#i am purposely releasing short segments without anything but the lightest of line editing so i'm forced to keep moving forward

[fictionadventurer]

So Strong as Gentleness; Or, Powers and Prejudice 2/?

Chapter 2: Immovable Object

For generations, the Bingleys had been the staunchest allies of the city’s superhumans, and the current generation had lived up to the family legacy. It was commonly conjectured that Charles Bingley himself numbered among the city’s masked superheroes--that he was the alter ego of the Storm King or the Nighthawk or the Blur--but it was just as commonly argued that this would unite too many blessings in a single man. Charles Bingley was good-looking and gentleman-like; he had a pleasant countenance and easy, unaffected manners. He united personal fortune with personal charm, and he had no need of superhuman talents to make him one of the city’s most extraordinary citizens.

It was with great astonishment that Jane noted his presence at Bingley Enterprise’s headquarters when she and Lizzie arrived at the recruitment event. The crowd was vast, but Mr. Bingley darted through with astonishing speed, shaking hands with everyone, delighted by the day and pleased by all in attendance. Though the strictures of the event required Jane to spend most of her time filling out forms and conducting interviews with middle management, she received a moment’s attention from the man himself. He approached her just as she was departing from an informational table, offered a handshake, and desired to know her opinion of the event, her occupational and educational history, her opinion of Netherfield, her favorite popular musicians, and if she had noticed the heavily laden refreshment table in the main lobby. Jane provided all the information desired and was surprised to find Charles Bingley genuinely interested in the answers. A few moments of conversation left her convinced that Charles Bingley was all that a young man ought to be--sensible, good-humored, lively. She had never seen such happy manners--so much ease, with such perfect good breeding.   

It was not until she caught sight of Lizzie--reapproaching her after they’d been separated by the crowd--that Jane remembered their mother’s purpose in sending them to the event. But by this point, Mr. Bingley was already being pulled away from the conference.

In the course of the day, Mr. Bingley had gained a shadow--a tall, dark-haired young man who was as aloof and elegant as one expected the heir to a corporation to be. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy was head of a Pemberley corporation, with fortune and fame for such that eclipsed the Bingley reputation. He rarely left the city of Pemberley, and Jane could not fathom why a Bingley event had drawn him away from his own business concerns.

It seemed that Mr. Darcy had similar questions for Bingley, because after Darcy had pulled him a few steps away, Jane overheard him scolding his friend. “You shouldn’t waste your time with this nonsense.”

“Nonsense? Darcy, you know as well as I do that vetting future hires is a prime security concern.”

“You are socializing when you’re needed elsewhere.”

“Caroline has it well in hand. If my help is needed, I can rush to the rescue, but until then, my time is as well spent here as anywhere. Bingley Enterprises is a powerful force for good in this city.”

“Not as powerful as some.”

“Don’t force me to modesty, Darcy. I know our organization is primitive compared to what you have in Pemberley, but our strategies are effective for Netherfield, and if you could just trust...”

It was at this point that the two men moved too far away from Jane for her to hear any more of their conversation. Turning to her sister, she asked, “What do you make of that, Lizzie?” Her sister had undoubtedly overheard the same conversation--perhaps was hearing it still, as her senses retained some of their animal acuteness even in human form.

“Is it not obvious?” Lizzie said with a laugh. “It appears our company is not exalted enough for the grand Mr. Darcy. In the heights of his villainy, he has deprived you of a charming conversational partner and destroyed your chances of personal happiness.”

Jane sighed. “Mother will be disappointed. I made no mention of--”

“This has nothing to do with our mother. I was speaking of your obvious infatuation with a certain philanthropist.”

Jane had, from a young age, trained herself out of all outward displays of emotion--a necessary habit when any physical outburst had the potential to tear down walls--and she was proud that she did not so much as blush in response to Lizzie’s insinuation. “He is very charming. But I do not think five minutes of conversation is enough for you to pin all my happiness upon him.” She watched the two men disappear further into the crowd. "Perhaps, if my application is accepted, we can renew our acquaintance, but I have have lost my chance today.”

In this, Jane soon found herself mistaken. As the event was ending and Jane and Lizzie were exiting through the revolving doors of Bingley Enterprise’s main lobby, she found their compartment suddenly shared by a third person, who was none other than Charles Bingley himself. 

“Miss Bennet,” he said. “I am glad to have found you. I wished to apologize for my abrupt departure from our earlier conversation.”

Jane found herself stunned by more than the sunlight as they emerged onto the sidewalk outside. “No apology is necessary. I understand you have many other concerns.”

“That is no excuse for uncivility,” Bingley said, “Though Darcy would argue otherwise. He is always telling me to devote my time to more serious matters, but I say it is always worthwhile to be on friendly terms with our neighbors.”

Lizzie said, “It seems Mr. Darcy is uncommonly conceited.”

“No better man in the world!” Bingley said, rising to a good-hearted defense of his friend. “Only too apt to take the weight of the world on his shoulders and demand that I carry the same burden. I dare say he has a point, but one can better do good in the world by knowing the people within it.”

“A sensible philosophy,” Jane said. 

“And apt to make you much more popular with us common citizens,” Lizzie said.

“No one is common,” Bingley said, “especially in Netherfield.”

Jane was struck by the fear that he was about to realize just how true that statement was. For Lizzie’s attention was suddenly riveted to the bank across the street, and her pupils had already turned to cat-like slits.

“What is it, Lizzie?” Jane asked, hoping by conversation to keep her sister tethered to her human form. Lizzie had gained a great amount of control over her transformations, but the jaguar was likely to emerge unbidden in moments of danger. Lizzie had never transformed in so large a crowd before, and Jane did not know, in the case of disaster, if the jaguar could distinguish threats from innocent bystanders.

“Something is happening,” Lizzie said. “At the bank. I think there might be--”

Her words were drowned out by the explosion. The facade of the bank erupted into flame, and debris was headed in their direction. Jane tried to position herself as a shield to Mr. Bingley and Lizzie, but the sudden movement left her off-balance and falling.

Before she could right herself--before she could even see the results of the explosion--Jane suddenly found herself standing in an alleyway two blocks distant from Netherfield Enterprises. Mr. Bingley was at her side, bent over to catch his breath, with the blue half-mask of the Blur half-pulled over his face.

“Mr. Bingley?”

The man turned away, shielding his face with his hand. “You weren’t supposed to see--I’m usually gone by now, but you--you’re heavier than you look.”

Most other girls, perhaps, would have been offended by such comments, but Jane was merely impressed that he had moved her at all. If she hadn’t been falling, he wouldn’t have managed it--she had been told that trying to move her from where she was standing was like running face-first into a steel girder.

“What’s happening?” she asked, helping Mr. Bingley to straighten his skewed mask. The daughters of Mrs. Bennet knew that there was nothing so important to the average hero than the secret of their identity.

“Heist of some kind,” Bingley said. “We thought there might be villain movement today, but didn’t think they’d strike so close to the Enterprises building.”

“We have to go back!” Jane shouted, dashing out of the alley. “Lizzie!” There was no doubt that the jaguar was loose, and Jane was best able to keep her sister in control of her humanity.

“Wait!” he shouted in alarm. “I can go back to help her, but you mustn’t endanger yourself.”

Jane continued another city block, unheeding. She could see the bank now, chaos erupting as crowds fled from the disaster. From the destroyed facade, some variety of spidery, villainous robot had emerged, tossing aside people and vehicles that hindered its attempts at escape.

“Miss Bennet, please!” Bingley was at her side, apparently attempting the same rescue he’d completed moments before, but unable to budge her an inch.

“Help them!” Jane said. “I’ll be fine!”

At that moment, the rampaging robot picked up a green sedan and tossed it over the crowd, directly toward Jane’s position. Jane lifted both arms and caught the car by its front bumper. She held it aloft until she was certain the sidewalk before her was clear of bystanders, then she set it lightly on the ground.

She turned around to see the Blur, Netherfield’s most famous speedster, standing motionless, his jaw slack.

“I see,” he said, gathering his composure. He stepped toward her. “I must apologize. It appears you were not in want of a rescue. But if I may ask, are you in possession of a good mask?”