Superhero Detective Series (Book 3): Killshot

by Darius Brasher

  “Well, you found him,” he said, smiling slightly. His teeth were white, but slightly crooked. “I hope you aren’t going to try to sell me something.”

  “Fortunately, no,” I said. “We are looking for information. Do you mind if we come in?”

  “I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but yes, I do mind if you come in,” Mr. Barker said. “Atlantic City is not as safe as it used to be. I don’t invite just any and everyone into my house.” His eyes darted down to my waist. “Especially not someone who is carrying a gun on his right under his jacket.”

  I was impressed he had spotted the slight bulge of my gun. I should not have been surprised, though. Inactive or not, the man was still a Hero.

  “My name is Truman Lord. I am a licensed Hero. This is my sidekick, Shadow,” I said.

  “Partner,” Shadow corrected immediately.

  “Regardless,” I said, shooting Shadow a look, “we are searching for a woman named Brooke Cantrell, whom we understand you know.”

  “Brooke Cantrell?” Mr. Barker repeated slowly, saying the name as if it was unfamiliar to him. “I don’t believe I know anyone by that name.” Despite his words, I thought he was lying. His eyes had widened almost imperceptibly when I had said Killshot’s real name.

  “Mr. Barker, we know you are a Hero who used to operate under the name Scarlet Centurion,” I said. I lowering my voice a bit to make sure it did not carry to Mr. Barker’s neighbors. “We also know Brooke Cantrell used to go by the code name Killshot. You sponsored her to stand for the Hero Trials. Now, do you really want to talk about all of this out in the open where someone might hear us?”

  Mr. Barker regarded me wordlessly for a moment. Then, he opened the front door wider and stepped behind it. Shadow stepped inside, followed by me. I got a glimpse of a large, high-ceiling living room decorated in black and white. Then, unexpectedly, I was slammed into the wall by the door. My back hit the wall hard. My bones rattled. The air rushed out of me. Mr. Barker’s forearm pinned my neck against the wall, making it hard for me to breathe. It felt like a thick lead pipe pressing into my neck. Through blurred vision, I saw what looked like a walrus tusk slide out of the top of the wrist of his other arm. It was slick with blood. It looked sharp, like an oversized fang. Mr. Barker pressed the tip of the claw—if that’s what it was—against the side of my exposed neck. I felt a pinprick of pain as it pierced my skin. Though the wind had been knocked out of me and I was disoriented, I instinctively started to reach under my jacket for my gun.

  “Move another muscle and I’ll cut your throat open,” Mr. Barker hissed through clenched teeth. I froze. He did not sound like he was kidding. “Now tell me who you really are and how you know who I am.”

  “Let go of him,” Shadow said to Mr. Barker. She had moved so she was slightly behind him.

  “Stay out of this,” he said in response without looking at her. It was a mistake, one that people had made before. Because Shadow looked like a runway model who posed for Playboy on the side, people often underestimated her and did not see her as the threat she was.

  Shadow grabbed the elbow of the arm with the claw extended and Mr. Barker’s other shoulder. She pulled him off of me. I staggered, sucking air into my lungs gratefully. Shadow twisted slightly. She threw Mr. Barker across the room. He sailed through the air, colliding with the top of his white sofa. The sofa turned over with a loud crash, dumping Mr. Barker on the floor.

  If the average person had been thrown across the room like that, they would have stayed down. For one thing, they probably would not have been able to get up. For another, they would have been too afraid to face the person who was capable of throwing them across the room like that. Not Mr. Barker. He got back up like a teenager who had fallen off a skateboard rather than like an elderly man who had been thrown across the room by a Metahuman with super strength.

  He moved around the fallen couch. He approached Shadow warily. His left hand shot out. Shadow dodged it easily. It was but a feint. His right fist hit her flush in the face. Shadow staggered slightly. She moved back out of the range of his long arms. Her face was bloody. If Mr. Barker’s claws had been out, he would have shish-kebabbed her with that blow. So he was not trying to kill her. Good.

  Shadow grinned at Mr. Barker. Her teeth were crimson with blood. That maniac was enjoying this. The two combatants ignored me, which was just as well. I was partly bent over as my chest heaved. I was still not fully recovered from my recent fights. Mr. Barker slamming me against the wall so hard had rattled every bone in my body. I was still seeing stars. I did not feel up to interceding in the fight between Mr. Barker and Shadow. Besides, that bloodthirsty lunatic looked as happy as a pig in mud facing Mr. Barker. She could take care of herself.

  Shadow slid forward. Her right leg arced out, slamming into Mr. Barker’s side so hard it hurt me just to watch it. He grunted, but did not go down. Moving faster than I would have thought possible for an elderly man, he grabbed Shadow’s raised leg. His own leg snaked out, striking her other leg and sweeping her onto the ground. He then pounced on her like a cat pouncing on a mouse. The two of them started rolling around on the floor of the room like two kids tussling in the school yard. Pieces of furniture went flying.

  “That’s enough!” I said. It came out as a hoarse rasp. Since I could barely hear it, I knew the two of them could not hear it either over the pandemonium they were causing. “That’s enough!” I said again, forcing my aching throat and lungs to be louder. My command was answered by a jostled vase crashing to the floor. This was not helping me find Killshot. I pulled out my gun. I raised it over my head and fired two shots. In the enclosed area, they sounded like cannon fire.

  The two wrestlers on the floor froze. Shadow looked like she was trying to wrap Mr. Barker’s leg around his own neck. Mr. Barker’s free leg looked like it was trying to pop Shadow’s head off of her neck like a cork popping out of a champagne bottle.

  I lowered my gun, pointing it at Mr. Barker.

  “This whole thing has gotten out of hand,” I said. My throat felt raw. “We came to talk, not to fight. Now let go of her before you two killed each other.”

  With a look of reluctance, Mr. Barker untangled himself from Shadow. He stood up. He barely seemed to be breathing hard. He was clearly a tough old bird even if he was just an inactive Hero. His tee shirt was torn and streaked with blood. I was not sure if it was his or Shadow’s.

  Shadow stood as well. She came to stand by me.

  “You all right?” I asked her.

  “Of course. I could have taken him if you hadn’t butted in,” she said. She sounded a bit like a kid whose toy has been taken from her. Her face was streaked with blood.

  “Was your plan to bleed all over him and drown him?” I asked without taking my eyes of off Mr. Barker. I spoke to him again before Shadow could respond. “You want to tell me why you attacked us? We are just here looking for some information.”

  “So you say,” Mr. Barker said. His eyes were on my gun. I had the impression if I wavered even the slightest bit, he would rush me and try to take the gun away from me. In light of how he could still handle himself in spite of his age, I had little doubt he could do it. “But when someone shows up on my doorstep unexpectedly tossing around my code name, I assume the worst.”

  “I told you I’m a Hero,” I said.

  “Anyway can say he’s a Hero,” he said. He looked like a coiled spring poised to release. “But, you’re not wearing a costume I recognize and I don’t know you from Adam. And, even if you are a Hero, that still doesn’t explain how you know who I am.”

  Without taking my gun off of Mr. Barker, I reached into my pocket with my free hand. I pulled out the wallet containing both my Hero’s and private detective’s license. I tossed it over to Mr. Barker. He caught it, and opened it up. He examined the licenses carefully, looking up to compare the photos they contained to my face. I flashed him my winning smile, the one designed to inspire trust and confidence. Since I still felt like I had b
een sideswiped by a car, it probably looked like a grimace. I was getting really tired of being smacked around. It was way more fun to be the smacker than to be the smackee. I hoped the time would come soon when I was the tennis racket and not the tennis ball.

  “Okay, so you’re a Hero and private detective,” Mr. Barker said. He flipped the wallet back at me, towards the center of my body. I would have to shift my gun to catch it. I instead just let the wallet hit me and then fall to the floor. Mr. Barker had thrown it like that to try to get me to take the gun off of him for a moment. If I had fallen for it, I had little doubt I would be slammed against the wall again and disarmed.

  Mr. Barker smiled at me slightly when I failed to take the bait.

  “I guess it was too much to ask for you to fall for that,” he said.

  “Yeah, it’s not my first rodeo,” I said. The tension had drained out of the room. “Now that you know I’m a Hero, can I put my gun away without you trying to perform surgery on my neck again?”

  “Truce,” Mr. Barker said in agreement. I holstered my gun. I took care to unzip my jacket so I could get to it more easily the next time. I picked up my wallet and put it away.

  “If Mr. Lord here is a Hero, what are you?” Mr. Barker asked, looking at Shadow. “Robin?”

  Shadow touched her face with her hand. She winced a little. She looked at the blood on her hand. There was a hint of disbelief on her face. “I’m someone who is not used to someone else being able to hit her in the face,” she said. She grinned at Mr. Barker. “I must say I’m impressed.”

  Mr. Barker smiled back at her. “Me too. Not too many people can take a punch from me and remain standing.”

  It was time to break up this mutual admiration society. We needed information, not compliments.

  “Like I said at the door, I’m here looking for information about Brooke Cantrell, who used to go by the code name Killshot,” I said. “Still does, for all I know. Since you were the Hero who sponsored her for the Trials, I hoped you could give me an idea of how to find her.”

  “You still haven’t explained to me how you knew I’m a Hero,” Mr. Barker said. “I have been very careful to keep my secret identity a secret. Or at least I thought I had.”

  “I uncovered your name in the course of my investigation,” I said vaguely. I did not want to go into detail about what my uncovering had consisted of. The last thing I needed was for a Hero to tell the Guild I had gained unauthorized access to its records. I was in enough trouble with the Guild as it was.

  “What do you want with Brooke?” Mr. Barker. “Has she done something wrong?”

  “Do you know where we can find her?” I asked.

  “You answer me first,” he said with a slight smile. We just stared at each other for a moment. I did not know the relationship he and Killshot currently had, if any. If I told him I was looking for her because she had murdered my client, would he shut down and tell me nothing? Would he warn her I was looking for her? As it was though, Mr. Barker was telling me nothing. Plus, despite the fact Shadow and I had just fought him, I got a good vibe off of Mr. Barker. I came to a decision.

  “Killshot killed a client of mine,” I said. “I’m trying to track her down and bring her to justice.”

  “I see,” Mr. Barker said. Was it my imagination, or did he not seem surprised? “You got some proof of that?” he asked.

  I pulled out my smartphone. I pulled up the video of Killshot shooting Eugene in the Golden Horseshoe Casino. I handed the phone to Mr. Barker. He hit play. He stood silently with his head bent over the phone as he watched the entire video play out. He looked back up once it was over. His face looked grim.

  “Let me take a look at this again on the big screen,” he said, moving towards the large flat screen television in the room. Fortunately, unlike several other items in the room, it had not been a casualty of his fight with Shadow. He pulled a cable from the back of the television and plugged the end of it into my phone. He turned the television on. After playing with my phone and the television for a few moments, the opening image of the Killshot video from the casino sprang onto the screen.

  “I don’t know how to connect a phone to a television. And I’m not nearly as old as he is,” I murmured to Shadow as we watched Mr. Barker fiddle with my phone and the television. “Do you?”

  “No,” Shadow said. She shrugged slightly. “It’s all geek to me.”

  Mr. Barker hit play again. The video played out on the large television. Mr. Barker studied it intently. Though I had seen the video multiple times, I still hated to watch it. It reminded me of things I would rather forget: that a wife no longer had a husband; that a daughter no longer had her stepfather; of my own failures and weaknesses; and that the Felonious Five would almost certainly get away with murder thanks to Eugene not testifying against them. Watching the video again with Shadow and Mr. Barker, I swore to myself yet again that I would not let Killshot get away with murder too.

  The video finished. Mr. Barker looked up at me and Shadow from where he was sitting in a cushioned armchair near the television. His face was drawn and sad. For the first time, he seemed his age.

  “There’s no doubt about it—that’s definitely Brooke,” Mr. Barker said. “The energy blast thing is new, but back when I knew Brooke she had the potential to generate such a blast and was working on developing it. I see she managed to do it. Even with her powers obscuring her face, I would know her anywhere. I was her Hero Sponsor and trained her for the Trials, after all. Her fighting style is as familiar to me as her face is. I had heard rumors she was earning a living as an assassin for hire. I did not want to believe them.” Mr. Barker shook his head ruefully. “Video doesn’t lie, though.”

  “Do you know where we can find Brooke?” Shadow asked. Mr. Barker shook his head in the negative.

  “I haven’t seen her since shortly after she was rejected from the Trials,” he said. “Her not being allowed to become a Hero devastated her. As you probably know, if you do not pass the Trials initially, you are allowed to re-apply in two years.” Mr. Barker shook his head. “Brooke didn’t want to wait, though. As long as I’ve known her, she has been a bit on the arrogant side. It was quite a blow to her when she was told she had washed out of the Trials. I had trained her well and she was as proficient and knowledgeable as a Hero twice her age. She expected to breeze right through the Trials. Even now, I remember what she said to me when she told me she had been rejected: ‘If they don’t want me to be a Hero, then fine, I won’t be a Hero.’ She lived with me at the time, and had since she was fifteen-years-old. She left two weeks after being rejected from the Trials. Left me a note saying that since she wasn’t going to be a Hero, she was going to go out and find something else to do.”

  Mr. Barker let out a long breath.

  “When she first left, I looked for her, but could find no trace of her. After a while, I stopped looking. She was an adult by then. She had the right to chart her own course in life. Since then I had from time to time heard rumors about a Meta matching Brooke’s description being involved in some murders. I told myself it couldn’t really be Brooke.” Mr. Barker’s face looked sorrowful. “After watching this video, clearly I was just kidding myself.”

  “You say Brooke had lived with you since she was fifteen. Why is that?” I asked.

  “Brooke’s family—her parents and her younger brother—were killed when she was fifteen. They got caught in the middle of a fight between me and a couple of supervillains. One of the villains threw me into a building. It collapsed. Fortunately the building was under construction and vacant. Unfortunately, Brooke’s family happened to be driving by. They were buried under the rubble. It was a wrong place at the wrong time sort of thing. It happened on June 16th. I’ll never forget that day. Brooke was off at camp at the time. She had no extended family and no place to go after her parents died. Since I thought myself to be partly responsible for her family’s death, I decided to take her in rather than letting her become a ward of the state. As I
had no wife or kids of my own, she quickly became like family to me. I eventually became her legal guardian. As coincidence would have it, Brooke manifested Metahuman powers shortly after her parents died. As you probably know, it’s very common for a traumatic event to trigger latent Metahuman abilities. I made sure Brooke registered with the Guild under the Hero Act. Since Brooke expressed an interest in becoming a Hero, I started training her in the use of her abilities. When she was old enough to fight crime with me, she became my apprentice under the code name Killshot. I became her sponsoring Hero.”

  “I thought a Meta was not supposed to use her powers unless she gets licensed first,” Shadow said.

  “Generally speaking, that’s true,” I said. “But an Apprentice being trained under a Hero Sponsor can use her powers as long as she is acting under his direct supervision when she is doing so. It’s so an Apprentice can get some on the job training, so to speak, in preparation for the Trials.”

  Mr. Barker’s eyes darted from me to Shadow.

  “Wait, you’re not a Hero, too?” he asked her. “Since you clearly are a Metahuman—no normal human can stand up to me the way you just did—I just assumed you were a Hero as well. You know, you really ought not to be using your powers unlicensed.”

  “I’m trying to get her to turn herself in for unauthorized Metahuman power use,” I said with a slight smile at Shadow. “So far, she has proven to be recalcitrant.” Mr. Barker frowned slightly at us, but did not say anything further about the matter. After all, he had just watched a Metahuman he had trained kill Eugene in cold blood. Those who live in glass houses should not throw stones.

  “Did Brooke give you any indication when you were training her she was capable of killing someone?” I asked Mr. Barker.

  He sighed.

  “Unfortunately, yes. You’ve seen my claws. Though they are more of an offensive weapon than a defensive one, in almost fifty years of being a licensed Hero, not once have I killed anyone,” he said. He shook his head regretfully. “Not directly, anyway, as the death of Brooke’s family can attest to. Brooke, on the other hand—” He shook his head again. “She had a bloodthirsty streak in her that I did my best to train out of her. She probably had some anger issues about how her family died which she took out on the Metahumans we battled. On more than one occasion, I had to stop her from beating a Meta to death. Once, she did kill a supervillain when I was in another room dealing with his partner. Brooke told me she killed the villain in self-defense. Even at the time, I had wondered if that was really the case. I did my best to convince myself she was telling the truth.” Mr. Barker took a long breath. “I wonder if I had done more—trained Brooke better, taught her better—if she would not have become the person we watched on your video.” His voice was full of regret. There was a lot of regret going around.