Chapter Five
Frankie woke to the bizarre sight of Jane and Peter playing house. The three had bedded down that morning in the decrepit little apartment. Peter had forced Jane to take the master bedroom, and would have put himself on the dirty little couch. Had Jane not insisted he was too injured Frankie would have had the other bedroom, but it really didn't matter to him. Instead Frankie had slept on the couch and Peter had taken the bare mattress on the floor of the smaller room.
Now the two were in the equally small bathroom. Frankie had to laugh as the petite Jane ordered the tall, horned Peter around while checking his wounds. The cuts and bruises had healed almost instantly, as had Frankie's own. The torn ligaments and broken bones had taken longer but would leave no lasting trace. Frankie was unconcerned, and besides, he really thought Jane fussing over it was funny.
He got up to take a better look. Through the bathroom window he could they had slept the day away. It was night again. Peter sat on the edge of the rust rimmed bathtub, his legs stretched out before him. Jane was one her knees, checking every inch of his legs to make sure there was no permanent injury. Peter noticed him immediately, uncomfortable for all the attention, but hardly self-conscious for someone who was naked.
"Hey Frankie, we'll be done in a second, then you can shower and we have to go," he said.
"Sure thing," replied Frankie nonchalantly. He padded out to the kitchen. He had decided to look in the fridge for something to eat. The ancient Frigidaire was a sickly yellow, it groaned horribly. He lurched it open to reveal it had no light and lukewarm air. More importantly, it had no food. But something did catch his interest. The drawer in the bottom yielded two black handguns. He picked one up. It was a perfectly oiled Colt NC161 with silencer, the exact mate of the other. He looked over his shoulder to find his coat, which held his own gun, bur instead found the threateningly tall Peter Super.
"Anything good?" he asked with a hint of menace. Peter stood coolly, now wearing his dark jeans.
"Ah, Peter! Just admiring your piece, real pro stuff, that's for sure." Peter gently took the gun from his hand. He bent down to the drawer and drew out a clip from its depths. "Sometimes, in my line of work, you have to back up your judgment with firepower." The magazine slammed home and Peter chambered a round. "Fairly often actually." He handed the loaded gun to Frankie.
"You're a Skulker?" he asked, taking the gun in hand.
"Such is my privilege," he said profoundly. "Rat has entrusted me with the Law. I have killed those who have broken faith. I have punished those who have committed injustices. This and more I have done for years. Does any of this bother you?"
"No, no, I'm cool with the Skulkers," he answered a tad nervously. "I mean, I've had my moments, but by and large I toe the line. I'm just a grunt for Our Mother's army," he finished more certainly.
"Good I'm glad to hear that. Because I need you, and I think I can trust you, and I don't know how soon our lives will be on the line here." He took the gun back, ejected the mag. He put the gun back in the drawer after ejecting the chambered bullet.
"I want you and Jane to go back to the Hill, I'm going to talk to a prospect." He squeezed the bullet back into the magazine clip and put it away as well. "You can get something fresh to eat there."
"Sure sounds good," with that Frankie headed back towards the bathroom. "Morning Jane," he said passing her as he went into the tiny bathroom and shut the door.
"Hiya Frankie," she greeted him at the same time, and continued on to where Peter Stood. "Did I just hear you say you want to on without you?"
"Yes," was all he said as he went to go get dressed.
She followed him into the tiny bedroom. "Why is that?" she asked very pointedly. She was only barely concealing her contempt for Peter's decision.
"It might be dangerous," he answered as he pulled on his shirt. This was hardly sufficient reason to Jane's mind, she promptly said so.
"That's no reason to send us away. You need me...Frankie and me there if there's going to be trouble," she argued as he pulled his rig, containing his knives and other tools, on. "You need us to back you up!" she finished, her voice becoming very shrill.
"Jane I appreciate that, but I'm not certain about this." He pulled on his socks and shoes. "If our boy is jumpy I don't want to spook him."
"But Peter!"
"But nothing Jane! Take Frankie to the Hill, show him around, and introduce him. I'll take care of it and be back before morning." He finished dressing by pulling on his hoodie in silence. Jane stood sullenly leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. They listened to the sound of the shower and Peter got up to go.
"Peter I..." she trailed off.
He stopped on his way to the door.
"... I want you to be careful," she finished lamely.
He smiled and pulled his hood up over his horns. "I always am," he said confidently.
For a second she felt like crying, but then she reminded herself she had other things to do. She turned towards the bathroom and opened the door. The lock had been broken long before she had even come to this little apartment. She caught Frankie just as he was stepping out of the shower.
"Oh, hey, sorry, I'll be out in a second," he said as he jumped back behind the stained shower curtain.
"I know, I just need to talk to you."
"Oh, ok," he waited for a second. "Can you pass me my clothes?" he asked uncertainly.
"I guess, but why?" she asked back. "It's just me, you know me."
"Well, fair's fair," he said under his breath. He jumped out of the shower and began to dress hurriedly. Jane stood and watched him smirkingly. Rodens, who had been born as rats, like her, had little understanding of some human societal norms. She found privacy and public nudity particularly amusing.
"Well? Talk if you have something to say!" He said as he pulled up his pants.
"I need you to tell me if you're really with us on this," she asked levelly.
"I already told Peter that…" he began, to fill the sink and lather up bar of soap.
"Peter left, I'm here now, I need you to tell me why you're doing this so I can know how far we can trust you."
"Makes sense I guess." He began to shave with Peter's razor.
"There weren't any Metis in Arizona, but they told me about them. How they were deformed, sterile, some even crazy. When I made my way here I ran into a few, most seemed capable enough. Some were really bitter, you know, but peter is a good guy. Practically risked his life to save my ass before he even knew my name. I don't have anything against Metis. I really don't, not like some older rats I've met. So my point is, Peter knows what he's talking about and he seems able to back it up. So I think I'll follow him, if not for the money, then at least because it'll be fun and I'm not really anything better up at Sakert." With that he finished shaving and started to wash up. "What about you?"
"I've been with peter all me life, he watched over me and my litter, he recommended I be infected. I owe him everything, I love him more than my brothers." She said earnestly.
"I bet you do," thought Frankie dryly. He estimated Jane's litters would be highly sought after, despite her 'pickiness' she would make a renowned Rat Mother, he had no doubt. The one thing he was uncertain of was whether Peter would raise them. He finished getting dressed. Making sure his pain dagger was in its place at the small of his back.
The two headed towards, she collected her backpack and staff, and he grabbed his coat. As they headed out the door she asked him: "What were you doing that got the cops down on you last night?"
He looked to her and grinned devilishly. "Want to do something fun?"