The Good Fight 2: Villains

by Ian Thomas Healy

  Her milk chocolate complexion was split up on her arms and lower legs by splotches of white. It was like portions of her skin suffered from albinism. She seemed more embarrassed than mad as he eyed the patches up and down her body. He wondered if she suffered ridicule for it in the past. He could feel the fear radiate off her body.

  She quickly turned and hustled back towards the bathroom. A hint of her rear stuck out from beneath her towel. Another patch of white covered most of her left cheek.

  Coop finally pulled his eyes away as she made her way into the bathroom.

  “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

  “What the hell? What are you doing in here?”

  “I’m very sorry,” Coop said. “Uh, I had a report of a suspicious figure on the premises. Uh, I thought you might be in trouble or something.”

  “The only trouble I have is from people breaking into my room and staring at me. Bad enough you broke in here. Do you want to start calling me cow or dalmatian, like everyone else?”

  “I—”

  “Look, Mandy and Loni might like you. But I know your type. You’re only about looks, Mister Barnes. I don’t want anything to do with you. Now I don’t care if you’re the owner of this damn place, I’m pretty sure it’s time you leave.”

  “Yeah, I guess it is. I really am sorry, Olee. I—”

  Coop’s stomach lurched. A wave of dread suddenly spread over him. He didn’t get premonitions often. But he knew them when he felt them. And he felt death coming.

  Romero.

  “No, now I’m really sorry, but we need to get you out of here. And not through the front door.”

  Her head peaked around the bathroom. “What are you talking about?”

  He could see she had slipped on an oversized t-shirt at least. It would have to do. Citizens of Key West were used to skin, so he doubted she would draw many looks. Even if she did, it was way better than the alternative.

  He ran into the bathroom and reached out for her. His hand wrapped around the white patch on her left elbow. “Come on, I said.”

  “What are you doing? You can’t just grab me and drag me off!” She tried to pull away from him.

  “Listen, Olee. I’m sorry this mess is happening, but your life is in danger if you stay here. He’s already nearby. If he finds us and we’re not ready, he will kill us.”

  “Who? What’s going on?”

  “A very bad man named Romero is coming here. Now we need to go. Right now, understand.”

  Olee met his eyes for the first time. He could see his words were sinking in.

  “Okay,” she said with a nod. “Just let me grab—”

  “Now.” He yanked her out of the bathroom and toward the far back of the room and the glass door there. It led to a tiny deck around back of the house. It would have to do as a means of escape.

  A crash shook the entire building. It came from the front entrance. Coop heard the door rip away from its hinges. The Cuban killer certainly wasn’t going for subtlety.

  Coop knew Romero would see the broken door. He would be here in seconds. They had to run.

  He yanked her to the door. He shoved it open and kept running straight across the deck. Her eyes went wide as he jumped the low rail. Olee stumbled as she went over it, but she didn’t stop or slow down. Perhaps she could feel his own fear of the killer behind them. It certainly felt like he was projecting it.

  He could still remember how afraid he was of Romero after their first meeting, where he barely walked out alive. On their second, Romero killed everyone around him, but left him alive like some kind of sick joke. When it came time to confront him again, Coop knew he couldn’t face the man for a third time.

  The feel of the sweat on his palm was still there as he stared down the barrel of the high-powered rifle. It was hot in New York on that summer day. But it wasn’t the heat. He knew how powerful Romero was. The monster made sure he saw it twice. Coop knew it was possible the killer could detect him even from his perch a quarter of a mile from the Empire State Building. One slip could ruin his plan and alert Romero. Then the Cuban’s assassination attempt would result in far more than one person’s death.

  But somehow Romero hadn’t found him. Whatever weak barriers Coop projected were enough. He sat with his sniper rifle, took aim and fired. He watched Romero’s head explode as a high powered round ripped it to pieces. He sat in his perch and waited for the assassin to die. And he swore he would never serve Stargate again.

  Only Grigori was back, Stargate was still active and somehow Romero was still alive.

  He didn’t have time to figure out how everything went haywire in a matter of hours. He put this life behind him a decade ago. Now he was running through the streets of his adopted city towing along a beautiful woman in only a t-shirt.

  After four blocks running, he pulled her into a beat-up old restaurant. It was one of dozens of seafood joints and not one of the better ones. It was almost empty in the warm afternoon. But it gave him time to take a breath. Coop wasn’t in the shape he used to be. Olee stared angrily at him, even though they were alone outside a pair of unhappy tourists and the staff.

  “What the fuck?” Olee yelled the words, drawing the attention of the entire staff.

  “Calm down. Just calm down. You’ve been pulled into something you shouldn’t have been. I’m sorry for that. I have a past, one I thought was long gone. And someone from that past is out to kill me. And he won’t hesitate to eliminate every person I’ve ever met on this island to do it. I thought I could get you out of the house before he showed up, but I was too late. Now you’re in danger. We both are. I don’t know if I can stop this guy.”

  “It’s one guy? It sounded like the door exploded.”

  “He’s more than just one guy. It’s complicated. Have you ever heard of psychic powers?”

  “You mean like fortune telling and talking to ghosts?”

  “Yes and no,” Coop said. “Those are part of it, but most of the folks you see on television are just a bunch of shams. But real psychics exist. And the most powerful can throw things around with a whim. They could tear a person apart with a thought. Romero, the man after us, is one of the most powerful I’ve ever seen. So we’re in a lot of danger.”

  “Let’s stop him then. Get a gun. Shoot him.”

  Coop shook his head. “It’s not that simple. If he sees the bullet coming—if he even detects the thought someone was going to fire it—he could easily use his powers to change the bullets course. He could kill you with your own shot.”

  “So what do we do? Wait here to die?”

  “I gave up the life he was part of a long time ago. But that doesn’t mean I was ever such a fool to think someone wouldn’t try to drag me back in. No, we fight back.”

  “How?”

  “We fight fire with fire. And I’m going to need your help if we have a chance to survive. Now follow me.”

  Coop turned away and started for the back of the restaurant. He didn’t bother to glance back at Olee, but he felt her exasperation as she turned to follow him. He passed the wait staff and went into the kitchen. He pushed a dishwasher out of the way and ignored the fat slob of a cook as he went straight out the back door.

  Olee ran out after him just a second later. He gave her a wry smile as he crossed a narrow alley to a door embedded in the back of the shop next door. He knocked rapidly three times. The door swung open.

  A chubby African American man over a foot taller than him stared angrily at them. His anger turned to a grin as he saw Coop.

  “Well, shit. You’re finally back for your stuff, man?”

  “No time for small talk, Jim. Let me in.”

  He gave Jim a slight bit of the nudge. The black marketeer stepped aside for him. The room was barely lit. Boxes, crates and cases were strewn everywhere. They were stacked to the ceiling in violation of every imaginable fire code. It seemed designed to lose everything you might want.

  Coop made his way inside and headed straight back to a suitcase he left
half a decade earlier. He rolled the combinations on each side until they read “1124” and “1971”, then clicked open the latches. He smirked as he looked inside.

  Three hats sat atop it. He pulled an Atlanta Braves cap and threw it to Olee as she stepped inside. He pulled out his own fedora. He hadn’t worn the old hat in years. It was out of style these days, but he didn’t much care right now. He slipped it on. It didn’t quite match his Hawaiian shirt, but he didn’t think the ten gallon hat next to it would look better.

  She held up the cap to show the interior. “Is this aluminum foil?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I can’t say it works to stop aliens from probing you, but it does confuse psychic reading. You wouldn’t believe the amount of research both the US and Russia have put into it. Just put it on.”

  She slipped on the hat. “I don’t suppose this place has any shorts to go along with this?”

  “Sure,” Jim said. “But it will cost you.”

  “Put it on my tab,” Coop said. “Just get them quick.”

  Jim turned and grabbed a box. He pulled it open and pulled out a pair of pink shorts. He threw them to Olee. “Those should fit. But I want to know what you and the dalmatian are into here, Coop? You’re not bringing any heat on—”

  Jim didn’t even see the fist before it caught him in the cheek. Coop’s hand hurt immediately, but the bigger man dropped to the floor.

  “Someday you’re going to learn to respect women, Jimmy.” He met Jim’s eyes as they blinked back open. He pushed out with the nudge. “Now forget that I just did that.”

  “Forget what? How did I get down here?”

  Coop offered the other man a hand. He helped Jim back to his feet before he turned and reached back into the suitcase. He pulled out a pistol in a shoulder holster. He quickly strapped it under his shirt.

  “I thought you said guns didn’t work,” Olee said.

  “I did. But I’d rather have it. Trust me when I say it’s better than letting him have us.”

  “Very reassuring.”

  Coop pulled out a pair of switchblades and threw one to her. “If you’re close enough to use it, you’re probably already dying. But don’t stop. It might be our only chance to end him.”

  “This doesn’t give me much confidence.”

  He pulled a walled out of the case before he clicked it shut. He slid it into his pocket and gave Jim a weak smile. “We got to go, Jim. Don’t open the door for anyone else today, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  Coop grabbed Olee and the two of them walked out into the alley. Instead of heading into the restaurant, Coop turned and started to casually walk out on to the street.

  “What are we doing now?”

  Coop grabbed her by the hip. “We’re looking like any other couple out for a stroll. When you blend in, people notice you less. And if I’m with an attractive woman, people are going to notice me even less.”

  “Please. You heard your friend in there. I’m a freak.” She glanced away from him, but she didn’t pull away from his grip.

  “I don’t get it. I think you’re beautiful.”

  “I have vitiligo. I’ve been slowly losing pigmentation on my skin before I was even born.” She held up her arm and showed the missing patch on her arm. “My parents were in the Panthers and they thought a little baby with white skin would ruin their lives. They named me Oleander because I was part white and poison.”

  “Shit, they sound like assholes.”

  She shrugged. “I grew up mostly with my grandma. They ended up in jail after they decided to rob a bank. They’ve claimed to be political prisoners every since. They weren’t exactly good people.”

  “Look, I’ve been covering up my skin for years. I’m in sleeves and stockings on every flight. I don’t like people looking at me like I’m deformed. I wasn’t exactly comfortable coming to a beach in the first place, but Loni and Mandy convinced me.”

  “You’re not deformed. You’re gorgeous.”

  “Right.”

  He turned and looked her in her eyes. “I’m serious. You are a truly beautiful woman. Yes, you’re a bit different, but that’s not hideous or freakish or anything like that. It just makes you more beautiful.”

  She gave him a weak smile. “I’m almost convinced. But I saw what you did to Jim. You can make me think things I don’t want to think. Or forget them.”

  “Yeah, I probably could. I used to be a real asshole about it. I used it to get money, sex, drugs, whatever. But I left that life behind ten years ago. And I did it in a way that made sure everyone I worked for knew about it. Then I disappeared. I came here to leave it all behind.”

  It was time for her eyes to widen. “Wait, are you telling me that Coop isn’t just a nickname. That you’re really—”

  “I may have hijacked a plane at one point in my life, yes. It’s not exactly something I advertise.”

  “Wow. I thought my life was odd.”

  The same feeling of dread fell over Coop as before. He knew Romero was nearby.

  “Damn it. We don’t have time for subtlety. He’s already on us even with the hats. Someone must have taken notice of us. Come on, we have to hurry.”

  He let go of her waist again and broke out into a run. His sprint took them through the crowd and straight towards the edge of the island. But he stopped short and ducked into a tiny little knickknack shop. A young redhead jumped as he slammed through the door.

  “Coop, what the hell?”

  “Rachel, out now!”

  “But my shift doesn’t end until—”

  “Now, dammit!”

  She ran out of the shack as Coop turned and pulled Olee close. He pulled her in close and kissed her deeply. Her eyes widened, but a second later she melted into him. She kissed him back, her body slipping tighter against him. He broke the kiss and gave her a lopsided grin.

  “What was that for?”

  “I figured if my life was going to end today, I might as well kiss one of the sexiest women in the world first.”

  She looked down and away. Coop slipped a hand down under her chin. He pushed her eyes back up to meet him.

  “It’s true.” He kissed her again.

  As his tongue passed her lips, the dread came over him again. Romero had found them.

  Good, I’m ready for this to be over.

  He pulled away from Olee. “Get to the back. There’s a little door around there. You can slip out. I’ll take care of Romero. Whether I live or die, you go find someone and live your life. And never be afraid of your own skin again.”

  “But Coop—”

  “Go!”

  She ran towards the back as Coop turned to the front door. He threw it open.

  “Romero! You want me, come and get me!”

  The building shook. He heard screams from outside as powerful winds suddenly shot across the street. But they were no winds. Coop knew Romero’s tricks. Simulating wind wasn’t hard for a powerful telekine.

  The Cuban seemed to appear out of nowhere before him. Romero wasn’t anything special in appearance. He looked like a slightly pudgy, fairly light-skinned Hispanic man. But he looked just the same as the day Coop blew his head off. He showed no emotion as he met Coop’s eyes.

  “Come on then. Come on, Romero. Come kill me if that’s what you need to do.”

  Romero said nothing as he slowly walked forward. Coop stepped back into the store. He wanted the bastard in here. He wanted to see Romero’s eyes face to face.

  “Don’t be a pussy, Romero. Bring it. If you’re going to kill me, kill me up close.”

  The Cuban moved with blinding speed. He slammed into Coop. Romero’s hand wrapped around Coop’s neck and squeezed. Coop pulled his hand up with the switchblade. He drove it down towards Romero’s jugular.

  His hand stopped in mid-swing. He felt the pull against his fingers. Coop turned and met Romero’s eyes. The Cuban’s eyes were blank. They didn’t move at all as Coop’s fingers slowl
y spread against his will. The switchblade clattered to the ground at his feet.

  His mind reached back to the files he read on Romero. Romero was a telekine and a telepath but he also possessed psychic control over his own body. He could literally reshape his body with only a thought. He used it to take other forms and slip into places he normally wouldn’t have access, but his new forms were never perfect. He couldn’t quite build the subtleties. Things like blinking and proper eye motion.

  “That isn’t you, Romero. Show me your real face.”

  The hand tightened around his throat. Coop gasped for breath.

  “Let me look into the face of my killer.”

  The skin shifted in front of him. The eyes were gone, replaced by empty burnt out sockets. His jaw was completely gone as was the bridge of his nose. His neck hung loosely to his head due to the massive hole where the left side of his skull should be. He had shot Romero that day, but somehow it hadn’t killed the Cuban.

  He wouldn’t make the same mistake again, even if he had to die with Romero to do it. He reached into his pocket and felt the wallet there. He slipped his finger inside and flipped the timer switch inside. It made no indication of activation, but he knew he had two minutes left in his life.

  “You can kill me if you want, but Stargate won’t let you off this island. They will enjoy dissecting you.”

  Romero hissed, the only sound left to him. Then he squeezed.

  Coop met his eyes as all air was cut off. In seconds, Romero would crush his neck, but Coop wouldn’t give the bastard a single sign of fear.

  Romero grunted and his grip slackened suddenly.

  He stumbled forward. Coop pulled away as Romero dropped to one knee. Coop saw the switchblade buried into the back of Romero’s remaining neck right down into his spinal cord. Olee stood behind the Cuban assassin, panic in her eyes.

  “I thought I told you to run!”

  “I couldn’t let him kill you!”

  “Get out now. Go! Go!”

  Coop drove his boot hard into Romero’s gut. It drove the Cuban to the ground. But he knew a severed spine and a swift kick wouldn’t stop Romero. He needed to go. He turned and ran after Olee.