by Nat Kozinn
“Looks like her aorta was severed. She bled to death in less than a minute. I don’t see any other wounds besides the one to the chest, do you?” I ask.
“No. That’s a lucky stab for a mugger, or unlucky I guess,” Maria answers.
“Very lucky. And not only that, whoever did it knew they hit their mark. Otherwise, they would have kept stabbing,” I say.
“You’re right. Every stabbing I’ve ever seen had defensive wounds on the hands. Nobody gets stabbed once.”
“So we either have an incredibly skillful mugger who targeted a Different because he likes a challenge, or someone did this on purpose, someone wanted to kill her. Your serial killer theory is looking more and more likely.”
“They were waiting for the victim. Look at that pile of old concrete in the corner, the dust on the top is all spread around. Someone was sitting there,” Maria says. I follow her eyes to the pile, and she’s absolutely correct.
“Wow, good eyes. You don’t even need me.”
“I’m glad you’re impressed. I wonder if it’s because I’ve got years of experience on you, or the professional training and preparation,” she says dryly. “I told you, I don’t need you. It’s just nice to have someone else to work with. I’ve been looking into these killings alone for a long time.”
I slow down time to come up with a smart-aleck answer, but I’m stopped by the sound of footsteps approaching. Several men loaded down with equipment that jingles as they walk. Police officers and they are headed this way. They are already close. I wasn’t paying enough attention to my ears.
“Your buddies are almost here,” I say to Maria.
“You have to get out of here now. They can’t know I called you. That’d be the end of me on the force, or at least the end of us working together to try to solve these murders,” she says with panic in her voice.
“It’s too late. If I walk out of the alley they’ll see me.”
“You have to do something!”
I slow down time while I scan my surroundings. The other end of the alley is blocked by large chunks of old concrete. It would be difficult to climb over the rubble, and impossible to do it without making a whole lot of noise. I look up at the buildings on either side of the alley. The one on my right is five stories, half-collapsed, and clearly abandoned. I trace a climbing path up the building; I think I can make it to the roof.
“I’m going up,” I say.
Before she can respond and talk me out of it, I take a running start and leap up onto the building. I’m able to make it up to a windowsill on the second story. I shimmy over to some decorative molding that runs up the height of the decomposing building. Using my fingertips, I climb the molding up to the 5th floor, where a chunk of the molding crumbles under my hand.
I hear the piece of molding that broke off crash onto the street below. I stop and listen. The officers are close now, too close. I have to stop climbing. I can’t risk making any more noise and getting spotted. I freeze where I am, holding on to molding with suspect structural integrity. Before the other cops round the corner, I make eye contact with Maria. She’s not a happy camper. They’ll be able to spot me if they look, but hopefully no one will look up. The group of officers arrives, lead by Detective Rose.
“There she is. What’s a nice lady like you doing with a dead lady like her?” Detective Rose asks.
“You know how hard it is to make friends as a cop. I was hoping we could go get our nails painted or put streaks in our hair,” Maria answers. She’s got a dark sense of humor. I suppose it’s fitting for a cop.
“Looks like we got another Different out walking in the wrong side of town,” Detective Rose says loudly.
“Could be, Detective,” Maria says. “Although it looks as though she died from a single stab wound to the chest. Quite the shot for some junky mugger. Not to mention the fact that nobody touched her pockets, you know, like a mugger would.”
“Leave the detective work to the professionals. Any witnesses?” Rose asks.
“Nope,” Maria says with a stone face. She’s a good liar. She’s also really committed to this cause. Not only did she call me in, she lied to a superior officer.
“Okay, now setup a perimeter. You’ll have to find someone else to get your nails painted with,” Rose says condescendingly.
“You sure you don’t want me to stick around? Canvass the area and see if I can find any witnesses?” Maria asks, she’s really pushing it.
“Is this about your freakin’ Different serial killer theory? Get it through your head; lots of people hate Differents, but that doesn’t mean they are crazy enough to do anything about it. You can’t go talking about wild conspiracy theories with no proof. You’re going to have to figure that out if you ever want to make detective. You want me to think you can make detective don’t you?” Detective Rose says like he’s talking to a child.
“I do,” Maria says her gaze pointed at the ground.
“Alright then go do the job you’re trained for, tape off a perimeter.”
Maria slinks off. She’s fortunate; I’m going to be stuck up here for a while.
“What do you think she could do? Make her breasts bigger?” one of the officers with Detective Rose asks as he inspects the dead woman.
I turn off my hearing before anyone answers. It’s not something I want to hear.
I go on think.Net and start a call to Linda. It’s time to start making up some excuses. I don’t know how long I’m going to be trapped up here.
The muscles in my right hand are starting to get tired, so I shift my weight slightly, which has the unfortunate side effect of ripping the piece of molding I’m holding off the building. I try to find a grip for my left hand, but I pull off another chunk. I’m going down.
I land with a thud that bruises all of the soft tissue along my spine. Then a whole bunch of police sidearms appear in my face. I turn my hearing back on.
“The Beast Slayer? What the hell are you doing here?” Rose exclaims.
11
For a large corporation, becoming hated by the public is a sign of success. It happened to Ford Motors. It happened to the Union Pacific Railroad, Standard Oil, and General Electric. I could go on and on. Success breeds jealousy and hurt feelings. This has always been the case. Now, I’m not saying Ultracorps has been perfect, or that all of their business practices are always above board. But in the grand scheme of things, we all know we are lucky to have Ultracorps. It feeds, clothes, and houses us. If Ultracorps has expanded too rapidly, or taken over too many industries, it is only because we needed it to. Any ire directed at Ultracorps should instead be levied on the politicians who have failed us for so long.
“Look in the Mirror Before Hating Ultracorps” by Forest Brown, think.Net News LA
“This is not complicated. The hostage taker is a Different, which makes this OEC jurisdiction. What the hell do you think they made the Field Offices for?” Captain Murphy yells at my old friend Detective Rose.
“We are not going to be intimidated by some freak. Shooters are taking position around the building. You do whatever you want with your agents till then. But if my snipers get a shot at that lunatic, they are going to take it,” Detective Rose replies and shoots me a dirty look. He still hasn’t made any trouble for me after catching me at his crime scene. What is he waiting for?
Rose turns his back and starts talking to a group of a half-dozen officers, each of who is carrying a massive rifle. This is not going to end well.
“Can you believe that guy?” Captain Murphy asks.
“I thought cops only fought about jurisdiction in the movies,” I reply.
“You heard him, you’re going to have to take the Acid-Flinger out before Captain Cowboy gets everybody killed. Are you ready for this?” Captain Murphy says. I’m a little disheartened by how genuinely he asked that question.
“I took out The Beast. I think I can handle the guy who makes Sparkle Clean.”
Of course, what I don’t mention is that when I
fought The Beast I was crazy because I thought he killed my girlfriend and didn’t really care if I died. Even then I only won because Ben helped me and The Beast wanted to convert me, not kill me. You know what, I’ll go ahead and push those thoughts out of my mind. It’s like Victor taught me: I have to think I’m going to win, then do whatever it takes to make that happen.
“He’s up on the third floor. They think he’s got twenty to thirty hostages. He melted the stairs, so there’s no easy way up. He’s keeping the hostages in a room in the center of the building away from all the windows. He ordered everyone to stay out or else he’d start melting people,” Captain Murphy tells me.
“Give me your gun. I’m going in,” I tell Captain Murphy who considers protesting for a second, then shrugs and gives me his .38 special. Not much of a gun, but it should be enough if I need it.
I haven’t used a gun since I tried to kill The Beast with my .44 Magnum. We’re allowed to carry guns, but Victor refuses to, and until now I always followed his lead. I don’t want to shoot anyone, but even less, I don’t want to get melted alive. I hope I’m not faced with a choice between the two. I start heading to the front of the police perimeter.
As I walk by, Detective Rose shouts, “Watch yourself, freak! We normal humans can be a little mistake-prone. You wouldn’t want to get caught in the crossfire.”
“Thanks for the heads up. I’ll be sure to be careful risking my life inside the building while you and your buddies stay nice and safe out here behind your perimeter,” I reply. I don’t like being called a freak.
I get in front of the police tape and start making my way to the front door of the building. I keep my eyes trained on the windows, in case the Acid-Flinger appears and reigns down chemical death. Before I go in the front door, I take a look at one of the smoldering craters. The acid has burnt a hole at least twenty feet through the old asphalt and into the soil, and seems to be making its way through some bedrock now. I don’t want to imagine what it would do to my skin.
I head into the main entrance of the building, through the lobby, and to the stairs. Captain Murphy was right; Robert really let this staircase have it. There’s a smoldering pit of acid at the bottom of the steps that looks like it’s burning a path straight to hell. There’s barely anything left of the stairs. Even the walls are being slowly eaten away.
I see a path to climb up, but I have to be careful. If I make too much noise, he could hear me and start killing the hostages, or try to melt me. I also have to be sure that I don’t put my hands in a pile of acid while I climb. I start inching my way up the wall. As I go, I get an alert in my head, a think.Net call. No I.D. There’s only one person I know who can hide their I.D.—Nita. Why in God’s name would she be calling me now? It’s not exactly a good time, but I’m far too curious to ignore the call.
<<
>>>Gavin, I am glad you took the call. I was concerned that you would not want to speak with me.
<<
>>>It pains me that you would think me capable of such acts. I know that arguing with you will likely be fruitless, but I feel compelled to try for the sake of the friendship we once had. Gavin, I am truly sorry that I misled you about Becky, but that was not my intent. Perhaps you’ve heard the axiom “Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity?” This may be hard to believe considering my intelligence, but I do make mistakes, many more than I would like to. I simply misunderstood the information I received from the hospital concerning Becky’s condition. It saddens me greatly to think of the pain I must have caused you. My carelessness with an issue as vital as life and death is inexcusable.
<<
>>>I know that is not true, Gavin. Perhaps you can choose not to experience emotions, but there is no doubt you felt an immense sense of loss when you believed Becky to be dead. I know that I was the genesis of that pain.
<<
>>>Shame, primarily. I was ashamed of the hurt I caused you, and the fact that I could not do more to assist you after being an accomplice to your crimes. I did advocate on your behalf with the District Attorney’s office, but my arguments fell on deaf ears. I also used my position at Ultracorps to promote many positive news stories about your confrontation with The Beast. Those stories helped sway the public into demanding your release.
<<
>>>I still have not overcome my shame. However, the current situation necessitates me putting aside my emotions. I want to work with you to help resolve the situation with Robert White as peacefully as possible.
<<
>>>Robert White is a gifted Different, but physically he is no match for you. If you can safely avoid his acid, you should be able to incapacitate him with ease.
<<
>>>That is where I can assist you. I have established communication with a human Ultracorps employee named Betsy Auger. She is a former Lieutenant in the Army. She knows Robert well. She wants to help, and she is prepared to offer aid should the opportunity arise. When you need a distraction, she will provide one.
<<
>>>You are welcome, but I do not feel the thank you is deserved. Although it brings me further shame to admit this, I am not helping you out of altruism, or even concern for your safety, at least not primarily. Sparkle Clean is a successful product bringing in over two hundred million dollars in revenue annually for Ultracorps. Robert’s acid is a key component in the product. I am hopeful that Robert can overcome whatever mental illness has caused this break from reality and return to being a productive member of society. I trust that you will attempt to end this situation without killing Robert. I am dubious that the Los Angeles Metro Police would do the same. That is why I refrained from contacting them. I will keep our line open, but other issues are calling my attention. Think about me if you need help.
That seemed honest. I want to stop and think about what just happened. I want to go back and analyze the entire conversation to see if she gave some hint of her true motivations. I want to ask her if The Beast is alive and being held in a mine outside St. Louis, but there’s no point. If Nita has him she’d lie about it, and if she doesn’t, I’ll destroy whatever little trust still exists. There’s too much to consider and not enough time. I have to push those concerns out of my mind and focus on the task at hand.
It takes me another few minutes to make my way up the wall and onto the third story. Right as I get to the top, I accidentally pull off a chunk of the B-Crete that used to hold up the stairs. It scuffles its way down the wall and lands in the pit of acid at the base of the stairs. I watch it melt like ice on a hot water pipe. I try not to imagine what I would look like if I fell in that pit. I pull myself up onto the third floor and wait to see if Robert heard me coming. I hear screaming.
“Bobby, please! Why are you doing this? Whatever is wrong we can find some way to help you. Talk to me,” a female voice pleads. Her voice is calm and assertive. She has experience with dangerous situations. I bet that’s my Army Lieutenant.
“You don’t understand. No one does. We breathe their lies. Don’t you see? I have to make them listen!” An unstable male voice yells in answer, Robert. Something in his voice reminds me of that Heater I stopped a few weeks ago and the Speedster kid who went nuts in the restaurant.
It seems likely the Lieutenant is already
distracting him. I slowly make my way down the hallway, towards the door where I heard the voices. A scream stops me in my tracks.
“I hear you! You can’t fool me! Stop right there or everybody dies!” Robert yells.
There’s a crash on the wall next to me followed by a hissing noise. It’s acid eating through the wall. A massive hole appears right next to my head and keeps growing bigger.
<<
Nita doesn’t say anything, but I hear a woman yell, “Bobby, stop it.” Then she cries out in pain. I stand up, pull out my gun from my waistband and charge through the door.
“Freeze!” I scream. I’m ready to shoot before I get melted alive.
Robert doesn’t even notice me. He’s huddled over Betsy who is screaming in pain.
“Betsy, oh my God, Betsy! How did this happen? Stay calm. I can help,” Robert says with concern.
“Freeze!” I scream again, but he still ignores me.
I wind up to pistol whip him before he can do any more damage to the poor woman, but then I realize what he’s doing. He’s using his hands to dig the acid out of her shoulder. His skin must be immune to the acid’s effects. I keep my gun pointed at the back of his head while he works. It takes him about ten seconds to get rid of the acid. Meanwhile, Betsy has passed out from the pain, but it does look like she’ll survive.
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” Robert says over and over again while he works.
When the acid is gone, he stays kneeling. He looks like a defeated man.
“Stand up! Slowly!” I yell to him.
It seems like he’s finally heard me. He gets to his feet.
“Put your hands over your head!” I demand. I’m flying blind here. Victor usually handles the arrests. I’m trying to remember what cops usually say on think.Net shows.
Robert complies and puts his hands over his head. “I’m so sorry, I thought I was stopping the bad men,” he says.
