Static Shock Fan Fiction ❯ Right Here ❯ Chapter Five ( Chapter 5 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Manga-Chick 
Shiv continues to wonder; Ebon questions his loyalty
Non Anime: Static Shock Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.26.2005 | Pages: 5 | Words: 6.8K | Visits: 789 | Status: Completed
Shiv continues to wonder; Ebon questions his loyalty
Non Anime: Static Shock Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.26.2005 | Pages: 5 | Words: 6.8K | Visits: 789 | Status: Completed
Right Here
Chapter Five
Shiv eyed the kama he held in one hand, twirling it as he sat quietly within the depths of Ebon’s new hideout. The place was slated to be some sort of community center–but the project had run out of funds to continue construction, and wasn’t completed. It was nestled within the south end of Dakota–one of the least likely places that Ebon would be seen in, considering it was usually Hotstreak’s area.
The energy with which he used to conjure the weapon glowed a ghostly magenta, illuminating his face and a small area around him. His thoughts were running in random order, not pinpointing one true subject.
He wasn’t the type to be bothered persistently by the actions he’d done himself, or by others. Usually, Ebon did things that made him more than cautious of ever pissing him off, or he himself had fun with the twisted things Ebon let him do. But tonight...tonight was different.
It kept bothering him that Ebon would willingly rape a guy. Women were an easier and more commonplace choice–after all, many often fell prey to that course of action throughout creation. He himself took part in a couple of them–just because peer pressure was a bitch, and he hadn’t gotten laid, anyway. It had been nothing, because the women never spoke up–too afraid of Ebon and the repercussions that would befell them if they told the authorities.
But the point was, men were the dominators –not the victims.
It truly bothered him–and while he had an idea why, it was something he didn’t want to think about. After seeing what had happened to Timmy, he’d gotten more than antsy about how Ebon was conducting things with those closest to him. He’d questioned Ebon’s motives a few times, and he thought that the only reason why he got away with it was because no one took him, Shiv, seriously. True, he lacked some common sense and, at times, a conscience, but he wasn’t a complete idiot.
Huffing as a teen had given him some damage, but he understood well enough the threats that faced him.
Tonight had bothered him. He still felt nauseated over the course of actions taken–Ebon had laid out the plans, and they’d followed through. The trio had known what Ebon was going to do–it had been a running joke between all of them. But to actually do it...to actually go forth and accomplish it, to tear that kid apart just for a few minutes of pleasure...was it actually worth it? Ebon had certainly been pleased....but Shiv couldn’t understand why or what for. After they’d left, Ebon had gone back to joking with Kangorr over his two kids with two different women, and the two had laughed.
Shiv had remained quiet at first, his stomach upsetting him, but he’d noticed that Theresa was definitely suffering. The woman had just been raring to get away from them, and he wondered about that. He didn’t think it through, other things occupying his thoughts right now.
But on the ride back to the hideout, he’d resumed his spot next to his boss, smelling that horrid scent of sex and the kid’s own scent, and wondered what the appeal was. He’d never looked at men that way–never even had any interest in doing so. It was unfathomable. When Ebon described the superhero’s appeal before this night, Shiv had merely tossed it over his shoulder, never taking it seriously because he never thought Ebon would actually go through with it.
But Ebon had. And now, Shiv was left wondering what more madness he was capable of.
He looked up as Kangorr walked in, shaking his head from side to side. Catching sight of Shiv, the Jamaican nodded in greeting, holding a can of Natural Ice, a cigarette held firmly within the index and middle fingers of the same hand.
“You okay, mon?” Kangorr asked, furrowing his brow. “You ain’t takin’ them downers again, are ya?”
“Nah. Just thinking. Kinda wondering what to eat,” Shiv said easily, grinning as he flicked the kama into the air. Catching it by the tip of the curved blade, he absorbed the weight, the magenta glow flickering out and the room cast into darkness. The single window was taped over with plastic, allowing just a small amount of city lights in–so he was able to see where Kangorr was standing as he rose from his chair. “Where’s Theresa?”
“I dunno. Thought you knew...”
“No. She went home?”
Kangorr shrugged, lifting the cig to his lips. “Ebon’s makin’ nice with some of those bustas from the west side. Wanna sit in?”
Shiv lifted both eyebrows curiously. “Do I get to play?”
“Maybe.” Kangorr replaced the cig with a sip of the awful tasting beer. “Den he’s got somethin’ to ask ya.”
“What?” Shiv asked cautiously, automatically hunching his shoulders. He thought of his disobedience earlier. Felt his gut curdle.
Kangorr shrugged again. “Who knows wit’ dat one? Wanna beer?”
“Nah. Got to preserve what I’ve got left.” Shiv tapped his forehead with a smile. “You wouldn’t happen to have an extra–”
“Hey.”
Both turned away from each other, facing Ebon as he walked in, frowning. For the first time, the pair noticed how worn the meta was. The extraordinary use of his powers for a crime as the one he committed must of tired him considerably. Even though his features were hidden within shadow, it was evident in the weary droop of his eyes and shoulders. Even his voice, cocky and confident, was drawn with weight.
“Where’s Theresa?”
“Dunno,” Shiv replied, shaking his head. “Hey, want some chicken? I’m starving. Wanna go that one place on–”
“That fuckin’ bitch,” Ebon suddenly cursed, eyes narrowing. “Where’d she cut out, to? She’s fuckin’ up. She’s pissin’ me off!”
“Calm down, boss guy! She probably has one of them women thingies that all women haveta, like, attend to!” Shiv said, waving his hands about.
“No, she’s fuckin’ up. She’s pissin’ me off. Ain’t no fuckin’ bitch boss me around, an’ then cut out. She’s fuckin–y’know what? Bullshit. This is all bullshit. I wanna know where that bitch is. She’s been questionable the past few months.”
Shiv furrowed his brow as Kangorr took a long drink of his beer. “Boss? Ain’t nothin’ wrong with her. She just...dude, she’s like–I dunno, buggin’. Or somethin’. I dunno. Women are different, anyway...who knows what she’s thinking? Maybe–”
“No, she’s talkin’ to that ho. I know she is. She’s always defending him! Always talking to him!”
“Who?” Kangorr asked curiously, blinking.
“Hotstreak! I know she’s up with him! I know she’s been talkin’ to him behind my back! I just–I just need to know what–” Ebon suddenly trailed off, his eyes widening slightly. Then he grinned. “Play it safe, boys. Don’t let her know what I’ve been sayin’. If she comes back around, let me know. Shiv...let’s go, son. I gotta thingy for you to do. Since you didn’t take up on my offer earlier, I’m givin’ ya a chance for redemption.”
“Er...what?” Shiv asked, slowly walking over to him.
“These boys that come flapping their lip–I’m thinkin’ they ain’t serious about what I do. I need you to convince them otherwise. Think ya can do that?”
“Sure, Ebon! I can do that! No problem! Can I slice ‘em up? Or–”
“Do whatever you want, you fuckin’ psycho,” Ebon said with disgust, giving him a look. “Just keep it clean. Make them know that I mean business. I’m still a little pissed that some people haven’t been payin’ up their dues. This be one of them.”
“You think Theresa be talkin’ with Stone?” Kangorr suddenly asked, finishing off his beer as he followed the two out of the room.
“I could be. Kinda suspicious, huh? That she always talkin’ about him?”
“She’s friends with that Maria chick,” Kangorr said with a snort. “That one be all hard up for him. Dem girls, they always find something to talk about.”
“Ah, that’s right,” Ebon said with a lazy drawl, nodding suddenly. “Maria...’ch. Lovely lil’ Maria... say, what that wench be doin’ anyway?”
“Don’t know. Don’t pay attention to that trick.”
“Boss, ya think I can–”
“Yeah, yeah, Shiv, shut up a minute.” Ebon turned to look at Kangorr. “Think ya can pull a little favor? Get that guy out–y’know the one. Get him to find out if Stone’s talkin’ to Theresa.”
Kangorr nodded, flicking his cigarette off to the side, Shiv hurriedly killing it with the toe of his shoe. “Fine.”
“Find out where that fuck’s livin’ nowadays, too! I wanna keep that guy close–I know he be fuckin’ up my shit. Tryin’ to be all sneaky...” Ebon trailed off again, eyes darting off to the side. Shiv and Kangorr waited patiently for his thoughts to settle, hearing the far off sounds of sirens and their visitors within the next hall. “Fuck. Never thought of that...”
“What?” Shiv asked, reaching up to flick his hair about, wincing at the greasy feel.
“Nothin’. Shiv–get going. I wanna hear it, too. Kangorr...don’t fuck up. I don’t want Stone knowin’ what I’m doin’...I gots some visitors comin’ in, too. Important ones. What I’m doing is monumental, gents–I don’t want ANYBODY fucking things up for me. The moment I know people is tryin’ to fuck me behind my back, I’m takin’ them out. This is serious. Serious shit. Got it?”
“Yeah...”
“Sure, Ebon.”
Ebon took in the solemn faces of his minions, noting the charged expressions. He nodded in satisfaction, crossing his arms over his chest. He jerked his head in the direction of his visitors, then watched as Shiv raced off with a happy cackle. He looked back at Kangorr.
“Well?”
“Nothin’, boss. Just the usual,” Kangorr reported, lifting an eyebrow. “Dat one, he don’t think in a way that you should worry ‘bout. He ain’t no threat. Surprising, boss, dat you would question him.”
“He didn’t do as I said,” Ebon spit, frowning. “I don’t fuckin’ care–I ain’t playin’ with people. I don’t want to fuckin’ accomplish somethin’, then have someone like that bring me down. Just keepin’ my back protected.”
“But...that’s Shiv. When have you ever doubted him? He ain’t nothin’–‘sides, Ebon, you lose a good companion if you decide to kill him off. Like Theresa.”
“...Who said anythin’ about me killin’ off Theresa?”
Kangorr made a conferring noise within his throat, and restlessly shifted through his jeans pockets until he came up with a pack of Smokin’ Joes. He lit one as Ebon uncrossed his arms, and gave one of the walls a lazy kick. Not even a minute later, there was Shiv’s psychotically charged laughter, along with a man screaming in pain, his companions shouting aloud with panic and surprise.
Kangorr lifted an eyebrow. “See?”
“Yeah, well...gotta admit, he loves his job...” Ebon shrugged. He raised his voice to be heard as those screams filled the hall, panicked shouts adding to the cacophony. “Just find that shit out, Kangorr. Then come back. Call me, if you need to.”
“Sure.”
Ebon watched as Kangorr turned and walked off, adjusting his puffy winter jacket and beanie. It had started to snow again, and the cold was truly a slap in the face. He last heard it was nearly ten degrees out–something people didn’t quite enjoy.
He walked up the hall, hearing strained growls and pleading as he neared what was supposed to be the cafeteria. Walking in, he saw that Shiv had one guy pinned to the skeleton frame of one wall, two short swords shoved through arm muscle and bone. The other five guys were watching with terrified expressions nearby as Shiv worked a kama through the man’s skull, grinning maniacally the entire time. The man, surprisingly, was still alive as the curved blade worked like a hot knife through butter through his brain. His eyes were rolled upward, face spasming–it was a show straight out of some horror flick.
Once Ebon’s familiar frame ambled in, the five turned their wide eyes toward him.
“I ain’t playin’ with you!” he snapped at them, his voice ringing over the dying man’s strained wheezes, Shiv glancing at him over his shoulder. “This be a warnin’–I’m sure ya’ll get the gist of what I be doin’, here. You wanna hold out on my money, ya gots another thing comin’ to you. Understand?”
“Ebon, man, c’mon! That’s a human being!” one of the men shouted, gesturing at his friend.
At that moment, Shiv’s kama carved through bone with a sickening crunch, blood spraying over the frame of the wall. Gray matter and the top of the man’s skull hit the floor with a dull splat, revealing the remains of what Shiv had left inside. The thick smell of copper and released body fluids as the dead lost control of all muscles within his body filled the air. One man retched loudly, and Shiv screwed up his face, flicking his hand about to disperse the thickness that had coated his fingers.
“Oops. My arm twitched!” Shiv said on a laugh, withdrawing from his work. His shirt, face and arms were splattered with blood as he looked down at the man’s rapidly convulsing body. He kicked the black man’s gut with the heel of one shoe, and laughed at the spurt of blood that sputtered from the spasming mouth. “Gross....lookit him! He’s all...puffy. Haven’t seen that for awhile!”
“You sick fuck!” another of them shouted, gesturing wildly. “Ebon, man, what you be thinkin’! We don’t do this shit around here! This is fuckin’ bullshit!”
“You wanna piece?” Ebon asked him quietly, folding his arms over his chest as Shiv looked up with interest, withdrawing the short swords from the dead man’s arms. The body flopped to the concrete floor with a loud smack of sound, blood splattering over his jeans. “Where’s my money?”
“I told you,” another said, separating himself from his friends, hands out. “I fuckin’ TOLD YOU! We sent the money with fuckin’ Tobey! Tobey’s got the fuckin’ money! He was s’pposed to bring it straight to ya! If’n he didn’t, ya’ll should be talkin’ to him! Fuck! Fuck!”
“I don’t want to talk to Tobey,” Ebon muttered, narrowing his eyes as Shiv walked over to his boss’s side, wiping his face with his bloodied hands. “I’m talkin’ to you. Get that nigger on the phone, then. Holla at ‘im.”
With a forceful jerk of his body, the man withdrew his cell phone from his jacket pocket, and dialed a number, his friends shifting restlessly around him. Ebon looked over at Shiv, lip curling with disgust as he took in his minion’s bloodied state. Shiv caught the look, and raised his eyebrows with question, blinking innocently.
Ebon jerked his chin up in the men’s direction, and Shiv grinned, conjuring up a bat that settled firmly within his left hand. The men anxiously watched him as he slowly walked over, eyeing each one.
“I’m not playin’ with any of you,” Ebon then repeated softly, shifting his stance as Shiv drew near the small group.
He had to smirk in amusement–the group, full of men that were made tough on the streets, resembled a group of frightened mice that faced Shiv with expressions of anxiety and fear. If they weren’t human, they would have been scrambling all over each other to get as far away from the Asian as possible. Shiv was a short, skinny guy–but he was useful with that ability of his. And that’s what made him valuable to Ebon–would be a shame, really, if Shiv was thinking to cut out from the gang while Ebon conducted his business.
But he would do what he had to to eliminate threats to his business.
“What...? What? Fuck, no! No, what the fuck–?” the man was exclaiming as his face gave an expression of disbelief. “Ya gotta be kiddin’ me! Yer fuckin’ with me! Quit fuckin’ with me!”
Shiv paused as he looked over at Ebon, who was frowning at the panicked tone and the way the man groped through the darkness for something to lean against. His face was clouded with despair as he continued to listen to the speaker on the phone.
Shifting the bat from hand to hand, Shiv looked over at Ebon once more.
“What’s that?” Ebon asked, chin lifting in the man’s direction. “What’s bein’ said?”
“Fuckin’–fuckin’ Tobey got robbed, man,” the man said, practically weeping. “He got robbed. His money was fuckin’–our money was fuckin’ stolen, man! It ain’t our fault! He was s’pposed to bring it right here!”
“Where’s he live?” Ebon asked curiously. “Got a family?”
“He got...he lives near Thirty-Third...by that...fuckin’...I dunno. Yeah, he gots a family.”
“Give me the address. Maybe we’ll pay him a lil’ visit,” Ebon about purred as a smirk came to his lips. He looked over at Shiv, nodding once.
One of the men was caught off guard as Shiv lunged, slamming the bat into his kneecaps. He yowled as he hit the floor, Shiv pining him to the concrete with one sneakered foot and bashing in the back of his head with the bat. The other men began shuffling away with panicked yelps and exclamations as their friend was violently battered, his pained gurgles and shouts growing oddly strangled as Shiv brought the bat down over and over, putting his entire body weight into each swing. There was the crack of bone, oddly distinctive throughout the shouts.
“You’re fucked up!” the man with the cell screamed at him, Ebon chuckling in amusement as he folded his hands before him. “You’re fucked up! EBON! Stop him! Stop–This is fucked up!”
“I tole you, I don’t play ‘round. Consider that a warning...brother. I let you loose this one time. Just ‘nuff for alla ya’ll to go back home, and let your homies know that I ain’t playing. You give me that nigger’s address, first. Then you pick up your friends, and take them out somewhere. Put ‘em away. Cuz they ain’t stayin’ here.”
Shiv giggled as he held the bat over his head, staring down at his work. The mangled mess of skull and brains had decorated the floor, matted jeri curls creating an oddly distracting effect as he stepped away from his newest victim. He whirled around to face the other four, all of whom jumped back in startled panic as they saw him focus on them.
“Shiv...down, boy. Get outta here.”
Shiv frowned at Ebon but re-absorbed the bat, obediently walking off, whistling. Ebon looked back at the remaining four that were staring at him in wide-eyed silence. One of his eyes lifted with the impression of a raised eyebrow.
“You still here?” he questioned.
Immediately, the four hastened to separate, hurriedly moving towards the bodies of their friends. With shaken cries of distress and shock, they picked up what they could of the dead, and dragged them out from the cafeteria. Ebon stood quietly, frowning as he realized that no address had been left.
He shrugged. It wasn’t any trouble, really. He had contacts...informants...snitches...and his own ways of obtaining what he wanted. His mind turning with thought after thought, he turned and walked out from the cafeteria to begin planning anew.
OooooooooooO
Rosa Montoya pinned the x-rays onto the lighted panel. She studied the sheets, and nodded firmly.
“Nothing’s fractured, or broken,” she said briskly, turning back to address Hotstreak.
They’d returned back to the room, and the upstart had either relaxed enough to show his true nature, or simply written her off as nothing.
“I need to perform the sutures, though...I’ll explain what I am doing with each step, all right? Can you help me turn him over?”
A little while later, she glanced up from her work, firmly tugging the string as she set the knots with even precision. The bright light that shone down on her work let her know where she was going as she finished the sensitive job, adjusting herself to the silence within the room. The blinds were shut tight within the room–no one could peer in, and no one had bothered her since their return from the X-Ray section of the hospital.
She swallowed as she threw away the needle, as well as what remained of the general anesthesia that she used to numb the area. She cleaned up the mess she’d made with the stitching process, glancing at the meta once more. Turning around, she rummaged through various drawers until finally coming up with a pair of stretchable underpants that were flimsy and pleated. She set those aside.
“Okay...get on that side, and I’m going to lift him from his hip and his knees–you help with his upper half.”
Together, the pair turned the unconscious male over onto his back. He helped her slide the underwear on, and took a step back. As she pulled the light sheet back over Richie’s legs, she glanced at the meta as he resumed his seat.
It made her curious, inside–their relationship. Even though she had a pretty good idea of what was there, the notion was truly outrageous and fascinating. Never would she have considered such things about the hot headed young man that sent Dakota’s residents running in another direction; but then again, she would have never thought him capable of compassion, either. Yet here he was–trying to pretend as if he didn’t really care what was happening to this unknown male.
Montoya’s world was flipped around that night–it felt as if everything she knew and abided to had simply overturned with the arrival of the meta. She was curious to know who this teen was that instilled such compassion in someone that seemed incapable of it.
“Usually, in cases like these...the survivors refuse to go to the police,” she began, her accented voice quiet and solemn as she replaced the paper gown and drew up the thin sheet. “But I encourage it. There was enough evidence on him to positively ID the monster that did this to him, if he were already in the system. Of course...if he knew the men–”
Evidence pointed out that only one man had sexually assaulted the blond, but from the various bruises, she was convinced that many more were involved.
“–it would help as well.”
“He ain’t goin’ to the police,” Hotstreak muttered, a sullen expression drawing his features. He leaned back in the stool–back against the wall.
“Because you said?”
“Cuz he won’t. I don’t get no say with what he thinks, or does.”
Montoya relaxed. The tone with which he used to say that was definitely annoyed. Despite the draining tension and emotional feedback of the situation, she felt her lips curl into a slight smirk. “You know him well.”
“Enough.” Hotstreak’s face took an uncomfortable expression. “But do ya haveta take a report, or sumthin’?”
“...Yes. But in sexual assault cases, I don’t have to take his name. Or his personal information. If needs be, he’ll be referred to by his initials. But I will need certain information from him.”
Hotstreak gave a disgusted expression as he straightened in his chair. “You gonna tell his parents?”
“That’s not in my power. He’s eighteen–that’s his choice. Though, I’d encourage it.”
“He won’t tell ‘em, either.”
“Why? Sexual assault can be degrading–but though a supportive system of loved ones–”
“His daddy puts him in the emergency room more often than this nigger did. He ain’t gonna tell him. His momma’s just as useless.”
Montoya reviewed the past few years, searching for the blond’s features within her memory. But she couldn’t tell. She’d treated far too many people to remember just one person.
“Then what about you?”
“...What about me?”
“Any other supportive friends?”
“Oh, he’s got that shit. Just...figure on him actually sayin’ sumthin’. He ain’t gonna. Prolly, the only person to know would be me, him...an’ that fuckin’ nigger.”
“You know his perp?”
Hotstreak’s fists clenched, and it was obvious that he was trying hard to keep himself in control.
Montoya looked away to straighten the sheet. “He should go to the police. If he’s in the system–”
“It ain’t that fuckin’ easy! He’s got reason to keep this shit on the d-low. He ain’t gonna talk about it, an’ I don’t think you should, either.”
Montoya recognized the threat, and looked at him evenly. “I respect my patients’ confidentiality issues, and have never, in my entire career, overstepped boundaries. All though I’d encourage that he seek the law for help–”
“The law don’t do shit for people,” Hotstreak muttered.
“–I know that it’s his choice. This person may strike again. There could be other victims.”
“It’s all up ta him. Though, if you try an’ guilt him–”
“I respect my patients’ wishes, no matter what I personally think of the situation!” Montoya snapped at him, slipping on a single glove. She angrily reviewed Richie’s vitals, writing down certain information on her glove. Then she shook her head. “He’s to stay here until he revives. I would like to check up on him when he does. For now...I need to fill out some forms, and have the contents of the rape kit transferred to forensics...if he isn’t going to press charges, at least we’ll have his perpetrator in the system, and the information will continue to be there unless he says anything more.”
Hotstreak stared at her for some considerable time, and Montoya shifted restlessly. It wasn’t that she was scared of him–her honor bound duties to each of her patients kept her strongly rooted in her personal beliefs to save every one. It was just that that look of his was studying and thoughtful–she knew that he was considering her role in the situation. She helped his friend–what more was she needed for? And if he were truly wanting to keep the blond’s identity secret, he could kill her to keep that in check.
He had that thought in his expression, and those eyes of his told her that he would go for those lengths. He may be a petty bully and a menace on the streets, but he was fully capable of things that he felt desperate enough to perform in order to protect himself...or those close to him.
Her eyes darted to the unconscious form on the bed. She looked back at him and kept her brave mask in place.
When those dark eyes shifted away, she felt a quiet breath of relief leave her. With a determined air, she gathered her stethoscope and ripped off the glove with Richie’s vitals on them. She walked slowly out of the room, casting Hotstreak one last glance before shutting the door behind her.
She reached back to rub at the back of her neck and looked up at the clock that was hanging behind the main nurse’s station. She felt emotionally drained as she always did when dealing with a particular patient and situation. The others in the hall cast her curious glances as she walked over to the main desk, pulling out various forms. While in that process, she reached for the phone, and exchanged a few words with her husband of seven years.
After she hung up, Richardson, the doctor from earlier, walked over with a cautious expression.
“I called the cops,” he said in a low voice, eyeing the closed door. “But I kept them aside. They’ve already set up a–”
Montoya looked at him, and resisted the urge to deck him. “You what?”
“The police. To take him in. For–”
“He brought in someone that needed medical attention! And for what it’s worth, I’m appalled by the response that he got from those in the front!” she snapped. “He had someone that needed medical attention, and everyone ran from him. That boy could have died from his injuries!”
Richardson gave her a cross look. “Are you defending that meta?”
“Take it as you want, Richardson. Our roles as practitioners gave way to nothing but frightened idiots when it came to someone like him, and the survivor he had in hand! And, along those lines, Richardson, how dare you? How dare you make fun of sexual assault, in any form?”
“It doesn’t happen to men, Montoya!” Richardson snapped, swinging his clipboard up from the desk. Montoya’s face reddened considerably as those words hit her. “He probably encouraged it. And now that he practiced homosexual sins with a bad start, is trying to start a chain reaction of sorts to get money or something from his partner!”
“You sonofvabitch–!” Montoya snarled, seconds away from wringing his neck.
“Sir? Dr. Richardson? You’ve got a phone call on line five,” one the R.N.’s called from her desk nearby.
Richardson gave Montoya a brief glance of disgust before heading over to answer the phone. Montoya stared at him in pure fury, the need to lash out racing throughout her veins. She flung her papers aside, sweeping her hands through her brown hair. She needed a break–exhaling heavily, she turned and stalked toward the nearby break room to regain her composure.
Once there, she looked up at the gathering of uniformed police officers, all who looked at her questionably. She shook her head.
“No, no, no!” she exclaimed. “I know who you’re here for! You can’t do this–! Not while he assisted another person with–!”
“You’ve no legal power over our decision, ma’am,” Sgt. Wes Lee said, his narrowed eyes focusing on her as his radio cackled with faint activity. “He’s a well wanted criminal, and he needs to be apprehended.”
“My patient is in there, recovering! He brought in that survivor, and you’ll be victimizing him as well if you do this! That meta has done nothing in this hospital–!”
“Ma’am, he attacked two people from the moment he stepped in. They want to press charges. That other doctor just treated the security officer for second degree burns! How could you defend him?”
“Sir, I’m sorry–but why don’t you review the security cameras? See what happened when he tried to get help for his friend? Everyone ran from him...that male could have died from his injuries–”
“On that note, ma’am, who is the patient? Dr. Richardson mentioned an assault...”
Montoya brushed her hair from her face, trying to regain her composure. Speaking to this man was just like speaking to a wall. He wasn’t listening to her. Her mind was racing as she wondered when the unconscious survivor was going to revive. Perhaps when he did....while she personally felt that Hotstreak was a person that belonged behind prison bars for all that he did, the fact that he remained here for the unconscious male spoke volumes.
For now, all that she thought about was her patient. His needs.
“I am still gathering that information. Please...your metahuman won’t do anything for the time being. My patient is still in recovery–when he is fit enough to walk out of here tonight, you can get your man. But I’d rather that you wait–that patient’s needs should come first.”
“This meta destroyed part of this hospital before, and you’re concerned over his friend?” Lee exclaimed, giving her a disbelieving look. “Ma’am, hundreds of people are in literal danger while that meta remains here! Once he leaves this place, it’ll be hard to track him down! My men have already set up a perimeter here, and he’s not leaving unless it’s with us. Do you understand?”
“I don’t–”
“Do you understand?”
Montoya felt the need to glare at him, shoving her hands into her jacket pocket. She studied the resolute expression on the Sgt.’s face, and then nodded. “Fine. Once my patient’s well enough to walk out, you can take his friend.”
“Don’t let him know we’re here. Though, why you would defend him is beyond me,” the Sgt. muttered, looking at her suspiciously. Montoya turned, stiffly walking away as he turned and called his men forward, explaining the plan.
Stalking out the doors, she blinked weary eyes, glancing upward at the clock. It was nearly four a.m., and her shift wasn’t about to end for another five hours. She glanced over at the nurses’s station, then popped over to give a request. She saw that her rape kit hadn’t been stacked with the other kits that were being taken to Dakota’s forensics office, and quickly picked it up, along with the forms she’d filled out previously.
Walking into her patient’s room with her load, she sighed heavily, casting narrowed eyes in Hotstreak’s direction. She wouldn’t say anything about the cops–it wasn’t her place. Her patient was safe, and while she understood that the cops were just doing their job, she felt it wasn’t right of them to storm in now, while he recovered. Confidentiality issues that protected most sexual assault cases weren’t taken seriously by others–but she was one of the few that steadfastly tried to hold onto that promise. She looked down at the completed rape kit in her hands, then set that aside.
“Let’s transfer him to another room...a private one,” she suggested. She then blinked. “One near the exit.”
“Why?”
“When he wakes up, do you think he’ll want to stay unclean? He’ll want to take a shower. To get that man’s stink off him. Help me. Take this.”
She handed him the I.V. stand as he rose from his stool, looking annoyed as he did as she asked. She unlocked the wheels of the stretcher, and propped her things in that small valley between Richie’s knees, and guided the bed out of the room. She signaled to the nurse that she was taking over a room up a level, and the nurse nodded with a bewildered expression. Hotstreak glanced around, seeing that the place was just as empty and quiet as it had been earlier–but he noticed a definite stare by those that were emerging from the break room nearby. His instincts told him that those stares were trouble–he was wondering where the cops were.
Montoya led the way to the third floor, and wheeled the bed into the room closest to the stairway exit. The room was tiny, and Hotstreak winced at its enclosing space. There was barely enough room for four people comfortably with the bed, I.V. stand and other standard equipment. He set the stand aside as he crossed the floor to the window, peeking out as Montoya arranged the nose cannula once more and made sure Richie was as comfortable as he could possibly be. She took in the slack features, wondering when he’d awaken. She took the information she’d gathered from the bed, and set it aside, on a nearby wheeled stand. She looked over at Hotstreak, who was shifting from foot to foot as he continued to glare outside.
“Cop cars all over the fuckin’ place,” he muttered, glancing at her reflection.
“That’s what happens when you play,” she murmured, reaching over to adjust the blanket over Richie’s legs. “My husband will be coming by with some extra set of clothes. For you...because I think that the sight of his blood on you will harm him. And for him. My son could be the same size as he.”
“You gotta kid?”
“Yes. Attends Pershing Academy.”
“Rich shit brat.”
“Not really,” Montoya replied, a slight smile on her lips. “I place my son on a pedestal. He gets the very best.”
Hotstreak rolled his eyes, and glared down at the activity below. He was already plotting on escape routes and what he’d have to do to stay out of the Man’s hands.
Montoya shifted restlessly, then shrugged. “I’ll be downstairs. Lock the door when I leave.”
“Huh?”
But his startled exclamation was ignored as she left, closing the door softly behind her. He glanced over from the door, and over to the still figure on the bed, noting that no change had been made since the last time he’d looked at Richie. He felt his gut twist upon seeing the damaged face and neck–something that tasted like bile touched the back of his throat, and he swallowed hard as he yearned for a cigarette. He turned away from the bed and stared out the window, plotting again on how to get out of the place.
Chapter Five
Shiv eyed the kama he held in one hand, twirling it as he sat quietly within the depths of Ebon’s new hideout. The place was slated to be some sort of community center–but the project had run out of funds to continue construction, and wasn’t completed. It was nestled within the south end of Dakota–one of the least likely places that Ebon would be seen in, considering it was usually Hotstreak’s area.
The energy with which he used to conjure the weapon glowed a ghostly magenta, illuminating his face and a small area around him. His thoughts were running in random order, not pinpointing one true subject.
He wasn’t the type to be bothered persistently by the actions he’d done himself, or by others. Usually, Ebon did things that made him more than cautious of ever pissing him off, or he himself had fun with the twisted things Ebon let him do. But tonight...tonight was different.
It kept bothering him that Ebon would willingly rape a guy. Women were an easier and more commonplace choice–after all, many often fell prey to that course of action throughout creation. He himself took part in a couple of them–just because peer pressure was a bitch, and he hadn’t gotten laid, anyway. It had been nothing, because the women never spoke up–too afraid of Ebon and the repercussions that would befell them if they told the authorities.
But the point was, men were the dominators –not the victims.
It truly bothered him–and while he had an idea why, it was something he didn’t want to think about. After seeing what had happened to Timmy, he’d gotten more than antsy about how Ebon was conducting things with those closest to him. He’d questioned Ebon’s motives a few times, and he thought that the only reason why he got away with it was because no one took him, Shiv, seriously. True, he lacked some common sense and, at times, a conscience, but he wasn’t a complete idiot.
Huffing as a teen had given him some damage, but he understood well enough the threats that faced him.
Tonight had bothered him. He still felt nauseated over the course of actions taken–Ebon had laid out the plans, and they’d followed through. The trio had known what Ebon was going to do–it had been a running joke between all of them. But to actually do it...to actually go forth and accomplish it, to tear that kid apart just for a few minutes of pleasure...was it actually worth it? Ebon had certainly been pleased....but Shiv couldn’t understand why or what for. After they’d left, Ebon had gone back to joking with Kangorr over his two kids with two different women, and the two had laughed.
Shiv had remained quiet at first, his stomach upsetting him, but he’d noticed that Theresa was definitely suffering. The woman had just been raring to get away from them, and he wondered about that. He didn’t think it through, other things occupying his thoughts right now.
But on the ride back to the hideout, he’d resumed his spot next to his boss, smelling that horrid scent of sex and the kid’s own scent, and wondered what the appeal was. He’d never looked at men that way–never even had any interest in doing so. It was unfathomable. When Ebon described the superhero’s appeal before this night, Shiv had merely tossed it over his shoulder, never taking it seriously because he never thought Ebon would actually go through with it.
But Ebon had. And now, Shiv was left wondering what more madness he was capable of.
He looked up as Kangorr walked in, shaking his head from side to side. Catching sight of Shiv, the Jamaican nodded in greeting, holding a can of Natural Ice, a cigarette held firmly within the index and middle fingers of the same hand.
“You okay, mon?” Kangorr asked, furrowing his brow. “You ain’t takin’ them downers again, are ya?”
“Nah. Just thinking. Kinda wondering what to eat,” Shiv said easily, grinning as he flicked the kama into the air. Catching it by the tip of the curved blade, he absorbed the weight, the magenta glow flickering out and the room cast into darkness. The single window was taped over with plastic, allowing just a small amount of city lights in–so he was able to see where Kangorr was standing as he rose from his chair. “Where’s Theresa?”
“I dunno. Thought you knew...”
“No. She went home?”
Kangorr shrugged, lifting the cig to his lips. “Ebon’s makin’ nice with some of those bustas from the west side. Wanna sit in?”
Shiv lifted both eyebrows curiously. “Do I get to play?”
“Maybe.” Kangorr replaced the cig with a sip of the awful tasting beer. “Den he’s got somethin’ to ask ya.”
“What?” Shiv asked cautiously, automatically hunching his shoulders. He thought of his disobedience earlier. Felt his gut curdle.
Kangorr shrugged again. “Who knows wit’ dat one? Wanna beer?”
“Nah. Got to preserve what I’ve got left.” Shiv tapped his forehead with a smile. “You wouldn’t happen to have an extra–”
“Hey.”
Both turned away from each other, facing Ebon as he walked in, frowning. For the first time, the pair noticed how worn the meta was. The extraordinary use of his powers for a crime as the one he committed must of tired him considerably. Even though his features were hidden within shadow, it was evident in the weary droop of his eyes and shoulders. Even his voice, cocky and confident, was drawn with weight.
“Where’s Theresa?”
“Dunno,” Shiv replied, shaking his head. “Hey, want some chicken? I’m starving. Wanna go that one place on–”
“That fuckin’ bitch,” Ebon suddenly cursed, eyes narrowing. “Where’d she cut out, to? She’s fuckin’ up. She’s pissin’ me off!”
“Calm down, boss guy! She probably has one of them women thingies that all women haveta, like, attend to!” Shiv said, waving his hands about.
“No, she’s fuckin’ up. She’s pissin’ me off. Ain’t no fuckin’ bitch boss me around, an’ then cut out. She’s fuckin–y’know what? Bullshit. This is all bullshit. I wanna know where that bitch is. She’s been questionable the past few months.”
Shiv furrowed his brow as Kangorr took a long drink of his beer. “Boss? Ain’t nothin’ wrong with her. She just...dude, she’s like–I dunno, buggin’. Or somethin’. I dunno. Women are different, anyway...who knows what she’s thinking? Maybe–”
“No, she’s talkin’ to that ho. I know she is. She’s always defending him! Always talking to him!”
“Who?” Kangorr asked curiously, blinking.
“Hotstreak! I know she’s up with him! I know she’s been talkin’ to him behind my back! I just–I just need to know what–” Ebon suddenly trailed off, his eyes widening slightly. Then he grinned. “Play it safe, boys. Don’t let her know what I’ve been sayin’. If she comes back around, let me know. Shiv...let’s go, son. I gotta thingy for you to do. Since you didn’t take up on my offer earlier, I’m givin’ ya a chance for redemption.”
“Er...what?” Shiv asked, slowly walking over to him.
“These boys that come flapping their lip–I’m thinkin’ they ain’t serious about what I do. I need you to convince them otherwise. Think ya can do that?”
“Sure, Ebon! I can do that! No problem! Can I slice ‘em up? Or–”
“Do whatever you want, you fuckin’ psycho,” Ebon said with disgust, giving him a look. “Just keep it clean. Make them know that I mean business. I’m still a little pissed that some people haven’t been payin’ up their dues. This be one of them.”
“You think Theresa be talkin’ with Stone?” Kangorr suddenly asked, finishing off his beer as he followed the two out of the room.
“I could be. Kinda suspicious, huh? That she always talkin’ about him?”
“She’s friends with that Maria chick,” Kangorr said with a snort. “That one be all hard up for him. Dem girls, they always find something to talk about.”
“Ah, that’s right,” Ebon said with a lazy drawl, nodding suddenly. “Maria...’ch. Lovely lil’ Maria... say, what that wench be doin’ anyway?”
“Don’t know. Don’t pay attention to that trick.”
“Boss, ya think I can–”
“Yeah, yeah, Shiv, shut up a minute.” Ebon turned to look at Kangorr. “Think ya can pull a little favor? Get that guy out–y’know the one. Get him to find out if Stone’s talkin’ to Theresa.”
Kangorr nodded, flicking his cigarette off to the side, Shiv hurriedly killing it with the toe of his shoe. “Fine.”
“Find out where that fuck’s livin’ nowadays, too! I wanna keep that guy close–I know he be fuckin’ up my shit. Tryin’ to be all sneaky...” Ebon trailed off again, eyes darting off to the side. Shiv and Kangorr waited patiently for his thoughts to settle, hearing the far off sounds of sirens and their visitors within the next hall. “Fuck. Never thought of that...”
“What?” Shiv asked, reaching up to flick his hair about, wincing at the greasy feel.
“Nothin’. Shiv–get going. I wanna hear it, too. Kangorr...don’t fuck up. I don’t want Stone knowin’ what I’m doin’...I gots some visitors comin’ in, too. Important ones. What I’m doing is monumental, gents–I don’t want ANYBODY fucking things up for me. The moment I know people is tryin’ to fuck me behind my back, I’m takin’ them out. This is serious. Serious shit. Got it?”
“Yeah...”
“Sure, Ebon.”
Ebon took in the solemn faces of his minions, noting the charged expressions. He nodded in satisfaction, crossing his arms over his chest. He jerked his head in the direction of his visitors, then watched as Shiv raced off with a happy cackle. He looked back at Kangorr.
“Well?”
“Nothin’, boss. Just the usual,” Kangorr reported, lifting an eyebrow. “Dat one, he don’t think in a way that you should worry ‘bout. He ain’t no threat. Surprising, boss, dat you would question him.”
“He didn’t do as I said,” Ebon spit, frowning. “I don’t fuckin’ care–I ain’t playin’ with people. I don’t want to fuckin’ accomplish somethin’, then have someone like that bring me down. Just keepin’ my back protected.”
“But...that’s Shiv. When have you ever doubted him? He ain’t nothin’–‘sides, Ebon, you lose a good companion if you decide to kill him off. Like Theresa.”
“...Who said anythin’ about me killin’ off Theresa?”
Kangorr made a conferring noise within his throat, and restlessly shifted through his jeans pockets until he came up with a pack of Smokin’ Joes. He lit one as Ebon uncrossed his arms, and gave one of the walls a lazy kick. Not even a minute later, there was Shiv’s psychotically charged laughter, along with a man screaming in pain, his companions shouting aloud with panic and surprise.
Kangorr lifted an eyebrow. “See?”
“Yeah, well...gotta admit, he loves his job...” Ebon shrugged. He raised his voice to be heard as those screams filled the hall, panicked shouts adding to the cacophony. “Just find that shit out, Kangorr. Then come back. Call me, if you need to.”
“Sure.”
Ebon watched as Kangorr turned and walked off, adjusting his puffy winter jacket and beanie. It had started to snow again, and the cold was truly a slap in the face. He last heard it was nearly ten degrees out–something people didn’t quite enjoy.
He walked up the hall, hearing strained growls and pleading as he neared what was supposed to be the cafeteria. Walking in, he saw that Shiv had one guy pinned to the skeleton frame of one wall, two short swords shoved through arm muscle and bone. The other five guys were watching with terrified expressions nearby as Shiv worked a kama through the man’s skull, grinning maniacally the entire time. The man, surprisingly, was still alive as the curved blade worked like a hot knife through butter through his brain. His eyes were rolled upward, face spasming–it was a show straight out of some horror flick.
Once Ebon’s familiar frame ambled in, the five turned their wide eyes toward him.
“I ain’t playin’ with you!” he snapped at them, his voice ringing over the dying man’s strained wheezes, Shiv glancing at him over his shoulder. “This be a warnin’–I’m sure ya’ll get the gist of what I be doin’, here. You wanna hold out on my money, ya gots another thing comin’ to you. Understand?”
“Ebon, man, c’mon! That’s a human being!” one of the men shouted, gesturing at his friend.
At that moment, Shiv’s kama carved through bone with a sickening crunch, blood spraying over the frame of the wall. Gray matter and the top of the man’s skull hit the floor with a dull splat, revealing the remains of what Shiv had left inside. The thick smell of copper and released body fluids as the dead lost control of all muscles within his body filled the air. One man retched loudly, and Shiv screwed up his face, flicking his hand about to disperse the thickness that had coated his fingers.
“Oops. My arm twitched!” Shiv said on a laugh, withdrawing from his work. His shirt, face and arms were splattered with blood as he looked down at the man’s rapidly convulsing body. He kicked the black man’s gut with the heel of one shoe, and laughed at the spurt of blood that sputtered from the spasming mouth. “Gross....lookit him! He’s all...puffy. Haven’t seen that for awhile!”
“You sick fuck!” another of them shouted, gesturing wildly. “Ebon, man, what you be thinkin’! We don’t do this shit around here! This is fuckin’ bullshit!”
“You wanna piece?” Ebon asked him quietly, folding his arms over his chest as Shiv looked up with interest, withdrawing the short swords from the dead man’s arms. The body flopped to the concrete floor with a loud smack of sound, blood splattering over his jeans. “Where’s my money?”
“I told you,” another said, separating himself from his friends, hands out. “I fuckin’ TOLD YOU! We sent the money with fuckin’ Tobey! Tobey’s got the fuckin’ money! He was s’pposed to bring it straight to ya! If’n he didn’t, ya’ll should be talkin’ to him! Fuck! Fuck!”
“I don’t want to talk to Tobey,” Ebon muttered, narrowing his eyes as Shiv walked over to his boss’s side, wiping his face with his bloodied hands. “I’m talkin’ to you. Get that nigger on the phone, then. Holla at ‘im.”
With a forceful jerk of his body, the man withdrew his cell phone from his jacket pocket, and dialed a number, his friends shifting restlessly around him. Ebon looked over at Shiv, lip curling with disgust as he took in his minion’s bloodied state. Shiv caught the look, and raised his eyebrows with question, blinking innocently.
Ebon jerked his chin up in the men’s direction, and Shiv grinned, conjuring up a bat that settled firmly within his left hand. The men anxiously watched him as he slowly walked over, eyeing each one.
“I’m not playin’ with any of you,” Ebon then repeated softly, shifting his stance as Shiv drew near the small group.
He had to smirk in amusement–the group, full of men that were made tough on the streets, resembled a group of frightened mice that faced Shiv with expressions of anxiety and fear. If they weren’t human, they would have been scrambling all over each other to get as far away from the Asian as possible. Shiv was a short, skinny guy–but he was useful with that ability of his. And that’s what made him valuable to Ebon–would be a shame, really, if Shiv was thinking to cut out from the gang while Ebon conducted his business.
But he would do what he had to to eliminate threats to his business.
“What...? What? Fuck, no! No, what the fuck–?” the man was exclaiming as his face gave an expression of disbelief. “Ya gotta be kiddin’ me! Yer fuckin’ with me! Quit fuckin’ with me!”
Shiv paused as he looked over at Ebon, who was frowning at the panicked tone and the way the man groped through the darkness for something to lean against. His face was clouded with despair as he continued to listen to the speaker on the phone.
Shifting the bat from hand to hand, Shiv looked over at Ebon once more.
“What’s that?” Ebon asked, chin lifting in the man’s direction. “What’s bein’ said?”
“Fuckin’–fuckin’ Tobey got robbed, man,” the man said, practically weeping. “He got robbed. His money was fuckin’–our money was fuckin’ stolen, man! It ain’t our fault! He was s’pposed to bring it right here!”
“Where’s he live?” Ebon asked curiously. “Got a family?”
“He got...he lives near Thirty-Third...by that...fuckin’...I dunno. Yeah, he gots a family.”
“Give me the address. Maybe we’ll pay him a lil’ visit,” Ebon about purred as a smirk came to his lips. He looked over at Shiv, nodding once.
One of the men was caught off guard as Shiv lunged, slamming the bat into his kneecaps. He yowled as he hit the floor, Shiv pining him to the concrete with one sneakered foot and bashing in the back of his head with the bat. The other men began shuffling away with panicked yelps and exclamations as their friend was violently battered, his pained gurgles and shouts growing oddly strangled as Shiv brought the bat down over and over, putting his entire body weight into each swing. There was the crack of bone, oddly distinctive throughout the shouts.
“You’re fucked up!” the man with the cell screamed at him, Ebon chuckling in amusement as he folded his hands before him. “You’re fucked up! EBON! Stop him! Stop–This is fucked up!”
“I tole you, I don’t play ‘round. Consider that a warning...brother. I let you loose this one time. Just ‘nuff for alla ya’ll to go back home, and let your homies know that I ain’t playing. You give me that nigger’s address, first. Then you pick up your friends, and take them out somewhere. Put ‘em away. Cuz they ain’t stayin’ here.”
Shiv giggled as he held the bat over his head, staring down at his work. The mangled mess of skull and brains had decorated the floor, matted jeri curls creating an oddly distracting effect as he stepped away from his newest victim. He whirled around to face the other four, all of whom jumped back in startled panic as they saw him focus on them.
“Shiv...down, boy. Get outta here.”
Shiv frowned at Ebon but re-absorbed the bat, obediently walking off, whistling. Ebon looked back at the remaining four that were staring at him in wide-eyed silence. One of his eyes lifted with the impression of a raised eyebrow.
“You still here?” he questioned.
Immediately, the four hastened to separate, hurriedly moving towards the bodies of their friends. With shaken cries of distress and shock, they picked up what they could of the dead, and dragged them out from the cafeteria. Ebon stood quietly, frowning as he realized that no address had been left.
He shrugged. It wasn’t any trouble, really. He had contacts...informants...snitches...and his own ways of obtaining what he wanted. His mind turning with thought after thought, he turned and walked out from the cafeteria to begin planning anew.
OooooooooooO
Rosa Montoya pinned the x-rays onto the lighted panel. She studied the sheets, and nodded firmly.
“Nothing’s fractured, or broken,” she said briskly, turning back to address Hotstreak.
They’d returned back to the room, and the upstart had either relaxed enough to show his true nature, or simply written her off as nothing.
“I need to perform the sutures, though...I’ll explain what I am doing with each step, all right? Can you help me turn him over?”
A little while later, she glanced up from her work, firmly tugging the string as she set the knots with even precision. The bright light that shone down on her work let her know where she was going as she finished the sensitive job, adjusting herself to the silence within the room. The blinds were shut tight within the room–no one could peer in, and no one had bothered her since their return from the X-Ray section of the hospital.
She swallowed as she threw away the needle, as well as what remained of the general anesthesia that she used to numb the area. She cleaned up the mess she’d made with the stitching process, glancing at the meta once more. Turning around, she rummaged through various drawers until finally coming up with a pair of stretchable underpants that were flimsy and pleated. She set those aside.
“Okay...get on that side, and I’m going to lift him from his hip and his knees–you help with his upper half.”
Together, the pair turned the unconscious male over onto his back. He helped her slide the underwear on, and took a step back. As she pulled the light sheet back over Richie’s legs, she glanced at the meta as he resumed his seat.
It made her curious, inside–their relationship. Even though she had a pretty good idea of what was there, the notion was truly outrageous and fascinating. Never would she have considered such things about the hot headed young man that sent Dakota’s residents running in another direction; but then again, she would have never thought him capable of compassion, either. Yet here he was–trying to pretend as if he didn’t really care what was happening to this unknown male.
Montoya’s world was flipped around that night–it felt as if everything she knew and abided to had simply overturned with the arrival of the meta. She was curious to know who this teen was that instilled such compassion in someone that seemed incapable of it.
“Usually, in cases like these...the survivors refuse to go to the police,” she began, her accented voice quiet and solemn as she replaced the paper gown and drew up the thin sheet. “But I encourage it. There was enough evidence on him to positively ID the monster that did this to him, if he were already in the system. Of course...if he knew the men–”
Evidence pointed out that only one man had sexually assaulted the blond, but from the various bruises, she was convinced that many more were involved.
“–it would help as well.”
“He ain’t goin’ to the police,” Hotstreak muttered, a sullen expression drawing his features. He leaned back in the stool–back against the wall.
“Because you said?”
“Cuz he won’t. I don’t get no say with what he thinks, or does.”
Montoya relaxed. The tone with which he used to say that was definitely annoyed. Despite the draining tension and emotional feedback of the situation, she felt her lips curl into a slight smirk. “You know him well.”
“Enough.” Hotstreak’s face took an uncomfortable expression. “But do ya haveta take a report, or sumthin’?”
“...Yes. But in sexual assault cases, I don’t have to take his name. Or his personal information. If needs be, he’ll be referred to by his initials. But I will need certain information from him.”
Hotstreak gave a disgusted expression as he straightened in his chair. “You gonna tell his parents?”
“That’s not in my power. He’s eighteen–that’s his choice. Though, I’d encourage it.”
“He won’t tell ‘em, either.”
“Why? Sexual assault can be degrading–but though a supportive system of loved ones–”
“His daddy puts him in the emergency room more often than this nigger did. He ain’t gonna tell him. His momma’s just as useless.”
Montoya reviewed the past few years, searching for the blond’s features within her memory. But she couldn’t tell. She’d treated far too many people to remember just one person.
“Then what about you?”
“...What about me?”
“Any other supportive friends?”
“Oh, he’s got that shit. Just...figure on him actually sayin’ sumthin’. He ain’t gonna. Prolly, the only person to know would be me, him...an’ that fuckin’ nigger.”
“You know his perp?”
Hotstreak’s fists clenched, and it was obvious that he was trying hard to keep himself in control.
Montoya looked away to straighten the sheet. “He should go to the police. If he’s in the system–”
“It ain’t that fuckin’ easy! He’s got reason to keep this shit on the d-low. He ain’t gonna talk about it, an’ I don’t think you should, either.”
Montoya recognized the threat, and looked at him evenly. “I respect my patients’ confidentiality issues, and have never, in my entire career, overstepped boundaries. All though I’d encourage that he seek the law for help–”
“The law don’t do shit for people,” Hotstreak muttered.
“–I know that it’s his choice. This person may strike again. There could be other victims.”
“It’s all up ta him. Though, if you try an’ guilt him–”
“I respect my patients’ wishes, no matter what I personally think of the situation!” Montoya snapped at him, slipping on a single glove. She angrily reviewed Richie’s vitals, writing down certain information on her glove. Then she shook her head. “He’s to stay here until he revives. I would like to check up on him when he does. For now...I need to fill out some forms, and have the contents of the rape kit transferred to forensics...if he isn’t going to press charges, at least we’ll have his perpetrator in the system, and the information will continue to be there unless he says anything more.”
Hotstreak stared at her for some considerable time, and Montoya shifted restlessly. It wasn’t that she was scared of him–her honor bound duties to each of her patients kept her strongly rooted in her personal beliefs to save every one. It was just that that look of his was studying and thoughtful–she knew that he was considering her role in the situation. She helped his friend–what more was she needed for? And if he were truly wanting to keep the blond’s identity secret, he could kill her to keep that in check.
He had that thought in his expression, and those eyes of his told her that he would go for those lengths. He may be a petty bully and a menace on the streets, but he was fully capable of things that he felt desperate enough to perform in order to protect himself...or those close to him.
Her eyes darted to the unconscious form on the bed. She looked back at him and kept her brave mask in place.
When those dark eyes shifted away, she felt a quiet breath of relief leave her. With a determined air, she gathered her stethoscope and ripped off the glove with Richie’s vitals on them. She walked slowly out of the room, casting Hotstreak one last glance before shutting the door behind her.
She reached back to rub at the back of her neck and looked up at the clock that was hanging behind the main nurse’s station. She felt emotionally drained as she always did when dealing with a particular patient and situation. The others in the hall cast her curious glances as she walked over to the main desk, pulling out various forms. While in that process, she reached for the phone, and exchanged a few words with her husband of seven years.
After she hung up, Richardson, the doctor from earlier, walked over with a cautious expression.
“I called the cops,” he said in a low voice, eyeing the closed door. “But I kept them aside. They’ve already set up a–”
Montoya looked at him, and resisted the urge to deck him. “You what?”
“The police. To take him in. For–”
“He brought in someone that needed medical attention! And for what it’s worth, I’m appalled by the response that he got from those in the front!” she snapped. “He had someone that needed medical attention, and everyone ran from him. That boy could have died from his injuries!”
Richardson gave her a cross look. “Are you defending that meta?”
“Take it as you want, Richardson. Our roles as practitioners gave way to nothing but frightened idiots when it came to someone like him, and the survivor he had in hand! And, along those lines, Richardson, how dare you? How dare you make fun of sexual assault, in any form?”
“It doesn’t happen to men, Montoya!” Richardson snapped, swinging his clipboard up from the desk. Montoya’s face reddened considerably as those words hit her. “He probably encouraged it. And now that he practiced homosexual sins with a bad start, is trying to start a chain reaction of sorts to get money or something from his partner!”
“You sonofvabitch–!” Montoya snarled, seconds away from wringing his neck.
“Sir? Dr. Richardson? You’ve got a phone call on line five,” one the R.N.’s called from her desk nearby.
Richardson gave Montoya a brief glance of disgust before heading over to answer the phone. Montoya stared at him in pure fury, the need to lash out racing throughout her veins. She flung her papers aside, sweeping her hands through her brown hair. She needed a break–exhaling heavily, she turned and stalked toward the nearby break room to regain her composure.
Once there, she looked up at the gathering of uniformed police officers, all who looked at her questionably. She shook her head.
“No, no, no!” she exclaimed. “I know who you’re here for! You can’t do this–! Not while he assisted another person with–!”
“You’ve no legal power over our decision, ma’am,” Sgt. Wes Lee said, his narrowed eyes focusing on her as his radio cackled with faint activity. “He’s a well wanted criminal, and he needs to be apprehended.”
“My patient is in there, recovering! He brought in that survivor, and you’ll be victimizing him as well if you do this! That meta has done nothing in this hospital–!”
“Ma’am, he attacked two people from the moment he stepped in. They want to press charges. That other doctor just treated the security officer for second degree burns! How could you defend him?”
“Sir, I’m sorry–but why don’t you review the security cameras? See what happened when he tried to get help for his friend? Everyone ran from him...that male could have died from his injuries–”
“On that note, ma’am, who is the patient? Dr. Richardson mentioned an assault...”
Montoya brushed her hair from her face, trying to regain her composure. Speaking to this man was just like speaking to a wall. He wasn’t listening to her. Her mind was racing as she wondered when the unconscious survivor was going to revive. Perhaps when he did....while she personally felt that Hotstreak was a person that belonged behind prison bars for all that he did, the fact that he remained here for the unconscious male spoke volumes.
For now, all that she thought about was her patient. His needs.
“I am still gathering that information. Please...your metahuman won’t do anything for the time being. My patient is still in recovery–when he is fit enough to walk out of here tonight, you can get your man. But I’d rather that you wait–that patient’s needs should come first.”
“This meta destroyed part of this hospital before, and you’re concerned over his friend?” Lee exclaimed, giving her a disbelieving look. “Ma’am, hundreds of people are in literal danger while that meta remains here! Once he leaves this place, it’ll be hard to track him down! My men have already set up a perimeter here, and he’s not leaving unless it’s with us. Do you understand?”
“I don’t–”
“Do you understand?”
Montoya felt the need to glare at him, shoving her hands into her jacket pocket. She studied the resolute expression on the Sgt.’s face, and then nodded. “Fine. Once my patient’s well enough to walk out, you can take his friend.”
“Don’t let him know we’re here. Though, why you would defend him is beyond me,” the Sgt. muttered, looking at her suspiciously. Montoya turned, stiffly walking away as he turned and called his men forward, explaining the plan.
Stalking out the doors, she blinked weary eyes, glancing upward at the clock. It was nearly four a.m., and her shift wasn’t about to end for another five hours. She glanced over at the nurses’s station, then popped over to give a request. She saw that her rape kit hadn’t been stacked with the other kits that were being taken to Dakota’s forensics office, and quickly picked it up, along with the forms she’d filled out previously.
Walking into her patient’s room with her load, she sighed heavily, casting narrowed eyes in Hotstreak’s direction. She wouldn’t say anything about the cops–it wasn’t her place. Her patient was safe, and while she understood that the cops were just doing their job, she felt it wasn’t right of them to storm in now, while he recovered. Confidentiality issues that protected most sexual assault cases weren’t taken seriously by others–but she was one of the few that steadfastly tried to hold onto that promise. She looked down at the completed rape kit in her hands, then set that aside.
“Let’s transfer him to another room...a private one,” she suggested. She then blinked. “One near the exit.”
“Why?”
“When he wakes up, do you think he’ll want to stay unclean? He’ll want to take a shower. To get that man’s stink off him. Help me. Take this.”
She handed him the I.V. stand as he rose from his stool, looking annoyed as he did as she asked. She unlocked the wheels of the stretcher, and propped her things in that small valley between Richie’s knees, and guided the bed out of the room. She signaled to the nurse that she was taking over a room up a level, and the nurse nodded with a bewildered expression. Hotstreak glanced around, seeing that the place was just as empty and quiet as it had been earlier–but he noticed a definite stare by those that were emerging from the break room nearby. His instincts told him that those stares were trouble–he was wondering where the cops were.
Montoya led the way to the third floor, and wheeled the bed into the room closest to the stairway exit. The room was tiny, and Hotstreak winced at its enclosing space. There was barely enough room for four people comfortably with the bed, I.V. stand and other standard equipment. He set the stand aside as he crossed the floor to the window, peeking out as Montoya arranged the nose cannula once more and made sure Richie was as comfortable as he could possibly be. She took in the slack features, wondering when he’d awaken. She took the information she’d gathered from the bed, and set it aside, on a nearby wheeled stand. She looked over at Hotstreak, who was shifting from foot to foot as he continued to glare outside.
“Cop cars all over the fuckin’ place,” he muttered, glancing at her reflection.
“That’s what happens when you play,” she murmured, reaching over to adjust the blanket over Richie’s legs. “My husband will be coming by with some extra set of clothes. For you...because I think that the sight of his blood on you will harm him. And for him. My son could be the same size as he.”
“You gotta kid?”
“Yes. Attends Pershing Academy.”
“Rich shit brat.”
“Not really,” Montoya replied, a slight smile on her lips. “I place my son on a pedestal. He gets the very best.”
Hotstreak rolled his eyes, and glared down at the activity below. He was already plotting on escape routes and what he’d have to do to stay out of the Man’s hands.
Montoya shifted restlessly, then shrugged. “I’ll be downstairs. Lock the door when I leave.”
“Huh?”
But his startled exclamation was ignored as she left, closing the door softly behind her. He glanced over from the door, and over to the still figure on the bed, noting that no change had been made since the last time he’d looked at Richie. He felt his gut twist upon seeing the damaged face and neck–something that tasted like bile touched the back of his throat, and he swallowed hard as he yearned for a cigarette. He turned away from the bed and stared out the window, plotting again on how to get out of the place.