Chapter 37
The call came whilst James was reviewing financial reports, the mundane kind of work that grounded him more effectively then any threat ever could. Numbers didn't flinch, they didn't posture. They simply reflected reality, stripped of intention. He was halfway through a page when Rose noticed the change in his breathing. He hasn't moved, he hadn't spoken but something had tightened. He answered the phone without greeting. "Yes." There was a pause on the other end, to long for courtesy, too short for hesitation. "This is the University Registrar's office," a woman said carefully. "We're calling regarding your sister."
James closed the folder. "What about her?" Another pause, papers shifting, institutional sounds. "There has been a complaint," the woman said. "Multiple,actually. Concerns about conduct. Associations. Influence." Rose's eyes met his. James stood. "Be specific." "She is being placed on temporary academic suspension pending review." The words suspension landed harder than any threat ever had. "For what," James said, his voice controlled to the point of danger. "Nothing criminal," the woman replied quickly. "But visibility, pressure. There are donors involved. The administration feels it best to pause until." Until what? Until James stopped existing? "I'll be there in the morning," James said. "That won't be necessary," she replied. "The process..." James ended the call.
The room felt smaller after that, not because of fear but because of precision. This wasn't random. It wasn't collateral damage. It was targeted,calculated and clean enough to pass as policy. Rose spoke first. "They couldn't touch you." "No," James said. "So they touched what i love." His sister arrived an hour later, still wearing a campus hoodie, backpack slung over one shoulder like she was returning from an ordinary day. She tried to smile when she saw them, it didn't hold. "They said it's temporary," she said quickly, before either of them could speak. "Just a review. They wouldn't tell me who complained."
James looked at her carefully, not as a protector but as a brother who had once watched her swallow insults to keep peace. "What did they ask you?" he said. She hesitated. "What did they ask you," he repeated softer. She sighed. "If I was being influenced, if i felt pressured to accept benefits. If I understood how my associations could be perceived." Rose's jaw tightened. "Associations? " "Your name," James's sister said meeting his eyes "They never said it. But it was there the whole time." James nodded once. "Did they accuse you of anything?"
"No," she said. "That is the worst part. There's nothing to defend myself against." He felt it then, not anger, not rage but something colder. This wasn't a battlefield. There were no enemies to face openly. Just rooms, policies, signatures and plausible deniability. "I can fix this," he said. She shook her head immediately. "No." The words surprised him. "I mean it," she continued, firmer now. "If you walk in there and scare them, it proves their point. That I'm only here because of you." James didn't answer.
Rose watched the exchange carefully. This was new territory. James was used to choosing action. To removing obstacles. But this wasn't an obstacle, it was a line drawn in soft ink, designed to smear if touched too hard. That night James didn't sleep. He replayed old memories instead. His sister standing in the kitchen years ago, silent while his stepmother criticized her clothes, her grades, her posture. James remembering how he had stayed quiet then, not because he agreed but because he thought endurance was strength. He had learned later how wrong that was.
Now endurance was being demanded again. Not from him, from her. Morning came with rain. James drove to her campus himself. Not as an escort, not as a warning just a presence. She went inside alone, he waited. When she returned her shoulders were tight, her voice controlled in the way people get when they refuse to cry in public. "They said i should take time off," she said. "Reflect, distance myself." "From what?" She looked at him. "From you." James closed his eyes. That afternoon Rose confronted him. "You can burn this system down," she said quietly. "I know you can, but you won't." James didn't deny it.
"Because if you do," she continued, "They'll keep doing this. To her, to others, soft punishment, invisible walls." "Yes." he agreed. "And if you don't? " James stared out the window. "Then she pays a price for my restraint." Rose stepped closer. "This is the cost you've avoided until now." He nodded. "And it's worse than any fight." That evening James made a decision, not to retaliate, not to intimidate, not to escalate. He simply withdrew, quietly, deliberately, he stepped back from public visibility. No appearances, no statements. He redirected pressure away from institutions and toward silence. The move unsettled everyone. It wasn't weakness. It was unpredictability.
Two days later, his sister received another icall. The suspension was lifted. No explanation, no apology. She looked at James when she told him. "So that's it?" "No," he said. "That's the beginning." She frowned. "Of what?" James answered honestly. "Of learning where the lines really are." That night as the city resumed its uneasy calm, James understood he hadn't before. Power could be resisted, violence could be ended, corruption could be exposed. But influence, real influence was quiet, patient and cruel in its subtlety. And if he was gonna stand against that, it wouldn't be as the Slayer of Monsters. It would be something more dangerous. Someone willing to lose.