Mike & Karen Ch. 02

"You hit me!" Rodney hissed, outraged, his eyes watering. "I'll have you --"

The next strike across his other cheek spun him around to leave him flopped against a car parked just behind them on the road. Jonathon and Miranda watched on impassively.

"Stop!" Rodney gasped, holding out his hand in panic while tears streamed down his cheeks from the pain. "Don't hit me again! She's gone!"

"And you won't go near her again?" Mike asked, looming over the wealthy brat menacingly.

"I promise! I'll go nowhere near her!" Rodney said hastily.

Mike nodded in satisfaction before turning to the older couple. "Mr. Blackwell, Mrs. Gordon ..."

And then he strode off, disappearing onto the campus. They stood patiently while Rodney tried to compose himself, sniffling and fighting to control his shaking. His bleary eyes flashed with the fury of wrongdoing.

"I'll have him charged with assault!" he hissed, clenching his fists. "I'll make sure he gets expelled --"

"Oh, do stop talking, Rodney," Jonathon snapped, annoyed with his nephew. "You deserved everything that happened to you, and I'll make sure my brother knows it. You're a damned fool; all you had to do was let the little redheaded girl go, and you didn't have what it took. This is all on you, boy."

Miranda, normally opposed to violence, said nothing, but she had to agree -- Rodney had that coming. They waited quietly, with Rodney nursing his wounds when Karen came back outside. As she walked up, she looked confused for a moment, especially upon seeing the condition her cousin was in.

"Where's Red?" she asked as she took Rodney's face in her hands and examined him.

"She ... ran off after a disagreement with Roddy," Miranda answered.

"Maybe, but she didn't do this to him," Karen replied, turning his head left and right.

It was then that she noticed the gigantic palm prints on the sides of her cousin's face, almost bigger than his whole skull.

"DeBourne ..." she muttered to no one in particular.

***

"Hah, I'd forgotten that during your very first encounter with the Blackwells, you smacked up Uncle Rod," Alex chortled as he put down his beer. "No wonder he hates you. Not the only one, just the first of many."

"Yup," his father said, draining his beer. "All over a skinny lesbian redhead."

"Who just happened to be mom's girlfriend."

"More or less, at the time," Mike allowed.

"So were you in Dutch with mom for decking her cousin?"

"I probably saved her the trouble of doing it herself," Mike replied as they received another round of beer from the waitress. "Not that she was about to let me know it, though ..."

***

"I'm just glad you're all right," Karen said as she walked with Lisa through the building she was taking her class in. Lisa was holding her books to her chest and seemed rather subdued, so Karen had resolved to see her as far as her lecture hall. "And once again, I'm sorry. Rodney can be difficult."

"It's okay, Kar," Lisa said quietly. "Not like you did it to me. And I'd prefer to believe he's the aberration in your family, rather than you."

"I wish I could allow you to believe that," sighed Karen. "Unfortunately, most of the Blackwell men can act in a rather privileged fashion. It's decidedly annoying, and I've had to put more than a few of them in their place."

Lisa smiled. "I can picture that easily enough."

"Mona and Janet want to get together later," mentioned the beautiful patrician girl. "Think you'll want to go out again?"

"Uff, as long as we don't eat," Lisa admitted. "All that steak at the Guv is going to take at least a week to digest."

They both rounded a corner in the hallway and stopped, looking up. Lisa swallowed; Karen seemed bemused.

"Well, hello, Lord Thunderfist," she said dryly. "What brings you to this neck of the woods?"

"Friends of mine practicing Boccherini down the hall; I'm their cheering section," Mike said simply, before looking at Lisa. "You're okay?"

She nodded somewhat sheepishly.

"Good," he mused nodding. "And I apologize, I didn't mean to frighten you."

"It's okay, you helped me," Lisa replied quietly, looking at her feet. "I'm thankful."

"I just wish it hadn't come to that," Mike added. "I get pretty angry when I see women getting abused."

"Roddy had it coming, so you're off the hook," Karen announced. "I suppose I should thank you, since you saved me the trouble of slapping him around for acting like a jerk. You also spooked my parents by knowing their names for no reason."

Mike shrugged. "You look somewhat like your mother, minus the Sixties hippie vibe."

"And my father?" Karen asked pointedly.

"He demeanour reminds me of you," Mike laughed. "Maybe a little warmer, though."

Lisa couldn't suppress a giggle.

"I gotta go," Mike said, nodding to them both. "Try not to get kidnapped, Red, even I can't be everywhere at once."

He was about to leave when Lisa stepped in and hugged him, burying her face in his torso.

"Thank you for helping me ..." she whispered before rushing off. Mike and Karen just stared after her while she disappeared.

"Nice kid," Mike mused, still watching.

"She's gay," Karen pointed out.

"Gee, y'think?" he said cheerfully. "Welp, first stop, Boccherini. After that, glee club, thanks to you. See you around, princess."

And then he was gone. Karen waited several seconds before closing her eyes and biting at her knuckle. She cleared her head and decided that confirmation of a few pages worth of math sitting on her desk were in order.

If only that hadn't been a weird sexual euphemism ...

***

Michael sat quietly, listening as the violin and cello played the sprightly Passa calle, but his mind wasn't really on the music -- yes, it was there, but far away; it was nothing more than an accompaniment, providing a background to a scene. In that scene, he was dancing with someone. She was elegant beyond words, and beautiful, the sort of beauty that defies ready description. Regal and aloof, yet showing depths of passion while she twirled around him, she was a prize no man had any right to aspire to. Yet she danced with him.

He would never stop wondering how one would prove worthy.

***

"So as you can see, the fractional quantum hall effect, or FQHE for short, is a collective behaviour in a two-dimensional system of electrons. In particular magnetic fields, the electron field condenses into a remarkable liquid state, which is very delicate, requiring high-quality material with a low carrier concentration, and extremely low temperatures."

Karen stared at the teacher up at the front of the lecture hall while he wrote out the various equations that explained this rather new theory in quantum behaviour. She'd already done all the work that morning back in her dorm, so this was little more than a review for her, but she felt obliged to tough out the next forty-five minutes for the sake of form. She had rebuffed an advance from this professor earlier in the semester, and she had no intention of giving him an opportunity to fail her for skipping class in case he felt spiteful.

With the mathematical physics lecture over, she walked through the hallways of the Sciences department, thinking about her family and her cousin Rodney's horrible behaviour. Lisa had, of course, told her everything that happened, as had her mother. No matter how much she wanted to give her stupid cousin a dressing down about his conduct, Karen refrained, at least for now. She promised herself that if he got out of line again, she would deal with him personally. And he wouldn't like it one bit.

Her meeting with her mother and father had consisted of sitting down and having cappuccino in a small café just across from the campus, while Rodney had declined to join, citing some other business matters to see to. Thank the Lord for small mercies, she thought.

Her father was hosting yet another stockholders' meeting at the Royal York, while her mother would attend a meeting dedicated to remembering civil rights activists who had passed on over the years. They would see her again one final time the following day before heading home. She felt an unusual twinge of discontent at the notion of her parents leaving her, but said nothing.

She strolled now across the wide green lawn that was the center of the campus, smiling as she watched her fellow students lounging about in the early fall warmth, throwing Frisbees or sitting under the innumerable trees that punctuated the landscape. Some were laughing and listening to modern music on their oversized radios. A small group was cackling while one of their number danced to a song called 'Rock Me Amadeus.'

Then she paused in her reflections and looked at something not far away, her head cocked to one side curiously. A group of people were walking along the sidewalk near Convocation Hall, pointing at things and seeming somewhat lost and out of place.

Okay, very out of place.

There were maybe ten of them, and they walked in something of a huddle, as if the rules of herd immunity applied. The men were all decidedly larger than average, and they all wore genial, cheerful expressions, even if they were out of their element. They were also dressed rather out of date, perhaps a decade behind, if the T-shirts most of them were wearing were any indication.

The Grass Roots, Pink Floyd, Black Sabbath, the Ramones ...

The Bay City Rollers ...

She smiled and shook her head. That left absolutely no doubt. She crossed the grass and walked right up to them, smiling warmly. "You must be the DeBournes."

They all stopped looking around and stared at her, surprised and then delighted that someone had taken notice of them. The older man, who was broad and barrel-chested, smiled genially. He seemed to be in his mid-forties, and was wearing a Maple Leafs jersey. At least he had good taste in his sports teams.

"Thank you for noticing us," he said, moving forward to greet her and holding out his hand. "Yes, we're the DeBourne family. My name is Ry."

Karen shook his hand and nodded. It was a strong, friendly handshake. She couldn't help but notice the shaggy blond hair, barely tamed by a haircut. "Is that short for Ryan or Orion?"

His eyes widened for a moment and he grinned. "Orion. Well, you're perceptive, aren't you?"

Karen blushed. "Just a lucky guess, I assure you. It's very nice to meet you all. You must be looking for Gigantor."

They all laughed, an infectious sound she instantly loved, even if she was certain they could be heard a full mile away.

"You've clearly met our eldest, then," Ry remarked. "Yes, we've come to check on him, make sure he hasn't flattened the campus or the city just yet. Even for a DeBourne, he's a handful."

"That's one way of looking at it," Karen agreed. "If I had to hazard a guess, I would think that he's probably holed up in the Physics department somewhere, correcting his professor's math or otherwise proving annoying."

"She really does know him!" laughed a teenage girl, which set off another round of merriment. The woman who was obviously the matron of the group stood beside her husband now, smiling warmly and taking Karen's hand in hers. "I'm glad you know him. Are you the dean of the department?"

"No, I am not, but thank you for that."

"Then is he your boyfriend?"

"Oh, no, ma'am," Karen replied, trying not to blush and shaking her head, hopefully not too vigorously. "I just happen to know him. I'm also in the Physics department and I might have handed his behind to him in karaoke one night."

"I wish I'd been there to see that," chuckled another young man, blond just like the rest of them with cheerful blue eyes. "Can't have him thinking he runs the whole world, can we?"

"Now be nice, Connor, he's not as bad as all that," chided the mother. "He's just abnormally large and assertive, even for a DeBourne."

She leaned forward and asked Karen a question in a quiet voice, as if not wanting to be heard, although they obviously could all hear her. "He hasn't punched anyone yet, has he?"

"He has, to the best of my knowledge, yet to punch a single member of the faculty or student body," Karen offered. Not a lie, just not the whole truth, either. "I know all the class schedules, and there is no way he's going to be out for at least another hour."

"We are here a little earlier than we had originally planned," Ry admitted.

"I would feel remiss if I left you just wandering around, so why don't I take you all to a little coffee house around the corner? It's all the rage with the students, and they play a lot of music I think you'll like."

The mother nodded, smiling gently. "You're the first person we've met so far, and no doubt will be the nicest. You're an angel, darling. Consider yourself one of the family. What's your name, by the way?"

The bronze-haired beauty smiled, her eyes shining. "In that case, call me Karen. Karen DeBourne."

***

Mike was sweating as he beat away on the wooden Wing-Chun dummy that stood in the corner of the little-used gym. It rattled away under the force of his blows, palms, fists, elbows and feet impacting the target areas with increasing rapidity. He was timing himself, seeing if he could pass his own personal best in terms of the number of strikes he could land in a given frame of time.

"Beating on your second dummy in as many days," lilted a voice from the door of the gym. "Although this one probably deserves it less."

Michael exhaled and stood tall, dominating the gym without trying. He turned around slowly, rotating his shoulders while he let the fighting tension bleed from his muscles. He was shirtless, wearing only some athletic shorts, socks and shoes. His massive, rippling frame gleamed with sweat.

"Your highness ..." he said, nodding deferentially.

"Oh, stop," Karen chided, shaking her head and smirking as she sauntered into the room. "Godzilla was never deferential to Mothra."

"Why on earth do you know anything about Godzilla or Mothra?" he asked.

"Because your little brother Connor insisted I hear all about them," she replied as she leaned against one of the wall mirrors for a moment, before standing back upright suddenly and making a wry face, brushing off the shoulder that had touched the surface. She then grimaced and resumed leaning, the damage done. "Nice kid, he knows about Japanese monsters the way you know cheesy karaoke."

"Who do you think he learned it from?" Mike replied, stretching his arms overhead, his massive chest blocking the view of half the wall behind him. "It's not very likely that he'll be attending college, except maybe a trade college, so I make sure he knows as many enjoyable things as possible."

"May I conclude, then, that you're the brainy mutant of the tribe?" Karen queried, smiling. "Not sure who that's harder on, you or your kith. They're wonderful people, I was quite charmed by them."

"Yeah, they have that effect on folk," he agreed, his voice carrying an affected accent one would associate with a rural area. "They told me that you looked after them when they showed up early. Thanks for that, I would've worried if they'd been left to wander about."

"Consider it payback for protecting my roomie," she said. "I would have done it anyway, but in the interest of parity between us, you're more than welcome. They came a long way. My father makes coming in from the city's north end sound like a journey from Tau Ceti."

"Only slightly less alien, perhaps," Michael quipped, making her narrow her eyes and smirk. "So, they thought you were the Dean or one of the head profs in our department, eh?"

"Maybe they're psychics and can read the future," Karen said airily.

"Y'don't need to be psychic to predict that," he replied, twisting left and right, then bending forward to stretch his hamstrings. "Seems pretty obvious."

"What, you're not aspiring to the position?"

"I have no idea yet," Mike mused as he held his head and rotated his neck. "There's a whole universe out there, you know."

"Yes, I'm familiar with it," she said evenly, her voice losing some of its geniality. "Yet another great leap forward by the Nordic god of Kapuskasing? Leaving everyone else behind while great new frontiers are explored?"

"Oh, it's not as bad as all that," he said dismissively. "What would your opinion be of a person who had an exceptional talent and didn't use it, for pedestrian reasons?"

Karen bristled a little but didn't show it. Her sudden attachment to the DeBourne clan might have been clouding her judgment. "I see. And why would anyone except you know anything about exceptional talent? Is that it?"

Mike stopped stretching and looked at her for a moment, his eyebrow raised. "Something you need to tell me, princess?"

She walked up to him slowly, her eyes never leaving hers. "You're not the only gifted phenom on the campus, Talos."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"I speak, read and write Arabic, Russian and French," Karen declared.

Mike shrugged. "I speak French too, along with German, Japanese, Mandarin, Cree, Klingon, and Tolkien's Elvish."

"I could build a small fission reactor in a backyard shed with scrap parts."

"What about the magnetic containment field to deal with Cherenkov radiation?" he countered. "Or are we building this in a disposable neighbourhood?"

She turned on her heel and walked over to a corner of the room, where she picked up two fencing foils before looking at him, her eyes flashing. "I was the Ontario women's fencing champion last year!"

She tossed him one of the foils, which he caught easily, casually regarding her. She approached confidently, within engaging distance, brandishing her weapon. Her eyes challenged him to step forward. Michael shrugged and walked toward her. They both assumed the beginning fencing pose, left arms held loosely in the air behind them. The foil looked ridiculously small in Michael's hand.

"En garde, monsieur," Karen said, her eyes never leaving his.

Their blades touched lightly as they measured one another. Clearly, Mike had an extreme advantage in reach, so what remained was how fast Karen was, and their relative skill. She tapped her blade against his and he smiled as he returned the tap. A quick exchange followed, not so much trying to actively strike one another as feeling out their respective styles. Predictably, neither was giving anything away just yet.

Karen's esquive took her outside of Michael's thrust, and she initiated a counterattack, but he parried readily and forced her away. Their blades touched again, and his doublé allowed him to slide almost all the way down her blade, angling for another thrust, but she was ready and dodged the attack, swift as a serpent. Michael frowned and bit his lip.

An extended conversation followed. A riposte was countered, followed by a coulé and then a dérobement.

Then she darted in again, their blades crossing just above the hilts. Almost body-to-body, they circled around one another, eyes locked. His push forced her back some distance, but left him open on the underside. Her graceful balestra was followed by a blindingly fast lunge, the blunted point of her foil heading straight for his heart.

Karen gasped as his inside parry swatted her blade from her hand, hard, and it clattered across the floor, coming to a stop near the mirrors.

Her eyes were wide as he placed the blunted point of his foil against her sternum and then pressed, forcing her backward. She moved as he advanced on her slowly but relentlessly, still registering shock when her feet touched the large, plush gym mattress in the corner behind her. Karen squeaked as she lost her balance and fell clumsily on her back onto it. She still goggled up at Mike, whose sword had not yet left its place between her breasts.

Finally, he removed the foil and leaned forward, one foot on the mattress beside her while his forearm rested on his knee.