Goodbye, this blog

This blog is officially defunct.

You can go to Metahuman Press for the updated version of Mean Streets.

4.3 Double Crossed!

“You screwed us! You let our people die for nothing at fucking all!”

Jack Flash didn’t back down from the fury Bulldog projected. They stood on the veranda outside the Kennel, the Dogpack’s home base. The other senior members of the Dogpack flanked Bulldog, and none of them looked too happy. Jack knew this would happen, had even planned for it, but he didn’t think they would be quite so violent about it. He silently cursed himself for being too damn trusting in the basic decency of human beings. If the Divide should teach anything, it was that such a thing did not exist.

Jack Flash held up his copy of the DVD-rom. “I did what I had to do. We needed the information that Skull could provide to us, but we had to get it out of there. This contains the only surviving data on Devastation Day. With it we may be able to finally—”

“We don’t need your true believe bullshit, Flash!” Bulldog looked over at Chihuahua. The Bitch looked Bulldog’s way, and the small deformed man at her side followed her gaze.

“Let me take him out, boss. We don’t need his ass anymore.”

Everyone in the room stood silent as Chihuahua slowly reached up and scratched his elongated nose. He nodded.

Bulldog grinned, and Pitbull moved to his side. They closed in on Jack. Jack took a step back and contemplated his chances of living through an extended battle with an entire street gang. He figured it at absolutely no chance at all.

“Look, guys. I know I—”

“Call your men off, Chihuahua. Flash leaves with me.” All eyes turned towards the street. An aging man sat on the back of a seventies-style stunt bike. Though it looked as though it had suffered thirty years of use, the motorcycle was nearly silent as it idled. The man on its back pulled the half-mask off of his head, revealing craggy skin and a receding hairline. He gave his audience a cocky grin beneath his scruffy beard as he dismounted his bike.

“You’ve got every reason to be mad at this chump, but I can’t let you hurt him, Chihuahua. He works for me now.”

“You have no say here, Double Cross. This is Dogpack territory. We respect you, but we won’t let you stick your nose in to our business.”

Double Cross walked towards Chihuahua. He gave Pitbull and Bulldog each a nod in turn as he passed them. The Bitch he gave both a nod and a smarmy grin, before he turned his attention back to Chihuahua. “You really want to call me out on this, friend? I’m old but not so old that I couldn’t kick all your asses, ‘specially with Jack here at my side.”

Chihuahua gritted his teeth. A low growl rose from his throat as he stood unmoving before Double Cross. Jack Flash looked on with mixed anticipation and worry. He was ready for a fight though, if it came to that. He didn’t think it would though. Even the Dogpack wasn’t stupid enough to cross the meanest son of a bitch in the Divide.

“Fine,” Chihuahua said. “You want the sorry bastard you take him. But if me or any of my dawgs see him in our territory again, he will wish we let him die quick and easy today. You get me?”

“We hear you.” Double Cross looked over to Jack and gave him a wink. “And I promise that good ol’ Jack here wouldn’t even think of bothering you or your people again. And I’m nothin’ if not a man of my word, right?”

“Just take him and go.”

Double Cross looked at Jack. “You heard the man. Let’s roll.”

Double Cross turned to head back to his bike. Bulldog cut him off. “I should tear out your throat you son of a bitch.”

Double Cross shot forward with blinding speed. After images streaked behind him as he struck a swift and brutal chop to Bulldog’s throat. Bulldog staggered back and fell to one knee. He clutched at his throat as he struggled for air.

“That could just as easily been a killing blow, hombre. Don’t get in my face again.” Double Cross walked away from the struggling man. He went straight back to his motorcycle. He climbed in to the leather seat, yanked the mask back over his hair and eyes. Jack walked up behind Double Cross and looked at him and the bike.

“Don’t just stand their gawking like a damn fool. Climb on the back of the bike before the pack changes their mind and tears you a new asshole.”

“Yes, sir.” Jack scurried on to the seat behind Double Cross. The older man kick-started the cycle (with barely any engine noise) and pulled out in to the streets. Within seconds they were cruising down the wasted streets of Old Detroit, zigging and zagging around loose rock, people, and massive potholes. Jack feared for his very life as the old man put on the speed.

They shot down the streets of the Divide and Jack knew they could only have one eventual destination. It was time to go to the Q-Zone. One way or another, the Antagonist’s days as the boss of bosses would soon be over.

*****

“You got it?”

Gigolo chuckled at the question. “You got the money?”

Conundrum hissed through his ever-distorting features. The degen’s skin constantly shifted around his body coupled with the elasticity of the bones beneath made him a constantly-changing mass of skin. Most people would find the result utterly sickening. Gigolo had seen much worse in his years.

They stood in a blasted out wasteland. Very near the epicenter on the Day of Devastation, not even foundations stood here. A few shabby huts stood scattered over the empty grasslands, but no one inside them made any motion. They knew better than to do so in the presence of the Great Question’s leadership.

Conundrum signaled to one of the two midgets that stood several feet behind him. Both wore full bodysuits, one in blue with an “S” on his chest, the other in red with an “A” on his chest. Shock and Awe scurried to Conundrum. Each carried a knapsack. They dropped them between Conundrum and Gigolo.

“There you are,” Conundrum said. “Five million US in each bag. Everything you might need to make your life outside of the Divide. Now give me the disc.”

Gigolo smiled, showing a mouthful of gold. He reached in to his large chinchilla-fur coat. He produced the DVD-ROM and put it in Conundrum’s hands. “That’s the only complete copy of the disc, so be careful with it. You don’t want to have to pay me ten million more for another copy.”

Conundrum took the disc from Gigolo and examined it. He handed it to Awe. “Verify the authenticity please.” Awe scurried away to their jeep, where the final member of their party sat at a laptop. The scrawny young man couldn’t be out of his teens, but he quickly took the disc, inserted it in to the computer, and scanned it. He gave Conundrum a thumbs-up.

Conundrum’s face suddenly contorted. A moment later he looked exactly like Gigolo. “Thank you for your efforts, sir.”

The sniper’s bullet caught Gigolo in the back of the head, near the top of his skull. His face exploded outwards before the bullet lodged in the ground only inches from Conundrum’s foot. Blood and brains splattered across Conundrum’s new face. He slowly grinned as he wiped it away.

“Get the coat and the cane, boys. Then burn the body” Shock and Awe ran to retrieve it. Conundrum bent down to look at the blank eyes of his victim. It was times like this he enjoyed his work.

He raised a closed fist in the air. It was the prearranged sign. Just over a hundred yards away, an empty patch of land atop a large hill shimmered. When the shimmer faded, Kimono stood in its place. The gorgeous Asian assassin was naked except for the high-powered rifle in her hand.

“Hurry to the jeep,” Conundrum said. “We must return to Antagonist and show him our success.”

4.2 Cathouse

Bob Cat blinked his eyes open. His head throbbed but otherwise everything seemed to be in working order. He sat up and ran a hand through his black hair. It took him a few moments to realize he was on the couch of the loft he shared with Death Ray. Ray was in the kitchen making breakfast. The smell of bacon and eggs filled the apartment. Ray gave Bob a nod as he turned back to the frying pan.

Bob struggled up and off the couch. Every part of him ached, but it was better than the alternative. He had already died three times, and he had no plans to suffer through another revival anytime soon. “You got any of that for me?”

Ray looked his way, nodded and waved him over. Bob sat down at the small fold out lodged between the kitchen and the living room to enjoy a breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast. He was chewing his sixth bite of egg when the buzzer sounded. Someone was downstairs at their door.

Having been unconscious for several hours, Bob doubted highly it was any of his lady friends which meant it was almost certainly a client. He couldn’t remember the last time they had a paying gig. All this freelance “helping out” as Ray liked to call it wasn’t paying the bills. Bob leapt from the chair and ran down the stairs to the first floor.

He threw a smile on his face as he yanked the door at the bottom of the stairs open. “Hi, can I help you?”

A tall man, thin but well muscled, stood in the door. He wore his hair short and as brown as his eyes. He stood up straight, government-issue straight. Bob wondered which government.

“My name is Conrad Thierry,” the man said. “I’m looking for Bob Cat and Death Ray.”

“Well you found us. I’m the Cat.” He gestured past him. “I assume you’re not here for breakfast, so come inside and tell me how we can be of assistance.”

“Good.” Thierry pushed past Bob and in to the small hallway opposite of the stairway. He continued in to the small room Ray and Bob used as an office and sat down at the vacant secretary’s desk. He promptly threw his feet up on it and looked at Bob.

“Please make yourself comfortable,” Bob said.

“Is your partner available, Mr. Cat?”

Bob nodded before he turned to call Death Ray down the stairs. Ray was already at the top of the stairs and on his way down. “Here he comes,” Bob said. Ray reached the bottom of the stairs, and he and Bob went in to the office and took two of the remaining seats. “Now what can we do for you?”

“First, I would like to put in on record that you two are not my first choices for this mission, but my superiors seem to think considering your past history that you are the best choices for the task at hand.”

Thierry pulled a thick envelope from inside his jacket pocket and threw it on the table. “My superiors at ACTION have come across information that another so-called Norn Stone has been located in the northern areas of the city, in a region called Pisa. Are you familiar with the Stones?”

Bob nodded. He tried not to salivate at the very thought of the Stone. The Norn Stones first appeared shortly after the Devastation. They could be used to channel massive amounts of energy, but prolonged skin contact would cause them to absorb in to the human body. Anyone who absorbed one would then become a metahuman. If a metahuman did the absorbing, his powers would increase several times over. Only a few of the longest residents of the Divide ever came to possess them, people like Mister Mayor and Antagonist. Though dozens existed none had been seen in months.

“Everyone in the Divide knows of the Stones, Mister Thierry. Everyone here dreams of getting one for themselves.”

“Our information within the Divide is limited but we believe it may be in the hands of one of your fellow metahumans, a Venus de Milo. We know little beyond what our satellite scanners can read.” Thierry gestured to the envelope on the table. It was stretched in the middle by what could be nothing other than several bundles of cash. “In that envelope you will find one hundred thousand dollars for each of you, Mister Cat, Mister Ray. I am here to hire you as unofficial agents of the United States government in this endeavor. I want you to enter the so-called Pisa region, locate the artifact, and return it to me. If you do so, we will quadruple the money found in that envelope. Each. As well as another artifact which you will certainly be interested in, Mister Cat.”

Bob reached down and opened the envelope. He found several bundles of hundred dollar bills inside. He showed the envelope’s contents to Death Ray. Ray just nodded.

“What is this artifact you’re talking about, Agent Thierry?”

“It’s a certain sword. A Japanese-made katana. No known name exists for it, but it possesses innate magical abilities. You should be familiar with it, as I believe it’s the missing part of that ensemble you wear, Mr. Cat?”

A greater man might wonder how the United States government had uncovered so much of his history, but Bob could only think of the sword. He spent months looking for that sword after he recovered the rest of the costume, but never found it. Now he could feel it within his reach.

“We’ll do it,” Bob said.

Death Ray reached out and turned Bob back towards him. He gave his friend and partner a glare. Bob could tell he was in no way pleased.

“What? We need the money.”

Death Ray just shook his head in frustration. He snatched the money out of Bob’s hands, turned, and started back up the stairs. He slammed the door shut at the top.

“Don’t worry about him,” Bob said to Thierry. “I’m not sure why he’s so moody right now, but once we take a down payment, we guarantee we finish the job. He and I will be a team when we go in to Pisa. We’re partners and all that even with all his anger management issues.”

“I don’t want excuses, Mister Cat. I want results. Can you deliver me the Norn Stone and do it within the next week?”

“You can count on us, Agent Thierry.”

“You’d better hope so. Because if you fail in this, Mr. Cat, you will find yourself with a powerful enemy in the United States government.” Thierry suddenly smiled, which only served to make him look even creepier. “But that’s not going to happen, is it?”

Thierry patted Bob Cat on the shoulder. He placed a card in Bob’s hand before he continued on his way to the door. “I expect a status report in forty-eight hours. Do not disappoint me, Mister Cat.”

Thierry whisked through the door and out in to the street. Bob watched him go until Thierry turned. The sun’s glare caught Bob’s eyes. He blinked and turned away for a moment, but when his eyes returned to the street, Thierry was gone. Bob pocketed the card and rushed up the stairs to find Ray.

4.1 The Awesome Titan!

Johnny B. Goode felt like he was flying. It was like all the movies of the cool metas on TV, only way faster. He could feel the wind whipping through his hair, the power of the air currents all around him, and the freedom of soaring though the sky. It was like heaven. Johnny had just one problem.

He couldn’t actually fly.

Johnny struck the earth at several hundred miles per hour. Dirt and rock exploded beneath him and created a storm of dust around him. Slowly he rose from the hole his fall had made. He brushed the dirt from his remaining clothes as he cleared his head.

The area around him looked utterly barren. Dirt, some stones, an occasional patch of grass, but nothing more than that. It reminded him a bit of the parks when he was a kid, back before the destruction, but way less cool. No jungle gyms at all; he couldn’t even find a slide.

He did see a massive wall though. It stretched as far as the eye could see, taking time only to curve to cover both his right and left as he followed its trail. He couldn’t remember ever being this close to the dividing wall before. Jack was always warning him, telling him again and again, “Stay away from there,” or “You could get hurt in the…” What was it? The DMZ, that’s what he called it.

He didn’t see what was so bad about this DMZ place. It seemed sort of nice, quiet.

“Unidentified metahuman!” Johnny looked up from the dirt and back to the wall where the voice was being projected over loud speakers. He wondered if they were talking about him, so he pointed at his chest. “You have entered the line of demarcation. Withdraw immediately or we will open fire.”

Fire? The word reminded him of his battle with Mister Mayor. Sure, Jack used it too, but he was nice enough never to keep it away from him. Not like that other guy back in Downtown. He was mean.

“I don’t like fire.” He spoke the words softly. Jack always told him that he needed to make sure people could hear him when he talked. “No fire!”

They didn’t throw fire at him, but they did start shooting his guns. Johnny scrambled away as bullets rained down around him. He knew they couldn’t really hurt him, but he still didn’t like them. They stung.

“Hold your fire, men!” Johnny looked for the fire again, but he only saw a red, yellow, and white streak descend from the sky. At least the soldiers stopped shooting their guns.

The metahuman did several full circles over Johnny’s head as the young man watched in awe, before he slowed and alighted on the ground just in front of Johnny. Johnny recognized the slicked back black hair, the white costume with its gold logo, the red boots and capes. He would recognize Titan anywhere. He remembered reading the legendary metahero’s comic book back when he was just a kid.

“You’re Titan!” Johnny jumped up and down and clapped. “You’re so awesome! I used to have all your stuff. The toys, the lunchbox, even your movie on videotape! You’re the coolest ever!”

Titan arched one prominent eyebrow. “Er… yes, son. That is me. What are you doing in the demilitarized zone?”

“The whatsit?”

“You are from inside the Divide aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah, sure, but I just—”

“You are not allowed in this area, son. The demilitarized zone is the line of demarcation between the Divide and the United States. No one is allowed to enter or leave through it. Any trespassers are to be shot on sight.”

“Oh, that explains the guns.” Johnny shuffled his feet like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I didn’t mean it or anything. It was all an accident.”

Titan patted Johnny on the shoulder. “I’m sure it was, son. This Divide business is a dirty sort, but you and I both must follow the rules of law.” He glanced back at the wall. “If you allow me to escort you back to the boundaries of the Divide, we can end this without any further violence.”

“Are you going to fly me?”

Titan looked at the gleeful excitement on the face of the nearly seven foot tall man in front of him. “I suppose that can be arranged. Turn around and raise your arms up a couple inches. Keep them locked there, okay?”

Johnny nodded. He felt Titan’s hands touch the back of each of his upper arms. Less than a second later, Johnny felt his feet leave the ground.

“Woo hoo! Thanks, Titan, this is great!”

“What’s your name, son?”

“Johnny. I don’t really have a last name no more, but my friend Jack calls me Johnny B. Goode.”
Titan curved in a half-circle in the air before suddenly starting a zigzag motion. Johnny again whooped with joy.

“One more question, Johnny. How old are you?”

“Uh… well…” Johnny fell silent.

“What is it, Johnny?”

“Well, Jack told me never to tell anyone I don’t know really well how old I am.”

Titan gently descended to the ground at the edge of the DMZ. Johnny clapped with joy at his ride and Titan gave him a broad grin.

“Now who do you know better than me, Johnny? Didn’t you say you owned all my toys and read all my comics?”

“Well, yeah, I guess so.” Johnny scratched the whiskers on his chin. “I just don’t want to make Jack mad. He’s been a real good friend to me.”

“I promise not to tell if you promise not to tell.”

“Okay, Titan, as long as you can keep a secret.” Johnny leaned in close to Titan’s ear. “I’m fourteen,” he whispered.

“How is that possible?”

“I’m a little big for my age.”

Titan glanced back at the border wall only a few hundred yards away. He turned back to Johnny. “It is a travesty you’re forced to stay here, Johnny. But I can’t do anything to change it, at least not right now. I promise that I will find away to make this blasted place whole again. I swear it.”

“Gee, that’s mighty cool of you, sir.”

“Will you be able to get home all right, Johnny?”

“Sure. I’ve done it a lot of times. I mean, I’m fourteen, not eight.”

“So you are. Farewell, Johnny. Be careful and I am certain we will see each other again.”

“I sure hope so, Titan. You’re the best.”

Titan only smiled as he rose in to the air. He shot off a quick salute to Johnny which Johnny quickly and excitedly returned. Then he disappeared in a flash of movement.

Johnny couldn’t wipe the grin off his face as he headed back to home.

3.4 The Battle for Downtown

“This ain’t right, Jack. I think I’m hurtin’ him!”

Johnny B. Goode paused for a moment from the smoldering ruin of a city street as he looked up at Jack Flash. Steam and smoke rose up from damaged pipes somewhere far below. Imbedded in the cement beneath him was the limp form of Mister Mayor.

“No, don’t stop, Johnny!”

Johnny couldn’t hear Jack as Mister Mayor shot upright and threw the massive young man off of him. Johnny crashed to the ground landing hard straight on his blond head. He groaned and rubbed at his head as Mayor turned his focus back to Jack Flash.

“Now that wasn’t playing very nice was it, Jack? It isn’t like you to play dirty in our little games.”

“Yeah, well maybe I’m getting over that.” Jack lit up again and propelled another wave of fire in Mister Mayor’s direction.

“You know you can’t hurt me with that, Jack. Your fire won’t do anything to me.”

Jack gave Mayor a wry grin. “Who said I was aiming for you?”

The natural gas in the air suddenly ignited in an explosive burst. Jack braced himself and closed his eyes, but Mister Mayor had no such luck. He cried out at the sudden blinding flash of light all around him.

Jack opened his eyes to see Johnny strike out at their metallic foe again. “Don’t let up this time,” Jack yelled. “You have to keep him down if we’re going to have a chance at this!”

“Yes, sir,” Johnny said. “I won’t let you down, Jack!” Johnny rained blow after blow down on Mister Mayor. Mayor struggled to fight back, but the blows drove him to his knees.

A flash of flame shot down from the skies above and engulfed Johnny. The young metahuman cried out as his skin and hair instantly started to burn. Jack looked up to see a short-haired Caucasian drop from several floors up in the building before him. He wore matching sweatpants and sweatshirt, but both were burning away from the halo of fire surrounding him.

Jack cursed under his breath. Another flame-wielder, could this day get any worse? He hurled a pair of fireballs towards the newcomer, but he deflected them away from him with bursts of his own fire.

Mister Mayor turned and delivered a massive blow to Johnny B. Goode as Johnny still struggled to put out the flames burning him. The blow caught Johnny unaware and sent him flying several stories skyward. He crashed down several blocks away.

Jack backed away from the other fire-guy and Mister Mayor. He knew when he was in trouble.

An engine revved some distance away. All three faces turned as Skull Solo flashed in to view on the back of his Harley. The bald, tattooed biker sneered at all three men as he kicked the bike in to gear. Jack cursed his luck at the arrival of another Cabinet member.

But Solo went straight for Mister Mayor. He let his bike slide out from under him and as he flew through the air, he raised both hands towards his former commander-in-chief. The skin around his face, hands, and arms went translucent as he activated his acid touch. Mayor cried out as Solo’s hands wrapped around his shoulders and melted the metal beneath them.

“Go!” Solo yelled.

Jack wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He turned and ran. He caught Chihuahua’s eye in the middle of the Dogpack’s forces. He gave a nod, which the Dogpack’s leader returned.

“Pull back!” The call rose up over the gang. Some confusion ran through the rank and file, but they all quickly turned to leave.

Jack cursed himself again and again. The fight was over today, and they had lost.

*****

Mister Mayor roared in pain at the turncoat’s touch. He had given Skull Solo everything, and now the bastard stabbed him in the back.

“I’m tired of being your sycophant, you psychotic bastard!” Mayor could see Solo’s clenched jaw through his translucent face. The skull seemed to glow brighter as Skull renewed his attack. “You’re going to die, you big metal fuck!”

Fire engulfed both of them. Solo screamed in pain as he panicked and threw his clothes away from him. He dropped to the ground and rolled to put out the flames.

Mister Mayor capitalized on Solo’s sudden distraction with a brutal kick to the head. Solo’s head snapped back with a brutal crack. Solo lay silent on the ground. Mayor turned to the new arrival. “Who are you?”

“My name is Able. I apologize for forcing myself in to your affairs, but it seemed like you needed the assistance.”

Mayor gave the man a lopsided grin. “I suppose so. Welcome, Able, rest assured you have made a friend today.”

“I don’t seek friends, only allies. I was hoping we could help each other, sir.”

Mister Mayor laughed. “A man after my own heart. I like you, Able. What is it you want?”

“Just to get to know this city better. I have come to the realization that without that knowledge, I will never find that which I seek.”

“So be it. You take a position with my Cabinet, and we will teach you the who, what, and wherefore of our little country. Who better than the mayor, eh?”

“Agreed.”

Mister Mayor gave him a broad grin as he let his massive metal form shed away from his skin. He shrank several inches down to his normal size. “Come on then. We have a victory to celebrate today.”

3.3 A Piece of A

Everyone called her A. Mostly ‘cuz of her most obvious feature, but A liked to think it also stood for attack. She was the baddest bitch in all of Gold-Digger’s. And damn if this honky bastard wasn’t going to make her show it.

She took him for an easy mark when she first saw him. He seemed like the type of cat who would either cave and pay a little for the show or go down with little fight. Instead the pot-bellied redneck wanted to scrap and she was more than willing to oblige.

A knew this shit. She had been in scrapes and brawls since she was a kid. Growing up on the streets she learned how to fight at the same time she was learning to make money from her other assets. Now she could hold her own with the best of them. Nobody could match her with her ‘chuks or the rest of her arsenal, and she fought as dirty as the minds of Gold-Digger’s clientele.

She whipped the nunchuks around and straight at white-boy’s head. He threw his already injured arm up. A sharp crack radiated through the room as the bone shattered in a second place. White-boy shrugged off the injury without even a wince. He pushed forward and drove a shoulder straight in to her gut.

A stumbled back at the blow. She struggled to keep her footing and by the time she regained it, the honky had retrieved an aluminum baseball bat from the floor beside him.

With the bat in hand, she recognized him. They called him The Everyman. He protected a small district a couple blocks north of here. She knew he was a meta, knew he was tough, but now she planned to find out just how tough.

She twisted and threw a blow out with the nunchuks. They struck against Everyman’s bat as he parried. At the same time, A reached for her bracelet and yanked another charm free. Seconds later, she held a full sized scimitar in her other hand.

Everyman swung his weapon. A deflected it away with a stroke of the blade, and then brought the nunchaku up and around the bat’s base. The chain wrapped around the bat, and she yanked back to pull it away from her foe. Everyman’s hands slipped away, but as they did he flipped an almost invisible switch on the handle of the bat.

Electricity raced out the bat, through the nunchuks, and straight in to A. She shook and shuttered as time seemed to stop. After an interminable five seconds the bat clattered to the floor and A dropped down to one knee beside it.

She started to pull herself up, but Everyman’s boot caught her across the right side of the face. She dropped down on her hands and knees. He landed another foot to her gut. A dropped to the floor as she gasped for breath.

Everyman reached down and yanked her up by the red extensions weaved in to her hair. “Bitch, next time you pick a fight make sure it’s one you can win.” He shoved her face back in the floor and A could only hear his feet as he walked away.

Everything went black.

“A! A, wake up!” She opened her eyes. Another woman stood over her in a camouflage tank top and matching cap. Her reddish brown hair was pulled back in to a ponytail. Her large chest stretched the shirt to its limits as the woman stroked a stray hair out of A’s face.

“T?”

“Yeah it’s me, baby girl. What did you go and do to yourself?”

A looked around. They were backstage at Gold-Digger’s. She realized she was on the dressing room couch as a pair of half naked women walked past. She rubbed her aching cheek as she sat upright.

“I picked a fight I wasn’t ready for. That’s all. Next time though I’ll make sure the bastard burns for hurting me.”

T leaned in and kissed her. A sighed as T’s hands ran down her body. The pain seemed to melt away from her as T pulled back and gave her a smile.

“Don’t you worry,” T said. “The bastard will get his. All of the misogynistic bastards in this city will.” A couldn’t help but smile back.

3.2 187

As Death Ray pulled himself from the broken remains of the bar, he heard the sound of clapping from behind him. He turned and felt the bile rise in his stomach.

187 gave Ray a cocky grin. At only five feet seven inches, even with his heavy musculature, the young Latino didn’t look like much. But the blood red symbiote embedded in his bare chest told those in the know otherwise. The strange creature blanked 187 with an invisible field that absorbed kinetic energy and channeled it back in to 187’s own muscles. His weapons were nowhere to be seen; he wore only slacks, an open shirt, and dark sunglasses. A step or two behind him stood Gena Rator, his aide, companion, and a metahuman herself. She could infuse anyone with increased strength and energy or enhance their metahuman abilities. Right now, as she was dressed in a slinky gold number with four inch stilettos to match, she served as little more than the redhead eye candy on 187’s shoulder.

“Aren’t you just a sorry fucking sight?” 187 said. “I mean seriously. Venus fucking de Milo did this to your ass? When the fuck did you become such a sorry son of a bitch. You trying to make me think I came back to the D for nothing?”

Death Ray glared daggers at him, but he could say nothing in return. He knew 187 from back in the day, back before he ever met Bob Cat. He remembered their partnership. He remembered the bastard stabbing him in the back.

“I guess it’s a good thing you’re as tough a bastard as you are, Ray. I know you will be past all these weak ass injuries in the next couple of days. Damn good thing, as otherwise I might not get the chance to take you out now. Wouldn’t want my big return to D-town to be for nothing, would I?” 187 took one swaggering step forward. “I’ve been waiting a long ass time to get another shot at you. But I sure ain’t going to take it now. I want you at one hundred percent when I kick your ass. No excuses from either one of us this time.”

Ray grimaced. His leg was broken, but he ignored the pain as he hobbled towards 187. 187 came forward as well, and the two men met in the middle of the empty bar. They stood just over a foot apart, staring down one another. Neither man would budge for a moment.

187 slowly grinned. “You ain’t getting me to fight you now. I’m picking the place and the time on this one. You hear me?”

Ray nodded. He had no other choice. If 187 wouldn’t fight him here, he didn’t have a way to make him.

“Figured you’d see it my way, even if you don’t have that dumb-fuck Bob Cat around to do your thinking for you. Well, not conscious, anyway.” 187 chuckled as he looked over at Bob Cat, still crumpled unconscious on the floor of the bar. He turned and walked back to Gena. He turned and reached down to wrap his hand around her. It started on her waist, but quickly slipped lower.

“Now if you don’t mind, me and this hot young thing have a night out on the town ahead of us.” He pulled her back in to him and planted a kiss on the side of her neck. “And even more exciting things back at my loft.”

187 laughed again as he guided Gena out of the bar.

Ray walked over to check on his friend. He would see to Bob Cat for tonight. Tomorrow he would be back on the hunt for his old enemy. This time, he would make sure 187 would not walk away.

3.1 In to the Garden

The creature knew only one name for itself. Dumpster. They laughed when they said it, but he did not care. The name fit him and he was not one to complain. His body looked like something that was once human, although he had no memory of being so. He remembered very little before the fire. He awoke from the fire in, aptly enough, a dumpster. His skin bulged at strange places, and his spine bent at a strange angle. One shoulder rose as high as his bulbous head, and the hair that grew upon it melded with the tangles atop his head. His face would make even Quasimodo shutter. No nose was visible, just a slight slit where a nostril might be. His mouth was little more than a twisted slit below the nostril. One massive eye bulged on the right side of his head. The other twisted off on his left cheek, giving him a view of his side at all times. His skin festered and rotted on his body, and more than one insect resided in the legions upon his frame.

He lived on the streets of the Divide, in the small strip of land that split the Q-Zone from City Center. Most people called it the Alley, although Dumpster did not know that it was because of its long narrow shape. It served as a demilitarized zone between Mr. Mayor and his Cabinet and the forces of The Great Question. Only the lowliest of the low in the Divide stayed for more than a few moments in the Alley. It consisted of one street, its name long lost, and the buildings on either side. Past those buildings one would walk in to one of the opposing territories. They were Dumpster’s people, no matter how they treated their would-be protector. Dumpster walked the streets of the Alley, always looking for the next good deed he could try, and almost certainly fail, to perform.

That was exactly what the creature was doing far below Able. Able watched from a top one of the blasted-out buildings of the Alley as Dumpster made its way through. He didn’t know quite what to make of this metahuman presence, but he knew it certainly wasn’t the one he sought. Nonetheless something seemed to draw him to the strange figure. He couldn’t quite place the feeling, but he knew that this monstrosity was connected to his goal. He made his way down to the surface on a drift of heated air and made to follow him.

Dumpster didn’t seem to notice his presence. If anyone on the street realized he was following the creature they didn’t seem to care. The monster shambled farther down the street, making good time on his scrawny legs through the hovels that made up most of the homes of the Alley’s residents. He suddenly turned and shambled in to a building, and Able struggled to hurry through the cluttered street to follow.

He threw open the door to the building to find little more than a loose stone frame burned black on Judgment Day. A stairway lead down to a doorway. The door swung closed just as Able entered the building. He rushed down the stairs and yanked at the door handle but it would not budge.

He felt the shambling presence of Dumpster move farther away. Able rested his hands on the door handle and pumped his flames in to it. The handle melted in his hands, the lock with it. He easily shoved the door open and made his way up another set of stairs.

Dumpster sensed the other like him as he entered the Garden. He didn’t know who this strange power source was behind him. He didn’t really care. The Secret Garden was a place of peace, and all who found it could visit at least once.

Able followed the creature in to a strange clearing. They were still surrounded by the broken buildings of the Alley, but above them the sun shone brightly. No layer of smog and haze covered this place like it did the rest of the city. Which would serve it well, he supposed, as every inch of stone and earth was covered by some kind of vegetation. Dumpster made his way through it, but even his oversized feet and strange gait didn’t seem to disturb any of the plant life around him.

Able walked in to the garden, as he already knew he was exposed to anyone who wanted to see him here. Dumpster turned to look at him. The larger of the half-man’s two eyes opened wide to study Able as he walked by.

“What is this place?” Able said.

“Is the Secret Garden, it is,” Dumpster said. “Is most glorious place, filled with much goodness and light. Yes, sir.”

Able ignored Dumpster as he continued in to the garden. It seemed to stretch out all around him, yet the space was rather small.

As he turned to examine a tropical flower he doubted could ever grow in this northern clime, a figure emerged, seemingly from the forest itself. He wore a simple robe, dark brown in color. His hair and long, flowing beard matched the lavish green of the vegetation around him. A few inches behind him, a girl also appeared. She looked no older than fourteen, but Able had been to enough brothels in his time to recognize the air of youth on someone much older. He figured her to be at least nineteen or twenty, even though she didn’t even reach five feet. Her hair was pink, her nose and lower lip each pierced. She wore a halter top, large black boots, and a pair of tight abbreviated jeans. She sneered at him as he looked her over.

“Who are you?” Able said to them. “What is this place?”

The bearded man reached out and stroked a lily growing from the wall. The flower seemed to reach out as he touched it. In seconds it grew even larger and lusher in his hand. “Our friend Dumpster has the right of it. Though this place has no name, the Secret Garden is a good enough name as any.”

He looked to the young woman beside him. “My companion’s name is Flower, aptly enough. Like Dumpster before her, and you now, she found her way here by accident. She has returned time and again to experience the comfort given by the Garden. As for myself, I have had many names over the year, but you may simply call me the Gardener.”

Able looked at the deformed creature, the girl, and the Gardener each in turn. He tried to grasp at just what the hell was going on around him. Dumpster and Flower both read as metahumans in his sixth sense, but the Gardener… Never before had he seen anything even closer to the Gardener. His aura glowed like that of a metahuman, but despite the glow of power, he still read as a baseline human. Whatever or whoever this Gardener might be, he wasn’t normal.

“What is normal, Able? Normal is a word used by conformists to try to define something that does not exist.” Able glared at the bearded man. Gardener smiled. “Oh, yes, you’re an open book to me. I can feel your hatred, your fears, your wants, your needs. I know the name you hide from the world, and I know what you seek and how you can find it. But I ask you this: will finding your treasure really solve anything?”

Able flew towards the Gardener. His hands burst in to flames as he grabbed the man by the robe and lifted him in to the air. “Don’t play games with me or I will burn you and your garden to the ground, old man!”

The Gardener smiled at him. “You are welcome to try, but I doubt your flames could overcome the magic of this place.” He twisted his arms around and grabbed both of Able’s wrists. Despite the flame that sheathed them, they did not burn the old man. He pulled Able’s hands away from his robe.

“No harm can be done in the Garden. It is the nature of this place. The power that lies here protects all living things that enter it. It grants them energy, vitality, and life. It is nature empowered. All grow in the Garden, not just the plants.”

“Why? What does all this mean?”

“You will come to understand in time, Able. For now you should remember this place of power.” He poked Able in the chest, just above the heart. “Do you feel its power working on you? Remember that feeling. If you embrace it, let it change you, you will be able to visit the Garden many more times. If you refuse it, I doubt you will ever find your way back here again.”

Able shook his head. “You’re all insane. You ascribe some strange power to what is obviously just another fluke in this damned place. I don’t care about your Garden, I just want to get out of this place and continue my search. Somewhere in this godforsaken hole I will find what I’m looking for.”

Gardener shook his head. “I doubt very much you will find what you are looking for. I do not even think you truly know what that is.” He gave Able a weak smile, but the young Canadian’s calm, cold demeanor did not change. “Very well, have it your way. I know not its exact location, but you will find what you seek in City Center. Let the forces that reside there guide you to your target.”

“How do you know this, old man?”

“I know of everything that passes by these walls. It is enough to know the happenings of this scarred land, if not bring change to it.” He looked towards Dumpster and Flower, before he turned back to Able. “That I must do one person at a time.”

He shook his head and walked away from Able. He turned to glance over his shoulder. “I suspect your quest is only beginning, sir. I beg you to reconsider your path, else it be too late. Flower will lead you out.”

“What the fuck?” Flower’s abrasive tone came as a shock after the Gardener’s calm, reserved demeanor. “Why do I always have to be the goddamn tour guide and shit? Fuck that noise, Gardener!”

Able grinned until she turned and glared at him. “Come the fuck on if you’re coming,” she said and stomped past him.

He followed the girl back down the way they came, but now the door seemed newer, better built. The lock was whole, undamaged. She reached down and turned it. The lock clicked open and they passed through in to what looked like a vacant office building.

“Where are…”

“City center,” Flower said. “Ain’t that where you fucking want to be?”

“Uh, yeah, yes it is.” He walked over to the glass windows and peered down in to the streets below. A battle raged beneath him in the streets. He could clearly make out Mr. Mayor and some kind of flaming man in the midst of two small armies of locals battling one another. “How did we get here? The door…”

He turned, but Flower was gone. He threw the open the door. Inside he found a mop, broom, dustpan, cleaning chemicals. The normal things one might find inside a broom closet.

Silently cursing, he turned to watch the battle play out below.