Gods of Manhattan (19 page)

So it was unfortunate that Doc Thunder chose that exact moment to land on the hospital's roof.

His immense body landed with a crash that shook the whole roof, distracting El Sombra for a single, vital second - enough time for Venger to lunge forward, the point of the cane-dagger slashing across the masked man's cheek. Instantly, El Sombra felt a wave of weakness as the poison rushed into his bloodstream. He staggered.

"You're too late, Thunder," Venger spat in his cold, cruel monotone. "I don't know how you found out about this little meeting, but you're too late to save your friend. My poison is even now working through his bloodstream. Within moments, he'll die. Die in unendurable pain."

El Sombra fell to his knees, the pain already beginning. But there was no sympathy in the Doc's eyes. That piercing blue was as cold as steel.

"He's no friend of mine, Venger. This is the man who left someone very important to me downstairs in that hospital with four bullets in him."

El Sombra opened his mouth, trying to speak, trying to shake his head. Bullets?

Doc Thunder scowled. "I honestly don't care if this piece of trash lives or dies."

Chapter Ten

Doc Thunder and The Saint of Ghosts

"This is the man who left someone very important to me downstairs in that hospital with four bullets in him. I honestly don't care if this piece of trash lives or dies."

Yes, it was him, all right. Red mask, crazy eyes. This was the man who'd done his damnedest to murder his best friend. No doubt about it, this was who Monk had been talking about. And yet...

"How is Monk, but the way, Venger? You being his doctor and all. I'd think very carefully about how you answer that question, if I were you."

Venger chuckled, another expulsion of short barks, unrecognisable as laughter to the untrained ear. "Oh, of course. Your monkey-boy bum-chum. He's stable, don't you worry. Off the critical list. I do know rather a lot about medicine, you know. Probably even more than your other friend, Doctor Hamilton." Suddenly, his teeth gritted, and his eyes assumed once more that intense, hateful gaze. "I'm not a complete monster. I've got nothing against the ape-man. It wasn't
him
who gave me this face, was it? It was you. You and that pathetic masochist in the blue suit."

Doc nodded, taking a step forward. "Danny Coltrane, the Blue Ghost. Was it you who made him disappear? The way you disappeared Hamilton so you could take his place?"

Venger's mouth fell open, flopping like the mouth of a fish. On a normal man, it would have been a delighted grin. "You don't know
anything,
do you? You don't have the slightest clue-"

He was interrupted by El Sombra, whose gut spasmed at that moment, sending a tidal wave of vomit out of his belly and onto the wet roof. His skin was a jaundiced yellow now, his eyes unfocussed, and great drops of cold sweat were rolling down his skin, indistinguishable from the raindrops. The poison was doing its work. He was in the final stages now.

Venger laughed. "Are you sure you don't want to do anything for him? I know you say he tried to execute one corner of your little love triangle, but look at him! I got that poison from a tree frog, you know. It works directly on the brain's pain receptors. It must feel as though he's boiling alive. I wonder why he doesn't scream?"

Doc Thunder didn't speak. He was staring contemplatively at the writhing masked man, pulling a strange face, almost wincing. Venger cocked his head. "No compassion for such a terrible fate? I thought you were supposed to be the hero of decency and fairness? The great progressive setting an example for all us common-or-garden proles? You're almost acting like the Blood-Spider!" He laughed again, another little machine-gun burst of gasps from his sagging lips, then shouted. "I wish he were here to see it!"

On his perch, the Blood-Spider frowned. It was almost as if Venger wanted to be rescued.

He was out of luck. The only reason he hadn't been shot yet was because of Thunder's timely arrival. The Blood-Spider hadn't expected him.

The silencer on the barrel might mask the shot from human ears, but from Thunder's? Could he risk it? He didn't want a battle with the man.

Not just yet...

"You're right, of course," murmured Doc Thunder. "I have to do something for him."

With that, he grabbed El Sombra by the throat, lifting him up to stare into his eyes. After a moment, he spat into the dying man's face.

Then he let him drop.

"Satisfied?"

Venger lifted a finger to his face, physically raising one of his eyebrows and then the other, pantomiming a look of surprise. "Note my expression." Another staccato rattle of gasps, as his flesh bubbled and relaxed, returning to its standard emotionless cast. "You've gone rather...
badass
all of a sudden, haven't you, old man? Am I supposed to be impressed?"

"My turn to ask the questions." Doc Thunder's voice was low, menacing. He took another step towards Venger. "You'll find that little pigsticker of yours has a hard time penetrating my skin. And whatever you've smeared on it won't even give me a rash. Unless you've gotten a sudden urge to take a swan dive from this rooftop, I suggest you start telling me exactly what I want to know. Question one - what
did
you do to Miles Hamilton?"

"You'll never guess." His eyes were mocking, dancing with glee. "Or maybe you will. A fifty-fifty chance."

Doc Thunder raised an eyebrow.
Fifty fifty? What does that mean? "
Tell me."

Another rattle of gasps. Even if you knew it was laughter, it would still seem incongruous coming from the slack, half-melted features. "I did to him what you did to me. Or rather, I did worse. A version of the same compound that caused my face to become this... travesty. Except somewhat more potent, of course. I injected him with it... and then I watched him melt. The terrified look on his face as it slowly lost cohesion, the awful scream as his jaw slid off and burst like a water balloon as it hit the ground, his eyes trickling down his face like a pair of maraschino cherries sliding off a melting ice cream sundae..." He sniggered, or made a sound that could have been a snigger. "Yum yum. Deee-licious."

Thunder's eyes narrowed.

Venger reached up and formed his mouth into a pantomime frown. "Oh dear, have I upset you? How sad. You should learn not to ask questions you don't want the answers to. If it's any consolation, I had nothing against him, any more that I have anything against the big ape downstairs. But unlike your friend the Gorilla Reporter... he was in the way."

Carefully, he began to move sideways, away from Doc, keeping his cane-dagger pointed at the lightning bolt in the centre of Doc's chest as his feet padded softly on the rain-slick rooftop.

Doc followed. "You were wrong earlier, Venger. You are a monster. I'm not going to rest until you've been locked away for the rest of your unnatural life. Now put that contraption down before I twist it around your scrawny neck."

All of his attention was on Venger. Venger had made sure of that himself, made sure Thunder wasn't paying attention to his surroundings. If he had been, he might have noticed that Venger's movements had put Doc between him and the lightning conductor.

The storm was directly over their heads. Just a matter of time...

Venger pressed the stud on the head of his cane once again. The tip of the dagger flew out of the end like a dart, gleaming with the deadly poison it had been coated with, before it bounced harmlessly back, clattering on the rooftop, the point broken.

"You don't listen, Venger. I told you that wasn't going to work on me." Doc frowned. "You were masquerading as my personal physician for years. You know I'm bulletproof, never mind dagger-proof. And even if you could afford an inexorium blade, my blood would just negate any poison you can think of. So tell me -" His voice was thick with contempt. "- what was the point of that?"

Venger chuckled. "I have to eject the dagger before I can trigger this." He pushed the stud again - and a compressed steel net shot out of the cane's tip, expanding as it left, wrapping around Doc Thunder's body, tangling him up. Venger ran forward, kicking hard at his chest while he was off-balance and struggling with the net, and sending him staggering backwards to slam against the conductor -

- and then a bolt of lightning sizzled down from directly overhead.

Doc Thunder screamed, the lightning crackling off his wet skin as it shot through his body. It felt almost like the Omega Machine, but a thousand times more intense, wilder, more agonising. He'd never felt quite this much pain. Although the lightning strike itself only lasted a second, it felt as though the fire was still crackling through his every nerve ending even after he crashed forward onto the rooftop.

He tried to strain, to break out of the steel netting, but there was no way. He couldn't even move. Dimly, he saw Anton Venger standing over him.

"Good timing, eh? I've always been lucky that way."

Thunder tried to speak. A small trickle of blood slid out of the corner of his mouth. Venger blinked. If he could have appeared shocked, he would have.

"Goodness me. That did hit you hard, didn't it? It actually made you bleed."

Thunder twitched, shaking his head. "Nuh. No." He sucked in a deep breath. "Did this to myself earlier. Bit... bit my cheek. Got the blood flowing."

He smiled.

Venger paused for a moment, thinking about that. When would he have...

Then realisation dawned.

"...oh my God."

El Sombra appeared behind him, suddenly, grabbing hold of Venger's face hard enough to leave handprints in the clay-like flesh. Then he twisted.

Venger howled, and the sound was horrific, never changing in pitch, a flat, unreal burst of noise. A scream without emotion. El Sombra twisted again, and something popped in Anton Venger's neck. His body went limp.

El Sombra began to drag the body to the edge of the roof.

"Wait..." Doc Thunder said, before lapsing into a coughing fit. El Sombra smiled, hauled it over the side, and dropped it off. Doc Thunder shook his head, feeling impotent. "That... that was murder..."

"Whoops." the masked man smiled, holding up his limp wrist and slapping it with the other hand. "Bad vigilante! Very naughty. Although - and I don't know about you, amigo, you might not agree - I thought that story about how he dissolved a guy was a little bit worse." He lifted his sword, aiming the point towards Thunder's eye. "Thanks for spitting in my face, by the way, amigo. That really made me feel like saving your life. In fact, why don't you give me one really solid reason why I shouldn't poke this through your eye and into your brain?"

"Because spitting on you is what
saved
your
life." Doc swallowed, then began straining against the steel net, struggling inside it in an attempt to work his arms together in front of him. From there, he could start trying to tear his way out of it when his full strength returned. "My blood has certain... healing properties. It's what makes me what I am. Even if you're not a blood match, spitting it into your wound should have been enough to negate the poison."

El Sombra frowned, touching his fingertips against the fresh wound. It was true. As soon as Thunder had spat on him, the fever had dissipated. "So you're Spit Jesus. Congratulations. What do you want, a medal?"

"I expect an honest answer to an honest question, that's all. Although if you think you can kill me, you're welcome to give it a try. I can just as easily get answers from you in Rackham Prison hospital." He smiled, winding his fingers around the steel mesh and then pulling. One by one, the links in the netting began to break.

"What the hell, amigo, I'm in a conversational mood. Just lay off the net for a moment, eh?" El Sombra laid the tip of his sword just below Thunder's eye. Thunder didn't blink. "Ask your question."

"Did you shoot a man last night in the penthouse suite of Atlas apartments?"

El Sombra blinked, eyes widening. "Huh. Right place, amigo, wrong crime. I don't use guns. No idea how they work. The only thing I need is this." He pressed the tip of the sword against Thunder's cheek. The skin didn't break. Neither did Doc's gaze.

"So you had nothing to do with the shooting of my assistant? No, of course not." His eyes flicked to the left, considering. "You'd have shot Venger long before he could have stuck you with that cane. You'd probably have shot me - people do. You're not lying when you say you don't use guns." He looked back at El Sombra, evaluating. "But you did kill Heinrich Donner."

El Sombra smiled, grimly. "That's right. I got a hot tip and some incontrovertible evidence leading right to his evil terrorist wrinkly bastard ass, and then I broke into his fancy penthouse and I stabbed him in the back. Thrust the point of my sword right through his stinking, evil heart. Should I apologise?"

Doc Thunder paused. "Why?" He said it softly, quietly. El Sombra's smile widened.

"Why didn't you?"

The Blood-Spider listened closely from his perch on the edge of the rooftop. His gun was still trained on El Sombra's head. He was trying to work out whether or not to fire.