Chapter Fifteen:
I Know A Good Barber
by Morgan
Long fingers splayed out against the mahogany desk nestled into the corner of the dormroom Haydn occupied. Stickers of various head shops around town not to mention peace slogans and other liberal hoopla decorated the antique item in an illegal vandalism that ISAS would not be pleased about when they came to inspect the rooms. Until that moment, however, Haydn was not worried. The window to the right of his desk remained open as a group of socks continued stuffed under the door. Incense was burning. The fan was going. And Sayre was still spraying cologne.
"Chappie! Mehbay we shoul'it smake teh 'erb endors," remarked Sayre as he lifted up a wet towel to fan around the room. In his brain (long since fried from progressive use of illegal substances), using a wet towel would capture the scent of the marijuana instead of just fanning it out. Very brilliant he was. Indeed.
Haydn looked up from his languid position with a shocked look in his grass-shaded eyes. SURELY YOU JEST they screamed without the words coming from his agape mouth. "Sayre. This is our one way to damn the man. To rebel! Give me weed or give me death!" The impassioned words sprang forward as he brought the opposite fist to his heart in look of strength.
Sayre stared back at Haydn for a moment before nodding his head slowly. His curls of dark brown flopped over his eyes as he suddenly turned into an energetic nod. "GIVE ME WEED OR GIVE ME DEATH!" He cried as he flapped his arms. His bloodshot eyes turned onto Haydn as he snickered slightly. "...I fergit."
"....." The silence stretched as Haydn shook his head. Sayre was normally such a smart boy. Okay, that was a lie. Reaching over his shoulder, he wrapped his fingers around the stretchy material of his vintage ADIDAS jacket. "I'm out. Peace, dawg." His slight Welsh tinge caused the faux-gangster speak to sound more amusing than cool, as evident by the delayed snort of laughter that Sayre provided as Haydn took to the door.
He looked once more behind his shoulder as he stood in the doorway. His eyes rolled up at the giggling Sayre -- stupid pothead -- as he shut the door behind him with a soft click.
"I am not sure, Rick. I just know that I am not quite feeling to going out tonight," remarked Hedy into the phone held up to her ear by her shoulder. She was being a little multi-tasker, really. In her lap rested an open physics book that was being scanned occasionally from around her fingers being filed and her conversation with the person on the other end, Rick.
Truth being told, she was going to go out and patrol tonight. She had nothing better to do and it was unlikely she would run into anyone, right? Stick around her neighborhood. Tell Percy she did her job. Get the feeling of Iapetus down. It was an effective win-win situation. Satisfied with her fingers, she dropped the file onto her bed as she flipped the page of her textbook.
"I'll stop by the cafe tomorrow. Salutations," she said as she dropped the phone onto itself curved gold hook. Rotary phones, how cool! One hand ran through her newly shorn hair -- cut just that afternoon! -- as the other danced its fingertips over the facts that swam before her. She just could not concentrate on the theory of relativity with everything on her mind. There was still the adjustment to being Iapetus, to her teammates, to being bossed around by a bird! Then there was last night.
She shuddered. She had been PUKED on. Never in all her years of babysitting had that happened. She looked down at her feet in a reflex before shaking her head. She would not dwell on that. Instead, she would dwell on the one who had almost strangled her to death. Her fingers reached to touch daintly against the angry purple marks that had shown up around the curve of her neck. Thank heavens it had been cool enough to wear turtlenecks and cowlneck shirts.
The bruises were the worst part of the whole thing. Well, that and the fact she was facing a looming death. Inhaling air in a soft measure of calm, she fought against the thought. It was best to just not think of it. She'd concentrate on the fact the family would be inviting the foreign exchange student into their home tomorrow. Yes, exactly. No, she just had to get out of the house. She rose abruptly from her bed with her hand wrapping around the tweed designer jacket that rested on the back of her desk chair.
"Time to get out of here," she mumbled as she threw the coat over her black ensemble of turtleneck and pants. Thank god for turtlenecks.
Sombrero paced the dark streets with little urgency. He had been walking so long that it was getting out of control. From the school into the ritzy neighborhoods. Why he had transformed attributed to that one could never be sure who they were going to run into at night in Roanoke. Might as well be well prepared with a weedwacker; but, damn, was it getting heavy? The equipment dragged behind him as he slowly made his way into a neighborhood. If he remembered there was a shortcut through here.
"Fuckfuckfuck," he sang to himself in a happy tone as he lugged his gear. It was getting cold, too, in his flimsy outfit and sandals. He'd have to talk to Clavius about different gear for the upcoming winter. For a moment, he wished he had brought Clavius. Having some sort-of friendly interaction right now would be pleasant. What had started as a walk to clear his head had turned into a lonely prowl.
He blinked his eyes at the large, stately homes that he passed. Wow. These folk had a lot of money. Didn't a few famous Virginians live in here? Like the Congressman? And a Senator? Ooh, government. Snickering to himself, he considered what intern they had slept with before sobering up as the menacing growl of a dog broke through the night. "What in tarnations!" He said outloud as he picked up his pace without thinking. It had scared him!
"Moron," he muttered to himself as he rubbed his temples after slowing down. "Really, Cyningesleah," he added before mentally berating himself for saying his last name outloud when transformed. Oh, well, not like anyone was around. It was him, the night, and some dog in some backyard. That he had been afraid of. He cringed. Thank heavens no one would ever know that story.
"Running scared?" purred a soft voice that caused Sombrero to whirl around on his heel.
"Excuse me?" Sombrero stammered out as he blinked into the inky darkness. Dammit! Why did Sombrero not come equipped with a watch. It had to be after ten. Lights out had already happened. Man, was he going to be in trouble. Although, by the sound of it, he might already be in trouble.
Iapetus stepped from the shadows with the white of her uniform sparkling against the black in an eerie contrast. The shadows from the dim street-lamp she stood under played against her grim face as she stared at Sombrero. "Why, I was hoping that I would see you," she murmured as she flashed a tight grin his way.
"Feeling is mutual," Sombrero replied. His eyes narrowed against the senshi before him. Of course, it would be her. He scanned the area around her quickly, searching for any sign of others with her. She was alone. So was he. This time she would escape alive if it was up to him.
Iapetus stood in silence before him, unsure. Did she open an attack? How did this work? She was not supposed to have met anyone. Yet, she had been the one that approached him. At the time, the adrenaline had been pumping. It no longer was. Rather, she felt strangely scared. He was undoubtly more powerful than she was. His attacks probably worked. She would've cursed her luck for having chance if it had not been the sudden movement that the enemy gave.
Sombrero dodged slightly as he brought his weedwhacker up. Instead of initiating his attack, he swang it down just centimeters from her head. "Now that I have your attention," he began in a nasty tone. "I'll be a gentleman. Let the battle commence at your watch."
She should have turnt and fled right there, but something in his tone steeled her up. He was going to feel the pain now. Any notion of pacifism, any notion of not wanting to fight fled. Iapetus loathed the other before her and it showed. "So captivated am I by your show of brute strength there," she remarked in a casual tone. Instead of moving to attack, she stared at him.
"Are you scared to begin," taunted Sombrero. "Afraid that without your boyfriend around, you may end up a little short of breath." He purposely brought up how close she had come to death at his hand before. A little of a scare tactic.
"Healthy bump you have," Iapetus said as she reached one finger to touch the spot. She stepped closer to him to do so, breaking their distance. The remark about Tyche went without response as she pulled her finger back and instead brought her knee up into a part of Sombrero that was just unfair.
"Y..OU BITCH," managed Sombrero as he fell like a sack of rock to the concrete. THAT WAS CHEATING. BLATANT CHEATING. The explosion in his groin spread up around his whole body as he writhed in pain on the ground. He really did not care what her next move was. She could kill him right now. It would fell better than the intense pain that throbbed in him.
Rather than choosing that route, Iapetus yanked his weedwacker from where it rested on the ground. Her fingers curled around the handles as she brought her arms back to heave it into the bushes of the green area the neighborhood had for walking, socialising, and the assorted like. His one weapon down meant one attack was out of the question. "Can't get up?" She asked in a mock concerned voice.
"Oh, I caaan," trilled Sombrero in a high-pitched voice as he forced himself into a kneeling position. He was not going out on that. She could cheat, but she was not going to keep him down. He'd get up. Eventually.
Iapetus smirked as she rolled her roulette balls in the palm of her hand. "RED, 60!" She cried as she threw the balls from her hand with the flick of her wrist. The white items rolled in a bounce along the ground as they began to glow their tell-tale red.
Sombrero shut his eyes as he attempted to scramble from his position. He had to get out of there. He remember this attack. He had to get the hell out of there. His fingers clawed at the ground before he realised he was not moving and, yet, nothing had happened. One eye opened slightly, followed by the other. Nothing. Except a pissed off Iapetus who was stomping one foot up and down. "Chance, real bitch of a sphere," he noted as he pushed himself into a standing position; albeit, wobbly legged.
"Fuck off," responded Iapetus as she fought to keep the rising panic out of her voice. Her attack did not work. Her attack did not work. She was in trouble. She was in trouble. Everything went through her head twice as she contorted her face into a reassured smirk.
Sombrero smirked back at her as he bent at his knees to press his hands into the concrete ground. "Could always use a little DEVILSNARE," he added, shouting the last word out as he ripped back the ground with the force of ten men. Immediately, the green stalks shot up with a path toward their intended target.
Iapetus was too fast. With a nimble leap, she was in the dark; hidden in a clump of trees.
Sombrero cursed under his breath as he worked the weeds to follow her. "Olly olly oxen free!" He said in a cheerful voice as the weeds ebbed on. It was then that he caught her. His actions wrapped the weeds around her foot protruding from behind a large oak.
The sudden wrap of the green stalks caused Iapetus to let out a hysterical cry. No, no. This was not how it was going to happen. She needed to be prepared for this if she was going to be a strong fighter. With a clear head despite the vines beginning to snake up her leg, she shot out the balls with an even tone dispensing the attack: "RED, 60!" Fire burn up those vines.
The balls rolled as they turned glowing. The light caused the weeds to shrink back as they slowly fell away from the leg of Iapetus, dead. It was the burst of flame that caught Sombrero offguard as he turned his back to make a run into the open. Bad choice on his part. One fireball danced up as it hit him in the back. He could smell the burn of his burlap uniform, the fire on the linen, and the disgusting scent of burning hair.
WAIT. Burning hair? He let out a short cry as he fell to the ground, rolling. NOT HIS HAIR. He would kill her. Satisfied the flame was out, he reached behind him to touch his back. His skin was peeling. The flame had ate a hole by his neck line. That meant...his hand went straight for his head. Hair, hair, NO HAIR. He shouted a word that did not exist in any language as he pulled his hand back. Not his hair.
Iapetus knew when the getting was good. She had won this round. It was time to get out while she was on top. Watching the boy roll on the ground gave her the opportunity and she sneaked away. Her feet made no sound against the springy grass as she trekked into the night, stealing away as her identity: Hedy in black clothing.
Sombrero looked around wildly. Where did she go. "I'll kill you. WATCH OUT!" The wind of the night carried his message as he bit down on the inner linings of his cheek to keep from crying. He'd find her alone and there would be no gentlemanly action. She would be dead before she had a chance to react. He vowed that to himself. "Watch the fuck out," he muttered.