Teenage Jail

“Jason Snow.”

“No need to get into the details. You know who you are.”

“Everyone knows who you are. At least, we think we do.”

“Wasn’t that long ago you made your return, telling us all that we’re just paychecks to you and nothing more. I appreciate the rub, by the way. A bona fide legend shows up for the first time in fifteen years and tells me I ain’t shit? That’s a pretty big deal.”

“What have you done since?”

“The way Daytona Diamonds tells it, you’ve been barely treading water, blowing big matches and title shots, desperate to cling to relevance. But let’s be honest; he’s not a man who looks past the surface–and he only looks that deep when he’s looking for coke.”

“Let me tell you what I see.”

“I see an absolute machine who’s finally got the rust shaken off. A loaded gun with a hair trigger. A ruthless mercenary, quietly sharpening his weapons until he’s ready to cut a path of destruction.”

“Lucky me. That’s just the kind of fight I’m in the mood for.”

# # #

The morning after ReVival 58. Reno, Nevada.

Nate Colton voiced a thought that ran through his mind several times over the weekend.

“I should have just flown.”

It was never more true than now, staring down the barrel of a seven-hour drive to Las Vegas. A Prius full of baggage, and a head to match.

Fucking Sammy.

Fucking Paxton.

Fuckin Ivan.

Fucking Adam.

Fucking…FUCK

“Actually…this is good,” he said to nobody as he turned on the car. “Gives me a chance to clear my head. Don’t want to bring all this shit home.”

Seven hours? Plenty of time to unpack.

“Call Kohime,” he said as he pulled into traffic. His phone dialed the necessary numbers, and after a few rings his speakers filled the car with his girlfriend’s voice.

“Hi Nate!” Kohime Mori said, her voice full of rainbows and sparkles…but with an undertone of concern. “Are you okay? I saw what happened with Starshy Praporshchik Stanislav, and then with Paxton and that scary ghost man…”

“I’m fine,” he said, and mostly meant. “And Sammy’s not a ghost, he’s just a theater kid. Nothing to be scared of.” Unless he starts doing Grease. Fuck that show.

“Oh.”

“Anyway. I’m on my way out of town. Wanna get together when I get back?”

Traffic was light at the moment, allowing Nate to look around and scout for gas prices or interesting coffee shops. No luck yet, but he’d keep trying.

“Of course!” Kohime answered. “Maybe a movie? We haven’t watched a Pixar in a while.”

Just not Encanto every time I think about that one song I can feel it in my nuts

“Sounds great. Text me with dinner ideas; I’ll order when I get back to town.”

He passed a Starbucks with a long line and a few gas stations that might have been out of business. Come on, gimme something before I hit the interstate…

“OK. Drive safe.”

“I will. Miss you, babes.”

“I miss you too. So does Oinkers!” she added with a giggle.

A parked car across the street caught his attention. It sat alone in a vacant lot, with the driver still at the wheel. That looks a lot like–

“Heh. Well, you tell Oinkers what the absolute fucking fuck…”

A gasp. “I will not!”

“Wh-what? No!” he stammered as he cranked on the wheel, cutting off another driver in a desperate attempt to reach the turning lane.

“I don’t like those words, and I would never say them to Oinkers McGoo!”

God dammit woman, I’m trying to explain–no, don’t say that out loud you idiot!

”I’m sorry, ‘Hime. Some guy ahead of me is driving like a maniac, and…look, I have to go. Love you.”

“You will apologize to Oinkers the moment you get home!”

“Yes. Yes, I promise. I’m sorry.”

“Good. I love you too.”

Just as Kohime hung up, Nate rounded the corner into the parking lot and tried not to think about the non-zero chance that she’d leave him because he swore at a stuffed pig.

He pulled up next to the red Hyundai Elantra that caught his eye from the street. On its own, it was nothing special; there were probably a hundred of those in the city at any given time.

But Nate was pretty sure not many of them had Indiana plates. Fewer still had a crack in the front bumper.

Only one had his sister behind the wheel.

Jennifer was drumming her fingers against the dashboard, singing along to Sabrina Carpenter. Nate shook his head in disbelief as he waited for her to take notice. But he wasn’t about to wait long.

Let’s get this shit over with, he thought, and honked the horn.

Neep!

The Prius’ battle cry was just enough to get her attention. She turned off her car and got out. “The fuck, dude?”

“Oh, no,” Nate answered, exiting his own vehicle. “Don’t the fuck, dude me. The fuck, dude you?! What the hell are you doing in Reno?”

“Photoshoot. Got a guy who’s gonna give me pro-level feet pics.”

Don’t throw up don’t throw up don’t throw up

“Bullshit. What are you up to?”

“OK, it’s not feet. It’s full nudes.”

“KNOCK IT OFF!”

The jagged shout was enough to get through. It was also enough to draw attention from a few of the drivers, but a few honks got them moving again.

“I’m here for Sammy, all right?” Jenny said. “He’s in trouble.”

“He’s not ‘in trouble,’ Jenny. He’s in lockup.”

“Yeah, I heard. I wanted to help. With his bail or whatever.”

“So you just…drove to Reno? From where?”

Jennifer looked down at her shoes.

“Salt Lake? Denver? Don’t try to tell me you drove all the way from Evansville.”

“...kind of?”

“What do you mean, ‘kind of?’”

Jenny snapped at her brother, the recent timidness already a distant memory. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to go bail out Sammy; you can come with or you can fuck off.”

She made a move to her car door, but Nate cut her off. “I need some answers here, ‘cause none of this shit makes any sense. I searched every inch of that building last night, trying to find Sammy before he did something dumb.”

“Yeah, and you got him arrested so you could protect Paxton,” Jenny said, loading the name with more venom than a coral snake.

“That’s not what happened! Ain’t the point, either! He shouldn’t have been there at all! No ticket, no pass, no way to get in without…”

Jennifer looked away, and took a step back from her brother.

“When did you get to Reno?”

The question came out more pointed than a fish hook. The normally brash young woman answered just above a whisper.

“Thursday.”

The last piece in place, Nate could finally see the whole puzzle.

“It was you.”

Jenny didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

“Salt Lake, too? That’s why you wanted to go so damn bad.”

A nod.

“Fuck.”

He stood quietly, while his sister kept trying–and failing–to meet his gaze.

“Nate…you have to understand! He needs this! Paxton destroyed him that night, and he–”

The older brother held up a hand, saying nothing–probably because he didn’t think he could talk without screaming. He took long, slow breaths, waiting for his face to lose its redness and the vein in his neck to stop throbbing.

Two minutes later, he walked back to his car. “We’re going to talk about this later. For now…let’s go,” he said.

“Go where?”

“To get Sammy. We can’t leave him there.”

Jennifer let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, bro. I owe you one.”

“Jenny…” he started, no small amount of bitterness in his voice as he sat down behind the wheel. “Your whole life, I’ve been cleaning up after you. Why stop now?”

# # #

“I never wanted to think of this business as a war. A fight, sure. But that’s completely different.”

“Trouble is, once one person decides there’s a war…then there is.”

“Fine, we’ll play that game.”

“You strike me as a sword guy, Jason. Not like you own any–you might, I don’t know your life–but you’ve got a sword mentality. Hack, slash, stab, and measure your success by the bodies left in your wake. You’re hardly the only one. Seems like a lot of PRIME thinks exactly that way.”

“But the way I see it…the measure of strength isn’t how hard you can swing the sword. It’s how long you can hold the shield.”

“Someone’s gotta play defense. Give the new fish a chance to grow, before the sharks get in. I’m not gonna ask you to do it, ‘cause I don’t think it’s in your nature. Hell, maybe you’re another guy who’s gonna tell me I ‘don’t know how the world works.’ I know fucking well how it works; it just pisses me off so much that I’m trying to change, and I will be goddamned if–”

“...”

“...”

“Point is.”

“I held that shield for a long damn time, Jason. Long enough to know I can handle whatever you’ve got. Win or lose, I’ll be here tomorrow. Still standing. Holding the line.”

“Funny thing, though.”

“Not long ago I was forced to pick up the sword, and I gotta say…starting to see the appeal.”

“I’m still going to hold the shield for the people who are important to me. For everyone else?”

“We’ll see, won’t we?”

# # #

“He had it comin’... he had it comin’...”

The cells in the Washoe County Jail had surprisingly good acoustics.

“He only had himself to blame…”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

Unfortunately, they lacked an appreciative audience.

They weren’t his people anyway…and he was definitely not theirs. He couldn’t have stuck out more from that collection of last night’s drunks and petty criminals if he were dressed in a tuxedo.

Which he was.

A full-on goddamn tuxedo, complete with white gloves. Not the cloak and cane though; those were in holding with the rest of his personal effects. If it weren’t from the cuts on his face–the end result of getting punched right in his porcelain mask–you’d think he wandered in here by mistake.

His harshest critic, a gruff man on the far end of the cell, shouted again. “I fuckin’ swear to Christ, you keep singin’ and I’ll knock yer goddamn teeth out!”

“You’re welcome to try. Again.”

The other man snarled as he rubbed his right elbow, which he held close to his ribs–a souvenir from an earlier altercation between the two.

A wry smile played around the singer’s lips. “I thought not.”

“Broderman!”

He looked up and scowled at the corrections officer who had just arrived. “I’m trying to maintain character here.”

The officer rolled his eyes as he reached for his keys. “Maintain it outside, weirdo. You made bail.”

“Oh.” The young man quickly rose, displaying a level of physical aptitude that was easy to miss–certainly, his “fan” on the opposite wall had missed it before. He wasn’t the biggest or strongest in the cell… but he was more than capable of defending himself.

He made a few quick steps to the cell door, just as the officer opened it. Almost involuntarily, the song sprung to his lips again. “If you’da been there…”

He stepped through the opening with his right leg, then allowed that to pull the rest of his body into the hallway. The officer growled as he closed the cell door again…but the freshly freed man took no notice, and in fact sang louder.

“If you’da seen it!”

That one earned him a rough shove down the hallway, but apart from the momentary stumble he continued unabated, giving the final line his full energy.

“I betcha you would have done the same!”

A chorus of jeers, threats, and insults turned into thunderous applause when they reached his ears, and he grinned with satisfaction.

When you call yourself “Sammy Broadway,” you have to give the people a show.

Whether they want it or not.

The processing went remarkably quick, as if the cops wanted him out of there just as much as his “friends” in the holding cell.

His possessions returned, Sammy Broadway sauntered through the final security door and stepped into the relative freedom of the lobby. There, he saw a pair of familiar faces, and was very happy to see one of them.

“Jennifer, darling!” he said. “My savior, yet again. I’m relieved to know there’s one member of your family I can count on.”

Nate Colton scowled back at him. “Sounds like you wanna fuckin’ walk.”

“Be nice, Sammy,” Jennifer said. “He’s the one who actually bailed you out.”

“Cost me all my comp tickets for Colossus, too,” Nate groused. “Plus the cash.”

“I can’t help it if I’m a dangerous element.” He breezed past them, heading out the front door. He shivered upon stepping into the sunlight, and quickly drew his opera cloak around him…but since it was more costume than clothing, it accomplished nothing. “Ugh. Why is it so cold?”

“‘Cause Nevada is stupid and nobody should live here,” Jennifer quipped. “So what’s the plan?”

“Vegas,” Nate said. “I’m not letting him out of my sight until the court date.”

“I assume I’ll be riding with you, then?” Sammy asked.

“Fuck no, you’re with Jenny,” Nate said. “I’ll take custody once we get there. Anyway, pretty sure after two hours I’d drive us off a bridge.”

“That’s your problem, Nathan,” Sammy said. “No appreciation for the arts!”

“The arts have cost me a lot of money and a night in with my girlfriend, and it’s barely been an hour. Goddamn right I don’t appreciate them.”

The group reached their respective vehicles, and Jennifer gave Nate a hug before the pair split up. “Thanks again, big bro.”

“Always,” he said. “But the one thing I don’t get…what were you doing in the parking lot when I found you?”

Jennifer gave a nervous smile. “I was trying to get the money together. A lot of our Belmont class wanted to help out. I was still waiting on a few people.”

“That’s…nice of them. Would it have been enough?”

“If not…there’s always the feet pics.”

“I hate you. I hate you both.”

# # #

A few days later.

Nate Colton was in his apartment, along with his new…roommate, let’s say…when the news came down.

“Song & Dance” Sammy Broadway was banned from PRIME.

All in all, he took the news pretty well.

“The very nerve! How can she stand in the way of my grand design?!” Sammy stormed around the living room, working himself into a frenzy. “It was perfect! PERFECT! I even had the chandelier on order!”

Nate paid him no mind, focused as he was on the rest of the statement. Specifically, the part where Lindsay Troy promised similar fates for any accomplices.

“She’ll never stop me! None of them will! Oh, they can TRY…but I’ll find my way in! There’s tunnels under the arena, right? Of course! I’ll get in, just like before!

“No, you won’t.”

Sammy gasped in exaggerated shock, causing Nate to roll his eyes for probably the hundredth time that day. “Sammy, they’ll be looking for you…and now, they know who to look for. You won’t last five minutes.”

“That’s what you think!”

“Sammy–”

“If you’re not going to help, Colton, then at least get out of the way!”

“Simon.”

The young man gasped, almost offended at the use of his government name. But Nate was having none of it.

“It’s over. You’re not going back to PRIME. Now, I’m willing to help you get back on your feet. But if you so much as look at Paxton, or PRIME…you can sort out your own fucking problems. Clear?”

The defiance leaked out of Sammy’s face, and though he did not answer, his silence could be taken for understanding. Defeated and deflated, he sat down on the couch and stared at…nothing.

Welcome to real life, kid. It’s all right, none of us asked to be here.

But that was only half the crisis. There was still the other matter; the rest of Troy’s statement.

This could fuck up her career. I can’t risk that.

Here I go again. Cleaning up another mess for you.

He picked up his phone and quickly started typing. A series of texts, all sent to PRIME CEO Lindsay Troy.

hey boss I need to come clean I’m the one who let Sammy in both times

As he waited for a response, Nate Colton set his phone back down…and picked up his shield.

Just like always.

# # #

“Sorry, Jason. Looks like you get the sword after all.”