SCI Stories, Book 2, Chapter 1

Sorry, guys. Been having allergy issues (damn pollen), so didn't get much writing done this weekend. But new chapter, yay! Also, tomorrow I'm taking the old SCI chapters down to send it to Amazon, where it will be on KU.

Chapter 1 – Setting the Trap

A woman walked into the coffee shop, and was quickly flagged down by the detective sitting across from Maxwell Adams, better known as Adonis. She nodded, and then turned to the counter, waiting in line to get her order. Max took a moment to look her over. Not bad looking, definitely on par with some of the ladies he met ‘in the business’. If he weren’t married, he might even have made a play for her.

When she walked over and sat next to his buddy Carl Fitzgerald, he had to chuckle. Before it could get weird, he simply shrugged, and offered a half nod towards the window. “Sorry about that. A pretty lady walking in, coming to my table… Well, let’s just say that you expertly dashed a couple paparazzi’s hopes of a big payday from the tabloids. They just love anything that smells of scandal.”

Carl laughed, and said, “Well, that sucks for them. Anyway, Max, let me introduce you to Jessica Jones. She’s a detective over in the gang unit. We went to the Academy together. Jessica, this here’s Maxwell Adams, but don’t call him by his other name here. The shop has rules about that kind of thing, to maintain the charade.”

Max offered his hand to the woman, and was pleasantly surprised by her strong grip. “Pleasure to meet you, Jess. Any friend of Carl’s is a friend of mine. Glad to see that there’s some respectable people other than myself who hang around this bozo.”

“Hey!”

Jess laughed as she pulled her hand back. “Well, someone has to keep him sane. You spend too long in the Homicide unit, and you start seeing serial killers everywhere. I guess it could be worse, though. He could have been an author. Who knows what his crazy mind would come up with then?”

Carl grumbled. “Hey, that’s uncalled for. Besides, I’m already working on a book…”

He got hushed by a playful hand over his mouth as Jess shook her head. “Anyways, what is this ‘charade’ you’re talking about?”

Max grinned. “Little deal the shopkeep set up with the paparazzi. They make sure to keep on the other side of the street, and don’t harass anyone going in and out of the shop, and when any of the team comes here, we sit up front by the windows. In return, the regulars keep the fiction that they don’t know who we are, when we’re in costume. Everyone works to keep it that way, and is basically self-policing in that regard.”

Jess whistled softly. “You guys really do live in a fishbowl, don’t you?”

Max shrugged. “Not as much as you might think. There’s plenty of places we can go if we need to be discrete, since we all have ways of getting out of the city without being noticed. Once you get away from Manhattan, people don’t recognize us out of costume nearly as much.”

He paused, and then said, “And it makes a perfect place for someone to meet us unofficially, without drawing official attention to things. Officially, the Defenders can’t get involved in the gang situation unless we witness something on patrol, we get a request from the Chief, or there’s obvious superhuman involvement. And there’s no way that is going to happen because the gangs have mysteriously stopped shooting each other, not without some kind of proof that there’s a super involved.”

Carl nodded. “Yeah, no one is really going to complain if there are fewer murders in the city, but this whole thing has me worried. Even when things are running smooth between the gangs, there’s always something going on. But I haven’t had a gang member show up in one of my crime scenes in months, and that makes me think something is going on.”

Jess sipped her mochachino. “You don’t know the half of it, Carl. It isn’t just the killings. That’s crazy enough on its own, but ALL the inter-gang violence has dropped to nothing. Crews that were literally at war with each other haven’t so much as said boo to their rivals in months. Gangs that were competing over territory suddenly stopped fighting. Hell, the Night Lords and the Salamanders had been in a literal blood feud, which we all pretty much assumed would only end when one of the groups was completely wiped out, but they’ve been playing nice together.”

Max grunted. “From what Carl has told me, this all started about six months ago, and sped up quickly. For something this big to go down this quickly and this quietly, that takes some serious pull. Not even one of the big syndicates could do that, not without everyone finding out about it through the rumor mill.”

Jess nodded, her face grim. “Yeah, which is why those of us in the unit are wondering if there’s some kind of connection linking over on your side of things. No ‘human’ group has the pull to do this quick, clean, and quiet. Two out of three, maybe. But all three? No, that’s gotta be someone using powers.”

“We agree, for what its worth. It just so happens that about six months ago is when this Mesmero figure popped up, robbing banks. He’s been pulling in a bunch of cash, and obviously has some kind of mental powers. Angela is convinced that he is hiding his real power, only using what he needs to in order to get the job done. That, combined with the timing… well, it isn’t a smoking gun, but it is enough that we thought it would be good to start taking a few quiet precautions. Starting with the security for this meeting.”

Carl frowned. “Security? Are we in trouble?”

Max shook his head. “No more than you were before. But someone who is capable of making all the gangs play nice, they have to know that is going to draw attention eventually. So, we figured that they would probably arrange for surveillance on us and the NYPD, especially the gang unit. After all, any response would be coming from there. You can’t arrest someone for not committing crimes, but following them and attempting to find out who their new boss is… well, that’s just prudent.”

(Outside the Coffee Shop)

It was a typical hole in the wall coffee shop. Nothing out of the ordinary, except for the fact that it was not far from the Defenders headquarters, and the super team were regulars there, when they were in their ‘civilian’ guise. It wasn’t like people didn’t know who they were, since none of them wore masks in costume, but it was part of the shop’s culture that people didn’t ‘recognize’ them when they were out of costume.

Naturally, it wasn’t all that simple. Nothing ever was. Word got out that the little coffee shop was where the Defenders liked to relax on their time off, and the vultures descended. The owner cut a deal with the paparazzi to keep them out of the store. So long as they set up on the sidewalk across the street, instead of trying to barge into his coffee shop, stand blocking the windows, or harassing them as they came and went, he would try to arrange for the heroes, when they showed up, to sit in front of the window, giving them a view of what was going on. The Defenders played along because it allowed them to at least pretend to be normal people for a while.

Which was why it was no great surprise to have Maxwell Adams (better known as Adonis) sitting at the table sipping his mocha latte on a Wednesday afternoon. A little surprising, perhaps, would be that he actually had company with him today. But if the news hounds were hoping for anything juicy, they were going to be sorely disappointed, as it was a man who joined him, who they recognized as his childhood friend, who was now a detective with the NYPD. Then they were joined by a woman, but she was clearly with the detective. The Defenders and the NYPD actually had a much better relationship than some of their contemporaries, in part because the Defenders were all locals. They had their roots in the community, and grew up here.

The two paparazzi that kept an eye on the coffee shop just in case something happened were disappointed, but unsurprised. The candid shots of a hero just acting like a normal person would still sell, but not nearly as well as if he had been alone, meeting some attractive woman who wasn’t his wife. Or, better yet, meeting an attractive woman with his wife!

Of course, they weren’t the only ones watching this meeting. Twenty yards from the two photographers were two men, wearing gang colors. That, in and of itself, wasn’t unusual. There were plenty of gangs in New York, and there always had been. Wearing the colors wasn’t against the law, though it might earn one some extra attention from those who knew what they meant.

That wasn’t the odd thing about these two. No, the odd thing was that the two men were wearing different gang colors. In fact, one clearly had the Night Terrors logo on his jacket, while the other was wearing Salamander colors. Considering that the two gangs had been at war for years, ever since the last big alliance of gangs had been split when the Sons of Horus tried to make a play and take over, the fact that they were just standing there was unusual, to say the least. Throw in the fact that they were currently on Raven Guard territory, and this was downright suspicious.

The Salamander spit on the ground. “Looks like He was right. The Superpigs are meeting with the regular ones. That bitch is from the gang unit. She arrested me two years ago.”

The Night Terror smirked at his rival. “Well, that’s why you don’t go leaving witnesses, you stupid fuck. And it was going to happen eventually, He said as much. Letting you degenerates live instead of gutting you like you deserve was going to get spotted before too long.”

“You son of a bitch. If He didn’t say we had to play nice, I’d kill you for that. All you Night Terrors are fucking psychos.”

“Aw, you say the nicest things!”

“Shut your damn mouth. Anyways, we’ve seen what we need to see. I’ll keep watch on the pigs, see if they go make any other errands. The superpig is probably going to head back to their precious headquarters and talk with all those fine ass bitches. He’s going to want to know about that.”

“So call him.”

“You idiot! We’re talking about the superpigs here. If they’re getting involved, you know they’ve probably got someone checking phone lines. Gotta do it secure, from one of the special phones.”

“Fine, fine! I’ll stop in with those prissy Raven Guards, and use theirs before heading back home. Hope He lets us have some fun soon. This is getting old, fast.”

The Salamander just shook his head in disgust as the Night Terror turned, and slipped off into the alleyways, leaving him alone. Above, in the shadows of an overlooked fire escape, a shadowed figure pulled out a cell phone, and typed a quick message. 

Adonis -- Two subjects, Salamander and Night Lord. Salamander tailing lady cop. Night Lord was tailing you, now going off to report in at Raven Guard. Looks like we were right. Following Night Terror. -- Tigress

That done, the shadowy figure made sure her phone was on silent, and put it away, before stretching up like a cat. With practiced grace, she leaped from the fire escape without making a sound, making her way to a drain pipe which she effortlessly climbed, making her way to the rooftop. Freerunners had nothing on her when it came to getting around the city in style.

Smiling at the thought of a competition with some freerunners trying to parkour across Manhattan, Tigress didn’t let herself lose sight of her prey, nimbly going from rooftop to rooftop as she tracked him. Sure, any one of the team could have followed the Night Terror and taken him down. But the goal was to follow him, and find out who the mysterious person in control of the gangs was. Which is why the best tracker in the city was on the job.

She predicted she’d have firm answers on what was going on by nightfall.