OH, WHAT FRESH HELL IS THIS?
Director Pelham Dickerson rubbed his head, trying to look patiently at concerned parents Pagan and Lotus O'Neill. I should have studied for the MCATS. I could have been a radiologist right now.
"I'm so sorry your sons were severely injured in the alley. But it did seem like there were circumstances—"
"Dude, I can't handle this…Dru told me that he and his brother were AMBUSHED, man. And I think Brahmin has a fractured skull from having their heads slammed together."
Director Dickerson was always a bit taken aback by silver haired men who called him "dude" One of the glories and comforts of mid life should be abandoning the grammar skills of a fourteen-year old.
"But oddly, they were not robbed, Mr. O'Neill. It seemed like some sort of physical altercation with possible personal animus, and frankly, your sons have had a somewhat checkered past at the School. Brahmin is on academic probation—"
"I hope that'll be expunged now that he's a goddamn punching bag in the streets around this place. In addition to being blind, all three of my sons are learning disabled—"This from Mrs. Lotus O'Neill.
Truly, Druid wasn't "disabled" just lazy, but the other two were either disabled or stupid…but Dickerson had to at least attempt diplomacy.
THE TROUBLED THREE CONSIDER THE PROBLEM
"It's true; I am now in deep-shit debt with Cecil." Orvie's voice came disconsolately. "I don't want to get in as much trouble as last time—remember, I emptied my baby sister's bank account?"
And "borrowed" the money that Bentley had saved in a jar to go sing with the Blind Girl's Choir in Switzerland, I thought…but who's counting up grudges. I love Orvie, he's made Rupert "Pudge" Smudge's life a lot more fun than it could have been, poor, gay, sightless worm that I am, but it's getting a little tiresome. He'd hit me up, if I wasn't subsisting on a scholarship allowance, and the French tutoring I do for the Second Form brats…
Bentley piped up. "Cecil has a lot of good in him, but he's quite tempestuous. I don't know why he feels like he has to sell drugs, or use non-athletic boys as punching bags—"
"About that" I said carefully. "Thank you for your intervention. I am spared now in the wrestling locker room. I should quit the job handing out towels, but it is part of my um, scholarship allowance."
As if I'd said nothing, the stud-obsessed Bentley went breezily on, "And I think Cecil may get therapy for his anger problems, he's been talking about it."
And possibly for his nascent bisexuality, I considered. I was aware one of my fellow sodomites in lower Fifth form was getting visits from our Cecil, who was quite besotted with him…but Cecil was a machine at this sex thing…poor Bentley.
Orvie's voice came up again. "I just wish I could get high for cheaper, why isn't life more fair?"
The eternal question.
NOT SO EASY
"Don't you threaten me, Murdock." Cecil Hathaway said, sneering lightly as he reclined on the antique Castillian sofa divan his grandmother had donated to his suite. "Go back to the other scholarship brats in the dorm. Whine about my pill-pushing proclivities if you like…"
"There's no way you have a right to fuck up this school, and half the kids, since you've been here are staggering around, stoned, and I'm going to get to the bottom of this—" Matt Murdock was worried he might lose his temper and just begin knocking this dandified drug dealer around his pretty room.
"See, you won't, Murdock." Cecil said lightly. "Your father was an enforcer for the Gagliano family, and as I do recall, they are responsible for a direct hit on Haskell Latham, who donated the Microbiology Lab here, and is—or was a management partner of Latham, Claiborne, Merrimac and Bleecker.
Mr. Latham was paralyzed from the neck down after refusing to give his okay for Gagliano to take over a client's restaurant supply business—"
"My father wasn't responsible for that!" Matt was heated. "He never touched a gun in his life!"
"Can you prove it, Murdock?" Cecil asked, with a laugh. "Do you want to stay in this school long enough to get to college?" He paused again. "Buchs Buchanan, who was Gagliano's chauffer and now is my uh, supplier…he saw the whole thing."
Matt Murdock exited the suite helplessly, amid Cecil's casual laughter.
HOW ASTONISHING
"Not so astonishing." The Jackal looked at Doctor Octopus shrewdly as they stood on the roof across from the New York State Academy for the Blind. "They hide in strange places, these so-called superheroes."
The Jackal dressed much like Daredevil, although his ugly, horn-headed costume was purple instead of yellow. He'd done work for Hammerhead and other crime lords, and given Spider-Man a bit of trouble, so Otto trusted him…to a point.
"He's screwed up about seven of my robberies," sighed Doc Ock. "And then we tangle, and separate at a bit of a standoff. I think a surprise attack might be good. I put your money in the account, by the way."
The Jackal smirked. "Well, if you need any more assistance—"
"No, I think I can take it from here. Why he would be in a building for the mentally enfeebled—"
"Visually crippled. Not dumb people. Perhaps he's a teacher. All I know is, I've caught him ducking into a window here a few times. I don't think he's been a vigilante for very long. Spidey would have noted me tracking him by now…"
After the Jackal slinked off, Otto Octavius scratched his chin with one of his non-mechanical arms, and pondered.
