His name was Brad Makey and was one of the best trainers in town. He taught people to win races on horses. Or he taught horses to win races with a person on their back. She had forgotten the details. He was quite a charming man with a southern accent and a lot of confidence. He spoke continuously about how much he hated his boss, Bob Gibson, and how much he liked her.
She was lady Coralie Ruby Teakle, who went by Ruby. Her parents were British nobility and had entrusted her in the care of the American Society Club, where she spend her year in-between schools acquiring donations for orphanages in war-wrecked countries. She hadn't yet managed to get rid of her high-class British accent, was well-dressed and at the height of her beauty. And today she was going to convince dear Brad to support the poor children in Africa.
As she sat in her cab she memorized all these details, again and again. She could not drive yet, although she had been just over 17 when she left Britain, she had not yet been able to go for her driver's license. (She had originally thought that you had to be 18 in Britain, but thank god for Google! It were that kind of details that would get you caught.)
She did not use words like "jolly," "merry" and "gay" to express happiness. When she had tried that at home it had not at all sounded convincing. She did chatter all night long about her home in England and how different the United States were. Tonight she'd drop how Americans always wished you a 'nice day' even though they wanted nothing more than have you share a train with a suicide bomber. You didn't see that anymore in England nowadays.
As the cab dropped her off in front of the hotel she was supposed to be staying at, she told herself to 'man up.' She sat down in the lobby and ordered herself a cup of tea. While she was sipping from it, she softly hummed the melody of 'uptown girl'.
Brad Makey found her sitting there ten minutes later. "Darlin'! If I'd known you' d wait for me downstairs I would have come earlier!" She shook her head and giggled. "Earlier than this? My dear Brad, if you were to come even earlier, we would have to make reservations an hour earlier than we did now! We have time to spare as it is."
Brad nodded. "I wished to show you something so I decided to pick you up a little early. Besides, I must confess that I just could not wait to see you again, darlin'." She giggled again. "You flatter me, my dear! You flatter me!"
After a short walk ("I'll call us a cab, darlin'." 'No, my dear, if we went there by foot you can tell me all about those charming little buildings we would pass.") they arrived in front of a building. "This would be my office, darlin'" Brad told her. "Your office, but dear, why would you have an office?" While she asked that question she knew something was wrong. Whatever it was that Brad did, it involved horses and having an office in the middle of the city would be rather impractical.
"I'll tell you when we're up there, my darlin'. I can show you all our equipment and…." "I'm not going up there." The British accent was suddenly gone. "Smart girl 101, don't go up in empty building with a man who isn't even supposed to have an office." Brad frowned. "Listen, my dear, I don't know what… Arrgh. " The man was shaking on the ground and moaning in pain.
"She tasered Eliot," a blonde girl reported while she appeared from the entrance. Next thing she knew she was on the ground with the blonde on her back and a taser gun pressed into her face.
Tudedudututuu (really bad impression of the leverage cliffhanger music)
She groaned, as the guy hit her in the stomach. Then she turned the tables on him and attacked. They danced around each other, each throwing punches and taking them. Each groaning and huffing in perfect symphony. She hated being here and doing this, but she had very little choice in the matter. She didn't make the rules anymore, so she had to play by someone else's.
He huffed as she kicked all the air out of him. A quick blow to the head and he went down. Finally. Around her she heard laughter and applause. She hadn't heard the yelling and whooping of the crowd until now. The fight had taken all her concentration. When she fought the world was completely lost on her. She didn't hear anything, see anything or feel anything beyond her opponent. It made fighting bearable, because she usually didn't notice that her whole body was aching before the fight was over. That was the sole reason that she was good. She had no strength to speak of, but her ability to focus on the fight allowed her to use strategies and make moves that hurt her, but gave her a tactical advantage.
When she was announced the winner of the match, she didn't feel any pain, yet. That would come when the adrenaline fell. She mechanically went through all the motions of macho-ism: roaring for more applause, holding up her arms, saying humiliating things about her opponent ,kissing her arm muscles and all the other small signs of victory. Her heart wasn't in it, but street fighting was a sport that was as much about reputation as it was about the actual fighting.
She told the guys she was going to get hammered with some of her fans, that she was going to get laid. Just like they always told her. Fighting was a sport that mainly attracted men, so she actually had more chance to get laid than they'd have ever had. But she wasn't trying to get laid, so she left the fight club alone. At the end of the street her ride was waiting for her.
The moment she sat down on the passenger seat her adrenaline levels crashed. She groaned out in pain. "Ouch," Hardison said in her ear. "Ouch," Sophie agreed. "Yeah," Nate said, "that ought to hurt." "Ouch," Parker mimicked, as always trying to seem normal by doing what all the 'normal' people did. And as always failing because of her timing.
From the drivers' seat Eliot shot her a concerned glance. When he saw that she was still in one piece, had no broken bones and wasn't bleeding more than what was normal after such a fight, he said: "She's okay." The aforementioned 'she', grinned. "Yeah, I'm just whining." Then she immediately followed that up with a groan. Grinning hurt. So did talking.
Tudutedutetuu tudu (Just a little bit more of the leverage theme music)
Scene takes on grey shades.
"Who are you? My dear, you certainly have me a little flustered!" She looked at the three people in the room. The blonde girl took her upstairs, then had gone to assist her fallen friend. Now , she was left staring at three strangers, who in return were staring at her. The woman grinned back at her. "You're pretty good," she said. "Shame you dropped the accent downstairs though."
The girl giggled. " Oh my, you heard that? I am quite certain that my parents would be shocked to hear how my English has degraded within just one year. That is why I try to hide it when I am around upper-class men and women such as yourself. See it as a common courtesy. " The woman smiled. "You are very good. That British accent is not half bad for a girl who has never been to England in her entire life."
She shifted in her chair, averting her eyes. "So what, I'm not British royalty, sue me! It's just a trick to win donations, okay?" When none of the other occupants of the room seemed to care, she shrugged her shoulders. "What is it that you want from me?"
"Joe Banks," The man with the curly hair said. "Name ring any bells?" She shrugged. "Yeah, I know the guy." He smiled a feral smile. "Well, when Hardison here went through his financial records he found some… irregularities." The man who was referred to as Hardison nodded. "You see, this guy Joe Banks paid a pretty large hospital bill a couple of years back. Which is weird, 'cause this guy had so many insurances that even getting a backrub for his sour shoulder muscles is covered. So I looked in to it and it turns out the patient that was in the hospital wasn't this Banks guy. It was you."
"Yea, now, Joe Banks has never paid any other hospital bill, beside yours. So we figured you must be pretty close ta him. Now you're going ta tell us what your relationship is with mister Banks." She hunched over a bit. "I worked for him."
The man frowned. "Yeah, well, now, I don't believe that. You see, the guy runs a street fighting club, and he terrorizes the neighborhood. His employees need to be able to do two things, and two things only: Bashing in heads, and looking scary while they do that. Why would he hire a little girl, when there is no shortage of thugs." The girl smiled sadly. "He said that he had enough fighters, but that they were all stupid. That what he needed was someone smart to take over control when he was away on business. He said that to have a good one, he had to create one. That's why he made me his apprentice."
"Apprentice," the man continued, looking as if he had won the lottery. "Well, that may just be what we need."
-Tudedudututuu (the leverage theme, promising a whole lot of trouble)