Young Offender, Part 43:
"You come back like this? You're going to put yourself in an early grave, young man," Gilmore snapped, helping Jet sit on the makeshift gurney in the basement of the cyborgs' hideout.
"Don't flip your wig, daddy-o! That makes thirty-eight people we've rescued in four months. If I get a little banged up... ow... that does smart like a mother..." Jet groused sharply, as Gilmore checked out Jet's dislocated shoulder. The Jewish scientist gave an irritated snort and wrenched Jet's shoulder back into place. Jet screamed, causing Francoise and Albert to flinch.
Jet doubled over and started moving his arm slowly. Albert walked up and gave a chuckle. "Next time, watch where you're flying."
"Hey... I had to watch all those bullets from those damn Stasi bastards," Jet said, flashing Albert a crafty smile. "Anyway... you owe me a drink. I won the bet."
"Children!" Francoise declared, shaking her head before going back upstairs.
"Aw, you're just sore I was right," Jet called after the French girl in her own language. "Dames," he whispered to Albert.
"Keep it up and she'll come back here and choke you," Albert said, giving Jet a light smack on his uninjured shoulder. "I think I better take you out for a drink before you do get into trouble. By the way, how did you come up with that harebrained scheme?"
"Two months ago..." Jet slid off the table and accepted a cigarette from Albert.
Gilmore threw Jet's shirt at him and interrupted, "Next time, duck." With that, the man swirled around and marched up the stairs, too. Jet tugged the black shirt on, stiffly.
"I remembered that one story you told me," Jet said, picking his explanation back up.
"I've told you a lot of stories over the last several months," Albert said. Jet felt his face get slightly hot as he followed Albert upstairs. It was true. Since May, their shared room had filled with hundreds of books, thanks to Francoise's part-time job. Albert had withdrawn into books after that first mission to East Berlin, so Jet had devised a plan in hopes of striking up a conversation.
Albert used to read constantly, when they weren't on a mission to East Berlin or he wasn't at his part-time construction job. Jet had, at first, pestered Albert about the content of the books as he was reading them, which had aggravated Albert and caused more than one argument. Albert finally tossed a book at Jet one night and snapped, "I'm not your Scheherazade."
Jet asked him what that was; Albert sighed and urged Jet to read the book he had thrown at the American. It was a copy of "The Arabian Nights." The New Yorker started reading the book and found himself unable to put it down; he soon discovered Scheherazade was a "who," not a "what." After that, Albert would vacillate between telling Jet stories and making him read on his own.
"It was that poem about those idiot Trojans."
"Aeneid," Albert supplied.
"Figured Stasis wouldn't be much smarter when I saw a bunch of them get smashed a couple of weeks ago and steal all that shit from the bakery. All we had to do was get them to look at the nice shiny car after getting plastered at the bar. Bam-o!"
"Francoise and I didn't think they'd be that stupid. Almost makes me ashamed to be German," Albert teased when they got to the kitchen. He grabbed their jackets and handed Jet his. "I do owe you a drink for pulling that off."
"Yeah! And Frannie owes me a nice chicken dinner I intend on collecting tomorrow night."
"Come on, I'm thirsty, and I'm not waiting for Oktoberfest."
"What's that?" Jet asked, following Albert out of their home.
"I'll take you to Munich next week and introduce you to some real German culture."
"Frannie is planning something for your birthday," Jet whisper after they went down the block towards a beer hall. Albert groaned and shook his head. "Aw come on... you'll be what... eight-three?"
Albert lightly smacked Jet's sore shoulder and said, "Watch it, junior. I'll out drink you tonight."
"Bull! And that hurt," Jet exaggerated. They entered the beer hall, got their drinks, and withdrew to a small, secluded table in the back. They sipped and chatted casually for a while. Eventually, there was a lull in their conversation.
Jet laid his chin on the table, enjoying the light buzz when Albert asked, "So, you never take Francoise out. Why?"
Jet jerked his head up, baffled. A few moments later, Albert's implication hit him. He shook his head and smiled, "Are you asking why I've never asked her out on a date?" Albert nodded to the question. "She's really cute, but I don't think we'd mix real well. Why are you asking, anyway?"
"I just wondered how you felt towards her. I guess I wanted to urge you to ask her out if you had feelings towards her." Albert's face turned somber as he fiddled with his stein. "I let time get away. I just would hate to see the same thing happen if you had feelings towards her."
"She's a really good friend and that's all. Why are you assuming I have some sort of thing for Frannie all of the sudden?" Jet snapped suddenly, aggravated his face was flushing.
"Lately, I've remembered being eighteen..."
"I'm twenty now," Jet pointed out getting annoyed at Albert playing with the wedding bands dangling around his neck. Gilmore had returned them months ago and Albert wore them constantly.
"I just assumed you would want to find someone you were compatible with."
"Compatible? That sounds boring. But listen, I have plenty on my mind without worrying about dames. I never really went around all that much with them before the Black Ghost, anyway. Also, it doesn't help with what the Black Ghost did to us. Makes us outsiders." Jet's eyes darted around, then he leaned close to Albert and whispered, "If you know what I mean."
"Okay, okay, no need to get all defensive. I just didn't want to see you waste all your time drinking beer with an old man when there is a beautiful, young woman at home."
Jet's eyes narrowed as he examined Albert's chagrined expression. An inkling of an uncomfortable notion came to him. What if Albert was feeling him out to see if the field was clear to ask Francoise out?
"So why are you wasting all your time with me rather than asking Francoise out?" Jet blurted, and then Albert's unpleasant expression hit him about the thoughtless statement. "I mean... later when you've... you're kind of... feeling better. I mean, you two seem to have a lot in common... and..."
Albert suddenly gave him a lop-sided smile. "Stop babbling. You're giving me a headache. I feel the same way about Francoise that you do. Even if I wasn't still thinking of Hilda, she wouldn't pique my interest."
"Really? I imagined Hilda was just like Francoise. A classy girl, who always was ladylike no matter what. She was always prim and proper and..."
Albert burst out laughing unlike Jet had ever seen. It was a deep belly-laugh, full of mirth; it infected Jet, and he started snickering without knowing why.
"My Hilda had a tempter and was the most stubborn woman I had ever met. When she argued, she was very unladylike. She was tenacious when she'd found a just cause and wouldn't relent."
"Thought you'd be driven crazy by someone that likes to argue."
"Part of the appeal is the chase," Albert said with an ambiguous smirk. "She was brave, dauntless, and cheeky, but when she let herself trust me, it made me feel respected."
After several, uneasy, silent seconds, Jet decided to change the subject. "You mentioned moving on this morning?"
"Yeah. No new leads have come up about Jean-Paul, so Francoise wants to check out that rumor about Korea. Plus, Frau Schuessler said our ways into the East are drying up fast. It's getting harder for us to sneak in and break people out. Things have kind of calmed down now, too. Not as many people want to risk it."
"I know," Jet acknowledged placidly. He felt a little sick to his stomach, so he whipped up some hostility in his tone to breach his real concern. "Also, the three of us are getting too well known by the Stasi. It won't be long before those men in black suits show up."
Albert's eyes snapped up, meeting his. "We won't ever be going back." Jet shivered at Albert's dead-calm. There was something the man wasn't revealing to him. Obviously, Albert had already planned something ugly if the Black Ghost came around again; Jet had no idea what it was. Albert took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes, it's time to move on. Anyway, Kaminari and Kozumi are in Sicily. The safe house they're working on is almost compete."
"Are you thinking about leaving Ivan there?"
"Yes. He'd be in danger traveling like he is. That coma is something Gilmore still hasn't figured out. I think he's being too stubborn and too guilty trying to figure it out on his own." Albert shook his head ruefully and forced a grin. "Besides, it'll give him something to do while we look for Jean-Paul."
"Cool, Gilmore can be such a drag," Jet said, covering worry over Ivan with his irritation at the know-it-all doctor.
"Gilmore will be targeted by Black Ghost, too, so he's better off at a safe location. Keep in mind, you need him handy with as reckless as you are."
"Fine," Jet mumbled, before draining his second mug. He stretched his arms to the ceiling and stifled a yawn. "You want to get back? Frannie will started to worry."
Albert shook his head. "Not really. I don't know when I'll get a chance to relax and enjoy Germany again, and she knows where we're at. Besides, for once, I'm actually enjoying your company. You haven't been an ass and tried to pick a fight with me... so far."
Jet smiled and shook his head. "That means I'm going to have to work harder."
"Breaking people out of East Berlin has kept us in beer money, if nothing else. I don't think I could afford your thirst, otherwise," Albert said.
"I tell you, you should let me roll a few Stasi. Then we'd have more money than what people have been pushing on us in gratitude. And we wouldn't have to live off of the doctors and your part-time jobs."
"I thought you said you were reformed from a life of crime?"
"Well, it did have it's appeal. We had tons of money, then. We're broke all the time, now."
"I know, but I'm not going to let us fall into stealing from the Merchants of Death again. It's too dangerous," Albert said. Jet could see the hint of mistrust in Albert's eyes and drakness. "I know it's not about the money with you. You just want a chance at revenge again."
Jet glared and slammed his fist on the table. "As if you don't, either. At least I admit it. Besides, they need to be stopped."
Albert nodded, grimly. "Yes, but not now. The timing is wrong. I promise, we'll get our chance."
"Well, somebody has to stop them. I want that somebody to be me."
"It'll be all of us, together. Listen, I know I'm telling you something against your nature, but put it aside for now. We'll find the right time and place."
Jet crossed his arms as a third round of beer was served. "I hate waiting. It drives me nuts."
"I know you don't like to be patient, but please try."
Jet flinched back and scrutinized Albert. "Did you just ask me something nicely, rather than boss me around?"
"I figured I'd try a little honey, rather than vinegar, to see if your hearing problem would go away." Albert was now wearing that smug expression Jet used to despise so much, but now it elicited something else altogether.
"I hear just fine. It's following orders I don't always dig," Jet snapped, leaning forward hoping Albert would stop with that superior, know-it-all, cocky attitude if Jet showed a little aggressive resistance.
"It's good you know your faults," he bantered back smoothly.
"You don't want me to list your faults, Al. We'll be here all night long."
"And here I am, buying beer. I thought that would at least keep your sourness down."
"Sour? Who's sour! Your sourness beats mine any day of the week, sour kraut!"
"Albert! Jet!"
Jet flinched and looked up to see Francoise, pale as she leaned over their table. She looked harried and out of breath. Albert jumped up and held a chair out to her. She shook her head and flashed them a smile.
"My brother is in Korea. It's absolutely certain. He sent word to Frau Schuessler, a letter, and that's where the stamp was from. He wanted to tell her to keep us safe, and here, if we showed up. But he could be in danger. There's a war going on there. Please, please, Albert, you have to get us there. We have to leave tonight. I want to find him."
Jet fought down his initial trepidation and glanced over to Albert. He felt validated seeing Albert's face had a harsh, yet concerned, frown.
"Gilmore! What are you doing here?" Kaminari asked, stepping aside as the man pushed a large, green trunk into the peaceful Sicilian villa.
"The three others decided to take off for Korea before I could do anything. They just up and left me in West Berlin. Told me to come here and check on you. I figured it was a good idea, though."
Kaminari rolled his eyes and snorted. "Anytime they think to dump you at my doorstep isn't a good idea."
Gilmore yanked a handkerchief from his jacket and mopped his sweaty brow. "I'll ignore that, because I figured you'd help me with a little project."
"Got my own!" Kaminari said, thinking of the robot shaping up in the basement laboratory.
"Put it on hold! Where is Kozumi, by the way?"
"Out back in the garden. He's growing some experimental plants with medicinal properties."
"Great! Let's get to work!" Gilmore said. He threw his tweed suit jack on a red velvet settee and started unlocking the trunk.
"What's going on here, you quack?!" Kaminari shouted.
"We're going to concentrate on this!" Gilmore flipped the trunk's lid opened. Kaminari peered in and wasn't really surprised to see Cyborg 001 curled up in the bottom. "It's time we concentrated on waking him up. I've had some ideas."
To be continued.