Silas City, despite its small population of 300,000, is widely known as the capital of the superhero industry. In order to support this industry, skyscrapers and official buildings can be found in great abundance. The residents are happy, when they're not being attacked by the current villain-of-the-week. While it's not exactly the safest place in the world to live, it's certainly the most aesthetically pleasing. The designs of the buildings, streets, and public parks are lovely, and bring much joy. There's an old rumor circulating that the city was designed by a future-seer, which would explain why all the buildings remain relatively intact after every superhuman battle. It is widely agreed that Silas is a wonderful place to live. Beautiful sights, gorgeous architecture, and a thriving populace.
All this, and Laura is staring down into a sewer.
"Would someone care to explain why this is necessary?" Laura asks, wincing at the sharp stench wafting up from the pothole she's about to enter.
"This is where the tracker signal leads. We need a sample, and this is the only—"
"Wasn't really looking for a logical answer," Laura interrupts J.P., eyeing the ladder warily.
"Relax, Hollis. It can't be that bad," LaFontaine says, always one to poke at something until they get the desired result.
Laura starts to lower herself down the ladder gingerly, hating how her nose stubbornly refuses to get used to the stench. "You can't smell what I'm smelling. And what have I said about using my name over dispatch?"
"Not to, but come on. Nobody's gonna hack into the comms with J.P. on the lookout."
"While I appreciate the compliment, discretion is key. We should avoid using our actual names if we wish to stay under the proverbial radar," J.P. says.
Laura smirks. "You hear that? We have to use our code names, Tweedledum."
"Whatever you say, Red Bandit," LaFontaine shoots back.
Laura makes a face. "Ugh. One day, I'm going to find that incompetent, unimaginative reporter who came up with that name and dangle him from the top of the Karnstein building."
"Um, no, you won't. We made a deal stating you would warn me when you turn villain."
"If I turn villain."
"When you turn villain. No self-respecting superhero runs around Silas with a name like Red Bandit."
"Why do you let them use the communicator?" Laura asks J.P. while LaFontaine cackles at their own humor.
"Because I'm a weak, weak man. I'll admit that," J.P. sighs.
"Aw, no one blames you, Tweedledee. I bribe him with Perry's—sorry, Pear's—brownies."
"It's true. I would feel bad, but her brownies are just so—"
"Uh, guys? Can we get back to the matter at hand? Sewers? Imminent danger?" Laura peers into the darkness and takes a hesitant step forward. She knows her location, but finding the tracker and its carrier means she will have to be able to see where she's going, especially while walking next to a flowing river of sewage.
"Alright, concentrating on the sewers. Hey, keep on the lookout for turtle mutates wielding katanas and pizza," LaFontaine chirps.
"Turtle mutates? I thought we were tracking lizard mutates. And why would they be wielding pizza?"
` Laura smiles as she pulls out her flashlight. Despite being a tech genius, J.P. has practically zero knowledge of modern-day pop culture. Nobody questions it.
"I'll explain when you're older," LaFontaine mutters. "Just focus on locating the lizard men."
J.P. lets out an exasperated huff. "For the last time, they are not lizard men! They're bipedal, reptilian humanoids—"
"Yes, I'm a biologist, I know the scientific term. They're still lizard men. You can't take that away from me."
Laura decidedly ignores their bickering and gets back to the task at hand. She shines her flashlight around the tunnel-like walls of the sewer, holding her nose with her other hand. There's a dry maintenance path next to the liquid sewage, and Laura is grateful for that. She slowly makes her way through the tunnel system, looking for any signs of giant lizard men.
Four months ago, Laura wouldn't be stuck in a sewer searching for lizard people. She would still be up above, dealing with simple bank robberies and house fires and purse snatchers. She had been happy with that. A bit bored, but satisfied with the work she was doing. Then, the big super villains of Silas collectively decided to up their game a little. The powered ones became more active and destructive, and the non-powered villains seemed to simultaneously start researching biological mutations in order to create giant scary monsters. Every superhero in the city knows that something big is coming, but they're all so busy battling their arch-nemeses to actually think about the problem. Laura's still a rookie in some aspects, so she has yet to score an arch-nemesis. (Not that she, you know, wants one. It would just be nice to know that she's respected enough in the superhero community to have someone obsessed with destroying her.) In the meantime, Laura, LaFontaine, J.P., and Perry have all been working nonstop during their free time to try and solve smaller bits of the mystery. Laura does the grunt work, LaFontaine is the jolly mad scientist, J.P. is the tech genius, and Perry bakes brownies and frets over everyone. They make a good team.
They've decided to focus on the giant lizard pack problem that's been terrorizing the lower east side. Laura ran into one of the beasts yesterday, and managed to inject a tracking device into its skin. If she can get a blood sample for LaFontaine to analyze, that might bring them one step closer to figuring out who's behind all of this. Whomever it is, Laura suspects it's someone who's watched way too many superhero movies, if the "lizard men in the sewers" situation hints at anything.
Something catches Laura's eye, and she focuses her light on three long claw marks splitting the stone wall. They're about five feet off the ground, and they cut deep.
"Guys," Laura says into the comm, interrupting the still ongoing argument over scientific terminology. "You might want to look at this. Is the camera picking it up?"
There's a slight scuffling noise, and then J.P. says, "Yes, just let me zoom in…"
"Woah. Those look fresh. Hold still, I'm going to take some pictures," LaFontaine says, their excitement causing their voice to shake a bit.
Laura remains facing the gashes in the wall, though she wishes she could turn her head to make sure nothing was about to attack her from behind. The lizard men have sharp teeth and claws, not to mention jaws powerful enough to snap a human femur in half.
"Your heart rate is increasing by a significant amount. Is everything alright?" J.P. asks.
Laura sighs and tries to shake off her fear. "Yes, I'm just a bit nervous."
"Don't be. You have faced these things before."
"Yeah, but I don't know what's waiting for me. It could be one, or ten, or twenty." Laura turns her light towards the dark tunnel ahead, sure that LaFontaine has gotten enough pictures.
"No matter what, you are sufficiently prepared."
"Yeah, you've got your awesome powers and fighting skills, remember? Not to mention we're on your side," LaFontain chimes in.
Laura smiles despite her nerves. "Right. How could I forget my awesome tech support?"
"Hey! Who're you calling tech support?!"
"I believe she's calling us tech support."
"Thanks, J.P."
Laura laughs. "Goodness me, what on earth would your girlfriend say if she heard you use such a tone?"
"Excuse you, she's not my girlfriend."
"To whom is she referring?" J.P. asks.
"Pear. Pear and I are just friends."
"Oh. Have I been mistaken, then? I had only assumed that—"
"Seriously?! Why does everyone keep assuming things?!"
Laura goes back to ignoring her communicator when she comes across more gashes. These are located higher on the wall, though they seem older than the last ones. That could mean that the lizards have been here for a while, which could also mean that whoever created them might have planned this out.
Things are getting complicated. Laura groans. "Why am I doing this? Why am I down here?"
"Don't ask me. I'm just the tech support," LaFontaine grumbles, clearly pouting.
"I am sure she didn't mean to insult you."
"Oh really? Was I supposed to take it as a complim—"
"Guys. I think I found the nest," Laura says softly. She's shining her light into a side tunnel covered in claw marks and bones.
"Proceed with caution," LaFontaine orders, seamlessly shifting from joking to attack-mode.
Laura slowly steps forward, her senses on high alert. She passes what looks like a feeding area, and has to look away before she starts to gag. She hopes whatever that bloody mess used to be died quickly. The rest of the tunnel is coated in a shiny slime, perhaps mucus. She should probably get a sample of that too.
"Can you detect anything?" J.P. asks. Laura can hear him typing madly away at his keyboard, no doubt scanning everything the camera is picking up.
"I can't sense anything humanoid," Laura mutters, careful to keep her voice down.
"Can you sense anything living? Anything at all?"
Laura concentrates for a moment. "Yes, but they're too small to be lizard men. Rats, most likely. Am I near the tracker?"
"Yes. You're very close." J.P. hums under his breath, something he does when he's frustrated. "This does not make sense. The tracker's still active, they should be nearby. You should be able to detect them."
"She could be overstimulated down there. It's happened before," LaFontaine offers.
"No, it's not that. I really can't detect any large living organisms." Laura takes a few more steps forward, shining her light everywhere. She sighs. "Maybe the tracker's faulty—"
"There is nothing wrong with the tracker," J.P. snaps. LaFontaine snorts. "It's still active, which means it's attached to something down there."
"Alright," Laura says, moving further into the tunnel. "But if I get ambushed by giant lizards, you're paying for my monument."
"I can see it now. Here lies Red Bandit, whose remains were found floating in a river of poo."
"I wasn't talking to you, Tweedledum."
"I'm just joking. Everyone knows you'll probably die at the hands of your boss."
Laura shudders. "Could we, like, never mention that woman over dispatch? I like to pretend she doesn't exist when I'm not acting as her personal slave. Besides, speaking of the devil only provokes hell."
"Agreed," LaFontaine and J.P. both say at once, each having their own special reason to hate and fear Laura's boss.
The further Laura moves into the side tunnel, the creepier it gets. The walls start to narrow down towards each other so that she has to crouch to keep moving, and after awhile she can smell the unmistakable coppery tang of blood. It's strong enough that it overwhelms the stench of the sewer sludge. She can no longer see any slashes on the walls, but even with her flashlight it's hard to make out anything. There's a faint dripping noise up ahead, and its echo sounds rather ominous.
It's not until Laura's boot splashes into a large, thick, warm puddle that she realizes something. She can't see anymore gashes on the walls because the walls are covered in blood.
"Holy Hogwarts," Laura breathes, shining her flashlight around her and trying not to hyperventilate. There's blood dripping down from the ceiling, oozing all over every surface, and pooling in puddles at her feet. Laura has never seen this much blood in one place before. "Guys," she says into the comm once she's caught her breath. "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"
"Unfortunately, yes," J.P. says, his voice sounding rather shaky. He's not so good with blood. "That definitely looks…fresh."
"Do you know whose blood that is?" LaFontaine asks.
Laura closely examines the wall to her right. "I'm not sure. It could be the lizards', it could be one of their meals. I don't know."
"Well, it can't hurt to get a sample."
"Right," Laura says, and starts to take a vial out of her pocket. Something flashes in the corner of her eye, and she whirls around, expecting an attack. Instead, she finds a glowing green light. Realizing what it is, she moves forward. "Tweedledee?"
"….Hey, boy genius. She's talking to you."
"What? Oh. Right. Yes?"
"Your tracker. Am I approaching it?"
"Um, yes. Yes, you are. You're very close to it, actually."
When she reaches the tracker, Laura realizes that it's been taped to the wall, next to a blood splattered piece of paper. She carefully peels the tracker off the wall and examines it. It doesn't look damaged. She moves to inspect the paper, only to discover that it's a note written in slanted cursive.
Dear Red Bandit,
Cleaned up your mess for you. You're welcome.
—The Countess
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me!" Laura exclaims, crumpling the paper up in her fist. "How did she get here before me?!"
"Wait, what? What was that? Who's…The Countess?" J.P. asks. LaFontaine snorts, and then tries to cover it up with a cough.
Laura scowls, looking wildly around the tunnel for more notes. "She's only the most annoying, presumptuous, self-entitled, ridiculous, overly flirtatious superhero in existence!" Laura kicks at a stray bone lying next to her foot. "Whenever I try to investigate something big, she always, always, manages to get there first and leave me stupid little 'you're welcome' notes, as if I'm supposed to be thankful that she—"
"She's the one that wears a corset," LaFontaine says in a bored tone, having heard this rant before.
"Oh! With all the leather? She's been leaving the notes?" J.P. sounds somewhat impressed.
"Yup."
Laura mutters darkly under her breath as she gathers the blood samples. "The Countess. What kind of a name is that, anyways? A stupid name, that's what. Leave it to her to have a name that sounds like something a fifteen-year-old poet enthusiast made up."
LaFontaine lets out a low whistle. "Wow. If I didn't know any better, I would say you're harboring a crush for her."
Laura splutters despite herself, nearly dropping the vial of lizard blood. "What? A crush?! I don't—are you serious?!"
"I thought she had a crush on that Summer Society girl," J.P. says, much to Laura's horror.
"Oh yeah. The redhead, right? What was her name?"
"I don't think they have names. There's too many of them. The Society's a large organization. I think it might even stretch internationally."
"Are you two done?" Laura sighs.
"That depends," LaFontaine hums thoughtfully. "Do you want to leave a note for her? Maybe start a pen pal exchange?"
"If you don't shut up right now, so help me, I will tell Pear what really happened to her pet gerbil."
A long pause.
"You wouldn't."
"Try me."
Another long pause.
"Fine. You win. No more talking about your squishy crushes."
Laura sighs. "Thank you."
"The gerbil incident wasn't even my fault."
"Yes, it was," Laura and J.P. both say at once.
"Ok, so maybe it was a little bit my fault, but if little miss Cleans-A-Lot hadn't put the kerosine next to the cage, I wouldn't have been inspired to—" LaFontain's voice suddenly cuts off.
"I turned off their mic," J.P. deadpans.
Laura starts to make her way out of the tunnel, careful not to step in anymore blood puddles. "Wait, are they not at your place?"
"No, they're at Miss. Perry—Pear's—apartment. Something about helping with a giant birthday party cupcake delivery?"
Laura frowns. "Cupcake delivery?" That doesn't sound right. Perry had been stressing over that birthday party for weeks. She shouldn't be delivering anything until…
A horrible thought crosses Laura's mind. "J.P.?" she exclaims, forgetting to use his codename. "What day of the week is it?!"
"Uh, I believe it is a Thursday?"
"Oh my god!" Laura's sprinting down the tunnel before she realizes her legs are moving. She starts to go through a mental checklist, trying to calculate how much time she has left before—
"What's happening?! Is something wrong?!" J.P. shouts in her ear.
"It's Thursday!" Laura groans with as much conviction as she can manage. She's sprinting and praying she doesn't fall into the river of sewage, though that might be a more friendly fate than what she will experience if she's late.
"Yes, it is a Thursday! What is so important about Thursday?"
Laura has reached the ladder now. As she climbs it, she imagines the Kill Bill siren blaring through the sewer tunnels. "Thursday's are important because she schedules meetings on Thursdays, which means she wants a large black coffee and some pretentious French pastry from that stupid little place behind the taxi depot—"
"Ooh, Marie's? That shop is quite expensive."
"I know!" Somehow, Laura has made it out of sewers and into the open. There's minimal traffic, and the few people out and about hardly glance at her as she rushes by. The one good thing about Silas' jaded citizens is their complete disregard of super-powered weirdoes running through the streets. She sprints towards the wall of a laundromat and yanks a small device off her utility belt. "I'm going to try the grappling hook!"
J.P. squeaks into the mic. "You have that with you?! It failed almost all of its tests in the lab!"
"You said almost! Almost is good!"
"Almost is the opposite of good! It is not good! I refuse to be responsible for your death-by-grappling hook!"
"You can't convince me it's worse than death-by-Karnstein!" Laura shouts. She aims the device and fires over J.P.'s protests. It hooks to a corner of the laundromat roof and sticks. With a quick pull on the trigger, it yanks her up onto to the roof. Perhaps the yanking is a bit quicker than Laura had expected, and perhaps her shoulder feels funny now, but it's fine because she's on the roof. It's good. Everything's good. She's yelping in pain as she locks her shoulder back into its socket. It's all GOOD.
J.P.'s voice has reached a dangerously high pitch. "I heard that popping noise! You have injured yourself—"
Laura turns off her comm before he can scold her about the dangers of failing to test her equipment. She has a breakfast delivery to…deliver.
:
:
:
"Coffee for Karnstein! Move it!"
As per usual, the K-word works its magic, and men and women scatter as Laura barrels her way towards the elevator. She's running as fast as she can in her sensible work shoes, but she can see the metal doors closing in front of the panicked faces of its occupants.
"No!" she shouts when they close just before she reaches it. There's only one other elevator in the whole building, and Laura's been banned from using it since the St. Patrick's Day incident last year. The stairs are her only option.
Every step she takes is followed by a curse directed at the superhero gods for not giving her super stamina. She's already winded from the dash to the pastry shop and then to the office, not to mention her port-a-potty outfit change from hero to business casual.
"Oh sure, Clark Kent gets the luxury of a friggin' phone booth while I get to change next to a big ol' pot of poop," she grumbles to herself between gasps for air, having finally reached the top floor. She pushes against the door with her shoulder—her bad shoulder—but it won't budge because of course it won't. Laura keeps pushing and pushing because super strength is yet another power she does not have. Each push becomes more and more personal as she beings to insult the integrity of this door, and then of all doors in general, and the door must take offense to this because it suddenly opens and Laura tumbles forward with a great shout.
Thankfully, someone catches her before she hits the floor. Her savior's one of the IT goons, the quiet girl with the glasses.
"Thanks, Chel!" Laura chirps as she releases herself from the surprisingly strong pair of arms enveloping her.
The girl blinks at her from behind big glasses, looking a bit struck. "Um, actually, it's Mel."
"Yeah, thanks, gotta go!" Laura calls over her shoulder, already power walking through the workspace. The top floor is the usual beehive of activity, but everyone automatically speeds up once they spy her. When Laura moves fast, it could only mean one thing.
"She's entered the building!" One of the interns hisses at her.
Mass panic. People rush to their desks, papers go flying, and everyone moves the fuck out of Laura's way because she is running at a full sprint now. The office is at the far back of the room. She has about two minutes.
Laura dives between the two desks which sit outside the office. One's for her, the other's for Kirsch. The She Devil likes to keep her minions close. Kirsch stands up from his seat when he sees her coming, his eyes wide with fear. He starts to say something, but Laura beats him to it.
"I know I'm late prepareyourselfshe'scoming!"
Kirsch lets out a sound that may or may not be a whimper but Laura is crashing through the door of the office and doesn't have time to think about it. She rushes across the plush carpeting to the minibar, and yanks open the cabinets above to get to the plates. Laura then remembers that she is short, so she grabs a chair to stand on
Her senses give a little jolt. Karnstein's elevator has arrived.
Laura leaps off the chair and scrambles her way to the giant desk, which looks more like a black marble slab than an actual work space. She places the plate in the exact same spot she always does, and dumps the pastry out of its bag. After that, she makes a desperate break for the door. Kirsch proves to be the best person ever when he opens it for her, and Laura has enough time to swipe her hair out of her face and click her heels together before Carmilla Karnstein is sashaying towards her.
Despite the utter loathing and contempt Laura feels towards this woman, she can't help but admire the control she has over every room she enters. Her walk is more like a glide as she makes her way through the desks. Those brave enough to wish her a good morning do so in awed murmurs, their eyes wide. The rest simply lower their heads.
She's wearing a skin-tight black dress today, and if Laura knew anything about fashion she would be able to appreciate it's subtle refinement. Even so, she can tell that it has a very pleasing affect. The leather streaking up the sides of her thighs brings one's attention to her hips, and though her neckline does not show much cleavage, it's certainly enough to draw the eye. A gold necklace rests on her collarbone, a single emerald stone glinting in the light. Sunglasses cover the top half of her face, and her black hair is tousled in such a way that it gives off an effortless sense of dishevelment.
Laura's smile turns rather strained the closer she gets.
"Good morning, Ms. Karnstein," both her and Kirsch say in practiced unison.
As usual, Karnstein pretends not to hear. She takes Laura's offered coffee cup, and snaps her fingers at Kirsch while she takes a long pull from it.
"Today you have seven meetings scheduled, four of which concern Captain Dynamite," Kirsch responds immediately. "Most of the problems seem to be about—"
Ms. Karnstein holds up a pale hand, and Kirsch shuts his mouth immediately. She turns her head towards Laura, who knows what's coming. She braces herself.
"What, pray tell, is this?" Karnstein asks, her voice low and gravely.
"Your usual drink order, Ms. Karnstein."
"It's lukewarm."
Laura's blood runs cold. Here we go again. "Is it?"
With a slow, fluid movement, Karnstein takes off her glasses and fixes Laura with an unimpressed stare. "Are you asking me whether or not my coffee is lukewarm, after I just informed you of the fact?"
Laura holds the gaze without flinching. "Of course not, Ms. Karnstein. If you'd like, I could warm it up by rubbing my hands together?" She offers sarcastically.
The entire floor falls silent. Laura suppresses the urge to roll her eyes.
Karnstein stares at her for a moment longer, then lets a long breath out through her nose. She puts her sunglasses back on and opens the door to her private office. "You would be wise to remind yourself that your looks will only get you so far with me, cupcake," she mutters, disinterest dripping from every word.
Laura can feel her cheeks flush in anger, but she keeps the smile on her face until the door closes. Then she allows herself to aim a silent scream at the ceiling.
Kirsch winces in sympathy. "What took you so long?" He asks.
Laura stomps her way over to her desk, and sits with a loud huff. "I was dealing with a plumbing issue."
"Oh, is that why you smell like that?"
If that had come from anyone else, Laura would throw her stapler at them. But Kirsch is her only ally in this place, and if he ever says something mean it's usually unwittingly. The guy's hopelessly honest, to the point of naivety.
Now that the adrenaline has run its course, Laura can feel a dull ache in her shoulder. The pain isn't distracting, but there's a small twinge whenever she moves it too much. She rolls it several times and winces, wishing for the billionth time that she could use her powers on herself.
"Something wrong?"
Laura jumps with a small yelp, banging her knees on the underside of her desk. Danny Lawrence is standing to her right, somehow having snuck past Laura's senses. She's dressed smartly in a lime green blazer and striped shirt, her bright red hair pulled up into a bun.
Laura just smiles at her until she realizes she's been asked a question. "What? Oh, right, yes. I'm fine. I just…slept on my shoulder weird."
Danny frowns. "You sure? You haven't been overworking yourself again, have you?"
"No! Of course not! I hardly work at all," Laura jokes. As if on cue, a man marches up to her desk and plops down a stack of papers.
"Signatures," he grunts before moving away.
Laura lets out a small sigh. Getting Karnstein to sign anything is always an adventure in itself.
Danny seems to agree with her. She makes a face while she studies the stack of papers. "What are those even for?"
Laura shrugs and gets up from her desk. She needs to find the good pens from storage. She should have her own, but they keep mysteriously disappearing. "They're just the usual drivel," she explains. "Kirsch knows more about the paperwork than I do."
"Really?" Danny asks, shooting an incredulous look over at Krisch's desk. He's currently trying to balance a coffee mug on his nose.
Laura smiles in understanding. "You'd be surprised." She gestures for Danny to follow her as she makes her way to the storage closet at the other end of the room. "So, Danny, what can I do ya' for?" Danny raises an eyebrow, and Laura blushes. "Um, not do you as in do you, but as in a favor. A nonsexual favor." Oh my god, she mouths to herself as she turns away.
Thankfully, Danny seems to find her pathetic attempts at conversation amusing. "Priscilla wants to check on the summer cover, make sure it's going in the right direction," she says with a small smile.
"Priscilla wants to check on a cover? That can't be good."
"That's why she sent me. Apparently, I'm the most pleasant to deal with."
"That you are," Laura agrees, and then blushes again. God, what is it with her and redheads? First that Summer Society girl and now Danny, she better get a hold of herself before she starts getting flustered around Perry and LaF.
But Danny just smiles brightly at her. "That's high praise, coming from Ms. Assistant to the Boss."
Laura snorts and dodges a woman rushing to the printer. "Please. Anyone seems pleasant after dealing with her all day long."
Danny laughs. "Right. God, it's hard to remember you've only been working here a year."
Laura can only agree. When she first applied to Capes and Masks, it had been a joke. LaF had suggested she might as well work for the magazine that specializes in superhero fashion if she insisted on creating her own costumes. Laura had done it out of spite. She never imagined she would actually be called in for an interview.
While Karnstein is the boss of the magazine and oversees everything, she's not the owner. Her mother, a powerful woman whom Laura has never actually seen, built the name from the ground up many years ago. Laura had applied during a time when Karnstein couldn't keep a female assistant for more than a week. Rumor has it she sleeps with them, and after all the sexual remarks the woman has thrown her way, Laura has no problem believing that. Laura wasn't exactly looking for an assistant gig at the time, but it paid good, and she was promised a golden recommendation when she finally gets a foot in the door of the journalism business. Plus, it provides her with a good source of superhero information. She knows almost all the dirt on the heroes sponsored by Capes and Masks, and you never know when intel like that will come in handy.
So, Laura grits her teeth and puts up with the worst of the worst. On her first day of work, Karnstein had spent a good twenty minutes making snide comments about her "stifling optimism," then handed her a stack of papers the size of Laura's torso to be filed by noon. Laura knew that the crazy woman was just trying to get rid of her, but spite is a wonderful motivator. She finished the task by ten, and delivered herself to Karnstein's desk with a pleasant smile.
"Anything else you need, Ms. Karnstein?" Cue self-satisfied smile.
Karnstein looked up at her from underneath her dark bangs, and for one half second, a flicker of surprise flashed over her face. Then her expression quickly turned to stone, and she ordered Laura away to learn her way around the building. Laura left feeling as though she'd won the first battle.
Of course, things only got worse from there. Karnstein seems to have made a personal goal to inconvenience Laura in every possible way. Anything she needs right now will be found on the highest shelf, messages to the bottom floors need to be delivered in person, and specific days call for specific brands of the most expensive pastries and coffee Silas has to offer. (The one time Laura brought Starbucks, she barely escaped the confrontation with her life.)
Despite the constant bullshit, Laura is nothing but resilient. She dishes out as much as Karnstein does. Their sarcastic bickering is always at the forefront of office gossip, and has inspired many a rumor over the past year. According to Janice from human resources, Laura and Karnstein are having wild hate sex after hours. Jimmy from media networking disagrees; Laura and Karnstein have quickies throughout the day in order to compensate for the fights. Kirsch keeps Laura informed on all the news involving her rampant sex life. It makes for good small talk when the work day is dragging along.
If it wasn't for Kirsch and Danny, Laura wouldn't have survived this past year at the magazine. Danny works for Priscilla Rodriguez, another powerful woman in the superhero fashion industry. Her company, Cutthroat, specializes in weaponizing outfits. Laura and LaF drool over her designs, but only the sponsored heroes get the gear. The heroes with money. Laura is significantly lacking in that department.
Danny is the go-between with Karnstein and Rodriguez. They both can't stand each other, but Danny is a diplomatic person who is willing to put up with so much crap. Though Karnstein seems to hate her for unknown reasons, she always listens to Danny's remarks and instructions.
"So, what are Priscilla's concerns about the summer cover?" Laura asks. She yanks on the door handle of the supply closet, but it doesn't budge. She yanks a few more times before Danny gently moves her hand out of the way and opens it with an easy pull. Laura grumbles out a thanks.
"Well, we are featuring blade wielding heroes, and she's not sure the mountain theme compliments the designs."
Laura nods and looks around for that little bucket of pens she left in here last week. "Yeah, I can see why she might think that."
Danny notices the hesitation. "But…?" She invites.
Laura offers her a sheepish smile over her shoulder. "Buuuuut it's Karnstein's cover, and she believes mountain ranges are the perfect fit. Brings out the coldness of the blade, or something."
Danny lets out a huff and leans against the doorframe, her long arms crossing over her chest. "Rodriguez feels as though blades should be personal, up close and intimately dangerous. Not paired with wide open spaces and cold weather."
Laura considers her options as she grabs a handful of pens and hurries out of the supply closet. "Ok, here's the thing," she tells Danny while power-walking back towards her desk. "Karnstein is really set on those mountain scenes, and she has the backing of all the other designers. Plus, today is a busy day for her, meeting-wise." She glances over at Danny, who already looks resigned to giving her boss a poor report. Laura hesitates a moment longer, then sighs. "What the hell, I'll get you an audience with her majesty."
Danny's face brightens instantly. "Really? Could you? I don't want you to get into trouble—"
"Danny, it's my job. You got a problem, I can fix it." Laura raises her head high, proud of herself for proving she's not a useless blushing idiot. Of course, that's exactly when someone walks away from their desk and straight into her path, causing her to backpedal and trip over her own feet. Now, Laura isn't completely clumsy. But, in the name of keeping her identity a secret, she has to act a little more uncoordinated than usual. So, down she goes, and Danny is so surprised that she fails to catch her.
Laura lays sprawled out on the floor. She sends a thank you to her past self for deciding to wear tights under her skirt today. She blinks her eyes open to find Danny leaning over her. "Hello."
"Hello yourself," Danny says, amused despite her obvious concern. "You really should look where you're going. You're gonna get hurt one of these days."
Kirsch's face appears next to Danny's. "Laura! Are you okay?!"
Laura struggles to her feet, waving off a few helpful offers from the others. Danny still manages to put an arm around her shoulders to make sure she's steady. Laura refuses to allow her heart to stutter at that. "I'm fine, seriously, it's good. This happens all the time."
It really does. Laura's small, and most people don't see her until after they've knocked her down. The rest of the top floor isn't paying much attention to them, and everyone moves and works around them without so much as a sideways glance. Danny leads Laura back to her desk despite her protests. She gives Laura a wary look as she sits down.
"You sure you're alright? That was a pretty hard fall."
Laura shoves the pens into her empty coffee mug with a little more force than necessary, embarrassed at having fallen in front of Danny. Again. If J.P. wasn't so convinced that someone would recognize her if she showed the slightest hint of functional coordination, she wouldn't have to deal with situations like this.
"Danny, honestly, I'm fine."
"Really? How's your shoulder? I noticed you rolling it earlier."
"Did you? I suppose you've been here for quite some time, Ms. Lawrence."
Laura's head snaps up in surprise. Karnstein is standing in front of Laura's desk, her sunglasses off and her dark eyes focussed on Danny. This is the second time someone has snuck past Laura's senses today. She should check in with LaF later to make sure nothing's wrong.
Danny shows no sign of surprise, and merely offers Karnstein a dry smile. "I haven't been here long, Ms. Karnstein."
Karnstein hums, looking her up and down. "Still, my assistants should have informed me of your presence."
Laura rolls her eyes. Karnstein notices, but doesn't say anything.
Danny's smile remains fixed on her face. "Your assistants have names, you know."
Karnstein cocks her head to one side. "I'm aware of that, just as I am aware you are taking up my time by informing me of this. What is it that you want?"
"I'm here on Ms. Rodriquez's behalf."
"Obviously," Karnstein drawls.
Laura finally speaks up. "Ms. Lawrence wishes to speak with you about the theme for the summer cover. Mrs. Rodriguez has some concerns."
Karnstein sighs. "Of course she does." She turns to Kirsch. "You, Calvin Klein reject, what's my schedule look like?"
Kirsch frantically pulls something up on his tablet. "Uh, you have fifteen minutes available after your 12:30."
"Perfect." Karnstein turns and gives Danny a bored look. "I'll see you then. You don't mind waiting?"
Danny shakes her head. "No, of course not."
Ok, Laura really doesn't like the way they're smiling at each other. She's pretty sure someone's about to go for someone else's jugular, so she stands up and snaps her fingers at one of the interns. "You! Please direct Ms. Lawrence to a more comfortable waiting area. I believe Trish brought muffins in this morning, treat her to those."
The intern blinks at her with wide, fearful eyes. He looks at Karnstein and Danny, visibly swallows, and mutters, "Right this way, Ms. Lawrence."
Danny holds eye contact with Karnstein for a moment longer before bowing her head. "Ms. Karnstein." She turns towards Laura and offers her a softer smile. "Laura. Would you mind meeting me for coffee after work? We never have the chance to talk these days."
And all of a sudden Laura is a stammering mess. "I-I would love—"
"Ms. Holleck already has commitments later today, but I'm sure the two of you would be able to work something out after hours, hmm?" Karnstein interrupts swiftly. She raises an eyebrow, probably trying to goad Danny into talking back.
Danny, being the utter professional she always is, merely nods her head. She sends Laura once last friendly glance before she follows the intern to the elevators. Laura nervously bites her lip as she watches her go. God, she made an entire fool of herself through that whole experience, and LaF is going to give her so much shit about it when she gets home—
"Ms. Horan, are you injured?"
The question catches Laura off guard. She starts and stares at Karnstein blankly. "Uh, what?"
Karnstein narrows her eyes. "The wannabe amazon warrior mentioned your shoulder. Are. You. Injured?"
"Erm, no."
"Then I can see no reasonable excuse for why you are sitting there, drooling after Ms. Lawrence. As uneventful as it may be, I would advise for you to keep your romantic life out of this building." The corners of her lips tilt upwards. "Am I making myself clear?"
Laura takes a deep breath and mentally counts all the reasons why it would be a bad idea to stab Karnstein in the face with the pens she just fetched from the supply closet. "Crystal," she says through gritted teeth.
Blood red lips curl into a satisfied smile. "Thank you, Ms. Hollenbeck." She pivots on her heels and closes the door to her private office behind her.
"It's Hollis!" Laura snaps, though she knows it's no use. Karnstein hasn't gotten her name right since her first day. It's definitely on purpose.
Laura plops down in her chair and rubs at her temples. Kirsch gives her a sympathetic look. "You alright?"
Laura practically snarls in response. "Who is she to have any say in my love life? Especially with all those rumors of her sleeping with me, and her past assistants." She points a finger at Kirsch. "You. You were working here long before I started, are the rumors true?"
Kirsch's mouth opens and closes several times before answering her. "The rumors?"
"Yes. The one's about her other assistants."
It takes Kirsch exactly three seconds to realize what she's talking about. He leans forward to say something, then seems to think better of saying it out loud and types something on his tablet. Laura's phone buzzes, and she opens a text message which reads:
rumors are true, she likes assistants
"So she's a hypocrite!" Laura crows. "I ought to call her out on it."
"No, please don't do that!"
"Why not?"
"Because whenever you're the one who starts the fight, she takes it out on me."
Laura pauses. "And what about when she's the one who starts the fight?"
Kirsch winces apologetically. "Things are…actually pretty good when that happens."
"Of course. Of friggin' course."
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It's a pretty busy day for Laura. She's constantly moving throughout the building as she delivers messages, answers phone calls, schedules meetings, and comforts anyone having a panic attack after said meetings. When quitting time rolls around she's tired and achey, and so not looking forward to the long night of sewer lizard research she will inevitably be a part of. J.P. wants her to go on another patrol tonight.
She's heading towards the elevator with Kirsch when the door to Karnstein's office creaks open. "A moment," a voice calls from within.
Laura and Kirsch share a second of solidarity by wincing at each other. Then the hands go flying and the rock paper scissors gods have once again declared Laura the loser. Kirsch pumps his fist in the air and jogs towards the elevator, shooting her a triumphant smile over his shoulder. Laura sticks out her tongue.
"I'm waiting, for some reason. Why am I waiting?"
"Coming, Ms. Karnstein," Laura grumbles. She trudges into Karnstein's office, feeling as though she's entering a dragon's lair.
She might as well be. The lighting's very dim, and the decor's incredibly unsettling. The few paintings which hang on the walls depict images of bloody battles with mythical creatures. The interns have often debated whether or not the skull penholder on Karnstein's desk is an actual skull.
It is in front of this skull that Laura stands, her hands clasped in front of her and her posture straight. Karnstein's eyes flick up from the paper she's reading.
Laura waits.
Karnstein slowly puts down her paper, leans back in her chair, and kicks her bare feet up onto her desk. "You lied to me earlier," she says.
"What? I, um, I don't…" Laura stammers. She hadn't expected this.
Karnstein lets out a soft sigh, her eyes traveling around the room. "Your shoulder. It's injured. You lied to me."
"My shoulder? Oh, no, my shoulder's fine—"
"Lies."
Laura huffs. The corner of Karnstein's mouth twitches.
"If it's really that important to you, ma'am, then yes. I injured my shoulder while fetching your coffee this morning," Laura says, finishing through gritted teeth.
She's not lying. Technically. The grappling hook fiasco had been a part of the coffee run. The door shove probably hadn't helped things, but whatever. It doesn't hurt as much as it did this morning.
Karnstein's dark eyes focus on Laura's shoulder, then slowly travel to her face. "You've been injured a lot lately," she says.
Laura frowns. She senses a trap. "Um, really?"
"Oh yes. Burns, cuts, bruises, the occasional bite mark—"
"My neighbor's dog is teething!" Laura cuts in desperately.
"Not to mention the rather unique stench you've been sporting all of today."
"Cooking fiasco."
"You made an intern faint."
"All of them do that."
Karnstein stares at her. Laura holds her ground and tries to ignore her rising nerves.
"Ms. Holliday, I'm running a magazine. A magazine I do not wish to run, but nevertheless, I have been placed in charge. I meet enough clumsy idiots on a day-to-day basis, so I do not wish to deal with you and your countless injuries." She raises an eyebrow. "Unless, of course, they are of a more passionate nature…?
It takes Laura's brain a moment to catch up. When it does, her entire body immediately cringes. "Oh no. No, no, I don't do any of that sort of…stuff. I mean, I would never partake in such—" Karnstein's other eyebrow raises, and Laura frantically switches tracks. "Not that there's anything wrong with that! As long as all parties are, you know, consenting and understanding their limits, they can…" Laura attempts to pantomime something with her hands, then realizes what she's doing and pins her arms to her sides. She swallows and ends with a jerky nod. "They can do whatever they want. Yes."
It's not too much of a surprise that Karnstein is already laughing. "Sweetheart, I was only teasing!" She snorts and shakes her head. "God knows you've barely moved past missionary."
Uh, excuse me? "Well, not all of us like to bend assistants over desks," Laura snaps without thinking. She freezes a second later, wondering if she's stepped to far.
But Karnstein merely gives her a knowing smirk. "Yes, I suppose that's true." Her expression looks much too smug.
Laura decides she's not up for playing whatever game this is, and slumps into a more relaxed position. "This isn't why you called me in, right?" She sighs.
Karnstein hums a bit and swings her feet off her desk. "Yes. As fun as it is to talk about your limited sexual experience, there's work to be done."
Laura bites her tongue and reminds herself that this job is important. Backhanding the boss across her perfect cheekbones would be bad.
"Designs from the creative team meeting," Karnstein says, sliding a blue binder across the desk towards Laura. "I don't want anyone looking at them until next Tuesday."
Laura picks up the binder. It looks unimportant. "Any reason why you waited until after hours to tell me this?"
Karnstein gives her a pitying smile. "Oh, you poor thing. You actually think that I'm going to explain my actions to you." She lets out a little laugh and bends to pick up her heels.
Laura breathes in through her nose and looks up at the ceiling. Backhanding the boss would be bad. Backhanding the boss would be bad.
"Besides," Karnstein continues, standing to move away from her desk. "I rather enjoy giving you busy work. Keeps you out of trouble."
"From my understanding, I don't get into much trouble." Laura sneers when Karnstein turns to look at her. "You know, with my limited sexual experience?"
Karnstein blinks, then slowly looks her up and down. "Either that, or you're just dull." She brushes past Laura on her way out of her office.
Laura follows a moment later, practically chanting under her breath. Backhanding the boss would be bad. Backhanding the boss would be satisfactory, but bad.
She stows the small binder in a drawer at her desk, not finding the resolve to care whether or not someone looks at it before Tuesday. Everyone takes fashion so seriously around here. Laura has a hard time viewing it as anything but a joke. It's as if superheroes have created an entire industry outside of crime fighting, producing nothing but distractions and flashy logo advertisements. Yup, that's what everything boils down to in the end. The money. Sponsors all over the world send in millions for big supers to wear capes with a certain company's logo. Since crime fighting doesn't do much in the way of paying the bills, many heroes sign contracts. Then magazines like Capes and Masks offer publicity for those superheroes and companies, and in some cases it can be beneficial. It's easier for some to save the public when the public is on their side. A lot of that trust comes from publicity stunts like personalized interviews, something which Capes and Masks specializes in. But then there's the whole corporate greed side of things, and the strange focus on appearance. Something about it rubs Laura the wrong way.
There's still a few stragglers in the building, working late to keep up with the load. Their eyes flicker up from their computer screens to watch Karnstein strut barefoot across the office floor. Laura follows at her usual Safe Distance: close enough to answer any questions thrown her way, but far enough do dodge any projectiles thrown her way. Most of her reflexive training has come from being Karnstein's assistant.
The elevator ride to the bottom floor is interesting. Laura has long since become immune to Karnstein's aura of Come Near Me And Die, so it's fun to watch how others react to it. Some poor skinny kid from photography joins them on the tenth floor. He does a double take when he notices Karnstein, then immediately turns to try and leave the elevator only to have the doors close in his face. He stays in the same position for the next two floors, standing with the doors inches from his nose, and stumbles over his own feet in his hurry to escape once they open. The woman that's about to enter is a bit quicker on the uptake, and rushes away as if she wasn't just waiting for the elevator.
"Idiots, the lot of them," Karnstein mutters, despite having not looked up from her phone screen the entire time.
Laura holds back a snort.
When they finally reach the bottom floor, Laura makes a point of hurrying out of the elevator. She squeezes past Karnstein and makes a break for the exit. Freedom is within reach. She can practically taste Perry's pre-patrol hot cocoa, the special kind with actual melted chocolate instead of the cheap powdered stuff you see in—
"Harvell."
Laura's feet stop of their own accord, her body automatically responding to the "always there" threat of not answering Karnstein's call. "Yes…?" She responds, drawing out the word as she turns.
Karnstein walks forward until she's inches from Laura's face, who tries not to flinch when she leans in to whisper in her ear: "The next time you walk into my building injured will be the last time you walk into my building, period. Understood?"
Laura frowns and takes a step back. "Uh, I don't think that's entirely legal—" She cuts herself off when she realizes who she's talking to. Rules don't apply to the Karnstein empire.
As if reading her mind, Karnstein smiles. "Have a good night, Ms. Harklen." She pushes past Laura and practically struts towards the exit, where a limo is no doubt waiting to take her home.
Laura watches her leave, noting how dark it is outside. Righteous hatred aside, she has to give the woman credit for working so late. Karnstein averages at around eight hour days, minus the extra hours spent on multiple projects, charity stunts, and international meetings.
Not that, you know, she actually works during those eight hours. Most of her time is spent sleeping at her desk or flirting with whatever girl-of-the-month she's seeing. But, she makes appearances, which is all anyone can ask of her.
Or rather all anyone is capable of asking her, Laura thinks bitterly as she watches the doorman scramble to do his job when he sees Karnstein coming. He's so nervous he closes the door in Laura's face when she walks up.
"Ooh, sorry again, Laura!" The doorman winces down at her. He's a sweet boy. Hopelessly oblivious, but sweet.
Laura smiles through her pain, poking at her nose to make sure it's not broken. "Don't worry, Charlie. Let's just try to make this the last time, right?"
Charlie doesn't look too sure. Laura doesn't blame him. Around here, she's practically invisible.
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A/N: Let me let you in on a little secret: I actually have a thought out, planned plot-line for each chapter on this fic. I love this story more than I'm willing to admit, which is scary for me. So, if you like it, please tell me that you do, and trust me. Please trust me, and follow along. I promise I will finish this.