On the roof of the Stableford office building, Bluejay sat on the rim around an antenna, staring up at the star-speckled night sky, unobscured by a single cloud. Of course, this was Hudson City, so there was a certain amount of haze, not like what one could see out in the country, and the very upper-story burglar decided that once the Stanson sisters/Deborah Manning situation was taken care of she was going to take a break from the city, pack up and make a cross country flight to the Colorado Rockies and camp out for a few weeks. She enjoyed the life of luxury her battlesuit made possible, but she’d learned that she needed the occasional break to keep it from becoming simply the way things were.
“Nice night, isn’t it?”
Bluejay started and twisted at the greeting, slipped from her perch, and dropped to sprawl on the ice-slick roof with a clank, her head bouncing on the concrete. “Ow!” she complained, sitting up and glaring at the giggling dark-clad, masked blonde woman standing a few feet away, visible in the dim light of a low-powered light bulb over the service door — and the chuckling black and blue-clad, masked raven-haired (and well-muscled) teenaged boy standing by her side, DarkAngel’s signature gold halo on the front of his utility belt. Rising to her feet, Bluejay shrugged, and nodded toward the teenager. “Okay, you got me. So’s who’s the newbie beefcake, why isn’t he freezing with that much chest showing?”
DarkAngel fought her giggles under control. “Bluejay, this is my new partner ... Cherub.”
“Cherub?” Bluejay asked, looking the over the well-muscled (if somewhat short) boy.
“Cherub,” DarkAngel repeated firmly.
Bluejay glanced slyly over at her sort of friend. “You hadn’t bothered to come up with a name before I asked, did you? Are you really sure you want to go the cutesy route?”
DarkAngel grimaced. “Yeah, that was the first name that sprang to mind when I realized I was going to have a partner, and what with everything else, somehow the need to come up with something better slipped my mind,” she admitted. “As for ‘cutesy’, it’s worked well enough for me, over the years. Cherub doesn’t have my naturally cute exterior, but that name will work just as well — for awhile, at least, until word spreads that ‘Cherub’ fits him about as well as ‘Mopesy’ does a pit bull.”
Bluejay chuckled, then, seeing the confused look on ‘Cherub’s’ face, started laughing. After a moment, seeing where Bluejay was looking, DarkAngel chuckled before telling the newly-christened Cherub, “I’ll explain later, though perhaps I’ll just tell you how to look it up right before taking a long drive.
“Anyway,” she continued, sobering as she turned back to the cat burglar, “Bluejay, while I’m grateful for the information you provided earlier, and so are the police, just why did you have it in the first place? The yakuza is about as far from your usual target as you could get!”
“Yes, they are,” Bluejay agreed. Turning from the DarkAngel, she looked out across the nighttime city, white-clad arms rising to hug herself beneath her slightly busty chest, the light blue wings hanging from her arms covering her lower torso and upper legs like a blanket. Quietly, she asked, “Tell me, have you ever wondered just why I target the rich fatcats?”
“Other than the fact that that’s where the easy money is without much risk, I figured you’d had the wrong professors in college,” DarkAngel admitted as she walked up beside the other woman, Cherub coming up on his mentor’s other side, the two also looking out across the city. “But there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?” the blonde vigilante continued.
“You have the college part right, but not the professors,” Bluejay replied emotionlessly. “And it wasn’t me, it was my best friend growing up, Jenny. She wasn’t exactly rich and didn’t get the scholarship offers I did, so she attended a community college, where she met David Olsen, the son of the richest man in town. It never occurred to her to wonder why the son of a man with that much money was attending such a backwater college, and when he asked her on a date she accepted. He drugged and raped her.
“She reported it to the police — I insisted — and that’s when the money and influence went to work. The police bungled the investigation — deliberately, I think — so it became a case of ‘he said, she said’. And the local newspaper got involved, painted her as a money-hungry lying slut trying to shake down the ‘saintly benefactor of the community’. People believed them instead of Jenny, ran her out of town. She hung herself.”
Bluejay’s voice was shaking at the end, and DarkAngel waited until she fought herself back under control. “I’m sorry,” the vigilante finally responded softly. “So you want in?”
“Yes,” Bluejay said firmly, then hesitated for a moment before adding, “I ... I still have the weaponry I removed from my suit when I retrieved it. I could —”
“No! No,” DarkAngel repeated. “This evening, when I passed your information on to one of my police contacts, he asked where I’d gotten it. When I told him it came from you, he said ‘a thief, but no killer’. Let’s keep it that way. Besides, do you know how to use it?”
“Well ... no, not really. But it can’t be all that hard, right?”
“Oh, hell, no, you aren’t reinstalling it! I’d like to live to see the end of this,” DarkAngel asserted firmly. And I’d really like to have you still alive, as well.
Bluejay grimaced, but then softly laughed. “I suppose that’s a good point,” she agreed, then sighed. “But if I don’t reinstall the guns, I’m not sure what I can do to help. I can hardly go creeping around inside buildings looking for Ms. Manning — not much flying room, and I’m not much of a brawler.”
“No, you aren’t, but you are a flier,” Darkangel said. “While I didn’t know your secret history, I did guess that you’d want to help — your raid on the Myamiji-kai headquarters was rather badly out of character — and I’ve been giving it some thought.” Turning from her new ally, the black-clad blonde began to pace, hands clasped behind her back, red-trimmed black cape swirling behind her as she strode back and forth, looking like nothing so much as a college student aping a professor.
“Now —” she started, turning back, only to break off at the grins on the faces of her partner and new ally. “What?!” she demanded.
“Nothing!” the two replied instantly as the grins vanished.
“Right,” she said sternly, then smiled briefly. “Anyway, Bluejay, I’ve been thinking about what you reported. The problem is that if it wasn’t the Myamiji-kai that did it there are too many other possibilities — so I’m going to leave most of it to the police and play a hunch. Isamu’s assassination has been bothering me. It lends credence to your report that the Myamiji-kai weren’t involved in Davenport’s murder and Manning’s kidnapping, at least, but if he was working for someone else, why didn’t he demand stronger police protection when he was captured? He’d have to know he’d become a target as soon as he was arrested, he would know too much. I think he got his marching orders from within the Myamiji-kai itself, that someone above him has sold out and had him killed to keep that quiet a little while longer.
“But if I’m right, that means Deborah is probably being held in one of the properties of the upper Myamiji-kai ranks, and that she’s probably going to be moved soon when the traitor scuttles for the protection of whoever bought his services. The police can’t set up any intrusive surveillance — such as inside garages where she could be loaded into a van or car with tinted windows — without a warrant, so how would you like to break into some more yakuza strongholds to set up cameras?”
Bluejay stared at DarkAngel, the memory of the previous night’s ‘adventure’ — her flashbang going off behind her as she flew away at a very noisy full speed, and the way her shoulderblades had crawled with the expected impact of a hail of bullets — flashing through her mind. And just what did you think you were going to be facing if you reinstalled your battlesuit’s weaponry? she thought. Finally, she nodded jerkily. “Yes, I’ll do it.”
DarkAngel gazed at her for a long moment, then nodded and glanced over at her partner to find the raven-haired masked boy gazing intently at the winged super-‘villain’. “Good. Cherub, get that package I left on the ledge.”
When Cherub failed to move right away, she poked him in the side. “That’s you.”
The teenager jerked, then turned away without a word. A few moments later he was back and handed a small drawstring-closed sack to Bluejay. The white-and-blue-clad burglar opened it, and pulled out a tiny, smooth, half-circle-shaped object apparently made of some sort of clear crystal. “What are these?” she asked.
“Camera lenses. Each one is linked to a different TV, just pull the adhesive off the back and stick it to a surface, and it will automatically begin transmitting. And the color will adjust to match whatever surface it’s stuck to.”
Bluejay’s eyes widened. “Who makes these?” she gasped.
“Nobody on Earth, they’re off-planet tech,” DarkAngel responded offhandedly, then pulled out an earplug with a thin wire extending from it, along with a sheaf of papers. “And here’s a bit more — we need to be able to communicate while you’re setting these up, make sure we’re getting a good view, after all. The maps are of your target houses, both official interiors based on those recorded with security agencies and the exteriors including nearby buildings, along with addresses. I couldn’t think of any way to get guard routines in the short time we have available, not even exterior guards, so be careful. Oh, and don’t be surprised when the voice you hear through the earplug is male, it won’t be me — Cherub and I have our own targets to visit.”
Bluejay nodded abruptly, hesitated, then removed her helmet to rub at cheeks pale from more than just the cold before slipping the earpiece into place. Putting the helmet back on, she adjusted the wire to make sure it was by her mouth. “So, a male voice?” she asked. “You know, I’d wondered how you could be so effective on your salary; but you’re part of a team, aren’t you?”
”Not exactly, Ms. Bluejay. We have a mutual friend and cooperate from time to time. I’m B.P., I’ll be your partner for tonight.”
Bluejay jerked, then said weakly, “Ah, hi, B.P., good to see ... that is, good to meet ... good to hear from you?”
B.P. chuckled in Bluejay’s ear, at the same time as DarkAngel softly laughed, then sobered. “The night isn’t getting any younger,” the blonde vigilante said. “B.P. will direct you to your first target.” Then, as Bluejay nodded jerkily and turned toward the edge of the roof, added, “And Lisa, good luck — and thanks.”
Bluejay nodded again, more naturally, smiled back at her friend, then dove over the edge of the roof and was gone.
“Okay, Ranma, what’s wrong? You weren’t exactly friendly,” DarkAngel asked as soon as the two were alone.
“St — DarkAngel, Are you sure this is a good idea, involving a civilian?” Cherub asked, stepping up beside his partner.
“She isn’t exactly a civilian,” Darkangel said, “she’s been a burglar for years, and keeps up her lifestyle rather well.”
“Easy targets,” Cherub replied dismissively. “She’s like some so-called martial artists I’ve met, that only go for the safe, sure wins.”
“True,” DarkAngel agreed, “but don’t hold it against her — she isn’t in it to challenge herself or build a rep, after all, and she’s stepping up to the plate when it really matters. But you’re right, she isn’t a fighter like you — or even like me,” she added, grimacing at the memory of the one time the two had sparred. “That was another reason I didn’t want her to reinstall her weaponry, right now her instinctual reaction when shooting starts is to run and that’s the way I want it to stay. But she is very sneaky and knows security systems at least as well as I do if not better, and we need the help — without her, you and I would spend so much time getting everywhere we need covered that Deborah might be moved before we get a chance to know about it.
“Now come on, we have our own homes to visit, and the night isn’t getting any younger.”
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(Posted Fri, 04 Feb 2011 05:40)
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