《Foxfire, Esq.》


 Chapter One

    I was two hours into day three of waiting on a jury verdict when a wannabe supervillain crashed the DC Superior Courthouse.


    Oh, it was a lovely day ¡ª skies threatening to rain, too warm for a jacket but too cold to not have one, and dry enough to make my eyes itch. I was seated on the third floor of the courthouse and passed the time by drafting an appeal on my laptop, all the while anticipating a jury verdict in a case that I was absolutely certain we were going to lose because the client was a stubborn shithead who wouldn¡¯t accept a settlement when it was right in front of her.


    So clearly the universe decided that this would be made all the better by a metal mole man crashing through the Court¡¯s floor-to-3rd-floor-ceiling windows.


    The small marble stairway he landed on cracked underneath him with the unmistakable din of stone on metal, followed by the whine of industrial hydraulics picking the intruder up. I hurriedly put my laptop away and overturned both the table I¡¯d been using and another chair to block line of sight, but thanks to a gap between them, I managed to catch a glimpse of the supervillain du jour from my position on the indoor balcony.


    He was an ugly sort, maybe five foot two, pushing two hundred pounds, covered in dirt and grime and engine grease and God only knew what else. But I would guarantee that the average onlooker wasn¡¯t paying any attention to that, not even the ones looking down from up here on the third floor. No, their eyes were most certainly fixed to the exoskeleton he was strapped into, a kludged-together monstrosity of scrapped construction equipment and other assorted heavy machinery that made a horrible racket every time it moved. Interestingly, the suit didn¡¯t seem to fit its wearer very well. The belts were strapped up with holes that didn¡¯t match the rest, for example, and¡ª


    ¡°WHERE IS HE!?¡±


    The man¡¯s yell was far, far louder than any unamplified voice should have been capable of yelling at, and I couldn¡¯t help but wince at the sheer volume. Dear lord, how was he that loud? The shoddy exo-suit didn¡¯t have the high-pitched whine that I¡¯d long since come to associate with low-end speakers, and the same people who kitbashed this rusted and awkward thing definitely didn¡¯t have the money for good speakers, so how did he do that?


    ¡°WHERE IS JERRY RIG!?¡±


    The man punctuated his yell by slamming the pile driver that was his exo-suit¡¯s left arm into the marble with another horrific crunch of metal on stone, right into the blank space in the map of DC engraved on the courthouse floor. Miraculously, the engraving of the court¡¯s motto (the first duty of society is justice) was untouched.


    ¡°WHERE! IS! MY! HUSBAND!?¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s his husband!? Screw that, where the hell is security!?¡± a voice said from under either the chairs or the table near me.


    ¡°Securing the judges and any defendants who¡¯ve been jailed awaiting trial,¡± I snapped back, wincing as the man smashed the stairway that wound along the wall back around and over the entrance. The broken glass his entry left on the walkway joined the debris on the ground with a painful shriek of shredded rivets and fraying steel cord.


    ¡°What about the police? Secret Service?¡± The man clearly wasn¡¯t done with his ranting and just seemed to be running down a list at this point. ¡°Or the NMR? Shouldn¡¯t a Moonie be on the way already?¡±


    ¡°Average superhero response time is longer than other emergency services,¡± I supplied, watching the ongoing dramatics. Security had appeared and encircled the District¡¯s fourth wannabe supervillain of the year, but their stun guns weren¡¯t having any effect. Which seemed odd to me, because the man had bare skin to rusty and corroded metal, but superpowers made things weird.


    One of the security guards threw away the stun gun and pulled out the real deal, to which I immediately ducked down, folded my ears low, and put my hands over them to block out the sound. It didn¡¯t work well enough, nor was I able to suppress the pained whimper at the sound. Ow¡­


    ¡°Why is a Loonie even here!?¡±


    This time, I had to resist the urge to punch the man for the slur and just blame the wound on some falling debris. But alas, discretion was the better part of valor, and I was still trying to block out the sound of gunshots, which ¡ª seriously!? The man was covered in massive hunks of metal! Bullets ricochet off metal all the time!


    ¡°What part of ¡®defendants awaiting trial¡¯ was not plain English?¡± I half-said half-yelled, sagging in relief when the gunshots stopped. Wait, why did they stop?


    A quick glance over the railing showed me that courthouse security had stopped trying to shoot the villain-of-the-month and were instead pepper spraying the living daylights out of his relative area. Yes, good, that was the smart option! The number of Moonshot who could shrug off a bullet was much higher than the number who could ignore pepper spray!


    ¡°TELL ME WHERE HE IS!¡±


    Of course, the moment I thought the volume might go down, the supervillain screamed again, loud enough to shake the inch-and-a-half-thick glass railing. Which, incidentally, explained things: the ¡®hyper voice¡¯ was his superpower. Whatever tech wizardry that let the ramshackle machinery he was piloting run, though, definitely belonged to the ¡®husband¡¯ that this villain was looking for. Which would also explain why it was apparently easy enough to just lock the guy up, compared to¡ª


    A hand closed on my shoulder and shook me. I pulled my hands away from my ears and turned to glare at the man who I¡¯d been trying to calmly walk through this whole ¡®villain attack¡¯ shebang, who had apparently decided it was okay to just lay his hands on a woman he didn¡¯t know. He was an older man, probably late fifties to early sixties by the receding line of graying hair, dressed in a too-large pinstripe suit. I could swear I¡¯d seen him arguing in court at some time or other, but the only distinguishing feature he had was a particularly thick pair of coke-bottle glasses, and that wasn¡¯t the kind of thing you could see from the gallery of a courtroom while waiting for your case to be called.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± he asked, tension in his voice and anger on his face.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    ¡°Hiding?¡± I asked, incredulous. ¡°Same as you?¡±


    His face twisted in confusion, then the anger came back stronger. Oh, he was not going suggest what I thought he would¡ª


    ¡°You¡¯re a Moonie!¡± The man jabbed a finger at me, then down at the supervillain below. ¡°You have powers! You¡¯re supposed to be using those to stop villains! Stop him!¡±


    ¡°For the love of God, shut! Up!¡± I whisper-yelled at the man. ¡°Just because I have powers, that doesn¡¯t¡ª¡°


    ¡°He¡¯s right!¡± Another civilian huddled nearby, who hadn¡¯t said a damn thing until now, decided that now was the absolute perfect time to speak up. ¡°You gotta do something!¡±


    I rounded on the woman who¡¯d spoken, motioning for her to keep her voice down and desperately hoping she would be the last of them.


    She was not.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got to use your powers!¡±


    ¡°Please, you have to help us!¡±


    ¡°Do something! That¡¯s what you Moonies are for!¡±


    ¡°Please, I¡¯m scared!¡±


    Ooh, this was not good, please God let these people not be louder than whatever security was doing please let the villain du jour not have heard¡ª


    ¡°MOONIE!? HERO!!¡±


    I winced at the scream, my ears going flat atop my head in pain and surprise. Then there was a great crashing and tearing of shattered glass and twisted metal, and moments later, I was eye to eye (and nose to stench) with the absurdly loud mecha-mole man.


    ¡°HERO! WHERE IS MY HUSBAND!? TELL ME WHERE HE IS!¡±


    If the volume was painful when he was three stories below, it was much worse up close. Even with my ears folded flat and my hands covering them, I was still left whimpering in pain with my tail quite literally between my legs. God, any damage might not have been permanent, but it still hurt. I screwed my eyes shut and reached deep into the part of myself where my powers were tucked away, ready to get out of real harm¡¯s way ¡ª but only as a last resort, because people react badly when you put fire in their face, and there were civilians behind me.


    Except ¡ª nothing happened?


    I opened my eyes to see the villain in front of me. He was still angry, still somewhere between goofy and spooky, but he was just¡­ waiting?


    ¡°Um,¡± I began, raising one hand hesitantly while the other reached for my purse. Oh lord, this was gonna be a gamble. God, I hoped I wouldn¡¯t need to get through another improper power use hearing¡­ screw it, worth a shot. ¡°I¡¯m not a hero? Uh, who are you looking for, exactly?¡±


    The villain opened his mouth, and I immediately folded my ears back down and brought my hands over them. But nothing happened, and the villain actually flinched a bit. Which was¡­ um?


    I brought my hands away from my ears, letting the tall, furry triangles stand back up atop my head.


    ¡°My husband,¡± he said, tone and expression almost pleading. ¡°Andrej Antoniewicz? His trial is today, I ¡ª I need him.¡±


    Okay, well, this wasn¡¯t the first time I¡¯d seen a villain go from hostile to not, but it was the first time I¡¯d seen it happen so quickly. Was that seriously all he was here for? Just looking for his hubby? Plus he knew where to look, but not where to look, and decided that the best course of action was to¡­


    ¡­ a plan was starting to form in my head. It was stupid. It was so absurdly, incredibly stupid, but it was entirely possible that this villain was actually dumb enough for this to work.


    I took a calm, deep breath to prepare myself. Okay, Naomi. You¡¯d told enough bald-faced lies in your life.


    What was one more?


    ¡°So uh, I¡¯m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but sir? You¡¯re, um, at the wrong courthouse.¡±


    The other Moonshot¡¯s expression went from pleading to poleaxed. It was a very particular kind of disbelief, that ¡ª it wasn¡¯t the refusal to believe what he¡¯d heard so much as it was the mental equivalent of a bluescreen.


    ¡°Your husband, does he have powers too?¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh?¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said slowly, getting ready to bluff my tail off. ¡°So, I¡¯m not a hero. I¡¯m just a normal lawyer, and normal boring lawyer stuff happens here, at DC Superior Court. But hero and villain stuff?¡± I held up my hands placatingly and gently shrugged. ¡°That, um, happens at the Court of Federal Claims. That¡¯s, well. Not here.¡±


    ¡°But,¡± the villain said, sounding so lost I almost felt bad for him. ¡°But, what? Where?¡±


    ¡°Ooookay, so,¡± I said, pointing over his left shoulder out at the street. ¡°That¡¯s D Street right there, yes?¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh?¡± The villain turned to follow my finger.


    ¡°Go to the sidewalk, and turn left,¡± I told him. ¡°At the next street, turn left, that¡¯ll be 6th Street. Then you want the next right turn, that¡¯s Pennsylvania. Follow that alllll the way until you hit the White House fence, then turn right, and when you get to H Street, the Court will be on your left. Okay?¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­ left, left, right, to the fence, right, on my left?¡±


    ¡°There you go,¡± I said, offering him a smile as I nodded. ¡°Good luck, sir. Your husband is waiting for you.¡±


    ¡°He is?¡± The villain blinked, but then smiled, and I had to hold my face and ears very steady so I didn¡¯t react to how badly he needed a toothbrush. ¡°He is! I¡¯m coming, Andrej!¡±


    A moment later, he disappeared from view, and I heard the crunch of metal on stone again. The sound of tensing metal springs followed, and then the villain was off, soaring right back out through the hole he¡¯d made on the way in and cruising off towards the intersection of D and 6th.


    ¡°But, but aren¡¯t you supposed¡­ supposed to¡ª¡±


    Oh, for Christ¡¯s sake.


    ¡°I am not a fucking superhero!¡± I yelled at the assembled civilians, all of whom had just sat there and done absolutely nothing. ¡°Did none of you call the police? The NMR hotline? Anyone at all? No? Ugh.¡± I got up with a huff, groaning slightly when I saw that my hose had a run in them, probably from a piece of broken glass or other debris. Then I started walking away from the whole mess.


    ¡°H-hey!¡± I rolled my eyes and turned, my gaze falling on the man who¡¯d been nudging me earlier. ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing!? The villain is still out there!¡±


    ¡°... I directed him towards the White House,¡± I said. Dear lord, how did idiots like this pass the Bar Exam? ¡°Now if you¡¯ll excuse me, I have my actual job to go do.¡±


    With that, I turned back around, letting my footfalls land a bit more heavily than normal to hopefully drown out any response with the sound of my heels on marble. Hopefully, security hadn¡¯t fully evacuated the judges and just put them in lockdown, otherwise I wouldn¡¯t be able to motion for a mistrial. Juries never ruled in favor of a Moonshot after villain attacks, and I highly doubted my case¡¯s jury would somehow be the exception.


    Unfortunately, I didn¡¯t get to the judge before the police finally arrived. Instead, I had to give my statement. And suffer the police demanding why I didn¡¯t use my powers. And give them all the same explanations I¡¯d offered the bystanders near me.


    It was infuriating.


    It was insulting.


    It wasn¡¯t my fucking job.


    I didn¡¯t ask to have superpowers. I didn¡¯t want to be a superhero ever again. I just wanted to live my life.


    Was that too much to ask?

 Chapter Two

    Proper procedure for handling the aftermath of a supervillain attack had been woefully inadequate back when I was stuck being a superhero. Unfortunately for me and everybody else at the court that morning, the Federal Moonshot Bureau apparently hadn¡¯t updated their protocol handbook at all in the last fifteen years, which meant we were all in for a good three plus hours of wasted time.


    DCPD was useless. Court security was useless, too. Judge Albrecht refused to grant a mistrial so far into jury deliberations, bastard. Worst of all? The one time I decided against taking a company car and just used the metro to get to and from court, it rained.


    And the only umbrella I had was this teensy little folding number that fit in my purse.


    The rain was coming down in sheets by the time I made it back to the office building. The lobby was covered in puddles, a good sign that I wasn¡¯t the only one who¡¯d been caught by surprise. I crossed the floor very carefully on my way to the elevator, stepped on with the other person waiting, tapped my ID badge on the scanner, and hit the button for the eighth floor, while the other person quickly hit the fourteenth.


    I could tell when he finally got a good look at me from the sound of his surprised inhale.


    ¡°U-um¡­ miss?¡±


    Oh, goodie. He was talking to me. Coin toss time: normal or weird?


    I turned to look at the guy ¨C a young man in too-tight businesswear, maybe mid-twenties at most. He was very gingerly holding a sodden suit jacket over one arm, and clutching a set of mostly-dry papers to his chest with the other. A good call, but he might not think that once he got the dry-cleaning bill.


    ¡°Hmm?¡± I asked, putting my badge back in my purse as the elevator doors closed and we started going up.


    ¡°Your, uh.¡± He gestured behind me. ¡°You¡¯re, um. Dripping.¡±


    I just sort of stared, and gave him a slow blink, hoping an uncomfortable silence would prevent him from saying anything else. He met my eyes for only a moment or two before looking away. Phew. Coin toss came up ¡®mostly normal¡¯. Thank goodness.


    The elevator dinged, and I exited, barely registering the young man¡¯s murmured ¡°S-sorry!¡± as the doors closed behind me. I hung a quick left, and headed towards my office.


    ¡°Wow. Looks like someone¡¯s having a bad fur day!¡±


    Unfortunately for me, the office asshole was meandering near the secretary bank at exactly the worst time. I sighed, loud and exasperated.


    Robby Schwartz, a junior attorney whose grandfather co-founded the firm, and whose mom both renamed it and was technically one of my bosses, gave me a look that was somewhere between snide and lustful. It was a painfully familiar expression, one that followed me almost everywhere I went. I was accustomed to ignoring it, and could usually tune it out without issue.


    But after how the day had gone already, I did not have the patience for this shit right now.


    I reached down into the core of my being, tugged ever so slightly on the power nestled there, and shifted. I caught a brief glimpse of the jackass¡¯s shocked expression as my existence faded into purple flame, and a moment later, I reemerged a good fifteen feet behind him, the embers fading as quickly as they appeared. Then came a yelp and a muffled curse, both of which I ignored and just kept on walking.


    ¡°Wha ¡ª you can¡¯t do that here!¡±


    ¡°Shut it, nepo baby!¡± I called over my shoulder, and just walked the rest of the way to my office. At that point, peace and quiet was a simple matter of locking my office door behind me. Heavy, angry footsteps followed me, and the asshole banged on my office door once or twice, but left me alone a moment later.


    Note to self: add ¡®email HR again¡¯ to the to-do list. The idiot¡¯s mommy was hopefully out of favors now.


    I hung my purse from a hook by the door and retrieved my phone from it, then sat down at my desk and pulled four things from the lower drawer: a towel, a brush, a comb, and a blow dryer. Much as I disliked Bob the Nepo Baby, he was right on one thing: I was having a bad fur day. And thankfully, fixing it was downright therapeutic.


    I set the towel over my lap, reached around to my lower back, pulled all three and a half feet of my wet-furred fox tail around to my front, and started in with the comb.


    Most Moonshots¡¯ powers didn¡¯t come with permanent extras like this, and of the few who did also have them, most weren¡¯t anywhere near as visible or obvious, and tended to look like any other human. They could pass. They could take off whatever stupid, flashy outfit the NMR or their state¡¯s Moonshot Corps decided to stuff them into and just live.


    I couldn¡¯t.


    Anybody who looked at me would know that I had superpowers. And that did have advantages, yes! I wasn¡¯t going to deny that! But most of the time, I was seen as either a ticking time bomb or as walking fetish bait. All because my superpowers came with fox ears and a tail.


    Even after seventeen years, I still wasn¡¯t sure which of those two was worse.


    But don¡¯t get me wrong, it wasn¡¯t bad. Some people found me positively adorable in all the best ways! Also, have you ever tried scratching a cat or dog at the base of the ear, only for them to get this almost cross-eyed expression of pure pleasure and lean back into your hand? Yeah, well, let me tell you, the receiving end of that? Oh my God, so much better.


    Plus, as much as I loved to gripe about how much I hated grooming my fur, the warm air from the blow dryer was heavenly.


    Tiny pleasures. We get our creature comforts where we can.


    Once I¡¯d finished up my impromptu grooming session, I checked my work emails. Most of them were unimportant ¡ª deadline extensions granted, responses from clients and witnesses, follow-ups from a couple junior attorneys ¡ª but one of them caught my eye.


    Oh, yes, did this one catch my eye.


    Sent 01:48pm


    From: Alice Tanaka-Schotz


    To: Naomi Ziegler


    Subject: New case ¡ª conference room 3


    Naomi;


    I know you¡¯re stuck in that mess down at the courthouse right now, but once you¡¯re in, take a look at this intake questionnaire. The new client is due to arrive around 3pm. You¡¯re lead on this one. Feel free to offload some of your busywork onto a junior or two, they could use the billables or free time to get their CLE¡¯s done.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Thank you;


    Alice Tanaka-Schotz, Esq.


    Named Partner


    Bierman Viskie & Schotz, LLC


    Proudly Woman-Owned & Operated Since 1998


    A new case?


    A new case! A quick look at the clock showed that it was almost 3pm. If the client was supposed to be arriving now, it was safe to assume that getting them to the conference room would take at least fifteen minutes. Which meant I had time to review the new client questionnaire and get as familiar with the client as our intake specialists could let us.


    I printed off the attachment, then went and shot off a couple of emails: one to Alice to let her know I¡¯d seen hers, and one to Bob the Nepo Baby, relegating him to verdict watch that he couldn¡¯t get out of this time. I also sent out a meeting invite to the rest of the litigation group for a round table at 10am tomorrow. I¡¯d have to pick up some pastries for that tomorrow, thank goodness for the company card, but for now?


    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s see what you¡¯re on about,¡± I said to myself as I grabbed the printouts, set a fifteen-minute timer on my phone, and set to work.


    All of five seconds later, my ears had gone ramrod straight atop my head, and my fingers hurt from gripping the pen.


    ¡°Oh, shit,¡± I murmured.


    This¡­ this was spicy. This was really, really spicy. Okay, Naomi, fifteen minutes, let¡¯s see what we could do. Lots of data points to cover, not a lot of time to process it, but I¡¯d be damned if I didn¡¯t spot some issues before going into that meeting.


    Incident date, okay, needed to check for news reports. Any other similar incidents? Worth checking out. Lord only knows what I¡¯d have to do if this wasn¡¯t an isolated event. Emergency services response times, right, there should be studies comparing them by neighborhood, just needed to actually look on Lexis. What about incident reports and investigations? Did we have a number for ¡ª yes we did, who was the investigating officer¡­ three investigations? Huh, that was odd, did we have the dates for ¡ª that was odd. Wait, client¡¯s name is¡­ oh for the love of God, why was it always ¡ª ugh. Okay, fine, needed to make a note of that, pushback was always tricky. Other interested parties, let¡¯s see, ah, that would be why I got this case, then. Okay, so that was five LEOs to run down tomorrow and Friday, I¡¯d need to divvy up the assignments, make sure to tailor who got sent where based on demographic, which always sucked to have to explain. Probably needed to handle that phone call myself, if only to¡ª


    BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP


    ¡°Oh holy¡ª!¡±


    I jumped clear out of my chair at the sound of the timer, putting a hand over my heart as I tried to calm my breathing and slow my racing pulse back down, stupid overactive startle reflex, God. I normally wasn¡¯t quite so bad about getting wrapped up in what I was reading, but this?


    Holy shit. I could tell already, this case was going to be an absolute mess. I gave my emails one last look before deciding to just head on over. If my estimate was off and I was earlier than expected, oh well.


    The marked-up questionnaire went into my favorite notebook, and after making sure that I didn¡¯t need to touch up my makeup at all, I left my office and headed towards the elevator. The four public conference rooms were two floors down, in a part of the firm¡¯s space where we didn¡¯t keep any sensitive or protected documents. That hadn¡¯t always been the case, but all it took was catching one ¡°new client¡± snooping around in a filing cabinet to completely redo the office layout and fix the security hole.


    It took another couple minutes to reach the conference room, and my boss was outside waiting for me.


    ¡°Good timing. I assume you¡¯ve gone over the questionnaire?¡±


    Alice Tanaka-Schotz was a tall woman, with gray-streaked brown hair pulled back into a severe bun with just a bit left to frame the right side of her face. The ¡®Tanaka¡¯ came from her husband, as many a new associate learned when they walked into her office expecting a small Asian, only to come face-to-face with a statuesque woman of Germanic descent.


    Despite how approachable she tried to be, Alice was a naturally intimidating boss, not least of which due to the fact that, even in flats, she towered a whole head above me in height.


    And that was when I was in heels.


    ¡°All set. Anything else I should know going in?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Just be gentle with her,¡± Alice said in her usual soft-yet-firm tone, handing over a manila folder she¡¯d been holding under one arm. I flipped it open to see a contract of retainer and a contingency fee agreement, both signed, then handed it back to her. ¡°You¡¯ll have plenty of time to play hardball later, but the client will need your softest touch.¡±


    Oh.


    So this wasn¡¯t my case just because of Moonshot involvement. It was also a bit of a test, then.


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind.¡±


    At that, Alice gave me the briefest glimpse of a smile. Then she was off, headed back up to her office on the tenth floor, and I was left alone in front of the conference room.


    I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. Then, on the count of three, I opened the door and went in.


    ¡°Good afternoon, Mrs. Banks,¡± I greeted even before the door to the conference room closed, and made my way towards a seat near the new client. I gave myself a brief moment to take her in: black female, oversized t-shirt and worn jeans, body language despondent and dejected. If the intake questionnaire hadn¡¯t been clear enough, this solidified it: all the way to trial, no brakes on the train. ¡°My apologies for the delay; there was some messiness at the courthouse that pushed my whole day back.¡±


    There was no reply forthcoming, which was about what I¡¯d anticipated. People who saw me for the first time generally had one of three reactions: confused utterances, muted disgust, or shocked silence. The latter two were more common, and from the lack of movement, I was guessing we had a case of shocked silence here.


    ¡°My name is Naomi Ziegler,¡± I continued, taking a seat just one past the corner of the table so that we could face each other and still talk. ¡°I¡¯m a senior associate here at Bierman Viskie & Schotz, and when there¡¯s a chance of Moonshot involvement in a case, I¡¯m usually tapped as the lead attorney for, well, obvious reasons.¡± I finished by wiggling my ears for the client¡¯s viewing pleasure.


    ¡°¡­ am I dreaming?¡± Her eyes were locked on my ears, and her voice sounded somewhat faint. ¡°I¡¯m dreaming. That¡¯s gotta be it.¡±


    I made a show of frowning, and hummed lightly. I pinched the back of my hand, lightly tugged on the tip of an ear, and then poked the client on the back of her hand.


    She flinched away slightly, eyes wide and blinking rapidly.


    ¡°Sweet mother of Jesus, you are real.¡±


    ¡°Mhmm,¡± I nodded. ¡°My apologies if I surprised you, ma¡¯am.¡±


    ¡°No, I, uh¡­¡± The client trailed off, and I offered a soft, understanding smile to let her know I wasn¡¯t offended. She was clearly at a loss for words, and rather than trying to reply, she reached into her bag to retrieve a big bottle of sweet tea.


    I took the lull to properly inspect my client. It wasn¡¯t hard to figure out that Destiny Banks was not doing well. Her clothing hung on her the way it tended to with rapid weight loss ¡ª too much gone before the wardrobe could catch up. When combined with the sunken cheeks and massive bags under bloodshot eyes, it painted a stark picture of somebody who was well and truly suffering.


    I needed to get pictures of her before she left, and see if she could provide photos from before everything happened. As far as evidence of pain and suffering went, I would be hard pressed to get something better than this.


    ¡°As I was saying,¡± I continued once Destiny finished drinking her sweet tea and put the bottle away. ¡°My name is Naomi Ziegler, and I¡¯ll be the lead attorney handling your case. Before I go any further, has somebody already sat down and gone over with you what all that would entail?¡±


    ¡°That nice young man did,¡± Destiny said, her voice strained and lifeless. She tried to meet my gaze, but her eyes kept drifting up to where my ears sat atop my head. I didn¡¯t blame her. ¡°And I signed some papers with the lady who was in here before, and she said those made it all official-like?¡±


    ¡°They did. If you¡¯d give me a moment¡­¡±


    I already knew this, but it was always best to make sure they understood what they¡¯d signed. Now that I had confirmation, I could properly begin. My notebook went on the desk, my favorite fine-tip pen at the ready, and a dictaphone recording.


    ¡°Okay. I¡¯m sorry to ask this of you after the phone meeting, but I will need you to walk me through everything. Start at the beginning. Tell me everything you know. Leave nothing out. And take as much time as you need.¡±


    She didn¡¯t speak immediately. But when she did, she sounded exactly like she looked. Hollow. Empty.


    Running on fumes.


    ¡°I¡­ there ain¡¯t even been a funeral, ya know? Barely enough to bury. Don¡¯t even got anything else to remember ¡®em by either, just ash and smoke.


    ¡°All ¡®cause a superhero left my boys to die in a fire.¡±