Robert Crane: Alone

I had already gotten a look at Kurt when he was coming at me in the house. Big around the midsection, the waistband of his pants sticking out to wrap around his outstretched belly, giving him the look of a penguin. His face bore the scars of a long-ago bout with acne, and the little hair that remained on top of his head was thin and combed over from the bushy brambles that wrapped the sides of his skull. If he could wear a fedora, his baldness might be passable.

They both lurked just out of arm’s reach. Zack looked at me and smiled, far more warmly than I deserved since a day ago I had hit him in the groin so hard I was surprised he was still walking. I felt a little tingle and looked away, straight at Kurt. Oldie glared, giving me a wary look you might reserve for a criminal offender.

“Nice to see you boys are up and walking,” I said with a sarcasm that I couldn’t get rid of, no matter how hard I tried. All right, I’ll admit it – I didn’t try very hard. But at least in Zack’s case, I felt bad about it.

Zack spoke first, looking back at Kurt, almost for reassurance. “Yeah, you pack a mean punch with that baton.” His eyes were brown, but I saw some humor in them. The forgiving sort? I pegged him for a sucker. One day out in the big, bad world and I could already spot them.

“Yeah, she’s a real champ in the dark with a baton,” Kurt shot back. “Step into the ring and lace up a pair of boxing gloves and we’ll see what kind of fighter she is.”

I smiled at him, a kind of dazzling, annoying, faux smile that probably set off his bullshit detector. He wasn’t a sucker. “It wouldn’t matter if it were drunken boxing, muay thai, kickboxing or just straight up, ‘Marquess of Queensbury rules’, because I could flatten your fat ass with any of those styles.” I turned my head away to hide my smile but listened for footsteps in case he took umbrage and tried to sucker punch me. Even if he did, I would have bet I could still beat his ass.

Kurt’s snort of indignation was drowned out by a chuckle and low whistle from Zack. The big man recovered. “I don’t beat up little girls.”

“You certainly don’t succeed at it, but you try – and when that doesn’t work out, you shoot at them until they take your gun away.” I turned back in time to watch his face contort at my goad. My faux smile had turned real, an impish grin rooted in my deep amusement at twisting his tail. His little piggy tail.

Zack laughed again, a wheezing cackle that made him stoop to slap a knee. Kurt’s face was ashen. “They don’t pay me enough to deal with your meta crap. They should have sent M-Squad after you; I’m not a retriever—”

I smiled at him. “You should add that to the list of things you’re not – a retriever, thin, a good shot, attractive, young, virile—”

He turned and stormed off in a perfect impression of countless divas I’d seen on TV over the years. I saluted his back as he walked down the path. “Don’t forget ‘possessed of a sense of humor’ or ‘gracious loser’!” He threw up a finger behind him as he continued his walk. “Oh! And ‘witty’! You’re not witty!”

“Damn,” Zack said in mild consternation as he watched Kurt walk away. “I’m gonna have to soothe his wounded pride later.” He turned back to me. “You really do pack a mean punch. Sienna, right?”

My smile went from mean-spirited to as pleasant as I could muster and I wasn’t quite sure why. I guess there was no point in being wicked to everyone, especially not when Zack was trying to be nice. Besides, I’d already proven I could drop him to the ground if need be. “That’s right. Sienna Nealon. You’re Zack…?”

“Davis.” He smiled. “You taken a tour of the grounds yet?”

I shook my head. “Saw the dormitory and the big building over there—” I waved in the direction that Kurt was heading—“that I woke up in.”

“Yeah, that’s our headquarters. But there’s other stuff, too, like a gym, a garage and a firing range.”

“A gym?” I cocked an eyebrow at that. The desire to work out was stronger than I would have guessed. I’d gone the week since Mom left without following the routine.

He shook his head, eyes wide. “I guess I shouldn’t be amazed, but I kind of am. We brought you in less than twenty-four hours ago and I had to hold a jacket around your neck to keep you from bleeding to death. And now you’re fine and looking for a place to work out.” He pointed down a path and started walking. I fell into step beside him.

“You’re not meta-human?”

He shook his head. “Just a normal guy. I work with them a lot, like M-Squad – they’re all metas, and normally they’d be the ones that would have come to get you, not Kurt and me, but they’re down in South America doing…something.”

“Ooh, ominous.”

He laughed. “Not supposed to be. They’re probably bringing in another meta, but I’m not exactly in the loop, so I don’t know for sure. That’s what they do though; bring in new metas that we identify, or bring down ones that are causing trouble.”

I eyed him. “And what I did yesterday, would that fit your definition of ‘causing trouble?’“

He laughed again. “Nah, I would’ve fought back too if strangers broke into my house. We were supposed to bring you in quiet, and you metas don’t typically do anything quiet if it’s against your will. Kurt told ‘em that, but Old Man Winter said to tranq you and be done with it.”

I stopped walking. “Old Man Winter?”

He stopped and his tanned face adopted a pinched “I-shouldn’t-have-said-that” look. “Ahh, I mean…damn. The boss.”

“I thought Ariadne was the boss?”

He shook his head. “Ariadne’s in charge, mostly, but she’s not the big cheese. Old Man Winter…we call him that because…you know, some people say ‘The Old Man’ and he’s kinda up there in the years, but he’s…I dunno, cold. Like he never shows emotion. Never smiles, never gets angry.”

“So you call him Old Man Winter. He got a name?”

“Erich Winter.”

I laughed. “That explains it.”

“Yeah. He’s a good boss, just…”

“Cold.”

“Right.”

“So how long have you been with the Directorate?” I cast a sidelong glance at him as we walked. Ahead of us loomed a building that matched every other in the complex. Gray concrete walls, squat and blocky with a section that extended well above the rest of the building. Glass doors marked the entryway, but like all the others I had seen, it was unlabeled.

“Couple years. They got me coming out of the U of M.”

“University of Minnesota?”

“Yeah. You gotta be close to college age. Were you thinking about going?”

I laughed. “You know my background, right?” He nodded. “Mom wasn’t big on the idea of me leaving the house. Ever. Said it was dangerous.”

His face turned serious. “She was right, you know. She kept you quiet all these years; now it’s a rush to get ahold of you. Wolfe and whoever he works for – they’re rounding up every meta they can lay hands on – and if Sierra Nealon’s daughter is in play, it was going to be a mad dash to get to you first.”

“What about the guy who saved me from you?” I looked at him as I asked the question, trying to see if he was as bad a liar as Ariadne. “His name was Reed. Do you know him?”

He shook his head with perfect sincerity. “I hadn’t seen him before, but this isn’t just a two-sided game. There’s a lot of factions out there trying to get metas on their side.”

“How did you know where to find me?” I eyed him and gave him a little smile. So this is what it’s like to play a man. Kinda easy.

“I just go where I’m told.” His smile was knowing. Damn. Maybe it’s not so easy. “So, are you going to let Ariadne run her tests?” His voice quavered a little bit and I knew that it wasn’t him asking this question.