by Tom Andry
Nissa followed behind, "What? What happened?"
I pulled the power knob on the TV and the tube came to life. Before we could see the picture, the sound came through.
"...images are from earlier. We've frozen this frame. See here?"
The picture became clear. There was a fuzzy image that faintly looked human in the midst of a column of flame. They panned the image back and rewound it. There was the man covered in black in the middle of the stadium, supers all around, stands full of spectators. An explosion. Nothing.
"That's the man they are now calling The Raven. We're receiving reports from all over the globe that The Raven is descending from the sky, killing everyone, and disappearing just as mysteriously."
The picture cut back to Dan Anderson, the fuzzy image of the man in black surrounded by flames off his left shoulder, "Again, as unlikely as it sounds, we have no reports of survivors from the Tournament. The Bulwark has been silent except for the statement they released a few minutes ago, and the Vice President has called for all police to report for duty. There has been no word from the President or the First Family who were attending the games. Congress is calling a special session for those who are left after the tragedy of the Tournament to decide if a special election will be in order. For now, everyone is urged to stay indoors and if you see The Raven, don't approach him. Contact your local precinct. They'll..."
I shut the TV off and moved to the wet bar to pour myself a large scotch.
Nissa looked at me, her eyes wet, "Damn."
"Yeah, damn. I've got to make some calls."
# # #
Chapter 3
An hour later, I was staring at my phone, willing it to ring. Behind me, the terminal continued to glow white. Nissa was right; it was frozen. It wouldn't even power off. Outside, the meteors had stopped falling, but I couldn't shake the feeling that they were really pieces of The Bulwark's orbiting base. The faint light from behind me was a painful reminder that I was most likely right.
I'd been calling everyone I knew. Gale, Khan, The Bulwark, Ted, even some of my past clients. On the rare occasion that the call actually went through, no one answered. Mostly though, I got a prerecorded, "All lines are busy, try your call again," message. My finger hurt from spinning the dial over and over. I poured myself another two fingers of scotch and picked up the phone again. Seven spins of the dial later and I slammed it back down.
"Screw this." I stood violently and grabbed my coat off the back of my chair in one movement. I spun as I flung it on, surveying the room. I grimaced at the white screen on the terminal. I took a step, pressed the power button a few times, and exhaled sharply as, once again, nothing happened.
They were dead. They were all dead.
I turned from the terminal, circled the desk, and entered the foyer. In front of me, asleep on the couch, Nissa tossed fitfully. I smiled, noticing that the mohawk had managed to survive her nap. I rubbed my chin. I shouldn't be going out. Everything I'd seen indicated there would be violence out there, riots. I turned and entered the hidden door quietly. I strode back through the kitchen and the living area and entered the bedroom. In the back of my bedroom closet, behind everything else, was a long, brown coat, heavier than it looked. On the shelf above was a hat box. I removed the gray hat and placed it on, the trench coat weighing heavily on my shoulders. Slowly, the hat changed color to match my black slacks and jacket, but the overcoat retained the brown. From the nightstand, I grabbed the Inertial Dampener unit from its charger and placed it in my belt buckle.
I was as protected as I could be. Ted "Tinkerer" Vente had created the Inertial Dampener at my request. It created an invisible field around me that absorbed the momentum of anything traveling faster than, say, a slow bird. He also treated the jacket, slacks and shoes so that they would resist most forms of energy projectiles including flames, ice, and electricity. The overcoat and hat increased this resistance, plus added protection from solid projectiles and impacts. I almost never wore the overcoat and hat for the same reason I never wore a tie; it made me feel like a stereotype.
"You look ridiculous."
I turned to see Nissa smiling from my bedroom doorway.
"Yeah, well, there's a reason for this getup."
"You're not going out..." she honestly looked worried.
"I can't just sit here. I've got to find out what's going on."
"But that guy, The Raven..."
"Has got better things to worry about than a two-bit private detective like me."
"I'm going with you."
"The hell you are."
She put her hands on her hips.
"Listen, I could come up with all sorts of reasons why you're not going: you work for me and I say so, it's too dangerous, I'm driving…but how about this - I need you here. I need you at the phones. If someone calls, anyone, I have to know. I can't miss a call right now. It's too important."
She squinted at me for a moment, then nodded sharply, "Where you going?"
"Ted's."
"That Tinkerer guy?"
"Yeah. With the terminal down, I'm blind here. He's the only one I know that might have more info. Access to some of those crazy gadgets those supers always seem to have laying around. I can't just sit here."
She nodded again.
"Listen, go through the Rolodex. Call anyone that isn't listed as dead or in prison on the second phone line. Make sure you hit Liz and Gale at least every third call."
"Check."
"And if Ted calls, you tell him not to move or I'll kill him. I'm on my way."
"Natch, boss." She grabbed my shoulder as I passed. "Wait, you got a gun or something?"
"I wish. Never thought I'd need one before today."
* * *
The streets were eerily deserted as I drove away from my downtown flat toward the heart of suburbia. I expected gangs of youths running around looking for windows to smash and cars to tip. Instead, all I saw were a few fires in garbage cans and practically no cars on the street. I did spy a few police cars running by with their lights on, but no real signs of trouble. When I got to the suburbs, it was even quieter. Mine was the only car on the street and I often caught people watching me pass, their eyes peering from behind curtains or between blinds. I could practically hear the locks snapping shut as I passed.
The Super State had awarded Ted a middle class home in the decidedly blue-collar neighborhood of Kingwood. His three-bedroom, ranch-style home blended well with the scenery, though it was a constant reminder to Ted that his peers didn't appreciate him. When he wasn't out at the clubs or nursing hangovers, he often talked about "getting what was coming to him" - whatever that was. So far, mostly what he got was aspirin.
My hand slid smoothly into the seemingly solid panel on one side of Ted's mailbox. As always, the tingling sensation was odd, but not painful. Ted's security system took a reading of my bio-prints, whatever they were, before reporting that he had a visitor. After a few moments of tingling, a fine mist started spraying though the car window, into my lap, and an image of an empty chair appeared in the mist in front of me.
"Piss off, I'm busy," a lightly accented voice called out.
"You piss off, let me in."
"Huh?" a mop of frizzy gray hair shot through the image. "Who's that?"
I couldn't quite place the voice. It sounded familiar though.
"Ted, don't be dense, you know it's me. Your little mailbox told you that."
An eye floated in front of me, taking up nearly the entire holographic image. It fluttered around, taking in everything it could. "But how can I be sure? These are dangerous times, Bob."
"Oh for the love of... Ted, you open that goddamn door right now or I'm calling your mom."
The eye stopped looking around and fixed on me, "You're bluffing. You don't know my mom."
I smirked, raising my eyebrows sharply.
The eye squinted, "Fine, but if you're The Raven masquerading as Bob, I warn you. I have state of the art defenses and weapons down her
e!"
The image winked out of existence and the driveway in front of my car started to angle down. "State of the art, my ass," I muttered to myself as I wiped the aftereffects of the mist off my pants. The most dangerous thing I'd ever seen in Ted's hands was a lipstick tube that could send ten thousand volts through some frisky man. Ted had also developed what he called a Portable Persona Projector. With the PPP he could, and often did, change his appearance. I honestly didn't know what Ted looked like. My research only uncovered a prepubescent picture that may or may not resemble the man under the PPP. Paired with a voice changer that he either invented or bought, Ted could masquerade as anyone at any time.
The end of the driveway clanged down and I drove in. As soon as the car was clear, Ted slammed his hand down on a control and the ramp quickly retracted. Ted's back was to me as I exited the car. I'd been down in Ted's lair often, but I had never seen it in such a state of disarray. There was that one time he'd had the idea to train a monkey as a sidekick, but that mess was more physical excrement rather than the technological debris I was now surrounded by. There were hunks of wires, engines, and circuits strewn about. Nothing looked completed. There was a chunk of something metal that was smoking over in a corner.
"Jesus, Ted, what are you...?"
Ted turned, holding what looked like a fire hose with about ten extra pounds of machinery attached to it. He pointed it at me and a laser appeared from an emitter on the top. I looked down and saw it was hovering directly over my heart. A guffaw escaped my throat. I'd seen most of Ted's favorite looks, but never this one. He was still around six feet tall, he rarely wore a persona that was any taller or shorter than himself so that he could still interact convincingly with the real world. He wore leather sandals, loose-fitting, gray slacks, and a white lab coat. His hair was a halo of salt and pepper frizz that shot nearly a foot straight out from his head. He had a matching mustache, but darker, bushy eyebrows. His face was old, probably around sixty years, and well-lined, but kind. Even though he pointed a weapon at me, he looked sort of happy and harmless.
"Dude, seriously..."
Ted looked down, "What? It helps my creative juices."
"To look like Einstein?"
He shrugged, "Yeah. He's, like, an inspiration."
I shook my head, "Oh, I'm sure he'd be so proud if he knew." I nodded at the weapon, "Does that thing even work?"
Ted threw it roughly on the table, "Not yet. Can't seem to get the power supply right."
"What's it supposed to be?"
"Either a rail gun or high energy beam weapon."
I closed the door to the car and walked around all the discarded equipment on the ground, "You don't know?"
He shrugged again, hair flopping around, "I'm improvising."
"Of course you are," I muttered under my breath.
I finally reached Ted's main workbench. He had picked up a tool with five ends, two of which were screwdrivers; one was some sort of wrench and the other two glowed, one blue, one red. He flipped between them, making adjustments to his weapon.
"Why don't you answer your phone, Ted?"
"Huh?"
"Listen, Ted, put down the...whatever the hell that thing is. I've been calling you for hours." I glanced around his lair. There wasn't a free square inch that wasn't covered in equipment, scorched black, or both. "You obviously know what happened."
"Oh, yeah," Ted laughed nervously in an accented Einstein voice, "The Raven."
"Yeah, what do you know?"
"I know I'm not going to go out like those other punks. I'm going to be prepared."
"Prepared?"
"Listen. Look at this," Ted kicked his way over to one of the consoles with a monitor. He pressed a button and the TV came to life. On it was a paused image of the man in black. Ted looked at me, "I've taken all the footage they've shown on this guy, this Raven, and some they haven't. Had to hack a few government computers, but I think I got it all. I put together a model. Watch this."
He pressed another button and the image on the screen started to move forward. First, the photo of the man changed into a stick figure. I glanced at Ted, shaking my head.
"Hey, it isn't like I had much time."
I shrugged.
The camera then panned back and pulled up so that it was directly over The Raven. All around were stick figures representing the supers that had been in attendance. Ted pressed another button and the image froze again.
"You see here," he drew a line with his finger from The Raven through three of the stick figures in a direct line from him. "This first one, that's Rockface. The second, FireStorm. The third, Kid Rubber. I've checked the reports. Rockface has never been hurt. Never. FireStorm has been reported to bathe in molten metal and I can find at least five reports of him entering fires at chemical plants to look for survivors. Kid Rubber? Well, if the other two had absorbed the bulk of the fire and heat, and they should have, no concussive force should be able to hurt him. It's just not possible. Now watch," he pressed a button and the image changed to a wireframe explosion emanating from the figure of The Raven. As the explosion touched each of the figures, they disappeared.
"Damn," I muttered.
"Yeah, I don't know, Bob. If you'd have asked me a week ago if those three, or even if one of them, could die, I don't think I'd have said yes. Kid Rubber maybe, but Rockface and FireStorm? Those were members of The Bulwark." He shook his head, "I still can't believe it."
As Ted spoke, the simulation continued. The explosion reached the stands, the spectators, consuming everything in its way. Nothing survived. The camera continued to pan back so that more and more of the island could be represented. When the simulation stopped, nothing was left except for the single stick figure in the center.
I took a deep breath trying to control the shaking. "Khan," I coughed.
"Khan?"
I cleared my throat, "Yeah, Khan. He was supposed to be there." I looked at Ted.
Einstein looked back, eyebrows furrowed, "Yeah, ah..."
"Show me."
Ted nodded, his hair waving with the motion. He pressed a few buttons and the image backed up and zoomed in on a single stick figure about four human widths from The Raven. The simulation started again. This time Ted had rewound it more and The Raven figure spun in a circle for a few moments before the explosion. The Khan figure, which Ted had highlighted with a yellow ring, started moving just as the explosion started. Instead of moving away, it moved toward the explosion. The Khan figure grabbed one, then another figure and turned to run away. He didn't make it. I watched as the wireframe explosion consumed all three stick figures. Ted pressed a button and the simulation reset to focus on The Raven. It started again.
I turned from the screen. "Stupid, so stupid," I cursed. Khan. He was just a kid. He'd just come into his power. He couldn't have known his limits. He should have run. I'd have run. Why didn't he run? Stupid bastard. Stupid selfish bastard.
"You okay? You look like hell."
I shook my head and reached into my jacket for my flask. I threw a bit of scotch down my throat, the burning liquid bringing tears to my weary eyes. "Haven't been sleeping," I managed to croak. I didn't trust myself to say more.
"I see you're wearing the hat and overcoat. About time. I'm not saying it'll protect you against that," he nodded toward the screen, "but it's better than nothing."
I stared at the ground.
Ted started to shuffle, picking up pieces of gear and setting them back down after examining them briefly, "You know, you really should shore up the defenses at your place. You've barely got anything going on over there."
I took a deep breath, "I'm fine."
"No, you're not," Ted continued excitedly. "A few locks and an intercom isn't enough. I've been telling you that for years. I've got a few ideas for upgrades..." He turned and opened a drawer, shuffling through file folders. "I'm pretty sure I wrote them all down one time..."
"Forget it."
Ted continued his search undeterred.
>
I put my foot on the drawer and pushed it closed, "I said forget it, Ted. I don't need any upgrades. If that guy wants me dead, and I don't see why he would, there's nothing in that drawer that's going to stop him."
"Yeah, guess you're right."
"Yeah, I am." I paused, sipping, "You want a drink?"
"Sure."
I handed my flask to Ted. He slowly unscrewed the top and took a sip. He leaned back against the console. He handed the flask back and I did the same, leaning on the table opposite him. Over Ted's right shoulder the simulation played on, an endless loop of destruction and death.
I handed the flask back to Ted, "Why'd he do it? What's he want?"
"Bob, I wish I knew," Ted took another sip, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "He only said one word, 'Unclean'. What the heck is that supposed to mean?"
"I stopped trying to figure out you supers long ago. Could be anything."
"He's been hitting other super groups, you know? I heard The Fearsome Four and The Colorful Collective have been obliterated. Probably more."
"Yeah, I heard."
"You think it's some sort of religious thing?"
"You supers have a religion?" I forced a smile. I drank the last of the scotch and returned the flask to my jacket. "I just can't believe we've never heard of this guy before. That kind of power?" I shook my head.
"Yeah."
I looked up. "This is weird, ya know?"
"Been a lot of weirdness today. You're going to have to be more specific."
"Having a drink with Einstein."
We both laughed. It felt good, if a little forced.
Ted wiped his eyes, "Still, Bob, I'd feel better if you'd let me upgrade your..."
I nodded at the screen where The Raven stick figure was turning around in preparation for his explosion. "Why d'you think he did that? Turn around like that?"
Ted shrugged, "Get one last look at everyone he was going to kill?"
I grimaced, "I don't know. Seems a little deliberate to me."
"His idea of a monologue?"
