Chapter 3: The Elevator

I hate having to take elevators.

Take, for example, when you're walking, having a pleasant conversation with a dear person, living in your own little world. Living in your own little bubble. The people outside don’t matter because they have their own invisible bubble. A bubble that you are not part of, but you don’t care because you are content in yours. But then you have to take an elevator and BAM, suddenly, everything becomes awkward.

You approach the doors, hoping no stranger wants to take the elevator with you. But more often than not, those strangers are already waiting. When you approach you can see their heads turning and in their eyes you can see the same apprehension that you have about seeing others wanting to take the same elevator.

Even if you are lucky and alone while waiting, you will still have the feeling of worry that someone will join at the last minute, or that the elevator is already full and just stopping to pick you up on its vertical journey.

When the doors open, you have to enter a little metal box with only one way in and one way out. Despite your trepidation, you don’t have much time to muster the courage to enter because the doors will soon be closing. You have to be quick.

When there are other people in the same situation as you, you will have to, together, enter this space. You will try not to touch anyone as always, but entering a stranger's personal space is inevitable. Just as others will enter yours. If your metaphorical bubble hasn’t yet popped, it certainly will now.

If you are one of the more sociable ones, you might look up and say ‘Good morning’ or something like that, but only the brave or crazy, however you want to call them, will start a conversation.

The mere mortals will just enter and try not to make eye contact because the horror when your eyes meet those of strangers in the elevator is too much.

When that happens, you are compelled to make the infamous nod, the one where your lips curl into a vertical line. The horrible vertical line lips nod, yes, you know the one. At least most men do. It’s the nod you give to someone you haven’t seen in a long time or the one you make when your eyes happen to meet those of someone you don’t know.

The fact that I am just a mere mortal man who keeps his head down may be the reason I wasn’t ready for what happened next.

I entered the elevator to go to the fourth floor with my head down, thinking about my hatred for elevators, not wanting to look up. So, not looking up.

Say one thing about me: I do what I want, or at the very least, I don’t do what I don’t want to do.

Next to me was Ava, twirling her umbrella. She was looking up. But then, she was the personification of luck. If she didn’t want to look people in the eye, people simply wouldn’t look her in the eye.

Or perhaps she didn’t care.

That was probably more likely. I knew I could get a little into my head over the silliest things. But what else makes life as fun as overanalyzing everything and everyone?

Take, for example, the changes with the elevators of old. Now, there are no buttons anymore in any of the city's elevators. Previously, you had to press a button for your desired floor and wait at every stop if others wanted to exit before yours.

Now, you just need to enter the elevator with the intention of your destination floor in mind. Then, you enter a parallel subspace, the elevator, that takes you to that floor. For instance now, we wanted to go down to the fourth floor, so upon entering, we joined everyone else who wanted to go to the fourth floor at that hour.

A convoluted and complicated way to eliminate button pressing, I would say, but something I could appreciate. The way it also eliminated stopping at other floors without touching the space constraints that having more elevators would, was also a nice touch.

Yes, getting into my head and analyzing gave me insights like the one about elevators—insights that others might miss or claim not to care about. It made me much more in tune with the world, able to see the injustices that exist. And as I said, it also made me appreciate the good changes.

However, what getting into my head and not looking up inside an elevator didn't help with was the haymaker that clocked me on my chin in said elevator.

I was surprised.

Luckily, I knew what to do. From the moment I saw a closed fist approach my chin, I knew I didn't have enough time to dodge. So, I loosened every muscle in my body. This had the dramatic effect of sending me flying back when the punch hit.

This was a technique I learned from one of my more experienced colleagues back in the day. It worked by not resisting and letting your body follow the punch, so you only feel about ten percent of the impact. It also had the added advantage of literally flying away from your adversaries.

"But I still prefer dodging," I grumbled while looking up and resisting the urge to rub my chin.

I saw a large man in a suit looking amazed at his fist.

Yes, the effect didn't match the impact, did it? Big guy.

Behind the large man, I saw two other men, one medium-sized and one small, both also in suits. Big, medium, small. It was as if I had suddenly been transported into the fairy tale of Goldilocks.

Behind them, I saw a woman sitting on a couch.

How was she sitting on a couch? There are not even stairs in these elevators, let alone couches. Yes for everything that changed from the past, space constraints are still a thing. ‘Let’s keep everyone standing, that way we can transport more people and lose less money. It’s not like anyone can do anything about it!’.

More importantly than the couch however, I recognized her. Red hair flowing as if alive, a mole above her lip, revealing but classy clothes, and the crest of the Marconi family—all checked. Yes, if I was not mistaken, she was the right-hand woman of the crime boss of the Marconi family.

I looked back at Ava and did a double-take. She was suddenly also sitting on a couch, smirking at me.

"You motherfuc—" I had to stop my thought. Calm down, there are more important things going on right now. No time to get frustrated by the phenomenon that is Ava.

While I was analyzing, I saw that the small man, let’s call him Small from now on, had started to rush at me. I looked at Big, still amazed by his punch, now feeling his biceps as if discovering them for the first time. Medium seemed content to stay back, arms crossed with a smirk on his face. Good for me.

I had just a few seconds before Small reached me. In the time I was taking in the situation, I had stood up. I felt that my walking stick was still in hand. Good—I tried to live by the mantra that letting go of your weapons equals death.

I pointed my walking stick directly at Small. I saw him smirk and speed up even more. Hmm, maybe a D-Tier speed superpower. Good, they are easy to fight against. When he reached my pointed walking stick, I used it to dance gracefully around him.

Speed types are always so sure of their speed that they are actually relatively very slow to react when something unexpected happens. So, he wasn't ready for my kick against his behind, which sent him smacking against the elevator wall.

I took a quick look at him before turning around. He should be out of it until this farce of a fight was over. But it was better to keep some of my attention on him. Superpowers made fights much more unpredictable than they already were. You can never know how quickly someone recovers, if they are even down for the count, or hurt at all. But it also made it so much more fun.

A genuine smile began to form on my face. It had been too long since I'd stretched my fighting skills.

After what I did to Small, it seemed Big and Medium took my threat more seriously. Big stopped admiring his muscles, and Medium uncrossed his arms, starting to reach for something in his pants.

I started walking towards them, keeping a genuine smile on my face. I was really starting to have fun. All that planning and plotting had really made me thirst for some action. I hadn't expected this, but I couldn't say it wasn't welcome.

I noticed both thugs were getting more apprehensive because of the smirk on my face. Out of experience, I knew facing someone who is smiling is much more intimidating than facing someone serious.

Fighting is so much more than just physical. The psychological aspect is just as important, if not more so. Fighting is inherently very serious, especially when real stakes are involved. So, facing a smiling adversary makes you start to question:

What is so funny?

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Is he a psychopath?

Is he so strong that he is smiling because fighting us is a joke for him?

Do I have something stuck in my teeth?

It's such an easy trick to get into the minds of your enemies. To let them make mistakes. I have defeated many people much stronger than me, simply by also fighting the mental battle.

When I got close enough, I saw Big start to reach for me. I turned my walking stick around and pressed a hidden button. A small blade emerged from the bottom.

My walking stick had been specially made from a material that rendered the blade undetectable by most security systems checking for weapons. So even with a hidden blade I can take it anywhere.

I ducked under his wild grab.

What are they teaching thugs around here? No finesse whatsoever.

I took the curved part of my turned-around walking stick with my left hand while holding the stick further up with my right hand, like I would hold a cue stick. Ready to strike his jugular with my blade as I would hit the white ball to end the game.

Suddenly, a loud whistle made me pause. The blade of my walking stick was so close to piercing Big that it drew a drop of blood.

Playtime is over? I thought, disappointedly, not dropping my smile.

I looked at the lady sitting on the couch.

“Well, well, well, Damien Atwood, you do your reputation justice!” she said while slowly clapping.

Really? The slow clap? Who does that anymore?

I thought the slow clap was something from years ago, used to sarcastically congratulate a performance that was actually beneath the one clapping. I found it overdone, maybe because it was something I liked to do. So, when used against me, it felt wrong. Like someone stole my stick. Also, the reason why I stopped doing it.

Not showing the displeasure that I felt from her clapping, something I was sure was her intention, I replied casually while straightening but still holding my bladed walking stick at the neck of Big.

“Can’t say this wasn’t fun, a little short maybe yes…” I finally dropped my smile and looked intensely straight into her eyes.

“But give me one good reason why I shouldn’t pierce the neck of our big guy here?”

Said big guy gulped audibly against my blade when I said that, helping to make my point more clear.

“Don’t be such a brute, Damien. We were just saying hello. But if you want a reason not to hurt our Brutus here, killing someone in one of the central elevators will bring the attention of the authorities to you, something I know for sure you don’t want right now,” she answered, putting emphasis on the "right now."

Hmm, she is trying to get into my head. Maybe she does know some things about what I have going on right now, but she is more likely fishing. A classic tactic to get me to say more than I should. She is good, but I am better.

Also, Brutus, really? How stereotypical can the name of the big minion be?

“Oh Jessica, the authorities, really? I expected more from the woman of our very own Gio.”

If I wasn't looking for it, I would have missed it, but for a split second the easy-going smile she had plastered on her face faded, and her cheeks colored a little bit red.

Showing exactly that I knew who she was and who she was working for, together with throwing some allegations of her sleeping with her boss, should put her on the backfoot.

Time to take control of this conversation.

“If Gio wanted to talk, he could have just sent an invitation. No need for all this—” I stopped pointing my weapon to Brutus’s neck and I gestured behind me to Small, who was still knocked out, and the other two thugs.

“It is Mister Marconi for you,” she said, her sweet voice switching to a slightly more heated version, while gesturing to Brutus and Medium to help Small.

Reluctantly, they went to help him, while still glancing at me, daring me to do anything. I kept silent, looking at her with a small smile on my face.

“Mister Marconi wanted me to give this invitation to you,” she said, her hair moving to take a closed envelope out from her brassiere before throwing it to me.

Moving hair was her superpower. Sounds like a pretty disappointing power to have, but from the stories I heard, she was very deadly with it.

“And this is how you decided to interpret that command? By attacking me in one of the central elevators?” I said while catching the envelope.

Jessica just looked at me for a moment but didn’t answer, instead starting to look at her three minions. How rude!

But was that a little concern I saw on her face? Interesting.

I opened the envelope and read the invitation.

Dear Mr. Atwood,

I invite you to join me for a soiree at my estate this Saturday at seven in the evening.

Giovanni Marconi

Really, all this, just for an invitation, nothing more?

One sentence, too. Gio was known for being a man of few words. People like that, I always had trouble understanding. Where is the flair, the exposition, the composition of words that make life more colorful?

Well, I guess you know what they say, less is more.

It does make me intrigued.

Why did he invite me?

Hmm, I looked up from the invitation, now would be the opportune time for the elevator to arrive at the fourth floor. Our conversation had finished. Now it was just going to become an awkward elevator ride again. You would think in a world where superpowers and super inventions exist, it would just take a few minutes to get to the next floor.

But no, something about upping the speed not feeling good for regular folk and something else about safety. Along with the enormous height of the different floors, with no visible ceiling on each floor, it takes the elevator five minutes per floor.

I looked back at Jessica. Brutus and Medium had dragged Small back to her. Small was also waking up again, and I saw Jessica sigh with relief.

It looked like she wanted to stop our conversation. But let's see if I can get a little more information from her.

“Hey Jessica, I thought we were having a conversation. Some people would find it rude if their conversational partner stops talking, but I will forgive you if you can tell me why your big bad boss wants to invite me.” I tried to give off a genuine vibe.

While twirling her hair, not with her hand but with her power, she opened her mouth when suddenly the elevator started to shake a little bit and my body felt lighter.

*Bing*

A message came out of the loudspeakers of the elevator.

“We give our sincere apologies, the first safety of the elevator snapped. Don’t worry, a second safety is in place that will get you safely to your destination. But as a consequence, the ride is going to be much quicker. We thank you for your understanding!”

After which the elevator made another ‘bing’ sound, telling us that we arrived at the fourth floor.

A voice next to me started.

“That was weird. Never happened to me before. What about you guys? Well anyway, luckily this happened, or else Miss Jessica would have spilled the beans about the mysterious gathering. It's much more fun not to know! Don’t you think, Damien?” Ava rattled off while standing up from her couch and moving to the door.

I was stunned. Did her powers just make the elevator move quicker just so she didn’t get spoiled? I shouldn’t be surprised, I know. But come on. Such life-altering powers and they get used because you want to get surprised?

And wait, did she just invite herself?

That was an invitation for me!

I looked back at Jessica with her three Goldilocks minions. But saw they were also quickly making themselves scarce. Well, there are other means to get information about the gathering at the Marconi estate.

I noticed employees were coming to check on the broken safety of the elevator, or I assumed that was why they were here. So, I decided to also get a move on. I checked my watch, 10:28, nice, time enough now to get to my meeting.

While leaving, I saw the employees of the elevator looking confused at the two couches.

I am as confused as you are, guys, I thought.

Still didn’t know how they got them in here. Some kind of storage device? Possibly they smuggled that through, with the bad security when going to the lower floors. Just for their comfort? But then why not take the couches back with them? Good quality couches like those don’t grow on trees. Some kind of superpower then?

Hah, maybe Brutus or Medium had the ability to make couches out of thin air. What a power to have.

Now, how Ava got her couch, I am not going to break my head over. Too many possibilities for that one.

Stepping out of the elevator, I saw Ava waiting for me. She was smiling. It was a bratty smile. I ignored her and moved past her. No reason to start an argument with the personification of luck, now is there?

I heard her follow me.

“I am really lucky to bump into you! I already knew you could fight. But it was amazing how you took that punch. You flew, like, three meters back! And then that Brutus guy was so amazed at what he did to you and was looking at his fist. And then that other dude came just at you, but—”

“Yes, I was there, Ava,” I interrupted her.

“Yeah, but still, you just went, whoosh, wha, and you were behind him and then you kicked him,” she continued. And I zoned her out.

What is happening? I always saw her more as a prim lady, too above talking to people. But today she is constantly talking to me. Is this her real self?

We continued walking to my destination.

I would love to say nothing happened, but twice some thugs tried to intimidate us into handing over our possessions. I quickly dealt with them the same way I had in the elevator.

Ava just excitedly watched. It felt like the only thing she was missing was some popcorn to watch the show, which made me think the encounters were because of her. She wanted to see me fight, so her power gave us some people to beat up.

Well, I can’t say I didn't want to beat some people up myself. To release some of the stress the last few days had brought. The plan had finally begun, but that also meant that a lot could happen for which we had to be prepared.

That is also why I planned this meeting. To gather all the data. To see if everyone was still following the script and nothing unexpected had occurred. When you are the maestro, you are responsible for ensuring that everyone plays their part at the right time.

We stood before the building that was to host our first meeting since the first domino was tipped. Everyone should be present except for flute and percussion. I looked at my watch, 10:59. Even with those two encounters, right on time.

I looked at Ava. She had a cheeky smile on her face, twirling her umbrella.

I shook my head and entered the building.