Authors: Ben Bequer
“You’re taking a huge risk being this close to me, you know.”
“How so?” I asked.
The doctor looked down at the fish, which seemed to have more common sense than I did.
“That is how you came to be...as you are.” He said, flashing a mischievous smile. “We first, the first seven, that is; we were imbued with these powers. Our greatness was thrust upon us but not without a price to pay. We are, to use a poor analogy, as radioactive as the sun.”
He looked up through the skylight, and then I noticed that this floor was larger than it seemed, almost three stories tall. Light streamed through denoting it was morning already, though it had been no later than four or five in the morning when we landed after the mission. We must have traveled some distance.
“Some of us, like Adam - excuse me, Valiant, as you know him - were like the sun, illuminating the people with our goodness. Everywhere he went, the flowers bloomed, the clouds faded. Crops grew unrestrained, and...And war came to a halt.”
“Yet you killed him,” I said.
“That’s what they say, isn’t it?” he said, flashing a wicked smile. “Others, like Nostromo and Apostle, in particular, radiated death. To be close to them was to feel the wrath of the Horsemen. Imagine when they came home to their wives and discovered that, years later, everything they cared for was dying. Everyone they loved was eroding from waste and tumor.”
I nodded, remembering reading the stories. Nostromo had built a fortress on the dark side of the moon, and now watched Earth, a silent protector. Apostle roamed the wastes of Africa, trying to channel his powers into saving the lost continent, trying to bring water and food to the poorest people on the planet.
“Global was transformed. He is no longer a man, a flame in the wind. But always a force for good. The boy scout that never grew up.”
“Jane and I were afflicted similarly. We, if you can believe this, are the fathers of all the supers that came after. Somehow, my dear Blackjack, I am your daddy.”
Dr. Retcon laughed and finished his coffee, placing the cup and saucer on the railing overlooking the pond.
“So proximity to you caused the mutations?”
“Oh, they’re not mutations, but yes, proximity is the key. See, that’s the key to the whole thing; at a certain point in your gestation, I was near enough to your mother that I affected the fetus in vitro, as it were. It’s still happening now, less so than where you were in your mama’s belly. Right now, I’m making you less normal. Or is it more? We never did come to that determination. Are we the freaks, or are we humans?”
He let the question linger a moment, his eyes set on me.
“I guess it doesn’t matter, does it?” I answered. “They exist, and we exist. And there has to be coexistence.”
Some time passed while he thought about that, then he dug into his chest pocket for a cigar, offering me one. I declined and he plopped it into his mouth.
“This next thing I need you to do for me,” he started, “I don’t expect it to be much trouble, but be ready, you hear?”
“I will. Is it safe to ask what all this hubbub is about?”
He smiled, biting on the cigar. “Maybe. I know it might all seem trivial now, but rest assured, the end game will be worth the wait. In particular, for you, Blackjack. You are my white knight.”
“So we’re playing the white side?”
He nodded and said, “This time.” He turned and took a few steps away.
I looked back and noticed the koi, now free of whatever Retcon was exuding, swam freely to reclaim the pond.
“You never said how Ed Watters was afflicted,” I said and he turned back to me, lighting his cigar with a match.
“He was my closest friend before the transformation.” Dr. Retcon finished lighting his cigar waved the match to kill the flame. He almost threw the match away, but stopped and smiled, placing it in his pocket.
“Ed’s story was the saddest, I’m afraid. But in a way, it was also the happiest. Does that make any sense?”
“I guess. No, not really.”
“Imagine being so powerful that the building blocks of matter are at your disposal. If you have ever read Revelations, Blackjack, put yourself in God’s shoes.” He paused, his eyes set upon me. “Now imagine doing nothing with it.”
Dr. Retcon let that linger in the air, taking a drag from his cigar and letting it out slowly.
“Though if you were to ask him, he’d tell you he’d do it all the same. He’d tell you he would’ve gone on to marry his wife, Teresa, and gone on to sell insurance all those years. That’s what he did, you know. I guess that’s what a good woman does to you,” he laughed. “You think that’s true, Blackjack? You think we’d be any different if we had met the right woman?”
“I don’t think so,” I said still looking at the koi fish. “A man is what he is. Life changes you some, but you are what you are. I think, anyway.”
“I’m counting on that,” he said
“How so?”
“In the end, I’m going to ask more from you than anyone has before.”
Retcon smiled and walked off.
* * *
Our next mission was to steal a book from the home of a retired super villain who I’d never heard of called Gentleman Shivvers. Dr. Walsh briefed us that Shivvers was once partners with Quantum Slayer (who everyone had heard of) until their partnership turned sour and he sold out Slayer to the authorities.
Shivvers had since retired and was living his last days in a cottage in the forests of Germany, hoping to be forgotten by history.
And he was, until tonight.
I felt uneasy about the whole thing. In part, because we had scarce intelligence about Shivvers and his powers so we had no idea what to expect. I also didn’t like that we were going in without Cool. He didn’t look like much, but those speed powers came in very handy last time.
But my real problem lay in the fact that I didn’t have a suit or gear. All I had was a few arrows scrounged after the fight in Los Angeles but no bow, and none of the gadgets I usually carried in my belt pouches, burned by Spitfire’s flaming powers. Making new arrows required a chemistry and engineering lab, with a forge and raw aluminum and titanium to make the shafts. Replacing the bow wasn’t as easy though. My old bow took a few months to complete, and that was using every trick in the book to speed up the process, which traditionally could take years. There were few who know the art of making them anymore, and I’d done research for months to discover the secrets of crafting an English Longbow.
Now I’d be stuck with whatever I could find off the shelf, with no time to make special tipped arrows, a balancing process that took me days for each. There was a fine balance in play when calibrating the arrow’s stiffness and the power of the bow. And even the stiffest arrow had the tendency to flex upon firing, from even the weakest bow. To fire accurately, an arrow had to have the proper stiffness to flex out of the bow and then return to a proper flight path once it had left the bow. This was known as the archer’s paradox. Once arrow and bow had been calibrated, and was used by a skilled archer, the whole thing became arbitrary.
Returning from the briefing, I found a bow case on my bed. I zipped the case open and pulled out the bow, a special edition Matthews Monster XLR8, painted matte black. I could see a few other modifications, including monkey trails on the Vectran/HMPE bowstring to eliminate string vibration and sound, a down force arrow rest to stabilize the arrow during the firing phase, a focus grip to maximize torque, top and bottom harmonic stabilizers to dampen residual vibration, and even a bowstring dead end stop that was supposed to further reduce vibration and noise. The bow also had a removable seven arrow quiver, which was the only part of this bow I actually liked.
Inside the case was also an arrow pull, several gloves, two quivers of carbon arrows and a box filled with aluminum/titanium broad head arrow points. I prepared several arrows and threw them into my belt arrow bag, then placed my remaining original arrows, including the Nuke, in the bow mounted web quiver.
Retcon’s people had also provided me with my usual clothes in my exact size, which was a miracle for a guy as big me. All that remained functional of my old suit after the L.A. fight were my boots, but they thought of everything else. They had even thought of the neoprene lower-face mask I usually wore and a black hooded cloak to finish the whole look.
No sooner was I done with the new suit that we got the call to head out.
Chapter 8
With Cool Hand Luke convalescing from his leg wound the whole trip was eerily silent. No one spoke after boarding the transport chopper and the only sound for hours was the whine of the helicopter turbines. My seat had only a few thin layers of thin aluminum sheeting between me and the engine, so I rested my head against the wall and tried to go to sleep. I noticed Influx leave her seat and move next to me, taking Cool’s usual spot. Without bothering to strap herself in, she leaned against me, and made as if she was going to sleep with me as her pillow.
“Too much sexual tension?” she asked softly. I shook my head and she went to sleep, leaning her heavenly body against my side.
“I may not sleep the whole trip,” I said, making her lift her head to look at me.
“Try not to move too much,” Influx said. “I’m working on a really nice dream.”
“Am I in it?”
She smiled, laying her hand on my thigh, then planted her head on my shoulder, adjusting it as one would on a pillow.
“You okay with the other thing?” Influx asked. I nodded, knowing she wasn’t even looking at me, but she let the matter lie.
“Get some sleep,” she mumbled.
But I didn’t. Not the whole trip from California across the United States, and then off the Eastern seaboard across the Atlantic towards Europe. We were at high altitude, flying at unearthly speeds, because the whole trip only took a few hours.
And the whole time, I could smell the wafting aroma of her perfume, the fragrance from her hair products. She only stirred once, gazing into my eyes and giving me an “are we there yet?” look, but I shook my head.
“You make a good pillow,” she said and went back to sleep.
We arrived over Europe and soon, the wooded forests of Saxony in eastern Germany flew past. We were only a half-dozen miles north of Dresden, headed towards the small house where Gentleman Shivvers now hid. We were not far from Schloss Moritzburg, a 16th century Baroque castle. I regretted not having extra time to stop by there and take a look, but there was no time for sight-seeing, especially not at this late hour.
I woke Influx by touching her face. She inched up, so we were facing each other.
“Do I have morning breath?” she asked, but I chuckled nervously. Influx smiled and came closer, almost kissing me. I swallowed hard, in anticipation. “We’re going to have some fun, you and me.” Then she leaned back, and stood, glancing around the cabin. Across from us, Haha was waking Zundergrub who rested in a strangely erect meditative fashion.
I grabbed my bow from a rack above my head and stood, preparing for action.
“Did you get any sleep,” she asked as the helicopter dove out of the sky and began to land in an open clearing.
“Nope.”
She smiled at me and threw the side door open so Haha and Zundergrub could jump out of the chopper.
“I have a feeling you won’t get any sleep when we get back, either,” Influx said seductively and hopped down into the snow.
I followed and we all ran towards a wooded ridge that overlooked our target. It was a clear moonlit night, so we moved without lamps. Shivver’s home was a beautiful cottage, probably a hundred years old, with white walls, deeply angled tile roof and cherry wood shutters flanking every window. A row of tall pines stood behind the house, and a short, wide fir stood in the front, with a waist-high ‘fence’ of shrubbery on the house’s northern side facing us, and a two-car garage on the opposite end. The gravel and rock driveway was a long secluded mile to the closest street. From our vantage point, we could see smoke drifting lazily from the thin chimney on the north side of the house. The roof was covered with solar panels and poorly hidden security cameras covering all angles.
“An EMP arrow will knock out his security,” I said.
Influx shook her head, “And it’ll also warn him we’re coming. No, Dr. Zundergrub’s pets will have to do. Besides, we only need a few cameras disabled. Mr. Haha, think you can get into the house electronically?”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Haha said and was silent, apparently trying to follow Influx’s instructions.
“Z, watch out for Haha, and watch our backs.” Influx looked at me, “let’s go.”
We ran down, leaving the other two behind, covering the distance between the forest ridgeline and the short wall of shrubbery between us and the cottage in a few minutes.
“How’s it going, Haha?” she asked into her comlink.
“Mr. Haha is in, of course,” I heard the rabbit robot reply into my earpiece. “WPA2 encrypted home network is like stealing candy from a kid. The vulnerability assessment phase was 2.35 seconds and I’m just-”
“Shut down any other security systems,” she interrupted.
“Already done. Sensor plates and IR scanners are down.”
“Good rabbit,” she said softly and ran towards a door at the rear of the house with me in tow. “Know how to pick a lock?”