Lawlessness
The next day, I bought the tie pin with the demantoid garnets from myself and presented it to Loki. It was in the shape of a curved dagger, with a little engraving, the use of yellow gold accents on the white gold, and the little garnets set into the pommel of the dagger. He seemed genuinely pleased and immediately put it on his tie. He'd decided that black suits with subdued ties were his work outfits, and the tie bar provided a spot of interest. He got complements on it from the customers, who were showing up in greater numbers today. Among them was that really obnoxious woman who had called my designs "cute."
Today she was with a couple of other younger women whom I recognized from the society pages, although I couldn't put names to them. One of them was shopping for a birthday present for her mother, Agnes Vorhees, a powerful businesswoman who was married to old New York money. As Loki assisted her, her friend looked at the displays, complained about the lack of a bigger inventory, said that the designs were too busy, that things looked tacky or gaudy. Other shoppers looked at her with irritation and moved away. One customer left. I came over to the display case as she snapped her fingers at Loki and told him she wanted to see a piece. Loki narrowed his eyes at her and I nudged him to continue helping the young woman with her birthday gift. I took out the piece that the woman had indicated. It was inspired by Art Deco, and used frosted, carved glass, rich red tigers eye with its silky chatoyancy, and onyx to form a striking pendant. She threw a fit when I told her that the components included glass, saying that it was cheap and tacky. I replaced the pendant in the case, locked it, and told her that she was banned from my property. One of the other customers snickered, which is when she lost it. Her insults started with "dried-up snatch" and went downhill from there, devolving into some truly shocking gutter insults. Her friends turned their backs, and the one looking for her mother's gift quickly made her purchase.
"Leave now or I will have you arrested," I said flatly, and with a final epithet, she flounced for the door. Her friends did not go with her, and the one who was waiting for Loki to box and wrap the necklace she'd chosen (three strands of lustrous white Akoya pearls shading to dark gray at a platinum floral vine element set with little diamonds and pale colored sapphires) apologized profusely. I smiled at her.
"You've been lovely, and I hope to see you here again," I said. "I hope your mother enjoys her gift. That's one of my favorite pieces."
"She's going to love it," the woman predicted confidently. "The pearls are matched beautifully and the shading is perfect. The length is just right and she's really going to love the flower thing that detaches and can be worn as a pin." She held out her hand. "I'm Amelia Vorhees, but everybody calls me Gee." She shrugged. "It's one of those things," she said, and I grinned. She collected her remaining friend and left.
Another customer who had witnessed the unpleasant scene timidly asked for some help, and Loki turned on his charm. I raised my voice and apologized to the other customers for the unpleasantness. One man who wanted to see some enameled earrings shook his head. "She's the daughter of a Senator," he warned, and I shrugged.
"She shouldn't be embarrassing her parents like that, then. She made someone uncomfortable enough to leave, which impacts my business."
"She might sue you," he said, holding up the earring and smiling at it.
"She is free to try," I said, unruffled. "I didn't refuse her business because of her race, color, religion, age, national origin, or sexual preference. I kicked her out because she made other customers uncomfortable, negatively affected my business, and had appalling language."
"You banned her for being a bitch," he said, nodding. "I'll take these." I ran his card and boxed the earrings for him, handing the earrings to him with the certificate of authenticity and receipt in an envelope.
The next day an article ran in the Post about the incident. I came off pretty well, and the article drew additional interest to the store. I started staying late to work on new pieces because we were too busy for me to create when the store was open. It wasn't a complaint.
From the store, I started going out on patrol for a few hours, coming back to the store and changing, and walking home. I didn't get to see Bucky and Steve as much, and my social life was pretty much limited to customers, crooks, victims, and encounters with the other street-level heroes.
One night I took Peter to the Night Nurse for some stitches. He'd been distracted by Black Cat and had run face-first into the side of the building. We found Wolverine waiting while the Night Nurse talked to an enormous man, feline-looking and covered with blue fur. He spoke in a kind, light baritone. The Nurse looked over at our entrance and sighed. She finished her conversation and beckoned Peter over to evaluate the source of the blood on his mask. The exotic man joined Wolverine, who stood up and grunted at me.
"Beast, this is Poppy."
The blue man put out his hand. "Dr Henry McCoy, actually." He didn't seem upset with Wolverine, so that must be his code name.
I shook his hand. "Of what are you a doctor?" I asked.
"Biophysics and genetics," he said. I nodded.
"He's also our doctor," Wolverine said laconically.
"I don't have an MD," Dr McCoy said, and Wolverine shrugged.
"We all do what we can."
My attention was caught by his fur. It was very soft and had bands of slightly different shades of blue. I stroked his forearm gently, and flushed when he looked at me in astonishment.
"I'm sorry, I'm being so rude," I said, releasing his hand and stepping back. "Your hair or fur is just so beautiful. And soft." Wolverine snorted in amusement.
Peter piped up, "She has really good vision. Ow!"
"You're numb," the Nurse said in exasperation. "You can't possibly feel the needle."
"I can see it, and I feel the tugging," he explained.
"Shut your eyes," she advised.
To my relief, Dr McCoy and Wolverine left before I could embarrass myself further. I couldn't believe I'd petted a biochemist. The Nurse mopped up Peter and we went back to the streets, separating when I was sure he felt ok. I went home, walking fast. It was cold, and I wanted some cocoa before going to bed. Bucky's porch light was on, and he popped out when I passed by.
"Emma, did you hear the news?" he asked, and I shook my head.
"I haven't had time to check the net since this morning."
"Come inside," he said, holding the door. Steve was watching the TV, sitting on the edge of the leather sofa, elbows on knees.
"There's been an earthquake in Washington state," Steve said grimly. "Huge. Lots of destruction." I pressed my hand to my mouth.
"Are Laura and the kids ok? Anybody hurt at the facilities?"
"Barton went out the instant the news came over the wire," Bucky said quietly. "They didn't make it." I bit my lip to get the tears under control.
"I don't understand why there was such a large earthquake there," Steve said, almost to himself. "I thought the faults were all in California." Bucky guided me over to the sofa, where we three huddled together.
"The edges of the Pacific are largely unstable, it's called the Ring of Fire," I said, trying to remember what I'd learned in geology a long time ago. It was hard, I'd taken the class long before I got my eiditic memory. "There's a mid-ocean ridge that spreads, creating new crust. The plate on the seafloor by Washington is the Juan de Fuca plate. It subducts, or goes under, the continental plate. That's why there are volcanoes in the Cascades. Volcanism and earthquake zones are frequently found together. Earthquakes can occur in the subduction zone, deep in the Juan de Fuca plate, or more shallowly, in the crust. There's a specific fault by Seattle, I think." Too much information that nobody wanted. We sat and watched the news. The Space Needle had toppled, and there were scenes of destruction everywhere.
Steve checked his phone. "The earthquake broke the natural gas line and the farmhouse exploded," he said hoarsely, and I started to cry again. We found out later that although there was some serious damage, nobody had been killed at the visitors center or at the complex, although there had been some injuries reported. Bucky and Steve got the call; the Avengers were going out to assist with rescue and cleanup efforts. They headed out and I headed home.
The next few days were kind of a blur. The Avengers didn't come back for a couple of weeks, until after the situation in the region had been stabilized and funerals held for Clint's family. I couldn't fly out; there were no flights in or out of any of the Seattle-area airports. I had a florist from Spokane drive across the state with flowers for the closed-casket funerals. And how worthless that felt, but there was nothing constructive to be done.
I had lunch with Pepper, who told me that Tony was relocating everything back to New York; Hawkeye was going on a leave of absence. We spearheaded an auction to raise funds for the victims of the earthquake and I donated two of my most expensive pieces of jewelry: the collar I'd worn to Tony's party and a diamond, Akoya, and Tahitian pearl necklace. The auction raised over five million dollars, and complemented fundraising efforts in LA, Chicago, and Miami as well as the outpouring of funds from citizens to charities.
Crime dipped in the city briefly, then seemed to explode. It seemed that the worst elements of human nature emerged in the shadow of the tragedy. Violent crime was way up and I spent more time on my streets every night. The police were putting in overtime too, and everybody was stretched thin. The mayor and police chief had to impose a curfew and pleaded for the restoration of order. I was attacked by a group of three men and suffered a serious beating, even with my skin and new durability. I managed to dissuade them by almost strangling one of them with my whip. I sat on the ground propped up by a wall while I tried to get my breath back.
"Hey, pretty lady," a voice said from overhead. Above me, a good looking man floated, wearing a skin-tight uniform with a "4" in a circle over his left pec. Unlike most guys wearing that kind of outfit, he did not try to minimize his pride and joy. Or else he had a heck of a codpiece. I knew who he was, of course; we'd met before in pursuit of evildoers. Despite an odd resemblance to Steve, Johnny Storm was no relation biologically and didn't have much in common temperamentally. Steve was mature and driven to be helpful and keep the bad guys shut down with a fist to the face. Johnny was not mature, driven by the urge to score as frequently as possible and keep the bad guys shut down with a quip and some flames.
"Hey, Johnny," I said, starting to shiver. The temperature hadn't gotten above 40 all day and now that I wasn't moving, I was losing heat fast. He touched down beside me.
"Don't tell me your petals are getting frost bitten," he said, and turned up his fire, crouching beside me and radiating warmth. Both the glow and the heat were comforting. He extinguished his hand and pulled the toggle of my zipper up, not even trying to touch my breasts. "You girls are smoking in your little bitty costumes, but you might want to reconsider your look for winter. So what happened here?"
"A few guys beat me up," I shrugged.
"The criminal element seems to be getting bolder and nastier these days," he remarked, for once without a smirk or innuendo. "Do you need to get some help?" I nodded.
"There's a clinic I can go to in Stark Tower."
"There's one guy with an ego bigger than mine," he said. "Now here's what I'm gong to do. I'm going to turn on my flame, warm up, then I'm going to hug you to warm you up, then I'll fly you to the tower. It's a cold night and I fly fast." He kept his flame on for a few seconds, then extinguished himself and pulled me to my feet gently before hugging me. He was nice and toasty and I warmed my front before turning around to get my back warm. He picked me up gingerly and jumped into the air. The clinic kept me overnight and I couldn't patrol for a couple of nights. I wasn't the only one.
After a few of us went down, the press started tracking known or suspected superhero injuries. It was depressing, but at least the citizens knew we were still trying to help. When the Avengers got back, they joined the crime-fighting efforts too. Somehow I wasn't surprised when Bucky showed up here and there. By now it wasn't just humans and supercharged villains; bad guys with non-human mutations were coming out too, visible, bold, and wreaking havoc. Doc Ock. Abomination. Clay Face. Finally, the National Guard was called in, and this helped to control the situation with street level crime. The more powerful villains still needed superheroes to combat them. Business was pretty much limited to daylight hours, with citizens scurrying home so they could reach the safety of their homes before dark. As of yet, home invasions weren't really happening. It was having a huge effect on the city. The universities couldn't offer night classes, and restaurants, bars, clubs, and other businesses that operated at night were all risking failure since nobody could guarantee safety.
There were some lighter moments here and there, though. One early evening, I saw Spiderman making time with a girl in an alley,(really, Peter? an alley??) and there was a lot more than kissing going on. Pete had one hand squeezing her butt and the other inside her shirt. Couldn't see where her hands were, didn't want to check. His mask was pulled up to his nose. Initially I walked right past this as I was passing the alley, but then I walked backward to check that I had indeed seen what I thought I'd seen.
"Shit," Peter said as he tore his mouth away from the girl. "Uh...Poppy--"
"Poppy?" the girl repeated, stepping back and looking between the two of us. She was cute, and I remembered where I'd seen her before. Pete had taken her to Homecoming. MJ, her name was. She looked jealous. Oops.
"Look, curfew's starting in less than an hour, miss. You need to get home, because if I get the hell pounded out of me, you might not survive what roams the streets," I said directly to her. Then I looked at Peter and smirked, although I don't know if he could see it under my mask. "You need to keep your head about you too, pal." I trotted up the alley and opened a utility pouch, rooting around a little through my personal things before finding what I was after and pressing the packet into Peter's palm. "Safety first," I said sternly and turned, walking away.
"What did she give you? Let me see?" MJ said, then exploded into giggles. "How do you know her? She's like a very cool aunt--" Peter was probably going to kill me, but it's always good to have protection. Though where he was going to keep it was unclear. He didn't have pockets or a handy utility belt. Not my problem.
A couple nights later, I ran across Bucky under attack by Steel Claw, a brand new villain with some enhancements and two steel pincers instead of hands, and three of his minions. Bucky seemed to have things under control, but I intervened when one of them snuck up behind him with a piece of pipe in his hands. I snapped my whip around his arm and pulled, alerting Bucky. He took the pipe away and clobbered the goon. He saw me in the shadows, jerked his chin in acknowledgement, and sent Steel Claw and his minions running.
He gave me a hug and I cuddled up for a bit. I hadn't seen him or Steve for several days. "How are you doing?" I asked.
"Pissants like that irritate me, doll, but I'm fine. You feel chilly," he said. "You should at least wear a jacket," he admonished me, and I cracked a smile.
"When the snow starts," I said, and he groaned.
"Sorry to interrupt," Steve said from behind me. Bucky let go of me like I was Johnny Storm. I resisted the urge to rub my arms. Maybe he was right about the jacket. "Buck, did you tell Ms Poppy yet?"
"Nope," Bucky said.
"Ms Poppy, we believe that there's somebody or a group of people behind the surge of crime in the city. We're asking everybody, including the National Guard and the police, to interrogate the criminals they apprehend to see if they have knowledge that may help us find out who is driving this. I've heard that you have an especially effective way of getting information from suspects," he said, flushing a little. He peeked at my cleavage briefly. Bucky tried to cover a laugh.
"I do," I acknowledged. "I'd be happy to see what information I can for you."
Steve smiled briefly, then did a double take at the metal flowers on my suit. "Those look very familiar," he said slowly. Shit.
"I had a new jeweler make them for me," I said, shrugging one shoulder in a way I rarely did because it always brought the zipper down an inch or two. Steve's eyes went right to my breasts, where the harsh light from the streetlight leeched the color from my skin and made the contrast with my suit and bra more dramatic.
"Uh," he said intelligently. He shook his head. "So. You can find me any time if you find out anything. Or Bucky." He turned to go and nearly walked into a dumpster. I controlled the laugh that wanted to escape, then turned back to Bucky.
"You have to go, so I'll make it fast. How is everything? Are you still seeing Con? Drinking your tea? Is there anything I can do?" I asked, quickly and quietly.
"I'm still seeing Con, four times a week," he said, his mouth a grim line. "I'm not drinking that tea crap. I switched to decaf." I squeezed his hand in solidarity. "Otherwise I'm fine. The nights are cold. I hate the cold." He shivered.
"Maybe you need a coat too," I said gently. I lifted an eyebrow at him playfully. "I'll wear one if you do," I said, inspired.
"Maybe I will, then," he said, smiling faintly at me. I went on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, but he moved at the same time and my lips met his instead. We stared at each other a moment after the brief kiss.
"Hey, Buck," Steve yelled, a little crossly.
"Coming," he said, stepped past me. We both went back to work.