Gigaheroes

Chapter Five

Chapter Five: Seattle Vance

“I want to know how they found us.” I demanded, nursing a beer on the couch. “Before I take a step out that door, I want to know exactly what happened. Otherwise, the deal is off.”

“You think I double-crossed you?” The audio distorted voice of Joker spoke from the laptop. “The Checkered Hand doesn’t conduct business like that. And if I wanted you dead, it wouldn’t have been the ASA knocking at your door. This was a freak accident.”

“He’s right,” Joshua said from the other end of the room. He was parked in front of half a dozen monitors and a scrapped together computer rig. “Some of the homeless in the building were trying to siphon energy from the electrical grid. It flagged autonomous security, and it just happened that a hunter drone was patrolling in your sector. Wasn’t hard for it to detect suspicious activity.”

I groaned and sank further into the couch. There were three kinds of spy drones one ran into in the cities. Observation drones were the cheap factory-line buzzards that patrolled the streets. Easy to get around, but they were still a nuisance with their facial recognition. Seekers were the happy middle-child, deployed for high-risk areas. They were still largely a non-issue if you had a decent cipher on you. Unlike the other two, hunter drones were the silent and invisible spooks of the night. Capable of seeing through anything that wasn’t six feet of concrete, it was impossible to hide anything from them. Thankfully, they were so expensive to build and maintain that there were only two in the entirety of City 57. 

“Perhaps you should’ve chosen a better location,” Joker suggested angrily. 

“You can’t throw a stone in this city without hitting the homeless. The abandoned buildings that aren’t occupied are either filled with poisonous fumes or radioactive dust. Nothing was wrong with where we set up. We owned most of the first floor, and we had the tunnel to sneak in goods from the harbor. It was perfect.”

“And yet my package is still under the floorboards of an ASA crime scene.”

“Calm down, you’re not the one who got shot with lightning.” I took another sip from my beer. “The ASA aren’t exactly staffed with the best and brightest, and I made sure your package was well hidden. You’ll get it soon enough. The only question left is payment.”

“You assured me your services were pay on completion, and from your previous job, I thought you were professional enough to finish our arrangement without incurring additional expenses.”

“Plans change. I lost good people today, and now I have my face plastered all over the city. I’m going to need certain assurances from the Checkered Hand going forward, especially since I no longer have my crew for the other two parts of the contract. What’s left of my guys are currently booking it to City 46. I want new IDs with full bank accounts for all of our trouble. I want a nullifier in case I have any more problems of the super variety. And I’m going to need a new crew, preferably the kind that only the Index can provide.”

My “friend” was silent on the computer. On the screen was a logo of a stylized joker card. The jester wore two masks, one smiling and the other frowning. I had never worked with someone so high in the organization before, and so far, it had proven to be more of a headache than anything. But the Checkered Hand were also one of the biggest players in the Democratic Union. If you wanted to move up in the world, that was who you did business with. 

“I agree to your terms. Now secure my enzyme and find me a candidate.” Joker ended the call. 

I finished off the beer and stood up from the couch. Joshua looked me up and down. “You heading out? I know you have invisible mode, but isn’t that still dangerous? Why not wait till this whole thing blows over?”

“Every minute I wait means something else could go wrong, and this thing is going to get a lot worse before it gets any better. After all, I’m a super villain now.”

Joshua nodded. He was one of my few friends from my childhood. The red-haired computer whiz looked like a textbook case of anorexia, even though he claimed that he was only avoiding the sterilizer they apparently seed the food supply with. We were both born of parents disenfranchised from the new order. Unlike me, he had been blessed with a legal genetic aberration, being a genius. From his little apartment, he had fingers in half the city’s digital apparatus. His place, coincidentally, also made a very excellent safe house since it didn’t technically exist. 

“Well, you can crash here for the time being. Just please don’t show your face when you’re entering and leaving, if you know what I mean.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” I said as I disappeared from the room. “I’ll be a ghost.”

…

As I walked down the dark streets of City 57, I saw they were still running my face on the giant billboards. The news calling me a Far-Right Extremist gave me a chuckle. They were probably already typing up my manifesto. In truth, I wasn’t an extremist anything. I was a survivor who did what he did to make a living. The only thing that made me extreme was that I didn’t want to be quarantined in Gen Pop. Sure, my parents were nostalgists for the old America. But America was dead, taken out behind the barn and put down like an old mutt, and nothing was going to bring it back. 

I stood in front of the apartment building. It had once been a luxury high-rise if you can believe it. Looters got their hands on it in the chaos after the bombs fell. Now it was just a dilapidated building among countless dilapidated buildings in City 57. I took a look around the front lobby. There, several police officers were guarding the front entrance. Drones buzzed overhead, but the whole operation looked fairly low security. They didn’t think I would be back. 

I jogged around the building to a nearby alleyway. There was a side entrance for food delivery and the lock was busted. I crept up the steps and entered the hollow remains of a kitchen. I left the door open to let the light inside, and I walked through. Peeping out into the lobby, I saw several more men standing around smoking and chatting. 

I crouched down even though I was perfectly invisible. Perhaps I was being too paranoid, but I was always worried for the day if my invisibility should switch off. I remember when I was a kid, I was washing my hands went I first went invisible. It was so quick and sudden, freaked me out bad. Now, I didn’t want to be caught with my pants down if I turn visible right in front of the police. Besides, crouching made it easier to conceal noise. 

I waved my invisible arm over my eyes a few times before continuing. I slowly made my way around the officers and into the carpeted hallway. The area was soiled with the usual trash and debris you would find at any homeless encampment, but at least it wasn’t a drug den. It was my personal rule to never set up shop near a drug den again. Nearly got my head blown off by a meth-head who thought I was Abraham Lincoln back for revenge. 

Finally, I made it to the apartment, and thankfully, there weren’t anymore guards. Checking inside the living room and the two bedrooms, I saw that the ASA confiscated everything. It was downright frustrating. The government was painstakingly slow in everything but taking your stuff. Well, there was no use crying about it. 

I took out my crowbar and got to work. I had to do this slowly and carefully as to not make a racket. Prying up the floorboards, I winced each time the wood cracked and split. I kept my ears open for footsteps down the hall, ready to swing my crowbar if someone decided to get too curious. It was tedious work, but I had soon pried open a hole. Below that was a gap containing a sleek metal box.

On the top was an indicator for temperature, and I verified that the refrigeration was still working properly. I breathed a sigh of relief. Everything was thankfully untouched. The ASA never knew what had been right under their feet. I grabbed the box and lifted it up. Time to get this back and get paid. I was back out in the hallway when I heard the wood creak behind me. 

…

I think I woke up a few minutes later. I’m not sure. I just know it wasn’t long. I scrambled upright, only to feel a sharp pain near the back of my head. Touching my hair, my fingers came back red. I breathed heavily, blinking my eyes to clear my blurry vision. 

“This is just not my day,” I groaned. 

“I feel ya,” a voice said. 

I looked up and saw that my assailant had dragged me back into one of the adjoining bedrooms. He was crouching over the black box, holding a rusted pipe. 

I was surprised he wasn’t a police officer. He was dressed as a homeless man. I blinked several more times. I recognized him. Name escaped me, but he had been one of the squatters in the building. I was certain of it. 

“I saw floorboards being pried up by an invisible man. Thought that was interesting. What’s so important that the Ghost came back to his own crime scene?”

I glanced around for my crowbar, but it was in the other room. I could try to go invisible, but homeless man would be on me in seconds, and I didn’t want to get whacked by that pipe again. I decided to play this one easy. 

“Listen, you seem like a reasonable guy.” I sat up against the wall. “I really don’t want to do this right now. How about we get out of here before the cops find us, and I cut you in on the profits? Say fifty-fifty?”

I was actually being honest there. I had put up with so much shit today that I just wanted to end it. But homeless man shook his head. 

“Nah, so you can go invisible again once you get the chance? I’m done being fucked over. Not by the ASA. Not by you. You’re going to tell me the combination for this little box here. I’m going to take what’s inside, and we’re going to part ways.”

I shook my head. “The item in that box is an enzyme. It’s a laboratory product, useless to try to sell it on the street. You need a buyer, and I’m your only connect.” 

That one was a partial truth. Most sane people wouldn’t have a use for it, but sane people were awfully hard to come by these days. 

Homeless man raised his pipe. “I’ll take my chances. If you don’t give me the combination now, I’ll beat you to death, and then I’ll figure out my own way to get this box open.”

I wanted to kick myself for getting into this situation, particularly because to get out, I’d probably have to kill this guy. I really didn’t want to do it, but at least it would fulfill part two of the contract. Two birds with one stone, I guess. 

“Okay. Okay.” I raised my hands in surrender. “Just… let me ask you one thing. I see you’re a low priority. You’re on the blacklist for pretty much life. How much do you hate the ASA and social services?”

The look on his face told me everything I needed to know. 

“All right,” I said. I nodded over to the box. “Slide it over, and I’ll put in the combination.”

“How about you tell me the combination, and I put it in over here?” 

“No, it doesn’t work like that. Look at it. It’s high-tech. It’s got a fingerprint scanner on the touchscreen. Only I can open it.”

That part was bull, but I needed to get my hands on the enzyme. After that, well, who knows what would happen after that. 

Homeless man hesitated, but he slid the box over. I quickly dialed in the combination. There was a hiss as multiple latches unlocked. The top flipped open, revealing a single crimson syringe padded by black foam. I glanced up, knowing I was about to sign this poor guy’s death warrant. At least it would be one helluva way to go out. 

“All right, hand it over.” Homeless man held out his hand. 

I took out the syringe. It felt ice cold in my hand. “Make sure you keep it refrigerated,” I told him. “It gets to room temperature, and the whole thing is ruined.”

“Stop stalling.” Homeless man tapped the ground with the pipe. “Hand it over now.”

I slowly got up, holding out my other hand to show I was non-threatening. I reached out with the syringe, making no sudden movements. Just as I stepped over to hand it to him, I went invisible. 

The pipe whipped towards my side, but I didn’t care. I lunged forward and jammed the syringe into his neck. Pressing the plunger down as hard as I could, I accidentally broke the needle. It didn’t matter, enough of the enzyme rushed into his bloodstream. It was too late for him. 

The pipe connected with my side and we both went down. I groaned, rolling on the floor. Any harder, and he would’ve definitely broken a rib. As it was, my side screamed in pain. I did my best to keep the noise as I collected myself and stumbled to my feet. Below me, Adam Mason—I remembered his name—was sputtering and shaking uncontrollably on the ground. 

I kicked the pipe away and took a knee over him. Rubbing my aching head, I looked over the man I had just sentenced to death. 

“Contained within the enzyme is a sedative and a paralytic to boot. Don’t try to fight it. It’ll only make things worse. As for what’s gonna happen next, listen to me very carefully. You can blame me all you want. You can try to come after me too, and there’s nothing I could do to stop you. But from now on, you’re on the clock. Most you got is maybe a week left to live, and you don’t want to waste that time chasing a ghost. The good news is that you’re going to be able to do whatever you want with what little time you have left. You may think I’m yanking your chain, but it’s true. Now, I’m not one to offer advice often, but I’m going to give you a little suggestion before you depart for dreamland. Remember the ASA and the Democratic Union and all they did to fuck you over. You keep that in mind.”

Adam sputtered out some dribble, but the light was fading from his eyes fast. He slumped over and his breathing slowed. I stood up and brushed myself off. 

Today had been a really bad day, but at least I got the job done. I was supposed to deliver a candidate to Joker, but this was good enough. I cracked my neck as I left the apartment. I wanted to get back to the safe house soon to catch some sleep. It was going to be a hectic week. 

Link to Chapter Six