A-Cup Angst Ch. 04

"Mr. Jacobs," Jamie heard a voice come from the place right above the suit's collar and immediately forgot if the voice was male, female, young or old. All he could remember to hear were the words the person inside the suit had spoken. "I had been hoping for a more civilized conversation." Jamie blinked in disbelief as he could not even see the exact dimensions or cut of the suit. He stared right at it and couldn't even remember if it was a men's suit or one tailored for women. He shook his head as his brain complained about not being able to even detect if the suit had a skirt or a pair of pants under the jacket.

Overwhelmed by the mind altering magics that were woven into the very fabric of the suit, Jamie declared, "For going after my family, I sentence you to suffering!" He and his witches unleashed their power, only to see it sizzle out harmlessly, before even reaching the suit's position. Jamie telekinetically seized a bookcase and hurled it at the person behind the desk. The bookcase stopped in mid flight and gently settled down on the ground. Jamie saw that all their power was utterly useless against this foe. "Okay, so magic doesn't work on it, Sonya, whip out the gun and shoot this, this, whatever it is!"

Sonya drew the gun from her pocket, flipped the safety and worked the slide in one smooth move, before putting three rounds in The Suit's center of mass. All five of them gaped as the bullets stopped in the air, just before The Suit, then stopped spinning and softly settled down on the ground. "Shoot it in the head," ordered Jamie, "aim above the collar!" Sonya fired off three more rounds, in a perfectly tight grouping, only for the bullets to stop in mid air, once again, and settle down with soft clinks. "Fuck me," Jamie whispered in astonishment.

"Come, come, now Mr. Jacobs, let's dispense with this violence, sit down and talk for a minute," said the person whose identity was completely obscured. "I am The Suit." Jamie winced as he could just hear the capital letters in its voice.

The Suit stepped out from behind its desk and walked past them. Jamie signaled and he and his witches tried to jump on the suit with all their enhanced might. Their limbs stopped inches from making contact with The Suit and they were gently pushed aside by the mighty enchantments. "Please, join me in the parlor," The Suit invited.

"Helena, you're immune to charm magic, what can you see," Jamie quietly asked.

She shook her head and said, "An empty suit of clothes that's walking around and talking. Nothing else."

Jamie grunted in frustration and followed The Suit before it vanished from his sight. The six of them picked their way through the maze of unconscious people in the staircase and front hallway and walked into the parlor. "Please, sit," said The Suit, taking a seat itself. "Have some croissants and hot chocolate. Or are you more interested in a strong, tasty cup of coffee? It is very early in the morning."

"I didn't come here to break bread," Jamie responded viciously. He was irked by not being able to see the face of his opponent.

"No, of course you didn't," conceded The Suit. "You came here with murder in mind. I must apologize for the wrongs done to your family. I've ordered everything undone. I could arrange for a small settlement to be paid to you and your loved ones, Mr. Jacobs. I could arrange for a great many things, as a matter of fact." Jamie stood there and heaved an impatient breath. Did this suit really think it could strike a bargain of some sort with him, when he couldn't even see the face of the person he was negotiating with? "I hope you understand I did not order, or condone, the actions taken against your family.

"There is no reason for us to not speak freely, Mr. Jacobs. I have much to offer you. I bet you felt angry when you learned of what happened. Angry and frustrated and ignored. Disrespected. What if I told you I can give you the opportunity to ensure, once and for all, that that sort of thing never happens again? What if I gave you true power, Mr. Jacobs? A position of importance that commands respect? You could have a career with Section, all five of you could. And there would be money, Mr. Jacobs. Money and respect."

A silence ensued and Jamie guessed it was his turn to speak. "I can't believe you're really this fucking stupid? You take that which you had no right to take, namely my family's freedom, and now you hope to entice me into some kind of an arrangement by promising to never steal that thing again? Seriously, what is happening inside your skull, if you even have one?!"

A brief silence was followed by five large pieces of paper being pulled out of The suit's pockets and The Suit saying, "All five of you are going to sign your magician's licenses, in blood, before you leave this house. If you do it right now, I'll ignore this disrespectful tone and we can cooperate, to our mutual benefit, with a clean slate. I bear you no ill will for trying to murder me upstairs. Please understand, all of you, I can't have unlicensed witches running around the country, casting spells all willy-nilly. We live in an ordered society. It's nothing personal."

"It's personal to me," Jamie menaced the air above The Suit's collar.

"Your licenses grant you permission to freely practice your magic within the confines and protections of the law," said The Suit, amicably. "I urge you to put your blood on them and we can put all this unpleasantness behind us."

"The only one of my bodily fluids that that piece of paper can come into contact with is my piss," responded Jamie.

"Mr. Jacobs," The Suit said, "if you do not operate within the confines of the law, then you are an outlaw. I don't think you need a reminder of what can happen to the family of an outlaw. No, I think you are just here to vent some steam. Young people tend to want to do that, but-"

Jamie exploded in rage, screaming, "Say that about my family again, you maggot!" A brief silence ensued. "Go on, I dare you to threaten my family again, you piece of cheap, polyester shit! Who the fuck do you think you're talking down at?! You might be immune to magic and bullets and karate, but I'll see if I can't drown you in the blood of everyone that works for you, you fucking retard! Sooner, or later, you'll take off that suit to go to the bathroom and one of us will be waiting to pop a fucking cap in your goddamned ass! Literally!"

The suit laughed and Jamie was doubly pissed at its insolence and the fact that he could not tell what kind of person was laughing at him. "Mr. Jacobs," The Suit said, "I am not wearing a suit right now. There is no actual suit of clothes, I assure you. My appellation is purely metaphorical. I could be sitting here, stark naked, and all you would see is an impeccable suit of clothes. When I shower, people see a suit, that never gets wet, under the spray. Whatever information one might glean about me is instantly deleted from their minds, regardless of the method employed to retrieve that information. My visual appearance is always that of a suit."

"If no one can see you or remember anything about you, how do you have a personal life," asked Helena.

More silence was followed by The Suit sadly saying, "In order to insure the safety of our nation and all of its people, one must make certain sacrifices." It cleared its throat and continued, "Anyway, back on topic. You'll sign these licenses in your blood, of your own free will, or I'll make arrangements for the five of you to sign them against your will. If you do it willingly, we can come to an agreement that would give you that which people of your age truly desire, a purpose in life. Meaning, Mr. Jacobs! I offer you an alternative to the mindless drifting that is consuming youth all over the world."

Jamie came upon a realization at that moment. The enchantments that The Suit's appointment carried with it seemed to be absolute and inviolate, but Jamie knew magic didn't operate like that. Much like absolute zero temperature meant that there was no motion of molecules, absolutes of any kind produced an absence of magic. Just as his pre-stored power spirits were dispelled by the simple act of his rings slipping off his fingers, so The Suit's enchantments had giant loopholes. "The greatest of powers have the simplest of flaws," Jamie said aloud and laughed. "Oh, you silly, silly, suited person!

"We scared you breaking into your nondescript stronghold just now, didn't we? Oh, you shouldn't have insisted so hard on us signing your stupid licenses. I don't know what kind of hold those things would give you over us, but I do know we have to enter into the agreement of our own free will, absent of any magical coercion. You can use intimidation, bribery and plain old cajoling, but you can't force us to sign, not even at gunpoint. Those little licenses of yours will never be valid for any one of us, cause we'll never sign them."

Jamie laughed long and hard in the silence that followed his insightful monologue. He could only imagine the expression The Suit was wearing, right now. "What was ineptly done to your family earlier," spoke The Suit, menacingly, "were just the timid bunglings of unauthorized, junior operatives. Unless you want to find out exactly what I am capable of doing to all five of your families, including yours, Miss Worth, you're going to sign these licenses right now!"

Jamie kept laughing for a minute more, before wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes and coughing to catch his breath. He hooked his thumb over his shoulder and said, "Those witches and warlocks you got lying around didn't just up and decide to take a collective nap, you know? We did that to them. I guess we didn't almost kill your operatives enough. Sonya, how many rounds do you have?"

"Eight in the gun and fourteen more in the spare mag," she answered.

"Good," Jamie nodded, "go and put two bullets into the head of everyone unconscious in this house who isn't a member of Helena's family." Jamie could only imagine the expression on the face of The Suit as Sonya clicked off the safety on her dad's gun and calmly walked over to the nearest non-Johansson magician.

She raised her hand to aim and The Suit shouted, "No! Don't! Please, stop!"

"Wait," Jamie called, just before she pulled the trigger. He walked around the Suit and gloated. "Here's a deal I'm going to offer to you. You are going to ensure the safety and well-being of all our families. You are going to do so personally and with great diligence. In return, we'll leave, without murdering anyone in your employ, and never bother you again. If anything should happen to our loved ones, even by," Jamie made air quotes, "accident, we'll come back here and execute anyone and everyone we find. And then we'll wipe the rest of Section off the face of the Earth. Deal?"

A long silence followed his question. "Oh, well, Sonya, go-"

"Deal," The Suit all but shouted. "Just one condition!"

Jamie rolled his eyes and chuckled in disbelief. "Are you seriously trying to negotiate, you sick fuck," he asked.

"Please," said The Suit. "All I ask is that you tell no one that you are not licensed, or the little tidbit you've uncovered about the licenses themselves." Jamie snorted dismissively. "This is not unreasonable, Mr. Jacobs. You should comply with this condition as it insures your families' safety. If you were to go around telling people how licensing truly works, than a whole lot of people would reject licensing altogether and my resources would be sorely stretched. I can't protect your families if all my operatives are running around, trying to stem the shitstorm that would ensue if anyone found out about the licenses. Besides, if you tell people you're licensed and I back you up, you can avoid a whole mess of trouble."

"That doesn't sound entirely unreasonable, Jamie," Helena suggested.

Jamie fixed a cold stare into the space above The Suit's collar. At length, he said, "Alright, we've got ourselves an arrangement." He leaned down and breathed on The Suit's face. "I know you're going to come after us as soon as you can regroup. I want you to know that I fully realize that. I also want you to know that I'll exterminate hundreds of witches and warlocks and grumpkins and snarks and whatever else you throw at us, when the time comes. And it'll all be your fault. Leave us alone, and we'll never trouble you."

"Mr. Jacobs," said The Suit, "we've achieved a détente. Let's not spoil it with menacing and threats."

Jamie reached out to punch The Suit without any magic empowering his strike, but the mighty enchantments held fast. "Fuck you," he spat on the carpet and led his girls out of the house.

Mere moments after the Subaru and BMW pulled away from the house, a Department of Homeland Security Hostage Rescue Team showed up on scene, led by three young people that ran in first, regardless of their state of relative undress and utter lack of body armor. They were greeted by the sight of twenty unconscious casters lying about the front hall and staircase. One of the young people rushed headlong up the stairs, only to be dismayed by seeing the Shifters laid out, just like everyone else. Shouts of "Gas," erupted among the H.R.T. personnel downstairs, but were quelled by The Suit, calmly exiting the parlor and ordering a stand down. It had pushed the silent alarm as soon as its door exploded. "Nice response time," it said to the young witches, dressed only in their undergarments.

Around mid afternoon, Eric "Grandpa" Johansson, wobbled into the house on shaky legs, aided by his cane. His relatives, that had been disabled in the attack, were taken away for recuperation, and the rest of the casters that The Suit liked to keep around to menace newbie witches into signing, were being tended to by junior casters, on site. He climbed the stairs, with a speed that belied his age, and went into The Suit's office.

"Eric," the suit addressed him. It extended a sleeve towards the bookcase in the middle of the room. "Could you, please?" Eric bowed his head in concentration and quietly chanted for a few seconds. He raised his cane and moved it through the air. The bookcase mirrored the cane's movement and glided gently to its former place, along the wall. "Thank you. Won't you sit down?"

"No, I won't sit down," Eric fumed. "How dare you demote or dismiss my whole family!? After all we've done for Section, throughout the generations, you just cast us aside like yesterday's refuse! My brother died in service to Section, and so did two of his grandsons! You uppity, little politician, how dare you?! My family served Section long before you came and we'll serve long after you're replaced!"

"No, you won't," The Suit calmly countered. "Your clan's days in Section are numbered."

"What in hell are you talking about, you little pipsqueak," Eric shouted. "I'm going to go over your head, you bastard! I'm going to go to the President and get you dismissed, whoever you are!"

"I'm talking about the fact that half your clan went rogue and used unsanctioned magic on the minds of law enforcement and judiciary officials in a dastardly plot to undermine the very security of our nation," retorted The Suit. "I've got a whole stack of offences recently done by your family, all pulled neatly out of my pocket. I'll be more than happy to show them all to the President, see what he thinks of them."

Eric blew a raspberry, "Preposterous! What plot are you trying to fabricate?"

"Well," said The Suit, "Five young mages, eighteen years old, each of them, waltzed here, into the very center of our nation's only line of defense against sorcery, and incapacitated twenty two of my casters in, oh, how long did it take them, ah, yes, two seconds flat! And your family was the one that needled them to do it!"

"My Alice went after one boy that was a Duelist and she only did what she did to get him to join up, as you wanted him to," Eric retorted. "I don't know what five mages you're talking about."

"Yes, you do," said The Suit. "I've even got a recording of a phone conversation in which your granddaughter confesses."

Eric sat down. All that effort, all those years of toil and sacrifice, were coming to naught. Desperate to avoid facing the doom looming over his clan, he asked, "What is being done about those five mages?"

"Nothing," said The Suit, "except that I'm making the rounds, trying to get everyone to understand that we will be pussy-footing around them from now on."

"Did they sign licenses," asked Eric, hopefully.

Two men who looked to be as old as Eric, if not older, entered the office. Eric wilted under their attention and they laid hands on his shoulders. "No, wait, don't," he protested, but they let their magic flow into his mind. They nodded at The Suit and it dismissed them.

"You will not reveal this to anyone in any manner," commanded The Suit. "The five mages are unlicensed and free to cast anything against anyone. I'm tasking you with terminating this threat to public safety. I'm giving you access to anyone we have in lockup and the seers. Other than that, use only mundanes and whatever resources your clan keeps pulling out of its ass every now and then. You must neutralize this threat in any manner you deem necessary. You have until they show up on our official radar with a crime under their belt. Failure to accomplish this mission in the time frame allotted will result in your whole clan being set outside the law and at my mercy. Of which I will have none."

"Hold on," complained Eric, in desperation, "I can't just up and leave my duties in the-"

"In accordance to Section's new policy of minimizing Johansson involvement," The Suit interrupted him, "you have been removed from all duties within Section, effective immediately."

"This is a suicide mission," Eric protested. "How can I defeat even one of them if they took out twenty people and both the Shifters in one breath?!"

"You will find a way, or suffer the knowledge that your family is at my mercy," responded The Suit.

Eric licked his lips nervously and asked, "Will I be doing this out of pocket?"

The Suit reached into a pocket and produced the license Eric had signed all those many years ago. "No," it said and replaced the license. "All your activities will be documented. Why did you even ask me this, Eric? You of all people know that when I send someone to do something that might be illegal and pull their license out of my pocket, telling them it's off the books, I put it right back in after they leave. Why are you stalling for time, old man? You have none to spare. Dismissed!"

The two shifters came back into the room and Eric quickly followed them out of the house. He was in a horrible bind. If he went after these five young bucks, he was going to get killed, or worse. If he didn't, than all the descendants of him and his late brother would suffer untold misery until their executions. The Suit was very regulated in the matter of who it was allowed to go after. The how was left to its own imagination. The verdict was tightly overseen, but the sentence was entirely up to The Suit.

"Gorram it," Eric swore out loud, as he got in his car. "Driver, take me to The Smithsonian Institution." He needed to go to the Archive and pull out the big guns. He had lived a great many years, hoping it would never come to this. He shook his head and sighed heavily. His own greatgranddaughter was on his hit list. He was going to have to persuade her to sign, in the end. He turned his rheumy eyes up to the steel gray clouds that were gathering and did something he hadn't done since his brother had died. Eric Johansson prayed.

Unbeknownst to him, in a hotel room across town, the five young people he dreaded meeting found out Jamie had five and a half million dollars in a hidden bank account. They decided to celebrate with an orgy.