Fillmore!
Today's Episode: Of Myths and Legends
Act 1: Brahmanda
"Fairy tales do not tell children that dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children that dragons can be killed."
G.K. Chesterton
What is a myth? Is a story told to little children to send them to sleep at night? Or is it a tale told by firelight, designed to frighten and amuse, to inspire and placate? Or is it something more? Is a myth merely a story, or is it the embodiment of an ingrained belief: the corporal form of something we are born knowing? Over the centuries we have transformed the ancient myths and folk tales and made them into the fabric of our lives. Consciously and unconsciously we weave the narratives of myth and folk tale into our daily existence. They live in our hearts, in our minds and in our eyes; as much a part of us as breathing, and just as necessary for our survival.
What power do myths possess?
Fillmore swore softly under his breath as he rushed around his room, hastily shoving books and papers into his messenger bag. Scanning the room, he searched for anything he might have forgotten. Grabbing a shirt from where he had tossed it carelessly over a chair, Fillmore hurriedly pulled it over his head as he shoved his feet into a pair of sneakers. Taking one final glance in the mirror to make sure he hadn't done something foolish like put the shirt on inside-out, Fillmore raced out his room, rushing past his mother with a hurried goodbye, leaving the woman blinking in surprise.
Checking his watch, Fillmore swore again. He was late. Ingrid was going to kill him.
Joyous laughter rang out through the hallways of X Middle School as Ingrid Third tore past rows and rows of lockers. Behind her, in the distance, she could here the steady footfalls of the Safety Patrol. She had forgotten what it was like; the adrenaline, the rush you got when the belts were chasing you.
All those times before, every time she was undercover and she ran – that was fun, but this was a glorious, natural high. She thought she'd kicked this habit, left a life of delinquency behind her, but as she turned sharply left and launched herself over the heads of a gaggle of sixth graders trading Happy Kitty Cards, she realised that she'd never left it behind – she'd simply put it on the back-burner for a while.
As she raced past the windows of the science labs, Ingrid caught a glimpse of her reflection. Blonde hair, longer than her own, and wavy, flew along behind her. Brown eyes, tinged with hazel were lined with slightly paler lashes and delicate, blonde eyebrows. Her mouth was fuller, lower lip pushed forward to create a semi-permanent pout. No one on the Safety Patrol would recognise her, Ingrid the Crook oozed sex appeal in a way no one would ever associate with Ingrid the Safety Patroller.
Rounding another corner, Ingrid collided solidly with a hard chest. Two arms wrapped around her to keep her upright, holding her until she regained her balance. Her eyes widened in panic as the lines of an orange belt filled her vision, and then relaxed just as rapidly when she realised just who it was who was holding her.
Looking up into the face of Cornelius Fillmore, she smiled. "Hey,"
"Hey yourself." He said, grinning down at her. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright with exercise. It took all of Fillmore's will power not to kiss her. They didn't have time, however. Looking over his girlfriend's shoulder, Fillmore let Ingrid go. "Go," he told her, "I'll send them in the other direction. Stash what you've got and then change and meet me at HQ, I want to see what the others think they know."
Ingrid smiled, "Got it." Standing on tiptoe, she gave Fillmore a quick peck on the lips. "Late." Sidestepping quickly, Ingrid took off down the hallway, rounding the next corner just as the Anza and Tehama came charging into view.
Seeing Fillmore, the two skidded to a halt, gasping for breath as they scanned the halls.
"Whoever you're looking for," Fillmore said, beating the other two Officers to the punch, "They're not here. I've been standing in this hallway for the last five minutes and not a single person's ran past. Unless you guys were way behind, your perp. didn't run this way."
Anza shook his head, whilst Tehama just shook her head in frustration, "Damn. We weren't that far behind. We lost her."
Fillmore cocked an eyebrow in interest. "Her?"
Tehama nodded, looking at the other boy properly for the first time since she'd arrived. "Yeah, come on. We'll explain more back at HQ."
Ingrid had just settled down behind her desk at Safety Patrol HQ, when the door opened and Fillmore, Anza and Tehama walked in. Fillmore's eyes immediately found his partner's and he smiled when he saw her sitting there, looking for all the world like she'd just arrived at school.
Shooting a quick smile her way, Fillmore turned to hang up his jacket, just as Vallejo stormed out of his Office. "Anza, Tehama, why are you coming through that door with only Fillmore for company. Weren't you supposed to be chasing a perp?"
Anza sighed, "She gave us the slip Chief, but we know who she was."
"So?" Vallejo demanded, "Who was it?"
Nodding, Anza gestured over Vallejo's shoulder to one of the smaller briefing rooms. Vallejo looked over his shoulder, realised what Anza was pointing at, and jerked back around.
"Alright." He said looking back at the Patrollers who had just walked in the door. "You three, in there now." He sighed, "Third." Ingrid looked up questioningly, "Briefing room. Now."
Ingrid nodded, hastily encrypting her files on the computer, before shutting it down and following the Junior Commissioner into the Briefing Room. As she entered, Fillmore handed her a mug of hot cocoa and motioned for her to take the spot on the wall beside him. Ingrid did so, blowing once on the hot liquid to cool it before she took a sip. Leaning back against the white plaster, the girl-genius watched as the other Officers moved towards the centre of the room and the large white board that stood there.
The board was covered with names, dates, and a list of items, but in its centre were two photographs. They were official shots, the type required by the school for identification purposes. One was of a girl with elbow-length, honey blonde hair, brown eyes and a pouting lower lip. She had creamy skin, and sat demurely infront of the camera. But for all her pose, there was something almost seductive in the way she gazed out of the photograph – eyes wide and doe-like, the innocence countered by the slight lowering of her lids and the gleam in her eye. The other picture was of a boy: dark-skinned, hair in cane-rows, with a scar ran across the right side of his face, dissecting his eyebrow and part of his cheekbone. The boy's eyes were a startling, dark green, unusual for someone with such dark skin. He held himself with arrogance and even in the posed nature of the photograph his self-confidence was evident. He sat like nothing in the world could touch him and he knew it. A slight smirk twisted the corner of his lips.
"Isis Nakuta and Kapua Tutuola. X Middle School's very own Bonnie and Clyde." Vallejo's voice was tired. "So what've we got people?"
Tehama stepped forward, motioning to the left hand photograph. "Isis was the one we chased halfway across the school this morning. She tore past us just after we got that radio through that the answer sheets for next weeks bio test had been stolen."
Vallejo sighed, "Great, so now we have answer sheets out on the streets, no one in custody, and absolutely nothing to tell Folsom when she asks yet again how close we are to catching these guys."
Anza scowled, glaring at the board. Walking up to it, he spun it over, revealing a map of X Middle School – hallways, grounds, outbuildings and all – pulling a board marker from his pen, he traced the route he and Tehama had ran earlier, from where Isis ran past them until they lost her where they met Fillmore. The red line was just one in a multitude of multicoloured routes penned onto the board. There seemed to be no pattern to them. X was a big school, most criminals operated within a certain area – a comfort zone – these two were all over the place: J Block, the computer building, the greenhouses – everywhere.
"You know," Karen said, scrutinizing the board, "something about this doesn't make sense. We know, that Isis and Kapua have stolen a considerable amount of stuff, but none of its appeared on the black market. No ones been busted for benefiting from the cheat sheets they steal, no large amounts of smoits have suddenly switched hands. We're missing something here."
"Maybe they're just that good." Ingrid said, "Maybe they know, not to sell too much, too soon at any one time. They've got to know that stuff like that puts the Safety Patrol on your tail, maybe they know the school well enough to know where they can go to get rid of their stuff."
"But how?" Tehama shot back, looking questioningly at her friend. "Isis only got to the school two months ago and Kapua only a week before that. How could they learn the layout of the school that fast? For that matter how did they find each other that fast? Those two were committing crimes together the day after Isis arrived. Crooks don't normally partner up after that short of an acquaintance."
Fillmore spoke up. "Maybe it was love at first sight?" All eyes in the room turned to look sharply at him, and Ingrid dug her elbow sharply into his ribs. Glancing sideways though, Fillmore could see his girlfriend was fighting not to smile. He grinned.
"This is no laughing matter Fillmore." Vallejo said, eyeing his two best Patrol Officers. "If those two have that much chemistry, that quickly, then we're in trouble. They'll be loyal to each other; we won't catch them if they're watching each other's backs. Not if they're this good."
A smirk twisted Fillmore's lips and he glanced quickly at Ingrid, catching her eye, before focusing on the board again. Vallejo watched the exchange with a slight frown on his face.
Dismissing them all, as the bell rang to signal the start of the day, he watched the crime-fighting duo carefully. His gut told him that something was going on, but his rational mind disagreed. Sure, Fillmore and Third were tactile – she placed her hand on his arm, he'd guide her with a hand on her back – but they always had been, they flirted, it was what they did; there was nothing to suggest that their behaviour was more pronounced than usual. It was just this Bonnie and Clyde case making him see romance where there wasn't any. Next he'd start mentally accusing Anza and Tehama of falling for each other. Shaking his head, Vallejo left to join in Officer's for the start of the day.
Making her way tiredly over to her locker, Ingrid stifled a yawn. She found physics interesting, so how on Earth did Mr. Cottings make it seem so boring. Spinning the dial with practiced ease, Ingrid pulled the door to her locker open, placing her morning text books safely inside before reaching for her new ones. Just as she was about to pull them out, two arms wrapped themselves securely around her waist. Jumping, Ingrid squeaked in surprise, dropping the book she had been holding back into her locker.
Behind her, she heard a masculine chuckle. "I must be the only person in the world who can sneak up you." Fillmore said, laughing as he moved around to lean against the bank of lockers. Not deigning to answer, Ingrid glared and stuck her tongue out at him. Fillmore laughed again.
"Real mature, Ingrid." Ingrid glared at him again, but the effect was ruined by the small smile that was gracing her lips. Fillmore grinned.
"See, look. I knew I could make you smile." Ingrid turned to him, and would have moved forward to let him pull her into a hug, if she hadn't spotted O'Farrell rounding the corner.
Slamming her locker shut, Ingrid quickly slung her bag over her shoulder and took one step back from Fillmore, carefully increasing the distance between them. Fillmore shot her a questioning look, reaching for her. Ingrid practically jumped backwards, ignoring her boyfriend's look of confusion as O'Farrell made his way over to them.
"Hey guys, what's happenin'?" O'Farrell asked, voice overly cheerful and enthusiastic as he tried to ingratiate himself to the pair. On hearing the voice, Fillmore nearly choked and swung around just as Danny raised a hand to ask for a high-five. The end result, was that O'Farrell's open hand, backhanded Fillmore across the jaw, sending the young African-American stumbling back a pace.
Ingrid started forward, but caught herself as Danny moved in between them. "Oh man. Fillmore I—"
"Forget it, man." Fillmore said, gingerly rubbing his jaw. "It was an accident."
"But I—"
"Danny," Ingrid interrupted, "Why don't you go see if you can find some ice?"
"Ingrid I don't—" Fillmore started to say, but stopped at Ingrid's warning look. O'Farrell was already agreeing to the idea.
"Yeah, sure, I'll go get some ice. Because I—yeah, ice." The hapless photographer nodded rapidly a few times before turning and walking swiftly down the hall.
Fillmore looked over at his partner, still gently holding his jaw. "I don't need any ice Ingrid." He said, sighing as his partner moved his hand and inspected the injury for herself.
"I know that," Ingrid said, gently running the tips of her fingers over the place where O'Farrell's hand had made contact with her boyfriend's skin, "But if I hadn't said that, O'Farrell would have stood there half the day apologising."
Fillmore winced, "Yeah. He's a good kid, he's just—" he trailed off, unable to think of a word to adequately describe Daniel O'Farrell.
"Danny. He's just Danny." Ingrid said, finally removing her hand from his face. Fillmore nodded, silently mourning the loss of the feel of her skin.
"Come on," he said, grabbing her hand. "We've got open lunch. I'll take you out."
Ingrid smiled, wrapping her fingers around his warm, brown ones. "You're on."
Lost in thought, Ingrid walked slowly down the street, letting Fillmore lead the way to whichever restaurant they were going to eat in. they were walking side by side, but they weren't touching – they were always very careful. Ingrid exhaled slowly, watching as her breath misted in the crisp January air. Though snow had yet to fall this month, frost glistened heavily on the ground, making the weather was decidedly cold. Shivering, she moved deliberately closer to Fillmore, tucking herself firmly into her boyfriend's side.
Fillmore looked down startled, his arm automatically going around Ingrid's shoulders to hold her more securely to him. "Hey" he said, concerned. "Ingrid, you okay? You're not normally one for PDA."
Ingrid scowled, burrowing even further into Fillmore's arms. "Why not?" she asked, "The rest of the Safety Patrol are monitoring the school, it's not like they can see." She winced at how bitter she sounded, noticing that Fillmore stiffened slightly at her words.
"I don't like it either you know." He said. His voice was soft, but Ingrid didn't miss the words. She nodded, leaning her head momentarily against his chest. They both knew they couldn't tell anyone about their relationship, but it didn't stop either of them wishing they could just come clean. It was one of the things that had driven them to create Kapua and Isis – X Middle School's very own Bonnie and Clyde. Everyone expected those two to have a relationship. Ironically, they could be more honest as criminals than they could as Safety Patrollers.
Looking up at Fillmore, Ingrid gave him a small smile, nodding when he gestured to a small out of the way Japanese restaurant that served great sushi. Sitting themselves as a small table in the back corner of the room, Ingrid and Fillmore relaxed, secure in the knowledge that at least for this short space of time, they didn't have to hide.
As they began eating, Fillmore started the conversation. "I found someone who might be able to give us some information as to whose trying to sabotage out territory over in M Building." He kept his voice soft; low enough that only Ingrid could hear him.
The raven-haired girl looked up in interest. Someone or a group of someones had been muscling in on Kapua and Isis's territory, trying to undermine their client bases and establish him or herself as competition. Needless to say, it wasn't something either one took kindly to.
"Who is it?" She asked, keeping her voice as low as he had.
"His name's Nicky Wilson. Small time crook, only ever worked for bigger fish. Now he's working for us." Fillmore's voice had a smug note to it, which made Ingrid smile.
"And what is this work costing us?" she asked, cautious.
Fillmore winked at her. "Protection from the Safety Patrol."
Ingrid laughed.
Checking herself quickly, one last time in the mirror, Ingrid made sure that the wig covering her hair was secure, before stepping out from behind the screen she'd been changing behind.
Quickly, her eyes found Fillmore's and she smiled. Though always attractive, there was something darker about him this way. He was rougher, not such a gentleman, though still a definite ladies-man. She'd seen the way that the female component of the criminal underground followed him with their eyes. The jealousy on their faces when they realised he was with her.
Seeing her smile, Fillmore crossed over to her in three quick strides. The room they were standing in was small. More of a storage closet than anything else, but it suited their purpose – they couldn't risk getting caught changing in communal areas such as the bathrooms and so Ingrid had stolen the key for this little used storage closet out by the East doors.
Pulling Ingrid into his arms, Fillmore kissed her. He had wanted to do so ever since she had kissed him that morning during her 'escape'. Though his partner was the girl he had fallen for, her alter-ego was alluring in its own right. It was as though he was witnessing the flip side of the coin – the girl Ingrid could have been had she put her mind to it: the temptress, the femme fétale. Her fingers traced the scar on the right side of his face and he smirked, catching her fingers and gracing them with a swift kiss before letting them go.
"Come on, we got to meet Nicky."
Ingrid nodded, moving ahead of him out of the door, checking swiftly to see if anyone was watching before walking out into the hall. Fillmore noticed that she put slightly more sway into her hips than she normally did. Grinning as he watched his girlfriend's backside, Fillmore followed her out.
"So Wilson, what you got to tell us?" Kapua's voice was rough, laced with a slight undertone of aggression. He wasn't violent, not yet, but there was the hint that he could be – if you pressed the wrong buttons.
Nicky Wilson gulped, his gaze flitting between the taller youth standing over him, and the petite blonde off to his side. Though the boy was aggressive, Wilson was reluctant to take his eyes off the girl. Even if Isis didn't already have a reputation, he'd have been wary of any one with that gleam in their eyes.
"I-I know the-the name the gang – the gang who's been trying to steal y-your territory." Nicky stammered. He was quickly reconsidering whether this was a good idea. By telling Kapua this, Nicky was placing himself right in the middle between two very powerful crime bosses. Though Kapua didn't know it yet, the people messing with his turf were no small fry.
"They're called Los Duendos, led by some guy who calls himself Samael. 'Bout three months before you got here Los Duendos came on the scene. They made it real big, real fast – they're organised you know? And they're scary. Samael – they say he's mean. A real tough kid you know?" Seeing Isis frown, Nicky back-pedalled. "Not that you guys aren't though, just that he's got a rep for it. Not saying that you don't have a rep, it's just –"
"Be quiet." Isis snapped, rolling her eyes at the bumbling informant. "Have you got anything else to tell us?" Nicky shook his head rapidly. "Then get out of here."
Fillmore watched Nicky scamper off down the hall before turning back to Ingrid. The girl had a slight frown on her face and she was chewing her lower lip thoughtfully.
"Those names mean something to you, don't they?"
Ingrid nodded. When she looked up, worry was evident in her large eyes. "I think we might be dealing with the devil himself."
A/N: 1) Jack Zipes said everything from "Over the centuries" to "daily existance"
2) Apologies to anyone who feels this chapter is rather lacking in action, I basically just wanted to set the scene. Fillmore and Ingrid may act more mature than one would expect of 7th Graders, but that's why this fic is rated T.
As always please review.