by Krys Janae
“How long has it been anyway?” Olivia asked.
“For…what?” Danika lowered her head, and raised her shoulders, not quite following where Olivia was taking her.
“You know? Since you…” She rolled her hands in the air in front of her and hoped Danika would catch her drift.
“What?”
Olivia’s eyes flickered with an implied mischief only emphasized by her arched brow. Her attention was turned to Charlie, down below. “I mean, are you gonna…”
After a moment of observing the fight, Danika realized she was going for the inevitable question of them being an item since she’d been spending quite a bit of time with him since she’d been here. “Olivia, if you’re asking my permission to fool around with Charlie, that’s unnecessary.” She laughed. “Go for it.”
“Strike team head to the conference room in five, please. Conference room in five, AKA don’t make Morgan wait. Thank youuu…” Frost said in a sing-song voice over the intercom, that echoed through the facility, as everyone took a second to listen to the announcement.
Olivia pushed herself up on the railing and she stood back, turning to head out. “No no, darlin’. He’s all yours.”
Callie grinned as she followed her.
Danika was left alone, staring down as the sparring men finished their match, which ended with Charlie on his stomach, pinned by the neck with his arm behind his back. Erik must have been getting some joy out of this one, not only getting a new ragdoll to throw around, but also getting to flex his teacher muscles. Literally. She watched as Charlie stood and respectfully bowed at his instructor before turning to catch her up on the perch, greeting her with a wave.
Instead of waving back, she nodded, and then turned back to follow the girls back towards the main hall, where the conference room was located, down below Morgan’s office.
Danika traced her hand along the cold wall, feeling the bumps of the concrete underneath the coat of cheap paint. She found a groove in the wall and followed it along. The facility wasn’t as bad as she made it out to be. Her antipathy over forming a Powered team notwithstanding, she liked being here. Danika just stayed away because she didn’t want to be a puppet, at her uncle’s beck and call. When she was here before, there were six of them running the show as the strike team: Morgan, Carter, Sloane, herself, Frost, and at times her Aunt Tess.
Danika continued to trace the groove down the hallway. When she turned the corner, she saw it again, like it was yesterday…
Two Years Ago…
“You ready, rookie?”
Danika bumped his hip as they walked, and he stumbled for a step before catching up with the pace of her stride. She laughed. “Rookie? I started this team, son.”
“Don’t call me son, that’s just… weird.” He laughed. Carter had a beautiful laugh. He had a beautiful everything, according to Danika.
Morgan was standing by the door to the garage his arms folded. He watched as the two of them approached, smiling somewhere behind that moustache. “Alright we’ve been over our positions for this one, several times. We’re in, out, and get them to safety.”
“Yes, sir.” Carter nodded. He was the team leader for the operation most of the time, but Danika knew he loved the thrill of it.
“They are number one priority, but above all, let’s make it back alive.” Morgan nodded.
“Hey.”
Danika’s eyes were glossed over with tears when she looked up. She’d just put out her cigarette on her hand when she saw that Charlie had joined her, dabbing his sweat-slicked skin from his forehead and neck with his towel. He’d caught up to her, probably in a full-blown sprint, from the sound of his breathing. “Hey.” She wiped under her eyes with her forefinger to brush the tears away. “Nice moves down there, rookie.”
“Rookie?” Charlie raised an eyebrow with a teasing smile. “Hey, Erik’s no joke.”
Danika didn’t mean to echo the scene that had occurred from before, but when it came out, it seemed to flow naturally with Charlie. “Yeah. Kicked your ass pretty good.”
“Just wait. Maybe a bit more training with him and I’ll spar with you again. This time sans breaking and entering.”
“You make it sound like it’s a privilege.”
He gave a laugh that came from deep in his chest. “I promise I won’t pull any punches. I’ll take you down.”
Danika just scoffed and shook her head. He was ambitious, she’d give him that. “Right. We’ll see.”
“You sleep alright?” He asked.
“Bunker quarters are no King-sized luxuries but being able to keep both eyes closed without constantly worrying about that thing trying to kill me again is a plus.” She managed to grouse and stay optimistic in the same breath.
“Good.” He smiled.
“You?”
“Can’t complain. No cats clawing at my door and I’m used to twin-sized living. The dorm I had at law school left much to be desired, in regard to personal space, that is. Shame I didn’t care much for my roommate, otherwise I might not have minded so much.” Charlie’s teeth were rather white when he smiled, which was something she noticed he’d did a lot. Even though it was a known trait for lawyers to smile, his wasn’t creepy or foreboding. It seemed genuine. He was a gentleman, and she expected no less from the him, as he held the door open for her.
“Thanks.” She smiled, dipping her head low as she passed him, to make her way to her seat.
Everyone convened and took their places at the conference table, rolling their chairs in to the table. Danika twisted back and forth in her chair. Morgan cleared his throat, waiting until all chatter stopped, so he could get straight to business. It’d been a while since Danika had to sit in on one of these briefings, but if things started to veer off-track, she was ready to captain that ship and steer it back in the right direction.
Morgan gestured to everyone before he folded his hands in front of him. “Thanks for coming in, everyone, and welcome Charlie and of course Danika to the team.”
Danika stiffened as the attention was brought to them, but she was outwardly appreciative of the acknowledgement. She waved her hand in a way that meant she wanted to be rid of the focus, so her uncle could carry on.
He took full advantage of that window and tapped the button on his slide-show clicker to change the picture on the full screen. “There’s a missing person’s case uptown, a mother put in the report a few days ago. She said that their daughter hasn’t been home in over a week. When the police interviewed the husband, he said she’d probably run away.”
“How did you even catch this one?”
“The girl is on the Registry.” Morgan looked down, somberly. “She’s only 11.”
“Damn…” Frost looked truly bothered with what had come up on his screen as he typed away for more information on his laptop. Whatever pertinent details he could find were being sent to the monitors for everyone to see, like photographs of the missing girl, as well as her parents.
“Erik, you and Olivia take this one.” Morgan looked at them both, and they nodded.
“No.” Danika was standing by the window now, arms crossed over her chest. Her jaw flexed, her eyes fixated on the monitors. “I’ll go.”
Everyone’s chairs seem to turn in a dramatic way when Danika spoke up, as she blindsided all of them with her offer. Morgan’s furrowed brow showed that he was a little shocked by her outburst, too.
Olivia didn’t look irritated that the niece of Morgan Carlisle was trying to butt in on the operation, but she seemed surprised to hear such conviction. “Are you sure?”
“Just let me know where to go, and what you want me to do.” Danika twisted again and shrugged at all of the gawkers. “What? I got it.”
Morgan seemed pleased with that answer, so he didn’t bother questioning it in fear Danika might withdraw. “Sold to the highest bidder. Take Erik. Ask questions. Figure out what they might know, and if really it’s an abduction or just a runaway.”
“Okay. Fine.”
“And Danika—” Morgan huffed, “Try not to destroy too much property. Please.”
She pursed her lips, her jaw flexing at the thought of the child.
An eleven-year-old?
She hated this war on the Powered community, but when children were involved, it struck a nerve. “No promises.”
*
The car slowed and came to a halt in front of the small property. 469 West Downey Road, the residence of the missing girl. It resembled Danika’s childhood home, before they moved to the city. The rural backroads were bumpy, the neighbors few and far between. The yard was a decent size with only a chain link fence to keep out the pesky solicitors or folks with animals who wanted to let them shit wherever they wanted. Danika made note of the pink bicycle out in the yard, parked against the corner of the house by the carport. There was a small play area in the front, a track of dirt circled in the dry, patchy grass from little feet scuttling on the surface.
A slender, middle-aged woman answered the door, aged mostly by the wear of time. Her crow’s feet were prominent, though framed behind straw-colored tresses, were brought to attention by the red circles under her dark eyes. She’d been crying.
Poor thing. Danika didn’t seem the type to sympathize for a mother, but she saw a resemblance to her own late mother that gave the woman that edge.
The woman welcomed them in, smiling through the obvious heartbreak, and offered them a seat. Danika thought she’d time-traveled, thinking maybe it was because this family lived far enough outside of Augusta they weren’t too up to date with modern style or architecture. The house looked like it hadn’t been remodeled since the sixties or seventies, with archways as partition portals between rooms. The furniture matched that sentiment, too: a shag rug, a large tube television set with rabbit-ear antenna on top, a couch that screamed retro, and vintage art on the wall in dusty old picture frames.
“Thanks for having us, Mr. and Mrs. Mosley.” Erik was the first to speak up, because he was friendly and approachable, and a lot nicer than Danika.
The woman hugged herself in her old, and what looked like itchy, sweater. “Yes. T-Thank you both for coming. I already tried speaking with the police about our little Irene, but after a few days of searching, nothing has come from it.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Danika coughed up a response, as Erik nudged her. It might have sounded a little flat, she realized, so she punctuated it with a thin smile to seem more genuine. Danika could smell the rancid stench of the ashtray across the room and she just wanted a cigarette.
“Our organization is built specifically for these instances, Mrs. Mosley, so we will do our best to find her.” Erik added, for reassurance.
Mr. Mosley just huffed, sneering at the guests. “Waste of time. She ran away, just like I told the cops. I have my boys looking for her right now.” His voice sounded like a boulder tumbling over pebbles and glass; it was low, grumbling, unpleasant, with a hint of acrimony.
“Your boys?” Unenthusiastic about his cockiness, Danika arched an eyebrow as she folded her arms.
Mr. Mosley’s bushy eyebrows furrowed, glancing at Erik first, as if he’d been offended that a woman had bothered to talk to him, seemingly out of turn. “Yeah, my boys. Friends. You got any of those?”
“Harvey…” Mrs. Mosley said, as she put her hand on her husband’s forearm, but it was quickly swatted away.
Danika narrowed her eyes at the man for his insinuation, and because she noticed bruises on his wife’s hands as she flinched away. Oh, what she’d give to have the green light to bash his ugly, arrogant face in.
“She got mixed in with some of those stupid teenagers down at the mall and ran away. Probably some of those freaks, you know? I think they oughtta make stricter laws for those maniacs.” Mr. Mosley grumbled, scratching the right side of his belly.
“Yeah, running away is the norm, though that’s usually more common in teenagers.” Erik said, sensing the downward stride of the conversation. He seemed desperate to make light of the situation.
“Word is that Alton King is starting a brand-new camp for these ‘Powered’ things. The best idea to come from that man, I’ll say. This is where I’d send her, whether she wanted to go or not. They can cure it.” He surrendered a pamphlet to Danika and Erik.
Danika narrowed her eyes. The conversation suddenly took a turn she should have been anticipating, but it still managed to roll in from left field. “Excuse me?”
Powered things… Like we’re a fucking disease. Danika bristled. She didn’t want to get near the man, so Erik leaned forward and retrieved the reading materials, nodding at Mr. Mosley to be polite. Silence settled over them like a blanket, aside from the buzzing coming from the musty aquarium that looked like it hadn’t been touched in months, and the ticking of a cuckoo clock mounted on the wall kept the beat. Danika looked at Erik, thinking that would be all, but then Mr. Mosley opened his mouth again.
“Freaks need to realize their place. This is going to do that. Maybe fix what’s wrong with them, all of them.”
“Harvey!” His wife was quick to interject, though her sincerity was stifled by her inner conflict. She seemed to understand the side of the Powered, being compassionate and understanding to her daughter’s abilities, though afraid of her ignorant and outspoken husband.
“What?” The expression on Danika’s face was austere, her voice holding a low growl in the undertones.
“You heard me. These things are abominations.”
Her eyebrows pulled together with a glower that conveyed her thoughts quite clearly. She could feel the rise and fall of Erik’s shoulders beside her as he sighed, disappointed and frustrated in his own way. They both had encountered a lot of this sort of attitude and prejudice before but coming from someone who needed help to find their own child—that was new. Danika’s patience was already slim-to-nonexistent, and Harvey Mosley’s demeanor was the bleach and scrubber to wipe the remainder away like a blemish.
“That’s our daughter, Harvey.” His wife uttered, though at half-volume as if she wanted to keep her opinions to herself instead of voicing them.
“Cindy, back off. These folks are coming around asking questions where they have no right to be, and I’m giving them my answers. Irene ain’t normal.”
Erik looked at Danika, a look of worry on that well-chiseled face of his. He might have been the champion fighter of the Alliance, but he had some tact, and chose his battles wisely. It was a good enough trait for him to have, however, since his being there prevented Danika from doing what she wanted to do so badly as Harvey Mosley rambled on with his big ugly mouth. She even thought to crumple up the brochure they’d showed them and force him to choke on it, but she even refrained from that. She thought to demand a reward later for her strained efforts and self-control.
“Thank you for your time.” Erik said courteously, before putting his hand on Danika’s shoulder as a silent suggestion to walk outside.
This man was sickening, and she hated being forced to walk away. She instantly lit up and started in on the cigarette as she walked away, leaving a breeze in her wake. Fueled by her anger, Danika grunted as she pushed down hard on the side view mirror of their rickety old car. She didn’t need to use the Gale to pull the part from the vehicle, and she let it tumble to the ground.
“Dani!” Erik propelled himself with his unnatural speed to catch up to her, his movement a blur before he stood in front of her with his hands on her shoulders. “Was that necessary?” He asked, trying to keep his voice down.
“You wouldn’t let me do that to his face. Just give me that one, would you?” Danika took a long drag before she blew the smoke into the sky. She leaned against the passenger side door to his Charger, with her butt against the freshly polished paint. Erik wouldn’t let her smoke in his car. He complained about the smoke stench getting attached to the leather seats making it smell like a mobile ashtray. He wasn’t wrong, but she hated his rules. Danika faced their front room window on purpose and saw th
em staring at her and Erik behind the protection of the fragile glass window between them. With one wave, Danika could have that sheet of glass shattered and Mosley face-eating grass, but she was forced to be civil, so day-dreaming about it would suffice.
“He’s a fucking asshole, Erik. You’re okay with letting him talk to us like that? About us?” She threw the pamphlet on the hood of the car. “What about this shit? Reconditioning camp? He’s shady as fuck, man. And I think he had something to do with his own daughter’s disappearance. If she did run away, it was to get away from that sonofabitch. His wife is obviously terrified of him, too.”
“Yeah, I get it, this camp is another damn thorn in our sides, but we have no evidence he had anything to do with Irene going missing…” Erik fetched the pamphlet and put it in his back pocket. “Is this how you’re dealing with things on your own? Smash them up and talk later?”
“Kick back, Red.” Danika often referred to him as Erik the Red, as it suited his name and the streaks of red that followed him when he ran at full blast. Physically, he didn’t fit the bill for the Viking namesake, but he hadn’t minded the nickname so far, so she kept it.
Like most people, he was exasperated. “Look, before you summon a tornado let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Good call.” Danika inhaled her cigarette in one go, put it out on her hand, and flicked the filter on the edge of their lawn. When she opened her door, she saw that Mr. Mosley had vanished, leaving his wife to stare out at them as they drove away.
A New Contender
“Thank you, Mr. Matthews.”
Charlie stood from his chair and extended a firm handshake to his new clients.
Boom, he’d landed it! His first real case. They were a large firm, which meant they picked up a variety of cases, but the partners had first dibs on the higher-end litigations and acquisitions. Charlie managed to pick up a divorce settlement, a rather popular suit swept in by these upper-class types, but it was a case nonetheless. He was going to represent the wife in the matter, between her and her soon-to-be-ex who was a key player in national media. She had brought her beautiful daughter with her for support. It was difficult to bypass the fact that the daughter had been making eyes at him through most of his consultation, but he made use of tactful evasion to stay on point with his presentation pitch. His policy was to keep the client comfortable, so he tried to keep that rolling throughout their meeting. When he heard the magic words of yes, let’s do this from the middle-aged woman—at her wits end with her womanizing, cheating husband—that was all he needed to know that his spiel had worked its magic.