Chapter Text
Sunday October 17, pt. 4 (the last chapter for Sunday, I swear!)
“I have good news,” You say as you approach the group. “Ekko, you will not be going to jail today, but you also can’t join us to shoot. I’m sorry.”
Thomas’ shoulders slump in relief. Ekko looks startled, then stares at you as if he’s never properly looked at you before. It’s almost as unnerving as being pinned underneath Silco’s gaze. You no longer wonder how he got all those college kids to confess they’d called the mysterious number.
“He’s letting me go, just like that.”
Thomas gives his son a hard look. “I think what you mean to say is 'thank you'.”
“I am grateful,” The boy replies, and you know he means it. “But I’m just trying to understand.”
You answer slowly. “Obviously if you try this again he isn’t going to let you off the hook, but today you’re free to go.”
You can tell Ekko’s burning with questions, but just as he opens his mouth Thomas catches his eye and jerks his head towards the boy’s motorcycle. After one last covert look at you, he follows his father.
“Can we meet up after, at The Fissures?” Jinx calls after him anxiously.
He salutes at her over his shoulder, and it’s enough for the girl. Her buoyancy is back in a flash, and she grins as she rounds on the rest of us. “I’m going to go make sure nobody’s got my favorite lane!”
She practically skips towards the front door, and Marcus mutters to himself about decorum and kids these days before flicking his hat further onto his forehead and stalking after her.
“The boss backed down.”
Sevika’s voice has a quality to it that is different from the smug superiority she usually uses. Her arms are crossed as she frowns hard at the ground.
“He didn’t seem too interested in sending Ekko to jail, actually,” You reply. “I didn’t have to say a lot to convince him.”
It was almost too easy, when you think about it. You’d been ready for a fight, and you hadn’t even had to go for the big guns to barter for Ekko’s freedom. You aren’t sure if you should be suspicious or not, especially considering the strange look in Sevika’s eye.
What are you up to, Silco?
“The boss always has his reasons,” Sevika says as if reading your mind, then the frown clears and she jerks her head. “Come on, let’s get you checked in.”
You walk side by side up the curb.
“You ready to learn from the master?”
You nod, the nerves that you’d forgotten about suddenly reemerging.
She slaps your shoulder with her organic hand. “Don’t stress about it. Thomas is the best of the best. I prefer my fists in a real fight, but when it comes to gunplay he’s taught me more tricks than anyone else alive. I probably owe him my life. If it weren’t for him, I’d have died pulling some stupid stunt years ago.”
You follow her inside, strangely reassured.
You hand over your personal effects and ID, and at Sevika’s instruction your personal firearm is removed and checked in. You’re subjected to a metal detector and pat down before being handed a pair of noise canceling headphones and safety glasses, and get whisked into a glass walled room.
“Wait here for Thomas.” Sevika nods at you on her way out, “Do everything he says, and you’ll be just fine.”
You wander over to the window as soon as the door clicks shut, and stare past the glass to get a better view of the interior of the range.
The room reminds you of a bowling alley, except that the floors are bare cement, and there are targets at the end of each lane instead of bowling pins. There are about twenty lanes in all, and separating each lane is a free standing, floor to ceiling partition which would prevent you from seeing (and probably going deaf from) the person shooting next you. Most of the lanes are being used at the moment, and you can see a myriad of figures standing with legs hip width apart, both hands extended over a waist high table. As you watch, several of the figures recoil as they fire, which barely registers as a distant pop behind the glass.
Your scan eventually reveals Jinx, who has situated herself into the farthest left stall. Her gun looks fairly antique, even with your extremely limited experience with firearms. It’s like something out of a western, and it suits her, somehow. As she buffs the copper barrel with a cloth, her head bounces and bobs around, like she’s listening to music.
You wonder what kind of music plays in her head, if it’s real or made up.
As you ponder this, you begin to wonder if she picked up her love of music on her own, or from her father. He certainly doesn’t seem to mind that she blasts her music in her room at all hours of the day. It could be fatherly indulgence, or it could be that he likes it.
This percolates in your mind for several seconds. You recall seeing an old record player in Silco’s office at The Last Drop, but no records. Was it just a prop for decoration? His office at home didn’t have a record player or records either. Maybe he hadn’t gotten around to buying any?
This causes a sudden, tentative bubble of hope to blossom in your chest. You could buy Silco a small collection of records. All you have to find out is what kind of music he likes, and the people to ask are right outside the window.
You begin to create a list of possible bands that Silco might be interested in, which takes up so much of your attention that you hardly notice the ten minutes that pass before Thomas enters the room.
His smile strained. “Sorry about the wait. I needed to have a quick conversation with my son about his manners.”
“It’s no problem Thomas, really. I was doing some light research while I waited.”
You can see the strain around his eyes as he rubs his face. “The boy’s got a stubborn streak, and no sense of self-preservation. You’d think being my son he’d at least have learned that. Of course, he could have gotten it from his mama. She’s always been a bit of a rebel.”
He smiles fondly at some secret memory before shaking his head. “He’s just so dead set on seeing this thing through, and nothing I say can change his mind. I’m afraid he’s messing with some very powerful people.”
“I understand your worry, but Silco is a reasonable man. He would never hurt your son.”
“I know he wouldn’t,” He answers bleakly, “But Silco’s an anomaly among the powerful men in this country. He’s careful, and knows how to weigh the consequences of his actions. But if there’s somebody out there giving experimental drugs to kids, then you can bet your ass they’ll have no problems hurting mine to hide their sins.”
“So you believe Ekko’s theories?”
“I do. But the boy fancies himself a savior, and I’m worried that one day he’s going to find himself in deeper shit than he can handle, and I won’t be able to help. I couldn’t even help him today. If you hadn’t been here to talk to the boss, Marcus would have carted him away without a doubt.”
You stare out into the shooting range and watch Marcus for a few moments. Maybe there was a way to badger him for updates on the search, if only for Thomas’ sake.
It would be worth a shot, anyway.
After another second or two of silence Thomas heaves a sigh, and the dark clouds disappear from across his brow. “How about we get started on what we came here to do in the first place?”
You match his smile. “Yeah, sounds good.”
You have several tasks to complete today: getting gun safety training, taking the gun safety test, getting checked out with your Hellcat, and then actually handling the gun in the range.
The first three tasks are accomplished in shockingly short order. Thomas is an excellent instructor. He’s calm, well-spoken, and infinitely patient with your fumbling hands and thousands of nervous questions. Strangely enough, the hardest part of the initial training is being comfortable holding the gun. It feels like a dangerous creature with a mind of its own, capable of jumping out of your hands at a moment’s notice.
Thomas spends half his instruction reassuring you that the weapon is only as dangerous as you are.
“If you respect the weapon, then the weapon will respect you.”
This only further cements your belief that the gun is, in fact, its own animal.
Two hours after you enter the glass room, you exit it with headgear and safety glasses. Just stepping inside the range is intimidating, and each shot that’s fired echoes around the chamber makes your heart leap.
You’re positioned in the stall between Jinx and Sevika, the former of which is singing a strange song to herself.
“She’s such a loser, always ready to cry! Ta-ta-ta-taa!”
She fires four shots, one for each “ta”.
“Do not spin that gun.” Thomas says blandly, as he sets your hellcat down on the table of your stall.
You catch a glimpse of Jinx mid-spin (and mid eye-roll).
“Yessir.”
You’re pretty sure saluting with the gun like that isn’t safe either, but she does it anyway. Thomas sees it, but stays silent (though you can tell he's biting his tongue). Safety is probably a constant war with Jinx, and he has to pick his battles.
The first lesson he teaches you is the proper stance: how to distribute your weight on your feet, and how to hold the weapon. He demonstrates, then has you copy him, talking you through how it should feel. At last the moment comes when he fills his magazine, and has you stand behind him as he talks about breath work.
“Keep your core tight, your arms and legs strong, and your breath steady. Breathe in and out slowly three times, focusing on your intended target. On the third breath out, I want you to pull the trigger. It doesn’t matter where it hits the target right now, I just want you to get used to how it feels in your body. Understand?”
You nod vigorously.
He demonstrates, then pulls the trigger.
It’s a perfect bullseye.
Jinx claps enthusiastically. Sevika smirks, and continues loading her magazine.
Thomas stands back and indicates you should take his place, as if it isn’t even that hard.
Maybe you can bs your way into being super good at this, You think desperately as you prepare yourself to fire your first shot.
You focus on your breathing, just like Thomas said to do, and keep your eye on the target. As you push out the third breath, you pull the trigger. Your arms buzz from the sudden jolt, and you stagger.
Your heart pounds with excitement as you scan the target. There, just on the right edge of the second ring, is the hole from your round.
You look back at Thomas with a grin.
“Very good,” He nods. “Now do that again.”
The buzz has made its way down your arms and into your entire body. Exhilaration overwhelms you, and you can’t exactly remember what happens next. One moment you’re setting up your feet, and the next you’re firing at the target.
It’s clear within seconds that you’ve missed completely.
You feel phenomenally confused.
“Now why do you think you missed?” Thomas asks in a tone that tells you he already knows the answer.
You feel lightheaded and practically breathless. “I don’t know, it happened so fast...”
“That’s the adrenaline right there. It runs through your system and makes time move fast, so you have to learn how to work through it, and maintain your calm. Let’s give it another try. This time, I want you to repeat all the steps out loud, slowly.”
You’re hyper aware of every part of your body, what it’s doing, and how it’s feeling. It's weird to talk out loud and focus on all of the rules all at once, but the next shot you take hits the target, and so does the third and fourth. The last one misses the bullseye by an inch.
“When you're first learning a skill, you must form the proper habits,” Thomas continues with an encouraging nod as he changes out the target. “Forming good habits takes time, but eventually it'll feel like second nature. From there you can work on technique, consistency, and speed.”
As if on cue, Sevika and Jinx fire off several shots in quick succession, all of them hitting close to the bullseye.
You begin round two feeling a bit daunted, but Thomas seems genuinely pleased by your performance, so you use his praise as motivation. You start to feel more comfortable with the gun in your hand at the beginning of round three, which is when Thomas excuses himself to take a call.
Jinx pops her head around the partition as you’re reloading.
“You wanna see something cool?”
Judging by the look in her eye it’s not only cool, but also very unsafe. Still you’re lured to her stall by morbid curiosity.
“I trained myself to shoot like this when I was nine.” She says with a wink before standing in what appears to be a pitcher’s stance, body perpendicular to the target with her arms and legs akimbo. Her head is cocked theatrically to the side with one eye screwed shut, the gun resting down at her side, her finger twitching.
“Is there a good reason why you’re breaking all the rules just to show off?” Sevika asks.
“Who needs reasons?” Jinx sticks out her tongue, then in a sudden move cocks the gun and swings it around in a wide (dangerous) arc towards the target, firing in rapid succession.
Her success rate is rather spotty, but none of them miss the target. And you can admit that it looks really cool.
“That’s cute,” Sevika says, reaching under her collar. “But how about you step aside and let a real pro show you how it’s done.”
She unlatches the buckle connecting her prosthetic arm to her shoulder, and lets it fall heavily to the cement. She’s clearly enjoying herself as she pulls a loaded magazine out of her pocket with exaggerated flair, locking it into the gun by slapping it against her thigh. She jerks her head to tell Jinx to move out of the way, then situates herself in the center of the stall. She’s not wearing proper eyewear or headgear, and you realize for the first time that maybe the reason Jinx and Sevika fight like cats and dogs is because they are fundamentally the same person.
They both like to do things their way, and each show their own unique, blatant disregard for rules.
Sevika aligns herself with the target in the same way Jinx does, though it’s clear that she’s honed her skill through experience rather than play. Her movements are so relaxed they almost appear lazy, and the entire magazine is drained in ten seconds flat. Every shot appears to have landed within an inch of the bullseye.
“You always knew how to make a statement, Vik.”
You turn at the sound of Thomas’ dry tone, but he doesn’t look annoyed. More mildly amused.
Sevika smirks while Jinx huffs.
“How come when Vicki shows off she’s ‘making a statement’, but when I do it it’s ‘dangerous’ and ‘irresponsible’?”
“Because Sevika has years of practical experience, while you don’t. Now I don’t want to see you breaking the rules again, or I will be forced to revoke your privileges. Both of you.”
Jinx mutters something incoherent while Sevika just grins as she swipes her arm off the floor. “You need something?”
“Just a quick word outside, if you please.”
A look passes between them that you don’t understand, and you have no time to ask before they leave. Jinx has already moved on, reloading her weapon with a string of warbling whistles.
You feel like this is the perfect opportunity to ask her about Silco’s birthday present.
“Does your dad like music?”
“Like music? He loves it! He’s got this entire record collection moldering in his room right now.”
The hopeful bubble deflates.
“He’d totally listen to them if he had a working record player, but he hasn’t bought one yet because he claims he wants to listen to it on the old gramophone at The Last Drop. It’s broken.”
The bubble reinflates to an even bigger size. You could have the gramophone fixed for him. That could be part of the gift, anyway.
“Is there any record he’s been looking for that he can’t find?”
She appears to be thinking hard, then gives up with a shrug.
“Do you think it would be okay if I looked at his record collection when we get back to your house? I want to buy him one, but I don’t really know what he’d like.”
A look of understanding crosses her face, quickly followed by one of mischief. “You’re trying to figure out a birthday present, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. I just have no idea what he’d like, and I don’t have a lot of money…”
“Honestly toots, you don’t have to buy him anything. He’ll be happy if you just show up to his party looking like a snack. He might even be immensely pleased if you accidentally stay late and are too tired to drive home so you ask to stay night, which of course he'll allow, and he'll offer you the guest bedroom just down the hall from his office, and when you inevitably can't sleep and decide to go to the kitchen to get a glass of water you accidentally meet in the dark because it turns out he can't sleep either, and the reason is because of you...”
She peters out with a dreamy smile.
"Watched Notting Hill recently?" You ask, repressing smile.
"So what if I have?" She asks defensively. "It's not such a completely unrealistic fantasy. If you haven't noticed, Silco's a total workaholic. My dad refuses to go to bed before 3 am, so it's totally reasonable to assume that he'd see you on the security cams, and decide to slip downstairs to share a midnight kiss."
You roll our eyes, trying to pretend like your stomach isn't fluttering, and that her fantasy sounds ridiculous instead of an absolute dream.
"Okay so you don't have to have a passionate encounter in the midnight hours. You could just stay to listen to music and maintain a respectful two feet apart on the couch while you discuss all the boring stuff adults like to talk about when they think the kids are all asleep. Like income taxes, the state of the union, the birds and the bees. You know, that sort of thing."
"What a romantic thought," You answer drily. "Thank you, I'll take your advice into consideration."
"Oh my god, you even sound like him," She gags before setting herself up to shoot another round. "It's disgusting how perfect you are for each other."
You smile madly to yourself.
"Just try not to think too hard about it Toots. He doesn't care about gifts and stuff, he just wants you. Take it from the girl who knows him better than anyone else in the world."
It takes a few seconds to absorb this before you find the will to walk back to your stall. You set yourself up for the next round, but you keep forgetting what Thomas told you to do because your mind keeps wandering to that one scene in Notting Hill. Your accuracy is abysmal, but you couldn't care less.
Silco just wants you.