Breaking-in, CH 11 (Patreon)

Another day of me leaving work early, and Kat didn’t even ask where I was going as she watch me race out of the office after the phone call. 

She just smirked.

Somehow, I don’t think it’s because she’s kicking me out for this.

This time, I stop by a coffee shop. I’m not dealing with that on the horrible stuff that school calls coffee. One extra large black, don’t you fucking dare suggest anything else, coffee is going into the sacrificial travel mug I brought with me, the other two are to drink on the way.

* * * * *

“Mister Crimson.” Principal Carlyle is in the door to his office, arms crossed over his chest. I can see him forcefully not looking at his watch, as if I’m late for the meeting. Are there cameras in the halls? I didn’t think to check.

I sip the hot coffee from the travel mug, and I raise an eyebrow. There’s no way he wanted me to sacrifice this just to be here a couple of minutes faster.

“If you’ll step into my office?”

Emil’s already in a chair there. No visible injuries, no ripped clothing, an impatient expression on his face that vanishes when he looks my way. I drop in the seat.

“So, what’s up?”

“What is up,” Carlyle says as he sits on his side of the desk, “is that your son got into another fight.” He places his hands on the calender place mat. Each day of this month has notes in them. I can tell from the pen strokes some days have been worse than others. 

“Another bully?” ask Emil.

“The same one,” he replies.

“Didn’t he learn his lesson?”

“He brought more guys.”

“Two of whom are in the hospital,” Carlyle says, glaring at me. “One of which was unconscious when the ambulance arrived.”

“Two out of how many?”

“Five,” Emil says.

I almost whistle in appreciation. I’m pretty proud I stopped. Carlyle wouldn’t have liked that.

“All of whom were injured by your son.”

“How did you not get hurt this time?”

Emil beams. “They didn’t get the drop on me.”

“Mister Crimson!”

“Call me Alex.” I hide my smile behind another sip.

“Mister Crimson, your son assaulted five students. This is—”

“Who threw the first punch?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Brandon did,” Emil says.

“Was that the bully?”

“No, he’s on the football team. One of the big ones.”

“And you’re okay?” I can’t keep my surprise out of my voice.

“I dodge and kicked him in the balls.”

“Language!”

We both stare at the principal.

“Should he have said scrotum?” I sip coffee through the glare.

“You son, assaulted—”

“He defended himself.”

“Stopped them from picking on another student, actually.”

That surprises the principal, but does nothing to improve his mood.

“Violence is NOT how we resolve problems in this school, Mister Crimson.”

I close my mouth. He’s addressing Emil. Still not used to someone else being called Mister Crimson. Last time someone not me was the recipient, I still lived at Dear Old Dad’s.

“Sure.” Emil rolls his eyes. “Cause bullying isn’t them being violent.”

Principal high and mighty looks at me.

“What? He’s right.”

“Very well.” He smooths the wrinkle free paper of his place mat. He’s growing calm enough I know what’s coming. “I guess legal recourses will have to be taken since you don’t seem to understand the severity of your son’s actions. As a minor he—”

“What?” my travel mug dents the surface of the desk as I slam it down in jumping to my feet. That is not what I was expecting.

“Actions have consequences,” Carlyle says way too smugly for his own good. “That is a thing we teach here at—”

“Bullshit. And don’t you fucking language me. I don’t know what else you teach in this place, but it’s fucking not that there are consequences to their actions, because if you did, those bullies wouldn’t have dared do it a second time.”

“I wasn’t aware that they—”

“Bullshit!” I stretch the word this time, so to make sure he understands what I think, and I glare him silent, when he opened his mouth. “Emil told you that’s what they were doing last time. So you fucking knew bullying happened. Did those bullies get suspended along with Emil? They didn’t did they? They just kept on coming here and bullying other of your so precious students.”

“I have not received any reports of any bullying taking place,” he states calmly.

“Really? Not one student came to you? Told the nurse? Told one of the teachers? If I ask around, how many of them are going to tell me they knew?”

“If any of the teachers knew and didn’t tell me, I can’t be held accountable.” He’s getting nervous.

“Why wouldn’t they tell you? It’s your job to keep your student safe, isn’t it?” I grin at him. “I’m going to make you a deal. You’re welcome to bring legal actions against Emil, in return, I’m going to go through your server, and I am going to find every instances of a student being bullied under your watch, of a teacher being told, and if one of them filed a report you were more than happy to ignore so you wouldn’t be lying when you claimed no one reported them to you, I’m going to find that too.”

“I did nothing wrong.”

“Then you shouldn’t have to worry about what I’ll find and send to the press, will you?”

I’ve seen paper less white than he turns.

“So, here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to forget about this incident. Emil isn’t going to get punished beyond a suspension. If any other student supports Emil defended himself? Whoever attacked him gets the same punishment. You get that?” Carlyle’s nod is so small I might have imagined it, but I don’t care. “In return, I am going to have a talk with Emil and you have my word that he will not get into another fight here again.”

“Pop—”

I silence him with a raised hand without taking my eyes off Principal Carlyle. “Do we have an understanding?” He nods and I take a long swallow. “Come on, we’re done here.”

The travel mug is empty when I slam it into the cup holder as I sit. I start the car and almost drive off, but the passenger door closes and reminds me I’m not alone. I’ll happily drive pissed and put my life in danger, but Tristan won’t forgive me if I put Emil’s in danger in the process.

It might also be easier to talk if I’m not driving.

“You said you understood what I’d said,” I snap.

“I did.” He glares at me. “I avoided them every chance I got. I tried to ignore the stories I heard about what they did. Then they were goading me. It’s like they dragged whoever they’d bully to a place they were sure I’d see. What the fuck did you expect me to do, then?”

I stare at him, my anger evaporating. Well, at him. I’m going to have to think long and hard about how Carlyle learns of my displeasure with him at this, but that’s for later.

“You avoided them.”

“Yes, just like you said I should.”

“I’m pretty sure I never said you should avoid them.”

“What does ‘don’t let it escalate’ mean then?”

“It means you arrange the situation so they can’t do it again.”

He points to the school so vehemently his hand smacks the window, and he winces in pain. “What do you think that was?”

“That was you getting caught.”

“So what? I was supposed to let them beat that kid in front of me? Like you or dad would let that happen.”

“We would.”

He stares at me in disbelief.

“We can’t get caught, Emil.” Fuck, I need a coffee to have this conversation. I start driving. “There are rules, and we have to work within them. You can stop them from hurting other students without hitting them.”

“That means they hit me and I don’t defend myself. That isn’t what dad’s teaching me.”

I turn into the first coffee shop and go through the drive through. Three coffees for me, one for Emil. I even manage not to grind my teeth when I ask for that one to have one milk and two sugars. I am going to break him out of the habit of ruining coffee for himself, but now is not the time.

“Tristan is teaching you how to win a fight,” I say, park in that lot. “You need to learn when you must lose it, so you can remain there to make sure they can hurt anyone else.”

“If I lose, that isn’t going to make them stop.”

I take a slow and long swallow, then put the cup down and look at him.

“Emil. You have to be strategic. You have to think well beyond the now and the tomorrow and into next week and next month. Before you bring up your dad again. No, Tristan wouldn’t have stopped them from bullying that kid. I wouldn’t.”

“Fine, but if it had been adults doing it, tell me you would have let it happen. How many pedophiles have you destroyed? You went after those traffickers.”

I finish that cup. I might be shattering some belief he has about Tristan. “Emil. What do you think Tristan did before you moved in with him?”

“He went after bad guys when he found out about them. Just like you.”

Okay, so he’s not wrong about that. “How often do you think that happened?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Often.”

And here’s where I have to shatter illusion. “Unlike me, Tristan never went looking for them. I have no idea how he managed it, but he’s gained a reputation as the person to find when all other avenues have been exhausted.”

“He’s helped a lot of people.”

“We don’t help people, Emil.”

“You stop pedophiles.”

“Emil, I don’t do it to help people. I do it because I need to hurt people, and hurting them at least helps someone. Tristan…” I look at him. “You understand that Tristan isn’t exactly emotionally… normal, right?” 

He nods.

“I know that kids are a sensitive spot with him, but I don’t think he’s able to care about them the way you do.”

“Yeah, fine, but he still stops the people who hurt them.” His voice cracks.

Okay, that’s not going to work. I’m not so oblivious to others as to miss the mine field before me. “Okay, then I want you to think about it this way. Would Tristan rush head first into such a situation?”

“He did for me.”

I smile. “You do get that you’re special, right? You can’t use how he acted for you, or for me, as the norm. We hold special places in his mind.”

He nods.

“So, do you think he’d rush into a situation similar to the one you found yourself in?”

He shakes his head.

“It comes back to those rules. Society created them to limit what we can do. In theory, it’s so nothing bad’s going to happen, but we both know how well that works. We have to give society the impression that we’re going about things the way it wants us to. We have to make sure that it doesn’t become aware of our plans, and that when we act, it doesn’t realize it. Ideally ever, but definitely not while we’re in the middle of it.”

“That means they can keep hurting kids.” He sounds miserable.

“Only until you can arrange to get them in a situation where society won’t realize what you did to them, so they’ll stop.”

“I think I stopped them pretty hard.”

“But it was almost the last thing you could have done. If not for Carlyle’s utter disregard for what’s been going on in his school, I wouldn’t have been able to blackmail into not pressing charges. Society’s pretty strict about what violence is permitted and how it’s punished.”

I finish the second cup and start the car.

“What should I do?” he asks.

I sigh, and pounder how to phrase it until I’m in traffic. “I want to tell you that you should put all that behind you. Just hunker down, get through the year without paying attention to those bullies. But I suspect you might murder me in my sleep for telling you that, and I’m not entirely certain Tristan would stop you.” I smile at him.

“So, the first thing I need you to promise me is that no matter what they do, you will not raise a hand against them on school property.”

He nods.

“Say it Emil. We’re all way too good about getting around things we haven’t vocalized for me to let you do that.”

“I won’t lay a hand on them, no matter what they do to the others, or me. I promise.”

“The second thing, only document your plans on something that’s not connected to the internet, and that you can easily destroy.”

“You do all your planning on a computer.”

“Yeah, but I’m the Crimson Pirate. I own the internet. The day you can give me a run for my money, you can plan however you want, deal?”

He snorts. We both know that’s never happening.

“Thirdly, don’t leave any evidence behind. I know waiting for the right moment, the right place, is going to be hard. You care a lot more about all of them than I do, but you need to find a way to get that under control. To… I don’t know… that they’re the price to pay to make sure that it no longer happens in the long run. That you can’t save everyone out there.”

He looks out the window for a long time, but then he nods.

“And lastly, and this one is really important. If you decide one of them needs to die, I want you to talk to Tristan or me. That isn’t something you are equipped to pull off and hide all the evidence of right now.”

I can see him about to protest. He’s a good kid. He doesn’t want to think about going that far. But then he nods. “I promise. If I have to kill one of them, you and Dad will know first.”

I smile and pat his leg. “Good. Now, how do you want to handle telling Tristan you’re suspended again?”

He shrugs. “I beat the crap out of them. That’s what he’d going to care about.”

This time, I’m the one who closes his mouth on the protest. He’s right. Emil won. What else will matter to Tristan?