Previous Post Luck o’ the Legion Part 7     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Can I please have another phone call?”  Visionary begged the large, dark suited FBI agent standing behind him.  “It’s a holiday weekend and she didn’t--”     The agent didn’t respond.  He just picked up the telephone, and placed it back on the small shelf behind him.  “Come on, I have to take you to a cell.  You can talk to a judge in the morning during your extradition hearing.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Extrawhat?”  the possibly fake man asked.     The FBI agent didn’t answer again, he just shook his head, picked Visionary up by the arm, and marched him out of the interrogation room.     Though Visionary was busy feeling sorry for himself as he was being dragged to a basement holding cell at the Paradopolis Police Headquarters, he couldn’t help but notice a blonde he thought was familiar talking with a coworker.  She wore a black leather jacket, talked really fast, and used the f-word a lot.  The co-worker was a taller male who patiently listened and carried a cup of coffee.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Violet?  Veronica?  What was her name?”  Visionary mumbled to himself.  “No, Violet is the part-time cat...”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Who are you talking to?”  the FBI agent asked, tugging him harder to follow.     Finally, he remembered, and struggled against being moved.  “Vicky!  Her name’s Vicky!”     The FBI agent called to the two who just walked by.  “You two!  Can I get some help here?  I have an unruly prisoner!”     The blonde approached from behind, and kicked Visionary hard on the back of the knee, so he collapsed and howled in pain.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hey wait...don’t I know you?”  she asked.  She grabbed him by the top of his head to lift it and look at his face.  She recognized those closed, tearing eyes and cringing expression immediately.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Please, not the face...”  Visionary whined.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Shit, I do know you!”  she said louder.  “Visionary, right?  The fake guy?”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“I’m real, damm--”  he started to say reflexively.  Then he scrunched back into a protective stance.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Dude, I’ll take this prisoner.”  Vicky Cameron told the FBI agent.  By then, her partner Jack Burns caught up, along with his coffee.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“You can’t, he’s a Federal prisoner.”  the agent told her.  “The FBI has exclusive jurisdiction.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Like f--- I can’t!”  Vicky protested, causing the FBI agent to cringe with every word.  “F--- your jurisdiction, you can shove it up your m------- ass!”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“What my partner means to say is,”  Jack Burns interrupted, stepping in front of her.  “You’re in our facility, and our city, that means he’s under our jurisdiction too.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“I know what you Paradopolis P.D. guys do.”  the agent protested.  “You and your superhero fetishes, this guy will be gone, to some safehouse before the hearing tomorrow.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“I’m f---- kicking his ass!”  Vicky tried to shove her way past Jack, but he held her firmly.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“He’ll be at that hearing.  You have my word.”  Jack said.  “Is that good enough?  Or do I have to let Vicky here kick your ass?”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Fine.”  the agent grumbled.  “But if he’s not, I’m getting warrants for all three of you.”  He reached into his jacket and put on sunglasses as he walked away.  Even though outside, it was dark.     Vicky high-fived her partner.  “Good cop/bad cop for the win!”     She then took Visionary’s arm and helped him to his feet.  “You okay Vizh?”       The Regular nodded.  “But the f-word is still ringing in my ears.  Or maybe that’s because the FBI pinned my face to the floor.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh yeah, I can still see the shag carpet imprint on your forehead.”  Vicky giggled.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Wait...what?”  he said as Vicky took off his handcuffs.  “So this means I can go home?”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Not yet.”  Vicky shook her head.  “See, I have to release you to someone.  Sorry, but it’s the rules, dude.  I have to make some phone calls and find someone to pick you up.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Great.”  Visionary mumbled.  “Can’t you bend the rules a little?  I mean, it’s a holiday weekend.  Who’re you going to find?”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“I have to follow the rules so that FBI asshole doesn’t nail us for something-or-other and get you in more trouble.”  Vicky explained, ignoring Visionary’s cringing at her language again.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“So...who do we call?”  the possibly fake man asked. ---     The Psychic Samurai walked casually and silently into the office of Vicky Cameron and Jack Burns.  She had been there a few times, and was well versed in its location.     Visionary looked up when he saw her in a lambskin jacket, black body suit, and belt and boots which matched the jacket perfectly.  Plus, as usual, her sword strapped to her back.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Sign here, Samurai girl.”  Vicky greeted her cheerfully.     Without speaking, Chiaki took the pen and signed.  She was familiar with prisoner release forms.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Nice to see you two again.”  Chiaki commented to Vicky and Jack.  “I wish it were better circumstances.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Nah, it’s cool.”  Vicky replied.  “Hot outfit, by the way.  You must have been out...sorry about the timing.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“I was bored.”  Chiaki admitted.  “Drunken revelry isn’t my thing.  Come on, Visionary, let’s go.”     Visionary stood and followed Chiaki closely.  He admired the carvings on her sword’s sheath as they made their way to the front door.  He also was worrying about whether she brought a car or a motorcycle.     Of course it was a motorcycle, a racing bike to be exact.  Visionary made a face as Chiaki hopped on, and strapped the sword to the bike just below the seat.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Are you coming?”  she asked.     He stammered, “I...I’ve been on Yuki’s bike and...”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Relax, I’m not quite the daredevil she is.”  This was the first time Visionary saw Chiaki really smile since she arrived.     He climbed on gingerly and nearly panicked when the sloped seat forcibly slid him right into her back.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hold on.”  she said, and she seemed to mean it since she hadn’t started the engine yet.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“I’m not...I mean, can I touch you?”  he worried.     Chiaki asked him, “Have you ever been slow dancing?”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yeah...um...why?”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hold on like we’re dancing, but in reverse, and more tightly.”  This time, she started the engine.     That prompted Visionary to hold on to Chiaki’s waist with a death grip.  He had been long traumatized by the sound and vibration of a motorcycle engine, it set off a panic reflex.     Then they started to move, and he relaxed a little.  The bike eased forward slowly, and then gently picked up speed.  Chiaki was a much smoother driver than Yuki.  Maybe he would make it home alive, and with his pants still dry.     Chiaki only had one question as they made their way home.  “By the way, what’s with the shag carpet imprint on your forehead?” -- Story written and copyrighted (C) 2010 by Jason Froikin, and may not be  --    reprinted without permission.   -- Yuki Shiro designed by Jason Froikin, based on designs by Masamune Shirow --  Liu Xi Xian and the Psychic Samurai are original design by Jason Froikin --  Lara Night is an original creation by Jason Froikin

Vizh was awfully jumpy, but then he did take a fair amount of abuse during this subplot. I'm sure hanging onto Chiaki is rather exciting as well.