A Quick Ride

Somewhere in the back of John Newman’s mind, he had honestly half-expected something to go awry. With how crazy things had been, it wouldn’t have been all that surprising if another random thing unexpectedly happened. After all, his day had started with gaining magical powers, and then developed into discovering that one of the richest kids at school was also part of some sort of… secret society? He wasn’t sure exactly what this Order was or if there were others like it out there yet. But one had to assume that there had to be all sorts of things out there, right?

This subject had rolled around his head for hours as his imagination considered every possibility that he could conceive. A part of him regretted not using Observe on Moira to see if her Class was actually a paladin as she looked, or if it would turn out to be something else. But if things went well, he might have a chance to do so later.

But for now, all that was left was John’s final class of the day: History with Mrs. Wentworth. He had thankfully managed to dodge Frank during lunch, where he’d briefly had to duck into a luckily empty classroom to avoid him at one point. Normally, the young man would have quivered at the thought of how pissed the meatheaded jock would be if he caught him after school. Or if not then, what would happen when he naturally had to come back to the academy tomorrow.

John glanced at his watch. There were only seven minutes left until class would be over for the day and he could meet up with Moira. Just seven more minutes until… Well, he wasn’t sure what to expect when they reached the Manor and what would happen inside. But while the uncertainty did make him nervous, that feeling was greatly overshadowed by the inherent mystery that he could hardly wait to explore.

Finally, after what felt like a painfully long eternity, the clock marked the end of the day and was heralded by the bell ringing. And after a few final remarks from Mrs. Wentworth, the class was dismissed. Amongst the tired students who were just ready to go home, John was practically a beacon of energy as he hurried out of the room. While he still kept an eye out for Frank and Vanessa along with their goons, he quickly made his way through the academy’s hallways and toward the front gate.

Once outside and by the sidewalk, he began to look around. There was no initial sign of the redhead, but just as John started to wonder if she was just running late, a voice came up from behind him.

“Huh, I was not really sure if you would truly show or not.” He turned to see Moira, a leather windbreaker now worn over the top of her uniform. Under one arm was a motorcycle helmet, which threw off John’s expectations a bit. When he’d thought of how they’d get to the Brighton manor, his head had naturally gone to a limousine.

“Well, it’s not like I have anything to hide. But, uh, “John gestured at the helmet, “I’m not sure if you magic’d a spare bike like-”

A glare from Moira cut him off. “We do not speak of such things, not here.” She briefly looked around at the various other students still around.

Okay, no talking about magical stuff in public. She could have mentioned that earlier. Though if someone had been listening, cutting me off like that as something hush-hush would’ve just drawn even more attention to it, wouldn’t it? The Gamer thought to himself as he awkwardly cleared his throat.

“Right… sorry.”

Moira shook her head. “And no, I did not bring a spare bike.” There was a pause there, which John took from her expression as her wanting to add something else but then quickly chose not to.

“Anyway, come with me. We will be riding together to the manor.” She then turned around and seemingly expected John to follow after her. Which, after a reflexive glance around for Frank, he did.

Awaiting them amongst the student parking spots was an almost glowing motorcycle. Black and silver, the full light of the late afternoon sun reflected brilliantly off the metallic parts of its surface. John didn’t know nearly enough about the world of cars and motorcycles to know the actual model, but it certainly looked fancy. Considering the reputation of the Brightons, he wouldn’t be surprised if whatever it cost was more than he could ever imagine personally spending on… well, anything.

However, it was when Moira turned and held up the helmet for him to take that it finally clicked for the young man. This bike only had one seat. A seat that the two of them would have to share. Which would **** them to be squeezed right against each other, specifically with him… pressed right into her back… and all the friction that’d mean with every bump and jostle.

Just the thought of it already made a bit of blood run focus downward in John’s body. His cheeks also now a bit pinker than they were ten seconds ago, he awkwardly accepted the helmet and watched as Moira got on the motorcycle first. A small part of his mind wanted to object and try to find an excuse to get out of this scenario where he already knew what would almost certainly happen. But it was quickly dismissed as he couldn’t come up with something that just wouldn’t be really weird off the cuff. He would just need to do it the hard way, by just trying his best not to get hard while behind her.

With his full mental faculties focused purely on trying not to screw this up, he got on the bike, forcibly close to the other woman due to the simple fact that there was a lack of space elsewhere on the seat. John’s arms hung awkwardly at his sides. He’d never done anything like this before. Should he go ahead and wrap his arms around her waist now? Should he not do that at all? Would Moira expect it or ask him? Wouldn’t doing so just be a matter of basic safety anyway?

Alright, come on, John! It’s literally just one quick ride with a girl across the city. Nothing more, nothing less. Don’t be a weirdo who makes it something more than it is. You can be normal and not be turned into a hormonal lizard just because you’re physically touching a woman who’s not your mother! John chastised himself.

Moira, completely unaware of the internal warfare going on just behind her, revved the motorcycle to life. She did not have an extra helmet put on for herself, but as John noted that fact, he hoped that she’d at least be a careful driver. And when she steadily left the parking and went by the security gate, it was indeed a slow and steady start to their trip.

That all changed the moment Ashcroft Academy was out of sight.

John felt a sudden change in the air. Not a change in the wind or anything mundane like that. Yet it was something familiar, almost like the shift he’d felt earlier when he opened a Barrier. However, there was no notification that popped up or any visual indications of them shifting to that alternate space.

But the Gamer didn’t have long to clearly think about it any further than that. For just a few seconds after the shift occurred, the motorcycle roared with new life. John’s stomach lurched as inertia and the sudden increase in acceleration made his insides somersault. He’d regretted not asking if he could use his powers to at least put his backpack away, as the gain in speed made it jostle around as well from all the stuff inside moving around.

One hand went to secure the strap as the other reflexively went around Moira’s waist for support. He physically felt the flinch of the redhead from the sudden grab. But she didn’t comment or make any other noticeable indication for him to stop and let go, so he just continued to use her for support.

From there, she drove the motorcycle up to what was easily freeway speeds even while in the middle of Springfield’s regular streets. Yet despite the blatant violation of multiple traffic laws, none of the cars they passed by seemed to react. Even though one of said cars was clearly a cop that they sped right past, that action wasn’t immediately followed by the blaring of sirens.

Okay, this is definitely some sort of magic. Some kind of special Barrier? Hmm, John thought to himself after he’d gotten a bit to adjust.

It was still dangerous, however. As nobody reacting meant that, well, nobody reacted. Even as Moira went right through a red light where a wave of cars was going through the intersection, it was fully up to her to weave between the crossing cars. There were a few close calls, with the closest being a semi-truck that was speeding as well. But Moira deftly dodged it by the skin of their teeth as the wave of air washed over them as they barely passed by it.

On that day, John Newman’s lifespan shortened by a few solid years. The fact that he didn’t have a heart attack during the ride could in itself be called a minor miracle. But eventually, it was over.

After they’d left Harrison, and gotten on the highway, the traffic became more manageable. Or at least it was more appropriate for the speed Moira drove at. It was as they went on that John noted their surroundings. He’d never before really known or thought much about where a mega-wealthy family like the Brightons lived. Yet as they headed west, they took a left just a short distance away from where he knew Chinatown was, and went down a road he’d never given much thought to. And then it wasn’t long after this turn that they reached their destination.

Whoa, I knew it'd be big, but… damn, John thought to himself as they approached Brighton Manor. Or to be more specific, they drove up to the massive gate with the main building itself still far down the road.

Unlike the academy, there was no security guard or even a buzzer. Yet just as he questioned how they’d open the gate, it swung open right as the motorcycle slowed up to it.

Between the gate and the main building was a large water fountain. One that had a lush garden planted in the ground between it and the private road that went around it. As they drove by the garden, John took a moment to take off his helmet just so that he could appreciate the full range of colors that made it up.

Practically every color in the rainbow was present amongst the flowers, both big and small. They were all arranged in a pattern that formed the image of a large, multi-colored rose with complementary background colors. It was as they passed around the fountain that John glanced back and noticed something on its manor-side surface. It appeared to be a golden plaque, which, while they were still close by, he was able to quickly read it as a memorial to someone in the Brighton family.

The manor itself was also rather impressive. The building had to be at least three or even four times larger than his own home, and primarily made of red stone. It was surrounded by a perimeter of well-trimmed rose bushes, broken up in a symmetrical pattern of occasional statues of knights. The pair of front doors itself was almost comical in size, in how they had to be at least four stories tall and were just as wide. What did they even expect needed to be able to fit through those massive doors, a herd of giraffes stacked on top of each other?

As they came to a stop, the doors opened, and an older-looking man with grey hair stepped out of them. He was well-groomed and sported a very traditional butler’s uniform. Despite his apparent age, when his gaze met John’s own, his eyes’ intensity didn't show any trace whatsoever of elderly feebleness.

“We have been expecting your arrival, Mr. Newman. Please, would you be so kind as to follow me inside?”