Page 29 of Magnum, Volume 2

And yet, Magnum had told me the fights themselves… Mason worried about what they’d done to his already bad karma.

We met at a local park, and he insisted on bringing breakfast.

“I took the morning off work,” he told me while he set the plates and food out on a picnic table. “My therapist has me doing these little exercises and tasks a half-day a week. Volunteering to help others, talking to the people held captive with me, or sometimes just doing something new, like taking a painting class, or a martial arts class. A few weeks ago, she had me research what it takes to be a victim’s advocate, and it turns out, I’m kind of on my way there. It wouldn’t take a whole lot to get certified, if I want to change jobs.”

“Do you want to change jobs? Magnum says you’re working for the club’s construction company now, and he feels like it’s keeping you physically active, and that this is important for you.”

He shrugged. “I mean, if I get a mental job, I can work out in the evenings. It’s a matter of what’s most fulfilling, right? I’m not sure victim’s advocate is a good choice for me, though.” He met my gaze. “Once I’d killed the first two or three really bad people, I’m not sure I’d get away with it the fourth time. Detectives look for patterns, so even the perfect murder will have flaws once so many people go dead on cases I’m involved with.”

“Luckily, I’m not an expert at killing people,” I told him, “or it’s possible I couldn’t do my job. So yeah, I get that.”

He smiled. “But you found people who could help you solve an impossible case. Skippy tells me you told them you were okay with most of the morally grey stuff, like hacking into personal information, but you wanted to avoid things like torture and murder if possible. Not that you wouldn’t be part of it, but you’d rather find other options, when possible.”

I nodded. “That’s accurate, though obviously not something I’d say outside of a trusted group of people.”

“When did humans get this idea that it’s wrong to be judge and jury over truly evil people?” he asked.

“I mean, I think we’re still figuring this whole society thing out. The law says murder is bad, and then someone decided that meant no more death penalty, and…” I shrugged. “I’m not a legal expert, but I can still see where the legal logic ends up being at odds with common sense. I can see where things went wrong, but I can’t explain where to fix it. Bottom line, the experts tell us vigilantism has more of a chance of getting things wrong than the legal system. I’m not sure that’s as accurate as they want us to believe, but I don’t have the hard data to prove it.”

He nodded. “My brother, sister, and aunt tell me you fucking care. You weren’t just chasing the story.”

“Chasing the story is my job, but I chose this job because I care about people, and I want to give the stories that matter more attention. I think the current media is bought and paid for, and they only talk about what their political ideologies push. Real people are getting lost in the politics.”

He’d brought huge omelets loaded with sausage, spinach, mushrooms, and cheese. Also, lots of bacon on the side. Like maybe three pounds of it. There were also perfect waffles, already melted butter to pour over them, and actual honey to drizzle on them. Really good honey.

“You made all this?” I asked him.

He shrugged. “Borrowed Gears’ kitchen. His food storage stuff, too. Needed the insulation to keep everything hot.”

“Thank you. This is really, really good.”

He’d even brought real dishes and actual silverware.

“I wanted to personally thank you for… everything, I guess.” He took a breath. “I thought I wanted to be a bodyguard, but Ember explained it’s more about avoiding conflict than actually using violence to protect people. If circumstances require you to physically protect your person, you’ve failed. The goal is to keep them completely away from the bad people to start with.” He smiled. “And I’d make a really bad cop. I’d end up in jail before the bad guys.”

“My dad’s a detective, and yeah, it’s hard to be the good guy, sometimes. Bad guys don’t follow the rules by definition, but the good guys do. Kind of puts him at a disadvantage from the get-go.”

I had a feeling this was more about him thanking me with breakfast, and the reporter in me had to dig. It’s who I am.

“Is there anything we did wrong? The way we went in to get all of you, and then the plan to take care of you in the immediate aftermath, then the longer-term plans?”

He shrugged. “Nothing’s perfect for everyone. Also, Gears had me with him right off the bat. No one else had family for… days, I think. Couldn’t be helped, though. Best way to keep us all safe was to hide us until the coast was clear, and a big part of that was on your shoulders, which is another thing to thank you for. You risked going to jail, being the public face of what happened.”

“I’ve gone to jail for stories before. I’m not a super-bad-ass, but I can handle myself okay. It’s a combination of being nice and not being nice, staying mostly-safe behind bars.” My turn to shrug. “And, I mean, I got several more stories out of my time behind bars, both times. Just telling my experience got millions of views, and I met interesting people with stories that deserved telling, too. Honestly? I figure the powers-that-be probably want to avoid a repeat of that. It isn’t a guarantee they won’t lock me up again, but I think it leans in my favor.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Gears didn’t tell me that part.”

I smiled. “It’s possible I didn’t mention it. It’s just a theory, and not something I’m willing to bank on. I still wanted to walk into the FBI’s offices with the best attorney I could manage.”

“I’m good at killing people, but the government taught me way more than that — a whole host of things you need to know before they can send you out with a name and a picture of someone they want permanently deleted. I can walk around a city without being noticed, I have multiple ways to listen to people from a distance, and more. If you need someone to go places with you, or to help you gather data, I think I could help you.”

I sat back and looked at him. “Same problem as the victim’s advocate thing though, right? You discover this pedophile is probably not going to see jailtime, what are you going to do?”

“That’s why I’m offering my services to you, because I think I can trust you to bring the bastard’s actions into the light of day, so everyone knows what he’s done. So parents can keep their kids from him, and schools won’t hire him. Anyone who looks his name up will see what you’ve said about him. Even free, his life will suck, and possibly suck more than the escape of any death I’d give him.”

Time to change the subject, because I was going to need to think on that one. “Skippy tells me you’re living in a tent behind the construction company?”

He shrugged. “It won’t be forever, but… balance, right? So much time living in boxes while I was in the fight ring, I just can’t do it right now. It works because there’s a mini-kitchen in the breakroom I can use, and a bathroom with a shower. If I want to cook a big meal, I can always use one of my siblings’ kitchens. Also, for really big storms, Mad Dog turned one of the offices into a sitting room with a bed, for me. I like normal storms, they relax me, but sixty-mile-an-hour winds don’t work great with even really sturdy tents.”