Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
The Syndicate - 32. Chapter 32 - Taran
"It's like he's a ghost!" Taran barked in exasperation, his voice a sharp echo down the hallway. "Wait, could that be possible?"
"He's not a ghost, Taran." Maya sighed. "That's actually something I could work with. He's just nowhere to be found." They made their way to the dormitory wing, tired and frustrated from yet another night of dead-ends. A sleepy trainee in Syndicate sweats sheepishly waved to them, then hugged the wall to stay out of the way. "McCallister gave a speech today," Maya continued. "Our mystery man wasn't there, either. Maybe he skipped town?"
"Or maybe he's up to something," Taran grumbled. The man with the hellfire had confidence that felt well earned. He wasn't the type to run away from a fight. "Kind of puts a hole in our bodyguard theory, doesn't it? What's this guy doing with the Children of Promise, anyway?! A little hypocritical of them to be working with someone with superpowers, no?"
"I've been thinking about that. I think maybe they're trying to tip the scale back their way with a little hellfire? After all, it seems to be heroes they have the real problem with, not so much our powers."
"I think I liked them better when they were just a silly cult," Taran muttered. He noticed Maya trying to hide a smile as she looked at something on her phone. "What's all that about? Are you flirting with Phillip again?"
Maya looked up in surprise. "What?! Ew, no. He totally cooled off after the last Spellslinger Tournament. Probably intimidated after I beat him," She laughed and slipped her phone back into her pocket. "This was just something silly in the group chat."
"Oh, I didn't see anything…" Taran reached for his phone and confirmed there were no notifications. Maya grimaced like she just let a secret slip. "Are you telling me there's a group chat I'm not a part of?!"
"Hey now, let me explain —,"
"I'm deeply wounded, Huang!"
"The five of us needed a place to vent without our boss...,"
"But I thought I was a cool boss!"
"You're a nerd; that's what you are," Maya split off to head to her room. "Let's regroup tomorrow and come up with another plan."
Back at his apartment, Taran paced around the room, doing his best to push the night from his mind. It was just like this guy to vanish the moment they discovered a lead. Taran had been nervous at the idea of a rematch, but now he just had frustrated energy to burn.
It didn't help that the apartment was eerily quiet. Ronnie was spending the night at home, leaving Taran alone with his thoughts and with no one to vent to. It was surprisingly lonely and made Taran realize just how much he relied on Ronnie being around. He was feeling rather out of sorts, and it overwhelmed him.
Things seemed to be going well on that front, at least. Their friends knew about the relationship and had been nothing but supportive. Taran was happy in a way that he didn't think could ever be possible. But if he didn't learn to get a grip and deal with his family issues, he was at risk of losing all of it.
The mere idea of sitting his father down to have the conversation seemed impossible. "Oh, hi, Dad. Here's the thing," Taran thought dryly, "I know you've had grand plans for the family tree since I was in diapers, but I regret to inform you that the branch ends with me, the disappointing son." He crashed to the couch, feeling a familiar sense of hopelessness. Yes, it was true that talking to Warren would be a struggle, but it might not be so difficult if he had some backup.
In a fit of impulse, Taran initiated a video call to his mother's suite at the San Francisco headquarters. The wall monitor lit up as the call attempted to connect. He realized what he had done and immediately regretted it. Was he really doing this?! Part of him prayed that his mother wouldn't pick up and he could save face. "It's not too late on the west coast yet... She's probably still with Control doing something important. Fuck, this was stupid!"
The screen blinked to life, showing Avani at the center of the suite's living room. Taran jumped from the couch in surprise. "Ack, Mom!"
"Hello darling, I wasn't expecting you!" The greeting was warm as Avani stepped closer to her console. She was out of uniform and wearing a simple linen outfit. Taran was alarmed to see that she looked visibly exhausted. He spied a cluttered desk behind her loaded with reports and other print outs. It was clear that Avani wasn't getting much rest while she was away.
"Hi, Mom. I just wanted to see how things were going."
"That's very thoughtful. I was hoping to catch you, as well." She studied him closely on the screen. "How are you doing? I heard that tonight's mission wasn't very eventful," The tone in her voice made it clear; she was asking as his parent now, and not as a senior hero.
Taran sighed. "I'm fine, I guess? Frustrated that this guy seems to have gotten away and that we still don't know what he's planning. What about you? Any luck with the search party?"
"No, I'm afraid not," Avani's voice was sad and far away, worried about her friend and weighed down by his disappearance. "There's been little to no new information brought to light, and I fear people here are starting to lose hope." She sighed. "But I have to believe that something will turn up."
The candor was frankly unexpected. Even when they worked together, Taran's mother had always tried to put on a brave face. It was part of what made his parents seem so invincible growing up. Seeing her worried like this was a rarity, and it troubled him.
"I know you'll find something soon, Mom. We'll get Mariner back."
"I certainly hope so. But, that's not why you called, is it, sweetheart?"
Taran tensed slightly. "That obvious, huh?"
"A mother knows these things, I suppose." She laughed softly. "Something's been bothering you for a while, hasn't it? Since that day on the balcony."
A lump formed in Taran's throat, and he found it hard to form words. God, was he really so transparent? "I ran into Mari the other day, and since then, I've just been reminiscing a bit. I felt like a totally different person from when I last saw her, you know?"
"I suppose you did have to grow up rather fast after everything, though you were always quite an old soul."
"I guess…" Taran took a shaky breath. "Seeing her again just made me think about a lot. Like what I want for my future. And that's always scared me a bit."
"Taran, you know that your father and I will support you, no matter where your future leads."
"If that's the case, then why do I feel like such a failure all the time?!" The outburst had come out of nowhere and surprised both of them. "Sorry, Mom. That wasn't fair."
"Taran, we've never thought of you as a failure, and there's nothing you could tell me that could possibly change how —"Avani held up a finger and looked off the screen for a moment. A bright red light flashed from somewhere outside of the frame, casting her in a harsh glow. "Darling, I-I am so sorry. There's a situation here, Level Five."
"Level Five?!" The designation was usually reserved for major natural disasters. "An earthquake?"
"I'm not sure, something off the coast…" Her eyes were fixated on another monitor, mind undoubtedly formulating an emergency response. "I need to see to this."
Taran tried his best not to look deflated. "That's ok, go save the world."
"Darling, I'm coming home tomorrow. There's little more I can do here. We will finish this conversation then, ok?"
"Sure, Mom. See you tomorrow…"
The monitor blinked out as Avani disconnected the call. Taran stood in the center of his apartment, alone and in the dark, as a dozen conflicting emotions bubbled to the surface: Relief, disappointment, fear, anger. Each one wrangled into his chest, wrapping his heart in an iron grip. It was suffocating.
- 14
- 2
- 1
- 3
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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