The morning after
Speeding Bullet #2starting in the Terrace“Honey, you look all tense,” said the sultry siren as she walked up behind the bulky, hairy form of crime boss Ibac. “Is everything all right?”
Ibac turned to look up behind him, to take in the beautiful blond-haired woman. Her deep blue eyes sparkled in the rising sunlight as she handed him a steaming mug of coffee. He inhaled her scent and smiled almost wistfully, before turning to gaze at the deep oranges of the breaking morning.
“I’ll be alright, my sweet,” he answered in that hard, coarse voice of his. His thick hand took the cup, his other reached up to stroke the side of her pale face. “Just concerned is all. I have a major move planned on Sabbac’s people day after tomorrow, in Brick Town. I am confident it will succeed, but my fortunes have dwindled with the presence of Captain Marvel, and if this doesn’t work, it will cripple my operations.” He took a deep drink of hot liquid.
“If you came up with the plan, I’m sure it will go fine,” the blond answered as she leaned into the back of the man. Her full red lips pressed against his neck in several places. “I’ll be happy to distract you for the day. Why don’t you let me work on that big, beautiful, strong back of yours?”
“Not today, my dear,” Ibac replied as he drained the mug and set it down. He stood up and stretched out his arms. “I need to go and see to the men personally. You should relax. Go and take a shopping trip and enjoy yourself. After my plan goes down, you’ll be too occupied with other things.” He winked at her with a leer.
“Okay, sweetie,” she said as she stepped up to the gangster and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him long and passionately before he extricated himself and stepped out of the room. She watched him leave and then let a smile creep across her face. “My beloved will certainly want to know about this.”
Four streets down and two blocks over…Susan Kent Barr sat at the table with her mug of coffee and the paper opened up. She read the headlines and shook her head, face visibly upset. She looked up as she saw her husband, James, walked into the dining room. His hands rubbed at his eyes and he yawned with a great gaping mouth.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” Susan said with a grin. “You’re never up after me. I have coffee made, but no promises.”
James walked over to the pot and poured out a cup for himself. He reached for the sugar, and then paused. He turned to the cream in the refrigerator and stopped again. With a second yawn, he turned towards the table and began to drink the black coffee. He planted a warm kiss on her head. “I seem to remember you cooking that one meal in college. Consider me duly warned.”
They chuckled as he took a seat and pulled at the business section of the paper. He looked up to catch Susan scowling again as she read the front page. “What’s wrong, dear?” he asked.
“Another one,” she said sharply as she flipped the page hard and continued to read the article.
“Another what?” he asked again as he sipped the coffee and his face wrinkled up out of his control.
“Warned you,” she winked at him. Then she continued to answer her husband. “Another masked vigilante. And a very brutal murder, in a church.” She shook her head. “I’m curious to see the police report on this one. Never can be sure the slant this paper will give something. And I’ll be damned if I listen to what some teen-ager reads off a cue card about a murder.”
“I kind of like Batson, he’s a refreshing voice,” James said as he tried to divert the topic away from the article.
Susan ignored him however and just pushed the paper away. “Bulletman. Great. Well, I got Captain Marvel on the run, I’ll get this guy next.”
James took a deep gulp of the coffee as his face screwed up in reaction. “Bulletman? Er, what kind of dumb name is that?” James asked in a quiet, nervous voice. “And what’s wrong with these…with Captain Marvel? You still haven’t explained that.”
Susan looked up at her husband sharply. “We have laws. We have appointed guardians of the law. Police, attorneys, judges. Juries are impaneled. This is the way we work. Just because someone discovers they can fly, or bench press a truck doesn’t mean they can become the law. I don’t see how you can feel safe with these self-appointed…gods running around deciding how and when to operate. What about civil liberties? What about rights and due process?”
James sighed as he listened to Susan. He shook his head a bit and rubbed his forehead. “Honey, I believe in all that. But not all of them are like that. This Captain Marvel, he tries hard to work with the police. Others do it too. Maybe this Bulletman was working with Farley and Doherty on that scene?”
She stared up at him and then finished her coffee. She stood up and grabbed her attaché case. “There are ways to do these things, and I’ll not have some guy with a lightning bolt on his chest decide how the law in this city works. He wants to work with us, then he can do it the right way, and not just force himself in like some self-assigned avenger.” She walked around the table and gave her husband a kiss on the lips. “I’ve got to get going. Good luck down in the lab today, dear.”
“Yeah, don’t go frothing at the mouth at work, love,” James replied as he got up and gave her a hug and kissed her back. “Looking rabid never goes over well with the voters,” he teased her as he watched her head for the door.
She stopped as she stepped through the doorjamb and turned back to James. “Honey? How did you know which detectives were on the case? That’s not even mentioned in the paper?”
James stared at his wife in shock. He sipped his coffee and winced again, before answering. “You mentioned them last night, and I guess they’re just the names I had in mind. Lucky guess?”
She stared at him and then narrowed her eyes. “Gotta run. I’ll talk to you later, dear.” She turned and let the door close behind her.
James sank into his chair and rubbed his forehead again. “Practicing powers, yes. I knew that. Practicing secret identity tricks though, that took me by surprise. Now I hope I get to meet Captain Marvel just for the private life tips.”
Swayze CircleHenry Kitchens stood on the roof of police headquarters, irritably searching the sky as he felt the stiff breeze tug at him. Puffy white clouds skittered across a blue mid-day sky as he stopped and focused on the incoming red blur until moments later, he was staring up into the strong, pleasant face of Captain Marvel.
“Thanks for meeting me, Chief,” Captain Marvel said politely as he put out his hand to shake.
Kitchens shook the hero’s hand and nodded grimly. “Kent’s determined to have you brought in for interfering in police business. It could be my job if we’re spotted talking, so we’d better make this fast. What did you need to talk to me about?”
“I’m getting close to putting an end to both Ibac and Sabbac,” Captain Marvel answered. “I’m hoping to get some answers from a reliable source, and when I’m back, we should be able to wrap this up.”
“Reliable source? Who’s this reliable source?” Kitchens asked quizzically.
“Too long a story to explain, sir,” Captain Marvel answered. “You’ll just have to trust me. While I’m gone though, I must urge you to avoid either of them. Keep your men out of the line of fire. Both these guys are getting desperate, and they’re just too powerful. We’ll come up with a game plan once I’ve got the information I need.”
“Really?” Kitchens just asked almost stunned. “So you’re telling me that my men shouldn’t do their jobs until you say?”
“Not how I meant it to sound, sir,” Captain Marvel replied, trying to mollify the police chief. “It’s just that these guys are not normal people, and I don’t want anyone getting hurt. You have to believe me, it’s for the best that you just keep your activities routine until I get back.”
“And how long are you supposed to be gone?” Kitchens asked as the irritation in his voice grew stronger.
“Not sure. Shouldn’t be too long though.”
“Maybe it’s time you took off then,” Kitchens grumbled. “Before someone finds out you’re here. Or that I’m not really running my department anymore. As for your advice, I’m going to have my men do their job, so if you get any important information, you’d better bring it back in damn quick.”
Captain Marvel sighed and nodded. “Right. Sorry about this, sir. Just have patience and trust me is all.”
“You’re asking an awful lot, so don’t abuse that trust,” Kitchens said as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Of course.” With that, Captain Marvel lifted off into the sky and sped off in a blur. Kitchens just stood in place for a few minutes longer before hunching his shoulders and heading back into the building.
Somewhere ElseChristopher Freeman felt completely alone. Around him was a space absent of all landscape, just a gray, empty expanse, with him at the apparent center, though he couldn’t be sure of that. He just knew that it surrounded him with no sense of up and down, left and right, no horizon and no boundaries. He was very unnerved at this, after spending an unknown amount of time with only darkness, to find just a gray nothing that clutched him.
“Greetings,” spoke a disembodied voice that seemed to ring across the landscape and rattled the young man. Christopher looked around, but could see nothing.
“Who’s there?” he asked in fear.
“I am,” responded the voice. “You may call me Mister Keeper. A close enough approximation of my form and function in your method of perception.”
“What the hell are you saying?” Kit shot back. His hands curled up into fists, and he knew his heart should be racing, so it scared him more to realize that it wasn’t. Nor was he breathing heavily, or sweating, or any of the reactions his fear should be generating.
“I am a spirit guide,” Mister Keeper explained. “I am here to lead you to the Afterlife, Frederick Freeman. Welcome.”
“The Afterlife? I’m dead?” Kit practically shouted. “I’m dead and Heaven is a big blob of…nothing?”
“No, no. Not at all. Well, I mean yes, you are dead. But no, the Afterlife is not a ‘blob of nothing’. You just perceive as such right now because you had no preconceived notions.” Mister Keeper’s voice continued to resonate around the young man as the words acted almost like a soft blanket on a crying baby. Despite his panic, Kit felt himself nodding and calming down. “It would appear that you were…not a believer. In any particular faith. So until your consciousness pieces together a method for you to interact with the Afterlife, you see nothing but a blank canvas. Kind of fortunate in a way, Frederick.”
“Oh? Why’s that?” Kit shot back.
“Because if you let me guide you, you can turn how you interact with your Afterlife into anything you want. There are many who are trapped by the constraints of Ephemeral Beliefs in regards to their perceptions, Frederick.”
“Stop calling me Frederick, okay? Damn, if I’m dead at least call me by my name.” Kit found he was getting more relaxed about the idea of being dead as he recalled the beating from Sabbac. This must have been the result, and he felt bad knowing he wouldn’t see his cousin ever again, but he also found himself growing more annoyed at being referred to by his cousin’s name.
“But why? You are Frederick Freeman, aged fourteen, killed by mortal violence,” Mister Keeper rattled off in a confused voice.
”No. Not at all. I’m Christopher Freeman. Though everyone calls me Kit, so you can as well, if you like.”
“Christopher?” There was a long silence.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Because you should still be alive. You live for another seventy years.” The voice was growing more concerned with each passing moment, whatever a moment was in this nowhere.
“Um, you just told me I was dead.”
“This is bad. Bad. Bad. Oh dear.” Mister Keeper sounded very worried now.
“Well, just shoot me back down to Earth then,” Kit offered up. “I mean, I’m more than happy to be alive again.”
“It doesn’t work that way. Not at all. Not at this point, it can’t be done.” Kit’s imagination easily took the tone of voice and pictured a nervous pacing, a wringing of hands. The image made him chuckle.
“Oh come on. Sure it can.”
“No. No it can’t. I’m very sorry, Christopher.”
“I’m dead from red tape? I died from a bureaucratic screw-up?” Kit practically screamed.
“Oh dear.”
Back at Police Headquarters“Chief?”
Detective Victor Farley peered into the office of his superior cautiously. He had heard the chief stomp down through the hall earlier in the day, and now the late afternoon sun framed Henry Kitchens with lengthening shadows that seemed to match his mood.
“What is it, detective?” Kitchens asked in a low, weary voice.
“The Freeman kid is here, he says he has new information about Tim Karnes,” Farley replied slowly.
“So? Follow up on it. It’s your case.”
“But, sir, he says that this Karnes kid, he is Sabbac,” Farley continued.
Kitchens slowly stood up and walked around the desk until he stood toe-to-toe with the lanky police detective. “Is this for real?”
Farley nodded before continuing. “Apparently, according to Freeman, he can change back and forth. Which is why we can’t find Sabbac, despite his bizarre appearance. Because he spends most of his time as some normal looking punk kid.”
Kitchens stroked his chin as he took in the information. “Freeman can lead us to Karnes’ whereabouts?”
Again, Farley nodded. “Yeah. Apparently, going through his cousin’s papers after the funeral, he had an apartment in the Plaza that went to Karnes, way back after the original ‘accident’.” Farley made small quotation marks in the air around the final word. When he saw the confused look in Kitchens’s face, he hastily explained, “Back when the Freemans and this Karnes kid lost their parents. Which Kit Freeman insisted was because of Karnes in the first place.”
“Well, isn’t this a break,” Kitchens muttered. He glanced to the roof, as he recalled the earlier conversation with Captain Marvel and sighed. “Okay, here’s what we do. Set up surveillance on this apartment. Let’s see if the kid is right. If he is, we get together a task force and hit the place, and hit it hard. Got it, Farley?”
Farley nodded and headed off to carry out the instructions. Kitchens turned back to the desk and rifled through some papers endlessly. Churning through his mind was the thought,
I’m trusting you to get back quick on this, Marvel.The PlazaMinerva stood at the desk of Betty Sommersley and stared at the middle-aged woman with something close to panic in her eyes.
“What do you mean Billy Batson isn’t around?” Minerva asked as she ran a hand nervously through the strawberry-blond hair.
Betty sighed and looked back up at the young, attractive woman, and tried to remain polite despite the late hour. “I’m sorry but Mr. Batson has taken a few days personal time. I believe in order to prepare for a term paper, or quarterly tests or something of the like. I’ll take a message for him if you like, Miss…”
“Minerva,” she answered the secretary hastily and then backed up a couple of steps and paused as she tried to figure out what to do. “It’s okay. I…just tell him I need to get in touch with our mutual friend. As soon as possible, it’s very important.” She rifled through her purse and pulled out a small card. “Here’s a number he can reach me at.” Minerva walked forward, close enough to toss it onto Betty’s desk before pivoting on one foot and heading to the elevators.
“Sorry again, Miss Minerva,” Betty called out as she took the card and made a small note. She watched the doors close and remove Minerva from her sight. “Strange.” She leaned over and picked up the phone, dialing in the number to Billy’s apartment.
Down in the lobby, the elevator opened to disgorge its passengers, Minerva being the last of them to step out. She walked towards the main entrance quickly, but was soon overtaken by a pair of rough-looking men. They wore nondescript, wrinkled clothing of sweats and jackets and jeans, and flanked the nervous woman.
“Okay, sister,” said one in a low, growling voice. He slipped his arm around hers and started to direct her as they left the building. The late evening sky darkened the city, beginning the wave of electric lights to cut the settling gloom. The two men walked their unwilling charge towards a waiting car. “We don’t know how you did this disguise number, but we’ve been following you since you left the house.”
“What do you mean?” she asked as she tried to pull away from the man holding her. She bumped into the man in the jacket, and felt the hard metal lump indicating a gun, and shuddered. “I don’t know you guys. Please just let me go.”
“Not a chance,” growled the man with the gun. “We don’t know how you changed up so good, but we know you’re Tawny. Boss Ibac had us trailing you all day. We know you’re the leak, and we’re here to plug it up. Later, we’ll dig up the Batson kid. You two can go have a long nap together in the harbor.”
“Boss Ibac?” Minerva asked as she was roughly shoved into the back seat of the car. After the other two had entered with her, a third man, a short balding man at the driver’s wheel, sped off.
“Give it up!” the gunman ordered. “It just doesn’t matter. The jig’s up, we know you’re her, we know you been ratting out to someone and now we know who. Which means, according to the boss, we don’t need you no more.” He slipped the ugly piece of metal from his jacket. The long cylinder of the silencer pointed into her ribs. “No talking’s getting you out of this.”
Minerva cried out in pain, her eyes going wide for an eternal moment of fear and shock until they closed again as two soft thumps made her side jerk. She slid into the other man, limp and unresponsive as the car threaded through the city traffic.
A short time later, the body of Minerva was splashing into the waters of Harbordown, reflecting the black of night to the three killers.
“Got time for a brew?” the bald man asked as he turned back to the car.
“Yeah, I got time for one. Let’s go, Mike.”
