Kieran: Lawyer

You are reading: It's Just Super

Written by Jsimmons17 on 13 Sep 2017 22:00.

I woke up the next morning to a soft ringing sound. As I lay there, my eyes screwed shut, the ringing got louder. I opened them to see a girl in a dark purple pantsuit tapping a perfectly manicured nail on the bars of my cell. She couldn't have been older than me, but she carried herself like a queen.
“Good morning, Mr. Machinas,” she said coolly.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“My name is Catherine Debeaux, and I'm a law student with Olivers and Co.”
“And they couldn't send Olivers himself?” I asked with a scoff, rolling over to face the wall of my cell.
“Mr. Machinas,” Catherine said, looking at me with eyes the color of emeralds, and just as hard. “You do not realize the delicacy of the situation you are in. You need a defender.”
“So Catherine Debeaux is a defender of criminals, is she?” I finally sat up, looking at her. “I take it you've seen the case file.”
“I have. I think I can get you out of here,” Catherine said, tossing back her hair, which was copper-colored, and fell down her back in gentle waves. “You are no ordinary criminal, after all.”
“It's Gravity Girl who is the criminal,” I snarled. “But she’s got these filthy cops wrapped around her little finger—”
“Right to remain silent, Mr. Machinas,” Catherine said suddenly, and the cop from the day before, Detective George Scott, strode in.
“Alright, Miss, time is up,” he said, waving the young law student out of the holding area.
“Detective, I demand that you release this man immediately,” she said, not moving.
“We’ve got grounds to hold him. He admitted his crimes—”
“Without the presence of a lawyer. Did you even read him his rights? Or do you have no respect for the due process of the law?”
“Perhaps it is better we speak in my office…” the cop said, nudging Catherine toward the door. She followed him willingly enough, shooting me a wink over one shoulder before the door closed on them both and I was left alone in my cell.
Glancing at the industrial clock on the far wall, it looked to be about 8:00. My first class wasn't scheduled until 11, and a thought vaguely passed through my head that I might make it on time.
I stretched out comfortably on the cot, putting my hands above my head as if I often spent the night in prison. I was determined to keep it cool, like this did not bother me, but detective Scott’s words from the day before echoed in my mind: “Gravity Girl is not a wanted criminal.”
I had grown up in a world where people hated super heroes. My parents had each had their rivals, whom they battled again and again. I had learned first aid patching up my father, who had done battle regularly with a “hero” who had possessed nothing more than super-human strength. My mother had been very good at poisons, often hiring out as an assassin to kill various government officials, making it look like natural causes. My parents had taught me everything they knew about how to battle the vigilantes with special powers. They’d been thrilled when I demonstrated powers of my own.

I may have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, Detective Scott and Miss DeBeaux had returned, and Scott was opening the cell door. My new lawyer entered and picked up my helmet, thrusting it into my chest as I rose, somewhat groggy.
“Good news, Mr. Machinas,” she said. “You're getting out of jail.”
“You will be fined for disturbing the peace,” the policeman coughed. I shrugged. Money was not a big deal.
“Expect a cash delivery,” I said.
“Seven hundred dollars,” the detective said, but I was only half listening, examining the helmet as I confronted the prospect of either wearing the orange jumpsuit or my blue Machinas suit out of the station. I flipped the switch on the helmet experimentally. It flickered, but the insignia remained, blue white and obvious. “I'm going to need some street clothes.”
“I thought of that,” Catherine said, pulling a backpack from where it rested just out of sight from the bars. Inside were a pair of sneakers, blue jeans and a baggy sweatshirt. Scott left, but I could feel Catherine’s eyes on me as I changed out of the orange jumpsuit. They wandered over my back and shoulders approvingly. Once, she nearly reached out to touch the fading bruise on my abs, but I pulled my shirt down quickly, stopping her.
“You'd think I would remember seeing you around, Mr. Machinas,” she said quietly, grinning at me and revealing perfect, white teeth.
“I tend to work outside the law, Miss DeBeaux,” I responded, pulling the hoodie over my head. “While you work within it.”
“Why do you commit crimes?” She asked, and unlike when Detective Scott had asked me, her question seemed to be out of genuine curiosity.
“A man’s got to make a living,” I said, handing back the backpack, and holding the broken motorcycle helmet under one arm. The collar of my suit poked out of the hoodie a little, but there was nothing I could do about that. “This is what I'm trained for. I've got nothing against Sky City, it's just where I live.”
Catherine didn't seem entirely satisfied with that answer, but she led the way toward the front of the station, where Detective Scott was fielding questions from about half a dozen reporters.
“Is it true that you are releasing Machinas?” “Do you know what his plans are for the city?” “What are you planning to do to help Gravity Girl contain this threat?” “Is Machinas behind the rise in gang activity?”
Catherine tapped the helmet. “Put that on,” she said. I did so as she pushed the door open and I was confronted with several camera flashes.
“No questions, please.” Catherine said, pulling me through the small crowd. The reporters pushed and shoved, but we made it through quickly, with Catherine’s expert steering and her firm hand on my arm. Once outside, Catherine pushed a small object into my hands. Glancing down, I saw it was a hard drive. “I took it out of their computer this morning,” she whispered. “It's going to take them a little while to notice that it's missing. Your face won't be on record.”
I nodded and took the drive. Then she handed me one other object, a small printed business card.
“For the next time you get in trouble,” she said. “Don't hesitate to call.”
“And what do I owe you for your services today?” I asked, my voice crackling electronically through the broken helmet.
“I’ll send you a bill,” she said, before striding down the steps, and vanishing into the Sky City crowd.
Ducking into an alleyway, I tossed the now-useless helmet into a nearby dumpster, and pulled the hood of the hoodie over my head.
City hall was a mess of mud, though the snow had long since melted, but my motorcycle was still where I had parked it. Pulling the keys from my pocket, I revved the bike and headed straight for the university. There was no time to go home and change. I'd have to go with the “spent the night in jail” look. Not exactly the impression I wanted to make on the first day of school, but at least I would be on time.

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