Paragon - Chapter 45: Chapter 45

I should have been using this time to plan my work for Paragon.
Instead I leant on Quinn Adams' island counter as she made breakfast. I had forgotten the process long ago–it was fascinating.
"Fletcher, stop looking at me like I'm a zoo exhibit." She said, around a bite of toast as she rummaged her fridge.
I tilted my head and scanned the contents behind her form.
"That is a lot of green." I noted, "–mortals in the early nineteen hundreds consumed more meat."
"Yes and we're still trying to fix the damage said meat eaters created." She quipped with a knowing look over her shoulder.
"What about blood drinkers?" I drawled.
She grinned and shook her head as she took her plate and mug into the next room. I trailed closely behind and admired her dinning room. A grandfather clock ticked lethargically in the corner and the long curtains kept the early morning light in check.
"I think you help the planet... You supposedly keep mankind in check after all." She muttered, glancing at her t-shirt that was still on me. Her lip curved and she took a sip.
"Paragon don't understand what collateral damage is." I stated, catching her eyes again. "You've got to start asking when fixing problems has too much cost."
"When did you question it?"
"Fifty years ago. During the Cold War." I answered, detached and looking at the university logo on her mug.
"Was it bad?" She murmured, over the rim.
"Worse than people were ever told." I answered simply, before tearing myself away from her curious eyes. "A great mortal once told me that a successful war was not one where you killed the most enemies. It was one where you did not need to pull the trigger at all."
She was shocked into silence as she processed my words. So many thoughts and questions I knew were coming to the front of her mind. I shook my head.
"There is a reason veterans do not speak of such things. Atrocities are recorded in the history books so we do not repeat them. But the mortals that must bear the memories should not have to relive them."
She shut her eyes and nodded. "I respect that. It makes me wonder all the more about how much human darkness you've had to endure, Fletcher..."
"When I get to meet mortals like you, Quinn Adams. I remember the reason why we fight at all. It becomes bearable again." I murmured, seeing and feeling the depth of her emotion in response to my words. But it was all a bit heavy for a Wednesday morning for my taste.
A smirk took my lips and I stared intently behind her. Hers eyes morphed from compassion to instantly wary.
"Where did you get that clock?"
"Why?"
"It's old."
"How do you know?"
I gave her a flat look that told her it wasn't worth answering. She half smiled and set her mug down.
"My parents apparently. I don't know the origin."
I scanned it again quickly. Antique. Early Georgian. Seventeen hundreds.
"Your parents had a good eye, Adams."
"Apparently so do you." She retorted low.
"I have a collection of countless artefacts from the past. What did you expect?"
"A personal tour." She answered instantly.
I stilled and glanced at the ornate time that read seven thirty. "What about work–"
"I'm feeling–" She made a horrific attempt at a fake cough, "–so sick today."
I palmed my face and grinned at the table. "Thank every false god you never have to lie on our behalf."
"Oh, I've lied to you before."
My head snapped up and she returned my stare with a calm bite of toast.
"No you have not."
"I have." She said around a mouthful.
"I can hear your heartbeat from here. I can notice your breathing increase and I can see the fine change in your pupil when it dilates. Quinn, I would know." I answered in complete confidence–yet that confidence was now wavering before that calm lawyer.
She took another bite and watched me with a growing smile. I growled low and she started grinning.
"Let me show you, immortal."
She set her heated bread sustenance down and pulled up her phone. I couldn't take my eyes off her as I heard the number ring. She drew it up and schooled her expression into complete neutrality. Her heart was steady, her breathing even–even her eyes looked bored.
"Good morning, Henley & Bloom front desk?" I heard the receptionist answer formally.
She exchanged pleasantries with the woman before being passed to her higher ups. This is where I expected the tell tale body language to appear. It did not.
"Ms Blackmore–yes thank you–it has been quite the process. Yes–yes–"
I scanned that calm face that returned my look as she spoke. Then she spoke again as flawlessly as she had when she spoke with me.
"–I appreciate the position I am placing you in but I have picked something up while abroad. Yes–no exactly–I did my best to keep up the work ethic but–oh thank you–no that is fine–just a few days should be–"
She paused as her superior did the rest. Not in a single beat did I hear her body expose her lies. She could lie without giving anything away–if she desired. I was not sure how that made me feel... perhaps what all mortals felt. Exposed. Unsure.
"–I will see you on Monday morning in that case–and you have a good rest of week Ms Blackmore." She finished, ending the call and setting it down in front of her before picking up the toast and taking a slow bite with a wink.
I slumped in the seat before her and pinched the bridge of my nose.
She was impossible.
"Now I'm going to question every conversation we've ever had." I grumbled.
She laughed at this and pushed her plate forward before drawing up her coffee.
"Fletcher–now you know how we all feel. I can't dream of telling if you're lying to me–"
"I haven't lied to you." I grit out.
She raised an eyebrow. "That's all you did when we first met." She scoffed.
"Immortality isn't something you can share like common gossip." I growled, letting my teeth sharpen. She was unbothered and took a longer drink.
"Hey–I'm just evening the score."
I crossed my arms and watched her.
"What are you lying to me about, Adams?"
"God, everything really. My life is a lie." She stated plainly with the same maddening cool that I couldn't even disregard as a lie.
"Having fun are we?" I growled.
"You have no idea." She told me, propping her forearms before us and leaning towards me with growing amusement. I leant back against the chair and tightened a fist on the table. Quinn picked up the remains of her toast unbothered. She licked the corner of her lip and I lingered on it.
"Perhaps I should have breakfast." I deadpanned.
She grinned mid chew. Then quickly consumed the rest with her eyes on me. She stood from the table and took her plate and mug with her.
"Come on, detective." She called over her shoulder, with those swaying hips... "–you're not going dressed like that."
I smirked.
* * * * *
We stood before a door of 13 inch thick titanium alloy.
The concrete was floor lit and a biometric scanner drew lines over every square inch of my face. A green light flashed. I then drew my palm forward and it accepted my prints. Finally I input the 9 digit code into the pad.
"It almost seems like you keep something valuable in here..." A sarcastic mortal drawled beside me. I threw her a sidelong look that gave nothing away.
An orange hazard light flashed above and Quinn flinched at the deep sound of locks coming out of place.
"You might want to stand back."
She took several paces back quickly and I joined her with my arms tucked behind me. The impenetrable, unhackable, behemoth moved back lethargically with manual locks. All analogue. Nothing digital. A personal request from myself.
The storage facility beyond glowed to life with floor to ceiling lights that drew external power from solar. Rows upon rows of vacuum seals perfection. Crates, filing cabinets, steel shutters, paintings mounted behind bulletproof glass–
"Holy shit."
I smiled and drew an arm forward.
"Take anything you like."
"That's not funny." She said with an eye roll as she eagerly moved past the circular opening.
"I wasn't joking." I murmured, scanning the shelves and stacks for any imperfection. But of course it was just as I had left it a few months prior.
Quinn's eyes were everywhere. Spinning on her heel as she viewed the towering shelves of wrapped or unwrapped goods.
"The newest additions are at the front and the oldest are back–"
"Is that a Turner?!" She demanded, rushing before the ornate ship crossing the high seas before a sunset.
"Not one known about." I shrugged, as she neared the glass and sucked in a breath.
"It's beautiful."
"I'll have it deposited at your house tonight." I retorted nonchalantly, moving back down another isle.
"No. You'll leave it here." She said, exasperated at my unbothered tone. "I am not having a nine figure oil painting sitting in my living room."
"Who said it would not look better in your bedroom." I added darkly, catching her glare with my own grin.
"Fletcher. Do not even think about it."
"Consider it done, Adams."
She sighed and turned her attention to a gleaming suit of armour. She appreciated its curves and intricate carvings along the breast plate. I came up beside her and tilted my head.
"What do you think?"
"I think it's old."
"How old?" I probed with growing amusement.
"Old enough to out date you."
"Keep going."
"Middle ages."
"Warmer."
"10th century."
"Close enough."
She raised an eyebrow and scanned the metal again. Her eyes traced the only visible imperfection along the shoulder pauldron. I smirked.
"The unfortunate gentlemen did not survive that blow." I said staring at the breach slashed across his shoulder to the neck. "Nor did many of the French that turned up to Hastings that day."
She flinched and eyed me like I had just spoken an alien tongue. I returned it with a calm one.
"This is a recovered suit of armour from a knight in the battle–you know what, I'm not even surprised anymore." She puffed out, turning from the suit and trailing down another long isle. I kept my hands behind my back and walked behind a few paces.
She trailed her fingers lightly across a tapestry as she moved making it flutter in rich waves. I scanned her fingers as they moved and not the material I had seen many more times. Our footsteps echoed. Enclosed in our own personal world of history. One where I could share and tell her all about every item lost in time and found again.
There was no one else I'd rather have in this space that the woman that walked so casually through it all. I wish I could take her back to every time and place–for now this would have to do.
When she paused again it made my heart tighten and cool.
Her heart beat seemed to stutter. As if she too, knew its importance and history.
"Is that a..." Her voice died as she stared at the relic of a war that was so almost the end of everything. She seemed as lost as I had become as she stared at the dark metal. The hazard signs and the point of it that were no longer a threat.
"A nuclear weapon." I confirmed. "What's left of one."
"Should I ask why you have this..?" She murmured quietly, turning to me with new curiosity despite its stark potential for destruction.
"It is a reminder." I stated low, coming up to the long cylinder that I had faced barely half a century ago. "A point in history that needs to be remembered."
Quinn walked slowly around the weapon. I left it exposed so the intricate manufacture and technology was bare and open. Its lethal insides were exposed like a clock that would end all time. She shuddered as she took in the wires where nuclear matter had once been housed.
"I told you that you were never told how bad the Cold War truly was." I continued, making her still and watch me. "–How close we came to nuclear annihilation."
"But some places would still be..."
I shook my head and scanned the panel I had once ripped off. A panel where an inevitable timer ticked on and would expire along with every other missile they had.
"Nuclear annihilation by definition is a mutual destruction of the planet. It leaves no winners or losers behind. It concludes the war permanently and humanity was told simply that it was averted in the Cuban missile crisis. What they do not know is that the warheads were in fact launched already by both sides. Locations confirmed and destruction all but assured."
Quinn didn't take the next breath. I suppose I would struggle to quantify it if I was not involved in stopping it that day. I brushed a hand along the steel surface.
"The technology back then was simpler. Fortunately they followed a mother rocket of sorts and detonated in sync. So to stop them all–"
"You stopped this one." Quinn realised, taking in the weapon with new eyes. Realisation. She met my eyes. "You were responsible for disarming this alone?"
"Of course not." I scoffed. "The immortals sent after the Russian side were far more experienced than I was. I was merely a security detail to them. It just so happened that one of our own was compromised. He had the delightful notion that we deserved such a fate and killed Paragon's top immortals to allow it to happen."
"How the hell did you stop it?" Quinn asked, flickering over the torn panel and trying to picture no doubt, my hands in place stopping the final world war.
"The same way I ended William–by playing the game smarter." I stated, with a dark smile. "I sided with the insane immortal, claiming that I too–wanted to watch the whole world burn. You'd be surprised how trusting psychopaths become when they believe they are in good company." Quinn's shock was alive in the air between us. So I concluded this impossible turn of events for her.
"–I suggested we hasten the process by compromising the timer. What he did not know was that I was reverse engineering it to buy us time. When he realised, he was less... amicable. I was almost killed that day. But I held on long enough for Paragon's backup to find us. That concluded him and the missile was disarmed." I finished with a shrug, suddenly finding the proximity to it to be too stark.
I brushed my fingers along my neck remembering the feel of how it felt to almost die.
A hand slipped into my free one as I walked. I didn't meet her eyes and nor did she turn to face me but her reassuring presence was enough. I let a breath leave me in what felt like hours.
"I don't care what you say. You're not half the monster you make yourself out to be."
I half snorted as we walked leisurely, past priceless artefacts of varying size. Other than that I had no response for her. I still assisted Paragon's efforts no matter the reason or target–even if I was not sure of the side we were on. It may all just be a game to them.
"Have you chosen yet?" I blurted, filling the silence that was comfortable with her.
She gave me a questioning look while I patiently waited with a smirk. Then the realisation hit and she glared and released my hand.
"Fletcher, forget it. I'm not taking anything from this place."
"Is that so?" I drawled.
"Yes. Keep it down here where it is safe."
"That isn't fun, Adams. It will be enjoyed by your eyes–that is far superior to staying down here in the darkness for another century."
She gave me a flat look.
"I want nothing."
"Very well." I agreed, already knowing I would disobey her wishes. She gave me a distrustful look.
"You're going to ignore me regardless aren't you?"
"Of course." I deadpanned, turning back towards the way we had come and half turning my head to my shoulder. "Keep up, lawyer. Or I'll add you to my collection down here." I finished darkly.
"Unbelievable." She muttered, lingering behind me a moment.
I knew her eyes were on that missile without having to look back. I couldn't return my stare to it. That was enough for another year. Those memories should remain locked away along with darkest truth to the rest of humanity. One that the immortals would remember. One where we used our monsters to fight the worst of monsters. One that would occur again in future.
One that I was prepared face again. For mortals like Quinn who made the earth worthy of defending to the end.