Fearless Leader (Juxtapose City) (13 page)

Jake took a pull off his beer, feeling his adrenaline beginning to run. Flaherty might be just the thing he was looking for to take the edge off the funeral. "It feels like I'm on the best goddamned team in the department. That's how it feels." Jake grinned darkly. "Oh, but that's right, you wouldn't know that feeling, would you?"

Flaherty's narrow face hardened. "Yeah, your record's good but you're also dropping like flies. You guys are nothing but tampons to Black. Who's next? The captain's fucktoy? I got fifty bucks says the fucktoy takes the hit on your next outing."

"No one's next," Jake bit out. He was intensely aware of Sola standing silently beside him, listening like some snooping reporter.

Flaherty chuckled. "What's the matter, Cole? Did I strike a nerve? Maybe the captain's fucktoy is now Black's fucktoy? Maybe he'll give Black a few lessons and give him back to you as a better ride--"

Jake split his knuckles on Flaherty's teeth. It felt good, damned good. Flaherty nearly went down but quickly regained his balance. Jake was ready for him. He blocked the fist to his jaw and returned one of his own. It missed and Jake had to jump backwards to avoid the fist driving towards his stomach. Then bodies were swarming over them, pulling them apart and Jake was left to grin at the furious sergeant from JC1. He felt Bee and Haney beside him offering support as the rest of JC1 gathered behind Flaherty.

"Not gonna waste my time on you, Flaherty." Jake shook off the arms that restrained him. "My friends were buried today and I'm not gonna disrespect them by spilling JC1's blood. Lucas and Max, strangely enough, held some respect for your team."

"The feeling's not mutual," Flaherty said, spitting blood onto the floor.

Jake would have dove at him if it weren't for Sola's arms around his chest holding him back. "Not here," the man warned. "You don't want the captain hearing about this."

Breathing heavily, Jake nodded and stepped back. "You need to change that attitude, Flaherty," he snarled as he and the rest of JC2 made their way to the door. "Better yet we'll do it for you. Keep your eye on us, boys. The lessons begin now."

Shouts and catcalls followed them out but Jake was proud of himself for not responding. The crisp air outside the bar felt good against his sweating face.

"You're absolutely nuts," Haney muttered. He was grinning though, his boyish face looking up at Jake admiringly. "Nice hit, by the way. I think you knocked out a tooth."

Jake smiled. "Yeah? I hope so. Maybe it'll improve his face." He rubbed at his cut knuckles. "So now that I'm worked up let's say we go through those drills Black wanted us to do. You up for that, Sola?"

Still looking back at Jubilee's, Sola nodded. "Absolutely." He looked at Jake and the others and pulled his lips into a smile. "I'm anxious to see what Black's been teaching you."

Why do I feel like he's a goddamned mole?
Jake thought to himself.

What did it matter? In another couple of hours he was going to find out exactly why Sola was on his team. And if Jake wasn't impressed by what he found Sola sure as hell was going to pay for it.

"Since it's not a weekday hopefully there won't be many officers here," Black said as he led Calyx down the long walkway that spanned the indoor range. "It's usually quiet here on Sundays."

"Trying to respect the lord on the one day you guys aren't out shooting innocent bystanders?" Calyx asked brightly.

Black's look was dry. "Something like that."

They paused before a narrow cubicle which held a white computerized podium. Down the range hung a blue screen on a wire which could be adjusted for distance. There were only a handful of other shooters currently practicing but Black looked around in obvious concern.

"If it becomes too much, let me know," he told Calyx for what must have been the third time. He handed over the range gun with some reluctance. "I can't give you Bliss while you're handling a firearm. But I don't want you in pain. We'll just leave."

"You're such a softie, Darkness. I'm moved. But you forget that I'm a professional." Calyx smirked. "I'm used to feeling other people. I do it all the time. Sometimes I even enjoy it."

Black ignored the innuendo and stepped to the side as the empath tested the weight of the gun. It wasn't Calyx's issued gun. That particular weapon was locked up in the locker back home. For purposes of evaluating his skill Black had checked him out one of the range's laser guns, a weapon that didn't fire a projectile but instead emitted a laser beam that would register on the pre-selected practice screen. Black had selected "Turandot Bridge, Hostage" on the range computer. Fifty feet down the range the screen showed a scene of the bridge bathed in moonlight. Three masked men were running down the asphalt.

Calyx looked at the scene and sighed. "This brings back such fond memories." A masked assailant darted across the screen, one arm wrapped around a screaming hostage. "I feel like I'm back home."

"You're being timed," Black reminded him, watching the screen.

Calyx sighed. Darkness was no fun sometimes. Well -- most times actually, but the empath was willing to overlook Black at his most stoic because that presented a challenge of sorts. Calyx wasn't used to people ignoring his flirtations or taking his empath powers in stride. It was... different.

"
Starr
..."

But at the moment he wouldn't have minded a little play.

Calyx raised the gun in a single-handed grip, his body turned slightly, feet spread. He took a breath and as he breathed out, began firing. He'd learned that particular trick while 'listening' to some street cops who had been shooting cans in a deserted field. Excitement and anticipation on the inhale -- calm concentration on the exhale to prevent yourself from aiming too high.

Calyx kept both eyes open as he tracked one of the video thugs and took him out with a shot between the shoulder blades. Another computerized thug spun, gun extended, but he never got the shot off as Calyx dropped him with a shot to the heart. The remaining thug with the hostage was a little more difficult to hit since his hostage kept getting in the way but he too, at last fell in a heap to the asphalt of the bridge. Calyx lowered the gun, smiling.

"Ten seconds too long," Black commented, loading another program into the range system.

Calyx couldn't even be angry. It was typical Black. Leaning one hip against the console as the dark-haired man worked the controls, Calyx let his eyes drift over the man's profile.

"I'll do better," the empath said easily.

Black's eyes lifted to him. "I know you will. You have good technique. I'd like to see how you do on the move but I can see that your rating is legitimate."

Unexpectedly pleased by the compliment, Calyx moved forward slightly. He noted how Black paused a moment before continuing with the programming as though the empath weren't there. It made Calyx smile. "When I'm moving, I'm so much better, you know. Fast or slow -- however you want me to do it--" he lowered his voice, "-- I'll take your breath away."

Black stopped and looked up. His expression was thoughtful, his emotions carefully shielded. "That's how you handle other people's emotions, isn't it? You manipulate what they're feeling so it won't be as painful for you."

Calyx straightened, too surprised to respond.

"You use sex to manipulate them."

The empath lowered his lashes, his mouth twitching with amusement. "I don't need to manipulate anything, sweetheart. People look at me and naughty things just naturally come to mind." He shrugged, brushing a hand deliberately across his throat, drawing Black's eyes there. "I might encourage others to think about sex when they're around me but that's only because it's so easy. People
want
to be dirty. They just need the excuse. You all do."

Black's eyebrow lifted at his use of the word 'you'.

Calyx tapped his forehead. "Anyone who's not a psypath. It's a sale day at a department store in most people's minds. Jumbled, noisy thoughts, conflicting emotions. Such a headache, really. You're the only one who has any order in your mind. Or maybe as I suspect you're just hiding all of the particularly juicy bits where I can't see them. Is that it? Are you holding out on me, you tease?"

Black punched in some codes. "Nothing that would interest you. You're only interested in sex. I have more important things to think about."

"The perfect answer of the sexually repressed," Calyx said with a delighted laugh. "Now do you understand why I'm interested in you? You're a locked door, sweetheart. You give no one a key and you never answer the door when anyone knocks." He licked his lips. "Ah, but sometimes, sometimes I get a peek through the keyhole and what I find there..." The empath's voice grew husky. "It's like glimpsing you as you're stripping. Underneath all of that darkness is something hungry, something desperate, something, oh, so deliciously vulnerable." The empath felt something tickle his senses. It made his pulse quicken. "The more you suppress it the stronger it grows, doesn't it?" Beside the other man's ear, he murmured, "I enjoy feeling your desire, the lust that sometimes catches you by surprise. I get turned-on when I can sense you fighting it. The struggle makes it so much sweeter to me."

"I'm not fighting anything," Black said, pulling away. But there was a faint pink tinge to his dusky cheeks. Calyx could practically see the iron control Black was holding over his emotions.

"To paraphrase Shakespeare, I think you protest too much," Calyx murmured. He caught Black's hand and quickly pulled it beneath the flaps of the long duster he wore. Black's expression was frozen into one of horrified fascination. "Curious?" Calyx whispered, drawing the other man's hand slowly toward his body. "Want to know what it feels like to just give in?"

"Stop this."

But Calyx didn't need his empathy to sense the uncertainty Black was emitting. Risking castration, Calyx pressed the trembling hand to his groin. Black's hand was hot against him. The empath groaned at the sudden flare of desire that swelled in his cock.

"Why can't you just give in for a little while?" he whispered, watching Black from beneath his lashes. Black was still staring at where his hand disappeared beneath Calyx's jacket. "I won't hurt you. You won't hurt me. Just pleasure, Darkness. Surely you miss it? I know it's been so long for you..."

But the moment he spoke the words the empath knew he'd said the wrong thing. Black yanked his hand back. Calyx let him. The flush on Black's cheeks faded swiftly as he determinedly completed the programming and stepped back. "You're confusing what you sense from other people with what you can't sense from me." His sable eyes blazed. "Get this straight, Starr: I'm. Not. Interested."

"Maybe," Calyx murmured, swallowing his disappointment, "then again maybe you simply can't admit it. Not even to yourself."

Deciding to take pity on his leader for the time being the empath turned his attention to the screen. Black had chosen "Dance Club, Robbery". "Someday," the empath said casually, "I'll take you dancing at a club like that. I'd like to see you fight your feelings on a dance floor, Darkness. Skin to skin, hip to hip with me and no place to hide -- I bet you'd be amazing."

Not waiting for a response, Calyx raised the laser gun and the screen exploded into motion, dancers and club lighting flashing in a dizzying whirlwind. It was a robbery scenario with several masked thugs robbing the club's two bars. Shots rang out. Young dancers screamed and ran across the screen. It was difficult to separate the clubbers from the robbers and the uncertain lighting didn't help. Calyx found himself frowning a little, concentrating on the beam of his gun as it played across the screen.

"You must lose yourself, sometimes."

Calyx almost took his eyes off the screen the comment was so unexpected. He fired twice, taking down one thug and missing the other. "Lose myself how?"

"When you feel so much from other people you must lose track of what it is that
you
feel." Black paused as the empath accidentally shot a female clubber in the leg. "So do you? Do you find it hard to separate yourself?"

Calyx wounded another thug but also shot a bartender in the process. No one had ever asked him such a question before. He hadn't really thought of it that much himself.

"I -- it happens, I suppose," he said distractedly, firing and missing.

"Do you even know for sure what your own feelings are?"

Two more clubbers went down screaming from errant bullets. Calyx lowered the gun. The screen froze.

"Why do you care?" Calyx demanded, annoyed that his concentration had been broken by a single, ridiculous question.

Black took the gun from him, careful that their fingers didn't touch. He inspected the gun before raising his eyes to the taller man. "Because if you don't know what you feel you can't know what you want. You think you want me, but you don't. Not really. You only want me to feel something for you. You're used to reflecting other people's emotions back at them and when you can't do that with me, it frustrates you. You view me as a challenge. But that's all this is, Starr."

Calyx stared at him, any glib reply lost to him. "I had no idea you were a telepath, sweetheart."

Russet eyes shuttered. Black frowned, turning to face the screen. "And I had no idea you're so afraid to face the truth."