Double Lives (Johnny Wagner, Godlike PI Book One)

by Matt Cowper

  “That doesn’t make any sense. If you’re the best, why didn’t they just hire you, instead of involving a fumbler like Squirrel?”

  Deathrain shrugged again. “I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to find out. I’ve got a line on that null-raxite bomb, though – if you want to hear it.”

  “Yeah,” I said, far too eagerly, “I do.”

  She kicked off of the building and started talking, occasionally touching her pistols with obvious affection. “Once I learned what that bomb was made out of, I started breaking arms and pulling off fingernails in the seamier parts of this city.”

  “And?”

  “And I finally found some punk in Bootheel who’d seen a transaction down at the docks, near Traitor Joe’s. He’d been out with his girl. Apparently they were screwing under the docks at low tide in the wee hours of the morn, rolling around in the mud, with the crabs probably nipping their reproductive parts. Real kinky. They heard something above them, so they got quiet. The punk said he heard two men talking. One mentioned null-raxite, the other said he had payment. There was some small talk about how destructive null-raxite is, and how helpful it is to have a large sum of money, and then they departed.”

  “That doesn’t help us.”

  “I’m not done. The punk was curious, so he pulled himself up to get a peek. Dangerous, yes, since the buyer and seller didn’t know they were there, but knowledge is valuable – especially to a kid like this, who was just a message boy for a small-time drug dealer.”

  “What did he see?”

  “He didn’t see the buyer, but he saw the seller clearly. He was carrying a duffel bag stuffed with money – the punk saw him sniffing a few of the cash bundles. Even though he was wearing a trench coat, the missing ear and the lurching walk gave him away.”

  “Balderdash,” I said, wincing. One of Captain Neptune’s rogues, and one of the deadliest men in Z City.

  “Yes, him,” Deathrain said.

  “That testimony is paper-thin,” I said. “The punk didn’t see the transaction, he just heard a few fragments of conversation. It could’ve been idle talk, or they could have been speaking in code. He doesn’t even know Balderdash was the seller. Baldy could’ve been the buyer, and just had some cash left over.”

  “Could be, but even if Balderdash didn’t sell our mystery man some null-raxite, he’s still one of Neptune’s rogues. He’s worth talking to – preferably after I’ve impaled him with sharp objects.”

  “I’m not going to be an accessory to torture.”

  “You telling me you’ve never roughed up a few goons in your line of work?”

  “I’ve thrown a few fists, yes, but I haven’t tortured.”

  “It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself more than you’re trying to convince me.”

  I ignored that comment, and paced around the alley, thinking. The pieces didn’t fit together. I didn’t see Balderdash as a weapons dealer; the man was pure insanity, chaos personified. He didn’t sell weapons – he purchased them, or created them, and I didn’t think he was the kind of guy who shared.

  And this mystery man – he had apparently dealt with both Gale Force and Balderdash, but did either of them know his plan? If he sold the null-raxite, did Balderdash know what it was going to be used for? Did Gale Force, or did he think Gray Squirrel was really being given a mind-switching device? And if he did, why didn’t he buy it himself? Transferring minds with his greatest enemy so he could tarnish Neptune’s name should have been too tempting to pass up.

  This whole thing smelled worse than the sewer I’d just trudged through.

  “I see gears turning,” Deathrain said. “Rusty gears, maybe, but still gears. Want to tell me what you’re thinking?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Of course. I’m just an evil assassin who will misuse your information anyway.” She glanced at her watch. “Time’s up. I know where Balderdash is holed up. We go in together, bleed whatever information he has out of him, and then plan our next step. Not ideal, especially since you cry like a baby half the time, but that’s how the guillotine drops. So – yes or no?”

  “No.”

  “Yes, we will work together, my lady,” Dak rumbled. “Do not mind my recreant host. His fatuous scruples sometimes cloud his judgment. I, Dakroth’gannith’formaz, will convince him of his errors, and we will find this Dasher of Balders and drag him out of whatever foul pit he has secreted himself.”

  Deathrain looked at my God Arm, then back into my eyes. I swore I saw her leather mask crinkle from a smile.

  “Dak is all for our team-up,” Deathrain said. “Smart guy – or god, I guess.”

  “And your intelligence and destructive cognitions are also commendable,” Dak rumbled.

  “I like your rhetoric,” Deathrain said. “Reminds me of a—”

  “The answer’s no,” I said, “but thanks for the tip. I can find Balderdash on my own.”

  “Maybe,” Deathrain said, “but you’ll have to get there before me, because there might not be much left of him when I’m done. And even if you do beat me to him, can you take him out by yourself? He was able to beat Captain Neptune on numerous occasions, which means he should be able to skewer you.”

  “I’ll—”

  “I know you’re stubborn, so I’ll let you sleep on it. If you decide to listen to your more sensible god, meet me on the rooftop of the old Russert Hotel at nine o’clock tomorrow night. You know where it is.” She walked towards the manhole. “Oh, and if we do team up, you’re going to tell me what you’ve learned so far. I’ve given you enough information, it’s time for a matching contribution.”

  Before I could respond, she jumped back into the open manhole. I heard a splash, and then echoes as she ran through the sewer. I peered down into the hole, frowning.

  “Follow her, John Wagner,” Dak rumbled, “or my anger will roar from me like the battle-cry of a manticore.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” I growled. “The woman’s a cold-blooded killer. You may want to blow everything up, but I have morals.”

  “Yes, your vaunted morals,” Dak said. “They are so very pure, to hear you speak – and yet just this day you have battled an agency of government, as well as the Rusher Of Waves, and fled the scenes of both battles. And for all your protestations about Rain of Death being a killer, you did not apprehend her and give her to the police.”

  “I…I…to hell with you! I did what I had to do to protect myself and my friends, and I only let Deathrain go because I didn’t know if I could beat her in a fight!”

  “Hypocrisies, lies, and prevarications,” Dak rumbled. “I believe I am not the only one ensorcelled by this vixen.”

  “To hell with you!” I repeated, unable to think of a better phrase. “We’re going home. Deathrain can rot in that sewer for all I care. I’m going to eat about a pound of Chinese food, take a two-hour bath, and drink about twenty beers.”

  “And then tomorrow at nine post meridiem we will be on the rooftop of the Hotel of Russert.”

  I decided to change the subject. “I need to have someone examine that dart, see if—”

  I felt around in all my pockets, but I couldn’t feel the tranquilizer dart I’d pulled out of Waverush’s back. I turned all my pockets inside-out, but it was gone.

  “Dammit,” I muttered. Deathrain must’ve seen me snag it, and grabbed it back during our scuffle.

  I sent one last angry look down into the sewer, then I shambled out of the alley, wet, stinking, and exhausted.

  Chapter Ten

  I finally got back to my apartment building at six o’clock. I lugged my aching, soggy body up the stairs – the elevator had been out of commission since before I was born – and thought about my long day.

  After my encounter with Deathrain, I’d briefly investigated the old hotdog factory, where Homer met with the mystery man, but there was nothing to see but dust and mice. Maybe after I cleaned myself up I’d go back for an extended look.

  I could
set up surveillance on the place, too. I’d have to talk to Netmaster once he reemerged.

  I got to apartment 315. My place. A one bedroom apartment with a kitchenette, carpet the color of gruel, and a sweeping view of another brick apartment building so close I could touch its grimy walls. Like my office, I preferred to say it was cozy, not small.

  I put my key in the lock, but the door was already unlocked, including the deadbolt. I tensed up and opened the door slowly.

  “You ready to kick some ass, Dak?” I thought-spoke. “Someone’s been here – may still be here.”

  “It has been a busy day, but I am still ready to destroy,” Dak rumbled.

  I stepped into the darkened apartment and flicked on the kitchenette light. Nothing stirred except for a few cockroaches that scurried back into their hideaways. I peered into the living room and turned on the light. A figure was splayed out on my couch.

  “Hello, Johnny,” Felicia said, “or should I say the Daring Destroyer?”

  I felt something clutching at my chest, specifically in the heart region. Seeing her long and lean body laid out on my couch like that – it brought back memories, especially since she was wearing her orange leotard. I’d ripped off that costume in a fit of passion many times after a night of superheroics.

  “What’re you doing here?” I demanded. “Did you break into my apartment?”

  “No, I used my key.”

  “Your key? I thought you gave that back to me. Threw it at me, even.”

  “Yeah, I did,” Felicia replied, smiling softly, “but that was the original key. I had a copy made. Thought it might come in handy.”

  “This is kind of stalkerish,” I said. “Did anyone see you come in here? You know your appearance—”

  “No, I came here as Felicia Kennicott,” Felicia said, rising to her feet. “Give me some credit – I know when to use my image alterator. And I have better things to do than stalk an old boyfriend.”

  Upright, Felicia looked even sexier. She never quite mastered the Hero Pose; try as she might, she couldn’t get rid of that innate sexuality. Her swishing tail was part of it – it had a mesmerizing quality that few men could resist.

  Back when we were in Alpha Guard, her exotic looks distracted more than a few crooks.

  Felicia was bitten by a radioactive cat when she was working at a pet grooming center. No one knew where the cat came from, and it punched through the ceiling and flew away right after it bit her. For her part, Felicia gained enhanced reflexes, strength, agility and durability, and her appearance altered to its current state. She had a light covering of orange fur, retractable claws, glowing green cat’s eyes, and whiskers that danced around like ballerinas.

  Obviously her appearance would draw attention, so she used an image alterator to hide her cat-like characteristics, and wrapped her tail around her waist whenever she was out in public.

  We used to fight crime together as the Daring Destroyer and the Felicitous Feline, and also shared a bed as Johnny Wagner and Felicia Kennicott – but that was many months ago.

  “I would greet you with annihilative politeness,” Dak rumbled, “but I loathe you.”

  “Hello to you too, Dak,” Felicia said, glowering. She was too much of a goody-two-shoes to tolerate the God of Destruction, and vice versa. When me and Felicia were together, she kept nagging me to get Dak removed, but I’d rather be a superhuman – even a Class D one – than a one-armed charity case. Anyway, I’d talked to numerous wizards, faeries, wraiths, and mad scientists out of curiosity, and none of them could figure out how to remove Dak, so the point was pretty much moot.

  “Waiting for me in my darkened apartment doesn’t strike you as stalkerish?” I asked.

  “No,” Felicia said bluntly. When she didn’t want to argue a point, she had a way of ending things with one word, the word usually being “No.” This had pissed me off to no end when we were together, and it was pissing me off now. “What happened to you? You look and smell like you jumped into a sewer.”

  I looked down at my damp clothes and my waterlogged sneakers. It would take a lot of washes to get the stink out. Maybe I should just throw them away and get some new duds from the thrift store.

  “I did, actually,” I said, “but that’s none of your—”

  “It is my business. I saw on the news that the Daring Destroyer had taken out two dozen Gridlock Grenadiers here in Bootheel, and then fled the scene. I want to know what’s going on.”

  “Did you hear about any other battles I may have partook in?”

  “No,” Felicia said, tilting her head. “Why?”

  Good. She didn’t know I’d fought Waverush. Deathrain’s distraction had worked.

  “No reason,” I said, picking up a charred chair leg and tossing it into a trashcan. I really needed to clean up this place; it was littered with broken furniture. I only bought thrift store furniture, since I knew Dak would eventually lash out and shatter my chairs, ottomans, and couches.

  I’d mounted a small ultimatium plate on the wall, the idea being Dak could blast it as much as he wanted to satisfy his destructive urges, but he claimed he liked the sound of breaking wood better.

  “So what’s going on?” Felicia asked, her green eyes flashing. “Have you gone rogue?”

  “No,” I said, though that wasn’t exactly true; I was acting pretty rogueish. “I’m working on a case. I went to see Netmaster, but someone traced him and sent those goons after him. Me and Big-Eyed Baldwin had to buy time so Netmaster and his buddies could escape.”

  “I’m sure Netmaster wasn’t hacking into the DOT – right?”

  “He did hack in, but—”

  “Dammit, Johnny,” Felicia said, kicking a melted flower pot into the wall. “What sort of PI are you? How many corners are you going to cut before you realize how dangerous your choices are?”

  I was beginning to get whiplash. Not too long ago, an assassin was telling me I was a whiny choir boy, and now my ex-girlfriend was saying I was a devil-may-care vigilante.

  Grunting, I unlaced my shoes and tossed them in a corner, and stripped off my shirt. “I’m tired of women yelling at me. I need a long hot bath, a dozen beers, and two pounds of Chinese food. You can show yourself out. Oh – and leave my key behind.”

  I caught Felicia looking at my bare chest. I’d never been one for weight-training, but I still had a few muscles. Felicia certainly used to love running her hand across my pecs. She may have been thinking about that just now, actually, since I saw her cheeks redden, even through her fur.

  “Why do you not tell this cat-girl about your robust feelings for her?” Dak thought-spoke.

  “Shut up, Dak,” I replied. “This is…complicated.”

  “You always make such pitiful excuses. You want to fornicate with her, it is clear. If it must be done, simply declare your lustful intent, carry her to the bedroom, and have your way with her – and then kick her out, so I do not have to listen to her.”

  “You’re so romantic, Dak. I can almost hear violins playing.”

  “Johnny, stop,” Felicia said, grabbing my left arm; she’d never touched my God Arm, except by accident.

  I did stop, but I removed her hand – though it took an effort.

  “No, Felicia,” I said, “you stop. We haven’t seen each other in months, and now you show up to my apartment and berate me, all because I helped my friends?”

  “You didn’t help anyone by fighting that battle,” she said. “You could have snuck out of that situation easily. You didn’t have to blow a freakin’ hole in the street. If you were fighting a supervillain, I’d understand it, but this was the Z City DOT!”

  “Here we go. Felicia Kennicott, defender of the status quo. If one of those Grenadiers shot an innocent child, you’d file a complaint with city hall before you laid a claw on him.”

  “I would not! I…I fight for what’s right. You just do whatever you want.”

  “No, I don’t,” I said. “I do what’s necessary to get the job done.”
>
  “Of course you do,” Felicia said, crossing her arms over her chest. Her breasts weren’t as big as Deathrain’s, but it was still a pleasing sight – though of course I only looked for a second or two. “And if you have to put on the Daring Destroyer mask and draw the whole city’s attention to you, then so be it, right?”

  “There are a million superhuman battles every day. No one cares that a third-rate superhero suddenly reappeared and fought some government stooges.”

  “Yes, they do! I saw a ten-second clip about it on the news!”

  “Ten seconds?” I fake-gasped. “Golly gee, the Elites must be hot on my tail! Come on, Felicia, do you know how ridiculous you sound?”

  “About as ridiculous as you look. About as ridiculous as—”

  “You know what’s ridiculous? You still bouncing around as a superhero, when all it’s done for you is wear you out, injure you, and depress you.”

  “I help people,” Felicia said firmly. “All I need to keep me going is to see the look on their faces when I save them from a mugger or rescue them from a burning building. What do you have to compare to that?”

  “I help people, too,” I said. “Most of them just have to pay me.”

  “It’s not the same thing.”

  “It is,” I said. “My clients are satisfied – well, some of them – and I’m satisfied. What, I should bust my ass at some shit job and then go rooftop-hopping at night? Get about four hours of sleep? That’s what you’re still doing, isn’t it? Working at that pet grooming shop during the day and prowling the streets at night?”

  The crimson on Felicia’s cheeks deepened. “Yeah, I’m still working there. I’m just waiting for something better to turn up.”

  “Cut the crap. I know you. You’re not even trying to find a new job. All you’re concerned about is superheroing.”

  “I am trying,” Felicia said, her hackles rising, “but the job market is tough. What do you want me to do, go into porn like that landlord of yours? I have standards – unlike some people.”

  “No, of course you shouldn’t do porn,” I snapped back. “I’d never suggest that. Why do you always put words in my mouth?”