The Prospects:
Above The Stars
By Daniel Halayko
Copyright © 2015 by Daniel Halayko and N.D. Hall
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Printed in the United States of America.
“I called in a favor from by buddy Chak. You know him?”
“Short Canadian, scrappy as hell, says he’s a loner but is always with someone?”
“That’s him. He gave me a few pints of his healing-factor-powered blood in exchange for a nomination to be a New York Guardian. Harry infused it into my veins, and the skin came together so well I don’t even have a scar.”
“Even if Chak is a good bloodbank, I won’t second the nomination for him to join the team. The guy is annoying. He chases anything in a skirt and talks like a Charles Bukowski character.”
-- Bart “Arbalest” Houston and Special Agent Alexander O’Farrell
“Hello, Agent O’Farrell. I’m Detective Max Zheng, your liaison with the Seattle Police Department. How was your flight?”
Alex shook the thin Asian man’s hand and followed him into the high-rise apartment building. “Relaxing. Is Chak here?”
“He’s inspecting the crime scene. I was told to respect his legally recognized superhero status, so I didn’t ask what he’s doing.”
Alex lifted the crime scene tape in front of a luxurious apartment and entered. “Has he done anything weird?”
“He sniffed everything. He’s really strange.”
“He’s a mutant.”
“I thought that word wasn’t politically correct anymore.”
“His old team, De Novo, used that word to describe themselves.”
“I remember those guys. Mutant rights activists. He looked taller in those comics.”
“The artists put him in the foreground so he looked bigger.”
“I’m not clear on why he got involved or why he specifically requested you as his supervising agent for his independent investigation. No offense, but there are hundreds of Metahuman Affairs Bureau agents between here and New York.”
“I don’t know why he got involved either, but he requested me because I have enough influence with the New York Guardians to make him a member.”
“Not sure why he’d want to. That team is going through a rough time.”
“They need new members. Arbalest nominated Chak, but I’m not going to second it.”
“Why not?”
“Chak is unpredictable, uncontrollable, and antisocial.”
“Yeah, he’s definitely not polite. He won’t even acknowledge the policemen.”
“Wait until you get to know him better. Take a few of his insults, catch him in a lie, or watch him turn an argument into a brawl and you’ll know why he doesn’t stay with any team for long.”
“If you don’t want him to join the New York Guardians, why did you come out here?”
Alex straightened his tie. “I had to get away from New York. It’s not just the job, I have some personal things I need to forget about for a while.”
“I’m sure you’ll find Seattle is a world of difference from Manhattan.”
Alex instantly recognized Chak despite the brim of a Stetson hat covering his face. His flannel shirt, ragged jeans, and bare feet set him apart from the police officers in their pressed uniforms and polished shoes who carefully took photos of the apartment. He crouched in front of the dead young Asian man spread out beneath a wide window that showed a lit-up skyline punctuated by the Space Needle.
Alex flashed his badge to the officers and crouched at Chak’s side.
Chak held out a small dark red cube that glistened like glass.
“That’s the same stuff we found at that overdose last week,” said Max. “It must be some new drug. We’re calling it MacGuffin as a code until someone on the streets suggests a better name. All we know is at least three people who took it are dead. All wealthy, all Asian.”
Chak rubbed his thumb over its smooth sides and held it up to the light.
Alex looked over the young man. “He’s better looking than the last victim of that stuff. That girl grew antlers so big the weight of them crushed her skull. At least he’ll fit in a body bag.”
Chak unbuttoned the victim’s shirt. Alex gasped when he saw the sharp spikes of thorny ribs protruding from the man’s chest.
“The bones ain’t lined up,” said Chak in a gravelly voice. “They moved around. Tore up his insides worse than his outsides. We got a drug that causes instant mutation, but I don’t know its scent.”
Alex said, “I think a crime lab would reveal more than your nose.”
Chak tossed the cube to Alex. “All those geeks in white coats will give you is a report with ‘unknown’ over and over again. I smell something that once flowed, ancient like the mists over mountains. There’s an undertone of fire, not the natural scent of burnt wood or molten stone, but something made of elements you won’t find on a periodic chart.”
“You must be fun at wine tastings.” Alex sniffed the cube. “Smells like rust and rotten eggs. I don’t know where you’re getting all that other stuff.”
Long black braids rolled along the sides of Chak’s sharp Native American face. “I’m here to track. You’re here to watch.”
“I don’t even know why you got involved with this case.”
“Personal reasons.”
“And those reasons are?”
“Personal. Let’s talk about the past victims, eh?”
Max flipped through his smartphone’s screen. “The first was a rich kid with a long history of doing stupid things and having his daddy bail him out. We found little shards of this drug in a spoon.”
“The Takeda boy,” said Chak. “Japanese-American.”
“The second was a call girl.”
“Right, thirty-two-years old, Korean-American,” said Alex.
“She had half of a cube left on her nightstand,” said Max. “This guy was an entrepreneur who retired a multi-millionaire at thirty, which isn’t bad for a Taiwanese immigrant.”
“All rich junkies, wherever they came from,” said Alex.
“The call girl had a history of drug possession arrests. This guy has nothing but speeding tickets on his record.”
“Then someone bought drugs for him.” Chak rolled up the man’s sleeve to reveal a line of circular scars along his vein. “He was speeding down the road to ruin.”
“I’m sure we’ll learn more from his autopsy,” said Max. “The result from the Takeda boy’s was weird. Apparently her blood changed into something distinctly non-human.”
“How’s that?” asked Alex.
“You know how normal blood cells look like donuts under a microscope? His looked like buzz saws.”
“That ain’t right,” said Chak.
“That’s why I’m glad you volunteered to help our investigation,” said Max. “Stuff like this is beyond normal police training.”
“I deal with stuff that ain’t normal all the time. But we don’t have much to go on.”
Alex flipped through his smartphone’s screen. “I did some research on the flight over. On the call girl’s last arrest, she named a David Tang as her dealer.”
“I arrested him back when I was in uniform,” said Max. “Chubby dude with a scar on his chin. It looks like an old knife wound, but he swears he cut himself shaving.”
Alex pointed to the dead body. “Does this guy have a connection to David?”
“Not that we found yet.”
Chak looked around. “Does the dealer sell things other than drugs? Like, say, folk medicines?”
“He has contacts with all kinds of smugglers. It wouldn’t surprise me.”
Chak’s bare feet patted softly on the linoleum when he walked into the kitchen. He picked up an unmarked ceramic vial from the top of the stove, unscrewed it, sniffed, and nodded.
“What is it?” asked Alex.
“Your lab geeks can analyze this, but all they’ll see is keratin, the stuff fingernails are made from. But I smell the sunrise over an open grassland and hear elephants in the distance above a faint hint of seawater and hay from being shoved into a crate. This is ground rhino horn.”
“What, an aphrodisiac?”
“That’s a myth,” said Max. “Rhino horn is more of a painkiller than a sex drug. It’s mixed in boiling water, which explains why it’s by the stove.”
“All the same,” said Chak, “it’s illegal. Someone smuggled this from Africa to sell to rich Asians.”
“David definitely sold that before,” said Max. “I took it off him myself during his arrest.”
“Does he seem like the kind to poison his clients?” asked Alex.
“He’s the kind to sell anything to anyone.”
“He’s the only lead we got,” said Chak. “Where can we find him?”
“He hangs out at Xiao Fang-Zi, a seedy gambling joint in Chinatown. But he’s pretty tight-lipped.”
Chak patted a sheathed knife at his belt. “I’ll make him talk.”
“And I’ll make sure you do it legally,” said Alex. “Any reason we can’t go now?”
“It’s pretty early. That joint doesn’t get going until around midnight, when all the restaurants close down.”
Alex checked his watch. “It’s already past that.”
“You’re still on East Coast Time,” said Max. “It’s only nine here. Still, we should get there early. The less crowded it is, the less trouble we’ll have.”
“Get a car, detective,” said Chak. “Agent, you up for this? ‘Cause legally, as an independent superhero who’s not with a team at the moment, I can’t go around fighting bad guys without you watching me.”
“I need to get some coffee first. Jetlag is getting to me.”
“That won’t be a problem,” said Max. “I have to be honest, it’s exciting to work with a real superhero and a MAB agent.”
“Don’t get too excited,” said Alex. “These guys are different than they are in the comics.”
Alex licked the last drop from his cup’s lid. “There really is a coffee shop on every block in this city.”
“For us natives, not having coffee everywhere is weird,” said Max. “You need a buzz when it’s always raining.”
Chak sniffed. “How far are we from the gambling den?”
“It’s right under that empty store in the middle of the block. What’s wrong?”
“Call the coroners. I smell death. Lots of death.” Chak slapped the police car’s door. “Where’s the damn handle?”
“Only opens from the outside.” Alex got out and opened the door as Max called for an ambulance.
Chak sprinted across the street. He drew two knives as he ran past a reinforced door that dangled from its hinges.
Alex and Max followed with their pistols drawn. Less than a minute later, Max ran back out. He dropped to his knees and vomited.
Alex came out and put his arm around his shoulder. “It’s all right. Do what you must.”
Max wiped his mouth. “They’re all dead in there.”
“Chak is checking for survivors.”
“I’ve seen lots of crime scenes, but nothing like that. Blood and guts everywhere.”
Alex looked back. “Chak, how are you doing?”
“That kid we’re looking for, David, he’s got a scar on his chin, right?”
Max nodded.
Alex yelled, “Yeah.”
“Which side?”
Max said, “Right.”
“I found his face. Not sure where the rest of his head is.”
Max trembled. “I recognized those guys. Sure, they were crooks, but whatever they did, they didn’t deserve that.”
Before Alex answered Chak yelled, “There’s a survivor. He’s not cooperating.”
Alex gulped. “Need me to come in?”
“I’ll flush him out. Get ready to catch.”
Alex turned to the door and spread his arms. He saw someone running towards him.
They collided before Alex realized he caught a little boy.
The boy clawed viciously at Alex. “Qing Long! Qing Long!”
Alex pinned his arms. The boy kicked his shins.
“Max! Help!”
Max caught the boy from behind and said something in Chinese. The boy screamed “Qing Long!” again. Max stroked his hair and whispered softly. The boy slowly calmed down.
Ambulance sirens echoed through the streets.
Chak came out. His bare feet were covered in blood. “Agent, you and me gotta go somewhere dry to talk. Detective, get some people, collect all the evidence you can, interview neighbors, whatever. Agent O’Farrell will talk to you in the morning.”
“Right.” Max’s lips trembled. “I have Agent O’Farrell’s number. Do what you got to do.” The boy clung tightly to him.
“Agent, you got an expense account, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. You also got petty cash? Like singles?”
“Some. Why?”
“We gotta see something beautiful so we forget that gore.”
Alex shifted uncomfortably in his seat and glanced shyly at the mostly naked women on the illuminated runway.
“Why the fidgeting?” asked Chak. “First time in a strip club?”
“First time in a long time. Haven’t been to one since before I met Emily.”
“Not even when you could have. Bart, or Arbalest, said you went to a pool hall for your bachelor party.”
“He told you about that?”
“The round you played solo against him? He deliberately scratched on the eight-ball instead of sinking it. Wanted you to feel good on your last night as a free man.”
“And I thought I played the best game of my life against the greatest crossbowman in the world. He whined about losing for months.”
“Bart talks like a rodeo clown, but acts like a cowboy. He sticks with his posse no matter how bad it gets.”
“I guess that’s true. He rescued me and the Prospects when Griffin Tower got attacked. I still say I won that pool game fair-in-square.”
“Enough about him.” Chak pointed to the runway. “Look at your favorite girl.”
“Why?”
“Trust me. Want the brunette?”
“No, my wife has brown hair. I guess Bart told you about that situation.”
“He told me you found out she cheated on you at a team meeting. That’s why he asked me to request you to come out here. Figured some time away would clear your head.”
“Here I thought you were trying to schmooze your way onto the New York Guardians.”
“I don’t schmooze. I know who I am and what I can do. Back to the girls. How about the one in fishnets?”
The dark-haired girl in a fishnet catsuit gave Alex a flashback to his encounter with Mind Dame, which in turn invoked his bittersweet and confused feelings towards Trista. He wanted to forget how the villainess who gave him his most humiliating defeat was also the young woman became his closet friend. “Bad association with those.”
“The tall one with purple hair?”
The hair alone made him think of Candilyn’s manic grin and the night she almost forced herself on him. “Definitely not.”
“The busty redhead?”
Redhead. Knockout Rose. Kayleigh. The girl with enough guts to stand alongside metahumans despite having no superpowers or mastered skills. She worked hard to earn his approval. Alex consciously refused to nurture any romantic feelings towards her. “Just
… no.”
“Why so picky?”
“They remind me of women I’m trying to forget right now.”
“Forget clearing your head. You gotta clear your heart.”
“The tiny one on the pole. I’ll take her.”
“Right, Asian cutie in a star-spangled bikini. Focus on the weird dots tattooed on her thighs. Stare at those and don’t look at anything else.”
“Why am I doing this?”
“Old First Nations trick. I’m going to tell you two horrible things, and staring at something beautiful will make ‘em easier to take.”
“Does it have to be strippers?”
“The art galleries are closed. At least here the ladies don’t mind being stared at.”
Alex sighed and stared.
Chak whispered just loud enough for Alex to hear him over the DJ’s heavy backbeat. “First, those guys in the basement? They were torn apart.”
“What do you mean?”
“Not cut, not shot, not blown up, torn. I’m talking ripped apart joint-from-joint. Something strong enough to lift a car walked through that door.”
“I’ll have Max put out an APB to contact all known metahumans with super-strength in the area. We’ll get a list of suspects.”
The stripper danced towards Alex.
“You do that. I ain’t good with computers, don’t even carry a cell phone.” said Chak. “Second, the bodies were warm. Just killed warm.”
“Are you sure?”
“Blood gets cold fast after it leaves the body. Theirs wasn’t. Couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes old.”
“That’s pretty precise.”
“You go around cutting people, you get to know the feeling of blood real well.”
“So whatever hit those guys, we barely missed it?”
“Yep. We could’ve caught whatever it was if you didn’t make us stop for coffee.”
“Or we could’ve gotten torn to pieces ourselves.”
Chak shrugged. “I’ve been torn apart before. The important thing is how you put yourself back together, eh?”
The stripper thrust her hips towards Alex and stretched her bikini string. He tucked a bill into it without looking.
“What do you want to do next?” asked Alex.
The Prospects (Short Story): Above the Stars Page 1
