lady turned herself to stare at the huge man in his white suit.
“I’ve lost eleven of my men this morning, Mister Fisk,” She drawled, showing her annoyance, “A fact I’m not used to.”
“My apologies.” The Kingpin demurred, “How did that happen exactly?”
The old lady arched an eyebrow at him.
“You’ve had no previous witness records of the events?” She asked, her tone showing mild curiosity as the elders were meant to do.
After all, she was one of the eldest of their current civilization.
“Humor me.” He answered evenly.
The old lady snorted.
She suspected the man already had heard some hearsay about the events but was fishing for more.
She mulled over her thoughts for a beat, asking herself if she had to be honest or not about it.
“Two individuals showed up at the Forest Hills’ smuggling cache at 0:34 this morning.” She started, deciding to go for a report as accurate as possible, “They quickly took apart the standard security details affected to the place by means unknown without either raising the alarm nor getting recorded by the hidden cameras. The twenty men I had watching over it after you asked me to set up an additional security on your more sensible operations barely caught a glimpse of them moving in. It actually happened so fast that the lookout thought he was daydreaming at first.”
She paused, her fingers intertwining on the pommel of her cane.
“They realized something was amiss when a more conventional ninjutsu trap, a mere rope tied to a series of bells, indicated that there was an intruder on the premises of the smuggling cache.” She carried on, voice even, “The guards having been warned multiple times before that they had to watch out for it, my men knew some uninvited guests were on the premises and immediately engaged.”
She paused once more, her grip on the pommel of her cane tightening.
“All I have for the events that followed is the testimony of the head ninja of the unit, who had stayed back, looking at the scene through a mirror from the top of the stairs leading in the basement, Mister Fisk.” She pointed out and the Kingpin gave her an almost imperceptible nod, “He stayed back so as to gauge the enemy's response as is standard operating protocol, sending as many men inside as it was possible in a clustered space without impairing their mobility.”
The old lady’s eyes narrowed.
“It wasn’t enough.” She clipped, “The fight lasted barely twenty seconds, a lapse of time during which, quote, ‘My men were butchered with ruthless efficiency’, unquote. He only realized afterward that they also had been massacred without any opportunity given to him to send some men in to gather back their fallen. He promptly ordered his remaining men to scatter when he clearly understood that it was a hopeless fight, figuring he could gather back the corpses after the two individuals had cleared the perimeter. He was rather distraught when the building collapsed after an explosion spread fire everywhere.”
The Kingpin slowly nodded as his eyes hardened.
“And you trust his testimony, yes?” He asked for confirmation.
“I trust my men with my life, Mister Fisk.” She clipped back, mildly offended.
“Trust, but verify.” He commented offhandedly and the old lady had to physically restrain herself not to hit his shin with her cane, “What can you tell me about the two individuals?”
“Only what my head ninja told me.” She answered, “One was a man, tall and muscular of build, clad in non-descript black tac-gear with a hood hiding his face. The other…”
She trailed, looking for the best way to spin this.
“The other was looking like a demon and acting just like one.” She started, prompting the big man in his white suit to blink, “She was white of skin, with purple and lilac accentuation and big purple upslanted eyes. No nose, no mouth, yet he distinctly heard her speak with the man in a strange two toned voice. If the man could be described as unnaturally powerful, the impact of his fist denting the floor and caving chests with each of his strikes, she was, quote, ‘death incarnate bathing herself in blood’, unquote. My head ninja was particularly appalled when she did a handstand atop a pile of his men that she had previously impaled with their own tantos and ripped out the abdomens of three others with a single rotary sweep of her two legs as they rushed at her from different directions.”
Madame Gao would have gloated for finally managing for the first time to evoke an expression that wasn’t smug superiority on the Kingpin’s face if it had been for any other reason than the gruesome tale she was weaving.
The two stared at each other for a while.
“There was absolutely nothing recorded on the secure server the security system had been hooked on prior to the events.” The Kingpin started after a while, “The Russians that were watching over the smuggling cache were found amid the rubbles, albeit with their corpses intact if overcooked, and the contents of the smuggling cache was suspiciously absent, but I’m sure you already knew it.”
“We have eyes everywhere, yes.” The old lady confirmed.
“If I was a betting man, I’d wager that those two knew exactly against whom they were going in the first place.” He carried on, his mouth pinched, “And they also knew who they were fighting against when they encountered your men.”
“I deduced as much myself, Mister Fisk.” The old lady answered stonily.
The two silently stared at each other for a moment, the silence uncomfortably stretching between them only interrupted by the occasional sounds of New Yorks’ nightlife distantly reaching them.
Wilson Fisk conceded the staring contest first, his eyes looking across Manhattan island once more.
“Someone is using my illegitimate assets to further their own agenda and conventional means aren’t enough to stop them.” He commented aloud.
“Neither are mine, Mister Fisk.” The old lady answered back as she in turn gazed across the city that never sleeps.
“It’s only a question of time before they’ll go after yours.” The Kingpin offhandedly said.
Madame Gao’s eyebrow twitched.
The sly bastard.
“I may be able to call in a few favors to deal with that particular issue, Mister Fisk.” She offered begrudgingly.
“For the sake of both our operations, Madame Gao, see that you do.” Wilson Fisk answered.
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