An Ill Wind Blows

by Charlie Cottrell

  The Silent Breeze flourished each of his knives and suddenly rushed in, one knife high while the other was low, ready to rip out Kimiko’s throat and disembowel her all at once. Kimiko responded by dropping back and away from the Silent Breeze, dodging each of his attacks as if they were floating slowly toward her like soap bubbles. The Silent Breeze’s hands were moving faster than I could keep up with, but Kimiko avoided each stab, each slash, and made it look damn easy in the process.

  The Silent Breeze was becoming agitated, his movements quicker but sloppier. He lunged forward with both knives, hoping to pin Kimiko to the wall she’d backed up against. That was when she made her move.

  Quickly, effortlessly, Kimiko spun away from the knife strikes, then planted a foot solidly in the Silent Breeze’s midsection. All of the air left his lungs in a whoof, and he dropped a knife. Kimiko’s hand flashed in, grabbing the falling knife and plunging it straight into the Silent Breeze’s chest in a single, fluid motion. He didn’t cry out, but his body jerked and he dropped the second knife. Kimiko grabbed that one out of the air, too, and buried it in her brother’s neck.

  The Silent Breeze dropped quietly to the floor, blood spurting from his wounds. He gurgled once, then he was dead.

  Kimiko stood over the corpse of her brother for a moment, contemplating, then turned and stalked out of the room.

  “Hey, wait!” I shouted, trotting after her. Kimiko stopped and spun on her heel.

  “What do you want, detective?” she asked, the menace clear in her voice.

  “Um, you just killed your brother like he was nothing. That’s not usually something most folks just walk away from.”

  “He was not my brother. Not anymore,” she said, her eyes lit with fire. “None of them are. My brothers died years ago. These corpses just refuse to stop moving.”

  “That seems a bit harsh. Have you considered family therapy?” I asked.

  Kimiko continued to glare at me, her eyes narrowing. “I plan to kill them all. Stay out of my way, Detective Hazzard.” She whirled around and stalked out of the bar, leaving me to wonder what sort of childhood she’d had. It probably hadn’t included many birthday cakes or pony rides.

  VI.

  As I left the bar – quickly, because I did not want to pay the tab that involved two dead bodies left on the floor – my phone buzzed at me and a little vid window notification popped up telling me the incoming call was from Mr. Montgomery.

  “What does that asshole want?” I muttered to myself as I hit the Accept Call button.

  “What do you want, asshole?” I asked him.

  “That hardly seems like a polite way to answer the phone,” Montgomery noted drily.

  “Yeah, well, I’m all out of chill today,” I snapped.

  “Let me rephrase. That hardly seems like a polite way to answer the phone when the person who can see you sent to jail for the rest of your natural life is calling,” Montgomery snarled.

  “Three square meals and a roof over my head, and fewer people trying to kill me? That sounds kinda tempting, actually,” I said thoughtfully.

  Montgomery sighed audibly over the line. “Detective Hazzard, tell me you have a lead on the Jewel of Hakido. I do still have the remote to that lovely piece of jewelry you’re wearing.” Oh, right. He thought he still had something over me.

  “You’re right, sir. I’m sorry, sir. I do, in fact, have a lead that I am following up on right now.”

  “Good. Contact me when you have the jewel in your possession.” The line went dead.

  “God, I hate that man,” I muttered.

  * * *

  My next stop on the never-ending joy ride that was my life was the park. Not because I thought some fresh air would do me good – God, the very thought – but because I needed to meet a contact there. I strolled along the gravel path, trailing cigarette smoke and bad thoughts as I mulled over the case so far. Four of the seven Ill Winds were dealt with, and it sounded like Kimiko was going after numbers five through seven for me. That gave me some breathing room to deal with other challenges, such as finding the Jewel of Hakido and maybe figuring out who had sent seven highly-trained assassins after me in the first place. Oh, and making sure Rupert Montgomery got what was coming to him for shanghaiing me into the jewel heist in the first place, that bastard.

  My contact was an old friend from the police force, a guy named Mort “Peppermint” Paddy. He’d been a desk sergeant for years at the 4th Precinct, handling duty rosters and keeping the paperwork nice and orderly, and throwing a stapler at your head when you didn’t turn in your reports on time. He had a voice that you could bend iron around, deep and rumbly and low. He was also a bit of a teddy bear, stapler-throwing notwithstanding, and was built along those lines: he was a giant of a man, easily topping two meters in height, and weighing a solid 140 kilograms. His arms, chest, back, legs, and face were all covered in thick, wiry hair.

  Peppermint Paddy was sitting on a bench feeding the birds when I walked up. He grinned up at me and patted the seat next to him. “Eddie! Cop a squat, amigo. What can I do ya for?” He talked like that for reasons I’d never been able to figure out. My money was on brain injury.

  “Hey, Paddy,” I said, settling in next to him. “I need to know what the APD has on me and how hard they’re looking for me.”

  “Hrm, that’s easy,” he said, tossing breadcrumbs across the gravel path. Several pigeons cooed and pecked at the ground. “They’ve got nothin’ but circumstantial evidence right now, and they ain’t really lookin’ for ya.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God. What about, uh, assassins?”

  “Well, that’s a different story, see,” Paddy said. “You’ve probably got a couple dozen lowlifes hunting you as we speak. I’m surprised you’re not fending them off right now.”

  “It’s been a busy day so far,” I said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s one or two hanging out up a tree right now.” I gestured at the various oak and elm trees scattered around the park. Any idea who put the price on my head?”

  “I’m afraid not, Eddie,” Paddy said with a head shake. “But it’s up to around four million now.”

  I whistled. “Damn. There hasn’t been a bounty that high since…”

  “Ever,” Paddy finished for me. “Jolly No Thumbs was only three point six million, and he had the record…up until now, that is.”

  “Well, it’s an honor to even be considered,” I said. “Man, that kinda money, though? Tax-free? I’m surprised my friends aren’t considering hunting me down for it.” I laughed. Paddy got strangely quiet. “Um, right, Paddy?” I added, starting to feel more than a little exposed on that bench in the middle of the park. Without my team of highly-trained ninja bodyguards. Or my gorilla enforcer. Or even a personal force field generator.

  “Y’see, Eddie, that is a lot of cash,” Paddy said slowly, rising to his feet. “And a police pension just ain’t what it used to be.” He reached into his coat pocket and produced a snub-nosed service revolver, cocking back the hammer and pointing it at me. “I’m sorry, Eddie, I really am.”

  “You an’ me both, Peppermint,” I said with a sigh before throwing a haymaker of a punch. The brass knuckles caught him on the jaw and snapped his head around, staggering the big man. That gave me time to draw my taser and pump a shot into him. Peppermint Paddy collapsed to the ground, convulsing and twitching. “Sorry, Paddy,” I said, holstering my sidearm and pocketing the brass knuckles. I turned on my heel and stormed off, my eyes shifting every direction as I went. Paddy hadn’t given me any extra information, unfortunately, except that the bounty on my head was up even higher than before, and guys I’d considered friends were now considering me a meal ticket. I reached the park exit, lost in thought, and that’s when a ground-shaking quake knocked me right off my feet.

  VII.

  I looked up to see a massive robot standing over me, all silvered chrome and royal blue paint. “I am the Fifth Ill Wind,” a voice boomed out over a loudspeaker. “I am call
ed the Dauntless Inferno, and I come for you, Detective Hazzard.”

  “You’re in a giant anime mech!” I shouted back, regaining my feet. “What the hell is up with that?”

  “This is my War Rig, the Onimusha,” the Dauntless Inferno said. “It was discovered in a pit in Osaka many years ago. We restored it and I pilot it with my heart and drive to succeed.”

  “It’s three stories tall,” I said, “and it’s got a gun bigger than my car.”

  “What are you saying, Detective Hazzard?”

  “If you want a fair fight, maybe give me a mech, too?” I asked. Hey, you never knew.

  The Dauntless Inferno laughed. “This machine cost millions of dollars and years of meticulous research to restore. This is a one-of-a-kind mech.”

  “So that’s a ‘no,’ then?” I asked. In response, the assassin raised a massive mechanical fist and sent it hurtling toward me.

  Ever had a Buick come hurtling toward you at 90 miles an hour? It was a lot like that. I took a rolling dive to one side and barely escaped with my life. The mech’s fist punched a hole several feet deep in the concrete and shattered windows up and down the block. I landed hard, my teeth rattling around in my head. Spinning around, I caught sight of the mech rearing back to punch again. There was no time to avoid it. The thing was going to splatter me across 42nd Street.

  The Onimusha’s fist shuddered to a halt a good foot and a half from my delicate, fleshy face. I stood there, confused, and slowly peeked around the edge of the fist.

  “Hey, um, Mr. Hazzard,” Maya said from behind the Onimusha, giving me a slight wave of her hand. “I deactivated the giant death mech.”

  “There is a special place in heaven for hackers,” I said to her with a smile. Above, the Dauntless Inferno threw open a hatch and leapt out on the arm of the Onimusha.

  “Hazzard!” he screamed, his voice – and, frankly, body – shaking in rage. “Face me!”

  I sighed. “I’d really rather not,” I said. As the Dauntless Inferno drew a dagger from somewhere in his robes, I pulled the taser Clyde had given me out of its holster and aimed in my would-be assassin’s general direction. I pulled the trigger, and for the briefest sliver of a second, the air seemed to freeze and hang there, then a bolt of lightning shot out of the end of my gun and caught the Dauntless Inferno square in the chest. He convulsed and collapsed, falling off the Onimusha’s arm and landing – hard – on the pavement. He twitched once, then was still.

  I looked down at the taser. “I like this,” I said with a grin. I walked over to the prone form of the Dauntless Inferno and toed him in the ribs. He groaned faintly. “Guess that’ll teach you to attack people with giant mechs, huh?” I said. Maya walked over, a big grin spread across her face. “Thanks for the save, partner,” I said, clapping her on the back.

  “It was, um, nothing, sir,” she said. “He didn’t have a very secure system.”

  I stroked my chin thoughtfully. “Think we could use this thing?” I asked.

  Maya nodded. “Oh, sure. I can operate it by remote control, if you want.”

  I grinned. “Perfect.”

  * * *

  The Onimusha stomped through Old Town, setting off car alarms and setting dogs to barking all up and down the street. We were seated in the cockpit, located in the mech’s chest, and Maya was piloting. She had a grin on her face that was threatening to split it in half. I kept hearing her mutter things like, “It’s just like I always dreamed,” and “Form blazing sword!” [DS1]I sighed and sat back, momentarily content.

  Then someone ruined it by firing a rocket launcher at us.

  The Onimusha lurched and shuddered, nearly tossing us out of our seats. “What the hell was that?” I asked, grabbing the armrests and holding on for dear life.

  “Someone shot at us!” Maya yelped, working to correct our pitch and yaw and keep us upright. She had just righted the mech when a muffled boom echoed through the robot and sent us reeling again.

  “Someone isn’t very happy to see us,” I said. The Onimusha shuddered again and this time alarms and klaxons went off throughout the cockpit.

  “That doesn’t sound very promising,” I shouted over the alarm bells.

  “We should abandon mech!” Maya shouted back, unplugging from the system and jumping up out of her chair. “This thing’s reactor is shutting down!” We hoofed it out of the cockpit and down a short ladder to the Onimusha’s chest. Maya hit an emergency release and a door popped open. She unrolled a rope ladder from the edge and started down it gingerly. I followed and felt the ladder sway back and forth with every step each of us took. I looked out and saw a man standing a few blocks away, a rocket launcher perched on his shoulder. He was reloading.

  “Hit the deck, Maya!” I shouted down at her. She let go of the rope ladder a few feet from the bottom and dropped the rest of the way, scurrying off to the left as she landed. I let go from farther up, landing hard and feeling it in my shins and knees. I wobbled upright again and tottered off to the right just as the guy down the road fired again. The rocket hit the Onimusha through the open door with a thwump, fire erupting from the machine’s insides as it toppled over in what appeared to be a rather terminal way. It crashed to the street in a cacophonous clatter, shattering windows and setting off car alarms in a three-block radius. I was knocked off my feet and landed flat on my ass, which hurts like hell.

  Clamoring back up to my feet, I saw the guy with the rocket launcher had actually discarded the weapon and was slowly walking toward me. I turned and ducked into the nearest alleyway, searching for even a temporary hiding place. But I could feel his presence behind me. I turned and faced my next opponent.

  “Hello, Detective Hazzard,” he said. “I am the One Who Stalks, and you are my prey.”

  VIII.

  The Sixth Ill Wind, a scrawny guy who called himself the One Who Stalks, stood across the alleyway from me. He was tall and thin, with a loose mop of curly, dark hair and a week’s worth of scruff on his cheeks, chin, and upper lip. He was, against all odds, chewing on a long, single stalk of hay.

  “Where did you even find a stalk of hay?” I asked incredulously. “We’re in an urban center a good five miles from the nearest blade of grass!”

  The One Who Stalks grinned impishly and held his sword at the ready. “Prepare to face your death, Detective Hazzard,” he said.

  When he drew the sword, it was faster than I could follow. The blade flashed out, slicing through the sleeve of my coat as I stumbled back. It took a moment for the pain of the attack to hit me, by which time blood was oozing out of my arm at an alarming rate.

  “Gah! Why can’t you assholes come at me with a gun, like a normal asshole?” I yelled, pulling out the lightning gun and trying to draw a bead on the guy. But he was too quick for me: a flick of his wrist, and the tip of his blade caught the gun and ripped it out of my hand. Cursing, I stumbled back, clutching at my wounded arm and wondering how the hell I was going to survive against this guy.

  The One Who Stalks came at me again, swiftly, slicing at diagonals across the body. I dodged back, avoiding the first two attacks, but the third caught me just above the knee. I yelped as my leg buckled under me and I went sprawling under his next attack, which definitely was going to cut my head clean off.

  Well, except it didn’t, because I activated a personal force field generator as I went down. The blade was stopped a couple of inches away, rebounding off the kinetic field in a way that could’ve been illustrated with a gloi-oi-oing! sound effect. I rolled over onto my hands and knees and popped back up – at least, that was the plan, but my injured leg had an alteration to that plan and dumped me face first into the pavement. Force field or no, that rattled by teeth. I fumbled my way into a seated position in time to see the point of the One Who Stalks’s blade coming right for my face. It slid to the left, kicking up sparks from the field and causing me to flinch.

  “I wondered how long it would take you to activate this foolish thing,” the assassin drawled as he…we
ll, stalked toward me like a jungle cat. “I know it only lasts for a few minutes. All you have done is delay the inevitable.”

  “Ain’t that just life, though?” I asked, breathing a little heavy. “Delaying death day after day until you can’t anymore?”

  “For you, the time left can be measured in minutes, not days,” the One Who Stalks said drily. “I can wait for the batteries to die.”

  “Oh, didn’t I tell you? I had Maya create a new battery that lasts for hours and hours,” I said, grinning up at my would-be killer.

  “You lie,” he replied, but there was a hint of uncertainty there that hadn’t been present before.

  “I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a good liar,” I said, grabbing hold of the wall and hauling myself upright again. I dug around in my pocket and pulled out a small cylinder about the size and general thickness of a thumb. I pushed a button on it and a cane popped out, fully-formed. I leaned on it to take some of my weight off my now-injured leg while the assassin looked on, confused. “What? When you get injured as often as I do, it makes sense to have one in case of emergency.”

  “Your jocular attitude will not save you,” the One Who Stalks said.

  “It’s a plucky, can-do attitude, thank you very much,” I replied, “and I wasn’t counting on it. I was just waiting for him to show up.” The One Who Stalks whirled around just in time to see Vinny the Pooh come screaming down the alleyway toward him, galloping along on his hands and feet, a feral roar or defiance and challenge bellowing out of his mouth. And when a fully-grown, genetically-modified ape screams at you…well, brother, apes have mouths designed for screaming. They’re huge. And it is shit-your-pants terrifying.

  To the One Who Stalks’s credit, he didn’t curl up in a ball and wait to die like a normal person would’ve in his position. He held his sword in a guard position, a look of steely determination in his eyes. But it didn’t matter: once Vinny was up to speed, he came in like a wrecking ball. And after the sloppy win against the Hindered Path, Vinny was angry and rarin’ to throw down. The ape slammed full-force into the One Who Stalks, who took a half swing with the sword before it was ripped right out of his hand – along with at least a couple of fingers – and thrown further down the alley. The blade pinged off my force field and went tumbling off into darkness, never to be seen again. I turned away from the savage beating Vinny was giving the assassin, but I could still hear every bit of it. I was going to wake up in the middle of the night for months with that sound ringing in my ears, I just knew it.