Protective Custody

A/N: Dear Readers, just a note to let everyone know I expect to post on Saturday of next week instead of Friday.

Chapter 9: The Safe House

Phil-

As he drove his group away from the hospital and towards the Avenger’s Tower, for the first time in several days, Phil felt almost entirely at ease. Ash had agreed to go into protective custody and was in a vehicle filled with, in Phil’s completely unbiased opinion, the world’s most powerful super heroes who were also, in another of Phil’s completely unbiased opinions, the world’s nicest people. Everything was going to be just fine. He’d had that thought only seconds before he glanced in the rear view mirror at saw Ash, pale and grim. The blood loss had taken it’s toll on him and he stared at his reflection in the window as if he didn’t like what he saw.

He’d refused food, even when his stomach had complained loudly enough for everyone to hear it, and that worried Phil. From the look on her face, Ms. Randy knew about the problem and wasn’t happy about it. Still, it was hardly the time or place to confront Ash about it. It was just as concerning when Phil hit a pothole and he caught a glimpse of Ash wincing. He didn’t make a sound, but his face screwed up for just a second until he got himself under control, again. There was no reason that he had to be in pain, but he’d been adamant when he’d refused the pain medication and they couldn’t force him to take them.

Ash gave no further sign that he was in pain and by the time they’d arrived at the tower, he was obviously trying to act as if he were fine, but his movements were stiff and controlled and Phil had been around far too many wounded soldiers to be fooled.

Bruce kept a close eye on Ash, as Phil had entirely expected him to. Bruce was a very kind, compassionate soul and seeing anyone in pain distressed him. So he kept close when, in the elevator, Ash rested by leaning against a wall. It wasn’t easy for Bruce to get close to Ash as Max and Jessica hovered around Ash like wolves around their pup, but Bruce did try. Once in the living areas, they all went into the common room and found Tony, shaking and distressed.

“A-Ash?” Tony choked the word out as he stared at Ash with a strange mix of revulsion and horror on his face. “Ash Lynx? The... the party?”

Ash rubbed the back of his head with his hand and sighed. “You remember that, huh? I thought you were so drunk that night, you’d have forgotten you were even there.”

Ash stuck his hands in his pockets and turned away. “Stop looking sick. You’re in the clear, anyway. You were a perfect gentleman.”

“You mean,” Tony swallowed hard. “I didn’t... we didn’t...”

“You didn’t have your wicked way with me, if that’s what you’re worried about. We played Tetris and you left. End of story.”

Tony let out a breath. “Thank God!” He looked up at Phil and gave a watery sort of smile. “I think you’re right. What we were talking about? The liquor cabinet? Time for it to go.” Then he gave himself a little shake. “Right. Well. I got that info you wanted, Phil. J.A.R.V.I.S. can give it to you when you’re ready.” He put a hand on Phil’s arm. “Can I talk to you a minute?”

Phil let himself be led away from everyone. Tony’s urgency was clear and Phil feared that at any moment, Tony would lose patience and blurt out whatever he needed to say in front of everyone, so he didn’t argue when Tony tugged him into an empty hall. “Tony, what’s wrong? What happened? Is... what you and Ash said out there... is this something to worry about?” Phil put a hand on Tony’s arm to steady him because he still looked a bit shaky.

None of that short conversation had inspired any good feelings. Of course Tony wouldn’t have hurt a child - the very idea of it was absurd - but that Tony had even been in that situation was reason for worry.

“Phil, I drank a lot that night - the waiter always seemed to be putting a fresh glass in my hand - and I told you what I was like back then. If Happy hadn’t been around to look after me, I probably would have been dead in a ditch a long time ago. But... but I was so deep in that night... Phil, I almost did the most evil thing!” Tony told Phil what he had remembered the moment he’d heard the name ‘Ash Lynx’ and how terrified he’d been that he might have committed a vile crime without intending to. “So,” Tony finished up. “I think it’s best to get the liquor cabinet out of sight, out of mind. I don’t ever want to worry about that again.”

Considering Tony’s spotty history with drinking, it was a very good decision, Phil thought. “That’s no problem at all, especially if it brings you peace of mind. But I wouldn’t lose too much sleep over it. You’re a good person, right down to your bones. And Ash seems to be a pretty straight-forward sort of person, so I don’t think he’d lie to save your feelings.”

Tony didn’t even like parties, let alone business parties, so why he’d gone to one was a bit of a mystery. But it had been years ago when Obediah Stane had still been in the picture, so Phil presumed he’d had something to do with it. To a party where an underaged kid had been aimed at him. It was all too suspicious and Phil found it too likely that Stane had sent Tony there deliberately trying to get him into trouble.

“Yeah,” Tony said, softly. “I guess you’re right. Those are our guests, huh? I was expecting one person, not a whole family, so I’ve only got a tiny room with a single bed in it. I’ll go get a bigger place set up. You go back and do what you have to do. Sorry for dragging you away. I got myself worked up for nothing. Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. I’m happy to help.” Sometimes, Phil wondered if his team would ever get it through their heads that he was there to help them. As their handler, it was his job to make sure the Avengers were able to preform their duty. As a friend, he wanted them all to be happy and healthy and was willing to do what was necessary to make that happen. “Before you go, I should tell you - Ash is the witness.”

Tony didn’t look at Phil. He stared at his feet, then at an empty wall. Finally, he gave a short, bitter laugh. “Of course. God, how stupid can I be? Cub Cod was operating for years right in sight of my home. That kid not only went through Hell there, but I came face-to-face with him at a party and I didn’t even help him. I could have, you know. If I hadn’t been so drunk and I’d been just a little smarter, I could have grabbed the kid and taken him away from there. He might have told me what was going on at Club Cod and I could have helped all the other kids. No, I needed a damned drink and I played Tetris!”

“Hey now!” Phil objected. “Don’t you put any blame for yourself on this. You didn’t realize what was going on at the time. From what you told me, you thought you’d met a nice kid and had a little fun playing a video game. That’s all. Things might have worked out differently if you’d made different choices, yes, but you didn’t put him in that situation. You didn’t keep him there for years. This isn’t your fault. There are a lot of people who could blame themselves for not noticing something or not realizing something was off with that place, but the only people to blame are the ones who kept those kids prisoners and the ones who rented them. And we’re helping to stop them.”

Tony didn’t look entirely convinced, but his temper had softened and he nodded. “Right. You’re right. I don’t think this is the kind of thing Iron Man can help with. Maybe I should see if I have a few spare lawyers who want something to do. That might help. Let me go get some people working on the extra room. It’ll only take a minute.”

As Tony walked down the hall and turned a corner, Phil was seriously divided about whether or not he should follow Tony to make sure he was alright or go back to the common room to sort out everything with their guests.

J.A.R.V.I.S. said, “Please, see to our guests. I will look after him, Phil. Don’t worry.”

“Thanks,” Phil said, relieved. Of course J.A.R.V.I.S. was the best person to look out for Tony. Who better?

Phil went back to the common room in time to hear J.A.R.V.I.S. say, “My name is J.A.R.V.I.S. and I hope that I may make your stay here as comfortable as possible.” Obviously, J.A.R.V.I.S. could split his attention between Tony and the newcomers. Phil was used to J.A.R.V.I.S. and heard the warmth in J.A.R.V.I.S.’s voice. He knew very well that J.A.R.V.I.S., while a computer, was every bit a compassionate, sensitive person and his only intentions in introducing himself was to make his new residents feel welcome.

At the sound of J.A.R.V.I.S.’s voice, however, Ash went so tense that Phil thought he might actually hurt himself. His eyes made a quick scan off the room, obviously looking for the source of the voice and looking decidedly unhappy when he didn’t see it. Max, too, had gone tense and his fingers twitched at his sides.

“Who was that?” Jessica asked. Unlike Ash and Max, she didn’t seem unduly cautious, but she was curious.

“That,” Natasha spoke up. “Was J.A.R.V.I.S. and he takes care of us.” She paused then and looked at Phil. “Do they need further information?”

“It won’t do any harm.”

Natasha continued. “J.A.R.V.I.S. is a computer program, a person who is also a computer. You will not see him by looking around - he is everywhere. He is in control of the entire tower. He sees all and knows all.”

While true, the explanation was a tad on the ominous side and Phil couldn’t fault their guests for looking rather unhappy. He added in, “J.A.R.V.I.S. is here to help. Aren’t you, J.A.R.V.I.S.?”

“Yes, Phil,” J.A.R.V.I.S. answered. “If you have questions or concerns, please simply speak out loud and I will hear you and answer to the best of my ability.”

Michael tugged on Max’s hand. “Daddy? Is there a ghost?”

J.A.R.V.I.S. laughed, a soft chuckle. “I am not a ghost. I am a computer program. I do apologize if I frightened you.”

Michael hugged his teddy bear a little tighter. “I’m not scared. Sure you’re not a ghost?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay. Are we living here, now?” He looked up at his parents, both of whom looked at Phil.

“For a little while, until all the trouble had been solved,” Phil said.

“I need a gun,” Ash said, out of the blue.

“You really don’t,” Steve told him. “Not when you’re here.”

Max shook his head at Steve. “Don’t bother. Ash, I’ll get you a gun. You want another revolver?”

“Yeah. If you can’t get it, I know someone who can.”

That Max didn’t argue or question Ash about needing a gun, just accepted it as a necessary fact of life, made Phil wondered what had happened to them that the need for weapons was so obvious and natural to them. Tony rejoined them and told Phil he had people working on the living situation for the guests.

“We can talk about a gun, later,” Phil said, raising his voice. He hoped to put off that talk. After all, Ash was severely wounded and would need a great long while to recover. Phil entirely doubted that Ash would be able to properly use a gun for the next few weeks, at least. “If everyone could gather round, we can all get on the same page. Ash, you need to get some rest. Why don’t you lay down on the couch and...”

“I’m fine. I don’t need to lay down.” Ash kept his place by the door.

“I have to agree with Phil,” Bruce said. “You were very lucky that the knife missed all your internal organs, but you still lost too much blood. You need to rest.”

Ash smiled and shook his head. “No, thanks.”

Just as Bruce looked ready to set into a softly spoken lecture about taking care of one’s health, Jessica strode over to Ash and looked him straight in the eyes. She planted a fist on her hip and stood tall enough to look down her nose at Ash which was only possible because of her six-inch heels. “Brat, you are fresh out of the hospital and if I had my way, you’d still be there! If you’re going to be stubborn about not staying in the hospital, then you’re going to lay down and rest and, hopefully, prevent your innards from spilling out all over the floor!”

Michael looked up at his father and asked, “What’s ‘innards’?”

“Your insides,” Max answered. “Mommy doesn’t want Ash to start bleeding again, so he needs to rest.”

“I don’t need to lay down,” Ash protested, slipping away from Jessica. “I’m fine. Stopping nagging, Old Woman!”

“Nagging!? You want nagging? I’ll give you nagging!” And she let loose on a five minute tirade on the stubbornness of teenagers and a certain teenager in particular who was behaving like a three-year-old. “You read your doctor’s instructions - don’t think I didn’t see you! - you know what you’re supposed to do!” She jabbed her finger at the couch. “At the very least sit!”

Ash sat. He crossed his arms and mumbled, “Sit? What does she think I am? A dog?”

“Right,” Phil raised his voice enough for everyone to hear. “Let’s make sure everyone is on the same page.” He waited until everyone had found a seat. Bruce, as was his habit, sat on the floor with his back against a wall. Clint and Natasha stood by the fireplace, one on either side, as if they were bookends. Tony and Steve sat in arm chairs next to each other and Jessica and Max sat on the couch on either side of Ash with Michael sitting next to his mother. Once everyone had settled, Phil cleared his throat and said, “Everyone, this is Aslan Callenrese who goes by Ash Lynx.” He gestured to Ash. “We all saw the news report about Club Cod and what the police believe happened there. Ash is the witness who’s going to testify against the owner and the clients and Max is the journalist who’s helping him.” He gestured to Max. “And next we have Max’s ex-wife, Jessica, and their son, Michael.”

Michael, a little cowed by the attention, snuggled into his mother’s side and closed his eyes when he shyly waved to the room.

Phil continued, “Our job is to protect them until Ash’s day in court. I’ll find out when that will be...”

“Three weeks,” Ash said as he absently reached over Max and grabbed one of Tony’s Rubix Cubes off an end table. Tony liked to play with them when he was thinking and had several laying around the common room. Ash turned the Rubix Cube over his hands, absently looking at all the mixed up colors before he started to twist the toy this way and that. “All the legal stuff’s going to start in three weeks. I gave a list of people to the cops to get the ball rolling and they’ve arrested a few people, but they’re trying to keep everything quiet so the other people don’t go into hiding before they can get arrested. So long as I report to the courthouse three weeks from today, it’s all good.”

Three weeks, Phil thought, was not much time. The case must be being rushed along. “Right. Three weeks, then. Our job is to protect them until the court date. On a more immediate note, we already have an attack to deal with.” The whole room seemed to come to attention as the Avenger’s focused their attention on Phil. “As you all know, Ash was attacked and hospitalized with a stab wound and...”

“No.” Ash interrupted. He put the Rubix Cube, solved, back on the side table. Phil stared. To solve it so quickly? Tony and Bruce, both of whom knew how hard it was to solve the Rubix Cube, exchanged a surprised look. Ash said, “You don’t do anything about that. I know who did it and why and it’s not your business. It’s got nothing to do with Club Cod.”

Phil blinked. “Someone tried to kill you. That stab was only inches from several important things inside you.”

“I know; I read my chart. It’s still none of your business.”

“You don’t think it’s important that you nearly died?”

“Not really. Look, just drop it. That guy had nothing to do with Club Cod or any of this court business. It was personal.”

It disturbed Phil more than a little to hear someone speaking so carelessly about their own life. “Even if you’re not concerned, a crime was committed and if there’s someone running around attacking people, then at the very least we need to talk to the police so they can find the suspect.”

Ash sighed and rubbed the back of his head with his hand. “Look, the guy who stabbed me was Lao Yuen-Tai. And like I said, it was personal and it’s done. He’s not going to do it a second time. I shot and killed him before I got to the library. That kid who hit me at the hospital? Lao was his brother and he hit me because I killed his brother. It’s done so drop it.”

“You admit you killed someone?” Steve sat forward and his voice raised in disbelief.

“Duh. He tried to kill me.” Ash crossed his ankles and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Let’s save some time and questions since I don’t want to repeat this a million times. My name is Ash and I’m eighteen-years-old. When I was eleven,” Ash stopped abruptly. He looked at Max, then shot a quick glance at Michael.

“Right, right.” Max stood up and took Michael’s hand. “Let’s go for a walk, Michael. You’ve never seen the city from this high up.” He took Michael to the far side of the room and held Michael so he could look out the large windows.

When Ash spoke, again, his voice was soft enough that Michael wouldn’t be able to hear him. “When I was eleven, I was homeless and alone on the streets. I got caught by a guy who sold me to the owner of Club Cod. He made me a prostitute and put me in kiddie porn. When I was thirteen, the owner decided he liked me and he took me out of Club Cod to stay with him as his sex toy. I got away from him when I was seventeen. Last week, I got free. ”

The whole room was quiet but for the sound of Michael talking to his father.

“And now you’re going to bring them to justice,” Steve said with real admiration in his voice. “That’s very brave. You should be proud of yourself for being able to face all that when you’ve gotten away.”

Ash rolled his eyes. His hand drifted down to his side where he’d been stabbed. “It’s not brave. I want those creeps to be hurt and I want them scared. I want them to know what it feels like to be small and weak. I want to know that none of them will ever hurt another kid. I’ve got eidetic memory so I remember everyone I ever saw there, I remember all their names and faces. I remember who did what to me and some of the other kids told me what happened to them and who did it. It’s no trouble at all to give that to the cops.”

“Then,” Tony spoke up. “Dino Golzine was a client of Club Cod, wasn’t he? That’s why you were at that party.” He looked around at the confused faces of his friends and he took a minute to tell everyone what he remembered of meeting Ash. “You’d been sent there as a... umm...”

“I was there because Dino wanted access to your money and if you’d put a hand on me, he’d either know that you shared his taste in boys and he’d be able to manipulate you using that or he’d have blackmail to use against you if you didn’t want to cooperate. And Dino wasn’t a client of Club Cod - he owned the damned place.”

Tony’s eyes went wide. “Owned? But... good God, how did he get away with it? He’s known to be respectable and he was always giving money to charities.”

“Yeah. He lied a lot.”

The conversation was interrupted when Jessica’s phone started ringing. She answered it with, “Hello? Ah!” Her eyes lit up with joy. “Shunichi!” And then she effortlessly switched from English to Japanese and continued talking. Phil didn’t understand Japanese well enough to know what she was saying, but she looked very happy as she spoke.

Ash sat up from his slump at once and said, “Is that Ibe-san? I wanna talk to him.” He held out his hand for the phone, but Jessica twisted out of his reach. “Come on,” Ash said. “Let me talk to Ibe-san.”

Jessica ignored him, gleefully.

Michael said, “Can I please talk to Uncle Shu, mommy?”

“Of course, darling.” She handed the phone to Michael without hesitation. Ash looked completely offended and sulked.

Michael spoke for a few minutes then held the phone out to Max. “Daddy, Uncle Shu wants to talk to you.” The minute he gave the phone to Max, Michael stood up and went to stand in front of Ash. He put his hands on Ash’s knees and said, with utmost gravity, “You gotta use manners and say ‘please’ if you want something. It’s a rule.”

Ash groaned but said, “Right. Okay. I’ll remember.”

When Max finally took pity on Ash and gave him the phone, Ash snatched it up, eagerly. “Ibe-san?” The voice he used with whoever was on the phone held the utmost respect. “Yeah, I’m alright. Aw, Max gets worried about every little thing. It wasn’t that bad. I’m out of the hospital and everything. You make it back to Japan alright?” He waited while, presumably, the other person answered. “That’s good. I’m glad. So...ah... how’s Eiji? He didn’t look so good when I saw him at the hospital.” Another pause. “Yeah? You’re sure he’s gonna be alright?”

Phil was shocked to see the softest look spread over Ash’s face, as if all the hard edges were suddenly smoothed away - like a stone polished by the water of a swiftly flowing river.

It only lasted a moment as Ash suddenly looked around at everyone watching him and the stony shield raised right back up. “Thank you. Yes. Bye.” He hung up the phone and gave it back to Jessica. “Eiji’s alright,” he told Max and Jessica. “Ibe-san said he’s doing real good and-” Ash winced in pain and he pressed a hand against his wound. He swore, softly.

That was enough for Jessica. “Alright, that’s enough chit-chat for today. Max, put Brat to bed!” Despite her less than friendly words, Jessica gently ran her fingers through Ash’s hair and said to him, “It’s alright. You just need to rest.”

Max added, “Kid, you’ve got to learn when to ask for help. If those stitches pop, you’ll do yourself no favors. I think you should reconsider the pain medicine. I can get you something over the counter, you know. Doesn’t have to be morphine.” He stood up and put an arm around Ash to help him to his feet. “Someone show me to where he can sleep?”

“I will.” Bruce gracefully stood up from where he’d been sitting on the floor. He led Max, Ash, and Michael out and soon the door closed behind all of them.

Jessica didn’t immediately follow, but instead she fixed a scathing look on Tony. “You are very, very luck that you only played Tetris that night!” She whirled around, her long hair flying as she did, and she strutted out of the room.

“And Mamma Bear,” Clint whispered, gleefully. “Has left the room.”

Yut-Lung-

At the hospital, Yut-Lung had taken one last look at Ash before he hurried after Sing. Ash had been hurt and that disturbed Yut-Lung. He knew, of course, that Ash wasn’t infallible. He was human, after all. Yut-Lung been there when Blanca had knocked Ash right on his backside, defeated him in a fight with just three blows, and the legendary Ash Lynx had been left on a heap on the floor in a musty warehouse. To see him in a wheelchair as he was pushed out of a hospital had been jarring. He didn’t like seeing Ash in such a condition and didn’t really understand why it bothered him so much.

Sing ignored the fact that they had driven the car to the hospital and walked. Out of the parking lot and down the sidewalk, he walked with his hands in tight fists swinging furiously at his sides. He didn’t speak, didn’t even look at anyone. Yut-Lung followed him. He really hadn’t had any idea what else to do, but leaving Sing to wander the city streets had seemed wrong, even though Sing unquestioningly knew the streets and was safer there than Yut-Lung ever could be. Still, he followed. Sing walked slowly and, at one point, he stopped and put his hands up to his face. His shoulders started to shake.

‘What am I supposed to do?’ Yut-Lung stopped walking when Sing did. He thought that maybe it would be appropriate to reach out and put a hand on Sing’s shoulder as a show of comfort, but he wasn’t really sure so he did nothing. ‘I don’t know what to do.’ He’d never had to give comfort. After just a moment, Sing straightened his back and kept walking.

Sing didn’t acknowledge that he was being followed, but Yut-Lung would have been shocked if Sing thought he was alone. It wasn’t just Yut-Lung, but also several bodyguards as well as Fan who walked barely a pace behind Yut-Lung. There was no trouble at all until, at some point, Sing turned a corner and before Yut-Lung could catch up with him, a passing man unexpectedly reached out and grabbed hold of his arm.

“Hey, there, gorgeous. Why don’t you spend time with me? Pretty lady shouldn’t be out alone.”

It almost would have been better if he’d been drunk. Yut-Lung could have excused the rudeness as an effect of alcohol, but the man appeared entirely sober. Yut-Lung pulled at his arm, but the man didn’t let go. Yut-Lung’s eyes narrowed. “Fan!”

Instantly, Fan seized the stranger’s wrist and gave a practiced twist and immediately, Yut-Lung was released. He quickly hurried after Sing and gave no thought at all to the pained cry he left behind him or the heavy thump. Without doubt, Fan had dealt with the situation and Yut-Lung wouldn’t be troubled by that one, again. He didn’t need some stranger to tell him he was attractive; he knew very well that he was pretty. He was reminded often enough. Wang-Lung let him know often enough when he sent Yut-Lung out to work and Hua-Lung let him know when he ran his fingers through Yut-Lung’s hair or slipped his hand under Yut-Lung’s shirt. Yut-Lung dragged his thoughts away from his brothers and focused on getting back to Sing.

“Did he hurt you, sir?”

Yut-Lung shook his head at Fan’s question. “No. As soon as we get back to the house, find something to make Sing feel better,” he told Fan. “What makes people feel better when their brothers die?” He’d been very relieved when his brothers had died, but he supposed Sing might have liked his.

With those vague orders - and Yut-Lung knew they were vague - Fan merely nodded, “Yes, sir.”

They went all the way back to the Lee Mansion and, still, Sing said nothing. He went inside and kicked off his shoes but stood in the front hall for quite a while before he stomped through the house and went to the the liquor cabinet in the parlor. He got the big bottle of Wang-Lung’s whiskey and poured himself a tumbler full. Twenty minutes later, after a bout of tears, Sing lay down on the sofa and fell asleep. He’d only managed to make it through half a glass of the whiskey.

The Lee Mansion was huge and filled with respectful servants. It had belonged to Yut-Lung’s elder brother Hua-Lung, but as far as all were concerned, Yut-Lung was master of the house as well as the head of the Lee family. He had arranged for the deaths of his elder brothers, all but Hua-Lung and he only lived because he was useful. If any of the servants suspected why five of the six elder Lee brothers and their families had suddenly been brutally murdered, if they wondered what had happened to Hua-Lung to change him from an intelligent, ambitious man to a drooling vegetable, they were all bright enough not to comment on it in Yut-Lung’s hearing.

“Here, sir.” Fan handed a slip of paper to Yut-Lung and a cell phone.

“A phone number?” Yut-Lung asked after he looked at the paper. “What is this?”

“Mister Blanca’s phone number. He left it before he went off to help Ash wage war. You did ask me to find something to make Master Sing feel better. I believe he is quite fond of Mister Blanca.”

“Very good. Go check on Hua-Lung. Make sure he’s alright.”

Hua-Lung was still in the state Yut-Lung had left him in after poisoning him with the Banana Fish drug. Yut-Lung knew that, because he knew there was no recovering from Banana Fish. The thought of what he’d done to Hua-Lung didn’t make Yut-Lung feel badly at all. He didn’t feel even an ounce of guilt for what he’d done to any of his brothers.

“They deserved it,” he told himself. “All of them... monsters. They deserved to die. And Hua-Lung...” Hua-Lung had been just as much of a monster as any of the others. He’d liked to touch and leer and to have him stuck as a harmless puppet was immensely satisfying.

Yut-Lung didn’t feel guilty often. There was one person, however...

Flashback-

Shorter Wong, enraged at being forced to chose between saving his friends and saving his sister, roughly pushed Yut-Lung backwards, onto the bed, then sunk his long knife into the mattress just inches from Yut-Lung’s head. His voice, when he spoke, was rough and hard with emotion.

“...I never doubted you.” Shorter’s tears, little pin-pricks of heat, landed on Yut-Lung’s face. “But now... not anymore. You’re the same as Golzine and his guys. You’re maggots sucking the living blood out of others.”

Shorter left. He’d left his knife where he’d put it, in the mattress, though whether he’d left it because his high emotions had made him careless or as a symbol of how he recognized he was powerless in the situation, Yut-Lung didn’t know. He lay on that bed for a moment after Shorter had left and his gut churned with guilt for what was to happen. He would use Shorter to take Eiji to Dino Golzine. There was no going back, it would happen.

End Flashback-

Yut-Lung didn’t like that he felt the guilt, he’d been under orders, after all. Wang-Lung had ordered him to do exactly what he’d done and if he had disobeyed or failed, Wang-Lung would have....

No. No point in making excuses. He had brought Shorter and Eiji as bait to New York and lured Ash back to Golzine. He had done exactly what Wang-Lung had ordered him to. And he still felt guilt. He hadn’t wanted Shorter to end up as he had - raving with madness and put down like a rabid animal. Shorter had been too good for that. Yut-Lung had known him only a few hours and even he had seen the goodness in Shorter. So he allowed himself to feel guilty for what had happened to Shorter and he let that guilt fester and twist like a snake in his mind because he deserved the misery for Shorter’s death. He entirely deserved it.

The half a tumbler of whiskey Sing had abandoned before passing out sat on the end table next to the sofa. Yut-Lung took the tumbler and drank the rest of the whiskey in one big gulp and he felt it burn on the way down. It didn’t help. It never did.

Yut-Lung pushed the uneasy thoughts away and went to the pair of double doors that led from the parlor to the back garden and stepped outside. The entire estate was enclosed by a high stone wall, so even when he walked out into the perfectly manicured garden, tended by several well-paid gardeners, he couldn’t see anything of the city unless he looked up to see the tops of the buildings over the wall. The wall, however, couldn’t disguise the sound of traffic just beyond. It really was a perfect garden, meticulously maintained. There wasn’t a single blade of grass out of place. A koi pond sat in the far right corner of the garden, adding a bit of sparkle when the sunlight hit the water in just the right way. He ignored it all and punched in the numbers on the phone for Blanca. He, too, would like to speak with Blanca, though he wasn’t entirely certain what he would say.

The phone rang and rang. It rang so long that Yut-Lung grew impatient and began to pace the length of the garden. Every time he came near the double-doors leading into the parlor, he would pause to check in on his littlest underling to make sure he was still asleep. Sing hadn’t moved, but he had started to snore.

“Answer, damn you.” Yut-Lung muttered as he paced the garden with the cell phone pressed against his ear. There was no answer. At one point he came to the end of the garden and spun around too quickly to walk the other way which had made his long ponytail fly over his shoulder. He huffed with irritation and tossed it back over his shoulder. Long hair was such trouble. It had to be tidied and brushed and it got knots in it.“Come on, Blanca! Answer!” He practically whined at his phone, as if that might do some good. “What do I know about taking care of children?”

Because Sing was a child. He was fourteen and a fourteen-year-old was a child. Which meant Yut-Lung probably should have made some effort to stop Sing from getting drunk, but as Yut-Lung had started getting into his brother’s alcohol when he was nine-years-old, he really didn’t think he had any moral high ground to stand on if it came to a lecture. Besides, he was only sixteen-years-old, so he was fairly sure Sing wouldn’t listen to him.

“Sir,”

Yut-Lung turned and found Fan, as cool and in command as always, standing behind him with hands folded. “What is it?”

“I just check on Hua-Lung and your brother is as well as can be expected. He has been fed and changed and his nurse is reading to him. You also have a visitor. I’ve left him in the living room.”

Yut-Lung gave Fan an exasperated look. “A visitor? I don’t have time for a visitor.” He gestured to Sing. “I have to deal with... with that! Send him away. I’m busy.” He glanced, again, into the study where Sing still slept. How could he be expected to deal with anything when his favorite underling was in such a condition?

“Your visitor is very insistent, sir. He seems troubled, but unsure if this matter is important or not. If Master Sing weren’t in such a delicate condition, I think he would consider this matter important enough to at least hear the man out. If it helps, sir, I believe Master Sing won’t wake for a little while.” Fan stopped talking and waited for Yut-Lung to make up his mind. It really wasn’t fair. Fan knew well enough that Yut-Lung highly valued Sing’s advice - mainly because once Yut-Lung’s brother had died and he found himself being in charge of multiple Chinatowns across America as well as most of the underworld in China and other territories across the planet with all the wealth, power, and responsibilities that came with those things he discovered that he didn’t have the foggiest idea what he was suppose to do with any of it. Sing had offered to help and in only a couple of days that help had made a great deal of positive difference. In the end, Yut-Lung sighed heavily and hung up the phone. “Fine! Who is this bothersome visitor?”

Fan motioned for Yut-Lung to follow him. They went through the parlor and into the hall before Fan spoke. “Mister Feng Gao. He has been a resident of your neighborhood for sixty-two years and had never caused trouble for the Lee family. He started a barbershop which his nephew now runs and, from my assessment, he appears to be nervous. He has not come to the mansion before.”

“Right. Right.” He handed the cell phone to Fan. “I don’t want him to stay long, so don’t offer anything to eat or drink. Let him sit there for a while and be bored. I’m going to change my clothes.”

“Sir, is this an attempt to annoy the visitor because he disturbed you?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

After trying on three outfits, he settled on a suit. He admired his reflection in the floor-length mirror in his room and smiled. When Wang-Lung had been alive and controlled the Lee family, Yut-Lung hadn’t been allowed to wear such things as it suited Wang-Lung to have everyone see Yut-Lung in a certain way. Hua-Lung preferred Yut-Lung to wear certain clothing styles, too. Both of them had insisted that Yut-Lung have long hair. So he tied his hair back and pretended it was short and liked the suit because it would have made his brothers unhappy. At last satisfied, Yut-Lung made his way to the living room where he found Fan dutifully trying to make idle conversation with an elderly man. The man was very ordinary to look at - white hair and average build - and he wrung his hands and frowned at his feet until Yut-Lung walked in and sat gracefully in the armchair that had once belonged to Hua-Lung. He took great satisfaction in knowing that his brother would never sit in that chair, again.

“Sir,” Fan said. “This is Mister Feng Gao. He has something he thinks you might like to know about.” Then Fan stepped away and motioned for Mister Feng to sit in a chair opposite of Yut-Lung.

Mister Feng gave Yut-Lung a nervous little bow even as he sat. His voice, when he spoke, was deep and strong. “Forgive me for disturbing you, Mister Lee.”

Yut-Lung winced at the mention of his family name, but said nothing. It was a truth he couldn’t deny that he belonged to that family and how else were people to address him? At least Fan called him ‘sir’ and Blanca had simply called him by name.

Mister Feng didn’t see Yut-Lung’s reaction and continued. “I don’t know if this is anything to worry about and it may be completely innocent, but I thought it best to make you aware. Forgive me if I’m being insolence.”

Yut-Lung didn’t realize until that very moment that Mister Feng was afraid of him. He didn’t like that much.

“I take a walk every day in Central Park. For my health. My path meanders quite a bit and takes me this way and that. I saw, by a small pond, a man I recognize dropping off a plastic bag that held something heavy. He was a police officer. He isn’t a good man. He went to eat at a local restaurant and didn’t pay. He is Detective Evanstine. I saw him put the plastic bag under a bush near the pond and then leave. I was watching the ducks on the pond, so I stayed for a bit. Then another man came and he took the bag. He looked in it and I saw there was a metal suitcase. He put it back in the bag, then left. I think I know the man who took the plastic bag. I saw his photograph in the newspaper.” Mister Feng pulled a newspaper clipping out of his jacket pocket and held it out to Yut-Lung. There, in an article about how he’d won his case about tax evasion, was a photograph of Dino Golzine and, just behind him, the bodyguard, Gregory. Mister Feng pointed to Gregory. “That was the man, I’m sure of it. I know it didn’t happen in Chinatown, but I thought it seemed so odd that it might be important. Forgive me if I’m wrong.”

Gregory. When Yut-Lung had dealt with Golzine, he’d seen Gregory, always trailing in his master’s shadow, but had never spoken with him. Gregory was very plain, in Yut-Lung’s opinion. A completely unremarkable peon who’d been loyal to Golzine, but was otherwise uninteresting. The mere fact that he was Dino Golzine’s man made Yut-Lung predisposed to dislike him as he was sick to tears of dealing with Golzine. The only good things to come from being involved with that man had been meeting Sing and Blanca.

“Thank you for the information,” Yut-Lung said, because information was always valuable.

After seeing Mister Feng out, Fan returned and said, “What do you think, sir?”

“I think...” he was interrupted by a telephone ring and waited while Fan answered the cell phone Yut-Lung had earlier given him.

“Sir,” Fan smiled. “It’s Blanca.”

Yut-Lung leapt out of his chair and snatched the phone from Fan. “And what took you so long?!” He demanded of Blanca. “I was trying reach you for nearly thirty minutes!” They hadn’t parted well. “I thought you wouldn’t answer my call.”

The familiar sound of Blanca’s low chuckle was calming. “I wouldn’t ignore you, Mister Yut-Lung. I am currently a little busy and I only just noticed that you’d called. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“I may.” Of course he would. Without hesitation. “What are you working on?”

“I’m hunting.”

“Hunting what?”

Blanca didn’t answer at once. Then, in a voice so amused that Yut-Lung could almost hear the smile in his voice, he said, “I am hunting Gregory Dufort. I don’t suppose you would have some information I might be able to use?”

“Now isn’t that interesting.” Yut-Lung strolled out of the room, heading back to where he’d left Sing. He heard footsteps as Fan followed him. “I just had someone come to me and tell me they’d seen Gregory Dufort creeping about up to sneaky business.”

“Do tell, Mister Yut-Lung.”

So Yut-Lung did tell. He told everything Mister Feng had reported and, when he was done, he waited for Blanca’s reply. “So he’s having dealings with that police officer. I remember Detective Evanstine. He was on Golzine’s payroll for many years. Now what might he have given Gregory? I am curious. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, though I don’t know why I do you any favors. You left me.” He didn’t say that he missed Blanca. That would have been entirely too honest. He’d reached the parlor by then and saw Sing was still asleep. He stepped into the garden. “I didn’t know if you were even alive after that night.”

“I apologize for worrying you.”

“I didn’t say I was worried! I certainly wouldn’t worry about you. You left.” Yut-Lung sniffed and turned up his nose, though he knew there was no one in the garden to appreciate it. “It would serve you right if something awful did happen. You know you left me here alone to deal with Sing, don’t you? He’s drunk and snoring on my sofa and completely dead to the world. Sing’s big brother got himself killed and now Sing’s all upset. What am I supposed to do with him?”

“Yes. I had heard that Ash shot his brother. I expect our Sing isn’t his normal cheery self?”

“No. He sulked all the way home and then got himself drunk. Am I supposed to cheer him up? He was crying earlier and I don’t know what to do about crying. Do I have to hug him?”

“You don’t have to hug him. Just be kind.”

Yut-Lung frowned at the phone, bewildered about how to go about being kind. Just at that moment, Sing had begun to sit up and groggily put a hand to his head and winced. “Hold on, Sing’s woken up. I’m going to give him the phone. Yell at him for getting drunk.” He didn’t bother to wait for Blanca’s reply, but instead stomped over to Sing and shoved the phone at him. “Here!”

Sing glared as well as he could glare, then weakly took the phone. “Hello?”

Standing over Sing, Yut-Lung listened in on the conversation he could hear and regretted not putting it on speaker so he could hear everything that was said.

Sing said, “No.” “Yes.” “I don’t care.” And other short sentences. At one point he sniffed and rubbed a hand across his face. His eyes grew shiny and wet. “I know. I don’t hate him. Not really. I’m just... everything hurts.” After less than five minutes, he hung up the phone and tossed it to Yut-Lung, who fumbled to catch it. “Thanks for calling Blanca.”

“I didn’t call him for you.” That was a bold-faced lie. “I called him because I wanted to talk to him.” That was the truth. “There was some little incident I thought he should know about. Apparently one of Golzine’s dogs had a cop drop off a metal suitcase. I don’t know what...”

“A metal suitcase!?” Sing exclaimed. “You said a metal suitcase?”

“Yes. He was seen. A police officer dropped off a metal suitcase in a park and one of Golzine’s men picked it up. I can’t imagine what’s so important.”

Sing put both hands in his hair and tugged as he groaned. “Important? That thing has Banana Fish in it!”

Slowly, Yut-Lung shook his head. “No. No, it can’t. I used the last of it on Hua-Lung. That’s why he’s drooling on his shirt in the other room while his nurse feeds him.”

“Not the drug itself, but all the information about it. Instructions on how to make it.” Sing sat back down on the sofa, heavily. “Ash had it and during the fight with Foxx’s people at that building, Ash told me to drop it. It fell off the building and into the helicopter fire below. Ash said it had all the secrets of Banana Fish in it. We thought it had been destroyed.”

Shorter had been killed by Banana Fish. He remembered Shorter’s bright laugh at something that had been said. He’d only known Shorter for a few hours before he’d betrayed them, but in that short time, something had made Shorter laugh and Yut-Lung remembered that sound. He also remembered looking through the tiny window into Golzine’s execution room, a literal dungeon below his mansion, and watching as Shorter, poisoned with the Banana Fish drug, had screamed with terror and pain and fury, his mind broken... ruined. And he had done it. He had given Shorter to Golzine, delivered him so neatly along with Eiji.

He felt it, again - a stab of guilt.

Sing rubbed his eyes and his temples. “I can’t stay. I need to talk to Ash. I need... God! My head feels so weird. I think I need...” His words faded away and his face turned an unflattering shade of green. “Ug. Bathroom?”

There was a narrowly avoided mess before Yut-Lung helped Sing out of the bathroom and back to the parlor. Sing sat on the sofa with very little urging and looked up at Yut-Lung, standing over him with his fists on his hips, scowling. Sing smiled. “Thanks for being nice to me. You’re so nice.”

Yut-Lung rolled his eyes. “Clearly, you’re still drunk.” He took a glass of water Fan had gotten, without being asked, and gave it to Sing. “Here. Drink. It will help, in my vast experience.”

Sing drank and, when the glass was empty, he held it in both hands and muttered, “Thanks. Sorry about all this.” He started to stand, but swayed and Yut-Lung caught him by the arm.

“Sit down! You’re not going anywhere. You’ll get yourself hit by a car or something.” He waited until Sing had done as he was told. “You aren’t making any sense, so go back to sleep.”

“Gotta talk to Ash,” Sing lay down and closed his eyes. “Important... suitcase...” And then he was snoring, again.

For a while, Yut-Lung stood there and watched to be sure Sing wouldn’t get up and try to leave in the state he was in. He crossed his arms over his chest. “There isn’t anymore Banana Fish. There’s nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.”

Again, Yut-Lung got an image of Shorter as he was in his last moments, stripped of his shirt and sunglasses, that terrible knife of his clenched in one hand and his eyes wide as the Banana Fish Golzine’s men had forcibly injected him with ruined his brain and filled it with hate and fear.

He never wanted to see such a sight again. If there was even the slightest chance that Sing’s ramblings about the metal suitcase were truth and not some whiskey dream, then it had to be taken seriously. Golzine had been an evil man without a hint of redemption, but he had controlled his people wonderfully. As Golzine was dead, there was no restraining his remaining men and Yut-Lung didn’t know what Gregory was capable of. If he had even the tiniest sample of Banana Fish then it was possible everyone was in danger.

The parlor door opened and one of the other servants walked in. “Sir,” he said to Yut-Lung. “There’s a phone call in the office for Hua-Lung.”

When he reached the office with Fan walking at his back, Yut-Lung pressed the button on the desk phone for it to be put on speaker. “Hello?”

Silence for a moment. “I need to speak with Mister Lee Hua-Lung. Put him on.” The voice was female and she spoke with a distinct accent that Yut-Lung didn’t recognize.

‘Rude,’ Yut-Lung thought. “He is indisposed at the moment. I am his representative and authorized to speak for him. What do you need?”

There was a put-upon sigh. “Just get him to the phone. I’ve done business in the past with Mister Lee Wang-Lung and, as I’ve heard of his recent death, I would like to speak with the current head of the Lee family.”

Fan reached over and pressed the ‘mute’ button on the phone. “Sir, I recognize that voice. That’s Thema Shehata.”

“Who?”

“She’s a councilwoman on the World Security Council. They control S.H.I.E.L.D., basically, and she’s telling the truth about doing business with Wang-Lung. When I worked for Wang-Lung I saw her several times. I have also heard that she was in bed with Dino Golzine.”

Yut-Lung wrinkled his nose at the idea. “Eww. I didn’t think he had any interest in that area.”

“Figuratively speaking, of course. Everyone knows his preference definitely wasn’t adult women.” Fan unmuted the phone.

“I am Lee Yut-Lung, the youngest brother of Lee Hua-Lung and I can speak for my elder brother. What did you want to talk to him about?”

Another pause. “I’ll call back later.” Then she hung up.

Yut-Lung frowned at the phone, then at Fan. “I don’t like mysteries.”

To be Continued...