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That was it. He’d finally had enough.
How dare he be used in such a way. For productivity? For prosperity? He? Of all people? Used for someone’s personal bargain? Absolutely not.
He lived for himself, and only for himself. If he did not survive, then neither would his little brother and then who’d be at fault? He would be, obviously, because he was his guardian. Their father never gave a shit about them, not after their mother passed away at least. Once in his life, he could remember a comforting warmth emitting from his father, driving him home and into his arms to seek out a securing hug. That emotion was no longer there. Since their mother passed away, there’d been no remorse and his love had shrivelled up.
Stuart Lee was a dead man. Charles Lee was even deader.
He hadn’t had a steady life. No. Of course he hadn’t. No one in his family ever did. The first four years of his life, debatably, had been relatively steady but he could hardly remember those memories, so who was he to make a solid judgement? Now he was older and able to reflect on his past, he was more than aware of where he stood and what was needed. He knew he had to go.
Charles’ father, Stu, had not wanted Xander in the house. Charles found it disgusting, how he could turn on a child as young as Xander had been for a factor out of Xander’s control. It wasn’t Xander’s fault their mother had died shortly after he’d been born. Xander shouldn’t be hated because their mother couldn’t handle another pregnancy. Xander shouldn’t be hated at all yet, he was, so Charles knew exactly what he had to do.
The moment he turned 18 on the 28th of April 1998, Charles packed up all of his things (and Xander’s) in bags and suitcases. A friend of his, Natasha Rosewood, was allowing them to stay at her apartment while they sorted out their funds. While Charles sorted out his life, making sure that Xander was safely away from the monstrosity known as their father, Natasha would allow them to stay. Now, Natasha was rich. She’d never admit it openly, but Charles knew she was from the way she walked to the way she spoke to the perfume and the clothes she wore. He had grown up poor. What he would’ve given to be so oblivious to the uncommon nature of the world’s horrific atmosphere.
As it turned out, it was a lot harder to save up for funds when a constantly growing high schooler was in demand of everything in the world. He was trying to get himself out of Natasha’s apartment but it was hard. He worked as a chef in a kitchen where the pay was piss poor. Every night, he’d return home from long shifts, trying to convince himself that things would end up fine. That things were fine because at least he had a job. At least he had a source of income. At least he was getting paid. At least, with that money, Xander would be able to have the better part of a childhood. Good. Charles didn’t exactly need it, but Xander did.
The apartment wasn’t welcoming, though, as Charles soon learnt. Yes, Natasha had been his friend. His only friend as a matter of fact. She knew it, they both did, yet she treated him nicer than she treated any other of their peers. He never chose to delve into why that may be. He took it as that she was his friend, and they’d treat each other as such. When she’d offered to let him get away from his father, to give Xander a safe place to grow up in, he took it in a heartbeat. He wanted Xander away from that monster. He wanted his father gone. So, they moved into Natasha Rosewood’s apartment. He let Xander take the spare room while he slept on the couch.
Four years, he stayed on that couch. Four years of getting in late after awful hours at the fast food restaurant he worked in. Four years of migraines and back aches that dared to never cease. Four years of what Charles could only approximate what Hell would feel like, yet he knew it was for the best. It was either sleep on that damn couch or cower back to his father, where he was certain he’d be berated for his weakness. No. Charles Marcus Lee was not a weak man. He never had been, nor would he ever be. He’d stick it out. He’d get his own apartment when Xander was off at college, and he’d find comfort there.
He and Xander both knew he was getting into college. God, the kid was smart. Smarter than anyone Charles had ever met before. He had a brain, vastly compromising the essence of the universe quicker than anyone. He’d theorise, he’d question and he’d research until Charles practically had to pin him down to sleep. He wanted to learn about the world and he never wanted to stop, which was admirable. For someone like Xander who wasn’t entirely human though…Charles did wonder whether his mind was doing more harm than good.
Charles had been aware of his and Xander’s supposed “gift” when he’d been approached by a man who went by the name of Terrence Bentley. He was a burly man, 5’9, with strawberry blonde curls and piercing grey eyes. He’d been scouted out because, at work, some of his dickhead colleagues had dropped something of his in a vat of hot oil. Most people dared not attempt retrieving it, but Charles was not “most people.” After looking around to see whether he was being watched or not, he simply plunged his hand in, grabbed the item, wiped it off to see if it was salvageable, then tossed it away anyway.
As it turned out, Terrence Bentley was, at the time, the current owner of the Rollerama and, after seeing Charles perform that trick of his, immediately wanted to scout him. He’d been told it’d be good money, but he had no idea how much money it’d bring him. He was in a few matches, using the power of his fists, mainly, but due to his invincibility, he was the one to come out on top more often than not. This was due to the fact that Charles Lee could not get hurt under any circumstance. Not physically, anyway. He was still a human with human emotions but physically, he couldn’t get hurt. He also couldn’t get sick, unless it be the common cold. That pissed him off to no end. He truly was the universe’s least favourite.
He thought Xander would’ve loved the Rollerama. When he’d been scouted, he sat in the locker room, thinking about how this was much more up Xander’s alley than it was his. Charles never had been athletic, or not as athletic as people made him out to be. He was not destined to be fighting other contenders in a literal fighting rink. Xander, however…
He’d love it. He was a player for the Nighthawks, and effortlessly at that. He was one of the fastest runners in the school yet denied an opportunity to do track because of the fact he preferred football. Even then the sport didn’t entirely suit him. His little brother was not cut out to be around tall, burly men who could kill him if he got the chance. Even then, Charles knew Xander wouldn’t let a single hair be plucked from his head. Charles may have the gift of invincibility, but Xander had something a lot more powerful. Xander was also blessed with The Gift, except his was genuinely intriguing.
Xander James Lee had been born with bright blue eyes despite being black. It wasn’t unheard of, though it was rare. Xander, however, had been born with his eyes glowing. A neon blue, so their father always said. Charles had been 4 when he’d heard that. His little brother had been born glowing? Impossible! Except, no, it wasn’t. As Xander had grown, he had been able to glow. He’d been able to extract energy from the air and turn it into powerful blue balls of light he was able to shoot to create fires, or to defend himself, or something along those lines. It’s how Charles knew he'd have loved the Rollerama more than him.
(And Charles could only imagine the money he’d rake in as well.)
He’d only done a few matches, having more money than ever before, meaning he’d be getting bigger opportunities. While he awaited his offer to be accepted on an apartment, he’d be staying with Terrence, where they’d become partners so, when Terrence inevitably retired, he’d be able to finish what he’d started.
The day before he was due to tell Natasha he was moving out because he’d landed himself a better apartment, Charles learnt of the fact that Natasha had unfortunately gotten herself knocked up. Charles’ first thought was, ‘I’m surprised it took this long.’ His second thought was to comfort her. Awkwardly, he’d sat there while she’d cried in his arms, trying to reassure her. He knew of Natasha’s nocturnal activities. She partied, she slept around, whatever. It didn’t matter to him. He was shocked it had taken her that long to land herself in that situation, though. He’d expected it to be a lot sooner.
While comforting her, she’d asked, “You’ll never leave me, right?”
Charles just sighed, saying he wouldn’t. At least, not physically, to paraphrase. Then, one thing had led to another and…she’d kissed him. He’d pulled back, and before he could stop himself, he’d struck her. Hard.
He ended up in Terrence Bentley’s spare room that same night, knowing Xander had just left for college a week ago. He was out doing life in New York and Charles was…stuck.
Over and over again, he’d try and tell himself that things were going to get better but things just didn’t seem to be working out…not until Terrence came back to him with an offer.
“I’ve got friends, up in Silicon Valley, Charles. If you need to get out, I can make sure you’re safe with them. How does that sound?”
Two nights later, Charles Lee crossed The Nantucket Bridge for the last time.
Two years later, Charles Coven would cross back into town.
Sharp faced and decked in the finest fabrics money would buy him, he was climbing the business ladder harder than ever before. He was richer than he’d ever been, and that was all because of Terrence. Had Terrence not been with him
, he’d still be living with Natasha. He didn’t want her, and he certainly didn’t want her to know he was back in town. Luckily for them, he had enough money to simply…pay them to forget he’d ever been seen.
Did he regret suddenly leaving Hatchetfield? Absolutely not. Did he regret having to fake his own death for his own national safety? Only because he knew that it’d hurt Xander. Yet, he remained feeling no remorse towards what he’d done. That was also, probably, for the best.
That meant that PEIP wouldn’t be able to find him and that meant that he’d done the right thing.
As the CEO of Coven Communications Research and Power, Charles threw himself into business. He threw himself into money. He threw himself into connections. He threw himself into his daughter…his daughter, and how to keep him safe.
Because, yes, she may be 16 now, but he’d never forget going for a stroll through Oakley Park to hear that arguing couple, debating on whether having a daughter or not was worth the hassle. She’d been a day old when he’d taken her into his care. She hadn’t even had a name. What she did have was all of her belongings (which her parents happily gave up to Charles after he’d wasted another ten million dollars on them) and someone with experience in taking care of a neglected kid.
He'd named her Sophia. Sophia Alessia Coven. He’d ensure she was protected for life on the basis that he, the CEO of CCRP, would remain the all powerful. He got to watch her grow up while he protected her with his life. With his life, his money, and his Bottle Imp friend, Money. Sophia would get everything her heart desired as long as it meant it wouldn’t endanger her. He’d already lost everything once, he couldn’t afford to lose it again.
That was why he ended up rebuying the Rollerama. That was how he refurbished the top level to be an expensive apartment for her and Sophia to live in full time. That was how he singlehandedly managed to run a corporate division across America while managing the finances for the YJTs. He put his shining star of a daughter as the face of the underground rink and allowed normality to consume him.
Charles Coven spent his days overseeing experiments on average humans with average day jobs, responding to emails and paying forward cheques. That was the life he’d lived comfortably for twenty years…though he should’ve known better about being so open in Hatchetfield. His past would always come back to bite him…he just hadn’t expected it’d be so soon, nor had he expected it to be like that.
Alexander James Lee was sitting on his couch, half awake, when the front door unlocked. In stumbled his relatively clumsy adopted son, Maxwell, and husband, John. He almost didn’t have it in him to open his eyes. It had been a rough day, one where his entire body ached. He figured, when the headache had formed that morning, that he’d be fine. He’d take his meds and hope the pain was subside. However, after nearly collapsing on the stairs (and with too little energy to get himself back downstairs,) Xander flopped on the couch and didn’t even try moving for the rest of the day.
He got days like this, where, after limiting himself to not use his powers for a certain amount of time, it’d come back and bite him in the ass by forcing him to experience nothing but pain. So, he sat there, eyes closed because the light was physically hurting him, only able to faintly listen to what the rest of his family were saying.
From what he’d heard, John had to go and pick Max up from the Perky’s Buds estate again because, as Max had put it, ‘he’d been talking to the nighthawks again and Emma didn’t like that.’ So, Xander now realised that not only did he have his own battles to fight, but there was a hormone-fuelled quarterback running rampant yet again. Brilliant. That was exactly what he needed.
Max was quick to run up to his room to do whatever, but the other occupant of the home did not follow. In fact, a heavy sigh and a brief grumble could be heard from just beyond the doorway where he’d currently be standing in the entryway. Xander could only assume it had been a tough day for everyone by that and that alone.
He heard the thud of his husband’s military boots dropping to the floor in the entryway and a few more soft movements before the padding of his feet as he walked in the room.
“Evening,” Xander muttered upon instinct.
Xander didn’t need to open his eyes to feel the cold blues of his husband’s eyes staring into his soul.
“Don’t look at me like that, John.”
The general, without skipping a beat, closed the gap between them. Three steps, and he was sitting down on the couch. The back of John’s hand was placed against his forehead, and again to his cheek. Xander winced, but leaned into the touch.
“I’m not sick,” he was quick to clarify.
“Are you lying to me, Lieutenant?”
“Don’t Lieutenant me right now, General…just…shouldn’t have gotten outta bed today.”
“…what’s going on?”
“…it’s a…The Gift thing. I just need to unleash all of this within safe proximity but…it’ll hurt and it’s why I’ve been putting it off and—”
“You told me you’ve been fine.”
“I have been fine! I promise!” He wrenched his eyes open to look at John, unable to stop the way his heart pounded from seeing him so concerned. “I usually have more time until this happens, I don’t know why it’s happening now! You know this, John! You know I don’t do this to myself anymore—”
“—and I also know you getting overwhelmed worsens it.” He shifted, moving his arms around him. “What do you say? Want me to get you back in bed?”
“…please.”
“Then brace yourself. It’s going to be a bit of a rocky ride,” he said, doing his best to comfortably lift Xander up. Then, he carried him up the stairs, lying him down on their bed, tucking him in. Immediately, Xander curled up, the pain becoming too much. “Let me go and grab you some medication, and a hot water bottle, and let me go and inform Max of your current state and I’ll be all yours for the night—”
“How’s Max?”
“Hmm?”
“…how’s he been today?”
John just sighed. “...he’ll tell you himself, most likely but…I’ll be back.”
With that, a gentle kiss was pressed against his forehead, and Xander was left to rest. Momentarily, at least. Xander Lee was left to rest.
For, John McNamara approached their teenage son’s bedroom down the hallway. He knocked firmly, hand already on the door handle. “Max? I’m coming in.”
He opened the door to see him sprawled out on his bed in his pyjamas, phone in hand, arm over his eyes. “Literally what could I have done in the time we got back from school to now? What have I fucking done?!”
“You’ve done nothing. We just need to talk,” he said, closing his room. Keeping his distance, he remained by the door. “It’s serious.”
“…wait.” Max sat himself up then, shrugging his varsity jacket back on his shoulders. “Is someone dead?”
John shook his head. “You seem to believe whenever I ask to speak that someone has passed away recently. Whyever is that?”
“I dunno! It just seems like the kinda thing that’d happen!” He leaned against the wall, looking at him. “…is everything okay? No one’s dead?”
“No one’s dead.” He confirmed. “But Xander’s not holding up too good so you gotta be easy on him, okay?”
“…not holding up good how?”
“He’s sick, Max.”
“…wait, shit, what?”
“He’s sick,” John repeated.
“But he’s been fine!”
“Yes, I know. It’s something that comes on suddenly, but he knows how to deal with it. He’s going to be alright.”
“…can I see him or…?”
“You can see him. He isn’t contagious.”
“Okay…yeah, I’ll—” Max stood. “And he’s not gonna die?”
“He’s not going to die.”
“Great.” He shot John a thumbs up before making his way down the hall, John quick to follow.
He pushed open the door, cocking his head, allowing Max to follow him in. “You have a visitor, Zee,” John told him.
Xander, obediently, opened his eyes to see their adopted son at the doorframe. “You can come in, Max. I’m not dying.”
“I know that! I just-I don’t know!”
“Had a good day at school?” He figured he’d ask. Start with something simple and unfold the complexities as it went.
Max nodded, lying down at the foot of his parents’ bed. “It’s been fine. It’s nothing extreme. Uh…I did get an A on my physics paper, so, that’s one good thing that’s happened today.”
“I told you. It’s genetic.”
“Xander, you’re a theoretical physicist.” John reminded, sitting back down next to his husband. “It’s vastly different to the common structure.”
“Yet, it’s got physics in the name, so it must be genetic.” Still, he forced all of his energy to his face to shoot Max a smile. “Proud of you, kiddo. I know you worked hard on that.”
Not even a compliment like that could stop a star quarterback from flushing pink. “…but like, today’s just been weird in general.”
“How so, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Max deeply sighed, running a hand through his hair. “A lot of kids were getting pulled outta class. Like…a lot of them, and none of us could figure out why. Not even any kids who are typically in trouble either, which I’d know because I’m me and they’re them…me and the guys, we were sitting in the cafeteria at lunch and I see all these cop cars pull up to school so I’m like, well, something’s gone down. Some drug dealer’s gonna get busted or something, and because we were all facing the window we could see everything. I see Shapiro walkin’ down the walkway, we make eye contact and I’m convinced I’m getting called in. But you know who got called in to go talk with the cops?” He looked to Xander, who’s eyes had shut once more. “Hannah Foster.”
“Hannah?” Xander asked, alarm bells ringing. “What could she have done?”
Again, the quarterback shrugged. “See, I thought it was somethin’ to do with Lex because that’s usually what goes down, so I messaged Ethan and he said everything was okay and he had no idea why Hannah’d been called in. And soon enough, it was all of Hannah’s friend group getting called in. That fucking tiny ass kid, Dan, I think his name was? And then this other kid, Benji, went in? I don’t know. The girls came back around then so I was more focused on Grace, and Kyle was focusing on Brenda, and so was Tucker because Kyle and Tucker both want Brenda? I don’t know…but we stopped paying attention after that. Then the bell rang, we went to class and when I was walking Grace, we looked in to a spare room and we saw this one girl, Sophia. Year below me…she looked distraught and I’m not too sure why…but it was such a specific group of people talking to the cops that I’m really not too sure what to think. And, the weird thing is, we didn’t get called in to talk to the cops! And it’s usually always us in trouble!”
“…are they bad kids?”
“No! Well, Callahan thinks so and targets Hannah so I beat him up for that but…they’re not bad kids at all…and it’s really confusing, and I can’t wrap my head around it. Because, like, nothing gets past me. I’m Max fucking Jagerman-“
“MaxNamara,” John corrected.
“—yeah, well, you get the sentiment. Like, I find out everything and I don’t know what’s going on and it’s fucking annoying!”
“…maybe it’s a precautionary? Or something going on within their friend group?” Xander offered.
“Yeah, well, I’d say that, but then Spankoffski got dragged into it as well and I know full fucking well he is not friends with Hannah Foster. So I’ve got Grace on it, she’s trying to find out the answers for me.”
Xander managed to smile a little more. “And how is your girlfriend?”
He huffed, immediately bracing himself for the cringeworthy talk from his dads. “Grace is fine. She’s been okay. We’re studying tomorrow night—”
“Studying,” Xander said, physically doing air quotations, which earnt a brief chuckle from John.
“We are studying! I wanna at least have a chance at getting good grades during finals!”
“And we are incredibly proud of you. But if you and Miss Chasity do end up having sex—”
“Xander,” Max warned. “We won’t. She ain’t ready for that!”
“But if…we’ve got condoms.”
“I know you do. You don’t keep them hidden. But like, that’s clearly not the issue here. Dad says you’re sick.”
Xander’s face fell. “I’m not sick, per se. Just chronically ill and in chronic pain, but I’ll be okay.”
John looked down to his husband again. “You should remove some of that pain, Xander. It’s safe, and I hardly think Max is gonna go out and spread any rumours, is he?” He looked back to his son, who simply stared back at him, confused.
“He won’t believe what he’s seeing…and it’s dangerous. It’s semi connected to work—”
“Then I will ensure that this does not leave this house. Isn’t that right, Max?”
Max, again, shrugged. “Is it serious?”
“Not serious, but very cool.”
“John, you think it’s cool because you’re not the one who has to suffer through it.” Xander clicked his knuckles. “Now, watch.”
The room fell quiet, and a chill breezed through the room. Accompanying that was a slight shaking as energy flooded from the air to Xander Lee. Then, almost all at once, the room exploded in a bright blue cloud. Once the initial burst of light subsided, Xander was able to reopen his eyes to see the familiar sight of neon blue crystals hanging aimlessly in the air. They twinkled, faint high pitched noises emitting from each and every one of them.
“…holy shit,” Max whispered in disbelief, staring around the room. “Are these…real?”
Xander shook his head. “Not real. They’re just light.”
“…what the fuck is going on?”
The physicist looked up at his husband. “…is it safe to explain what’s going on or…?”
“About the light? I wouldn’t see what could possibly harmful about that.”
“I didn’t want to cross the border between work and home. That’s all.”
“Well. As your boss, you’ve got my permission…I’m going to grab your meds and a water bottle as promised. Max, behave yourself.”
“I am behaving!”
John smiled but left, leaving the other two alone.
“…so.” Max said, sitting up. “…this is badass but…”
“I know you’re confused,” Xander started. “But there is an explanation. Alright? What’s going on is I, alongside some other people within Hatchetfield, have been blessed with something known as The Gift. It varies in power, it varies in how it appears within individuals but I am one person who possesses this Gift. I can draw light energy from the air to create these crystals when I’m feeling at my weakest, or if I don’t want to use up a lot of energy, but when I’m at my most powerful, I can create balls of energy which I can use to physically destroy things. Humans, buildings, whatever. That’s what I do…if I don’t use it often, it can physically pain me—”
“—is that why you’re sick now? Because you haven’t…?”
“Typically, that would be what’s going on, but when I’m sat in my lab at work, I usually am sitting within the crystals. I use it, just not on a high level.”
“Right. And you’re not the only person to possess this like…superpower?”
He shook his head. “I might be the only citizen who can actually withdraw light energy to use it to my own advantage, but no, I’m not the only one with The Gift…we don’t have a full list of those who possess it, but one person who I do know had The Gift was my older brother.”
“Wait.” Max stared at his father in shock. “You have an older brother?”
“Had an older brother…he fucked off two days after I left for college and I never found out what happened to him…I was told he was dead, when I came home but…” He shook his head. “He was too smart to just let himself die. That, and the fact that his Gift, that I know of, was that he physically couldn’t get hurt. You could fire a bullet at him and it’d bounce off him. The only way he’d be able to die was if he killed himself…and even then I’m not sure it’d work.”
“So you’re saying I’ve got a mysterious adopted uncle out there somewhere doing who knows what?”
“Maybe…I try not to think too much about it, though. It’s…they’re fairly bad memories for me.”
“Did John ever meet him?”
Xander shook his head. “And I’ve tried to look him up, but there’s no existence of a Charles Lee online. So, he has no idea about you, or the fact I’m married—”
“Did he know you were gay?”
“Of course he knew I was gay. He said to me, the day I came out to him, ‘I knew there was no way you signed up for football because you liked it.’”
“You did football?”
Xander nodded. “But I wasn’t QB like you. I was Left Guard.”
“…it’s gotta be genetic then, huh?”
“Maybe.” He looked at Max, noticing the childish wonder within his eyes. “You can touch the crystals if you want. They’re just illusions.”
So, Max did so, a giggle filling the room. “Why does it tickle?!”
He shrugged. “I might be a scientist but I’ve never been able to figure out half of what happens with the Gift so…” The door creaked open again, so Xander looked to his husband. “…why do you look like you’ve just seen a ghost?”
John said nothing, his face back in military mode as he walked over. He passed over the hot water bottle to his husband, setting the meds beside him. “I’ve gotta go. A work thing’s cropped up.”
“When are you gonna be back?” Xander asked immediately.
“…depends on whether the bastard complies or not.” He kissed the top of Xander’s head, looking to Max. “Take care of your dad while I’m gone, alright?”
“Yessir.” Max saluted jokingly as John all but sped out of the room.
Xander stopped, listening. He knew of the fact that he should stay and rest. He knew of the fact he couldn’t exert himself based on the energy levels he had…but he also knew that when work was involved and John ran like that, the senior team usually followed. He, as the best field agent John had ever worked with (not by bias but by statistics,) knew he should also be there. So, he looked at Max, pulling back the covers. “…if Grace is free, invite her round. I’m gonna follow him.”
“Is that a good idea if you’re sick?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m sure as hell about to find out.” He gave Max a brief smile. “I love you, kiddo. Keep yourself safe tonight. I’ll transfer you money for dinner if you wanna get takeout but if not, we’ve got leftover curry in the freezer. Don’t poison yourself.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.” He ruffled Max’s hair. “And take a shower. Your hair’s a mess.”
Charles Coven returned home from an uneventful day at CCRP Technical in his usual exotic flair. He entered through the back door of the Rollerama, walked into the locker room and up the stairs which took him to his apartment. It was fairly standard. A wide, open apartment atop of a large building decked in black, grey and white. Black, grey and white until it came down to his daughter’s room, which was a lot more elaborately coloured. She was a kid, and he’d give up his entire being than let her have a boring upbringing. That was her room. She could do whatever the hell she wanted with it.
Usually around that time, 5 PM, Charles would return home, have an hour long lay down on the couch before making a start on dinner for him and Sophia. She’d be in her bedroom listening to music or completing homework, and he’d get an hour’s peace. Today, he was more than shocked to hear Sophia’s bedroom door open the moment he sat down.
He turned his head to the right to address her, watching as she descended down the hallway. “Is everything alright, Soph?”
Sophia made her way to the main room, shifting her weight on to her other foot. “…I’ve already packed.”
“…what do you mean? Sophie, we don’t have to leave.”
“No. We really, really do. We can just go back to Silicon Valley and probably stay there where it’s safer—”
“—What’s going on?”
“They know.” She said simply. “Dad, they…the HFPD came to see me at school and they pulled out all the Rollerama kids and—”
“What?”
“—it was Detective Shapiro and Officer Bailey. They…they pulled out Yellow Jacket, then Stopwatch, then Benji then me…they asked me if I knew anything about what you’d done. About the Yellow Jacket Tournaments. I denied it, of course but…they know.”
“…and you said it was Shapiro?”
She nodded, looking down. “I don’t know they could know—”
“…let dad handle this.” He said, standing back up. “I’ve got to go and talk to a few old friends of mine, but it’s all gonna be okay, I promise.”
“…do I even wanna know?”
“No. You don’t, because the more I say, the more I face putting you in danger…but I’ve gotta go and make a very quick call. And then, if shit goes haywire, we’ll run away. It’s not the first time I’ve done it, but in the end, it’ll be worth it because you’ll be safe.”
Before his daughter could shoot him another query, he was out of the apartment. He whipped his phone out of the pocket of his grey blazer as he rushed down the steep stairs. In to his phone, he punched in a number, one he only rang when he was in dire need of a favour. However, as he was about to hit ring, he opened the back door, being confronted by the sight of Detective Leslie Shapiro and a man Charles hadn’t seen since the early 2000s. Already knowing the protocol, he slipped his phone back into his pocket, placing his hands up.
“I figured this day would come. I didn’t expect it to be this soon, though.”
“It’s been fifteen years, Charles.” Shapiro said, looking him up and down. “Hands out. You’re under arrest.”
“For what crime?” He asked, placing his hands out in front of him. “Because I hardly think becoming an enemy of the military is a reasonable excuse. Nor is it to fake your own death. I’d know. I researched it, though it’s not technically a lie either.”
Shapiro placed Charles in cuffs, leaning in to say, “we’ll discuss this at the precinct.”
He nodded, unafraid before he pursed his lips. “And what about Sophia? Is she supposed to stay here cluelessly or am I allowed to bring her with me?”
“…Sophia…?”
“Sophia Coven. I believe you two became familiar with each other when you interrogated her. And no. She doesn’t know shit about what I’ve done. Nor will she ever. But, because I’ve got nothing to hide, I’d like her to come with me.”
The member of the military spoke firmly. “A military precinct is no place for a child.”
“Yet you hire people as young as 16. Besides, I’ve got nothing to hide so-actually, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to go and get my daughter.”
From behind him, another voice spoke. “There’s no need, dad, I’m right here.”
Charles stepped out of the Rollerama, cocking his head in Sophia’s direction. “Detective Shapiro, this is my daughter. Sophia, this is—”
“—Shapiro. I know.”
“And I would say we’re all acquainted with each other but I don’t know your name.”
The other man looked into his eyes, saying, “My name is General McNamara.”
“…so it is.” He turned his head, looking at his daughter. “Soph. Get in the car and comply. I’m gonna make sure it’s fine.”
“…promise?”
“I always do.”
Before long, Charles Coven found himself seated opposite John McNamara’s desk, one he knew of fondly. This had once been Wilbur’s desk, and before that, it had been Isaaks’. Now, it belonged to the puny little mentor Wilbur had taken under his wing because he’d felt too much pity towards the child. A rich child kicked to the streets just to be picked up by another wealthy man…it never had sat right with Charles back then, and it certainly didn’t in that moment either.
He didn’t know John well enough to comment on whether he was a good soldier or not but if his instincts were true, he had a feeling John’s promotion came solely from the fact that he’d been Cross’ mentee.
Back when Charles worked at PEIP in the startup days of the Rollerama, the senior team consisted of three people. There’d been the General himself, the first of the branch, Gareth Isaaks who had been fired from the main military because, apparently, he’d been “too good of a soldier.”
(That had since been debunked. He’d been fired due to racist claims, and Charles didn’t need the proof to understand why.)
1979, Gareth Isaaks chose to start up a branch of the military (which technically wasn’t even an official branch) to spite his past boss. Underneath him, he had hired Colonel Wilbur Cross who’d been a damn good soldier, Colonel Halloway and Colonel Alex Hill. Why they’d all been Colonels, he’d never been able to figure out. They were the senior team, though. Cross, Halloway and Hill. Hill had been more secretary than soldier, but they were good at their job so there’d been no reason to demote them.
Charles had worked as a lab assistant to Terrence Bentley, but he’d been given a leg up in the force. So, yes, he was acquainted with PEIP and he was acquainted with what they did. That included the dark and deadly areas of the environment. That included the torture that they allowed on the agents who worked there.
It’s why he’d left for Silicon Valley. Born in Hatchetfield without an itch to leave until he’d began his term at PEIP. So, he took their secrets, left for the wealth and riches that America could provide, and never looked back.
With their secrets and research, he was able to form the Bottle Imps.
All he could hope was that Money didn’t get taken away from him. He really did appreciate Money’s company, both figuratively and literally.
Money had originally been a prototype who Charles had, unfortunately, become accustomed to. He’d grown attached, which was the number one thing he swore not to do. But, with Money, he’d flourished. He’d never have to worry about being poor again. What he did have to worry about was ensuring that CCRP’s secrets didn’t leak. The clones. The androids. What Executive Kilgore was doing in 2104. He could not let that information leak. Not only because of the fact they were locked tightly under the government.
Because he stole the information to launch the project in action from PEIP.
That was why he’d run. Because if PEIP caught on to the fact that he’d stolen their information (which Charles now knew they had,) then he’d likely be dead. But who cared? Money could pay his way out of anything.
So, he sat there, wrists uncuffed, with Sophia down the hall with Shapiro, who had somehow convinced Colonel Schaffer to give the girl a confidential tour. He couldn’t help smirking at John, though. “Did you earn your position? Or was it handed down to you from daddy dearest, McNamara?”
“I earnt my position as well as anyone else did. While Wilbur was still here, he recognised my fleeting powers and decided that, when he went into The Black, that I’d be the next best thing if something went wrong.”
“Which clearly it did. Aww, what a shame for little Mac.”
“Cut the crap, Charles.” John clasped his hands, looking to him. “I know who you are. We both do. Why deny it?”
“Because I have a business to run. Just like you do. I have my secrets much like you have yours except the difference is me and you put our ideas into play in different ways. Very different ways, mind you. You choose to hide. I choose to profit and I shall have you know I am doing incredibly well for myself.”
“Only because you stole PEIP’s secrets.”
“Do you have evidence to back it up? Do you?”
“I know that Charles Lee was last sighted in the filing room, running out with three key files containing information that should never be leaked—”
“For someone who should be so smart, I cannot believe you are so incredibly dumb…how could I have ever leaked that information when Lee is not my surname?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Charles. That’s as much of a lie as knowing that you’re dead…the pain, the torture and the suffering you instilled upon your brother—”
“Oh, you know him? How is he? Is he just as smart as he was back twenty odd years ago? I’d assume so. It’s Xander. He’s never been one to be dumb.”
“—I don’t owe you that information.”
“Then why drop his name?”
“I never explicitly said it. You were the one to say he was your brother which has to make your name Charles Lee—”
“—wrong again!” He laughed, rubbing his hands together. “You’re not getting my name out of me. You already know my identity, but you’ll never know the full extent of it. I don’t owe you that.”
“I am the General of the United States Military. I am government personnel—”
“—as am I! You’re not special, John. Now hurry up and—”
A knock sounded on the door behind them. Charles rolled his eyes, while John stared at him coldly. His gaze then shifted and he asked, “Yes?”
From the other side of the door, a woman’s voice spoke. “General McNamara? I have The Lieutenant here to see you.”
Charles watched as John’s hard demeanour cracked. “…what?”
“Am I able to give him access to your office, sir?”
With an unseen swat of the hand, John simply said, “Sure. Send him in.”
The door opened, and the voice of Xander Lee asked, “where is he!?”
“Go home,” John said, already standing. “You’re sick.”
“I’m not fucking going home! Where is he!”
Xander’s voice was tight as he spoke, and by John’s sudden reaction to running out from behind the desk, he had it within reason to believe that Xander collapsed. Charles could not help laughing while John said, “I’m dealing with it, go home.”
“You think I’m leaving?! After this!? After Val R.B casually says ‘ya can’t go see the boss now, Zee. He’s interrogating the man behind the fucking Rollerama?!’ Fuck no!”
“But you’re sick!”
“And I can deal with it because I’m fine!” Xander, teeth bared in a harsh snarl, looked up from the ground, staring at Charles’ back. “You bastard.”
“That’s putting it kindly, don’t you think?”
“You’re dead.”
“We both know I’m not. Except I am. It’s incredibly complex.”
“We’ve got time to listen!”
So, without hesitating, Charles spun around in the chair to face his younger brother, greeting him with his money-hungry smile. “How ya doin’, Xander, my name’s Charles Coven, but I want you to call me Charlie, is that alright with you?”
Xander blinked, a mixture of shock and horror forming within his brown eyes. “…Coven…like—”
“Coven Communication Research and Power.” He slow clapped. “You always were so smart. I’m in shock it took you that long to figure it out.”
“…you…you run CCRP?!”
“Why sound so surprised? If it was either of us going to succeed in life then of course it was going to be me.” He was met with being hit by a bright blue ball of light. “…hope that made you feel better because I felt nothing. Now, boys, this meeting has been wonderful but if you hadn’t realised, I’ve got a business to run and a side gig to attend to later on this evening so would I have permission to collect my daughter and leave?”
Xander, again, stared ahead. “You have a daughter?”
“She’s adopted.”
“That doesn’t change anything!”
“She’s seventeen in July and probably terrified out of her mind’s end as to why the literal fucking military showed up at our home, demanding I go with them over supposed leaked government secrets. Now, tell me, where’s the evidence?! Because Charles Lee did that, but not Charles Coven!”
John piped up again, then. “Your legal files will prove it—”
“—no, because you’re wrong. Charles Lee died. I didn’t, though…and if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to go and get Sophie. She’s on for the fight tonight and she’s been looking forward to it.”
Again, Xander asked, “You have a daughter?!”
“Yes, I have a daughter. Her parents didn’t want her so I took her in. Named her, fed her, loved her…sound familiar, Alexander?”
“Then why did you run?! If you cared about me so much, then why run?!”
Charles held up a finger to his brother. “Ah! See, there’s where you’re wrong, kiddo! When did I ever tell you that I cared about you?”
“I—”
“—can’t remember? Precisely.” He stood up, rubbing his hands together. “So I’d like to leave to go and get Soph and get the fuck out of here. I left once because you exploit your workers, and I’m leaving again. This time, I know you can’t be stopped. Which reminds me…how much do you want?”
“We don’t accept bribes,” said John, helping Xander back to his feet.
“You’re right. I should have shouted an offer then, shouldn’t I? Or is ten million a little too low for your cut?” He watched the expressions of John and Xander shift. “That piqued your interests.”
Xander shook his head. “We don’t need your money. We’re well off—”
“Yes, with John’s money from his rich, French parents and your money from doing…what is it?”
“…I’m a theoretical physicist here—”
“—ah. Checks out. It’s what you went to New York to do so…I guess I can’t offer a ten to a physicist…what would fifty do? Fifty mil? Are we good here?”
John shook his head, but Xander asked, “What’s it for?”
“To shut you up. Hush money. You never saw me, and we can leave it at that!”
“But what if I don’t want to leave it at that?”
“It’s the logical answer—”
“I have spent every single year since I was 18 years old trying to find you! You don’t have an online presence, so I can’t fucking find you and I’ve been worried sick! I got married and you weren’t there for me to invite you so you could see. Me and John adopted a kid together and you don’t know about him! And he’s been asking about you! He wants to get to know you! He wants to know about The Gift and, fuck, I want you back in my life! I always have! And I’ve never understood why you fucked off!” Tears glistened in his eyes, then. “And now I’m sick because you came back within proximity of my life and I haven’t been expecting it. Why now?”
“Ask the HFPD. I didn’t want my contenders to be interviewed. They decided to launch that in broad daylight. I didn’t get a say.”
“And now you’re just leaving after I did nothing to you! I did nothing yet you want me gone and I don’t understand why when I was there when you were at your lowest! You’d pretend I wasn’t but I was there! I’ve always been here, Charlie!” He shook his head. “But fine. Pay me and John the fifty mil. We’ll put it towards something nice, like Max’s future.”
“Or put it directly into a business I know you hate.” John scowled, holding Xander in close.
“Then that settles it! You’ll take my money, and I’ll get to leave!” He grinned, nose scrunching as he did so. “So, if you wouldn’t mind, I’m going to reach into my pocket to grab my check book…” He turned his back to the two men, turning to Money, who sat in the pocket of his blazer. “Fifty mil,” he repeated.
“WAH!” Money loudly exclaimed, which Charles covered up with a cough.
He turned back around, scribbling something down on the back of the check before handing it over to Xander. “Good doing business with you two. Hope to…see you around.”
He left then, not bothering to give a second glance.
It would’ve usually been at that time when Xander would break down crying. Another important figure walking out on him as if it were nothing, with the only hint of him remaining being fifty million from the CEO of CCRP Tech. The reason that Xander didn’t do that, however, was because, as he flipped over the check, he noticed a phone number. Charles’ phone number, and for a split second, despite the pain he was in, Xander felt a glint of hope redeem itself within his chest.
Hopefully, now Charles was coming back to his senses, things would hopefully work out and eventually turn out okay. Hopefully.