Blackjack Messiah

by Ben Bequer

  “Ouch. What can you do for that?” Madelyne drained her beer and got us another pair.

  “Get better. That’s all it is. I got all the fundamentals and technique down. I got to put it together, and then practice until I can do it with my eyes closed.”

  “Because that’s not a little obsessive.”

  “Roy can do it blindfolded.”

  She whistled between her teeth, serving herself another taco in the lull. I did the same. We were making good progress on the platter. “So what you been up to?” I said.

  “I haven’t punched anyone since Point Nemo, and I really miss it.”

  “You’re not freelancing or anything?”

  “Been so busy with the business aspect, I barely have time to breathe, let alone do hero work.”

  “How’s all that going?”

  “It’s a lot of juggling. The Amsterdam rebuild is priority one. They’ve been working for months and barely scratched the surface. The government is afraid that even after the city is rebuilt; it’ll be a ghost town.”

  “Can’t say I blame them.”

  “Still, it was one of the most popular tourist attractions in the world. We can’t let it get away from us. Between that and the Dartmouth fallout, I have been putting in a lot of personal appearances. Boardrooms and dinners and government hearings, all trying to get or keep funding.”

  “I can see why you’d want to punch something.”

  “No shit.”

  “Are you going to help us out here? Lawrence the strung-out thunder lizard trashed downtown pretty bad.”

  “It’s on a list, but since the U.S. government has resources to deal with that kind of thing, they are pretty low.”

  “What about all the people who are homeless, jobless?”

  She laid her hand atop mine and smiled, “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thanks, babe. It’ll mean a lot to the folks around here.”

  Her lip curled down, and I could sense she was building up to something.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  She took her hand away and grabbed her phone, sweeping a finger across the screen for a minute before sliding it towards me. It was a screenshot, and though I couldn’t read the whole thing, I knew enough Romanian to know it was an arrest report.

  Picking up the phone, I perused the documents until I found the photos. Bubu’s suit was nice, a contrast to the black eye and cut lip. Blood dried around his nose, and there were ugly bruises on his cheek and jaw. Scouring the report, I found the date and chucked the phone back at Madelyne in disgust.

  “See, I read your texts,” she said, her attempt to keep things light dying as she saw my anger.

  “What do the fucking reports say?”

  “I got these files earlier today,” she said. “It’s harder in the old bloc countries, but some heavy hitters owed me a favor. He was taken into custody for some kind of bullshit state violations the last time he visited Romania.”

  “He’s been in their shithole jail for weeks. Is he even still alive?”

  “They weren’t able to tell me. I had the reports translated. I’m sending them to you now. “Basically, he’s going to be tried, and if convicted, it’s ten to fifteen years hard labor.”

  “Well fuck that,” I said, making my way to the stairs.

  I was halfway up before I realized Madelyne was following me, her power driving her around me and barring my way. “Dale, stop and listen for a minute. Breaking him out of jail isn’t an option.”

  “The hell it isn’t. Who’s going to stop me?”

  She cocked her head, arms to her hips - her fuck you stance. “Me,” she said, disarming me in a second.

  “He’s going to die in that prison, Maddie. The only reason he got arrested is because someone screwed him over, or they wanted more bribe money. Either way, they’re not going to give him a second chance.”

  Madelyne put her hands softly on my chest. “He’s not going to die.”

  “Jesus, you don’t know these people!”

  She cupped my face. “Do you trust me?”

  Again, disarmed.

  “I already gave Amnesty International his name, they are monitoring his case. I also have my lawyers looking into it. They can’t represent him, but they will find people who can.”

  “His wife is worried sick,” I said.

  “I spoke to her.”

  “How do you know…”

  “We met briefly while you were recovering from your burns. We exchanged numbers.”

  “I’m glad she likes you,” I said. “She hates me.”

  “And I wonder why,” she said, still holding my face. “Look, I’m on it. He’s going to be fine.”

  “If they do anything to him, Maddie. If they fucking touch a single hair-”

  “Stop,” she said, moving in closer.

  I hung my head in defeat. Her lips brushed my forehead and both cheeks before settling on my lips. “Let’s blow off some steam,” she said, pushing me into the bedroom.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Mission One

  Madelyne snored beside me with an arm draped over my chest. I didn’t realize my phone had woke me until I saw the screen flash. I tried to wriggle out of Madelyne’s embrace without waking her, but she stirred next to me. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m checking.”

  I read the text chain once, then again, my mind revving up slowly. I read the whole thing a final time as new messages filed in. “I have to go.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “This thing we’ve been training for, it's going down now.”

  “Should I tag along?”

  “Well...I think it might be better if you hung back.”

  She propped her head up on an elbow and looked at me smirking. “You’re saying I wouldn’t be helpful?”

  “I’m not saying that at all. It’s just...you’re going to break my cover here.”

  “You’re serious?” I thought she was going to make me sweat a little more, but the smirk became a smile. “Relax, you big baby. I’ll watch from the firehouse.”

  Rolling out of bed, I got showered and dressed, pulling my hair into a tight ponytail. Madelyne joined me as I used another half dozen elastic hair ties to bind the hair down the length of the ponytail.

  “What’s up with this?” she said, letting the hair run through her fingers.

  “It gets wild when I am out there doing stuff. If tonight is for real, I don’t want to get my head torn off because some shithead gets a hold of my hair.”

  My phone rang as I finished. Madelyne grabbed it for me using a small burst of super speed. “Morning, Terry,” I said.

  “It’s time,” he said.

  I left my townhouse and walked across to his place.

  The evening was crisp, but dark, no moon in the sky. Light pollution drowned out the stars and made the few lit houses on the block stand out. My watch said it was one in the morning, but Terry’s kids were still on the stoop watching as he moved to greet me. He didn’t say anything, handing me the keys and nodding at his van.

  Unlocking the van, I sat in the passenger seat and watched Terry say goodbye to his family. The girls stood rigid, the little one had her arm wrapped through the arm of the older one. He knelt low enough to be at eye level with them. Esther was behind them, one hand resting on each of their shoulders, and even in the shadows of the porch light, I could tell she was as worried as the kids. Terry held his arms wide and the kids jumped off the porch. He caught them and stood, holding them for a long moment before setting them down. They clung to him around the waist and Terry shared a look with Esther over their heads. She gently pulled them away and led them into the house.

  He got behind the wheel without looking back and pulled out of the driveway. The radio was blaring but he turned it down, and we drove in silence for a bit. I could feel things getting awkward, and I tried to bear it, but in the end, I was weak. “Apogee said she is going to monitor us from the firehouse.”<
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  “Did she ask to come fight with us?” he said.

  “Yeah, but I talked her out of it.”

  “Brave man.”

  I sat back, adjusting the restraining belt across my chest. “You’re telling me.”

  “I’m glad you were able to get her to stand down. Tonight is a big step.”

  “Yeah? What’s the plan?”

  “Get dressed and head over. Red Quiver, Invictus, Nina, and Dixie should already be there. Our contact with the Feds says there are two supers down there heading up the human trafficking ring.”

  “We have them ID’ed?”

  “Not yet. I’m hoping your computer uplink will tag them before the Feds do.”

  The fire station felt hollow and quiet, but I didn’t have time to reflect on that. Terry ran to the locker room and I felt weird being left behind, so I followed. We changed in silence and went back to the garage. Terry walked straight to his minivan and unscrewed the license plate, sitting it on a tool shelf. “Normally, we’d take the truck, but the others needed to get there quick.”

  I nodded and sat in the passenger seat. We didn’t speak during the drive, but I hooked into the team comms. “Testing, testing,” I said.

  “Red Quiver, up.”

  “Invictus, ready to blow some bitches up.”

  “Dixie, here.”

  “Powermaster up,” he said, giving me a nod of approval from the driver’s seat.

  “Nina, checking in.”

  “We’re a couple of minutes out,” Terry said. “Let’s keep comms clear.”

  The team mumbled their affirmatives, and the drive fell back into silence. I’d pregamed a lot of fights in my short career as a super, but this felt different. I didn’t think it would because I’d fought with others in the past, The Impossibles and Battle. There was a gulf in the pit of my stomach roiling with tension. I was worried. Not for myself, but for the team. I didn’t want any of them hurt. I looked at Terry and the faces of his kids popped into my head, their eyes red with tears, giggly smiles turned to anguish as they absorbed the fact that they were orphans.

  “Fuck that,” I whispered. “Fuck. That.”

  “Huh? You say something, man?”

  “What? No, sorry. Got lost in my head.”

  “Happens to me too. We’re here, though.”

  We pulled into a vacant lot with three other vehicles. One of them was the refurbished UPS van the All-Stars used as a transport, one was obviously a Fed car, a tall black SUV with deep tints, and the last was an old Crown Victoria. Dust clouds followed the minivan as it parked next to the All-Stars truck. The back door was rolled up and Invictus sat on the edge, his long legs splayed in front of him, rolling the tetsubo along the truck’s floor. Dixie sat in the van, phone in hand. Red Quiver and Nina met us as we exited the minivan, followed by a woman in a kevlar vest with FBI in big yellow letters across the chest and back and a man dressed in a rumpled looking suit, a cigarette pinched between long, thin fingers.

  “Special Agent Claire Ruiz,” the woman said taking Powermaster’s hand in a firm grip.

  He gave it a shake and let go, turning to the man in the suit. “Detective Wallace, good to see you.”

  “I didn’t want to call you at all,” Detective Wallace said. “But the Special Agent here insisted.”

  “Never bad to have more help,” Powermaster said, herding us all over to the All-Star’s truck. Invictus saw us coming and hopped to his feet, giving Wallace a little nod. He and Dixie dropped to their feet to join us as Ruiz pulled a ream of satellite photos out of her vest and laying them out on the van floor. They fluttered under the night breeze until Invictus used the tetsubo as a paperweight.

  “We count ten assailants with rifles,” Ruiz said. “Six on the catwalks, three on the floor.”

  Rifling through the photos, she brought out a pair and set them side by side. The right-hand photo showed a man dressed in leather head to toe. The photos were black and white, but the leather was tinted darker. The woman pictured wore armor with obvious weapons on the wrists and the shoulders. The helmet was flat and polished.

  “We’re pretty sure he’s called Cyclonic, shoots lightning out of his hands. She is most definitely Wither. We don’t know the armor’s capabilities, but she left a mess in Argentina earlier this year. They are the reasons we called you in. We’re running point, and you guys will be backup, in case the superhuman threat needs further containment.”

  I felt Powermaster go tense next to me, and Red Quiver grunted under his breath. They were in front of me, in the small circle occupied by Agent Ruiz, Detective Wallace, and Nina. There was nothing said, no cues or hand gestures. They didn’t even look at each other. Red Quiver and Nina stepped out of the circle and gathered the rest of us out of earshot. Powermaster closed us out of the comm loop and talked to the authorities.

  He joined us a few minutes later. “They agreed to let us take point, but we can’t open any of the crates before they get there. They want as clean a site as we can give them. Try not to kill anyone.”

  “Why not let us breach and deal with the supers and let them mop up the guys with guns?” I said.

  “Part of the job is protecting them, Shadowshaft,” Powermaster said. “There’s no reason for them to risk their lives if we’re here.”

  “Right,” I said. “Of course. So what’s our approach?”

  “We stick to the drills. Infiltrate on the second floor. Dixie, Nina, you’re on the gunmen. Invictus, we’re taking the floor level. Red Quiver, Shadowshaft, you’re overwatch. Find the supers and rain hell on them.

  He waited for us to nod before going on. “Remember, there are probably people trapped in those containers. Keep the fight contained. Quiver, Shadowshaft, minimal ordinance.”

  The warehouse was right in the middle of a line of identical buildings. There wasn’t much in the way of cover leading up to it, but we found a good corner to huddle around as Dixie went to scout the area. There were a good five minutes where we didn’t hear anything, and I was starting to worry when her voice piped up in comms. “They have three guys running perimeter, including one watching the window we marked for our entrance and one on the roof.”

  “Damn supers always look up,” I said and Red Quiver nodded.

  Powermaster looked at Red Quiver and I. “You guys are up. I need all three of those guys down, quietly.”

  “Dixie and I can take the one in the open,” Nina said, waiting for Powermaster’s nod before leaving us in a crouched run.

  “Invictus, you’re with me,” Powermaster said and the two of them moved off.

  Red Quiver tapped me on the shoulder. “Let’s go, kid. Time to work.”

  We moved around the far side of our cover warehouse, bringing the target into view from the side. The zoom on my goggles picked out the guy on the ground easy. He was dressed in jeans and a shirt, holding a little burp gun in two hands. Roy waved a two finger signal towards the roof and I saw another guy up there, dressed similar, but holding a heavy rifle with a scope fixed on it.

  I pulled my zoom back, both men shrinking in my view until neither was taller than a meter. Roy’s eyes were damn good. He stood a little apart from me, an arrow tipped with a blunt head already nocked. He looked deep in concentration but smiled as I followed his lead. “Call it, rookie.”

  I shook my head and said, “We’re ready here.”

  “Us too,” Dixie said.

  “We’ll go on your move, boys,” Nina said.

  I didn’t wait for Red Quiver to speak, letting the arrow go. It flew in a wide parabola, conking the guy on the roof in the head. Poor bastard never even saw it coming. He fell out of view, I assumed in a boneless heap. I hoped the blunt arrow didn’t fracture his skull. It shouldn’t have. But I wasn’t especially worried one way or the other.

  Red Quiver fired right on my heels, catching the guy under the window square in the chest. The gun fell from his grip, swinging from a strap on his shoulder as the guy collapsed, sucking air. A second arr
ow popped him on the crown of his head and he went still. Running on the heels of his second arrow, Red Quiver took cover inches from the downed thug. I joined him just as Nina knocked out the final perimeter guard with a flick to the temple.

  Hooking one arm under the guard’s shoulder, she grabbed the seat of his pants and flung him in our direction. The limp body hit the pavement hard; skidding a few inches before rolling into the guard Roy had taken out, their limbs tangling into a weird abstract sculpture. Powermaster and Invictus moved to either side of the warehouse’s main loading door, taking positions and ready to strike.

  “Nina, a little more restraint in the future,” Powermaster said over comms. “Is that guy even alive?”

  “They both are,” Dixie said, her eyes burning with anima energy. “They have concussions. I’m amplifying the effects enough to keep them knocked out.”

  “Powermaster, Shadowshaft and I are going to the roof,” Red Quiver said. “I got a theory.”

  “Do it, but be quick. These guys have earpieces, which mean they’re radioing in.”

  Drawing and shooting in one motion, Red Quiver’s arrow clipped the edge of the warehouse, the zip line trailing behind it thin. I followed his lead again, my arrow lining up within a foot of his. We went flying up the side of the building with a tug, the winch pulling my weight with ease. He beat me to the edge, but my superior strength allowed me to get on the roof faster.

  The guard on the roof was dead. My blunt arrow cracked a golf ball sized dent into the top of his head. The rifle he had was a monster. A round from that would hurt me and obliterate any of the others with the exception of Invictus. Maybe. Red Quiver knelt beside me, pulling the magazine from the rifle and ejecting a round from the chamber with a couple of sharp pulls on the slide. He seemed diffident to the dead guard, his eyes on the skylight in the center of the warehouse roof.

  Creeping to the edge, he beckoned me to join. We hunched over, looking down into the warehouse. It was a sniper’s nest, allowing a full view of the catwalks and the floor. The glass was thin and oily with too many years lacking a good wash casting everything into streaky relief. We saw the ten men with guns and the two supers sitting in a corner, setting up an elaborate piece of technology. One of the guards was down on one knee with a tool, working on it. The skylight was secured with a padlock. “We’re good to go,” Red Quiver said, his voice feral.