Chapter 10: A Starting Point
The moon rose high above the city, with thousands of stars shining beside it. Calling such a mesmerizing wonder anything short of spectacular would be a cruel understatement, and witnessing a beauty like this, unshrouded by clouds and factory-produced smoke, was truly a sight to behold. Quite a shame that this spectacle had but a single observer.
An eleven-year-old boy, sitting on a wall, eyeing the naturalistic masterpiece above with the smallest of smiles.
The time has finally come. Seven excruciatingly long years of waiting, training, and preparation, he brimmed with excitement. Seven years of sitting on the sideline, while people- innocent people around are hurting, suffering... dying, are over. Now, I can finally do something about it, finally use the power given to me to protect them, a face of his mentor, his friend, came before his eyes. I won't let your lessons go to waste, Max. After all the effort you put into helping me hone my body, after all the knowledge you passed onto me, after all the support you've provided when I needed it the most, I'll make sure it pays off.
Jalyn would love to enjoy the scenery up there a little bit longer, doing it alone added so much more to the fascinating experience. The thing that detracted from it, however, was the fact that-
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SMILING AT?!" Yuri roared, noticing that another -while undoubtedly eloquent, astonishingly poetic, and extremely well-put together- self-absorbed rant of his had fallen on deaf ears.
-he had quite an unpleasant company with him.
Green irides turned red in a flash, as the young soon-to-be vigilante's blissful expression morphed into one of disdainful annoyance. Ever since the incident, he kept having the same dream either on his birthday, or within a month after it: The night sky, a dirty, stinky alleyway, and a pathetic excuse for a human being screaming his throat out at him. On an annual. Fucking. Basis.
He turned his head to a loud-mouthed nuisance below, crimson-eyed glare directed right at the empty eye sockets.
"Well, would you look at that," Yuri spat sarcastically, "his royal, fucking, majesty finally graced me with his precious attention. You must be real happy, now that your idiotic dream is about to come true, eh?" he smirked. "I, for one, am dying all over again to see you fuck everything up and add a coupla' more corpses to that measly body count of yours. I mean, just four people? Seriously? And three of 'em are the poor bastards you were too fucking slow to save. We both know you can do so much better, Flamie," half of Earth's snake population must have been sucked dry so that the bastard could emphasize the boy's nickname with such venom.
In a blink of an eye, Jalyn was standing right in front of his first victim, staring at him so intently, it was a wonder the asshole hadn't had a few holes burned in him yet. The man involuntarily backed away, his body language betraying the underlying fear he was trying to hide with his bravado.
"Your whining is really getting on my nerves, Zombie," he growled. "Whenever I end up in this damn dream all you ever do is yell, scream, curse, throw tantrums, toss around worthless insults, and chastise me for accidentally taking your life. Makes me wonder: What right does a child-murdering pedophile have to criticize me? What kind of nonexistent moral high ground you've made up in your sick mind to judge me from? I don't know what kind of person you- the 'real' you were. But I can tell with one hundred percent certainty that he was a weak, pathetic, sniveling fuck, whose only way to prove his importance was to hurt, defile, and snuff out helpless and innocent children. You have no right," he hissed through his teeth, "to even consider yourself a victim, you hypocritical piece of shit. What I did was terrible, I know it, but at least I have some human decency to regret it, to hate myself for it, something he hadn't. I've found the tiniest, slimmest bit of comfort in that his demise ensured that no one else will suffer because of him, that I was the last person he broke. Well, let me tell you something, and listen carefully, because I have no intention of repeating this to you:" he leaned closer to his verbal adversary, lowering his voice to a whisper, doing his best to ignore the horrid smell that reached his nose, "I am not killing anyone ever again."
Yuri stood silent for quite some time, blinking a couple of times -which might have been a hard feat to accomplish due to his lack of eyelids-, and undoubtedly coming up with yet another series of insults and swears, the boy concluded.
The inevitable chuckle was dryer than the boy expected, and, much to his surprise, instead of a furious, hateful rant, a calm statement left his mouth, "With that cursed abnormality of yours, it's only a matter of time."
"The only thing I was 'cursed' with is meeting you seven years ago," the boy quickly retorted, stepping back. "And don't you dare say the word 'Flamie' with your wretched mouth ever again, only my family is allowed to call me that. You do that again, and I'll do my damnest to ensure you'll come to regret it."
He felt like something was pulling at him, which meant his awakening from this dream, but before the world went to white, he heard Yuri's voice once again.
"I hope you'll fucking die out there, Jalyn."
The pyromancer only flipped him the bird in response.
He woke up in his bed, and a quick glance at the clock told him that it was around 10 in the evening.
"Only three hours had passed, huh," the boy muttered. "How the hell does time pass in that dream?"
Feeling refreshed, he got off the bed and headed toward the closet, wondering what he should wear for his first patrol.
The choice fell on his best pair of jeans, a black dress shirt, which was promptly untucked, and a brown overcoat. Why someone who never felt cold once in his life needed an overcoat was something he could not understand, but his parents insisted that he wore it, so he obliged
He tied his, now much darker, shoulder-length hair into a ponytail, yet again using "Ebonflame" -a new name he picked as a replacement for a much cruder-sounding "Blackfire"- ring instead of a band.
"Looks better than I expected," he noted to himself, looking in the mirror.
With the knife in his back pocket and the necklace around his neck, he headed downstairs. Due to his family, with the exception of his mother, having some strong drinks in celebration of his birthday, they were soundly sleeping in their respective bedrooms, with Max comfortably squeezing a pillow and snoring on a sofa in the living room. With the coast clear, he quietly made his way to the hallway.
Just as he was about to exit the house, he heard the second floor's floorboards creaking, followed by the footsteps on the stairs. Since everyone else in the house was passed out drunk, it had to be-
"Sorry if I woke you up," he looked at his approaching mother.
"Oh, don't mind it, I just had a hard time falling asleep, what with your father practically sweating alcohol and all," Victoria chuckled, but her smile slowly faded, and a worried expression formed on her face. "You're... heading out already?" she asked quietly, her fingers fiddling with her hair.
"Oh... well, yeah," the boy scratched the side of his neck. "As per the agreement," he added with a silly smile.
"Twinkle, please, be very careful," she said with a pleading voice. "I know you've been waiting for this for so long, but..."
"Mom, I can handle it, I haven't spent these years training for nothing," Jalyn tried to reassure her. "Don't tell me you're questioning Max's teaching abilities," he added jokingly, letting out a little laugh when a loud sneeze came from the guest room the moment he finished his sentence.
"Son, I'm serious," she said sternly, wrapping around the boy's warm hands with hers, "promise me you'll be careful," she squeezed them gently.
"Mom," he murmured with a soft smile, "you have nothing to worry about, I'll be fine. I promise."
Victoria nodded and released his hands.
Jalyn reached for a door, but then paused for a second, "Thank you, mom," he said warmly.
The woman raised her eyebrow, "F-for what?" she asked, surprised by the uncaused gratitude.
"For believing in me when I needed it the most," he opened the door and went outside. "I'll be late, so there's no need to wait for me, have some good sleep."
She locked the door behind her son, took a few steps back, and leaned against the wall. A long sigh escaped her lungs.
She dreaded this day would come. The day when her son, her sweet little boy decides to go out on the streets and throw himself into the hordes of criminals that have been plaguing this once beautiful city for years.
She couldn't stop beating herself over sending him home alone on that cursed day, right into the arms of that... abomination. He broke her child that day, the scars he left on his soul were far deeper than the ones on his body, the scars that would probably never heal. She had to do something, something to distract him from the pain, the devastation he was going through, so she nudged him into following that childhood dream of his. Becoming a hero, just like those in his favorite cartoons. She hoped he'd grow out of it, but the boy persisted. Trained like there's no tomorrow. Honed his boy and quirk, and, she hoped, his mind.
"The choice he made is for the good of the people", she told herself to make herself feel better. But what about him, what good it'll do him? Over the years, decades, centuries, even, brave men and women tried to stand up against much greater, yet much better-hidden injustice. Men and women who were wiped off the face of the Earth, as if they never existed. Was that the fate that awaits her son?
She tried to shoo those thoughts away. Jalyn was different, she believed he was.
She...
God, she hated letting him go.
"'Nothing to worry about', huh?" she mumbled to herself. Oh, how she wished that he was right, that she'd been blessed with the ignorance of what was truly happening out there, of the monsters with human faces doing whatever they please when the sun goes down, maybe then the fear for her son's well-being would stop eating her from the inside.
Victoria went to the kitchen, if she wanted to get some sleep, a cup of warm milk would definitely help.
One cup later, she was lying in her bed beside her husband, her consciousness fading away, bit by bit.
She prayed he'd be all right.
Prayed her son wouldn't be harmed, neither tonight, nor tomorrow, nor the day after.
Prayed that when she woke up...
Her son would be alive.
The city sure has changed over the past three years, a young boy, with the lower part of his face covered by what at a first glance seemed like a simple mask, mused, as he strolled the streets of what used to be a rather small city. Whoever's in charge of this whole "City Renovation Project" is really making sure their money is well-spent.
Construction sites could be seen in the distance, a few for shopping centers, and a couple for brand-new hotels, he also heard some talk about a casino being planned as well. And, of course, there were apartment complexes, most were already built, and the rest are to be finished by the year's end. Unsurprisingly, they were twice or thrice as tall as those he got used to.
You just got to make 'em taller, huh? the acrophobe sarcastically noted to himself. Oh, well, a problem for future me to solve. Now, onto the matter at hand: Where the hell do I begin?
He understood that robbers, kidnappers, drug dealers, and all the other kinds of unlaw abiding citizens won't automatically fall on his lap to receive a free sample of get-a-fist-in-your-teeth, but at least having some starting point would be nice. The thought of stumbling blindly in the dark the whole night didn't appeal to him in the slightest.
Jalyn scratched the back of his head and sighed, he'd be a fool to expect everything to play out for him from the get-go, so, with no specific destination in mind, he just walked with his hands in pockets, keeping an eye -and ear- out for anything even remotely suspicious.
Nothing, in particular, stood out to him on his way, a couple of drunks on a bench, who were loudly debating on current events with eloquence some politicians would be envious of, especially with the part where one of them would "cut that Disembowler son o' whore's balls and shove 'em up his ass", then there was a homeless old man, who, much to his own surprise, had significantly more cash in his hat as the boy passed him, oh, and some guy on the other side of the road that was... tailing a woman.
That one rang a bell in the young vigilante's head, but it could've been a simple coincidence.
Following said woman into an alleyway, however, slammed that poor little bell with a sledgehammer.
A very, very passionate make-out sesh he stumbled upon just made it a whole lot awkward for him. Luckily, he was stealthy enough not to ruin the moment between the two lovebirds, so he bolted out of the immediate area as fast as he could, inexplicably glad that Ebonflame hid his extremely red cheeks.
Oh, well, he looked at his phone, it was well past midnight at this point, a waste of time as it is, but at least nothing bad happened. That's a win I guess.
A deep sigh escaped his lungs.
That... wasn't quite how he imagined things would go. A bit more action would have been preferable... not the kind he stumbled upon kilometers ago. The city was quieter than he thought it'd be, not the dangerous cesspool Max had warned the boy about. He figured that a couple more hours wouldn't hurt, then he can get back ho-
He heard a loud noise coming from around the corner, a metal twisting and glass shattering, to be precise. He was close to rushing right toward the source of disturbance, but his gut told him to take a slow approach instead, and if there was anything he learned from his mentor, it was that trusting it was the best course of action. Peeking from the corner, the vigilante saw a group of five men, all wearing balaclavas, one of them was wielding a crowbar while the other held a bat, breaking into a jewelry store. One of them was on the watch, anxiously holding the wooden bat, while the other four were carrying bags with stolen goods and throwing them in the car's trunk.
"Hurry the fuck up," the lookout man urged the rest, "we don't have much time before the pigs arrive."
"Hey, we're going as fast as we can," one of the other four complained. "What use they have for those fucking things, anyways?"
"It's a test, you moron," a third voice chimed in. "The dumb-fuck owners refused to pay for protection, so we have to show them how much of a mistake that was."
"So all we gotta do is steal some shit and mess the place up, and that's it, they'll let us join in? It's that easy?"
"Yep, just like that. One of us has to bring them a couple of bags to the fountain at Old Park, and we're officially part of the Big League," another man clarified. "Now shut fuck up and keep filling 'em in."
Multiple opponents, two of them armed, might be packing some heat, Jalyn noted. Working for somebody else, some sort of an initiation for a gang, by the sounds of it. Got to visit their recruiter once I'm done with them.
He stepped out and slowly walked toward them, not even trying to hide his presence anymore.
"Someone's coming!" the first guy called out to his buddies, who quickly rushed outside.
The five of them exchanged glances with each other before one of the thugs finally spoke.
"Who the fuck are you?" no answer came from the mysterious figure before them. "Whatever," he muttered, getting closer to an unwanted witness. "Listen here, pal, we're busy with some real important business here, so I'll give ya a free advice: Just turn around, pretend you saw nothing, and leave in one peace, how 'bout that?" he was now right in front of the masked man, towering slightly above him.
Jalyn slowly shook his head, hands still in pockets.
"Your funeral," a nonchalant statement left his mouth.
The man swung his right arm aiming to punch his new-found opponent in the face, but a quick blow to the nose put a stop to it, causing him to stumble backward.
"Wha-," he couldn't even finish his first word when a rather powerful blow to the stomach caused him to double over. Before he had a chance to recompose himself, a couple of hands grabbed him by the sides of his head, pulling it down, and a knee flew right into his jaw, causing a tremor inside his skull. The man took a few shaky steps back and promptly tumbled down. His opponent caught him by the collar, breaking his fall, and carefully laid him on the ground.
The last thing he wanted is splitting that moron's head on the concrete.
The remaining quartet's shock quickly dissipated, and they ran toward the bastard that just knocked their friend out.
One of them threw a direct kick at the vigilante's stomach, but he just swatted the man's leg aside with his right hand and used the opening to slam his left elbow right into the man's chest, causing something to crack underneath the skin. The air escaped the thug's lungs, and an attempt to breathe made it feel as if they were set on fire. He lost focus and was too late to notice the heel of his adversary's boot caress his cheek in a rather rough way, knocking him to the ground. Lying on the ground, holding his side, and groaning in pain, he winced when a hand reached for his face, only to sigh in relief when it just removed his mask. Then he spasmed again, as the pain in his lungs kicked in once more.
"Motherfu-" the lookout man's rage-filled scream was cut short by a balaclava flying into his face and blinding him. It took him just a second to remove it, but it was all the distraction Jalyn needed to close the gap between them and deliver an uppercut that jolted the batter's head with enough force to knock him out. The last thing he saw before everything went dark was him flying at one of his pals.
"W-what the fuck?" one of the remaining two thugs asked incredulously, as he helped the other one to get the motionless body off of him. He adjusted his grip on a crowbar and gritted his teeth.
Just a minute ago there were five of them, ready to fuck up some asshat that showed up outta nowhere, poking his nose in their business. Nothing, nothing about that shorty screamed trouble, but now three of his friends were lying unconscious, and one of them was fucking flung at them like a rag doll. Said man stomped on the bat, breaking it in half, then slowly raised his head, eyes fixed on the duo. For some reason that runt now seemed larger, much more imposing, and threatening while he just stood there, waiting for their next move.
This bastard was thwarting their chance to escape the pile of shit they grew up in, a chance to finally make something out of themselves. He couldn't let this happen.
"The gun..." he remembered about the "insurance" they'd left in the car, turning to the last member of their group, "Get the gun!"
"Are you nuts?!" the other guy protested. "We'll gonna end up in jail if we kill that bastard!"
"We can't let him ruin this opportunity!" he roared. "I'll buy you some time, go get it and cap the bitch!"
His partner nodded and rushed to the car, while he lunged at their enemy, "Let's dance, fucker!"
Those two half-wits decided to try and kill him -just so that they could join some stupid gang- on a whim. Not as a last resort, not in a desperate attempt to survive, no, they willfully chose to commit the very crime Jalyn was forced to do without even giving it a second thought. It infuriated the boy. He casually caught the crowbar that was swung at his face with his hand. In a blink of an eye, it was coated with the "Azure Blaze", melting the metal like an ice cream in the oven, the heat spread across the now-useless chunk of metal and lightly burnt its user's palm, forcing a yelp of pain out of the man, whose eyes immediately widened in horror, as he realized who- what they were dealing with.
"You're one of them," he whispered.
Too terrified to move, he didn't even try to dodge the back-handed punch that sent him flying at the wall.
Dazed, he watched as the abnormal fuck they've been struggling with ran up to his now-armed partner. Before the poor guy could even line up the shot, his wrist, tightly squeezed by the vigilante's grip, was redirected downward, the whole clip being emptied on a concrete. The prick in a coat then grabbed his friend by a throat with a free hand, effortlessly lifted him up, and slammed him on the ground. Despite the scared felon's pleas, the pyromancer mounted him and delivered two consecutive, nigh-instant blows to his jaw, putting him out of commission.
Before his eyelids involuntarily closed, he saw as this thing slowly stood up and turned around, its crimson eyes glaring into his very soul.
It took a couple of seconds for the boy's rage to subside. Jalyn then inspected the unconscious bodies to see if there were any life-threatening injuries. Much to his relief, none were found. A bruised rib here, a few missing teeth there, an insignificant burn, and some fractured jaws to round it all up, it'll hurt when they wake up, but it was nothing to write home about.
Now that the quintet of dickheads was dealt with, he had to quickly finish things up and move out to Old Park. Five tentacles slithered from under his shirt, carefully wrapping around each thug. He lined them all against the wall, took their masks off, emptied two bags, placing the jewelry inside back where it belongs, filled them up with bricks conveniently scattered around -absolutely none of them were torn off the walls by him, nuh-uh-, and ran off deciding against chaining the crooks with Ebonflame since he heard police sirens far in the distance.
The police car pulled up shortly after Jalyn's departure, and two men got out of it.
"Well, fuck me sideways," one of the police officers took his cap off in astonishment, "looks like Christmas came early, eh, Sam? Someone sure saved us a whole lot of trouble here," he addressed the other one.
The second man quietly examined the crime scene, the shop's gate was busted open, display cases were broken, some looked like their contents were hastily put back in place, the shop itself looked absolutely trashed, and multiple bags, filled with jewelry, were found in the car's trunk. The assumed culprits were propped against a wall, beaten unconscious, and groaning in pain.
"Sergeant Semyon Smirnov, reporting in," he said over his radio. "Upon arriving at the scene, obvious signs of breaking and entering, burglary," he glanced at the beat-up bodies, "attempted burglary, disturbance of public order," his eyes fell upon the pistol lying on the ground, "and possible illegal possession of firearms were found. Suspects have been subdued prior to our arrival."
"Was it really necessary to mention the last part?" his partner chimed in.
"I don't fancy the idea of taking credit for someone else's actions, Vlad. Now go see if there are any witnesses around," he pointed at the nearest apartment building, some windows were lit, signifying that people heard the commotion and decided to check out what it was about. "In the meantime, I'll try to figure out what the hell happened here."
"Oh, come on," a whine came out of the other man, "why am I always the one who questions those gawkers?"
"Well, if you're so eager to do the paperwork later, instead..." Semyon smirked.
"Right on it, Sarge," he chirped, gave the officer two thumbs up, and left.
Semyon cuffed the perpetrators before taking a closer look at them, the newly-forming bruises gave him a hard time determining their age, but he concluded that they were in their early twenties, just a few years younger than the man himself.
"Way to ruin your lives before you even started living," he solemnly muttered.
He noticed the molten, steaming piece of metal and crouched beside it. And what is that supposed to be? A crowbar, perhaps? They had to pry the gates open somehow, he rubbed his chin. I doubt that whoever they were fighting with had the flamethrower with them, so that only means...
He heard a quiet groan coming from behind, followed by chains clanging. "Damn it!" one of the thugs woke up and immediately hissed in frustration and pain.
"Who did this to you?" the policeman asked.
After a couple of seconds of silence -most like spent on coming up with a somewhat believable excuse-, the man spoke. "The boys and I were just minding our business when some abnormal fuck came outta nowhere and kicked our asses."
An abnormal individual, then? Figured as much.
Semyon chuckled, "And what kind of 'business' were you minding near the busted jewelry store?"
"The mindful one," he snarked.
"The asshole tried to rob the place when we stumbled on him," the second, now-conscious man chimed in, earning a glare from his accomplice.
"Oh, so it was you guys who stumbled on him now, huh?" officer gave them an amused look. "And, obviously, the man responsible for the burglary conveniently left the car with stolen goods behind and just ran off after tearing you guys a new one."
One of the suspects cursed under his breath.
"Hey, Sam," his partner came back. "I asked some folks and they all said that, after waking up to gunshots, they saw some guy in a coat with a ponytail beating the shit outta these fuckwits. Also, Dispatch contacted me, told that we should get them to the station. So get the fuck up, you imbeciles," Vlad addressed the slowly-awakening soon-to-be convicts, and pointed at the police car, "your chariot awaits."
"And how in the shit the five of us are going to fit in there?" one of them asked in disbelief.
"Now that is another business for you to mind," Semyon answered cheekily.
The wave of nostalgia washed over Jalyn as he walked the familiar tropes of the place that once was Central Park, now better known as the "Old Park". Faint memories of strolling here with his parents, eating ice cream, and enjoying his pre-Incndent life came to his mind.
Now, unused for years, it was, according to Max, nothing more than a junkie den, one of many others all over the city. Made sense that such a place would be chosen as a meeting place for a bunch of low-lives.
Upon reaching the fountain, the first thing to catch his eyes was a group of three people. Compared to the run-down surroundings, they really stood out, what with the stylish two-piece suits and expressions screaming of their exaggerated sense of self-importance.
"Took your sweet time getting here, didn't you?" the man in the middle asked sarcastically, noticing the person with two bags approaching. "We were starting to think you've been caught. Although, losing your little group wouldn't be that huge of a loss for our organization if you were incapable of completing such a simple job," a smile, full of condescension, formed on his face.
Jalyn silently threw the bags on the ground, a loud thud indicating the hefty weight of their contents.
"Oh, strong and silent, are we? Now that is something we would need, provided it's more than just a farce," he rubbed his hands together. "Let's see what Santa brought us, eh, boys?" he nodded at the two men beside him, who drew their firearms in case the meeting goes awry.
Oh, if only they knew...
The man opened the bags and, after a short pause, laughed darkly.
"Now that's a killer, pal," he pulled a brick from the bag, stood up, and nonchalantly dropped it on the ground. "You have no idea who you're fuckin' with, dontcha?" he snapped his fingers, and the thugs beside him took a few steps forward, guns trained on Jalyn's head. "Been great knowing you," he said grimly.
In a blink of an eye, two tentacles shot out from the ground and wrapped themselves around the gunmen, lifted them up, and slammed their heads together, promising them one hell of a headache in the morning.
The recruiter jumped back in shock before cursing out in surprise and pulled out a gun of his own, which was promptly yanked out of his hand by yet another tentacle that quickly retracted back into the boy's palm. With no effort on his part, he crushed the pistol with his hand, a feat that would've been unachievable without Ebony Armor's strength boost.
"Wait!" the man yelled out, raising his hands defensively, before clearing his throat. "Wait. Looks like we've got off on the wrong foot, I might have overreacted a bit to that joke of yours, but you've gotta understand: it's three in the fucking morning, and I'm kinda tired and was in no mood for jokes. After your little presentation, I can safely say that you're exactly the type of person we nee-" a pair of soles making acquaintance with his face put a quick stop to his spew of bullshit. Sending him flying back a few meters was a pleasant bonus.
Now that was one hell of a walk in the park, Jalyn's gaze fell on the knocked-out men. And what am I supposed to do with these three assholes? Taking them to the police station is pointless since there is no evidence of their involvement with that burglary. He quickly looked around and scoffed, And of course there are no cameras around, I doubt they would have chosen this place for a meeting if there were any. Oh, well, as much as I hate to admit it, there's nothing I can do right now. Guess I can call it a night.
He headed home, satisfied with his first patrol. In the grand scheme of things, a scuffle with a group of morons may not matter so much, but it's a start.
He looked at the sky above with a faint smile on his face. Even if it was obscured by clouds and factory smoke, it was still beautiful.
The streets were quiet, not a single soul in sight.
Jalyn's smile slowly faded.
From the moment he left his house, and up until now, he had this... feeling in his gut.
He could explain it earlier when there were people around, but why did he feel it now?
Why he feels as if...
...he's being watched?
"I'm telling you, we're not the ones you need!" one of the failed burglars protested. "It's that freak you should be going after, he's the one that jumped us, he's the real culprit!"
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Vlad cursed under his breath as he rubbed his temples before slamming his hands on the table, "Why the FUCK you and your dumbfuck buddies keep trying to bullshit us?! Just fucking admit it, already!"
"I'm telling the truth!" the culprit kept pushing.
"Your 'truth' is the third one we've heard this night," Semyon spoke up. "And don't think we didn't hear you five whispering in the backseat back at the car. You're just digging yourselves deeper by lying to us."
"You have no idea how strong that... thing was, if it punched you in the head with the same force it did us, you'd forget stuff as well. I mean, it threw me at my pals as if I weighed nothing," he winced as he rubbed his chin, "it's a miracle my jaw is still in place after that damn uppercut."
"First, it's 'him'," the calmer officer interrupted, "second, we've already got the footage from the scene, and it specifically shows that five masked people broke into that shop, and, unless his abnormality allows him to clone himself in addition to throwing fire, your version doesn't hold up. At all."
"And third," Vlad joined in, "since your face is already as fucked up as it is, nobody will notice a couple more bruises, so admit it before I lose my patience, you fat fuck!"
"Calm down," Semyon said sternly. "We've already discussed this."
"You won't get the confession out of him by playing nice, Sam," the man in question turned to his partner and pointed his finger at the cuffed thug. "Pieces of garbage like him won't understand shit unless you beat it into them."
"People won't respect us if we treat suspects like this, damn it!" he started losing his composure. "We should be better than this!"
"Well then fuck the people! These five retards have been fucking with us for THREE HOURS ALREADY, AND THE ONLY REMOTELY USEFUL INFORMATION WE GAINED IS HOW THAT FUCKING WALKING FURNACE LOOKS LIKE!" Vlad roared.
Semyon took a deep breath, and then offered his colleague a cigarette, which he gladly accepted. "You're tired, I get it. Go take a break and cool off a little, then we'll continue," he said calmly.
"Yeah. Okay," the second man's voice had apologetic undertones in it. "My bad."
Just as he was about to leave the interrogation room, the door opened. Both men straightened up and saluted the newcomer.
"Captain," they said in unison.
"At ease," the older man made his way toward the thug and uncuffed him. "Your friends are waiting for you at the exit, you're free to go, young man. We apologize for the misunderstanding."
"Sir..." Semyon was about to protest, but his superior raised his hand, silencing him. When the younger man limped out of the room, the colonel spoke.
"Proceed, sergeant."
"Sir, why would you let him go?" a shocked officer asked. "What do you mean by 'misunderstanding'? We caught them red-handed. There are eyewitness reports!"
"Indeed there are, and I've familiarized myself with them quite well," the man sat down on a now-vacant chair. "All they said was that those poor boys were beaten unconscious by that monster."
"But, the security camera footage-" Semyon was not giving up, but he was rudely interrupted.
"We can't judge from that alone, who knows what kinds of powers it has in its repertoire?" the older man looked at his wristwatch. "Gentlemen, you may head home if you wish, I believe that tonight must have been extremely taxing for you. Take a day off as well. After all, I wouldn't want our newest investigators to underperform on their very first day," he gave them a small smile.
Semyon and Vlad exchanged glances, clearly surprised by such an announcement.
"Good night, boys," the captain placed his hands on their shoulders and left the room.
A few minutes passed in complete silence.
"Huh, guess we scored a promotion, eh, Sam?" he playfully hit his partner on the shoulder. "This night wasn't that bad after all."
"He let them go..." Semyon whispered. "Everything pointed at them and he just let them off the hook."
"Eh, pay it no mind, that's just how things are. Now I don't know about you, but I'm going home," he headed toward the door, yawning, "man, I'm tired."
The last man stood there with a defeated expression on his face. Hundreds of thousands, if not millions, worth of property damage, an attempted murder, and they just were set free.
"Dammit," he sighed in dejection.
The quintet left the police station in high spirits, despite the humiliation they suffered today. After all, they miraculously managed to evade a prison sentence, and that in itself was good enough reason for a smile.
A smile that quickly faded away when they noticed a black limo parked in front of the station. A bald, tall man in a two-piece suit was standing beside the opened backseat door and invited them in. They felt like refusing the offer would end up with them having a not-so-nice one-way trip into the woods in that limousine's trunk, so they quietly got in.
To say that atmosphere inside was tense was to say nothing. A man with a cigar in his mouth sat on the opposite end of the salon. They felt as if they were kids, that are about to be scolded by really, really angry and disappointed parents.
"You boys look like you had a rough night, didn't you?" he spoke in a calm, collected voice, surprisingly, there wasn't even a hint of anger in it, yet the sheer confidence alone gave away that the man was no recruiter, not a lieutenant even, no. The leader of the organization himself sat in front of them, which didn't ease their anxiousness in the slightest.
The "boys" were too busy examining their feet, too terrified to look the man in the face, let alone utter a single word.
"It's a common etiquette to respond when spoken to," the muscular man sitting near the door, possibly to prevent any escape attempts, rubbed his knuckles.
"Piotr, please," two words were enough to calm the one they assumed was a bodyguard down.
"S-sir," one of them started, carefully choosing each word as if his life depended on it, which, judging by the circumstances they're in, it did, "we're sorry that we've f-failed your test and got caught. We p-promise we'll do better if you give us one more chance."
"No, I don't think I will."
Their blood froze when the answer came. The seconds of silence felt like hours, the tension was so thick, it was a wonder it hadn't crushed them under its weight yet.
"You've passed."
A chorus of relieved sighs left their lungs, as their confused eyes darted to the man.
"Yes, you may have failed at acquiring the jewelry," the boss clarified, "but the damage you did to the shop will be enough to make the owners more... predisposed to accepting our terms."
"S-so, we're in?" a thug with a hurt rib asked, still holding his chest.
An amused chuckle left the imposing figure's lips.
"Yes, you're 'in'. Tomorrow we'll start the preparations for your official joining. Welcome to the Family, boys."
The Big Leaguers exchanged excited glances. They made it.
"But before we get you all home," the man leaned forward and interlocked his fingers. "Tell me about everything that happened back there."
The quintet started explaining everything, down to the last, minute detail.
While the man listened. With great interest.
Author's Notes:
Okay, time to go through the list:
A teeny-tiny sprinkle of worldbuilding? Check.
An obligatory subplot about a law-enforcement figure that may or may not be relevant to the story? Check.
An introduction of a primary(?) antagonist that our stalwart hero(?) will inevitably clash with? Check.
An unjustifiably long break between chapter releases? Hmm... maybe next time.
Yep, that's it for today. I hope you'll enjoy reading this chapter just as much as I enjoyed writing it. Take care!