Beyond Jackson's - Of Men and Mutants

February 2068. Much like Tiger before, now it's Vince's turn to worry about parenting. A reversal of fate that brings two friends close again, by means of havign to face the same challenges.

A shaky picture on the display, the annoyed eyes of a man with huge eye bags and cat ears, speaking straight to the camera, to someone hidden behind it.

“… for the last time, get your facts straight, goddamnya! I have three adult daughters, two grandkids and that’s it! I don’t care about what your data say, there’s no way you’ve found forty-nine nekos with my DNA spread all around Europe!”

“But Mr. Gattonero…”

“Also, that rumor about the queen of England is complete BS! The only Brit I’ve ever banged last year was a twenty-something-years old tourist – no bodyguards, no crown, no nothing! So, please, get out of my agency, before I kick your ass so hard you won’t be able to sit for a month!”

The TV buzzed once more in the background, the digital signal coming and going at irregular intervals. The voices coming from it were kind of confusing, but Jackson didn’t care too much. He was just half-hearing the news, news about how one single neko was found to be the father of more than forty children after a full population survey. If rumors had to be trusted, the world health association had recently commissioned one to understand how the neko population was evolving with time. Cue the surprise of finding that many young and less young members of said species shared fifty percent of their DNA with a common origin – said origin being no other than Renzo’s own boss and sort of unofficial father-in-law. Jackson rolled his eyes. That wasn’t even news, that was plain inane gossip. Not the kind of main event you’d see covered by a major outlet, at least not in a period ripe with more important events to follow. Yet, there were plenty of people feeding off said useless chatter, craving for it with hunger – people for which a one hour special on the results of the neko survey tasted like a delicious meal. Fortunately, neither he, nor Kia, nor the tiger man sitting at the counter seemed to belong to that category. Or so he hoped.

“Forty-nine kids. That’s… wow.”

Said tiger man’s voice reached him, at last. Jackson heard a whistle of admiration, as the mutant leaned on the counter, cola glass in hand, pointing his finger at the display.

“I’m having trouble keeping two of them in check, and they are just one year old! Can’t imagine dealing with more.”

“Huh-uh.”

Jackson adjusted his deep blue fedora down, before absent-mindedly starting to clean an empty glass. Sambiong was a regular, drinking nothing but alcohol-free beverages and amicably chatting with anyone around the cafe at least once per week. Customers that were once diffident towards the huge striped feline now warmly greeted him, discussed with him and questioned his tastes in fact of music (admittedly, sitarcore was a very niche genre not many seemed to like, especially when it was played by the bar’s jukebox). No difference with the usual routine, an evening like any other. Nothing unusual. Jackson kept cleaning the glass, words and noises mixing together in his mind, in a quiet background cacophony. Suddenly, his fingers lost their grip on the handle, the mug started falling to the floor. A swift, last second movement of his other hand, the impact avoided, albeit barely. Jackson growled something under his breath, words not meant to be heard, before putting the still intact glass back on the counter. At that sight, Tiger tapped his finger on the wood, getting the attention he craved from the bartender.

“Vince?”

“I’m fine, Sambiong. I just got distracted. It happens.”

Tiger sipped a little bit of his cola, his slit-like eyes scanning Jackson from head to toe without saying a word. Then, he raised his glass, grabbing the attention of the faceless man, before finally breaking his silence.

“You sure? Your hand’s shaking.”

Jackson stared down, at both of his hands. A slight twitch, left and right, a vibration throughout his body. Jackson let out a loud sigh, before reciprocating Tiger’s piercing gaze.

“I might be a little tired. Busy week. I’ll ask Lejl to cover the rest of my shift…”

“It’s because of Kia’s pregnancy, isn’t it?”

Jackson tipped his fedora, grumbled, turned to the coffee machine. He clicked on some of the buttons in a precise sequence, one he rehearsed thousands of times. Yet, he missed the right spot – twice in a row – before managing to call the double espresso function. All of this, without deigning Tiger of an answer.

“Vince.”

“Yes?”

“Be honest.”

Jackson listened to the machine booting up, to the crunchy sound of cracked coffee beans, as a progress bar appeared on the display. He tipped his hat yet again, still without turning to face his patron. Then, he finally relented, met Tiger’s gaze once more.

“Since when are you my shrink?”

“Eh, I’d say you’ve been mine for a while. High time I paid you back.”

The machine stopped bellowing all of a sudden, hot steam coming out of the mug, the black beverage filling it to the brim. Jackson grabbed his coffee, sat directly in front of his guest, let out a long sigh.

“Let’s suppose you’re right. What of it?”

“You’re scared she’ll share your… lack of features.”

Jackson sipped a bit of coffee, through his unseeable, ever-shifting mouth. His white eyes blinked out of existence for an interminable instant, turning his face into a mask of wobbly, blurry darkness. Then, they came back, two sharply bright windows contrasting the blackness surrounding them.

“… I am.”

He tipped his hat, almost to the point of covering his eyes.

“I’m scared, yes. Of course I should have thought about it before… well, I did think about it before and did everything I could to… you know, understand how ‘transmissible’ this… face of mine is. But…”

Jackson started tapping his fingers on the counter, a broken rhythm without any melody.

“… but even then, I can’t be completely certain. It’s… painful, Sambiong. Especially ‘cause Kia is… so happy. And the kids too. Jake and Hiro… huh, keep asking me when their sister will be born. But what if she…”

A hand stopping the dancing fingers, a hand covered in fur. Tiger grabbed them, caressed them.

“Think about it this way, Vince: you had the ROPES team analyze your body, right? And your genes are okay, there’s no trace of whatever made your face like that. This means the kid will be alright.”

“What if they’re wrong?”

“Vince. Veckert heckin’ Rainer took on your case and moved hell on earth to get you the best analysis machines ROPES could afford, even a couple that weren’t public knowledge – and still aren’t. We’re talking about the woman who kicked the Walking Night’s ass! I’d trust her team with my life.”

Jackson shrugged. One entire day of nanoprobe drinks, painful injections, beeping displays, electrodes plugged to his head and biological samples taken from all over his body, under the inquisitive gaze of the scarred hound and her lapdog albino doctor subordinate – a doctor who was rumored to be dating none other than Rishel, the shady bastard that kidnapped Kia’s kids. Jackson didn’t inquire further, since smashing Dr. Tey’s face would have defeated the purpose of his visit to the ROPES labs, but that curious piece of trivia soured his mood in a significant manner. Despite that, he didn’t want to get on the bad side of the man who was supposed to determine whether his excessive abundance of faces was genetic or not – not before receiving the results of the examination, at least. That said, he hoped the good doctor had someone to drive him home, since all four tires of his sedan were accidentally punctured by an unknown perpetrator, an unnamed vandal that positively, surely had no connection whatsoever with Vincent Jackson. After all, accidents happen, tires get sliced all the time. It truly was a sad world to live in.

Jackson looked back at Tiger, let out a groan, waving his hand in the air.

“Yeah, right. The tests went fine, okay. But it’s theory, you know? In practice, nobody with my condition ever had a kid. So, what if… what if…”

“Too many what-ifs, Vince.”

“And I’ve got no control over any of them.”

“C’est la vie.”

“Since when you know French?”

“Wanted to pick up a new language for a long time. Helps keeping my mind occupied.”

A loud buzz, the speakers croaking for a second. Tiger turned around, his eyes transfixed on the TV display. The middle-aged neko was gone, replaced by a younger female cat girl with long hazel hair and ear piercings. A label spelled her name as ‘Myadeline Heargreaves’, as she casually played with a wild strand falling on her forehead, while talking to an unseen interviewer.

“… I’ve never had a dad, so this study doesn’t change a lot. For what is worth, this Reno Gattonero’s just another stranger to me. ‘Sides, now that I’ve seen his pic, I can understand why mom jumped on him without a second thought – he must have been a reeeeeeal bijoux, twenty-five years ago!”

Tiger whistled, sipped down a little bit more of cola. Myadeline Heargreaves. That was the neko top-model who commissioned a full-body portrait to Cyphr a couple months before. The German girl was still daydreaming about said top-model’s body and never lost an occasion to fawn over it, especially with her girlfriend present. If anything, Lejl was bummed she couldn’t feast her eyes on Myadeline’s unveiled curves, since she was on shift when Cyphr drew the original sketch. Of course, being the chaotic gremlin she was, she even had the guts to ask Vince for ‘extra compensation for a missed potential lesbian threesome’. Jackson’s calm and collected answer was to bonk her head with a folded towel, under the gaze of several amused customers. He was tempted to use a baseball bat or a crow bar too, but that felt a little excessive at that time. Yet, since that event, Jackson couldn’t help associating that neko’s name with Lejl’s bizarre request, for better or worse. The fact that said neko was also related to that extremely prolific feline pal in the news felt like an additional connection that sounded too weird to be real. He shook his head, grumbled something unintelligible while tipping his hat down even deeper than usual.

“This cat guy’s a piece of work. So many children he didn’t take care of.”

“Well, that’s where your kid’s lucky, Vince.”

Tiger cracked a smile, then grabbed Jackson’s hand, patting on it slowly.

“‘Cause I know that, even if she’s born with your face, you and your wife will love and support her – no matter what. If there’s anyone who can do that, it’s you two.”

Jackson pulled up his hat, gazed at Tiger, blinked a couple times.

“I feel like I’ve heard those words somewhere…”

“They come from a wise friend who knows a lot about life, but has horrible taste in fact of clothing.”

A chuckle escaped Jackson’s invisible lips, as he shook his head.

“He must be a smart guy.”

“Yeah, very much so. Kind too, even if he doesn’t like to show it. Sometimes, he needs to be reminded of that.”

“I could never get along with him. I guess he likes weird hats too.”

“Oh, you can’t imagine.”

The TV speakers roared to life once again, this time showing a picture of a human woman – one with a peculiar upside down red crescent tattoo on her face and a scar running through one of her eyes. The label changed to ‘Frida Igarashi’, as the woman in question raised her arms, triumphantly showing a neko toddler with black hair and the signature cat ears.

“… ya’ll can’t hate Gattonero – I’m the only one allowed to do it! True, he’s a grumpy GILF, but look at our baby here! This little meowing ray of sunshine wasn’t planned, we used protections… but her will to be born was stronger! A true Igarashi gal at heart! And, guess what? Once them Gattonero knew about li’l Akane here, he got ready to raise her – or, huh, have his fuckboy son-in-law raise her for him, I guess? Point is, that neko’s an idiot, but an idiot with principles!”

“Then, why didn’t he get in touch with…”

“Duh, ‘cause their mothers begg’d him not to, obviously! Imagine telling your kid they were born out of a one night stand with a hot neko gigolo! Would ya? I’ll sure tell li’l Kanny all ‘bout it, cause she’s going to grow up as a the STRONGEST! She’ll hunt werewolves better than her awesome momma! And she needs to know that I banged – and dominated! – my most bitter rival to conceive her! A strong seed meets the strongest will! That’s the Igarashi family tradition! A tradition I keep up with my marvelous investigative agency that sits in Euterpe, via del Crepuscolo 49/3, open 9-18! If you have problems with supernatural threats, we are the solu…”

The unseen journalist running the interview struggled to cut the self promo, light swear words could be heard in the background too, before the camera panned away. Tiger grinned, let his cheek rest on his hand.

“Funny how we’re both scared of being disaster parents and then you see people that are disaster parents, but do their best to raise their children. It makes you feel better about your life choices.”

“If your bar for ‘parents doing their best’ is a neko that can’t keep his balls in check or that crazy tattooed gal…”

“Vince, my ‘father’ was ‘Split Metal’ Mayer. Anything would be better than him, even this glass of cola right here! Heck, even Shaz or – worse – Lazor!”

Lazor Loyra. That name caused Jackson to shiver. That mononeural brute had the mental acuity of a sea slug, as long as it didn’t come to something concerning muscles, protein or bounty hunting – in which case, he suddenly became a genius that rivaled Villam Sanderbach himself. Jackson was surprised to learn that the piranha face in question knew some basic maths (to understand nutritional tables, of course) and even how to read the instructions of his stereo. Well, sort of. Jackson witnessed him stopping half way through the manual, screaming something about there being too much text, only to try pushing random buttons till something switched on. Among the two fishmen running the Paradise of Pangasius, Shaz was unquestionably the brains – which, if possible, made the shiver down Jackson’s spine even colder. Shaz being the brains of any commercial activity felt odd under every possible point of view, but, compared to Lazor, he stood out like a Lin Collain College honor student.

No, wait, that came out wrong.

Jackson rewound his train of thoughts, back to the beginning. Shaz wasn’t dumb by any definition of the term – he was just simple, for a lack of better words, not putting much thought into his actions. Despite his genuine simplicity (or, rather, because of it) Jackson trusted the burly shark guy with his life and wanted him to be a cool uncle to Kia’s children. But Lazor? The prospect of leaving any kid with that idiot made his heart sink into depths deeper than the Shadow Gallery itself. The one time Jackson saw Lazor interacting with a child, the piranha’s lizard partner Bura had to remind him that no, kids aged eight don’t regularly punch rebar and headbutt each other as a game. That had been enough for Jackson to keep Hiro and Jake out of his grasp and for Bura to immediately give up on any plans of parenthood, if they ever had one. To be a worse potential parent than Lazor, one had to actively try to kill their children – which is probably what ‘Metallic’ Mayer did, if Sambiong’s accounts had to be believed.

Jackson nodded, almost without realizing it, snapped his fingers.

“Yeah, hard to be worse than that butcher.”

Then, he tipped his hat, conceding defeat.

“Since when you’ve become that good with words, Sambiong? Your dialectic has improved too much. You must be stopped, ‘fore you consider running for office.”

“I’ve met a good teacher.”

Jackson lifted his mug, still with a little warmth left, bumped it on the counter.

“You should introduce me to him.”

Tiger raised his glass too, shook it a little.

“You know him already. I’m talking with him right now.”

“Come on, I’m just a shady guy with too many faces and too little patience.”

“That doesn’t change anything, and you know it.”

“Yeah, I do.”

Jackson tapped his mug on Tiger’s glass, a bright sound expanding through the bar. Tiger reciprocated, bumping it again, producing the same echoing sound.

“To Kasumi-Ann Jackson, then!”

“Or Ann-Kasumi. Kia and I haven’t settled for the order yet.”

“I’m sure you’ll get it right before she’s born.”

Jackson gulped down what was left of his coffee. Tiger did the same with his cola. Then, they stared at each other. An invisible smirk on the faceful man’s visage. A hint of pride in the mutant’s slit-like eyes. The jazz in the background danced among them, as the words, the noises, the voices of the customers crowding the cafe filled their silence with life. A life that both Vincent Jackson and Tiger Sambiong had just started to enjoy.

Moments to treasure forever, one sip of cola at a time.