Chapter One Hundred and Ninety Six
...
Earthstone was trying to look for a distraction without actually turning his head. The last time he'd tried to move his head, another paintball pellet had exploded, green paint splattering far too close for comfort. It was close enough to demonstrate that the person armed with this gun was an excellent shot and could have shot him wherever they wanted, and to remember that he was at their mercy. Earthstone struggled to keep his whimper quiet, though he was sure the cameras whirled on him anyway. He had spent several minutes inhaling and exhaling carefully since this position wasn't exactly good for his asthma and the smell of paint was starting to make him dizzy.
Now, he thought he had a semblance of a plan. It was either that or the paint fumes had put the idea in his head, but he knew that something had to happen either way. Earthstone couldn't lay here unprotected and half-exposed and vulnerable while surrounded by villains. Or cameras.
There was an explosion in the distance, a few blocks away, firmly on the Maxville side of Westville. Taking a chance that the noise would distract the paintball shooter, Earthstone ripped the net off his body and wriggled out from underneath it as fast as possible. His rocky form fully in place, Earthstone ran for the nearest villains, yanking them back by their suits.
"Going somewhere?" he asked triumphantly, throwing the three captured villains towards another group, knocking them over like pins.
He hoped the news feature would include sound effects.
Hiding was a plan and an excellent one at that, especially when people had feet that were far bigger than Shifter's guinea pig body. (Don't think about what it means for that cute Blue Heart guy.)
No. She had to do something. She had to be ready, and -
There was an explosion in the distance, a few blocks away, and it rocked the streets of Westville as well as the debris that Shifter was hiding beneath. She darted out of the hole, certain she'd be crushed otherwise, and heard a crash of bricks and glass directly behind her. Her heart was slamming in her chest, but Shifter belatedly realised that this was the chance she'd been looking for. She turned back to her human form and wrenched the net off Airborne, flinging it wide and as far from them as possible.
"Airborne, are you all right?"
"Shifter, where's your suit?" Airborne hissed, eyes wide and cheeks red.
Shifter looked down with a frown; she was wearing a singlet and shorts, similar to but definitely tighter than her gym clothes so it could fit beneath her new suit, but she didn't see a reason for him to blush over them. There was a whirring noise from the cameras, the sound becoming far too familiar with every passing fight, and Shifter realised that more of her skin was exposed than had ever been shown to the audience and her fans before. The media would pick on every lump and ounce of baby fat that still showed in her body, just like they did with every supposed grey hair and wrinkle on Jetstream. Clearly, Airborne was not only a great Hero but also a great boyfriend, and he'd thought about all of this and wanted to save her the embarrassment of the media's comments.
She nodded firmly, looked around for her suit that had been discarded by the Blue Hearts once the Hero had been captured, and saw it a few metres away. There was another familiar sound and Shifter spun around on the ball of her foot to avoid being hit by the paintball. She ran and dove for her suit, shifting to a guinea pig in order to scramble into it, and reforming back to her human form once she was sure her arms and legs were in the right places. Her head popped out of the top of the suit and she took a precious moment to fix her hair buns before running for Airborne, who had been hit with the purple paintball instead of her.
His face was an unsightly red colour, clashing wildly with the paint that was splattered across his shoulder, neck, and cheek. "Did you do that on purpose?"
Shifter was surprised by the question when they had other more important things to worry about now that the paintball and her movement had drawn the attention of the Blue Hearts once more. "Of course not! I had to get my suit! We've got company; three on your six," she said, nodding to the approaching Blue Hearts behind him, several of them brandishing weapons.
Airborne's red face didn't settle and he didn't look as though he believed her, but he still gave a brief nod. "Four on your six," he said authoritatively, turning to face the three villains behind him.
Shifter tried not to wonder why he was giving her more villains when she was only a mere Hero Support, but then figured it was his way of forgiving her: Airborne was clearly letting her fight more villains so she could earn more money, especially since she was paid at a lower rate than him. He really was the best Hero and boyfriend, and she'd thank him for it later, however he wanted to be thanked.
For now, they had villains to defeat.
...
Connor had stayed as close to Ryuu as he could get without getting an elbow to the ribs. Whether or not that elbow was on purpose or accident was still to be determined, but Connor absolutely refused to lose Ry in a place like this.
"Okay, it's our turn. Ready, Papa?" Ry asked as the hallway lit up orange around them, lights in the floor turning on.
"Ready," he confirmed, lied, and stood on the spot with Ryuu.
The lights turned red and they were restructured in a minute, taken up to the top of the building where Warren was already fighting.
Wardens existed in this Super God forsaken building as well, because of course they did, and Connor really wished Warren hadn't agreed to fight them all quite so easily. Sport was already in the fray, controlling radiation and making the Wardens fragile enough that Baby could land a swift kick and they'd fall to pieces at his feet.
Connor had practised using his own techniques against Wardens that Robin had created in the training arena, but the arena was a much larger space than the corridor, and also had the luxury of not getting in the way of others. There was neither the space nor luxury here, especially as the building was being rearranged to bring more of their allies.
None of this seemed to worry Ryuu, who flung himself into the fray with little regard for his safety or Connor's heart. Following his son with more trepidation, Connor created a blade in his hands. It was sharp enough to crack the Wardens, and while they'd relied on Robin breaking them apart entirely, Warren had seemingly adapted and was using vines to tear them apart from within the cracks the others made in them.
Ryuu kicked someone in the stomach, the person stumbling back with the force, and Connor realised there were more than Wardens fighting for the organisation this time. Guards and scientists, possibly human or super, but all armed with various weapons were fighting and lost between the towering bulk of the Wardens.
Connor stepped into the path of one scientist as they dared to raise their ray gun to his son's unprotected back, grabbed their wrist and broke it with a satisfying snap. They let out a whimpering cry, and with a kick to their kneecaps followed by a swift press of his hand against their pressure point, the scientist collapsed to the floor. Another person took the scientist's place and Connor felt something shift in his head or chest, or perhaps both, as he realised the gun they held was the one he'd created in the Army all of those years ago.
"Where did you get that?" Connor asked, hoping for an answer even as the person charged at him, presumably for a closer range in the compacted area.
The person seemed really determined to hurt him rather than answer his question, and Connor blocked a fist, pushed the gun hand out of the way right before three shots were fired, stepped back to avoid a knee connecting with his solar plexus, and delivered a solid kick of his own. He heard a crunch as his foot connected with the person's chin, their teeth clacking together through their tongue if the spurt of blood was any indication, and like the scientist, they dropped to the floor.
Feeling like he was pinned on either side by fallen bodies, Connor reached down to grab the gun. It really was his, the same awe he'd felt when he first made it filling him now. He'd only heard stories about weapons being created by his ancestors back then and hadn't really expected it to work. But it had, and while he'd kept the gun hidden, he'd been injured in a skirmish and his belongings had been removed during the hospital treatment. He hadn't seen the gun since, and as he hadn't been interrogated or questioned about a gun without the usual serial number or markings from an Army issued weapon, Connor had assumed it had been left on the battlefield or destroyed entirely.
There was noise and movement to his side and Connor pointed and shot without looking, the guard dropping to the floor. They really needed to do something about the bodies, he mused, stepping over and around the guard to find his son in the chaos.
Before he could, an orange light filled the corridor. Sport and Baby pushed nearby bodies onto the lights that lit up. Connor did the same with the scientist and first guard, dumping them both on the light before stepping back into the main part of the corridor. The floor split, the ceiling cracked open, and Connor almost got sideswiped by a wall moving. He was saved by Ryuu tugging him into a doorway.
"You gotta be more careful, Papa," Ryuu scolded.
"Sorry, son. You good?"
"Good, no injuries yet. You?"
"No injuries," Connor confirmed, both of them watching as the lights turned red and everything began to spin and shift.
With Heidi in charge of restructuring and Champ moving everyone like it was a giant game, they managed to stay in place while Ex arrived with several of the organisation's employees in tow.
"I hate this building. Duck and cover!" Ex called loudly, sliding down the corridor, slamming into Baby's legs. He took him down in a smooth movement, turning their bodies over so Baby was safe beneath him, even as an explosion rocked and destroyed the other half of the corridor and most of the employees with it.
A wave of power pushed at Connor and he realised that Grant had powered up across the whole building. The remaining scientists and guards faltered as their guns refused to work, and the last remaining Warden shifted back to their human form and was immediately taken out by Sport. Warren dealt with the remainder himself, and they waited for a tense moment for any more to arrive.
"That's one way to make an entrance, Ex," Sport snickered.
"Bolt, was this the last of them?" Warren asked into the walkie talkie.
"One more rearrangement, this one's just bad guys. Get ready," Champ replied as Heidi concentrated once more, sweat beading on her forehead as she controlled the building yet again, but through Grant's wave this time.
"I thought Poison wanted to fight?" Warren prompted, ignoring the orange light and trying to feel past his friends' emotions to find out if Layla was all right.
"We can't find her," Terrence said, sounding frustrated. "Layla, where are you? You're not on visuals anywhere and we can't rearrange you if you're not on a spotlight," he added as he flicked through the camera feeds yet again.
Layla's emotions filled Warren so suddenly that he felt breathless with it. He wasn't the only one, if the expressions and gasps from the others were any indication. Pure anger, far hotter than flames, burned through his body until he felt like he could grab someone by the throat and squeeze the life out of them entirely. The red lights flashed, and the last group of bad guys arrived at a very bad time for their own existence, with every person in the corridor completely and utterly enraged.
Even as he wrapped a whip of fire around someone's neck and dragged them through the corridor to him, Warren wondered what on earth had angered Layla to this degree.
...
Hourglass had clearly lost her touch, Barron thought, rolling his eyes. The vault door was fine, even after his explosion. So was he, for that matter. Jetstream and the Commander had been thrown across the street but Barron had held onto the vault's wheel in an attempt to pull it off its hinges along with the force of his explosion. His plan hadn't worked, but a few goading remarks about the Commander's mother ought to do the trick, he mused with a grin.
There was a soft groan, a still-familiar sound of debris moving beneath far too many muscles, and then the Commander and Jetstream appeared from the rubble. Dust fell from them as they placed their hands on their hips, a slight wind moving their capes as though it was a movie instead of real life.
Barron felt an ache of jealousy and other emotions he didn't dare name or investigate too deeply as he saw Jetstream and the Commander brushing each other off. They always had that sappy caring for each other bullshit. Steve had been homecoming king, Josie had been homecoming queen despite being a freshman, and they'd had an awkward dance that Barron had wanted to ruin with a well-placed fireball. So he had done exactly that, and it had earned him his villain status long before graduation. He didn't regret that; it had certainly livened the party up, though Nina had told him he was an ass for it. Barron had sweet talked her into a hotel anyway, and that's all that mattered.
"Surrender, Baron Battle!" Jetstream called, her voice gravelly with dust and debris.
"Make me, Commander."
Jetstream had a temper and Baron Battle knew exactly how to set it off like an explosive. He'd found out early as a villain that insulting Jetstream was a surefire way to get the Commander to lose his composure and start swinging his meaty fists around. If he timed it right, Baron Battle was sure he could even get the Commander to dent the door.
"Commander?! This is Jetstream! Look at us while we're talking to you, Baron Battle!"
Baron Battle laughed, evil and cruel, but kept his eyes on the vault door. "What are you going to do about it? You're as weak as a citizen."
Maybe an explosion closer to the wheel rather than the hinges would work this time?
"Launch!"
Ah, right on time. Baron Battle counted and then stepped aside as the Commander was flung forward once more, fist outstretched. As expected, that fist dented the door, though the Commander let out a hiss of pain as his broken hand healed itself.
"Commander, what happened?" Jetstream asked, landing beside him and looking at his gloved hand.
"The door has power repressing beams," Barron replied, then started to ready another explosive fireball.
He'd try the hinges again, then go for the main lock and risk the bars locking into place.
"I am talking to the Commander, not you. You certainly didn't learn any manners while in prison, did you?" Jetstream snapped at him.
Barron went to answer, to tease or jeer, but one thing that had improved in prison was his reflexes. He dodged out of the way as a piece of debris flew their way, though it was closer to Jetstream than him. Baron Battle turned, ready to throw a fireball at this new threat - maybe their kid had come to help? - and then frowned.
Was that a citizen?!
Peggy faced the two heroes and a villain armed with ... nothing. She hadn't thought of a damn thing that could help her distract and delay the heroes so that the others would have enough time to rescue her son. Now that she'd finally arrived at the bank - traffic had been hell on wheels - Peggy only had herself, the debris around her, and a softball throwing arm.
It would be enough, she would have to be enough. Honey had said she just needed to distract them for ten minutes, then there would be a time stop, and she could run away while they were frozen. The FitBit on her wrist was counting down and it felt like every minute was an hour.
Peggy scooped up some more rocks and a brick in her gloved hands, and started throwing them in the direction of the vault and not caring who she hit.
The Commander seemed to shake out of his thoughts - he'd forgotten how intense the pain could be from a broken hand - when he was knocked in the head by half a brick.
"Look out, Commander," Jetstream called, flying over while Baron Battle was distracted, determined to cuff his wrist.
Barron jerked out of the way, more out of fear than anything else. He didn't want to be cuffed again, not so soon, and certainly not while a maniac citizen was out there pelting debris at them. "Super Jesus, deal with the bitch first! Then we'll fight!" he snapped at her.
Jetstream stopped abruptly in mid-air, her face twisted in anger. "Bitch?! Just because she's actively winning against you, it doesn't mean you should call her a derogatory name like that! You've clearly been locked up with other men for too long, Baron Battle! You've got no idea what it's like for women these days, especially citizens!"
"Especially citizens?!" Peggy echoed, not sure whether her blood was boiling or her voice had turned to ice or both. "You have no idea what it's like, Jetstream!" she snapped, grabbing a larger piece of debris and throwing it at the flying super. "You have no idea how it feels to be powerless, how it feels to be invisible in a world filled with supers. You have no idea what it's like to be a single mother, how it feels to worry about work and food and rent, you don't have a goddamn clue what it feels like to be afraid for my son's life, or how I could lose him at any second for no reason because of people like you!" She flung everything she could that was within reach, ignoring the pain and shallow cuts, despite her gloved hands.
Jetstream dodged more debris and bricks, using her cape to block a barrage of glass and shards of metal. "I would never hurt a citizen! I'm a Hero!"
"This entire fucking street has been destroyed thanks to your so-called heroics!" Peggy said, indicating to the street around her filled with damage from the bank as well as the small craters from the Commander.
"That wasn't... I mean, it was from... Collateral damage occurs when there are fights between Heroes and villains," Jetstream said, hands on her hips. "It's the whole reason the boundary is established: to keep citizens safe."
Peggy grit her teeth, then spun on her heel and threw bricks at the cameras that were whirring between the sounds of debris and Jetstream's posing and voice. "And your real reason for the boundary has now been destroyed."
Jetstream realised the citizen woman's words for the truth. None of the cameras had the distinctive whirring sound, and the street was free of citizens now that they'd all run away. Well, alive citizens, anyway, she amended, glancing at the few dead bodies that littered the street outside of the bank. In fact, the whole street sounded peaceful.
"Put your hands up and fight me, Baron Battle!" the Commander snapped, his voice echoing in the quiet bank and down the street.
Well, that didn't last long, Jetstream thought, rolling her eyes, even as Baron Battle lit his hands up in a concentrated flash of flames.
Peggy made a soft noise under her breath, annoyed and frustrated that they weren't even paying attention to her anymore, then grabbed a spear of metal from the broken window. Pitching it into the bank took all of her strength, her body trembling as time continued to count down. She didn't dare check her FitBit to see how much time remained before time would stop, but she would soon have her answer.
Baron Battle had finally determined the weak spot in the bank vault door. It wasn't the wheel or even the hinges, it was the stupid computer panel. If he blew that up at the right temperature, then not even the rods could slide into place because the chip would be fried and couldn't command them to work! It made perfect sense, and he ignored the Commander's demand to fight, turning to start the delicate process of burning the shit out of the panel. The flames were hotter than anything he'd produced in some time, contained far more explosive energy than his earlier giant fireball, and he had to concentrate.
He knew that the Commander wouldn't attack while he had his back turned, and not even Jetstream would try to cuff him while his hands were lit up with blue flames like this. Back in the '90s, they'd all found out the hard way that clothes and skin could still be burnt while he was working with his hottest flame, despite their healing and the Commander's invulnerability. Baron Battle had completely forgotten about the citizen, though. He realised his mistake soon enough when a Super Goddamn javelin came out of nowhere, smacking his shoulder, and disrupting his concentration so that the flames burst in a giant wave. The Commander saw his chance and ran forward to attack, while overhead, Jetstream took a chance to dive down with her cuff while Baron Battle was distracted. The energy contained within his flames blew out across the vault door, attacking and overwhelming all of the weaknesses he'd already weakened without success earlier. The wheel fell off first, then the hinges popped off loudly, and the panel burst into flames. Baron Battle would have crowed his victory, if not for the Heroes descending upon him, and the more important fact that he was standing directly in front of the vault door that was starting to tilt down towards him.
Baron Battle didn't have the ability to stop his flames once they'd started, and all of that explosive energy continued, practically pushing the vault door down on top of him. He had a moment to appreciate that both Jetstream and the Commander would be taken out with him, and then a final second to realise that Hourglass was right, after all.
As all three were pinned beneath the vault door with power-repressing beams, Peggy's FitBit vibrated on her wrist, and time stopped.
Peggy hadn't been lying when she'd snapped and ranted (oh, god, she'd monologued, just like a stereotypical villain!), and while she was constantly terrified for Grant's life - especially now that she knew he planned on being a villain - she had been working herself to the bone to pay for every little thing in life. Food, rent, clothes, electricity, water bills, Sky High tuition, and now University of Maxville fees. Whenever she felt like she'd finally caught up with all of the payments and bills, something would happen, like her car registration would be due, or the car itself would die a dramatic death on the Super Freeway and she'd need to replace seemingly every part in the engine. Her car felt like Theuses' ship by this point, and Peggy was sure it was due to break down again soon. She'd taken the rest of this week off work so she could look after Grant, and if she didn't work, she didn't get paid.
With her chest heaving and her eyes wet with tears, Peggy took in the scene before her. The vault was wide open, the doorway surrounded by flames frozen by time, and the door crushing both the villain and heroes alike. Beyond that, however, were several pallets of cash and security deposit boxes. She'd never seen so much money before in her life, and probably never would again, and the first step forward was entirely instinctual. Peggy paused. She wasn't really going to do this, was she? Wasn't money marked or tracked, or something like that? Would anyone notice a few hundred dollars taken? Would she be branded a criminal, a villain, for taking needed money - Peggy had no illusions that Grant would come away from a week of torture and kidnapping with no scars, physical or otherwise - or would her throwing debris at them already be enough? In that case, what was one more act of villainy? Medical bills would be costly, even with Ida's assistance, Grant might need additional things like therapy or skin grafts, or... or, what did it matter? A hundred dollars or a thousand, she was going to be labelled as a villain either way, just like her son.
Glancing at the FitBit, Peggy swallowed hard when she saw that she was running out of this frozen space in time. Stepping into the bank was far too easy, stepping through the debris and carnage was easier, and stepping into the vault by way of stepping on the vault door itself (and the three trapped beneath it) was even easier still. Peggy filled a bag with as much as she could carry comfortably, and hurried out of the bank to her car. It started up despite the time stop and despite its own temperamental nature. Peggy navigated her way through the city as carefully as possible, driving around office chairs, debris, fallen bodies, and just as she was reaching the outskirts of Maxville, she stopped the car abruptly. A man in prisoner whites was in the midst of falling from a great height with ... a goat attached to his leg.
Peggy got out of the car and stared for a full second to determine that yes, it really was a goat. She didn't have much time left, but there was enough to drag them down to the ground and set them both on the footpath so they wouldn't slam into it and die on impact. Peggy wanted to wait and ensure that they would be all right - would this good deed absolve her of a bad one? - but she knew she couldn't stay. She needed to get out of the city before time started again. Now that the road was clear, she pressed down on the accelerator and tore out of Maxville with a bag of stolen cash in the passenger seat beside her. As Maxville's city centre faded in her rear view mirror, time started again.
...
Leonardo, wait, it's red!, Donny's warning had come a second too late, Lorcan already jumping across the orange-now-red lit corridor right as a wall came down like a guillotine.
Jewel could only watch as Craig was spun away from her, Corvin flying fast to avoid more walls and ceilings and floors, and Lorcan dropped into the darkness below. Holding her breath, Jewel stepped off the light and dropped down into the darkness after Lorcan. Covered and protected by her jewelled skin, Jewel was heavy enough to crash through several walls and floors without an issue.
Even after the red light had faded and the building stopped moving around her, Jewel continued to fall and crash through ceilings and floors. She felt like Alice in Wonderland, falling after a white rabbit, or in her case, a green poison dart frog. It could have been seconds or minutes later, but she finally came to a stop in what looked to be a basement.
Thankfully, Lorcan hadn't been flung off with another wall, and was lying on the floor nearby. He hadn't shifted to a frog during the fall, which was surprising, and then she wasn't surprised a second later when she saw the condition he was in. Lorcan's arm hadn't been broken by the wall slicing down: it had literally been cut off at the forearm.
He seemed to have fainted during the fall, or perhaps when his arm had been sliced off, and Jewel didn't know whether that was a good or bad thing. Did she have to wake him up or was it better to stay unconscious?
The first aid training she had completed leaned more towards treating citizens, and Jewel cursed her subpar education and interest in the subject. Robin would know what to do in an instant, she thought, taking off the walkie talkie on her belt. Brushing off some debris, Jewel pressed the button on the side.
"Quake? I need your help. Lor- Leonardo's lost part of his arm and is currently unconscious. There's also a lot of blood." Jewel waited for a moment but there was no response. "Quake? Come in, Quake. Can you hear me? Is anyone there?"
There was no answer and Jewel figured her almost-panicking tone and message should have resulted in a response from someone by now. Looking up at the ceiling she'd crashed through, Jewel saw just how thick the ceiling was and figured that she had no reception with her walkie talkie in a room that was basically a concrete slab.
Looking around the rest of the room, Jewel saw that it was a concrete slab without a goddamn door. Who the fuck designed this place?! What was the point of this room?!
Jewel realised that she didn't actually want to know the answer to that question, especially if those blood stains on the wall weren't from her or Lorcan.
Looking at Lorcan once more, Jewel saw the small pool of blood that surrounded him. "Fuck. I don't know much, but I know that's way too much blood to be good for you. I don't have bandages or a tourniquet, uh, what else?" she asked, pacing and then stopping abruptly as a thought came to mind. "Oh. Oh, no. Okay, I've got limited choices here. This will work, but it's gonna hurt. Stay unconscious for a bit longer, okay?"
Taking a power repressing cuff off her utility belt, Jewel clipped it around Lorcan's upper arm firmly. Then, with that done and in place, she started to jewel the bottom of his severed arm. The blood stopped flowing, unable to escape the barrier her power made, and then the jewelling process continued up his arm.
Lorcan woke up halfway through, screaming as though he was being stabbed by millions of razor sharp needles. Which wasn't too far off, considering how abrasive her skin was.
"I know it hurts, just keep screaming. It'll help distract you. Almost there. It will stop at the cuff, okay?" Jewel promised, holding Lorcan's free - only - hand as he screamed and cried and squeezed her hand through the pain.
He fainted again once the jewelling process finished, and Jewel breathed a small sigh of relief. Looking up at the hole in the ceiling, she figured she could widen it to get both of them out and back to their friends. Going to the closest wall, Jewel dug a hand into the concrete, intent on climbing. Her hand went through the concrete far too easily, like it wasn't a full concrete brick but rather a concrete plywood sheet instead. Well, if she could create a door instead of trying to climb through the ceiling, Jewel certainly wouldn't complain.
Digging her hands into the concrete layer and beyond, it took no time at all for Jewel to create a hole in the wall. She looked through the hand-sized hole to see if there were any guards or Wardens, and stumbled back when a face suddenly appeared.
...
Fisher stayed far too long considering everything that was happening in Maxville's city centre, but he also couldn't deny Walter the chance to see his family. Over the course of the day, Fisher heard all about Walter's wrongful imprisonment, Olive's attempts to get him released, and how the whole family ensured to visit Walter every week for as long as visiting hours allowed. Fisher knew they visited theoretically, but it was different to see the expressions and love for a man who'd spent his children's lives imprisoned, and had left his wife a single mother with two children.
"They would've gone for three if the prison hadn't started supplying condoms," Timothy said with a snicker.
Constance laughed. "You think they would've stopped at three?"
"Now, now, you two. We have a guest," Olive scolded lightly.
"You're right, Ma. Still, you've gotta admit we would've had very different lives if Pa hadn't been in prison."
Olive's shoulders tensed at her son's words, and Walter looked guilty even though he straightened his shoulders. Fisher felt like he'd been doing a puzzle upside down and finally had all of the pieces in place.
"We would've been one of those families with, like, twelve kids or something," Connie said, Timothy laughing and nodding.
"Yeah, exactly!"
"I'm going to get another one of these fizzy drinks. You've got more inside, don't you?" Walter asked as he stood up.
A moment later, Olive stood and, waving off her children's offers to help, went after her husband. Fisher gave the couple their time together, concentrating on scooping more of the chilli with his cornbread.
"Which box mix did you say you used? I swear mine have never tasted this good," he said, drawing the adults' attention away from their parents.
Walter and Olive returned to find Fisher discussing recipes with their children. Olive squeezed Walter's hand and joined him at the table, not intent on letting go.
It was far later in the day when Fisher indicated that they needed to leave, and Walter figured he'd gotten away with his prison escape for long enough. He gave a nod to Fisher and began the teary-filled goodbyes to his family, making sure to hug and kiss his wife as long as he could, ignoring his children's laughter and teasing comments.
Fisher radioed for a car to pick them up, and led Walter out to the street while they waited. Walter kept a smile on his face as he waved goodbye to Olive as Timothy drove her back to the nursing home, and Constance when she left with leftovers in a container. Little Timmy was tuckered out and being bathed while he wouldn't protest, though he'd very adamantly given his grandpa his favourite eighteen wheeler before Walter had left. He looked at the toy now, plastic and huge, and knew he'd never be able to keep it in the Pen.
"Tell me, Walter: how much money did Captain Stronghold pay you to stay imprisoned?" Fisher asked suddenly, the street quiet around them.
Walter flinched at the question. "I... I don't know what you - "
"Constance gets her... masseuse abilities from her mother's side, if their childhood stories are anything to go by. You'd just gotten a higher paying at the bank, and sure as hell didn't need to kidnap and threaten a woman only for Captain Stronghold to put you in a coma for six months. The only reason I can think of for staying imprisoned is money or threats, and your family lives in a very good neighbourhood with an excellent house, and that's with one woman's income in a time when women weren't paid what they deserve? Hell, they're not paid what they deserve now, either. Especially single mothers of two young kids with an imprisoned father."
Walter's face fell entirely, and he sighed, tucking the truck into his pocket. "I'd gotten the job at the interview; I'm good at mathematics, and they wanted someone who didn't have to rely on calculators. Computers were still a pipe dream back then, so I bartered and got a higher wage. Olive was pregnant and there was no way I was letting my darling wife lift a finger if I could hire people to do it for her. Or so I'd thought. I'd been thinking about how much a maid would cost, how much it would take from my new wage, and how to convince Olive to part with the money. She'd say we needed to save, and I wanted to spoil her. It made for a few arguments at the start of our marriage, let me tell you," Walter said with a smile.
Fisher could remember similar arguments with one of his first wives, and smiled at how times certainly didn't change.
"Couldn't hardly remember why we argued after I went to prison. She's always been smarter than me. I'm good at mathematics, but my Olive can run circles around me any day," Walter said with a wistful sigh. "After I finished the job interview, I heard someone screaming and crying for help. A young woman, she might've been around Olive's age. It's a little fuzzy, you'll have to understand... It took me years to remember everything; that coma Captain Stronghold put me in did a number on my memory. I'm still good with numbers, but other things escape me," he said with a little laugh, another sigh.
Realising that Walter had gotten lost in his memory, and that the car would be arriving to pick them up soon, Fisher prompted him to continue.
"Oh? Right, there was a woman crying for help. She... Captain Stronghold was... hurting her. For a moment, all I could see was my Olive's face on that poor woman, and I charged at him. I didn't think, I didn't care, and I still don't. I couldn't have lived with myself if I'd just walked on by or ignored her screams. He backhanded me into a building, and I don't remember anything after that, but I've been told that the building was due for demolition. I'd been hit so hard I landed in the basement and there just so happened to be an empty vat. I think that's where he came up with the story. The woman... she died, and he blamed me. The courts were different back then. I was in a coma and still tried and sentenced to prison. I was deemed a danger to citizens and regular society, though Olive testified otherwise. It didn't matter though, it was her word against his, and like you said: women weren't respected then. Or now."
Fisher went to correct Walter as to what he had said, but then stopped. It was the same damn thing, after all.
"I woke up from my coma a week before Timothy was born. Olive would've birthed him in the prison if I hadn't told her to get to a proper hospital." He paused briefly, as though remembering or reflecting, then continued, "The papers did an article about me waking up, and there was some public outcry and protesting outside of the prison. My lawyer said I could get a reduced sentence if I told the truth. That's when Captain Stronghold came to visit.
"I remembered enough to know that the story he'd told the public wasn't true, and Olive had organised a reporter to talk to me the next day with our lawyer present. Captain Stronghold threatened me, then my wife and boy, even told me their address and had photos. I... I was probably still concussed and on the good stuff, and back then the good stuff was ... heavy."
Fisher bit back a comment about the "good stuff" before then, of opium dens, of cocaine in tonics, of long-lost herbs and plants that could be ground down and ingested, of even older remedies lost to time. He simply nodded in agreement.
"I said something about the truth being greater than the sum of our lives. I don't really remember and either way, I didn't believe it. I would've done anything to keep them safe," Walter said. "Captain Stronghold must have believed me though, because he offered me money for my silence. It was double the amount I'd be getting at the bank, and all I had to do was keep my mouth shut. I figured if he was desperate enough to keep his golden image that he was desperately trying to cultivate, he could pay more. Instead of one lump sum, I demanded a monthly stipend. Like I said, I'm good at mathematics, and as it turned out, Captain Stronghold was not. I agreed to be quiet if he paid a certain amount every month, increasing it every year to allow for inflation, and he just flat out agreed even though it ended up tripling my salary that first year alone."
Fisher glanced back at the well-maintained house, remembered the stories of Timothy going to law school and Constance owning her own business as a masseuse, and the eagerness in which Olive had greeted Walter with. "Was the money worth your life?"
Walter smiled, crooked and sad. "Like I said, I'm good with mathematics and not so much with other things. It didn't register that accepting the money meant I'd miss out on my life or their lives. All I could think of was how scared I was for my wife and son. I worried myself sick over how Olive was going to survive while I'd been imprisoned for life, and I knew the money would help with that. It didn't sink in until Olive asked me what sort of father I could be if I spent all of Timothy's life in cuffs and behind bars. Still remember that one, and it hurts just as much now as it did back then," he murmured, looking down at the bruises still stark on his wrists.
"Olive was so upset with me for it, she didn't visit for months. I gave her every dime and cent anyway, I wasn't going to use it in prison, and she's always been better at stretching a dollar than anyone else I know. It helped when Timothy got sick and then when Constance was born, and when they needed schooling, and Timothy went on to be a lawyer. It helped, and the kids are right: we all would've had very different lives if I hadn't been imprisoned, but I'm still not sure if it would've been better or worse."
Fisher's radio indicated the car would be arriving soon. Mia was driving, and Fisher was relieved that she'd survived her ordeal with Lash.
"I chose to stay silent and kept my silence until today. Even when that bastard died, I stayed quiet because he'd written the stipend into his will. Solicitors probably think Olive's his mistress, one of many if the stories are true, so she keeps getting paid as long as I shut my mouth. So I hope you don't mind if I keep on doing exactly that," Walter said with a firm nod, falling silent as the black and white car turned into the street.
Fisher gave a wave as the car slowed to a stop beside them, Mia apparently driving with a swollen eye and bruised cheek. "You okay, kid?"
"What's it look like to you?" she groused.
"Fair enough. All right, Walter, hands out so I can cuff you, please."
Mia's eyebrows shot up in surprise at hearing Fisher say please, even though the motion hurt her face like hell.
Fisher went through the usual statement of you have the right to remain silent, if you don't have a lawyer one will be assigned to you, super identities will be revealed during police processing, etc., and looked at Walter who was looking out at the horizon and probably hadn't heard a word he'd just said. "Walter? Uh, the Wickedness, do you understand what I've just told you?" Fisher asked.
"Hmm? Oh, yes. I understand," Walter said, seemingly distracted even as he put his hands out to be cuffed.
Fisher did so and guided Walter into the backseat before taking his place in the passenger seat at the front. "Are you all right, Walter? Do you have anything to say?" he prompted, concerned and ignoring Mia's second look of surprise.
Walter looked out the police car window at the sunset that was starting to sink on the horizon, the sky filled with brilliant oranges and fiery reds with the encroachment of deep blues and darker purples. "I pledge allegiance to Chaos."
...
End of the hundred and ninety-sixth chapter.
Thanks for reading!