A/N: Chap 6 review responses are in my forums like normal. Thanks for reading.
Genesis 1.6
Sophia had other friends. Of course she did. Aside from being a murderous cape, she was a beautiful, athletic girl. Such girls tended to know many equally athletic boys.
The boys who approached the bus stop after school wore letter jackets with highly stylized Ws on their breasts. All four wore gray hoodies under the jackets to ward off the cold. The smallest looked a couple of inches taller than Harry at six feet. The largest stood a head taller; all four had broad, powerful shoulders and ridiculously huge hands.
One had a panther tattoo that stood out in black against the back of his hand.
Yeah, this was going to be shite.
"Well, Hess did say I had a tab," Harry said to them, not even trying to play innocent. He put his book bag on the bench. "So, my lads, you going to come all at once like a pack of dogs, or is one of you man enough to fight fair?"
The tallest man's voice sounded like his vocal cords were made of granite. "What makes you think we give a shit about you?"
"Oh, well then, my apologies," Harry said with a wry smile. "You boys have a nice day."
He didn't believe it any more than they did. Short-and-built-like-a-brick-wall swung first. Harry had about as much chance of blocking a blow like that as he had stopping an avalanche. Instead, he spun out of the telegraphed punch's path and stomp-kicked the jock's knee. The older boy dropped with an angry shout.
Unfortunately, there were three others. The second jock caught Harry in a low blow to the stomach that ripped the breath out of him, while the third slammed an elbow into his back while he was bent over from the first. That took him to his knees on the cold sidewalk. The fourth—Mr. Mountain—took two steps like man about to make a penalty kick in football. That was a set of broken ribs if it connected.
Harry dropped flat to his stomach, pulled up his leg and kicked the boy's planted foot at the ankle. It didn't stop the kick, but stole much of its power even as it dropped the mountain with a pained shout.
He got another foot in his face from the second boy for his trouble. It didn't break his nose, but it definitely split a lip and left his head ringing.
Hands grabbed his coat and didn't just pick him up, but actually threw him back against the metal shade of the bus stop. He had a brief glimpse of the third boy coming in and then pain as a large, hard fist slammed into his stomach again.
Like a switch clicking, Harry suddenly shunted the pain aside as his brain moved into his dream-inspired Occlumancy. Overly aggressive, no combat training but street-fighting experience. No lethal force, under orders to hurt not kill. Right, two inches.
Harry barely shifted to the right to miss a blow that could have broken his jaw. Instead, his attacker punched a metal pole. The sound of knuckles breaking cracked in Harry's ear, followed a split-second later by a pained "FUCK!"
Compared to these boys, Harry didn't have the upper body-strength to do much damage with his fists. But he had knees and legs and a few years of informal training at the hand of the UK's most successful Villains. He surged forward and brought his knee up not to the boy's stomach, but to the edge of his ribcage, breaking another bone.
Attacker behind, roll forward and pivot to kick.
He tried. Wrapped within Occlumancy, Harry's mind simply moved faster than his haphazardly trained body could follow. The kick to the back of his knee took him down, and the flurry of hits and kicks that followed ensured he stayed down.
He curled into a fetal ball, trying his best to protect vital organs and his nose. The pain was distant and alarming, but he knew pain well. He'd hurt for the next few weeks, but nothing was permanently damaged as far as he could tell.
"Fuck this shit!" Mountain said. "Fucker twisted my fucking ankle. Coach is gonna have my ass. Come on."
Harry risked looking up to see the four boys limping away. The first boy with the busted knee and the mountain with the twisted ankle were hanging on their third friend, the one with a clearly broken fist and likely a broken rib, while the fourth worked to keep them all upright.
Looking at them, he seriously considered taunting them. Four against one and he…shit. He hurt. "Never mind," he muttered. He picked himself up off the cement and checked out the torn jeans and jacket, his bloodied knuckles and a face that felt like it had been microwaved, if the throbbing was any indication. "Welcome to Winslow."
He sat on the bench and stared into space until the bus finally came.
~~Simurgh's Son~~
~~Simurgh's Son~~
"What happened to you?" Luke Casseus asked when Harry stumbled in right before dinner.
"Oh, you know, Winslow welcome committee," Harry said with a strained smile. "See the sights, make sure I know where everything is. Helpful bunch."
"Hmm-hmmm. How's the other guy look?"
"Guys. Four of them, your sized or bigger. And I'll have you know two were limping away, and the third had a broken fist and rib. Pretty good for a pint-sized bloke like myself."
Luke grinned and patted Harry's shoulders. "No doubt, Little Man. Boss wants you."
Harry's grin died. "Yeah, bet he does. You gonna eat with the grunts?"
Luke nodded. He was the only member of the Travelers who existed in both worlds—the soldiers didn't realize he was a cape, they thought he was just another of Coil's mercenaries. He went for the physical combat training. "See you there."
Harry made his way painfully down from the atrium, one floor below the apartments, where Coil kept his office. The office door was open and Coil was in full costume, mask on.
"Mr. Bailey," he said by way of greeting. "It appears Winslow did not agree with you."
Harry shrugged. "Pretty normal, truth be told."
"I understand you did have an interesting day otherwise," Coil said. Harry got the message clearly enough. Sophia Hess reported directly to Coil.
"Two capes so far." Harry said. He removed his phone and showed a picture of Hess first. As he suspected, there was no surprise at all.
The second garnered a little more reaction. "Name?"
"Taylor. Hebert, had to ask 'round for that. Suspicious as fuck. She saw me with Hess and told me to fuck off in so many words. You might want to call Hess off, if you have any influence. Hess has been riding her hard, might end up killing each other if we're not careful."
"Noted," Coil said in a bored tone. He forwarded the picture to himself from Harry's phone. "And?"
"Master. Five or six, maybe?" He didn't mention the Thinker aspect of her power. Didn't even consider it. "Controls bugs. I imagine this isn't a good time of year for her."
"Not unusual, some capes do have seasonal affiliations. I doubt we'll see Purity out and about until Spring."
Harry considered mentioning the situation that morning, dismissed it, and then changed his mind. "Pretty sure there are going to be protesters tomorrow morning," he said. "I set the metal detector off and the students realized who I was."
Though Harry couldn't see the man's face, he could see the outline of his brows rise. "Why did you set it off, Mr. Bailey? That's not exactly a good way to blend in."
"I've always set them off," Harry said with a helpless shrug. "Well, since I was eight. I don't know why. Anyway, I just wanted to warn you."
"Noted. You're dismissed."
Just like that, Coil had moved on.
~~Simurgh's Son~~
~~Simurgh's Son~~
"Shit, Luke said you'd taken a beating, but damn, Harry!" He glanced up from his notes as Marissa stepped into his room in a track suit. Her hair was tied back and she looked sweaty, as if she'd been working out. "Anything broken?"
"Other than my pride?" Harry shook his head. He had a split lip and a shiner that could light up the bay, but all the rest of the bruises were hidden by his clothes. "I'm fine. I'll feel like shit for a couple of weeks, but I'm fine. Won't be much fun for a few days, though. Sorry, love."
Marissa snorted but sat down beside him. She glanced at his notebook and the rune designs within. "You're still on those, huh?"
Harry nodded. "I can't explain it, but it just feels like these are important, you know? Maybe it's just the Simurgh fucking with my head again, but it feels like these would work for me. I just need to get them tattooed on, and maybe shit like today wouldn't happen as much.
"Hmm, look at this." She stood, and despite his physical pain Harry could help but get a little excited when she pulled down the front of her sweatpants and lifted her hoody, but only enough to reveal a beautifully rendered star tattooed around her navel.
It made him wish she'd let him have a light on when she choose to visit him at night, because it was the first time he'd ever seen it.
"That's really good work. Who did it?"
"Jess. She's done all of us, except Oliver. Now that he's pretty, he doesn't want anything messing it up."
Harry didn't know what that meant and had no idea what Oliver's power was, other than to look like a living, breathing Ken doll. "Do you think she could do something like this?"
"Only one way to ask. Think you can make it across the hall?"
"I might need a kiss for luck."
She kissed him, but… "Shit, should have asked for a flash," Harry muttered as his split lip stung.
Marissa laughed, and then to his utter delight complied, however briefly. "I think I can die happy now," he said with stars in his eyes.
She laughed again and helped him painfully to his feet to cross the hallway. Jess grudgingly finished her session on her console and wheeled over to look at his notebook. "You look like shit, by the way. You give as good as you got?"
"Four guys Luke's size or better, two limped away and there were broken bones," Harry said with a touch of pride.
Jess accepted that and then started studying his designs. Where Marissa looked lithe, pale and classically beautiful, Jess was heavier set in the torso, with frumpy dirty blond hair and several earrings in her right ear. Her legs looked like twigs, but her biceps were larger than Harry's. In a way, he knew she was the voice of common sense in her group. She wasn't the smartest or the strongest, but she was almost unflappably calm with a core strength and a wry sense of humor that Harry couldn't help but appreciate. Her song was one of change and renewal, but not like Vivaldi, hopeful and encouraging. More like Stravinsky—rebirth from death and pain; a rite she went through rather than a gentle process.
Unfortunately, he got the feeling she didn't really care for him, or the fact that he and Marissa occasionally slept together.
"This is insane," she muttered as she looked over them. "Where did you pull this crap from?"
"Oh, just dreamed it up one night," Harry said. "Think you could do it?"
"It would take months if not years," she said. "I mean, just guessing there are over a thousand of these symbols just for your left leg. I'm not even sure I could get the symbols that small, but even if I could it would take longer than I have. Sorry." She handed the sheets back to Harry, who shrugged and ran a hand through his wild hair.
"Yeah, I understand. Thanks for looking at it, though."
"Harry, you've been drawing those since I met you," Marissa said. "What do you think they'll do?"
He winced, struggling to explain it. "Well, I know it sounds crazy, but I think they'll protect me. Like, Brute-level resilience."
Jess snorted. "That's not the way powers work, Harry. You can't just tattoo a power on."
"I don't think it's a power. I think it's…it's magic."
While Jess snorted, Marissa at least tried to be more understanding. "You know magic doesn't exist, no matter what Myrddin likes to pretend."
"Sure it does," Harry countered. "How to you explain capes? They put fancy names on it, but it's still magic. You can make a bleedin' sun, Marissa. How is that not magic?"
He folded his designs back in his notebook. "Well, thanks for looking at it, Jess. I'll see you tomorrow after school."
He started to leave but Jess cleared her throat. "Harry, look. You know it won't work, but does it have to be a real tattoo?"
He paused. "I…don't know. I thought so. Why?"
Jess shrugged. "You could get a henna tattoo. It's drawn on, so it's much faster, and those last two to four weeks. It'd still take a couple of days, and you would have to pay me a lot, but I could probably draw these in Henna. It wouldn't hurt, but it wouldn't be permanent either in case…well, you know, in case it doesn't work."
"How much?"
"On something like this, I'd charge on the hour plus supplies. Say fifty bucks an hour, it'd probably take about fifteen to twenty hours. Plus I'd have to get a big applicator and the henna itself. Say a thousand even." She cleared her throat. "You'll have to tell me if you want all the designs drawn. Some look like they're pretty intimate."
"Just don't take pictures or anything," Harry muttered. "I'll have to talk to Coil. Supposedly I'm getting paid. But I'd be willing to pay just to see if they work or not."
"Must be some dreams you have," Marissa said.
She was joking, but Harry shook his head. "You have no idea."
~~Simurgh's Son~~
~~Simurgh's Son~~
As much as Harry wanted to stay in his bed the next morning, he forced himself up and got ready for school. If the bullies knew they could keep him out, they'd make it even worse next time. It was only in the bathroom that he noticed the glorious black eye was the merest hint of blue. His split lip looked more chapped that anything. How had the swelling gone down so much?
He still hurt, but as he showered it amazed him that he didn't hurt more. Perhaps the boys didn't do as much damage as he initially thought?
He had to leave an hour before Marissa to make it to Winslow, and so he didn't get to see her. The small cafeteria Coil maintained for his on-site mercenaries was open, though, so Harry was able to wolf down a plate full of eggs, bacon and toast, washed down with admittedly good coffee. Coil fed his people well.
All things considered, Harry was actually feeling pretty good when he climbed into the bus. Those feelings fled in fear when he saw the protestors.
Yep, he'd forgotten about the protestors. Parents marched up and down the narrow, snowy lawn in front of the school with hastily drawn signs with a four-winged angel and messages such as "Not in my school!" and "Not with my kids!"
A man in a high-priced suit and fur-lined leather overcoat stood near the doors with a megaphone haranguing the whole group.
Bloody hell.
His Coil-issued phone buzzed. He looked down at a text bubble from Tattletale.
Go to the southwest entrance. For teachers. Students under special circumstances allowed per policy.
He didn't even bother asking how Tattletale knew what was going on. He texted back a quick TY and made his way around the edge of the school property, bundled in his coat and hood, until he reached the teacher's parking lot. Surprisingly, he saw Mr. Gladly walking toward the school.
"Mr. G, good morning," Harry said as he jogged up behind the man.
Gladly blinked and looked over his shoulder in surprise. "Mr. Bailey, what are you doing here? This is the teacher's entrance."
Harry hitched a thumb at the protestors. "I'm not sure they wouldn't try to kill me. Took a bottle to the head when I started Leicester few years back, I'd really like to avoid that here if I could. I read that would fit under Special Circumstances, right?"
Gladly was far too liberal to be a truly good teacher, but in this case Harry was grateful for it. "Yeah. And it not, Jorge can see me. There's no good reason to send anyone through that. Come on, I'll pass you through."
"Thanks, Mr. G."
The day proceeded pretty much as Harry would expect, with the students giving him a wide berth. He got more than a few glares not just from the Panthers, but from other athletes as well, and wondered if he should anticipate another meeting at the city bus stop. The stop just happened to be off school grounds, so he wouldn't get any support there from the staff, even if they were so inclined. He somehow doubted they were.
He headed to the cafeteria to try and relieve Coil of as much money as he could eat. He sat in a corner of the last table against the back wall, finishing up his rune sketches for his Friday night appointment with Jess while consuming mass quantities of food.
A song of shadows and screaming was all the warning he had to look up and see Sophia Hess glaring down at him. He hadn't heard or seen her approach at all. He met her gaze squarely. "You think you're strong?" she demanded.
Harry shrugged. "Strength is relative. There are battles you can win, and some you can't. Some battles have to be fought no matter what. I won't always win, Hess, but I'm sure not going to make it easy."
"Hebert is mine," Sophia said, eyes blazing. "Stay the fuck out of it, stay the fuck away from me and mine. Or next time it's going to be the whole fucking football and basketball team."
He could have asked her why, but it didn't really matter. Bullies had their victims, and until the victims fought back, that wouldn't change. "She wouldn't want my help anyway," he admitted. "Consider me out of your way."
"You got balls, Bailey," she said grudgingly. "Don't make me have to cut them off." With that, she turned and walked back to the jock's section of the cafeteria.
"Pity her prom date," he muttered before returning to his meal.
~~Simurgh's Son~~
~~Simurgh's Son~~
That Friday evening found Harry shivering with more than just cold as he stood in front of two girls wearing nothing but a bathrobe and, underneath that, a very, very thin jockstrap.
"He's kinda skinny for you, is all I'm saying," Jess said.
The commentary didn't help either.
Marissa sighed. "He's not skinny."
Jess rolled her eyes. "Well, might as well get started. Remove your robe and lay on the table. You can use that towel to keep warm any parts I'm not working on. I'm going to work just on the front and sides of your legs tonight, alright?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Jess snorted. "I ain't no ma'am."
"You are tonight," Harry said. "Doesn't matter if I'm paying you or not. This…this means a lot to me. So thank you."
"See, Jess," Marissa said, as if proving a point.
"Right. So, disrobe."
Still shivering, Harry let the robe drop and knelt down on the table. It looked like a massage table, but one only two feet off the ground, which made it much easier for Jess to work on him.
"Okay, going to start on your feet. Are you ticklish?"
"Er, I have a trick for that, should be fine."
Marissa whistled. "You have a trick to stop being ticklish?"
"Yeah. Something I dreamed about one night."
Marissa stepped past Jess and sat down next to the head of the table. She handed Harry a thick SAT study guide. "Okay, start on page 53."
"Right. A train is heading toward Boston at eighty miles an hour and…" He continued reading as Jess started drawing the complex symbols from his designs onto the soles of his feet with a sure, practiced hand. The applicator was a thin needle-like tube attached to a coiled plastic hose that was in turn connected with a larger bladder of henna ink.
He imagined a mental click and suddenly his thoughts felt more streamlined, and the data flowing in from the soles of his feet constrained and distant. Once Jess was assured he wasn't going to kick or wiggle, she got to work.
Sunk within a realm of occlumency he only knew about because of memories that did not belong to him, Harry was able to pass the five hours easily. When Jess got to his thigh and casually moved his whole leg to one side and started writing on the inside of his thigh, while the back of her hand rested against his package, he didn't even blink.
She didn't either, entirely unfazed.
By the time midnight rolled around, both of his legs were covered in henna ink-drawn runes from the soles of his feet all the way up to his navel. He stared down at them with a gaping jaw, momentarily overcome by memories that weren't his.
"They're perfect," he said. And they were, each symbol drawn exactly as he wrote.
Jess nodded and rubbed her eyes. "Should be. Okay, we're done for now. Stay here for tonight, wash it off in the morning. Should make a nice, deep stain that'll last a while."
"Thanks, Jess!" Harry said. She turned and rolled out of the room, pausing only long enough to hit an automatic door switch. Marissa stood, took his study guide, and then kissed him sensually. "Too bad we don't want to mess up the tattoos," she whispered with a grin, even as she kissed him.
She backed away, frowning. "You're lip. It looks a lot better."
Harry shrugged. "I'm a quick healer. Have to be, with all the trouble I get into."
"Good." She leaned down and kissed him again.
"Killing me here," Harry grinned back.
She left the room, sauntering with a saucy grin over her shoulder, before she left and closed the door behind her.
Harry stayed where he was, studying the myriad runes on his legs. "Perfect," he whispered. He closed his eyes and just like always, from horrid day when the Simurgh came, his whole consciousness was enveloped in the memories of an immortal wizard named Harry Potter.