Double Lives (Johnny Wagner, Godlike PI Book One)

by Matt Cowper

  We walked over, and there on the screen, instead of power-ups, high scores, and pixelated monsters, was the wild-eyed face of Balderdash.

  “GO AWAY!” the face said, its scream pouring out of the machine’s speakers. “I AM…I AM HAPPY, BUT YOU ARE MAKING ME UNHAPPY!”

  “This is…unexpected,” Deathrain said, wiping some blood off her arm with a rag that she’d pulled from somewhere.

  “We’re not going away, Baldy,” I said. “We need to talk.”

  “Reveal yourself, whelp,” Dak rumbled, “or I will level these buildings and rides one by one until you come scurrying out of your rat-hole.”

  “NO! NO TALK! NO FIGHT!” I’d never seen someone’s eyes bug out so much, or someone’s neck veins bulge so thickly.

  “No fighting, huh?” Deathrain said. “Then why did you shoot that disc at me?”

  “A WARNING! NOTHING MORE! DON’T WANT TO HURT! LEAVE ME, OR I WILL…NO! I REFUSE TO!”

  “What the hell’s going on?” I said, glancing at Deathrain.

  “I have no idea,” she replied. “I think it’s a trick.”

  “NO TRICK!”

  “I’m bored with this already,” Deathrain said, whipping out a pistol. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, Balderdash, but if you won’t come to us, we’ll do what Dak said and raze this place until we find you.” She aimed the pistol at the screen. “Come on, you crazy fuck. Two people are trespassing on your turf. You’re not gonna let us get away with it, are you?”

  “NO! NO! I MEAN, YES! I DON’T CARE THAT YOU’RE HERE! JUST—”

  Deathrain fired, and the bullet cracked through the screen, shattering it. The machine whimpered into darkness, and Razzle Dazzle was once again still, save for a cold wind that seemed to come from every direction.

  “He sounded unhinged,” I said.

  “He is unhinged,” Deathrain said.

  “I mean more unhinged. I think he was being sincere about not wanting to fight us. Maybe he’s changed.”

  “Not likely,” Deathrain said, holstering the pistol. “Once you embrace a life of violence, you don’t just turn your back on it.”

  It was obvious she spoke from experience, but I wasn’t going to debate the psychological ramifications of choosing a life of mayhem. After all, my life had plenty of mayhem lately. Maybe I was just like these two….

  “Let us destroy the ferris wheel,” Dak rumbled. “That should rouse him from his cowering.”

  “Yes, let’s,” Deathrain said. “I’d love to see what you’re really capable of, Dak.”

  “My lady, I will produce such a display of sound and fury that you will—”

  I heard some sound and fury coming our way right then. Something was screaming through the air, something large and most likely deadly. I dove to the dirt and covered my head, and the ground behind me exploded, lifting me up and tossing me through the air like a football. I landed hard on my side, but I popped back up instantly; the pain roaring through my back was far worse than the pain throbbing through my knee and elbow.

  I twisted around, and saw the cause: my jacket was on fire. I struggled out of it, then tossed the conflagration to the ground. I reached back and poked at my shirt carefully; the blast had singed a few holes in it, but I didn’t think I’d suffered serious burns.

  “John Wagner, why are you standing here like a buffoon?” Dak yelled. “Locate my queen of havoc!”

  Deathrain – she’d been right behind me. That bomb, or missile, or whatever it was, must have blown up right beneath her.

  I ran over to the smoke-filled crater, and saw her body lying on the ground, her limbs twisted around to strange angles. She looked like a doll some angry youngster had been playing with.

  “Are you OK?” I said, sliding down next to her.

  “What does it…look like?” she murmured.

  I swallowed. It didn’t look good. The blast had shredded her pants and shirt; I could see blackened thighs, shins, and stomach. Part of her mask had melted onto her face, and a chunk of flesh had been scoured from her bicep, revealing pink meat that revoltingly looked like something you bought at a supermarket.

  “Do you get off on this, too?” I asked, cradling her head.

  “Not…exactly,” she said. “That was a rough one. I’m healing, though.”

  “It is a wonderful thing that you can absorb so much destruction,” Dak rumbled. “Truly, you are without flaws.”

  Deathrain tried to chuckle, but it came out more like a wheeze. “And here I’ve always thought my ass was too flat.”

  “I told you to leave,” someone screamed, “but you didn’t! Now I’ll make you!”

  I spun around, and saw Balderdash lurching towards us, a rocket launcher on his shoulder. He was in his supervillain costume, which was a white body suit scrawled with text in all sorts of styles and colors. I’d heard that suit had Shakespearean quotes alongside vitriol from Mein Kampf, and a list of the people he’d killed as well as a recipe for spaghetti bolognese.

  I didn’t want my name to end up on that suit, so I raised my God Arm.

  “Dak, a non-lethal beam of energy, please,” I thought-spoke. “Remember, we need him alive.”

  “A pity,” Dak rumbled. “A lambda beam, then – it is very destructive, but it will not slay him.”

  A blue beam buzzed through the night air; lambda beams always made a distinctive noise, like bees humming. It slammed into Balderdash – who shattered.

  “What the hell?” I said, blinking at the falling glass. Then it dawned on me: it was either a mirror, or a glass pane that Balderdash had been projecting his image onto.

  And if it was mirror…that meant Balderdash was actually behind me….

  I whirled back, and sure enough, there was the maniacal supervillain not ten feet away, staring at me like I was an animal caught in a trap – which I was. He twisted his head in a grotesque sneer, making the nub of flesh around his missing ear look even more disgusting.

  “Hickory dickory dock,” he said, pointing the gigantic rocket launcher at me. “The mouse bit off the man’s face, then the clock struck a quarter past three, Greenwich time. Which means: you go kablooie.”

  With enough persuasion, Dak could probably create a shield or force field, but I didn’t have time to argue with him. I ran forward, then jumped, shoving my God Arm into the rocket launcher just as I saw flame and smoke start to pour out of it.

  My ears suddenly stopped working. The world spun around madly, and then blackness took me – but only for a second. I couldn’t let myself get knocked out – not now. I struggled to my feet, but then nearly fainted again. It felt like I was being stabbed with a dozen knives. I looked down at my torso and legs: shrapnel from the exploding rocket launcher was sticking out of me at far too many points.

  “I would appreciate a warning if you determine to do such a thing again,” Dak thought-spoke.

  “Shit…Dak, I’m sorry. It was the heat of the moment….”

  “I am unharmed, do not worry. I am impervious to such a measly man-made weapon. I was, however, unprepared to be thrown into an environment of that nature. Thus, I need a minute to…compose myself.”

  Typical Dak: claims invincibility to hide his pain. I hoped he could “compose” himself soon, because if that explosion hadn’t taken me down, it most likely hadn’t taken down Balderdash.

  I looked around, blinking out blood and sweat, and resisting the urge to pull out the shrapnel peppering my body. That would have to wait until Balderdash was dealt with.

  I didn’t see him, though. Fragments of the rocket launcher were strewn everywhere, and I saw some bloodstains that I didn’t think were mine, but the mad villain was nowhere to be seen.

  “I told you not to do anything stupid,” Deathrain said.

  My hearing was still impaired; she’d walked to my side without me noticing, and her words sounded far too soft.

  I looked her over. She seemed completely healed, except for a pink scar-like spot on her bicep. She’d cut
away the melted part of her mask; I saw short, spiky black hair, a few inches of pale forehead, and a glinting gray eye. She gripped a pistol in each hand, and I could practically see the blood rushing through her veins.

  “Where did he go?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “I was still regrowing an eye when you shoved Dak into his launcher.” She looked down at my God Arm. “Are you alright?”

  “I am fine,” Dak said, though his voice didn’t have its characteristic rumble, and my arm was black, with only a few wisps of gray. That was never a good sign: when my arm was completely black, that meant Dak was “asleep” or “unconscious.”

  “We need to find him, and soon,” I said. “Not to sound like a whiner, but I don’t want to die of blood loss.”

  Deathrain circled me, scrutinizing my injuries. I felt like I was being appraised by a team of doctors – except the doctors probably knew less about shrapnel wounds than this assassin.

  “None of them are that deep,” she said. “You’ll be fine, as long as you don’t pull any of them out. We’ll finish this, and then I’ll patch you up.”

  “I’d prefer to go to a hospital – no offense.”

  “No time to argue. Balderdash has to be just as injured as you. He’ll be leaving a blood trail.”

  She loped away, and I followed behind, wincing with every step.

  Sure enough, blood had dripped and smeared onto the ground at various spots several yards from where Deathrain and I had given our respective blood donations to Mother Earth. Deathrain headed down a pathway, her body hunched over, like a dog that had caught the scent of some varmint. Not that she needed to concentrate so hard; there were so many dark stains on the tan-colored path that I could’ve followed the trail easily, even in my state and with only a half-moon in the night sky.

  We passed by the ferris wheel, the one Dak had wanted to blow up just a few minutes ago. Its spokes were covered with rust, and half the seats were missing; it looked as if it would topple over if a breeze happened to brush against it. I waited for Dak to mention something about blasting it, but he said nothing; my God Arm was still black and gray.

  “Dak,” I thought-spoke. “Are you OK, really?”

  “Your nagging affronts me,” Dak said; there was the barest rumble in his voice. “I said I was fine, numerous times. Do not bother me again.”

  I decided to let Dak recover at his own pace, and concentrated on Deathrain. In her zeal, she’d apparently forgotten I was injured; it was all I could do to keep up with her. I was about to tell her to slow down when we turned a corner and saw two people huddled against a decrepit cotton candy stall. Deathrain aimed both her pistols at them, but one of them raised their arms wildly, and a hysterical female voice cut through the air.

  “Stop!” she said. “Don’t shoot! Please!”

  Deathrain moved forward slowly, keeping her pistols up. I crouched down and shuffled along behind her; I couldn’t quite make out who the two people were through the gloom, but I assumed one of them was Balderdash, and if he was still conscious, we were still in danger.

  As we got closer, I saw one of them was indeed Balderdash. He was sitting on the ground, his back against the stall. He looked as mangled as I did: about half of his white spandex suit had turned red from his shrapnel wounds, and his face and hair were sopping with sweat. His breathing came out ragged, and his eyes were half-shut from the pain and fatigue.

  The other person was a woman – and an attractive one at that. Her sweater-and-jeans outfit was tight and fashionable, and her blonde hair trailed from her head like a golden river. At first I assumed she was someone Balderdash was holding hostage – maybe he’d planted a bomb in her pancreas or something – but she was cradling the villain, and tears ran freely down her smooth cheeks.

  “Who are you?” Deathrain demanded.

  “My name’s Vivian,” the woman said, wiping away a tear. “Who are you?”

  “Name’s Deathrain,” the assassin said. “His name’s Johnny. We’re investigating a murder, and we need to ask Balderdash some questions.”

  “Invaded my home, blew me up, just to ask questions?!” Balderdash yelled. “Why? Why? Who’s been murdered?”

  “Captain Neptune,” Deathrain said.

  Balderdash’s already bugged-out eyes bugged out even more. “Yes! He’s dead! Unfortunate, unfortunate! I didn’t do it! Would never kill him.”

  “Why not?” I asked. “Wasn’t he your enemy?”

  “Of course, of course,” Balderdash said. “But killing him? No. Then the game would end! That’s what this is, the tango, the waltz, the cha-cha! Superhero fights supervillain, but neither is truly defeated – and so they fight again! And again! Ad infinitum, to infinity!”

  “Oh, but you’re past that,” Vivian said. “No more pointless super-battles, remember? Now we’re going to be productive!”

  “Has Balderdash brainwashed you?” I asked. “Has he—”

  “No!” Vivian said. “He hasn’t done anything to me…except treat me with respect….” She glanced over at Balderdash and stroked his cheek. “…and love.”

  “Love?!” I said. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean we’re in love,” Vivian said with almost child-like simplicity. “Is that so hard to believe?”

  “He’s an insane murderer,” I said, pointing at Balderdash with my God Arm. Balderdash flicked his eyes up at me weakly. “How can you love someone like that? I’m sorry, I’m not buying this. It’s some kind of trick. You’re a robot, or he’s got your family locked up in a cage, or—”

  “No, this is real,” Deathrain said, holstering her pistols. “They do love each other.”

  “How do you know?” I asked. “Are you a relationship expert, in addition to being a much-sought-after assassin?”

  “Be as flippant as you want,” Deathrain said, “but my line of work doesn’t prevent me from knowing when two people care for one another.”

  She gave me a long look, and it was all too clear she wasn’t just talking about Balderdash and Vivian.

  “You two hurt my fiancé,” Vivian said, fresh rivers of tears streaming from her eyes. “We need to get him to the haunted house. That’s our home. We have medical supplies there, an operating table, everything.” She nodded towards me. “You’re hurt too. Come on and we’ll—”

  “Fiancé?” I muttered.

  “No,” Deathrain said. “No one goes anywhere until we get some answers.”

  “But—” Vivian said.

  “Your future husband looks worse than he is,” Deathrain said. “He’ll be fine – for a few minutes. Answer our questions, and we’ll let you go.”

  “Let them go?!” I said, stepping in front of her. “Since when do you unilaterally decide what we—”

  “I’m not a fucking superhero,” Deathrain said, pushing me away roughly; pain raced through my body, but I refused to groan or wince. “How many times do I have to say it? If you want to turn Balderdash over to the cops, do it yourself – if you’re able to, bloody mess that you are.”

  I wasn’t able to, and we both knew it. My God Arm was on the fritz, I’d been shredded by an exploding rocket launcher, and we were still inside Razzle Dazzle. Home court advantage went to Balderdash; I was sure he had more lethal tricks to hurl at me if I tried to drag him out of here.

  “Fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “First, though, I want to know what’s going on between you two. Baldy, you’ve been saying all along you didn’t want to fight us. Is Vivian the one who’s cooled off your craving for anarchy?”

  “Yes,” Balderdash said softly. “Vivian is good to me. Too good. Don’t deserve.”

  “Don’t say that,” Vivian said. “You do deserve me. You help me just as much as I help you. We’re a team.”

  “How did you two meet?” Deathrain asked.

  “Through Yaylist,” Vivian said. “He put up a personal ad: ‘Crazed arch-villain seeks partner in crime. Must like late nights, immoral actions, and blue cotton
candy.’”

  “And you responded?” I said, incredulous.

  “Yes,” Vivian said, as if every woman would jump at the chance to meet such a man. “I’d just gone through a messy divorce. I’d been the meek housewife, let my husband trample all over me. I wanted to add some zest to my life.”

  Meek housewife…zest to life…she reminded me of Julia Anderson. Doubts and theories flew around my mind like pestering crows.

  “Aren’t you scared?” I asked. “Balderdash could’ve killed you at any time.”

  “No, I knew from the beginning that he’d never harm me,” Vivian said. “We clicked instantly. Right, baby?”

  “Right, my sweet,” Balderdash said. “Clicked, we did – happened within one second of meeting each other. One second – an eternity, a blink, love creation. Now and then.”

  “See?” Vivian said, though all I saw was a madman, and all I heard were barely coherent ramblings. “He’s just misunderstood. If you knew about his past—”

  “Don’t tell them anything,” Balderdash croaked. “Between me and you. Past is past, present is right here, future is when we conquer and live – live!”

  “Of course, darling,” Vivian said, bending down to kiss Balderdash on the cheek. “Me and you, forever.”

  “This is ridiculous,” I said.

  “Why?” Vivian said, looking up at me. “He’s done some bad things, there’s no denying that, but deep down, he’s a good man.” A beatific smile appeared on her face. “Now he’s going to be a vigilante, and hurt the people who need to be hurt.”

  “Nothing wrong with pain and death,” Balderdash said, his eyes alight with chaos, “as long as they’re directed, channeled, formed into a spear and shoved into the rotten gut of the body politic.”

  “Everything was going so well,” Vivian said, “until you two came in here, and threatened my Big B, and forced him to fight – forced him to act like a supervillain again!”

  “OK, enough of this,” Deathrain said. “Let’s get down to business. I’ll be blunt: we need to know who you sold that null-raxite to.”

  “Null-raxite?” Balderdash said, his eyebrows dancing. “Never sold. Never had.”