Call to Action

“Our ETA is a half hour,” Regan pulls away from the controls and looks over at me. I can tell that she isn’t in the best mood and with what I’m about to tell her to do: her mood will get even worse.

‘Thanks, I’ll take over.”

She shoots me a horrible look and I ignore the temptation to step back. Regan’s lethal, even without the use of her mutation and I really don’t want to get my ass handed to me. “Why?”

“We’re going clubbing with Cade.” I slip into the pilot’s seat, “I need you and Austen to go get--”

“Watch your words,” she leans over the seat and digs her nails into my shoulders.

“--dressed.”

“You were able to get a definite location?”

Rather than answer, I draw my arms apart in the mimic of a slightly drawn bow. Regan purses her lips and nods, jerky and swift. “I’ll take care of it.” She flips the headset onto my lap and turns on her heel, strolling out of the cockpit. I can already feel the regret creeping across the back of my neck: Regan will make things miserable and Austen will probably give a hard time.

“JARVIS?”

“Sir?”

I look at the open door, light flooding in through the glass. It’s inviting to say the least, allowing either of the two women to join me without a thought. Austen, who was pulled away from her schooling to become an agent. She’s been all but pushed into a pool of carefully constructed lies. If only she was the only person I was dealing with. But she isn’t. Regan stormed in like the hurricane that she is and, I know, in the end it will just make things more complicated. It’s easier to weave a tail when you’re the only one spinning it.

“Sir?” JARVIS says again, interrupting my thoughts, “is there something I can help you with?”

“Yeah,” I pick up the headset, “call the owner of Club Ecko for me?”


After landing, making home in a private airport, I was left locked in the cockpit as the rest of the jet quickly became a dressing room. I knew that I could trust Regan to make sure Austen would look the part; complaints, on the other hand, were another thing. I doubt Austen had spent much time doing the kind of undercover work we were about to do. The best laid plans are always a little half assed and a little more ...flashy than covert.

Regan’s tone slips through the door sliding open, bossy and demanding as I see the pale of her wrist. “--move, the more it’s going to ride up your ass. Just stop.” She steps through and I look up from my cell phone and grin.

“How’s it going?”

“She looks great, but it’s like she’s never worn a dress before.”

“Why did you give her something out of your closet?” I ask as she makes sure the door is closed completely. It’s then that I catch sight of what’s in her hand. Nodding my thanks, I turn, lifting the back of my shirt.

I watch in the dark screens as she kneels behind me, dress pulling tighter across her body. It’s soft looking leather, white shooting up the sides. The coloring is blunt and to the trained eye, a whisper of dedication and promise. “Because nothing out of Marti’s would fit, or make her look like anything more than a ten dollar whore.”

“You’re not much better.” I point out, shifting so I can brush my hand along her shoulder. A trail of soft set sparkle leads across, welcoming the bare flesh to any willing eye. Her necklace, a choker with a diamond hanging low, flashes in the light. There’s nothing cheap about the way she looks and I can guarantee the same will pass with Austen.

Regan, however, differs to my thoughts and slaps her hand on my tattoo. It’s her only response, staying mute as she continues her work. I speak again, “you don’t like this idea.”

She pauses, “I don’t like that we’re bringing a civilian into this. I don’t care who her parents are, she’s not us.”

“Don’t be a pretentious cunt, Ree.”

“Then don’t be a reckless jackass!” Her movements become harder, harsher, “you’re probably walking into a trap.”

“I know.” My voice is quieter and her hand stops. “I am perfectly aware of how good Cade is. He was on roster for hire, Roberto thought he would be good on the streets.”

“You didn’t hire him.”

“I didn’t even go to the meeting. I know he heard the whole thing, Roberto and I talking about it right outside the office. I pissed on him and his trade,” I shrug, “no loss for me..for us. Cade wasn’t my biggest fan for a long time after.”

“You think he knows?”

“Who would you rather have? The legend or the legacy?”

Her cool voice tickles my back as she leans close, attention on finishing her cover up. “Both.”

“And if you could only have one?’

“I would find a way to have both.” She tugs my shirt done and I turn to face her,

“Forget for a moment, who you are: who would you have?”

“The legacy, always.”


Austen’s gorgeous in the tight black number that Regan stuck on her; obviously something of her own by the length. She looks uncomfortable and a little annoyed. For once, I can’t blame her. Austen doesn’t seem like the type of girl that likes to bare everything to the world, where Regan is. She’d be a doll on display if it wasn’t so boring.

But the night isn’t about comfort; it’s about attention.

I throw my arms over their shoulders, letting my fingers lace with Regan’s and my other hand wrap around Austen’s wrist. She stiffened, starting to pull away, but I nudged her with my shoulder, “once we get inside.” I muttered as we walked past the line, over the red carpet and to the bear of a bouncer checking ids and taking the cover charge.

Tonight, mission or not, we’re the trio that everyone will want to be: that everyone wants to be with. Lucky for them, they’re about to be pulled into our game.

“Mr. Frost,” the bouncer holds his hand out to the two women waiting to be let in, letting them know to get back as he lifts the red rope. “We’re honored that you’ve decided to join us tonight.”

“Of course you are,” at my side Regan teeters in amusement and after a moment, Austen smiles. “Let these two ladies in, they’ll be joining us tonight.” I have no idea who they are, but they’re gorgeous and Regan knows this, if her sharp pinch to my arm is anything to go by.

The bouncer nods his head and allows them through, the three of us following behind. The club is dim, lights shattering at different intervals and the music is loud. Another security guard meets us, arm held out and gestures for us to follow: straight over to a roped off section.

“Anything we can get you, Mr. Frost?” The security guard has been replaced by someone else, probably a manager or a supervisor if his dress is anything to go by.

“Yes,” I grin, shark like and the man steps back in surprise, “pick a cocktail and send it around on trays. Make sure everyone gets one and start a tab for me.” I release Regan, letting her fall into one the couches. She had managed to grab onto Austen so she comes with her. The two laugh, blonde heads together as if they’re actually talking about something secretive.

The man nods, “of course, of course.”

It takes minutes for my name to spread like wildfire. Drinks are constantly being sent out, being refilled, and women are clambering to join us in the back. They stay close to the wall that separates us, dancing, refusing to budge afraid that they’ll miss their chance. Because of this, two bouncers have taken up position in front, attempting to keep everyone at bay; it probably doesn’t help them that I invite every other person in. Our group has grown.

And then suddenly, “there.’ Austen has stilled at my side and Regan’s eyes are glowing, hand pressed to the other woman’s leg. They’re both looking up at the balcony. Standing against the rail, watching us was Cade.

“Excuse me,” one of the waiters offered a tray, “a gentlemen sent these over as a thank you.”

Regan leans forward as I stand; she raises her hand, eyes turning purple, “what gentleman?”

The waiter’s eyes bright to match her own, “tall, black, no name.”

“Dump them them in one of the plants,” she drops her hand and sits back, nodding to me. “Your turn.”


Making it up to the balcony, Cade’s gone and the space where he stood only moments before is empty. I scowl, pushing past a couple to come to the rail. Regan and Austen are still down on the couch and security is still in place, not that they matter.

“Looking for me, Mr. Frost?”

When I turn, the couple is gone and replaced by Cade. He’s leaning against a beam, watching me carefully. He seems surprised that I dared to come find him, but there’s definitely something that looks like excitement on his face. It’s not difficult to figure out that he thinks I’m playing right into his plan -- trap. Whatever it is that men like him call their extra curricular activities.

“Yeah,” I lean back against the balcony, elbows coming to lean on the top rail. “Is there a reason you’re watching us? Not a cop are you? Because last I checked, there’s nothing wrong with a guy going out with his wife and girlfriend.”

“Not a cop, Frost.” He crosses his arms over his chest, grin getting bigger if possible, “you can do whatever you want in your free time.”

“Then what do you want?”

“To meet you,” I laugh,

“Get in line.”

He steps away from the beam and starts forward, “let’s simplify things, Stark. I’ve been watching you.” His hand shot out, grabbing the edge of my shirt and lifted it, looking for the tattoo that Regan had carefully hidden earlier. Infuriation flashes across his face, but doesn’t last.

“Is that all you’ve been watching?” I taunt, grabbing his wrist and turning it. It lifts his grip from my shirt, but also causes a strain.

He pulls up his other hand, pushing me back against the balcony. “You, are going to give me a promising future. The new golden goose, aren’t you Jason? Tell me, how much would Tony pay for your safe return?” He leers, “the perfect piece to my collection.”

I laugh, unable to help myself, “I thought you were threatening.” I swing my arm up and knock him back. He pushes me back, hand fleeting to his pocket and pulls out a gun. The rail digs into my back and if he wasn’t money hungry, I’d wonder if he was going to throw me off.

“Are you sure you want to go through with whatever half assed move you learned in a bar brawl?”

I pause: around us, couples are still moving, drinks are still being passed around, and there’s a hazy purple glow to signify Regan’s work. Or Martinique's. She stands directly behind us, Wade flanking her side, her head upturned as she works the whole club. Cade hasn’t noticed, if he has, he’s ignoring how wrong everything is.

“I think I might have a chance.” I push off the rail, making a point to flail, as I send us reeling backward. I grab his side, slipping the feather patch against his bare skin. Wade steps forward, catching Cade and swings him back against the beam. He swings his gun as Wade rolls a small knife between his hands. “Golden goose, remember?”


Regan's POV

I clench my hand around the class as Austen makes a sound of impatience. She hasn’t said a word since we were left alone, thankfully. It’s not that I don’t like her, it’s that I don’t like her. And babysitting duty, who the fuck thought putting me on it was a good idea. It must show on my face, my annoyance, because she turns to me at some point--taking her eyes away from the balcony--and looks away almost instantly.

Looking up, the two of them appear to be playing who has the biggest dick. Cat caught the canary grins and looming appearances. The only problem was that the wrong person was being pressed up against the balcony. “Maybe he’ll fall.” I observe.

“What?” Austen swings her head around and looks at me. I smile sweetly, pulling the straw between my lips and take a sip of my drink.

“Jason, maybe he’ll fall. I haven’t saved his ass in a few months, he’s overdue.”

She snorts, “I don’t think he’d like that.”

That’s right. He had mentioned something in his rambling about her comparing him to Tarzan. What an oddity. “Oh, sweetie,” I pat her hand despite her death glare, “he’s the biggest damsel in distress I’ve ever met. You’ll see.”

I’m almost tempted to tell her something else, knowing full well that he had given her permission to ask me whatever she wanted about him. But whatever nonsense I can think of is fleeting as one of the bouncers falls to the ground.

Austen goes for the gun that I had her keep, hooked snug in a holster attached to a garter belt. I stand, holding my hand out to her in a wait motion. For all we know, the man got kicked in the dick.

Or not.

“I didn’t even get a chance to dance.” I pout and raise my hand; he raises his gun, ready to send him into an illusion that will leave him haunted for years. “Say goodbye to all the good memories you’ve ever had. Because you’ll never get to Neverland when I’m finished with you.”

“Regan, I think we need to go help Jason. Now.” Austen has moved anyway, edging me behind me with her gun raised. The guy in front of us falters when he sees her.

“Fine,” I use her as a distraction and swing my foot around, catching the guy in the head with my heel.