Part 8 of the wonderful! Au: the boys answer some questions! Up to you to decide if they actually clarify anything!
(also on AO3)
~*~
Martin: Hey everyone! I know what some of you are thinking right now: it's not Tuesday, why is this episode in my feed? I know significantly more of you are thinking: I don't consistently keep up with podcast releases, how much free time do you think I have, buddy? To answer your queries: this is a bonus episode! We're answering listener questions to clear the air and/or have fun. Also, I don't know, around 20 to 40 minutes a week, as that is the average amount of time per episode? Maybe during your commute? My husband's omnipotence has been gone for five years, we just have to guess at that sort of thing now.
Jon: For legal reasons, that last statement was a joke. In fact, to cover all of our bases, we do not guarantee that any of our responses are genuine.
Martin: Just because we say we'll answer things doesn't mean we'll answer truthfully. Though, honestly, I think we might make it more enjoyable if we do tell the truth. Like, I don't necessarily have a fun lie prepared for our first question from konspiracyking97: "What's their fuckin deal anyway?"
Jon: Is this referring to the oblique references we've made about being from a parallel reality and only ending up here as a consequence of ending one apocalypse and potentially starting another or the general premise of the show?
Martin: Oh, it's gotta be general premise, yeah?
Jon: In that case, I'm Jon, the other voice you're hearing is Martin, we're married, and we talk about things that are..nice? Good? Usually generally but occasionally rather specifically pleasant.
Martin: That pretty much covers it. It's not a complicated show. Uhh, next question comes from Shane: are either or both of you aliens? Nope!
Jon: Well..
Martin: No. We are 100% human people from Earth, we are under no definition extraterrestrial.
Jon: Eh..
Martin: Okay, first off, I know the tone of that 'eh' and "not fully human" is not synonymous with alien, so even if 100% is being a bit generous, we're still from the same planet as our listeners.
Jon:..
Jon: But. We sort of aren't though. Technically speaking.
Martin: No no no no no. I don't care if it's parallel, Earth is Earth is Earth, regardless of whatever nonsense metaphysics might be occurring.
Jon: So what you're saying is that if you got sucked through a portal and landed on an Earth where dinosaurs were still the predominant species, you wouldn't consider yourself to be an alien?
Martin: Nope!
Jon: I'm certain that they would consider you an alien. All of their mammals are probably shrew sized.
Martin: Sounds like a them problem.
Jon: Sounds like a-?! You know what, no, this will be an off the record debate, for now, I suppose I concede that the two Earths and our physiologies are similar enough that we might, maybe, not count as aliens.
Martin: Thank you. Anyway, our next question is from anonymous, and asks, "Is all of this an ARG?"
Jon: A whomst?
Martin: Alternate reality game. It's a method of storytelling that's interactive with audience, and usually has, I dunno, a certain suspension of disbelief to it where it pretends to be something actually happening in the real world until a dramatic reveal. A lot times it was used as a marketing gimmick, but others have done it just for fun. I can show you some examples after the show?
Jon: So it's in essence a more involved creepypasta?
Martin, delighted: Aw, babe, I'm never going to have a handle on what pop culture you are and aren't aware of, huh?
Jon: We were born within a year of each other, and I've told you that I was a deeply morbid teenager, you should probably be able to intuit some of things, love.
Martin: This coming from a man who has yet to see "It's a Wonderful Life", but has seen every film in the "Banjo Cannibals" franchise, including the Easter special. Jesus doesn't exist in the Banjo Cannibals universe, why does it have an Easter special?
Jon: The movies are rather shoddily translated from Russian, so I'm fairly certain the Easter component of that special was invented wholesale in the English version.
Martin: You say that like it answers more questions than it raises.
Jon: Yes, because it does. Oh, and to answer anonymous's question, no, this isn't an ARG. From my understanding of it, if it were, it'd be a poorly constructed one, as there's no real game element to any of this.
Martin: Hmm. Well, sometimes the game component is just trying to figure out what's going on with the story, or if there's any deeper content, and people are definitely doing that with this show.
Jon: That's not by design though. It's more a side effect of us having poor brain to mouth filters, I'd say.
Martin: Harsh, but fair. Oh, this next one is from Zac, no K, who asks, "Are you two actually even married?"
Jon, flat: We are, but it's under false names because this whole thing is an elaborate insurance scam.
Jon, incredulous: Yes, obviously, we're married. What did you hear in this podcast that would make you wonder otherwise, and how do we rectify it?
Martin: Clearly we need to up our quota for how "disgustingly in love" and "horrifically sappy" we are per episode. Which segues nicely into the next question from Gwen, "What's your favourite wonderful thing you've brought so far?" My answer: my husband. He's kind of my favourite in most things, you know?
Jon: Boooooo
Martin: Why, what's your favourite thing?
[Jon reluctantly sighs]
Jon, indulgent: being married.
Martin: A: serves you right for trying to pretend you're the less horrifically sappy and romantic one even though earlier today someone put a love note in the lunch they packed for me-
Jon:- Lies and slander! I have never, in my life, done that, even once.
Martin: Oh, sure, not even once. And you definitely don't reserve the lilac sticky notes specifically for my lunches because you know I like the colour.
Jon: I..I don't.. you're rather ruining my image here.
[Martin snorts]
Martin: Can't have the audience think that you are, on occasion, an incredibly doting husband-
Jon: -A title I would argue we both share-
Martin: - which is obviously why, even with it being your favourite thing you've brought, being married to me is just a small wonder-
Jon, audibly rolling his eyes: As I already explained-
[A Pause}
Jon: Actually, you're right-
Martin: Wait-
Jon:- I really should have brought it as a larger wonder-
Martin: Wait-
Jon: though I should warn you, I think I'd have far too much material for just one little segment-
Martin: No no no no no-
Jon:- In fact, I think I might have too much material for just one little episode-
Martin: Joo-oon-
Jon: I might have to do a whole series! Where would I even start? I mean I could talk about how every day I get to watch the early morning sun highlight your curls when I get up first, or hear you quietly humming and shuffling around the kitchen when you do, or I could talk about how the lunch notes only started in the first place as retaliation to the notes you would leave on the mirror for me to find, or how every time I get to see you at ease in a way that you aren't with anyone else, it takes my breath away, or I could talk about how cute I find the lines between your eyebrows that you only get when you're thinking something petty, but you know it's petty so you don't want to say anything-
Martin: Okay, okay, Christ, I give !up I surrender, and will cease my teasing on this particular topic.
Jon, probably making the :3 face: You don't have to stop. I mean, I could also discuss how very, very attractive I find your voice when it takes on a teasi-mmph!
[There's a pleased hum, then a pause.]
[The audio quality is slightly changed, as if the recording has been stopped and then started later]
Martin, giddy: Uh, heh, anyway, Eric asked what the least favourite thing we've brought was, and because of Jon's attempt to embarrass me live-
Jon, overlapping: It's definitely not live-
Martin:- on air, I'm gonna say it's my husband.
[Jon scoffs]
Jon : If the past few minutes are any sort of indication, I'm going to go ahead and saying that you are lying.
Martin, sighing contentedly: Maybe a bit, but how was I supposed to resist when your indigance gives you that adorable little nose scrunch? In reality, my least favourite thing was probably, um, mini golf? Which, I still don't think is inherently bad, definitely superior to regular golf, but when it's the only thing a next door two year old wants to do with you, the charm begins to wear off a bit.
Jon: Wow. A rather scathing review of a toddler.
Martin: Not so much a scathing review of a toddler as it's a scathing review of minigolf's inability to keep its appeal after the third time in the same week.
Jon: Mmm, the sound effects rather quickly go from part of the atmosphere to part of the irritation, don't they?
Martin: So what's your least favorite thing we've covered here?
Jon: Oh, love, I'm not going to pretend to have nearly enough memory of what we've covered so far to have a least favorite.
Martin: Really? Nothing that you regret or rescind?
Jon: Well, regret, certainly. It was one of the weeks where you went first, and your second item was mutual aid funds, and what they can do for marginalized communities, and I had to follow it with fucking Slapchop.
Martin, poorly suppressing laughter: In your defence, Slapchop, or whatever offbrand we have, is pretty useful, especially when either your scar or my arthritis is acting up.
Jon: I'm still not convinced you didn't somehow see my notes for the recording and decided you get revenge for the first year that we knew each other.
Martin, no longer suppressing his laughter: Yep, you got me! This marriage wasn't an act of insurance fraud, but it was a near decade long con to humiliate you on a podcast that about twenty people listen to. I'll draft up the divorce papers immediately, and then we can finally go our separate ways.
Jon: I'm glad you've at last admitted it. Such a weight off of my shoulders. Goodbye forever then.
Martin: Right.
Jon: Right.
[A beat.]
[There's a pfft from one of them, before both dissolve into giggles that lasts a good 30 seconds.]
Martin, slightly out of breath: I can't believe we're the kind of people that talk this much about speciality kitchen gadgets.
Jon: Sorry about that.
Martin: God, don't apologize. I'm, like, deliriously happy with our varying degrees of useful cooking ware filled life. If you had told 25 year old me that one day he'd be debating the merits of getting a tortilla press with his husband, he'd have wept, I tell you.
Jon: Funny, if you told 25 year old me the same thing, he would've said "You don't know the future,piss off" and then quietly have a bit of a panic at 3 am that night.
Martin: I bet you were insufferable in your mid-twenties.
Jon: First of all, who isn't, secondly, I was fresh out of Oxford, and third, I was insufferable in my late twenties, as you can attest to, and I'm insufferable now, as you can further attest to, so extrapolation would indicate that, yes, I was insufferable back then.
Martin: Probably a different kind of insufferable, though.
Jon: There are different kinds?
Martin: Of course! You used to be "prick boss" insufferable and now you're "smug in a way that I can't admit I find hot or it will go straight to your head" insufferable.
Jon, in the aforementioned smug tone: Oh, really?
Martin: See, see! Straight to your head.
Jon: Well straight is probably the wrong descriptor-
Martin: Oof, 4 out of 10 joke, babe.
Jon: That would be a far more convincing rating if you weren't grinning right now.
Martin: It's a genuine review, I'm just well known to be a sucker.
Jon: You and me both, darling.
Martin: Okay, if you're pulling out darling, you're clearly in too giddy of a mood to be focused on recording. Last question, from Jess, "You two mentioned meeting at work, but how did you actually end up together?" That's easy, Jon pulled me out of a hell dimension and then we went on the lam together to Scotland.
Jon: If that's not the way to tell a cute boy you like him, I don't know what is.
Martin: All right, that wraps up this bonus episode, and as the old saying goes, hiding from murderers in a cottage is more conducive to romance than suggesting you gouge out your eyes together.
Jon, cut off: Hey-!
100 notes
·
View notes
Super Cold - RusAme Super Hero One-shot
Summary: Alfred ‘Hitman Jones’ is the lead Super in Heta city. That is, until Russian immigrant Iron Fist moves to town. What will happen when the two join forces to fight against the infamous villain, Red Devil?
https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12629631/1/Super-Cold
A/N: Finally! My first RusAme centric fic! Enjoy :D
How’s everyone doing tonight? The name’s Hitman Jones, hero extraordinaire and wonder boy of Heta city. For those of you who don’t know, I’m the lead Super in town. I have super strength and speed, so criminals usually don’t bother to mess with me, otherwise they…well, get hit. There’s also the fact that my muscles are literally impenetrable, as bullets bounce right off them.
As you can see, I have quite the infamous reputation.
I used to be part of a duo before my twin brother, who now goes under the alias Invincible Violet, moved up North to start over his heroing career. When we were partners, he often got outshone by me, so moving away was his only chance at being noticed for once. Lest we forget that he had invisibility powers, along with super speed like myself.
Honestly, I couldn’t blame him for leaving. In fact, I was happy to hear that he was making grounds in Canada, in Toronto to be more specific.
Anyways, for two years, I’ve been the Super to talk about. All the news outlets focused on me, and I had a pretty sweet deal going on with the police because of my popularity. I got paid to patrol the city, although, any other good deeds were unpaid overtime, like they should be.
Initially, I didn’t start my heroing career to make money. Now, it was just a helpful bonus that paid for most of my university expenses. A kid’s gotta live, am I right?
Too bad my way of living was threatened by a newbie in town.
Iron Fist, a recent Russian immigrant, was quickly gaining ranks and approval amongst the Heta police force. Despite never having an encounter with him myself, I’ve heard many things about him, all of which struck a petty tinge of jealousy in the pit of my stomach.
The rising hero had moved here to escape the mandatory military service clause in Russia. Supers there were forced to do at least five-years of service, unlike here in America, where enlisting was optional. Supers here often just co-operated with the police, like I did. We didn’t usually join the military, and mostly stuck to domestic peace-keeping.
Unfortunately, now that Iron Fist was rounding up bad guys left and right, I had to compete to stay in the spotlight. Rumour has it that his ice powers were like a hail storm – the air would freeze; you would feel a wisp of cold air by your backside, and then the last thing you saw was a fist before being knocked out cold, pun reluctantly intended.
Since all Supers were required to register with the government, they also knew each other on a first name basis. It was for reasons of national security that no secrets were kept. Iron Fist was on record as an Ivan, but that’s all I knew. If Supers wanted to get involved in each other’s personal lives and form alliances, then that was up to them.
I hardly ever went to city council meetings, so I rarely got to see the other Supers in their civilian forms. Not that I wanted to. I could honestly care less. Those meetings were lame, I knew what I was doing, and I didn’t need to listen to some fat old man harp in my ear about lowering damage costs.
I saved the day, that’s all the mattered.
Also, ew. I so wasn’t about to meet this Ivan dude. I wanted him to remain faceless; it was much easier to demonize him that way. I’m telling ya, I may be a hero, but I’ve put too much work into my image to worry about the media questioning my reliability as the best Super the police has to offer. Call me selfish all you want…
Damn you, Iron Fist… Ivan. Tch! What a phony kind of name.
Heta city didn’t need two super powers! One was more than enough.
Chief Kirkland didn’t seem to think so.
He was currently yelling his bitter head off into my earpiece. The downtown branch of the Vargas bank was robbed, again. This was the third time this month.
“ –Are you daft? Stop being a stubborn Neanderthal and know your place. You are to stay put until further orders are given!–” Arthur barked, sounding like a grumpy old-lady that all children avoided on the street for fear of being smacked in the head with a dusty umbrella.
Arthur was the Chief of police. Unbeknownst to the public, he was also secretly a Super. He was a psychic who could pinpoint the locations of criminals and their whereabouts. Unfortunately, his powers were useless in a crowd, as he often got distracted and couldn’t tune out background noise.
It was for this reason that Arthur never became an active Super.
“–What my hot-headed, stubborn as a mule partner meant to say is don’t be stupid–” Francis, Arthur’s Lieutenant, corrected. “–We do not know which villain we are dealing with this time. You may need back-up, Alfred. Strong as you may be, you are still practically a child, and as your superiors, it is imperative that we ensure your safety. You’re also a civilian. It’s our job to protect everyone, including you believe it or not.–”
Francis was also a Super, but his powers were more useful in interrogation. He had the ability to tell when a person was lying. He was also very apt at perceiving and planting false emotions in people to extract the truth from them.
“–Shut it, you cheeky amphibian. We are not partners! I’m your boss and you will treat me as such!–”
“–That’s not how you acted around me last night…–”
I cleared my throat. “Thanks for the advice, Dads. I’m 19, so how about you start loosening up that choke-hold you have on me?” I muttered sarcastically. “Besides, I’m already on the culprits’ tail. A black van just stopped in an alleyway on third street. I’m going in.”
“–There will be no such going in!–” Arthur snapped. “–Alfred Foster Jones, so help me God, if you jump off that roof, I’ll shove my gun so far up your arse, you’ll regret living in a country with such poor gun control!–”
“–Alfred,” Francis whined, “just listen to him. I’m going to have to watch Arthur fret like a suburban house-wife if you ignore his orders again–”
“Sorry, dude,” I said, glancing back to spot the crowd of police cars lined up in front of the bank. It was pitch-black out, save for the street-lamps and many flashing red lights bouncing against the glass windows of the surrounding buildings.
I had climbed onto a rooftop nearby to get a bird’s eye view of the city. From what I could see, the culprits weren’t moving, and didn’t look like they planned to anytime soon. They were likely counting their profits.
I sighed. This was such a bore. It would only take me forty seconds or so to reach the criminals, but Arthur was acting as if going in solo was a death wish. I guess it didn’t help that he had taken full responsibility for me. The amount of paperwork he had to fill out because of the property damage I regularly caused was pretty hilarious.
“Come on, step out of the van. Show your faces,” I whispered to myself. If possible, I also wanted to know who I was dealing with. The other two break-ins at the bank were minor villains. Today would likely be a toughie if we’re going by pure odds here.
I’ve always loved a good challenge.
I readjusted the mask on my face. Normal Alfred Jones wore glasses, and was everyone’s favourite geek. Meanwhile, Hitman Jones wore a partial muse of comedy mask that covered the right side of his face; a smiling face for an always successful hero.
“–Alfred, this is your last warning, young man! Stay put, damn you! I knew I should have called back-up sooner–” Arthur deadpanned.
“What?!” I spluttered.
“–That’s right,” Arthur said, I could hear the smirk in his voice. “I just called in Iron Fist. At least he’s reliable when it comes to preventing this city from falling into shambles on a daily basis–” he lectured.
SLAM!
Angered, I jumped off the building I was standing on, causing cracks to form in the asphalt below my feet. No one questioned my abilities as a Super.
No one.
“–Oh look, you provoked him,” Francis deadpanned. “I’m not even psychic and I saw that one coming. You both have the temperaments of toddlers, mon dieu. Everyone would be better off if you two weren’t working together. But does anyone ever listen to me? Non! It’s because I’m French, isn’t it? We’re not all drunks, you know!–”
I didn’t aim a single glance at the police, ignoring them as Arthur bellowed into his microphone. He was trying to embarrass me, but it wasn’t working. I had been belittled enough for one night, thank you very much.
“JONES GET BACK HERE, YOU TIT!”
“Artie, with all due respect, fuck off,” I growled into my earpiece. “Let me do my job, will ya? I’ve got this.”
Arthur returned to using his earpiece. “–The only thing you ‘got’ is an ego in need of being kicked down a few notches. I’ve just about had it up to here with your impulsiveness!–”
“What’s that? Can’t hear ya. I’m too busy saving your ass. Next time, maybe you guys should invest in a stronger security system.”
“–You are that security system!–”
“Nuh-uh! I’m a responder just like you!”
“–Jones, the next time I see you, you’re dead, you hear me?–”
“Yeah, yeah, you say that every time, father buzzkill.”
The earpiece’s audio broke out for several seconds. Arthur must have been screeching too loudly for the device to pick up on the sound. Whatever, I needed to concentrate anyway. Since Arthur failed to pin-point the criminals’ location, I was doing his job for him.
I sprinted around several street corners, making my way to the center-most part of the city. It was a place most people avoided due to the many operating drug and prostitution rings.
Thankfully, the people in the van didn’t notice me duck behind a nearby dumpster. I caught my breath, fixing my suspenders. Again, I had Arthur to thank for my formal wear.
Supers were discouraged from wearing bright colors, especially if they were on day patrol. If they could be spotted out in the open, then that put the civilians around them in jeopardy. We were instructed to dress ourselves so that we could better fit in with the public and attract less fights with villains, even if most of them happened at night, where criminal activity was at its height.
The outfit I had always worn consisted of a white blouse, black suspenders and leggings made of a spandex-like material, leather gloves, and the mask I’ve already mentioned before. I looked more like a murderer than an actual hero.
Hmmph! The media sure liked to poke fun at how lanky I was in paradox with my super strength. Again, I was 19! I wasn’t done developing just yet!
Carefully, I poked my head into view. “Come on,” I grit my teeth. “Show yourselves.”
“–Have you gotten a visual on who they are yet?” Francis asked. “I’m taking over for now. Arthur is too busy frothing at the mouth to form a proper sentence.–”
“No,” I grunted. “The van is just sitting there. I have no idea what they’re doing.”
The cameras had shown two people in black leaving the bank, but only one hopping into the get-away van. Perhaps this was their meet up place?
“–Good!” Arthur shouted in the background. “Hold your ground, Iron Fist should be there in a few minutes.–”
Arthur really ought to learn my triggers. I always did the opposite of what I was told.
Either way, it didn’t matter. A figure had already stepped out of the van. The first thing I noticed was that she was a woman. She had long brown hair that fell to her waist, bangs pinned to the side with a pink flower clip. She was also wearing all black, and had a cellphone sticking out of her pocket.
Before she could make her way to the trunk, I sped forward, casually resting my arm against the back of the vehicle.
“How’s it going, darling?” I mused, flashing my award-winning smile. “Got big plans tonight? A big spender, are ya? Go big or go home, huh? I have a suggestion. How about we skip all that and I take you straight to prison?”
Arthur and Francis’s fragmented yelling continued to crackle in my ear.
The woman gave a surprised yelp when she spotted me standing there, grinning under the dim lighting of the street. Her green eyes widened with fear before hardening with determination.
“Listen here, Golden boy,” she spat. “Not everything is black and white. I’m here doing a job, and if you get in the way, I won’t have any choice but to dispose of you. Bullets may not harm you, but they do stun from what I’ve heard. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to,” she wavered, almost looking regretful as she pulled out a gun from her cargo pants.
I simpered. I never liked seeing a lady in distress. “Sweetheart, life may get tough, but that doesn’t justify robbing a bank, no circumstances ever do. If you surrender now, I’d be happy to put in a good word for you. You don’t look like the kind of person who would kill someone in cold-blood. Work with me here, where’s your partner? This can all be over soon if you just co-operate; you may not even have to serve jailtime...”
I reached out to touch her shoulder, only to duck when the woman mercilessly shot at my head.
PING!
The bullet bounced off a nearby lamppost. On instinct, I stuck out my arm, blocking the bullet from rebounding straight into the woman’s chest. “Now that wasn’t very nice,” I smirked. “This is your last chance. I don’t like laying my hands on a woman, but if justice calls for it, I won��t hesitate; not again, doll.”
Even though I had just saved her life, the woman took several steps back, refusing to lower her gun. “S-stay away from me!” she shrieked. “I don’t need your pity. I’m doing this b-because I want to! I need this money! It’s the only way I-!”
The woman faltered when a laugh akin to the sound of scraping metal echoed across the street, sending chills up and down my spine.
Red Devil, otherwise known as Gilbert Beilschmidt, stood on a rooftop across the street, red eyes gleaming and upside down cross-themed cape billowing in the wind.
“Tsk! Tsk! Mrs. Héderváry! And here I thought you would honour your word by not getting caught. I should have known not to rely on a non-Super like you. I’m afraid I’m just too trusting. It’s a flaw of mine, but it does provide for much entertainment when your Plan A is already doomed from the beginning.”
I tensed, heeding Arthur’s warning to tread carefully for once. Red Devil was an ex-Super gone bad due to his poor treatment by the media. They had made fun of his strange looks, and had ended up paying for it dearly when their most well-known news anchor was hung in cold-blood, right in front of their headquarters.
“Jones, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Red Devil remarked dismissively, jumping down onto the street with a thundering thud.
The villain had numerous powers, most of which were mental. He played mind games, torturing his victims with horrid thoughts and threats until they finally gave in to his whims. He could also inflict real torture onto his victims, sending ghost pain flaring all throughout their nervous system – this was usually how Gilbert used to catch bad guys, back when he wasn’t one himself.
I caught on quickly, protectively placing an arm in front of Mrs. Héderváry. Gilbert was blackmailing her, I just knew it. “What do you want, Devil?” I asked, not referring to him on a first or last name basis since we were with company.
It was an unspoken rule that Supers were never supposed to out each other.
“Here’s a better question. What kind of dirt do you have on this girl? I know you, and what you’re capable of. You’re forcing her to do this, aren’t you?” I leered. “What kind of sick, twisted bastard gets a human to do his dirty work? Jeopardize yourself if you’re going to be breaking the law, you coward.”
“I can take care of myself,” Mrs. Héderváry growled to herself. “I don’t need some narcissistic Super to protect me.”
Unbeknownst to me, Mrs. Héderváry crept backwards, discreetly opening the trunk of the get-away van.
I furrowed my brows, preparing a mental block in the case that Red Devil attempted to pry into my mind. Judging by the deadly expression on his face, I had pissed him off real good.
Arthur had taught me how to ward myself against mental attacks – it was similar to imagining a brick wall between you and the person trying to invade your mind. To be safe, I made said wall iron; the irony of the figurative mind block flew right over my head, as did most things.
“Don’t get self-righteous on me, Jones. You act like there’s no corruption where you stand. The police are all scum, and you’re just the bottom feeder who eats up their lies. You’re not protecting anyone but yourself! You’re pathetic! Nein! A mutt! That’s what you are! Get your head out of your ass and look up for once. This city is not what it seems! Don’t be a cog in the machine, do what you want for once.”
“I am!” I shouted back. “Protecting this city is what I’ve always wanted to do. Sure, things aren’t squeaky clean, I’ll give you that. But I’m not here to pander to political agendas. I care about keeping the civilians safe, unlike you! Do you remember your brother, Ludwig? He used to look up to you, idolize you. Now he couldn’t be more ashamed of what his brother has become. The other Supers don’t trust him.
“Why? Because he has to live with the guilt of knowing that his brother continues to reign terror in this city, leaving a trail of destruction and blood in his selfish wake. You have no excuse! Self-pity and revenge turned you into a monster. At least one person in your family didn’t turn out to be a rotten apple. Justice will be served to you, Devil, I just hope it never has to come down between you and your brother.”
Gilbert growled. “Tch. After all this time, you still haven’t learned to mind your own business. Fine. Continue to become a slave for all I care. Die for all I care. You chose the wrong side, and now you’ll see what happens when you do.”
“Oh,” I grinned. “And what do you mean by that?”
“This!” Ms. Héderváry shrieked, prodding me in the back with something sharp. Only when the currents coursed through my body did I realize I had just been tasered. It was the one thing that prevented me from using my super strength; it paralyzed my muscles.
I fell to the ground, convulsing.
“I’m sorry, dear. He has my husband,” Mrs. Héderváry sadly glanced down at me before shutting the trunk door.
“Did you count the money?” Red Devil asked her.
“Yes, it’s all there,” Mrs. Héderváry scowled. “I held up my bargain of the deal. It’s time for you to honour yours. Tell me where he is,” she said, evident desperation in her voice.
“Ah! Ah! Ah!” Red Devil waggled a gloved index finger. “That’s not the deal, and you know it. Now be a good girl and start up the car. I can hear sirens; the pigs are almost here.”
“And what about you?”
“I have one last thing to say to this punk.”
“Fine,” Mrs. Héderváry sighed.
A slam of the car door.
I let out a sharp gasp when Gilbert kicked me in the rib-cage. “You’re lucky I’m letting you off easy, kid. If we didn’t have a past together, you’d be dead already. It almost makes me regret having you as an apprentice. I trained you to win, not whatever this is.”
“You also taught me to be ruthless, stubborn, to never give up! To fight for what I believe in! I believed in you, Gilbert! How could you betray us all like that?”
Gilbert rolled his eyes. “You were always such a dramatic brat. The world never believed in me, so why should I believe in it? People change, time goes on, and new trends form. This is evolution, Jones. I’m merely trying to survive.”
“By killing other people?!” I countered.
Another kick to the rib-cage, and then jaw.
“Ja, by killing people. The next time we meet, I won’t be so lenient. Either you join me, or you die at my feet. History has a tendency to repeat itself, so I’m sure I’ll see you lying before me soon enough. Goodbye, Alfred. Perhaps God will grant you some mercy and knock some common sense into that stubborn head of yours.”
“Screw you! You’re despicable,” I hissed, spitting out blood.
Gilbert shrugged. “Despicably awesome.”
I struggled to sit up, watching with furious eyes as the van drove out of sight and skidded around the corner.
“–Jones, Jones!” Arthur shouted in my ear. As we spoke, he was tracking down my location through the earpiece. “What in the bloody hell just happened?!–”
“Red Devil happened,” I groaned. “That’s what.”
I winced, waiting for my muscles to recover from their brief paralysis. “Fuck!”
“–Language!–” Francis tutted.
“–Hang tight, we’ll be right there. Fist should be with you any minute now–” Arthur informed me.
“I told you I didn’t need him!” I snarled, slamming an angry fist against the pavement. The skin on my knuckles opened from the rough contact. Still enraged, I crushed the earpiece, discarding it with an irritated flick of the wrist.
“Need who?” A soft voice spoke into the night, coming from behind me.
I staggered to my feet, falling face first into something hard and very cold. It was a chest. A chest of another Super to be more specific.
“Ah!” I cried out in shock, stumbling backwards. “Where the heck did you come from?! Can’t you see I’m trying to-!” I paused, deadpanning when I realized that Iron Fist was standing before me. This was our first encounter, and he was already getting on my nerves.
Iron Fist was a hulking giant, easily over six feet in height. I was 5’11, and yet he made me feel small and inferior, what with his burly arms, strong shoulders, and chiseled jawline. Of course, you would never hear me admit this out loud, as my pride wouldn’t be able to take it.
He had ear-length blond hair that was almost silver, a white mask that covered his violet eyes and strong nose, and carried a chilly air about him. No, literally. The air had dropped a good ten degrees since his arrival.
I scoffed immediately as my eyes raked downwards. What a goon. He obviously didn’t get the memo about not being allowed to wear spandex or bright colours on the job. His outfit consisted of a tacky blue spandex suit, a navy cape, and silver and white trimming to match his mask. Strangest of all was the white scarf he had wrapped around his neck; I decided not to question it, since one, there were other things to worry about, and two, if I was perpetually freezing like him, I’d probably wear a scarf too.
“Ah,” Iron Fist, Ivan, held out a pale hand, waving it in front of my face. “Perhaps you took too hard of a fall. I can take over from here,” he offered.
“Hell no, dude!” I exploded. “This job is mine. Go home, beat it, scram!”
“I’m afraid that cannot happen,” Iron Fist sighed. His voice was very soft, almost childish but not quite. It was a shocking contrast if you considered his colossal size. “I do not break my promises. I’ve been asked to help. Whether you and I work together is up to you, but I will not back down from this fight. I’m more experienced than you are, I know what I’m doing. You can trust me, Alfred. If not, then I’ll be off. If you haven’t noticed, those criminals are getting away.”
Ha! As if him using my name would get me to trust him any more.
“Yeah, not going to happen,” I snapped, brushing off the dirt from my spandex. Just as I prepared to take off into a sprint, Iron Fist grabbed my wrist, immediately causing me to shiver from both the tightness and coolness of his grip.
“Perhaps I have not made myself clear. This is our job. I can’t have you running off diving into something you can’t possibly win. I read the records, Red Devil used to be your mentor. That’s why us working together as a team is ideal, da? Someone has to be there to ensure you don’t have another moment of weakness. That man is putrid, and used your past together to his advantage. It’s why he’s not in custody right now.”
I shrugged off Iron Fist, biting my lip angrily. “Look,” I huffed. “I don’t need you belittling me. You know nothing, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t butt into my life, you have no right. I was taken by shock just now, simple. I didn’t expect the chick to have a taser on her.”
“Exactly. If I was there, that would have never happened. You need someone to watch your back.”
“I DO NOT!”
Iron Fist’s facial expression darkened. The air got chillier, if possible. “Kirkland was right, you are an immature brat,” he spat in a flat tone. “Is that what you want? To follow in your mentor’s footsteps? To be selfish and feign being a martyr who doesn’t let anyone tie him down? Just look at where that led your idol, Ludwig’s idol. You never had someone to keep you in line. It’s why you’ll eventually fall too if you’re not careful.”
“SHUT UP!” I screeched, raking a hand through my hair. “Just… shut up. I don’t need to hear something that I already know, especially from a stranger like you.”
Iron Fist sighed in understanding. “Mr. Jones, you are still very young and have much to learn. But,” he paused, reaching over to place a gentle hand over my shoulder. “All you need is guidance, a friend. I may be new here, but I know how lonely living this life can be. You can trust me. Fighting by yourself is a hidden burden, but it doesn’t have to be that way.”
The sirens in the distance became louder.
I glanced up into Iron Fist’s eyes, blushing slightly. His gaze was just so piercing. He had such an usual eye color. “Fuck it!” I nodded my head. “Let’s do it. We need a plan.”
Iron Fist smiled. The sight of it sent a strange surge of warmth in my chest. “I’m glad we could reach an agreement. This will be much fun. The city’s two most powerful Supers, fighting together? My, my, the media is going to have a field day tomorrow.”
“Ahem, there’s only one powerful Super here, and that’s me!” I protested.
Iron Fist bent down, mockingly inspecting me with pursed lips. “What? Do my ears beseech me or did this lanky kitten just claim he’s stronger than me? You should really learn to respect your elders.”
“Actually, I am,” I glared. “My powers are super strength and speed. It’s nice to see that your ice powers also translate into your personality. Because my dude, you are cold. Also, you’re only three years older than me. Talk down to me again, and I’ll go for your throat. I’ll fight ya man, the minute we’re done here, I swear to God!”
“Spasibo,” Iron Fist grinned. “Being cold is a speciality of mine. Oh, and I highly doubt that.”
“That wasn’t a compliment. Speak English, I’m not fluent in commie.”
“The plan, Alfred?” Iron Fist rolled his eyes. “You can be a jerk to me later. We need to focus on catching those deviants first.”
The police were just around the corner.
“Yes, yes fine, whatever. Okay, how much do you know?”
“Nothing. I walked in right after seeing a woman half your height taser you. Although, I have fought Red Devil before. I know he’s not a force to be taken lightly.”
I gave Iron Fist an unamused look. “Putting aside your sarcasm, this makes things easier for me. Red Devil is holding her hostage. He has her husband and is likely blackmailing her with his life, so I would be wary of her too, just in case. She’s desperate and isn’t in a right state of mind. If it comes down to it, we save her instead of the money, got it?”
Iron Fist didn’t voice any protest.
��Good,” I affirmed, only to yelp when I saw Arthur’s cruiser speed around the corner. The thick eyebrowed lunatic was using the microphone installed in the vehicle to yell at me, as per usual.
“Uh-oh, he doesn’t sound very happy,” Iron Fist smugly commented.
“What is up with your voice?” I hissed. “Stop speaking to me as if I’m a child!”
“I’m not,” Iron Fist shook his head. “This is just how I talk.”
I scoffed. “Oh, yeah, riiiiiiiight. Let me guess, you like also sunflowers, sunshine, and late-night walks on the beach?”
“…What’s wrong with that?” Iron Fist wavered.
“Ugh! Enough! I’m out. We need to get to high ground. That way I can spot where that bastard is heading.”
I bent my knees, preparing to leap onto the nearest rooftop. I stopped, realizing I didn’t have time to wait for Ivan to climb up the fire escape manually.
Sighing, I bent over, cupping both hands. “Step on, man. I’m giving you a lift.”
Not that I had much of a choice.
I kneeled down.
“…”
“Do it, Ivan. We don’t have time for you to pussy out now!”
Iron Fist’s nervousness must have affected his English. “I am being no such thing. I am not liking that…that mischievous look in your eyes!!”
I smirked. “Bock! Bock! Bock! Chicken!”
“What is this sound you’re making?”
“Bock! My name is Iron Fist! Bock! Bock! I’m a pussy! Cough Cough Bock!”
“You’re insufferable,” Iron Fist stated venomously, albeit stepping onto my hands. I held his entire weight as if it were nothing. I was strong enough to stop trains and buildings from falling, after all.
“Thanks dude, I really needed that ego boost. Here’s yours.”
I thrust Ivan into the air, revelling in his high-pitched shriek as he tucked and rolled onto the rooftop above. His instincts acquired from several years of military service saved him from injuring himself.
Meanwhile, I leapt onto the roof with ease, smooth and slick like a cat, avoiding the beam of Arthur’s beloved spotlight in the nick of time. Ha!
Iron Fist rolled his neck and arms, wringing out the kinks from his rough landing. “I think I just figured out your signature trade mark; obnoxiousness,” he said bitterly.
“Obnoxiousness, handsomeness, bravery, they’re all the same to me,” I waved him off. “Now, let’s catch some baddies, yeah?”
Iron Fist scowled.
Ignoring him, I scoured the city with my eyes, already having a faint idea of where Red Devil would be heading. There were several warehouses located in the east side of the city, near the port. He was likely storing both the husband and the money there.
Sure enough, I spotted the black van I was looking for speeding down seventh street.
“Found them!” I declared, pointing Ivan in the right direction.
“What now then?”
I grinned wickedly. “Hop on my back and you’ll see.”
“I’m really regretting accepting this job.”
“It’s not too late to back out now…pussy.”
THUD!
Iron Fist leapt onto my back, cussing in Russian.
When I began to sprint at an inhuman speed, intending to leap from rooftop to rooftop, that’s when Ivan panicked.
“Alfred, nyet! We’re going to fall!”
“You told me to trust you, now it’s your turn to trust me. I could do this in my sleep, bruh. We need to get ahead of those guys if we’re going to catch them.”
I pretended not to let the coolness of his body temperature, let alone his close proximity bother me. By the grace of God, the night was able to mask the flustered blush on my face. Also, I did have a mask…
Iron Fist tried to keep his whimpers to a minimum as I ran half-way across the city in the span of two minutes. I chose to stop at a rooftop three blocks ahead of the port area. That way, we had time to plan a proper ambush of the van.
While Iron Fist informed Arthur of where we were, using a wrist watch as his form of communication, I estimated we had three minutes before the van would be within ambushing range.
“Yes sir,” Iron Fist drawled, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Da. Da. Da. Da. Nyet. We’ll be careful. Nyet. Da, he’s with me. Okay, talk to you soon.”
“How come you get a wrist watch and I get an earpiece?” I spluttered.
“I know how to follow orders the first time they’re given to me,” Iron Fist airily replied, passively smug. “I don’t need to be constantly reminded.”
“Hmmph!” I pouted. “Not fair. Anyway, that’s them right there,” I pointed at the van, directing Ivan’s gaze. “I think I have a plan.”
“Go on…”
“Freeze the road. They’ll slip on a patch of black ice. I’ll stop the vehicle before they crash, and bam! Red Devil gets caught, the bank gets the money back, Mrs. H gets her husband back, and Arthur can finally go to the hospital to have his aneurism treated.”
“I have no arguments.”
“Good, let’s roll out.”
Iron Fist climbed onto the edge of the roof, holding out his dominant hand. The air gathered around him in a cool wind as he absorbed its moisture.
A faint whooshing sound emanated as Iron Fist thrust his hand downwards, coating a small path of the road with ice. “Now we wait,” he told me.
“Yep.”
Unsuspecting, the van drove onto the patch of ice Iron Fist had concocted, spinning uncontrollably, tires shrieking.
I leapt down to ground level, creating another dent in the road. I would write it off as Red Devil’s fault if Arthur ever asked me about it…
Meanwhile, Ivan had to climb down himself this time.
Right before the van smashed into a city administration building, I dove in front of it, placing both hands on the bumper. I slowed it to a complete stop.
Mrs. Héderváry was at the wheel, wide-eyed as she pawed at the air bag that had haphazardly popped out to catch her crash.
“Miss me?” I grinned.
“YOU!” Red Devil bellowed.
The passenger door was kicked open angrily, skidding across the other end of the street.
Red Devil’s eyes glowed dangerously. Trouble struck when I was lifted in the air by an invisible force. What?! Since when could he perform telekinesis?!
Red Devil’s shoes clacked as he slowly made his way over to me, cracking his knuckles in anticipation. I gasped and struggled for oxygen, clawing at the invisible hands around my throat.
“Jones!” Iron Fist called out from the rooftop. “Hang on, I’m coming!”
I didn’t have time to respond, screaming when Red Devil punched me in the stomach. In moments of peril or confusion, the strength of my muscles weren’t consistent. Gilbert knew all of my weaknesses; he was the one who had trained me into the Super I am today.
“G-Gilbert!” I wheezed, red-faced. “What have you done? This! This isn’t normal.”
“I took something that will allow me to rise to the top. I thought I told you to back off. Tsk! Tsk! You’ve brought this onto yourself. Hmmm. Rebellious boy Alfred fights off against his ‘corrupted’ former mentor,” Red Devil mused, holding up a hand to the air. “I can see the headlines now. The whole press mourning for your early and unexpected departure. How tragic! I’ll have to remember to frame it once it’s printed.”
“You’re mad.”
“That I am. I’m angry at how the world works. But you know what? No matter who’s in charge, life will always be a bitch to someone. Just like it is to you now.”
“AHHH!” I grit my teeth. Red Devil had slipped past my mental block. It felt like my entire body was on fire, my nerves were fried.
“Come on, let it all out. No need to hold any formalities with me. It would be a shame to waste your potential, pathetic and grovelling as you are now. None of my students will ever excel past my own abilities; it’s both a disappointing and rewarding feeling. I mean seriously, is that all you have to fight back? My, I’m almost regretting adopting you under my wing.”
“Screw you!” I was beginning to black out.
“Ah, there’s that spunk I missed. It’s the only redeemable trait you have.”
Mrs. Héderváry stepped out of the car, rubbing her head.
She slowly approached Red Devil.
“Ah, Elizabeta, dear, it looks like you will have to take off on foot. Get the money and run. I’ll rendezvous with you later.”
“Sure thing. Oh, and Gilbert?”
What the heck. She knows Gilbert personally…
“Ja, liebling?” Red Devil teased, mockingly looking over his shoulder. Every thirty seconds he would give me a chance to breathe before tightening the invisible grip he had around my throat.
“I agree with Mr. Jones, screw you! I’m done playing your games! I can’t take it anymore!”
Out of nowhere, Elizabeta pulled out a pan from behind her back, cracking it against the back of Red Devil’s skull. Fury crossed over his expression before his eyes became blank and his body crumpled against the street.
Clang! Elizabeta let go of the pan. Hell if I knew where she got it from.
I also fell to my knees, gasping for breath.
Elizabeta crouched next to me, sobbing. “I’m sorry!” she apologized. “I didn’t know what to do. He has my husband,” she explained to me again. “No matter what I do, he just keeps lying and refuses to let Roderich go. I thought listening to him would work, but I just got sick of it. God! He’s h-hurt so many people, r-right in front of me. Oh…oh no. I’ve gone completely mad, haven’t I?” she wailed.
I shook my head. With a pained grunt, I stood up, offering my hand to Elizabeta. “No ma’am. You’re not mad. If you were, you wouldn’t have helped me just then. Thank you, you’ve done this city a great deed. I’ll do everything in my power to clear your name, rest assured. We’ll also find your husband for you.”
“Thank you!” Elizabeta sniffled, gripping onto my blouse with a shaking fist. “Thank you! Thank you!”
“Of course, any time,” I winked, patting her back before parting. “Now, if you excuse me, I have some unfinished business to take care of.”
“Jones!” Iron Fist called out, coming out of the building he had likely just broken into. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m –”
WHAP!
Elizabeta and I both shrieked as an invisible force knocked us backwards into a building. I had broken the fall. Since she had been standing in front of me, I was able to catch her, holding her protectively against my chest.
She wouldn’t have survived the impact had I not done this. Still, she was unconscious, likely with a severe concussion. Heck, I could hardly keep my own eyes open. Everything hurt. Everything was loud. There was a pestering ringing in my ears that just wouldn’t stop.
“HA!” Red Devil exclaimed. “Did you really think a mere kitchen utensil could triumph over me? Don’t make me laugh. I was just waiting for the stone-cold shithead to get his husky arse down here. I still have a bone to pick with you, you hear that, Fisty? You owe me an entire shipment of weapons!”
Ignoring the villain, Iron Fist took a few steps towards Elizabeta and I. To prevent this from happening, Red Devil waved his hand, moving the crushed van with his mind.
Weakly, I stretched out my leg to prevent the van from crushing us, pushing it out of view. I was too tired to move again, impatiently waiting for my strength to recover.
“Eyes on me, Fisty,” Red Devil repeated with a growl.
Iron Fist glared venomously. “Not only have you broken the law, but you’ve also hurt my friend. I will spare you no mercy, Devil.”
“Gut! I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Iron Fist cried out, unprepared as Red Devil sent his nerves on fire.
“Ivan!” I screamed. “Damn it!” I cursed, struggling to stand up. “Fight back, it’s possible to block him with your mind if you think hard enough. Imagine a wall around yourself! This ability – cough – comes easy to Supers! You can do it – cough.”
Red Devil, likewise to what he did to me, raised Iron Fist in the air so that he hovered above the ground by a few feet.
“You think you’re so cool, don’t you?” Red Devil smirked. “You’re no role model, Fisty. You’re a disgrace to your country, running away when the going gets tough. It’s even more pitiful than dear Alfie’s predicament. You’ve done some horrible things that the Americans don’t know about. It’s about time you told them.”
“Don’t let him get to you!” I protested.
“Can it, Jones! You’re interrupting my awesome diabolic monologue. Anyways, where was I? Ah ja, ja, that’s right. You’ve murdered innocent people, Ivan. You’ve tortured, mutilated, and driven people mad, all because some psycho in office told you to. There is no good and evil if you let go of societal rules, you’re just you. It’s in our nature to be selfish, to grab what we can so we can thrive. Join me, I know you have what it takes to turn this world around. You and I, we won’t just exist. We’ll live like Kings.”
Iron Fist trembled. “Unlike you, I did not choose to become a monster. I am not proud of what I did, but when your family is threatened, you will do anything for them. I came here to start fresh, to give them a better life. Cowardly as it may be, I know that abandoning my country was the right decision. I became a hero to show others that there is always a right path in life, you just have to find it. I decline your offer!”
Red Devil laughed. “How naïve. Don’t you realize? The Americans are no better than the Russians, they’re just more covert in their agenda. You’ll see, soon we Supers won’t have a mind to call our own. It looks like they’ve already brainwashed you. Who’s the real monster now?”
Red Devil stopped, releasing his grip on Iron Fist’s throat. “You will regret standing against me. The moment this world becomes mine, I’ll kill your sisters, listening to them cry out for the brother who won’t be there to save them.”
Something in Iron Fist snapped.
The air grew frigid, not just cold. Snowflakes danced in the air.
CRACK!
Pillars of ice jutted up from the ground, sending Red Devil ten feet into the air. His cape was caught on a pillar where he hung foolishly, feet kicking in shock.
“What in the ever loving fuck?!” Red Devil spluttered, silenced when the tip of another ice spear was placed dangerously close to his throat.
Iron Fist glowed a bright purple, waves of uncontrollable fury rolling off him.
“Threaten me all you want, but don’t you dare get my sisters involved in this!” Iron Fist seethed, his voice no longer soft but rather, harsh; brutal; frozen and devoid of all emotion. “You wanted the monster? Well here he is! Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you.”
Red Devil was trapped. If he made so much as one move with his mind, he’d get skewered in the throat. Acknowledging this, he grinned, running off the euphoric adrenaline of the moment. “Do it, I dare you. You’re not strong enough. You don’t impress me, you’re all talk,” he huffed.
The spear advanced one inch, poking Red Devil’s throat – his crimson eyes bugged out in genuine fear.
Horrified, I laid Elizabeta to the side, standing up. I was almost healed at this point.
“Ivan don’t!” I called out. “You’re letting him get to you. Damn it, I know you’re better than this. You’re a Super! For crying out loud, let him go. He doesn’t deserve such an easy end. What he deserves is to rot in prison! Do you think your sisters would want you to stoop this low? Heck no!”
The purple glow around Iron Fist faded. “Alfred, I… I’m so sorry. I don’t know what overcame me. You’re right.”
“It’s all good,” I wheezed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “This isn’t the first time he’s gotten under someone’s skin. It happens to the best of us… so I guess that would include you,” I squeaked.
“You should probably lower him now,” I advised, noting the sound of sirens in the distance.
Iron Fist nodded his head, shifting the ice pillars so that they still trapped the villain, threatening to pierce him at any given moment.
When the villain was at ground level, I walked up to him, pulling out the bracelet that all Supers employed by the police carried; a power neutralizer.
I wrapped the silver bracelet around Gilbert’s wrist, refusing to look him in the eye until the very last moment.
The ice hissed, beginning to melt.
“Ivan?”
“Da?”
“I’m going to do something morally questionable. Don’t tell the police about it, this is personal.”
Iron Fist didn’t say anything, silently communicating his approval.
“Gilbert Beilschmidt!” I commanded. “You are now under arrest. Oh, and go fuck yourself while you’re at it. That was for me. And this, this is for Ludwig…”
Gilbert looked at me with pure hatred.
WHACK!
Gilbert’s head jutted backwards. I had punched him in the nose, knocking him unconscious.
I dusted off my hands. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree is such a crummy expression. The apple fell away from the tree is more accurate if you ask me.”
Iron Fist gave me an incredulous look before smiling and fondly reaching over to ruffle my hair. “Are you always this dramatic?”
“S-shut up, will ya?!”
As always, the wrap up of an arrest always went by in a blur.
A still disoriented Elizabeta was escorted into a police cruiser under the promise that she wouldn’t be held accountable for what she had done under Red Devil’s orders.
Meanwhile, Gilbert, reduced to a normal human by the neutralizer, struggled amongst the team of officers holding him. “Beta, how could you?!” he wailed, dropping all professionalism, along with his act. “I’m…I’m sorry…”
Elizabeta glared at Gilbert, her eyes filled with hatred. “We may have been friends when we were children, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re dead to me. No friend would ever blackmail or hold someone close to them hostage. And you wonder why we fled town. It was to get away from you and your bullshit!”
Gilbert bowed his head in shame, succumbing to his fate. He didn’t put up a fight as three police officers just about shoved him into the back of a cruiser.
I whistled, waiting for Iron Fist to be freed of questioning. The other officers didn’t trust me, so they were taking longer with Ivan, wanting to get all the information right. I was used to this type of treatment so it didn’t bother me.
Someone had given me a bottle of blue Gatorade, so I was happily busying myself with drinking that.
The moment I saw a messy head of blond hair, I panicked, choking on my drink; dropping it. I weaved in and out of the crowd, but Arthur was a ruthless bloodhound if I’ve ever seen one.
He caught up to me in no time, grabbing me by the suspenders. “You little fucking cocky twat!” he cursed, throttling me back and forth. “Just look what you’ve done! The damages are through the roof!”
“Actually I was on a rooftop, but please, do continue.”
WHACK!
“Ooomph!”
Arthur let go of my suspenders, green eyes livid with anger, caterpillar eyebrows scrunched so that they were united together. He then resorted to pinching my cheeks.
“Just once, can you ever listen to me?! This all could have been resolved without this…this mess! Five damaged buildings, nine roads, two cars, and don’t even get me started on how many ogling children you must have influenced for the worst! And what is up with those bruises? Medic! Medic! Damn, where are the bloody medics? Can no one do their job in this blasted city?”
I shrugged off the Chief with a whine. “Artie, calm your non-existent tits. I’m good, man. The bruises will be gone by morning. I caught the bad guy, didn’t I? Rejoice, relax, unwind, get laid. You’re not even thirty years old. Why don’t you start acting like it?”
“I agree,” Francis purred. “It’s about time you stopped coddling him, cher,” he mused, draping an arm over Arthur’s shoulders. This gesture didn’t last long as Arthur shrugged him off on instinct. “It’s clear to moi that he can take care himself, eh, just not the city.”
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive!” Arthur shouted, only to wince and grab at his forehead. “God, this is all just too much.”
I shrugged. “You can yell at me all you want tomorrow. Let’s just work on getting everyone home safely.”
“Agreed.”
WHACK!
“Ouch!” I protested, grabbing the back of my now sore head. “The suspenders weren’t enough?”
Arthur flipped me off. I wasn’t talking to Chief Kirkland. I was talking to Arthur Kirkland, my next-door-neighbor.
“Good night, jackass. I’ll be looking forward to ripping into you,” Arthur leered in warning before turning on his heels and leaving with a smug-looking Francis.
“So do I!” I laughed, despite wanting to cry on the inside, just a little. “Hey, have you seen Iron Fist anywhere?
“Sod off.”
“He’s just coming out of questioning now,” Francis answered, pointing a lazy, languid hand to his left.
Sure enough, I found Ivan sitting on the hood of a parked cruiser, absently staring ahead.
Without a word, I sat next to him. “Hey,” I greeted after a comfortable amount of time had passed.
“Look man, I’m sorry about what happened in your past, in Russia I mean. I know things aren’t great here, but I sure do hope they’re better,” I rambled.
“Come, let’s go somewhere else.” Iron Fist grabbed my wrist gently, guiding us away from the cruiser when its angry owner began to yell at us for smearing the paint job. Yeah, you’re welcome for saving the city, buddy.
Strangely, I felt my stomach drop when Iron Fist let go of my wrist.
After putting some distance between us and the other officers, only then did Ivan speak. “The past is the past, Alfred. I try not to let it bother me. Still, I have to thank you. You got through to me. Nyet, you spoke to me. You were a voice of reason… you saved me from that monster. I don’t know if I would have been able to do what you just did. Fighting against the one who raised you into who you are must have been immensely difficult.”
“It was and will be when I have to face him in court again,” I admitted sadly. “But, I do know that whatever happens, it’s in his best interest. Who knows, maybe I’ll see the real Gil again. I can only hope.”
“Me too.”
“Hey, buddy?”
“Da?”
“I never thought I would say this, but we sure do make a good team. We, uh, should do it again if our paths just so happen to cross. And uh, thanks. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you either. You saved my ass.”
“Mhmmm,” Iron Fist agreed. “I would like that to happen too. You can be the sidekick,” he said, violet eyes smug.
“Like hell I will!” I exploded. “I’m always the leader!”
“We’ll see. Remember that I’m older, taller, and smarter than you. But not stronger, I can at least admit that.”
“Hmmph!”
Iron Fist smiled.
Suddenly, my heart couldn’t stop beating.
“Well, I’m sure my sisters must be wondering where I am. The youngest refuses to go to bed unless I kiss her forehead goodnight.”
“How cute,” I grinned.
“She’s nineteen, like you.”
“Oh…”
Iron Fist laughed. “I very much would like to work with you again. Before I met you, I saw you as competition, someone to beat. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Now I know that we work best when we’re together. As a team, we’d be unstoppable. Let’s stop this petty feud of reputations and focus on making this city a great place to live again instead,” he proposed.
“Yeah! That’d be great!” I grinned.
What Ivan did next took me by surprise. He brought my hand to his lips, feathering a light kiss against the gloved fabric. Still, it felt way too intimate to be real.
“Until next time, Jones.”
I flushed all kinds of red. “Uh-huh! G-good night!”
…
The next morning
…
Arthur waved a hand in front of Alfred’s flushed face, noting the latter’s dazed and overall vacant expression.
“Yoohoo! Earth to ignorant yank!”
Alfred’s face broke out into a dopey grin, giggling. “He kissed my hand. Can ya believe it?”
“No, but I do want you out of my office. You’re beginning to scare me.”
Alfred, like a zombie, shuffled out of the police chief’s office.
Arthur turned to look at Francis, incredulous. “Francis, I think Red Devil did something to his mind!”
“Non, you fool. There’s nothing wrong with him.”
“Oh? And how do you figure that?”
Francis rolled his eyes. Why did he ever bother? “He’s clearly lovestruck, you imbecile.”
-The end
65 notes
·
View notes