The Sunshine Boy and the Weaver King

Chapter Twenty Five

The media descended anyway.

They cornered Burke as he left his office, followed him up his porch steps, and made calls to his landline.

It seemed someone close to Burke had whispered in their ear, and they were eager to find the next big headline. Burke Adds to List of Missing Teenagers, maybe.

Anthony was sitting on the couch when Burke slammed the door on the latest surge of blurry faces, mouths wide in an endless stream of questions. He grunted and sighed and reached into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes, back leaned against the door.

"Maybe you should've made a force field for regular people," Anthony said.

Burke huffed a laugh. "Didn't think that far ahead."

"It's been more than twenty-four hours."

The clink of the lighter sounded from Burke's corner, followed by a long sigh. "I know how long it's been."

"No phone call," Anthony added.

"I know," Burke answered.

Anthony twisted in the couch, arm slung over the back. "If they don't want a ransom, what do they want?"

"A reaction," Burke said. "Remember what I told you? He wants the whole world watching when he wipes the city with your face."

"If I don't go," Anthony started.

"If you don't go," Burke puffed a stream of smoke, "then what? He kills Mia, but loses his shot at you? No chance. He's banking on Mia getting you to face him. We have to wait out the swap."

"How do you know when the swap is going to happen?" Anthony asked. "That they'll let her live that long? It would be smarter to kill her in secret and let me think I still have a shot at saving her."

"Because I've been after the Weaver a long, long time," Burke said slowly, "and I know he wants you angry. He wants you desperate. He wants you filled with justice and heroism and golden with all your pretty morals. It doesn't work if it's vengeance."

"What are we waiting for then?"

"For a crack," Burke shrugs a shoulder. "It's coming quick. He hasn't made an appearance in a couple weeks, and now all the media is looking. He's going to switch it over right after he takes care of you, but if he can't do that, he'll get impatient."

"That isn't going to help us," Anthony said. "And if it is, why wait for the switch? The Weaver, or the new one, is going to be something no one's ever seen before. Different abilities. Different fighting style."

"He'll be you," Burke replied flatly.

Anthony wondered why that was so bad, all things considered. And then he shrugged and looked back at the TV, at the live feed of a reporter standing on the sidewalk just outside, mic held up to his mouth as he squinted against the sun and breeze.

In a voice a little too perky for the topic, he said, "For years, Burke has claimed that he has the antidote to what some call a blessing, and others a curse. The only untouchable man in the world, his home has been broadcasted across America's screens a hundred times. I'm sad to report that this time, it is for an entirely different reason. Burke has been linked to the disappearance of seven teenagers, all orphans, between the ages of thirteen and eighteen, and now, most recently, a young woman named Mia Noorani. Her last known location was the house I stand in front of, and now we will all have to ask the question... Does Burke represent the prey of this country, or the predators?"

Burke's footsteps sounded heavily as he strode past, the trail of cigarette smoke following him. "Turn that shit off."

Thirteen and eighteen. Seven teenagers. 

Anthony's eyes squeezed shut, but he didn't turn it off.

"I implore everyone watching, if you have any information about this young woman, call it in. Let us know. Let us help. We all know the world is watching, and that isn't always a bad thing."

His phone vibrated, and he dug into his pocket, glancing down at the screen to see another set of coordinates staring up at him.

He heard Burke's office door slam shut, and with that he sent back, Not now, and shoved his phone face down back onto the couch.

It vibrated again. I won't wait.

Anthony shoved his hands over his eyes as the reporter's voice came back into focus, "... some have also wondered if this could have anything to do with the Weaver's disappearance, along with his syndicate. Burke has long been suspected of working hand in hand with the crime lord, but there has never been any evidence to prove it. Further investigation will tell whether Burke has actually been crusading against Weaver or for him. Until then, stay safe out there. Back to you, Rosaline."

"Thanks, Ben--"

Anthony picked up his phone and swiped his thumb across the screen. He heard the ringing, and practiced what he would say. Something that wasn't anything, but would get just enough off his chest.

"Are you coming or not?"

Anthony leaned back against the couch, head tipping back so he faced the ceiling. "I can't."

Maddox's voice sounded muffled. "Okay."

"Why did you want to meet anyway?"

"Mm," Maddox hummed, and Anthony could imagine him shrugging. "Same as usual."

"Which is?"

"No reason," Maddox said.

Anthony bit his lip. "I think I'm in trouble."

"No shit," Maddox said shortly.

"I think I got someone else in trouble," Anthony tried again. "I think I'm about to either play my part and never find out what I want to know, or ruin everything by being selfish."

"Being selfish usually only ruins everything for other people."

"So you're saying I should be," Anthony said.

"I'm saying you should do what you want to do. You're the one that has to live with it. Whose life are you ruining anyway, if it isn't yours?"

His parents would materialize into the room if they knew what he was thinking, Anthony was sure. His mother would slap him across his face and tell him she raised a smarter boy than he turned out to be, and his father would stare stonily from several feet away, his gaze all it would take to cut him.

Stay alive. Keep your head down.

And Burke was telling him the same.

But who was he, really, that he had to hide so much, only for a stranger to unclip his leash and let him loose for a run when they decided his chances of dying were lowest?

He was supposed to die from the beginning. That was the only thing that made sense. Shouldn't he at least get to pick the day?

"Hello?" Maddox asked.

"If I was going to do something stupid," Anthony said carefully, "would you find that interesting?"

"Depends. How stupid?"

"Well, what do you count as stupid?"

Maddox paused. "You've already almost died once, so I guess actually getting yourself killed would be pretty dumb of you."

"Would it be interesting?"

"How morbid do you think I am?" Maddox asked. "If you lived, that would be interesting. I'm not going to tell you to kill yourself."

"Old you would have."

"Old me didn't think you would. That was before I realized how stupid you are." His tone said, obviously.

"Maddox," Anthony said, feeling the familiar rattle of fear in his chest, "I think I'm about to be goddamn captivating."