“Public? What possible good would it do me to go public? The public knows you’re scum, but you’re Vice-President anyway. They don't care. So what would I do? Go to the Police? Or the FBI? Or my old friends at the CIA? Why? What could – what would any of them do? No no. I wouldn’t go public.
“You people defend super villains. Criminals. World conquerors. Mass murderers. And you expect me to just let you walk in here—”
“We ‘people?’ Interesting phrasing, Detective Corporal. I’ll assume you mean ‘lawyers.’ And yes, my firm specializes in parahuman criminal defense, because some police officers and district attorneys forget that parahumans get the same rights every other criminal gets. Like — just to throw out an example? The right to a zealous defense. Not all police officers, of course. Not even most. Just some.”
“I came out there for my sister’s funeral, and to help wrap up her final affairs. And you know what I found out?”
“What did you find out?” Bryce asked, quietly.
“I found out that Julie was... the smartest person ever. And she was nice and kind and never forgot how to sew. She liked to cross stitch and she looked good in peasant dresses and I watched a Chief Technology Officer break down and cry over her, and... and the thing of it is, no one cares. To everyone else? She was just... an appendage. Something strapped to the Artifact to give him depth or some kind of... Jesus. Backstory.”
“Julie taught me to sew,” Daniels said, suddenly. “Excuse me?” Emily asked, blinking. “Julie.” The assistant was blushing, now. “She... I tore my coat down in the canteen and she saw, and said that it was just a seam rip, and told me to wait a sec. And she ran up to her office and… Continue reading ⎇001JW Halcyon Days: Motivation #5
Paora laughed. “Quit? We don’t quit. We die. Oh, he might give the Artifact up. I hope he does. And then somewhere down the line he’ll be dragged back into the game under another name, or he’ll get it back, or he won’t have it and he’ll get killed. That’s how this works. I don’t know why everyone doesn’t know that, but it’s true.”
Landon rubbed his eyes. “So how about you?”
Emily looked nonplussed. “How about me what?””
“Do you think I should quit? Or stay the course?”
“Jesus Christ, Art. The oven? Pallid Jan cooked her?”
Emily felt a lurch down in her stomach. “Hey!” she snapped. “That’s my sister you’re talking about. I’d appreciate it—”
“Yeah, well – she’d have appreciated more than three calls a year and your snide-ass judgment from high school straight through until the day before she got – what, par-broiled? Was the oven set to bake or what? But we don’t always get what we want, do we?”