Prologue
The man sat somber, munching away at a sandwich from down the street with all the statute of a man whose only worry was the morning forecast. To my right strode a man on a mission, one whose comfort showed from experience.
I had come to learn the distinction between the sweet man I had come to know and the side my father employed, two facets of the same man. With the crinkling of eyes and the tug upwards of a mouth, his entire posture changed from that of business to the friend I had come to spend most of my time with. He was kind where my father was stern, and comforting while others would stare. I had known Wesley for several years at this point, his business face falling into place with the rest of his form with ease. It was time to work.
The middle-aged man we approached shot us a weary gaze as we sat down on each side of him, blocking him in with the concrete table decorated for chess and checkers.
“There’s plenty of room over there. Do you mind?”
I looked down at my hands, fiddling with the few rings decorating my fingers and appearing disinterested. “Try again.”
“Twenty-eight thousand nine hundred fifty-seven.”
The man swallowed, his posture straightening and his breath hitching in his throat.
“Tell Rigoletto he’ll get his money.”
“Mr. Rigoletto has retired. His books have been acquired by my employer.”
“Ah. well, you tell him the same thing.”
I cut my eyes to Wesley as the man tried to shove past, a grin stretching over his face. The grin of a predator who had trapped his unknowing prey.
“I’d like to show you something,” he flipped open the tablet he had been carrying and set it on the table. “Do you have a moment?”
The man relented and moved back into his seat, curious about the dark screen. It flicked to life and made the breath catch in his throat, fear, and disbelief clouding his face.
“What is is about college girls and Monet t-shirts? Open composition and the spontaneity reflecting this transformative time in their lives, perhaps? Or maybe they just like the color blue.”
I hummed, looking down at Wesley’s own blue suit, a criss-cross pattern inlaid with lighter and darker shades that created a rich fabric stretched across his frame. Compared to him, my sweatshirt and jeans worn over an almost invisible layer of body armor made us stand out in stark difference to another, as though reflected in our own positions within the organization.
The sharp smart businessman and the disposable guard dog.
“Call her.”
The man fished around in his pockets for an old flip phone, desperate for the conversation with his daughter that followed.
“Now, you see this man here. If we’re being honest with each other, Mr.Farnum, I find his methods unpleasant. But such are the times we live in.”
Wesley tapped on the keyboard before speaking once again, a little louder.
“Give us a wave, Mr.Rance.”
“I told you that I will get you the money.”
“Such a small sum is of little interest to my employer. Your position, however, that’s something we can work with.”
The man sighed, sinking lower into his seat. He looked around a few times and spoke with conviction.
“What do you want me to do?”
Wesley smiled once more, relaxing into the seat and taking the tablet back down into his lap. I felt a slight shiver go down my spine. The prey has been snagged.
-D-
The rhythmic swinging of my legs back and forth was starting to lure me into an almost sleepy state, the drizzle of rain pattering against the concrete construction making it even more difficult to focus on the voices a floor below. All five of them had been gathered, my unseen presence requested this morning by both the two charming Russians, Wesley, and by proxy my father.
The night stretched on in the city in front of me, wind whistling through my hair and smelling of sawdust and uncured concrete. The tower, blocked off my chain link fencing and various signs proved to be tonight’s meeting ground, a location only expressed to us at the last minute as an insurance. Owlsey’s voice was the first I picked up on, an air of annoyance floating on the breeze. I pictured his usual scowl and disapproving gaze to be sweeping the city, never truly satisfied with its contents.
“It’s freezing this high up. Next time we’re meeting at Per Se. I’ll domesticate you boys yet.”
The Russians: Anatoly, and Vladimir. They had been useful to my father for over a year now, and proved to be both loyal to each other and those that proved themselves as friends. I had earned myself that luxury after protecting them both in a gunfight and at the cost of getting shot myself. It was one of the few wounds that hadn’t healed correctly and formed into a scar, the puckered skin sitting a few inches above my left knee. They had been devoted thereafter, claiming to be a pack of three with the dreaded Cerbeus ever since the fateful night. They were the only ones I didn’t mind calling me that name.
“This would be a balmy day in Samara, Leland.”
“Yes, it’s perfect Chechnyans-kidnap-a-preschool weather, Vladimir,” Owlsley sighed. “Can you at least pretend to be cold? It’s unsettling”
I hummed, unsure of who he was speaking to this time. Both Nobu and Gao had poker faces that matched my father’s, their expressions unwavering and body language silent. Madame Gao chuckled, and if I really focused, I could hear the faint sound of her cane tapping as she looked around and watched her surroundings. She looked old and fragile, but the woman was sharp and mean, and something about her still left me in awe after all this time.
“Anyone here speak Chinese?”
“Nobu?”
I almost laughed at the absurdity of his question. Anatoly appeared to follow my same train of thought.
“The man is Japanese.”
“I know, I know. I just thought that… forget it.”
The sound of the elevator caught my attention. The man of the hour was here, and judging by the lack of his voice, my father was not attending this meeting. The door opened with a loud bang and I perked up at the sound of his footsteps coming closer to the groups’ location. I leaned over to try and spot him, loafers and the bottoms of a nicely tailored pair of pants were all that I could see. Vladimir seemed to catch the movement out of the corner of his eye and winked as he caught my gaze, the ridiculous bastard.
Owlsley let out a quiet groan. “Oh, please tell me he’s right behind you.”
“Unfortunately, my employer is attending to other matters. He apologizes to you, in particular, Madame Gao.”
Vladimir shot me a look and cursed under his breath in Russian, the few phrases they taught me proving to keep me lost on whatever he said.
“We do not deal with lapdogs. Tell mister -”
“We don’t say his name.” Wesley hissed, voice even but the threat lingering.
I vaguely registered the sound of two people leaving, the absence of a cane, and the near-silent boots I know they wore making me believe it was Anatoly and Vladimir.
“He would like to know why you’re short on the cargo totals.”
The level below me fell silent, all parties holding their breath until the brother spoke up, one after the other.
“There was a problem on the docks.”
“Barrett and our men were attacked. Some moodak in a black mask.”
Owlsley laughed, “And you bought that?”
Boots thudded back towards me and below where Owlsley stood, more Russian cursing giving away that it was the hot-tempered parties who rejoined the group meeting. The coward himself relented, his arms going up within my line of sight as I attempted to once again peek over the side. Wesley was much closer now, in full view of my watchful gaze. He wasn’t happy, judging by the frown he sent my way before turning back around to face the group.
“Okay, calm down. Fine, we’ll go with the man-in-black story.”
Vladimir’s tone was quieter, a warning edge to it. “Our men would not lie.”
“I said I’m on board. I’m glad to hear there’s some new blood running around out there. Heros and their consequences are why we have our current opportunities. Now can we review the latest numbers and - ”
Wesley interrupted him. “Tell me more about this man.”
“Took Barrett and our guys out while they were loading the container.”
Madame Gao butt in, her mandarin both music to my ears and something I had never been able to learn and understand. My father had been exposed to so many people with different languages, it was handy having someone like Wesley to translate when the rest of us could not.
“She wants to know if this man stole the shipment for himself.”
“No. He let the women go.”
I felt my head tilt in confusion. Women? Vladimir and Anatoly never told me what the cargo was or let me be involved in the process no matter how much I offered help. Could this be why? Did father know? I tried to push it to the back of my mind a focus on the conversation below. Whether they knew I was there or not, it was rude not to pay attention for too long.
“He took out your men. How?”
“Caught them by surprise,” Vladimir sounded borderline impressed and agitated. “Beat them. With his bare hands.”
“Four men with his bare hands?”
“That is what we were told.” Anatoly bit out.
“Perhaps you should have been there yourself.”
Every time he interrupted, Owlsley gained himself a mental point of irritation on my personal scale. Something about the man grated on my nerves from the first day I met him, all slimy and willing to blatantly lie to my father to get what he wanted while giving nothing in return.
“Again, I have to ask, why do we care? Every time one of these guys punches someone through a building, our margins go up three percent. We should be celebrating.”
“This is different. My employer will be…” Wesley sounded nervous, “displeased we’re being inconvenienced by a lone vigilante.”
Wesley took a deep, calming breath. “This is on you. Deal with it quietly.”
“We must be quiet, yes. We would not want another Union Allied situation, would we? Big, loud, lots of questions.”
Once again tonight I was confused about the matters going on around me. It was not often I was out of the loop, but it felt that as I got older and moved away from my father he began isolating me more from the day-to-day going ons of his organization. He promised that I was going to help him, that I was the key to him saving the city. Every day that passed with me in the dark made me feel more and more nervous about his next moves.
“We’re handling it.”
“Like you keep saying you’re handling Prohaszka?”
“We’re in the process of negotiating with Mr. Prohaszka.”
“Negotiating? Maybe we handle our problem same way. Sit down with this man in black, break bread.”
I couldn’t lie and say that the thought did not amuse me. Picturing the brothers and myself sitting at a table and having dinner with the man thwarting my fathers’ plans sounded interesting at least, and enlightening at worst. I wondered what kind of man he was, to go against my father. If he knew what he was up against or just fighting what he thought were injustices. If he knew my fathers’ plans were to save the city and make it better.
“I think what Anatoly’s trying to say is that it would be in our best interests for Union Allied to be... tidied up as expeditiously as possible.”
“As I said,” Wesley breathed. “We’re handling it.”
I crossed the floor with quiet ease, slipping the mask off my face to hang at my neck. The brothers teased me relentlessly for the dark get up, but I knew inside that just looking at the full suit and body armor frightened them. They once had asked why a father had created such a terrifying look for his daughter, and my bloodied nose and knuckles had spoken enough that they understood the message. I was made for more than beating on those that stood in the way of him saving the city, I was a deterrent for those who thought to stand against him.
With a huff I hopped down, grabbing onto the small pieces of rebar and using them to swing myself downwards to the bottom floor where they disembarked from the elevator. I didn’t try to ease the fall, instead favoring a landing they could hear and anticipate instead of scaring them. Anatoly was the first to smile, an arm coming up to wrap around my shoulders.
“Hello there - “
“Are you two stupid ?” I growled.
Vladimir scoffed and crossed his arms. If he had another side to his personality than the stubborn, indignant asshole that he showed around everyone I was unsure. But the way his face visibly softened made a slight shiver run down my spine, the gentleness by which they handled me still alien.
“You were listening?”
I nodded, rolling my eyes. “You asked me to.”
Anatoly sighed, rubbing the hand he had around my shoulder down my arm in a soothing manner meant to console a child.
"Don't worry about a thing, Cerberus. We have it handled."
I looked away from their intense stares to the scuffed boots and battle-worn armor that still covered my figure. How they managed to see past the carefully crafted image meant to terrify still made me wonder if they were smarter than they looked or just hopeful for real companionship. I wanted answers, and out of everyone that attended that meeting, James Wesley included, they were more viable to give them to me.
"Ignoring that bullshit, I need one of you to tell me right now what's going on with Union Allied."