Killshot squirmed under me as I punched her. She was trying to throw me off of her again. I used more water to encase her lower body in ice. It felt like my mind was ripping apart at the seams with the extra mental effort. It felt like my head would pop open. I wanted to stop. I could not let up though. I hit Killshot and hit her and hit her some more until I thought my heart would explode. I could barely focus my eyes. Killshot’s partially masked face was a blur of white and pink and red under me.
Finally, it penetrated my dull brain Killshot was not moving anymore. I stopped punching her. It was almost as hard to stop as it was to start. My body was on autopilot. But, stop I did. My chest heaved. My lungs burned. Something deep inside of me felt like it wasn’t working right.
I blinked hard, bringing my eyes into focus. Killshot’s face and torn mask were bloody. The eye she shot her beams out of was a mess. It was hard for me to look at it. Her remaining good eye stared up at me. Had I killed her? No. She blinked. She tried to speak. Unsuccessfully. She only managed to breathe out a bubble of blood. She coughed, spraying blood and spittle into my face. She tried again.
“You win. You’ve beaten me,” she rasped. Some of her once perfect teeth were broken. “End it now. Kill me. It’s what we agreed to.”
I breathed hard. My entire body hurt. Isn’t this what I had been working towards? Being able to end Killshot’s killing spree permanently? How many people had she killed? Not only killed, but relished killing. Wasn’t she merely a mad dog who needed to be put down before she bit someone else?
I shifted a bit. I put my hands around her neck. Her neck was wet and warm with sweat and blood. My hands felt like they belonged around her neck.
“I can kill you. I want to kill you. I should kill you. You certainly deserve it,” I croaked. My throat hurt. I hesitated. “But I won’t. You can’t fight the Devil with the Devil’s own tools. Doing so is the first step.”
Killshot’s dark remaining eye looked puzzled. “The first step to what?” she asked.
“Becoming you,” I said.
I proceeded to choke Killshot unconscious. Call me misogynistic, or unchivalrous, or unheroic, or whatever you like. I do not care.
It does not change the fact I enjoyed the hell out of choking her.
CHAPTER 31
I knelt down in front of my filing cabinet in my office. I grimaced in pain. I had not fully recovered from my fight with Killshot from days before. My doctor had told me it would be a while before I did. I wondered if being achy all over was what being old felt like. If so, getting old was for the birds. I hoped I died young. I certainly was in the right line of work to have my wish granted.
I opened the bottom drawer of the cabinet. It was full of bottles of liquor. I pulled the bottles out and put them on the floor. The liquor might help numb my aches and pains. I was not planning on having a drink, though. Rather, I was going to take the bottles down the hall to the bathroom and pour them out. It was not that I did not want to drink. Quite the opposite, actually. I still very much had a taste for one. But, if there was one thing recent history had taught me, it was that drinking and Truman Lord were not a good combination. I just wished my parents had come to a similar realization before they had gotten themselves and my sister killed so many years before.
I pulled out the last of the bottles and put them on the floor. Suddenly, the door of my office opened. A figure draped in white from head to toe walked in. It was Ghost. Of course he would come in right as my office looked like the stockroom of a liquor store. Though I was not doing anything wrong, I felt like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
Ghost looked down at me. I wished his face was not totally obscured by his mask. It would be better to see the judgment in his eyes rather than just to imagine it.
“Having a party?” he asked me in his deep voice. “Perhaps my invitation was lost in the mail.” Maybe I imagined it, but I thought I heard a frown in his voice.
“No,” I said. “I was actually about to throw all this stuff out. I can pour you a glass if you want.”
“No thanks. I’m driving,” Ghost said. I had no idea if he was kidding or not. The idea of Ghost behind the wheel of a car was like thinking of Moses driving a Volkswagen Beetle. “Can I interrupt your Carrie Nation impersonation long enough to talk to you for a bit?”
“Sure.”
We both sat, me behind my desk and Ghost in front of it. I was anxious. I felt like I was a little kid in the principal’s office waiting to hear how much detention he was going to get. The fact Ghost held the status of my Hero’s license in the palm of his hand had much to do with it. But that was not the only thing. There was something about the man himself that was so intimidating. I could not quite put my finger on what it was about Ghost that made me feel so young and self-conscious. Whatever it was, he should have bottled and sold it and called it The Fear of God. He could market it to prison wardens and parents of difficult children.
“I believe congratulations are in order. I understand the Meta woman who killed your client Mr. Poindexter is in custody thanks to you. Her associate as well,” Ghost said.
“Thanks,” I said. “You come around to give me a medal? Does prize money come with it? Or maybe you want me to teach a Guild master class in Metahuman combat? Either way, I’m flattered.” I regretted the words as they came out. I could not help myself. I really was incapable of keeping my mouth shut. If there was an organ which produced inappropriateness, I desperately needed to have it removed.
The fabric of Ghost’s mask around his mouth twitched.
“Alas, no. I am here neither to give you a medal nor to make you a Guild professor.” Ghost crossed his legs. “The main reason why I’m here is because I got a visit the other day from an associate of yours by the name of Shadow. We had a long talk about you.”
Oh great. My friend and sometime associate Shadow, who also happened to be an unregistered Metahuman and a noted criminal, had paid a visit on the chief investigator of the Heroes’ Guild. It was like a brothel owner visiting the Pope. What in the world had Shadow talked to Ghost about? The best way to kill someone without leaving a mark? How to flout the Hero Act by operating as an unregistered Metahuman for hire? What had Shadow been thinking? Did she want to guarantee I got defrocked? What had I ever done to her?
“I see,” I said. For once, I did not have anything funny to say. Being on an express train to being defrocked was no laughing matter.
“Even before I met her, I had heard of some of Shadow’s exploits. I knew she makes a living using her powers even though she is not registered under the Hero Act. I could have arrested her when she came to see me.”
“I take it you didn’t.” I was somewhat surprised.
“I did not. There are no doubt other members of the Guild who would argue I should have,” Ghost said. “While Shadow is in violation of the Hero Act and of Guild regulations, from what I have heard about her, on balance, she does more good than harm. Sometimes the spirit of the law is as important as the letter of the law.
“Shadow took quite a risk in coming to see me. She did not know when she came that I would not detain her,” Ghost said. “She took that chance, as it turns out, to defend you. She told me the details of how you went about located and defeating Killshot. A lot of what she told me was not reported on in the media. I have a feeling Shadow left parts of the full story out as well, but I also think that the parts she did tell me were true.
“Among other things, she told me about how you paid a visit on Killshot’s associate Shrapnel. Shadow said she had wanted to torture him to make him tell you Killshot’s location. But you stopped her. She said you two nearly came to blows over the matter.
“You did the right thing in not torturing Shrapnel, of course. Despite the fact you made things harder on yourself by not doing so and you risked not being able to track down Killshot, you still did the right thing. To be frank, I do not approve off all the things you do, and I certainly do not approve of the way you do them.
For instance, you are a little too flippant too often for my taste. But, I would rather have a flippant Hero who gets the big things right than a serious Hero who gets the big things wrong.”
Ghost took a breath.
“On the other hand, you clearly neglected your duty by leaving Mr. Poindexter’s side and giving Killshot an opening to kill him unmolested.” Ghost sighed. “Maybe Killshot would have managed to kill him even if you had never left him. There is no way to know. But, I believe you have largely redeemed your lapse in judgment by tracking Killshot down at great personal risk and expense. For that reason and after reviewing the totality of your career thus far, I am recommending to the Guild’s Executive Committee that Gloria Poindexter’s complaint against you be resolved with a letter of reprimand which will be logged in your formal Guild record and published in the local media. While I cannot guarantee the Executive Committee will follow my recommendation, it usually does.”
At Ghost’s words, I could almost literally feel a weight being lifted off my shoulders. All throughout my pursuit of Killshot, the thought I might ultimately lose my Hero’s license had nagged at my mind. Though I hated to think I was nothing more than merely a Hero, I did not have an answer to the question of what I would do if I were not permitted to be a Hero. There were still criminal charges pending against me due to my actions in the Golden Horseshoe Casino, but my worry about them paled in comparison to how I had been worried about losing my Hero’s license.
“As for the matter of the criminal charges pending against you, Shadow spoke to me about those as well,” Ghost said. I almost jumped at his words. It was as if he could read my mind. I had a sudden horrible thought. Good Lord, maybe he could. Don’t think about anything embarrassing, I said to myself. Don’t think about porn; don’t think about porn; don’t think about porn. And, of course, suddenly that was the only thing I could think about. The mind is a perverse thing. Perverted too, sometimes.
Ghost was still speaking. His words penetrated my panicked mind.
“Despite the fact you assaulted a security guard and damaged casino property when you were trying to apprehend Killshot, Shadow believes you acted appropriately in light of the situation. ‘Exigent circumstances,’ she called them. I agree with her. She has asked me to speak with city officials and ask them to drop the charges against you. I plan to do so. While they do not have to drop the charges, the Guild carries a lot of weight in this city.” Ghost’s mask twitched again. “I have been around for quite a while and have a bit of pull myself. Not to mention having some well-placed officials owing me favors.”
I was speechless for a few moments.
“I don’t know what to say,” I finally managed to say.
“Well, generally people say thank you in these situations.” Ghost’s tone contained a smile.
“Thank you,” I said. I stood. Ghost did as well. We shook hands. Now seemed a bad time to ask him if he knew I had been thinking about porn.
Ghost went to the door and put his hand on the knob. He turned back around.
“I almost forgot. A little while ago there was an incident on the Guild space station where several water pipes failed. I am told the odds of such a thing happening all at once are astronomical. Would you happen to know anything about it?”
“Yes,” I said. I was not even tempted to lie. I would rather lie to the Pope.
“I thought as much. To be honest, I think I would have changed my recommendation to the Executive Committee if you had lied to me,” Ghost said. “You took a big chance in accessing Guild records. One might even say it was foolhardy in light of the fact you were the subject of a Guild investigation at the time.” He shook his head. “Though I cannot condone your actions, I must admit I admire your chutzpah and resolve. I can see how you have inspired the fierce loyalty of a willful and formidable woman like Shadow.” The fabric of his mask twitched again. “Besides, if we defrocked you, who would act as a check on her more violent impulses? You might join forces with her and become a supervillain. I would rather have you on the inside of our tent peeing out, than on the outside of it peeing in.”
Ghost opened the door. He left with a swirl of his long cape, closing the door behind himself.
I stood there staring at the door for a while. I was thankful beyond words. It looked like I would be able to keep my Hero’s license after all. As an added bonus, maybe I would not go to jail. Even if the state did not agree to drop the charges, if I went to trial, I would be a Hero in good standing with no prior record. If convicted, maybe I would just get probation, especially since Ghost was willing to put in a good word for me.
I made a mental note to thank Shadow for speaking to Ghost. I made a second mental note to tell her to not break me out of jail if I did wind up serving time. I would not put it past her.
Ghost’s parting words about being inside the tent pissing out made me think of how I had urinated in the alley off of McAdams Street after waking up as drunk as a skunk. Though it really was not that long ago, it seemed an eternity ago. I could not imagine doing such a thing now. It was as if the guy in the alley was a different person than the person I was now. Perhaps he had been.
I went back to what I had been doing before Ghost walked in. I gathered some of the bottles of liquor. I walked with them painfully down the hall to the bathroom I shared with the other businesses on the floor. I cracked open one of the bottles. The smell of scotch filled the air. My mouth watered. It seemed a shame to waste such fine whiskey. But what was I supposed to do with it instead of pouring it out? Donate it to charity? Give it to a nunnery? Perhaps an orphanage? I certainly was not going to drink it. I remembered the man lying in the alley. I did not want to be him again. Perhaps I would have a drink again someday. But not today. Probably not tomorrow, either.
One day at a time.
I upended the first bottle into the sink. As I poured the booze out, I thought about Killshot and roads taken and not taken. What was it she had said about there being three kinds of people? She had said there were sheep, shepherds, and wolves. I was not a philosopher or a deep thinker. I had no idea if she was right. And if she was right, I did not know where I fit into the grand scheme of things.
There were only two things I knew for certain—that there were Heroes, and that I was proud to be one of them.
For now, that was all I needed to know.
The End
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The other books in the Superhero Detective series can be found here:
Book Four: HUNTED
Book One: SUPERHERO DETECTIVE FOR HIRE
Book Two: THE MISSING EXPLODING GIRL
Additionally, Mr. Brasher has begun another superhero series set in the same fictional world as Truman’s where Metahumans must become licensed Heroes to legally use their powers. Called the Omega Superhero Series, this series features Metas more powerful than those who appear in the Superhero Detective Series. The first in the series is CAPED, which tells the origin story of Theodore Conley, a seventeen-year-old who wrestles with his newfound powers. An excerpt from Caped is below.
Additional superhero novels will be published soon. Click on the link below to sign up for Mr. Brasher’s e-mail newsletter for information on these new books and bonuses given exclusively to newsletter subscribers:
DARIUS BRASHER’S NEWSLETTER
Follow Darius Brasher on Twitter at www.twitter.com/dariusbrasher or feel free to drop him a line at [email protected].
Turn the page for an excerpt from Hunted, Book Four of the Superhero Detective Series and an excerpt from Caped, Book One of the Omega Superhero Series.
EXCERPT FROM HUNTED
Supervillains were a real pain in the ass, especially when one kicked you in the ass. Hard.
I staggered forward from the force of the blow. Thick fog swirled around me. Pain
radiated from where Antaeus had kicked me, setting my buttocks and entire left leg on fire. Though he was a small man and my six feet, two-inch frame towered over him, clearly Antaeus was a trained combatant. It was hard for someone who had not been trained to kick with such force. I knew that from experience. I had been a mixed martial arts fighter before I decided to use my superpowers and became a licensed Hero. I had been kicked more times than I could count by more people than I could count. Antaeus knew what he was doing. If I did not take him out quickly, I would instead be the one taken out.
Though it made me clench my teeth in pain, I anchored my left foot. I spun towards where Antaeus was behind me, sending my right heel rocketing towards the center of his body. My spinning back kicks generated a lot of force. If I made contact with Antaeus, I would surely incapacitate him.
I did not make contact. Right before my kick hit him, Antaeus disappeared with a slight whooshing sound. Swirling fog immediately took the place of where Antaeus’ body had been. One moment Antaeus was there, and the next instant he was not. If I had blinked, I would have missed it.
Antaeus was a teleporter. Teleporters were the worst. Trying to fight one was like trying to swat a fly while blindfolded. Unlike most licensed Heroes, I did not wear a mask, cape, or any kind of superhero costume at all. If I did, dealing with teleporters like Antaeus would make me tear off my mask with irritation, hang up my cape in frustration, and find another line of work instead of being a private detective and Hero. Accounting, maybe. My business card could read “Truman Lord, Metahuman CPA Extraordinaire. No teleporters accepted as clients.”
Superhero Detective Series (Book 3): Killshot Page 24