The limousine came to a stop, and Haze looked out the window, “This is our stop Gwen.” Haze turned to their newest student, “Are you ready for this?”
Gwen nodded.
“Haze, Gwen will assist you with the sacrament of healing and afterwards you two can meet up with us,” instructed Fr. Maven who had regained much of his mobility. “Gwen?” the priest called the girl’s attention.
“Yes Father?” Gwen answered.
“I want you to be prepared young lady,” he stated open-endedly. “It is quite possible that after Haze heals Alexandria she will awaken from what is most certainly a horrible state. This, coupled with the fact that the last thing the young girl might remember is your electrical discharge which put her into that state, doesn’t carry a strong prediction of forgiveness.” Fr. Maven paused, waiting for Gwen to show she got what he was saying. She gave no indication, “I want you to be prepared that once Alex awakes she might possibly be very angry and never want to see you again.”
“I know Father. That’s exactly what I’m expecting. I’m sure of it,” Gwen responded as she starred at the ground, as was her habit.
That’s all that the young girl said, and Fr. Maven looked at Haze who in turn opened the limo door letting all the city noises in and stepped out on the busy sidewalk. Gwen scooted out and stood next to him as he closed the vehicle door.
The group still inside the limo remained silent and looked at Fr. Maven for what was next. The priest, still sitting a little awkward as he regained his muscle control, reached up, knocked on the window between them and the front seat, and said, “Sisters of Mercy orphanage, right around the corner.”
The limo pulled away and Fr. Maven looked at Peter, “Hell-Proof and I will go gather our next student while you and your sister stay in the limo.”
“I hope that our next student is less difficult to collect father,” commented Peter with little emotion other than seriousness as he bounced Margaret in his arms.
“I hope so too Peter,” Maven agreed. “I know only a little bit more about him, and once again I know nothing about the gifts he’s been given.”
He turned to HP, who just stared back at the priest with an expression of dissatisfaction.
“All I know,” Fr. Maven said seemingly in answer to HP’s stare, “is that the young man is an orphan whose parents are both dead, and his name is Bruce.”
“That’s it?” HP asked.
“That’s it,” Father answered.
The limousine took the short trip around the block and pulled up in front of an old cement building that was dwarfed by its neighboring skyscrapers.
HP turned to Fr. Maven and asked, “Can you get up or do you need help?”
Fr. Maven shifted around and sat straight up, “I’m good. Actually, I feel quite able right now,” said the priest as he made a tight fist and then opened his hand wide. He starred at his palm intently and Peter looked at him with confusion.
Fr. Maven shook it off, and opened the limo door and got out. Peter turned to HP who in turned just shrugged, “I dunno. I don’t ask and he doesn’t tell,” and he exited out of the limo and as he mumbled almost to himself, “but it’s never fucking good.”
Fr. Maven tapped on the driver window and made the ‘circle the block’ signal with his hand. The sunglassed driver gave a frown of dissatisfaction, and then pulled the car away.
“What the fuck?” HP said in reference to the limo driver’s attitude.
“Whatever,” Fr. Maven responded, “They constantly remind me that they don’t work for me, and they we both work for the same guy.”
After the limo pulled away Fr. Maven turned around to face the small but enduring orphanage of the Sisters of Mercy. He let out a sigh.
“What?” HP asked.
“Nuns,” Fr. Maven answered.
HP looked at him, “What?”
Father clarified, “They either love or hate us priests.”
“Heh,” HP laughed. Fr. Maven did not smile and HP noticed. This pleased HP as he had a tendency to be amused at others discomfort, “Maybe you’ll get lucky since these are Sisters of Mercy.”
Fr. Maven exhaled and replied, “The Sisters of Mercy are well known in the priesthood. The rumor is that they are the Sisters of Mercy, not because they practice mercy, but because when they’re done with you that’s what you pray for.”
HP chuckled under his breath. Fr. Maven added, “Did I say priests? I meant men.”
HP quieted down and both men stood on the sidewalk in front of the open doors hesitantly. They looked over to their left at a bustling café, and HP said, “Maybe we should have a coffee and plan our questioning?”
“Yeah, good idea.”
“Oh hey father!” came a voice from out of sight.
The two men turned and saw a nun briskly walking towards them waving, “Father! Hey!” She was young, beautiful and smiling cheerfully.
“Whoa, seriously?” HP commented under his breath.
“Watch it,” Maven quickly shot at HP before greeting the nun, “Good afternoon Sister. How are you today?”
“Wonderful, thank you father! What business are you here on?” she asked.
“We’re here to speak with a child at the orphanage.” Fr. Maven answered.
“Oh, what about? I hope that nobody is in trouble,” she responded.
“No one is in trouble, but it is private business Sister. I truly beg your pardon,” he answered.
“Oh, interesting,” she said with a smile, “cathedral private?”
“Vatican private ma’am,” HP filled in.
“Oh boy. I don’t want to know,” she said with a laugh, “but I bet the Sisters of Mercy will happily accommodate you.” And she grabbed Fr. Maven by the arm and walked him toward and then through the front doors of the building.
Fr. Maven turned to HP with a worried look on his face as he was dragged through the doorway, and HP returned with an expression of ‘hey, this isn’t as bad as you made it out to be’ but noticed Maven was ever so slightly shaking his head, like ‘you have no idea what’s happening.’
“How long have the Sisters of Mercy been in operation?” HP asked.
“I’m not quite sure, but I’m sure any of them would be happy to tell you about the history of the orphanage,” the sister answered lightheartedly.
“Are you not with the Sisters of Mercy?” HP asked.
“Oh gosh no! (laugh). Here you go,” she said as they arrived at the front desk. Stationed at the front was another nun who was not quite as young, beautiful, or smiley. She sat at a desk made of metal and behind a heavy duty metal fence as if it was the place one goes to retrieve the things that were taken from their pockets during their arrest.
“Great, what can I do to help you father? Need to drop off anymore abandoned children that you don’t have time for?” the nun asked nonchalantly as she starred at paperwork.
“Hello Sister Sarah. These two are here on business from Rome, but they were wondering if you could tell them about the rich history of the Sisters and your wonderful orphanage,” the young nun said with a tone of sarcasm that made the two men wonder what was really going on.
All emotion left the face of the nun behind the desk and she just starred at the young nun for a few seconds, “Sorry, maybe some other time when we’re all out of orphans,” and then she forced an intentionally fake smile for less than a second, and turned to Fr. Maven.
“Take care Father. Good luck with your business,” said the young nun and then she turned to Sister Sarah, “Thank you Sister. I’ll let you get back to business helping the boys curse the Lord for putting them on your doorstep.”
“Thank you Sister Sorority Pledge. Please make sure to refrain from bothering my staff while you’re here acting like you’re making a difference.”
The young nun went as briskly as she had come, and the two men were left silently at bay in front of Sister Sarah who just stared back with a discomforting look for a moment, until, “So what Vatican business am I helping you with today monsignor?”
“Yes, thank you. I need to speak with one of your boys about a certain matter,” Maven answered.
“And what matter will you be speaking to the boy about?” she asked without looking, as she began to take care of some business on her desk.
“About a private matter Sister,” Fr. Maven answered shortly.
Sister Sarah paused for a moment, put down the pencil she had been using, and folded her hands on the desk in front of her. “Father, the Sisters of Mercy are solely focused on caring for the young boys of the orphanage. If you are unwilling to explain yourself and your reason for being here, I will unfortunately have to ask you leave my premises.” The nun now wore what must have been the closest thing to a smile that she could muster.
Fr. Maven inhaled slowly through his nostrils in a show of self-calming. HP noticed that the priest, quite out of character, was displaying physical signs of frustration. This puzzled HP as he has learned that it took a tremendous amount of stress to bring about any noticeable change in the priest whatsoever, but he was not sure the source. This worried him.
“Sister, I truly apologize but I must insist that the topic of my questioning remain secre…” Fr. Maven began.
“I beg your pardon Father, but we are the boys’ caretakers. Either you will reveal to me the matter of your questioning, or I must insist that you leave my building,” Sister Sarah said with more cheer in her voice than she had previously used.
HP’s eyes widen in shock as he wished his gift were the ability to disappear.
“Sister Sarah,” the priest said in a angered tone, “I’m only extending you a courtesy by asking for your assistance. You might have forgotten in all you years but I don’t need your, or anyone’s, assistance other than to help me find the child I seek, which I could very well do on my own by questioning anyone of the more friendly boys here. Also, since I am a priest I merely have to go wherever I wish to in this building, and being from Rome and on special assignment from Pope John Paul, I simply have to snap my fingers to replace, defrock, and excommunicate you from the church and replace this staff with priests or deacons… that is if I choose not to completely shut down this building and it’s services altogether.”
Now a moment ago HP thought he could not possibly get more uncomfortable than he was, but this proved him wrong. Sister Sarah, being a New York nun, was not as intimidated as she should have been. Fire burned behind the woman’s eyes and she puffed out her chest in a show of opposition to the priest, and retorted, “Spoken just like a self-centered man who thinks only of his power, and not of the people he could help. Typical Roman…”
Fr. Maven slammed the open palms of both hands down on the metal counter in front of the nun with a surprisingly immense impact that seemed to shake the room, “Enough from you woman! I need not explain myself, nor discuss anything with you. As priests it is we who are the caretakers of the children here and we have merely appointed you as assistants to help us with this charge. Bite your tongue as you do not know with whom you speak to. I will do my best to forget your accusations of self-centeredness when my students and I are fighting to hold back the murderous jaws of those who wish to kill you by ripping and tarring you apart.” The nun recoiled in angered horror at the initial throttling of her desk and the following raised tone, but halfway through Fr. Maven’s tirade her gaze lowered, her anger turned to pure fear, and she slowly pushed her chair back from its position.
Fr. Maven finished his verbal assault, and was left heaving and breathing heavily as he leaned over the counter. He had fire in his eyes as he starred back at the sharp tongued nun, but the fire began to die as he noticed she was not looking him in the eye and was rather looking at his hands.
“Father?” HP apprehensively interjected, snapping the priest out of his trance.
Fr. Maven turned to see HP looking back at him, but his eyes too were locked on the priest’s hands. Fr. Maven looked down to see that his fingers had penetrated the steel countertop like it was plastic wrap, and the metal underneath his hands was now crumpled up like foil within his white-knuckled fists. He unclenched his fists and pulled back. His fingers popped out with a snap.
All anger drained from Fr. Maven and his look of fury changed to a look of astonishment once he had realized what he had unconsciously done. He looked up at Sister Sarah who starred back at him with a frightened and bewildered look of her own which only heightened when the priest looked at her. Neither spoke.
“Oh dear Lord what happened?!” another voice cried out.
Everyone turned to the source. It was another nun. She was also surprised by the sight of the countertop, but she was smiling as if the incident didn’t actually bother her or she wasn’t able to put the pieces together, “Oh! Are you all right Father?”
“Uhhhh,” Fr. Maven responded as he looked down at his hands in confusion.
“Yes, thank you Sister. We actually are in need of assistance,” HP jumped in, looking for a way out of the current situation. “We are here to speak with one of the boys at the orphanage, and need helping locating him. Can you help us?”
“Oh, of course. What do you need to speak with him about?” the nun inquired.
“The general questioning is of a private matter Sister, but to answer your question the best I can: the boy has been given a special gift and we need to discuss this with him.”
“Oh, you must mean Bruce!” the nun’s eyes lit up and her smile widened.
HP looked at Fr. Maven. The priest had been snapped out of his trace at the mention of the boy’s name, and he replied, “Yes Sister. That is the boy we are looking for. He is apparently well known here?”
“Oh, for certain. Bruce is very well liked here at the orphanage by both the staff and the young boys. He’s been Mr. Popular since he arrived earlier this month.”
“This month? Is he new to the orphanage or newly an orphan?” HP asked.
“Well, both actually. His parents were killed last month… murdered actually,” she made a scary face to accompany the news, and then resumed her smile, “It’s actually good you guys came here today because he is scheduled to leave the orphanage and return home in a couple of days at the end of the month,” she began walking leading the men down a hallway.
“How is that so? Does he have relatives that have not yet gained custody over the lad?” Fr. Maven asked as he and HP followed the nun.
“Bruce’s family was extremely blessed financially. It was specified in the will that, were the parents to pass, the child would be raised by the family butler.”
“Wow, they must have been very fortunate to have accumulated enough wealth to get the butler’s buy in for that.” HP said somewhat under his breath to Fr. Maven.
“Yes, the holdup actually revolves around the butler getting custody of the child. Luckily the family had also paid their lawyer a lifetime salary as well to ensure the butler would get the custody… but isn’t the gift you wish to speak with the child about, the money? Weren’t you already aware of this?”
“No,” Fr. Maven answered, “We weren’t aware of the money and it’s actually no concern of ours. However he is the child we need to speak with. Can you take us to him Sister?”
“Oh but of course Father. This way,” she said as she grabbed his arm and led him away from the tarnished desk of Sister Sarah.
“You say the boy is very popular here? Even with the young boys? Can you venture to guess why he is accepted so well?” HP asked.
“It’s just the way about him. He is a very kind child, and extremely smart and I think that goes a long way. He’s a bit older, and he has given a lot of support to the boys here during some difficult moments. I think the boys look up to him in many ways, and see him as a big brother or some sort of family member, since they lack any. I don’t want to say it was fortunate for the child’s parents to have been killed, but that fact has bought him a bit of credit here amongst the orphan-born.”
“How did the boy’s parents die, Sister? Do you know?” HP asked.
“Yes, I do,” the nun said as they turned a corner into a noisy room and came to a halt. She only smiled instead of answering. The men’s brows rose as they waited for the answer and then realized the nun wasn’t going to provide the info for some unknown reason. She just smiled back, “Actually, it’s best that you discuss that privately with Bruce, Father.” The nun said as she extended her hand in a pointing fashion.
The two men looked up and saw a group of boys of varying ages grouped around a small bed. The small bed was one of many like it in a row, but the group of boys was all crammed together around the bed right in front of the two men. As the men noticed this, the group of boys paused and looked up at them and the room went silent.
For the most part the boys wore what must have been uniforms issued by the orphanage, but one older boy was dressed noticeably different than the rest. Fr. Maven looked at the boy, and said under his breath, “Bruce.”
The boy Bruce was dressed in a thick pea coat over a dress shirt, with slacks and dress shoes. For some strange reason he did not look out of place. Bruce looked up at the nun, “Sister Helen, what’s going on?”
“Bruce, Fr…” Sister Helen looked at Fr. Maven.
“Maven.”
“Fr. Maven and his colleague have need to speak with you about a private matter,” the nun answered.
Fr. Maven clarified, “Son we wish to speak with you about a subject which would be best not to discuss around the young boys. Would you mind accompanying us somewhere private?”
Bruce, a handsome lad, smirked a bit, “Sure Father. Not a problem,” and then he turned to Sister Helen with a look of ‘do you know what this is about?’
“Sister Helen, would you be opposed to my colleague and me taking Bruce to the café next door for a coffee?” Fr. Maven inquired.
“No, that would be fine Father. Take your time.”
Fr. Maven and HP turned back to Bruce who still sat on the small bed. Bruce turned to the group of kids who mostly had looks of concern and said, “It’s fine. Don’t worry. They’re not taking me away.” He said with a calming smile as he stood up. The group of kids spread out to make room for Bruce to walk by.
He walked over to the two men and stuffed his hands in his pockets and smiled. “Thank you for doing this Bruce,” Fr. Maven said as he started back down the hallway towards the front doors of the orphanage.
They passed by the front desk and saw that Sister Sarah was explaining what had happened to another nun who was consoling her. As she saw Fr. Maven re-enter she froze. Bruce noticed this as well, and raised one of his eyes brows in confusion. Then he saw the front desk, “Whoa! What happened Sister Sarah?!”
“We’ll tell you in a bit,” said HP in a higher pitch tone than usual, as he grabbed the boy by the elbow and pulled him along.
“Don’t worry Sister. We’ll get that replaced,” Bruce said as he was pulled out the door.
They made it outside to the busy and loud city sidewalk. Bruce stopped and said, “Okay, what’s this about guys. Should I be worried? I’m a little apprehensive to go very far from the front door of the orphanage. I’m not feeling a major sense of safety with you two.”
HP and Fr. looked at each other, and Maven answered by extending his arm out toward the closest café table, only a few yards away from the orphanage, “This is as far as we’ll ask you to go for our conversation.”
Bruce looked at the table, and shrugged his shoulders, “That works then.”
They sat down around the small metal table and a waitress came up to them immediately, “Hey Bruce. What can I get you and your friends today?”
Bruce looked over at Fr. Maven and HP, and answered, “Three coffees?”
“And bread and butter please,” Fr. Maven added, smiling at how popular Bruce was.
“Back in a flash,” the waitress answered and left the three at the table in silence.
Bruce once again smiled and raised his brow signaling, ‘you guys brought me here, so you get to start the conversation’.
“Bruce, my friend Logan and I have an important matter to discuss with you but I first wanted to express my sorrow for the loss of your parents. I’m sure it has been a difficult and emotional experience that has not quite ended yet,” Fr. Maven expressed.
Bruce looked down at the table and only nodded his head for a while. He then said, “Yeah, it’s still hard to believe.” He looked up at Maven, “I think about it every night.”
“About what took place the night your parents were killed?” HP asked for clarification.
“Yeah, I can’t get the image of them being shot out of my head. We were coming out of the movie theater just several blocks from here. The man pulled a gun and told my parents to give him their stuff. My father stepped out in front to put himself between the gun and my mom and I. Before he could say anything the man shot him. I don’t know if he thought he was going to try and fight him or something. My father fell to the ground and then the man just turned and shot my mom. It happened before I could even yell out for help. I try to stop thinking about it but I can’t.”
“You’ll never be able to son,” Fr. Maven said stoically, “I think the key is to make sure that we don’t lose any of the good memories.”
“Did the police catch him?” HP asked.
“No,” Bruce said looking over at HP, “I killed him.”
HP and Fr. Maven peered at each other for a moment, and then Fr. Maven asked, “How did you manage that Bruce?” hoping that this might be a good segue into the real reason they needed to speak with him.
A pained look grew on Bruce’s face, “The guy bent down to take stuff from my parents’ bodies, and he placed his gun on the ground. I grabbed the gun and shot him through the chest from the back and then when he fell down I shot him again in the back of the head.”
Alright, not a display of superhuman power, but impressive nonetheless for a young man. Either way, they needed to move on to the subject at hand.
The waitress came back with three coffees and bread. She placed a cup down in front of each of them, and then the plate of bread in front of Fr. Maven.
“Thank you,” Fr. Maven said as he scooted the bread plate over in front of Hell-Proof who in turn looked down at the blunt butter knife and grunted discontently.
The waitress looked at Bruce awaiting feedback. Bruce smiled and simply said, “Thanks Chelsea. We’re good.”
The waitress smiled and left the men to themselves.
“So let’s get to it gentlemen,” Bruce said. “I’m sure you have a more important subject to discuss with me than the passing of my parents, and I’d like to get to the bottom of what you’re looking for.”
There was no denying how impressive Bruce was and how well he held himself. This was not only because it was less than a couple of weeks since his parents murder, but also because of how young he was.
“That is a fair request Bruce. I’ll try and make this conversation as short as possible,” Fr. Maven replied. “Let me first explain who my colleague and I are and what we do.” Fr. Maven shifted in his chair and took a sip of his coffee. Bruce also grabbed his coffee and began sipping it in a fashion as though he were ready to listen. Fr. continued, “Logan and I are members of a specialized group within the church. We’ve been tasked, among many things, to seek out and find young men, like yourself, and women who are special.”
“Special, how? Like the fact that I’m an orphan?” Bruce asked.
“Well, each of our members are special in their own way, yet are similar in that they are more special than the average human,” Fr. Maven tried to clarify, but just saying this out loud he realized this was probably more confusing than not.
“I’m sorry, I still don’t understand guys. Special how?” Bruce explained.
Fr. Maven wrinkled his brow and turned to HP for help. Logan continued, “Special in that each of our members has been given a special gift, but different in that each of our gifts are different.”
Bruce sat back in his chair and placed his coffee cup down, “This is about my money isn’t it?” he asked with an unhappy look on his face. He crumpled up his napkin and dropped it on the table, “If so, then this conversation is over and I…”
“This is not about your money Bruce,” Fr. Maven clarified. “You’re very blessed financially and I’m sure the church hopes that you will donate graciously, but we’re in no need of finances.”
“Okay guys. I feel like you’re giving me a riddle here. I get that you guys are all alike yet all different, but I must respectfully ask you to get to the point and answer the very clear question of what do you mean by special, or what special gift are you interested in that I have been given.”
Fr. Maven turned to HP, looked down at the bread plate and gave the smallest of nods.
“It’s a butter knife,” HP responded in a frustrated tone.
“It’s serrated,” Fr. Maven added.
HP let a breath out, “Thanks.” He grabbed the butter knife, “You know, you could do this too.” HP added and held out his left hand open and palm down like a magician confirming that he has nothing up his sleeve. Bruce cocked one eye brow in confusion. HP then took the butter knife and slid the serrated edge across the top of his hand and carved a decent slice into the skin.
Bruce’s look of confusion turned into a look of horror, as he wrenched back in his seat and said, “What the fuck are you d…”
“Hang on son,” Fr. Maven reassured. “Just trust us for another twenty to thirty seconds.”
Bruce froze and starred at HPs bleeding hand with a growing look of discomfort resembling a jury member forced to hear a horrible act recounted. He looked at it for about 10 seconds and only witnessed and exodus of blood. He looked up at the two men at a loss for what lesson he was being taught. Fr. Maven faintly smiled and motioned towards HPs hand with his eyes. Bruce looked down and his look or horror transformed slowly into a look of amazement as the blood that had been flowing from the wound withdrew back into the cut, and the slice in the skin first came together, scabbed up for about a single second, and then HP brushed off the scab as though it were ash.
“Whaaaaaa,” Bruce exclaimed as he continued to stare at HP’s now completely healed hand.
“This is the special gift that Logan has been given, and this is the type of special gift that I am talking about that the members, students of my school rather, have been given.” Fr. Maven added.
Bruce looked up at him with a blank and bewildered look, but said nothing. Fr. Maven thought to himself ‘this is where you come clean on your super powers Bruce’, and he just stared back at the child in silence hoping this would lead to his testimony.
“Whoa,” he said as it started to set in. “So what do you want me for?” he asked genuinely.
Fr. Maven and HP looked at each other with more confused looks as they weren’t prepared for this question.
Fr. Maven answered, “Okay Bruce, I’ll be blunt. It has come to my attention that you are special in a similar way to my student. We have been told that you have been given a gift like us, and I have been tasked by the church to gather up those who have been given gifts so that they can learn both how to better use their gifts as well as why they have been given them.”
“I’m sorry Father but I have not been given a gift or if I have I am not aware of it,” Bruce said.
Father and HP looked at each other again with looks of even greater confusion. They turned back to Bruce and as they did Bruce’s attention was caught and he looked up and over the men across the table from him.
“Hello Bruce,” came a deep voice with an African accent.
“Good afternoon Sister Nobu,” Bruce said reverently.
Fr. Maven and HP whirled around in their chairs to find a tall dark skinned nun. She was so absolutely beautiful and stoic that she possessed a sense of humble royalty about her. She looked down at Fr. Maven with piercing eyes of which the white in them contrasted so strongly with her skin that Father was mesmerized and thought to himself within a second of beholding her, ‘this is the closest the church has to queen since St. Mary’.
“Bruce, Sisters Sarah, Miriam and I are traveling to the cathedral for a seminar today, but I wanted to check on you before we leave. I’m sorry Father,” Sister Nobu said as she turned to him, “I hope you understand that even though I acknowledge your seniority I am compelled to check on the child and make sure he is not being put into an uncomfortable or otherwise inappropriate situation.”
“Of course Sister,” Fr. Maven said in a dreamy voice as he continued to stare at the woman in awe.
“I’m fine Sister, thank you,” Bruce answered trying to cover up the anxiety left over in his voice from witnessing HP’s gift, “We were almost finished.”
“Fine then,” Sister Nobu replied, “Enjoy your day and God bless, gentlemen,” and she and the other two nuns walked away and towards the meager three parking spot lot that bordered the orphanage and up to a majorly oversized van emblazoned with the name of the orphanage and its symbol.
Fr. Maven had watched Sister Nobu walk away and over to the van, with Sister Sarah giving him the evil eye as she did. As the nuns got into the automobile Fr. Maven turned back to Bruce and HP who were already starring back at him with expressions of ‘really?’
Fr. Maven frowned at their judgment and said, “Well Bruce, I have to say that although I believe you when you say you are not aware of any gift that you have been given, I am thoroughly confused because I have been informed, or instructed rather, by a reliable source to come down to the orphanage and speak with a young boy named Bruce who has been given a gift.”
Right then the priest’s phone chimed, and he looked down and saw a message. It read, “We’re done at the hospital. All good news. Are you almost done? If so we’ll meet you there.”
Maven replied, “Yes.”
“Who is this reliable source?” Bruce asked.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” Fr. Maven began and yet again shifted in his seat by placing his weight on the right arm of the metal café chair. He unexpectedly faltered as he shifted and fell to the side a little. The slip was unavoidably noticeable to both Logan and Bruce, but what only Bruce and Fr. Maven saw was that the right arm of the metal chair had severely bent under the pressure of the priest as he shifted. Bruce looked down at the bent metal with wide open eyes, and then he looked up at Fr. Maven who only returned a mixed expression of guilt and nervousness.
Bruce spoke slowly, “I think you have the wrong Bruce.”
“What do you mean?” HP asked.
“You’re not here for me. You’re here for the other Bruce,” Bruce answered slowly as certain pieces started to come together in his mind.”
“What other Bruce?” Fr. Maven asked.
“There’s another boy here named Bruce,” he answered.
“Are you sure?” Fr. Maven asked intently.
“Yes, I’m positive,” Bruce said, still in a very serious and somewhat worried tone of voice.
“Do you think we’d be able to speak with the lad now?” Fr. Maven inquired.
“Yep,” Bruce said starring over the priests shoulders. Father and HP noticed this and turned around. Bruce continued, “He’s in the group of boys that have been standing in the doorway watching us since Sister Nobu left.”
The men looked upon a small group of young boys varying from young to really young, and tall to really small. They were trying and failing to stay hidden, and started to shift and fidget collectively when they realized their cover had been blown.
“Bruce! Come here bud. These men need to speak with you,” he called over toward the pack of boys. They all froze and then turned around and stared. A young boy, smaller than the rest, emerged from within the pack and took a step forward. His face showed that he was nervous or scared, and he pointed to himself to confirm he was the one being summoned.
“Yeah. It’s okay. You don’t have to worry. I’ll stay here,” said the Bruce at the table. He then spoke in a soft tone under his voice, “You’re going to have to treat him gently. He’s very shy, he doesn’t like to be touched, and he doesn’t like men very much.”
“Huh?” Logan grunted.
“He’s an orphan sir. We typically don’t have a rosy history.”
Maven turned and quickly asked in a whisper, “The only other thing I know is that his parents are dead. Do you know if his parents were murdered like yours?”
“No, not like mine,” Bruce answered putting on a fake smile in an attempt to put the young Bruce at ease. In a quick moment the expression was replaced by a deathly serious one, “His father killed his mother, and then he killed himself.” Father and HP’s eyes widened. Bruce put the fake smile back on, “And he saw the whole thing.”
Father and HP turned and starred at each other with looks of horror, and then turned around to look at the boy.”
Young Bruce couldn’t have been older than 9 or 10 years old at the most, and if he was that old he was small for his age. From his first step you could tell it took a lot of nerve for him to decide to walk over to the table.
But as he took his first step a tremendously loud sound of screeching tires could be heard in the street in front of the café. Everyone in the vicinity turned to find the source and right as they did a horrible explosive sound of impact followed. An truck had rammed, at high speed, into the side of the Nun’s van slamming the vehicle up against a pole, crushing the frame and pinning the door shut.
Before Fr. Maven or HP could process anything young Bruce screamed at the top of his lungs producing a much deeper sound than expected from a small frame, “Noooooo!!!” and took off running.
They watched him run out into the street at a super fast pace. After about two steps into the street an armored vehicle slammed into the young boy, but to the amazement of anyone who saw, it bounced off the boy in a totaled state and was thrown back a few yards in the direction it had come.
Young Bruce was not slowed down by the crash and only continued running at extremely high speed over to the nun’s van.
When he arrived he first took hold of the truck, which was a construction worker’s truck filled with tools and material, and with a loud roar tossed it out into the middle of the street. The young boy had thrown the vehicle like it was a cardboard cutout and it went tumbling end over end across the street with the tools and materials sent out of the bed in every direction. He then grabbed hold of the door handle on the driver’s side of the Nun’s van which Sister Nobu was sitting on the other side of. He pulled and the handle came off of the door as if it had been taped on. His head turned as he watched the door handle fly out into the road in surprise. The handle was pulverized the moment it hit the street, and in what seemed like a reaction he extended his hand, and turned back towards the van. In the same motion, he thrust his fist through the side window breaking it, grabbed a hold of the door frame at the top right of the window frame and pulled. The top half of the door bent down, but the door did not open. Realizing this, young Bruce pulled to the left and tore the top half of the door off completely like he was tarring a sheet of paper towel from its roll.
Next he jammed his open right hand into the area of the car most distorted by the car crash and his finger tips sunk into the metal. He squeezed, grabbing a fistful of metal and pulled. A piece of the door came off in his hand, but not the whole thing. He then frantically began repeating the process as he tore the side of the car to bits opening it up; all while emitting roars of what seemed to hold anger and intensity. He thrashed five or six times until the whole door came off and was thrown into the street.
Once the door was off young Bruce stood there breathing heavily. Sister Nobu was visibly injured, but she starred back at Bruce with an expression of horror and amazement. Fr. Maven could see the look on the nun’s face, and he knew she was trying to get control of her emotions for the sake of young Bruce.
“It’s okay Bruce,” Sister Nobu said as calmly as she could to Bruce who was physically overcome and unable to catch his breath. She twisted to her right and reached for the seat belt buckle. She gave a tug, winced and retracted a bit holding her rib cage.
Bruce instinctively reached across for the buckle. Sister Nobu pressed back in her seat in what seemed to be an attempt to avoid all contact with the young boy, as he grabbed hold of the seat belt and snapped it effortlessly. He then stepped back a few feet looking as though he were giving the nun her space.
Fr. Maven, HP and big Bruce got up and ran over to the van. As they got halfway across the street young Bruce spun around at mach speed, stomped his right foot and yelled, “STOOOPP!!” The ground shook. The van bounced, lifting off the road about an inch, and several nearby windows broke. Everyone in audible distance froze, and it became relatively quiet for New York. The young boy had both hands condensed into tight fists and was hunkered over in a brawling stance.
“Bruce!” Big Bruce called to the younger with outstretch hands, “It’s okay. Stop. The Sisters are safe. I’m here. Everything is okay. Everyone is okay.”
Bruce looked at Fr. Maven and HP at Bruce’s side, and locked wild eyes in a fiercely distrustful manner on them. Both Fr. Maven and especially HP were rarely intimidated by anyone, but a pit formed in both their stomachs and a coldness enveloped them the moment the young boy’s stare set upon them.
Everyone froze waiting for young Bruce to determine what was going to happened next by making up his mind. He looked at Bruce, and then back at Father and HP.
“It’s okay Bruce,” Sister Nobu said. She had exited the van, and was now standing with her hand pressed against the side of her dark gray robe which was soaking up blood. She held out the other arm towards Bruce.
The young boy’s heavy breathing subsided and quickly turned into weeping. His extremities fell to his side, and he bowed his head as he walked over to the nun and into her arm burying his sobbing head into her stomach. Sister Nobu looked passed the boy and at Fr. Maven. She then closed her eyes, as someone does when they’re about to do something on faith, and closed her free arm around the boy and embraced him.
“Maven… Logan!!” a voice yelled out breaking the low volume. Everyone turned and saw Haze and Gwen running down the block towards the wreck. They arrived on the scene and Haze asked, “Are you two alright?”
“We’re fine Haze. Our sisters have been badly wounded however. Please tend to their injuries here,” Fr. answered.
Haze turned around to face the van, and walked over to Sister Nobu first. Young Bruce wheeled around to face Haze with a defiant look and tear stained face. In the same moment Haze sternly spoke to the boy, “Son, stand aside,” and he put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and pushed him aside. Young Bruce did not fight and willing moved over. A look of worry came, and he watched the healer climb into the van.
Haze turned around to look at Fr. Maven and HP, and then he looked around at the crowd. HP and Maven walked up to the car. Fr. Maven put his hand on Sister Nobu’s shoulder, and HP put his hand on big Bruce’s shoulder, and they both turned them around to face the van and into a tighter formation. Nobu, Bruce and the others quickly picked up that they were being moved into a barrier formation to block the view of the other bystanders.
Once they were in a tight formation Haze turned around and placed his hands on Sister Sarah who was gripped her shoulder and bleeding from both her head and mouth. Big Bruce and young Bruce traded worried stares and then turned back and watched.
Haze began speaking in a hushed tone making it impossible for those outside the van to hear his words. He ran his hand up and down each of the nun’s arms. Sister Sarah sat back in her chair in a restful manner. Haze then placed his hand on her head, and began wiping away the blood with his thumb while continuing to speak quietly. He slid his hand from her head to her cheek and did the same with the blood coming from her mouth.
Sister Sarah slowly started to smile. “Thank you,” is all she said.
“Of course sister,” Haze replied, as he stepped over the center console and into the back seat to administer healing to Sister Miriam. All who could see watched Haze miraculously heal the nuns and they were humbled.
Haze had Sister Nobu sit back in the driver seat and he finished by healing her.
Once he was done the group stood idle for a few seconds not sure what to do next.
“I’m sorry father,” Sister Sarah said through a quivering voice as her eyes began to tear up. “for how I treated you in there.”
“I am sorry as well Sister. I was overcome by emotions that I was not aware I had. You have no reason to apologize. It is only I who should,” Fr. Maven said.
“I know now,” Sister Sarah said. “I know why you came here.”
Fr. Maven paused momentarily and then said, “I am sorry I could not reveal all of my information Sisters, but I can only assure you that my mission is important. I came here not only to question one of the boys, but to take him with me back to my school.”
This quieted the group. Young Bruce looked up at Big Bruce with a very sad look. Big Bruce wore a sad smile, and shook his head and silently mouthed the words ‘it’s you.’ Fear set in on the young boy and he looked up at Fr. Maven, and then at Sister Nobu.
“Bruce, I know this is difficult,” Said the nun. The young child’s face soured and tears appeared again, “but I truly believe that God has chosen you to give this special gift to.” The young boy began to sob and convulse, “I also believe that it is the ideal path that you become a student under Fr. Maven,” Bruce lowered his head in sadness and walked into the nun’s arms. As she embraced the boy she finished, “and that it is your destiny and God’s will.”
Bruce looked up at her while sniffling and blinking tears out of his eyes. The last statement seemed to have reached him. “And,” the nun said, “Fr. Maven and I will staying in contact periodically,” she looked at the priest, who nodded in return, “so that I will be able to keep the boys here at the orphanage appraised of how you are doing.” She said forcing a smile at the young one.
Bruce stared back but the nun could see a willingness to listen in the child’s eyes. She brushed tears from his face and asked, “Okay?”
Bruce nodded.
“He doesn’t have much,” Sister Nobu said to Fr. Maven, “Does he need anything specific where he’s going.”
“No, he doesn’t need to bring anything,” Father responded. “I actually think it would be best if he didn’t go back into the orphanage and instead came with us now.”
Big Bruce walked over to the young boy and said, “Hey, trust me on this one. These guys will protect you, and you are going to like your new home.”
Bruce looked down and mouthed the word ‘home’ to himself.
The sounds of police sirens were heard approaching in the distance. “I think it is best that we head back into the orphanage and that we part ways Father,” Sister Nobu said looking off in the direction of the sirens.
“Yes, I agree,” Fr. Maven replied also looking in the same direction, and then back at the Nun, “thank you dearly Sister.”
“God bless Father,” wished the nun, and she turned to Bruce, “God bless you Bruce,” and she grabbed the arms of the newly healed nuns and pulled them in the direction of the orphanage.
Young Bruce began to sob again as he starred at the ground. Big Bruce came over and placed a hand on his shoulder, “Be strong little buddy. I know you can be if you choose to be.” The young boy looked up. Bruce said, “This isn’t goodbye forever. We’ll see each other again,” and the big Bruce hugged him. He pulled away to look young Bruce in the eyes, “Remember, we’re all brothers at the orphanage.” The youngster nodded. Big Bruce turned to Fr. Maven, “Please take extra care of my little brother.”
Fr. Maven nodded and Bruce walked back to the orphanage. As he did young Bruce began to cry audibly and shake.
Right then the limousine pulled up. The sunglassed driver had a look of anger and worry as he surveyed the wreckage. The door budged and the cab light in the limo came on. HP motioned silently with a wave of his arms for the man to not get out of the limo.
“Bruce, I’m proud of you,” Fr. Maven began, “I know this is a tough decision for you,” as the priest began to try and comfort the boy, Bruce just slowly walked over to Gwen and buried his face in her chest sobbing uncontrollably.
Gwen, completely shocked, looked at the adults with a look of surprise and unpreparedness who only returned the same stare. Tears also appeared in her eyes as she slowly wrapped her arms around the boy and held him. He was an orphan no more.