Hero Stalker

Part Forty-Four

I sprinted along the rooftops, heading straight towards Harrison's. Slasher had to be told—about Harpy's hideout on Arter  Island, not necessarily about the favor I'd promised Bayton's biggest gang.

The rain had pooled deep enough that I nearly slipped three times. Midnight had come and gone, but Valerie had just texted me that she was taking tomorrow off for a spa visit. Apparently, a masseuse could rub out the image of a man getting shot.

I radioed Peregrine on my way and asked her to meet me on Arter Island. Not naming my source made her skeptical, but she agreed to come anyway. At least some Centurions had their priorities in order.

"By the old dock," I told her, and flipped off the radio. My cape billowed out behind me as I ran along the rain-slicked steel rooftops of Governors. The streets stretched out in a grid towards the horizon. Streetlights cast hazy globes of light down onto the pavement. Cars rolled up and down the streets as I shot by. I could have jumped on one and hitched a ride, but I didn't want to damage them. Besides, they just went too damn slow. Bring your tiny electronic race car down here, Mr. Randolph. I could run circles around it.

A gap appeared in the rooftops. I leapt, landed in a forward roll, and popped back on my feet just in time to see the couple sitting under the umbrella. Shit. Reflexively, my stride opened up and flung me over their heads.

"You're ruining our picnic!" screamed the man with the beard as I streaked away. I caught a whiff of marijuana smoke. Hipsters like that had convinced me years ago to never live in Governors.

Twenty seconds later, I dropped onto the sidewalk in front of Harrison's and strode inside. All eyes in the room flew to me. The people in suits and the people in masks turned back to their drinks as it became obvious I wasn't about to do something insanely stupid. Metalhead cracked up at his table in the back corner. I ignored him. Serpentis pulled her prehensile tongue out of a man's pocket, leaving his wallet untouched. The PCD officers were nowhere to be seen. They were probably still busy in Orignal.

Behind the bar, Harrison stared at me with his mouth wide open. His six-armed partner nudged him in the side as I stepped up to the bar.

"Whattaya want?" Harrison said.

I met his eyes. "Into the back. Now." For a second, I just knew he'd tell me to get lost. But he turned and headed through the doors. I vaulted over the bar and followed him.

Old papers carpeted the back room. Hundreds of liquor bottles covered the shelves on the wall. The closest thing to a desk was an old pool table. A rack of guns hung above it.

"I have a lead on Harpy," I told him.

"Did you find it at the bottom of a Crackerjack box?"

"Bird gave it to me."

That wiped the smile off his face. "You met with Bird? Then you can tell me how many fingers she has."

"Eight." I really didn't want to know how she'd lost them.

Harrison cursed. "Fine. I'm in. But you should show a little more respect for my secret identity." He pulled off his ratty Bayton Heroes tee-shirt to reveal his costume underneath. His gloves, with their bulky panels full of throwing stars, had been hidden behind a line of rum bottles.

"If you wanted to keep your identity secret, you probably shouldn't have started a psi-bar."

"Touché." He pulled off his jeans, revealing his leggings and navy blue combat boots. His mask and utility belt lay behind a bottle of Absolut. "I thought Cypher's secret identity was the worst kept secret in Bayton." He slid a grappling gun into his utility belt.

"What's that?" I asked. I'd certainly never heard anything about it.

He laughed as he tied on his mask. "You haven't figured it out? That boy tells me he's been dropping hints all week."

"I mean, I don't really care what his identity is." At least Slasher's secret identity ran a cool bar. Learning Cypher spent his days banging out code in a cubicle somewhere would forever ruin my image of him.

Slasher lead me out into the back alley and pulled a tarp off his blue and grey sports car. "Where we headed?" he asked me as he shoved the tarp into the trunk

"Harpy's hiding out on Arter Island. He's using a chemical called cryothene to build a new machine."

"Figures a bastard like him would shack up there." Slasher opened the passenger side door. "Hop in, sweetheart. I'll throw in a driving lesson on the way."