Hero Stalker

Part Sixty-Four

A featureless face loomed in front of me. The unmarked expanse of head-shaped skin jiggled and pulsated. Jelly-like hands reached for my arms. Shock and repulsion took me over. I jumped as high as I could and clung to the rafters. Get it away from me!

Another blob of flesh budded off The Boss's body and assumed a human shape. The sight made my stomach turn. You're a superhero, I told myself, willing back bile. Then both creatures ran at Slasher, and all disgust flew from my mind. Those things hit hard.

I swung at the nearest creature and knocked it to the ground. It exploded underneath me like a bursting water balloon. White globs of human fat drenched my costume. The warm, slippery goo slid down my face.

Slasher dispatched the second with a throwing star to the leg. It skidded sideways and collapsed in a heap, fat spraying out from the gash. Casually, Slasher jumped over the greasy puddle I lay in and pulled his handcuffs from his belt.

"Attempted assault with psi-energy." Slasher grabbed The Boss's wrist. "Fat animation. Cute trick. Maximum Man did it better." He frowned and looked down at the handcuffs. They didn't fit around The Boss's meaty arms.

A fist shot out of The Boss's stomach and slammed into Slasher's jaw. He collapsed.

I didn't even think. Spitting fat out of my mouth, I leapt to my feet and sprinted for the crates along the wall. My hands found the flamethrower and brought it up just as a third creature lunged at me.

Flames roared from the nozzle. The creature vanished in a red flare twenty feet high. The smell of pork barbeque and smoke filled the room.

Satisfied, I lowered the flamethrower. A burn mark fifty feet long stretched out in front of me. Some crates near the back wall had caught fire. The Boss had pushed himself back against his Hummer. His hands were shaking and he'd gone as white as a sheet. He'd also lost weight.

Before he could create another creature, I ran over at superspeed and pistol-whipped him with the flamethrower. He went down.

I dropped the flamethrower and switched my headset to the PCD frequency. "Shadowcat to Slowly Street headquarters." Greenwood Heights had its own PCD detachment. It needed one. "Get me backup, a fire truck, and an ambulance."

"I'm fine," Slasher coughed as he got to his feet. "Don't need a fucking ambulance."

"Not for you. I think I dislocated The Boss's jaw." I winced as I fumbled for his pulse with my slippery gloves. Faint, but present. So I pulled the longest plastic tie I had from my utility belt and locked his hands together.

Slasher kicked over a burning crate. "You did this? Not bad."

Had that been a complement?

The fire department took half an hour to show up. The police arrived fifteen minutes later. The officers who escorted The Boss to the hospital found the gunk in my hair hilarious. Everyone in the PCD would probably hear the story by tomorrow. Including Dan. At least the press never came down to Greenwood Heights, so no photos of me would turn up in the paper.

We gave our statements and ran back to Centurion Tower. I took a dip to clean up and let the sun dry me off as I scaled the walls. We arrived to find Peregrine sitting at the table, a lost expression on her face and a beer in her hands. "You okay?" I asked.

"All my co-workers died while I went to Starbucks. What do you think?"

I winced. "I'm sorry."

"She's not the only one who does." Slasher popped a new throwing star into his bracer. "Peregrine, you owe her an apology. Cypher told me what you said the other day. I don't care if you were drunk off your ass. You were rude and you were wrong."

"It's fine," I said.

"Like hell it is. Peregrine, apologize. Stop acting like a kid."

Peregrine gritted her teeth together. Anger flickered in her brown eyes, and I didn't know if she felt it for Slasher or me. Her red-gloved hands tightened into fists as she stood. I half-expected her to scream so loudly the windows would explode.

Instead, she fixed on a smile and extended her hand. "I'm sorry. Friends?"

I shook it. Friends might be a long while off, but I could give her a second chance. Truth be told, I felt bad for her.

Slasher and I hit the mats and sparred at superspeed for about a half hour. After throwing me into the wall for the third time, he extended his blades. "You've got to start using these someday." Grinning, he whipped them towards my wrist.

I barely got my own up in time to block him. "You could've cut off my arm!"

"One day, someone's gonna try to do just that. What're you gonna do then?"

I shrugged. Sweat dripped into my eyes. "Throw a hospital at 'em."

He stabbed at my ribcage. I knocked his blade away, and we kept going. Part of me worried unnecessarily that I'd take his head off, but Slasher blocked every cut I made. Sparks flew when our blades collided.

I jumped backwards over and over to dodge his blows. He tried to twist behind me, but I met him every time. Once, I even slammed my foot into his kneecap and knocked him down. But he flipped onto his feet like a professional gymnast, countering with a vicious slice from above. I held him at bay for five minutes before he shoved me into the wall and held a blade at my throat.

"Shadowcat loses again!" Pulse announced as he and Femme stepped off the elevator. They'd been helping Harbor Control and the fire department set up the fireworks display for Harbor Day. Traditionally, they launched it from the base of Centurion Tower. The NSWAT boat that had brought down Cracken usually handled the set-up and detonation. Most other municipal boat captains didn't feel comfortable managing that many explosives.

"When will you get around to excavating the rubble at Our Lady's Will?" I asked Pulse. "We need to recover Harpy's body." I needed proof the bastard was dead. I needed to be able to sleep at night.

"That's why cranes and construction equipment were invented," Pulse said. "Next you'll be asking me to help you move."

"Shadowcat, I want you backstage at Venue Three by two PM. Try to smile. It's an initiation, not a funeral."

"I'll stay and guard the Tower," Peregrine announced. "I'm not up for a party."

"I understand," I said. She glared at me. Clearly, I didn't understand what it felt like when all your co-workers got murdered. "I hope you feel better soon."