Chapter 5 #2
I followed him inside, closing and locking the door behind me. “Break the law often?”
The apartment was empty except for a card table and a couple of folding chairs. Booker was already scanning and analyzing. While he tried to make sense of the empty apartment, I thanked every god for the break from that horrible smell.
“Seems pretty sparse,” he said, heading into the kitchen. “Even for a scientist.”
An overflowing ashtray sat on the table, but no signs that anybody had been there today.
I went in the other direction toward the bedrooms. My fingers instinctively reached for the absent batons.
This wasn’t adding up. Unless Ricardo didn’t pay his employees, we’d see signs of somebody living here. Even the bedrooms were empty.
I stopped at the bathroom. The seat was up, and no toilet paper. “Are you sure you got the right address?”
“I’m sure of it,” he shouted.
As I walked back to the living room, he stood at the fridge with the door open.
On the middle shelf, a cheap cooler with duct tape holding it together.
Booker opened the lid as I entered the kitchen.
Before I could tell what it contained, the rush of victory hit like a hammer.
He tipped it so I could see the vials inside.
“Woohoo!” I shouted.
“That’s one bad guy down,” he said. “Call Ricardo, and we’ll meet him at the office when we return the samples.”
The energy tingled along my skin, making the hair on my arms stand on end.
I only felt this invigorated after a beat-down with a bad guy.
I wanted to high-five— no, I wanted to give this man a hug.
Ricardo would shake my hand and give an approving nod.
This would put me on the radar, not under it.
Everybody would know I helped stop a future supervillain.
I reached for my phone and paused. I could swear I heard something through the paper-thin walls. “Did you hear that?”
Booker shook his head. “What?”
We both froze. THUMP.
“That.”
THUMP.
“We should get out of here,” I said. “Now.”
The charge of success faded as my gut tightened. Whatever it was, it wasn’t going to end well. We needed to get away from the scene of the crime. I feared whoever had left the vials had come to claim them.
Booker snatched the cooler, and we headed for the door. I reached for the handle when something cracked. The world vanished in a burst of color. I saw the ceiling. The floor. I struck the far wall, sliding to the dingy carpet. I’d feel that in the morning.
A silver hand had punched through the door. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Ricardo had followed us. Booker clutched the cooler against his chest as the door tore off the hinges. A slender man in a light blue button-down and black dress pants waved the door around like a weapon.
“Who gave me up?” he shouted. My head pounded from hitting the wall. Maybe he was just talking, and it felt like shouting. I’d be on concussion watch again tonight.
“We don’t want any trouble,” Booker said. What was he doing? He took steps forward, his hand held out as if he were approaching a stray dog. “We’ll just be on our way.” I tried moving, but my brain needed another moment to calibrate.
He had almost reached the man, hands still outstretched. He could get people to spill their guts, but this was out of his league. Mad scientists weren’t normal fare for government paper pushers. Our new companion was more in my wheelhouse.
The man swung his hand, and the door smashed against Booker. Splinters flew as he spun through the air. He struck the floor, rolling onto his stomach.
Booker’s body slumped.
The balding man pushed his glasses up his nose as if it were an invitation.
His fists shimmered in the fluorescent lights.
I could have stayed put and hoped he only wanted the samples.
It’d be a fool’s assumption. The bad guy never left loose ends, and as soon as he got his loot, he’d finish us off.
Let him try.
I slid up the wall until I stood. Reaching for my legs, I growled, annoyed that I hadn’t brought my batons. I’d need to figure that out if Booker was going to keep taking me on field trips.
“This won’t end well,” I said.
The adrenaline made the wound in my chest all but vanish.
Even the pain along my back faded as I rolled my fingers into a fist. I thought tonight would be a night off.
We’d do a little breaking and entering, a side of burglary, and we’d end with a hug goodnight.
It could still happen, but the in-between was about to get bloodier.
First, we assess the situation.
I lunged. In the tight quarters, standing still would be suicide. His arm morphed into a silver blade. Cypher stabbed forward, trying to run me through. I pivoted, spinning about, my elbow cracking against the side of his head. As he came around, hoping to slice along my back, I jumped to the side.
He had power, but no skill. I ducked under the next swipe.
With my back to the wall, he thought himself the victor.
He charged, tip posed for my heart. Braced against the wall, I kicked, driving my heel into his chest. The grunt told me everything I needed.
He might have some semblance of Ricardo’s abilities, but it didn’t come with endurance.
My new friend was nothing more than a normal human wielding fancy kitchen knives.
Assess, then neutralize.
“It’s nothing personal,” he said. “But only one of us is walking out of here.”
I eyed a still Booker. “Oh. It’s very personal.”
The blade vanished. Instead, his left fist shimmered as it turned to metal. He grunted as his right flashed steel and then faded. With a slight growl, it transformed. My friend had limitations. Ricardo would crack up when I revealed I found his B-rate doppelg?nger.
He came in swinging. With each swipe and parry, I moved out of the way.
He traded speed for force. Each attempt came slower, and I realized that even though he could shapeshift, it didn’t come with Ricardo’s strength.
However he gained these bastard abilities, he needed to request a refund.
I eyed Booker, wishing he could see how easily I moved out of reach of the scientist’s uppercut.
“Oh,” he said, stepping back. He followed my gaze to a fallen Booker. The blade returned. Instead of coming at me, he stood over Booker, ready to impale the man. “Not so tough now.”
The taunting and teasing ended. Without knowing it, he had escalated the situation. At first, I considered putting him in a sleeper hold and leaving his unconscious body for the police. He had picked the wrong fight.
Snap.
“What?” He reached for his face. “I can’t—”
See? No, he couldn’t.
Eyeballs turned black; his world had gone dark. I stomped across the floor. As he swung the blade, I caught his arm. With a fast hook of his elbow, I smashed the joint, breaking bone. He tried to howl as my knuckles caught him in the jaw. The moment he threatened Booker, he sealed his fate.
I snatched him by the neck, pulling him tight. “This is going to hurt.”
Between blinks, his eyes returned to normal.
I wanted him to see my face as I dismantled him, one bone at a time.
I held him tight, stepping to the side. My heel struck his knee, and another bone snapped.
The cocky attitude faded, replaced by whimpering and begging.
The bad guy thought all heroes lived by a code of do-gooding.
Hellion didn’t.
A chop to the throat had him gasping for air.
I grabbed his broken arm, swinging him against the wall.
Drywall crumbled, and ceiling tiles fell.
I got behind him, wrapping an arm around his throat.
He flailed, but I think the scientist realized he had lost this fight.
He could pray that I wouldn’t kill him. Unfortunately, his god wouldn’t hear his prayers.
I squeezed, ready to crush his neck. His body went limp, slipping into unconsciousness. Another few seconds and he wouldn’t threaten anybody again… he wouldn’t…
…see his family. I tried shaking the images from my mind, but they played out like movies I couldn’t turn off.
An image of a daughter in need of braces and him trying to make ends meet bombarded my thoughts.
In the back of my head, I could almost hear her sobbing as she stood over his grave.
The pity was overwhelming, consuming the rage like a tidal wave.
This wasn’t Hellion; he didn’t care about the unintentional victims.
No. Cypher was a bad man. He didn’t get to—
I could see Booker on the floor, his hand reaching for me. His expression begged me to stop. He pleaded in silence. I let go, painfully aware I had all but killed a man. Cypher fell to the floor. He hit, his body instinctively gasping for oxygen.
The images didn’t stop playing. “I— I didn’t—”
The guilt hit like a hammer, harder than a powered blow to the chest. I had nearly crossed the line between being the good guy and the bad.
Hellion didn’t care about the means, but even he had boundaries he never crossed.
Tears streamed down my face; a sob caught in my throat.
Shaking my head, I pressed my back to the broken drywall. I slid to the floor, eyes watery.
“What did I do?”
Truth be told… I had no idea what had come over me.
Silence.
I didn’t ask how Booker knew my address.
There were no questions when he followed me inside.
The cooler rattled by his side as we climbed the stairs to the third floor.
Under other circumstances, it might be sweet that he saw me to my door.
I fished the keys from my pocket, unlocked the door, and pushed it open.
How did I apologize for almost making him an accessory to murder?
I turned. “I’m—” Sorry? Despite the guilt sinking in my gut, I couldn’t lie.