23 November 2020
Jonny Osaka sat and pondered, weak and weary, over the results of the ASTRA Labs DNA test that Hamilton had finally delivered to him yesterday afternoon. He’d opened it instantly, of course, but it was now more than 24 hours since he’d fully grokked the meaning of its contents and he still was uncertain of what to do…
He tossed the papers back on his desk and massaged his temples, trying to ease the incipient headache he felt coming on. The test results showed that, as the man had insisted, Oshiro Tatsuo (almost certainly the Iron Oyabun and leader of the local Yakuza clan) was not his father. Not surprising, really, he’d steeled himself for that. What he hadn’t expected to learn was that the man was, instead, a close relation… in fact, almost certainly his uncle!
Jesus, I didn’t even known the guy had a brother, or maybe brothers… so what the hell do I do now? Well, he knew what he had to do, he was just very reluctant to actually do it. Once he spoke this truth to anyone else, there was no taking it back… but he couldn’t dither around forever. No, the Blue Flame was a man of action! So act like it, asshole. With a deep sigh he pulled out his phone and hit Oshiro Mariko’s number. Jeez, she’s my cousin. A first cousin! Good thing we never went on that date…
“Hello, Jonny-san,” Mariko said, picking up on the third ring. He could hear the smile in her voice, and his stomach twisted. “Have you received back your test results? Does this mean you wish to ask me out on that date?”
“Yes… and, um, no. Mariko-san, I need to speak – no, I need to meet with your father again. As soon as possible. Can you arrange it?”
The humor dropped from her own voice as she sensed Jonny’s seriousness. “Why? He is very busy right now, but maybe after the holiday would be a better—“
“No, it needs to be as soon as possible, please. I think he will agree, once I explain.”
“Maybe you should explain it to me then, so I may convince him. What is wrong? You sound disturbed, Jonny. Surely it’s not that… I mean my father—“
“No Mariko, your father is not my father. But he is my uncle.”
—————————
They left him twisting in the wind for three days.
Jonny was about to explode, and his friends and teammates were about ready to stage an intervention to find out what had him so on edge, when Mariko finally called back, early on Thanksgiving morning.
“I know this is late notice, but Father wishes for you to join us at Thanksgiving diner today. Please be here at 14:00. No need to bring anything.”
“Mariko, what is going on? Why haven’t I heard from you sooner? I need to know—“
“Yes, we have much to discuss, but we will not be doing it over the telephone, Jonny-san. Please, just be here this afternoon.” And then she hung up.
Well damn! Kyle expected him to be at the big Thanksgiving dinner he was hosting for the Vanguard and Vanguard-adjacent, but there was no way he could pass up this… well, it wasn’t really an invitation, more of a command… but still. Even if he felt like standing on his pride, he’d be no good around his friends, not with this hanging over his head.
He chickened out and texted Kyle rather than phoning — I’m sorry, but I’ve got my own succubus to deal with today was all he said — then he headed out.
——————
Mariko was not in the lobby to meet him, as on previous visits, but he had no trouble accessing the button for the penthouse suite – apparently his ID had been added to the security system. Instead, she was waiting next to her father as the doors opened onto the Oshiro’s sleek retro-modern-Asian main foyer.
They both greeted him cordially enough, and Mariko took his coat while Tatsuo (he guessed it was OK to at least think of the man by his given name, under the circumstances) ushered him into the main living room. After a brief exchange of polite nothings, the older man thanked him for joining their family dinner.
“Although I did not grow up with the American celebration of Thanksgiving, I have adopted it, as I have adopted this country… and it is, after all, a time for family. My children, of course, have grown up with the tradition…” His face darkened, and he trailed off abruptly.
“Speaking of family, where is Hisashi-san…” Jonny began, when the silence began to lengthen uncomfortably, but trailed off himself at a glare from Mariko. Tatsuo sighed and visibly shook off his dark mood, casting Jonny a wan smile.
“We will discuss my son soon enough, Jonny-san. But as I was saying, Thanksgiving is a time for family, and now that we know you truly are a part of this family, it is appropriate that you should be here. Perhaps not in the role you had once imagined; but an honored nephew is not a trivial thing in our culture. I formally welcome you to the Oshiro clan, Jonny Osaka, as my acknowledged nephew.
“I – um – I am honored Oshiro-san, of course—“
“Please, oi, it is proper for you to call me oji now,” Tatsuo said. “At least in private,” he added, smiling thinly. “I suppose ojisan might be better in more public venues… depending, of course, on how public we wish to make this new dynamic we find between us.”
“Yeah, that’s definitely something to think about… but, um, oji, forgive me if I seem to be rushing things, but I’ve waited my whole life for this. You’ve accepted me into your clan — does this mean you know who my father is? Which of your brothers—“
“I have only one brother.” The faint humor that had momentarily lightened the man’s face dropped away, and his brow drew down in an expression that made Jonny’s stomach lurch. Despite the recent appearance of goodwill, he was reminded that this was a dangerous man – something he’d be smart to remember.
“Your father is my younger brother, Oshiro Masashi; of that these test results can leave no doubt,” his uncle (and that’s going to take some getting used too) went on. “And I regret to inform you, oi, that I am now at war with him.”
Mariko handed her father and her new-found itoko the drinks she had poured while they’d been talking, then gestured to the seating area in the sunken living room which overlooked the city. “Perhaps we should sit, otosan, for this next part, yes?”
Tatsuo accepted the whisky on the rocks and nodded. He turned and made his way to the window, the other two following. He gestured for the youngsters to be seated, but stayed standing himself, staring out at the gray, rain- and wind-swept towers of downtown. Jonny settled into a shockingly comfortable armchair, while Mariko perched on the edge of the curved sofa next to it. She hadn’t taken a drink for herself, and seemed tense, refusing to meet his gaze. His stomach did not settle down…
“I suppose it will go easiest if I take this in order, if you are to fully understand where we find ourselves today,” the older man finally said, turning to face the seated pair. “I will tell you things now that I expect to go no further, nephew. Can you keep this family’s secrets, Jonny-san?”
Jonny didn’t answer immediately, and he thought he saw a glint of approval in his uncle’s gray eyes. He took a sip of his own whisky (something he was coming to appreciate under Kyle’s guidance — and this was the good stuff), and then shrugged.
“Yes, oji, I will keep what is said here today in confidence, as long as nothing I learn involves a crime that I am, by my oaths, sworn to act on. Essentially, that means don’t confess to murder or plans to murder or kidnap anyone, and I won’t need to share anything else you say, even with my teammates. Well, except the nature of our relationship. I can’t in good conscience keep that from them. ”
“A fair answer,” Tatsuo nodded in measured approval. “In truth, I would have been disappointed if you had agreed without qualification. So, I promise not to tell you of any crimes you might be compelled to act upon… although, by this qualification of yours, do I assume correctly that you have decided that I am, after all, the Iron Oyabun?”
“Yes. Mariko’s clever suggestion that someone else was timing their public actions to coincide with your absences from public view, in order to keep the cops’ focus on you, was clever, even plausible… on the surface. But as a member of the Vanguard I have access to a lot of classified information; there may not be enough to bring to court, there’s still plenty of evidence that points straight to you. Sir.”
“Well, since the Iron Oyabun is still wanted for escaping from jail, among other things, I will neither confirm nor deny your suspicion,” Tatsuo actually smiled. “Lest I put you in an untenable position, oi.”
“Plausible deniability, eh?” Jonny smiled thinly in return. “Thank you, oji. I appreciate the… nuance.”
“Good. With that settled, it is time to tell you a tale of two bothers who came to America seeking their fortune and wider horizons—”
“Oooh, is this the flashback sequence?” Jonny couldn’t help himself, wriggling his fingers in front of his face and making “woodle-woodle” nosies. Tatsuo looked momentarily nonplussed, then his lips thinned in annoyance. But it got a faint smile from Mariko, so totally worth it. He tamped down his own grin. “Sorry, it’s the power of the pop culture. Please go on oji.”
“Hmmm. Do try to reign in your sense of humor, nephew – this is neither the time nor the place for it. As I think you already sense, this is not a particularly happy tale.”
Yeah, I hadn’t figured it was going to be all sunshine and unicorns… hence the preemptive mood-lightening I’m sure Kyle would say. With a nod to his uncle Jonny took a sip and settle back to listen, at long last, to the parts of his origin story he’d only imagined before.
“For generations our family lived on the outskirts of Hiroshima, respectable farmers of good honor, if not otherwise noteworthy. The Oshiro land was far enough from the city that it was not directly impacted by the bomb when it fell, at least not that day. Unfortunately, my grandfather had made a rare trip into Hiroshima that day, with his oldest son, Touma… they did not return. My father was 15 years old, and now found himself responsible for his mother, younger brother and two younger sisters.
“I need not go into the difficulty of those next several years, I’m sure you can imagine it. Suffice it to say that eventually Oshiro Chikao got the farm back onto an even keel, and secured the families fortunes, such as they were. He married somewhat later than was common, I think due to his great responsibilities, and so I was born 15 years after the War. Masashi followed three years later. Our sister followed two years after that.
“To say that neither of us boys relished the bucolic life of the farmer would be… an understatement. But whereas I knew my responsibilities to my family, my younger brother was more restless. And reckless. He would often sneak off to the city when he could, leaving our father and me to manage the farm. He made friends there that my father did not approve of, and eventually he ran off to find his own life, as he put it. I understood the desire, but I could not condone his dishonoring of our father and our name.
“Still, when otosan died of cancer shortly after my 24th birthday, I too abandoned the farm. Well, I saw it passed on safely to my sister and her husband – she had married the year before, to one of our best workers. The two them actually enjoyed working the land, and we were all happier in the end, I think. Once I had honorably discharged my duties to my family, I followed my brother to the city.
“By then he had fallen in firmly with a certain business family in Hiroshima, in a position of little authority but great security. Our reunion was not immediately… amicable. But once we resolved certain lingering questions of honor and responsibility, at least to my satisfaction, we were able to move on as brothers. Masashi secured a position for me in this local family’s business, and I found it suited me infinitely better than farming ever had.
“Indeed, I took to it so well that I began to advance in the business after little more than a year. Masashi resented my advancement at first, but as I brought him along in my rise, he soon became reconciled to it. In truth, he always enjoyed the perks of the job more than the responsibilities, and he quickly saw the advantages to being my “second.” He also lacked certain skills which I possessed and which our employer found particularly useful in their business.
“In time, we rose as high as it was possible to rise in that particular family’s business, however. I considered a move to another city, perhaps even Tokyo, but realized we would face the same problems there, on an even greater scale. What we needed to do was start our own business. Japan seemed saturated in our particular field, however. That was when it was suggested that America might prove a profitable place for us to branch out.
“I researched a number of cities, and was surprised to see that Astoria had a surprisingly good profile for our particular industry. With the backing of our then-current employers, Masashi and I moved here in March of 1992, along with Sumiko, my bride of just six months, and a dozen “seed” employees.”
“And just like that, you were able to establish yourself and your new, um, “business”?” Jonny asked, frowning. “I would’ve thought, given the time frame, that you would’ve met with opposition from… well, from some related businesses.”
“You are perceptive, oi. Indeed, while Astoria was very suited to us in some respects, what had not been obvious from my research was that an existing power structure was already in place. As you say, they were not particularly open to the idea of our establishing a branch of our business in “their” city. There were… difficulties, early on; but when I turned out to be immune to their leader’s main powers of persuasion — and our men equally difficult to discourage, in their own way — an accommodation was eventually reached.”
Jonny easily interpreted this to mean that Oshiro Tatsuo, at least in his Iron Oyabun form, was immune to Cerebral’s mental domination. And his Yakuza recruits would’ve been tough to kill by more mundane means, for sure. From what he knew about the former Cabal, the leaders of all the criminal organizations that had made it up were meta-humans of one sort or another. And maybe all immune to Cerebral’s direct control? That would make sense, actually, and could be the reason the Oshiro-gumi was allowed to establish itself in the city.
He carefully didn’t say any of this to his new-found uncle.
“Once we had the backing of the local business association,” Tatsuo continued, “we moved quickly to establish ourselves in the city, and make contacts up and down the West Coast. As you know, Oshiro Enterprises is now a very successful concern, but in those early years it was a constant struggle. Unfortunately, my brother enjoyed a more confrontational approach than I thought wise, and it was a constant battle to restrain him, to make him understand why his “Wild West” tactics were detrimental in the long run…”
For a moment the older man looked… sad? Tired? Thoughtful? Jonny wasn’t sure, but thought it was likely a combination of all three. After a moment he sighed and continued with his story.
“The details don’t particularly matter at this point – it’s enough that you know two things happened in May of 1996 that required me to finally take action against Masashi. First, by a certain act he had greatly offended the leader of the local business association, whose goodwill we still very much needed, and whose ire could prove… permanent. Such actions were also drawing the attention of others, whose gaze I preferred be directed elsewhere. Second, I had come to suspect that he was planning a move to… supplant me as the head of our business concern.
“On 18 May 1996 I had Masashi brought to me, very much against his will, and told him that he was to leave Astoria, and the United States, that very evening. He objected, strenuously, of course. But in the end he had no real choice. I did not let him return home, nor make any goodbyes, despite his pleas to do so. Six of my most loyal men escorted him to Jordan airfield and a private plane, which flew them to Tokyo. There he was allowed to go his own way… although not unwatched.
“He was not specific, but in retrospect I realize it must have been your mother that he wished so desperately to speak to before his exile. I was unaware then of his relationship with her — I suspect a combination of Masashi’s natural bent for personal privacy and his certainty that neither I nor Sumiko would have approved of a liaison with a married woman. Had I known… no, I can not say for certain that I would have done anything differently.
“Among other things, I have spent the days since you revealed your parentage to me looking into my brother’s life 25 years ago, to try to piece together the answers I know you crave. If it is any consolation to you, I think my brother truly cared for your mother – something that would have surprised me, had I known it then. He had never before sustained a relationship for more than a week, as far as I ever knew. But he met your mother in a coffee shop they both frequented, on New Year’s Eve of 1995. From what I have been able to piece together, from those who knew him then better than I, they spent as much time together as their complicated lives allowed over the next five months.
“I do not believe your mother knew what your father did for a living, not when they were together. But I’m told there were inquiries about Masashi shortly after I exiled him, made by a Gaijin woman, that were… discouraged by my people. At this remove I can’t be certain, but it seems likely the woman was Sloan McGregor. If so, she was smart enough to back off once she realized who her paramour had been.”
“That… squares with what I know,” Jonny admitted. “I always had a sense that there was something dangerous involving my father, which I guess is why I fixated on you for so long. But what has my fa- er, Masashi, been doing all these years? Do you think he knew my mom was pregnant, and that he has a child? Wait! Do you I think he had my mother killed, once he found out she kept his child from him?! I always thought that hit-and-run was—“
“Calm down, Jonny,” Mariko said, speaking for the first time since her father had begun his tale. “I’m the one who’s been doing much of this research Father speaks of, these last few days. Which includes looking at your mother’s death. There’s absolutely no reason to believe the hit-and-run was anything but what it seemed – a drunken late-night driver and a woman in a crosswalk at the wrong time.”
She looked at her father, who nodded, and she went on. “I— wasn’t sure we should tell you this, at least not now. But if you’re thinking this… well, in my investigation I discovered the identity of the driver who killed your mother.”
“What!?” Jonny had just begun to breathe again, but now he was up and out of his chair, clutching his mostly empty glass with a grip that threatened to shatter it. “But how? The police were never able to identify him– it’s been six years, how could you do it in less than three days?”
“Aside from the considerable resources I can bring to bear on such things,” Tatsuo said before his daughter could answer, “Mariko has a certain… skill of her own. Even more than the other things we have spoken of, Jonny-san, I need your word that this knowledge goes no further. I know you have already given your word, but it is that important to me, and to her, that I must ask for it again.”
Jonny was pulled out of his upset a bit by this, and nodded, looking curiously at his cousin. “I promise, whatever power Mariko has, I won’t speak of it to anyone. Not without her permission.”
His uncle looked like he was about to object to that last qualifier, but changed his mind and simply continued. “Mariko has the ability to sense truth in other people’s words. It is impossible for anyone to lie to her in speech, neither lies of commission nor of omission. This secret ability has served me, and our family interests, very well since she grew into it. In this instance, once she had narrowed the list of suspects down, as the police had done years ago, she was able to simply telephone and ask each person if they were the guilty party. Two spoke truth when they said they were not. One lied.”
“Who is he?” Johnny demanded his hand shaking enough to rattle the ice in his glass. “Tell me the bastards name!”
“And what will you do with knowledge, Blue Flame?” Oshiro asked. Both his tone and his expression were entirely neutral, as though the answer was of no more consequence than his plans for the weekend.
“What? I— well, obviously I want to see the guy brought to justice. He hit my mother and just left her there to die. If he’d stopped, maybe… he just… he has to pay!”
“But Mariko-chan’s testimony, even if she were willing to give it to the authorities, would be useless, unacceptable in any court. How then should justice be served?”
That brought Jonny up short. “Well… I at least want to confront the bastard, to let him know I know what he did!”
“And how well do you think that encounter would go, Blue Flame? Even now, in your anger you are beginning to… smoke. Please, do not singe that very expensive Hans Wegner chair. I am particularly fond of it, and they are difficult to find these days.”
With a start Jonny realized that his internal temperature had risen almost to the point of combustion… he hadn’t lost control like this since his early days as the Blue Flame. And his almost-certainly-a-criminal uncle’s use of his heroic code name made him stop and really think about what he wanted, and was willing, to do. With an effort he lowered his temperature, both physically and emotionally.
“Well, obviously, I’m not going to take the law into my own hands, if that’s what you’re implying,” he said after a moment. “Other than that… I– I don’t know. I suppose, knowing for sure who was responsible, I’ll do what I can to try and dig up some evidence that could tie the guy to the crime… I’m sure Artemis could help, there must be some thread to pull…”
“I’m glad to hear that, cousin,” Mariko said, looking genuinely relieved. She took his glass and stepped over to the bar to make him another drink. “And the drunk driver was not a man,” she called over her shoulder. “It was a woman, then 62 years old, by the name of Marion Harcort.”
Jonny dropped back into his chair, looking slightly stunned.
“Does the culprit being a woman change how you feel, Jonny-san?” Tatsuo asked, not unkindly. “I was under the impression you were a young man of modern sensibilities— a firm believer in equality between the sexes and all that.”
“Yeah, I thought so too. And it doesn’t really change my feelings, no, but it’s… I don’t know, I spent so long assuming it was some old drunk dude, in my own mind… I’m just surprised is all, I guess.”
“If it helps,” Mariko said, returning to hand him his freshened drink and sitting down again herself, “I think it may be possible to bring new evidence to light, evidence that could lead the police to reopen the case, and perhaps achieve your goal.”
“That’s… an intriguing possiblility,” Jonny said, knocking back a slug of his whisky. “I’d be interested in talking about it with you later. I really need time to think about all this. But for now, can we get back to the story of my father? I didn’t mean to sidetrack us,” he said, bobbing his head toward his uncle.
“Well, it was a worthy diversion,” the older man shrugged, “if it relieves you of the idea that your father had any hand in your mother’s death. Whatever my brother’s flaws — and he has many, I assure you — I am convinced he felt a true fondness for your mother. Rest your mind on that point.”
Before he could go on, a young man in a white serving jacket appeared from the dinning room and made a hand signal of some sort to his employer.
“Ah, I see dinner is ready,” Tatsuo said. “I shall continue the tale over our meal… and a good bottle of wine.”
It was thirty minutes, however, before he could make good on that promise. It was just the three of them around the large, formal table, with the elder Oshiro at the head, naturally, Mariko to his right and Jonny at his left. The waiter, or butler, or whatever, was joined by two other very fit looking men… none of them looked like domestics, Jonny thought. Yakuza just playing the part? Probably, but if so they did a really good job of it. A traditional Thanksgiving meal was quickly laid out, with several uniquely Japanese touches that Jonny appreciated, and the men then vanished… back into the kitchen, or wherever they lurked about the vast penthouse.
Once everyone had piled their plates, and the older man had poured wine for all of them, there was a period of silence as they paid proper attention to the amazing food. Jonny wondered if the cook… well, chef, surely… was Yakuza as well. Which made him wonder what it had been like for Mariko, growing up like this. He’d have to ask her about it, later.
Once everyone had more or less finished a first pass on the food, and their wine glasses had been refilled, Tatsuo finally sat back, his own glass in hand, and prepared to resume his story.
“Where did I leave off, before your alarming flight of fancy? In Tokyo, I believe…”
“Yes. You’d just exiled your brother back to the Old Country, and implied he was “being watched.”
“Indeed. I took some pains to be sure he couldn’t return here, at least not any time soon. But within six months Masashi had managed to slip our watch. For the next decade my agents picked up his trail three times, in various parts of Asia, from China to Tibet… and possibly a fourth time, in North Korea, but that is less certain… and each time he soon managed to vanish again. After a last sighting in Singapore in 2009, I have had no knowledge of his whereabouts or activities.
“Until recently.” A certain tension, which had eased from his uncle’s face during the meal, now returned, and his gray eyes turned cold.
“It is my believe that my brother has spent the last quarter century building up an organization of his own, somewhere in Asia. To what extent, I cannot yet be sure, but it has become obvious that he has many agents in his employ, some quite skilled. I also have reason to believe that, not content with achieving… whatever he has achieved, Masashi intends to finally return here and “take back” what he views as his rightful place in the family business. That is, my place.”
“But how can you be sure of that, if you can’t find him,” Jonny asked, suddenly uninterested in his food.
“Because he has already moved against me. The predicament from which you and your allies recently extracted me was the culmination of at least two years of planning, which included not only partially funding McGregor’s illicit genetic research within VTS, but… suborning my own son.”
Jonny suddenly understood why Hisashi was not with them, and his heart lurched.
“Jesus, Hisashi was involved in your kidnapping? I– please tell me he’s not—“
“Dead? Hardly. But he is… on an extended sabbatical, let us say. He is a problem I have yet to resolve, but not one I’m giving up on. If for no other reason than to deny my cursed brother the satisfaction he would enjoy should he force me to… remove… my own heir.”
“But how did Masashi manage to turn your own son against you, especially if he was still somewhere in Asia?” Jonny glanced over at Mariko, who was once again quiet and very pale… was that a sheen of tears in her eyes?
“Hisashi suffers from the same… growing pains… of all young men, especially those who are sons of powerful fathers. Impatience, a sense of entitlement denied, an urgency to prove themselves… and in his case, resentment at his own lack of, let us say, unique skills such as his sister and I possess. All resentments his uncle has been intimately familiar with himself; with age he has, I fear, learned to recognize, and weaponize, them in others.
“He had agents here in the city who befriended my son, and for two years they slowly and subtly planted seeds, fanned the flames, and helped give shape to those inchoate resentments already present in the boy. Four months ago Masashi contacted Hisashi directly for the first time. It did not take long for him to draw his nephew into his machinations – aside from the possibility of his own elevation within our organization, I think the lure of possibly gaining gifts of his own, should McGregor’s process prove successful, was the thing that truly ensnared the idiot.
“I knew, from the moment I awoke in that hidden lab, that my abduction had to have been an inside job. I didn’t not immediately suspect Hisashi, but my brother seemed the obvious instigator. The timing, the location, the knowledge of my movements, all pointed to a leak within my own house. The method also suggested a familiarity with my own special abilities. It involved some new nerve agent, invisible and shockingly fast acting, with only a faint aroma of slightly-off citrus to give it away — I was unconscious before I was even aware I was in peril.
“It was only after my return, and Mariko’s report on her brother’s actions – and inactions – during my absence, that I realized his involvement. Once I did, things unraveled very quickly…”
“Yeah, I guess with Mariko’s truth-sensing ability it must’ve been pretty easy to extract answers,” Jonny said. He suddenly wondered, had he ever told her a lie in the short time they’d known each other?
“Not from my brother,” Mariko sighed. Her arms were pulled in tight across her body, and she’d sunk back on the sofa, not looking at anyone. “My powers do not work on either my father or my brother, for some reason. I have not had the chance to try them on my uncle. But they worked on the other employees Hisashi had co-opted… one’s he’d been very careful to keep away from me during the crisis, I realized later.”
“Oh. So, um, does that mean they don’t work on me, either?” Jonny asked hopefully.
His cousin shot him a quick glance and shrugged. “I’m sorry, but they do seem to work on you, Jonny-san. It’s one of the things I liked about you, actually — no matter the circumstances, you never lied to me in any of our meetings. You can’t imagine how refreshing that is.”
Ah. Well that answered his question about whether or not he’d lied to her. Good, good… but now he’d have to be sure he never did. He’d hate to break his streak…
“I have been pursuing every avenue to track down my brother,” Tatsuo continued. “He has gone too far this time, and I will not allow him to go on any further. I am fairly confident he has left the country again, although I have yet to track him down to wherever he is lairing. But he has my full attention now, and I assume with the success of McGregor’s process he will not be able to stay away. It is my hope that his lust for meta-human powers is what will bring him within my grasp, eventually.
“It is also one of the reasons I am being so frank with you, my oi. I urge you to be very careful to whom you reveal the secret of your parentage. Since you, and we, we have only just learned of it, I do not see how he could know of your existence — I have shared the knowledge with no one in my organization beyond Mariko — but should he learn of you and your powers, you would become a target as well. I would not rely on whatever familial emotions he may feel for you to protect you from his predations.”
“Well, I haven’t told anyone else yet… even my contact who got the test pushed through ASTRA doesn’t know the results. But like I said earlier, I’m going to have to tell my teammates… at least Artemis and Scion and Ky- Quanta. Probably Totem, too. But I guess the others don’t really need to know…”
“The fewer the better, Jonny-san. But now you have the full story, as far as I know it. I’m sorry if it is not what you had hoped for, but very seldom do any of us get what we truly desire.” Tatsuo sipped his wine and looked suddenly tired. “I know that your position as a hero may make our own relationship… potentially difficult. But I hope we can find some path through our differences once the current crisis is resolved, and become truly family.”
“I… am not opposed to that, Oshiro-san,” Jonny replied slowly. “But you have said you are at war with my,” he stumbled over the word, “…father.. whatever crimes he has committed, I can’t stand by and let you kill him, if that’s what you’re planning. Not as a hero, and not as a… son.”
Oshiro’s expression became closed, and he set his wine glass down with a sharp click. “As I said at the outset, I will not burden you with things you may feel compelled to act upon. However I choose to deal with my renegade brother, it is nothing you need concern yourself about. While he may be your biological father, you do not know him and, frankly, are better off for it. Do not involve yourself further in this matter.”
Jonny left shortly after that, declining dessert and making no promises, beyond those already given. It was a tense leave-taking.
————————
Kyle flipped on the oven light and peered in through the glass at the roasting bird. Looking good, maybe another 15 minutes then it can come out and rest. Everything else was coming along right on schedule and they should have it all on the table promptly at 16:00. In retrospect, he probably should’ve just catered today, but the fact was he missed the big family Thanksgiving dinners of his childhood. With his father so unexpectedly back in the picture, even if he wasn’t well enough to be here, it just seemed right this year. And part of that was the communal cooking.
As if on cue, Cooper appeared from the living room, tossing his empty La Croix can into the recycling bin and heading to the refrigerator. “I think it’s time to pull my candied salmon pieces out and let them start coming to room temperature… assuming you’re still on schedule for this celebration of colonial conquest?”
Meg, who had been right behind him, rolled her eyes and swatted his ass as she passed, on her way to check on her sweet potatoes and marshmallows. “You were born in a pocket dimension on the other side of the continent,” she laughed, “part of a people who were pretty damn brutal to the other First Nations people around them. Aren’t you still trying to live down the bloodthirsty Haida reputation with the other natives around here?”
“And didn’t you say you never even saw a white guy until you were a teenager?” Kyle added, handing his friend another sparkling water from the cooler on the counter. “What do you know about colonialism, magic man?”
“Well, just what I see of its results all around me,” Cooper shrugged. “Actually, though, I rather like Thanksgiving. Like so much of your culture, it’s a great idea, if not always perfectly executed. Strip away the self-serving propaganda, and the concept is a worthy one. Although what football has to do with it, I’ll never understand…”
Kyle had to laugh at that. He’d had both of the day’s big games on since 09:30 this morning, for those who arrived early, but the truth was only he, Jane, Eddie and Meg were really interested in football. JJ and Cooper just had no cultural ties to the game, neither having grown up with it – they appreciated it on an intellectual level, but really didn’t get the American obsession with it. Diamond Dave was disdainful of the whole thing, and pretty amusingly snarky when he thought Jane wasn’t listening — and innocently fascinated by it when she was. She wasn’t fooled, of course. Gideon was just bored by it, and was mainly watching for the ads, while Nora enjoyed the half-time show more than the game itself. He wasn’t sure what Preston thought of the game, being Canadian, but since he’d decided to spend the day with his ex-wife, Priscilla (who wasn’t cleared for secret identities), it was moot.
Of course it wasn’t helping that the second of the big games, a match-up between Dallas and Washington, was proving to be something of a blow-out in the fourth quarter. In favor of the former Redskins, which reminded him…
“It’s not like there’s no progress,” he reminded Cooper while stirring the cranberries on the stovetop and taking a taste – perfect! “Look at the Washington Football Team, as they’re calling themselves this year. They listened to the objections to their old name, admittedly pretty bad, and changed it this summer—“
He was cutoff by a snort from Meg, who was setting her steaming, bubbling yams on a rack on the counter. “Yeah, right! C’mon Kyle, they resisted for years, insisting “redskins” was honoring Native achievements… and with a straight face. They only caved once Nike, FedEx, Walmart and a whole lot of their investors started seriously putting the economic screws to ‘em.”
“And I suspect there’s a bit of passive-aggressiveness behind this new “Football Team” name,” Cooper laughed. “Be interesting to see how long they keep it, and what they ultimately choose for a new one.”
“Fine, fine, have it your way,” Kyle threw up his hands in mock surrender. “You and your girl reporter, with her “facts” and everything. Just go, and leave my colonizing ass to finish getting the food ready!”
Meg laughed and blew him a kiss as she sauntered back out to the living room, where a combination of groans and laughter indicated Washington had scored another touchdown. Cooper, however, stayed behind and his amused expression turned somber.
“I wanted to speak with you before we ate, Kyle, if you don’t mind — I had a very productive session with Nicco yesterday, and I wanted to fill you in while we had a few minutes.”
“Ah, good,” Kyle said, suddenly serious himself. He turned the heat off under the cranberries and gave his full attention to his friend. “It’s been really hard, staying away these last couple of weeks, letting you and the shrinks do the work… I know my presence was just agitating him more than helping, but…”
“I know it’s difficult, but it’s only for awhile. We’re making some real progress, and he’s much calmer, even able to talk about you, his parents, even your mother, without melting down. Well, at least not nearly as much as he was. He’s begun to remember more and more of his past, and yesterday was a real breakthrough – he started to piece together some memories of those last few days before he vanished, back in the summer of 2001.”
“Whoa, that is a big deal,” Kyle agreed, leaning forward suddenly. “That’s always seemed a real blank, and I was afraid the physical trauma from his fall down that mineshaft, and maybe whatever lead up to the fall, might have permanently eradicated those memories.”
“I think there is significant physical damage,” Cooper said, “but the brain is a remarkable organ, and his has built structures around the damaged areas. With my spells, I can tease out and do a sort of holographic recreation of some of the less damaged tissues — psychic engrams are not tied to the physical — but I still think your quantum healing might—“
“No!” Kyle said sharply, pulling back again. “I’m OK with gross physical repairs to bone and muscle, and I’m even making some progress on simpler disease states, but I am not going to risk mucking around with delicate nerve tissues in the brain. Not on anyone, and certainly not on my father!” He shuddered as he recalled that poor cat with distemper he’d tied to “fix” three weeks ago. It would’ve died anyway, of course, but still…
“Anyway, what about these memories? Was he able to say what really happened that day, who was there?”
“Not in a terribly useful way, I’m afraid,” Cooper admitted. “Beyond the confirmation that it was no accident, that he was attacked and purposefully left for dead. He remembers being excited, a sense of “nerves” as he calls it, and a sense of finding, or learning, something really “big.” He distinctly recalls a large number of children somehow being present.”
“But he was in a mine, how would children— oh! Yeah, I was forgetting what part of the world he was in… child labor is an ugly fact of life in some remote places even today. Twenty years ago, in South Africa… maybe that was the crime he stumbled on?”
“Maybe. Those are the most solid of his memories at the moment. Everything else is still fragmented senses, emotions, almost single frames rather than moving pictures. But the one that stands out, the one that seems to create the fear that is still clouding that day in his mind, is a very tall figure, very imposing, immensely terrifying… all I can see in the psychic sharing is the silhouette of a man, inhumanly tall, the sense of a horrible visage, but without details.
“But my “visions” are filtered through your father’s emotions and memories — it’s not like I can simply see the “truth,” as if eyes were cameras that simply record what they see. I can’t be sure if his memory is distorted by his fear, or is actually fairly accurate. But I’m increasingly hopeful that we’ll get there. The real news today is that I think that maybe next week you should try sitting in on a session again.”
“You really think we’re at a point where I can be more helpful than hinderance for him?” Kyle tried to keep the question casual, but he doubt he fooled the Magus Prime.
“I do, and the doctors at Wolf Point agree. I think if we—“
Cooper cut himself off as Gideon wandered into the kitchen, apparently looking for a new beer. He rummaged around in the cooler for a minute, then pulled out dripping bottle of Blue Moon.
“Hey guys, what’s up?” he asked, coming around the counter to join his teammates. “You trying to figure out why Jonny bailed on us today? You said he texted you, Kyle — what’d he say exactly?”
“Nothing specific, just that he had some business to take care of,” Kyle said, shrugging. Actually, Jonny’s cryptic note about “dealing with his own succubus” had him worried — he’d understood the reference clearly, if not what it might mean specifically. He hoped the kid was OK, but also trusted he was sensible enough to call for help if he needed it — and would eventually tell him what it was all about.
“I’ll bet Artemis knows what he’s up to,” Gideon said, popping the cap off his beer. “She probably keeps tabs on all of us… you know, just in case…”
“I do not “keep tabs” on my friends,” Jane said, and all three men jumped, Gideon spraying beer half-way to the stove. She was standing where he’d been just a moment ago, and now she turned her attention to the cooler, rummaging for another Nikasi. Jesus Christ, how does she do that?! Kyle thought, getting his heart rate back under control. There isn’t a shadow anywhere in this damn kitchen, and she’s not even in her costume!
“I do not know where Jonny is today,” she continued, pulling out a bottle and drying it on a towel. “Although, considering his erratic and distracted demeanor of recent weeks, and knowing him as I do, I would assume it has something to do with his on-going quest for the truth behind his parentage. As this is a subject brought recently to the forefront for him, through his interactions with the family that, under other circumstances, could have been his step-family, it seems a logical conclusion.
“Now, if you’re ready to take the turkey out, Kyle, I need to put my cornbread in. There should just be enough time for it to finish while the bird rests.”
————————
For a wonder, the Vanguard managed to get through both the meal and dessert before Dispatch called with an alert that couldn’t wait until the next morning. Not a crisis, apparently, since the call came through to only JJ’s wrist comp. He excused himself and stepped out to take the call, while the others eyed the remaining pies and considered seconds… or in some cases thirds.
“Well, it seems our discussion earlier about the McGregor family was a bit prophetic,” he said a few minutes later, returning to the table. “Earlier today, around 14:00, a SHADE agent, well-known to the APD, showed up with paperwork to transfer Tiffany McGregor from the city’s holding cells out to the Forty Fathoms SuperMax.”
“So what’s the problem?” Gideon asked. “Actually, I’m surprised they left her in city custody for this long, even with the power-dampening cells working properly now.”
“There have been jurisdictional issues with the federal case the government is trying to build against VTS as a whole and not just McGregor and his pet scientist,” Jane said diffidently. “Plus Tiffany’s on-going psychiatric evaluations and treatment. I take it something went wrong with the transfer, John?”
“Well, I guess you could say that,” JJ sighed, sitting down and pouring himself another cup of coffee. “Tiffany has vanished, as you no doubt guessed; but not during a transfer. There was no actual transfer, it was a scam. The agent who was supposedly overseeing the “operation” was found at home watching football and eating with family and friends, had been all day, and knew nothing about it.
“The working theory at the moment involves a shape-shifter of some kind, but one with considerable resources behind them — they knew all the procedures and had all the paper and electronic documents in proper form. They also apparently counted on holiday staffing, and on many on-duty officers being focused on the football game, to blunt any suspicion.
“They’re not requesting Vanguard assistance at this point, but we will want to conduct our own search for McGregor as soon as possible, of course…”
“Are her father and Dr. Agarstall still in custody,” Cooper asked. “Could this be a VTS attempt to wreck the legal case against the company?”
“That was the first thought, of course,” JJ agreed. “But no, both Mike McGregor and the good doctor remain safely in custody, although security around them has been tightened. They’re the ones who are important to the case — Tiffany never knew anything they didn’t, and she’s always been secondary to the prosecution.”
With that, and a last sigh over the amazing meal just past, everyone stood up and reluctantly started to think about work again…
————————
Over the next two weeks the Vanguard’s efforts to find Tiffany “Golden Childe” McGregor proved as inconclusive as those of the conventional authorities. It was as if she and the presumed shapeshifter, along with the supposed “security detail,” had just vanished between one street camera and the next. Not all of Artemis’ underworld contacts, nor Scion’s high-tech search methods, turned up anything. As other crimes demanded their attention, the puzzle of Golden Childe’s escape/rescue was moved to the open-but-inactive file.
Jonny had little contact with the Oshiro family after the ambiguous ending to their own Thanksgiving meal, beyond two phone calls from Mariko to convey, first, that they were aware of the escape of Golden Childe and, secondly, to confirm that their own resources had proved no more effective in locating her than the Vanguard’s. She said nothing about their efforts to find Masashi, of course, and Jonny didn’t ask.
The Christmas Eve attack on Air Force One, and attempted kidnaping of the President, by Manifold the Replicant was a tough and very public fight, from which the android ultimately managed to escape. The aftermath, including hunting down the synthetic being’s confederates, the DNAgents, dragged on past the New Year.
It was shortly after the Vanguard had dropped off the two DNAgents they had managed to track down and capture at the Forty Fathoms SuperMax that SHADE contacted the heroes about a potentially messy international situation brewing in the South China Sea. One that might call for meta-human intervention…