Blackjack Wayward (The Blackjack Series) (38 page)

“I’m sure they will fix this momentarily,” she managed, her voice quivering, awash in fear.

I banged my head against the back of the wall, and suddenly a holo-projector came to life, illuminating the room with the image of a tech.

“You guys all right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, staring at Focus’ concerned face. “The thing just stopped.”

The tech shrugged, “That’s a first.”

“Elevators never break down?” I said. “Come on.”

“Well, it hasn’t happened in the two years I’ve been here. Let me check...you’re on deck 135. Just hang in there and–”

Then we lost the image, the tech’s face replaced with static snow.

I turned back to Focus, whose attention had never left me.

“Focus, I’m sorry about what I said.”

She swallowed hard, still pressing herself away with wide eyes staring at me, and I suddenly had flashback images of my last moments of the mind-prison at Utopia, at my consuming rage that had led me to do something terrible.

“I would never hurt you,” I said, using the softest, gentlest tone I could, but not sure I was being as honest as possible. “It was another joke, a bad one. Okay?”

Focus glared at me for a long while, knowing I was lying, but she finally accepted my apology with a gentle grin.

“I’m an asshole, you see. I’m not used to being around decent people,” I said.

“I just didn’t want to have to hurt you,” she said, biting her lip.

I stared at her, dumbfounded, caught wondering how badass of a martial artist she actually was, but she finally smiled.

“I finally got you on a joke, Mr. Blackjack.”

I have to give it to Superdynamic’s technical staff. They fixed the elevator in less than ten minutes, plenty of time for me to make up for my transgressions with Focus. By the time they arrived to pull us out, I had the girl in stitches.

We continued our tour and arrived at the antechamber to the command center, where Moe was leaning against a wall, waiting for us. I saw the smile of our conversation fade from Focus’ face, replaced instead with a downcast, embarrassed look. Moe eyed her over, noticing the embellishments and makeup, shaking his head.

“Why don’t you wait for us inside, angel,” he said, barring my way. “Me and Blackjack here are going to have a talk.”

Focus averted her eyes, clenching her jaw in frustration, moving past without another word.

“Come with me,” Moe said, going back the way we came. I followed silently to a doorway that he opened without a command. He stood there, left arm held wide for me to enter.

“Figured this was coming,” I said, with more than a little menace in my voice as I went inside.

The chamber was large, with a tall ceiling, almost five stories high. The floor was soft, with a little give, and the walls were padded.

“We use this room for practice,” he said coming in, and sealing us inside.

I stretched my neck. “You practice a lot?”

“Man, fuck you!” he said pushing me off, not even waiting for the preliminaries. “Fuck is wrong with you, anyway?”

I flexed my shoulders, feeling the blood flow through my limbs, and waited for his move. This was his party; he’d get the first shot.

“Look at you, you stupid fuck,” Moe said.

“I’m just waiting on you, man.”

“For what? To throw down? Shit, I’ll throw down with you, I don’t give a fuck. But first, first you’re going to listen to me, you get me? You big stupid fuck.”

“Call me that again and I’m redecorating this place with your face.”

“Man, you’re all wrong about everything, aren’t you?” he said, stomping closer. “All you know is this shit,” Moe raised his big fist. “I know about you, dude. I know all about you. It’s fucked up because you and me, we came from the same shit. It’s a fucking miracle we even made it; you know what I’m saying? Guys like us? Shit. Our shelf life’s like a few years, then that’s it. We’re either dead, or so beat-up it’s all pills and shit. But that girl,” he motioned to the door. “That girl has a future for her, you hear me? She’s good people. She comes from good people, people that are counting on her, praying for her and shit. And you’re not going to ruin that.”

He paused, letting it all sink in, and softening his stance, trying to break it to me as gently as I could. I must’ve softened my stance too, because he came closer.

“I know about your shit, man. I know how your dad died, and the shit you went through after that. I know more about you than you know about yourself ‘cause it’s like looking in a mirror. I had to deal with some of the same shit, you understand me? ‘Cept with me it was my dad who was the motherfucker, not the stepfolk.”

I looked at him, wondering what our similarities were, what he had gone through.

“That’s right. Old man was big as fuck and I was just a little shit. He’d come home, all high and shit, and take it out on me and my mom. Shit,” he said, turning his back to me and lifting the back of his shirt, revealing a bunch of deep slashes. “Think you the only one that had to deal? Fuck. My pops would hit my shit so hard he’d pass out. Then he’d wake up later and come back to finish.”

“But then I got big and one night, I said ‘enough’ and broke his punk-ass head,” he said. “I did time for that shit. What’s the worst is that my moms testified against me, that it was my fault and whatever. Fucking bitch. I was fourteen, dog, and in jail with the big boys. I got lucky on some appeal that they did ‘cause I was a minor and shit and they let me out and here I am, a mother-fucking superhero. Yeah, that’s right. So don’t think you’re the only that’s fucked up some shit bad and had to come back from rock bottom. You’re the only one that thinks that the rest of us owe you some shit, though.”

He laughed. “I think sometimes you’re like that Rainman dude. All smart with books and shit, but stupid as fuck–”

“I warned you–”

“Oh, shut the fuck up with that. If that’s all you got, then that’s all you’ll ever be. Big fucking stupid bully. You know what you need? You need someone to come along and put your ass down. Hard, you know? Bad so you know what it’s like to be afraid again. Like when you was a little kid and your uncle was chasing your ass down, beating you ‘til you cried and shit. Maybe then you’ll stop being such a pain in the ass motherfucker.”

“So that’s what we’re here for? I get the royal beat down from Moe, strong guy of Superdynamic’s Battle? Let me tell you something, big guy. You’re fucking with the devil.”

He paused, suddenly serious.

“If that’s what it takes, man. I’m right here. I ain’t never backed down from a fight, and I’m not going to now. Especially from some bully fucker like you. And if they gotta scrape my ass off the walls, I don’t give a fuck, but I had hoped that you weren’t all Rainman, you know? That you weren’t all stupid. That you might listen to some shit if I gave it to you straight. Man to man and shit.”

“You’re smarter than you look,” I said, still in ‘dark Blackjack’ mode.

“That girl,” he said, gesturing toward her again. “She’s lead a sheltered life, man. From a tiny little place in the middle of nowhere. She don’t even know about motherfuckers like you. She’s never had to be careful of a guy that only wants one thing.”

“I was just playing with her,” I said, defensively.

He pursed his lips, and bowed his head closer, pulling back his glasses, as if he was trying to get a better look at me.

“You think that bullshit’s gonna work on me? I’m from Brooklyn, Gee. You know what I’m saying?”

“I wasn’t going to do anything.”

“Suck-a-dick,” he scoffed. “You telling me you were going to throw her out of your room if she came in there, all curious and shit? She don’t even know how to behave around you, man, and you’re whipping your dick in the poor girl’s face.”

“What,” I challenged, “and she’s all yours or something? You got dibs?”

Moe laughed, “Papers of ownership. Get a load of you. I don’t want nothing with that girl, you understand? All I want is that she stay away from pieces of shit like you, and maybe one day she meets a decent guy, who’ll treat her nice. Not like a ‘ho.”

I swallowed hard. “I wasn’t going to....”

“Yeah?” he said, snickering.

I didn’t know what to make of this guy, I mean, did he want to fight or not? He was cutting through my bravado, killing my edge, putting me on the defensive, but for what reason?

“I know, I know. You’re like, ‘nigga you don’t talk to me like that’ and whatever.”

“No, it’s not that at all.”

Moe roamed the room a bit, “See, it’s like this. You’re like a great white shark. Top of the food chain. All you know is eat, shit, fight off other sharks going for your pussy, and fuck. That’s it. You just roam like a fucking animal looking for the next piece of ass.”

“That’s not true,” I said.

“I ain’t done yet,” he said, not liking my interruption. “I was gonna say, it’s cool to be like that sometimes. Shit, I was like that for a long time. I’m big like you; no one ever fucked with Moe. And if some motherfucker got in my way, shit....” He laughed. “And if I saw a nice piece of tail, a fine piece of ass, that shit was mine, you know what I’m saying? I had to hit every piece of ass I saw, everything in sight. Few years ago, that girl would’ve already had it bad, if you know what I mean. It was like I couldn’t have enough, like the world had fucked me so I had to fuck everything, including myself. Especially myself.”

I crossed my arms, not liking where this was all going, but I knew he was making sense. It had been a major part of my mind-prison, to keep me sexually occupied from one woman to another, even if she was part alien. They knew, as Moe had realized, that it was a sore spot for me, something that drove me, even if I wasn’t aware of it.

“But that shit ended, and when it did, I fucking grew up. You know what I’m saying? Now, Focus? You’ll fucking ruin her. She’s got this girly crush on you, and you’ll bat your blue eyes and shit, and next thing you know, the girl’s pregnant or some shit.”

“What?”

“Don’t act like this shit is coming out of nowhere. It happens all the time where I come from. Shit, go back to the projects in Williamsburg, go check out the courts on South Second Street and I bet there’s like a few little niggas with big-ass fros look a lot like me. So don’t pretend like that shit–”

“Wait a minute. You’re trying to tell me not to do like you? Like you’re some fountain of wisdom or something?”

“I’m trying to tell you that...shit. Are you Rainman or not, motherfucker?”

“No, I’m not fucking Rainman!”

“Then nod or some shit if you understand what I’m saying.”

He cocked his head, waiting for my reply.

“I understand you, goddammit.”

“Good,” Moe said, then moved closer. “Now give a nigga a hug, before all the love leaves the room. Come here.”

I recoiled.

“Come on,” he said, arms held wide open. “A moment ago we were going to throw down, now we brothers.”

“You’re crazy, you know?”

“Gotta be a little crazy in this world. Come here and give this crazy nigga some love,” he suddenly got upset. “You don’t have no love for the black man?”

“Of course,” I said and extending my hand so he could shake it, so we could get out of here and end this strange conversation.

“That’s it? After all this shit, that’s all you got?”

“I don’t know what–”

He interrupted me by taking my hand and shaking it hard. He was almost strong as I was, but before I could shake back, he pulled me to him and hugged me.

“See? Now we’re like brothers. You’re my crazy white brother, and I’m your crazy black brother.”

Moe pulled back, still embracing me, and looked at me.

“You was really going to fight me and shit?”

I shrugged him off, but he came back at me and clasped my shoulders.

“All you need is love, man.”

“I’m not fucking gay, okay?”

Moe broke into full body laughter, and slung his arm around my neck. He was taller than me, so I ended up under his armpit.

“Come here, man. It’s got nothing to do with that shit, you know what I’m saying?”

I smiled, but more out of nerves than anything.

“It’s like, love your fellow man and shit. Like, love your dog.”

I pushed him off again, not as brusquely this time.

“So I’m the fucking dog in this?”

“You my dog,” he said with a playful tone, then lifted his head back, suddenly serious. “Just cool it with Focus, you got me?”

I nodded.

“Now come on,” he slapped me in the back and walked toward the door. “I know just what you need.”

Chapter Thirty

Moe didn’t let go of me, leaving his arm draped over my shoulder as we walked through the innards of the Tower. He clenched his biceps with every wild gesticulation, whipping his free hand around as if physically punctuating the conversation.

“This over here’s the gun range,” he said as we passed by an innocent-enough-looking doorway. “Some fun shit in there. I bet what’s eating you up is you wanna just blow some shit up, right? I get that itch, too, and an hour or two here puts me right. You know what I mean?”

Inside was a secretary’s desk where a young man stood, cleaning the weirdest-looking pistol I had ever seen and talking on the phone at the same time. When he saw Moe, he casually tossed his chin outward, his hands-free version of “hello.”

“Sup, Bry,” Moe said to the receptionist. “So what do you say, man? Let’s blow some holes in something.”

“Not my cup of tea, Moe.”

“You fucking kidding me? It’s, like, a primal thing or some shit. Oh wait. You were an arrow chucker, right? That’s no prob to Bry here, man. You ask him nice and he’ll pull a fucking RPG out the safe, man. I’m not kidding at all.”

“Moe, I don’t ever want to see a bow again,” I said, fighting his efforts to herd me inside the gun range.

Through the plexiglass window behind Bry, I could see a dozen lit gun lanes, only a couple of them in use. Despite the visible reports of fire, I couldn’t hear even a hint of sound from the firing range.

“Okay, okay. I’m just balling here, you know? Tell me what you wanna do and we’ll check it out.”

I shrugged, “I know you’re on ‘Blackjack Duty’ but you don’t have to entertain me.”

Moe regarded me, licking his lips. “Let me put this in a way you can understand, okay? You’re not leaving my sight. Doctor’s orders.”

“You mean, Superdynamic’s orders,” I said.

He scratched one of his sideburns, looking back at Bry, who had finished his call and waited for us.

“Same thing, from where I stand.”

“You know what’s bothering me? How fucking nonchalant you people are. I thought the world was coming to an end, Washington D.C. is under siege and whatever....”

“And?”

“You’re a tour guide for me? Shouldn’t you be flying out there and, I don’t know, taking care of business?”

Moe laughed.

“Like...Blackjack, you’re fucking hilarious.”

“I’m glad you find this funny.”

He slapped my shoulder, hard.

“You don’t know how the big guy operates.”

“No, I don’t. How about you explain, huh?”

Looking back at Bry, he waved him off and grabbed my left elbow, leading me away.

“Come on, I got an idea.”

I let him drive me off, but stared at him, hoping he’d understand I wasn’t going to let the conversation die.

“See, SuperD is like fine wine, he don’t piss until it’s time.”

“So what? He’s content with letting the world fall to pieces?”

He laughed. “Like you give a shit about all that. A second ago all you wanted was to hit some pussy.”

“I care,” I said, though not with the conviction I wanted to convey.

“Yeah, sure. Hey, I’d be all over Apogee if she gave me just a peek, you know? Shit.”

We walked to an elevator, which he evacuated before we entered. He didn’t want me around a lot of other people, I guess.

“Anyway,” he went on, when the doors slid closed. “The big guy doesn’t do nothing until he does the intel thing, you know? He’s careful about everything. Moreso these days. I mean, these are hard times, man. Back at Hashima, a bunch of guys got put down, bunch of others said ‘fuck it’ and up and quit.”

“I was there, you know.”

He shot me a curious look. “I do. Shit’s cause of you more’n most.”

Moe let that linger as the lift opened and he led me down more hallways.

“Then that shit in Utopia – and, yeah, you was there too. Like a thousand bad fuckers got out right there.”

So the heroes were outnumbered and probably outgunned, since Epic had hung up his boots.

“What about the Sentinels, or the Rough Boys? What about Rising Force? Hell, there’s a shitload of supers.”

He stopped, lowered his shades, “Who you think’s working this shit right now? We’re the backup team. I mean, we’re not even ‘A’ team. That kid Templar’s pretty badass, but he’s just a kid. He ain’t seen shit, you know what I’m saying? Ricochet can’t barely control his powers, man. Super’s been working on making a suit so he can manage the whole kinetic bouncing shit he has, but it’s like turtles fucking. He’s probably more a liability than anything if shit gets heavy. Who else? Ruby? She’s a sexy girl, for sure, but she manipulates ambient sounds and shit. I mean, badass if things work out right, but come on. What the fuck is she gonna do against bullets and shit? Focus is hardcore, but she’s also a kid. You know how it is. You don’t know how you’ll respond when the shit starts flying. So SuperD’s got me and Chen. That’s it. Wouldn’t you be careful as fuck?”

“He’s got me, too,” I said.

“Yeah, psycho boy. You’re not even worth the billion,” he said as we reached another chamber near the central core of the floor. Going inside revealed it to be like a circular classroom, with stadium seating in the form of work stations. In each ‘slot’ was a lab table, a bare aluminum slab six feet long with a simple chair. The only thing on the table was a metal dish about a foot in diameter that was built into the right side. What was curious was the strange contraption that dominated the central pit, hanging from the roof. It was like a mechanical octopus, but with a hundred tentacles, and though made of metal and plastic, it had an organic feel, with no rough edges or joints. The tentacles travelled around the room after picking up items that dropped from a ventral maw, depositing the items in the metal dish of some person’s lab table.

About half of the fifty or so lab slots were taken by folks wearing lab coats, and in some places two or three of them worked together on projects that varied from lifelike robots to some sort of fusion reactor being worked on by a young fellow across the room.

The central device provided tools, raw supplies, and pre-built materials to the scientists, so all they had to do was envision it, and the machine made their wildest dreams possible.

“Amazing,” I said.

Moe, unimpressed with the place as if he had seen it a million times, shook his head. “I figured. And we could’ve been blowing up some shit.”

I stepped forward to one of the lab slots and looked around for controls.

“Well, this sucks,” I said, not seeing any computer terminal.

“You use your brain, big guy.”

I just blinked, not sure what he was talking about.

“Shit, if it was for you, we’d be flying into D.C. already, knocking heads and shit, right?”

He waited for an answer, but I just looked away.

“That’s right. Be glad the boss is careful. Whatever’s going down is some bad end-of-the-world kinda shit”

I nodded.

“So be chill and let the adults figure things out. In the meantime, have fun with....” he motioned to the lab. “And remember to use your brain,” he chuckled, leaving me alone in the lab.

I studied what the others were doing, trying to glean a clue to how the whole thing worked, but the hard-working scientists and technicians didn’t give me a clue. They made no specific hand motions, nor did they use any spoken commands that I could tell. In fact, they barely spoke, instead focusing on their projects. The central tentacle machine dropped tools or parts in their hands as if on command, yet they were as nonchalant as a doctor mid-surgery aided by a capable nurse who knew what implement he or she would need next. On cue, the machine tentacle would drop the required item into the person’s outstretched hand or place it in the metal bin if it was too heavy just as the scientist was reaching over for it.

One of the fellows noticed me looking and gave me a pleasant smile. I averted my gaze in fear he would know I had no idea what I was doing. I gave the metal table and tray a close look for any recessed keys, read-outs or command pads, but the thing was smooth aluminum, devoid of any hint.

“Damn,” I muttered, growing more frustrated by the minute. Not only did Superdynamic have me on a short leash in a cage I had willingly walked into, now he was fucking with me. I bet his whole crew were having a huge laugh at my expense. Yeah, let’s all laugh at the bad guy.

I was about to punch the table, to see if that might make it work, when the doors opened behind me. I turned, half-expecting Moe, Superdynamic, and the others to come in, tearing in laughter, hoping I’d find their “hidden camera” humor to my liking. Instead, it was just one guy, Ricochet.

Out of costume he looked even thinner, less impressive. Ricochet was a young Asian kid, not even twenty, with crazy, spiked hair, pockmarked cheeks and a sloped, “I don’t care” attitude that was evident from his slow, meandering walk.

He carried his super suit draped over his left arm as he walked in the entrance, and when he saw me in the nearest booth he stopped in his tracks.

Ricochet said nothing at first, moving past me with a nonchalant nod, but he paused just a few steps away. “Hey, are you sure you’re supposed to be here?”

“Blame Moe,” I said.

He smiled and said, “Ah, cool,” standing there as if he wanted to go on but unsure of what to say.

“Guess he figured he’d let me out of my cage,” I said, trying to joke, but Ricochet didn’t register it.

“What’re you working on?” he said after running out of things on the floor to study.

“Nothing yet,” I said, hoping he’d move off and leave me to my embarrassment, but he didn’t. “Well, I could give these a fix.” I took off one of my boots and tossed it on the metal table.

“Oh, rocket boots. Cool.”

“Yeah,” I said. “They’re kind of jury-rigged at the moment. I’d like to build something a little more substantial.”

Ricochet nodded, “You made these by hand?”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“Doubt you find something that size off the rack,” he looked at the flimsy metal framing I had built around the leather boot. “This thing works?”

I nodded.

“Must be nice to be invulnerable.”

Rubbing my right hand, I thought to tell him how I wasn’t, but he went on, suddenly emboldened that I was giving him an audience. He spoke so fast, undoubtedly as a nervous tick, that I had trouble keeping up with him.

“You’re like smart with this stuff, huh?” he asked, gesturing to the machine behind me.

“Not really,” I said, chuckling to myself. “I can’t even figure out how to turn it on.”

He exploded into action, thankful to be helpful, making me step aside as he commandeered the slot. Blue LED lights flashed to life at the edges of the metal slab, lighting my work slot in a way I hadn’t noticed was missing. A few of the tentacle arms came in our direction at Ricochet’s command, one dropping a cigarette in his outstretched hand. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna smoke it,” he said as he flipped it behind his right ear. “Helps me think, no matter what Superdynamic says it does to my lungs.”

“You a smoker?” he asked, then went on when I shook my head. “Didn’t think so. I bet you’re all into healthy eating and whatever. What do you pop, like fifty thousand grams of amino acids a day?” Ricochet eyed my brawny arms. “Not like it matters, you’re probably pissing half of it out anyway.”

“I’m not–”

“Oh, I don’t care, man. Do what makes you happy, is my motto. Okay, so what do you wanna do here, anyway? Let me guess, a skeleton key for handcuffs.” He paused, waiting for me to catch up, then laughed, “I’m kidding, man. I’d be all fucked up if I had a billion dollar bounty on my head, too. Besides, like they even make handcuffs that fit your wrists. Or that could hold you if you got pissed enough. Anyways, I just wanted to adjust my suit. I mean, if we’re going into the unknown and get killed and whatnot, I might as well tweak the suit that keeps me from bouncing all around the world uncontrollably.”

I was still processing the handcuffs comment, but he went on.

“That’s how my power works, you know? The name Ricochet is apropos; I bounce all over the goddamned place without control. Superdynamic whipped this thing up to allow me a measure of control. It’s pretty cool. I hear you’re supposed to know a little about this stuff. You mind working on it for me?”

He waited three seconds, not long enough for me to catch up, before he kept going.

“If you don’t want to, I don’t mind, I can figure most of this stuff out.”

“No, I don’t mind–”

“I mean, Superdynamic showed me the way it works but some of this stuff...I have a cheat sheet,” he said, pulling a 3x5 notecard out of a pocket.

“I can help you,” I said, trying to sneak a word in edgewise. “If you can explain this thing to me,” I motioned to the table and the central tentacle thing.

Stupefied, he just stared at me, for the first time speechless.

“I can’t figure the fucking thing out.”

Ricochet chortled, his laughter a weird gagging cough that threatened to spill out of his nose.