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100YoP Chapter Thirteen "Let's go for drinks."
🕑 Added 2022-01-26 19:50:14 +0000 UTCIn restrospect, maybe she should have gone with a domino mask. A full-face thing was kinda awkward when she was panting for breath, feeling like her lungs were seeking vengence against her for the crime of practicing parkour.
“Spider... you... suck...” she said, between coughing and panting.
“Mm,” the metahuman asshole said, not even winded as he stuck upside-down to a wall next to her, carelessly inspecting his gloves like he’d just gotten a manicure. “That seems like a mean thing to say to someone doing you a solid.”
“Solid... my perky... ass,” she spat. Taking a deep breath, she straightened up and pointed a finger at him. “You just want to see me suffer.”
“Quit bitchin’, this is good for you.”
“You threw me off of a building!”
“Onto a different building,” He drawled, rolling his eyes. (How was it possible to see when he rolled his eyes if he had a mask on? Was he just that much of an asshole that it trascended physical limits?) “Look, you asked me to teach you parkour. I’m teaching you.”
“Because I thought you knew parkour!” Steph yelled. “When you said you didn’t know how to without powers, I didn’t think you’d skip right into ‘make it up as we go along’!”
“Did you, or did you not, get better at it?”
“And how many times did I almost fall to my death?!”
“I dunno, I wasn’t counting.”
They stared at each other for a moment.
Steph broke first and started laughing, but Sam wasn’t far behind. They were sitting on some other building’s fire escape, though they were on the same block. And even though her supersuit was sweat-stained and gross, Steph felt like she was going to pop out of sheer force of joy.
“Dude,” she giggled, “I can parkour!”
“You can parkour,” Sam nodded, patting her on the back. “Good job, hero."
She grinned and gave him a thumbs up. “So what’s next?”
“What, still got more in you?” Sam seemed impressed, and Steph tried not to preen too obviously.
Even if he was a villain (which; where the fuck did that come from? Do supervillains just love Crime Alley’s high-rises?(she probably shouldn’t compare him to her dad, anyways)) he was a pretty cool person, all experienced and strong. If Steph could go beyond his expectations, she felt pretty good about her odds at dealing with Gotham’s lowlifes.
Sam continued, heedless of her pride, saying, “That takes the fun out of how I was going to force you to do more training anyways.”
Never mind, he was an asshole.
Sam pulled out his phone and tapped away at it while Steph stretched a little, trying to relax them before whatever ridiculous workout Sam had planned came about.
“Spoiler, come over for a sec?” he said. As soon as she did, he put her in a headlock and took a selfie while she struggled and failed to even budge his arm. “Hehehe, I love having powers.”
“I fucking noticed,” she spat. “Why are you even doing this?”
“The guest lecturer for today wanted to know what you look like,” he said, still holding her in place despite all his attention being on his phone.
“Guest lecturer?” Steph started punching him to see if it helped. It didn’t. “What, did you ask Harley Quinn to teach me acrobatics?”
“God, I wish I had her phone number,” Spider muttered, then winced. “Well, I shouldn’t say that now, but I would’ve pushed somebody’s grandma into active traffic for it before.”
“Why not push your own grandma?”
“She’s dead and caskets are heavy, I ain’t gonna carry that shit all the way to the street,” Sam said, distracted. “Anways, it’s not a villain. I figured I was enough of a risk to your reputation without giving you more criminal acquaintances.”
“So then who...?”
“Me.”
The voice (female, kinda husky, with a bit of a weird speed even in a single word—) came from behind them, and Sam’s stupid strong arm was the only thing keeping Steph from turning around with her arms up, ready to fight. Instead, she just kinda flopped around, ending up belly up, then fell on her ass when Sam let her go.
“You’re the worst,” she groaned, but Sam ignored her in favour of walking over and giving Batgirl a hug.
... Batgirl?!
“Hola, guapa,” Sam said, pressing the bottom of his mask against Batgirl’s forhead, which more or less blew up Steph’s brain once she realized it was supposed to be a kiss. “Thanks for doin’ this.”
“I take pay in cookies,” Batgirl said, then paused and added, “Cookies and cuddles.”
“It’s a steep price, but I’ll make do,” Sam said. “Anyways, the eggplant on the floor is Spoiler.”
“Eggplant?!” oh, hey, offense worked to get her past her shock. “I-I mean...”
Okay Steph, this is your chance. You make nice with Batgirl, and maybe Batman won’t get all territorial on you.
She stood up and put out a hand. “Hi, I’m Spoiler. You knew that, you’re Batgirl. Not that you knew that because you’re Batgirl, I meant that you knew that and you’re Batgirl, althought maybe you did know that, Batman’s like the best detective ever so—I’m gonna stop talking now.”
I’m the worst.
Batgirl gave her a long look, then looked at Sam and signed something.
“Huh, y’think?” Sam looked at Steph, tilted his head, then shrugged. “I don’t see it.”
“W-What, what did she say?”
“She said your costume is much cooler than hers,” Sam said, then Batgirl drove an elbow into his side. Not missing a beat, Sam said, “She said you remind her of one of her brothers. I’m guessing she means the current Robin.”
“Oh,” Steph wasn’t sure if that was a compliment, but decided to take it as one. “Thanks?”
Batgirl gave her a thumbs-up, then reached into her belt and tossed her something while Sam talked. “Anyways, now that we got the niceties, we can move on to the next part of your trainin’.”
Steph looked down at the object Batgirl had tossed her.
It was a grappling hook.
“Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re my best friend in the whole wide world.”
“I am pretty awesome, I know.”
A little later, atop of their apartment building, Steph was suddenly feeling a lot less confident.
“Okay,” said Stephanie. “Okay, okay, okay.”
“... you gonna go any time soon, or...?”
“Spider, do me a solid? Shut the hell up,” she said, before taking a deep breath and saying again. “Okay.”
She didn’t jump. She could feel Sam and Batgirl exchanging unimpressed looks behind her back, which was just freaking perfect. On top of being a coward, she was making an ass out of herself in front of the two people that went out of their way to teach her. Now she just had to tear her supersuit in front of Batman and the day would be complete.
Or that’s what she thought, before Sam put a hand on her shoulder and made her turn around to see that they were both giving her... weirdly nice looks, for two people wearing masks.
“You know we can move this to another day if you’re not ready, right?” Sam softly said. “Nobody’s gonna be upset.”
Steph swallowed, considered it, then shook her head and turned back to the ledge, watching the rope of her grappling hook connected to a distant building.
“You’ll catch me if I fall?”
“I will.”
“Promise?”
“Pinky promise.”
Steph swallowed again, said ‘okay’ one last time, then took a step forward.
It was the single most terrifying thing she’d ever done. The wind started whipping against her immediately, chilling her to the bone and pushing her hood back, sending her hair flying. Sam said something behind her, but she couldn’t hear over the blood thrumming in her ears. The world shrank down to her hands, gripping tight on the grappling hook. Her breathing quickened, her body tightened into a ball as she hit the lowest point of her arc, and as she started to ascend the idea appeared in her head that she had to let go let go let go-
So she did. And it was a moment after, as she spun in the air and she saw the cars underneath her, that Stephanie realized there was nothing to get her to the next rooftop.
She didn’t even scream. The thought drifted through her head, not really touching the walls of her brain and activating the panic. It was a moment of total clarity and of ‘oh, if I fall I die’ before gravity got its claws back into her and started to pull her down.
She couldn’t fall less than two feet before Spider slammed into her. He’d manouvered in the air to be upside down like her, then spun them around so they’d be upside-up before shooting another webline, his other arm wrapped around her.
They made a straight line for another rooftop, and he spun them in the air so he was under when they landed. They rolled for a bit, and came to a stop with Steph’s boot on his face and the knees of his pants torn to high shit, with the skin under scraped.
“Jesus fuck, Steph, are you okay?” he asked, crawling to her and checking her over. “Did you pull anything? Does anything hurt?”
Steph, who was on her back and staring up, breathing heavily, turned her head slightly and looked at him. His eyes were so wide and scared...
“How do your eyes move with the mask on?” she asked.
“... I honestly have no idea.”
A chuckle escaped her, and that opened the door for hysterical laughter. Sam frowned, pulled off his mask and threw it at her head, but she kept laughing. Batgirl landed beside them, holding Steph’s grappling hook, and found Sam sitting there with a disgruntled expression while Steph rolled around, clutching her ribs as she laughed like a maniac.
“... maybe... start slower next time?” she suggested.
“Mm,” said Sam.
Steph, still laughing and with tears staining her face, gave a thumbs up.
{[X]}
Once we’d relaxed, Cass and I split the duty of carrying Steph across town to get her used to swinging across town before she started actually swinging.
“Seriously, I’m—”
“Steph, if you apologize one more time, I’m gonna drop you,” I said, making sure to tighten my grip so she knew I was kidding. “It’s totally natural that you panicked, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“... still...” she mumbled, face pressed tight against my chest as I held her there.
I sighed, there was only one way to get her to focus on the here and now: be a dick.
Okay, there were probably other ways, but when all you have is a hammer...
“Hey, first times are always scary,” I said, and it was a credit to either the sharpness or filth of her mind that she immediately started suspecting where I was going with this, tensing up for an entirely different reason in my grip. “I’m just glad you were cool with me being there at such an important time in a young girl’s life—”
“Oh my god—”
“–I’m sure you thought popping your cherry wouldn’t be like this—”
“You’re the worst. You’re the actual worst.”
“—but I want you to know that it was special for me too, and that in the future it’ll be easier—”
“I hope you die. I hope someone sprays you with Raid and you die.”
“—not to mention much more enjoyable.”
“Just drop me.”
I chuckled, and despite herself, she was shaking with contained laughter. I counted it as a win as we touched down on the rooftop I’d agreed on with Cass, who landed shortly after us.
“Right, ignoring the pervert for now,” Steph said, turning to look at my girlfriend as she shoved me off. “Why are we here?”
Cass crouched down and gestured for us to follow. We did the same and peeked over the edge, and Cass pointed out a couple soldiers standing around in a corner. Four on each side of the corner, two lounging around and two standing. Three standing on a stoop, just wasting time and talking.
“Gangsters?” Steph asked.
“Soldiers,” I corrected. “Decently competent ones, associated with the Big Man I was telling you about.”
“So we’re here to bust them?” Steph asked, looking between thus anxiously, “I dunno if I’m ready for a big group, and I think those guys have guns. Maybe I can start with a smaller, unarmed group? Or maybe a baby?”
“I’m no expert, but I think brutalizing infants is generally seen as unheroic,” I said, rolling my eyes. “In any case, that’s not why we’re here.”
“Watch first,” Cass said, nodding. “Learn. Then Spider and I fight.”
“Fight them,” I clarified.
“I got that,” Steph said, now looking at the soldiers with renewed focus. “What am I looking for?”
When it came to training her body, most of the job was beating the fear out of her. She still hesitated before getting punched and before throwing a punch (no prizes for guessing what sack of shit was to blame for that), but if there was one thing Steph had confidence in was her mind.
Grinning under my mask, I pointed out their positions. “Watch where they’re standing, and where they’re facing. Can you tell me what each one is supposed to do?”
She hesitated, then focused on the group. “... the four standing apart from the three on the stoop, lookouts?”
“Close, but not quite. You’ll see—ah, speak of the devil, you’re about to see how the roles are divided,” I pointed out a car that was approaching to her, and we saw it slow down and roll down a window while one of the kids that’d been lounging approached and spoke with the driver. After a short chat, the kid pointed with two fingers and made a gesture, sending the car around the block. One of the kids on the stoop walked into an alley while the car went. “Before he makes the whole turn, what’d you catch?”
“The two standing around are guards, while the others deal with buyers,” Steph said, gaining confidence as I nodded along with her explanation. “That gesture the gang—soldier did, he was telling the guys on the stoop that the buyer wanted two... drugs?”
“Vials,” Cass said, laughter in her voice, “Heroin, maybe.”
“Or dope, if you ain’t graduated from Harvard,” I drawled. “Keep it goin’, where are they keepin’ the stuff?”
Steph frowned, then pointed down the way the kid had run in, “Can’t be the alley, ‘cause anyone could just steal it... so is there an eighth soldier?”
“Most likely, you never leave the stash unguarded, but that ain’t the question I asked.”
“Well, even if there’s a guard, it’s probably still better not to need to defend it,” Steph frowned. She scratched at her chin, inspecting the building the kids were standing in front of. “... houses in this side of town don’t have yards, so... the eighth is inside?”
“A hundred points to you, blondie,” I said, clapping her in the back. “That’s everything you need to understand this side of the Game.”
“What, just looking and thinking?” she asked, skeptical. “If it were that easy, the war on drugs wouldn’t have happened.”
“The ‘war on drugs’ is a bunch of bullshit politics strung together by greedy assholes and bad decisions, but that’s not the point,” I said. “You looked, you observed their movements and codes, and you used logic and your knowledge of the city to figure out the most likely way the system shakes out within the first five minutes of watching. There’s a lot of detectives out there as we speak that can’t even do that.
“You need to understand that soldiers ain’t dumb. Every day is another chance for you to get put in jail, so part of the game is making the most with what you got. The house, the signals, the routines, everything is undirect but easy to understand to minimize confusion.
“These people live, breathe, eat and shit the Game. They ain’t live outside it. They ain’t got a badge they take off when they get home to their families, because most likely they’re families are in on it to some extent. Ain’t room for nothing else.
“Every second of thought is spent on how to get the most out of what they got. So you need to figure out just what they have and how they could possibly use it. You can’t be behind the times on tech, current events or the balance of power of the city.”
Steph was nodding along to what I said, but frowned at the last part. “I get the first two, but how do I stay up to date with the last one?”
“Talk to people,” I said. “Batman can get away with bein’ an untouchable symbol of darkness and whatever, but—and don’t take this personal—you ain’t the World’s Greatest Detective.”
Or Matches Malone, but I don’t think anyone would appreciate it if I burst that particular secret.
It’d been a trip to see a picture of the guy and remember that bit from my previous life. He really did just look like Bruce Wayne with shades and a moustache, but the attitude and mannerisms were so different that if you didn’t know beforehand you wouldn’t guess from just seeing him.
“So I interrogate ga—soldiers?” Steph asked. “Is that what you’re gonna teach me next?”
I shook my head. “You ain’t listenin’. You gotta talk to people. You can’t just think of them as ‘just soldiers’, and you can’t only deal with soldiers. For one, despite there not bein’ much of a life outside of the Game once you’re in it, they’re still people. They got hopes and dreams and shit, and that’s what lets you deal with ‘em. And a fiend will say anythin’ for the right prize, and if you get them to say the truth then you’ll be able to get a clean picture of the way of things.”
“So... the power of friendship?”
“... I hate that you said it like that, but more or less, yeah.”
“So, am I gonna do that now?” Steph asked.
“No,” Cass said. “That’s yours. We do this.”
She walked back a little and stood up, grabbing her grappling hook. I followed, throwing a last piece of advice on the subject over my shoulder, “Murder scenes are the best place to start. Everyone’s got someone, and that someone might wanna talk if you treat ‘em right.”
“Brutal,” Steph remarked.
I shrugged, then Cass and I jumped into the night.
Once we landed on the opposite side of the building and knocked out the soldier guarding the stash, I signed at her, [Did you leave her hook on purpose?]
She nodded, [I think we should let one run in her direction.]
I smiled, and failed to stop myself from signing the first stupid thing that came to mind. [I think we should make out a little before we continue.]
Her mask warped to show the amusement behind it. [Later.]
{[X]}
“I didn’t think I could do it,” Steph confessed from her spot at my counter, gesticulating so widely that I could see it out of the corner of my eye as I spread sauce on the homemade pizza dough. “But I saw the guy and I just realized I knew exactly how I had to do it, and I couldn’t let him get away, so I just did it and I went like woosh and I hit him!”
“We saw,” Cass said, almost laughing. “You were great.”
“I was!” Steph agreed. “Is this what it’s like to be you?”
“... not really,” Cass confessed. “Been fighting since... birth. Fighting is old now.”
“Oh,” Steph hesitated, then chose not to dig in. “Well, as much as that sucks, it clearly has results. I mean, you’re great—”
“Perfect, actually.”
“Okay, calm down, Wonder Woman,” Steph deadpanned. “What I was getting at is that your body is incredible. I think you have more abs than anyone else I’ve seen.”
“I do like them,” Cass admitted. “Mook broke a finger punching them once. It was funny.”
“God, that’s awesome,” Steph audibly pouted, “Mine are coming in kinda slow, but I’ve been feeling much stronger lately. I’m in the best shape of my life. Before I just coasted on old training, but now? Check out these guns!”
“Very nice. Hard for me to... put on mass. Hard to get this much muscle.”
You would not believe how badly I wanted to turn around and watch them flex at each other. But I had a feeling that it would only be good for them both to connect. Steph needed an in with the Batfam, Cass needed people that understood her. Everybody came out winning.
“Hey, can I feel your abs?”
“If I can yours.”
“Virgen misericordiosa,” I swore, shoving the pizza in the oven. “I’m gonna take a shower.”
“A cold one?” Steph asked, giving me a teasing smile.
“Eat shit,” I answered, hurrying to the bathroom. “And pull out the pizza when it’s done, while you’re at it.”
Their laughter followed me. Did I know they were teasing me and that there probably wasn’t going to be any sapphic skinship in my kitchen? Unfortunately, yes. But I still needed that damn shower.
... because I’d broken out a sweat swinging across town while carrying Steph. Yes. Only for that reason.
Shut up.
{[X]}
“Well... that was fucking miserable,” Billy remarked as we walked away from the hole in the ground. “Let’s go for drinks.”
“You wanna say that any louder?” I asked him, annoyed, “Maybe there’s a grieving member of the family that didn’t hear you.”
“I ain’t seein’ much grief going ‘round outside the boy’s parents,” Butcher remarked, rolling himself a smoke. “Some anger at not getting back money they were owed, but—”
“I can’t bring you fuckers anywhere,” I muttered, “I swear if I took you to church you’d start speculating on the size of God’s cock.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Butcher said. “Everyone knows God has a small dick. That’s why He pulled that shit with Eden.”
Billy nodded. “Total small dick move.”
“I hate you both,” I said.
We were taking our time walking to Butcher’s car, trying to find a good moment to talk business with someone. The turnout had ended up being pretty great, with lots of high-ranking Blackgaters present. Even Russ was there, though he’d contained himself to giving Namond’s body a look and a scoff, saying something to his parents, and standing away from the group for the rest of the event.
Unfortunately, this didn’t help us with everyone refusing to make eye contact with anyone in my group, or accepting to talk beyond an exchange of pleasantries.
“This’d be going smoother without White Shadow here,” Butcher remarked, “Nobody here wants to deal with someone neck-deep in supervillain shit.”
Billy frowned, worried by the possibility, but I cut in before he could say anything. “That’s enough, Butcher. Billy and I are a package deal, so if they don’t wanna deal with him then they ain’t got a place at my table. Besides, ain’t like you or I fail to provide reasons not to talk to us.”
“... true enough, I suppose,” Butcher granted. “Still, ain’t looking good for your plan.”
“Worst comes to worst, I get Farah to falsify a loan,” I decided, lowering my tone. “Riskier than I’d like and I’d have to pay it back in bribes, but it can work if we play it carefully.”
“I think we’re becoming a little reliant on moves that are ‘risky but can work if we play it carefully’, boss,” Billy noted.
“Well, when life quits fucking me we can do something sloppy and safe,” I said, then raised a hand to stop them both, “If either of you motherfuckers make a sex joke at a funeral, I’m taking the car and driving off without you.”
Billy and Butcher said nothing. But they thought it really loudly.
I was about ready to call it quits on the day, before a familiar voice called out behind us. “Sam?”
“... Russ,” I said, turning around. “Hi.”
“Hey,” he said, turning to look at my companions, “Mind if we talk alone?”
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” I said, nodding. I looked at the guys, “Wait in the car?”
“Y’sure?” asked Billy, giving Russ a suspicious look.
I nodded, and they went. My old boss and I walked in a different direction, weaving between gravestones. Now that I was getting a closer look, I saw that he was about a head taller than me and that his scar cut the upper left corner of his beard. The part of me that never stopped being a scared child had trouble looking him in the eye, made me duck my head and try not to anger him.
“So...” I started, awkwardly looking at where they stashed Henry Norman (1978—2017)’s mortal remains. “Been a minute since we talked.”
“Been a lot more than that by my count, man,” he said. “Heard you were doin’ Henchman shit, right?”
“Finished that a while ago, but yeah,” I pulled a pack of smokes from my pocket and offered one, which he took. “Now I’m ‘bout to open a business of my own.”
“Lot younger than Butcher was when he did.”
“I’m a quick study,” I said, lighting my smoke and handing over my lighter. “How ‘bout you? How’s business?”
“Booming,” he drawled, “But there does seem to be trouble on the horizon.”
“I heard a thing or two,” I nodded. “Something about a Big Shot or somethin’?”
“Big Man, yeah,” he rolled his eyes. “No offense to your profession or anything, but Supervillains are a fucking plague. Now every motherfucker with enough delusions of girth is givin’ themselves a stupid-ass nickname.”
“... none taken, I guess,” I said. “Got a plan for him?”
“Nothing solid,” Russ shrugged. “Whoop his ass when he steps to me, take his shit, kill his family.”
“Classic,” I nodded agreeably. “Might be able to help with that.”
“Oh?” Russ raised an eyebrow.
“I’ve got a nice place lined up, a good name, and I’ve already got some girls interested on the job,” I took a drag out of the cigarette. “Just lookin’ for business partners to make the whole deal a bit smoother.”
“I’m guessing this would come with the same benefits as with Butcher’s place?” Russ asked, smoke hanging from between his lips and threatening to fall with each syllable.
“You guess right,” I tapped out the ash on a spot between graves. “I think it’d help with the ‘take his shit’ step of the plan.”
“Well, I think I got that covered,” Russ said. “But if you’re itching to help, I can think of another way.”
The cigarette practically exploded when my grip twitched, but I managed to hide it by tossing it in front of a grave.
“If you’re talking about joining back up,” I slowly said, “I ain’t interested.”
“Right, and that’s why you came here to this funeral with those two,” Russ scoffed.
“I came to pay my respects, and look for business partners,” I said. “Nothing else.”
“... you’re serious,” he said, sounding vaguely amazed. “You really think you’re out?”
I wanted to say something along the lines of ‘yes, stupid!’. But given that I had more guns in my apartment than the average Texan, more stolen dope in the trunk of my best friend’s car than Hunter S. Thompson and more dead bodies behind me than an active warzone, the words got stuck in my throat.
I looked away, swallowed, and tried a different approach. “Ain’t no out. None I can take and be myself with. But I don’t wanna be a killer no more.”
To my surprise, Russ hesitated, then gave a slow nod. “Fair enough. Can I give you some advice, tho?”
I shrugged. “Go for it.”
“Ain’t about want. It’s about whether you got it or no,” he scratched his chin. “I’ve seen a few old soldiers lose it after some time in Blackgate, or after losing family. But I ain’t ever see someone just quit it.”
I clicked my tongue. “So you’re saying I’m just fucked?”
He shrugged, “Ain’t never see someone quit dope either, but I hear it happens, man. Just gonna take effort, is all.”
The comparison seemed almost offensive to me, but I couldn’t tell if it was an insult to me or to the poor fiends of Gotham. Either way, it must have shown on my face, because he raised his hands and dropped the subject.
We walked a little longer. My eyes caught on a grave marked as “Eleanor Mayer (1998-2007)”. There was a tiny star of David marked on it, and the words her family chose for her were ‘If There is a God, He’ll Beg for our Forgiveness’.
“... I fucking hate this city, Russ.”
“Me too, little man. Me too.”
I looked up at him. For the first time, I realized there were a few gray hairs on his beard.
“Y’ever think about quitting?”
“Sure. But you and I both know I ain’t much good outside of this shit right here.”
I hesitated, then nodded, “Fair enough. But if I end up making things work and I got more than one place, I could give one. Really let you run it, none of that shit like with Big Mike.”
He chuckled, hung his head and shook it. “The fucked up thing about you, Sammy? I can tell you mean that.”
Our walk carried us past Namond’s grave again as we circled back. His parents were still there, crying into their embrace. We stayed silent as we walked past, and I gave a nod at the almost full lot as we started heading up to where our rides were waiting.
“Not a bad service,” I commented.
“Been to worse,” Russ agreed. “Shame who it was for, tho.”
“Mm. Didn’t expect it from him. Always seemed more resistant than to go that way.”
“... well, I wouldn’t be too down on yourself for not seeing it,” Russ said, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a macabre smirk. “People have a way of surprising you.”
“That they do,” I sighed. “Still, no use speakin’ ill of the dead.”
“Guess not.”
“No way I can convince you to chip in on my business?” I asked. “I can manage without, so I ain’t gonna get on my knees or nothing. But you’d make things easier.”
“... nah,” he decided. “Just ain’t no need, Sammy. Sorry.”
“It’s cool,” we stopped in between our rides, and I put a hand forward. “Good luck with yours, boss.”
“And you with yours.”
We shook hands, palm sliding from wrist, to palm, then fingers flicking apart in a snap, then walked away from each other.
I went slightly slower, so that as I was putting on my seatbelt he was already being driven off.
“How’d it go?” asked Butcher.
I sighed, putting a hand over my eyes and sliding it down.
“Sam, you good?” asked Billy.
I stared out the window for a second, watching the graveyard. Mostly empty, save for a few loose mourners.
Eventually, I said, “... let’s go for drinks.”
{[X]}
“Not gonna lie, I needed this,” I said, carefully handling my taco not to spill anything.
After so long speaking English, my mother tongue almost felt uncomfortable in my mouth, but the feeling was surpassed by the comfort of being at my mother’s side again.
“Life’s been hard lately?” Mom asked me, having wrapped her tortilla into more of a burrito and having less trouble than I was. “Kevin told me you’re looking to start your own business soon.”
“Mm,” I said.
She smacked my arm, “Use your words, I raised you better than that.”
“Please, you didn’t raise shit, I came out raised,” I muttered. Her hand went to smack me again, and I relented. “Okay! Yes, I’m going to open my own business! Damn!”
“Don’t pick an attitude with me,” she warned. “What kinda business?”
“Strip club,” I said, because I knew better than to try to lie to my mother unless it was 100% necessary and because she wasn’t what any sane mind would call prudish. “I’ve actually got two places in mind, but I’ll try to keep things steady with one place first then open the other one.”
“Wow, look at Mr. Entrepreneur over here!” she said, “Hey, maybe you’ll finally have a girlfriend again.”
“Mom...” I groaned.
“Don’t give me that,” she said. “I’m not asking for grandkids here, but I’d like to see you with company besides Billy for once.”
“What’s wrong with Billy? Billy is the best friend anyone could have!”
“Yeah, but he’s not gonna be there when you go to sleep or when you wake up.”
“He will if we keep getting blackout drunk together.”
“Okay, so he’ll be there until you get old and your body starts fighting back against the abuse.” She rolled her eyes. “Still, would it kill you to get a Tinder account? Hell, OkCupid gives me great results.”
I shut my eyes and did my best to make my imagination follow suit. “I can’t believe I have to hear this from my mom.”
“Oh, like you don’t know how many people want me,” she rolled her eyes. “You certainly got in enough fights over it when the kids in the block hit puberty.”
That actually got a chuckle out of me, and she smiled back at me, glad to have distracted me from my issues.
Moms, there’s a lot. But I had the best one.
I fought to consume what was left of my taco, and decided to pull the metaphorical band-aid. “Actually... I’m kinda seeing this girl...”
She raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Is it serious?”
I shrugged. “It’s fun, and it might be someday, but right now we’re just...”
She raised an eyebrow, then did airquotes as she said, “Having fun.”
“Not like you’re thinking, but yeah,” I shrugged. “She comes over, I cook, we eat, chat a bit, make out a little, then she leaves for work or family.”
“And you like her?”
“... more than I expected going in,” I admitted. “And I was pretty stupefied going in.”
“How’d you even tell the difference?”
I laughed, and she joined in.
“So it’s not at ‘meet my mom’ levels yet, then?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Make sure it’s gonna last if you bring her, then,” she said. “I don’t want some poor Gothamite girl having to come all the way here if you’re bored of her.”
“I’m not gonna ‘get bored’ of her.”
“You said the same thing about Alice.”
“Yeah, and I didn’t,” I said. “She was moving and we’d been arguing a lot. So we split it. We still text sometimes.”
“Mm-hmm,” said mom, who didn’t believe in amicable separations.
We ate, talked and laughed the night away, and then the next morning, we decided to take a taxi to the church to minimize the risk of me getting mugged again (ha).
“I still think you’re exaggerating,” I said, her arm slung across mine to help me keep pace with her considerably shorter legs. “We can walk like always. I like walking.”
“Well, I’m old and frail so I don’t,” she said, even though she was just fourty-seven and went to a dance studio every weekend. “So we’re taking a taxi and that’s final.”
I sighed, “Yes, mother.”
“Is that an attitude I’m hearing?”
“No, mother.”
“Hmph.”
Despite myself, a smile tugged at my lips. “You know, if I get the business going right, I could probably visit more often.”
“... I’d like that,” she said, squeezing my arm slightly. “I can’t remember the last time you had more than a weekend off, pichon.”
“You know how it is,” I muttered, raising a hand to stop a cab. “The grind never s—stops.”
Mom gave me a weird look, but I wasn’t paying attention to that. My eyes were focused on the two soldiers standing across the street, waiting for the right moment to cross. The two that had set off my Spidey Sense, one mediterranean and the other asian, both dressed in orange and black. Blackgater colours.
My eyes made contact with the mediterranean just as the cab stopped in front of us, and the buzzing intensified.
He lifted his shirt and pulled a nine. I opened the door and started shoving my mom inside, eyes still focused on him while his partner was still realizing the jig was up.
The first bullet skidded past my cheek, and the driver started screaming, covering up his head with both arms while Mom huddled inside.
Once I was sure she was in, I followed, screaming, “DRIVE, STUPID!” while I took my cellphone out of my chest pocket and flicked to the camera, setting it to record.
The driver eventually did as I asked, and I caught just a bit of footage of the hitmen before we got out of sight from them.
“Mama, ¿estas bien?” I asked, opening my messages and sending Weaver the footage with an attatched message.
Me:
They tok a shot at me & mom on way to church. I want names houses and families
That taken care of, I looked at my mom, and found that there was some broken glass littering her arm and a cut above the sharpnel. She was shaking, crying quietly, but keeping a calm face.
For me. To not worry me too much.
“Don’t worry,” I whispered, taking her hand and making her keep pressure on the cut but not the sharpnel. “Don’t even worry, mami. We’re gonna get that looked at.”
I looked to the driver, who had run a red light and was still hyperventilating. “Hey. Can you get us to Fifth and Watts?”
“Wh-What the hell are you—?”
Fully out of patience, I took all the money out of my wallet and threw it on the passenger seat.
“... Fifth and Watts, on it,” he said, seeming to come out of fear through sheer greed.
I kept looking after mom, until my phone buzzing got my attention. Making sure she knew she still had most of my attention and worry, I unlocked my phone to see Farah’s answer.
Cyberbully (Farah):
I don’t know their names yet, but I know who they are.
Cyberbully (Farah):
Dead fucking men walking.
I couldn’t agree more.
Comments
Doc_Heaven
They only work for some devices, I'm afraid
f0Ri5
And yo' links don't work
