The Prospects (Book 2): Nothing Poorer Than Gods (6 page)

Trista said, “He was a fearless leader in the comics.”

“Are any of us like we are in the comics? He did not survive forty years of battles with supervillains by being audacious.”

“This makes me think about Quad-Clops,” said Alex. “He said all heroes do is keep the world from changing.”

“Maintaining the status quo was James’s goal, but I’m team leader now. I say we find out who is making monsters.”

“I wish Asura didn’t go bad,” said Alex. “We could use someone like him for intelligence gathering.”

“That scumbag betrayed us,” said Trista. “He would again.”

“Good point. I’ll think of a way to get the MAB’s help as confidentially as possible.”

Stormhead yawned. “It’s too late to plan. Perhaps we should go straight home.”

“The sheriff said Candilyn is not adjusting to prison life. I’ll make it quick.”

The helicopter landed in Poughkeepsie.

Stormhead snored loudly in the back.

Trista slept with her head on Alex’s shoulder. He shrugged to wake her. “We’re here.”

Trista slowly woke up. “I had the weirdest dream. I was in a city with a big statue of a man on a horse, red socks everywhere, old cemeteries, a clock tower …”

“New York girls shouldn’t dream about Boston.”

“Wait, what?”

“Red Sox. That’s Boston.”

“I’ve never been there, but everything felt familiar. Can you leave your smartphone? I want to look up some things.”

“Sure.”

A police car took Alex from the helipad to the county jail. After showing his badge a few times, he was in front of a holding cell.

Candilyn grinned. “Agent O’Farrell. About time you got here.” She tugged the zipper on her orange jumpsuit. “You missed me. You know you did.”

“You tried to kill someone?”

“Bashed in his head ‘cause I wanted him dead.”

“Why?”

“He sold meth to my step-brother.”

“So you’re guilty?”

“I sure as hell don’t feel guilty.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Jail food is worse than the rabbit food at Griffin Tower. Take me back.”

“I can’t do that. You’re responsible for what you did.”

Candilyn grabbed the bars. “So the little Italian bitch gets to commit crimes, but I don’t?”

“Trista spent almost two years in jail and for what she did under psychic manipulation. Unless you can prove you weren’t acting of your own free well, we’re done.”

“You’re going to leave me here?”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“But you like me.” She puckered her lips.

“No, I don’t.”

Candilyn reached through the bars. “Help me, Agent O’Farrell. You’re my only hope.”

“Are you quoting
Star Wars
?”

“Yeah, but it’s true. My friends aren’t my friends anymore. They think I’ll rat them out for the stupid stuff they do.”

“What about your family?”

“They don’t have the money for bail. Mom and step-dad work all the time, step-brother can’t kick the meth, and my half-brother is retarded. I mean really retarded.”

“You committed a crime. You’re the legal system’s problem now. Don’t call me again.”

As Alex walked away Candilyn cried out, “Back in the hospital they said my healing factor can keep me young forever. When I get out of here, I’ll break every withered bone in your goat-killing body.”

Alex returned to the helicopter, where Trista flicked through his smartphone’s screen. “Is that Quad-Clops’s Wikipedia page?”

“I’m curious about him. I also looked up Boston on Google Images. That’s definitely the city in my dream. It must have come from when I read the assassin’s mind. It’s all jumbled, I can’t make sense it, but there are some other things I remembered.”

“What kinds of things?”

“Being immersed in bubbly water, a doctor in a black coat, and Swapper.”

“What’s Swapper?”

“Another Ultra-Genius. She could move a person’s consciousness from one body into another. She couldn’t do it for herself, which was sad because she was too obese to walk. She died of a heart attack while we were in prison. At least that’s what I was told. All I know is she didn’t come back from the medical ward.”

“So you saw her?”

“I felt her presence. It’s hard to describe, but it’s kind of like a lingering memory left from psychic involvement. I wish I knew more about her, but I never even learned her real name. If she’s involved, it’d explain how a man’s mind ended up in a girl’s body.”

“I want to investigate Alerion Incorporated, but at this point I don’t have any good questions or anything they can’t outright deny. Finding out more about the assassin could yield some clues. Want to go to Boston tomorrow? “

“I always wanted to go there. How’s Candilyn?”

“Headed up the river.”

“Poor girl.”

“I thought you two didn’t get along.”

“We were friends right after we moved into Griffin Tower. Her story about ending up in the monkey house at the zoo made me laugh until my ribs hurt.”

“How did she end up as your bully?”

“I didn’t tell anyone I was a villain. When Vijay found out, I guess by hacking, everyone thought I lied to them. I never said I wasn’t, I just didn’t say anything about my past.”

“That’s no excuse for her behavior.”

“I think about those early days a lot. Candilyn never really had anyone who believed in her. Even Lady Amazing got frustrated with her attitude and … lack of education.”

“Jenny called her stupid.”

“It’s not that things went wrong for her, I don’t think anything ever went right.”

Puca appeared on the roof of the Prudential Center with a loud pop. She pressed her bronze helmet’s mouthpiece.

“Ah’m in posishun. Ah kinnae clap dem yet.”

The tinny voice in her ear panels said, “Speak English, Colleen.”

Puca spoke slowly. “Right, Handler. I’m in position.”

“It’s not ‘Handler,’ it’s ‘the Handler.’”

Puca coughed. “Ah feel like shite.”

“No sick leave until the situation is under control. Do you have the MAB office in your sight?”

“Aye. I mean yes.”

“All of the computers in there are infested with our spyware. I can see that they’re researching a list of supervillains from this city. Wyckedblade is on that list.”

“How d’ya think they found him?”

“You didn’t recover his body.”

“Dat Pig-Girl body wasn’t Wyckedblade’s DNA.”

“At least you managed to destroy your old body.”

“An’ at least ya didn’t make me a pig-faced lass.”

“His ultra-reflexes were easier to replicate than your inherent teleportation ability. But even with the different DNA in the Pig-Girl body, they somehow got enough of a clue to go to his home city and download his file.”

“Do we have a man inside who kin listen in?”

“No. Look on the thirty-second story.”

Puca raised her binoculars. “I see a balding git and a little guinea skank.”

“That’s them. Read their lips.”

“Aye. He’s sayin’ ‘Jenny said Pig-Girl licked the blade first. That’s his trademark.’ She’s sayin’, ‘he had a rough life.’ Dis innae good.”

“They figured out who he is.”

“Shall I kill dem now? Ah kin plant a bomb.”

“Sure. Blow up two people in a government office. That won’t look even slightly suspicious.”

“Ye ain’t talkin’ straight, are you?”

“Bear with me. It’s hard being a master of intelligence in a world of rampant stupidity.”

“Dat’s a no, right?”

“If you were the best the IRA had, no wonder Ulster is still England.”

“Sod off.”

“Slick Shadow and Malone are on their way. They’ll handle this”

“My bomb will make less noise than those wankers.”

“Your bomb will also kill both targets. I want one of them alive.”

In the MAB office, Trista said, “He had a rough life. And four-foot-eleven? He was shorter than me.”

“But inhumanely fast,” said Alex. “In the videos, he’s like the Tasmanian Devil with knives.”

“Wasn’t his blade sprouting suit in Griffin Tower’s research lab?”

Alex nodded. “If he lost a knife, a new one sprouted out. He could also throw them with amazing accuracy.”

“He’d lick the blades? Gross.”

“There’s something else you should see. Look at this.” Alex tapped a few buttons. “He filed a sexual assault complaint against Sergeant Hammer. Three days later, he’s dead. The complaint wasn’t forwarded to me.”

“Who took the complaint?”

“Agent Roland Breugnon. He oversees Boston’s superheroes.”

“Boston has superheroes?”

“There’s one main guy called the Midnight Rider, an ultra-athlete and genius, and he’s got a few sidekicks. They’re the official MAB-supervised team. And there are a few unsupervised wannabes running around too.”

“Why would anyone choose to be supervised?”

“To get support from the local police and MAB. They don’t get arrested if they do more good than harm. In turn, we make sure they don’t violate innocent people’s civil rights while saving the day. The legally unrecognized vigilantes have what they have and have to deal with the consequences of breaking laws.”

“Kind of like Candilyn does, right?”

“She almost killed someone. I won’t be her ‘Get Out of Jail Free’ card.”

Trista tugged her rosary. “I’m still worried about her.”

“You brought your grandmother’s rosary?”

“With the way things have been going, I don’t feel safe without it.”

Alex’s smartphone rang. “Agent O’Farrell.”

Magna’s voice sounded human over the phone. “Hello, Agent. I’m calling to let you know my research into Alerion Incorporated has come to a dead end. Everyone involved in their project has either died or disappeared years ago, and all information relating to their involvement with Project Cold Warrior has disappeared from their databases. Stormhead says we know no more now than we knew last night.”

“Thanks for looking anyway. We identified the assassin.”

“Who was he?”

“Willard McHattie, a short punk from South Boston,
nom-de-crime
Wyckedblade. He graduated from reform schools as a fast and dirty knife fighter. Most of his victims were up-and-coming superheroes, but there are a couple of recognizable names in his rap sheet. Now we have to figure out how we went from a dead man’s body in Boston to a dead mutant girl in one year.”

“What do you plan to do next?”

“I’m going keep trying to get in touch with Agent Breugnon and visit some places associated with Wyckedblade. That might jog Trista’s absorbed memories. After that, it’s back to the chopper. I have to get home tonight. Emily was understanding about me working late last night, but I can’t push my luck.”

“Very good. I will attempt to research the CIA through external sources without drawing their attention to any hacking attempts. I hope we’ll have something to tell you when you return.”

“Thanks, Mindy.”

“I am Magna. Mindy is dead.”

“Sorry. You sound just like her over the phone.”

“You never need to apologize to a robot.” The call ended.

On the roof of Prudential Center, the rabbit-ear antennas in Puca’s helmet picked up every word of Alex’s conversation with Magna until she had another coughing fit.

She looked at her fingers. “Ah, hell, is dat blood?”

The Handler asked, “How long ago did we put your mind in that new body?”

“Almost five years.”

“I’ll have Doctor Hellgrun’s assistant give you a checkup when you get back. Luckily for you, I’m also intercepting Agent O’Farrell’s phone conversations.”

“Ye heard dat, aye? His buddies know too.”

“I expected this. I have contingency plans for the New York Guardians.”

“Are ya gonna bring in Doctor Hellgrun’s monsters?”

“Yes.”

“Why not just drop a nuke on the island and kill dem all? You kin do that, right?”

“That would bring way too much attention. It’d be better to put them on the defensive so they stop investigating until the trail is cold.”

“But what about these two?”

“They’re your target. Flayer will make sure Agent O’Farrell’s helicopter doesn’t take off tonight and I’ll make sure Agent Breugnon isn’t available to return his call because he’ll have a surprise visitor, an actor I have on retainer.”

“What’s yer plan?”

“Slick Shadow knows it. Follow his lead.”

“Ah would if that slimy wog would show …”

Puca didn’t notice the rubber-boned oily creature crab-walking across the roof feet until it stood in front of her and smiled menacingly.

“Never mind,” said Puca. “He’s here and grinnin’ like a dead hare.”

“Malone has the supplies,” said Slick Shadow. “You need to get in range for your helmet’s audio amplifiers. I’ll stay close. The Handler has it all worked out.”

The Handler said, “Damn right I do. When all is done, we’ll be back in the shadows.”

Alex checked his phone twice as he walked out of Legal Sea Foods.

Trista said, “That won’t make Agent Breugnon call you back any faster.”

“I know, but it makes me feel like I’m doing something. How do you like Boston?”

“It’s smaller than I thought it would be. Can we visit Harvard?”

“No, we’re going to where Wykedblade died and then straight to the chopper. You can visit Harvard on your own time.”

Trista rubbed her stomach. “I always wanted to travel, but with the baby I won’t be able to. Every now and then it hits me that I’m going to be a mother.”

“I went through that when Emily told me she was pregnant. I had that ‘Arms Wide Open’ song stuck in my head for days.”

“What song?”

“Forget it. Creed sucks.”

“I’m not ready for this. I don’t have a job or an education or my own place to live. All I have is a criminal record.”

“I know how the Catholic Church feels about abortion but, given what happened, you might get an exception.”

“No. I put it to Father Monaghan in a hypothetical situation. At this point, it’s God’s will. Killing the baby would be a sin. But I can’t help thinking bringing it into the world could lead to more sins.”

“I’m the wrong guy to ask. I’ve killed more people than the average supervillain.”

“That’s different. For you, it’s
jus ad bellum
.”

“Just add what?”

“Latin for ‘right to war,’ the idea that violence can be acceptable. You fit the criteria. You’re a member of a government agency, you only fight to re-establish peace, and you don’t resort to violence until it’s necessary.”

“Why do you know that?”

“I read some church doctrine with you in mind.”

“I’m not a religious guy.”

“Pope Francis says even atheists can go to heaven if they do good things. You’ve saved far more lives than you’ve taken. I’m sure you’re more likely to go to heaven than me, and I wouldn’t want to go there without you, Alex.”

Trista’s hand brushed his.

Alex jerked his hand away and faced Trista.

“We have to talk about our relationship.”

“Here? On the sidewalk?”

“It’s this simple. I love Emily. When she dies, I go where she goes.”

“Did you think … no, I didn’t mean ...”

“We need some distance. You can’t call me at home, you can’t sleep on my shoulder during late-night missions, and you can’t call me Alex. To you, I’m Agent O’Farrell.”

“You let Jenny call you Alex.”

“Jenny is an official New York Guardian. She’s an equal. I’m your trainer since you’re still a Prospect.”

“I thought we were friends.”

“When I met you, you had no one on your side but Charlene. Now you’re back in touch with your family, your new teammates like you, Chaplain Monaghan is your personal spiritual advisor, and you’re in therapy. You have a more active social life than I do.”

“You said you would stay with me through everything.”

“But I want to get you to the point where you’re strong enough so you don’t need my help anymore.”

On the roof across the street,
Puca caught every word of the conversation through her helmet’s enhanced parabolic hearing receptors.

“Bloody hell, ya git. Don’t kill her before we get a chance.”

Several block away, Trista looked at the walls of the garbage-strewn alleyway. “Why are we here?”

Alex looked at the crime scene report on his smartphone. “This is the place where Wyckedblade lost his last fight. Forensic investigators found blood splattered all over the walls. It must’ve been nasty.”

Trista shrugged. “I’m not getting anything. The streets outside looked like somewhere I’ve been before, I got a weird craving for oregano from that pizza place up the street and a real nasty vibe from the abandoned house two blocks away, but this is the most unfamiliar place I’ve seen so far.”

“So his mind must have been transferred before he died. It’d be hard to forget being brutally murdered.”

“Is there an autopsy report?”

Alex flicked his smartphone’s screen. “Agent Breugnon didn’t upload them. Pretty sloppy work. I always scan all documents related to investigations.”

“What’s next?”

Alex looked at his smartphone’s clock. “I’ll get in touch with Agent Breugnon tomorrow. If we head to the chopper now, I can be home in time for dinner.”

Several hours later, on the roof across the street from the Hilton Boston Downtown, Puca asked, “You know what I hate about this line of work?”

Slick Shadow took a solid form. “Watching people dine at fancy restaurants while we starve?”

“All that and yeah, but what really gets me is the lack o’ recognition. We got to rub out a superhero and make it look like no one did it.”

Slick Shadow’s crooked mouth parted. “Would you rather be at sea killing the real famous ones?”

“God no. Nothing’s worth puttin’ up with Doctor Hellgrun’s slimy monsters. Let them do the dirty work. Love to see how the Handler covers that one up.”