Desperate Times

by Tom Andry

  It really is the little things in life.

  A moment later, I happened to pass a TOP billboard, which reminded me that I was on a mission. A mission to find out exactly what had happened to Liz. Well, not what had happened - that was pretty clear. No, what I was after were the details. Was it an accident or not? I had to know.

  Although the intercom downstairs was hanging from the wall by wires when I'd left a few short hours ago, a shiny, new, stainless steel plate had appeared in its place. A blank, stainless plate. I left the car idling nearby as I hopped out and approached it, rubbing my chin. There were no buttons, screens, or directions. It was just a panel. I turned around, thinking that maybe the technicians had just covered the old hole and placed a new panel elsewhere, but it wasn't the case.

  "Scanning."

  A robotic male voice seemed to come from inside my head, reverberating between my ears. I couldn't pinpoint its origin at all, though I could guess. The panel seemed to melt, or maybe become transparent, it was hard to tell, and an orange light filled the small entryway. It wasn't bright, per se, but it was uncomfortable to look at. In fact, I felt compelled to turn away.

  And turn I did, all the way around as whatever side of me was facing the panel seemed to ache slightly. It was not a pain, really, but a sort of uncomfortable itch that could only be relieved by moving away from the source. Once I completed a full rotation and was again facing the panel, the light disappeared and the panel was once again whole.

  "Identity confirmed. Bob Moore. Private Eye. Owner. Unrestricted access granted. Enter, Mr. Moore."

  "Oh, this will never do."

  In front of me, I could hear some sort of hissing from behind the door. I took an involuntary step back. I didn't survive working around supers for so long by stepping toward things that I found odd or curious. Odd and curious far too often translated to deadly and even more deadly. Finally, however, the sound of hissing subsided, the door lock clicked, and the door swung open a few inches. Swallowing, I placed my hand on the door, now metal rather than wood, and cold to the touch. Behind it, the stairwell was much as I'd left it except for a shiny coat of paint, new molding, and vents all along the top of the walls near the ceiling. The stairwell was well lit, but there were no visible light sources.

  I stepped forward cautiously and called up the stairs, "Hello?"

  "Bob? Oh thank God! Come up here!" the voice sounded muffled, forced.

  "Nissa?" I stuck my head inside the doorway, looking up the stairs. "Is it going to do that every time?"

  "Just come up!"

  "Fine," I muttered. The stairway looked harmless enough, and the robot dude did say I had unfettered access. Or something like that. I'd heard of some convoluted plans to kill people, but I doubted someone would have a new security system installed just to have it turn around and kill me. Probably. Plus, this was Ted, and I could trust Ted. Right?

  "Just do it, Bob," I chided myself. I usually had everything Ted sent me tested out by someone else first. A scientist or a super who didn't mind the possibility of getting blown up for a good payday. But how could I do that with a security system? Damn him. He really screwed me this time. If this Raven thing hadn't had me so shaken, I probably wouldn't have let the delivery drivers, much less the installers, in.

  I took a deep breath and one step into the stairwell at the same time. I scrunched up my face, expecting something to explode or come out of the wall to slice off my head. After a few seconds with my head still attached, I exhaled.

  Sure, I can trust Ted.

  I closed the door and took the steps two at a time. At the top, the door slid noiselessly into the wall as I approached. I turned and entered the office.

  Inside everything was...normal. Nothing looked different at all. It was even clean. One of the double doors to my office was ajar, as it often was. Nissa's desk was abnormally tidy, again, as it usually was. And the hidden door to my living area was closed as usual.

  "Nissa?"

  "In here!"

  The voice came from my office. Four quick steps and I was in the doorway. Nissa, dressed again in her clothes from yesterday, was seated at my desk, her mohawk uncharacteristically listing to one side; the only overt sign of distress was the wild look in her eyes.

  "Um...you okay?"

  "I can't move."

  It seemed true. She was talking through barely moving lips. It seemed that only her eyes were unaffected as they darted wildly around the room and me. I took a step into the office and froze.

  "Welcome, Mr. Moore," again, the voice sounded like it was coming from inside my head. "You had one intruder. Intruder neutralized."

  I knocked my palm against my head, trying to shake the voice out, "Okay, what's the deal with the intruder?"

  "Bob?" Nissa managed, "Who are you talking to?"

  "Unidentified female," the robotic male voice responded, "records are still downloading and incomplete. No matching file on bioscan profile."

  "Whatever, listen, let her go. She's not an intruder."

  As I completed the sentence, Nissa bounced out of the chair, "Define access," the voice in my head continued.

  "Access?" I looked at Nissa, "This thing didn't come with an instruction manual, did it?"

  "What thing?" Nissa was rubbing her arms and legs and hopping about. Her mohawk slapped the side of her head. She reached up, realizing how badly her hair had suffered through the trials and activity of the day, and cursed.

  "Um...employee?" I responded to the room.

  "Entered."

  "Bob? Who are you talking to?"

  I looked at Nissa who was staring at me like I'd gone crazy, "You don't hear that? Him?"

  She shook her head slowly.

  "Figures." I addressed the room, "So, what's the deal? How come only I can hear you?"

  "Default setting is Stealth Mode. Using electrostatic speakers with beaming technology. Only you can hear me."

  "Well, stop it."

  "Default overridden."

  Nissa jumped as the voice (it seemed to me at least) jumped out of my head and into the room. "Who the hell is that?"

  "Good question. What do I call you?"

  "Records incomplete. System has enough information for basic security and systems, and to recognize you. The rest is being integrated and cataloged."

  "So, what does that mean?"

  "Name of the system is inaccessible at this time."

  "Lovely," Nissa muttered, "a security system with amnesia."

  "So, this integration and crap. How long before you are fully..." I let the sentence trail off.

  "Data rates have been inconsistent. Provided similar speeds and throughput, estimated time to full integration is twelve to fifteen hours."

  "Fantastic. We're out of here."

  "What? Where are we going?" Nissa followed as I turned and exited the office.

  "Well, you're going home. Get your things."

  "Level 5! Fantastic! Love your place and all, but this new security system is giving me the creeps."

  "You and me both, sister."

  Nissa walked quickly past me and entered the door to the living area. This one also opened and closed automatically and silently. After she left, I addressed the room again.

  "Um..." I paused, trying to remember, "Stealth Mode?"

  "Confirmed." Again the voice seemed to be coming from my head. Now that I knew what it was, it wasn't so unnerving, but it certainly was a little strange.

  "What access does Employee Status grant?" I whispered.

  "Default allows access to office and living areas and any areas or information not marked Private. Allows access to security system to adjust personal preferences and to grant up to Visitor Status to others."

  "Fine." I wasn't sure what half of that meant, but I wasn't going to have a chance to find out. It all sounded safe enough.

  "Would you like to adjust the defaults? Currently, nothing has been categorized as Private or Restricted."

  "No, that's...wait. Okay, le
t's make my bedroom Restricted or Private."

  "Which?"

  "What's the difference?"

  "Restricted means that those with Spouse Status or special dispensation can access. Private means that only special dispensation will allow access."

  I laughed lightly to myself, "Doesn't really matter. Restricted I suppose."

  "Confirmed."

  "Okay, Stealth Mode off."

  "Confirmed."

  Nissa walked back through the door, her purse in her hand and her hair once again erect on her head, "What's confirmed?"

  "Nothing, I was just trying to figure this thing out."

  "Any luck?"

  "Not yet."

  I turned away from my assistant, "Security...um, system?"

  "Acknowledged."

  "Keep the place locked up tight until I return."

  "Confirmed."

  * * *

  "Well, just where the hell am I supposed to sit?" Nissa, hand on hip, one leg out to the side, examined the unconscious Flamer lying across the front seats. The gear stick was buried somewhere under his torso and his head was resting on the driver's seat. I was truly worried about Liz; I didn't usually make such freshman errors. An idling car with an unconscious super in the front seat? I was lucky all I had to worry about was how to get the car into first. One big snore and he could have shifted it into gear himself and possibly run it into the wall. Or worse, woken up not knowing where he was and driven it away himself. I reached over and slowly removed the keys from the car.

  "I'm open to suggestions."

  "I'm guessing there is a reason we're not just sitting him up?"

  "Yeah. These strong types - they can be a little on the weighty side."

  Nissa scratched her head, her restored mohawk quivering, "Well, if you don't have a crane, I don't have a suggestion."

  I scratched my head as well. There was no way I was going to be able to manhandle this lug out of the car. And Nissa wasn't exactly going to be much help. The smart choice would be to wait until he sobered up, but that wasn't really an option. As much as I wouldn't mind having Nissa around for another night (I couldn't help but remember her in my shirt and little else), it wouldn't be fair to ask her to go without a change of clothes and a shower. Not when the only thing stopping her was a lug of a super.

  "So who's this anyhow?"

  "A super named Flamer. Real name's Shawn O'Malley. He's the one from the bar."

  "Natch."

  "Well, usually he just works there. His sidekick was at..." I couldn't finish. The wireframe representation of my former assistant and friend played over in my mind.

  "Got it," Nissa responded softly. It was still fresh for all of us.

  "She was a bit of a hothead. One of those flame types."

  "Goes with his name, at least."

  "Well, it's more than that. Flamer, he gets more powerful if you..." Damn, why hadn't I thought of it earlier, "I got an idea. I'm going to need a bottle of liquor."

  Nissa looked at me expectantly.

  "Today, assistant."

  She rolled her eyes and turned back to the door. She paused and looked back at me.

  "Don't be afraid; it'll be fine."

  "You weren't the one trapped in a chair for forty-five minutes," she muttered. She approached the door and stopped before the stainless panel. She stood motionless for a moment before demanding, "What do you mean access denied? Bob! Talk some sense into this thing!"

  I couldn't hear my new security system, but I was sure it was talking to Nissa, "Let her in," I called out.

  I waited until I could hear the hissing again from behind the door before turning back to Flamer. Now, how was I going to get him out of the car? I opened the passenger side door and started pulling at his legs. While I might have gotten them out eventually, it didn't look like this method was going to work quickly enough. It wasn't like he was going to stand up. Or was he?

  "Shawn! Flamer!" I punctuated each word with a shake. Unfortunately, I could barely move him. "SHAWN!" I yelled, slapping him hard across the face. I pulled my hand back, aching. It was like slapping granite. This was going to take a bit of finesse. And a little less of a soft touch.

  I rounded the back of the car, my keys in my hand. Opening the trunk, I stood aside, letting the feeble light from the parking garage fixtures filter in. There was a time when I kept a lot of equipment in the back of my cars - cameras, change of clothes, other odds and ends. Nowadays, if I couldn't carry it, I didn't need it. My cars had a habit of exploding or being balled up and thrown through my window. And that was when I was lucky. The worst-case was when the cops used it as a shield. When that happened, the Super State was much less likely to pay out. I'd be out a car, out the equipment and, if I had been in the car at the time, certainly dead.

  I pulled out the tire iron and slapped it meatily against my palm. It was one of those "plus sign" jobs with a different tool at the end of each cross member. I'd have preferred something straighter and heavier, something like a crowbar or sledgehammer, but I would've also preferred not to have a sleeping super a quarter the weight of my car passed out on my front seat. Unfortunately, the universe didn't seem to give a damn about my preferences. I circled back to the open door, trying to figure out the best way to do this. If I smacked him from the front, he might bolt upright. That would be good for getting him out of the car (maybe, depending on the angle), but bad for me. Bad because I'd be in his way and really bad if he didn't like getting smashed by tire irons. I could hit him on the leg, but again, I’d be in the way and too visible. I decided on my normal play - safe and stealthy. Well, stealthy-ish.

  "I brought a few, didn't know what you wanted. Did you need a glass? You didn't say and..." Nissa stopped juggling the bottles and raised an eyebrow. "Bob, what are you doing?"

  I stopped, the tire iron hanging loosely by my side, driver's side door handle in my hand, "You might want to come around to this side."

  "Huh?"

  I motioned for her to circle the car. She came around, tentatively. It didn't seem like she was afraid, more that she was afraid of getting something on her clothes. I opened the driver's side door and held the tire iron high in my right hand. I brought it down solidly on Flamer's forehead.

  Nothing.

  I looked down at the tire iron shaking violently in my hand from the impact. It didn't look damaged.

  "Damn." I glanced back at Nissa. If she had been surprised by my actions, she hid it well.

  "So, what, we going to give him a drink after to say sorry?"

  I grabbed the tire iron tightly, this time with both hands, "Something like THAT!" On the final word I brought the iron down on his forehead with all my strength. The iron tore from my grip and deflected off my overcoat and clattered to the ground behind me. I shook my pulsating hands, checking them for cuts.

  "Wha...what was that?"

  I glanced back at Nissa who was grinning widely. I nodded and grinned back. "It came from over there!" I pointed over the top of Flamer, his eyes barely open, his forehead free from any sign of injury from the impact, "If you hurry and get out of the car, you might catch them!"

  Shawn's eyes started to roll back into his head and he started to roll over. I was losing him.

  "Shawn! They've taken your beer!" Nothing. "Your girlfriend?" No reaction. "Your...car?"

  "Automageddon!" He practically shot out of his seat. I was fortunate that I was no longer leaning over him or I'd be joining Liz in the hospital. Unfortunately, he just as quickly lay back down.

  "He calls his car Automageddon?" Nissa whispered. "What does he drive, a tank?"

  "Naw, it's like a hatchback. Not even sure how he gets out of the thing," I answered softly. To Flamer, "Yeah! I saw them messing around in the back. I think they were trying to open a case?"

  Shawn sat up unsteadily and looked around, "Bob?" He tried to focus on me, "Where are we?"

  "Quick," I replied unwilling to lose this opportunity, "you have to get out of the car."

&nbs
p; "Out?" he looked around, "what's going on?"

  "Just get OUT OF THE CAR!" I shouted at him. He retreated from my voice, leaning slowly away. Eventually, he passed the midpoint and gravity did the rest. When his head hit the pavement, he was already snoring again. It'd have to do.

  "So now what?" Nissa glanced over my shoulder at Flamer's ass hanging across the doorway of the car.

  "Well, we're half way there." I sat down in the driver's seat, "Now, we drive. Hop in the back."

  Nissa did so, this time without complaint. I started the car, revved the engine, and took off. It only took two or three tight circles to get Shawn the rest of the way out of the car. I stopped quickly, but not quick enough. I sort of ran him over a little as he fell out, bouncing us nearly out of our seats.

  "Oh, snap!" Nissa exclaimed, "Is he going to be okay?"

  I shrugged as we exited the car. The circular path I had taken was etched into the asphalt with scratches and rubble gouged out of the ground by Shawn's face. Shreds of Flamer's clothing dotted the path like Hansel and Gretel's breadcrumbs. I approached Shawn with Nissa following close behind. His legs, aside from the tire tracks on his jeans, looked fine to me.

  Flamer was still fast asleep and no worse for wear. Supers. I was going to enjoy this. "Give me the bottle."

  "Which one? I brought three."

  "The cheapest. Please." She handed it over. "You have a lighter on you?"

  "No," she scoffed.

  "Glove compartment."

  She handed me a three-quarters full bottle of rum I kept around for company. Good choice. High alcohol content and I didn't give a damn if I ran out. Hell, there was dust on the shoulders of the bottle. I unscrewed the top and started pouring the liquor all over Flamer.

  "I couldn't find a lighter, but there were these matches. What's The University Club?"

  It was a strip club. I grimaced at the matches. There were some things you could never get rid of. A bad driver's license picture, certain things you've said to people you love, and souvenirs from The University Club. The most famous strip club in the city, the place was a rite of passage for young men. What no one told you was that you could never forget you'd gone. They had some way to make sure that their matches showed up from time to time. I used to keep them in a box for when I needed a candle lit. But since I rarely lit anything, I quickly developed a drawer full of the things. Now, I just tossed them whenever they'd show up. If you were out with the guys, it was inevitable that a pack would appear in a pocket or under a drink. Everyone would look at each other and smile. Sometimes you'd end up there. The whole thing was weird - matches showing up. "Must be from when I was in college. Funny how those things keep popping up. Here." She handed it over, skeptical, "let's get this party started."