Saturday, April 10, 2010

Oran spent the night in the hospital, though his slight wounds had pretty much healed by the time he arrived in the ambulance. The ER staff were not certain what to do as he had bloody clothes but no corresponding wounds. Someone decided to be thorough and ordered a blood panel. That was when they discovered they could not get a needle in him and realized he was a super. At about the same time they recognized he was the son of a board member and decided to put him in a private room for overnight observation. Basically, they kicked the problem upstairs.

During the night Pope tried to come up with a strategy for navigating the next few days towards the desired outcome. What is the desired outcome? He first wondered. I want to find out who's trying to kill me and stop them, both because they are escalating and there is no guarantee that they will not find a threat I cannot counter. Even if they cannot hurt me, they can damage bystanders. And I don't want that to happen. No one gets hurt because of me.

So what do I do?

It's got to be known by now that I'm a super. I can use that to create a cover super identity ... something animalistic to focus people on my physical abilities and sense of smell. Maybe even pseudo-mystical to focus away from Pulsar's science-based powers. Something wolf like? Lobo? Redwolf? No. Think mythology. What about Romulus and Remus. They were raised by a wolf? A she-wolf so maybe not. White Fang from Jack London? Akela from the Jungle Book? No. I don't want Disney coming after me. What about Fenrir? Giant wolf from Norse myths. Accessing old Oran's encyclopedic memory he could not find anyone using that name, so he decided to adopt it for now.

I admit to the Fenrir powers and identity. I'll have to get with the Couturier about a second costume. And I register as Fenrir. Then Jock and Eric know that I am not an easy target. But that may not be enough. Whoever sent those super mercs after me was prepared for Fenrir level powers. Which means they knew I had them. Did they see the fight at the warehouse? That's the most likely explanation. No other time I have limited myself to just that power level.

What I want? I want Jock and Eric out of the house permanently, or failing that I want at least me, and preferably me and Mariela and Kirstin out of Jock and Eric's control. Even if Jock is not the one behind the attacks, he started the push for K to "date" Jonas, all for advantage in a business deal of some sort, according to her. What are my, our, legal options to achieve this? Looking through both Oran and Pope's memories, he discovered that he was not a lawyer. He had worked with them many times but did not have the specialized knowledge to answer his own questions. I bet Mariela has access to a lawyer. And I bet he or she ultimately works for Jock. Maybe Carl has a friend who has a friend ...

He pondered through the night, never feeling sleepy or hungry.

In the morning he was interrupted first by a nurse checking his vitals. The blood pressure cuff no longer worked, nor did the thermometer. The nurse left, flustered, possibly even frightened. The next visitors were Mariela and Kirstin.

"Oh, baby," Mariela said, throwing her arms around him. "Why does this keep happening to you?"

He almost answered her with his suspicions and theories, but realized she was likely not ready to hear them yet. She felt like she had just almost lost her baby for the fourth or fifth time in just a few weeks. "I'm ok. No problems at all. Completely fine, Mom. I'm really ok." He hugged her to him and patted her back.

Kirstin stated to sniffle "It's all my fault ..." He reached out and took her hand.

"No, it's not," he reassured her. "And I'm just fine. No need to worry."

He held the two upset female family members for five minutes before they regained their composure.

"What happened Oran?" his mother asked. He told her the truth. Everything up to his escape on the roof. Then he introduced Pulsar as a separate person that flew him to a different roof to recover. "By the time I got back to the alley to check on Kirstin and Eric the fight was over, and the cops were everywhere. They saw me and sent me here."

"You were covered in blood," Kirstin started.

"Don't exaggerate," Oran chided. He did not want Mom more upset than she was. "I had a few cuts and scrapes, but they healed up before I even got to the hospital. Now I'm fully healed and feeling better than ever."

"So, you did get powers?" Mariela asked. "Were they from the Hypertap explosion?"

"Probably," he agreed. "I've been slowly discovering them over the past two weeks. I haven't had anything new pop up in a few days so this may be it."

"Why didn't you tell me?" his mother demanded. Oran thought she was whipsawing from fear to anger.

"I wasn't sure what was going on. I was still fuzzy from the accident when the kidnapping happened. Then I was scared." Oran replied, trying to calm her while he justified his actions. "I'm sure I would have told you soon. I was still trying to figure it all out."

"I think everyone saw." Kirstin said. "Someone had fed the cameras in the alley into the club monitors. I guess Korda wanted to make an example of you? Everyone had to see you go down for that to happen."

"Korda?" Mariela inquired of her daughter, her anger looking for a new target.

"Nikolai Korda is called the Don of Westminster Academy," Oran explained to take his mother's ire off of Kirstin. "They say he's the son of someone high up in the Bratva. He supposedly runs the drug trade at the school, and some other stuff too. But no one has proven it and he's never been arrested or even in trouble as far as I know."

"He was one of the boys in the alley?"

"He was probably the leader of them. One of the super villains also knew him and spoke to him. I don't know if there is a connection." Oran shrugged, which reminded him he was still in his hospital gown.

"I don't suppose you brought me any clothes?" he asked, plucking at the gown.

"I did!" Kirstin chirped and pulled a t-shirt and jeans out of her bag.

"Thanks. Give me a minute." He rushed into the bathroom before either could protest. He heard Mariela and Kirstin talking about her interactions with Jock and Eric in regards to Jonas Thaler.

"Mrs. Thaler has a plot of land upstate that your father really wants. He might have thought that you dating her son would make the deal easier, but I'm sure he would not have wanted Eric to push you into anything you did not want to do. Especially anything sexual." Mariela caressed the girl's cheek. "You're his little princess, even if you are almost all grown up."

Pope was disgusted to see such an otherwise strong woman be so blind about her husband. But he had seen it before. He knew he would not be able to change her mind easily, if he could manage it at all. He said nothing as he came out after changing.

Oran had declined to return to the bed and sat in one of five chairs in the room. He was situated at a table with his phone out, looking for media reports of the night's events when Dr. Hart, the physician that had treated him after the accident, knocked and let himself into the room. He raised his eyebrow to see Oran dressed and out of bed. "How are you feeling Mr. Bry?" he asked.

"Better than ever, Dr. Hart."

"I can believe that," the doctor replied. "From your tests last night and this morning, I can confirm that you have undergone full emergence and are now officially superhuman. Does this trace back to the explosion on the 22nd?"

"He thinks so," Mariela answered for him. "Is there anything that can be done?"

Both Oran and the doctor looked at her askance.

"I mean are there any tests to make sure the emergence has not caused any harmful mutations or side effects?" She clarified. Oran thought it likely she had meant 'was there any way to reverse the effects'.

"All we can do is observe," The doctor said. He handed Oran's mother a brochure. "I might recommend that your son be examined at the Helix Center. It is a specialized facility dedicated to the study and medical treatment of supers. It is co-funded by DEMA, The Royals, and the Liberty Legion so you can imagine they have access to technologies and treatments we do not."

She looked at the colorful paper with its stylized double helix made to resemble a caduceus. then shoved it into her purse. "When can we take Oran home?"

"Medically, we have no reason to hold him," Dr. Hart offered. "The FBI have asked to speak to him, as has DEMA. The administrators have offered the use of this room or a conference room here at the hospital if you wish to meet them on neutral ground, so to speak."

"Thank you. We'll let you know if we are taking your most gracious offer by..." she looked at her watch, "10:00."

With a strained smile the physician nodded and left the room. Mariela pulled her phone out of her purse and selected a contact. "Quincy? I need you at Mount Sinai, now please. Oran's room. We need to prep him to make a statement to the FBI and likely DEMA. Alright make it fifteen if you can." She made a second call. "Dad! I need you at Mount Sinai an hour ago. Oran was attacked last night. He's emerged. And he has meetings with the FBI and DEMA in an hour. We need you ... Great."

She turned to Oran and Kirstin, both watching her with slightly widened eyes. "Your team is on the way. Jock is out of town again and can't make it back until later in the week. But we can manage this."

"We're going to be fine." Oran agreed. He was glad that Carl was on the way. He trusted him, and he connected to him in a way he had not with anyone else in this verkackte world. The lawyer, not so much. I don't know him, and I don't know who he's working for. I know I'm not paying him.

The lawyer, Quincy Greene, tall, bald, and bow-tied at 08:30 on a Saturday morning arrived first. He greeted Mariela gushingly, then turned to the children as if they had no place in the discussion of grownups. "I understand you got yourself in a spot of trouble, young man," he said pulling a chair next to Oran's.

"Not exactly how I would describe it," Oran replied, unobtrusively setting his phone to record.

"And how would you describe it?"

"I was assaulted, by multiple assailants in two separate, but contiguous attacks. In both cases I defended myself as well as I could," Oran steamrolled over the lawyer's attempted interruptions. "In the second attack the three superpowered assailants were too powerful for me to overcome so I removed myself from the situation as quickly as I could. Oh ... and there was the attempted sexual assault on my sister that I foiled before the two attacks. Combined it was significantly more than a spot of trouble, and I was responsible for none of it, other than defending my sister and myself."

Everyone else I the room looked at him as if they had never seen him before. Mariela, in particular, looked like she could not decide whether to box his ears for his rudeness or cheer in pride. Quincy tried to speak three times, with nothing coming out.

Kirstin was the first to respond verbally. "That's right. He saved me, then he had to fight all those brutes. There were so many ..." She started to choke up. Oran unlocked his gaze from the attorney and stood to comfort his sister.

"I ... I see," Quincy stuttered to Oran's back. "I understand the FBI and DEMA wish to question you. Perhaps we should go over the events in a bit more detail to prepare your statement."

"DEMA won't question him about the attack," said Carl from the door. "They'll just want him to register. It's the Fibbies that'll have questions."

"Register?" Quincy looked to Mariela then Oran.

"I'm a newly emerged super." Oran said. He reached down and lifted the hospital bed, one handed. He had to hide a grunt as the bed proved to be significantly heavier than he had expected. He managed it, but just barely. Then set it down before he flubbed it.

Carl raised an eyebrow. Oran winked where no one else could see, then wiped his brow. The old man just shook his head.

"I ... I see," Quincy stuttered again. "Um ... the statement?"

"Right," Oran said. He told him the story from before he reached the club, starting with Kirstin telling him about the harassment from Eric, Jonas, and Noreen. He did not mention her father's part in the problem, not trusting the lawyer not to have first loyalty to Jock. Then he started the tale of the evening. He played down the sensory overload, simply mentioning it was hard on his enhanced hearing and smell. The rest of the story he told, quoting Eric and his conflict verbatim. No good to try to paint myself in a better light. Too many witnesses and possible recordings.

When he finished the retelling, again ending with him being moved to a different roof by Pulsar, the lawyer started asking him questions to clarify the statement. That went on for a half hour. Mariela and Carl spent much of that time talking to each other and to unknown people on their phones. The old man made a bit of a face when Oran mentioned the blue-skinned super rescuing him.

After the questions Carl announced "Interview with your old friends Special Agents Oshima and Finn at noon. I suggest we eat a light lunch at 11:00. This might take a while."

"Just let me know if you start to get tired, baby," his mother said.

"Thanks, Mom. But I really am fine."

At noon Oran walked into the conferences room, mob handed. The feds were out in force as well. Agents Oshima, Finn, Chapman, Seagal, and two others Oran had not yet met. They were introduced as King and Robsky. The agents wanted to speak with Kirstin first, assuring her they only had a few question s for her. Oran was asked to wait in the hall. Carl went with him, so Mariela could stay with her daughter.

"What's your play?" Carl spoke softly enough that no one would be able to hear.

"Meet New York's newest super, Fenrir, the wolf boy. Get with your friend. I'm thinking earth tones and leather wraps, tribal wolf totem, and no mask. Think mythical. Maybe a fringed jacket?"

"Very different?"

"Exactly."

Carl nodded his head and smiled. Fifteen minutes later they were called back into the room. After a quick discussion with her father, Mariela left with Kirstin.

"Mr. Bry, how are you feeling?" Oshima asked.

"I believe I'm fully recovered from my injuries. The doctors seem to agree." Oran offered. Quincy put his hand on the teen's arm for a moment to caution him then lifted it off.

"Please tell us, in your own words everything that happened last night at Daniella's night club ..." Agent Finn made a production of turning on the recorder.

Once again Oran repeated his story. Then he repeated it again, with the agents asking questions. Then they cued up the security camera recordings and played them, showing the fights from three to five different angles, depending on the location of the action. Pope was fascinated, He had never seen a super battle except from the inside. He had Oran's memories, but this was somehow different.

"Talk me through your thoughts," Oshima requested as the video restarted. It showed him picking up the paint bucket while surrounded by Eric, Nikolai, and their boys. "I didn't want to hurt anyone, but I needed to get them away from Kirstin and any other possible bystanders."

"Why not just run away. You proved you could do that later." Finn asked.

"These guys had already shown they were willing to get violent inside the VIP lounge. They were after Kirstin as well as me, if for different reasons. My powers are new enough that I wasn't sure, but I thought I could take them."

"Why did you grab the bucket. There were other possible weapons?" Chapman asked.

"Even with super strength it is tough to hurt someone with an empty plastic bucket. It made noise and offered some impact, but it would come off the handle if I tried to swing it to hard or crumple the sides if I hit someone too hard." Oran pointed to the screen. "You'll see all my actions were defensive. I wasn't trying to hurt them, just wear them down, break their will to fight."

The video played through the end of the fight with the boys and the arrival of the supers. "What were you trying here?" Finn prompted.

"For about five seconds I thought I might be able to fight them. What did I know? I 'm new to this super stuff. Anyway, I quickly realized I didn't have a chance, so I started trying to get away. Eventually I managed to tie them up long enough to run."

The questions lasted a bit longer, then Finn called for a break. "Occupy the lawyer for ten minutes," Oran whispered to Carl, who nodded in response. The teen managed to maneuver between Oshima and the door. Once Carl and Quincy were out of the room, he shut the door, with him and a few of the agents still inside.

"Something you wanted to say?" Oshima looked at Oran. "Without your counsel?"

"Oran sat down and asked the agent to do the same. "As you may have guessed, the kidnapping did not quite go the way I said. But there is something you need to know."

"Let me guess, no mysterious super savior?"

"Not that time, no. I fought the four kidnappers. But before I did they said some things that point to the person behind them. I have eidetic memory, so these quotes are exact.

"So now what?" the driver asked.

"The client said we are to wait. He's not available until six," answered the African American man.

"Does that mean we are going to wait until we contact him to ..." the short-cropped Hispanic, possibly the broadest of the four men, trailed off without finishing his question.

"Not necessary," the bald leader answered. "The first act is top priority, so we move forward with it. The ransom demand is iffy at best."

Oran said, "Hey, what do you want? Why are you doing this?"

"You'd be horrified if you knew," drawled the driver. "Better to save you the heartbreak."

The dark man moved faster than Oran expected and jabbed the needle towards his neck. "Nothing personal, kid. Just business."

King was writing quickly while Finn tried to get the recorder working. "Say that again," she barked. Oran repeated it clearly.

"Both the driver and the bald African American leader got away. Since you didn't find either of the Hispanic men I knocked out, I assume they got away before someone burned the place down. The thing is they know who hired them. And I think I might know too. Can't prove it, but it makes sense."

Oran continued as the others listened, their faces showing nothing. "The heartbreak comment suggests a betrayal by someone close – friend or family. None of my three friends have either means or motive to do me in. That leaves family."

"My step-brother, as you have seen, does not like me, but he seemed honestly surprised by the second attack. My step-father Jock Coleman and I have never gotten along. He has the money. He was traveling that day and was due back in town around 6pm. He is also the person that arranged for me to tour the lab that blew up, killing my two companions and leaving me in a coma for days. I'd hate to think he'd want me dead, but it's the only options I can think of that makes ties it all together." The teen wound down and looked at his audience.