Fawn leads us back up to the Museum with her crew chatting it up all the way. On the journey back up I try my best to stick to the familiar faces, but Rey gets swallowed up by Fawn in some discussion that has his shoulders hunched and Rex is trying his best not to say something wrong to the sombre woman.
In that aspect, I can relate.
I’m stuck with Playboy chewing my ear off about something I’m sure I don’t care about. I can hardly listen to a word he’s saying because I’m still trying to understand what exactly is going on here.
I nod at every high and low of his voice, his face a picture of excitement. A walk that’s not much longer than a few minutes lengthens to hours in my mind with his chirping. But the light of the exit has me breathing in a refreshing breath of relief.
All chatter dies down as we pass through the door and finally back into the Museum. There’s a clear and purposeful difference to the Museum now than what it was previously.
The large dome-shaped hall is littered with glass covered exhibits, weapons, talons, sheets draped up and hung on the wall. It’s a preview into the past, a horrible past for humanity as far as it's told.
It’s an awful thought to think that Paige was born and lived the majority of her life in this period. A period of constant turmoil, existential fear and panic of otherworlders like never before.
I wonder if Xoxia has any. I shake my head at myself at the thought, Of course, we do, it’s Xoxia.
Not to mention the slithering rumours I heard from Rex about the Lieutenant, if there were an otherworlder present in Xoxia I’d put him up for the running.
The exhibits are the parts that are familiar and natural to the Museum. However, the dining tables, buffets, the carpet spilled over the floor and the sudden increase in attendees from a mere thirty to a full house is what strikes me as new.
“Did they set this all up while we were down there?” It’s Rex that asks the question on my mind, he’s as wide-eyed as I am, even more so.
“Haha, what do you mean ‘they’?” Rey says rather ominously, a smirk twitching at his lips.
“What?”
He shakes his head looking down at his feet, “You’re the ‘they’ you get to help serve us and our guests.” Without waiting for Rex’s horrid expression to load he snaps his fingers at two roaming waiters and beckons them on.
I recognize their faces, I saw them in the audience. They cheered.
The two approach us stiffly, no doubt intimidated by the presence of all five of the roundtable, something I am still getting used to.
Although, I can barely reconcile that these five are dangerous. Well, it’s pretty much proven for Cleo, Fawn and Link but the other two...not so much.
“Sir?” One manages to call out to Rey.
“You’re missing a volunteer.” He says, shoving Rex into their waiting arms, “Get him on dishes or something.”
“Rey!” Rex yells out in a moment of hilarity, the two waiters begging him to cooperate and follow them to get dressed.
“Do I have to go on with them?” I find myself asking.
“Huh?”
“I mean, it seems like all the...normies who came with their Captains are working the clock.”
“Are you kidding me?” Symphony snorts out, walking up to me all of a sudden. His approach pushes Rey away, but I standstill.
When he’s up close enough that I can study his features without being a creep he says, “We were all summoned here because of you, you brought Bill out of his crypt, you’re the star of the event, the entire reason we’re gathered here today is to induct you, the first person to shoot up the ranks of our esteemed organization this fast. You’re one of us now, not even close to a...normie.”
I’m left rather stunned by what he says, but also stunned by his looks. His hair under that raggedy hoodie is pure white and his eyes are stark with a bright green hue. Of course, he’s taller than me but only by a few inches.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” He chokes out, shoulders receding.
Fawn grabs him, hugging his head to her bosom, “Because you’re a few words away from a confession of Love Symphi.”
He struggles fruitlessly at her grip, pouting when he can’t get out, “No, I’m not.”
“Called it!” Playboy starts, “You guys get the party started over here I’ll get it started over there!” He starts, waving as he attempts to skidder away.
Pinching at the seams of his migraine of a blazer, Cleo stops him, “Not so fast. We still have to decide who precedes the event tonight, one of us has to and it can’t be you, Dennis.”
Bellowing out with an awkward laugh Dennis, the Playboy retorts, “And why is that? I’m the only one that volunteers to do it. Isn’t it insane to stop someone from volunteering to do some charity?”
“This isn’t charity, Dennis.” Cleo points out drearily, “It’s our responsibility to provide authority when the Captains are gathered, you know how rough they can be.”
Rough?
I turn to look at Rey, the only Captain I know. My mind plays the first time I met the man for a brief moment and I decide I agree with Cleo.
“And aren’t I that authority?” Dennis groans.
“You are, but you’re irresponsible with it, you don’t know where you stand atop the ladder, the Captains are not your buddies, they are not your friends to mingle and get wasted with.” Surprisingly, it’s Link who gives the lecture. He's worn a new shirt since his expanding muscles tore through the last one.
What began lightly seems to be boiling over. Playboy isn’t happy, less than.
Gone is the playful and light nature of the Playboy, before me is a furious man, he yells, “And so what? If we can’t even do that what’s the fucking point of calling ourselves a ‘family’ ugh!”
Finger wagging he steps in on Cleo, “I’m the only one of us trying to keep the Captains straight and with us, you have to freaking let loose once in a while!”
“Hey.”
Fawn cuts between them, hand on his shoulder pushing him back, her golden flames burning stronger than before.
“Keep the distance.”
Dennis does as he’s told and steps off, his anger subsiding or simply hidden.
“And you’re not the only social one at the table, Dennis. Cleo may be a bit detached from her Captains but that doesn’t mean the rest of us are. Link handles his men's training personally, Symphony works on missions side by side with his, more than any of us do actually and I…”
She trails off at the mention of herself but picks off where she left before it gets too awkward, “I handle my men as well.” Is all she says.
“Yeah, you handle them just as well as they handle you,” Dennis mutters.
Aw shit.
All peacemaking efforts burn out there and then as Fawn’s hair erupts in a geyser of flames, “What's that supposed to mean?”
Briiinnnnngggg!!!
The sprinklers go off, showering us in water, the closest simulation to rain I’ve had in years. But the water does nothing to abate the anger of the two growling in front of me.
Should I be doing something?
***
Fortunately for me, I’m not required to do anything about the two meta-villains preparing to tussle right in front of me. Frasier, the Lieutenant, creeps out of some corner and breaks them up.
“I’m sure Dennis here gets the point loud and clear, don’t you Dennis?”
Dennis doesn’t look at all like he does. He grunts, shoving his hands into his pockets and walks away from us.
As he leaves six other individuals follow behind him, running after himfrom their tables and ripping off aprons. Some of them trying to talk to the pissed off man but having no such luck, one even gets shoved.
Those must be his people, the captains and normies under him. I expertly decipher from the obvious stature and get up of the six. Three of them having on waiter uniforms.
“My deepest apologies for the ruckus!” Frasier starts, arms out, speaking to the crowd of attendees, “As reparations, I will head tonight's event.”
“Frasier but don’t yo-” Fawn starts but a single finger from him shuts her up.
“The Roundtable will be making an...early exit from our here festivities, there is much they must discuss with each other.”
Fawn’s look turns sour as do the others, well, except Cleo, she’s been looking real down since I met her. Must be something to do with her powers.
I’m shaken out of my speculative thoughts by a guiding hand, the Lieutenant’s guiding hand. He leads Fawn and me out the doors of the Museum, not bothering so much with the greetings, excessive bowings and wide-eyed ogling that meet us along the way.
The frigid air of the outside slaps me so hard I’m confused for a moment why I wasn’t expecting it. The inside of the Museum must be heated pretty well. I let out a tired sigh and watch the snowing wind carry the vapours away. Back to the cold then.
Looking up around me I find that I’ve been left behind. Ahead the Lieutenant and the five of the roundtable are talking, in front of a row of luxurious cars and jeeps. Well, from where I’m standing it looks more like a scolding.
For a moment I wonder if I should go to them. No, they left you out for a reason.
Pausing at the thought I ask myself, What reason though?
Before I can think of one they break up and Fawn and Frasier walk back towards me. The others
“A little rosy-cheeked aren’t you? Need a kindle?” Fawn says with a smirk, her open hand lighting up in a flame.
My eyes go wide and my mouth hangs ajar at the display. Although I’ve been in close contact with many metas in my life, seeing a controlled, not violent display of their powers like this...well, it's amazing.
Her hands close over the fire, snuffing it out along with my awe, “Let’s not trigger any more alarms.” she says.
“Yes, let's not,” Frasier adds, still irritated. “Vern, you’ll be accompanying Fawn here to the residence.”
“The residence? What residence?”
“Our Residence.” Fawn so helpfully provides, an eager smile stretched across her face.
“Yes, the Roundtable will be taking you in, you’re to be the next one of them.”
And there it is, all the confirmation I need to know I’m neck-deep in this organization now.
“Although you will be set on a probationary period and the responsibilities they carry will not fall on you yet. Haha.” The Lieutenant chuckling sends a strange feeling through me.
“What's so funny?” Fawn asks, poking at the man.
He slaps her offending hand away and straightens up, “Nothing, I’m thinking of the possibilities we have now thanks to Vern agreeing to join us.”
Fawn's progression from confused to knowing and then finally smirking doesn’t give me any insights on what the two could be talking about. I’m certain it has something to do with their activities though. And I’m sure if the Lieutenant’s face isn’t always facing the sky I’d see a matching smirk splayed across his lips.
“I’ll leave him in your hands then, Fawn.”
She gives him a mock salute and watches as he walks back into the Museum to tend to the guests.
“Ready to go kid?”
“I’m turning fifteen soon.”
She nods, “Right, so are you ready to go?”
I nod, ignoring the jibe at my maturity. There isn’t anything left to do here, not that I wanted to be here in the first place.
She beckons me along to a limousine, the door held open for us by some valet that doesn’t look like he has much affiliation with our organization.
Our organization.
The personalization strikes me as odd. Is this mine now? I barely notice when the valet bows and shuts the door, but Fawn’s words stir me out of my musings as we start moving.
“So, how does it feel?”
She doesn’t look at me, her eyes stuck to the holo projected by the band on her hand. She fiddles with it but is certainly listening.
“How does what feel?” I ask, noticing at last that her hair has been set down, no longer a blaze of fire.
It’s a frizzy light brown afro, I can appreciate the colour as it works marvellously with her skin.
She raises a brow, “How does it feel to have been a street rat yesterday and one of the most dangerous, important personnel to the Invincibill Organization?”
“Oh.” I mutter, slouching in my seat and noticing for the first time how comfortable it is. “Well, I’m not sure how I feel, I...I just can’t wait.”
This get’s her attention, she turns to me intrigued, “Can’t wait for what? To get to work? Cause you’re going to have a lot on your plate, trainee six.”
“Trainee six?”
“Yeah, there were five, now there are six, you’re the sixth in training.”
“Right…”
“So what are you excited about?”
Biting my cheek I’m torn between wanting to share everything I have bottled up and keeping silent, just in case this isn’t the fantasy of power it feels like.
“Could we stop by somewhere else first?” I ask, almost pleading.
Fawn clearly wants to say no but instead, she asks, “Where?”
