“Sure,” I said. “Now, are you going to tell me what this grave matter is, or am I going to have to guess? We could play Twenty Questions. Is it bigger than a breadbox?” I was feeling more comfortable with the Sentinels. Now that I was seated with them, I saw that, despite the awesome power they possessed, they were still people. Well, except for Mechano, of course.
Doppelgänger thumped the table with his fist.
“Why don’t we throw this clown out of here?” he said. Though his eyes were obscured by his mask, I could feel the force of his glare. “We can take care of this thing by ourselves.” Clearly Doppelgänger was not a fan of mine. He should have joined my anti-fan club. It had a lot of members.
“Clearly we cannot handle this matter on our own,” Mechano said. His voice, while masculine, had a slightly tinny quality to it, almost as if it were the recording of someone else’s voice. “Despite our best efforts, we have not uncovered the truth. We are not detectives. Mr. Lord here is. We need a specialist. Besides, we took a vote. The majority agreed we need to bring in an outsider.”
Seer proceeded as if neither Doppelgänger nor Mechano had spoken.
“Despite your reputation for jocularity—a reputation I see is well earned—our research into you indicates you are good at what you do, both as a Hero and as a private detective,” she said. “You are both tough and dogged, two traits we have need of. We will pay whatever you ask, of course. Money is no object.”
Though the words “money is no object” were music to my ears—gun ammo does not pay for itself, after all—no one had yet told me what they wanted me to do.
“Do you want to hire me to help you get to the point?” I asked.
“What we are about to share with you cannot leave this room,” Seer said. “No one in the world except the six of us knows. You would make seven.” Six? I thought. What about Avatar? I found myself glancing down at the chair I occupied. Surely his teammates were not keeping something from him. Was that why he was not at this meeting? “I must insist on getting your word that you will not repeat what I am about to tell you to anyone else,” Seer said.
“Sure. You have my word. Cross my heart,” I said, increasingly curious, pantomiming the motion over my chest. I would have added “and hope to die,” but in my line of work, you simply did not tempt fate that way.
Seer hesitated. It was as if she could barely bring herself to tell me why she and the others had brought me here. Finally, after a long pause, she spoke again.
“Avatar has been killed. We want you to find his murderer,” she said.
CHAPTER 5
It was a good thing I was sitting down. My mind reeled. My heart dropped. Avatar and what he represented meant so much to both me and people around the world. Being told Avatar had been murdered was like being told the god you worshipped had been killed. The thought was inconceivable.
“How can that be?” I sputtered. I realized I had raised my voice. I took a moment and calmed myself. I tried to speak in my normal tone. “Avatar is invulnerable. I thought nothing could kill him.”
“That is what we thought, too. As you know, Avatar was the world’s mightiest Hero. In addition to his invulnerability, he was the super strong. The strongest Meta ever known, as a matter of fact. He also he possessed super speed, he could fly, and each of his senses operated on a superhuman level. Each of us has seen him do things we would not have thought possible,” Seer said. Sadness was in her voice. “And yet nonetheless, he is dead. We found him two weeks ago, shot through the heart.”
“Shot through the heart?” I asked, still in total disbelief. “What kind of bullets can shoot Avatar? I’ve seen footage of him getting hit by a missiles and surviving without a scratch. Bullets would just bounce off of him.”
Seer should her head sadly. “You would think that would be the case. As you say Avatar has survived projectiles with far more force than mere bullets. He has gone into the heart of nuclear reactors, flown into the cold abyss of space, and swam down into the depths of the deepest ocean, all with no ill effect. And yet he is still dead from those bullet wounds.” I was dubious. Surely Seer could not be right. Was this some kind of joke, a hoax the purpose of which I could not even begin to guess at?
My doubts must have been evident on my face.
“Why don’t we simply show him?” Ninja said. “Maybe it will speed this whole process up.”
Seer looked at Millennium. She nodded at him.
“Remain perfectly still, Mr. Lord,” Millennium said, speaking for the first time. Though I followed the Sentinels’ adventures closely, this was literally the first time I had ever heard Millennium say anything. His voice had a rustling quality to it, like a breeze moving through the leaves of a tree. Then he spoke again, his strange voice speaking harsh-sounding words I could not understand. Whatever he was saying, it sounded like he was choking on a mouthful of phlegm. The walls of the Situation Room, the table at which we sat, and everything else in the room slowly and soundlessly started to dissolve. It was as if everything around me was made of rapidly melting candles of various colors. Only the Sentinels, Pearce, and I remained constant. I blinked hard, scarcely able to believe my eyes. I had never done LSD or any other kind of psychedelic drug, but if I had, I imagined this was what the experience would be like. The experience was unsettling and not just a little frightening. If Millennium had not told me to remain still, I would have jumped to my feet and run. I stayed where I was, fighting the impulse to close my eyes and avoid the sight of reality dissolving around me. After all, I was a Hero, not a scared little boy. I had seen some freaky things in my career, but this took the cake. If I were even slightly less jaded, I might have peed my pants a little.
Though the experience seemed to last forever, it only in fact last a few seconds. I checked with my watch, afterward. Once everything in the room melted away, I and the rest of the Sentinels were suddenly standing. I did not remember standing up. Nonetheless, one instant I was seated and the next I was standing, as were the Sentinels. I did not know what in the world I was standing on, however. Though whatever I stood on seemed firm enough, I could not see anything underneath me. No floor, no ground, no anything. Except for a light that illuminated a raised platform off in the distance, everything beneath me and around me was an inky black void, like deep space minus the stars.
I staggered, feeling disoriented. Without a floor, walls, or any other frame of reference, it felt like I was floating, only without the feeling of weightlessness. If this was what being in space was like, I wanted no parts of it. I struck astronaut off the list of potential occupations. If NASA ever called, I would take a pass.
“Where the hell are we?” I said, still trying to avoid falling. I felt both panicked and queasy. I tried focusing on the Sentinels, like a seasick man trying to focus on a stationary point like the horizon to steady himself. It helped some.
“We are still in the Situation Room. In a parallel universe,” Millennium said in his strange voice. “Do not be alarmed. You are quite safe here as long as you do not wander off on your own.”
“There is zero chance of that happening,” I said. Despite the fact my stomach was starting to settle and my legs were feeling a bit steadier, I was tempted to cling to Millennium’s cape like a child clinging to his mother’s skirt. I looked around at the nothingness around me. As I did so, I heard a faint sound. It seemed to come from everywhere around me, and yet from no place in particular all at the same time. It reminded me a little of the chirping of crickets in a field, yet fainter and far creepier. The harder I tried to pinpoint where the sound was coming from, the more elusive it was. It was like trying to grab a handful of water. The sound was vaguely familiar, though. As my legs steadied, I tried to puzzle out why. I was startled for what already seemed like the umpteenth time that day when I realized the sound was the same rustling leaf sound that overlaid Millennium’s voice when he spoke. I looked at him with wonder. Was this the mystical plane Millennium drew his powers from? Or, were we somehow
inside of Millennium? I remembered the inky blackness that looked back at me when I had looked into the eye sockets of Millennium’s helmet.
I shivered, though I was not cold. I said before I did not believe in magic. I was starting to revise that opinion.
“Come with us,” Seer said. She turned to walk towards the distant light source. The other Sentinels followed in her wake. I got behind Millennium and followed, with Pearce behind me. Though everything I had heard about near-death experiences said to never walk towards the light, I was not about to let Millennium and the other Sentinels out of my sight. I felt like I had wandered into an episode of The Twilight Zone. If Rod Serling suddenly appeared, I would not have been the slightest bit surprised.
Though I would have sworn the light and the raised platform it shone on had been far away, in seconds we reached them. I supposed distance in this parallel universe was not what I was used to. I could not tell where the light shining on the platform was coming from. Though it seemed to be coming from above and bathing us and the platform in a cone of bright white light, when I looked up, there was only the same inky black darkness. When I looked down again, the light was still there, seemingly shining from above. The whole thing was bizarre.
That was not the most shocking thing, though. The most shocking thing was what was on the platform the light shone on. Avatar’s big, muscular body lay face up on the platform. He was dressed in the red gloves, red boots, and grey one-piece skintight outfit he always wore. A red cape extended from the nape of his neck down to his boots. The cape hung down from the platform a bit. Rather than the cape presenting a dramatic and heroic appearance like it did when Avatar was alive, with him lying on it it looked like a shroud that had been cut open to expose the body it contained. A bright red stylized “A” was on the center of Avatar’s chest. It was perhaps the single most famous symbol in the world. I read a news article years ago indicating studies had shown that the “A” that appeared on Avatar’s chest was more recognized around the world than Nike’s Swoosh or the distinctive curvature of a Coca-Cola bottle.
From his neck up, Avatar was uncovered. That was always the case as he did not wear a mask or cowl. Over the years, countless women had swooned over Avatar’s ruggedly good looks. The fact that his head from the top of his wavy hair to where his costume began looked like it had been dipped in chalk dust did not detract from his good looks. It did, however, give him an otherworldly appearance, as if he were not quite human. Because Avatar did not wear a mask, he had one of the most recognizable faces in the world. The public did not know if Avatar had a secret identity and a private life outside of being Avatar. All we knew was that, if a situation dire enough rose, eventually Avatar would appear, sometimes with one or more Sentinels in tow, sometimes on his own. As famous as his features were, it would have been tough for him to try to lead a normal life out of costume.
Now that I was close to it, the platform Avatar was on appeared to be made out of grey-white stone. It looked almost like a cathedral altar, and it was a bit higher than my waist. Avatar looked for all the world like he had climbed up on the platform to take a nap. Except, that is, for the three bullet holes in the center of his chest. Where they had gone into Avatar’s body had left three tightly spaced holes as well as a large dark bloodstain on the front of Avatar’s grey costume. The color of the dried blood morbidly matched the red on Avatar’s costume.
If I had not seen Avatar’s dead body for myself, I would not have believed it. As it was, I could still scarcely believe my eyes. With his eyes closed, Avatar looked like he was merely sleeping peacefully.
“Are you quite sure he’s dead?” I said softly, as if I would wake Avatar up by speaking normally. Unfortunately, no one’s voice was loud enough to raise the dead. “You say he died two weeks ago, and yet he looks the same as ever.” Except for the bullet holes in his chest, that was. Maybe if I did not bring them up, they would simply go away. Wishful thinking perhaps.
“What do you think, that we’re idiots?” Doppelgänger said harshly. Normally when asked a rude question I could not resist responding in kind. But, standing in front of Avatar’s prone body, making a smart remark seemed inappropriate. Sacrilegious, almost. Plus, my powers told me what my eyes could not thanks to Doppelgänger’s entire face being masked: behind that mask, Doppelgänger was crying. It made me feel more charitably towards him despite the way he had been speaking to me since we met. I knew how he felt. I rather felt like crying myself. “We’ve run every test and scan we can think of,” Doppelgänger said. “There’s no brain, heart, or lung activity. Mechano even used his Buck Rogers technology on him. Millennium used his magic. Avatar is as dead as you’ll be if you don’t stop asking dumb questions.” Tears or no tears, I did not enjoy being talked to like this, not even by a Sentinel. This did not seem the time or place to make an issue of it, though. I kept an informal mental list of people who had irritated me before and with whom I would settle some scores if I got a chance. I added Doppelgänger to the list. It was a long list.
I bent over Avatar’s body. Despite the fact the light seemed to be shining from directly above Avatar, my bent torso did not cast a shadow on him. It was strange, but I was starting to get used to the weirdness of this place. I was tempted to turn Avatar’s body over so I could see if the bullets went through him, but the idea of touching him seemed like a desecration.
“Were the shots through and through?” I asked. “What kind of bullets were they? How and where did you find his body?”
“The bullets were still in him when we found him,” responded Mechano’s slightly tinny voice. “Each of us carries a communicator and transponder. When Avatar did not respond to our hails, we thought something might be wrong. We traced his transponder signal to a back alley in Astor City. We found him lying there pretty much the way you see him here now. My x-ray vision indicated the bullets were still in his body. Though he was unresponsive when we found him, we hoped removing the bullets would allow his healing factor to kick in, repair the damage to his body, and revive him. Once we brought him back the mansion, we removed the bullets. We had to use powerful electromagnets to pull them out through the entry wounds since no known substance or procedure can pierce Avatar’s skin and we therefore could not perform surgery on his body to remove the bullets that way. Unfortunately, there was no change once we took the bullets out.”
“And what of the bullets? They must be special in some way to have penetrated Avatar’s body,” I said.
“We assumed that, too,” Ninja said. She shook her head. “We tested them every way we could think of for advanced tech, poison, magic, everything. But they appear to be perfectly ordinary forty caliber rounds. The type of bullets you can buy at any gun store.”
“There are no other injuries to Avatar’s body other than the gunshot wounds?” I asked. Ninja and Doppelgänger both shook their heads in the negative. “But, that’s impossible,” I said. “How could ordinary bullets pierce Avatar’s skin, much less kill him?”
“That’s what we want to hire you to find out,” Seer said. “We have known Avatar a long time and fought alongside him countless times. Avatar has no weaknesses we know of. As far as we knew, he was totally and completely invulnerable. We thought the only thing that could kill Avatar was old age. Even that we supposed would be quite some time from now as he did not age at the same pace of normal humans. In addition to finding out how Avatar was killed, we obviously want to find out who did it and why so we can bring them to justice.”
I had a sudden thought that shocked me so much I could scarcely believe it had occurred to me. As offensive as the notion seemed, the question had to be asked.
“Could these gunshot wounds be self-inflicted?” I asked. “If Avatar had a weakness, surely he would know it.” The words left a bad taste in my mouth. Avatar stood for a number of things, including resilience and courage. Someone who committed suicide was not necessarily a coward in my eyes—choosing to embrace death took its own kind of courage that not many
had—but the idea of Avatar choosing death over life seemed ludicrous.
At my words, all the Sentinels except for Millennium turned and looked at each other. Clearly the idea of Avatar having committed suicide had not occurred to them. Millennium remained rock-still, just as he had ever since we had walked over to Avatar. Perhaps he was contemplating the meaning of the universe. Or, universes perhaps I should say.
“Impossible,” Seer said firmly.
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard of,” Doppelgänger said, his deep voice sounding simultaneously shocked and offended at the very suggestion.
“I don’t see how that’s possible,” Ninja said. “Killing himself was just something Avatar wouldn’t do. It’s not part of his character. His entire career as a Hero was predicated on the idea that all life is precious. I can’t imagine him taking a life, even if that life was his own.”
The Sentinels’ words confirmed everything I knew about Avatar. But, how could anyone really know someone? People often wrestled with demons that those closest to them were completely ignorant of. I shoved the unpleasant thought of Avatar having committed suicide aside for later contemplation.
“Do you have any clues at all? Anything you found at the scene that might be helpful?” I asked.
“No,” Ninja said. Even with her face mostly obscured by her mask, I could tell she was still shaken at the thought of Avatar having committed suicide. “Obviously we went over the scene with a fine-toothed comb. We also got the surveillance footage from the city’s street cameras. Assuming Avatar was killed in that alley, whoever killed him was careful to avoid exposing himself to the area’s cameras. We also canvassed the area. No one saw or heard anything out of the ordinary. Frankly, we’re out of ideas and options for further investigation. That’s why we decided to bring you in to take a fresh look at things. Despite our powers, none of us are trained investigators or detectives. We hope you will be able to shed some light on this that we aren’t able to.”
Superhero Detective Series (Book 4): Hunted Page 6
