Chapter 24

Half an hour later, they were seated in a booth at the diner down the street. There were few other customers due to the late hour, so the waitress sat behind the counter, reading a book and sipping her coffee while they waited for their order. She was wearing a strong, sickly sweet perfume that Matt could taste when he inhaled. He took a drink of his water, but it was also tainted by the smell.

"What's wrong?" Nyah asked from her side of table.

"The waitress's perfume is so strong, I can taste it," her replied.

She made a little frown, "It was pretty strong when she was over here, but I don't smell it anymore, now that she's gone."

"My sense of smell is very sensitive."

She shifted uncomfortably in the booth, "I've been wanting to ask you about that."

He could tell that she was looking at him for his permission to continue. "Okay."

"Well," she began, "I was thinking about what you told me. You know, your heightened senses. But to be honest, I've been around blind people over the years, and none of them can do what you do."

He nodded, "Yeah, its not common, I know."

"Yeah, but, here's the thing: you claim to be able to 'see' using your sense of hearing and other senses. I don't think that's normal."

Now it was his turn to shift uncomfortably, "I'm not sure where you're going with this."

"That didn't come out right," she sighed in frustration. "Look at it this way: we live in a world where we have men in metal suits flying around, aliens trying to invade, gods walking the earth, and humans with mutations that give them extraordinary abilities. And they are everywhere, not just in the Avengers, Shield, and Hydra. They are down here one the streets, too. Just like the rest of us. Hell, I'm over 700 years old and die every month!"

She paused to take a breath. "Have you ever stopped to think that you might be one of them. Of us? That your heightened senses aren't completely natural. That they are a superpower of some kind?"

Finished, she flopped back on her bench. Matt started to reply, but the waitress appeared by their table with their order. The perfume was so overwhelming that it made him slightly nauseous. Plus, it drowned out all other smells, leaving him nose blind.

When the waitress left, Nyah giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. "I see what you mean," she told him. "I think I can taste it now!"

He looked at the food on the table dubiously, pretty sure he couldn't eat it now if he tried. She had no such problem, digging in with enthusiasm. He watched with amusement as she devoured her eggs and bacon.

"Back to what I was saying," she said between bites. "What do you think?"

He shrugged, "I guess, but it really doesn't matter what you call it. It doesn't change anything."

"Actually, it does," she pointed her fork at him for emphasis. "If it is a superpower, then you might be able to control it."

"What do you mean?"

"Okay," she set her fork down and looked at him earnestly, "take this thing you have right now with the waitress's perfume overwhelming your sense of taste. It's keeping you from eating, right?" At his nod, she continued, "I'm going to assume you have similar problems with your other senses, right."

"Yeah, really loud noises can render me unable to use my hearing."

"Have you tried to filter it out? You know, actually chose what you are paying attention to. Our senses are bombarded constantly by stimuli from the environment around us, but our brain filters it out so that we only pay attention to the important stuff. It's unconscious in that context, but we can control it too. Imagine sitting in a restaurant surrounded by noise and you hear the couple at the next table say something that catches your interest. What do you do?"

"I focus on them and tune out everything else, I guess," he said starting to understand what she was getting at. "So, you are suggesting that I might be able to tune out the perfume?"

"What would it hurt to try? Try to focus on the smell of the food on your plate. Maybe you can eat it before it gets cold," she picked up her fork again and continued her attack on the food on her plate.

She had a valid point, he thought. He should at least give it a shot. Focusing his attention on the burger in front of him, he tried to get a whiff of it through the perfume smell. Fortunately for him, it had started to dissipate now that its source was on the other side of the diner from them and he was able to smell it slightly. He narrowed his focus on it more and the smell grew stronger. After several long moments, the perfume faded into the background and he was able to smell the individual components of the burger including the type of oil used on the grill to cook it.

His stomach growled hungrily. Nyah giggled again.

"Better?" she asked.

He smiled up at her, "you're right. But it takes time and focus to make it happen."

He picked up the burger and took a big bite. It was delicious.

"Well, yeah, not even you can be great at something the very first time you try it," she mocked. "I would imagine it's just like any other skill; the more you practice and use it, the better you will get at it. The thing is to not let your strengths become your weaknesses. Or keep you from eating," she grinned at him.

They spent the rest of the meal in pleasant conversation, the tension between them gone. Afterwards, Nyah excused herself to go to the bathroom. While she was away, Matt paid for their food, smiling to himself when the waitress's perfume no longer overwhelmed him as she brought him their cheque.

After waiting a few minutes, he decided to gather up their belongings and wander to the door to wait for her. As he stood there, absently listening to the light traffic and occasional pedestrian, he heard a familiar car pull out of the alley and drive past, accelerating as it went. He had followed Detective Maroney enough to recognize his car from that the odd clicking sound from a bad CV joint combined with a hissing sound from the exhaust system. If he hadn't been with Nyah, he would have been tempted to follow the detective, after all, it was past time for the Devil to be out and about. Maybe once they got back to the apartment, he could change and head out to find the crooked cop.

He turned and looked towards the bathrooms, but Nyah still had not emerged. Concerned, he left his spot by the door and went to the back. The hall to the bathrooms went past the kitchen to the back wall of the diner then made a left and connected back to the kitchen. The bathroom doors were on the interior wall and there was a door to outside at the end of the hallway before it ended. The exterior door was slightly ajar, and Matt pushed it open and stepped into the alley. Over the smells of cooking, garbage, and exhaust, he caught Nyah's faint scent along with the acrid smell of the cigarettes that Maroney favored.

With a sinking feeling he went back in and went to the women's bathroom to verify that she was not inside. She wasn't.

Well, hell, Nyah thought to herself from the trunk of Maroney's car. How did she get herself into these situations?

It had been a good evening up until the point when she had exited the bathroom and ran into Maroney, who had been waiting for her. Before she could call out or defend herself, he had covered her mouth and nose with a cloth soaked in a pungent sweet liquid, probably chloroform or ether. No matter which, she went down like a rock and woke up in the trunk of his car.

She was jostled when the car hit a pothole, unable to brace herself with her hands bound behind her back. Her feet were also bound, probably with the same duct tape that was across her mouth. The trunk was too dark to be able to make out anything, but she kept bumping against something behind her that felt like it was in a duffel bag. A big duffel bag because her head, hands, and feet all bumped against it, though it could be two bags. She tried feeling around for something to use to free herself, but the car turned off the paved road onto a graveled surface and slowed to a stop.

She braced herself as someone got out of the driver's side and the gravel crunched beneath their feet as they walked to the back of the car. A click sounded as the lock was disengaged and the trunk slowly opened. She blinked up at the silhouette of Maroney standing over her, backlit by headlights from another car. She heard another set of footsteps approaching as another man joined him.

"This her?" the other man asked. "She doesn't look like much."

"Don't let her looks fool you. She resourceful and has some pretty good allies." Maroney told him. "I need you to find out who they are. They have the computer from the warehouse."

"Don't worry, by the time I'm done with her, she will give up her own mother," the other man said with a snicker.

"She better," Maroney didn't share his humor.

"And when I'm done with her?"

"Get rid of her," Maroney spat. "I'm tired of dealing with her."

"Got it."

The man reached down and drug her out of the trunk and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack. "Come on, we are going to have some fun."

She was laid on the floor in the back of the van almost gently. The van dipped, then the man loomed over her, younger than she had thought initially, probably not very far into his thirties, and well groomed. His blue eyes were chilling cold and belied his mild expression. Reaching past her, he grabbed a thick collar hanging from a short chain anchored to the floor of the van by a weld pad eye. He deftly fastened the collar around her neck, tugging on it to ensure it was secure.

Finished, he smiled down at her, "you're not going anywhere now. Don't get too comfortable, we're not going far."

Then he jumped out of the back of the van and slammed the door shut before she could respond. She heard him get into the driver's side and craned her head to look. It was just him and her in the van. One on one. Not bad odds, but still not in her favor as long as she was chained and bound. She attempted to sit up, but the chain was too short to allow her to rise any higher than a crouch on her knees. She was knocked back to the floor, wrenching her shoulders, when the van was started and reversed out of the parking area, then rolled when it stopped and changed direction quickly. The chain stopped her roll abruptly, jerking her neck painfully.

Deciding it would be a better idea to lie on her stomach, she flipped over. Now she could look around the area better. To her dismay, the back of the van was empty. There was nothing she might be able to use to free herself. Defeated for the moment, she let her face drop to the dirty floor and rested to preserve her strength until she had a better opportunity.

Foggy and Karen arrived at Matt's apartment shortly after he called them. When he filled them in on what he believed happened, Karen paled.

"This can't be happening!" she wailed.

"Matt, I think it's time we admit we're in over our heads," Foggy told him over Karen's shoulder as he hugged her and stroked her back soothingly.

"And do what?" Matt demanded, his face flushing and his hands forming fists at his sides. "Who do we trust? Not the police, that's for sure! The FBI? How would we explain everything we know?"

"Ok, then what do you suggest?"

"Karen, is the tracker in Maroney's car still active?" He asked.

She shook her head, "I don't think so, but I can check." Pulling out her phone, she opened the app. "Nope, it's dead. They only have so much battery life, you know."

"Ok, plan B," Matt said turning and heading to his bedroom. "Pull up all the places that he went to after work while the tracker was working. I'll go find him."

"What are you going to do when you find him?" Foggy called after him.

"You don't want to know," he called back.