PCA
Steve shifted from one foot to the other. He reached up and adjusted his mask once again, followed soon after by another flap of the cape.
This was the first time he’d worn his uniform outside in broad daylight. He’d known it would be hotter, but he was surprised just how much
stuffier
it was. Alan had warned him, but then, Alan was freaking out so much over this latest turn of events that Steve had been forced to tune him out:
They’ll arrest you, Steve! Especially now, with the bombing, they
need
to arrest someone, and you’re walking right into their hands!
And maybe Alan was right. But Steve was betting that Takayasu was more open-minded than that.
He heard some rustling around the corner, and he crouched lower behind the dumpster. But then he saw that it wasn’t Takayasu or his partner — it was a dog, a Boston Terrier. The little black-and-white pooch shuffled along, sniffing at the ground and occasionally marking territory. Steve didn’t know that female dogs did that as much as the males, but there she was.
Maybe Takayasu’s not coming. Maybe it was a bad idea to trust that kid with the note.
But the boy had seemed so awestruck by his flashy costume, he’d felt certain that ...
The Boston Terrier spotted him. She cocked her head to one side, then came trotting over to him.
"Hey, girl," he whispered, reaching out for her ...
"You make one move and we’ll drop you where you stand."
Steve froze. The Boston Terrier looked up at him a moment longer — if Steve didn’t know better, he would have sworn she had a devilish "Gotcha!" look in her eyes — then retreated.
"Stand up. Very, very slowly."
Keeping his hands open and out to his side, Steve rose. He started to turn toward the voice—
"Nope. Keep facing that way."
"Yeah," came another voice, this one a bit thick, as if the man had a mouthful of food. "We hear you’ve got looks that can kill."
Steve kept his hands open, but he lowered his arms slowly. "Takayasu?"
"Yep," the first man confirmed. " ‘Vortex,’ I presume?"
Beneath his mask, Steve smiled a nervous smile. "In the flesh. We need to talk."
"So your note indicated. But I’d like you to give me one good reason why we shouldn’t haul your ass in right now."
Steve sighed — he didn’t
have
any reasons to offer, especially not any "good" ones. Were he in Takayasu’s place, he wouldn’t be terribly inclined to trust an unknown paranormal right now, either. So he figured, rather than continue this particular dance, he would just lay his cards out on the table.
"
Davison Electronics
was attacked again last night," he began, keeping his back to them as ordered. "I stopped them, but I also learned something interesting. At least one of McLane’s cronies — a super-strong paranormal — is being
forced
to act rogue, to work for McLane. This man, who
also
wears a mask and uses a codename —
Powerhouse
— told me that McLane has his younger brother and sister hostage."
Again, the second voice, "And you believe him?"
Must be Shockwave
, Steve thought before answering, "Yes. He has to act like he’s doing as he’s told, but, given a chance, he could be our inside Ace, if you follow me. He told me where they’ve been meeting..."
Takayasu blurted, "A recording studio?"
Steve was so surprised, he almost turned around. "...
yes
. He gave me the address. He says he doesn’t know where McLane is keeping his brother and sister. That suggests to me that they
aren’t
being held at the studio. If we hit them, hard and fast, and with Powerhouse ready to jump in on our side when he gets a chance ... we could
end
this, before there’s another God-awful catastrophe like today."
Silence. Steve hoped that was a good sign.
"After this morning, you need all the help you can get," he pressed on. "McLane has to be stopped, now, before his group and every other rogue bursts from the woodwork to take advantage of this blow to the PCA."
Still silence.
Finally, Steve began to feel something else creeping through his tension — impatience. "Look, am I making
any
headway here, or am I just wasting my breath?"
Yet another pregnant pause. Then, "Turn around. Slowly."
He did.
Steve was surprised. Takayasu was there, his tazer aimed at Steve’s chest. Another man stood beside him, his fists also pointed toward Steve — he could see an occasional blurred ripple, not unlike his vortex wave, crawl across the man’s knuckles, and assumed that this was Shockwave. He looked like he’d seen better days — he’d been roughed up pretty bad, covered with cuts and a large bandage on his face that the blood was already soaking through.
But Steve had already figured out that those two were present. He was
not
expecting the black woman, or the dozen or so dogs sitting around her, most of them of different breeds — some of them were pretty damned
big
— and all of them waiting in eerie silence.
Despite it all, Steve found himself wanting to smile again. "You, uh ... you didn’t come alone," he pointed out lightly.
"No, we didn’t," Takayasu returned coldly, but his tone wasn’t
quite
as intense as it had been moments ago. Then, after a long hesitation, the ensign lowered his weapon. "I don’t completely trust you, Vortex. But ... you’re right. We need all the help we can get. You really know where the hideout is?"
Steve nodded.
Takayasu sighed, then glanced over at his partner. Shockwave relaxed his fists. "Well ... I don’t know just how much the three of us can accomplish—"
"
Four
of us," the woman interjected.
Takayasu shook his head. "No, we’ve taken you away from your primary task long enough."
"Ensign—"
"
Canine
... Patricia ... there could be dozens, maybe hundreds of people still trapped or hidden from view, all of them hurt or dying. Now what better use will your dogs serve: As trackers for the medics, or as cannon-fodder for some Class One rogues?"
When the woman, Canine or Patricia or whoever she was, lowered her eyes, Steve knew that Takayasu had won the short-lived debate.
"Go on, now. Thanks for your help, but those people need you more than we do. Tell Ensign Vasquez to take over until further notice." When Patricia and her pack of four-legged friends left the alley, Takayasu turned back to face Steve. "All right. We pool our resources, for now. But if you make one suspicious move—"
"I know, I know. Shockwave will tear me in half, right?"
"That’s the basic idea." Now he holstered his weapon and stepped forward. He stared into Steve’s masked face, into his eyes, very intently.
It made Steve nervous. "Um ..."
"Don’t mind me," Takayasu said. "I was just admiring your eyes. Your blue eyes."
Steve froze, said nothing, did not breathe, did not move.
Takayasu held his gaze meaningfully, then broke the silent standoff. "We need to get you out of sight. One look at that outfit of yours could freak just about anyone out right now, and I assume that you wouldn’t be willing to take it off, am I right?"
"Uh ... no, not really."
"Right. Well, we can’t stay here any longer, and we can’t meet at our headquarters, obviously. Any ideas, Shockwave?"
"Don’t look at me," his partner said with a shrug. "My place is completely trashed."
Michael snorted. "I guess that leaves
my
place, then. I’m going around to get our car. Shockwave, would you be so kind as to keep a watchful eye on our new ally here ... if you know what I’m sayin’?"
Shockwave chuckled ...
PCA
Mark was aching so badly, especially his cheek, that he could barely take it. But Mike was counting on him, and he wasn’t about to let him down.
After his partner slipped away, an awkward silence hung between Mark and the vigilante. They just sort of stared at each other, and it was all Mark could do to maintain his macho facade — what he
wanted
to do was lie down, curl up in a little ball, and go to sleep.
Stay focused
, he scolded himself.
Stay focused, and remember this pain when you find that silver-eyed bitch!
"You all right?"
Mark started. Vortex hadn’t so much as shifted his weight, and his reaction to the sudden question demonstrated just how strung-out he really was. "I’m fine," he grumbled.
Vortex nodded his head forward, presumably toward Mark’s facial bandage. "What happened?"
Mark’s first impulse was to snap,
None of your business!
, but what would that accomplish? If Vortex was really going to help them, and God knew they
needed
help — personally, Mark would not have sent Canine away, either — he would need to relax a bit. Besides, if this guy could
also
zap people with his eyes, then he could have already taken Mark down. Mike must have known that, but their options were severely limited.
"You remember the chick with the silver eyes?"
Vortex snorted. "How could I forget?"
"Yeah, well, she’s loose. She nailed me with that look of hers and let an associate carve me up a little." His pride demanded that he add, "
That
bastard is dead now."
Vortex was silent for a moment. Then, "If we run into her again, I’ll handle her."
"Why?"
"Let’s just say ‘that look of hers’ doesn’t do much good against
me.
"
Despite the discomfort it caused, Mark grinned. "I like the sound of that. I’ll keep it in mind. Just promise to go
rough
on her for me, you know what I’m sayin’?"
Vortex chuckled. "I gotcha."
The awkward silence fell between them again until Mark surprised himself by admitting, "By the way, I like that suit of yours."
" ... thanks."
"When this is all over, if we’re both still in one piece ... well, do you think that maybe you could hook me up with something like it?"
Vortex’s eyes first widened, then squinted slightly, and Mark knew that he was grinning. "Shockwave, I think that could be arranged ..."
PCA
It seemed to take forever for the coast to clear between the parking lot and his apartment. Michael gave Vortex his long coat — at least it
partially
covered the costume
— and parked as close to the open stairway as possible. The apartments in his complex opened into hallways, but those hallways were unenclosed. The stairs hugged the outside, with only a waist-high ledge blocking open space.
Michael climbed to the second floor and waited until the hallway was empty. It happened twice, but each time there was someone in the parking lot. Then, when the parking lot cleared, someone was in the hall. Very frustrating.
Finally, the way was free on both sides, and Mark and Vortex hurried from the car. Vortex led the way up the stairs, but, to his credit, Mark did not lag far behind. Michael opened the door in a hurry and hustled Vortex inside, gesturing toward the living room, then closed the door when Mark reached him a moment later.
"Have a seat," he told them. "Mark, please close the blinds, just in case. I’m grabbing my first-aid kit from the bathroom so we can clean you up a bit more. No arguments."
Mark simply nodded, closed the blinds, and collapsed onto Michael’s sofa. Vortex sat in the recliner, waiting patiently.