"I know you Village People types must get so very confused," the young woman said, "but this is a police station. You want the cop outfit with the tight shorts, not the gay stripper tuxedo."
Alec blinked, once. The domino mask on his face largely hid his eyes from view, leaving them as featureless slits of white with no pupils or irises. But even that wasn't enough to keep the surprise from showing on his face. Being a resilient and adaptable soul, though, Alec quickly recovered.
"Damn," he swore. Alec clenched his gloved fists, shaking them in mock anger. "This is a gay tuxedo? The guy at the store assured me it was totally heterosexual! That's the last time I trust a salesman who calls me darling. But...you know, this explains so much. So, so much."
"It...does?"
"Yeah," Alec griped, an exaggerated amount of frustration colouring his tone. "I was wondering why pubescent boys in top hats and fishnets kept wanting to be my sidekick. I thought it was a plot by my arch-nemesis to get me arrested. Except I don't have an arch-nemesis. I thought it might be a normal nemesis for a while, but far as I know, Nemesis Plots don't involve getting heroes busted on vice charges."
The young woman sitting on the other side of the table gave Alec an incredulous look, like she couldn't quite process the words that were coming out of his mouth. She was stunned.
Alec had seen it before. It was a common reaction from novice verbal artists that were too confident in their ability to defeat all challengers on the field of banter. Clearly she had never faced someone able to effortlessly deflect her techniques. Unfortunately for her, Alec was a grand master in the art of pun-fu.
The daughter of the late Abraham Kolwalski didn't look much like her father. The senior Kolwalski had been a stout and thoroughly overweight specimen. In contrast, Deborah Kolwalski was almost too thin. She had the unfortunate kind of slender build that completely failed to achieve supermodel territory. Instead, she looked more like a malnourished scarecrow. The goth outfit she wore only accentuated the effect. Her face was pale from the caked-on makeup, and her eyes were sunken in pits of heavy eyeshadow.
"If I were Nemesis," Deborah finally managed to choke out, marshaling her wits and attempting a riposte, "that's what I'd do. You super-powered freaks are all deviant perverts. Everyone knows what goes on in Pocket D."
"Personally," Alec said, "I like to think I'm more a dick. That is, a dick in and of itself, rather than someone ruled by it. Same goes for Nemesis, really. I don't think the man has a sex drive. lf he did, we'd know by now. I mean, he makes anatonomically correct robots. And yet he just does Nemesis Plots. I haven't heard of a Nemesis Trap, at least not yet."
Deborah tried to respond, but only managed to produce an incoherent stutter. She stared at Alec with wide eyes, her mouth open. "I...you...what?
"It's okay," Alec said, sympathetically. "I'll give you some time to reboot. I know the launcher takes a while to check all files after a nasty crash to desktop like that. But if I need to wait for you to log in again, I might go AFK for a bit, take a bio, get a drink, you know how it is."
Deborah slumped forward, resting her elbows on the tabletop and her head in her hands."I have... no idea what that means. I'm not sure you're even speaking English."
"Sorry," Alec said, "I've been on the Freedom Phalanx MMO an awful lot these past few weeks. They just launched the free-to-play Virtue edition, you see. Admittedly, that probably means more to me than it does to you. I get the sense you don't care for costumed heroes very much."
"No," Deborah spat, raising her head just enough to glare accusingly at Alec through the gaps in her fingers, "I just don't care for you."
''Maybe," Alec said thoughtfully, "maybe not. Yes, I admit I've been messing with you...but you started it. You went at me the moment I walked into the room. So I'm guessing your problem isn't with me, it's with what I'm dressed as."
"Oh no, you caught me," Deborah cried theatrically, "I'm secretly a racist bigot who hates all people of magician descent. I also tell tasteless mime jokes and refuse to share public transport with jugglers."
"I don't believe that," Alec countered. "Well, okay, I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt on the mime part. But not the rest. I'm thinking you really didn't like your dad much. And by extension, you aren't keen on his entire profession. Am I getting warm?"
"Go to hell," Deborah snapped.
Alec inclined his head. "I'II take that as a 'yes, extremely warm', thanks.''
Deborah gave an incoherent hiss, her face still cradled in her hands. Her shoulders shook slightly.
Alec sat in silence, watching her.
Eventually, Deborah lifted her head. "What," she demanded, "you find this funny?"
"Not really, no," Alec said quietly.
"Then leave me alone."
"Sorry," Alec said, "I can't do that. But I admit, we got off on the wrong foot. Hell, we got off on the wrong four legs and a tail. So let's try this again."
With that, Alec stood, unclasping his cloak. He dropped it on the vacated chair, followed by his coat and bow-tie.
"If you're trying to bribe me with a striptease, you're doing a poor job of it," Deborah noted, weakly. "We already went past the gay tuxedo joke."
"Funny," Alec retorted, "but no. I’m not getting paid enough for that."
Gripping his shirt with both hands, Alec yanked it out until it was completely untucked, then rolled up his sleeves. Finally, he pulled his mask off, and made a token attempt to flatten the gel-hardened spikes in his hair.
"Like I said, let's try this again," Alec began. "l’m Alexander Kaynard. I go by Alec Kazam, yeah, but that's just the inevitable nickname. Nice to meet you, Ms. Kolwalski. Though I think we've already met."
Deborah gaped. "You're Prof Thurston's TA!"
"Past tense...but I was, yeah," Alec confirmed, "though Intro to Sociology of Magic is one of those big first year courses, so I wasn't quite sure. It’s been a while. You weren't in my tutorials, but..."
"I had Thurston for that," Deborah said blankly, the stunned expression still on her face.
"Huh," Alec remarked, "lucky. He only does the one Tuesday morning class."
"I'm sorry," Deborah apologised, shock visible even through her thick makeup, "I didn't realise you were...I didn't recognize..."
"That's kind of the idea," Alec pointed out. "I think I charmed the mask for that. Or something, I forget. Not your fault. Besides, would it have made a difference?"
"Yes," Deborah responded, acidly, "I would have thought of you as an actual human being."
"Right. Whatever," Alec said, scratching the back of his head. "Point is, I really do need to ask you some questions. It’d be nice if we could do that without escalating to thermonuclear war. Okay?"
Deborah composed herself, setting her jaw and pressing her lips together. "Okay. I'll be good."
“It’s not nice to promise what you can’t deliver," Alec quipped.
Deborah rolled her eyes. "Then I’ll be marginally less evil."
"Great," Alec said, "although..."
"Oh God," Deborah exclaimed, pleading for a supreme deity to give her strength. "What now?"
"Don’t worry. It’s just, you know," Alec said, "this isn't an interrogation, and you've not a prisoner. Have you had lunch yet?"
"No?"
"Great. Do you want lunch?"
"Not...really. I just came from identifying my father's body, in case you forgot."
"Honestly, yes. I did forget. But you didn't like him anyway. Come on, I'm buying."
* * *
-- Acyl
Alec blinked, once. The domino mask on his face largely hid his eyes from view, leaving them as featureless slits of white with no pupils or irises. But even that wasn't enough to keep the surprise from showing on his face. Being a resilient and adaptable soul, though, Alec quickly recovered.
"Damn," he swore. Alec clenched his gloved fists, shaking them in mock anger. "This is a gay tuxedo? The guy at the store assured me it was totally heterosexual! That's the last time I trust a salesman who calls me darling. But...you know, this explains so much. So, so much."
"It...does?"
"Yeah," Alec griped, an exaggerated amount of frustration colouring his tone. "I was wondering why pubescent boys in top hats and fishnets kept wanting to be my sidekick. I thought it was a plot by my arch-nemesis to get me arrested. Except I don't have an arch-nemesis. I thought it might be a normal nemesis for a while, but far as I know, Nemesis Plots don't involve getting heroes busted on vice charges."
The young woman sitting on the other side of the table gave Alec an incredulous look, like she couldn't quite process the words that were coming out of his mouth. She was stunned.
Alec had seen it before. It was a common reaction from novice verbal artists that were too confident in their ability to defeat all challengers on the field of banter. Clearly she had never faced someone able to effortlessly deflect her techniques. Unfortunately for her, Alec was a grand master in the art of pun-fu.
The daughter of the late Abraham Kolwalski didn't look much like her father. The senior Kolwalski had been a stout and thoroughly overweight specimen. In contrast, Deborah Kolwalski was almost too thin. She had the unfortunate kind of slender build that completely failed to achieve supermodel territory. Instead, she looked more like a malnourished scarecrow. The goth outfit she wore only accentuated the effect. Her face was pale from the caked-on makeup, and her eyes were sunken in pits of heavy eyeshadow.
"If I were Nemesis," Deborah finally managed to choke out, marshaling her wits and attempting a riposte, "that's what I'd do. You super-powered freaks are all deviant perverts. Everyone knows what goes on in Pocket D."
"Personally," Alec said, "I like to think I'm more a dick. That is, a dick in and of itself, rather than someone ruled by it. Same goes for Nemesis, really. I don't think the man has a sex drive. lf he did, we'd know by now. I mean, he makes anatonomically correct robots. And yet he just does Nemesis Plots. I haven't heard of a Nemesis Trap, at least not yet."
Deborah tried to respond, but only managed to produce an incoherent stutter. She stared at Alec with wide eyes, her mouth open. "I...you...what?
"It's okay," Alec said, sympathetically. "I'll give you some time to reboot. I know the launcher takes a while to check all files after a nasty crash to desktop like that. But if I need to wait for you to log in again, I might go AFK for a bit, take a bio, get a drink, you know how it is."
Deborah slumped forward, resting her elbows on the tabletop and her head in her hands."I have... no idea what that means. I'm not sure you're even speaking English."
"Sorry," Alec said, "I've been on the Freedom Phalanx MMO an awful lot these past few weeks. They just launched the free-to-play Virtue edition, you see. Admittedly, that probably means more to me than it does to you. I get the sense you don't care for costumed heroes very much."
"No," Deborah spat, raising her head just enough to glare accusingly at Alec through the gaps in her fingers, "I just don't care for you."
''Maybe," Alec said thoughtfully, "maybe not. Yes, I admit I've been messing with you...but you started it. You went at me the moment I walked into the room. So I'm guessing your problem isn't with me, it's with what I'm dressed as."
"Oh no, you caught me," Deborah cried theatrically, "I'm secretly a racist bigot who hates all people of magician descent. I also tell tasteless mime jokes and refuse to share public transport with jugglers."
"I don't believe that," Alec countered. "Well, okay, I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt on the mime part. But not the rest. I'm thinking you really didn't like your dad much. And by extension, you aren't keen on his entire profession. Am I getting warm?"
"Go to hell," Deborah snapped.
Alec inclined his head. "I'II take that as a 'yes, extremely warm', thanks.''
Deborah gave an incoherent hiss, her face still cradled in her hands. Her shoulders shook slightly.
Alec sat in silence, watching her.
Eventually, Deborah lifted her head. "What," she demanded, "you find this funny?"
"Not really, no," Alec said quietly.
"Then leave me alone."
"Sorry," Alec said, "I can't do that. But I admit, we got off on the wrong foot. Hell, we got off on the wrong four legs and a tail. So let's try this again."
With that, Alec stood, unclasping his cloak. He dropped it on the vacated chair, followed by his coat and bow-tie.
"If you're trying to bribe me with a striptease, you're doing a poor job of it," Deborah noted, weakly. "We already went past the gay tuxedo joke."
"Funny," Alec retorted, "but no. I’m not getting paid enough for that."
Gripping his shirt with both hands, Alec yanked it out until it was completely untucked, then rolled up his sleeves. Finally, he pulled his mask off, and made a token attempt to flatten the gel-hardened spikes in his hair.
"Like I said, let's try this again," Alec began. "l’m Alexander Kaynard. I go by Alec Kazam, yeah, but that's just the inevitable nickname. Nice to meet you, Ms. Kolwalski. Though I think we've already met."
Deborah gaped. "You're Prof Thurston's TA!"
"Past tense...but I was, yeah," Alec confirmed, "though Intro to Sociology of Magic is one of those big first year courses, so I wasn't quite sure. It’s been a while. You weren't in my tutorials, but..."
"I had Thurston for that," Deborah said blankly, the stunned expression still on her face.
"Huh," Alec remarked, "lucky. He only does the one Tuesday morning class."
"I'm sorry," Deborah apologised, shock visible even through her thick makeup, "I didn't realise you were...I didn't recognize..."
"That's kind of the idea," Alec pointed out. "I think I charmed the mask for that. Or something, I forget. Not your fault. Besides, would it have made a difference?"
"Yes," Deborah responded, acidly, "I would have thought of you as an actual human being."
"Right. Whatever," Alec said, scratching the back of his head. "Point is, I really do need to ask you some questions. It’d be nice if we could do that without escalating to thermonuclear war. Okay?"
Deborah composed herself, setting her jaw and pressing her lips together. "Okay. I'll be good."
“It’s not nice to promise what you can’t deliver," Alec quipped.
Deborah rolled her eyes. "Then I’ll be marginally less evil."
"Great," Alec said, "although..."
"Oh God," Deborah exclaimed, pleading for a supreme deity to give her strength. "What now?"
"Don’t worry. It’s just, you know," Alec said, "this isn't an interrogation, and you've not a prisoner. Have you had lunch yet?"
"No?"
"Great. Do you want lunch?"
"Not...really. I just came from identifying my father's body, in case you forgot."
"Honestly, yes. I did forget. But you didn't like him anyway. Come on, I'm buying."
* * *
-- Acyl