For once, all six of them were together, walking down a far too chilly hallway on a floor higher up than their own floor in the Tenor Building. Because of the separate elevators for different stretches for floors, they had assumed the elevators for the stretch of floors above them simply didn’t connect to their floor (or, in Bosh’s opinion, they didn’t exist). The suit who had come to get them, however, had opened a panel and inserted a key and suddenly they were going up.
It was hard to avoid the conclusion that they were in trouble.
“You shouldn’t have gone in on that bank robbery,” Bosh hissed at Seth’s back. This wasn’t smart, since the vast majority of her road rash received during said bank robbery was on the backs of her arms, making her somewhat sensitive to changes in the air behind her. Also, it was unwise generally, because in her extremely short words on the matter yesterday, she had been ‘having trouble regulating heat.’
Decon, in his head, had likened it to speaking near a guttering candle – every breath moved the flame. Except it wasn’t very apt, because instead of going out, the flame reared up and swallowed your face.
At this moment, however, she chose not to respond.
“We aren’t supposed to have anything to do with crime-fighting, or whatever the fu–”
“Bosh,” Decon said.
“Fuck off with that propriety shit, Decon, you two just blew our whole future here—”
Fir pushing past him to take the lead stopped his talk – or maybe it was the slightly obnoxious smell of the black licorice from the bag cradled in his arm. “He’s not correcting your potty mouth, he’s trying to make sure she doesn’t fry you before we get to the boardroom.”
“You assholes haven’t ruined my chances,” Julie said. “Or you better not have, because if you have…”
“Julie, you weren’t even there,” Decon said gently. “There’s no way you’ll be held responsible.”
Looking no less sour, Julie pressed her lips together and looked away. The others were thinking of upgrading their estimation of Decon’s abilities to include disagreeing with Julie without the situation escalating.
“Yeah,” Firmament offered, walking backward in front of the group and speak around the strand of the licorice wheel he was unpeeling, “the ol’ man nee’s you to make ‘im nukes or whatever anyway. ’S just us.”
“The fuckup trifecta!” Bosh cried.
“Wes was there,” Decon said.
“Wes didn’t fuck up. He doesn’t have any powers, he can just go back to a normie or whatever.”
Everyone (except Julie, who disdainfully looked the opposite direction) looked at Wes. Wes shrugged.
“It’s not fucking up to help people,” Fir drawled. “Anyway, nobody used their powers,” his eyes slid over to Seth, “proveably, anyway.”
Decon saw the candle flicker vividly in his mind. Not for the first time, he had reason to marvel at the human tendency to just stop and watch, say, an explosion, rather than running for their lives. Otherwise he was mentally joining Wes in a contemplation of what, in fact, would happen to Wes should he lose the sponsorship of the group. At this point, going back into the care of Dr. Hardwick, however vital she was to him, was not promising. Unlike Firmament, he had disposed of all of his scrubs.
“It is when there’s a fucking law, or congressional act… thingie, or amendment, or whatever to keep you from doing it! Or else what was our fearless leader’s big talk about ‘not raising concerns’ or ‘keeping a low profile’ or whatever that nonsense–”
“Bosh,” Fir said, “she is going to set you on fire.”
Because Bosh could check on the reality of that statement, and he did, he stopped talking.
“How is there this long of a fucking hallway in this building,” Firmament said, turning slowly as he walked. “Who actually has big, dark, secret boardrooms at the tops of towers? I feel like we’re going to fight a wizard, not get a scolding from our boss,”
“A scolding would be lucky,” Seth said.
Everybody stopped talking.
It was a long and quiet walk.
There was an anteroom to the board room that made it feel like they were being decontaminated before entering a delicate environment. All glass walls but for the one with the door, which helped the light fight against the abyssal darkness of the polished black walls and floors. The normal stream of inane music which occupied Bosh’s thoughts had given way to the ominous sound of Darth Vadar breathing, though amazingly he hadn’t mentioned it to anybody.
A secretary got up to greet them without saying a word. He took out his phone and silently indicated turning of the volume, prompting them all to check, and by way of suggestion making all of them subconsciously concerned they were breathing too loud. Julie’s sneakers made a noise on the floor, and she actually looked mortified, rather than as if it was somehow their faults for hearing it. Seth’s grim silence had evolved into the rocky, thousand-yard-stare of a political veteran about to not just bite the hand that feeds, but potentially tear it off at the wrist.
Firmament found Seth inspiring. Decon was putting together a list of contacts and organizations he knew of to help everyone get resettled after they were fired, particularly Wes. Wes was trying to remember the supposed difference between “Ice Ice Baby” and “Under Pressure” (he had been studying up after being invited to Bosh and Firmament’s music-listening sessions).
The secretary, using signals only perceivable to himself, waited until the proper moment to slide open the completely silent black glass door. Firmament barely managed to stop himself from asking who the hell would have a completely opaque black glass door. He was allowed to take his licorice in, so he thought it best not to push it.
Now there was a lot of light, since the boardroom seemed to be in a corner of the building. They had a magnificent view of the city, right down to the water, fog, and bridges. The only pieces of furniture in the room were a hideously large black conference table with equally large black chairs, and a tiny rolling service with an airpot of coffee and a pitcher of water on it at some arbitrarily declared but somehow aesthetic distance from said table.
Mr. Tenor was on the phone.
Rather, a voice was coming out of the weird plastic star on the conference table with a phone-like quality, as Mr. Tenor sat at the end of the table, steepling his fingers and listening. He motioned for them to sit.
Seth stalked stiff-legged to his right hand, while the rest of them trailed after, reluctantly admitting to themselves that this wasn’t a moment that would allow them to sit at the back of the class. On his right were Seth, Bosh, and Decon; on his left, Fir, Wes, and Julie.
The voice on the phone was saying, “We’re old friends, we go back a long ways, and I just want the situation to be clear between us.”
“Yes,” Mr. Tenor said.
“You know I wouldn’t be doing this if I weren’t facing just the utmost pressure, just the greatest possible… it’s really tough, you know?”
“Yes,” Mr. Tenor said.
“And, you know, I use my influence wisely on your behalf. You wouldn’t appreciate me just throwing it all away to fight for a dead cause.”
“Yes,” Mr. Tenor said.
There was a pause. The sound of various rustlings, a hesitant breath taken that turned into a politely quieted cough. The pause dragged.
“So… so you see what I’m saying, don’t you?” the voice on the phone asked.
“Of course, Senator,” Mr. Tenor said.
Even Seth got a little pale at that one.
“So… I mean, I have to take this course of action. My hands… I’m really… my hands are really tied.”
“Of course they are,” Mr. Tenor said.
There was another pause.
“So…?” the voice on the phone said.
“So, let us be absolutely clear,” Mr. Tenor said. “The next thing you plan to do is to make a speech to Congress decrying the actions of a group of young people under my care. You anticipate their possession of special abilities will somehow mitigate the damaging effects of a United States Senator taking a group of teenagers who risked their lives to save others to task on a national stage. You also expect that this will mitigate the effects of the federal government bringing its full power to bear in prosecuting children…”
“Not the full power – and not the Feds, not really…”
“No, Senator, it will be the federal government. It was the federal government who put this law into effect regarding their conduct, and I will want no less than the full power and discretion of the federal government put into effect on their behalf. If you think for a moment, Senator, I will allow this to stay on a state level, where any number of factors will interfere in the absolute impartiality of judgement, you are much mistaken. You see, too many people know me in this state, Senator. You are not the only one, Senator. And there are only more people the further down the hierarchy we go. I could not allow the judgement of these young people to rest in the hands of those compromised by familiarity, for the sake of the comfort of a small and personal stage. Oh, no, Senator, I will not. The only direction this goes, is up.”
Seth was decidedly pale. Even Firmament had a disarming seriousness to his gaze. It was good nobody knew what Wes was thinking.
The voice on the phone had not expected Mr. Tenor to pause. “…I… this is really unprecedented, Mr. Tenor, I don’t see what you expect…”
“It will be good to set the precedent, Senator,” Mr. Tenor said. “I am always pleased to help.”
“I… this is all… I meant, intentions are all well and good, Mr. Tenor, but I’m not sure the Feds will be interested in pursuing…”
“I can assure you that they will be,” Mr. Tenor said.
Another pause happened. Decon caught Julie’s eye and held it, taking long, slow, breaths, which she soon began to imitate. Bosh’s knuckles were white on the table edge, so in accord was everyone except Mr. Tenor; his empathy, as usual, found Mr. Tenor like a clouded sea, the waves of which pushed him away, whereas the others he felt like still, clear water. The contrast was making him seasick.
“Look, this really doesn’t have to be this big of an issue,” the voice said, more combative than it had been.
“You and your colleagues made it this big an issue when you put the Acts into effect, Senator. It was a nice way to do something about regulating the actions of Islanders after the fact, and in a lull in which you would not be forced to face the consequences of your actions – but now, here we are. And if you are prepared to argue that a seventeen year old girl who was shot and nearly buried under rubble deserved to take no actions in her defense despite her ample ability to defend herself, I am prepared to make sure those arguments are heard by everyone who have been living under the Acts that make it so.”
“That’s not even the question,” the voice said, “that’s not even the direction we’re going to take this…”
“Oh, but it is. Because it cannot help but be relevant to the question of why that building came down on her in the first place when she had with her another young man perfectly capable of preventing it, who legally could not.”
“You use ‘young man’ a little freely, don’t you? That ‘young man’ should be safely locked up,” the voice spat, “there is no evidence that the building coming down isn’t his fault in the first place, and it’s not like he doesn’t have a history…”
“There will be evidence that it is not, Senator,” Mr. Tenor said. “As should be expected, I have people gathering the facts of the matter as soon as they are available. I have it on good word from my friends in the bomb squad that there is no evidence implicating Firmament.”
“Regardless,” the voice said, “there was no reason for them to be there in the first place…”
“At one of my banks? Where they have some of their savings from my program invested?”
There was another pause. Now, Seth just looked slightly guilty.
“People died, Mr. Tenor,” the voice said. “We can’t ignore that people died…”
Seth paled again. Firmament sat up in his chair such that Mr. Tenor’s gaze actually flicked to him, acknowledging his agitation.
“Criminals died, Senator, in the commission of a crime. Shot by their own weapons in the confusion. And people lived, Senator, because of my team.”
“So you admit it, then, Tenor? This is a team – this is your way of setting up a new wave of violent vigilante justice teams, using children–”
“They are my team,” Mr. Tenor said, his voice dropping, “because they are my children. I have taken responsibility for them. Both their parents and the various entities with guardianship have been assured of no less from me than to treat them as my own. We are working together to do something important, something good – doing something, rather than the nothing the rest of the nation has done by hiding under the covers and pretending Islanders don’t exist, denying them both acknowledgement and aid because you are afraid – acting as if you could legislate away their abilities by forbidding them to use them, on pain of prosecution. It is unfair, Senator, and it is inhumane, and I won’t allow it to happen to my children, and I will gladly stand before the nation and insist it should never happen to anyone.”
The silence stretched, not even a rustling on the other side, just the quiet buzz of the phone still operating.
“This was a courtesy call,” the voice said sharply. “I shouldn’t have even informed you. I’ve done this a favor for all that you’ve done for me in the past…”
“Thank you,” Mr. Tenor said.
There was another pause. A sigh. “I… so we’re good then?”
“Your secret is safe with me,” Mr. Tenor said. Looking up at the team arrayed around him.
“Are you sure there’s no way… are you sure this is the course of action…”
“Absolutely.”
Another pause followed. It was like they could hear the sweat on the Senator’s brow. “I’m sorry you feel that way about it, Mr. Tenor, but maybe it you gave it some thought—”
“I’ll see you in Washington, Pat.”
Mr. Tenor pressed the button to end the call, then leaned back in his chair again. Everyone had nothing better to do for a few moments than to look at one another.
“Seth,” Mr. Tenor said, gently. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” Seth said, when she was able to make her mouth not quite so dry. “I’m… better. Recovering very well.”
“I just want to make sure Susan’s come up and talked to you?”
“Yes,” Seth glanced nervously at the others, a blush rising, “I… I mean… Decon mentioned she visited. I mean to get down there, and… I definitely will take advantage of that counseling…”
She glanced at Decon, who with his usual pleasant forbearance gave no sign of what she had said, loudly, about his suggestions she take Susan up on her offer of her professional services.
“Good, and thank you Decon,” he said, smiling. “Getting shot would have an effect on anyone, it’s really just a good idea to check in.” He glanced at Bosh. “It wouldn’t be too bad an idea for you, either, you know.”
“I wasn’t there,” Bosh said.
“I just mean in terms of sharing professional insights – you might just have things to learn from one another. It would be a shame not to take advantage of some of the resources you have here for exploring your own abilities.”
This wasn’t the first time Bosh had been told to do his homework, but it was perhaps the only time he hadn’t given a smart-assed response.
“And Decon,” Mr. Tenor smiled, “I just want to thank you for taking such an initiative in looking after your teammates.”
Decon nodded, with a little smile. Maybe he was referring to taking the sometimes literal heat for pushing Seth to go see the counselor. Maybe he meant illegally using his abilities to dig Seth out of the rubble at the bank. Decon had a feeling that there was a reason he had been thanked twice.
“Firmament, I assume you’re feeling well,” Mr. Tenor said, gesturing at the bag of licorice wheels. Fir offered him one, which he declined with a smile.
“Good,” Mr. Tenor said. “It’s good to see everyone’s recovering.”
“Everyone who needs recovering,” Julie hissed. This signal return to form was like everyone getting to let out a long-held breath.
“I just wanted to check in,” Mr. Tenor said. “I’ve been lax. We should be having these slightly more often. It’s just been a little busy of late – and I know you all are busy. I wouldn’t want to stick my nose in.”
A bolt of unease shot through the (four, actually) members of the fuckup trifecta. The Tetrafecta.
“Julie, at some later point, I want to talk to you a little bit about expanding your research. I would like to see you more involved with the rest of your team – strictly within the bounds of what we have discussed with your lab of course. Perhaps just a more active, daily check in kind of research. Comings and goings. Environment changes, that sort of thing. Does that make sense?”
“We can discuss it,” Julie said, folding her arms and frowning.
Mr. Tenor smiled. “I can use the money at that bank to help fund this change in direction of our research. I had only recently decided to open accounts for you there. Surely you must have seen notes I sent to that effect, which explains why you went down there in the first place.”
They all looked shame-facedly down at the table. Fir stuffed a licorice wheel in his mouth instead of saying, ‘No, Mr. Tenor, of course it wasn’t the news coverage of the robbery! They certainly didn’t run out half-cocked and unthinking to try to test themselves in a dangerous situation! It was a note. About their savings.’
Julie sniffed disdainfully. “Research. Sure.”
Mr. Tenor smiled at her. “Well, glad to see everyone’s doing so well. We’ll have another chat sometime soon.”
So dismissed, they all got up, shuffling at various speeds towards the door.
“Wesley,” Mr. Tenor called, as they exited.
Wes jogged back to the table.
“Wesley,” Mr. Tenor said, “At the bank...”
“Oh,” Wes said, once he understood Mr. Tenor’s hesitation, “Don’t worry. No evidence.”
Mr. Tenor nodded, and Wes left with the others, humming softly.