Johansen’s car pulled into the lot less than a minute before the sheriff’s department did. She had the good grace not to leave Joseph alone to answer the cops’ questions, though. Since the situation was already handled by an AHAB backed super, there was surprisingly little for the two of them to do. All that was really required of them was to gave basic witness statements to Sheriff Slovski, a rotund, balding old lawman Joseph knew well but never cared for.
“Y’know we’ve always been concerned you’d go firebug on us eventually, Jaeger. There anyplace you’ve gone in the past few days you didn’t use for kindling? I’ve got a house that’s still a smoking pile of ash and now two burnt out vehicles in a hotel parking lot.” His voice was a special combination of phlegmy and high-pitched that reminded Joseph of those little toy whistles that only worked when filled with water. The sheriff had a little notepad and pen in his hands, taking notes occasionally as Joseph and Johansen gave their statements, though the super suspected it was mostly for show.
“Haven't burned down my home, I guess,” Joseph replied as he suppressed a yawn, a little too tired for it to only be 1 pm. He’d need to find time for sleep sometime soon, or he'd need a nap after every altercation with cattleprod wielding ruffians.
That didn’t seem to sit well with Slovski, though. “Not to cut in on your relaxing afternoon, Mr. Jaeger, but you do see how that’s worse, don’t you?”
Johansen jumped in this time with a quick interception. “Sheriff, I assure you that Mr. Jaeger was acting entirely within his purview as a sanctioned super, and he was not the aggressor in either of these incidents.” That was one way to put it. The Maldonados' lasher probably saw it differently, but the sentiment was true enough. The Company woman sounded worn out as well or maybe "distant" was a better descriptor.
Slovski nodded politely to the lady but still seemed to want his grievances heard by someone. “Jaeger may be sanctioned, ma’am, but it’s starting to look like the whole world is a tinder box to him. I won't bore you with cliché lines like 'loose canon' or 'rogue,' but would it kill you to call 9-1-1 next time you think you’re in trouble? We handle things pretty well without all the property damage and-” He leaned in closely, his eyes darting around uncomfortably before he continued. “Without all the public nudity.”
Joseph felt the blood rush to his face thinking back to those awkward minutes after his fight with Hugh, before the E.M.T.s took pity on him and gave him some clothes. Jesus, did word travel fast around here. When he glanced over at Johansen, he was surprised to see a blush on her face as well. Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Joseph tried to defend himself. “I fought a super in my hospital gown, Slovski. I’m lucky my pride was the only thing I lost.”
“And what about the Fourth of July?”
“Hey. We agreed to forget that one,” Joseph replied, his voice rising an octave and his eyes darting over to his Company liaison who'd now turned to stare at him, a curious look on her face.
Joseph couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw a smarmy little smile touch the Sheriff's eyes and tug minutely at the corner of his mouth. "Just saying it happens a little too often to be bad luck. That's all," he drawled, drawing out the words as if to savor them.
"You can’t blame me for Fourth of July," Joseph grumbled. "There were extenuating circumstances."
“Oh, there's always extenuating circumstances. I can blame you, and I do, considering how many of Gregory's citizens you scandalized. You don't see me or my boys in a state of undress when things get exciting.”
Joseph shot Johansen a look that he hoped communicated just how much he didn’t want to talk about this subject right now. The look she gave him back told him that the Company woman would remember this moment and circle back to it all in good time.
It was past time to change the subject. “Fourth of July isn’t the issue right now. I’m sorry we’re putting you through more work here, but the Company is probably doing a lot of the paperwork on this one, right Agent Johansen?”
Her attention hovered on Joseph for another second before turning back to the Sheriff, all business again. “Yes. In fact, the Company has probably already filed insurance claims and notified all the appropriate parties about what transpired here. I believe all that you will be required to do is meet the cleanup crew when they get here and supervise the affected vehicles’ removal from the area.”
Slovski spit a wad of something brown on the pavement. “Well, thank God for small favors and big city budgets. Guess we’ll get on just fine in our sleepy little town with a couple of our deputies tied up here instead of out there keeping people safe from speeders and smugglers and mutant butterflies." The sarcasm dripping from his words was not lost on the super or his agent. "Your shop’s about to open, right Jaeger? Better get to it. Don’t worry. We regular folk’ll clean up your mess. That’s what we do.” With that, he spun on his heel and marched away, pointing and shouting orders to the younger deputies already busy doing the things he was requesting of them.
“Not the biggest fan of yours, the Sheriff,” Johansen said with a sympathetic grimace.
“Nah. I voted for the other guy.” He sighed, not looking away from the cops cleaning up his mess. The fact that his power, even if used sparingly, would leave a wake of destruction that others had to deal with was not unknown to Joseph. It was one of the reasons he hadn't come forward with his evolving abilities in the first place, if not the biggest one. Still, Slovski was a dick, and a few of his campaign signs might go missing next November.
Their part in this drama done, Joseph escorted Johansen to the side of the hotel where Banks parked. He tried probing his tentative partner about her conversation with Patty Maldonado, but she was tight lipped. Apparently, Deathless was already in the room when she got there, and it turned more into an interrogation of her motives instead of an interview. Joseph got the impression that something didn’t sit right with his Company liaison, but either she was now unable or maybe unwilling to voice her concerns out loud. The message came through loud and clear: Let it be for now. If there was one thing he understood, it was the need for caution when it came to the Company.
Once Johansen was safely in her car and on her way to her hotel to pack for D.C. Joseph hobbled back over to his truck. He put his workings back in his duffel bag and made the drive downtown to the Tower. The Sheriff was right when he said the shop was scheduled to open soon, and Slovski wasn’t the only one acutely aware of the schedule. When Joseph pulled up, Tommy and his friends were already waiting in front of the door, bags of dice on their belts and notebooks open to their character sheets.
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Joseph smiled at that. The Tower wasn’t his only gig and arguably his least important one on the whole, but everyone needed something purposefully unimportant in their lives. In this moment, at least, he was glad to be a part of that.
There were only a couple questions about the state of his clothes and the stiffness of his movements as he unlocked the door to usher Tommy and the boys inside, but once the kids were in the shop, they disappeared into the labyrinth to run their game, leaving the grown up problems to grown ups.
From there, the day passed uneventfully, if a little more busy than usual. School was out, and people were looking for something to do, so the Tower got an influx of customers, some new, some old. Joseph even sold one of the more expensive sets of battle mechs that had been on the shelf for a the better part of a year. He might just break even for the month at this rate.
By the time he closed for the night, the sun was setting once again, and a certain gray and orange cat was already waiting for him at the foot of the iron staircase. Joseph bent down to give her an affectionate stroke or two.
“Glad they didn’t catch you, girl,” he said softly. She leaned into his hand and closed her eyes, allowing him to rub the spot on her neck that she'd favored ever since they'd put in her chip. “Think you can cover for me a little while? I’ve got places to go.”
A warm purr, followed by a light plop onto her back was her only response. Again, the irresistible softness of her belly was a trap, Joseph knew. She was testing him. Teasing out his weaknesses. Still, her eyes were closed, and the cat did look pleased with him. Maybe if he-
“Ow! You viscous little hairball!” His hand was bleeding yet again, and the cat was now climbing the stairs, periodically looking back at him and meowing to inform him that her dish was empty.
One scoop of cat food and one packed duffel bag of toiletries, clothes, parchment, and ink later, Joseph was downstairs again, reaching into a nondescript wooden trunk and pulling out several shoebox sized, waterproof toughboxes, carefully wrapping them in cloth before putting them into his already stuffed green duffel. The workings inside weren’t fragile, but he always considered them the “big guns” of his collection, and their destructive power warranted respect. Just like he wouldn’t drop a suitcase nuke down a flight of stairs, he would not jostle these bits of parchment around more than was absolutely needed.
Before he left, he reached up to the chain that hung near the back door that led into the alleyway and grabbed the boxcutter that hung there. Twenty minutes later, his cast was a pile of fiberglass and dried glue on the floor, and he was gingerly walking to the truck, careful not to twist or overly strain his leg. He'd wanted to let his injuries heal properly before setting out, but, in his experience, opportunities like this rarely came when he was ready. Super toughness and healing factor would have to carry him through what was to come, and if any satellites were tasked to watch him take down Gull, Joseph didn't want to have a distinct identifier like a leg cast on him at the time.
He drove in the dark, headlights off after he pulled off the main highway. Out of town and up into the mountains just on Gregory Basin’s side of the northern pass, along a series of gravel roads and then finally onto a trail consisting of only a pair of dirt tracks worn in over the years by traffic from a singular vehicle, he pulled his truck into the clearing that held Uncle Wilhelm's little wood cabin, bathed, as always, in red light.
The old man wasn't comfortable using white light after the sun went down. Instead, he’d installed separate circuits for the lighting in and around his house that used red light during the night and white during the day. The justification he gave Joseph was that light on the red end of the spectrum tended to carry much shorter distance than white or blue, making the old man's home less visible to the naked eye. All Joseph knew was that it hade made doing homework in his late teens a migraine inducing experience, forcing him to finish his schoolwork as soon as he got home or to go to a friend's house to study.
Still stiff from receiving his beating but recovering quickly, Joseph levered himself out of the driver's seat and made his way up to the porch, the underside of which sat in deep shadow. It was only until he was about to the first step that he saw Wilhelm sitting in his rocking chair next to the kitchen window, deathly still.
“Hey, Uncle Wilhelm. How'd the hunt go this morning?”
No response. Wilhelm sat there, staring straight forward toward the trail that led to the house. Joseph couldn't see his eyes, but he imagined them with that far away look he sometimes wore after a few too many drinks or word from an old friend.
“Are you still pissed at me for the whole Company thing? I told you it couldn’t be avoided, and I’m doing my best to make a-”
An arm snaked around Joseph's neck, cutting off his air, and the cold metal of a blade brushed against his cheek. He froze, his heart pounding in his chest and his mind working on overdrive to assess the situation.
“Hey, kid.” Uncle Wilhelm's gravelly voice whispered right into his ear.
Joseph furiously windmilled his arms and whirled around to face the old coot, who's bearded face wore a smarmy smile, showing off how many teeth he'd lost over the years and not bothered to replace. “What the hell, Wilhelm?” Joseph demanded, his guard half raised still, not knowing if this was a test or if the man had finally snapped.
“I’ve still got it, don’t I?” Wilhelm giggled, slapping his knee and sounding entirely too pleased with himself.
“You’ve got a surplus of crazy is what you’ve got.” Joseph reached up to his cheek and rubbed it with his fingers to check for blood, but they came back dry.
Wilhelm, still holding the knife, pointed to the rocking chair on the porch where the figure of a man still sat staring off into the woods. “You like it? It’s my decoy.”
“Very lifelike," Joseph deadpanned, hoping the old man could see him roll his eyes. "You've found a way to give it matching brain activity. Why the hell do you need a decoy anyway?”
Joseph's Uncle chuckled to himself at a little private joke Joseph wasn't privy to, but he answered eventually. “For when the government comes, boy. ATF don't mess around."
Joseph spun around and hurried up the wooden steps to the porch, his hand in the air in surrender. “You know what? I don’t want to know anymore,” he pleaded.
“Aw c’mon. You should see how I got it all rigged up. It’s packed with high e-”
“Nope! If you say any more I’ll call the old folks home, I swear.” joseph stopped on the top step of the porch and plopped down with his hands resting on his knees, setting himself for what was to come.
“So, what brings you out here, boy? Want some lamb chop? I wrapped some up for you already. Was gonna bring it into town tomorrow.”
“No, but thank you," Joseph declined, at least until later. Wilhelm probably already had it seasoned, and only a fool would turn down free meat. Also, it was nice that the eccentric old green beret had thought of his nephew like he did. Wilhelm had his foibles, but he’d always been generous with what he had. Right now he had a freezer full of bighorn, and he wanted to share with his family. That’s the kind of man he was, even if he wasn’t much of a parent back when Joseph needed it. “I came because I’ve got a window to do some work.”
Wilhelm’s demeanor changed slowly, over the course of several seconds, from playful to something more dangerous. He stood up straighter. His gaze restlessly scanned the trees that surrounded his house as if countless threats hid there in the shadows. His grip on his knife changed minutely until it rested in such a way as if to allow for maximum violence at a moment's notice. When he spoke, his tone was sober. “We taking down Gull?”
“We’re taking down Gull," Joseph replied rubbing his thigh where the docs said his femur fractured. "Are we green?”
Wilhelm nodded, already moving toward the back of the cabin. “Yeah. We’re green. Help me load the gear.”