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I am thrust into the room. I turn around and give Justice my very best betrayed expression. I am fucking pissed, but I am also things beyond pissed, because this is so weird. Many weird things happen in the life of a New York detective, but this is beyond the weirdest. It’s a little exciting. Shouldn’t be, but is.
“I’ll come and talk to you soon,” he says.
“Maybe you will, maybe you won’t. Turns out you’re a huge fucking liar.”
He gives me a stern look, because he has no shame, and shuts me in. I am left to explore my environment.
The room is bigger than my apartment. It is carpeted in baby blue, a hue which is carried up from the carpets to the matching drapes, walls, bedding, oh, and when I look up, ceiling. There are a few natural wood accents in the form of cabinets and the bed frame itself. Beige and blue appears to be my fate for now. An ensuite leading off the bedroom is similarly decorated, but it is pink, not blue. Pink tile, pink shower curtain, pink ceramic toilet and bath. It’s a nightmare of cohesive design. The very notion of the color white appears to have been anathema to the person who outfitted these spaces.
It’s not what I’d call good decor, but hey, someone thought it was good. They’ve given me what’s very likely one of their best rooms.
“Oh my god, that’s a television.”
I suddenly realize that the big box at the end of the bed is not a piece of decorative whatever. It is a big box, very large, very rectangular, with an even bigger brown-gray screen and knobs. I should possibly be focusing on escape, but I wonder if this works. I turn a knob, hit a few buttons, and it makes a sound like a magnet turning on. The screen crackles, and a black and white image appears. It’s an old tv show about cowboys. It’s actually pretty interesting, or at least, it’s enough to take my mind off this particular predicament until Justice returns.
* * *
Imust have fallen asleep, because it is something o’clock when Justice wakes me up by sitting down on the bed beside me, one of his wings extending out to cover me.
“Are you feeling any better?” He asks the question almost kindly. I yawn. It is late. I am used to being a night owl, but I have been up all day as well as all night, and that is a bit much for anybody.
“What do you want, Justice? You’ve been lying to me since we began. You said you forgave me for killing Rage. But it was only because you knew you were going to bring me back here and imprison me in this time capsule for the rest of my life? No. Not going to happen. Your secrets were safe with me, but I am not safe with you.”
“I am sorry you are angry with me, but keeping our secret is imperative. I could never allow you to continue on in the world, knowing what you know, seeing what you have seen. There is more at play here than you understand. You’re in deeper than you know, metaphorically and literally.”
My thoughts flick to Tessie. She has also seen and known. I hope she has the sense to stay well away from that spider, Order. He no doubt has plans to snatch her up and keep her quiet too.
“New York is safe from the moth predator that stalked the streets, and we are safe from the humans who might inadvertently tell our secrets,” Justice says.
“If Order has fucking touched Tessie…”
“Don’t worry about Tessie. Worry about yourself. Or rather, don’t worry about yourself. There is a role here for you. A place. You can be of use here, and that is all you have ever wanted.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I want you to stay here as a liaison between us and the world, not merely a prisoner, but an ally. We need humans we can trust, and there are precious few of those. You can go out, perform interactions in person, and…”
“Be an errand girl for mutant monsters.”
“Sure, if you want to put it that way. But it would be better if you considered yourself a very privileged holder of a secret that has been kept for decades. You have no idea how you will be transformed here.”
“Chief’s expecting me back at work on Monday. There’s no way I’m staying here to run errands, buddy. I came for the funeral.”
“Since when does the killer attend the funeral?”
That question lands like a flying sidekick to the gut. It momentarily knocks the wind out of me.
“Surprisingly often, actually. But I can see your forgiveness isn’t quite as forgiving as you pretended it was.”
I am pissed. I do not like being lied to or lured. It’s just ironic that Justice doesn’t want to keep me captive here. He wants me to stay here as his ally and he’s willing to imprison me until I Stockholm around to his way of thinking.
These mutants were not raised with any sort of generally accepted social values. He doesn’t see anything wrong with what he is doing. This just makes sense to him. He’s got me where he can control me and the rest, in theory at least, is time.
“I forgive you completely. But what I choose to do with you now is to change the life you were living, to keep you for myself, and to give you the chance to be part of something far more important than you can imagine. We are not random freaks. We are relics of an age of heroism. We are still able to do good, and you can help us.”
“I already have people I help.”
He sighs. “Will you not see sense?”
