by Tom Andry
Hopefully, whatever he was looking for in that drawer would shoot something with mass.
"Um...there isn't a chance for a bathroom break?" I glanced up.
Well's appearance had changed. The right side of his face was covered in welts like he'd been attacked by bees, except without the angry, red marks. Just the swelling. His toupee threatened to slide off his head, the skin underneath pushing the hairpiece askew.
"Whoa, man, what's the deal with your face?" I asked, my voice completely lacking the nasally quality.
Well brought his right hand up and placed it on the desk. His arm had nearly doubled in size, the seams of his jacket straining. The back of his hand had the same bumpy mien as his face. He strummed his fingers, the sound faintly metallic.
"Bob, what is that sound?"
"You want to take a bathroom break? Have at it. The doors are locked, the building cleared. It's just you and me."
"Why are your fingers making that sound?"
"That's his fingers? Before, that sound was him?"
"Did you pull something out of the desk?"
"Cross-referencing."
"Don't worry about my fingers," Well cracked his neck to the other side, "worry about whether or not you'll ever leave this room alive."
I placed my glasses slowly down on the desk. The game was over. He had made his final move, but it was too soon. I still had the advantage. This super, whoever he was, thought he had me cornered. But I had one thing going for me that he wouldn't expect.
I wasn't a super, and I wasn't afraid of him.
I stood. "So, the door is locked. The building cleared. And I suppose you've taken other precautions?"
Well licked at an uneven Cheshire smile, the right half swollen and rutted like his hand, "You noted the lack of windows. This wasn't a storeroom or closet; it was a holding cell. The walls are a super-dense alloy, as is the door. There is a field covering the walls that not even a Level 5 super could teleport through. The room is hermetically sealed, shielded from all known types of super vision, energy blasts and just about everything else." His smile widened, "And you? Your voice has changed!"
"Damn it! Samuel Well? S. Well. Swell. He's a super for hire."
I rolled my eyes. Supers. They couldn't help trying to be clever. Emphasis on the "trying".
"Small-time mercenary before the Day. Now he gets big money from what I can tell. Smart, ruthless. He can absorb material. Uses it to increase his strength, defense, and speed. Can expel it from his body forcefully. Best stay away from him. Force him to shoot at you if it comes to it. Your Dampener should be enough. But if he gets hold of you...well, I wouldn't recommend it. Depending on what he absorbs, he can be quite strong. I'm working on the field."
I walked toward the door, putting the recommended distance between the super known as Swell and me. "This door? I don't remember it being that thick."
"Whatever your deal is, Robson, you aren't leaving this room. The door is locked, and the wall slid closed behind that door when you shut it."
"I'm on that, too."
He leaned forward, his oversized right hand covering his left, "But you're welcome to try."
"Not yet. The field was easy; the door is a little trickier."
I placed a hand on the door, "No, I believe you." I licked my lips, looking around the room as if searching for an escape, "Ok, Mr. Well...or should I call you Swell?"
His eyes widened, followed quickly by a pleased smile, "You've heard of me."
"I make it my business to know things."
"Real name: Shane Wauter, but I wouldn't recommend..."
"So, Shane..."
"Damn it, Bob!"
Swell's uneven smile froze at the sound of his real name, his eyes as large as golf balls.
I continued, "what's your price?"
Wauter closed his eyes slowly and leaned back into his chair. His hands clawed at the desk, the right leaving long, quarter-inch gouges down the top. Mind was right; this was a guy to keep at arm's length. Or further, if possible. When he reopened his eyes, they were level and clear, the iris of the right chrome-colored. "My price?" he responded coolly.
I shrugged, leaning back on the door, "Of course. It's obvious you don't work here. You're hired help," I nodded toward the desktop, "muscle, if you will. Therefore, you must have a price. Name it. If it is reasonable, the people that hired me will be glad to pay it."
Wauter smirked sadly at me, "You don't know how many people have made that same offer over the years. And don't think I don't appreciate it. But I've learned from bitter experience that you don't last long in this business if you double-cross your employer whenever some mark makes you a better offer. My reputation is worth more than that. As is my life."
I nodded, "I understand. But then, what's next? I'm obviously not going to tell you what you want to know. At least, not willingly. So, what? Torture? If you've been doing this as long as you say, you know how unreliable coerced information is. Cause enough pain and people will tell you anything to make it stop."
"True. That's what I told them."
"So..."
"Well, in their words, 'It can't hurt to try'." He shrugged almost apologetically, "I told them to buy you off."
"And they didn't think I'd take it." I finished. "Shane...you're an idiot," I spat. "They want to know how I avoided their cameras, what information I took, and who I work for. They also don't want me to leave this room alive. What makes you think you'll be in any different boat? If I tell you, what motivation do they have to keep you alive?"
Wauter bristled, "I'm a professional. They know..."
"That they can trust you? You're joking right? You're tissue paper to them. A soiled napkin to be thrown away when they are done with it. You're a fool."
"Damn it, Bob! Why do you have to push their buttons like this?"
"I'm a fool?" Wauter shouted. "You've proved that you have more information than even they guessed. And now that you've proven how...resourceful...you are, well, I find myself highly motivated to figure out how. I'm betting that how you got my name is worth a lot more than this job. So, Mr. Robson, let's start again."
"See, I told you to leave."
I frowned in response.
Wauter curled his right hand into a fist, sounding like a robotic Bruce Lee cracking his knuckles before a big fight. He shifted his shoulders, and I could see the metal, or whatever it was, flow across his face and shoulders under his jacket. With a last twitch, the subcutaneous material equalized, and he slowly stood. His height had increased at least an inch or two from when he let me into his office. Aside from the lumpiness of his skin, Wauter looked healthier than he had before. His skin had lost much of the pallor and he seemed to glow with his new power. Both of his irises now reflected like polished metal.
"I don't even want to think about how you sucked all that in with your hand."
He shrugged, "It used to hurt. When I first started. Now...well, I kinda like it."
"I bet." I shifted my position on the door so that I was covering the knob. I placed my hand slowly behind my back, "I have to ask: how do you even find something like that out? What? Did you absorb a cat or something?"
He stretched his hand over his head, the sleeves of his jacket straining under the pressure, "We all just thought I had some sort of skin condition. Turns out I had been absorbing sand and rocks through my feet and hands. One pretty-boy gave me a hard time. I sandblasted him into the hospital." He laughed quietly, his eyes far away, "Now he's the one with the bad complexion."
I tried the knob softly.
Wauter lowered his hand, one finger extended toward me. "I told you: locked." The tip of his finger turned silver. Before I could really register what was happening, something small shot out of his finger and wedged itself into the wall a foot to the side of my head.
I turned quickly. From what I could see, it was small, round, and shiny. About a quarter inch in diameter. A ball bearing?
"Nifty trick," I could feel the door behind
me vibrate. I moved back in front of the doorknob to see if Mind had been successful. "So what, you suck it in and shoot it out? Nice party trick."
He lowered his hand, shaking it slightly. "It's more than a trick, Robson. I get stronger, faster...all determined by what I absorb. No one is really sure how it works. But it really doesn't matter, does it? All that matters to you is how many holes I'm going to have to put in you to get you to talk. So," he raised his hand again and each of the four fingertips carried my reflection, "about the cameras..."
The door was still locked.
"Sorry, Bob, that door is manual. Just a normal deadbolt though. You should be able to kick through it with your leg. Two or three hits should do it. Maybe one good one if you put your belly behind it."
I scowled. She never passed an opportunity. I glanced up at Wauter. It was time to take things to the next level. "Would you believe I just figured out where they were and how to avoid them?"
Wauter shook his head, "They thought you'd say that. No, they know it was something else. They don't think you're a super though. So, spill before I lose my patience. How'd you do it?"
I opened my mouth as if to answer, shook my head apologetically and then closed it again, "Sorry, Wauter. I guess you'll just have to shoot me."
Wauter's face fell, his expression changing from confusion at my reaction to recognition at my using his last name, to resolute. That last expression contained a smile that made me shiver. "As you wish." A single, silver ball rushed toward me faster than I could follow with my eyes. It froze an inch or so from my left shoulder, hovering in the air momentarily before falling to the ground noisily.
I smiled, "Oops." Three more chrome bearings hurled toward me with similar results. My smile widened as Wauter’s face flushed with anger, "Yeah, that's really not going to work."
"No!" he growled. "They were sure. You're not a super!"
I looked at the nails on my right hand, "Never said I was."
A barrage of ball bearings clanged to the floor around me, a few embedded in the door and wall from poorly aimed shots. I glanced up. Wauter was steaming. His face had returned to the saggy mien of before, but his arms were huge, his jacket and shirt in tatters around the rutted skin. He reached down and tossed the desk into the sidewall. It compressed into an unrecognizable lump a quarter its original size. Fragments of the chair I had been sitting in joined it a few moments later.
"Bob, I'm not sure he can punch fast enough to activate your Inertial Dampener."
When Mind helped me install an updated version of the Inertial Dampener into my leg just a few months ago, she had tried to lower the threshold of activation as much as was safe. Not too much though, as we didn't want it keeping out everything, including air, and I didn't want it to activate too readily. It was nice to be able to turn it on when I thought I might need it without tipping people off.
I stepped away from the door, placing my feet wide, ready to move. I could feel the sweat already beading up on my forehead and running down my back. I didn't want to test Mind's theory, but I wasn't sure I could dodge...
Suddenly I was staring at the closed fist of Shane Wauter.
"I guess that answers that question."
"Whoa. You're pretty quick for a big guy."
Luckily, Wauter was impatient and immediately pulled his fist back. If he had waited a few more moments, the Dampener would have released and he could have just reached out and throttled me. He clasped his two hands together over his head, and I dove to the side.
Not waiting to see the hands descend was the right choice. Wauter smashed through the empty air where I'd been standing and into the door. He pulled back and the door came with his hands. His eyes snapped fully open and his jaw dropped. Where he expected to see an impenetrable wall, he saw an empty hallway.
I changed direction, rolled out the now missing door and quickly stood. I turned and faced Wauter. Shrugging, I smirked, "It's been a pleasure, Shane, but if you wouldn't mind giving my regards to your employers." I took a step back and waved as Mind slammed the wall back in place, trapping Swell inside the cell.
"They are going to be so disappointed in him," I laughed.
"You should hurry. We can't be sure he's the only one."
I turned and walked toward the stairway briskly, "You worry too much."
"And don't forget the Multikey."
"Shut up."
* * *
Chapter 3
"How did it go, PI?"
"About how I expected, Reporter."
Alan Wagner was sweating more than I. His deep black skin glistened in the midday sun, worry only now fading from the corners of his striking, green eyes. His angular face and winning smile were still easily recognizable under his baseball cap and pulled up collar. He maneuvered the minivan around the corner and farther away from the empty building I had calmly walked out of just a few moments before.
Well, not completely empty. Somewhere in the bowels of the building, a super named Swell was trying to beat his way out of an inescapable room. I grinned.
I turned and gazed out the back window, unable to see much through the maze of dangling child distractions. Alan's wife had given birth to a bouncing baby boy, their second, just a few months ago, and their vehicle was a mess of plastic that vibrated, crackled, or played music. The floor was littered with the aftermath of crackers, cookies, and other various foods, mostly attempts to keep his elder son, Sarh, happy. Alan's eyes had the rings and wild look of a man on too little sleep. Sleep deprivation hadn't, I'd noted, been able to keep the excitement out of his voice when he talked of his sons, or completely wipe the smile off his face.
The city rolled by mostly unnoticed as Alan turned toward my office. "Got called into some fake head of security guy's office. Tried to shake me down for info."
"Whoa," Alan whistled, "unlucky? Did you get the info?"
"Yeah," I patted my pocket though the Multikey was really hidden in a secret compartment in my ankle, "right here. I'll have to use the terminal back at the office to print it out. Hopefully it is everything you need."
"Yeah." Alan's voice was far away.
We had met soon after the Day and had immediately found a lot of common ground. While I couldn't tell him everything, he was the closest thing I'd had to a new friend in years. Since my rehabilitation, I'd been helping him out on some of his cases, mostly the undercover stuff.
Damn, not cases: stories. Alan was always correcting me.
Alan's face, as pretty as it was, was way too famous from all his book jackets and television appearances to try to pass as anyone else. He had a device to change his appearance, but with his wife pregnant and then the new baby, he hadn't wanted to be away from home for the extended periods undercover work demanded.
Suited me just fine. I didn't mind the work. It was fun, a distraction from my other personal investigations, and I often got to mess with supers. While I didn't really need the money - I'd made plenty back when I was still private investigating full time - Alan insisted on paying me. He was generous, no matter how much I objected, and it allowed us to keep our personal and professional lives separate.
I'd actually brought him the EnviroKop case. Figured I could use his contacts to get in. It had worked. Sure, I'd manipulated him...used him. But he got something out of it too. It wasn't like I could tell him about Nineteen.
"Two things: Your assistant is MIA again."
"Damn it," I muttered under my breath. "What is with that guy?"
"Guy?" Alan laughed, "You're sure?"
I shrugged, "He applied as a dude. I can't think of him as anything else."
Alan's smile deadened slightly, "Whatever. Well, I know this because Liz called."
I pursed my lips. Liz. One of my oldest friends...really, the only one I'd kept in contact with over the years. After I'd found out about the fire and her injuries, I'd decided, against her wishes, to uncover what had happened. Turned out it was the henchmen of a super villain named Siddeon. Siddeon, like many oth
er supers, had been killed by The Raven. When I figured out whom it was, and that they had likely raided Liz's offices for information on where to get super technology, I'd decided to take a little bit of retribution. She hadn't approved, but had forgiven me.
Mostly.
Plus, those henchmen had helped distract The Raven, allowing me to escape. And some of them even survived.
"What did she want?"
"Remind you about the meeting tonight."
"Shit." I had forgotten. And Mind had even mentioned it last night. In yet another attempt to mend our tense relationship, I'd agreed to attend a community meeting of some kind. I'd said "yes" without really knowing what I was agreeing to. At the time, I hadn't known I'd be undercover at the time. I suppose I had to go now that I didn't have a cover to protect.
"Have fun."
"What," I objected. "You're not going with me?"
Alan nodded, his eyebrows raised, "You're joking, right? I don't see how this isn't going to blow up. You at a community meeting surrounded by supers? Being undercover, I thought you'd be able to get out of it, but now...well, no thanks. "
"Oh."
"Bob, Alan is right. I cannot locate Leon. I tried his apartment. No answer. I don't have a record of him leaving though."
I coughed into my hand.
Alan laughed, "I like you, PI, but I don't want to be anywhere near you with that many supers around. You've got too many enemies."
"Yeah."
Liz. Damn. It was like beating my head against a wall. It wasn't like there was anything wrong, per se, it was just...different. It's like when Gale and I would fight toward the end of our marriage. It felt like there was an invisible field between us. Something I couldn't quite touch, but that still managed to keep us apart. With Liz, I still had a chance to break through. To make amends. With Gale...well, that ended long ago.
I rolled down the window, letting the wind push some of the sweat off my brow. As I always did, I quickly scanned the pedestrians, looking for blonde curls. Not finding any, I blinked the wind from my eyes. It was a beautiful spring day. It had rained last night and the air smelled sweet and fresh. The sky was a deep blue and there was nary a cloud in sight. I took a deep breath and held it, feeling the last of the adrenalin fading from my near miss with Swell.