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by ViceVersus on Mon Jul 13, 2009 1:41 pm
Jack stood on the corner of Eighth and Leverett, jamming his finger into the call button for the Goddard Building.
When the voice finally came through the speaker, it was cracked with age and anger, "What the hell do you want?"
"Paul." Jack glanced over his shoulder to make sure there wasn't anyone watching him, "...It's Calumet."
There was a blank pause on the other side. Another click, and a hardly audible grunt, "Come on up."
One smooth elevator ride later, Jack stepped out and into Paul Goddard's posh top level penthouse. The entrance hall was vaulted and seemed to be made only of mahogany and teak. Corinthian pillars sustained it, along with a hefty hedge-fund. The Ignitor gave a long low whistle as he took the scene in. The silver doors slid shut behind him, and from the shadows stepped Goddard's sallow cheeked Butler.
"Jackson! It is good to see you!" The Butler he smiled with a distant warmness, "Quite a mess they say you're in on the television, yes?"
"Larry--Lawrence. You sonofabitch." Jack felt his frosty guarded exterior begin to melt. He shook the man's hand firmly, and continued in a gruff tone, "I think you know why I'm here."
"Of course," Lawrence straightened, "Mr. Goddard is in his study. Would you like a drink?"
"Nah. I'd better not."
Paul had spared no expense for his own lifestyle after retirement. Even the hardwood was high-end. No steps could be taken without them bouncing off very full, yet empty rooms. Jack wondered quietly how lonely Paul was these days. He had no pictures of his family above the mantle in the fireplace. No soft throw pillows on the wraparound sofa. A media center that looked like it hadn't been touched.
The study door was open when Lawrence and Jack got there. A frail old man in a wheelchair seemed to be waiting. Although physically Paul Goddard seemed weak, he had a strength of character and of demeanor that always had impressed Jack. The Butler nodded and left the two alone.
"Shut the door." Paul wheeled himself around behind his desk. While Jack obliged, Paul chuckled.
"What seems to be funny?" Jack sat himself down in a plush chair opposite the desk.
"You, Jack. I guess it was just a matter of time, I suppose."
"That I die?" Jack's expression hardened, "That's one hell of a welcome back."
Paul paused, and turned his head. His tone was cool, "Parade got lost on the way out here."
"I didn't come all the way back here for this sort of reception."
"No. You came back for answers, for revenge." Paul held up a finger and doubled over, coughing heavily. Jack waited for the fit to pass, "I can't help you. I'm out of the game. You know that."
"You also know Quiksilver had something to do with this. To be honest, Paul, you don't seem all that surprised that I'm not dead."
"Well, after that bit at Arthur's bookstore, I didn't really have to go fetch my magnifying glass and pipe, now did I?" Paul paused a beat, "Not a lot surprises me anymore, Jacky. Pour me some gin."
Jack looked over at the desk. A tall bottle and two glasses waited there. He stepped to the desk, uncorked the slim-necked thing and did as he was told. He brought it to the man.
"Can you help me?" Jack asked.
"With what?" Paul hacked again, but choked down his drink, "I can give you a place to stay, help you get started again, sure. But I can't bring you back, Jacky. You've been burned out. If you try to go back, they'll drag your sterling silver reputation through the mud."
"The system is broken. You and I are examples of that."
"Damn straight we are." Paul grunted, "But I can't help you wage a war against the norm."
Jack took a long, slow, deep breath, "I just want to know what happened to me."
"And New York was your answer?" Paul scoffed, "You're looking for a reason to off Quiksilver. I watched you, Jacky. You never liked being part of the Infinity Five."
"They weren't real heroes..." Jack's hooded eyes darted to the floor.
"The system is broken, like you said," Paul raised his glass, "Here's to your own funeral, kid."
The toast was made, and Jack chuckled.
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