About love and why you can't walk at night: Part 2

***

"How did it go?" - Jane was waiting for me, as usual, at the table with dinner ready.

"I think I have a girlfriend now." - I told her as I took off my shoes. When I got rid of my sneakers and unbuckled, I fell into the strong embrace of my sister, who crossed the distance between us in a couple of seconds.

"Congratulations." - Jane whispered in my ear, squeezing me even tighter. It feels good. She also had a strong grip, which was no surprise, since she exercised regularly, and now, with the abundance of free time, she was doubling down on fitness. In addition, she is a dozen centimeters taller than me. - "I never thought I'd see you settle into your personal life. And now I'm beginning to fear you'll forget all about poor little Sister Jane when you have your little harem."

"Sis Jane..." - I mumbled, beginning to feel that I liked breathing better than my sister's soft hemispheres. - "If you keep pressing against me like this, you'll become part of it. Or strangle me."

"Like this?" - Sang Jane, increasing the pressure. Yes, that's it! Help...

"Mercy..." - I somehow turned my head to the side and managed to squeeze out the rest of the air.

"All right, live." - She took a step back after letting me go, and with her hands at her sides and looking down at me, she said proudly: - "Bye-bye."

- "Huh. hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo... sister... if you wanted passionate love so much, you could have just asked. Your methods are excessive."

After eating dinner with my sister, I went to my room. I need to check the mail, get some clean clothes, and head to the shower before bed. The phone ringing disrupted my little plan. I walk over to my desk and pick up the phone. The number is hidden - that's suspicious. I ponder whether to take the call, and eventually decide I have nothing to lose.

- "I listen."

"Connor White." - Said the phone in a pleasant, female voice.

"17 years already. Who are you, and to what do I owe the pleasure?" - What's with the pompous way to say my name and the meaningful silence?

- "You can call me Micro. I have some information about your family that I can't find in the public domain. But before I share it, I want to know something from you."

Oh, boy. I wonder what she can tell me that I don't already know. Unless, of course, it's some stupid prank or an attempt to butter me up from the groupies.

- "What exactly do you want to know?"

- "This is not a telephone conversation. I'm taking a big risk by contacting you by phone, and I can't tell you anything specific right now, only in person."

- "That doesn't sound very convincing, you know."

"I know how it looks, some strange girl calling you for an important." - said the last word from the other side in a voice with a mocking intonation. - "Conversation. But I'm not fooling you. Besides, aren't you curious? Where's your adventurous spirit?"

Indeed, what have I got to lose? I doubt it's a trap or anything like that-no one wants me, and even if someone wanted to kidnap me, there are plenty of easier and more reliable ways to do it. If it's just a groupie, that's okay, too. She can even be praised, because my phone number is not in the public domain. I prudently did not put it up, to harass less, and the profile on Facebook closed in the first week, tired to find among the hundreds of messages something adequate.

"Okay." - I answer after a minute of reflection. - "What should I do?"

"You will now receive an email with the address where you should come. You can come right now, I'll see you anytime. When you get there, find the door with the red sign and knock. It's not a very upscale, sparsely populated neighborhood, but don't be alarmed-it's a safe place, I just don't want to show my face in public too much. Bye-bye." - she said and broke the call.

The connection ended. And I remained standing, twirling the phone in my hand and going over the conversation in my head. If this is some kind of scam, I'm wasting my time. But, on the other hand, this is a real chance to clear the air. There is a certain sense of understatement in the six-year-old story. The old Connor, because of his age, couldn't have known the full story, and, frankly, he (I) didn't care - he had other things on his mind. Jane probably doesn't know either, or she would have told me. I have no other sources, so I have to go.

Do I want to? Not really.

Do I have to? Yes, it's necessary.

Otherwise I won't be able to sleep well, knowing that I missed a possible chance to learn more.

Since this Micro says you can come anytime you want, I don't see any point in procrastinating. I just have to wait until my sister is asleep so I don't have to worry too much. After all, I've already gone out at night once, and we both remember how it ended. Even if I can stand up for myself now, it will be very hard to explain it to her.

***

Two hours later

Standing in front of the right door, I still can't shake the thought: something has to happen. The situation doesn't look dangerous, but my sixth sense told me for some reason that something was wrong. I'm here now, but I can't go back, can I? I crossed myself in my mind and pushed the door and went inside. The corridor in front of me was completely dark. The dark time of day and the lack of any lighting nearby did not add to my visibility either.

A second later, a light bulb lit up at the end of the corridor, as if inviting me in. Okay, let's not keep the mistress of the place waiting. I took the first step across the threshold and moved toward the light. When I reached the light bulb, it went out, but another one turned on, to my right in the distance. So that's how I get to the right place. After following the route, literally drawn for me by the light, I found myself in front of another door. I did not have to stand for long - after a few seconds it opened, revealing to me a fairly young girl in loose pants and a gray hoodie.

"Come on in." - She waved her head, letting me in. - "When I said I'd be here anytime, I didn't mean right away."

"What was the point of procrastination?" - I shrugged and sat down on the chair set up by the girl. - You're not going to get away from me anyway, are you?

"No." - she said. - "So I'll agree with you, what's the point of waiting? Answer my questions, and you can ask yours."

"Where's the guarantee that you're not fucking with me?" - I ask the most important question. - "At least give me a hint, what is your interest here, because, so far, I do not understand why I am here."

"But you came anyway. So, something got to you. Can you tell me what it was?" - Said the girl sitting in the second chair across from me. - "You see, a good friend of mine asked me to keep an eye on you, and I've been doing that for the last couple of years."

- "What friend?"

- "Take your time, we'll talk about her. She asked me to tell you about all the important events in your life, and this is more than important. The prince, imprisoned, got out of the tower! By himself, without any help from anyone else." - The girl made a big circle with her hands, showing the "significance" of the event. Yes, it can look very suspicious if you don't know the truth, which only I know, and partly Jane. - "I've studied your biography a little, and your behavior hasn't changed in the last six years. Not at all. Ever since you got into that mess."

Micro leaned forward, putting her hands under her chin and resting them on her knees.

- "And then, all of a sudden, you come out of your shell, start hanging out with girls, going out, streaming. What does that have to do with anything?"

"That's it?" - I arch an eyebrow questioningly. - "Such a simple question? Did you have to build up the mystique for that?"

"Well, yes." - The girl shrugs her shoulders.

"I wanted to live." - I shrugged. - "When you're poked with a stick by alien shit, you change your worldview in favor of a more active way of life. Is that answer enough for you?"

- "Not really, but we'll take it as a working assumption. Now tell me..."

The last question, whatever it was, had to go unasked. The door through which I myself had recently passed rumbled open and a black-haired woman with a riffle in her right hand rushed in. With her left hand she clutched the bleeding wound on her shoulder. She was also dressed in all black: black ankle boots, black military cut pants, and a stylish black leather coat, from beneath which, grinning merrily, peeked out a pattern of a white skull on a bulletproof vest.

Oh, fuck. Hello, Auntie Punisher. I knew my second night out in this life wouldn't end with a nice conversation with a muddy hacker and a return home.

"Dana, we're in trouble!" - Said the woman, glancing around the room. And then, our gazes crossed. The Punisher's eyes, like her own, froze in shock. - "Connor? But how did you..."

flash

A beautiful woman with a mane of long black hair crosses the threshold of our house.

"Meet the children." - Says Mama. - "This is your new aunt, she and daddy got married just a little while ago."

I recognize her now. The blurred image from memory has taken a meaningful shape.

- "Well, hello, Fancy."

Holy Shit.