Author: Bastille Kain
Title: Come As You Are
Disclaimer: I own nothing. The characters of any show or other medium; comics, movies, and books that are unfortunate enough to be used here all belong to other people. Again I own nothing and make no profit from these writings.
Spoilers: Anything and everything.
Summary: Buffy/NetFlix Marvel Universe/Marvel Movie Universe Crossover. Starts a few days prior to NetFlix's Defenders. Patricia Walker discovers a young girl, 15 to 17 years old, just outside her apartment who has suffered a severe neck injury. Accompanies her to the hospital. When she wakes up it is discovered she is suffering from amnesia.
Pairings:
Rating: MA-18. Just to play it safe. Eventually there is going to be adult themed subject matter, gratuitous violence and explicit sexual scenes not to mention strong language.
Feedback: Is always appreciated.
Archive: If you like it that much, sure. Just be sure to let me know where it's going, and give me the credit, good or bad, for my work.
Musical Note: I like to use song titles or lyrics for story names and chapter titles. Come as You Are: Nirvana. Rocks On The Road: Jethro Tull
Author Note: Not a big fan of author notes so I'll keep this short. The next part of The Real Me should be ready for late next week. Might be a couple weeks between that and the second chapter for Crumblin' Down is ready.
Enjoy the Story,
Kain
Come as You Are
Chapter Four: Rocks on the Road
Amara checked the address written down on the piece of scrape paper. It wasn't a bad neighborhood, high end middleclass with families that were probably living slightly above their means. Finding the right house wasn't that difficult.
It was easily the biggest house on the block. Far better then she expected for someone receiving a full ride at Chesterfield. From the size of her home Amara figured Pryde could easily afford the tuition without the aid of the full scholarship.
Pryde was incredibly smart. Easily one of the smartest students at Chesterfield which was saying something when you considered how many geniuses or near geniuses attended the private academy.
Pulling up to the curb Amara set the parking brake before she turned off her Audi. As she open the door of the luxury sports car, the tall blonde snatched her designer shoulder-bag off the passenger seat and slung the leather strap over her shoulder.
Dressed for autumn in New England she was wearing what could pass for casual attire, boot cut jeans with a cream colored silk blouse with a simple floral print that spiraled from the left shoulder around her back, circled around her ribs and abs and back again before ending at her left hip concealing several of the darker buttons in the pattern. Simple open toe, platform sandals; a soft desert brown that complemented her tan, knee length jacket; not too heavy for the season, completed her outfit.
The walk up the rather long driveway was refreshing and didn't leave her anywhere near as winded as it would have six months ago. Dwayne insisted they all maintain a certain fitness level and he designed a regimen for each of them, alternating days of cardio and resistance training with Sil teaching them all how to fight. That girl was as deadly as a ninja and almost as cheerful. The only person even more morose then Sil was her boyfriend, Dwayne Taylor, but she supposed being a child and witnessing the murder of your parents might have that sort of affect on a person.
Half a dozen cars filled the driveway. There was a slightly older car, a deep blue Mazda that was off to the side. Next to it was Ford Explorer. Amara was curious what sort of person would own a white SUV. The vehicle was just about spotless, as if it had been driven from the showroom floor to where it now sat and left there. On the other side of the Explorer was a black two door Mercedes Coupe. Family cars if she didn't miss her guess.
The others were all new high end luxury models. Not one of them cost less than a hundred thousand straight off the factory floor without any bells and whistles. Amara suspected these all came fully loaded. It was obvious the Pryde family was entertaining. Each car also had a pair of guards and each guard was armed if the small little bulges to their jackets was anything to go by.
Amara took note of them, memorizing license plates and faces. It was probably innocuous, people did have a right to personal security, but there was a bit of a tickle running down her spine that said something was off.
Dwayne had dedicated himself, his company and family fortune to preventing anybody else from suffering like he had and since joining him and Sil she had begun taking his lessons to heart. While she didn't spend every waking moment obsessing over it like he did she put in plenty of hours learning and honing her new craft. Like her, the others had their own reason for being involved.
Theresa's uncle was a mutant. He was also a career criminal who had lied to her about her father for her entire life, telling her that Sean Cassidy had been killed during a mission for Interpol. The truth was that Thom Cassidy thought of Theresa as his own daughter and kidnapped her as a child. When she learnt the truth; that he had been the one to sell out her father in a jealous rage because her mother had chosen her father over him Theresa contacted Interpol and the FBI.
Robbie probably had the purest motives for joining the group; to see that the bad guys were brought to justice. He was pretty much their moral compass. His father was a hard working ADA with a distinguished career who spent too many late nights in the office. The man didn't believe in vigilante justice and in a lot of ways Robbie was just like him. He wasn't going to compromise his own morals just to catch a few bad guys, but he had powers and he wasn't just going to stand by.
There was one time, when the group had been arguing about the direction they should take. Dwayne was all for the Eye for an Eye motto but then Robbie spoke up; he asked everyone what good do we do if we become worse than the criminals we go after? Personally she thought the sentiment was idealistic, even a touch childish but in a way he was right.
Stopping at the front door Amara rang the bell. She heard a couple of voices inside and a few seconds later the door was pulled open. A tall woman in her late thirties opened the door. She was attractive with dark, almost raven black hair and light brown eyes. Her attire was immaculate and Amara knew this wasn't the hired help.
"Hello," Kitty's mother greeted her. The voice was friendly enough but for some reason it sent a chill down Amara's spine.
The blonde shoved the sensation away as she plastered a smile on her face. "Hi," she said in her best bubble blonde voice. "I go to school with Kitty…" there was a bit of a frown at the familiar form of address… "We were supposed to get together this weekend, she was going to help me with a project for my computer class but something came up with my family, very last minute that I can't get out of and since I was in the area I was hoping she was free now so that we might go over a little of it or so we could reschedule."
There was a very put upon look on the older woman's face. "Come inside," she told Amara and then closed the door behind her as she retrieved her cell phone and sent off a quick text. "Wait here. Katherine will be down shortly," she said before moving into the house proper and leaving Amara standing in the foyer as if she was no more important than a bible salesman.
Amara ignored the perceived slight. From just the few moments of interaction it was easy to tell mother and daughter had very little in common. Kitty would never treat a guest in the manner her mother had. Amara didn't think Kitty was capable of being rude to anybody.
Several voices from her left drew her attention and glanced in that direction. She couldn't make out what was being said. One of the men was a little on the pudgy side with a bit of a gut. He had short dark brown hair and if she had to lay odds he was definitely Kitty's father.
The other man must have been in his mid to late twenties. He was a few inches taller than Kitty's father, not much. An inch, maybe two and had a very slight physique, much like a ballet dancer. His black hair hung in ringlets framing an extremely attractive face. He appeared to be of Hispanic decent but possessed a classical, old world bearing, almost regal like an emperor of days lost in antiquity. He was clearly a man used to giving orders and having them obeyed instantly.
Footsteps on the stairs drew Amara's attention. She wasn't exactly amazed to see Kitty in a light summer dress with her hair done up in a messy bun. She was wearing a set of diamond studded earrings along with a simple silver necklace. Kitty might not be a swan masquerading as one of the ducklings but she was hardly unattractive. Most people would probably consider her a six or seven, maybe even a low eight.
Kitty froze for a second, but then quickened her pace down the flight of stairs until she was standing next to the taller girl. "What the fuck are you doing here?" she demanded in a low hiss that wouldn't carry much beyond the two of them as she glanced toward her father and his companion, though a taller black man dressed in white wearing a flat wide brimmed Panama style hat had had joined them and paced toward the back window. "We have an…"
"Relax Pryde," Amara said. "I haven't outed you to anyone. I told your mother you were tutoring me on a computer project."
"Press the power button," Kitty told her. "Computer boots up. Tutoring session over."
"Ha, ha," Amara laughed. "Even I know that much." She looked toward the study again only to find dark, sultry eyes gazing at her. She could feel that same chill running down her spine only stronger and she forced herself to swallow.
Kitty scowled for a moment as she looked around. Grabbing hold of Amara's bicep Kitty pulled the blonde along. Amara frowned at the contact, she concentrated and her flesh began to heat up. Kitty pulled her hand back with a wince. "What the hell was that for?" She demanded.
"At least ask before you decide to drag me off someplace," Amara told her. "Who're your guest?" She asked taking a quick look behind her but the men had disappeared behind a closed door.
"Right," Kitty said squeezing her eyes shut. "Sorry, I completely forgot. I was just bringing you to my study…"
"You have your own study?" Amara asked mildly impressed.
"So not my idea," Kitty confided as she led Amara to a small room. She opened the door and stepped inside. "Business associates of my parents and somebody you so don't want to jump into bed with…Literally or figuratively," she warned Amara. There was an average size desk with four padded chairs around it and an equal number of monitors on the desk. "I've never actually meant any of them but there is something super-creepy about them." Kitty didn't bother adding what she had overheard during some of their meetings with her parents.
There was a mid size tower on the floor hooked into a fancy looking router and modem with five Ethernet cables coming out of the router. One went to the modem and another went to the tower while the other three cables went to the three workstations on the desk. "Mother decided that if I was going to be getting paid for tutoring people at home then I should have my own work space that wasn't my room." She closed the door behind them.
"That's kind of nice," Amara mumbled. "I suppose?"
Kitty scoffed softly before she said, "Of course they also charge me a rental fee for the space and make sure I pay my taxes on my earnings."
"That's gotta suck," Amara told her.
"It ain't great," she admitted as she sat down in the chair next to the tower. "Sorry about the temperature…"
"Its fine," Amara told her. "I'm never cold," she confided.
"Because of the…?"
Amara nodded. "I need your help with something," she said quickly.
"Is this the same something you and your Irish songbird were stalking me at school for?" Kitty asked.
"You know about Theresa?" There was the hint of concern in Amara's voice. It was obvious she was worried about her friend.
Kitty powered up her computer as she worried at her bottom lip. "Doesn't take a genius and I'm not going to say anything if that's what you're worried about. She should really try hiding that hair of hers. Combined with her sonic scream it's sort of a dead giveaway."
"I'm trying to get information on someone I meet the other day…"
"Like an address so you can start stalking them?"
"No," Amara said. "I'm pretty sure I can find out where she lives all on my own. But we kind of spooked her and I'd like to bring something of a peace offering, which is where you come in," she explained.
"I'm not sure I'm following this?" Kitty admitted.
"She has amnesia," Amara blurted out. "And I'm pretty sure she's like us."
"Like us?" Kitty asked. "A mutant?"
"She's faster than Sil."
"Faster than Sil?" Kitty repeated.
Amara nodded as she added, "I heard her speaking Apache, Latin, and Cambodian."
Kitty's eyes opened wide as the pieces fell into place. "She'd also have some sort of healing or regenerative power," she said. Amara frowned at Kitty's deduction. "You're talking about Amnesia Girl."
"She really doesn't like that name," Amara informed the smaller girl.
Amara wasn't sure if Kitty heard her or not as the brunette went on. "Found in the hallway outside Patricia Walker's penthouse apartment with her throat slashed yet she left the hospital the following day with Trish Walker. Patricia Walker is also the sister of Jessica Jones."
"Wow. Stalker much?"
"I liked the TV show," Kitty said with a shrug. "It's funny. So not like my life," she admitted.
"Isn't Jessica Jones the chick that killed that mind controlling psycho?" Amara asked her.
"Kilgrave? Yeah," Kitty told her.
"With a name like that you're just asking for it," Amara commented.
"And you want to put yourself on her radar?" Kitty asked her.
Amara ignored the comment as she looked Kitty over. "You know, if you made an effort at school every so often I'm pretty sure you'd be able to land yourself a decent boyfriend. Guthrie is into you and bonus points with him being a three sport stud."
"So not interested in getting a boyfriend Amara," Kitty said.
"Fine. Girlfriend than," Amara shifted and nearly laughed at Kitty's expression. "What? There're enough gay and bi-curious kids at Chesterfield you coming out isn't going to shock anyone Pryde. Especially with that for a last name," She shook her head before she added, "All you need is a little African in you and you'd hit just about every stereotype." She exhaled mildly. "You know, if you dressed up nice on Monday I could probably set you up with Tiffany. She's been complaining about going through a dry spell recently. You'd have to let Tiffany do all the talking because you're just likely to go all super nerd on her if you open your mouth and poor Tiffany just wouldn't ever be able to keep up with science babble, not that she's dumb or anything. She is planning on going into medicine, pediatrics if I remember correctly."
Kitty dropped her head to the table hoping that somebody would just shoot her now. Amara looked over when she heard the thumping sound. With a hint of genuine concern in her voice she asked, "Are you okay? Maybe you're right… Tiffany is at least a nine, even on a bad day. Maybe we should set our sights a little lower. There's Bobbi, ung… No. Lower, not scrap heap. I got it. My Aunt Sara…"
Kitty lifted her head with a serious frown. "I'm not going out with your Aunt Sara… That would be like way weird," Kitty told her.
"Can we take like an Ooh moment because yeah, way weird. Beside's totally straight, but she's got this friend from Pilates whose daughter, that I've meet a few times, birthday parties… After parties… That sort of thing…"
"Amara," Kitty cut her off. "Thank you, really. I'm touched that you'd actually put that much effort into finding me someone that I might like to go out with but I think I'd be more comfortable finding my own date. I think it should be something that happens naturally, not something that's prearranged or anything like that."
"Naturally," Amara murmured with a speculative look in her eyes that Kitty didn't see as she set up her key board.
She heard something in her voice though and Kitty shifted her focus for second as her system acknowledged her keyboard's connection. She wasn't sure she should trust the blonde. "Naturally," she said again putting a stronger emphasis on the word.
/ / /
The elevator came to stop with a soft chime and a second later the doors slid open. Kara stepped out of the tiny steel box and breathed a little easier. Being in the enclosed space really did not agree with her. The moment the elevator doors closed her breathing had become labored; like a boa constrictor around her chest squeezing the oxygen from her lungs, making it impossible for her to draw breathe.
She wondered what sort of childhood trauma could have caused such a strong response that she could still feel it despite her severe case of amnesia. She could understand the languages and she got the fighting skills were nothing more than muscle memory, but a phobia should require some sort of residual memory to trigger a fear response. It might be a topic to bring up with her shrink. Get an expert opinion.
Nicole stepped out of Trish's office, somehow balancing a stack of drab green folders and a couple of flimsy looking magazines in her left arm while carrying a bulky laptop and power cord with her right hand.
"Let me," Kara said as she suited her actions to her words and took the paperwork from the college intern.
Nicole graced the younger girl with a smile as she said, "Thanks."
Looking down at the folders Kara said, "Prepping for tomorrow's show?"
"Pretty much," Nicole answered as they took the short walk from Trish's personal office to a small conference room set aside for the shows staff. "We finish one show then it's on to the next. Getting confirmations, going over questions. Confirming facts," she offered a shrug.
"The actual nuts and bolts of putting together a talk show," Kara said as Nicole pushed open the door.
"Look who I found," Nicole said as Zack and Trish looked up. "Just wondering around the halls," she added entering the room and allowing Kara inside as well.
"Kara," Zack started.
"Hey," Kara said as she placed the folders on the conference tables. Looking at Trish she said, "You got my text, right?"
"I got it," Trish answered in a rather flat tone.
"Sorry," Kara said. She exhaled lightly before she launched into her explanation. "I meet some… Potential friends and kind of lost track of time. When I realized it was way late and I was closer to Jess' so I figured I could just crash there and… Malcolm is really nice –"
"It's fine Kara," Trish said. Not wanting to get into anything at work. She wasn't going to be her mother.
Kara shook her head. "It's not fine," she said. "I promised you something and then I just totally spaced."
"Are you all right?" Trish asked her.
Kara's face scrunched up into a bit of a frown as she said, "Yeah."
"Then we'll discuss this at home," Trish told her.
Kara's shoulders slumped slightly as she flounced into one of the chairs. She had really wanted to get this out of the way now, preferably with witnesses. That didn't appear to be on the table at the moment. Kicking her soft beige Citilane Crocs off, she pulled out her phone and started searching the New York education system. Linking into the network she started sending perspective portfolios to Trish's printer. Somewhere in the middle she printed out the portfolio for The Chesterfeld Academy of Academic Excellence.
/ / /
With her fingers laced together over her head and her palms pressed up toward the ceiling far overhead Sil stretched, elongating her muscles as she began to bend over backwards. Ever since her earliest memories she has always been extremely flexible, some people would say unnaturally so. She wasn't sure if it was part of her mutation, like her strength and speed. Even those could be explained away because of her enhanced training regimen.
What made her a mutant was her ability to shadow-port. She could cover vast distances in the blink of an eye by simply stepping into one shadow and then stepping out of another one. There was the possibility she could bring others with her but she had never attempted it, too afraid of what might happen if it wasn't possible. The last thing she would ever want is to condemn a person to that shadowed world.
Sil drew in a controlled breath and considered the path her life had taken. It wasn't close to anything she could have imagined a decade ago, before moving to New York from Hawaii with her brother Aaron and their mother, Miyami and meeting Andrew Chord for the first time.
Her movements were slow and controlled as she flowed in a natural rhythm. Andrew had already taken in Dwayne after the death of his parents, and while Aaron and Dwayne became fast friends. Dwayne's cause soon bled into Aaron and her brother vowed to help Dwayne find the cowardly dogs that butchered his parents.
It didn't take long before she was joining their training sessions. Because of their mutant abilities Dwayne was always at a disadvantage during their sparing sessions but it simply made him twice as determined and he trained three times harder and while he never could out fight Aaron he quickly learnt how to out think him.
Dwayne was only seventeen the first time they went on a mission together; starting off by taking out low level street corner dealers, pimps and any number of thugs. Aaron was constantly pushing Dwayne, looking for more challenging endeavors and Dwayne allowed himself to be pulled along.
Until the night everything blew up in their face, literally. Father had blamed Aaron despite Dwayne taking responsibility, telling Andrew that it was his mission his desire for revenge. Of course Father didn't listen and had kicked Aaron out, telling him he never wanted to see his face again.
Sil banished those memories. The past was the past and couldn't be changed. Unless you could somehow travel through time, but that way lay a set of dangers she wasn't at all comfortable thinking about.
Better to concentrate on the present. And their present was at a crossroads. For the past few weeks the group had been discussing the direction they should take. They could continue what they were doing, they were more than competent at taking down drug dealers and other small time criminals, or they could attempt to expand their operation, but that would require more training and specialized equipment and recruiting a few more members.
No matter what happened Dwayne already made his feelings clear. He didn't want the team to turn into another version of the Avengers who only ever seemed to pop out whenever there was some world ending catastrophe on the horizon.
Halfway through her routine she heard the heavy bay door of the small hanger begin to open. Dwayne's classic corvette pulled through the opening. He spun the car around and backed into the parking space as the door began to lower.
Sil stood up as Dwayne climbed out of his car. A slow, smoldering smile spreading across her lips at the sight the young man. Dwayne spent every day following the murder of his parents educating himself. Training, not just his body but his mind as well. At six three and about two hundred and thirty pounds he had the physique of an all pro linebacker, but for Dwayne sports were far from his mind.
"How did your meeting with Father go," she asked as he approached her.
Dwayne shrugged, a slight hitch to his shoulders as he approached her. "He doesn't care for it," he said honestly as he pulled her close and engulfed her in a tight embrace.
"Doesn't care for your plan or doesn't care for the fact that you've managed to drag me into your obsession?" She questioned him.
"Either… Both," he answered.
Sil frowned at the answer. "Despite the fact that he's the one that set your feet on this path?"
Dwayne leaned back against the work bench pulling Sil with him, her lithe form molding into him. "He was just trying to help. Give me something to focus on other than my grief," he said honestly. And he had been all those things years ago when she first meet him. He had been lost after his parent's murder, all the shrinks called it survivors' guilt and maybe it was. "There wasn't any way he could have predicted the path I would take."
"How, Zen of you," she said with a soft smile.
If he hadn't had to use the bathroom he probably would have been killed right beside his parents, possibly Sil's father as well. As it was Chord took a bullet to his shoulder when he tackled Dwayne to the floor as they were returning from the restaurant's washroom. Instead of checking to see if they were dead the gunman had fled.
Seeing the depression Dwayne was going through Sil's father on the advice of the shrinks had attempted to spark his interest in anything. It wasn't until months later, when he stepped into his first Dojo and something clicked inside him. "He couldn't have known I'd end up here," Dwayne said. "And honestly, your mother scares me way more than Chord."
A small frown tightened Sil's face as she looked up at him. "That's probably because father treats you more like a son than he has ever treated his own."
It was one of the sticky subjects between them. Not that she actually held it against him or Chord. He hadn't known about either of his children until they were already ten years old and by then Dwayne was twelve and Chord had been his foster father for seven of those years.
At first everything was fine but it didn't take long before Aaron, her fraternal twin saw the strong connection between Dwayne and Chord. At first he kept his jealousy in check, and befriended the older boy, but it soon became apparent that in his father's eyes he was never going to live up to Dwayne's standard and the anger began to fester in her brother's heart and he blamed Dwayne for the rift between him and his father.
She placed her hand along his cheek, the scar he bore from his final confrontation with Aaron. "It isn't your felt. Aaron was lost long before you or father ever came into our life."
Dwayne knew she was right. Dwayne was an accomplished martial artist and fighter. He mastered half a dozen different styles by the time he turned sixteen… It hadn't mattered. Aaron took him apart. Almost like a tiger playing with a kitten. If Sil hadn't intervened he probably would have died that night. If he ever had questions about where her loyalty lay, she had answered them that night. Still Aaron had somehow managed to embezzle close to ten million dollars from Taylor Industries before he disappeared, not that Dwayne was concerned with the money. It was the lost, the betrayal of his brother that troubled him.
Sil took his other hand and twisted away in a slow pirouette, almost as if she was dancing. "It looks like it's just us and Robbie tonight." At his look she added, "Amara's tracking down information on a potential recruit."
"Who?"
"Remember that article a few days back… Amnesia Girl?"
Dwayne shrugged lightly as he said, "The one that talk show host, Trish Walker found outside her loft. What about her?"
"We ran into her at the club last night. Might be more to her than meets the eyes," Sil answered. "She's faster and stronger than I am," she admitted.
His expression turned serious as he said, "Make sure she knows enough to be careful. Walker has some sort of connection to that P.I. The one that took out Kilgrave. I don't want you guys getting caught up with someone like that."
She smiled at him as she said, "We take down drug dealers, bank robbers, pimps, murders, and child abductors on a semi regular basis. It's nice of you to be concerned but trust us. We know what we're doing. Right now it's just the information gathering phase. Amara went to Pryde to see what sort of information she could dig out of her computer."
"And Theresa?"
"Date," Sil answered. "Said if we ran into something serious to text an SOS and she'd be there."
Dwayne nodded at the information. While he might have an obsession, he didn't want his friends to follow him down that particular rabbit hole. There were times when he wished he could be normal. To be able to look at his city and not see the violence that infested it like a limb succumbing to a septic infection.
He made his way over to the back wall and pressed his hand against a specific panel. A soft green light scanned his hand and then two other panels opened up. A holo-keypad appeared and the other had a visor. He typed in a fifteen character password and then leaned into the visor and allowed it to perform a retina scan on both eyes.
Confirming his identity an eight by sixteen foot section of the hanger floor began to lower. Once they passed the ten foot mark a matching slab slid out replacing the concrete slab they were standing on. At thirty feet the platform came to a halt and the left wall rose up ten feet opening into his hidden headquarters. It was easily twice as large as the hanger it was hidden underneath. Stepping into the chamber he spotted Jason, one of the three computer techs he had hired after Chord vetted the trio. All of them had been recruited by one intelligence agency or another and all of them had quit, when they realized that they weren't actually making any sort of difference but merely helping to maintain a status-quo.
"Hey boss," Jason said with a bit of a nod in his direction. He was in his early forties and had been a childhood computer prodigy back when he was younger. The man was thin as a rail despite his soft drink and junk food addiction. The fact he ran between four to seven miles a day might have something to do with that. He had accidently hacked Con Edison back when there still was a Con Edison which brought him to the attention of the CIA and instead of facing criminal charges he took them up on their offer, kept his nose clean, graduated high school two years early got a computer science degree and then officially went to work for them as an analyst.
Dwayne thought he heard Tchaikovsky blaring from the dangling ear bud, but he was hardly an expert on classical music. "You do know you can just call me Dwayne?" He reminded the older man.
Jason gave him a bit of a wave, or it might have been a salute as he said, "Sure thing boss."
Sil smiled softly as she laid a hand on his forearm. She had told him numerous times he was a leader and people needed to see him as such. "Anything of interest going on tonight?" She asked.
"There's been a lot of chatter about a raid. Not really sure if drugs or weapons," Jason said as he typed in a few commands. On one of the monitors a blue blip appeared and the area around it enlarged giving them a display for a section of Harlem. The blue blip was stationary for the moment. "Mickey tagged Sergent Rantelli's phone earlier, along with his burner and I've been tracking him since I got in. He's an undercover vice cop that set the sting up."
Dwayne nodded, the police were more than capable of handling a drug raid but there were rumors about a new player in the game. Somebody extremely violent and bloody and didn't take kindly to law enforcement. "Contact Theresa and Amara with the info, have them on standby. Make sure Robbie knows where to meet us."
/ / /
"This one doesn't look bad," Trish said keeping the smile from her lips setting another school portfolio down in front of Kara's seat. Like all the other private schools she had already blacked out the information concerning tuition.
The teenager was in the kitchen stirring a pan of boiling water filled with noodles. She mentioned making her own spaghetti sauce but she didn't have time tonight, she was supposed to be meeting her new friends at the club, but she wanted to do something special for Trish as a way of apologizing for last night.
Trish had been hesitant about relenting on her punishment but Kara had forgotten to exchange contact info and it would just be rude not to show up so she had given her a two hour window to go make her apologize and get back home. Kara had accepted the restrictions without complaint.
Turning towards the kitchen island Kara glance at the sheaf of paper with a frown. "An all girl prep academy?" She focused her blue eyes on Trish. "With white knee high stockings and plaid skirts? Prepping me for my life in a nunnery?"
"If you weren't interested in going there why put it on the list?" Trish asked as Kara turned back to the stove. She stirred the pasta for a few seconds before turning the fire off. She ignored the potholders and picked up the pot filled with scalding hot water without the slightest hint of discomfort and carried it over to the colander sitting in the sink basin and dumped the contents of the pot into it.
Kara offered her a shrug as she turned slightly and placed the pot back on the stove. "Really wasn't paying that much attention. It was more of a click and print operation," she told Trish as she turned back. Lifting the colander she gave it a slight shake to shift the elbows around a bit. Putting the colander back down she went back to the stove and stirred the store bought sauce as she waited for it to begin simmering. "Public school is always an option. You don't need to spend huge amounts of money on me."
"Providing you with a top of the line education isn't going to leave me in a poor house," she said as Kara turned off the burner under the sauce. "According to Dr. Holirveind we really should do our best to tailor your curriculum to your specific needs." Kara dumped the pasta into a bowl and then poured the sauce over it. Kara set the dining area, placing the pasta, a small bread tray that was holding few pieces of thick artesian bread and a pair of salads she had made earlier out on the kitchen island before she retrieved a pair of plates and two sets of silverware along with utensils for serving the pasta. "He says there are several classes you can test out of right now, like with the languages. Only in a public school testing out of subjects would be harder, if not impossible."
Kara waited for Trish to fill her plate with what she wanted then helped herself to the rest. As she was filling her plate she said, "I'm surprised you're not suggesting home schooling."
"And have everyone think you belong to one of those freaky religious cults?" Trish murmured as she maneuvered some of the pasta onto her fork. Kara laughed as she shoveled a fork full of elbows into her mouth. "Find a few schools that you think will be a good fit for you and we'll start scheduling interviews for next week. Hopefully we'll get you registered and you won't miss too much time. It sucks playing catch up," she noted sagely just before taking another forkful of her pasta.
/ / /
Kara folded her legs under her as she sat Indian style on the roof of the warehouse across from Sotto Twenty-One waiting for the three teenagers to return. It was something of a long shot but it wasn't like she had a lot of options. Amara mentioned her Uncle owned the club and Kara suspected the tall blonde and her friends spent a lot of their nights here.
Closing her eyes Kara exhaled slightly and stretched out her senses. Since this morning she had been able to refine her control over this aspect of her powers. Concentrating on the familiar fragrances she remembered from her brief encounter with Amara and her friends yesterday, Kara was a little surprised that she could not only recall their scents; but the pace of their heartbeats, the sound of their voices, the rhythm of their walks.
Focusing inward she recalled each moment, every memory she has had since waking up. She shuddered as she drew in a ragged breath. It wasn't just Amara and her friends but everyone she has come in contact with. From Trish and Jess to the nurses in the O.R. when she first woke up… The thugs in the abandoned building, the girl they snatched off the street, or her server at the Bistro… Claire. She opened her eyes and murmured, "Super freaky."
She ran her hands through her hair. "Still not the weirdest thing in your life," she said to no one. Standing up she looked over the building's ledge and wondered just what she was. Why was she able to do the things she could? What made her special? Was she chosen for some reason and why steal her memories?
The stranger from the courthouse, a supernatural being if her assumption concerning certain aspects of how her powers worked were correct and she was somehow able to sense them. He felt guilt about… Was it her? Why? He didn't tell her much but he hinted at quite a lot.
He sounded responsible for her situation. That he put her here, but did so in order to protect her from beings powerful enough they could have wiped her from existence itself, hiding the truth from her so she couldn't be found by them. He made decisions about her life.
Did he ask her, give her a choice or did he just make a unilateral decision concerning her life and do as he thought best. She wasn't sure if she wanted to thank him or run him through with a sharp object. Maybe a little bit of both.
Kara looked up the street as a familiar voice caught her ears. She focused her senses and Theresa seemed to leap forward as her vision sort of zoomed in on her. The fiery redhead was just as tiny as she remembered from the night before; which meant she had about three to four inches on her. Her black heels added another three inches while her black leather pants were going to have to be peeled off her. Of course that just might have been her intent. They hugged her hips and legs like a second skin and informed everyone that cared to notice she had gone commando. Her crop top left the better part of her midriff bare for the world to check out. Not that it was a bad midriff, sleek and tone, like a dancer.
Theresa had her arm wrapped around the waist of a young man with short cropped blonde hair. He was tall and lanky with serious blue eyes. The lilt of his voice told Kara he was from some rural backwoods and not a native New Yorker. He was dressed more for a farm then a club, sturdy boots and with a pair of slightly faded, work worn jeans with a few holes, the all natural kind and not one of those hundred and fifty dollar designer distressed jeans. His black tank was tucked into his waistband and was covered by a corduroy button down shirt that hung open.
They were talking quietly with each other, joking and flirting and just enjoying each other's company. Kara heard Theresa call him Sam, a junior at her school and some sort of high school football stud.
Kara's nostril's flared as she caught an unusual odor from Theresa. She tried to place the fragrant scent but for a brief moment it eluded her. Her cheeks colored suddenly as she finally realized exactly what she smelled and then suppressed her urge to gag or shove a red hot poker up her nostrils. "That's so not need to know information," she mumbled as she reeled in her sense of smell.
Her cell rang and Theresa cursed softly as she pulled the phone from her back pocket. "I have to take this," she apologized to Sam.
He nodded as he said, "Not a problem."
Theresa took a step or two away as she answered her phone and pressed it to her ear. "This had better be good," she whispered into the phone.
"One of Chord's sources made contact," an unknown voice said, male and not much older than Sam or Theresa if she had to guess. "There's a chance things go pear-shape tonight so it's an all hands on deck sort of thing."
"Did you spend the afternoon binge watching Strike Back?" Theresa asked him. "What does pear-shape even mean?"
"T," the voice said.
"Text me the info…"
"You need transport?"
Theresa scoffed at the question. "I've got it covered. Just make sure Taylor knows if this turns into an all night stakeout I am not going to be happy and an unhap…" The line went dead. "Son of a bitch," she fumed quietly. She slipped her phone back into her pocket as she turned toward Sam. "I am so sorry Sam," she said pressing herself close to him. "That was 'Mara. She's having a really crappy night."
"Female issues?" Sam inquired sounding almost diplomatic. He shrugged at her inquiring look. "I've got an entire gaggle of little sisters who just love to try and get me flustered with their female issues," he explained.
Theresa smiled softly. "Must be nice, having a bunch of brothers and sisters," she almost sounded wistful.
"It's got its moments," Sam acknowledged as he rested his forearms over her shoulder. "Mostly they're as annoying as a nest full of gnats."
"Personally I think 'Mara just being a jealous bitch," Theresa confided to him. "I am her BF, so…" She shrugged.
Quickly Sam leaned down and captured her lips. It was quick and tender. He pulled back and she moved in a little closer resting her head against his chest. "I'm really glad we decided to do this," she said.
"So ain't I," he answered. "But you got a friend in crisis… Real or imaginary," he reminded her.
"Tomorrow than?" She asked stepping back out of his embrace as her gentle hands slid down his long, well toned arms. She held onto his hands.
"Tomorrow," he agreed. Reluctantly she let go of his hands, a small triumphant smile playing at her lips as she turned away.
Kara moved quickly as she readjusted her vision. She raced the length of the roof and leapt the open space to the next building. She landed with a frown having cleared the space much easier than the night before. Had she gotten stronger overnight or was she becoming more accustomed to her strength?
It was a question for later. Right now she had an objective she needed to focus on. She checked the street, locating Theresa with ease. Only the redhead had ducked down a poorly lit alley, not that the poor lighting hindered her in the least.
Kara frowned for a moment before she winced as an ultra low frequency sound wave reached her sensitive ears. She shoved aside the discomfort and concentrated on the source of the sound. A moment later Theresa rocketed up and out of the alley propelled by the sonic waves she was generating. A dark green domino mask covered her eyes but left the rest of her face exposed and she had pulled her hair back into a simply ponytail. Some sort of thin nylon, or an artificial silk substance extended from her wrist to hips acting as a membrane. Kara assumed it was an aid to stabilize her flight, or to allow her to glide for short distance to avoid unnecessary strain on her vocal chords.
With a slight frown Kara turned and headed back toward home. Theresa possessed powers that had nothing to do with the supernatural. Did that mean Amara and Sil did as well? It would be kind of stupid to use Amara as the reason to skip out of a date if she wasn't at least in the know and willing to cover on the spur of the moment.
/ / /
"Theresa was on a date," Kara told Trish as the older woman got ready for bed. She was leaning against the wall giving her some privacy as she changed into her night clothes. Keeping things from Trish felt wrong, as if someone had taken a red hot poker and were burning a hole straight through her guts. Worse, that someone was wearing her face. "Didn't really feel like intruding or playing fifth wheel. Maybe if I knew them better…?" She finished with an unseen shrug.
Trish stepped out of her room and wrapped her arm around Kara's thin shoulders and pulled her along into the small pallor dining room. She maneuvered her onto the couch. She grabbed the remote and turned the television on. A middle age anchor appeared on the screen, gray was just beginning to fleck his once dark hair and he looked about ten pounds heavier than he did just a couple of years ago. She had never been one to channel surf but she suspected Kara would not much appreciate being forced to watch the news. "Anything specific you want to watch?" She inquired.
Kara arched an expressive eyebrow as she said, "Seriously?" Trish tried to keep the remote away from Kara but the teenager was far too fast. Her hand had barely moved but the remote was already gone.
"We need to come up with ground rules," Trish said in something of a huff.
Kara smiled at Trish as she began flipping through the channels. "You mean like no…?" Kara began but she suddenly fell silent as she stood up and looked out onto the terrace. Trish's gaze followed Kara's as a flock of pigeons and other birds burst into the air.
"What is…?" She started but Kara moved with a sudden swiftness and pulled her off the sofa and forced her under the small hardwood dining table.
"Stay there," Kara ordered a moment before Trish felt a deep rumbling and the building… The entire city started to shake. Somehow Kara managed to maintain her balance even during the worst of the shaking. It was as if she was somehow riding out a wave.
Kara closed her eyes as a bit of something seemed break loose inside her head. A tiny little piece of a fragment. Night time in the woods, it was warm and the trees were shaking as the ground itself grumbled and heaved in the darkness. Sometime later… The same night, a different one she didn't know. Dark, cold. Nothing.
The shaking stopped and Kara remained perfectly still. Her eyes were still shut tight. "It's safe," she finally said. Her voice was distant as if she were somewhere far away.
"How did you know?" Trish asked as she crawled out from under the table. Even she could hear the car alarms and sirens. She couldn't even begin to imagine what Kara must be hearing.
Kara finally opened her eyes as she said, "The animals started going crazy and then… I don't know? It's like I could feel this pressure that needed to be released." Turning slightly Kara caught Trish's eyes almost pleading with her as she said, "I can hear them. Trapped, scared…"
Trish exhaled as she looked up toward the ceiling and the havens beyond. Kara would stay if she told her to but Trish didn't think she could do that to her. It just might destroy a little piece of the young girl. "Be careful out there Kara. Don't do anything… Foolish." She had almost said stupid but managed to change the word at the last moment.
Kara beamed like a child who just learnt that Santa was going to pay them a special visit because she had been so good. Without a moment's hesitation Kara rushed toward the balcony and leapt over the edge spreading her arms out wide.
Rushing forward Trish called out, "And find something to cover your face!"