by A A Woods
Coughing to clear his throat, and give himself another millisecond of composure, Moose asked, “So why am I here?”
Victor’s smile deepened. “Not one to beat around the bush, are you? Well that’s to be expected of someone with your… enviable skill set. After all, I can imagine that you must have many requests on your time and pleas for your assistance. It must be difficult to choose which ones to entertain.”
“Yeah, of course,” Moose lied, trying not to think of the endless hours he’d spent on Reddit looking for crime to fight.
“Then I’ll do my best to be direct.” Victor stepped around his desk, grabbing a remote and turning to a massive screen on one wall. “Ricardo explained half of the situation to you, I believe.” With a click, the screen was filled with a blond head and blue-eyed face, vaguely familiar to Moose. “Do you know this man?”
“No,” Moose answered, squinting. “But he looks like a baddie.”
Victor’s mouth curled. “I couldn’t have put it better myself. This is Hans Schneider. He’s one of the richest people in the country, worth tens of billions of dollars.”
“Huh, then why haven’t I heard of him?”
“That’s the genius of his enterprise. You see, Hans has made his money creating and then controlling various media outlets. He almost singlehandedly decides what is told to the public, what information is shared. And what isn’t.”
Beneath his goggles, Moose’s eyes grew even wider than they already were. “You mean like telling everyone that we’re just dumb teenagers causing trouble?”
“Exactly. This man is the source of all your, shall we say, publicity issues.” With a click of the button, the picture changed, this time showing the famous YouTuber who had just died. “He also murdered the host and founder of Salty Secrets.”
“Oh man, I liked that show!”
“Because they believed in you?” Victor said, staring unblinkingly at Moose. “Because the host spread the truth about your existence?”
“Well… yeah.”
“Why do you think he died, Musca?”
Moose’s mouth fell open. “Oh damn, that’s dark!”
“Hans Schneider, it seems, has a vested interest in keeping the American people in the dark. Perhaps even the whole world.”
“Why?”
Victor’s eyes narrowed. “That’s what I intend to find out.”
He went back to his desk, leaning against the front of it to face Moose. Ricardo lingered off to one side, his eyes hooded and strangely lizard-like as he waited for instruction.
“I’m hosting a party tomorrow night,” Victor began. “Hans will be there, along with his two bodyguards. I have reason to believe there is a bioagent that he travels with, the agent that killed young Daniel. I want you to break into his hotel suite and retrieve it.”
Moose raised his hands, no longer the cool, confident hero. “Woah, man, no. I’m not a thief. Look, this guy does sound like Voldemort or something, but I’m not gonna break into his hotel and pilfer through his things. Besides, I’m fast, but I don’t have any training in locks or disguise.”
Victor was frowning now. “I’ll give you everything you need.”
“But still, dude, this is against the law—”
“Every good vigilante knows when to bend the rules.” Victor watched him, head cocked. “Are you a good vigilante, Musca?”
Moose paused.
It was true. How was he supposed to fight crime if he couldn’t get his hands dirty? The guy in front of him was fighting the real threats, the kind of shady figures worthy of comic book stories. It was exactly what Moose had been looking for, and he was going to chicken out because he was too goody-goody to do what needed to be done?
He sounded like Aquila.
Straightening, Moose looked down at Victor Smith, glad that he was at least a few inches taller, if lacking several million followers. “Ok, maybe you’re right. But then what? What happens if I get this bioagent thingy for you?”
Victor’s grin returned. “Then we continue. I, with my connections and funding, will bring you jobs. You’ll do them. We’ll make you famous, Musca. We’ll turn you into the hero this city needs. Victory News will run stories about you, make whole shows about you. Every child in this country will know your name. Or at least the name we pick for you.”
Moose was pulled down from his glorious fantasizing by the slight disgust in Victor’s voice. “What’s wrong with my name?”
Victor’s brows lifted. “Moose doesn’t quite inspire fear in the hearts and minds of criminals, now does it? We need something flashier, something memorable.”
“Lightning?”
Victor’s smile tightened. “We’ll work on it. But first, get me that bioagent. Then we can talk about next steps.”
“Oh yeah, piece of cake.” Moose waved a hand so fast it blurred. “No problem at all. Tomorrow night? Psshh, I can get it tonight if you want.”
“Tomorrow. During the party.” Victor tilted his head down in dismissal. “And be careful. You’re in the big-leagues now.”
As Ricardo stepped forward and gestured for Moose to follow him, Moose found himself grinning dumbly, unable to prevent it.
I did it, he thought to himself as his boots echoed through the marble arches. I found a way in.
If only Aquila could see me now.
Chapter Thirteen: Cops
“A dead end,” Eliza said, hands on her hips as Aquila glared around the alley. “Literally.”
Aquila rubbed the back of his head, the frustration they’d both been holding back all morning becoming evident on his face. “Damn. Tero tracked the camera flash here.”
“Maybe we made a wrong turn?” Eliza offered.
Aquila looked at her. “Or maybe it wasn’t Moose.”
Eliza tried to swallow the overwhelming, bitter taste of failure. They’d only been there a day. She couldn’t have expected them to find Moose immediately. But she wasn’t sure how much more she could take. Already, a cluster of curious tourists were congealing at the mouth of the alley, whispering, pointing. A few of them shaking their heads. Her jaw was clenched so hard, it was a wonder her teeth didn’t shatter.
“Well, we should keep moving,” Eliza said, voice strained.
Aquila tapped his chin, examining the fire escape that zigzagged up one brick wall. “Maybe he went up?”
The crowd blocking them in was getting thicker. “Aquila.”
“What if Moose knows we’re following him? Maybe he retraced his steps…”
Someone behind them was talking on the phone, voice low and threatening. “Aquila.”
“Hold on, one second—”
At a footstep behind her, Eliza swung around, throwing out her arms. “Get the fuck back, you bunch of rubbernecking assholes! If you want to act like he’s not real, then just fucking do it and leave us alone!”
There was a moment of dense, complicated silence. A few of the crowd skittered back, but most of them just stared at her, unmoving, as shocked by her outburst as she was. Eliza panted, breathing heavily, hating everything.
As a child, she’d once dreamed of being a famous actress. It was Katie’s dream, really, but Eliza had loved staying up late and whispering about the celebrities they’d go out with, the parties they’d attend, the private islands they’d rent. But Katie’s death had eliminated any interest Eliza had ever had in being famous.
Knowing rich kids had helped too.
Now, Eliza felt like the world was mocking her, giving her Katie’s dream but in a mutated, contorted sort of way.
She snarled.
A big hand fell on her shoulder, making her wince.
“I think you should go back to Joe’s apartment.”
She swung around, meeting Aquila’s seriousness with all the crumbling rage she could hold together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He sighed. “I don’t want to cause more trouble while we’re here—”
“It’s not like people are going to ignore—”
“—and you’re just making it worse.”
Eliza’s mouth fell open. She swallowed, her throat suddenly bone-dry.
Finally, she was able to croak out. “Excuse me?”
Aquila looked like every word was causing him pain, but he forced them out anyway. “You know how much you mean to me. You know I value your help.”
She pulled out of his grip. “What are you saying, Aquila?”
He looked right at her, eyes soft and sad. “I need to focus on the task at hand, and I don’t need to be worrying about you too. Go home, Eliza. Please.”
It was everything she’d been terrified to hear from him, the very words she’d been doing everything in her power to avoid. She’d become a burden, unstable, unhelpful. Fuck, she really was making it worse. He was right, and that made it so, so, so much more painful.
Eyes prickling, heart clenching, Eliza backed away. “Fine,” she said through her teeth. “Fine, you can search for Moose without me. I’ll go back, watch Friends reruns or some shit.”
“Eliza…”
“No, no, I get it. I don’t want to cause trouble.”
Before she could burst into tears, Eliza spun around and sprinted at the crowd. They parted, letting her through. Their focus was on Aquila anyway. The special one, the one with real talent. Eliza was just a poser here, just a burden on someone who didn’t need her.
She rounded a corner and leaned against the wall, her breathing as jagged as if she’d just run a marathon and not two blocks.
I don’t need to be worrying about you too.
Damn.
Instinct compelled her to take his words personally, to get angry at him. She longed to sink into the rebellious, decadent defensiveness that had kept her afloat after Katie’s death.
But she couldn’t.
Not with Aquila.
She knew him, so she knew that anything nasty she projected onto him would be wrong. There was no one out there with better intentions. If Aquila was telling her to calm down and go home, he was doing it for her. He’d make his own job more difficult if it meant protecting her.
Blinking, Eliza took another deep breath to calm herself.
She could control this. She had to. Aquila couldn’t wander the city alone; it would drive him insane. No, Eliza had to rein in her fear and rage, she had to manage whatever was going on. She’d deal with it when they got back to Scottstown. She promised herself. It was getting out of hand. Even she could see that now. But for the moment, they had a task ahead of them, and it was irresponsible to leave Aquila, her Aquila, alone to deal with it.
Straightening her spine and gathering herself, she practiced in her mind. I’m fine. You’re right. I’ll keep it together, promise.
Nodding and exhaling, she rounded the corner.
And stumbled to a stop.
“Keep back, everyone,” a policeman shouted, waving one arm. “Cameras away.”
Behind him, backlit by the afternoon sun and flashing sirens, Aquila was being led toward a pair of cop cars, hands cuffed in front of him.
“No…” Eliza breathed, but she could barely see the officers over the heads of the gathered crowd, much less stop them. She glimpsed Aquila’s head, his wings folded in tight and protective. The cops were keeping their distance, as if nervous to approach.
But one young policeman stepped in close, rolled up on his toes, and placed a palm on the top of Aquila’s head.
“In the car!” he said, audible even over the excited audience.
Eliza dove forward, shoving bodies aside. “No!” she shrieked. “No, stop!”
The crowd resisted her. A few voices rose in protest. But all she could see was Aquila wincing, trying to fold himself into the painfully small vehicle.
“Stop!” she cried out, fully aware of how insane she looked.
But the tourists and bystanders had tightened, filming with their phones, so desperate for something to put on their fucking Instagram pages that they wouldn’t let her through. Eliza began to throw out her elbows with reckless abandon, chopping with her arms, pushing with her legs.
Almost there.
She had to explain, somehow make those officers see that Aquila wasn’t doing anything, he was just existing, it was the world that had set itself against him.
Finally, she burst through, shoving aside a short woman in a hijab who shouted at her. But Eliza didn’t hear it, didn’t even register, because at that moment the door of the police cruiser slammed shut on Aquila’s face.
She locked eyes with him, her horror meeting his pain and surprise.
And then the squad car was driving away, taking Aquila with it.
Eliza swayed, distantly aware of the strangers around her muttering, dispersing, comparing videos.
She was numb to it.
They’d arrested Aquila. They’d arrested him, and what had she been doing? Sulking? Feeling sorry for herself? Making things more difficult? Oh God, and now she had no idea where they’d taken him or what they were going to do to him. Would they try to remove the wings they thought were fake? Would they punish him for ‘lying to the world?’ Would they ship him off to some secret government base, or insane asylum, or high-security prison?
Fighting back tears that would only confirm her own uselessness, Eliza struggled against a desperate, howling terror. She’d figure something out. She’d save him, fix this, do something.
But what?
Chapter Fourteen: Friends with Secrets
Moose was pacing so fast that he wondered if he might wear down Delilah’s carpet. Excitement bubbled in him like the caffeine he’d never been allowed to have.
He was close.
So close.
This time tomorrow, he’d be sneaking into a bad guy’s hotel room to steal a bioagent and show this Victor guy what he was worth. He wanted the time to pass faster, kept glaring at the clock on his computer screen as if he could will it to spin forward. But, of course, that didn’t do anything but give him a mild headache. Moose had to content himself with going over the heist in his head again and again and again, running over various iterations and models in his mind’s eye.
Was he nervous?
Of course he was, but what did that matter? Heroes got nervous. It wasn’t wrong to be a little worried about going into a brand-new situation and facing unknown dangers. Nerves were good. They were normal. It was the overcoming of them that was important.
At least that’s what he told himself.
Out in the main room, he heard a clatter as Delilah returned from her shopping. Desperate for a distraction, Moose zoomed to the door and opened it, forcing himself to slow down to avoid upsetting her.
“Hey ho hey, how’d it go?”
Delilah looked at him in surprise for a moment before laughing, a tinkling bell of a sound. “Someone’s excited.”
Moose puffed out his chest. “I have a gig tomorrow.”
“A good one, I take it?”
Jumping forward to help her close the door and taking two of the bulky bags out of her arms, Moose grinned. “Oh yeah. A really good one.”
She laughed again. “I can’t wait to hear about it. But I’ll have to listen while I cook. I’ve got another huge order for tomorrow night.”
“Another HNN party?”
She winced. “Victory News this time. The owner ordered double what HNN did.”
Moose offered her an unsure-but-game smile. “That’s good for you, right? Big media overlords competing for your work?”
Delilah smiled, plopping her bags on the kitchen counter. “Yeah, except I’m not a big media overlord with lots of assistants. Hard to compete, eh?”
“Maybe you should hire some?”
She winced. “I’m getting to that point.” Rubbing the back of her neck, she looked at him sideways. “Did you see the news, by the way?”
Moose cocked his head in question.
Delilah pointed to the TV. “Happened right down the street from us.”
Suddenly worried and
not sure why, Moose grabbed the control and flicked on the old-school television. Delilah didn’t even have Netflix or anything, relying purely on the main cable channels and daytime television. Moose had offered to buy her a Firestick, but she’d said, quite fairly, that she didn’t need any distractions.
Adjusting his goggles, Moose waited for the screen to load.
“It’s just another political scandal,” he said as the talking heads debated something the president had said. “Nothing new there.”
“Keep watching,” she called, head in the fridge.
Moose turned back, already fidgeting with impatience.
And then the screen shifted.
“Woah!” Moose burst out. He couldn’t help it. There, on the screen, wings iridescent in the midday sun, was Aquila being shoved into a cop car. The video footage was wobbly, as if it had been shot on a phone camera, but there was no mistaking the hard line of his brother’s jaw or the calm, determined set of his eyebrows.
Oh no…
“Isn’t that wild?” Delilah called, putting groceries away.
“Yeah,” Moose answered halfheartedly. “Yeah, wild.”
But his brain was buzzing with panic.
Oh God, oh God, oh God!
Aquila had been arrested here, hunting for him. Guilt squirmed in Moose’s belly and threatened to crawl up his throat. He hadn’t really cared that Aquila and Eliza were wandering the city looking for him. The whole thing had seemed like a game they used to play at home. Hide-and-seek, tag, chase. Normal, brotherly stuff.
Not anymore.
The real world had taken a big old needle to his bubble of excitement, reminding him that things in this city weren’t as simple as Scottstown. And life wasn’t what it used to be. They were infamous and hated now, reviled because of what the media had done to them.
And apparently, worthy of arrest.
Delilah appeared next to him, arms folded, shaking her head. “Poor guy, it doesn’t look like he even did anything.”
Moose looked at her, examining her expression. Did she suspect? Did she wonder?