Harsh Introductions

"How's the guest?"

"A little banged up, he'll live."

"You're slipping."

"I found him that way."

"Check your egos. This is serious. They got past the alarm and the locks. Assessment?"

I couldn't keep track of who was speaking.

"Kidnapping. For ransom, blackmail."

"Not pros. Street trash."

"Someone hired them," Maria said wearily. "Their boss wasn't there."

"Oh. It's him," the guy holding me said. He was looking at something in his free hand.

"From the club?"

"Tom Felter," he read. He held his hand out.

I stared at it, stupidly.

"Your wallet."

I blinked. When had he taken that? I took it, shaking, managed to stuff it back in my pocket.

"You get the camera?" Maria asked.

"Right here."

Someone held it up.

"You want to delete it or ah, lose this particular piece of evidence?"

"No..." she faltered, then steadied. "No, keep it. For now."

"Should we call it in?"

"You haven't called the police yet?" Maria demanded.

"Pop said to make it your call. We saw the cameras and knew we could handle it."

"...call it in."

"That's our girl. Do it. I'll put him on."

The phone at the other end of his call didn't ring even once.

"Daddy?"

A soothing male voice replied from the other end.

"Oh my god, daddy, they've trashed the house!"

Something sounded like "Are you OK?"

"I... yes. Did you see on the cameras?"

Affirmative noise.

"You were right. I hated that training you made me take. But I remembered it, and... you were right. I'm OK."

I wasn't. I threw up. Somehow, the ninja bodyguard got the door open and my head over the pavement behind us before any of it could hit the floor. There wasn't a drop of vomit left to leave a smell anywhere in the back of the van.

"You're alright. I gotcha," he said. "Feel better?"

"No," I said.

"You look better."

"That and two-fifty will get me a beer," I said, chuckling mirthlessly.

"Damn, son. You got some steel. No lie."

He handed me a small handkerchief. I wiped the vomit from my nose with it, and the rest of my face.

"Thanks," I said.

"You've got ten minutes to patch him up," one of the other ninjas said.

He inspected me quickly. Maria was listening to the voice on the phone.

"Got a shower with your name on it," the ninja said, brushing broken glass from my arms and legs. "Got a doc gonna look you over real quick before you go in. Let him do his job."

"OK," I said, trying to hold any remaining contents of my stomach, and breathe at the same time.

"See you soon, daddy," Maria said.

"Hold out your hands."

I held them. He wrapped them in gauze, after wiping my cuts clean with a wet cloth. Something stung like fire; I hissed.

"Sorry. Don't take that off in the shower, or get it wet. We'll wash that up properly when the bleeding stops."

I just nodded.

We arrived, piled out like an American football team at the Superbowl, and went inside a hotel. Or a palace, I couldn't quite be sure, but I felt like it was a hotel. The most androgynous doctor I'd ever blearily laid eyes on helped me out of my shoes, socks, and shirt. I took my pants off and started to walk into the bathroom where a pleasantly steamy shower was already going. The doctor stopped me.

"Let me get that real quick. Don't wash this off."

He(?) squeezed a tube of clear gel on a nasty gash I hadn't noticed on my leg, still oozing blood. A quick press, and it had somehow sealed the wound with a shiny film. It didn't wash off, intentionally or otherwise; I just left it. I stood in the shower for a long time, soaking in the heat, using the force of the spray to clean off all the splattered makeup and dust and debris I had picked up. Finally, I stopped shaking. When I climbed out, there was a pair of slacks and silk polo shirt. There were three kinds of underwear to choose from. No shoes. Whatever.

I chose the boxers, and dressed. There was a knock at the door, and the doctor slipped in again just as I pulled the shirt on.

"I'm coming with you. Let me know if anything hurts, or feels uncomfortable, at any time."

"Just the 'recent memory' part of my skull. Do you have anything for that?"

He handed me a shotglass of fizzing water, and a small pill. I smelled medicine. He was a he, I decided. Or at least, he had to shave. Or at least, he smelled of aftershave. I gave up. He was a he, as far as I was concerned, until he said otherwise. It didn't really matter. The water smelled strange, but good. I hesitated.

"Valium, and seltzer for nausea. It'll take the edge off," he said.

Choice might be overrated sometimes, I thought. I took the pill, and washed it down with the fizz, letting go of my aversion to taking medicine.

"They're waiting for us."

I had lied to myself, I was still shaking. But I could walk by myself, at least. My ninja came along. He led, but didn't hurry. We got to a dining room with only one table. There were two places set, with the most aggravatingly tiny bowls of aromatic chicken noodle soup I'd ever smelled. I was eating before I even hit the chair. Drinking, actually, by tilting the bowl up and letting it pour into my mouth. Halfway into my third bowl, Maria joined me on the other side. She ate a bowl and then slid around to sit next to me on my side. She didn't have any bandages on her hands, and picked up the spoon to feed me. She spilled it on my shirt, and I didn't care. She wiped it up carefully anyway. I finished three more bowls, and sat back. Maria ate her own soup now, then alternated a bowl between herself and me. Then we forgot whose bowl was whose and just ate.

"I hate to interrupt, but it's getting late," a vaguely familiar voice said.

"Daddy!" Maria said, getting up to hug this new man. He came to sit at the side of the table opposite us. Maria came back, kept feeding both of us.

"Don't get up, Mr. Felter. I am glad to see that my daughter continues to find good company in the most unexpected places."

"Uh... thanks," I stammered out.

"No, thank you. Sincerely. Breaking the glass set off the window sensor and alerted my security team to check the cameras as a precaution. I suspect you did it quite intentionally."

I nodded.

"What about the man on duty, across the state?" Maria asked.

"They got him first. He's still alive, thankfully. This was remarkably well coordinated. They got our live monitor agent, and then another group 500 miles away bypassed the door alarms to take you by surprise, knowing exactly when you would arrive. I know who it is. I can't prove it yet, but I will. The gloves come off now, Maria."

"I know, daddy. Get the bastards."

"Who?" I asked.

He waited until I swallowed my mouthful of soup. I would have choked on it, otherwise.

"Omnicron Industries."

"WHAT?!"

Maria squeezed my arm gently, soothingly. I stayed seated.

"Their whole upper management group are rotten. Surely you've noticed something was wrong," he said.

"Well... I..."

"Your boss, maybe. Or his boss. Ignoring safety rules, brushing incidents under the rug. Cheating on overtime and Workman's Comp payments."

"Yeah."

That sounded like him alright.

"The video..." I mused.

"What video?" he asked.

I told him about the nightclub recording, on repeat. He snapped his fingers. It seemed like a gesture he reserved for rare occasions.

"That's confidential. That's it. We've got him. We've got him, and he's going to bring the rest down with him."

"He'll have deleted it, or locked it up."

"Doesn't matter. We've got people - he'll slip. He'll talk, and we'll crack him open, and we'll use him to crack his boss open. The boss won't crack like he will, but this one's high enough in the chain to have some real dirt we can use to sink him. This is a one-party state. One of you had to know you were being recorded, by law. We'll hang him out to dry on a felony charge we can bargain down to a misdemeanor. It'll take some time, but we'll get him. What was his name?"

"Martin. Last name, Martin. First name, Scrooge."

"Not Scrooge," Maria said, laughing.

"It must be. It fits," I said.

"There aren't any working there. Don't ask how I know."

Mr. Spirenelli smiled, just a little, easing the lines of tension on his face. "Mr. Felter, what can I do for you? Given a budget of, say, fifty thousand."

Impulse took over again. It was going to get me in trouble one of these days.

"Can I date your daughter?"

"Most certainly. She does not require my permission, but I approve. What else?"

"Else? That's all I want."

"I want something concrete to give you. Call it a personal foible. Think about it, Mr. Felter. Let one of my people know tomorrow, or a week from now. I'll be expecting your answer."

I sighed. So much for being gallant, making a grand heroic gesture. Now I was just another poor schmuck, about to take advantage of a rich man who felt guilty.

"...I need a car."

"That's more like it. Janice, sign the Lexus over to him. Mr. Felter, you can trade it in anytime, I won't be offended. Consider it a token of my gratitude."

Keys appeared on the table in front of me, as if by magic. I picked them up gingerly, stared.

"You kids need a good solid twelve hours of sleep, I'm certain. Tom, can I call you that?"

Nod. My eyes never left the keys, as if they would vanish in a puff of smoke the moment I looked away.

"Come see me when you're better. I want to shake your hand properly."

He got up, and hugged Maria again.

*****

Somewhere, there was a bed. I didn't remember arriving there, but I suddenly found myself staring at the ceiling with sun streaming in through small holes in the blinds over the window. Noonday sun; the digital room clock said so. The phone blinked silently at me with a red flashing light. I picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Would you care for breakfast? What would you like?"

"Yes. I don't care, I'm not picky."

The door knocked almost immediately.

"Uh, hang on," I said, frowning with annoyance.

I put the handset down. I was still dressed from yesterday. It itched. Worst of all, I hadn't seen Maria. I had so many questions for her. I opened the door.

"Sit where you like, I will bring it in," an attendant said.

She had a phone headset on. She'd been the one on the phone just now. Was this what five-star service was like, or was this a special level above that? There was a rolling cart with fresh fruit, hot pancakes, coffee, orange juice, apple juice, scrambled eggs, steak, sausage, bacon, ham, and... turkey? Tofu, probably. I sat on the edge of the bed. The cart was just the right height to eat directly off of.

The doctor slipped in while I was eating.

"May I change your bandage?" he said.

I let him. He had hot, moist towels to wipe all the grunge from my hands and more miracle sealing gel that matched my skin tone this time. I almost couldn't tell I had cuts on my hands when he was done. What will they think of next?

"You have no permanent damage to your nerves or skin tissue. You shouldn't even notice a scar, you'll be like new in about two weeks. Here is some aspirin, take two if you'd like."

"Take the edge off?" I said.

"Exactly."

I took the bottle, and swallowed two with a small sip of coffee.

"...What day is it again?" I asked.

"Saturday."

The attendant left the cart after asking if I wanted any more. I waved her away. I got up, stretching. The doctor gave me his card.

"I'm on retainer until the end of next week. Let me know if you have any pains that need seeing to. Or if you just need another week at the end of that?"

"Thanks."

I walked to the door. My ninja was there still. Or again, maybe.

"New suit?" I asked.

"How could you tell?" he asked.

"Optimism. My clothes are bugging me, I couldn't imagine - oh, hey," I said.

I noticed my own clothes cleaner than they'd been when they were new. And repaired. And... tailor-adjusted? The work boots were shined and oiled; I almost didn't recognize them. If not for the faded label in the tongue, I would have thought they were new. Good lord. At this rate, I'd find my little apartment turned into a house, and my noisy neighbors evicted. I laughed at the thought; grabbed the clothes, showered again quickly, and changed. I started feeling like myself again, until I remembered the key. I walked to the door.

"Seen my keys?" I asked the ninja.

"Valet's got 'em. Everything's paid for. You're free to go anytime."

"Swell," I said, rubbing a bump on my head.

"Doc can help you with that."

"Better yet, where's Maria?"

"Had to run, I'm afraid." He grinned, stuck his hand out.

He had a note.

Out for a jog. Don't leave without saying goodbye! -MS

"Give me back to the kidnappers. I don't have to take puns like this."

"Sorry. Cops picked 'em up. They won't be around for awhile, and their boss is... indisposed."

"Fine. You win this round."

"I always win. That's why he hired me."

"Whatever. Go haunt a shadow somewhere. See you never, ninja."

"Until I want you to, Mr. Felter. Take care."

"I'll just randomly tell jokes, and look for the smile," I said.

He was grinning; his immaculately white teeth stood out from his dark skin and black clothing.

Maria caught me at the front desk, waiting for her. She was breathless and bright-eyed and very happy to see me. Sometimes, you just know these things. Skimpy workout shorts and standing on her toes to hug my face to her bust was a good indication. Come to think of it, she did feel natural to me!

"I'm busy today, I have family obligations, but - can we talk tomorrow? In person? I want to give you as much space as you need, but I really want to sit and have a normal conversation."

"Sure. Not your place though, please."

"Of course. I'm not ready to see it again, myself. How about you come by my office about 3? I think you'll like it."

"OK. I'm looking forward to it."

"Me too. And Tom... thank you."

She kissed me, and the world disappeared, not in a thundering flash this time but in a warm, lavender-scented embrace. It took probably ten minutes for me to regain my senses after she'd broken away and continued her jog, and remember that there was a car waiting for me. Was that what happened last night, that I magically found myself in bed without noticing? My head spun with even more questions.

Oh, right. Valet.

"Which way to, um..."

"Just walk right out, that way."

The attendant at the desk pointed at the sliding glass door.

"Perfect. Thanks."

I stopped suddenly.

"Oh, I don't have my room key..."

"Not to worry, you're covered. Have a great day!"

"By golly, I think I will. Bye!"

I walked out with the step of a man who knows his days are numbered, and until the final day arrives he just doesn't care. Clearly, the other shoe was going to drop again, I just didn't know where, or when. I called Al.

"Bro-o-o, I been tryin' to call you! What happened? Where did you go? They saw you get in a strange car in the parking lot on Thursday and your car's still there. It's the weekend man, go get that pile of junk before they feed it to the smelter."

"I got kidnapped," I said. "And then kidnapped again."

"As long as you're still breathing. Man, Dickface Martin played it up like you ran to join a convent or something, but he was in a meeting all day yesterday. You know what that means."

"They're taking our Christmas bonus again?"

"Man, don't even joke about that. They just might. But no, listen, even Mike was worried today. Martin only came out of the meeting once, and he looked kinda scared. He even, get this, he gave us a safety checklist and had us start fixing all the broken shit we've had lying around for years. He had Janice buy some WD-40 and grease all the door hinges. It was eerie."

"He probably figures if he fires me I'm going to call OSHA. As if they would do anything."

"He yelled at Mike to get the propane tanks away from the forklift charger and batteries. I swear he's mixed up his Evil Manager Viagra for some magic mushrooms."

"You say that like it's bad thing."

"Hell no, it's not a bad thing! But I didn't know there was a force on earth that could change his mind. I'm worried about what it means."

"Yeah, I didn't even know Congress would be in session today. God knows why they had a vote on him, they've still got global warming to fix."

"You ain't lyin'. So we're doing pizza at my place. Beer pong. Shots, even. Roadrunner and Coyote marathon, just like I always talked about. Be there to commemorate this momentous occasion. You, uh, talk to that girl again?"

"Yeah, actually."

"Hell, invite her too, if she wants to come. I'll even pay her, if she's a stripper, or wants to be. God knows she's got the body for it."

"Too far, Al."

"Sorry. You're right. I just can't imagine what a girl like that was doing in a club and not on the dance floor, with me. You don't seem like you'd be her type, unless you were buying and she was-"

"Shut up, Al."

"Nevermind. I'm just bullshitting. Come kick my ass, if you need to. Reclaim your manhood, whatever. Just show up. Agreed?"

"Sure. She won't be there, she's got - whatever 'family stuff' means."

"Alright man, grab some pretzels, or rice krispy treats or whatever snacks you want. 9 o'clock."

"See you then."

BEEP. Call ended.

So, that's how it's gonna be. I think it's time to remind him who rules the foosball table.

*****

My reflexes were slow. Coming down from an adrenaline high had left me sluggish and my eyes had trouble following the ball. I only managed to win 2 of the 4 games we played. But it was OK, because then we got out the jello shots, and I had 3 of them. Then it was story time.

"Wait, you met a ninja, and lived?" That was Grant, a guy who Al hung out with, but I didn't have much in common with. He was an unashamed anime nerd, and all around Asian fetishist.

Me: "I mean he didn't come out and say it. But you could tell."

Grant: "So this girl introduces you to a ninja, is she a member of the clan?"

Me: "Not exactly."

Grant: "Because you cannot join a clan. You have to be born into it. Those are the rules."

Al: "Not mall ninjas. Those guys will take anybody."

Grant: "Mall ninjas don't count. They're not real ninjas. Just like mall cops aren't cops."

Al: "That was the joke. Way to shit all over it, thanks."

Grant: "So was he doing the spider-man thing from the ceiling or what?"

Me: "Imagine a roller coaster. Now imagine that the roller coaster is using a regular car instead of rail cars. Finally, imagine that the roller coaster is happening on a city street, in a regular car."

Al: "Dude. You were in a car chase?"

Grant: "Bullshit, first of all. That's not something ninjas do. Let me tell you-"

Me: "Shut up a minute, alright? Al, you know how sometimes somebody has to hold your hair while you're puking your guts out in the toilet?"

Al: "It's just so my hair stays clean. I can hold my own head up, I'm a professional."

Me: "Sure, whatever. That's what this guy did with my head. Only instead of my hair, he's keeping clean the entire fucking car. At high speed."

Al: "You're cut off. You're drunk."

Me: "I'm dead serious. Look at me. I've had three shots - sure I'm a little wobbly, but I'm not lying."

Grant: "Did he change your tires at high speed too?"

Me: "MY car couldn't do that, because it can't even do high speed. I'm on donuts in the front, remember? I can't go over 50."

Al: "Your car was in the lot at Omnicron. Hell, it's STILL in the lot. You need a ride?"

Me: "Actually, I've upgraded. Come look, I'll prove all of this to you."

*****

Al: "What the fuck is this? Dude, this is a Lexus."

Me: "Right. Big things happened yesterday, I'm telling you."

Grant: "Is this whats-her-name's car?"

Me: "...not anymore."

Al: "You said she had family stuff. You didn't say it was joining her ancestors in death, because you robbed her and threw her body in a ditch somewhere."