(Continued from In the name of Justice)

Ridiculous. The whole thing is ridiculous.
I am a freakin' teleporter.
How did this happen to me?

Lamest. Arrest. Ever.

Of course, Ilari got away. Good for him. Hopefully he's at the Mansion by now, tellin' everyone what happened.
Yay hooray.
I'd rather just go to jail, and make sure they protect me from Ems and Twyla.

Gawain, my friend, you've really done it this time.

Charges? I trashed a friggin' sandwich bar, so what? It was self-defense. Totally. 100%.
Let me see if I've got this clear: they didn't arrest me for crashing the New York Palace, for stealin's stuff from all over the city, for beatin' up gangsters, or for being a murder accomplice to Aura's latest dance session, which by the way, I was not.
Of course, they don't really know I did all those things.
But they do know about the friggin' sandwich bar.

Good thing Mom taught me what to do. She knew it would come in handy one day.
How did she know?...

Handcuffs. I hate handcuffs. And they ain't takin' them off, because I'm a mutant.
What, did they see any display of superhuman powers?
No they did not. That was not super strength, that was just me bein' badass.
But if they manage to hold me till midnight...

I ain't answerin' any questions till I've got a parent present. I'm only 17, for the love of God. Look at me, I'm just an innocent kid. And I know my rights.

I.D.? Nah, not really. Name's Alexander Johnson. Yeah, that's good, keep checkin'. I'm not in the system. Never have been.
Call my parents for me?
Sure, knock yourselves out.

In the meantime I'd like to make a call too, if you please.

Hm, who am I gonna call?

Sam?
Not a chance. I prefer my DR sessions non-deadly.

Twyla?
It's not like she could help.

Emmy?
She'd probably come for me, and then drag me back to the Mansion tied behind her bike.

Besides, I need an adult.

Hm. Maxine?
Urgh.

All right then, that leaves Rupert.
Not like I really need anyone to bust me out of here.
I am a freakin' teleporter.
Seriously.

But calling Rupert? Oh this is gonna be fun.


RRRRRIIIIINNNGGGG.

“I know a guy,” James said.

“You know a guy,” Rupert repeated drily.

“I do,” James defended as he leaned forward. He helped himself to another muffin from the plate in the table’s center. They were in Rupert’s kitchen. It was as good a place as any to plan a murder. “One of my snitches.”

“They’re just rumors, James.”

“Rumors don’t turn a school full of kids into muties, Rup, or the other things that have been happening.” He peeled back the muffin’s baby blue wrapper; little crumbs showered to the floor, where Flipsy waited, tongue lolling.

“You’re making a mess.”

“Sorry. You must be hearing the same things I am, Rup. The investigation isn’t finished yet, but we’ve both still got friends in the right places. It’s some kind of drug. You know it, I know it.”

“And you know a guy,” Rupert replied, his posture casual. “So?”

“So? So fighting them at their own level doesn’t interest you? It’s temporary, Rup—the kids seem fine again, the ones of them that weren’t injured by each other’s powers. It’s not like we’ll be freaks ourselves.” Rupert didn’t reply. James shrugged, and took a mouthful of muffin. “M’m just sayin’.”

“Don’t talk with your mouthful.”

“I get ‘nough of ‘hat from my wife. Don’t you start.” James shoved the rest of the muffin into his mouth, minus a sizable chunk that escaped at the last moment. Flipsy caught it before it hit the ground, and started tongue-polishing the tiles for any crumbs she’d missed. The clock on the wall ticked; James chewed in noisy defiance. The two ex-cops stared each other down from across the table.

RING.

RRIINNGG.

RRRRRIIIIINNNGGGG.

James reached for another muffin. Flipsy stopped her licking to sit at attention. “You ‘unna get that?”

Rupert pushed his chair back noisily, and dragged the phone down off the wall. “Hello?” He grumbled, in his Happy Voice.

Gawain listened to the ringing, and made bets with himself. Several of them, actually.
I bet he doesn't bother to pick up.
I bet he's home.
I bet he'd love to hear my voice.
I bet he'll say no.
I bet I know the words he'll use instead of 'no'.
I bet he managed to scare Auntie Hookup away by now.
I bet...

>>“Hello?”

Griiiiin. An invisible one, given the form of communication.

"Hey Rupert, 'tis your favorite mutant talkin'." Gawain chuckled "Listen, 'tis a long story, but I kinda sorta got arrested, totally not my fault by the way, an' I need someone to bail me out. So, do you maybe wanna be that special someone? Pretty please with sherry on top?"

Too bad modern phones still don't have a camrea attached. Gawain would have gladly paid the bail money just to see Rupert's face right about now.

The grin came through the lines. Rupert trusted that his own twisting of lips would get through, as well.

Across the table, James took a look at his face and began to choke on a muffin. Rupert took the cordless into the bedroom, and shut the door with a distinct click.

“Gawain. You never write, you never call.”

Except on mirrors. Except for bail money.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of being your parental figure?”

>>“To what do I owe the pleasure of being your parental figure?”

Excellent question. Right on. Perfect. In the big book called Tricksterdom's Guide to Prank Calls from Jail, it was he epitome of the Right Question At The Right Time.
Gawain went on grinning without missing a beat.

"You are so negative, Rupert. I chose you because I firmly believe that there somewhere deep inside there is still some good and innocent part in you, and with my own child-like innocence and puppy dog eyes intend to make it my honest mission to bring it out again and turn you a happy old man for Christas."

Breathe.
Dramatic pause. Letting the speech sink in.

"Or, you want the complete and honest truth and nothing but the truth?" man I'm already gettin' good and this an' I haven't been arrested for more than three hours "I've got no idea. None. Not reeally. Ya made me breakfast an' I imprinted. So, you wanna bail me out or not?"

Rupert’s heart shrunk three sizes, just listening to the brat. If there’d once been a sweet little puppy dog inside of him, he rested assured that it suffocated long ago. Maybe that bile at the back of his throat was what remained of its corpse.

“What are you, a stray duckling? You—” The growl cut off before it had truly begun. There was a pause; the eye of the storm passing over. Good humor returned to Rupert’s voice in its wake, no less foreboding.

“This was your one call, wasn’t it? You actually used your one call on me. I’m touched, kid. Really, I am.” The chuckling began to creep into his voice. “Sure. I’ll be right down to get you.”

The last sound through the line was laughter. He had to sit down for a minute after he hit the call end button. One call. One call, and the brat had used it on him. Now that was Gifted and Talented.

Rupert made his way back to the kitchen, wheezing merrily.

Gawain never expected the ex-cop to actually say yes to bailing him out. No sir, not for a moment. Not really. Still in the brief moment of silence he almost started to suspect that maybe the glimmer of an idea of an idea of maybe considering a positive answer might have flashed through the old man's brain.
Apparently, it faded quite quick.

"Thanks Rup, I love you too." he chuckled into the phone, even though the laugh was definitely far the creepiest he'd ever heard from the man. Once the line went silent on the freedom end, the young knight leaned back against the wall.

"Hey ya'll, in case ya're still listenin' and you didn' get the message, he's not comin' to get me. Jus' so you know. An' that's the only parental figure I've got."

With that, the mirrorwalker hung up the phone, and walked out of jail through the reflection on the payphone's side.

((Continued for Mirror in Removing Handcuffs 101))