Stepping back to let the room regain its breath, Mason looked down at Mallory’s gentle grip on his left arm and patted it gently, flashing her a weak smile.
She let go and he spun to refocus on the boys.
“Mallory says Neuman doesn’t die today, so she doesn’t.” He stared at every male face in the room. “If any of you think you can go through me and get to her, you’re welcome to try.”
Reactions to his declaration were a bit mixed. Apart from Butcher, the rest betrayed how much they enjoyed the prospect of tangling with a supe. News flash… not very much.
The part that came as a slight shock had to do with how the three of them; MM, Hughie, and Frenchie, turned to Butcher with pleas to back down written on their faces.
None of them wanted to kill Neuman either, at least not as much as their leader, with MM wanting it the most after Butcher and Hughie going the other end of being directly opposed.
As for Frenchie… he looked ready for his next order.
Still, the most important and most interesting reaction was Butcher’s. He drew uncomfortably close to Mason at the declaration and stared at him square in the eyes.
“Butcher…” MM called out. He got ignored.
“Let’s have a barney then, cunt.”
There it was. That word again. Well, it wasn’t the word itself but the unprovoked and vulgar nature of the insults that had Mason wanting to bitchslap the bigoted old man.
Unseen by Mason, Mallory gave the boys a strong look and they stepped forward, grabbing Butcher and pulling him back.
“Alright.” MM held a hand out in Mason’s direction, waving it between him and Butcher. “Everyone calm down. No need for this to get ugly.”
Butcher yanked his arm free and pointed at Mallory. “Whatever you’ve got planned, it ain't gonna work. She’s gonna get out and whoever she pops next is gonna be your fucking fault.”
“Right.” Mallory nodded, chuckling like she’d heard some bullshit. “And this is all out of the goodness of your heart, not some misguided vendetta against supes.”
Same as before Butcher ignored the callout regarding his real motivations and simply strode for the door.
“Come on lads. We’re off.”
“Sorry ma’am.” MM looked apologetic as he grabbed his jacket.
“Butcher.” Mallory looked past him at the person in question, one of his feet already out the door. “If word of this gets out, you’re done. All of you.”
“We know,” said MM. Butcher simply walked off. “Take care ma’am. Butcher may be a motherfucker, but he’s right.”’
He got a nod for his efforts, but that seemed enough for him. He left with Hughie in tow, the latter’s stare conveying an apology, confusion and relief at the same time.
Frenchie was the last to leave. He stepped towards Mallory with that same subservient attitude. That and the old woman’s reaction to it helped Mason piece enough together to give them some space.
Whatever they discussed—if they even discussed anything—didn’t take long. Mason returned to Mallory’s side as soon as Frenchie disappeared and took in the freed up space.
“Well, what now?” He looked to the elderly woman, noticing how she composed herself before matching his stare. “I hate to say it, but Butcher’s right. We can’t just let her go.”
“No one’s letting her go.”
“Okay? Then what’s the plan?”
“Rayner has people on the way.”
That made him reel back and look at her in a new light. “You know this was gonna happen. You knew I wouldn’t be able to go through with it.”
She shook her head subtly. “I didn’t. Unlike Butcher, I was less certain about you. That’s why I slipped in a mention of her daughter.”
The “her” in question, Neuman, slept soundly in her seat while we observed from the feed projected on the wide monitors.
“What if it hadn’t worked? What if I snapped and killed her?”
“There was no plan for that.” She shrugged. “This may come as a shock to you, but I’m tired. I’ve fought Vought for a long time and it cost me everything. This,” She motioned to the room around us. “I don’t really care about this.”
Saying Mason’s confusion was through the roof would be an understatement. His expression turned strained as he regarded the woman properly. “Then what was the point of all this? Why introduce me to the boys? Why help me?”
“You just answered your own question.”
That got him thinking about what he just said.
“Wait. Are you saying everything we’ve been doing so far is simply because you wanted to help… me?”
“I certainly didn’t do it because it’s fun.”
“Why?”
Mallory inhaled and kept looking forward. “First of all, it was a favor to Rayner. Apart from Vought, no one has more experience dealing with supes more than me. The other thing is… you… represent… something rare, something good. I couldn’t let Vought ruin that like they ruin everything else.”
Now it was Mason’s turn to breathe in and out, even though he didn’t need to.
“What is this ‘something’ if I may ask? Cause I think I’m pretty normal guy.’”
“That’s precisely the reason. You can manage your demons. Every person has a side of them they’d rather not display openly or ever. It just so happens supes happen to be human too and have these… detestable qualities. The problem is, most of them have no clue how to keep it in check or—
“Don’t bother doing so at all.”
“Right. Take you for example. With that weird outlook of yours, it won’t be hard for you to go rogue. All you need to do to justify it is remind yourself of what you already believe.”
“That I’m evil so I have an excuse to do heinous stuff.” Mason chuckled. “I don’t think it’d be that easy.”
“Hm.” Mallory didn’t look or sound convinced.
“Because as certain as I am about that, the challenge isn’t working past my negative impulses day by day. No, it’s actually sort of the opposite. Everyday I have to remind myself that I’m not as good as I think I am. And man, that shit is so hard you wouldn’t believe.
It’s like I’m hardwired to see myself as the good guy no matter the situation or time of day.” He waved at Neuman’s still image. “Take the interrogation for example. When I was in there, it never even occurred to me to think how far reaching the consequences of killing her would be. I simply… didn’t care.
In my mind, I was the wronged party and I deserved to have my revenge for what she did. And it’s not like that’s a lie or wrong or anything but… it just bothers me how easy it was to slip into that. It felt like because I was the good guy in this situation, everything I did or said to her would be justified. I could do no wrong.”
There were no more words shared after this, each processing what had just been passed between them.
“Thank you.” Mason broke the silence after a while. “I don’t know things would’ve gone if you and Rayner hadn’t shown up and helped me, but I doubt they’d be better than this.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a survivor. You would have made it on your own.”
He laughed. “Coming from the former deputy director of the C.I.A.? The president himself might as well have given me an award.”
“Alright.” Mallory laughed. “Don’t get too excited.”
“You know, I still don’t know what to call you.”
She gave him a ‘what do you mean?’ look.
“I’ve been calling you madam and ma’am. In my head it’s Mallory, but you call me Mason. That doesn’t seem fair.”
“Fair?” She looked him up and down, not in a disrespectful way but amusedly, suggesting that she wanted to know where he got the nerve. His wry smile told her he wasn’t being serious, not totally.
“Fine.” Still, she gave in after giving it some thought. “You can call me Grace. Only when we’re on unofficial business.”
“Grace.” He said it like he was tasting wine. “I like that. Alright Grace, what are we going to do with her?”
She replied with an unimpressed stare.
“What? This isn’t official business.”
Her phone vibrated and cut things short. She took it out, checked whatever prompted her to take it out and motioned toward the door with her head. “They’re here. Rayner’s guys. Go go show them in.”
“Okay… Grace.”
.
.
.
.
Despite his best efforts, Mason failed to secure a car last night. So when he went to pick up Lexi, he did so with his bare self and a lengthy explanation. That turned out to be an exercise in futility.
When Lexi met him with a hug and kiss, she asked him ‘how are we gonna do this?’ prompting him to throw the question back, ‘how are we gonna do what?’
‘Fly,’ she answered. ‘How else are we gonna go home?’
He replied with ‘nothing’ and swept her up in a princess carry, taking to the skies while she gripped him with equal parts fear and excitement.
His constant projection of warmth kept away the cold and turned the flight into a memorable experience that ended twice; once on top of the tallest building nearby where they made out and the the last time where they returned home and did more risque stuff.
Now that it was morning and time for what he and Mallory did last night to pay dividends, he did nothing to hold back the smile as he waltzed into Vought tower with the confidence of a man who knew he was untouchable.
For this impromptu visit, he chose one of the many articles he’d sewn for himself.
Say what you will about Butcher, but a long black coat and boots that fit properly improved your fashion profile no matter who wore them. To not turn the thing into an all black ensemble, he wore a plain white shirt under his clean black jacket.
It was this shirt that one of the heavily armed guards in the lobby reached forward to touch so he could stop him from crossing the metal detector.
Mason gave the guy a look that stopped the gloved hand an inch away from him. “Don’t embarrass yourself. Vought doesn’t pay you that much.”
He brushed past the guy, metal detector going off as he continued his leisurely stroll through the building, ignoring the stares and the cameras and instead focusing on the building’s design, layout, and the attractions.
What should have taken him less than a minute turned into almost five as he stopped and stared at the statues, plaques, and other displays that had been set up.
When it came to this company, vanity was the name of the game. This was the sole conclusion he drew from everything he took in.
No longer surprised by the abysmal presence of authentic heroism, he finally completed his tour and made it to the elevator. When the doors slid open, the people within walked out stun locked.
Under their disbelieving gazes he entered their place and chose the ninety-ninth floor. The woman searching her purse for her phone looked up just in time to see the doors close in her face.
Hands in his pockets and relaxed with his back on the wall, Mason waited for something, anything to happen. The higher ups had to know of his arrival now. Would they let him walk up and do whatever he wanted?
That was a hard no, as observed by what greeted him when the elevator stopped and the doors parted. He instantly recognized the two women out of breath and waiting.
The redhead holding the clipboard was Ashley Barrett, assistant to the blonde on her right, Madelyn Stillwell.
Mason kept his gaze on the latter purposefully as walked out of the elevator. As the Senior Vice President of Hero Management, her job was keeping Vought’s supes in line and helping them with whatever they needed to remain functional as the money making tools they were.
This usually meant covering up all sorts of things, such as crimes and degenerate acts and behavior.
She was in essence, a babysitter, one so good at her job she’d become the parent who comforted their child. Not the good kind, but the sort that did everything in their power to make sure the law of consequences didn’t apply to their “babies” after they'd committed heinous crimes.
There was a special place reserved in hell for those demons.
He’d met the type. In fact, one particular face kept overlapping with Stillwell’s the more he lasered the latter with his stare. It was as if he was back in his old world again, brimming with hatred words could not describe.
“Mr. Sloan?”
Ashley’s voice brought him back to reality. He blinked and the word regained focus. Stillwell had taken a step back, the older woman looking positively unsettled.
He disregarded her without a second thought and turned to Ashley. “Do you have my stuff?”
“Huh… “
“The stuff Stan Edgar promised. Do you have it?”
She turned to her boss, mouth flapping up and down with no sound.
“Mr. Sloan.” Madelyn finally composed herself and gestured down the hall. “If you’ll come this way please.”
He gave the hand inching close to his bicep a look and she retracted it. “Everything has been prepared. We just need your input on some things. It’s going to take a while so why don’t you get seated and meet The Seven in the meantime?”
She spoke about The Seven like they were the Justice League. It wasn’t just her. Regular people also seemed to hold them in high esteem. He was glad he didn’t share that. He was glad he wasn’t born in this world.
“Sure. Lead the way.”