Chapter Four: Pain and Sleep

Frankie Jacks swore, loudly. No one heard him, as a car traveling at very high velocity makes a lot of noise, even more when it's traveling at high velocity into a police roadblock. Frankie reacted poorly, his natural inclination was to drive through the police cars blocking the road, but because of speed he was doing this already, so after he finished swearing he hit the steering wheel a few times.

Peter Super was used to this kind of thing. Not that he was often on the hood of speeding vehicles, but he often had to react to dangerous situations not of his own making. Though he greatly preferred it when other people failed to react to dangerous situations of his making.

Peter needed more time to act, so he sped up. The world seemed to slow down, he could watch Frankie's paroxysms of rage inside the car, and he could see policemen diving for cover in the reflection of the windscreen. He could even feel Jane moving about in the silly pink backpack over his shoulder. He tightened his grip on Jane's staff and cloaked himself in darkness. To the officers watching it would look as though he and Frankie had disappeared, but most were now diving behind something stiff and unlikely to come into contact with a racing car. Knowing he was running out of time, he put his hand through the glass and grabbed Frankie by the throat. Frankie hardly had time to protest as the stolen car made contact with the incredibly stationary police cruiser. The rest is physics.

The exploding car covered the sound of two bodies hitting the pavement on the other side of the police line. The officers were busy trying to put out the fire. They hardly noticed the shattered windshield some distance away. It goes without saying that they never say the limping giant rat with a staff being helped away by a man in a leather jacket, but that's only because they were still invisible.

"Peter, you are one fun guy to party with!" laughed Frankie Jacks. "That was great, right out from under their noses." He laughed again.

Peter remained silent. It was hard walking on shattered legs, but not so hard as all that. The staff was keeping him up on his left, and Frankie was holding him on the right. The lacerations down his right arm from the glass were already beginning to heal. It was only a matter of time before he could move at full speed again. Peter, like all rats, was tough as they came and harder to kill, but even after shifting into his native form he had taken more than his share of injuries from the fall. Frankie had landed on top of him.

"Next time I go out for a night of fun, you can come with me," he laughed again. Peter was beginning to wonder if Frankie was high. "I bet you come in handy in all kinds of dangerous situations. I mean, I can hold my own when it comes to a fight, no mistake. But that thing back there was brilliant. I was ready to fight my way out of that, maybe kill a few of them, but you never…"

"Frankie," Peter weakly interrupted.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"Oh, ok." After that they walked in silence for a few minutes, trying to put some distance between them and the scene of the crime. Peter's steps grew more sure every passing minute, but his attitude had yet to improve.

"Um, I don't mean to bug you," said Frankie uncertainly.

"Good instincts Frankie."

"But your Barbie Backpack is moving,"

"Oh… oops, better let her out," said Peter.

Frankie reached behind Peter and opened the zipper, revealing the mildly peeved Jane, who began to scream an impressive stream of rat expletives.

"Sorry miss," apologized Frankie. "No, it was my fault. I'm sorry, but after the fight how was I to know they would call the cops 'cause I took their car." Jane had yet to pause in her tirade. Peter was glad she had yet to turn to him. "No, it was my fault, Peter saved us all." Frankie's usual joviality was dimmed in the way of a child being scolded. "Everything will be fine, Peter's wounds will be okay in just a minute." Peter instantly regretted the words the moment they came out of Frankie's mouth.

Jane let out a frightened squeak and instantly ran to the ground where she shifted to human form. "Peter, stop!" she commanded, and he was loath to disobey. "Sit down, let me look at your wounds."

"We don't have time, we have to get away from here. I'll be fine in just a minute, and we need to keep moving." He tried to push on, but without Frankie's support he was still too weak.

"Fine my tail!" she swore. "Sit down on that curb this instant. It would be just what you deserve if your bones heal crooked!" He could not disobey her in this state, so he did so. She began to root through her backpack for something.

"And a fine tail it is too," commented Frankie. Jane and Peter instantly remembered she was still naked.

"Haven't you ever seen a rat naked before?" she asked.

"Not recently, and I'm man enough to admit, not one so pretty." Frankie was trying to be gallant, but his eyes kept drifting back to Jane's form. She knelt over her bag, offering a more than ample view of her behind.

"Why don't you go over there and get dressed Jane," growled Peter, his eyes never leaving Frankie.

"You just said we don't have time. I have to look at your legs, and we need to get out of here, you said so yourself. I can change and catch up to you guys after I'm done." She would brook no disagreement. "Besides, Frankie is a gentleman, and he needs to go over there and stand guard." Frankie said nothing. "Right Frankie?"

Frankie snapped out of his daydream at once. "Yeah, yeah, exactly Miss Classic," suddenly getting the drift. He wandered a short distance away. At first he thought he might have a chance with Jane, she was as fine a rat as was made, he thought to himself, but Peter was shooting venom at him just for looking. He made a show of looking the other way and then snuck a peek behind him.

Peter and Jane were arguing as she felt his legs. He had shifted to his human shape, making his horns even more noticeable. Wonder what she sees in him, he thought. She tugged his hood up over them and Frankie quickly resumed his 'guard duty' assuming the check up was almost over.

Jane beckoned him over. Peter got to his feet with help of the staff. "You two go ahead, and I'll catch up in a second," said Jane as she ducked into the nearest alley. Frankie took Peter's right arm over his shoulder and they began to walk again. Frankie could feel the tension in Peter. It was time to test the waters

"Sorry about that Peter."

"Whatever," answered Peter gruffly.

"No, I'm, uh, wicked grateful for you saving me." He said, mocking the Boston accent, but trying to communicate sincerity as well.

"Well, you're welcome." He was still wary, but he remembered that he would need Frankie's help. He cracked a smile, "But don't make fun of my accent again." The two broke into laughs.

"It was a pretty bad imitation," he agreed. "And I am sorry about Jane, I never would have said anything if I had known she was your girl." He waited for the telling reaction.

Peter was silent for a moment and then said, "Jane is my little sister."

"Oh"

"If she's interested in you she'll let you know, but she she's waiting for the right time, I think"

"That's cool, thanks for the heads up. In the future I'll keep my eyes to myself."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," announced Jane playfully from right behind them. They both jumped and tried to regain their composure. "Hate to interrupt your 'guy moment' but looking is fine, just don't think that gives you touching privileges. I like looking at guys, and I'd like to think guys like looking at me, but the last person who thought he could grab something of mine that wasn't his… well… what exactly did happen to old Moe anyway?'

"I believe he's still looking for his fingers, but he found one of his thumbs," answered Peter. Frankie's eyebrows shot up in amazement. He had met some strange people since waking up from his birthing plague in Arizona. Some stranger women, but none as blunt and free as Jane Classic, even for a born rat she was uninhibited.   

"That only leaves six left to find, good for him. I'm sure this time has given him something to think about." At this she laughed wholeheartedly. It was a feminine laugh, but loud and arrogant, brazen and dangerous. Peter struggled to remain silent. It was obvious Jane didn't want Frankie to know he had been the one to remove the offending fingers. He suspected there was a lesson for both he and Frankie in Jane's words, but could not quite figure out what she was trying to say with her unusual behaviour.

"Um, yeah, anyway," said Frankie when she had finally trailed off. "Where are we going now?" He was suddenly much more uncertain of himself and his companions.

It was Jane who took up the question. "Peter's apartment isn't too far from here, we can make it there in just a few minutes. What do you say to that Peter?"

"Sounds good Jane, we can head back to Red Hill after getting some sleep, when I'm one hundred percent we can decide what do after that." With those words Jane slipped under his left arm and took up her staff. The three of them traveled in silence for the few short blocks to Peter's apartment building.

  The place was in a horrible neighbourhood. It rang out with cries and shouts of babies and arguing couples, even at this time of morning. It was dilapidated and ill maintained. There was police tape visible from one of the windows. In short: it was a slum.

"Nice place Peter, come here often?" said Frankie sardonically.

"Not really, I use it as a back-up, but when I come here it feels a little like home," he answered with sincerity.

They made their way in past the broken front door and proceeded up the stairs, as the elevator was in a permanent state of disrepair. No sane person would use it if ever it were deemed to be usable anyway. Thankfully Peter's injuries were almost vanished, Frankie's few minor cuts and scrapes long gone, but both were fairly tired. The procession up the nine flights of steps proceeded steadily but with much heavy breathing. The few people they met quickly averted their eyes and made their way past the ragged trio as quickly as possible. One small child made a show of pointing at Peter and announcing him to his parents, the adults pulled their child onwards to daycare with dull eyes.

"I barely noticed before," said Peter in a shallow voice. The reality of these people's lives was hitting him like never before, he was once again faced with how poverty had weakened and crushed these people. Frankie didn't seem to hear, but Jane murmured, "Soon."

They arrived at the floor and came to the door. The hallway was dark and dirty, were they any other three people they might have felt fear standing there while Jane got the key from her backpack and turned it in the lock.

The inside was, if anything, worse than the outside. It was clear that Peter had not bothered to redecorate or even clean up much after the previous tenants had been evicted. What little furniture there was was tattered and abused almost beyond use, even for rats, who mostly shopped in garbage bins. Squalid was a kind way of putting it.

"Wow Peter, what's the rent in a place like this?" said Frankie in a tone that lacked little from mockery.

"I never asked," was his reply as he limped off towards a back room. The place was small, the front was a living room and kitchen combined, separated only by a rickety counter. There were three doors in the back. Frankie supposed they led to bedrooms and a bathroom.

Frankie sat down on an ugly couch that smelled of mildew in the living room. Before it sat a tiny television that looked ancient and had a bent wire coat hanger for an antenna. Good, he thought, he had never much liked TV, even before… before…it had happened.

Jane was busying herself in what passed for the kitchen. "He really doesn't come here often, maybe once a month," she shouted from within one of the low cupboards. "That's why there's so little food here," but I usually come by every once and awhile and put some cans and stuff in here." She stood up proudly holding two large tins of beans. She began to hunt around for a can opener.

"So what's the deal," asked Frankie. "Is this his bachelor pad? His little home away from the nest?" His tone managed to convey some lewdness in this concept.

Jane frowned, but didn't dwell on the issue. She continued to search the drawers as she spoke. "Peter once took care of someone who was causing trouble in this building."

She found the wayward device, and launched into the cans with some ferocity. It seemed to her that the thing moved every time she was here. "He did it almost by accident, but the landlord and some of the people noticed. They asked him for help, he didn't much care for them then, but he arranged to get rid of the worst of the scum around here and in exchange they let him have this little place for free." She finished opening the cans and began to hunt around for a saucepan.

"Now he comes down here every once and a while and looks after the worst of the lot for them. The drug dealers and the extortionists, that kind of that thing." She found the saucepan and turned to the stove.

"In the past he never really cared about these people, but something happened recently to change his view of things." She put the beans over heat and made her way over to where Frankie on the couch. "That's why you're here," she announced in an overly girlish and enthusiastic way. It suddenly made him nervous. She was sitting quite near him and he was suddenly conscious of how many times a day he used his fingers.

"Yeah, about that," he tried, and failed to hide his sudden anxiety. "I'm really grateful you two came out of nowhere to help me out. I'm not even certain how it is that you knew it was me in the car."

            Jane drew her feet up under her so she was now perched beside him on her knees. He was suddenly painfully aware of how pretty she was, even at the same time he began to contemplate the litter attached to her various tattered clothes. "Peter has rarely in the past been affected by the words of Our Mother," her tone left no uncertainty that they were talking about the Rat Incarna, She Who Brought The Birthing Plague herself. "But now he has received a plan, instructions, for something She wants him to do. I don't know much more than what he tells me, but the spirits around us tell me everything they know, and now they're telling me big things are in store for Peter."

            Frankie was growing more uncomfortable, no longer noticing Jane's appearance but coming to the realization that she was a Shadow Seer, and that unseen forces were constantly in conversation with her. "What does that have to do with me?" he asked meekly.

            "I look after Peter, keep him out of trouble, but he needs more than my help if this plan, this quest, is going to succeed. Just as you were coming down the street in that stolen car we were leaving for Sakert to go find you." Frankie winced at the name of his current Nest. "We were destined to meet, maybe She sent you down just the right streets to run into us, but when I saw the car I was told who was in it. That you were Frankie Jacks, just the person we needed to meet."

"You see, I have been given instructions on what to do," Peter was just behind them. His omnipresent hood pulled back, fully exposing his symmetrically curving horns, they came down to point at the tip of his chin. In the poor light all his features, that were rat like even in this, his human form, seemed knife edged. His eyes suddenly burned with an intensity Frankie had not seen in even his moment of blurring action earlier that night.    Frankie suddenly needed to reassure himself his gun was still in his belt, but had to force his hand to stillness, for fear of what the action might prompt Jane and Peter to do.

            Peter continued without noticing the internal struggle in Frankie. "I thought humans were our enemies, and they are, but if we can help them some, they could be taken off the playing field. They could be placed out of the reach of our true enemy: the Weaver. You've fought it just as I have. You know it wants to enslave us all. I have been shown a way to strike back at it and clear the board of some of those poor human pawns."

            "What exactly are you going to do?" was all Frankie could say. He was beginning to see it too. The misty form of something that needed doing. It had not been chance that had sent him headlong down just that street.

            "I'm going to rob the biggest financial institution in New England. And I need your help." The last was as much a question as a statement.

            "What's in it for me?" said Frankie. Fighting the tendrils of obligation he felt growing in his mind.

            "An even share of the loot. It's too soon to say how much we'll get, but you're certain to get at least a million, if you live."

            The warning at the end was not enough to deter him. Destiny and cash were two very strong arguments in Frankie's mind. Two of the strongest, but he refused to consider which might win out. "Then count me in. What do you need me to do?"

            "Glad to hear it, I knew you would. As a Warrior your skills will come in very handy, but for now eating will do." At that Jane snapped to her senses. Frankie had completely lost track of her, she hadn't moved the entire time Peter and he had been talking. She had been raptly focused on Peter but now she was running to the kitchen to check on their meager meal. From the smell it was ready.

            All Frankie could think was, what have I gotten myself into?