Side-Step S
Some boys don't know when to give up.
Standing in the aisle, watching his number flash on the screen, Cherie wondered if she might have overdone it. Some strings pulled with such a lovely melody, the flow of the music so hard to resist. Maybe if she wore a more conservative top? Yes. Maybe she overdid it.
Or Bryce just didn't know how to handle being used, but then what boy did?
She hit the red icon and set her phone aside.
Cherie continued her shopping, grabbing packs of pre-made meals and cans of soup. A few fresh vegetables and meat for a proper dinner. A little thanks for a well cooked meal always felt nice, even for her.
Not that she'd hear any aloud.
Her teammates always seemed to be waiting for the moment she snapped and used her sinister power. A little meal here or there gave a small sense of ease to the lot of them. Made the music less accusatory, and more relaxing. Less need for her to wonder if they'd strangle her in her sleep.
And trips to the market were excellent opportunities to work and shop.
Cue Ryan Jenkins, PRT trooper, off duty and shopping with the family. Classic family man. Mid-thirties. Highly decorated. Handsome, Cherie thought, with a pretty wife.
Mrs. Jenkins, a lovely woman, pushed the stroller along, two small children tucked inside. Naughty of her employer to go after the PRT, but a payday is a day with pay or however the saying went.
Everyone has a string.
Cherie carefully positioned herself in the vegetable aisle. Just by watching them haggle over bananas she knew the Boss had again picked a good target. Smiles and laughs, but the music in her ear felt strained. Not a picture perfect family. How typical. Not that she judged. Heartbreaker hardly qualified as ideal family material, to say nothing of her fucked up siblings.
A good upstanding lawman was a challenge. Corrupt cops abounded, but she doubted the boss wanted dirt on an already corrupt cop. He'd just employ the man if things were so simple. Cherie tuned into the children for a moment. Always so soothing, a child's mind. Plain, simple melodies, but strung with all kinds of undercurrents. A shame. Always good blackmail fodder, children, but what of the mother?
Reaching out with her power, Cherie got a discordant hum. Disappointment, mixed with shame, and what did Mrs. Jenkins have to be ashamed of? No lust, or sense of disgust Cherie normally associated with guilt over sex, and she certainly knew about guilt and sex.
Not an affair then.
As the family moved on to meats, she turned her attention to trooper Jenkins. Love. A sickeningly deceitful tune, but typical among the unfairer sex. And one always paired with at least a little anger. Yet Mr. Jenkin's seemed more angry than most. It ran along his loving song and polluted the melody. A more recent anger. Something real rather than a back of the mind sensation.
Why would Mr. Jenkins be angry with Mrs. Jenkins, whom he loves?
Cherie busied herself with the milk jugs. Mrs. Jenkins took a box off the shelf. Then another. And another. A fairly routine shopping trip. No real clues until Mr. Jenkins took one box from her hand, looked at the price tag, and put it back. That anger sang a pinch higher, along with accusation.
PRT troopers weren't paid that badly, especially not the lieutenants.
Money then.
Angry at Mrs. Jenkins for wasting it? No. The anger didn't hold any ties to frustration or concern that Cherie usually found along with such worries. Betrayal though, that was there. Betrayal but not of a sexual nature. Cherie turned her attention back to Mrs. Jenkins and dug a little.
When she didn't find anything immediate, she reached out ever so carefully and plucked a string. Mrs. Jenkins flinched. Nothing new, other than some fear and desperation.
Cherie plucked a little harder, carefully.
Too much and Mrs. Jenkins might notice, and not being noticed earned the big bucks. Kept the Protectorate and PRT off her back as well.
A child of Heartbreaker didn't get welcomed anywhere, but one who went around teasing the emotions of people walking down the street tended to be liked less, and in a way that involved guns and capes.
She continued to increase the pull until she finally got a decent reaction. Guilt, and shame, but desire and excitement. Something related to money that made her excited and ashamed, that she still wanted to do, but that she felt guilty about…
Ah. Naturally.
But how to use it?
Cherie started searching her surroundings. Her power offered range, but grabbing what she needed and getting them in position required a little more proximity. Fortunately, there's always one. In every crowd, in every store, in every family. The person so mad for no explicable reason that they hold onto calm as a suggestion.
A smirk crossed her lips when she found Mr. Angry.
Cherie stood at the end of the aisle. When did they start making so many flavors of Coke? She started navigating him. Not as simple for her as some of her other siblings, but something that could be done. A little interest in the snack aisle, a little more at the sodas. One tug of curiosity when he heard the children to make him look, and finally a light pick on all that anger.
When nothing happened she shook her head.
How could I forget?
Cherie picked a flavor and tapped the apprehension in Jenkins Junior. What toddler isn't apprehensive about being in a strange place? The simplicity of it endeared her to children in an odd way. No deceit, or cruelty in their songs. Everything is a wonder or a terror, and toddlers respond to terror in one way.
As soon as the young boy began crying Mrs. Jenkins stopped her shopping and lifted him up. To his credit, Mr. Angry tried to control himself, but a nice little push finally got the ball rolling.
"You gonna control your kid?"
Trooper Jenkins frowned. "He's two. He's going to cry."
"Does he have to cry here?"
"Do you need those teeth?"
Cherie smiled and left the "happy" family to their affairs.
She arrayed her purchases in front of the cashier, packaged them, and left. Down the back and around the corner, she fished out her phone and dialed.
"I've been waiting, Ms. Vasil."
Cherie glanced around. Only two people in earshot, neither remotely interested in her conversation. "You can't rush a proper meal."
"What did you learn?"
"Nothing all that exciting. I suppose you could call it a gamble, not that the hubby is very pleased with it. Quite agitating, but you know love."
"And the most effective way to meet my ends?"
"Carrots," Cherie answered. "Some stews just work better with them. Though a little salt never hurt, in the right amounts, mixed at the right time in just the right way."
"Your assistance is appreciated."
She heard him lowering the phone. "And I appreciate you picking up the tab. So hard to find a gentleman in this day and age."
She eagerly awaited his response, only to be met with the same even tone he always spoke with. How dull. She even laced 'gentleman' with a mild amount of sarcasm. Surely enough to be noticed.
"I believe we've spoken about professionalism, Ms. Vasil."
"Forgive me? It's rather tiring finding ways to entertain myself."
"Hmm."
Cherie waited patiently. Teasing and toying with the players and pieces on the street certainly held luster, but nothing quite compared to doing the same with someone she couldn't feel. The thrill ran much higher. Always pushing the buttons, but carefully enough not to be pushed back. Fortunately the boss seemed the type to appreciate good work, and willing to put up with reasonable eccentricity.
"I'll send you additional names before the weekend. Give me your opinions."
"Of course. I do love meeting new people."
"Good. I'll pay the usual fee for your services."
"I certainly hope they're at least more interesting than the last few."
She really did. The Jenkins' felt so mundane in the end. The thrill of a job well done only lasted so long. Messing with Bryce was certainly a bit of fun as a new angle, and the last-minute addition of the new tinker to that little play provided some curiosity. Damn girl's self-control deserved a world record. Cherie almost pushed the anger to the point a smart person would notice before giving up. She expected so much more, especially after the boss made it a rush job. Not normal for him to spring surprises like that, even if he only wanted her opinion on the Alexandria-wannabe's mental state.
"Self-control can be so dull," Cherie murmured.
"I find a good sense of self-control an admirable quality. One you could use, I might add."
"Oh I have plenty." She smiled widely. "I just like to exercise some self-control over it!"
"Well. Be sure your self-control doesn't dig a hole deeper than you can climb out of."
"If daddy taught me anything, it's to never reach for more than you can grasp."
"Then I'd suggest keeping your hands to yourself, Ms. Vasil."
The call ended and Cherie walked the rest of the way to the loft. For most people this area of town might be too dangerous, but a little emotional manipulation solved nearly all problems.
When she got back she greeted the room.
"I'm baaaaack."
She hated the loft. Big dreary open space atop an old abandoned storehouse. A large TV, the only real extravagance, sat on one side between the windows with a pair of couches, one blue and one white. Across from it in the kitchen area, a nice faux mahogany table and chair set. All recycled, despite the money and all boring.
She found Brian still in the kitchen leaning over his paperwork. He looked as pensive as he did before she left, his eyes looking over the pages with a confused look while the pen in his hand tapped the tabletop. Lisa sat across from him. The thinker typed away on her keyboard in the kitchen. Cherie practically felt the headache herself just looking. She nursed her sixth or seventh cup of coffee no doubt. A brief glance at her laptop screen showed news reports on the past few days. Locations of fights, and records of arrests. Also known as research, the dull kind Cherie thanked her power for sparing her from.
Noting the lack of thanks Cherie opened the fridge and teased, "Oh did you go out and get food for the starving team, Cherie? Why thank you. Thank you so much for taking the time to ensure the fridge isn't empty and we aren't forced to resort to cooked dog just to survive because if we had to cook the dogs, Rachel would cook us."
Brian rolled his eyes. Lisa, damnable know-it-all, recognized the barb and felt smug for not rising to it.
No fun at all.
Cherie put the groceries away and found the remote. "I'll cook later. Right now the Bachelor is on, and I need to laugh at the desperation."
"Please no laughing," Lisa moaned. "My head hurts enough as it"—another gunshot in the distance—"is."
Cherie glanced out the window, but of course she didn't see anything. Just a setting sun over a darkening bay.
"You think they'd run out of bodies," Cherie said. She turned and relaxed on the white couch as her show started. "Or do something more interesting than shoot each other."
A shame, but a dragon fighting a tank every day would be like wanting Thanksgiving dinner for every meal. Too much of a good thing spoils the flavor. Though the day to day ins and outs of a gang war didn't make any exciting music. Just the same dreary tone with a loud bang on occasion.
"They're waiting to see how the Protectorate resettles," Lisa said. "The capes won't move until they can observe the patrol routes and know where the white hats aren't. Meanwhile the cannon fodder does all the work, and somehow knows far too much."
"Is that what's giving you the headache?" Brian asked. "You don't have to know everything, Lisa."
"I want to know," she said. "Someone giving intel on one gang to another makes sense. Happens all the time. But somehow all three gangs are getting intel on each other. Every attack is targeted. Drug houses, brothels, stashes, laundering businesses."
"Gang wars happen."
"Most aren't manufactured."
"It's not our concern."
"And I didn't say it was. I just don't like not knowing things."
Cherie threw on a knowing smirk. Not that she knew much, but she rather enjoyed the questioning annoyance that radiated from Lisa when the thinker noticed. Always pleasant watching little miss know-it-all flutter about the puzzle looking for pieces. More so when she could throw out some confusing signals and make her wonder. Tip tap tip tap against her keys, looking for the pieces she'd never find.
The channel on the TV changed, and Cherie scowled. "I was watching that."
"Too bad." Bitch walked around the couch with the remote in hand, switching of course to Animal Planet to watch some special on wolves. Girl was far too quiet for Cherie's liking. Like an actual predator. Even her emotions felt muted, contrary to the mask of anger and indifference she wore. Dog Girl legitimately didn't care about anything so long as she got what she wanted.
And the Bachelor was just getting good, Cherie thought. "Has anyone ever pointed out you have a one track mind?"
"No," Bitch replied. She sat down, patting the space beside her and letting the mangy mutts climb up onto the couch.
"I thought we agreed no animals on the furniture."
"You agreed."
Brian pinched the bridge of his nose. "We have two couches for a reason."
"Yes," Cherie replied looking across the den area. "And it completely throws off the flow of the room."
Bitch grunted.
"I'm just saying." Cherie leaned back on her own couch, stretching her arms over her head. "We're villains, not Neanderthals."
She barely needed to flex her power. The waves of ire, a slow and irksome tune, flowed easily from the feral girl. So mute on her own, but so easy to rise. So easy it didn't even amount to fun.
"Don't."
Cherie sat up. Lisa glared at her, one hand removed from her keyboard, index finger wagging in the air.
"What?"
"Don't," she repeated.
Cherie rolled her eyes. "Oh yes. Master scary." She shrugged and ran a hand through her hair. "Honestly. Like I'm going to go walking around using my power on the people who know where I sleep."
"You were thinking about it," the thinker said.
"Of course I think about it. You try walking around with this power and don't ever once think about how much easier it all would be if you just plucked a string here and there."
"Well don't."
"What did I just say?"
"Too much," Bitch said. Cherie handed it to her. She's not as dumb as she acts. The anger and murderous rage simmered under her somber detachment.
Her phone began ringing. She lifted it and hit the red button, again. "Honestly."
Lisa smiled. "You must have done one bang up job."
The sound of ego and contempt rang in Cherie's power. Agitating how Tattletale always knew how to tease her. She knew how to tease everyone really. Silly little thinker powers.
Though now that Cherie didn't have the latest renditions of female inadequacy courtesy of ABC, she needed something to do.
"It's ridiculous," Cherie said, an arm across her stomach to portray defensiveness. She turned her head to the side, but in a way that implied a coy confidence. "I've been ignoring his calls for over a week. He's still calling."
"And I said don't sell your services that way," Lisa said. Her face twitched slightly.
Legs crossed to show confidence. A frown on her face with just the right amount of faux disappointment and disgust. Lisa's brow furrowed, if only slightly. Hard to know which reactions were real and which were fake with so many mixed signals.
"I went to a movie. It's not like he actually got anything out of me. I have standards."
Another twitch. Most people wouldn't regard it as an emotion, but Cherie knew better. Pain carried its own sound. A unique blend of exhaustion, frustration, and discomfort. Cherie smirked. She didn't even need to be convincing. One fake gesture threw all the others into question, especially when Lisa had to use her power sparingly to avoid knocking herself out for a week. Just the right mix and the poor thinker walked herself into the dark.
"If you say so," Lisa mumbled. She smiled to hide it, but no use there. "I just think it's rather low to be going on dates with boys just so the boss can make an incident happen."
"Well I think the performance was great. Real art is alive you know. Not written out little plays on a stage."
Using that power a bit much lately, aren't you?
"I wouldn't call staging a riot particularly artistic."
"Give it a try yourself sometime. It's harder than it looks."
Cheating can only get you so far. You have to actually know people little miss watch and read.
"And what was more interesting? Messing with the new tinker in town, or getting Parian's face smashed with a bottle."
Fishing are you? Amusing.
Cherie put on a pensive expression, looking away as if she had something to hide. To be fair, she did, but the poor little thinker wouldn't find anything interesting up that tree. All the more reason to leave her guessing. In the end she'd only find a little stage setting for later, and a psych evaluation for the Boss' new pet project while she was at it. The boss did like killing two birds with one stone, and Tattletale did so love sticking her nose where it didn't belong.
"Tinker girl has a surprising amount of self control," Cherie answered. "But she's oh so hurt inside." Cherie laughed. "Oh. I should set you two up. You'd get along great! You share the same overbearing sense of self guilt over petty nonsense."
Lisa shrugged. "Why not? We could bond over your incessant need to fuck with everyo-"
"Can you two just not?" Brian's tone was firm and absolute. "Seriously. Do I have to put out every fire between you three?"
In a transparently feigned bid of solidarity Lisa turned on him. "And what, Brian, are you implying?"
Of course it's not over fox girl, Cherie thought. Until next time.
Brian scowled. "This is why I keep asking myself which of the three of you is more trouble." Bitch scoffed.
The light firm song of protectiveness rolled from him. Cherie couldn't resist, glancing at Lisa once and then saying, "Are you presuming that we need a babysitter?"
"You know what I mean."
Lisa's grin faced Brian, but her emotions went to Cherie. Contempt.
"It's the twenty-first century, and I don't appreciate your implication that we need a man to manage us," the thinker said.
Cherie smiled back at her. "Perhaps our glorious leader simply feels perturbed-"
Another ring filled the room, and not Cherie's for once.
Brian stood up from his seat. "The boss?"
"Yup," Lisa answered with a popped 'puh.' She gave Cherie a grin on the way to her room. Not the usual one, though a fool might not notice the different. She thought she knew something, which only left Cherie feeling annoyed. Emotions can say a lot, but it wasn't mind reading.
Still lacking anything else to entertain herself with, Cherie decided to keep teasing the Undersiders' fearless leader.
"Now, where were you?" Brian sighed. Cherie sighed right back. "You catch on so fast it's just no fun."
"Sorry to disappoint," Brian said. "But I'm not here to entertain you."
"But I'm so bored."
"Find something to do."
"I had something to do," she said. She glanced to Bitch. "Now I'm bored. You're the leader. Do something about it."
"It's not my job to relieve your boredom."
Cherie smiled, one finger plucking at the top of her blouse. "But I can think of so many great ideas."
"You're not my type."
"Never stopped me before," she sang.
"Unfortunately for you I don't need to be Lisa to know you're not actually interested."
Cherie pouted. "You could at least play along. I almost think you enjoy my suffering."
"You're more annoying when you're bored," he said. "Why would I want you to be more annoying?"
"A good question. Why do you want me to be annoying?"
"Because he's uncomfortable when you're quiet," Lisa said as she reentered the room. "You tease him and he knows you're just trying to get a reaction, but when you're silent he thinks you're plotting. Which you usually are."
"Plotting my own amusement. None of you are helping." Cherie stuck her tongue.
Brian shook his head. "Are you two going to start at it, again?"
"Go on home Brian." Lisa waved her hand at the air. "We'll all still be alive in the morning. Oh. And just sign the stupid lease. Honestly I didn't even look at the agreement and I can tell you there's no silly tricks."
Cherie raised her brow. "Lease? Why fearless leader; are you moving out?"
"Family stuff," he said curtly. "Living in the same space as the three of you is more trouble than it's worth."
"And here I'd think most boys would love to share a living space with three eligible ladies."
"What's that?"
Oh honestly Bitch.
"It's when you don't have a boyfriend, Rachel."
"Stupid," Bitch answered angrily. She pointed toward the window. "What's that?"
All three turned at once.
How interesting…
Brian and Bitch approached the window and stared.
"It's probably a plane," Brian mumbled.
Bitch grunted and went back to her TV show. Cherie almost dismissed it as well, but in the reflection on the window she noticed Tattletale's expression. Lisa frowned with a queer look in her eyes. The one her power brought up whenever it told her something she didn't understand. Didn't happen often, but when it did the little thinker tended to start popping the Tylenol.
"That's not a plane," Lisa whispered.
One of the dogs, Brutal or whatever his name was, barked at the scene.
The light on the horizon grew, spawning little lights that turned around it. What started as a faint white hue turned a vibrant green.
"A new cape?" Brian asked.
"Not sure," Lisa said. "But that is the kind of scene you make when you have no intention of playing by the rules."
Cherie smiled. How interesting.
Cherie pushed the window open. The smell of salty sea air wafted into the room. She leaned forward, taking a moment to admire the forming shape. The swirling green waves rose from the bay and stretched into the sky. The light twisted up, down, and around itself, growing in size and taking on a distinct shape as the minutes passed. The turning streams took on a shape as they grew, two dark spots forming in the void of night sky they left in the corners.
Cherie chuckled.
"It's a butterfly."
