Chapter 15: Steamed

It was three minutes past 5pm and people were starting to enter the now open Limbo in their ones and twos, through both the street and coat room entrances. A few sent concerned or fearful looks in my direction, while others just shrugged as they made their way to the bar to order drinks before moving onto their seats. 

It’s Limbo, it was not like this was the strangest thing they had seen, or even would see and besides who would break the bar’s famous neutrality?

Not that the gazes phased me at all. 

Today was the day, my first paid gig! Al had sprung this on me only the day before and I’d spent most of my spare time planning an itinerary of songs and a few surprises. I wasn’t going into this unprepared unlike my first improvised gig, not to mention I was being paid. Paid! 

I’d been feeling like a freeloader ever since I was freed from my cell. Al is nice and I doubt the cost of looking after me would even be noticeable with his wealth, but… Prior to all this mess, I had school during the day, then when I got home I had homework, all the chores the Andersons left me, and my part time jobs. I’d been a greaser working the deep fryer three nights of the week, and on weekends I’d worked checkout at walmart. 

Thank the Gods, I’d had the foresight to hide that nest egg I’d been building so my foster parents couldn’t take it. Maybe one day I’d be free to use it to go to college and start a new life like I had planned. Now that my planned future medical costs had vanished, it even seemed like a lot more money.

Despite everything that had happened so far, it might shock you to hear that I don’t hate my changes. It’s not like this wasn’t what I had wanted all along, well aside from all the unearthly extra additions. I hadn’t counted on those. The spikes still do cause me some trouble, but I no longer saw myself as a monster. 

Thanks to Kelly and Ms Clark. 

Focusing my thoughts back onto the present, I ran over my plans for tonight for what felt like the hundredth time. A paid gig required something special, so with Barb’s blessing I’d arrived early before opening to set up. The stage was set, the mic and speakers plugged in, a jug of milk with a glass at the ready and then of course, there was me. 

Here I was sitting up on the stage drawing in all the light and wrapping the stage in an unpierceable shadow, as I waited and people watched. The same shadow that was drawing the eyes of those entering.

The patrons were the usual Limbo fare. You have the shadier types who were looking to make a deal, then you had the more grounded heroes, watching their so called villainous counterparts warily. Stuck in the middle as usual, was the greys and the unaligned. They kept to themselves, be they vigilantes or off duty rifters. Being Emerged was tough even before you factored in the good versus evil crap.

With the bar now just about filled up and most of the gathered Emerged starting on their first drinks, I glanced over at Barb. There she was standing behind the bar, looking out over the bar with all the self assured confidence of a queen standing on her castle’s walls and surveying her fiefdom. 

Satisfied with the numbers present, she stepped away from her glass polishing and walked out in front of the stage to greet everyone.

“Welcome you lot! Can I have your brief attention? I’d like to introduce you all to a special girl tonight. Fresh onto the stage with a wonderful voice, her name is Wraith!” she bellowed, briefly quieting the room, “She’s going to be entertaining you all so that hopefully you don’t end up breaking my expensive furniture!”

“What do you mean expensive? I’ve seen better chairs laying on the side of the curb,” a rough looking patron jovially shouted.

Barb replied with a stern glare silencing him, before letting loose a laugh like a crow’s rasping caw, “Where did you think I found them!? The real cost was hiring rifters to transport it all up here! Now shut your trap!”

There was a healthy respect (or was it fear) when it came to Barb, a mystery for another day. Most immediately shut up, but a few awkwardly laughed, only to fall silent after realising their peril. Waiting for a moment to let the anticipation build and all the eyes to look towards the stage, I began tapping my heel to create the beat for my first song and banished the shadows revealing myself behind the mic as I sang the first note.

To calm my nerves as I sang, I thought back over the past five days, and all the wild shit that had happened.

* * *

It had been a week since Kalia and I’s surprise at finding out Ms Clark’s survival and what a week it had been. Turns out Kalia didn’t give me her number when we parted in the alleyway, instead I got confused, but intimidating, “who’s this?” before I revealed I was looking to talk to her. Turns out a cheeky little fox forgot to tell Nightbinder that she had given out her number or that the number was her girlfriends.

Getting past that snag, we ended up meeting as we planned three times over the week. Once at Kalia’s apartment and twice in Unbowed’s bunker. Nightbinder, who I got to eventually know as Laithe, Redd and Unbowed each took turns joining us for the planning.

Kalia definitely had a lot more realism to her ideas than Kelly’s had back in prison, though with her powerset, they still ended up sounding mind boggling. Laithe helped keep her grounded as we planned things out, sometimes literally. Fox girls get the zoomies too apparently, and that’s where ethereal chains come in handy. Along with Laithe,  Unbowed and Redd would sometimes visit and offer something we had missed or not considered. 

Al seemed like an old hat at planning underhanded schemes, especially when it came to the sheer length, breadth and depth of detail he knew to focus on. Operation Saving Private Kelly was confirmed when Al brought us an important piece of intel.

Handing both Kalia and I manilla envelopes, Al mentioned he had paid a spider a visit and gotten us both some real fake IDs? A spider? Real fake IDs? Typical… After we got him to stop speaking in vague riddles we worked out what was going on.

Al had paid a grey Emerged service provider called Spider a visit. Apparently they were an arachnid Emerged with technopathic abilities amongst other gifts, who served as a gray hat hacker and a purveyor of falsified identities that would pass any test and show up in the official databases. Ripping open my envelope I was greeted by the sight of a Californian birth certificate, social security and passport for an Ava Cameron Johnson. The passport’s photo was a doctored picture of a spikeless me.

The backup false identities weren’t all he got out of Spider, he’d paid a small sum for them to acquire the real blueprints and floor plans of the new Yelmorn tower straight from their own servers. We now knew there were labs and holding cells in the basement floors that weren’t on the publicly available plans of the building. After that point the planning went ahead at full speed.

It was during our first phone call Kalia let something incredible slip.

I couldn’t believe it, there was going to be an Emerged Festival in Penrith! It was a small grassroots organised by a number of local Emerged. They had somehow managed to wrangle a permit for the day of the twentieth of February at Innes Haley Park. 

After all the treatment and contempt I had gotten during my time in prison, I had come to believe people like me would never be free to celebrate and enjoy ourselves in the open. But Kalia convinced me it was the real deal in her usual sly excitable way. After two days of begging Al into submission, he agreed to take me. I didn’t have much of a chance to practise it growing up, but I was getting better at making myself look pitiable and adorable in order to get my way.

That or Al was proving especially susceptible, so far I’d had no luck with Nel. My forehead still twinged with the memory of her flicking it when I tried to convince her to take me to New York for pizza and see the ongoing recovery effort dismantling the dragon’s bones.

Getting back to what I was saying. On the day Al woke me up, already dressed in casual pants, polo shirt and blazer, I was instructed to cover up my spikes and wear pants with my jacket. Just my luck, we were going to a festival for out and proud Emerged and I would probably be the only person who had to conceal myself. Being a wanted criminal sucked, I wish I had a secret identity.

At least I got a cool mask out of it.

While we were waiting for Nel to show up with a rift, Al acting like it was nothing special, presented me with a mask. He probably didn’t even realise how special it was, it was probably just a tool for concealment to him, but to me it was possibly the most beautiful thing I had even been given. 

The mask was made out what felt like a lightweight black ceramic, that covered my whole face except for my eyes and mouth. 

The mask was sculpted into the guise of a bird with a sharp beak extending out from the center of my face, down the bridge of my nose and hiding my mouth in its shadow. Intricately carved feathers radiated out from around the eye holes growing larger as they stretched out towards the edges of the mask. Adorning the upper edges were several real feathers that seemed to emerge from the black ceramic and arch up like the world’s longest eyelashes.

Before he could see my joyful tear streaked cheeks, I buried my face in the mask and pulled the elastic tight around the back of my head. 

I wasn’t long before the three of us, Al, Nel and myself, tore our way into the park. It was strange to be back where it all started. I could see the playground I had sheltered under in the distance and instead of pouring rain and darkness the park was filled with colourful tents and all manner of people. Emerged.

A middle aged woman flanked by a pair of bodyguards as she negotiated the crowds, caught my attention. Dressed in a sharp business suit, her head seemed to swivel from side to side as she inspected the gathering Emerged like they were prime cuts of meat in a butcher’s shop. A predatory smile spread from ear to ear as she spotted Al and cut through the celebrating masses to reach us.

“Alexander how are you? Did you also come to scout out the talent?” she called out in a high haughty tone. Did Al have any normal friends?

“I-” Al began to reply, before he was interrupted. As upon seeing me, Janet’s eyes appeared to flash with curiosity and like a steamroller she continued to speak right over him.

“Oh… What’s this Alexander? Who do you have here? She’s a little short for a bodyguard?” she joked, letting off an artificial trilling laugh. Huh? Oh, the black outfit. Ok Princess Leia...

“Janet, meet Songbird, in your words she is a talent I am sponsoring. Unfortunately we are trying to keep her lowkey for now. Songbird meet Janet Hughes, CEO of DRF International. Don’t let her try to charm you or you’ll find yourself caught up and crushed in her serpentine coils”

Yup, note to self: do not trust the fake sounding corporate lady. Check. She sounds like she would buy me for a dollar and a stick of used gum, then sell me for a handful of Benjamins and she was currently eyeing me like she was evaluating how much value she could squeeze out of me. 

“Oh Alexander you wound me. I was hoping there would be no hard feelings about our acquisition of the automotive company you sourced your trucks from. I mean we only increased the prices by fifty percent. No? Oh! This is about us hiring your ex-wife’s lobbying firm,” she smirked viperishly. 

Al had an ex-wife. I’d suspected he was divorced or a widower due to my snooping around, but this just confirmed it. It definitely sounded like they parted on less than happy terms.

“And I’m sure you didn’t do that just out of spite because I refused to ship your goods let alone provide you a preferential shipping contract for your arms dealings to warlords and brutal regimes,” Al parried, this was turning into quite the verbal spar. Is this how rich people fight? Polite language and manners, masking veiled insults and barbs.

“It’s just business. Now I must introduce you to my newest talent, a personal project if you will. You know I couldn’t let Yelmorn have all the fun or grab all the good PR,” she said in delight at the prospect of one upping a rival. 

Without even giving us a chance to refuse, Janet again plowed through the crowds, dragging us along in her wake as she sought out her pet to show off. Did she feel the need to compete after seeing that Al had me beside him? Was this the posturing of a powerful woman with an inferiority complex?

Arriving at a temporary open air cafe and weaving our way around the little white picket fence they had set up, we followed Janet to a picnic table occupied by a group of three leaning over the table as they engaged in animated conversation. The topic seemed to be a piece of paper in the middle of the table. Was that a kid’s drawing of a dog?

The first of the three was a flustered cat girl with black hair, ears and tail and who was trying to hide her face in her hands. The next person going clockwise was a tall and lanky guy who seemed to the poster image of a nerd. The third person was a bubbly dark haired girl with glasses who seemed to be teasing the blushing catgirl even as she appeared to be struggling to hold herself back from patting her.

“I hope I am not interrupting your day off, Maya?” Janet asked in a voice that seemed to carry a hidden threat of what would happen if she dared to not cooperate with her lord and master.

“Ms Hughes!” the catgirl exclaimed, jumping to her feet and not landing, as she hovered a few inches above the grass.

“Maybe you don’t recognize her without her hero suit Alexander, but this is Bastet. She the one who just stopped that terrible villain Perses the other day. Surely you must have seen the press release? It got bumped to the front page after her valiant heroics. Funded, trained and backed by the DRF,” Mrs Hughes bragged before turning the concept of an introduction into a weapon, “Maya, This is Alexander Spencer the CEO of Spencer Shipping, I doubt you’ve heard of them.” 

The penny dropped.

Spencer Shipping was almost a household name in Penrith having built much of the city’s transport infrastructure since almost it’s beginning. I don’t know how it had taken me so long to work this one out, since I had seen Alexander Spencer in his suits on the news several times growing up.

“Uhhh, nice to meet you Al. Ummm, Ms. Hughes I thought we were going to keep the hero thing on the down low?” she anxiously half whispered.

“Don’t worry, I am sure Mr Spencer has more important things to do than reveal the identity of our mascot,” Janet replied in an irritated no nonsense tone.

Al once again proving my trust in him was well placed, gave Maya a warm smile and proceeded to try to undo the damage her battered ego had just received.

“It is a pleasure to meet you Maya. I’m sure everyone will have praise for you, as you will continue to defend this city,” he complimented sounding both sincere and blasting her with his dadley energies.

Blushing, she quickly looked away from him, like she had accidentally stared into the sun. And spotted me. Thanks to her hovering, she was able to curiously peer down at me from above despite being several inches shorter. Following her gaze the entire group appeared to now be looking my way. Eeep!

Grr… Damn cat, someone should warn her about the dangers of curiosity.

“Uh hi? I’m Maya, nice to meet you. What’s your name?” she asked, in a gentle tone as if talking to a small flighty animal or shy child. Hey! I’m not that young!

Still… This was Bastet, I had been following her online since her recent appearance and there weren’t that many animal type Emerged that had ended up as heroes so far. 

“Ah! Im Ro- ...I’m Songbird, Al is looking after me. Are you really Bastet? Ah wait! Sorry, I won’t tell anyone! I saw that picture on a news-site, your costume looked really cool!”

“Songbird… The mask suits you. Ok, I am Bastet, but you can’t tell anyone! Please,” she complimented, before stressing and stretching out the word ‘please’.

“Well… I guess I could if… I wouldn’t happen to be able to… uh… get your autograph,” I bartered with a nervous giggle.

Whoops. That knocked her back into a flustered blushy state worse than when we had arrived. I wasn’t sure if she was embarrassed by the attention or flattered to the point of being overwhelmed.

Peeking up from where she had again buried her face in her hands, she slowly nodded without meeting my eyes, a smile barely cresting over the tips of her fingers.

“Al, do you have any paper and a pen I could please borrow?” I asked, glancing up at Al.

“Sorry Dear, I’m travelling light today. Only paper I have on me is a few business cards,” he apologised, miming turning out his pockets. Dear? I guess it was better than sweetheart or pumpkin.

Snapping her fingers, Janet had her bodyguards leaping to provide Maya a fountain pen and a sheet of snow white paper embossed with a DRF letterhead at their mistresses behest.

“Don’t worry Alexander, I have this covered. It is great to see our Bastet already has young fans. Little Bird make sure you buy the official Bastet merchandise that DRF has planned, the release is next month!” Janet said, before launching into a marketing pitch as if she smelt blood in the water.

While her boss had us distracted, an embarrassed Maya capitalised on the decoy and signed the paper ‘Bastet’ giving the ‘B’ cat ears and a tail. Glancing at the signed paper she passed me. I could only think that Janet and DRF had signed the signature and had put the poor catgirl through training till she had mastered it.

Seeing that the signing was done, Al wrapped an arm around my back and started steering us away from Janet and her bodyguards.

“Ah well…. If you would please excuse us Janet, I promised to chaperone Songbird around the festival. Was nice seeing you and a pleasure meeting you Miss Maya,” Al hurriedly said as he looked over his shoulder to say goodbye and make good our escape.

Finally free to actually enjoy the festival, we aimlessly wandered about taking in all the sights. A number of Emerged were showcasing their abilities as entertainment. 

One Emerged with pyrokinetic abilities was drawing crowds by putting on a show of juggling flaming torches, breathing fire and making the flames dance, performing complex maneuvers in the air above our heads.

Another with the ability to control water was crafting little statues of festival goers out of water, before freezing it by dipping it into a tank of liquid nitrogen. Then over off to the side on a temporary stage, a shapeshifter was putting on a one person performance of Macbeth.

It was a different display of power that caught my attention. A guy who looked the very image of a lumberjack with his bushy beard, checkered shirt, beanie and boots, was using his powers to fly into the air carrying a single passenger at a time.

Grabbing Al’s sleeve, I began pulling him in the Lumberjacks direction, “Al! Al! Can I take a flight!? Please!” I begged.

“Fiiiine,” he sighs, “Just make sure you say please and thank him when it’s over.”

After a short wait I got to have my turn and moments later, we were rocketing through a lazy cloud that was drifting overhead. Fuck, I always imagined them as warm and fluffy, not cold and wet. Unable to soak into Tinker-made clothes, the water droplets that had condensed on me were whisked away as quickly as they formed by the wind as we sped through the sky. Powered flight felt more like the aerodynamics of a rocket than any bird or plane.

I was a bit wobbly on my feet when we returned to the ground, but the adrenaline rush was incredible and I was hooked. Making sure to thank him, I wandered around on legs of jelly as I tried to find Al.

I found him coming back from the food stands, carrying a stick of cotton candy that had been spun into the shape of a butterfly.

“Is that… for me?” I asked in awe of this delicious looking work of art. It almost looked like it would be a crime to eat it, but alas I must obey the food chain and birds eat bugs.

Smiling, he handed it over, “I thought you might be getting a little hungry.”

“Oh my god! Thanks Al!” I almost squealed before barrelling into him and giving him my best one armed hug.

As we continued to wander, I slowly fed the cotton candy under the beak of my mask and into my mouth, taking care not to get the spun sugar in any of the feathers. I was probably an amusing sight, given how focused I was on eating this. My head bobbing as I took small bites, like I was pecking at it.

“Alexander what are you doing here?” a golden blonde haired, college-aged beauty with brilliant blue eyes demanded, spotting him. I swear she looked familiar, but I couldn't place how or why.

“This isn’t a gay pride parade and who’s the girl? I’d say she’s too young for you, but she isn’t your type unless there is actually a boy under all those layers and that mask,” she jeered. Al is gay or is this just baseless insults? I mean… I wouldn’t be surprised, but like, so what? He’s gay big deal. He’s been nicer to me than almost anyone else.

“Lizzy… Please… Let’s not make a scene here. You can call her Songbird, the family company is sponsoring her. Songbird, this is Lizzy, I mean Elizabeth my daughter…” Al pleaded, wearing a pained expression, before making introductions. 

This was his daughter? I can just make out the resemblance, maybe that’s why she seems familiar. She was the baby from the photo? I guess her brown hair had gone blonde as she grew up or she dyed it. Or… or maybe since she is here, it changed when she Emerged.

“Ah… umm, nice to meet you, Elizabeth,” I greeted, anxiously offering the bitch a hand to shake.

“Pleasure,” she grimaced, not even trying to hide her contempt as she ignored my outstretched hand. You BITCH! Spoiled princess! I’d like to see how she’d handle being in an orphanage or prison, probably has never worked a day in her life! I hope every server or waitstaff she ever encounters spit in her food.

“Lizzy can’t you try to be nice? Songbird here hasn’t had an easy time of things and does not deserve to have your anger at me, directed at her. I didn’t raise you to-,” Al chided, trying to reason with her before he was cut off.

“You didn’t raise me, Mum and I left you when I was six! You had to let your sinful vice tear our family apart! Enjoy fucking guys and taking in vagrants, I’m sure it totally makes up for the family you lost,” Elizabeth angrily spat. Her eyes almost seemed to flash gold, before she stormed off into the crowd leaving me awkwardly standing beside a crestfallen Al.

Giving Al a comforting hug, I was thinking this probably couldn’t get any worse. Of course I was wrong. What do you think this is going to be a happy story?

We had prearranged to meet Kalia and Laithe on the farside of the festival at three o’clock. As it was already ten to, I started to make my way there dragging a dazed Al behind me. As we drew near, it became clear that a commotion was building on the other side of the festival where the park met the road. Right where we were to meet.

An angry mass of people had formed before the road and increasingly aggressive shouting match could be heard all the way back where we were standing. Unfortunately at my unremarkable height of 5’8”, I couldn't see over the crowds to work out what was going on.

Seeing me struggling to see above the crowd Al discretely manifested a chair out of thin air. Ok I did not know he could do that… Well, up I go. 

That’s better. I could now see over the people in front of me and quickly spotted the source of the commotion. Standing on the road facing the park was a mob made up of a mishmash of chanting and braying people, ranging from a sprinkling of skinny teens wearing meme branded clothes, dorkish pollo wearing adults wielding lit lawn torches to a majority individuals who had come armed and dressed in fake military garb. 

That last group looked like they were waiting for a fight to break out. There was no consistency in how they had armed themselves. A small minority had taken a DIY approach and came carrying sticks of dole, garbage can lids, assorted sporting equipment and cosplay armor. But the rest? They were more seriously armed having taken the paramilitary approach wielding rifles and kitted out with the best of their local army depot shops.

And they had no shortage of flags, more than one Nazi flag flew over the mob, along with Odinist, Confederate, Thin blue line, Stars and Stripes and even a lone green kekistani flag.

If you had thought that was enough of an insult, a line of police formed themselves into an outward facing protective box around the mob. 

Though I couldn’t make out the words being shouted, what this was about was clear. A hate mob had arrived under the guise of lawful protest to threaten and intimidate. After what I had seen since the Emergence I doubted they realised the hole they were digging themselves.

A flash of gold and white feathers shot out of the crowd and placed itself between the two groups as if trying to protect the mob from the fury they had provoked. Even at this distance I recognised Seraph.

An argument broke out between the festival goers and Seraph. Straining to hear what was being said, I leant forward only for a hand to grab the back of my jacket, pulling me back and a reproachful look from Al. Ok got the message. Leaning forward while standing on a chair is dangerous. Jeez Dad…

What happened next was a blur of activity. A succession of rapid loud snapping sounds shattered the air. A flash of orange and green knocked Seraph to the ground. A growling red furred figure wielding a bottle dived into the mobs ranks. I was pulled backwards and off the chair by Al’s hand.

Was that gunfire?...

Next I felt my arm almost being pulled off as Al dragged me away from the erupting riot. More gunfire could be heard behind us, as well as the roar of the clashing crowds. His cellphone was already dialing as he swept it up to his face.

Raising his voice to be heard over the noise of battle, Al issued brisk orders, “Nel. We need an Evac, situation hot, meet at Pioneer’s statue asap!” 

We weren’t alone in fleeing, numerous others had begun running at the first sound of gunfire and it seemed to be escalating as distant sirens drew closer. Hero first responders were appearing suspiciously fast, having probably switched from their civilian outfits into their uniforms.

Innes Haley Park was huge, almost as big as some suburbs even if it had nothing on Central Park in New York City and it was several minutes before we reached the rendezvous point. By that time we had the safety of distance (or so I thought) and the sounds of the commotion were mostly distant even if they were still spreading.

Al was looking as anxious as I’d ever seen him, constantly looking down at me and then up at our surroundings. Even Nel was looking jittery as she tore reality open with her fingers. Nearby a tree shook slightly and splinters of wood and leaves fell to the ground. Seconds later I had the alarming realisation that a stray bullet had just struck that tree.

My inspection of the tree was broken when Al nudged me towards the portal, always keeping his body between myself and where the riot had started. I did as he bid and allowed myself to be pushed through the portal, which Nel closed as soon as Al and I were through. We all sighed in relief as the tension left us. Safe.

Aside for a few meetings for the plan, the next few days in the bunker were mostly subdued. Al seemed to be walking about in a cloud of depression. Our run in with Elizabeth had hit him hard. But that wasn’t the only change, he had been increasingly protective before the festival, but the riot had raised it to a whole new level. 

Normally when I had noticed my foster parents were upset, I had gone to great lengths to hide and avoid the potential fallout that was always present on the horizon. Normal had gone out the window several months ago.

Instead I found myself fretting about how I could lift Al out of his funk and cheer him up. 

Remembering how enthusiastic he always was during our cooking lessons, I seized on an idea for a plan. Telling him to cancel our normal dinner, I informed him of my plans to cook which roused a glimmer of interest. It was barely past noon when I started dinner prep. Raiding the pantries and fridges, I began peeling and cutting root vegetables. With that done I moved on to preparing the huge leg of lamb I’d found, cutting shallow lines in the surface and rubbing it with oil and herbs. Rosemary and garlic mostly.  

Having already preheated the oven to a low heat, I covered the tray of meat and veg, slid it inside and consulted the recipe to calculate the cooking time by weight. Five hours. That would give me plenty of time to let it rest and prepare everything else before it was time to eat. 

Setting the timer, I wandered off for a nap and to dream of tender slow cooked lamb.

Just under a few hours later, the smell of smoke drew me back to the kitchen. I was met with the sight of thin tendrils of smoke escaping the closed oven. I opened the oven door.

It was a disaster… 

When the smoke cleared I found a rock of lamb, sitting amongst charcoal. Somehow, please don’t ask me how, I had also turned on the ovens microwave function when I set the oven to cook. This wasn’t slow cooked lamb, this was stone hard lamb crackling. I’d petrified the lamb.

Nel agreed to help, once she stopped rolling on the floor laughing at me. “Cute,” she gasped between suffocating bouts of hysterical laughter.

That night Al and I sat down at his fancy dining table with fancy plates and fancy cutlery… And ate Mcdonalds… 

I’m not even sure if the fact he didn’t laugh was worth the amused look of pity he gave me.

* * *

I’d been singing on and off now for two hours and my nerves had long since calmed to the point I could scan the crowd, even looking individual people in the face, unaffected by the room full of eyes boring into me.

Being the center of attention wasn’t something I was used to. Nor something I had even wanted, but since my changes and once I broke past my anxieties, I thrived on it.

Now that I could stare back at the crowd as I sang, I noticed something. Most people were watching the whole time, many were absorbed in their drinks and quietly talking to their friends as they enjoyed the entertainment.

Most except two. I had noticed two in the crowd that were intently watching my performance with thoughtful expressions. I couldn’t help but think they were evaluating me for some purpose I knew not. One was a sharp looking suit with a briefcase and a professional’s Hollywood haircut. The other was a black furred fox girl with short black hair cut into a flattering pixie cut. Moving my attention to her clothing, I saw she was dressed in high heeled knee length leather boots, tight leather pants, a distressed tank top and a leather jacket that finished above her waist. 

I was already jokingly calling her Shadow Kalia in my head. 

This time I was allowed to finish up an hour prior to closing and wind down. I half suspect Al had talked to her considering I barely made it back to my bed last time before I passed out. Sweeping up my tips for the night and stuffing them into my jacket pockets, I wove my way through the bar to where Al and Barb had been talking.

Only to find the suit was already deep in conversation with the pair. Cut off mid sentence Al stepped forward to meet me and enthusiastically grabbed me under my arms, lifting me into the air! Holy shit! Al what’s come over you? Ah what the heck… Weeeeee!

“You did great tonight Robin, you brought the house down. Hope you’re not too tired after that strong performance dear, because I want to introduce you to someone. Songbird meet Lachlan Porter, codename Libera. My lawyer,” he gushed, before setting my back down. Awww… Again… I held back a pout.

“Pleasure to meet you Songbird, that was a gripping performance. If you are willing, I was hoping to have a few words in private. Barb has agreed to allow us to use her storeroom, you can of course bring your guardian Al here with you,” the suit, Lachlan said barely pausing between words.

Should I accept and follow him? Not able to see any obvious drawbacks or threats, I threw Al a look of uncertainty, to which he nodded.

“I guess I can talk with you… Lead the way and we’ll follow,” I replied, agreeing to his request.

The storeroom was little different to the rest of the speakeasy, with its red brick and exposed eaves. Where its differences started was a thick layer of dust, disturbed only by the back and forth of footprints, the furrows from where the many kegs were rolled out into the main room and razor like cuts that I suspected were from the opening of portals used for deliveries. 

That and the blackened marks of fire damage in one corner where the flames that had gutted the floor below had managed to reach up and lick the aged wood and brick.

“Ok look, Robin. Can I call you Robin? Yes? Ok. Robin I would like to offer you my services as an agent extraordinaire. Your guardian there, Al can already attest to my talents as a lawyer, but that is only one part of the amazing package I am offering you. Finance, public relations, marketing, banking, litigation, counter litigation and criminal defence to start with, then there is my ‘be there in five minutes’ guarantee. As your representative and a teleporter I promise to arrive on the scene within five minutes of your call in any sort of emergency as long as you are in North America. I’ve represented plenty of rookie artists and raised them to the big leagues. You heard of Cement Butterflies? Of course you’ve heard of them. I’m the one that discovered them here in Penrith and got them an album deal and tours across America. All I ask as your agent is for ten percent of any earnings you make from gigs, albums, tours, merchandise, advertising agreements and sponsorships. Look Robin this is the best offer you’ll ever get. I dare ya to try and find representation with better perks than me. So whatcha say?” he said unleashing his spiel on me.

Again I received another reassuring nod when I glanced at Al. Holding up a hand, I brusquely asked everyone to fucking pause for a moment and let me think.

The guy was Al’s lawyer… This better not be Al trying to help me by bribing his lawyer to be my agent. I refuse to let my hard work be stolen away like this if that’s the case.

Turning to face Al, I gave him my best piercing look, “Al, promise me this is real and you aren’t using your wallet to pull strings. Please.” 

A momentary look of confusion enveloped Al’s face and I could tell he was frowning under Unbowed’s helmet, then slowly the corners of his mouth began to twitch upwards in a repressed smile.

“Ok I admit I got him to come here tonight, but I only asked for him to watch and tell me what he thought. You can blame Barb, she put me up to it. The offer? That is all Lachlan and yes he is always like that,” Al replied earnestly, I could sense he was being sincere.

Laughing, I offered a hand for Lachlan to shake, “What the heck, where do I sign?”