"You never hurt anybody?"
Lajatang at the ready.
"You don't see how fear hurts people? You don't see how taking someone else's livelihood could hurt them? Forget prison, you should have been institutionalized.
"None of that matters now, though, does it?"
Swing and stop short of killing him; then, in a stage whisper, "You're dead. Fall down."
He does. He is still crying.
--M. J. Young
I put my lajatang away, then say to Ick, "I think we've wasted quite enough time here."
If there's a fire escape on one of these buildings, I'll Great Jump up to it and walk up. If not, I'll try to climb back up the wall I came down.
It's easy to reach the fire escape without much of a jump, so you're out of there.
The mugging victim appears to be comforting the mugger. Ick is shaking his head as he flies up alongside you.
"People can be so confusing," he says. "By the way, that was really interesting, what you did there. I'm impressed. You're a pretty smart kid."
--M. J. Young
I glance Icarus over warily before responding. "Am I? I guess I look the part.
"I'm a verser -- a specific kind of interdimensional traveller. One of the facts regarding my kind is that we don't physically age as humans do after we leave the dimension we're born in. It's hard to keep track of your age when you travel between universes; in some places days are longer or shorter or years are longer or shorter. I'm probably at least forty, maybe pushing fifty.
"You might be wondering, so I'll tell you: yes, my sister is also a verser. She's younger than I am, probably by at least fifteen years; only two, maybe three or four, as a verser."
"Oh--I'm sorry. I think maybe you told me, or someone told me. It's just that--well, you look like a kid. It's really weird thinking of you as Mariska's older brother. I hope--I hope I didn't insult you. I mean, apart from the fact," and he smiles rather teasingly at this point, "that you really are not someone that a smart person would want ever to insult."
--M. J. Young
I focus back on ascending the fire escape. "If it were the kind of thing that were insulting to me, I'd change it. It's useful being mistaken for a child at times"
"Really?"
Icarus seems genuinely intrigued by the concept.
"How so?"
--M. J. Young
"One thing is that honorable code dictates that the lives of women and children are to be protected and even saved before men; another is that even criminals generally disrespect those in their number who perform crimes against children.
"I'm not generally considered a threat, and those who do intend to fight me usually take me lightly. You'd think the muscles would be a dead giveaway," I flex nonchalantly, "But it happens all too often that my opponents choose to believe what they see on the surface rather than in the details.
"Speaking of which," I continue, "I've had these glasses for a good... two, three years now." (I didn't ask about a new pair then as a player, but I'm sure I'd have gotten one as a character, because they must have been scratched all to you know where if they were even still usable after the decades in AD&D.) "Considering I'm going to be doing this superhero thing full time now, do you think it would be possible to fix my eyes?
"I should run the idea of a pair of glasses with some interesting features past Daedalus while I'm at it. Out of curiousity, is he your father, or are the two of you just professional acquaintances?"
"Oh--yeah, Daedalus really is my father, and he probably could provide you with glasses that would fix your vision, be unscratched even by diamonds, look quite ordinary, have nearly unbreakable frames, and tell you where they are if you call for them; but he couldn't fix your eyes--you'd need maybe an ophthalmologist or ophthalmic surgeon for that. Although I understand it can be done, for a couple thousand dollars. Might be we can get someone to help you with the cost. Of course, if your eyes were fixed you wouldn't need the glasses, and I know that he can do a lot of things with glasses.
"Dad's a bit--well, he was a Soviet spook, I think, working in their psi ops department, but he defected to America and went into business here in Northgate using some of the information he gained when he was there. Mom was an American; she died when I was still young, so Dad is pretty much my only family. He never talks about anyone else, anyway. But I'm one of the few people who ever really sees him--I mean, sees his material body. Most of the time people see his astrally projected self, which is one reason why assassins have never been able to kill him.
"And Mariska isn't really your sister the way most people use the word, is she? I mean, she could be, but if she's older and younger, she probably didn't start when you did?"
--M. J. Young
"I think of her like my younger sister, because she doesn't know what she's gotten into and needs my protection. Eventually, I guess she won't need me anymore.. and then she'll be ready to go on her own.
"Probably not for some time yet.
"Could always wear glasses with clear lenses -- that's what I was getting at."
"Somehow I don't think you have to worry about Saka leaving you.
"So, shall we patrol some more, or do you want to call it a night? I know you have school...."
--M. J. Young
"You think so? Maybe you're right.
"Tomorrow's Sunday. I rested before your arrival. It's up to you, but don't call it a night on my account.
"Regarding what you had said before about having to catch them in an illegal act, now you've seen how I operate. We have to catch them in an illegal act if we want to bring them in, but it might be just as good or better if we can get wind of something bigger being planned. Going to a bar frequented by criminal types also sends them a message: we're by no means afraid of them, and as long as they keep doing what they're doing, we'll keep waiting for them to make a mistake so we can bring them down."
Icarus laughs.
"You were talking about the advantages of appearing so young, but you've just hit one of the disadvantages--I doubt I can take you into a bar. But maybe we can think of something like that, some way to drop in on the underworld. They also meet in restaurants. A kid can't enter a bar, but he can enter a restaurant with a liquor license as long as he's not seated at the bar and no one serves him alcohol."
--M. J. Young
"Modern worlds and their pointless laws; as if you could force me to drink alcohol at gunpoint. I'd rather be shot to death than slowly poisoned; shot to death takes less time."
"Never heard it put quite that way. C'mon, I'll buy you dessert and we'll listen in on conversations. Unfortunately, I'm not very good at foreign languages--most of the crooks who meet in restaurants are ethnic, German, Chinese, Russian, Italian, French, Spanish, Japanese, Korean--and they hold their private discussions in their native languages to discourage eavesdropping. I don't guess you happen to know any foreign languages?"
--M. J. Young
I'll answer him in several different languages -- nothing specific, just showing a broad array, shotgun style. Then, back to a language he understands.
"Even if they're from another planet, mind reading will probably get me the gist of a conversation -- thorughts aren't just made of words, they're also in pictures and disjointed memories."
"You really are impressive. Care for any particular international dessert?"
--M. J. Young
"Not particularly. Let's not forget the real reason we're going."
"There's a place nearby where the German mob has meetings. They've got good chocolate cake, if you like coconut in the icing, and Bavarian pastries, and they're close at hand. They serve beer and schnapps mostly, but won't offer them to you, so I think we can probably get soda or milkshakes."
He starts walking down the street.
--M. J. Young
The sudden realization that no matter how I dress, Icarus is going to stick out like a sore thumb gives me a chuckle. I explain my thought to Icarus before saying, "I'd probably best keep my mask on; if they're serving you, they'll probably serve me, too."
And with that, if Icarus is still okay with this, we'll go for Deutsch.
He stops in mid stride. "Hadn't thought of that. They might not be so talkative with us in there. On the other hand, they might not know you can understand what they're saying, particularly if we look like we're having something to eat." He shrugs and resumes walking.
It's about three blocks, and the place has a very festive atmosphere, reminiscent of scenes from Oktoberfest (or perhaps from the Pink Panther movie scenes set there), with polka music, a couple waitresses in appropriate costume, trays carrying mugs and steins of beer, the smell of knockwurst and other sausages, pretzels. Icarus asks for a table for two.
--M. J. Young
Wonderful. It's packed.
Any other costumes in here? How about blatantly rough looking fellas, particularly at the bar presuming there is one?
Icarus can do what he wants. If there's a bar, I'm gonna look for an open spot and ask the bartender for water.
It's not packed, its themed. There might be a dozen tables out of thirty currently in use.
There is a bar, and the bartender looks at you and gives you a glass of water with ice. He also hands you a menu.
Icarus cancels the table and joins you at the bar.
"I hear the strudel is excellent here. Or is there something else that appeals to you?"
--M. J. Young
Themed, hmm? Well, first things first.
"Sure enough," I tell Icarus. "But what I'm looking for isn't on the menu."
I flag the bartender down, and say to him, "A guy like you in a place like this, you probably hear all kinds of things. I want you to tell me who the baddest guy in here is.
"Before you get to thinking it might not be in your best interest to answer, I should warn you; whatever they can do to you, I can do worse."
I try to be as surreptitious as possible when talking to him, but if anyone overhears -- best case being an overzealous criminal, worst case being a good samaritan (or, you know, Toller, or a group of highly intelligent homosexual verser dragons), eh whatever case being a bouncer -- I'm not too concerned about it.
"I think think you've already had e--" he does a double take, and then tries again, with considerably less certainty. "Enough to drink. Why don't you just relax and try the chocolate cake or one of the Bavarian pastries?"
The other bartender nods to a big guy near the door, who remains in his place but now has his eye on you. There is also an elderly man sitting with two middle aged men at a corner table who is now trying to be surreptitious in his attention on you.
--M. J. Young
I smirk under my mask. "Fair enough. I think my friend wants one of your pastries, though." I motion to Icarus as I take my ice water and walk to the corner table where the elderly man is seated with the other two men.
Panoramic awareness.
"Mind if I join you?" The older one's mind is the one I'm trying to read.
My papers say you have a 1@6 SAL on mind reading with a 7@4 bias and 2@9 BRA, but I realize that you've been in this universe a long time and I might not have updated everything. Is there any reason for me to think that any of those numbers are higher than that? The roll is close.
--M. J. Young
Hmm, not particularly. I've read a few minds since I was here but it's not something I practice hardcore.
You do not manage to read his mind.
He nods toward a chair and looks at you keenly.
"You're not built like a dwarf," he says, "but you're too muscular to be a child. Are you one of Zhorbakian's inventions, or something else?"
--M. J. Young
"Something else entirely," I smile through my mask. "Not Elven or Leprechaun, either." Ha ha. "Although Z and I have become acquainted since my arrival. Call me Silence." I set the glass down on the table, and take a seat, still on my guard with that panoramic awareness going.
"I suppose you're just a trio of guys unwinding after your boring workdays, hmm? Just what is it you gentlemen do for money? Something interesting, I hope."
Let's try mind reading on one of the younger two.
You reach his mind. He's thinking that any moment the boss is going to give the signal for them to toss you out on your ear, but that he should wait for it and not rush things.
The boss has a German immigrant accent. "So, you're just trying to figure out what you want to be if you grow up? Asking adults what they do? I own this restaurant. These men work for me--my driver, what the French call, what is it, a chauffer, and my bodyguard."
--M. J. Young
Ah, let's try for German, then. That should be up there with my general language training from not so long ago in the grand scheme of things.
"You mock me. I already know what I'd like to be when I grow up: unthreatened by the likes of you. I've taken great pains to assure that I will be." I nonchalantly move my stick to indicate the fact that I'm armed but uninterested in the fact.
"Your dogs are eager to bite me. I'd see to it they stay leashed, if I were you; it can be very difficult to find good help, and I'm not likely to let them live long enough to find out whether they've had their vaccinations."
He answers in German.
"I think you threaten me, or you mean to do so. If my employees feel that someone is a threat, it is good that they would want to protect me, yes? They have done nothing to threaten you, unless you feel threatened by the fact that my bodyguard stands ready to act if necessary.
"I think you should leave. But stay if you like; the chocolate cake is very good, if you like cocoanut, and I can have them serve it with a glass of milk."
--M. J. Young
"I'm wounded." I don't sound like it, though. "I'm not sure what I've done to make you all feel threatened. All I want to do is get to know you a bit. I've been keeping to myself a lot since I got to town, and I haven't decided where my allegiance lies yet, so I'm trying to meet the major players and figure out who interests me the most.
"I'm not here for the cake, but I'm not yet ready to leave. Perhaps you have some place more private where we can talk business?"
"So," he says, still eyeing you suspiciously, "you would be a merc then, working for the highest bidder?"
--M. J. Young
"A mercenary, in a certain sense of the word," I answer thoughtfully, "Though money isn't important to me. I'm more interested in less concrete things. Call them ambitions, dreams, ideals, whatever you will, those are what attracts my attention; my services are generally forthcoming where my attention wanders.
"On that note, what desires drive your goals? Money? Power? Women? Or are you after something more interesting than the usual?"
"Pah. Dreams. What are they? One day you awaken, and all you have is a faded memory. The mundane appeals to me quite well enough. Wealth and power mean that I am feared; being feared means that I am safe. I have lived long already, and will live yet a while longer."
--M. J. Young
"Perhaps that may be the case for you; as for myself, the situation is much different. Immortality makes mundane nearly intolerable. Still, what you say about fear has gotten my attention; why do you think people fear you? Here I sit across the table from you, and all I see is an blind man with his seeing eye dogs.
"Please don't misunderstand. I don't mean any offense; it's just that I've seen many more threatening opponents during my short stay here, and I'm curious as to what it is I'm missing here."
"You see what you are intended to see. I am an ordinary businessman, doing my ordinary perfectly legitimate business. Anyone who says otherwise is making a mistake. On the other hand, for some reason, people fear me--as if it would be a mistake to try to hurt me, let's say, it would bring bad luck to you and your loved ones."
--M. J. Young