Black Collar Crime: $4

  “Let’s get this out the way first, Xole. Your sixteen today, not eighteen.”

  A vintage green and brown station wagon sat on the traffic-filled bridge leading back into Empire City. As evening crept up, Xole and Yesfir were unfortunate in meeting everyone’s hurry to rush home from their tedious work lives. Xole, however, was more fixated on what he’d just heard from his sitter.

  “Alright!” Yesfir turned to Xole, “Now would you like to hear about next? Your parents or—?”

  “No, no—stop! What the hell, Yesfir?!” Xole almost sat up in his seat. “You just don’t tell someone that and move on! I’ve been lied to my entire life!”

  Yesfir looked puzzled. “Well isn’t that what we’re here to discuss? It’s only a two year age gap anyways. No big deal.”

  “Yeah, like you cared about ‘age gaps’ to begin with!” Xole huffed, sitting back and folding his arms.

  ‘And she was so hesitant about the alcohol earlier!’ he thought.

  Shooting him a glance from the corner of her eye, Yesfir bit her lip and adjusted the rear-view mirror. “Fine then, when you’re ready I’m free to move on.”

  “Let’s just start…with the memories.” Xole said dryly, glancing out at the water. “Everything I know about my folks, you know, like their favorite hobbies, foods, heck, even what sort of clothes they wore, I began to believe I actually knew them. It was all because of your word. The stories you’d tell me were the only connection I had to them…” his voice trailed, “It wasn’t until now they felt like total strangers to me.”

  He paused, feeling his chest grow tight. “Yesfir, I don’t think you get it. I have to believe you.”

  Yesfir took a breath and spoke as the traffic started to give, “Everything I’m going to tell you is the truth. Whether you want to believe me or not is up to you, yah?”

  Xole stayed silent, so she began.

  “I’ve known your parents since I was thirteen. They helped me come abroad to study here and even help me learn English under the condition that I watch their kid for them, and I thought ‘Easiest choice ever, yah?’ I mean, granted you were a weird kid that took some getting used to, but I always knew you had potential for great Talent, just a bit of a slow learner.”

  As they reached the City limits she motioned to him. “Xole, bag please.”

  He grabbed a pack of cigarettes from her bag, handing her one that she lit with her fingers and took a puff.

  “We had a rocky start, that’s still true. You were defiant, never listened, liked to run around a lot, and a bit of a shoddy memory. In fact it took you three months to remember my name. But I grew to care for you, unlike your parents. At best they kept you at arm’s length and put you to sleep to study you. They were infuriated by your lack of skills and always spoke about you as if you were some kind of failed experiment to them. It really, really pissed me off. We would go back and forth more times than I can remember.”

  “… Is that why they left?”

  “It was about a year later I discovered that they’d been looking for reason behind your lack of Talent. Embarking on these prolonged ‘business trips’ and ‘expeditions’ around the country, this would eventually leading them to M.I.R.S, aka the people you saw on my phone earlier. -They had planned on taking you with them to study your mutation. The only problem is their experiments were almost always fatal. Not that your parents cared.”

  Shocked, Xole could only stare to the countless cars ahead as he listened.

  “So then we fought, worse than any of our previous disagreements. They couldn’t get rid of me because M.I.R.S had taken a liking to me and I couldn’t call the authorities because they technically worked for them. Eventually, they ended up leaving for what I assumed was another expedition to look for the ‘source’ as they called it. A week later I get a call from M.I.R.S telling me that any and all of their work will be transferred to me and that I will be your legal guardian from now on.” She finally looked over to him, “They’re dead, Xole.”

  “…”

  For a while no one said anything, the only sounds were the other cars, the passing by pedestrians, and the occasional bark of a dog. The world became a void of white noise for him in that very moment.

  “I’m…disappointed, Yesfir.” he finally spoke, “I really thought you were telling the truth for a second.”

  “What? Xole I AM telling the truth!” she said.

  “You really had me there for a second,” he chuckled, “but this really isn’t funny.”

  “Your parents are dead, Xole.”

  “Not even listening!”

  “Enough of this!” She said. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel. “They are gone! Understand, yah? And they’re never coming back! I know you’re terrified but you need to accept this.”

  “NO! They’re not!!”

  “YES, they ARE!!!” she nearly shouted and swerved the car to the curb. Taking him by the front of his hoodie, she slammed him against the window. “What did you expect, huh Xole? Do you see why I wanted to keep this a secret? It’s because I knew not only you didn’t deserve this, but you can’t handle it!”

  “Yes I CAN!” he shot back.

  “Then why are you crying?”

  Xole took a quick glance to the rear view mirror to see his red, tear-streaked face staring back at him, twisted in confusion. He shoved himself from her grip.

  “If you knew so much than why’d you wait until now?! You want me to trust you but you can’t even trust me! You always told me they loved me, and were just always busy trying to keep their heads above water to support me! Now they’re dead and I’m some—some kind of…experiment who was auctioned off to the government by them?! My PARENTS?! That’s why I can’t handle ANY of this!”

  Yesfir could only watch him fight back sobs. She released her grip on him and turned away, squeezing her temples. Then, she simply sighed.

  “Why must you be so pathetic, Xole?”

  He slowly looked to the young woman. “…What?”

  A chuckle escaped her lips. “I mean, look at yourself! You’re a sniveling little mess! Now, wipe your face and man up. I haven’t even gotten to the half of it yet—”

  “OH, JUST SHUT UP!!!” he cried, twisting the door handle and kicking it open. He nearly stumbled from the vehicle. “I wish I’d NEVER met you! You’re just as bad as those goons you work for, no wonder they seem to love you so much! I’m walking the rest of the way and don’t even try to follow me! I’ve got rich friends too, creep!”

  Xole stormed off leaving Yesfir alone in deafening silence, her head hung. A small crowd had formed on the corner of the street, itching to see what all the yelling was about.

  She opened her phone to a new message:

  M.I.R.S

  Your status, Miss Yerzakovich…

  Gritting her teeth she replied:

  Yesfir

  The boy is being difficult at the moment. Do not worry I will handle him.

  M.I.R.S

  Have it settled by the week’s end or we will. Goodbye.

  Yesfir felt her eyes water. Without warning, she hurled her phone into the dashboard and dropped her head onto the steering wheel.

  ________________________________________________________________________

  “Let’s get you up, kid.” Mr. Holdover said, pulling Xole up by his hand.

  Xole staggered to his quivering knees, doing his best to calm himself down despite not knowing what was going on. But that itself was the problem. His memories were…all over the place to say the least.

  “I do hate to break up a rare moment of tenderness…” Shakar trailed, staring out the boarded windows, “but there is a pretty hefty police force outside our door”

  Before Mr. Holdover could cuss him out, the sound of sirens screamed, as if waiting until now to make itself heard.

  ‘Shit, he’s right,’ he thought. He counted at least two dozen sirens from all around them. He made his way to the window as Xole stayed behind.

  “You guys need to go,” Xole spoke weakly, “I’ll stay with the police and maybe we—”

  “Bullshit! Listen boy, there is no ‘maybe’ with these ass-hats!” Mr. Holdover exclaimed angrily, examining the enemy outside. All of the police wore their basic specialized combat armor but still hung in the back to allow the twelve larger cops lead the charge. He growled, “Bodily Talented, great.” He looked back over his shoulder, “Besides, you really think they’d bring all this just to talk? Damn it! How the hell’ they find us anyway?”

  “Don’t think it matters now,” Shakar said now reaching into the pocket of his pants and pulling out a four foot long staff lined at the top with red, black, and green beads. He bent his knees and held it over his head, hand on each end.

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  Mr. Holdover craned his neck from left to right, making sure his sleeves were rolled up to his forearms.

  Xole just stood there, dazed and confused.

  “Ah, well if it isn’t Empire City’s most wanted!” A snarky voice came from the back.

  Mr. Holdover’s shoulders slouched at the noise, groaning. “No fucking way…”

  Xole’s head spun back to see three men standing at the back door. The one who had spoken had neatly cut short blonde hair that parted to the right. One the left was a similar looking man except he had black hair parting to the left. In the middle was, a bald, pink-faced man with no eyebrows. They all wore matching sunglasses and black business suits with the bald one wearing a red tie while his associates wore dark blue.

  “Glad we got in here before the cops did.” The bald man in the middle sneered, removing his glasses. “They’d just complicate things. Not to mention getting in the way of my payback, Holdover!”

  Shakar nodded, “Ah, Collared agents I see. Well I don’t know either of these two at all, so why don’t I just see myself out and—”

  “Not a chance,” The man on the left piped up, “You’re all coming with—”

  “Not a chance!” The one on the right interrupted with a laugh, “You’re all coming with us. Now, Bob, I’ll handle the culprit known as Mr. Holdover as he may be too much for you at the moment. Left, you handle the African fellow—”

  “HEY!!” Bob yelled much to Right’s annoyance. “Since I’m the only one here with Bodily Talent, I should be the one to take out—”

  A sickening ‘CRACK’ interrupted Bob as Mr. Holdover leaped into the trio, twisting his body and shooting his left leg into the bald man’s face, sending him across the kitchen in the back and into the cupboards, crashing through on impact.

  “That’s why,” Right said with a sigh. “You’re always too caught up in your feelings.”

  “Sir!” Left said attentively “I’ll handle—”

  “Left, you’ll assist me in handling the African and remember, keep the murderer alive!” Right ordered. Him and Left quickly reached for their guns and started firing. Instantly, Shakar was in the way of Xole, still maintaining his stance.

  “’Xole’ was your name right?” Shakar asked sweeping his arm in front of him, deflecting the first round of gunshots in a flurry of whipping motions. From the back Bob roared as he ran from the wreckage, throwing a hefty overhead punch at Mr. Holdover who blocked with both arms, the impact sent his feet crashing into the floor.

  ‘What in the world did I get myself into?! I didn’t know Talent users were this strong!’ Xole thought watching the room explode clashes is fists and gunfire. The sound of flesh pounding against flesh was imbued with background noise of splintering wood as deafening, dazing him. It only grew louder, and louder, until a hand grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pulled him to the ground behind Mr. Holdover’s fallen desk. More gunfire exploded overhead.

  “Greetings!” The young kufi wearing man said pleasantly. He offered his hand to shake as the desk was pelted with bullets “My name’s Shakar, pleased to meet—”

  “HEEEELLP!!” Xole cried. “I’M GONNA GET SHOT!”

  “Not if you listen. If you’re always panicking, then you’ll never get anywhere. Think of it like a deer in headlights of sorts.” Shakar smiled calmly now reaching into his pocket. He produced a red powder and began putting it into his beaded staff.

  Xole tried to calm down and force himself to take a breath. He felt a slight sting on his cheek and notice a trickle of blood drop to his hand. A bullet must’ve grazed him. He checked his shaking arms and legs and saw more grazing, but he wasn’t shot.

  ‘If the kufi guy hadn’t deflected the gunfire from earlier...’

  “I-I-I th-th-th-think I-I-I’mmm g-g-g-g-gooooodd-d-d!” Xole stammered feeling his face loose color.

  “Glad to hear it. Now I’m trying to open a school so make sure to rate my teaching skills after this!” Shakar said quickly examining their attackers, “It appears the one on the left is attempting to overwhelm us with gunfire while his adjacent seems to be actively using his Talent for the more precise shots from the right.”

  “O-o-o-kay, okay, b-but what the heck does that even mean?!!” Xole stuttered as more shots whizzed passed the two. He covered his head with his hands. “They seem like any other cop you see on TV!!”

  “Yes, of course they have Talents .What did you think, these guys were amateurs?” Shakar replied peeking behind before ducking another shot. This time it ricocheted off the corner of the room, catching the side of his chin and drawing blood. He sucked his teeth.

  “Pay attention, Xole, I’m only going to say this once; these two are Materially Talented. Material Talent users can bypass the usual scope of physics—!” He cut himself off to deflect two more ricocheted shots aimed towards Xole, “Like bouncing shots off old wood, for example. Unfortunately, it looks like whenever one runs out of ammunition to cover their partner, the other takes over as the distraction and the process repeats after they reload!”

  “Ok, what about the guy with no eyebrows?!”

  “Ah yes, he’s Bodily Talented. Those types are superbly strong, fast, durable, and nigh unbeatable for even Material Talent users!”

  “So basically what your saying is we’re stuck?!” Xole exclaimed over the noise.

  “Correct!” Shakar replied happily as gunfire screamed them from all angles. “Now, how’d I do?”

  “Looks like your pals are in a real pickle, Holdover!” Bob exclaimed as he threw several quick punches at the man. Mr. Holdover brought his elbows in letting the punches slide off the outside of his forearms before sending a punch of his own under Bob’s ribcage and another into the corner of his jaw.

  ‘Should’ve been down by now!’ He thought, growing frustrated as the bald man seemed to stagger less and less the more he hit him.

  “You’re probably wondering ‘oh! I should’ve been down by now!’ aren’t you?” Bob sneered mockingly. He lowered his fist and began to unbutton his suit jacket and white shirt.

  Mr. Holdover was stunned at both his words and actions. Just who the hell did this guy think he was anyway? A comedian? A stripper? All he could think of was tearing that smirk off his face.

  “BEHOLD! PERFECTION INCARNATE!” Bob declared proudly tearing his shirt open. His exposed body revealed all of the bruising and dents in his skin seemed to melt away.

  Mr. Holdover halted his assault. He moved back a couple steps and put his hand to his chin, thinking.

  “Scared huh? Bob said gleefully making his way towards him, arms spread like wings, “Ever since I was a kid, I got beat up a lot in school for having no eyebrows but whenever I got home the damage wasn’t there—except emotionally of course. What I’m trying to say is while I do possess Bodily Talent; my specialty is taking a beating.”

  Mr. Holdover didn’t say anything.

  Bob snickered, “Of course my durability doesn’t carry over from day to day, heh lucky for you. Still, doesn’t change the fact that my body works like—”

  “Memory foam,” He interrupted “You talk too damn much, boy”

  “HEY!” Bob exclaimed “Don’t you DARE interrupt—”

  “From what I got the longer a fight goes on the tougher you get all cause your body’s molding itself to repeated attacks, right?” Mr. Holdover asked, now undoing his belt and wrapping it around his forearm.

  “Correct!” Bob said smugly, regaining his composure, “Looks like you DID have a proper education growing up! And here I thought—”

  “Like I said!”

  Before Bob could finish, Mr. Holdover had shot towards him in a stuttered blur, his fist shooting even faster into his face.

  “HA! YOU TALK TOO DAMN MUCH, BOY!”

  ‘CRACK!!!’

  “On my cue I’m going to give us cover to run to the back.” Shakar said, placing his staff on top of the fallen desk.

  “Us?” Xole said. “But you’re the one who’ll need to stay back, won’t you?”

  “Oh…I suppose you’re right.” Shakar said. He pulled his staff back and began to put it away, “Looks like I’ll have to change my strategy.”

  “B-but you just said—!”

  “No offense, but I would rather not die for someone I just met. Sorry, Xole, but if I make it out I’ll commemorate a holiday at my new school in your name!”

  Xole was speechless.

  Just then they could hear screaming as Bob flew overhead, crashing through the boarded front windows. There was a dead silence.

  Left turned worryingly. “Bob! Oh no—”

  “OUR TALENT” Right interrupted angrily. Him and Left briefly stopped their assault in awe of what just transpired. They both knew Bob wasn’t the best fighter but if anything they knew he could at least take a hit.

  “Looks like it’s your lucky day, Xole!” Shakar said darting behind the distracted men. Left spun first, trying to warn Right, but Shakar had already whipped his stick from over his shoulder, cracking the weapon between both their heads. They fell in a limp heap on the floor.

  “Time to go,” Mr. Holdover said strolling up to the two, fastening his belt back on.

  “Who the heck we’re those guys?!” Xole asked.

  “Government fucking agents is who!” Mr. Holdover exclaimed. “And there’ll be plenty more if we don’t get the hell out of here!”

  Xole felt like he was forgetting something, “Wait a minute, weren’t there like, dozens of cops outside or…”

  “THIS IS THE EMPIRE CITY POLICE! COME OUT WITH YOUR FILTY HANDS UP OR WE WILL SHOOT!” A Voice blared over their PA system.

  Shakar peered out the window. “Looks like a wall of Bodily Talented we’ll have to get pass. I am grateful they lined themselves up for us though.”

  The young man proceeded to fill his staff with a red powder and excitedly shook it around. Mr. Holdover gave him a judgmental glance before turning his attention to Xole.

  ‘This is gonna be tough. Keeping the kid, Karl or whatever is name is, alive while fighting through those meat bags. Not to mention all the materially—’

  “WE SAID COME OUT OF THE BUILDING AND PUT YOU’RE FUCKING HANDS UP!”

  “WOULD YOU SHUT THE HELL UP? I’M TRYING TO THINK HERE, MORONS!” Mr. Holdover yelled back.

  “Uhh, I don’t think they can here you,” Xole said.

  “Xole! I have an Idea you’ll love.” Shakar grinned, crouching from beneath the window.

  Xole was about to get angry, then he began to smirk, “I’m not in the mood to sacrifice myself for someone I just met, ya know.”

  “Ah, a fast learner I see. Perhaps you’ll make a great youth counselor or even a TA. Now, follow my lead!”

  His face changed, “Hey wait, where are you going?! WHATS THE PLAN?!”

  Shakar leaped out the window and slammed his staff onto the wet pavement releasing a red gas into the air. The frontal force of the police units charged at him through the gas, only to rapidly slow, losing their superhuman speed and some even tripping over each other.

  “Now, Xole! You’re taser remember?”

  Xole, now remembering the phone, fumbled it out of his pocket and tried to vault over the window the way Shakar did, only in his case, his shoe got caught on the edge of the fallen wood and he plummeted over face first, hanging over the edge by his foot.

  Then he had an idea.

  He threw his phone towards the center between Shakar and the police force, hitting the wet pavement in a blinding light.

  ‘BZZZZ-Z-Z-ZAAAAAAAAAAP!’

  Electricity crackled from the ground and bounced across the wet street before erupting to a blinding ‘pop’. The cars exploded, men screamed, in a lightshow that lasted all of a second and a half.

  Xole chuckled, “Heh, got’em. Serves you right!”

  “Serves who? And where’d kufi jump off to?” Mr. Holdover asked, coming outside. He spied one of the less damaged police cars and climbed in. The siren was torn off and the windows were shattered with a few burn marks on the side, but otherwise okay.

  “Shakar...” Xole began solemnly, “When I used the taser he got too close and—”

  “A close one indeed!” Shakar’s voice hit Xole like a truck as he saw him balanced on top of his staff, now extended to eight feet, before jumping down and retracting it back into his pocket. He hopped into the passenger seat with Mr. Holdover who grumbled something about him being in the back and started the engine.

  “Speaking of which, where do we go from here?” Shakar asked, “Forget clearing our names, I doubt we can even clear the state with the amount of cops well have pursuing us. Especially in a cop car,” Clearing some glass from the window for his arm, Shakar took one last look at what could’ve been is school, the beaten up massage parlor. His smile faded to a quick frown, if for only a moment.

  “I dunno,” Mr. Holdover replied. “Kid, get in the back.”

  “Also apologies about your phone,” Shakar said to Xole, watching him reluctantly climb in the back seat, “It looked rather special to have a weapon that deadly attached to it”.

  “Forget it,” Xole grumbled, “I’ll ask Yesfir to fix…” then, his voice trailed off.

  “Who?” Mr. Holdover asked while adjusting the rear-view mirror, only for it to fall off. He cursed under his breath. “And what the hell kind of name’s Yesfir? She your parent or something?”

  ‘Yesfir,’ Xole thought to himself, ‘her name just rolled off my tounge as if I knew her. Wait a minute…I DID know her! She was the sitter, and better yet, she was someone I could rely on!’

  “I have an idea,” Xole said. He pointed off towards the south end of the city past the bridge and to the outskirts.

  “That direction, I think there’s someone there who can help me.”

  Shakar raised an eyebrow. “Just you?”

  “Eh,” Mr. Holdover shrugged, and pulled off in the direction he was pointing. “Whatever, I don’t give a shit.”

  Xole leaned back and folded his arms. He couldn’t help but feel mad. His memory was still shoddy at best and his body felt like a brick. Worst of all, Shakar somehow managed to avoid the taser shock. Damn him.

  ‘Yesfir, I think…I think I remember you. And what actually happened to Gus, did I really kill him? And if I did then who…stopped me? What am I missing here?’ These thought haunted him as he drifted to sleep.