Once I’m through the door the short redheaded guy who was a bit too interested in why someone jumped me isn’t anywhere to be seen, but the other one is still helping me along.

  “Thanks,” I say, and glance his way. He’s even taller than me with a sharp chin and cheekbones. It’s rare to encounter someone taller than me, so it’s notable. “I think I can take it from here.”

  “I’ve been jumped before, and been caught up in high Tier Power battles,” he replies, calm and certain. “People helped me. Don’t worry about it.”

  We’ve only taken a few steps in and the three people behind the reception desk all stand and stare at us, then hold their hands up and point toward the door.

  “Hell no! You two get right back outta here. Trouble like this does not come into Carter Communications.”

  I look down to where my blood is dripping onto the polished floors from my saturated clothes. I can’t even imagine what I look like - and yet, the guy beside me is helping me without any complaint. Two big physical types not unlike the thugs that just attacked me emerge from a side room toward me with purpose, no doubt to encourage me to leave. I’m weak, but I’m also pissed. If I had a weapon it would probably be in my functioning hand right now.

  “Check the tape,” says the guy beside me, then flicks his head back toward the entrance.

  “Policy is policy,” the middle receptionist says as she reaches down under the desk for something I can’t see. “You best get out of here.”

  “Check. The. Tape,” the guy beside me repeats, patient but flinty. “It’s not his fault he got jumped outside. In fact, aren’t you supposed to provide some level of security at your fine establishments? Aren’t you pretty much at fault for what happened out there?”

  There’s a tight silence and the two goons slow down then glance at the three receptionists. The shortest receptionist - black bob cut, fierce eyes, terrible teeth - moves first. She sits back down and hunches over, probably looking at a notification window.

  “Ugh!” exclaims a young couple at the same time as they enter the building behind us and slide past us to my left where they won’t get bled on.

  The short receptionist is joined by the other two and one of the goons to look at what happened. The other goon has positioned himself between me and the desk, though he lets the young couple past without a problem. One of the other receptionists leaves the video huddle as and motions the couple over to join her to bypass our drama.

  “This you?” the receptionist asks and she swivels the screen around so I can see it. I tense up as I see myself on the screen pull in then park and remove my helmet. A couple seconds later two more HoverRides slide in. She slows it down and I can see the glint of a gun muzzle and the blur of the rod. Everyone flinches on the swing, including me, and the picture is high enough quality to see my arm open up as the bullet hits me and then the strike of the metal rod that almost takes my head off… followed by the EDF troopers emerging from the door and taking the thugs out.

  “Ok,” says the receptionist, voice dropping into a professional tone. “Ok. That’s… fine. You can use booth two, but it’ll be extra Credits for cleaning.” She looks at me again. “You need a med team?”

  “I got patched and healed,” I confirm. “Just the booth.”

  I make it up to the desk and hand over the Credits. Everything inside me aches, but it’s still at a low volume like a thumping concert two blocks away.

  “Thanks,” I say to the guy who’s helped me. “I’m Calrik. Thanks for the hand with that other guy and sticking around. I really appreciate it. But… I’m all good. I’ve got to make some calls.”

  “I’m Steve,” he replies in a way that’s friendly, but gives me the impression he’d do it for anyone. As he tilts his head I notice tiny silver scars at his temple that look like they’re from neural ports. “Let me help you to the booth then I’ll take off. Don’t know how long that pain blocker he shot you with is going to work, but you still don’t look too good Calrik. It might not be too long until your body decides it’s had enough fun for one night and shuts down. I suggest your first call is to someone who can take you to a hospital or someone that can take care of you.”

  Steve Kincaid (Builder)

  Level: 48

  Power: Drop the Hammer (Tier 1 Minor)

  Conditions: None

  Just a guy. A normal guy.

  “Thanks mate. I’ve got it.”

  Steve nods and gives a quick wave as he turns to leave while I enter the first comms corridor. The booths are lined up down each hallway inside Carter Communications. Each one is roomy enough for four people to sit comfortably at the matte table, or six if you want to crowd in. The hallway sides are all windows that frost over on command and only a few of them in this section are being used. They’re all completely sound-proofed and completely private - not only physically in this location, but also in the communications themselves. Not even the government can eavesdrop or get a recording of a conversation made involving Carter Communications. It’s even been said to be invulnerable to high Tier Powers, though personally I doubt anything is totally foolproof. I’ve seen way too many unique Powers that did unexpected things to believe anything is impossible.

  I head through the door to booth 2 and ease down in one of the chairs. In the middle of the black desk is a recessed holo-plate and I call up the control panel built into the table. The booth lights shift to a cooler blue. I sigh when I look down at the bloody smear on the table and agree in my head that charging me some Credits for cleanup is more than fair.

  I authenticate in the control panel and punch in the number. That thumping concert of pain is down to one block away and I better not let this conversation drag on. The call rings twice before someone answers.

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  “Sharon King - Chambers,” a handsome, clean cut young guy with blonde hair greets me. “Oh - Calrik. I’ll get her,” he says quickly, and the hologram disappears. It’s not long until Sharon resolves in a life-sized holograph from the waist up. She’s got big eyes that are always full of life and an open smile above her large nostrils. Sharon takes me in all at once: blood, torn shirt, the ugly dried mess of hair on the side of my head that got caved in. Her smile disappears, rapidly replaced by professional clarity.

  “Calrik - are you safe?” she asks immediately.

  “Yeah. I’m at a Carter Communication booth, but I was jumped outside. I’m… functioning at the moment.” I swallow; it’s all pretty fresh and the pain is starting to return. “An EDF officer patched me up and filed a report so I shouldn’t get any trouble with the Sentinels. It was a couple of thugs with decent physical Powers, and the guy said I still come up flagged in the system when he scanned me.”

  “Shit. Thank God you’re ok Calrik! If that had happened anywhere else… do you have your weapons on you?”

  I huff at at that. “Of course not. This assignment means I had to locker them. I can’t bring firearms and weapons into a hospice.” I don’t mention that I put them away instead of keeping them on me until I returned to Saint Marianne’s - a mistake I won’t make again.

  She pauses in thought and I wonder if all the time she’s invested in this case has gotten us to the place it’s more than just an assignment and she might actually start to give a shit about me, but I dismiss it quickly. Lawyers.

  “Stash some nearby and don’t go anywhere without them. I know you’re not Powered, but you can take care of yourself - so do it. Do you need an ambulance? A trip to the hospital?”

  I shake my head gently. “Auntie V is arriving where I am tomorrow. I can make it until then, no problem.” I take a breath and then charge ahead. “Sharon - I need an update on the case. On the estate and what’s happening. Can we try to keep it pretty brief?”

  She nods once and flicks through some notification screens I can’t see. “All right Calrik. Bad news first, because there isn’t much of anything else. Nobody’s in a rush and Eddie Midlane is still filing piles of paperwork and accusations we need to answer in discovery; it might be years still until you get a decision. We don’t have a lot of other avenues because your parents are presumed dead, not confirmed. If Eddie dropped his injunction it would be a different story, but if anything he’s ramped up his activity.”

  “I thought his injunction was never going to fly?” I ask, my irritation not helped by the pain. Fucking lawyers always telling you that you have a great case and yet they’re the ones still battling it out and getting paid.

  “Eddie’s made it a bigger deal than we ever thought it could be. Drawn in all kinds of arguments that don’t have merit, but it takes time for them to be argued against and then considered by the judge. Eddie’s calling experts who say if you controlled your family’s interests the other shareholders in some of their interests would be irrevocably harmed.”

  “That’s absurd!”

  “I know, Calrik. But legally speaking they have some technical grounds and until all the issues are worked through the judge isn’t making a call. We got unlucky with the judge, too. The estate won’t be in your control for the foreseeable future. Our next court date isn’t for four months.”

  I feel cold under the pain and it has nothing to do with blood loss. “He’s using my parents’ money and interests as a personal wallet!”

  “I don’t think he expects any consequences,” she says in a flat voice. “We have evidence of related-party transactions and it’s highly likely you will win in the end. He’s very good at obfuscation and delay, and holds the cards for now. Do you think the attack on you might have had anything to do with this?”

  My brain isn’t really working well enough to run through scenarios. I need rest and more painkillers.

  “Tell him I’ll settle,” I decide. “I won’t take control, I’ll take a payout. Fifty cents on the dollar if it’s done this month, and it goes up ten percent for every week after that. I want this fucking thing over with Sharon.”

  She frowns and I can tell she has arguements lined up to dissuade me, but I’ve given her a clear instruction and she’s required to present it.

  “You look like you’re going downhill and you didn’t look great to begin with, Calrik. I’ll have the offer over to them within 24 hours.”

  I glance around, wondering what I look like in this state and if I should be making big calls right now. Fuck Eddie Midlane and his greedy betrayal of my parents. I need to get back to Saint Marianne’s. Wait for Auntie V. Put this court shit on the backburner for now or end it.

  “Thanks Sharon,” I say, so tired. The adrenaline is wearing off and so are the painkillers.

  “Calrik? Protection. You need it. I know nothing’s happened for ages but this is a turning point. I’ve sent some of my own Credits to you. Hire private security or something, and for God’s sake get an ambulance or a HoverCar back to where you’re staying. Don’t you dare die on me! Be visible. Be useful. Be boring.”

  She’s trying to sound lighthearted, but there’s deep concern there I can hear even in my current state. I want to refuse the Credits, but truthfully I need them for right now. Another problem solved if this goddam case can be settled.

  “Thanks Sharon,” I say again. “Talk soon.” And I hang up then stand. It’s harder to get to my feet than it should be, even using the arms of the chair. I pull my ragged shirt closer and call a HoverCar with my phone. The receptionists don’t say anything while I wait, standing just inside the doors, which I’m grateful for. When the HoverCar arrives I don’t mess around, just hop quickly into the back seat. The driverless car doesn’t seem to notice the state I’m in, or maybe it’s just going to charge me a cleaning fee afterward. At this point I don’t give a shit.

  During the short drive back I feel almost a bit drunk, but I can’t stop wondering why I got jumped. Nothing’s changed with the case - but Eddie or someone else who has to gain from getting control of my parents’ estate is always a possibility. Is it something to do with Auntie V and her arriving tomorrow? Surely nobody knows about my Soul Sparks and my new Power - do they?

  When I get back to Saint Marianne’s I’m dead tired and the pain is back full force. It takes me three tries to open the door and when I slide in I try to make it to my room unseen, but Teresa is behind reception and I’m not exactly a ninja, especially in this state.

  “Calrik!” she exclaims and rushes out from behind the desk to support me from falling over. I don’t need it, but it’s a nice gestuare from her. I hold up my hand and indicate I’m ok.

  “Worse than it looks,” I tell her. “Got jumped. It’s probably against the rules for you to give them to me, but any chance you have some painkillers? Maybe something strong? I’ll mostly heal up by tomorrow.”

  She bends down and across me to look me in the eyes. Maybe she has a lot of experience with people and addicts and folks trying to hide things. Whatever she sees, she makes a call.

  “Yeah, let’s get you to your room.”

  She trails me to my room and then disappears. The bed is calling me, but something inside me decides instead I need a shower first. I awkwardly peel off my clothes and stand inside the warm shower for a while, watching the red clots and diluted blood swirl down the drain. The medical packs seal up my arm wound which is a blessing. Mentally I can’t bring myself to let the water blast the side of my head where I was attacked directly for a few seconds, but I do let water run down through my hair and pull the thick, congealed mess away with my hand, and I even feel my skull and face, probing with my fingers. Somehow it seems back to normal, if sensitive. Accelerated healing and EDF Powers for the win.

  When I finally get out and slowly pull some loose clothes on, I see some pills and a glass of water beside my bed. Thanks Teresa. I sit down on the bed and my newly refreshed paranoia spikes a bit when I wonder if she’s in on it and these aren’t painkillers at all, but I settle myself. Pretty tired and it’s been a long night… but surely I can trust someone named Teresa in a place called Saint Marianne’s that takes care of dying people? If not, maybe I’m just screwed, and the whole world is screwed no matter what.

  I down the pills and lay back on bed, wishing for the warmth of more Soul Sparks and an increased Constitution that never arrives.