by Jay Phillips
“Most likely, he will. And if I don’t go, he’ll still find a way to kill me. Either way, I’m probably dead.”
“There has to be another solution, something else we can do,” she said in a tone that was both genuine and overwhelmingly heartfelt, as if she really wanted to find a way for him to come out of this alive, a way he could no longer see.
“If I knew, beautiful, I would tell you.” He remembered what he had come here for in the first place. He reached inside his coat and pulled Adam’s journal from the pocket therein. Somehow, the book had remained dry throughout the rain that had soaked him.
“Maybe,” she began as she looked down at the journal, “maybe there’s something in there that could help. Maybe Adam knew of a way to kill The Agent.”
The Detective smiled at her, giving her a look that combined a mixture of pity and understanding. “I think if he knew of a way, The Agent would already be dead. Adam’s been working his way around his ‘father.’ If he had known of a sure fire, no questions asked method to kill Rogers, I’m sure that would have been his first stop.”
“Unless,” she replied, “he was saving his most emotional kill for the end.”
The Detective suddenly felt in his element, getting to play the part of the investigator one last time. “His first kill had to be Barren. Killing him was the only way to attain the Iron Knight suit, and without the armor, despite his ability to control machines, he wouldn’t have stood a snowball’s chance on a hot day in Hell against any of the rest. Barren was basically a normal for all intents and purposes, killing him was no doubt the easiest.”
She nodded.
“From there, he moved on through the list, going from the weakest to the strongest. North was next. His speed was no match against the suit’s power. Your sister-” He could see her cringe the moment he said the word “sister.” “---seemed to be the most emotional task for him so far. Whatever he had felt for you and her seemed to have lingered. He let her live, but he still had to send her a message, to send them all a message of how far he was willing to take all of this.”
“But Pammy’s power level was immense,” she said in return. “There’s no way she would have been on the weaker list.”
“Barren’s armor, I’m sure, probably contained some type of anti-fire protection, but I still believe Fire managed to do some kind of damage. Notice the amount of time between each attack. I believe Adam has had to allow the armor time to repair before he could move on to the next target.”
“Makes sense, I guess.” Emily looked at him, her face emotionally blank, yet he could tell she was paying attention. “So after Pammy, he went after Quincy and Hope, and Gabby, she was what, just in the wrong place at the wrong time?”
He shook his head back and forth. “No. I think Adam knew exactly what he was doing. He managed to get Ice up there, away from all of the others, and he managed to get her there after he killed the corpse and his girlfriend. It was all about timing, all about managing to catch each of them in a one-on-one situation. Together, they were The Seven, the greatest group of supers ever assembled, unstoppable as long as they were united. Apart, they were vulnerable, susceptible, exposed, and he knew that. I give him complete credit for being the first one to come up with and execute a viable plan to rid the world of the scum---”
The image of Emily glared at him from the passenger seat.
“Fire excluded, of course,” he added in an apologetic tone.
“Of course.”
“But,” The Detective continued, turning his head away from Emily and toward the window on his left, staring at the burning building through the still falling rain, “I still believe if he had a plan to stop Rogers, that would have been his second stop after Barren. I think he, like the rest of the world, has yet to figure out a way to stop The Agent.”
“And how do you fit into all of this?” she asked, causing him to turn away from the flames and back towards her. “Why does The Agent need you to come to him so bad?”
“No idea,” he answered, truly realizing, for the first time, that he had no idea what his role in all of this was. Twenty four hours ago, when he was riding in Ice’s little two seater, on their way to Barren’s crime scene, he thought he knew; he thought he had a purpose in all of this. Now, he realized just how wrong he had been. “I don’t know why he released me. I don’t know why he sent me out with Ice to find the killer; besides, I’m sure he knew Adam was in Barren’s armor all along.”
“How---” she started to ask before he interrupted.
“Rogers has cameras everywhere, surveillance of every city, every corner, every building, every home. No one in this country farts without him knowing the scent and how long it lasted. How could Adam have taken the time to do this---” The Detective reached down and held up the journal. “---without The Agent knowing about it. It would have been virtually impossible. No, he knew, and that leads to my most important question. Why did he need me? Why did he release me just to follow Ice around like a dog on a chain? Why would he send me a teleporter when Ice abandoned me at the hospital? Did he know I would use the little bastard to send me back into the shit? And why in the hell does he need me to come to him so bad that he would call off his best killers when they had me dead?”
She smiled at him, her seeming permanent smile that was more out of sadness and melancholy than any kind of joy. “You have to know, don’t you? Even if it kills you?”
“Gotta go somehow,” he said, trying his best to muster a smile or any other kind of facial expression, only to fail miserably. “Might as well go out doing what I love.”
A quizzical looked covered her face. “And what exactly is that, getting answers?”
“No,” he replied, “being a nuisance.”
“So you’re willing to die just to annoy The Agent? Does that sound like a good reason to you?”
“As good of a reason as any other.” He reached over and turned the truck’s ignition; it cranked to life. He looked out the window. The fire continued to ravage the apartment building; the top half of the building was now engulfed with flames, taking with it Adam’s body along with any and all evidence The Detective had ever sat foot inside. He had to admit it, The Agent knew how to clean up his messes. But, he realized, one mess remained, and two other people who had encountered him in the past twenty four hours were still alive, viable witnesses to the whole damn mess. And it suddenly occurred to him that they shouldn’t be.
If he had been in The Agent’s predicament, Emily and her sister would have been amongst the first removed from the situation. A public figure, a former member of the administration whose life had been saved by the same man he was trying to keep hidden, what if she woke up and told someone? Who was there to keep her quiet?
And then it occurred to him, all at once, rushing through his thoughts a thousand miles a minute, so many answers, so little time. Why had Emily tried so hard to keep him from making that right turn? He had no chance against The Agent; how did his coming back save her and her sister from The Agent? Why did she keep saying that he had already saved her life?
“I’m sorry,” Emily said from his thoughts, already knowing what he was going to say before the words escaped his lips.
“You made a deal?” The Detective asked, his tone neither angry nor accusative, just blank, emotionless. The image that had sat beside him left without warning, leaving him with just her voice within his head.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. He could tell without seeing her that, wherever she was, she was on the verge of tears. “I’m so sorry.”
“You made a deal to save you and your sister?” He shook his head back and forth, wondering how he could be this stupid. The pretty ones always managed to catch him off guard. “What did you have to give him?”
“You,” she answered as the sound of her crying filled his thoughts. “He needed you to come back to his tower. If I could get you here, he would let me and Gabby live. That was the deal. I promise.”
He rubbed his
now throbbing forehead. Her emotions seemed to make her abilities stronger, and he could feel her pounding inside of his skull. “And the little pit-stop here? Just for kicks and giggles?”
“I remembered Adam’s message; I really thought there could be something in there, something that could save us.”
“Us?” he asked, still rubbing his forehead. “I thought you made a deal.”
She chuckled. Not an amused laugh, it was more of the nervous variety. “I’m not stupid, Detective. The deal I made won't hold up anymore than your deal with him will. It’s like you said earlier, if The Agent wants you dead, you’ll be dead. I was hoping, maybe even praying, you would find something in there that could possibly help us all survive this.”
“And if I can’t?” he asked, still not angry as much as confused. “What happens then?”
“You die; I die; my sister and her babies die. And The Agent gets everything he wants.”
Something occurred to him again, something that he, like an idiot, had completely missed. How had she managed to help him by invading the mind of a trained killer, not to mention all of the crying and bleeding that had accompanied the event, while taking care of two small children?
“Where are you right now?” he asked, knowing the answer before the question had truly been asked.
A second or two of silence passed by, leaving him to wonder if she had left his mind rather than provide him with a response. But then, with a sudden jolt of pain throughout his skull, she spoke. “I’m in his tower, on the floor just beneath his living quarters.”
“Are you safe?” he asked, suddenly more concerned for her safety than he was about anything else.
“I am,” she answered. “He had me taken from the hospital, and he said he would kill me immediately if I couldn’t convince you to return to the city. You saved my life for a little while just by coming back.”
“Yay me,” he said, his voice flat. “Now what?”
“Whether you know it or not, Detective, you’re a hero. You can’t help but try and save the girl then kick the bad guy’s ass. It’s all you know.”
He reached down, grabbed the gear shift, and placed the truck in gear. “Goddamn it,” he said as the truck began to move. “I really hate it when I’m so fucking predictable.” He glanced to his left, giving one last look to the building burning in the rain, and he began to drive the truck toward The Agent’s tower.
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APPROXIMATE FLIGHT TIME LEFT BEFORE ARRIVAL IN METRO CITY: 43 MINUTES
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SCAN CITY FOR TRACKING DEVICE
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DEVICE FOUND: TRAVELLING IN VEHICLE THROUGH DOWNTOWN METRO CITY
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SCAN FOR COMMUNICATION DEVICE IN VEHICLE
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SCAN COMPLETE: DEVICE CATEGORY CELLPHONE FOUND. DEVICE NUMBER: 555-0638
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DIAL NUMBER?: Y/N
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The Detective was tired, wet, and bleeding profusely from the hole in his shoulder. His right knee continued to pop and crack in strange and exciting ways. His adrenaline was still too high; he couldn’t feel the pain…yet, but he knew it would be there before long. The pain always managed to show up. And he had a pretty girl in his head giving him directions for the fastest way to a despot’s private tower. All in all, everything was par for the course, just the usual old day.
“Really?” Emily asked from his thoughts. “This is your usual day?”
“Pretty much,” he answered as he tried his best to see through the rain soaked windshield. The storm’s intensity had increased; it took everything he had to keep the winds from blowing the truck out of the road. “I’ve never been what you would call ‘normal.’”
“No kidding,” she added. “Make a left at the next light. That’ll take you straight into downtown.”
“Yes ma’am,” he said in return, suddenly not sure if he could even see a street light through the windshield. The wipers tried in vain to keep up, but he knew it was a losing battle. “Are you still safe?”
“Yes. The Agent has me on the floor beneath his living area. Apparently, his whole penthouse is designed to be telepathic proof, so he had me held here. That way I would be free to contact you, moving you into place for him.”
“Like pieces on a chessboard. Does that make me a pawn?”
She chuckled. “You’re a knight if I ever met one. Or maybe a queen.”
“I’m sure you meant that in how the queen is the most powerful piece.”
“Nope.” She laughed again. “I just like to mess with you.”
He smiled. “Here I am, fighting tooth and nail just to come to your rescue, and you’re going to call me a lady. Maybe I should just leave you there.”
“You probably should, but you won’t. Like I said, you’re a knight.”
“How many guards?” he asked, finding himself tempted to roll down the window and stick his head in the rain, just to improve the visibility.
“Two when I was brought in,” she answered. “Both just outside of the room, posted at the door.”
“Any in the room with you?”
“No one in here but me.”
“Sounds lonely.”
“Not really.” He noticed the slightest twinge of happiness in her voice. “I’ve got you to keep me company.”
“Can you read the guards?”
She sighed as her voice returned to its previously despondent tone. “Nope. They seemed to be equipped with the same anti-telepathy The Agent has always used. Matter of fact, everyone in the building must be using it. Far as I can tell, as far as being able to telepathically sense anyone else, I’m the only person in the whole place.”
“At least the place isn’t on fire.”
She chuckled ever so lightly again, just barely above a whisper. “I’m sure you’ll take care of that when you get here. The last two places you’ve been to have both burnt to the ground once you got there.”
“It’s a talent,” he replied with a small laugh of his own. “And for the record, I didn’t start either of those fires.”
“Just like you didn’t steal that truck?”
“Exactly. These things just seem to happen to me. I’m cursed with horrible bad luck and exceedingly good looks.”
She laughed, and he appreciated the sound. For some reason, he found it comforting. He knew he shouldn’t. After all, she had lied to him throughout this whole process, telling him whatever she had to in order to get him to where she, and by proxy, The Agent, needed him to be. But somewhere deep inside, down deep where his instincts and natural intuition lived, he knew she was telling him the truth now, having only lied to him in order to save her life. In the end, he couldn’t blame her. He would have done the exact same thing if his life was on the line. God knew, he had done so much worse.
“Anything useful in there?” she asked.
The Detective had been running his finger across the print on the journal’s pages, using his exaggerated sense of touch to read with his fingertip while he drove. There was plenty of information in the book: personal notes, news clippings, magazine articles, transcripts of videos and recordings, all kinds of useful little tidbits, but nothing on how to kill The Agent.
“Adam managed to hack The Agent’s personal computer,” The Detective replied. “The Agent had files on me, the rest of The Seven, even you, but there’s nothing in here on any weaknesses The Agent may have.”
“Me?” Emily asked.
“Yep. Even you. So much for your sister keeping your telepathy secret. Rogers knew all about it; he just chose to let Fire think she was keeping it from him.”
“Th
e Agent sucks ass.”
He chuckled. “I’ve been trying to tell everyone that for years. So did you figure that out before or after he kidnapped and threatened to kill you?”
“Before,” she answered with an obviously angry tone. “I knew it well before any of this. It just makes me feel better to say it to someone else.”
He hadn’t mentioned it, but he had found something interesting in the journal, interesting but not useful, not yet at least. Somewhere around page fifty or so, he had found an envelope stuck in between the pages. The outside of the envelope had been addressed to Adam with no return location. Inside was a letter, a simple letter with a single line, that same line that kept coming back over and over, the line now, after reading some of Adam’s personal recollections, that made perfect sense: They’re not the family you deserve.
The Agent had obviously ordered Psychosis to leave the phrase in the boy’s mind as a key to unlock his memories, just in case The Agent ever had a need for Adam to remember what had actually happened. When Adam read the letter, all of those memories came flooding back. No wonder, The Detective thought, the kid wanted to kill them all. Now, more than ever, he couldn’t blame him.
On the letter itself, The Detective found two separate fingerprints. One was Adam’s. His prints were all over the notebook. The second was a complete mystery. It wasn’t one he had encountered, not yet at least. But, he had at least one more likely suspect.
As he slid the envelope and letter back into the notebook, he remembered something else he had kept. With one hand on the steering wheel, he reached into his pants pocket with the other hand and pulled out the suicide note he had found at Adam’s apartment almost a day ago. He slid it into the journal alongside the envelope, feeling that it all deserved to be together.
“Do you really think The Agent sent it to Adam?” Emily asked from thoughts. She had obviously been eavesdropping.
“Maybe,” he answered. “Probably. Wouldn’t doubt it a bit.”
“Why would he do that to his own son?”
“It’s The Agent. Why wouldn’t he?” The Detective thought of another question, and as much as he didn’t want to ask, he still felt the need to know. “Did you know about Adam, about what happened to him when The Seven found him, about his family?”
