CHAPTER THREE
Rocko
Anxiety and curiosity from the people around likely mirrored his own feelings.
Griffin moved to stand beside Apollo, his sneer firmly in place, making Rocko grin for a moment.
It would be amusing to rile that guy on the regular.
A shorter woman joined them, standing on Apollo’s other side.
Rocko didn’t miss the puzzled expression she gave Apollo.
Whatever was bothering her, it didn’t matter; they wouldn’t talk about it now in front of him.
“I’d like you all to meet Detective Rocko Owens. He’s the individual Brick has reached out to us about. He’ll be staying in one of the empty trailers for a couple of weeks,” Apollo said. “Show him around.”
Rocko noticed there wasn’t a “make him feel welcomed” tacked on to the end of his speech. He wasn’t entirely surprised; after all, Brick’s team hadn’t wanted him around initially either. That theme seemed to carry throughout his life.
Rocko figured that after these few weeks, he’d likely have to return to Florida and pick up where his life left off, still trying to find a place where he belonged, if possible.
Apollo kept throwing out the two-week time frame; it was obvious his days were numbered, and the clock had already started ticking.
“Hello,” Rocko said with a nod toward the group. “Thank you for having me.”
A young woman stepped forward. Rocko guessed she might be Apollo’s half-sister, as seen in the pictures he’d reviewed in the prior case file.
“Hi, I’m Ellen, Apollo’s sister. Welcome to Chinandroga,” she said, holding out her hand. “My abilities haven’t manifested yet.”
Rocko was surprised by her blunt announcement, and he replied as he shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Ellen. Chinandroga, the place between two waters, I believe that’s what it means. So, between Lake Champlain and Lake George.”
“Yes. It seemed fitting as Apollo’s Iroquois grandmother gave us the land, and Ticonderoga was derived from that original word. You’re up on your history. Or is it native languages?”
“Another side effect of my brush with the Noah Group is my insane memory. If I hear, read, or see it once, I’ll never forget it down to the slightest detail.
” No matter how much I might want to. He wanted to match her openness, even if it was odd to him.
“I can also find things or people, something that came in handy during my time as an Army Ranger.”
“Wow, that’s incredible. I could have used that memory trick when writing my exams,” she said.
“It’s got its benefits but also drawbacks. My mind continually races with information, whether I want it to or not. I wish I could shut it down at times, but I have yet to find the off switch.”
Though strangely, at this time, his mind wasn’t racing the closer he got to this group for some reason, like back in the restaurant.
He could still pick out any piece of information necessary, no matter how obscure, but the constant buzzing in the background, like some fucked-up supercomputer, had stopped again.
Something was affecting him, but what? Was it the area? The solitude? The fucking trees?
“True, that would suck,” Ellen said while swiping her dyed blue hair out of her eyes. “How far back can you remember?”
“That’s enough, sis,” Apollo said. “The detective has had a long journey. Pepper him with questions after he’s slept.”
“Fine,” Ellen agreed.
“Hello, Rocko. I’m Renee, Griffin’s sister, and I have the ability to heal much the same way Mrs. Greer on Brick’s team does.”
She was small, had dark hair like her brother, and wore a flowy dress despite the cold weather.
“Nice to meet you, Renee.” At least she wasn’t as volatile as her brother. So far.
“I’m Damon, and this is Xavier,” another man said as he motioned to the smaller blond-haired man standing behind him, who never once looked up. “Retired Army, and I can create and control fire.” He was tall, with jet black hair and equally dark eyes.
“Good to meet the two of you,” Rocko said, but Xavier remained silent, almost trying to disappear behind Damon. There was no comment on Xavier’s abilities.
Before his departure, Brick had told Rocko before his that the smaller man had yet to speak after being saved from his abusive father, Solomon, a Noah Project leader in New Orleans who’d experimented on his son. That’d been twelve months ago.
“I’m Hendrix, Special Ops,” said a man in a suede fringed jacket, who looked to be the resident hippie, before shaking Rocko’s hand. “Cool family tree. We’ll talk, man.”
“Okay,” Rocko said, unsure what the hell that meant.
“I’m Jagger.” And with what felt like a practiced flourish, he removed his dark sunglasses to reveal his birdlike eyes of gold.
This was obviously how he got a rise out of a newcomer.
When Rocko didn’t react, he put his glasses back on, looking a bit disappointed.
“I’m the pilot, these freaky fuckers give me enhanced eyesight, and I deal with anything technical or mechanical. ”
Rocko nodded. It would take a hell of a lot more than having bird’s eyes to shock him anymore. Hell, he wouldn’t be shocked if a damn centaur galloped over at this point.
“Good to meet you.”
“I’m Ace.” That was all the guy said; he hadn’t moved, didn’t elaborate, or offer his hand.
Okay. Possible military by his stance. Ready to move at a moment’s notice, but no visible tattoos like Rocko had from his time as a Ranger. Merc maybe.
“Hello, Ace.”
“And I’m Blade,” the last member said, extending sharp silver blades from his fists, reminding him of a character he’d seen on the movie screen.
“Seems logical. You’ll have to excuse me, but I think I’ll pass on the handshake.”
Blade laughed with an ease that made Rocko believe he laughed often.
“It’s okay, dude. Some asshole scientists in the Noah Group obviously watched way too many superhero movies, and one day I woke up with these fuckers as a souvenir. Had one bitch of a time figuring them out without filleting myself while wiping my damn ass. I’d sooner carry a knife.”
“I hear you, man,” Jagger said. “If I could have enhanced eyesight only on demand without having these freaky eyes, I’d do it.”
“You have no idea how many small fires I started as a kid and teenager before gaining better control over it,” Damon huffed before chuckling at some memory. “Foster care labeled me a pyro, though they could never find matches or a lighter anywhere near me.”
“Hell, man. I got stuck with the ability to track down anyone’s family tree. Talk about boring and useless histories. Give me something with pizzazz power. I’d settle for anything physical.” Hendrix laughed good-naturedly.
“You never know. Powers crop up at different times,” Griffin said. “Be careful what you wish for; you might start sprouting feathers.”
“Oh, oh, oh, we could call him the Birdman of Chinandroga.” Ellen laughed while waving her hand in the air like a student trying to get the teacher’s attention.
“I wouldn’t give a shit what you called me as long as I can fly.” Hendrix laughed while raising his arms into the air. “That would have come in handy behind enemy lines.”
As the conversation carried on around them, Rocko could feel some of his anxiety draining away.
These people were like him, bonding over their shared mishaps and differences.
It didn’t escape his notice that neither Apollo nor Griffin shared about themselves, the same as Ace, which was their right.
No one should be forced to out their abilities.
The Noah Group had already taken far too much from them.
They wanted privacy; they should have it.
“I worry that I’m never going to have any abilities,” Ellen admitted. “I’m almost eighteen, and still nothing.”
Apollo stepped up to his sister and hugged her close. “Maybe it’s for the best that you don’t have any powers. It could help keep you off The Noah Group’s radar.”
Rocko didn’t want to remind him that The Noah Group would likely still try to take her, even if she didn’t have powers, to get to Apollo. He’d keep that depressing thought to himself, but that fact likely didn’t escape them all.
A short, heavier-set Spanish woman came out of the larger of the three houses and yelled, “Dinner’s ready.”
“That’s Rosaline,” Ellen said. “She was my nanny before escaping to safety away from my family. Now she’s my mom.”
“She thinks she’s everyone’s mom,” Griffin huffed, shaking his head. “Damn pain in the ass.”
“We’re lucky to have her,” Apollo corrected.
“Yeah, yeah,” Griffin grumbled.
“Spencer and Rick told me about their mission when they found you,” Rocko said.
“Without them, I would have never escaped that situation alive. I owe them everything,” Ellen said.
“As do I,” Apollo said. “Or I would have never gotten you back.”
“They’re good people,” Rocko agreed.
“Get your freaky, mutated butts in here and eat. I didn’t spend the last three hours cooking for it to go cold before you all stop yapping,” Rosaline ordered as she walked into the group and up to Rocko.
“Our guest has been traveling all day. He must be hungry and tired. There’ll be time for talking later. Now move.”
Rosaline wrapped her arm around Rocko’s bicep and led him into the main house. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as he thought. Then again, the glare Griffin sent his way crushed that thought the moment it occurred to him. Maybe not.
***
Apollo
Apollo watched their visitor’s retreating figure with curiosity. The sense of peace he’d found in Rocko’s presence worried him. WTF? Was it perhaps part of the man’s abilities: soothing troubled souls?
“You wanna tell me what’s going on?” Renee asked as soon as the others were out of earshot. “Your heart rate is steady at sixty-two beats per minute when you average ninety-five on a good day. Are you feeling okay?”
That was the thing about having a healer in residence; she knew everything and could pick up on any variation from normal, even if your normal wasn’t normal.