A/N: Spoiler alert for Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Avengers: Age of Ultron, Captain America: Civil War, Ant-Man, and Spiderman: Homecoming.
As always, many thanks go out to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta and Winter-Soldier-88 for the brainstorming.
Year From Hell: Season 3 starts now. Please stand by…
Namaste,
Sunny
"I will come back to you, I swear I will;
And you will know me still.
I shall be only a little taller
Than when I went."
― Edna St. Vincent Millay, The Harp-Weaver and Other Poems
Winter Soldier
And You Will Know Me Still
Chapter 66
Leaning back in her chair, Christine resisted feeling sorry for Sonja. "That was the plan, but you're taking all the fun out of it by looking like warmed over crap."
Christine had the urge to run a wet soapy washcloth over the window, followed by a large amount of disinfectant, not certain why it mattered how well she could see Sonja's expression. It was sure thing there were no longer any friendly feelings between them, if there'd ever been any on Sonja's part. How could there have been for her to do what she'd done just to get Christine to join in the fool's errand HYDRA's puppets perpetuated in support of tyrannizing the world?
Sonja propped her elbow on the counter, resting her head in the palm. "I got tired of you and let myself go."
"O-oh. The sarcasm is strong in this one." Christine used the words to antagonize the other woman, and immediately regretted it. She wasn't the kind of person to use words to hurt others, Sonja's actions notwithstanding. "The truth is I wanted to see how you're doing. Has your family been to visit?"
A harsh laugh popped out. "As they tell me each time I reach out to them, I have no family." She cleared her throat and shifted in her seat. "They long ago cut off all ties with me because of our differing political views." Her eyes shifted away. "In retrospect, that should have been a clue that I may have been in error with my beliefs." A heavy sigh that was more than concession of her situation huffed out. "It's the same for my now ex-girlfriend. She has left me and her position on the board, putting as much distance between us as possible. Our dog was rehomed, and she's moved from the home we bought together, and in now living in another state."
"Admitting your mistakes? That's not like HYDRA at all from what I've heard about them." Tired of the snarky banter, Christine leaned close, willing Sonja to look at her. Christine hit the window with the flat of her hand, making her jump, as did the tone of her voice. "There's a saying that there can be no peace without forgiveness. But after what you did to my son, I'm willing to risk it." A single spot of moisture welled up and created a wet track down Sonja's cheek, and Christine almost gave in. Almost. "Tears, Sonja? Didn't think you could cry."
Sonja clenched her jaw, her breath hitched, and her eyes rolled back in her head. The receiver fell from her lax fingers, dangling over the edge of the counter. She pitched sideways onto the floor, her entire body shaking.
"Sonja!" Christine ran to the intercom. "Guards! Quickly! Dr. Sandberg's having a seizure!"
Within seconds, Sonja was surrounded by uniformed women, each holding onto a limb while another kept Sonja's head from hitting the floor. They were joined by two women in scrubs.
Christine leaned on the window, ignoring the grime sticking to her palms, calling out, "I'm a doctor. Let me help!"
The guard who had escorted Christine to the visitor's room tapped her on the shoulder, motioning for her to come along. "They got all the help they need, ma'am."
She was taken to the visitor's entrance, where she was signed out and sent on her way. Standing outside the prison's gate, she couldn't help worrying. They'd been friends once, and as long as they'd known each other she'd never been sick. Could being in this place have compromised her immune system? Christine mentally shook her head. That didn't even make sense. There were no diseases inside of a prison that were worse than what the research center worked with on a daily basis.
Christine marched back to the guard post. She took a card from her wallet and handed it to the guard. "Have the doctor call me with Sonja Sandberg's condition."
The woman looked at the card. "You a relative?"
"Dr. Sandberg doesn't have any family and her ex-girlfriend wants nothing to do with her. Please have someone call me, even if they can't give me her medical status."
"Yeah. Okay. I'll pass it along to the warden. See what she says."
Queens, New York
A Random Rooftop
Huffing in frustration, Peter crouched on the parapet and pushed the front of his mask up to his forehead. "Shit! Can't believe I lost him."
"Lost who?"
Peter had known she was there before she spoke. When someone was near, or he sensed danger, the fine hairs on his arms, legs, and the back of his neck tingled in response. The intensity of the tingle determined the level of danger. For her, it merely told him of her presence. He pulled the mask down over his face and turned around.
Standing behind him was a young woman a little shorter than he, dressed in a shiny black catsuit with grayish-white piping, super flexible boots with short heels, and a mask that covered the upper half of her face allowing him to only see her eyes, though not clearly. The lenses were tinted so that the color of her eyes couldn't be determined. In this light, her long flowing hair appeared icy white, with just a tinge of blue that reminded him of a glacier. A mischievous and flirty smile played on her lips, as if she were holding in a laugh or found him amusing, or maybe even attractive. Instead of being chilled, Peter felt warm. Too warm.
Resisting the urge to slide a finger under his collar to let the air cool him off, he aimed a thumb over his shoulder. "Um, bad guy." They faced off, feet shoulder width apart, arms hanging loosely at their sides, bodies tense, readying for a fight. However, Peter didn't want to fight a girl, er, woman. He nodded in the direction of the street below. "He, uh, robbed the jewelry store. Lost him somewhere on 164th."
She frowned, though her eyes twinkled with humor as she deadpanned, "Tragic. He'll have a rough time selling the jewels though, unless he has," her gloved hands made air quotes, "discrete contacts."
"Meaning someone as crooked as he is." Peter sighed. "Story of my life."
"A day late and a dollar short, huh? We should start a club." Maintaining her distance out of professional courtesy, she went to the parapet and peeked over. He joined her, and together they watched the police working the scene. She turned to lean her hips against the wall, arms crossed, and head tilted to the side, still with a smile that made him want to stutter. Lifting his chin as a challenge, he asked, "What's your name?"
"What's yours?"
He opened his mouth, but before he could get a word out, she laughed, just a quick chuckle. "The accepted response of 'I asked first' is such a cliché. Surely your repertoire of playful banter incorporates more original material. However, in the interest of advancing the conversation…" She moved to the edge of his personal space with her hand extended. "They call me the Black Cat."
Peter locked his eyes with hers as he wrapped his fingers around the surprisingly strong grip. "Spider-Man." They immediately retreated from each other. "You live around here?"
"Do you?" Black Cat challenged with the lift of one eyebrow.
She had a point, and he told her so. "TMI. Got it. Looks like we might be seeing more of each other, being as we're working the same boroughs. What should I call you?"
"Cat will do. And I'll call you Spidey. Then maybe someday, we'll exchange real life names."
"I can live with that." Glad they could come to an agreement, Peter relaxed his stance somewhat, and she did too. Without a word, they sat side by side on the parapet to watch the police work, feet dangling over the side. Aside from the Avengers, this was the first time he'd encountered a crime-fighter outside of the Avengers. Having another person who understood him felt good, bringing with it an odd pull in her direction. The only other time he'd experienced something similar was with Liz. Okay, so she wasn't the only one. MJ, with her sarcastic, loner, in-your-face attitude kinda did it to him too. He liked that she didn't let him get away with, well, anything that even hinted at condescension or misogyny. Not that he'd ever treat a girl or woman like she was less than a man, because women, and girls, were the best.
Not having experienced it before, his best guess would be physical attraction, being that he really, really wanted to kiss her. He wondered if she felt the same, but it would be the height of stupidity to ask. Instead, they just sat there together in companionable silence, watching the scene below, until Karen spoke to him.
"Peter, your aunt is calling to remind you that you have school in the morning." He responded by tapping the earwig once, their signal that he heard, but wasn't able to respond verbally.
Peter stood, and Cat came up with him. "You heading out?"
"Yeah. I've got a thing in the morning. Can't be late."
Her unblinking stare seemed to be gauging his truthfulness. And he was being sincere. His first class started at half past seven, and he was all out of tardiness forgiveness with the school counselor. Good thing classes would be out for the summer soon.
"Me too. So, see you around then."
He smiled though she wouldn't be able to see it, jumped onto the parapet, extended his right arm with the hand bent back, shot a web-thwap!-and leaped off the building. Though he wanted to look back to see if she was watching, he didn't.
~~O~~
Peter hung the suit in the closet, yawning on his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth, wondering if or when he'd see Cat again, and found himself looking forward to their next encounter.
~~O~~
Cat eyed Spidey swinging through the air and disappearing around the corner two blocks north. He left the scene first to show off, she got that. But then, she didn't need to be a mind reader to figure it out. His actions were meant to impress, and they'd done just that.
Well, two could play this game. The next time they met, he'd be the one slack-jawed with awe at her impressive skills.
Getting a running start, Cat leaped over to the next building, going into a shoulder roll to disperse the energy, and kept going.
Three buildings later, she climbed down the fire escape, ran the length of the alley, and crossed the street after checking for traffic. At the next street, she turned east, darting from shadow to shadow, keeping her face averted from security cameras that she'd scoped out her first night in the area.
Soon, she came to a closed gas station. The pumps had been removed a long time ago. At a guess, before she was born. The doors and windows had been boarded up the nails rusty, yet still holding fast. She slipped around to the back, moved one of the boards out of the way, climbed through the dark opening, and closed it again.
In the nest she'd made for herself, Cat removed the mask and her gloves, dropping both on the counter with a sigh. She shrugged out of the small backpack, zipped it open, and dumped the contents out. Shiny white and yellow gold encrusted with brilliant diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, and fire opals glittered in the dim light that filtered through the opaque pebbled windows near the ceiling.
Her new friend was convinced the robbery could only have been committed by a man. That left her in the clear. Pity she'd eventually have to burst his naive little bubble.
Cat shoved her booty back into the pack and climbed onto the counter. She pushed one of the ceiling tiles out of the way, stashed the pack inside, pulled it back into place, and jumped down.
Using a burner phone, she texted her contact with photos of the jewelry for him to show his buyers, and powered down the phone on her way to what had once been the supply room, and now served as her bedroom. The shop had been closed so long, the smell of oil and grease no longer permeated every corner. With a generous amount of elbow grease, she'd managed to make it livable.
She peeled out of the catsuit, replacing it with pajamas and socks, and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth.
Back in the storage room, she lay down on the makeshift bed, an air mattress with a blanket covering it, pulled another blanket over her, and closed her eyes, but didn't immediately go to sleep. She kept seeing Spidey's face. From his speech patterns and the deepening voice, he'd gone through "the change" within the last year, making his age approximately sixteen.
The black lenses over his eyes kept her from seeing if he'd been telling her the truth or had lied outright. To go by the videos online, he was one of the good guys. While she respected his life's choices, it'd probably be best if they interacted infrequently so he wouldn't peg her as a thief.
Cat turned out the light she'd hung on the shelf over her head and settled down for the night. Spidey was right. School started way too early to be out all night every night. If she was going to graduate at the end of the year, she couldn't miss a single day, but couldn't find it within her to be sorry that she'd stayed to talk to the local crime-fighter. Whoever Spidey was in real life, she found him astonishingly charming, and almost as charming as the sophomore she met in the hall and again at lunch, Peter Parker. She could tell from the light blush that he lacked confidence when dealing with the opposite sex.
Grinning, she rolled onto her side, tucked the blanket up around her shoulders, and sighed. "By the time I'm off to college, you'll be chatting up the most popular girls in class, Peter."
The Lewis Residence
Orlando, Florida
Resisting a huff of frustration, Steve looked over at Darcy sitting in the passenger seat, making no effort to get out. "Darce…"
"I'm not ready to go in yet." She kept her eyes averted. "Let's sleep in the car. Go to a movie, a motel, or just drive around all night."
"Darcy," he said her name softly so she'd know he understood what she was going through. "We can't stay out here all night. It's in the eighties and the ice cream's melting."
Steve got out, opened the back door to grab the bags of groceries they'd bought as an excuse to stall going to her mother's house, and went around to her side. When she didn't open the door, he did it himself, holding out his hand. Reluctantly, she took it. "I'll be right here the entire time. Anything you need."
"You don't have to stay. I can do this."
Steve leaned over to look her in the eyes. "Yes, you can. But I'm staying. I don't want you to be alone."
Darcy finally smiled and let him help her from the car. Steve shut the door, and led the way up the sidewalk to the bottom of the steps. "You're right, Steve. Can't pretend it didn't happen."
"Well, having a friend with you makes it easier."
Keys jangled as she took them from her pocket, breathed deeply, and climbed the stairs.
~~O~~
Once she was inside, Darcy let out a long breath, taking in the changes since her last visit. There weren't many, but she'd grown up in this house, and little differences practically jumped out at her. Some weren't so little. The hospital bed where the sofa used to be, a wheelchair, a walker, the television on a table near the foot of the bed instead of the entertainment center.
The area rug was gone from the living room. Mom had tripped on her way to the bathroom the last time Darcy was home. So, she'd moved the furniture, rolled up the rug, and stored it in one of the spare bedrooms. She'd have to move it so Steve could use the bed.
In the last few months, he mother hadn't had the energy to participate in her life's work. Being an artist had been Joni Lewis's passion. A passion she'd passed onto her daughter, who lived life full steam ahead.
She heard cabinets opening and closing in the kitchen, Steve putting away the groceries while this not-so-strange temporary paralysis had kept her feet from taking her fully into the house. This wasn't her. Darcy knew she was a confident, independent, competent woman moving into a world that had once been dominated by men: physics. She also knew her mother was proud, if a bit exasperated at the frequency with which her daughter changed majors. At no time did Darcy expect to become a renowned scientist of Dr. Selvig's caliber, but she'd do great. Her ability to retain knowledge was close to eidetic, and would be her saving grace. As of today, she vowed not to change majors again. This time, she would see it through to the end, whatever that brought.
Setting her purse and keys on the sofa, Darcy slowly walked down the hallway to her mother's bedroom, standing with her hand on the knob, not exactly afraid to go in, but reluctant to see it empty of her mother's spirit. Then, she mentally slapped herself silly. It didn't matter what place she called home. Her mother's essence, the energy and enthusiasm she put into everything she did, would always be a part of her, and as long as she had her memories, her mother would never be gone.
"Darcy?" Steve's solid presence filled the hallway. He nodded at the door. "Your mom's room?"
"Yeah. Not sure I'm ready to go in yet."
He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. "I'll go with you, if you want."
Before he finished verbalizing his offer, Darcy was shaking her head. "Thanks, but it's something I have to do on my own." She smiled up at him. "Get our bags from the car, would you?"
"Sure."
She was on her own again, waiting until the front door closed to turn the knob and step into her mother's inner sanctum. and stacked on the vanity.
Darcy picked up her mom's sketch pad and sat on the bed to flip through the pages, surprised to find that they were all of her. "Miss you, Mom."
~~O~~
Hands shoved in his pockets, Steve leaned against the SUV Tony had waiting for them at the airport, wanting to give Darcy time alone before she had to entertain him. Not that he needed it, but she would see it as her sacred duty as the hostess to make sure he was taken care of, when he should be taking care of her.
He kicked a rock with his toe. It bounced into the grass. Then he thought better of it and dug it out, just in case the lawn needed cutting. The front porch light came on, as did the lights in the living room. Steve took it as a sign that Darcy was ready for company again. She confirmed his theory by opening the front door and staring at him, arms crossed, and all weight on one foot.
Steve picked up the bags he'd set on the hood and made his way up the sidewalk again. Darcy held the door open for him and closed it again behind him. "What're you doing standing outside in the dark, Rogers?"
"Giving you space."
"When I said I had to enter Mom's room alone, that didn't mean you had to run and hide." She led him down the hall to a different door. "The guest room. If you take the boxes and stuff off the bed, I'll change the sheets."
Wanting to make things easy on Darcy, Steve made a small smile, "It may not seem like it sometimes, but I'm pretty self-sufficient. I can make the bed myself."
Her intrepid spirit lifted her chin, the eyes only slightly glaring. "You're a guest. I'm making the bed." She pointed a finger in his face. "Do as I say, Rogers, or you're sleeping in the car."
Giving in gracefully, Steve backed down. Man, women these days made it hard to be a gentleman. "You're the boss."
The door was pushed open, and Steve went inside. There were boxes stacked on the bed, the floor, and every other flat surface, including the vanity chair.
"Oh, crap," Darcy said from the doorway. "Mom never throws anything away. Thought she'd gotten over that."
"I've slept in worse places."
Darcy looked at him over the top of her glasses. "Okay." She looked at the stack of linens in her arms. They were white with bright yellow daisies splashed across them. "Sorry. Mom doesn't have anything more guy-friendly."
"They're sheets, Darce. Made for sleeping on, not wearing."
"Have it your way. Don't feel like cooking, so Ima call the pizza place and have something delivered."
The door closed again, and Steve shook his head with a grin, thinking about the day she introduced herself and how much richer his life was having her as a friend.
The Parker Apartment
Queens, New York
The Next Night
Arms submerged in hot, soapy water washing the dishes, Peter exhaled through his nose at the talk and laughter coming from the living room. He'd crossed his fingers that May and Sam would get along, and they did, a little too well.
From the moment Peter opened the door, Sam seemed to go out of his way to be a charming and entertaining guest, beginning with the hostess gift, a spider plant. At some point since she met Sam, May had done research and now knew she was playing host to the Falcon, so they'd all had a strained laugh over the living pun. That had been the beginning of one remarkably uncomfortable meal.
Peter yanked his hands from the water and reached for a towel at a loud burst of spontaneous laughter from his aunt, watching and listening to Sam regal May with the story of how he and Steve first met. They were on the sofa, turned so they could see each other, Sam's arm along the back. All he had to do to touch May's bare shoulder was move his fingers a fraction of an inch.
He yanked a grape from the fruit bowl on the counter, chewing while going over in his head how he felt about their camaraderie, and found he didn't like it much at all. Uncle Ben was her soulmate, her one true love, and here she was flirting with another man. He wondered what his uncle would think. Ben would want her to be happy, that much Peter knew.
Unable to bear listening to them ignore him, Peter hung the towel on the rack next to the sink, went to his room, and shut the door. Because he could still hear them, courtesy of his spider powers, he booted up the computer, put on headphones, and cranked Led Zeppelin.
He logged into his gaming account and found Ned already participating in their favorite MMORPG. As always, Noobmaster69 was trolling everyone, trying to turn friend against friend. Grinning, Peter inserted a disc into the computer, tapped a few keys, and the troll was history. He wouldn't be able to log into the game for a least a week.
~~O~~
"AFK," Peter said into the mic, and paused the game. He looked at the message on his phone from May.
You're being a rude host, Peter. Get out here now! Sam's leaving.
Knowing he wouldn't feel like playing when he came back, Peter activated the mic. "Gotta go. Later."
He glanced in the mirror, seeing his father's annoyed glare in his eyes. For May's sake, he put on a smile he hoped would be seen as genuine and went to say good-bye. Besides, just because they were laughing and flirting didn't mean it would lead to anything more than friendly banter.
Ten Days Later
"Peter!" May called out from the living room.
His bedroom door opened and he shuffled down the hall, still pulling his head out of AP History. That changed when he saw how May was dressed. "Sorry. Didn't know we were going out. I'll get dressed."
May took a light jacket from the back of a chair and handed it to Peter. He helped her into it, giving her a quick once-over. A whiff of perfume reached his nose and he rubbed the end with a knuckle to stop a sneeze.
"Don't bother. I'm going on a date." She faced him with a smile. "How do I look?"
Her white off-the-shoulder top left just enough to the imagination without revealing more than the tiniest bit of cleavage. It was tucked into the waistband of a black skirt that showed off her slender shape, stopping just above the knees. The stockings on her legs matched her skin tone, and black heels brought her head even with his. Days she worked, May wore only a little make-up. Tonight, she was, well, Ned's dad would say dressed to kill. Though subtle, the cosmetics made her naturally wide eyes look even larger, bringing out the brown around the iris and making the green pop. A pendant that Ben had given her hung around her neck, the single diamond catching the light and throwing it back, as did the matching earrings.
She put her phone in the small clutch she carried and waited patiently for his answer. What else could he do but tell the truth? "You look beautiful, May. You always do."
An affectionate smile turned up her lips as she brushed the back of a finger over his cheek. "That's sweet." There was a knock at the door. "I won't be home late, Peter. Don't stay up too late, and don't forget to…"
"Brush my teeth. I got it," he told her on the way to open the door. "Have a good ti…"
Standing the hallway, smiling, Sam nodded a greeting. "Peter."
"Sam? You're taking May out? On, like a date?"
May stepped past Peter, taking the arm Sam extended. "Yes, like on a date. Night."
Peter watched them get on the elevator with his mouth open. The doors closed, and still he stared. "May and Sam. On a date."
The stairwell door slammed, jolting him out of his inertia and back into the apartment. He locked it without thinking and leaned against it. The thought of following them flitted through Peter's mind, and he was in the bedroom holding the suit before he realized it. Then, reason asserted itself and he put the hangar back in the closet. "Can't follow them. Well, I can, but…" His aunt would freak and Sam would give him the same look of disappointment from the day he and Steve had taken the suit back.
Throwing himself in the desk chair, Peter stared at the computer screen without see it, knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep until May came home.
The Bennett Home
Joliet, Illinois
"Mom! Your phone's ringing!"
Sawyer's voice echoed through the house, reaching Christine in her room putting away the clean clothes Dylan had washed. She stuck her head out the door. "Who is it?"
"Dunno! Doesn't say!" His footsteps pounded on the stairs and he jerked to a stop in front of her. "It stopped now. Said 'unknown'." The phone beeped and he looked at it. "You got a message."
He passed the phone to Christine and ran back down the stairs.
Putting the phone on speaker, she went back to hanging clothes while she listened to the message.
"This message is for Dr. Christine Bennett. My name is Bella Marsh, warden at Plainfield County Correctional. As she has no one else, Dr. Sandberg gave us permission to contact you regarding her medical issues. Please call me at your earliest convenience. 899-555-5956."
The news couldn't be good if the warden called herself instead of delegating the duty to her assistant. Christine closed and locked the bedroom door before dialing. "This is Dr. Christine Bennett returning the warden's call… Yes, I'll hold."
~~O~~
Dylan, Eli, and Sawyer were playing a board game when Christine came downstairs wearing an aura of sadness like a cloak. She sat on the bottom step, elbows on her knees, and pushed a hand through her hair.
On his next turn, Dylan purposely lost and went to sit next to Christine, lightly bumping her shoulder with his. "Are you alright?"
"No, but I will be." Her gaze strayed to Eli, who was celebrating his victory by alternately pumping his arms into the air, making "whoop, whoop" noises. Shaking her head, she breathed deep and let it out. "It's funny how you wish really hard for something, thinking it'll make your world brighter, and peace will reign on the earth. Then you get it and realize that everything still looks, smells, and feels the same. Nothing's different, yet it is. Know what I mean?"
Oh, yes. He most certainly understood. "I do." At times like this, Dylan was still somewhat tentative about contact that involved giving another physical comfort, yet, after all the Bennett family had done for him, he was willing to put his discomfort aside and tend to their needs when it was required. He took hold of her hand, giving it a small squeeze. "Oliver has told me about the situation with your son and that it was the fault of the woman with the dark hair."
Christine looked at him sharply, drawing attention to the fact that he was squeezing too hard and his tone had taken on a caustic tone. He cleared his throat and leaned just a little closer, keeping his voice low. "Rest assured that she will never get the chance to hurt another person, and you will not have to live with the knowledge that she would not be paying for what she'd done to Eli with her own life."
He eyebrows drew together over her nose, creating two little lines. "What do you mean?"
"I have been reading about the judicial process in this country." Dylan knew it sounded like a change of subject, and Christine was kind enough to wait for it all to make sense. "The dark-haired woman, Oliver said her name is Sonja, will be dead long before formal charges can be brought against her. You and your family will have their revenge without your reputations being dragged through the media. She will be gone, and in a few years, become but a distant memory."
~~O~~
Uncertain what Dylan was trying to say beyond the obvious, Christine nodded. "I know. I got a call from the warden. Sonja has come down with a virulent form of cancer. She will be dead in a few months. Hopefully, her lawyer can convince her to make a full confession before the end."
"Ah. This is known as a deathbed confession, and they are more often than not accepted as truth."
"Such an event in inherently flawed. If the person harbors animosity, or even hatred toward a specific person, group, or family, he or she may lie, causing an innocent party to be suspected of a crime when they are, in fact, innocent. The individual, being mean and vindictive due to real or imagined wrongs done to them, goes to their grave knowing they had the last word."
Dylan released Christine's hand and stood, looking down into her sad eyes. "You have become entirely too pensive, Christine. Come. The boys and I have something to show you that will lift up your spirits immensely."
She chuckled and stood. "God knows we can use some good news for a change."
"Oliver will want to see this as well. Will you call him, please?"
Christine went to rouse Oliver from the world of computers while Dylan got the boys ready for the show.
Vasilescu Shipping and Transport
Giurgiu, Romania
Just like almost every night, Antonia kept herself behind the office door. Much of the time, she was doing just what she should: working on the books, paying the company's bills, keeping their licenses up-to-date, and all the other nit-picky things that go along with owning a business. Others, like tonight, she spent watching Jacob work and likely planning her next move to get him into her clutches, and her bed.
Andrei wanted to avert the problem before it got started, but he'd been too late out of the box to head it off. From what his sister didn't say, as much as what she did, this thing with her and Jacob began the moment he introduced himself and asked for a job.
Perhaps he could mitigate the damage. He just needed a moment alone with Jacob.
His chance came when Antonia left the office with keys and wallet in hand. Andrei pretended to be absorbed in paperwork until he heard her car drive off. He had to move fast, in case she came back.
He picked up the landline and dialed Mihal's station. "Send Jacob in, please."
Within moments, the door opened and Jacob joined him. "You wanted to see me?"
"Yes." Andrei stood as well. "But not here." The men went out the front door away from the building; he didn't want the other men to overhear what he had to say.
The two men talked, neither one noticing that they were being watched. The person in the driver's seat gripped the wheel so tight the knuckles turned white, annoyance turning to anger, and anger to rage.
~~O~~
After receiving another late-night call, Andrei pulled his car to a stop in the alley, got out, and walked to the building, calling out, "Hello?"
The door was ajar and the air smelled crisp and clean, which was strange. He pushed the door open, stepped inside, and eased it shut again. "Sorry I'm late. There was a problem at the dock."
The only light came from a single dim bulb on the other side of the room. Listening intently, he took one careful step after another toward the light, hearing nothing. Not even the usual night sounds. But then, that was how this place had been designed. Soundproof, air purifiers, and bathroom facilities that served a specific purpose.
Andrei spun around at hearing a soft footfall behind him, eyes widening in terror. He raised his arms to protect himself, crying out "No!" as the knife slashed through skin and muscle as if it were paper.
Blood spurted as the knife found its mark in his lower chest, slicing down to the abdomen. Andrei took a stumbling step backwards, hands over the wound to keep his intestines inside, but his attacker kept slashing and stabbing, growling and shouting incoherently.
His attacker had the strength of madness at their beck and call, and ultimately, his attempts to protect himself proved inadequate to the task. Sound gurgled in his throat and his eyes pleaded with the face hovering over him, teeth bared in a snarl that didn't just border on insanity. It erased the line and covered it with concrete.
Then, his life ended, not with a bang, but a whimper.
TBC