Project Northwoods (13 page)

Julia stared at him with no small degree of irritation. “You almost burned down the gym demonstrating your Volcano Gun.”

Arthur pursed his lips. “But the prom…”

“You tried to kill my boyfriend. Twice.”

Arthur shook a finger in the air. “Ah, but in my defense, I didn’t know he was your boyfriend.”

Julia’s deadpan stare was disturbingly penetrative. “Twice, Arthur. Twice.” Her look softened almost immediately as she shook her head. She grabbed his arm and led him away once more. “Please, just go. Your kind…”

He shook his way out of her grasp, a smile of disbelief creeping over his face. “My kind? You sound like a Golden Age super he…” The joy of seeing Julia completely overwhelmed his common sense. The costume, the location, even her standoffishness. Arthur nodded and crossed his arms, his smile fading. “So… when did you get approval?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t act like that, Arthur.” He arched his eyebrows and shook his head, egging her on to answer his question. Julia quickly relented. “Had to register at eighteen like every other Bestowed.” She smiled a little. “Went to the University, studied abroad, took some time off… graduated earlier this month, and here I am.”

Arthur was nodding, catching the highlights but the rest was drowned by his irritation. “I suppose you could have told me, but whatever.” He gave her an insincere smile. “I’m glad to see the heroes have you dressing up like a West Texas stripper.”

Julia rolled her head back in exasperation. “I knew it! I knew you couldn’t be happy for me.” She looked at him straight on. “It just kills you that I don’t share your stupid little dream.”

Immediately, Arthur felt silly. Julia had never displayed any desire for villainy; he had merely wanted her to so badly that he projected it on her repeatedly. Nevertheless, he had done enough apologizing for one day. “Look, I don’t want to fight. I just… I just wanted to talk to dad.”

His sister looked shocked. Her eyes hardened to a mix of disbelief and concern. “Don’t try, Arthur, please. He won’t talk to you.”

“Come on, Julia. Everyone knows this whole thing is stupid.” He came off as trying just as much to convince himself as her.

“I don’t disagree.” She looked at their father. He was still talking to Desert Ranger, oblivious to the siblings. “But I’m begging you, Arthur…”

Arthur exhaled audibly through his nose. “So what do you do when you’re not parading up and down the street on Silver all day?” He couldn’t help the anger from leaking.

“Interning,” came the response, quick and effortless.

“As what?” He tapped her hat, exacerbating her glare. “Entertainment? The Pony Express?”

“I am an assistant and consultant to the next High Consul.” Her reply was rehearsed, the familiarity of a canned response readable in every aspect of the sentence.

Arthur nodded. “Didn’t realize politicking was your thing.” He slapped her gently on the shoulder. “But, hey, we could always use someone sane in office.” She stared at him as he looked around. “I suppose Zombress is too much to ask for, but hey, Desert Ranger seems like a good guy.” His gaze returned to her, and she immediately broke eye contact. She shifted her weight uncomfortably as she stared at the floor. “You’re… you’re not…” He took a step back. “I can’t believe it.”

“He requested me specifically.”

“Julia, what is the matter with you?”

“Don’t start, Arthur!”

“Arbiter is insane!”

Julia’s head snapped upright as other heroes turned to regard the outburst. Anger hardening her features, she stepped forward. “That man fought alongside our father!”

“That man kills people!” He closed the gap further.

She didn’t back away. “He gave up everything to save this country!”

“He wants to lift the protective clauses!”

“Can you blame him for not trusting villains?”

“Julia, he wants to kill people like me!”

She scoffed. “Like you’d ever get licensed.” Her eyes narrowed tightly, “I wouldn’t worry about it.” Arthur took a step back. It was too late to regret her words, they were already out there and biting further into him. If she felt any guilt at all, her steely gaze didn’t betray it.

“Glad to see you’re all grown up, Julia.” Arthur backed away, getting a better view of her.

Her hand dropped to the heavy-duty revolver hanging from her belt holster. “It’s Gunslinger, to you.”

“Whatever,
Gunslinger
,” he growled, over-emphasizing her pseudonym. “I didn’t want to talk to you to begin with.” He turned around and started walking toward his father.

Julia caught up with him. “Arthur, don’t do this. You think he wants to be seen talking to you?” She tried to push her way in front of him, but he resisted her attempts.

“You talked to me, didn’t you? Blood is thicker than water,” Arthur said matter-of-factly. “You’ll see.” The last part seemed more to convince himself than Julia.

“You’re such an idiot.”

Arthur stopped and stared at her. He tried his best to look intimidating. Whether or not it worked didn’t matter. He was angry and felt like showing it. “Shut up, Julia.” It wasn’t the most eloquent way to put it, but it got the job done.

For a moment, it looked like Julia was losing her nerve. Almost instantly, she straightened. Any sign of weakness was gone. “You can say what you want about Arbiter, at least he gives me cards on my birthday.”

He shook his head, clearly unprepared for the turn of conversation. “What are you talking about? I always…”

Someone brushed passed himand put an arm around Julia. “Good to see you, Gunslinger,” their father said. Dante Lovelass looked from her to Arthur. His grin seemed to lose some coherence as he scanned the younger man. “And, who is your friend here?” His eyes were no longer drifting, instead boring into his son’s in a primal display of hostility.

Arthur didn’t know what to say. He swallowed, then forced his eyes to the floor. He glanced up toward Julia, but she refused to look at him. “No one,” he offered as he walked by them, toward the suitcase he had let drop on the floor. For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, tears burned at his eyes. “Just… no one…” he said to himself. Hefting the case, he continued on to the exit in front of him, namely to spare himself the embarrassment of the father who refused to even acknowledge his existence.

Julia watched him go, her father’s hand on her shoulder compelling her to stay put. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to go after Arthur, to hug him and say she was sorry, or if she should just let him wallow in the cruelty her father had just inflicted. Every moment she hesitated made it less and less likely she could even find him, and more and more likely her father would lecture her afterwards.

“Well, that was a fun little diversion,” her father, voice smooth as ever, said loftily. He took his hand off her shoulder in order to adjust his cuffs and freeing her to run if she wanted. Julia found herself staying firmly in place despite her gut instinct. “Are you prepared for the final push of the campaign?” She nodded, still looking at the door Arthur vanished through. “Arbiter will not win,” Dante began with a casual air, “but even unpopular men need their voices heard.”

He walked away, leaving Julia alone with her thoughts.

GOOD INTENTIONS

FITTING IN WITH THE REST OF ARTHUR’S DAY,
it started to pour within fifty yards of the subway. Unlike those who walked alongside him, who either laughed while running for cover or otherwise quickened their pace, he trudged onward. He knew it was raining, but like a theatrical child who demonstrated his contempt by ignoring and lengthening his own discomfort, Arthur refused to run. The cold splatter of water was welcomed, in a way, making him feel even worse about how everything had devolved since he had stepped out of the apartment.

By the time he was underground, every bit of him was soaked and he really didn’t care. In his war against being clean and dry, he was totally successful. With a squish, he deposited damp tokens in the collection bin, and before long he was waiting for the train to arrive.

When one rolled to a stop in front of him, he stood listlessly as a glut of passengers wormed their way out before attempting to squeeze inside. When he did manage to, every seat was taken.
Of course
.

He stood, dripping wet in a subway car as others chatted, laughed, or kept occupied by flitting through their cell phones. It all felt painfully fitting how, while the world kept spinning, he was left behind. Self-pity was intoxicating, a drug which made him the center of a universe that he clearly didn’t matter to. The more he concentrated on his own insignificance, the less insignificant he was.

The apartment was disquietingly dark, the lights remaining extinguished from earlier in the day. While this didn’t mean much, the raised voices from the other room certainly did. “… Irresponsible! Were you even paying attention to what I said?” Arthur turned on the lights and set his sopping wet suitcase on the floor, out of the way of the doorway. The last thing he wanted was another lecture on where he put his things.

“Of course, but he doesn’t have a lot of options.” Tim’s voice was firm, smooth, and much quieter than Ariana’s. While it gave Arthur some hope to have someone on his side, there was the definite possibility that an ultimatum would present itself with him on the losing side.

“Options?” The question came out halfway between indignation and amusement. “Options! The little idiot has plenty of options!” Arthur imagined Ariana as he crossed to the couch, her fury melting her beauty away as she pricked up fingers at each point she made: “School! Henchman work! For villains’ sake, he’s still technically neutral! He can work at an investment firm!”

Arthur crossed to the couch and flopped down on it, staring at the ceiling. The fact that it was dark when he got home implied she had gone straight to the larger bedroom and paced, no doubt waiting for Tim. The second she knew he had walked in the door, she called him in and started yelling. He probably was still in his work clothes.
Poor guy. Didn’t even have time to turn on the lights.

“Art said earlier today that he’ll give it some thought,” Tim said coolly.

“Really?
Really
, Timothy?” Ariana clearly didn’t believe him, and it was understandable why. She knew Arthur well enough to know that Tim’s claim wasn’t strictly honest.

“In his own way,” Tim explained.

She scoffed, loud enough for Arthur to hear through the walls. “Great. So we’ll just wait a year for him to think about it. When he’s done with that, he can go right back to sucking at everything.”

There was a pause. “You know you don’t mean that.”

“Of course I do!” The creak of floor boards betrayed her movement. “I’m sick of you and me bearing his dead weight. I don’t want to live with that loser anymore!”

“Baby…”

Arthur winced. It was definitely not the right choice of words. “Do
not
baby me,” Ariana snapped.

Another pause. Timothy was either tiring of the argument or exasperated at the run around. “He’s just hit a rough patch is all.”