Broker

Martin stood over the scorch mark, rubbing his neck. He’d never seen anything like it before, the concrete had been blackened in a way that looked like water had been splashed across it from above. He glanced over at the forensics specialist who was kneeling next to him, tweezers in his hands. The man plucked what looked like a fragment of a rope out of the debris that lay in the center of the blast zone, slipping it into a small bag and sealing it. He wrote something on the bag and set it aside before leaning back down again.

The committee agent sighed and turned away, walking to where Ironsides was standing. The bigger man had his arms crossed and was looking around the room in silence. He glanced towards Martin and shrugged wearily, “Anything?”

Martin shook his head, “Nothing definitive, the labs are already back on the body’s teeth, right?” He asked.

Ironsides nodded, “Yeah, the press got hold of the information too, it’s definitely Park Beyol.”

Martin clicked his tongue and glanced over his shoulder at the scorch mark, “Looks like an execution.”

“Someone with firepower equivalent to what Firestorm is capable of, fortunately the guy was at the Hero Day event around the estimated time of death,” Ironsides grunted, glancing at the black mark as well. His nose wrinkled, “I agree though, definitely an execution of some sort. Kingshark’s men caught him, tortured him by the looks of the bones, and then burned him alive.”

Martin turned to Ironsides, “Do you seriously still think it’s just Kingshark?” He demanded, “Do you think a guy like that is capable of planning that kind of coordinated attack?”

Ironsides looked to the left hesitantly and then sighed, “I’m convinced, but what can we do? Homeland security won’t take us seriously until we have proof and Kingshark claimed responsibility for the attack. They have their target,” He said.

Martin straightened a little, his eyes widening. He’d wondered if he’d ever be able to convince Ironsides that there was more to this than just some meatheaded fish-guy and it seemed the attack had been enough. It was too organized, too well planned, but more problematic for Martin was that it felt too easy. People died, yes, but it felt like they all cut and run as soon as things got hard. Not only that, they left behind a lot of their own. There were only three deaths among the attacking party. All survivors, all being brought up on domestic terrorism charges.

He frowned, rubbing his temples, “Something still isn’t sitting right with me.”

Ironsides looked his way, “You’ve got good instincts, clearly, let’s talk it through,” He said and gestured for Martin to walk with him. The two of them stepped out of the room and into the much larger common area outside of it. There was evidence that tons of crates and materials had been stacked here at one point but they were all gone. Quickly cleaned out and moved to a new location. As soon as that woman, Handmaiden, attacked their headquarters they moved everything. Handmaiden was uninjured obviously, I’m not sure what could hurt her. Miss Chernovna had some bruises but that was about it.

“How’s Miss Chernovna doing?” Martin asked hesitantly.

“She’s apparently going to Orlando for a brief vacation, I don’t blame her,” Ironsides said, “We did a full debrief before she left.”

“Anything interesting?” Martin asked.

“Not really, she was very forthcoming about how they treated her and her injuries, but didn’t give us much more than we already know now that we’ve looked the place over,” Ironsides said with a shake of his head. “So what’s your gut telling you?”

Martin turned to his partner. Yes, his partner. He had to accept that now. Lucian-Ironsides was a good guy, there was no doubt his heart was in the right place and he was a good investigator. His powers would come in handy if they had trouble, too. It had been hard to accept the existence of the light-touched, but he was front and center to see the heroes defend the civilians at the New York attack. That guy, Firestorm, he kept going even after being injured all those times. I couldn’t do that. Am I jealous? Damn it.

He sighed, “It was too easy, the defense.”

“Over two hundred people died, Martin,” Ironsides said with a frown.

“If they’d taken it seriously, I think the villains could have done five times that. He may have gotten a wound in the end but Kingshark wasn’t even taking the fight against Firestorm seriously, I know you were more focused on fighting the villains but…” He trailed off, “...I watched a good bit of it. It was like watching an adrenaline junkie trying to get his fix. He wasn’t giving it his all.”

Ironsides swallowed, “I see…” He looked contemplative for a moment, “So whats their angle?”

Martin shook his head, “There were almost five hundred arrests that day, they ditched their guys easily. All of them were light-touched. Can they really afford to lose that many people?”

His partner crossed his arms, “...that doesn’t make sense. You’re right. Trained light-touched are rare right now. After more and more heroes get trained it’ll be different but-” He trailed off and then looked up at Martin. “The prison system?”

Martin froze, “I-” He was cut off by his phone ringing, the ringtone unmistakeable. He held up his hand to forestall the conversation and pulled out his phone quickly. It was the Chairman. He glanced up at Ironsides and swallowed hard before pulling his phone up to his ear, “Hello, Chairman, sir,” He said, drawing a surprised frown from Ironsides.

“Mister Fuller, I’m glad I got a hold of you, how is the investigation at Kingshark’s headquarters going?” He asked.

“Kingshark got out quick, sir,” Martin said sourly, “He was ready to leave at a moment’s notice.”

“I see, good work anyway,” There was a pause and then he cleared his throat, “I read your special report.”

Martin felt a thrill go up his spine, he calmed himself and let out a breath, “Your thoughts, sir?”

“I agree with your assessment and some of our people overseas have heard rumblings about this person as well, but we haven’t got nearly as much information as you have. You said you went undercover, unauthorized, to a rally and saw this person?” The Chairman asked, his tone not giving anything away about how he felt about the behavior.

Martin chewed his lip and let out a sigh, “Yes sir, that’s what happened.”

There was another long pause, Martin clenched his fist and felt a bead of sweat drip down his brow, finally the older man spoke; “Excellent work, Mister Fuller. I’m putting you in charge of the Ishtar Case, effective immediately you are the Chief Investigating Officer for the North American branch. Congratulations. Find this villain and bring her to justice.”

The ex-detective’s shoulders straightened and his spine jolted, he looked at the phone in confusion for a moment and then held it up to his ear again, running his fingers through his hair. “I… thank you sir! I won’t let you down.”

“Go to the branch office in New York and receive your new packet,” The Chairman said gruffly, “Good luck, Chief,” He added and ended the call.

Martin looked at the phone again and then up at Ironsides who gave him an expectant look, he broke into a wide smile. “Let’s head back to the office, we have a lot to talk about.”

–

Orlando was hot, even in the middle of the night. The humidity was enough to drive a vacationer crazy. It didn’t bother Colin, much, though it did make all of his outfits feel a little tighter. He ran his fingers through his brown hair as he walked down the sidewalk towards his office, a carton of freshly made coffee in a bag clutched tightly in his right hand. He rubbed his eyes, Another late night. Just wish these cases actually paid out a little more. Feel like I’ve been doing newbie work for a decade.

He sighed and leisurely rounded the corner only to stop as he spotted a figure standing just down the way, right in front of the door to his office. What kind of dress is that? Is she wearing a veil? He thought to himself as he patted his coat with his free hand, checking for his revolver. Still there, still loaded. His lips thinned as he stepped to within shouting distance of the figure. “Excuse me! We’re closed!” he shouted, “You can come back tomorrow for a consultation!”

The veil wearing woman didn’t say a word, but instead took three steps back from her spot standing in front of the door and rest her hands over her lap. He narrowed his eyes, Is that a maid uniform? He wondered, Where have I seen it before? He wondered and kept walking towards the door. She didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t even react as he got within a few steps of her. Creepy. He thought and turned towards the door to his office. He held up his badge and the door unlocked, the lights coming on as he stepped inside and the door shut.

He glanced back and she’d moved back to her position in front of the door, his brows knit, Almost like she’s standing guard… His heart clenched in his chest and he quickly reached into his suit for his gun. He pulled it out and looked around, nothing. He slid up to the corner leading to his office and peered around. The hall was lit but no one was there. He slipped slowly to the door to his office and pressed his ear against it.

“Come in, Mister Matthews,” A raspy voice called through the door, “And put that toy away, it won’t do you any good.”

He flinched, Do I run? Can I with that scary person at the front door? He swallowed, “Threatening a legal professional is a crime!” He shouted.

“Wasting my time will get you killed,” The cruel rasp responded, “Come in, Colin.”

He licked his lips and glanced at his gun again. He sighed, Probably a light-touched, this won’t do me any good. He thought sullenly and slipped it back into the holster. He pushed the door open and froze, there was an indescribable feeling in the air. It was like an omnipresent weight that seemed to push down on everything that he was. It wasn’t heavy, but enough to be noticeable. More startling was the eerie figure sitting in his chair. White leather armor and a faceless helmet that only showed two sinister hot-pink eyes. Reminded him of the kind of helmets they wear at raves around here.

“Have a seat, Mister Matthews,” The person said, gesturing to the chair his clients usually sat in.

He frowned at her, “You’re sitting in my chair.”

The woman behind the helmet tilted her head at him, then actually laughed, “Yes, I suppose I am, humor me though.”

“Not until you tell me what you want,” He said from the doorway.

“I intend to have a pleasant conversation with you, Colin, which involves you sitting down, now,” Her voice carried a hint of warning. She wasn’t going to ask again. He’d pushed his luck as far as it would go and pushing her buttons clearly hadn’t resulted in any hostility. She wasn’t here to kill him, then. 

He worked his thoughts through as he moved to sit down before fixing her with a stare, “What do you want?”

She tilted her head again, “You’re a lot different from how I imagine you, more spine,” She said thoughtfully and leaned back in his chair, “I like that,” When he didn’t respond to the backhanded compliment she chuckled again and sighed, “You must hate it here, in a shabby low level office with only the dregs as clientele. How do you stand it? You’re one of the finest lawyers in the city yet you let your brother’s shadow cripple you.”

He stiffened, “You did your research.”

“Of course I did,” The woman said, “I came here to hire you after all, sweep you off your feet and take you away to a much better career.”

Hire me? He squeezed his hands together, “You’re a villain, aren’t you?”

She fixed him with a stare for a moment before nodding, “I am. The first.”

“The first?” He murmured.

“I ordered the attack on the Hero Day events,” The woman said flatly, “I control Kingshark.”

His jaw fell, his eyes widening, this person just admitted to being the most powerful living domestic terrorist in the United States without even hesitating. A villain, no, a supervillain. He swallowed as she continued to talk.

“My ability allows me to make binding contracts with other people and I’m looking to make improvements on it. I tried to do it, but my instincts tell me that I am not qualified to create physical documents to assign my ability to, I need someone with a talent in the legal field and my public persona could use a legal representative as well…” She said as if describing the weather, “...You.”

His blood ran cold even as his mind worked. An ability that creates ‘binding’ contracts? Contracts that can’t be broken? Clearly she’d done it before, but… Why was he even thinking about it? Was it boredom? Was it resentment? Was it greed? 

He licked his lips and looked at the helmet, “How does it work?” He asked hesitantly.

“I’ll show you first hand once you hear out my offer,” She said.

“Offer?” He asked and she pushed one of his own business cards towards him. He took it and flipped it over, his stomach roiling at the number on the card. He stared at it, aghast, then looked up at her in wonder. 

He opened his mouth to speak but she held up her hand, “This includes funding a new office in New York and assisting in hiring staff.”

He looked down at the card again, “Annually?” He asked.

“Yes.”

He glanced around his tiny office and down at the carton of coffee in the bag next to the chair. He rolled his jaw and looked up at her, “What do you want me to do?” He asked, a small smile creeping across his face.

She held out a hand, “Let’s make a deal, Mister Matthews.”

–

It was morning when the figure stopped in front of the door to the office. Humming to himself, the man ran his finger over the handle and the security disengaged. He pulled the door open and slipped inside, walking down the unlit entry hall and into the waiting room. He glanced around curiously and reached up to play with his coiffed hair. He tugged at a strand and licked his lips, rounding the corner that led down to the owner’s office.

He stopped at the door and glanced down, it was ajar. He pushed the door open and blinked, tilting his head curiously to the left. The office was empty. The books were gone, legal documents, everything. All that was left was the shoddy wooden desk and the chairs set around it.

Sapphire eyes gleamed as his lips twisted into an awkward smile, “Curious, where’d he go?”