Authors: Matt Abraham
“Whose code was used for these rifles?”
“Dane, it’s-”
“It’s never been this important. You have to tell me.”
He stared at me, meditating for bit. Finally he said, “The Sindicate. The buyer’s someone on their board, but I don’t know who.”
The Sindicate. Client codes. That was helpful, but nowhere near good enough. “I need to know who’s behind that payment. Call me when they come to pick the rest of the shipment up.”
“Not a chance.”
“Come on.”
“No. I’m not diming a customer.
“Then I’ll set up across the street, and wait for them to retrieve the rest.”
“Sure, you can do that, but only if you’ve got at least a week to kill.”
“A week, huh?” My heart took a header down into my guts.
“Maybe two. That not soon enough?”
“No,” I said, “it’s swell.”
#
I left Gun Guys in an interesting mood. The MAGMAs had to be involved with Pinnacle’s death, and the buyer was on the Sindicate Board. I needed to know who they where. But even if they showed up on time, one week was too long to wait.
And that wasn’t the only thing on my mind. If a MAGMA was the murder weapon then why was there no slug at the scene? How did they get Pinnacle to stand still for that impossible shot? And none of those answers explained the street clothes he was found in.
There were still too many unknowns.
I looked at my watch. A few hours stood between me and Lynchpin’s party so I decided to follow up on one more lead. I call it a lead, but it was just a possibility that I had to eliminate before I could be absolutely certain about the MAGMAs.
Chapter 20
Black Bleach was an old power enhancer that could boost any cape’s juice sky high, maybe even putting them on par with Pinnacle. The problem was it killed anyone who took it. Still, I wanted to be sure there was none floating around. The Prof said it was impossible to find, but the funny thing about that term is it doesn’t apply to everyone equally. Somewhere in the city there might be a loose dose, but the thing is I’ve made a conscious effort to stay away from the recreational pharmaceutical branch of black cape culture, so I’d need to locate a purveyor that specialized in the exotic. While there are a lot of guys like that around town, Despot was the only one who’d talk to me.
He ran a speakeasy on the east side called The Sugar Plum. Its entrance was at the end of an alley, hidden behind a blue dumpster. It was still too early for visitors so I had to bang on the door a dozen times and wait for over a minute before the eye slot finally slid open revealing Despot’s red gaze.
“Afternoon,” I said.
“Awfully early, Dane.”
“Well now that I got you, how about you let me in.”
The metal door swung open. I stepped inside and found myself in a narrow hallway illuminated by red light from above. Despot stood a few inches away. He was bald, and an albino, which would normally be a person’s most distinguishing characteristics, but both weren’t nearly so striking as the thick, black capital D tattoo that covered his face, and while a candy man like him usually wears head-to-toe leather, today he had on enough body armor to cover a SWAT team. “What do you want?”
“I got a question about some hard-to-find feel good making the rounds,” I said.
“Why do I care?”
“Cause you still owe me. You forget about Mary Lin?”
Despot’s tongue took a quick tour around the inside of his cheek. “Fine. But after this we’re jake.”
“It’s a deal,” I said, “let’s chat.”
Despot led me down the corridor and into his office. The walls were covered with glowing graffiti lit up by a blue lamp in the corner. He closed the door behind us and we took a seat on either side of his desk. On top of it sat a Boomstick, a cattle prod so potent that full-grown longhorns don’t survive its kiss.
“So what’s up Despot, you seem more paranoid than usual.”
“I’ve had some complaints lately.”
“That’s not normal?”
“Complaints? Yeah. But these are more like lethal threats.”
“Sounds serious.”
“Nothing I can’t handle.” He picked up the Boomstick and swung it around the office. “I had my walls and doors reinforced with sheets of Trumite to be safe. This place is like Fort Knox.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“And I’m glad that you’re glad, but can we get to it, what do you need?”
“I’m looking to source some Black Bleach.”
Despot looked like I slapped him. “Did you say Black Bleach?”
“Yes I did. I’m wondering if you got any, and if not can you tell me where I could get some.”
“Who said I was holding?” He pointed the Boomstick at me. “Who sent you here?”
“Nobody D, you’re the only pipe puffer I know that’ll talk to me. Really talk to me, I mean.”
Despot’s eyes turned to slits, and he gazed through them a good long while. “Alright, yeah, I do happen to have some.”
“Really? I thought it was impossible to find.”
“Not for me.” Despot dropped his weapon on the desk. Then he opened a drawer, retrieved a small vial, and tapped its contents into his open palm. “Here you go.”
I leaned in and looked at the small pile of dark powder. “That’s Black Bleach?”
“Amazing, right? We have to synthesize it, and make it liquid, but once used it jumps your grade sky high. Can you smell that?”
I inhaled lightly. “No.”
“Don’t be shy, it’s harmless in this state.” He moved his hand closer to my face.
I breathed in again. There was nothing.
“Here, one second.” Despot leaned in until we were almost touching foreheads. Then he blew into his palm.
The powder kicked up like a dust cloud, right into my eyes. I jerked my head back. It felt like I was weeping lava. “What the hell?”
Despot crammed his Boomstick into my forehead, and dynamite exploded in my skull. I scrambled backwards, hitting the wall.
“Feel that, buddy? That’s Head Trip. Uncut.”
“Head Trip? You said it was Black Bleach.” I rubbed my eyes as hard as I could. It felt like I had a handful of broken glass behind my lids. All I could see were vivid blobs and pointed shapes. “Why are you doing this?”
Despot laughed. “Why? You must be kidding, to get in good with the Sindicate, of course.”
“What?” I pushed my way into the corner. My eyes stopped throbbing, and I opened them. No longer was I just seeing shapes. Now they took form. I wasn’t in the office anymore. I was alone in a green field that undulated like deep ocean waves. I couldn’t see Despot, but I lashed out around me. I hit nothing. “How long does this last?”
Despot’s voice came from the far left. “A regular dose designed for a cognitive wears off in about three hours, but the uncut stuff, like what you have an eyeful of?” He let out a long whistle. “You’re going to see some crazy things, but only for a few minutes, because after that you’ll be blind. Now it’s time for me to jet. I’ll slide Lynchpin your regards.”
“Lynchpin?”
“That’s right, he’ll want to hear about this firsthand.”
Then I heard Despot’s new Trumite door shut. Which wasn’t half as scary as the sound of it locking.
Chapter 21
I rushed to where I heard Despot leave. It looked like a wide-open field, but midstride I hit something hard, and fell back. Getting up, I shook my head. I was standing in front of a stone wall. White water ran down the cracks, and pooled at my feet. I knew that was the Head Trip, but it looked as real as could be. I threw a punch into it that would wreck a truck. The Trumite held its ground. I gave it a couple more swats with a shoulder thrown in before realizing there was no way I could smash through it.
But I had to get out. Despot never lies about his product. I had only minutes before my lights cut off permanently. I ran my hands over the wall looking for the knob. Seconds passed like hours. Finally my hand wrapped around it. I gave it a twist. The thing moved about as much as the door.
How long did I have? I looked at my watch. It didn’t help. With one hand still on the knob I pulled the pick from my pocket, knelt down, and jammed it in the slot. I’ve jimmied a lot of locks before, but never like this. The thin metal twisted in my hand like a snake. I stared at it, willing my pick to stop moving. It didn’t work. So I closed my eyes, and proceeded on touch alone.
Moving gently I felt the lock’s first tumbler. A small twist and it fell into place. Another twist and the second followed suit. Only a few more and it would unlock. I opened my eyes and watched the rock face shift like a whirlpool as the thin metal pick slipped out.
Not good.
I shut my eyes, jammed it back in, and got the first two right away. Then the third joined them. And once the last two fell into place the knob twisted with ease. The door swung open, and I spilled into the hallway face first. Getting to my knees I looked both ways. I was back in Lynchpin’s office. Around me was a panoramic of the Gold Coast City skyline.
“What the hell?” It was Despot, somewhere on my left.
I jumped up as fast as I could. Big mistake. The horizon pitched back and forth and I stumbled to my knees. Despot laughed. I pulled out Rico, aimed at where the voice was coming from, and squeezed off a shot.
More laughter. “Nice try, blind-o.”
I got to my feet, slower this time. There was movement on my right. I spun towards it. My hand collided with a wall, knocking the gun to the ground. I bent over, and pawed the carpet. Now it was covered with water, the brackish kind in Bittenbach Bay. Stones and starfish were everywhere. I ran my hands over each until I found my pistol. I had what, thirty seconds left?
Maybe less.
I turned to where I was aiming last. The cityscape was back, only now it was red. No, not red, on fire. Gold Coast was burning. I shut my eyelids so tight a crowbar couldn’t get between them, but the vision remained. I knocked off another shot.
Despot laughed some more. “You’re getting colder.”
I focused, trying to banish the hallucinations. But they were too thick, too real. I couldn’t see through them. Then I realized I didn’t have to. I raised Rico up, and fired off a ricochet round. It hit the far wall and bounced past me. There was more laughter. I fired another. This time there was silence.
I sprayed the hall, filling it up with fast moving slugs from floor to ceiling. The sounds of ricocheting bullets were everywhere. They were bouncing past me all around. Two hit my chest. A third clipped my back. Then Despot screamed. I lunged to that spot. In mid-jump everything went black. I couldn’t see a thing. But I landed on something soft, and my hands scrambled over it. Despot was yelling louder now. It helped me find his neck. With one hand I squeezed while the other pushed the barrel of my piece into his face.
“Don’t shoot me,” he said.
“Fix my eyes.”
“I can’t.”
“How much time do I have left?”
“I don’t know.”
I whipped my pistol into what felt like his jaw. “No reason to keep you around then. Pity I won’t see what this does to your gullet.”
“Ok, ok,” Despot said. “I’ll help.”
I picked him up, and with my gun tight against his forehead he led us into his office. We made it to the desk. There was some milling about.
“What are you doing?” I said. “Hurry up.”
“I’m getting the stuff you need.”
I pulled back Rico, aimed for his mouth, and thrust the gun forward. The barrel shattered his teeth. He screamed around cold steel.
“Play me and I’ll spread your brains across the carpet.”
Some grunting.
More milling.
Finally Despot garbled, “Now open your eyes.”
First I clicked my gun’s hammer. Then I did what he asked.
He grabbed my chin and tilted my head back. Two cold drops hit my left eye, and then the right. I tensed my grip. “It’s still black,” I said.
Despot said something like “It takes time.”
“You better hope,” I said, and shoved the gun in deeper. He wretched. I blinked in rapid fire. Slowly Despot’s pale face came back into view. There was terror in his eyes and blood on his lips. I pulled my gun free, and tossed him into his chair. It took a whole lot of control not to kill him right then. “What’s the idea, D?”
Despot wiped his mouth clear of blood and spit. “What do you think?”
I swung the butt of my pistol into his nose. A crimson spray covered the carpet, and flowed freely over his chin.
Despot grabbed his face. “What the hell?” he said through wet fingers.
“That was an amuse bouche. Now start yapping or I’m going to serve you the full seven courses, why all the hullabaloo over a power enhancer?”
“Power enhancer?” Despot gave me a dirty look. “Damn, you’re further from the pill popping in-the-know than I thought. Black Bleach doesn’t enhance powers-”
“Yes it does.”
“No, that’s the result. What it does is rewire DNA to make you stronger.”
“Yeah? So far it doesn’t sound half bad.”
“No, not so far. But the Bleach doesn’t let off the brakes, and then reapply them later, it pulls off the brakes, cuts the line, and then mashes down the gas. Your powers just keep growing and growing, eventually eating you up from the inside out. Speedsters vibrate apart. Thinker’s brains melt. The mighty sneeze and snap their own spines. It kills everyone.”
“In every case?”
“Yeah, in every case.”
Just like the Prof said. “And how long have they got?”
“Sometimes hours, sometimes days, but dosers dance the reaper sooner or later with the smart money on sooner.” Despot wiped more blood from his face. “Jesus, I think you broke my nose.”
“So you get super charged and then the big goodbye?”
“No, not just any goodbye, pop.”
“Are you saying they explode?”
“Come on, I’ve told you enough.” Despot stood up. “I’m going to the hospital.”
I pushed Rico hard into his forehead and planted him back in the seat. “You’re going to the morgue if you don’t answer the question, do they explode?”
“Ok, ok. Sort of. Not really. Sometimes.”
“Make sense.” I lifted my gun like I was going to hit him again.
“Easy.” Despot raised his hands. “Certain power levels don’t react as well as others. People with super strength, like major strength mixed with high invulnerability, they detox better because of something with their livers. That’s why they can drink so much booze without feeling it. So if they take Black Bleach the organ kicks into overdrive. Until it explodes.”
“Out the lower torso,” I said, “right hand side.”
Despot looked perplexed. “Yeah, that’s right, front and back. Jackson Pollack everywhere. But that’s rarely a problem because Black Bleach needs to be injected directly into the muscle, and, you know, they’re already invulnerable to begin with.” Despot sighed. “Now tell me, why are you asking? Sindicate goons put the kibosh on it years ago. Scooped up every bit of Bleach off the street, and killed a lot of guys doing it. Since then it’s a death sentence for any scag slinger who’s holding.”
“So that’s why you pulled this stunt. To cover your own ass?”
“Yeah, of course. You’ve been seen around their people lately, I figured this was a sting or something.”
I rolled my eyes. “Great. Now tell me, do they still have any?”
“Who? The Sindicate? How would I know? Probably,” Despot said. “It would be a real waste if they didn’t hang on to at least a vial or two to see if they couldn’t work out the kinks.”
“Ok. Thanks.” I turned towards the exit. “And just to be clear you still owe me.”
Despot resigned himself with a nod. “Forget about the Bleach Dane, it’s too hard to find. And there are a lot easier ways to make a corpse.”
“Maybe,” I said as I closed the door behind me.
But that all depends on the corpse.