Roman nodded. “I suppose it was. So what now?”
“Assuming Mars wakes up and is healthy, we let Dean go.”
Roman looked over towards Dean and the others. Scape rose up into the air, then flew over to Mars in the Dean suit, landing on her melting chest and pressing his glowing forehead of eyes against her goo-covered forehead. The pastry chef in the portly man suit still wasn't moving.
“I'll interview the pastry chef and Mars, but first you have to tell me – why Serendipity's sudden interest in the Agency?”
The Function took out his flask and took a swig, then slipped it back into his coat. He shook his head. “She's never liked the Agency's ranks being empty. The harmful elements of the city take notice when the Agency is weak, and bad things start to brew.”
“Bad things are always brewing.”
The Function raised an eyebrow. “That's why we need to get you up and running.” He motioned over to the car. “Shall we?”
File 10 :: [Mars]
Thrashing and screaming, her lungs burned for air. All was dark but she knew that the end of the water was near and she reached for the surface that she willed to be there. Drowning was not the way she would go down – it seemed so futile, so empty. For some people their life flows before their eyes, but for Mars there was none of that nonsense. Her life had been ripped away from her – all the peripheral things that she took for granted were gone. She was an animal. She was flesh and bone and evolution and will, and the only thing coursing through her body was the instinct to survive. So she reached and thrashed and just when her body was beginning to shut itself down bit by bit, no matter how much she willed it to not do so, she was out of the water.
She breathed in two lungfuls of air in the dark, and then arms were around her, speaking. Mars shoved the arms away and began crawling away from them, her eyes burning in her skull as she coughed hard. Then the arms were around her again, holding her own arms down as she tried to thrash.
“Calm down, Mars, it's alright! Everything's alright!” The words spiraled through her shaking body, soothing her little by little. Then towels were wiping off her face, and the voice said, “Keep your eyes closed.”
As her memories of life began coming back, she recognized the voice that spoke to her – it was the voice of her oldest friend. Her body kept shaking, twitching like it was cold – but it wasn't cold. Her coughing subsided and soon she was able to open her eyes, though they still burned.
She saw The Function hovering above her like he'd done when she was just a child. Like the lamest guardian angel anyone's ever had.
“Mars,” he said, and through her blurred vision she almost thought he was crying. “Are you alright?”
Her arms and body felt empty and so very sore, and her eyes twitched as the back of her head pulsed with pain. “When I get my strength back,” she croaked. “I'm gonna slap you so hard.”
The Function smiled. “Good.”
“Next time I rob a bank, I'll hire my own getaway driver. You're fired.”
“I already fired myself. How do you feel?”
“Like I'm covered in freaking slime and the back of my head's gonna fall off. And I kinda feel like I might puke.” She looked down at her body, which seemed to be drenched in multicolored snot rather than a melting person-suit. What's worse was that she could feel the slime drying, and it was sticking to her skin and pulling at it while it did so. She'd never wanted a shower so bad in her life. “Maybe I'll just go jump in the river.”
She looked over and saw Edith laying on her back in a large puddle of slime, completely soaked with her eyes closed. And the man who Mars looked like in the person suit, Dean Smith himself, was sitting down leaning against the back of the car. “Is Edith alright?” she asked The Function.
“Scape seems to think so.”
Mars turned her head to look for the giant mosquito, and painful colors erupted like lightning as she moved her head to quickly. “Aw, hell!” she said, clenching her eyes shut. She waited for the pain to subside, then opened her eyes and found the mosquito behind her disassembling some kind of equipment. And there with the insect was Roman Wing. Her heart skipped and she inhaled some of the sludge that was still in her mouth - the very Roman Wing from the Agency was right behind her[8]. She began coughing and gagging, finally hocking up the slime like a loogie from hell and spitting it out onto the cement next to her.
Roman noticed of course that she was awake and made his way over to her, crouching down and looking into her eyes.
“I don't usually do that. The gross loogie thing, I mean.”
“How do you feel?” He pressed his fingers to her neck and felt her pulse. His voice was so calm and soothing.
Mars shrugged. “Oh, you know... I've been better.”
“You just said you were gonna puke,” said The Function.
Mars jerked her head around towards him. “Maybe you should go check on Edith? You know, the poor pastry chef who you destroyed with your bad driving and fanciful ideas?”
“Sheesh,” The Function said, then wandered over towards Scape to help him with the machinery.
Roman felt her forehead and her face with his hands, and then wiped the slime off them with a towel. “The Function just recommended you as a recruit for the Agency.”
Mars swallowed wrong and began coughing, then spit out a fresh wad of slime. Roman patted her on the back and she cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “He what?”
“I guess he figures you're going to get yourself into danger anyway. So you might as well be doing it for the city. And he probably figures I'll be watching out for you, but I have a feeling that you can watch out for yourself.” He handed her a business card that said The Agents of Fateful Encounters, but the Fateful Encounters part was scratched out with a pen. There was a phone number underneath.
Mars nodded and took the card, her heart pounding. “I'd very much like to join the Agency. And I'm very sorry to hear about what happened in the swamp.”
Roman nodded. “Thank you.”
Then suddenly there was yelling – they looked over to see Edith soaked and covered in slime, sitting up and pointing the security guard's gun at Dean Smith, who was sitting against the back of the car. Dean was the one yelling. “Whoa! Whoa, darling!”
“Edith!” yelled The Function as he ran across the warehouse. “He's not a memory anymore! He's flesh and blood, and a bullet will kill him!”
“You're a fucking liar,” Edith said to Dean. She turned and spat out a big wad of slimy person suit onto the cement. It was the first time since Mars had been stalking her that Mars had found the pastry chef at all attractive.
Mars swore she saw something blurry come out of the gun, crawl up Edith's arm and whisper into her ear – maybe it was just Mars' throbbing head playing tricks on her - but then Edith turned the gun on its side and clicked the safety off. The creature, or whatever it was, ran back down Edith's arm and dove into the gun. One of Edith's eyes looked swollen and was clenched shut, so she used the other eye to aim at Dean.
“Edith!” yelled The Function. “Put the gun down!”
Edith's eyes never left Dean.
“I didn't hurt you, doll,” Dean said very seriously. “I'm not the one who shot you –”
Edith moved her hand and shot and Dean jumped as sparks erupted off the back of the car.
“Oh! Not the car!” yelled The Function. “Damn it!”
Edith pointed the gun back at Dean. “If you ever hurt me or anyone I care about, I will find you and I will kill you.”
“Point taken. I get it.”
Her grip tightened on the gun. “No, you don't. You were in my fucking head. I let you into my fucking head. And you betrayed me. You are, and always will be, an enemy to me.”
He nodded and she lowered the gun.
Dean looked up at The Function and Roman. “Well, I'll be taking my leave if it's alright by you gentlemen.”
“What, you don't feel like hanging around for a bit?” ask
ed The Function, smirking. “You just got here.”
Dean slowly and shakily got to his feet. “No, I think my newly sworn arch nemesis and I could use some space.”
“We'll be in touch,” said The Function, walking over and running his thumb over the bullet hole in the car's bumper. “You'd better get a job so you can pay for this body work.”
Dean walked around the car, facing Edith the whole time. “Sure thing.” Then he disappeared through a rusted metal door.
Mars looked at Edith, whose head was bowed with her eyes closed, like she was praying. “You alright, girl?”
“Not really,” said Edith, setting the gun on the ground next to her. “How can I be alright?”
Roman walked over and crouched down next to her. “Edith? My name is Roman. I am a doctor, of sorts.”
She looked up at him and squinted at him with her one open eye. “Do you have makeup on?”
“No, I just don't look like most people you run across. Can I check your pulse?”
Edith nodded.
He pressed his fingers to her neck. “How are you feeling? Does your eye hurt?”
“It just feels... stuck. Like the slime is keeping it stuck shut.”
Mars was pretty sure that the eye was where she'd shot Edith in the car, but she didn't want to say anything because Edith still had the gun right next to her. Not that she thought Edith would shoot her, but still...
Roman pressed against the eye with his fingers. “Does that hurt?”
Edith shook her head.
“I'm pretty sure it should just wear off – most likely a shower will do it. The warm water and steam will probably just loosen it up. Unfortunately it's rather untested technology and I haven't really worked out the details.” Roman handed her the same business card he'd given Mars. “You can reach me at this number. Just let myself or The Function or Mars know if you keep having trouble, and I'll make sure you're patched up as good as new.”
“Thanks,” said Edith.
Roman smirked. “That was some real heart you showed back there. I think there was a little piece in each of us that was hoping you'd shoot him – at least wound him a bit.”
“I almost did, but I'm glad I didn't.”
Roman nodded. “Of course. Do you know about the Agents?”
She shook her head. “What agents?”
“I belong to an Agency that helps the city, and The Function thinks that you would be a good person for us to recruit. Mars will be joining as well. If I may, I would like to talk to you about it, perhaps in a few days.”
“I have a business. I don't really need a job.”
“Well, maybe we can talk about it. Over coffee or something.”
Mars slowly got to her feet, despite her protesting muscles. “Alright, I think there's enough confusion in the air for one day. Edith, how about we get you home, girl? We'll grab a drink on the way.”
Edith sighed. “That's exactly what I need.”
Mars reached down and helped Edith to her feet, though they both had to steady themselves on the car to keep from falling over. Mars reached into the back of the car and pulled out a small wad of cash from one of the trash bags. “We're taking drinking money!” she yelled to The Function, who was on the other side helping Scape.
“The Function is talking to a gigantic bug,” said Edith.
“Yep,” said Mars, patting her on the back. “Let's not worry about that right now. Let's just get you on home.”
“Are you sure you'll be alright?” asked Roman.
“In case you hadn't noticed, we're kinda badasses,” said Mars. “We just robbed a freaking bank. We'll be fine.”
And then they were through the door, squinting at a world cruelly crafted out of bright sunlight.
“I think that big bug was in my dreams,” said Edith.
“It'll all make sense in time. Which may or may not be reassuring, but it's true.” Mars looked down at their slime-soaked selves. “I'm not sure a cab will stop for us.”
“We can walk to my apartment from here – it's in The Garden District. Then at least we can get showered. I could probably throw together something for us to eat, too.”
“Sounds like a plan.” They began walking down the cracked and crooked sidewalk. “Let's grab a beer on the way.”
They walked for about ten minutes, and as they walked the city around them became less about warehouses and more about houses. Both of them were silent and exhausted, and didn't say much. Mars nodded towards a shop on a corner they were approaching, with a wooden bench outside and signs in the window boasting beer and lotto tickets. “Holy crap! Beer and a bench. The gods have spoken.”
“Do you mind going in?” asked Edith.
“Sure, what kind of beer do you want? We robbed a freaking bank, so we can afford to get the good stuff.”
“A giant can of Guinness.”
“So it shall be.”
Mars went in and bought a four pack of Guinness tall boys. When she came out, Edith was sitting on the backless wooden bench and leaning back on the wall of the store, which was covered in a barrage of concert ads and graffiti.
“Think we could rest for a few minutes?” she asked Mars.
It was a little funny to her that this woman, who must be a decade older than her, owned her own business and had her life together, was asking Mars if they could sit down. Mars, who barely had a real job and didn't have a bank account. But Edith had been through a lot in the last couple of hours, and could be under some delusion that Mars knew what she was doing – like she'd done anything like this before.
Mars sat next to her on the bench and handed her a can of Guinness. They both opened their beers and gently knocked their cans together.
“To bank robbers who leave their loot behind,” said Mars.
“To outlaws and fame.”
They both took long drinks of the dark beer and relaxed back against the corner store wall, melting a little into the wood underneath them and the postered wall behind them.
Even in their sad state of appearance, no one looked at them twice. Most people just nodded to them as they walked down the sidewalk or stepped into the corner store. “You know, The Garden District isn't half bad,” said Mars. “Might just move here some day. It's definitely a lot greener.”
“Where do you live?”
“In The Marigny, by the tracks.”
“Oh, I like that part of town. I used to go to shows over there.” She looked down at the beer in her hand. “When I went to shows. I don't do much of anything but work these days.”
Mars laughed. “I almost feel like I do too much. Sometimes I'm running around so much I forget to just chill out with myself.” She put her arms into the air and started to stretch, then abruptly stopped when pain flared across her wounded chest. She crouched forward and waited for the pain to subside.
“Mars, are you alright?”
“Yep. Fine. Ready to hit the road?”
“That's not a bad idea.” They got to their feet, finished off their beers and tossed the cans into the corner store's garbage as they continued on their way. A mere twenty minutes later they were at the foot of Edith's apartment building.
File 11 :: [Edith Downs]
Luckily Edith had a habit of locking herself out of her apartment, so there were a couple sets of keys hidden around the building. She lifted up a heavy potted plant in the courtyard and kicked a key out from underneath it.
Her body hurt badly, and the migraine that the beer had stifled was creeping up again – the pain felt like a line that started in her eye and moved in a thin spiral diagonally through her head until it made its way out the back. She could open her bad eye a little, but it's like the nerves were keeping her from opening it all the way.
There were a few seconds between her rattling the key into the door and Maurice beginning his list of complaints – he wasn't at all used to her being home so early. She shoved the door open with her shoulder. “Mars, meet Maurice. Maurice, Mars.”
“Oh my god, he's so adorable it's stupid.” Mars knelt down to greet him and he started sniffing the goo on the back of her hand. She pulled her hand away. “Maybe you shouldn't get so close to that. Who knows what the dried slime is doing to us, let alone what it'll do to you.”
Edith turned on a couple of lamps and pulled open the curtains.
“Your place is really nice,” said Mars.
“Thanks.”
“Be grateful you have real ceilings. I live in a converted attic, so half my apartment has five foot high ceilings that slant towards the wall. But it's got charm.” She laughed.
Edith looked down at her clothes and arms. If she wasn't so exhausted, the sight of the goo all over her would have made her nauseated. “Ok, how are we gonna do this? How about I take a quick shower, then you can take one while I cook us up something. Then after we eat I'll take another shower, and then you can take another one if you want.”
Mars laughed. “Only two?”
She shook her head. “Oh, there'll be more after a short break.” She dumped some food into Maurice's bowl, figuring the food and the nap he always took afterwards would keep him away from the stuff that was all over them. Then she rummaged through a closet and found a beat-up old blanket, which she tossed onto her loveseat. “You can sit here, and I'll be quick. The remote's over there if you want to watch TV.”
“Good deal.” Mars flopped herself down on the loveseat and broke open another can of Guinness. Edith grabbed a trash bag for her clothes and went into the bathroom.
The shower took longer than planned, but it was so hard to reach down and turn off the hot water – she could have stayed in there for hours, not caring if the water got cold. Getting the dried goo off her skin wasn't as difficult as she'd feared, and it seemed to dissolve easily enough with hot water and soap. Her skin still felt weird, like the stuff had gotten into her pores, but it was very much an improvement. She hadn't looked into the mirror before the shower, not wanting to scare herself, and when she looked at her reflection afterwards she looked normal enough, with her soaking black hair falling to her shoulders and her dripping face. The only thing weird was that her eye was only half open, and when she looked closer at it in the mirror she could swear that it was discolored. Her eyes were bright green and that eye looked like it had a tinge of yellow to it. Almost the same color, but not quite.
The Axeboy's Blues (The Agents Of Book 1) Page 8