Ravela looked at Morbolfr, straightening her posture. The thought of punching him in the jaw then and there bubbled up in her head, but she couldn’t be stupid. Getting a prison sentence and ruining her just-established life wasn’t in the cards. Risking her future employment for a few sentences wasn’t out of the question though.
Nodding, she spoke so the crowd of reporters could hear her. “Yes, I remember you. The end of October last year was a sad day in Gradjia. We met in the graveyard. Both there to pay our respects to the dead,” Ravela held onto Morbolr’s hand as if she was still shaking it. “You were there for Akai Kordo. Yes, I remember. A friend of his father, right? I was there for the funeral of,” She paused for a half-second before finishing her sentence. ”his victims.”
She stared him down just like on the hill that day. Eye to eye, both smiled politely. ‘Choke on it, you douchebag. I bet now you wish you tripped on those stairs instead.’ If only one or two reporters were worth their pay this would bury his chances of getting elected as the District Attorney.
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Vex Buster walked through the headquarters of the Federal Bureau. His only worry was the headlines he read from Pliada City. There was a superpowered being on the loose in the metropolis near him and Major Buster, or more precisely Agent Buster had to remain at the headquarters until he got the green light to go there.
“Morning, agent,” A woman welcomed him in the corridor. He knew her without looking up from his copy of The Tribute, Levistra Delemere, his fellow agent and fiance.
“I do believe that one day you will have to stop breaking the dress code.” The woman said with disapproval in her voice. “You are no longer in the military, Vex.”
Vex looking down realized that his clothes had changed once again into his army uniform. “Well, what do you know,” He said as his clothes instantly changed to his red and golden costume he had become semi-famous for recently.
“Fancy. Still not the suit you should be wearing, Buster.” Levistra Delemere said, folding her arms in front of her body.
Vex smiled and shrugged as his costume changed into a suit and tie all agents were expected to wear. “You know, I understand the suits, but what is it with the Bureau and ties?”
Levistra made a face, “You know, for a man that can change clothes at will you whine an awful lot about the dress code?”
“I never asked for this job. I was happy to be a free agent taking down criminals that the police couldn’t handle, but noooo. You had to come to recite laws in my face talking about the rules and propriety. Now here I am joining the, and I quote, ‘right way of fighting crime’ and you’re still complaining for not dressing the way your organization likes. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you want me to wear a suit and tie because I look good in them.”
Levistra pursed her lips. “You watch yourself, Buster. Just because you’re dreamy enough to get an engagement ring on me doesn’t mean you’re not ending up alone in front of the keeper with that kind of attitude.”
Vex laughed at his fiances' quip. “Well, see you found another reason to get me into a suit. That must mean it’s true, I do look good in suits.”
Levistra just started walking and he followed along behind her. For a while, they just walked alongside each other. Eventually, Levistra spoke up again. “So, this Pliada City thing. You’re going to ask the director again today?”
“Naturally,” Vex admitted freely. “No superior I’ve known ever changed his mind on a topic by me not sitting on their back. It was true in the Army, and it certainly will be true in law enforcement.”
Levitra sighed, “You realize, of course, that way we will probably end up in some desert office down south instead of anywhere near either of our parents or grandparents. I would hate for us to spend our best years chasing tumbleweeds because you couldn’t stop nagging our boss.”
Vex looked at her like she was crazy. “The director moving me and you to some desert office out west? Well, good thing he is wrong about Pliada City. We’d be back within a month. You should consider that free vacation time.”
“Funny. That is only if you’re right about the developing situation there. If you’re wrong,” She turned around flicking his chest with one cocked back finger, “I expect you to chase those tumbleweeds, while I’ll be planning my revenge on the world, and drinking too much in my hopefully climatized desert office, pretending I am somewhere lush and green.”
Vex frowned. “You would make me do the tumbleweed chasing all on my own.”
“Hey! You get us on desert duty, you catch those tumbleweeds. Alternatively, you could give the boss another week before you nag him again about being right and feeling it in your bones and all that nonsense,” She suggested no hope in her voice.
“We both know that ain’t happening.” Vex shot back.
“A girl can’t dream, can’t she?” Lavistra replied drily.
He didn’t respond to her rhetorical question. They were about to knock on the director’s door.
*Knock Knock*
Levistra took the initiative at the door. Vex appreciated her playing wave breaker for him.
Levistra opened the door greeting her superior. As Vex followed her inside he saw the man’s smile just fall off his face.
“Oh, you’re not going to pester me with this Pliada City bullcrap again, are you? And before lunch too, Agent Delemere. I expect you to keep Buster in check, not enable his fixations.”
Levistra folded her arms and replied with a polite smile. “While I understand your frustration, I happen to agree with Agent Buster on this topic.”
“Well, I won’t send you two down there just because Captain Buster here wants some superpowered field action. We got ongoing cases that need to be solved,” The director held out his hand to stop Vex before he could jump in to make his case. “For instance, the CIA has requested your cooperation. They’ve located a spy ring of the red in Akasha Ulundi and they want to bust down some door and catch them with their pants down. That is where I will be sending you two for now. I don’t want protests from you. I will monitor the situation in Pliada and if I find that deploying you there is necessary, Agent Buster, you will be hearing from me. That is my final word on this. I can’t deploy you on hunches or whims whenever you feel like it. Next thing I know you get a hunch three months a year in Hawaii. No, we will nip that in the bud before it ever happens.”
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Vex sighed. There was just no talking to some people. He had met people who thought they had to show him they were in charge after the war. None of them could ever just see him as more than a man with too much power. It was sad, yet at times useful, to be underestimated because of one's strength. So he just shrugged and turned to leave. Agent Buster never had been one to waste his breath. In time this inflated ego in charge of him would learn to listen to him or would be replaced by someone competent. He had seen it happen dozens of times.
There was no need for him to be rash. He wasn’t in a hurry. Eventually, the director would get a call questioning why he wasn’t deploying his assets where they were needed to keep this country safe. He could wait, at least for a while.
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The way back to the academy and all classes had been so awkward for Ravela that she was glad to get out of there by the end of the last lecture.
She was fuming. Ravela wished she had just given in to the urge to beat Morbolfr then and there, but since Ramiel Roice was the one identity she had there was no way she’d compromise her fragile foothold in this world for Morbolfr.
There was however the urge to pass on the misgivings to someone more worthy of feeling miserable.
Ravela got into her car determined to find a release for her frustrations. She spent the thirty-minute drive back to her house outside the city scolding herself. She was mainly upset about how easily Morbolfr had managed to get under her skin and unbalanced her emotionally. She cannot allow herself to act on impulse like that. If she wants to cause some damage, she has to be smart about it.
Entering her house she got one of her energy pistols from its hiding spot. Tonight she was going out to deal some damage. She wouldn’t need a ski mask this time. Michael Manus was a ghost; she could make him vanish and appear as she liked.
After she picked up her equipment for her little excursion, Ravela returned to her motel. Noticing the absence of her tail for the first time. Scanning the parking lot with her eyes confirmed that they were gone.
She couldn’t even be happy about that because she felt like that was Morbolfr’s way of telling her that he had done all he needed to do.
She walked into her little motel room locked the door behind herself, closed the curtains, and got in front of the mirror. Taking off Ramiel’s ring, Ravela studied her face. It had become an almost unfamiliar sight to her. She didn’t quite like that train of thought, it spoke too much to the stress this charade had put her under.
The golden glow from her eyes and the glow beneath her white skin seemed stranger than the face of Ramiel to her. She put the ring on the table in front of the mirror and began stretching as if she had been stuck in an uncomfortable position for too long. She retrieved Michael’s ring from her pocket and put it beside Ramiel’s.
And she planned to get into another disguise right away. These rings put a toll on her mood and she didn’t quite know why. How would she have liked to be just herself in this world, only having to rely on the rings from time to time? Instead, she was stuck in the reverse, where she had to build herself a bunker to have a place in which she could be herself without worries.
She groaned in frustration as she slowly peeled off the police recruit uniform. Her closet flew open with a bit more force than she had intended. It spoke volumes about her current state of mind. Ravela tried to be more delicate while retrieving Michael’s shirt and suit.
Ravela felt itching for a fight and would find some trouble tonight. Taking off her training shoes and pants, she switched into the much smoother suit and shirt.
Looking at herself in the mirror, Ravela thought the look suited her. She looked like a little devil in her dark red shirt. Picking up Michael’s ring, Ravela changed into a human form. Suddenly the clothes fit perfectly. She looked down at her left hand. At some point, she would get her true self a wardrobe just as fitting. The longing for a more truthful life for herself gnawed on her.
The face of Keeper Namon flashed through her mind. Lying to him had felt very wrong. Someday she’d have to come clean about her deceitful behavior. She attached her shoulder holster under her left shoulder and left the motel in Michael’s usual manner, through a window in the back.
Her first goal was to visit Atla Jaest to find a good target. She did not doubt that Atla would have some insightful information on concrete small targets she could pay a visit to.
Ravela made her way through the inner city fast, arriving near the Kent Mall. She walked into the office building and stepped into the elevator without even receiving a second look from anyone in the lobby.
Atla’s office was locked and the light was off, but more was needed than a lock to stop Ravela. Telekinesis was such an accommodating ability. In a few seconds, she unlocked the door and was inside.
Closing the door behind herself, she used her abilities to once again lock the door.
Ravela looked around the office, which was a mess compared to the last meeting. The clipboard’s setup had changed considerably. New question marks appeared on it, and to her irritation, there was a small Post-it note with Michael’s name on it.
Her hand reached out for a pencil. She wrote beneath Michael’s name ‘Most unwise, Mrs. Jaest.’.
Twirling the pen in her fingers, Ravela pursed her lips studying the board more closely. There were the two supers of the factory attack mentioned.
A cipher next to each photo or question mark denoted the existence of a more in-depth file.
Ravela looked at Michael’s Post-it note and spotted the tiny numbers on its corners. Since Atla wasn’t there, she decided to make herself comfortable.
Walking over to one of five filing cabinets, she unlocked it and began going through the files. The ciphers on the board didn’t appear in them, so Ravela moved on to the next cabinet.
It looked older, and the squeaking drawers were used extensively. The search in this cabinet proved more fruitful. She found the current clipboard files in the second to last drawer.
Stacking the folder neat on the desk, Ravela sat down in Atla’s chair. The bright mall emitted enough light to read the files comfortably.
She had dubbed the man attacking the mafia the Bomber. Ravela chuckled. ‘Great minds think alike, Atla.’ Behind that name, it said ‘Michael Manus?’ which upset Ravela.
“Well, I guess not that alike,” Ravela said aloud.
Reading the one page inside, she wondered how close Atla was to her hypothesis. Not of the rival mafias, no family, highly functional, probably knowledgeable with explosive agents, maybe a chemist. Her results, for now, were a broad spectrum of possible groups of suspects.
Ravela turned the chair to the window. It wasn’t like Ravela came up with target groups. She had to evolve her thinking. The mindset of operating in an interconnected society that had an interest beyond moving up in the world was still odd to her.
What leads a man to attack the mafia raining fire on them as the Bomber did? Ravela thought back to the day of the football game in Gradjia. The loss of one's family? Perhaps.
So a man who lost his family to the mafia had superpowers and beyond that, the skill to infiltrate a building like Ravela had witnessed him do. The skills and confidence to just undertake such an attack without a second thought.
Maybe Ravela didn’t have the same deep understanding of society and community others had, but she had absorbed enough of Gradjia to at least form a picture. She hadn’t taken a step back to apply her experiences properly until now.
She ought to use things she learned more. Putting aside the file of the Bomber, Ravela picked up Michael’s file.
Opening it brought her immediate displeasure. Noting their first meeting in La Heumö, Ravela saw it as a serious indiscretion. Documenting her superhuman strength, her weaponry at the time, her hotel room, and the date she stayed in her room. All of it is neatly listed on one single sheet of paper. There was no mention of the money she had given her.
However, this could develop into a problem if someone decided to dig this lead. At least Ravela could be certain that Atla wouldn’t be dumb enough to return to La Heumö. There was, however, no telling who she might hire or who might read these files eventually.
She filtered through some more files to distract herself from these worrisome new insights she got on how fragile her cover was from certain angels. Ravela thought that she might have to ask Atla to properly ‘forget’ how they met and to not keep a file on their acquaintance. She would ask it as a professional courtesy. The next folder she picked up was of Morbolfr Krone.
Opening it made her mood sour. Ramiel standing there with an almost polite smile for the camera, shaking hands with the mafia boss. What a picture, she ought to have that framed one day. Right after she got the title story for his arrest, and not a moment before that.
Her name was circled together with her statement. She read the notes Atla made on Morbolfr’s speech.
Ravela put that folder aside, it wasn’t all that interesting. Picking up a folder named “The Bunker”, she began to study the content.
Jar, crates, and other containers full of drugs were delivered to an inner city location, not in the warehouse district. The capacity displayed in the photos was impressive.
Located near Gem Grinder Street, this former conserve factory provided ample space for storage and movement of freight. However, Atla took pictures inside the building. Ravela had to acknowledge the woman’s talent for sneaking into places she wasn’t supposed to be in. The inside of the building looked remodeled. There were secured doors and even firing slits. It did not surprise Ravela that the young reporter dubbed this building a bunker.
The loading zone was the only spot where Ravela could even imagine the woman gaining access to the barrels and crates long enough to check the contents.
It seemed like the Swaddy hadn’t wasted any time in relocating their central vault operation to a way more fortified place. They could probably withstand an assault by the national guard until they rolled in the tanks. Luckily for Ravela, she was the tank.
An idea began to form in her mind. Punishing Morbolfr’s interview with a painful intervention into his business seemed a sweet temptation.
She looked at the clock, dinner time was fast approaching.
A key got inserted into the door, and Ravela leaned back putting her shoes on the table, just waiting for the light to turn on, putting the file she read into her lap.