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Crimson Claws
9.
Nora spooned the last few bites of her fruit salad from the small ceramic bowl. Two days in hospital and this was the highlight of her day. Okay, she'd spent the first half of it passed out but was already bored to the point of vomiting. At least they weren't stingy with the painkillers at Mount Sinai Morningside. As long as she didn't try to move, she was fine. Given the circumstances. Her rather battered body was largely wrapped in absorbent cotton without her ability to think being unduly impaired. On the other hand - after the shitshow she had been through, she wished she could switch off her thoughts. She couldn't even be really angry - whether because of her physical incapacity at the moment or because the truth of WHO had "attacked" her absolutely paralyzed her. Although ... now that a large black shadow was moving outside her window (by the way, her room was on the sixth floor), maybe she would find her normal anger again. She had a bloody bone to pick with this idiot.
Just before the window was pushed further open (she had asked the nurse on the night shift to leave it open a crack because of the heat), Nora peeked in on her neighbor. An ancient lady who had broken her hip and had basically been shot into dreamland with painkillers since she arrived because she was whining so much. So there would be no problems from that side. Groaning because the window was a little too small and because of his own injuries, the mutant climbed into the room, then stood up to his full height and looked at her with golden yellow eyes. Even with a new T-shirt ( of course, sloppily torn open because of the wings) he looked pretty fucked up and bloody, which gave Nora quite a bit of satisfaction. Not even family got the gentle wash when they sneaked up on her like that. Despite his own wounds - yes, he was quite impressive. Monstrously imposing - of course, but despite his different eyes - the look was familiar. His posture, his demeanor. It shouldn't have been obvious, not recognizable after so many years and with the new body - but this was Fred Sykes, and the feeling of profound relief was instantly washed away by fresh and ancient anger at her only blood relative.
"Asshole," Nora grunted, flipping him the bird with vigor.
"Brutal maniac," he puffed back and unpretentiously dropped a paper box on her bed (directly on Nora, to be precise). Her handbag, along with her cell phone and other stuff she'd had at her job at the theater, slid onto the mattress. He had obviously spied on her being thrown out and had retrieved her belongings when they were thrown away.
"Are you expecting a thank you or what?" she huffed snappily, trying to sit up better in bed. Difficult with burnt hands, trembling muscles from the electric shock, the wound on her ribs and one leg in plaster. The mutant reached out for her when it looked like she was going to topple over the edge of the bed. A reflex of strange concern that she wouldn't fucking give him credit for.
"No!" she barked. "Don't you dare go all brother on me now. To fuck off for almost 15 years and then sneak up on me with your new freak body and fuck! Do you know that Gran has been ruminating all these years that you're fine? That you're wandering around the world somewhere looking for happiness - for yourself! What it was like to listen to that bullshit and think to myself that you stupid fuck got into the wrong crowd and were six feet under, you motherfucking egomaniac jerk-off! And then you come back and think - shit, what were you thinking! It's your fucking fault that I'm lying here, Fred. So wipe that kicked kitten look off your snout!"
She grabbed her head agitatedly and flinched back because that spot really hurt. She had a pretty good graze on her face, which stretched from her hairline at her temple to her cheek. He stared at her speechlessly for a second, then bared his teeth and boy were there a lot of them. But the subconscious threat failed to have the desired effect when his voice immediately rose two octaves in indignation. Just like it had been in the past. And wasn't that funny?
"You're so damn self-righteous, Chubs! Do you understand what a surprise is? I wanted to surprise you, I didn't want to scare you to death with my looks. If you hadn't freaked out like a pugilistic dyke, it wouldn't have escalated in the first place! It's just like before."
"Don't call me Chubs, you freak!"
"Don't call me a freak, you brutal priss-bitch!"
"Don't call me a bitch, dibshit!"
"Don't call me dibshit, you dingbat!"
"Shitstain!"
"Psycho!"
The empty bowl in which the fruit salad had been was thrown with all possible force and a clawed hand caught it before it could hit him in the skull. Both of them were breathing heavily respectively because of hurt and anger. Before he averted his staring gaze first, the edge of fury seeming to be sucked out of the room along with the electric tension in the air. Nora sank back onto her pillow, exhausted, as Fred let his shoulders slump. His cat ears drooping, he pulled up a chair and sat down next to her.
He looked ridiculous in the chair. Too tall. Too extraordinary. It was surreal.
"So ... a mutant, then." Nora began and of course her brother took the bait and grinned widely.
"Yeah, pretty neat huh? Flying and zip-zapping superpowers. Got the brawn for free. No one's gonna beat me up now."
"Except anyone you mess with in your dumbassedness," Nora said with a grin, which wiped away his glee.
Embarrassed, he scrubbed the back of his neck.
"Yeah, sorry about the-"
"-assault?"
"It was NOT a assault. Man! I said hello the second you went fury. Thought you'd have your anger issues sorted out by now."
"Sure - because bipolar disorder is so easy to treat. It's good to know that your years of absence weren't used as a educational trip. A phone call to prepare me for that-" she waved around in front of his whole self, "-would have been nice. Anything in the last fifteen years would have been nice. You complete ass."
Despite her rude tone, the fire was out of the conversation. Nora and Fred had never been good with feelings. Their foster mom was kind and sweet and cool in a quirky way and had always made an effort. But too much had been fucked up when they had come to her at 14 and 16. No one really wanted foster kids that old and unruly. No one but her - for whatever reason. Nora still didn't understand. It wasn't as if her Gran had wanted to "raise" them. She had given them food and shelter and affection when they were looking for it themselves. Which they hadn't done. Instead, they had constantly messed up. And hadn't even been punished for it. Gran had boxed them out again and again - at school, at their jobs, had smiled and said it was okay. She had never tried to be "the mother".
Nora had often felt like Gran was treating Fred and her like her cats. Always leaving them a window open, food, a warm place to sleep and cleaning up the mess they made. But otherwise she let them roam around outside and make those same messes. Nora hadn't known for many years whether she should appreciate it, love it or regret it. She hadn't decided, but she clearly didn't regret it because she hadn't needed a mom at 14 - that would only have led to bloodshed. Earlier, more committed or stricter foster parents had experienced this. It had been nice to have a place where they weren't abused or beaten up by those they were entrusted to, but Nora with her disorder and Fred almost grown up and barely home had hardly appreciated a warm, friendly environment. Rather, it had made them suspicious. Something her Gran had never deserved. And even though the Sykes didn't let their feelings out - sometimes - they gave each other insights into their thoughts in a non-committal and strangely helpless way. So did Fred- as unfamiliar as he looked now- in a quiet, low voice.
"That was an ass move. I know. I ... I slipped into this experiment and ... I was the first one with whom it worked. It worked really well. Sevarius-"
"- that was in the newspapers back then. This wannabe Mengele who took over a project from Xanatos and mutated people without his knowledge."
"Meh. Without Xanatos' knowledge- that's questionable, the guy is so shifty. Thinks around 15 corners," Fred said, waving a paw nonchalantly. "In any case, Sevarius was ... Let's call it intrigued. He took a buttload of blood from me. Wanted to know why it worked on me without a problem. He ... I had never stated anywhere that I had any blood relatives. He was too arrogant or too wrapped up in his research to look - obviously. And you were still running under Gran's surname back then - that was good. I didn't ... want him to find you."
"And you expect me to buy your farsightedness and protective mindset? Bro. I think it would have fucked you up if they had mutated me too. Having your little sister stuck up your ass in that freak show."
"You would have kicked the same ass if you had become a mutant because of me!"
" That's more like how I know you! Ha! Chickenshit."
She chuckled at the way Fred crossed his arms and visibly pouted. He was older - but she had always been tougher, had always seen through him, had always been more daring than him - even without her tantrums someone you didn't mess with.
"And when the Gargoyles became known," Nora said more seriously. "So shortly after the mutants and the Labyrinth Gargoyles went public? They never mentioned your name in newspapers or online. The other mutants are well known."
"Well ... it's a good thing they didn't. I had ... well, shit on my plate from time to time. Worked with the wrong people. Or did jobs that were top secret. Redemption Squad and all that."
"Pffft! Sure, Redemption. How well did that work out?" Nora laughed and Fred laughed too. It was strange. Even though they were both so much older, they immediately fell back into sibling mode. They had never been gentle or considerate to each other. The Sykes had been the neighbors no one had wanted. Nora and Fred were the kids other parents warned their own brood about. But in their own emotionally crippled and twisted way, they were loving to each other. Familiar. Genuine.
"So, after 15 years, you show your ass. Now what do you want?"
"Can't I just visit my little sister?" Fred asked, making a hurt face, to which Nora rolled her eyes.
"I'm about to kick your furry ass. I don't have to be a genius to know that you're still a selfish asshole. So what do you want from me? And don't beat around the bush, my painkillers are wearing off and you don't want me to get bitchy."
"More than usual anyway. No, I don't want that. You almost impaled my internal organs with that wooden slat. And you probably broke my cheekbone and knocked out half a dozen teeth. I was knocked out for five minutes. I just managed to get away before the cops arrived. I'll need two or three weeks before I can stand upright again."
"Two or three weeks?!" Nora breathed in mocking feigned dismay before her tone turned venomous. "I can only pity you with my ripped open side, my broken lower leg and the nerve damage from the electric shock! Poor pussycat with his super mutant body. Where can I sign up! Spill or I'll throw my bedpan at your head. Nice and warm and full."
"God, you're so- so arrrgh!" growled Fred, making a strangling gesture with both hands. Before he took a breath and began. That he'd been back in town for some time. Had wanted to check on their Gran and Nora (whoever wants to believe that) and then simply out of boredom wanted to see what his old clan was up to. Not that he was interested in the labyrinth rats. But he had heard recently (in other words, he had been spying) that Xanatos was not only throwing his money at the mutants as they wanted it. But also that their huge sums of compensation were sitting in a bank, where the dough would be left to rot because it was "dirty". Nora already knew the direction this was all going to take.
"How should I help you get the moolah? And what happened to YOUR fat-ass compensation?"
"Uhhhh," Fred suddenly looked more than embarrassed. God, she wanted to punch him in his new idiotic face, so much it wasn't even funny.
"Let me guess. At some point you said something like: 'They can keep their antidote. I love being like that.` When cameras were filming it and recording devices were listening in. And that's why no one is obliged to give you anything. Your employment contract with that creepy doctor probably even said something like: 'Accidents at work are not compensated' and you just signed anything they wanted," she guessed aridly and- yep! there was that brainless caught expression again.
"Yeah, I thought so. Never admit that you like something. Otherwise the lawyers will twist your arm. Can't you blackmail Xanatos? With the dirt you have on him?"
"How well do you think that would turn out for me?"
"And it would turn out better to screw over and steal from a bunch of mutants with claws and fangs?"
"Don't forget the guy with the lifelike crocodile head and the creepy crawling beetle kid."
"Bwähhh." Nora shuddered. Sure, she'd seen pictures of these weirdos on the internet. And they supposedly took the subways, went shopping - they hadn't been hiding in the subway tunnels for a long time. But New York was fucking huge - even just Manhattan, the subway network was fucking huge and there were a fuckton lot of people living here. Even neighbors sometimes didn't see each other for years. Seeing mutants or gargoyles in photos was somehow not real. The thought of having to interact with them directly was disturbing and disgusting. Okay - Fred was one of them. But he was also her brother. That meant he was already disgusting before the mutation. And that was kind of okay.
"They won't even know where to look for us. How does South America sound to you?"
"Too hot. Hotter than here. And we'd be bored to death and get on each other's balls until I split your skull open with an axe."
Fred inspected his claws, which came out of his fingertips with a flick of his wrist. "At the thought that I'd first-"
"Nah. Because you're a wuss and would hesitate. I wouldn't hesitate."
Fred huffed in annoyance, having retracted his claws so that he could massage the area between his eyes like someone facing an impending migraine. "Life's been throwing shit at us since we were born," he then argued, "- and we don't even get our due. Derek and his court are sitting on a pile of bread and don't even need it because one peep and Xanatos will buy them anything they want. Maybe, man, if we take that money, he'll finally pull the stick out of his ass and get something done."
"Wow- the debate club in high school really could have used you. And the answer is still no. You're not good enough or smart enough to make me think we're doing a good thing by screwing the other freaks out of their compensation. We're BOTH not good enough liars and scammers for them to drop their defenses. You'll have made yourself unpopular enough for that if you're desperate enough to ask me. AFTER you broke my leg! After all these years of not giving a shit about your old life. I'm surprised the crap you probably did in your time there didn't get you locked up.
"Uhhh, yeah, lucky for me. Hey." He rubbed his jeans with that obvious expression again. Jeans with the giant holes in them - that was SO 2005!
"Your clothes are a shame." Nora grumbled, turning her head as if the sight of his fashion crimes caused her more pain than anything else.
"Says the fashion queen in the hospital gown."
"Asshole."
"Bitch."
"Crick dick."
"Pro-choice commercial."
"That was a good one." Nora smiled fondly and her brother smiled too, but by now she was really tired. Too tired-physically and emotionally-to accommodate him. "Fred. I ... well, you're a complete asshole and it IS your fault that I'm in the hospital - which I can't afford, by the way-"
"- all the more reason to help me! I saw Xanatos give Claw a key card with millions on it. It's too easy to steal it if he's not paying attention but I can't do that- I'm not really inconspicuous."
"-or welcome there knowing you. I don't want to know how you messed things up with them. Probably some egotistical alpha male shit. And no - I'm definitely not fucking with a mutant called Claw!" Nora mumbled and peeked over at her sleeping roommate, who hadn't woken up despite the discussion at Sykes` volume. Presumably she had died in her sleep - that would be Nora's typical luck - it even rubbed off on others.
"His real name is Klaus- Claw was really a step up from that. And the guy has a screw loose but is a huge marshmallow- a cuddly kitten- no danger in any way. You can get really close to him. It's crawling with people down there - just like you. It'll be a piece of cake.
"Wow- I can feel the love after years of our separation. The most endearing thing about me is that I'm human enough to help you with your heist. Fuck you, bro! I'll be able to pay my rent for another month or two. The hospital bill - we'll see. And I need my medication before I can even start looking for work again. But as desperate as I'm going to get over the next few weeks, I know your plan isn't the solution. Because you're not a planner, Fred. Neither of us are - we never were. We're sidekicks, hangers-on with shitty leader behavior but without the skills. We're annoying thorns in the flesh of others and most of the time we feel great about fucking others over because they're assholes and idiots. But we both know that your ideas always blow up in your face. I don't give a shit about your labyrinth freaks and what they deserve and don't deserve. You're not smart enough to scam people. You're a bully and sometimes in your stupidity you push people's buttons. It's the same for me. But we Sykes` - we don't land big coups. You look like a cat but you don't land on your paws when you fall. Not with something like this. And I don't want to get involved. How could I - now with a broken leg."
"You don't have a job anymore. You need the money more than they do."
"You mean YOU deserve the money more than they do and would give me some. I don't know if I'm stupid enough to trust you."
He looked briefly wounded, which Nora really regretted. Then he shrugged his shoulders. He probably didn't know himself whether - if he came into the money - he wouldn't really run off alone with all of it.
"Whatever your plan is. Or was. I'm not going along with it. And now that I'm not giving you what you want ... I guess I'll see you again in 15 years-. Tomorrow morning the cops are coming to question me about the claw marks in my side. I won't tell them it was you or that I saw you. I'll say- I don't know- it was a maniac with a knife. Love ya, dibshit, have a good life but give me a break. Got enough problems. Bye."
She turned her head to reach for the cup of tea on her bedside table, not wanting to see her brother, who had literally shunned her for so long and whom she had managed to push out of her thoughts in recent years, disappear forever. She didn't want to be a means to an end. Apart from the fact that none of Fred's plans had ever worked out favorably for either of them. She found it admirable that he kept trying to swim to the top. But they were both born for a life of meaninglessness where staying out of jail was admirable in itself. Nora didn't expect anything more. But when she heard an annoyed snort and growl behind her, she turned around again. Her eyes widened when she saw Fred standing there, his fists clenched, his eyes white with flashing electricity.
.
.
Thomas stared into space and tilted his head in that inimitable way that reminded me of a listening dog, even though he had crocodile DNA. He licked his tongue over his teeth, not hungrily but thoughtfully.
"What?" Derek asked over his cup of coffee with his trademark frown - always fast alert, always wary, always the problem-solver mentality even though he insisted from the beginning that he wasn't "the boss" down here but that the Labyrinth was a democracy. Of course, there were many issues that he had to deal with in his role as "facility manager", but there actually was a "residents' council" and they voted on everything, even if it was often a bit of a mess.
Thomas huffed and when he put down his cutlery, me and Maggie did the same.
"Trouble with the dropouts again?" Erin asked, looking more grumpy than usual (turtles never looked overly cheerful). The dropouts were a group of teenagers they'd taken in two months ago who wanted out of one of the Harlem gangs but of course would never trust cops. Where better to go underground and be well fed than the Underground Kingdom? They were smart enough to keep their distance from the intrigues of the gangs but not smart enough not to act like assholes. They teased the kids and made fun of Erin and Benny for being different, and even me, who was pretty intimidating, they made stupid remarks about when they realized I wouldn't hurt a fly.
"No, not them. A woman's voice. Entrance tunnel 4."
" That dark hole? Entrance tunnel four has been closed since 2001 due to the risk of collapse. Why is she coming from that direction - no one in the current community knows about that tunnel," Benny wisely pointed out and Talon nodded seriously, grumbling. I put a hand on the now 19-year-old insect mutant's head and he chuckled, causing his antennae to vibrate. He had developed so well - remarkably little traumatized and unconcerned by his involuntary transformation back then and by now he was not only almost as tall as Thomas or me but could also lift a car without any problems and, despite his cheerful nature, participate constructively in conversations.
"I hear swearing," said Thomas and stood up from our breakfast table in the middle of the two dozen other tables in the main hall. " Really violent. She sounds like she's in pain and-" he tilted his head again. He had no ears, just ear slits like real crocodiles. But just like them, he wasn't really hard of hearing but had the best hearing of all of us because he heard with his whole body via bone conduction. I had no idea how he could even pick out different people from almost half a mile away by their voices and gait, but he could and was therefore a living part of our early warning system for "disturbances" of all kinds. "... oh, just now she must have fallen down," he said. "I think she's sobbing now. Aaaand more swearing. Man, girl knows words."
"Okay," Derek said with a sigh and drank his lukewarm coffee in one go, because there was hardly a morning when he was allowed to have breakfast in peace. Michael was sitting at one of the kids' tables with his friends but lost all early morning hyperactivity fueled by Nutella sandwiches or sugary cereal when his dad and I got up.
With a wave of his hand, Derek got his twelve-year-old to sit back down with a pout.
Thomas, Derek and I set off. Three big strong mutants for this mission was of course overkill but Thomas would take the opportunity to walk the outer tunnels - it was his turn this week to walk our territory looking for human or structural vulnerabilities.
We deliberately kept our steps louder than we could have. Scaring off a distressed woman in a dormant and therefore unlit tunnel was not an option and yes - of course most people who didn't know us were scared at first. Even normal human males would probably scare a woman alone in the dark. But however she got into the tunnel, we would be able to help her if she allowed us to, either by showing her the way out or by calling the authorities.
Even from a distance, we could all hear the current soft cursing and equally vulgar frustrated mumbling, although the woman wasn't really crying. As soon as we were in sight, this also stopped and a strong if somewhat shaky voice called out: "Who's there?" Then the woman blinded us with the beam of her flashlight, which darted almost frantically over us, raising the question of why a woman who had inadvertently entered one of these tunnels was so well prepared. Talon raised his voice as he walked, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the beam of light - it went down better than raising our wings, because bringing our strangeness to the fore for a first meeting never really sat well.
"Ma'am, we're from the Labyrinth Community. Don't worry, we'll help you."
"Labyrinth? That homeless facility-underground mutant and clone clan?" the woman asked and Derek rolled his eyes at the description but couldn't deny it.
"Yeah- could you- the flashlight - a little-"
She lowered the flashlight enough that it no longer blinded us and waited until we were with her before she let out a labored breath- half relief, half trepidation because even though we weren't all wearing 90s leotards anymore we looked unreal especially with our normal clothes.
"Wow - you guys are the real deal. Crazy," she huffed.
Thomas and I chuckled. We'd seen worse reactions, and even though the woman looked terrible, she held her own at the sight of us.
She wasn't as young as we had all assumed because of the swearing. She was also plump, had stubble-short hair except for the fringe in her forehead and looked like she'd been in an accident. From close up, you could smell the blood on her, she looked tired, had a fairly fresh abrasion on her face, her blouse had a rust-red stain on the side and the recently probably white plaster that encased her lower leg and ended in a stabilizing sandal was just as dirty as the trousers that had been cut open because of the plaster. She squatted with her back against the tunnel wall, two crutches and a sports bag beside her.
"I've been looking for you for ages. And I really have problems walking with crutches, flashlight and luggage at the same time," said the woman, not reproachfully but rather relieved. She held out her small hands to us, the palms of which were also scraped and ... red as if she had burned them. Her eyes darted back and forth between the three of us and finally stayed on me even as Derek spoke.
"You don't look like the usual people who frequent the labyrinth. And there are entrances for people with impairments. The authorities usually give the people they send to us detailed descriptions of where the accessible entrances are. How do you get in here?"
Her previously mild look turned hard and stubborn as she looked to Derek, her tone snarky. "You can bet I'm not one of your usual clientele, Boss-Cat. And I didn't have fancy instructions because I packed up right after I got out of the hospital and just wandered into the tunnel at the subway stop closest to my apartment and I've been looking for one of you I don't know how many hours. I thought ... at some point I'll come across a sign or some shit. I guess when you're fleeing, you don't really think things through, you know, Blacky."
Derek's mouth fell open at that. It was rare for someone to talk to him so snottily. He wasn't really someone who demanded respect, but he always got it because of his appearance or his sovereign demeanor. I had my tablet developed by Lexington with me, which I could type in whole sentences in no time at all thanks to the AI and which it even spoke out for me, albeit in a somewhat tinny voice, but my friends often understood me without it.
I made a questioning noise to get one of the others to find out from the woman who or what she was fleeing from, but by then she was already answering me herself as if she had heard the question from my purr alone - something that had to be a coincidence.
"My brother attacked me when I wouldn't help him get money. I need protection. That's why I'm stumbling around down here. Certainly not by choice."
Thomas rubbed a clawed hand over his snout.
"Ma'am we're not really a domestic violence shelter. If you don't have anywhere to go and need protection, we'll gladly escort you to the nearest police station. They will notify authorities who can put you somewhere where-"
The woman laughed. A bitter, almost mean sound that turned out to be watery and pitiful. With a groan, the woman lifted herself up on one leg. She stumbled against the wall as I automatically tried to grab her to stabilize her and I pulled my hands back at her alert look.
"The cops can't help me," she then stated grimly. "My brother isn't one of your run-of-the-mill assholes - obviously not anymore. He's like you-" she nodded to me and then to Derek, then grabbed her side, lifting her blouse so that I was tempted to look away and yet didn't because her side just below the ribs was thickly covered and taped with gauze bandages. The bandage was bloody and the sound of her ripping it off her skin made not only me wince. Then the five scratch marks were visible, stitched but oozing blood in two or three places, disfiguring her otherwise pale skin. Her expression was implacably hard as she said:
"My brother is Fred Sykes. I am Nora Sykes. And no fuzz can protect me."
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Thanks for reading Q.T.