Call to Action

"I see you still end fights the way you start them," I jerk away from Austen; releasing her wrist and removing my hand from where it had settled on her waist. Regan, as ever, stands feet away and watches us with hooded eyes. This time, she speaks, "go put ice on your face, Jase. You wouldn't want to bruise that pretty face of yours," her tone is cold as she all, but hisses the words, shooting an unpleasant look toward Austen.

"Regan," I warn as Austen starts to edge past me, eyes wild. I step away instead, "we're going back to the city."

"Good," Austen bursts out, "I need to talk to Sharon and tell her what's been going on."

"We're not going to see Sharon, we're going to SI." The two of them give me funny looks and I can only be grateful that their attention has been diverted, "Shaw Industries."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Regan asks and I nod. "I'll send a message ahead," she levels her glare back on Austen, warning and briefly, before vanishing back to the domain she's made of the cockpit.



Emma is waiting for us when we land, hair flying in the wind and white cloak billowing out over her shoulders. Her head is turned up, watching us with a heavy gaze. She waves her hand in greeting and steps back, allowing Regan to land the jet.

"Austen." She turns her head up, gaze brushing over my face, "let me do the talking with Emma, she's …particular. Acknowledge her, but don't talk to her."

"I'm tired of playing by your rules without answers," she snaps and I hold back a shrug, instead, rolling my shoulders in somewhat agreement.

"As soon as we're done here, I'll answer your questions." She nods in agreement and we step off the jet. We're barely feet away before Regan leaves the ground. The jet swings back and drops before shooting back into the sky.

"Your Baroness is quite the actress." Emma speaks softly, only after the jet fades out and the only sound is the air around us.

"Claudine's been in contact, Madelyne had a relapse."

"Poor woman," the sneer playing on Emma's lips is mocking, but it almost turns to concern as she reaches out for my hand. Although her eyes are on me, she inclines her head in Austen's direction, "Agent Barton, welcome to Shaw Industries."

"Thank you," Austen mummers as I take Emma's hand and kiss her knuckles. I use my grasp on her hand to pull her closer and into a brief hug, almost distant. But the hand she brings to my shoulder is fond and we settle with her arm through mine.

"You didn't have to come up here, Emma. We could have easily found our way out."

"I know, darling." She presses her palm flat to the scanner and the elevator slides open, "however, Sebastian asked that I inform you that you've been excused from your duties at the table until your father's been found. We both agree that your needs take precedence over our next movement."

"Thank you, Emma." I pause and this time, her smile is warm. She's the woman I remember from my childhood, the endearing aunt that showed me how to play chess. "Thank Sebastian for me too, please."

"Of course," she pulls her arm free as the elevator stops, "do be careful, Jase. It would be so tiresome to train someone in your stead."

"Always thinking of the club, aren't you Emma?" I touch Austen's back, urging her forward and Emma watches us go. "Come on Austen, let's go."

Feet away, the elevator doors shut once more, Austen steps away and glances in my direction, "what was that all about?"

"Not now," I stir her around a row of cars, toward the back of the garage. "Let's just get out of here first."

We stop in front of a gate and I flip open the lock, punching in my last name and then imprint my palm. The gate slides open and I point her toward the end of the first row, "the silver Lamborghini, I just need to grab my keys."

She snorts, "figured you would have this kind of car."

"What's wrong with it?" I ask, opening the safe. I brush my fingers over the row of keys before grabbing mine, slamming the heavy metal closed. I spin the lock and grin, "not impressed?"

"Just don't fucking kill me."



"Now where are we going?"

"Soho."

Austen leans forward in her seat and I turn my head, "put your eyes back on the road," she instructs. We're less than a mile away from Shaw Industries and I've already managed to show that my driving skill leave less to be desired. But the road is open and I have little patience. "What's in Soho?"

"My apartment," I drift into the next lane, passing three cars and back to the right, "did you finish reading my file?"

"I skimmed it," she admits and I laugh; the air between us is clear enough, for now.

"It's close to the art school, it's convenient."

"You're not just in the city for your dad?"

"Partly for Tony, but I actually do like art."

She looks me curiously, "it's not a bad thing, coming to the city to be with your dad. I would have done the same thing if I was in your position. But it's a good thing you like art, I'm sure it definitely makes living your cover easier."

I chuckle, "I guess. I was actually a student at NYU before I decided to meet Tony."

"Why do you call him Tony?"

"Habit," I tap my fingers on the wheel, "when I was younger, Happy used to tell me all these stories about my dad and how great he was. And they were about Tony; they were just …highlighted points of his life. I built up a mental image of my dad and it's hard to envision Tony as that person." I shake my head and turn the wheel, ignoring the blaring horns as I weave around other cars, in and out of the other lane and disregard a red light.

"You must be close to him…" she hesitates and I nod in encouragement.

"We are. I call him dad to his face, if that's what you're for wondering. But our relationship is private. It's new; it's not even been two years yet. Understand, it's not like he said he didn't want to be part of my life or he turned my mamma away when she said she was pregnant. She vanished when she found out—"

"—you were born in Boston."

I stop in front of the gate, flipping the visor down so the camera can read the badge clipped to the leather. "She came back a few times afterward to tie up loose ends. But she ended her relationship with Tony."

"Was it because of Iron Man?"

"No …maybe. I don't know how long they were together after I was born." I park in the empty spot next to my motorcycle. "Can you ask me something else? I really don't like talking about my parents."

Austen nods, "who is Emma?"

I snort, because of course. "Emma Frost, she's the CEO of Frost International."

"You're being vague."

"Aunt Emma," I correct and Austen raises a brow, "she's also a very powerful mutant."

"What is her power?"

"She's a telepathic." I ignore the look on her face and, instead, beckon for her to get out of the car. With our arms full, we leave the garage. "Welcome to Soho, Barbie."

The streets are buzzing, cars and people alike are everywhere. Even with the light fading and shop doors closed, the lights flicker to reveal everything is still open. Children scream and students run past. There are lines everywhere, for one thing or another. The bustle is softer than Manhattan.

"I can't believe you live here." She's looking around, almost scattered as her gaze darts from person to person and building to building.

"My mamma's side is loaded," I shrug and point to the brick building in the middle of the block across the street. "Do you want something to eat?"

"I'm fine for now," she turns her attention to me as I bump against her side, once again placing my hand on her back as I lead her across the street. This time she lets me.