Hey Capers, ready for another random story? Well, I hope you are… otherwise I dunno why you're on the story page… but I'm rambling.
This story has really come a long way, I hope you enjoy it.
I do not own The Cape.
Orwell was extremely bored. She spent her early morning by going through and editing her blogs. Even her fake ones, pseudonyms were important to keep up with, if she had a small hole in any of them whatsoever, she would be as good as dead. By the time 9 o'clock came, the blogger had edited each of them at least 5 times. She needed another hobby.
She grumbled to herself in spite of her own boredom. Orwell didn't ever sleep well, this was her future everyday. The blogger then pulled up a random game of Solitaire on her computer. However, it wasn't long before she was bored with that too. A hefty sigh came from the blogger as she hacked into ARK's system for what felt like the hundredth time today. Fortunately for her, what she found wasn't old news at all, to keep in the mayor's good graces, Fleming would be throwing him a retirement part. She scattered through ARK's files and murmured under her breath; "There is no way he is going to run for Mayor."
About a month ago, Mayor Welkins was caught in a mysterious accident, claiming his ability to run Palm City any longer. The blogger used the word "mysteriously" because she knew her father was behind it. With her eyes still glued on the screen, Orwell called the number she knew by heart.
"Hey, Orwell," came from the other end.
"What were you, waiting by the phone? You picked up on the second ring, that's a little unusual," Orwell said to her partner.
"What a great way to greet a friend," Vince said smirking down at the phone.
"Mhm," the brunette blogger paused; "Listen, I've got some interesting dirt about the mayor and Fleming that I know you'd want to hear."
"Great, I'm free now, come on over," the Cape said.
"On my way," Orwell said as she ended their call. She then shut down her computer and headed out of her hideout.
When she arrived, she noticed Vince writing something down on a piece of paper. The blogger walked up to him and asked; "What are you doing?"
Vince got up to face the blogger and picked the paper up; "It's just a little letter I wrote. Back before us soldiers went to war, we left little letters to our families, getting all the pent up feelings out before we left for the battlefield. I thought about it and wrote out a letter just for the hell of it."
Orwell looked up at Vince and then her eyes trailed over to the letter in his hands; "May I read it?"
"Well I'm not done yet," the Cape started, putting the letter back on the table.
The blogger nodded to which Vince smiled and asked; "So what did you find out about Fleming?"
Orwell shook herself back down to the real reason why she was there in the first place; "He wants to run for Mayor. He already has the people of the city eating from the palm of his hand, it won't be too hard for him."
"Do you think the mayor will give up his title just like that?" Vince asked.
"I think he has no choice," The blogger spoke.
"Fleming made sure this would happen," the Cape added.
"If he becomes the Mayor, we are seriously in trouble Vince," Orwell said.
"Yeah, don't remind me," the vigilante said with a sigh.
The blogger didn't respond right away, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and went to the calendar. Vince noticed this and asked; "What's going on in that brilliant mind of yours?"
Orwell finally looked back at Vince; "This Saturday, Fleming is throwing the Mayor his farewell party. If we can convince the people otherwise, maybe we can keep him from being eligible."
"It's worth a try," Vince prompted as he kept his eyes on hers.
The blogger had a look in her eyes that told the Cape that something wasn't quite right with his partner; "Are you ok?" he asked.
Orwell snapped out of her trance; "I'm fine," she answered.
Vince stepped up closer to her. At this point their toes were practically touching; "I'm finding that kinda hard to believe."
"Yeah, you and I both," Orwell mumbled under her breath. She then said this clearly; "I'm just a little on edge."
"Wanna talk about it?" Vince asked.
Orwell stared up at him for a moment, only to back away saying; "I need to work on our diverges for Saturday. If I find anything else, I'll call you."
The Cape sighed, he knew he was losing her again. He just wanted to give her the letter on the table, letting her know everything. That it would all be ok, that they could work together without holding secrets; "Orwell," he called after her, she had gotten half way to the door by that time.
"Yes Vince?" the blogger asked, stopping completely.
"Be safe," the Cape spoke gently, affixing his blue eyes onto her.
Orwell spared him a tiny smile; "I will."
For what seemed like the longest minute ever, brown eyes held on tight to the blue eyes before her. The blogger was the first to break the contact, she reluctantly turned around and walked out, trying to keep herself from falling apart.
The blogger couldn't think straight by the time she walked out of Vince's hideout. She put a shaking hand over her mouth and let out a sob. She was getting so tired of keeping things to herself. Especially now that she and the vigilante's relationship had begun blooming further. Now that it was 6 years since Vince was first presumed dead, it was all becoming too unbearable.
Orwell couldn't take much more of staying silent. She had to watch her best friend cry over his wife getting re-married. She comforted him to no end, making their relationship grow further. The only thing she wanted as much as stopping her father, would be telling Vince that she loved him. Everyday she told herself; "Maybe one day."
The blogger brought her sobs down to a minimum long enough to get herself home safely. When she got back to her hideout, Orwell had mostly calmed down. Sure she had a temple pinching migraine and a craving for a bucket of vanilla ice cream, but she was okay. The blogger soon began her own expedition.
With her Anna Orlando alias, Orwell was able to get into the party without a problem. She had some premature plans of her own, but the one that really stuck out in her mind was one dealing with Dominic Raoul. The smuggler had been released from Owl Island the day he was arrested, the reason being he had no Miranda rights read to him. Scales kept a low profile back on the docks, planning his revenge on Fleming. Orwell felt as though he could be a good asset to use against her father.
Via her Orwell Is Watching blog, the brunette sent the information that was sure to set the gang lord off.
The suspense was killing one Vince Faraday. He was mentally beating himself up for letting his Orwell walk out of the door when he did. The Cape tried everything to get his mind off of her. He tried taking a nap, that didn't work, that only brought out a memory of them taking a nap together. The imagery was so vivid. He could almost smell the sweet strawberry scent of her hair, he could almost feel her head on his chest.
The vigilante shook himself back to reality and got up from his bed. He walked over to the table where they had spent so many nights talking away. He picked up the letter that was meant for his sidekick. Vince read over the words in his head to make sure they were just right. He wrote down the last little thought and folded it up. The Cape knew Orwell would read it eventually, the suspense would kill her not knowing what was inside the letter. She would read it and would finally know how he truly felt.
Mayor Welkins' retirement party was held in a rented out restaurant. Peter Fleming had hired between 15 to 20 people in order to make sure the place was spotless. If he didn't make the cut to be mayor with this, well there would be something with the people. The billionaire had what he thought was a bullet-proof plan. There would be security everywhere, how could this plan go awry?
Orwell went into the building open-minded. She wasn't exactly sure if Scales would show up, but by judging the way he felt about her father now-a-days, the blogger was confident. She strode along toting one of her many designer purses. The blogger came up to a man who was checking for I.D.'s. He was wearing the notorious ARK uniform.
"I.D. miss?" the man asked.
Orwell smiled gently at the man in front of her. She felt kinda bad for the guy, he couldn't possibly be having a good time being Fleming's door-man. The blogger opened up her purse, looking for I.D., in the process, her hair fell down in front of her face. As she lifted her head with the I.D. in her hand, her dark locks fell back into place. With another smile, the blogger handed the card over.
The ARK employee checked the card over once before handing it back to the brunette; "Okay Miss Orlando, enjoy the party."
"Thank you," the blogger said. She flashed him another smile as she took her card back and walked past him.
Her red pumps clacked across the tile in the dining hall. The room was packed with people: some from the press, some were Fleming's right hand men, and some were the Mayor's friends. Orwell went to the right side of the room to send a text message to Vince. He was waiting near-by for her in case she needed back up.
Once she put her phone away, the brunette began to skim the room. She found Scales talking to Fleming. The criminal mastermind looked annoyed and the gang lord looked like he was having a great time pushing the other's buttons. Scales then whacked Fleming on the back with a laugh and walked away.
The blogger saw her opening and walked over to the smuggler. He at first gave her an annoyed glance.
"I'm with Orwell Is Watching," The blogger piped up. Seeing how Scales didn't speak, she continued with; "We sent you the information about Fleming?"
"What information are we talkin' about, luv?" The gang lord retorted.
"About Fleming's bid for Mayor? I suppose since you're here, you must have gotten the message," Orwell said.
The smuggler approached the young woman further, a playful grin toying with his features; "I've got a few plans up my sleeve for the election."
Orwell gave him a smug smirk; "We won't be disappointed."
The room that was once a buzz with chatter was silenced in an instant. Scales and the blogger both noticed the majority of the crowd had turned their backs to them. Orwell looked ahead to see Fleming standing at a podium, a microphone in his hand.
Fleming stood with a false smile on his face. This was enough to make the blogger gag. Another thing that made her want to gag was exactly when he started talking; "Ladies and gentlemen, I want to thank you all for coming to this event." Orwell had to resist the urge to roll her eyes as the cameras began to snap photos. Flashes of light glowed across her father's face as he continued; "All of us know why we're here. Mayor Welkins has been a great asset to all of us here in Palm City."
The blogger had been so busy scowling at Fleming to notice that Scales had started moving up in the crowd.
"The electoral vote will be taken in just a number of hours. So let's all celebrate this man for his great work as our Mayor." Fleming continued.
The room bolted with applause from the audience and then, of course, the flashes of light returned as though the photographers had nothing else better to do. Oh wait, they didn't.
The criminal mastermind was just about to leave the stand when Scales walked up on stage. Fleming had been warned by his personnel of the gang lord approaching, but he reassured them that he would handle it. He would soon regret that decision.
The billionaire covered the microphone with his hand and asked Scales quietly; "What do you want, Mr. Raoul?"
"Well I have a right to speak my peace too," the smuggler started. As he spoke the room became silenced.
Fleming looked out towards the crowd and contemplated giving Scales the chance. His memory replayed the incident on the Monti-Carlo train. He could still hear the laughter that was the product of his secret being released into the air. The criminal mastermind smirked mirthlessly at the gang lord and moved out of the way.
Scales stepped in front of the podium and stretched his voice out so the whole crowd could hear him; "Ladies and gentlemen of the audience. Before you vote for this man behind me… I want you all to bear witness to a picture I have in my hands." The gang lord looked down at the laminated picture; "This first picture was taken on the docks," Scales paused to flash a picture of Chess.
There were several audible gasps coming from the audience. A few flashes were pointed at the smuggler. He waited until things were quiet once again; "This was taken a month after Chess was supposedly killed."
Fleming went back up to the podium and began in a panic; "And how do you know this is true, Mr. Raoul? You were arrested for homicide almost 6 years ago."
Scales gave Fleming a scowl; "How do you know I did those things? If you couldn't catch the right Chess, how can you really be sure?"
The once quiet room was loud as a high school at that moment. The smuggler folded his arms across his chest as he waited- rather impatiently for the billionaire to answer.
"No one cares about those bloody pictures, Dominic," the criminal mastermind spoke, scowling back at Scales.
"The crowd seems to think differently," the smuggler started with a victorious smirk on his face.
"We'll see come election time," Fleming said, now crossing his arms in the same fashion as the man before him.
Scales stepped that much closer to the billionaire; "Don't think the torture stops here now," he paused, a malicious demeanor hung in the air; "I'm just getting warmed up." The smuggler turned to looked out a the crowd. The throng of people were chatting like surprised little school girls. Satisfied, the smuggler walked down the steps and headed for the exit.
If Orwell hadn't been in a public place, she would have stood there with her mouth open. Once she regained her composure, the blogger started to talk to the people around her.
Everyone, from the media to the normal city people, had the same thing in common, they weren't voting for Fleming. By 5 PM tonight, Palm City would know that Chess was still on the loose. If that didn't change their mind about Fleming, what would? The blogger looked up at the podium and saw her father talking to the mayor, neither looked happy. Giving herself a mental pat on the back, Orwell took her purse from around her shoulders to fish through it and grab her phone. With a contented sigh, she dialed her partner's number.
The Cape was past bored waiting for the blogger. He searched her car for anything remotely fun to get into. After his quest left him with nothing but some random headphones, Vince was tempted to try and get inside. Unfortunately for the vigilante, he had been given the strict order to stay in the car. The last thing he wanted to do was make Orwell mad, she tended to get pretty cranky when she had to wear heels for an extended period of time.
Finally, Vince just gave up. He put his hand on the handle of the car door and went to pull the handle up when Scales walked out of the building. The vigilante hovered over the door and watched as one of his enemies got away. He sighed and sat back in the driver's seat. Vince knew that Orwell had planned on using Scales to keep Fleming from becoming mayor, but he just had an eerie feeling about her being in there by herself. He knew she could take care of herself but… the cape couldn't even finish his own mental banter before he was distracter by his cell phone ringing. He picked up the phone and answered right away; "Hello?"
Orwell's voice rang through his ear; "I'm on my way out to the car."
Vince smirked in spite of her impromptu response; "You know people normally greet something before they start talking."
Orwell laughed a bit before she answered with; "Shut up, Vince. We can talk all you want once we get out of here."
The Cape could hear his partner's heels clicking against the flooring; "Hey, Orwell?"
"Yeah?" the blogger asked as she waved to the passing people.
Vince hesitated; "Never mind. I'll see you soon."
"You'll see me right now, actually," Orwell started, knocking on the passenger window lightly.
Surprised, the Cape hung up with his partner and unlocked the door.
The blogger sat down with a plop and smiled over at Vince who was staring at her; "Stare much, Vince?"
"Yeah actually, I do," the vigilante grinned right back at Orwell.
The woman before him glowed back once more with a smile; "Well, are you going to drive or stare at me?"
Vince in turn started the car up. Music from the radio blared through the speakers. Orwell jolted and turned the music down to a minimum. She looked back at her partner and gave him a look.
"You're the one that left me alone for two hours. At least I found some head phones," Vince reminded her as he drove on.
Orwell rolled her eyes a bit as she laughed.
It wasn't long before they were back at the Cape's hideout. The blogger turned the lights on and the place came to life… well… sort of; "Vince, you need to learn better cleaning skills," she teased as they sat down at his table.
"Thanks, Orwell. You always know what to say," Vince added sarcastically.
"I try," the blogger said with a smirk.
They spent the next moment, staring silently. Orwell lightly intertwined their fingers together and brought back the tension from earlier. Neither of them seemed to care.
Vince looked from their hands to his partner's eyes; "I'll be right back." He then squeezed their hands once and unhooked their fingers.
As she watched him leave, Orwell released a deep breath. There was no way she was going to lose herself now. Not after everything. It's just, the two of them had been through so much. They grew closer with every experience, and now it was getting too hard to bottle those feelings up.
The blogger looked around the room and found the letter propped under a box. She moved the box, opened the letter and read to herself:
I have no idea how to even start this letter. There is so much I want to say to you. You are one of the most important people in my life. Without you.. I'd probably be either dead or still at square one.
You've helped me through a lot, and I could never thank you enough. Through it all, you've been my best friend and never asked for anything in return.
If by chance, you read this letter without my consent, don't walk away in a huff like I know you want to do.
We'll get through this together.
P.S.: I love you, Orwell
Orwell finished reading the letter and sobs began to wrack her body. She put the paper back on the table and cradled her head in her hands.
When Vince came back into the room he was sporting two drinks. He saw his partner slumped over crying, the letter opened in front of her.
The Cape put the two drinks down and knelt in front of her, wrapping his arms around her waist.
The blogger lifted her head from her hands and looked at Vince, tears cascaded from her eyes and dripped down to the back of his hand. He then cupped her face and wiped away her tears with a thumb; "What's wrong, Orwell?"
"Nothing," Orwell said as she shook her head.
"Then why are you crying?" Vince asked in concern.
"These are tears that were bottled up for 6 years," Orwell said against the tears that were continuing to fall freely.
"I didn't mean for this to make you cry," Vince spoke gently.
"No, I needed to let this out. I- I love you too, Vince," the blogger said, her tears had finally stopped at that point.
The Cape got up and swept his partner off of her feet. All the hidden passion and tension melded into one as they locked each other in a kiss. Once they broke apart, everything seemed peaceful and right with the world. Orwell rested her head against his chest and Vince placed a kiss on the top of her head.
Vince then looked down at the girl in his arms. With a smile, he walked over to the bed and placed his partner there, settling himself behind her. The Cape ran his fingers through Orwell's hair and started with; "What happened tonight?"
"Scales came and literally remolded everyone's opinion of Fleming," Orwell answered contentedly.
"Do you think anyone will vote for Fleming?" Vince asked.
"Maybe a few," Orwell responded.
"Well let's find out," Vince said as he took his arm from around Orwell, reached for the remote next to him and turned the TV on.
The blogger sat up and leaned against Vince as the news reporter went on.
"To recap: Palm City's new mayor is none other than Jason Liette."
The screen showed Peter Fleming, a second candidate named Jason Liette, and a third candidate named Henry Gale standing at their individual podiums. The news woman went on explaining the events at the previous Mayor's retirement celebration, which was believed to pull down Fleming's popularity rank.
The Cape turned off the TV and whispered into his partner's ear; "You did it."
Orwell sighed; "Not all by myself though."
"It still counts," Vince said as he dropped a kiss on her neck.
Orwell turned to face Vince; "Are you sure you're ok with this?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" Vince asked.
The blogger just shrugged; "I don't know." She buried her face in his chest once more.
The Cape tightened his grip around her; "Everything's going to be ok. I'm not going to leave you."
"Your name is clear Vince, everyone knows you're not Chess," Orwell said.
"My family deserves to know the truth, that includes about you as well," Vince said.
"You're not suggesting me going with you when you talk to your family," Orwell started.
"Yes, I am," Vince said.
"This is going to be difficult," Orwell said.
"It will but it has to be done," Vince started; "I love you too much to let this go."
Orwell thought for a moment; "If it hadn't been for that letter, I would have let you go. You'd be with your family again."
"I'd never let you go anyway. I would have told you how I felt eventually," Vince said.
They moved forward to kiss again. As they hovered over each other's lips, Orwell asked; "No regrets going into this?"
"None at all," Vince replied just above a whisper.
The blogger gingerly grabbed the Cape by his chin and pulled his into a kiss.
How did I do guys? I really hoped you all enjoyed this.