Paranormals (Book 1)

by Christopher Andrews

  "Shit!" Zimmer cursed with atypical clarity. "He’s paranormal!"

  Screaming in pain and rage, Elliott gaped at his mutilated hand, then threw himself down at Steve.

  Here goes nothing.

  The air between Steve and Elliott suddenly rippled, and the rogue’s cries were cut short as his breath was squeezed from him. His arms collapsed into his chest. His ribs cracked, and the leathery flesh of his wings instantly began to discolor. When the vortex wave cut out at the end of its three-second burst, Elliott fell to his knees in a pitiful heap, unable to do anything more than choke precious air back into his compressed lungs.

  Climbing smoothly to his feet, Steve faced the other two rogues. "That was the lowest power setting I have for that weapon," he informed them. "Would you like to see how high it can go?"

  "Piss off!" Zimmer yelled, cutting loose with another force-bolt.

  Steve responded instantly, countering with another vortex. This wave did not compress Zimmer, but rushed towards her in a concussive stream that would have done Shockwave of the PCA proud.

  Her bolt and his wave collided, and it was no contest. Zimmer’s bolt ricocheted straight back into her chest. Her eyes bulged in their sockets and her mouth opened. She convulsed violently, a grating gurgle leaking from the back of her throat. Her hands clawed at her left breast, and then her eyes rolled back in her head.

  Aghast, Steve rushed forward. He caught her just as her legs folded, and he lowered her to the ground.

  "Jesus," Waid managed to whisper around her rapidly-swelling jaw, "I think she’s having a heart attack."

  Steve felt for her pulse. It was extremely erratic — the silver-eyed woman probably wasn’t too far off target. Looking up into the night sky, he fired his lasers straight toward the Seven Stars in three short bursts. If Alan were watching as promised, he would know it was now time to call for backup. An ambulance would soon follow.

  Looking around him, Steve took in the sight of three rogues in various states of defeat. Things hadn’t gone quite as he’d hoped, but in the end he was the only one left standing. It hadn’t been the kind of heroic success that Jeffrey Lawrence probably would have envisioned ... but at least he had won.

  A flash of light reminded him that his opponents were down, but not necessarily out. He looked over at the woman he’d kicked and her eyes flashed again as she growled in frustration. Whatever her power was, she obviously wasn’t used to it not working.

  She had recovered her 9mm and tried to bring it around to bear, but Steve leaped forward and pinned her wrist under his foot. She swung at him with her free hand, going for his groin, but he soon had her as helpless as he had Alan in his dad’s office just a short time ago. The woman, unable to move, cried out in anger and flashed her silver eyes one more time.

  "You finished?" he asked her.

  Staring daggers at him, Waid finally laid back. Alarms began sounding all over the property now — she knew when it was time to quit. Spitting out more blood, she groused, "You knocked my teeth loose."

  "So sorry. I don’t suppose you want to tell me why you’re here tonight?"

  "Go to hell."

  "Didn’t think so."

  "I suppose this is the point where you tell me your name is ‘Batman’ and I should pass it on to all my friends, right?"

  Steve smiled behind his mask. "I guess it is. But last I checked, ‘Batman’ was already taken. Wouldn’t want to get sued." He gestured toward the multi-circular symbol on his chest. "You can call me ‘Vortex.’ "

  Despite her discomfort, Waid rolled her eyes. "Oh, Jesus. You should meet ... never mind."

  Not sure what to make of that remark, Steve looked around, spotting one of the frozen security guards for the first time. "That your handiwork?"

  Waid said nothing.

  "Guess you were all tuckered out by the time I showed up, huh?"

  "Go to hell," she repeated with greater vehemence.

  "Touchy." Pulling the 9mm from her now-numb fingers, Steve released her and drew back out of her reach. "Don’t move. I’ve got you covered with bullets, lasers, and a vortex wave."

  "Whatever."

  Steve confirmed that the guard was still breathing, however shallow. He then pulled off the guard’s belt and moved around behind Waid. "Don’t—"

  " ‘Don’t move,’ I know. Just shut up and get on with it, will you?"

  Steve wrapped the belt around her head, covering her silver eyes, and tied it off. He then removed the clip from the 9mm, ejected the bullet from the firing chamber, and dropped the various pieces around her. Security cars were approaching from the far end of the property, and he didn’t need experience to recognize the time for his "dramatic exit."

  Still, he couldn’t resist signing off, "Remember: ‘Vortex.’ Pass it on."

  "Yeah, yeah, yeah ..."

  Wrapping his black cape around himself, Steve smiled like a little kid and disappeared into the shadows ...

  PCA

  "Make sure they don’t take off her blindfold," he whispered into Alan’s ear.

  Alan jumped, not having heard his approach. Steve’s hair was a sweaty mess, but other than that, he could tell that the young man was none the worse for wear from his little adventure. Still, he could not help but whisper back, "Are you all right?"

  "Thanks to the uniform. The cape makes it harder to move than I expected, but the suit saved me a hole in the arm." Steve winked. "See, I told you I needed your help."

  Alan snorted. "Don’t remind me."

  The police were nervously holding the three rogues while they waited for the PCA to arrive and take custody. As near as the medics could determine, the force-bolt woman had not so much had a cardiac arrest as she had gone into some kind of shock. Her sternum was impacted, however, and it seemed very likely that there was undo pressure on the heart itself. The man who looked like a bat was not resisting as they tried to tape up his broken ribs without adding further injury to his damaged wings. Miss Flashy Eyes merely sat on the ground with a cold pack against her jaw.

  Alan shook his head. "As much as I hate to admit it, though, I’m impressed. Did everything function properly?"

  "Perfectly."

  "The wave?"

  "Like a charm. But I didn’t know what would happen to the woman when I—"

  "I’m sure you did what you had to do. I’d rather see her lying there than you."

  Silence fell between them for a few minutes. At length, Steve asked, "So ... does this mean we’re on?"

  Alan glanced unhappily at him. "Let’s just say I’m not going to pull the plug just yet."

  "That’s all I ask." He glanced over Alan’s shoulder toward the PCA cars that were now heading their way. "I think I’m going to beat a retreat. If that Takayasu guy is with them, I’d just as soon not talk to him if I can avoid it."

  Alan nodded. "If he’s with them, I’ll try to head him off. Get going."

  Steve got going.

  TAKAYASU AND SHOCKWAVE

  Michael Takayasu did more than just show up with the PCA contingent — he was leading it.

  The rogues were quickly secured, each appropriate to their paranormal abilities. The winged rogue’s hands were bound — loosely, to accommodate the injuries to his ribs and the large bandage on his right thumb. The woman who reportedly discharged force-bolts was fitted with a psi-jammer, which could be activated on a moment’s notice if she were to surface from her shock unexpectedly. And the woman whose eyes had been crudely covered was switched to a more secure blindfold. Michael would have preferred to have slipped her into an opaque helmet, but her jaw was fractured and he didn’t want to push his luck with the courts later. He’d also been concerned that she might try to use her power — which was apparently a paralyzing flash from her eyes, one of the few thus-far-unique paranormal abilities he’d encountered — during the switch over, but having Shockwave stand behind her with his hands resting lightly on her shoulders was all the deterrent she needed.

  As they were being ca
rted away into separate ambulances, with P C Agents in tow, Shockwave turned to Michael. "I gotta admit, Davison security didn’t do a bad job with this bunch, you know what I’m sayin’?"

  Michael nodded. "Yep. The raid was stopped, with each rogue injured but not killed." He scratched his chin. "I’m curious about what weaponry was used, though. I’m not sure how they were stopped."

  "You gotta point," Westmore agreed, dropping his Shockwave persona for a moment. "Did you see the winged guy’s thumb?"

  "I saw that it was heavily bandaged."

  "No, I mean his thumb," Westmore clarified. "Most of it was cut off and laying on the ground. They’re not sure if they can reattach it or not."

  "Cut off?" Michael glanced toward the winged rogue’s ambulance, but the doors were already closing. "You’d think there’d be more blood involved."

  "Don’t look at me. I’m no doctor. I know it was burned, too. That’s why they’re not sure if it’ll reattach."

  Michael looked thoughtful, an expression Shockwave was coming to recognize more and more. "I’ll have to ask their head of security exactly how that happened."

  A muffled female voice called from behind them, "While you’re at it ..."

  Michael and Westmore turned. The blindfolded woman, still holding the ice pack to her jaw, was just being assisted into her ambulance. She’d clearly been listening to them and was now speaking in their direction, even though her discomfort in doing so was evident.

  "... be sure to ask them about the freak they’ve got running around here."

  "Excuse me?" Michael asked, moving towards her. He gestured for the P C Agent and medic to wait for the moment.

  The woman grimaced in his direction. Her cheek puffed slightly as she ran her tongue over and through her teeth. "You PCA schmucks are a law-enforcement agency. The ‘good guys.’ Am I right, kiddo?"

  "You’re right."

  "Well, then, be sure to ask about the maniac in the black-and-gold Halloween outfit."

  "What the hell are you talkin’ about?" Shockwave demanded.

  The woman tried to smile, but her swollen mouth didn’t want to cooperate. "Either Davison Electronics is getting flamboyant with their security force, or you boys have a paranormal vigilante on your hands. A vigilante who thinks he’s a super-hero. You guys may like your asinine codenames, but this guy dresses the part." She looked away and gestured that she was ready to get into the ambulance.

  "Would you care to clarify, ma’am?" Michael asked.

  "Maybe," she shrugged, now playing up her obstructed speech for all it was worth. "Come see me after they fix my jaw and we’ll talk."

  "Talk bargain maybe," Shockwave snorted. "Forget her, Mike. She’s makin’ it up. And even if she’s tellin’ the truth, so what? So somebody’s playin’ hero instead of villain for a change. More power to them."

  " ‘Playing hero,’ all right," the woman said from inside the ambulance as they seated her on the Gurney. "A ‘hero’ who assaulted and nearly killed us, even after we tried to surrender. He cut my friend’s thumb off with lasers from his eyes after the fact, as a message that ‘Vortex is a force to be reckoned with.’ Have fun, kiddo. ‘Vortex’ is your problem now." She finally managed her smile just as the doors closed.

  Michael stared after the ambulance as it pulled away.

  Westmore chuckled. "Loony bitch."

  "Maybe."

  "Oh, come on, Mike. She’s messin’ with us, tryin’ to draw our attention from what she was doin’. Forget about it."

  "I’m not so sure," Michael said slowly, thumping one fisted hand into the palm of the other. "I’m getting that feeling again that all is not as it appears ... and here we are at Davison Electronics once more."

  Shockwave wasn’t following him. "What’re you sayin’, young’n? That the Davison kid has something to do with this after all? You think he hired this ‘Vortex’ to—"

  "You’re getting ahead of me, old man. But keep an open mind." He turned and surveyed the remaining crowd with intense scrutiny.

  "Now what?"

  "I was curious if Davison had shown up — after all, it’s his company now, remember? Looks like he’s not here, but I believe that man is Alan Russell, the civilian VP."

  "Are we going to ...?" But Michael was already on his way. Sighing, Shockwave followed.

  Michael wanted to share his thoughts with Mark. He really did. The problem was that he wasn’t quite sure what he was thinking at the moment. He was "running on gut," as his old roommate Ray had so fondly coined it. Skeptical logic suggested just what Mark had implied, that the blindfolded rogue was making the whole thing up to divide their attention. But there was something ... something nagging at the back of his brain. All he knew ... well, that’s just it, he didn’t know anything really. But what he felt was that something was happening in the state of Davison Electronics — whether it would prove to be rotten, he could not say.

  "Excuse me," he called, "Mister Russell?"

  The man glanced his way, and Michael was fairly certain that he glimpsed apprehension in that look. "Yes?"

  He showed his PCA ID. "Ensign Michael Takayasu. This is my partner, Shockwave. We’ve been assigned to the McLane case."

  "I see," Russell nodded. "Not to sound unappreciative, but why are you here, Ensign? Do you think our offenders are working for that bastard?"

  "That has yet to be determined, sir, but we’ve been operating on the assumption that McLane might seek some sort of revenge on Davison Electronics itself."

  "Or maybe even take another shot at the Davison kid," Mark threw in.

  That definitely made Russell uneasy. "Really? I mean, we’ve been hoping that Richard was after Joseph himself, and the rest of them were just unfortunate to have been there. Do you really think he’s after Steve now?"

  "No way to know for sure, sir," Michael admitted, "but I wouldn’t discount the strong possibility." He made a show of glancing around. "Is Steve here tonight?"

  Russell swallowed and made a little half-grunt as he cleared his throat. "He was here going over some paperwork earlier — trying to learn the ins-and-outs of the business, you know — but I think he already turned in."

  "Is he residing here, then? I understand that his family home was destroyed."

  Russell bowed his head. "Sadly, yes. I had an efficiency apartment next to the main office, left over from the days when Joseph and I were trying to get this ‘little company’ off the ground. Steve is using it."

  Mark glanced at Michael, unsure of where all this verbal tap-dancing was leading. He was trying to jump in where he could, but subtlety wasn’t exactly his style — he didn’t want to inadvertently screw up his partner’s plans.

  Michael gestured with his head towards the last of the departing ambulances. "By the way, congratulations on securing the intruders so successfully."

  Now Russell was really squirming, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The night air was quite cool, but a thin sheen of sweat glistened on his brow. He also kept grunting his throat clear. "Thank you, Ensign, but we, uh, we didn’t secure them."

  "Really?" Michael feigned surprise. "Oh, then the police must have shown up in time. How lucky that they were equipped to handle the three rogues. The women will be labeled Class One, I’m sure."

  Russell grunted, looking to the ground. "Well ... um, I don’t believe it was the police, either."

  "Not you, and not the police? I’m sorry, Mister Russell, I’m a bit confused."

  The man suddenly perked up, all but leaping onto Michael’s words. "Yes, it is confusing. Very confusing. You see, by the time we got here, the three rogues had already been incapacitated. We’re not really sure what happened. Very confusing."

  "That’s very odd, and very interesting." Michael turned to his partner, wide-eyed. "Maybe she was telling us the truth after all, Shockwave, do you think?"

  "Looks like it," Mark mused so thoughtfully that Michael had to bite the inside of his cheek to avoid smiling.

  "I�
�m sorry?" Russell probed.

  Michael turned back to him. "The woman with the blindfold tried selling us some tall-tale about a vigilante. A costumed vigilante, no less, like something out of a movie. Apparently went by the codename ‘Vortex,’ or some such. Well, we didn’t believe her, of course — Shockwave figured that she was inventing a smokescreen to distract us from her breaking-and-entering. But now, if you say that your security team didn’t stop them ... well, we’ll just have to look into the matter with more scrutiny than we first thought. We can’t have some paranormal loose cannon coming and going as he pleases, now can we?"