No Hero, Page 2

  "Who's the target? Which of us were you sent to photograph?"

  "I can't tell you that, you know that," I replied.

  "Who's the client?"

  "Again, you know I can't tell you that."

  We were at an impasse and she knew it. The thousand pound gorilla in the room was the fact that she was a previous client; I'd done work for her in the past. She had wanted to get on with The Bulwark, but at the time, they already had a stealth type on staff. A few pictures of the target, Kid Shadow, drinking himself into a stupor, and suddenly there was a job opening. She knew I still had the pictures and even though I'd promised never to use them, she couldn't be sure. While The Bulwark had strict rules about drug and alcohol abuse, they were even less lenient on extortion. If they found out that she forced Shadow out, she'd suddenly have a lot of very high powered enemies - well, a lot more high powered enemies.

  "Tell me this at least," she took a deep breath. "Is this going to hit the tabloids? Do I need to call my publicist?"

  "Nah, my contract is only for information," I smiled my most winning smile, which, I have to admit, isn't all that winning. "You know how much extra I charge to deliver printed photographs."

  She nodded.

  It wasn't a joke. I easily increase my already significant fee by a factor of ten or more to provide physical proof. Most of the jobs I take are just personal. They don't need lasting proof, just something to act on. Whisper had personal experience with my fees as she'd needed the pictures to convince Kid Shadow to quit The Bulwark.

  She took a breath (at least it looked like it, I didn't hear a thing). "Fine... fine. Just..." She spent a moment, "Whatever." She rolled the camera case over in her hands a few times, staring at it hard. She tossed it up in the air and caught it. "Fine. Well, see ya, Bob."

  "Wait," the shimmering gate that had started to appear under her stopped expanding. "A little help here?" I nodded down toward the orb still burning with blue fire on my lap.

  A small chuckle escaped her throat, "Well, would you look at that, a blue ball."

  "Cute," I replied.

  "Well, Robert Moore, private dick, I'd love to help you with your problem, but you see," she checked her watch, "the world hasn't been in jeopardy for a few hours. I figure we're due for an alien invasion or evil genius any minute now. If not, I've got a young girl to comfort."

  "Yeah," I said, "that reminds me, what's the deal? I never pegged you as..."

  "As what?" Her tone was icy.

  I quickly remembered just how deadly she was at hand to hand combat. "Ah... well," I cleared my throat, "are you two just, um, friends or are you working together now?"

  "You mean, is she my sidekick?" she practically spat the word. "Like I need one of those!" she laughed lightly. "Don't you remember what it was like when I gated you?"

  "I try not to."

  "Exactly." Samantha pulled down the visor and adjusted her molded eye mask and hair in the mirror. It was sort of pointless since the wind was beating at us mercilessly without a windshield to stop it. "She's a good kid, but she's not really ready to hang with the big boys."

  "Kid?" I retorted, "She's, like, six years younger than you."

  Again Whisper fixed her gaze on me, "You DO do your research, don't you?" She tossed the camera in the back seat, "Not even The Bulwark know my true age."

  I shrugged, "I have my sources." I added, "Didn't know your address until tonight, though."

  She glared, "This better not end up..." Her head jerked forward, then slowly dropped. "Damn."

  I smiled, "Yeah, thanks for the confirmation."

  "You know, Bob," the shimmering gate under her started to expand once more. "You make it awful hard to like you."

  I shrugged.

  "Well, you better get one of those sources of yours to help you with that ball problem. Later, Bob."

  "Ah, come on Samantha," I replied. "Don't be like that!"

  As she drifted into the dimensional opening on the seat of my car she called back, "Don't call me Samantha, Bob."

  "Fine, fine," I called back. "Just help me out here!"

  It was too late, she was gone. Now I only had one chance. I hoped he'd be awake and sober enough to help.

  * * *

  Chapter 2

  Twenty minutes later I was pulling up at the home of Ted Vente.

  When I think of a super genius' home, I usually imagine some sprawling mansion filled with all the latest gadgets plus some technology you've never heard of. What I wouldn't think of is a three bedroom ranch-style home smack dab in the middle of suburbia. Ted, known as Tinkerer to his friends and colleagues (and, frankly, anyone else who wasn't his mom), obtained the home as part of his reward package from his part in repelling the robotic crab invasion of '09 (a fairly local and, in my opinion, overblown bid for world domination by yet another in a long line of super-villains). He really didn't have much part to play as can be evidenced by the amount of his reward. Supers who are instrumental in the defense of the planet often receive enough compensation for a normal "tippy" to retire. Of course, like all supers, Ted thinks he was the lynchpin in the success of the operation (and will speak at length on the subject). Since then, he's been biding his time, as he likes to say, until he can get what's coming to him. A super-villain in the making? That'd be my bet. Luckily, he's young, brash and a little too easily distracted to focus on world domination. So far.

  The mailbox on the curb had a hidden panel that reacts to individual bio-prints (as Ted often told me). Again, not exactly sure that a bio-print is a real thing, but it seemed to work. I've never known Ted's lair to be compromised.

  I pressed my hand firmly onto the side of the mailbox. It looked and felt like real brick, but after a moment, my hand began to sink into it. A familiar tingling sensation ran along the palm of my hand, radiating slowly outward down my fingers. A moment later, my hand, again, felt like it was pressing against solid brick. It wasn't a painful experience, but it wasn't something I would look forward to. I always felt the urge to wash my hand afterwards and no matter how many times I did, it always felt weird for at least an hour or two.

  After a moment, a small cloud of mist started spraying into the car from the mailbox. A holographic face appeared in the mist in front of me. It was faint and semitransparent, and I guessed that from the street, my own head would completely obscure it from view. On my lap the orb hissed and crackled as the condensation landed on it.

  "Yes? Can I help you?"

  The bubbly blonde with Scandinavian features and perfect bone structure wasn't someone I'd ever seen, but that was nothing new at Ted's.

  "Ted, I need your help. Quick," I glanced down at the angry orb.

  "Hey, who are..." The holographic face studied me more closely. "Bob? What the hell, man, I was about to go out!"

  I shrugged.

  She went on, "Come back another time," and tipped back what looked to be a cosmopolitan in a stemless martini glass, emptying it. "Tonight, I'm on the prowl."

  "Ted, I'm calling in a marker," I replied, keeping one eye on the orb on my lap, crackling under the relentless misting of condensation. The flames had reduced slightly, but I didn't let that lull me into thinking that it was any less potent.

  "Man, you ran out of markers a long time ago." Her head moved out of the picture for a moment, reappearing a second later with a wide-brimmed, floppy hat.

  "Well, how about I give you some advice and you give me a bit of help?" I said.

  She looked confused for a second, her perfect lips pouted in consternation.

  "You first," she replied, her eyes suspicious.

  "Lose the hat."

  "What?" she looked to the side, obviously at a mirror, "I look fabulous!"

  "The only things you'll pick up with that hat are little old ladies coming home from church," I retorted. "Though a good, stiff breeze might let you fly for a bit."

  "Ha, ha, funny man. Checking sensors now." The girl disappeared from the projection and I could hear buttons being
pushed in the background. "Looks all clear. The boy across the way has taken to night gazing. I've already had to wipe his memory twice. Come on in." The mist and the girl disappeared. After a moment, the crackling from the orb ceased and I exhaled.

  In front of the car, the end of the driveway nearest to the home started to descend. The front wheel of the car, which was just on the other side of the pivot point, started to dip. As soon as there was enough room for the hood of the car, I started to pull in. A moment later I could fit the whole car through the opening. I pulled in quickly and the driveway retracted with an audible slap. This was quickly followed by a hiss as Ted's lair pressurized.

  Roughly the same square footage as his home, Ted's lair was fairly typical for a low-level super. A single level, it had a fully functional lab, a computer station with equipment we tippys only dream of, and basic living quarters. Ted had a larger than average walk-in closet that, instead of costumes, was filled with actual clothes. His two-seat sports car was parked in the garage that night, so mine was the only vehicle. It could have easily accommodated a few more cars, although that is because Ted didn't have as many mementos as a common super. Well, honestly, he didn’t have any, which freed up a lot of space.

  "What the hell, Bob," the bombshell blonde stomped over uneasily on her high heels. "Did you know your car's on fire?"

  "I was aware of this, yes," I stayed absolutely still. "I've got bigger problems right now."

  "Bigger than asphyxiation and carbon monoxide poisoning?" Following my gaze, she glanced down inside the car at my lap where the glowing blue-flamed coal still rested harmlessly (for now) directly above one of my favorite (and sometimes hated) parts of my anatomy. "Whew, boy, ain't that something?"

  "Yeah, it's fascinating. Can you get it off of me?"

  "Sure. Let me get the fireplace tongs," she turned quickly, almost falling as one of her ankles buckled.

  "NO! You touch this thing and it'll explode!" I practically shouted at her.

  "Tee hee," even her laugh was cute, regardless of how stupid it sounded. "Just kidding." She hefted up a fire extinguisher that looked much too heavy for her petite arms, "Still, this fire has got to go." She blasted the rear panel of the car, which froze solid in under a second. "There, that oughta do it."

  She tossed the extinguisher aside and it bounced on the ground like a rubber ball. It seemed to have a mind of its own as it took two more short bounces and landed right back in its wall cubby.

  "Neat trick," I murmured.

  "Huh? What?" the blonde cocked her head to the side in the most endearing way.

  "You've got to turn that thing off," I said, "it's freaking me out."

  "What," she replied, "not your type?" She turned and started rummaging through a drawer in the workshop. She bent over in a most unladylike way, searching for something.

  To say Ted is fond of changing his appearance is an understatement. I've known him for years and I can't say I actually know what he looks like. One of his first inventions (the way he tells it, he invented it when he was still in grammar school, though I doubt it) was his PPP. PPP stands for Portable Persona Projector. With it, he can completely change his appearance - visually. While he can project an image of any size, he keeps the projection close to his body size so that when he needs to do something like shake hands, the other person isn't trying to shake air. He also developed (or bought, not sure which) some sort of voice changing device. I've never seen it, but he can make his voice sound like anything. What he can't do with any skill, apparently, is walk in heels.

  His current incarnation was a stunning blonde with a strapless, backless, low-cut, sparkly dress that looked like it was painted or glued on. Her skin was milky white and perfectly unblemished. The dress barely reached her thighs and in her current position I could just make out a red thong underneath. The stiletto heels she was wearing were connected to her feet by thin leather straps that criss-crossed up her calf almost to the knee. She was perfect in a way that you only see in movies or in magazines.

  "Ah HA!" she turned a bit too quickly and fell over.

  A small, stainless steel device went skidding over the floor and under a cabinet.

  "Damn it!" She tried to get up, her ankles again fighting with the four inch heels.

  After a moment, she touched a point on the leather strap and they retracted into the base. She kicked the shoes to the side. Finally able to stand, she got up and pranced over to the cabinet. He must have programmed some sort of sexuality subroutine into this persona because everything she/he did produced an almost subconscious physical reaction. Unable to reach the device, she finally had to get on all fours to get her arm far enough back to retrieve it.

  "Got it!" She turned to look at me.

  I, of course, was looking at her - but not her face.

  "Like what you see, big boy?"

  I flushed involuntarily, "Like that's not what you were going for, Ted." I looked down at the orb. Luckily, Ted's persona hadn't caused it to fall off my lap. "Can we get a move on? I'm not sure what's keeping this thing from exploding, but let's get it off of me before it changes its mind. Plus, I'm not sure how much time I've got left on the Inertial Dampener."

  Ted sauntered over with the device in hand. As she/he got closer, I could see it was - well - a pen. At least, that's what it looked like. It was silver with some sort of button on the back and a hole at the other end where you'd expect the writing point to come out.

  "What the heck is that gonna do?"

  "Huh?" Somehow her confused expressions were even alluring. "Oh, this?" She held up the device.

  "Yeah, the pen."

  "Oh, I just used the case. Didn't have anything else on hand and I needed to move something that I didn't want to touch on short order." She looked uncomfortable for a moment. "The thing is, I need to make sure I don't get it too close or you might lose a piece of you."

  "What!"

  "Well," she depressed the button and a small, shimmering sphere appeared on the end of the pen. It was transparent for the most part though stuff on the other side looked distorted. "See, it creates a small stasis field. Inside here," she pointed at the sphere, "time essentially stops. I can move that thing off you without it touching anything. The problem is, if I activate it and part of your body is within the sphere... well..."

  "Well, what?"

  "Well, it's coming too." She looked apologetic in the most 'come get me big boy' kind of way.

  I glanced down to my lap, the blue flaming orb sitting just above my manhood, "Just... be careful," I looked away. "And for the love of God, turn your PP off."

  She leaned into the car, her breasts rubbing against my arm. They felt much smaller than they looked.

  "It's a PPP. You always get that wrong."

  I couldn't help but tense up as Ted sized up where to aim the Stasis Pen.

  "How's it being held here anyhow?"

  "I've got the Inertial Dampener on."

  "I figured," it looked like she was satisfied with her positioning, "but I didn't know it could do that."

  "You didn't know? You built the thing!"

  "Right, right, but that field is just designed to negate the forward momentum of objects directed at you. Like bullets and such," she continued as she pressed the button.

  The stasis field formed around the orb, which immediately looked like it had frozen in time.

  "But I didn't think it'd levitate an object like that. Weird." She stood, examining the orb at the end of the pen, her features distorted as the field passed in front of her face. "Maybe it has something to do with the nature of this projectile. I assume it is a projectile?"

  "Yeah," I opened my door and stood up. I didn't realize how tense I had been. I stretched my arms back over my head. My back cracked audibly. "Now turn that PP off."

  "It's a PPP. I swear, sometimes I think you do that on purpose." She reached down and seemed to put her finger through her dress at her navel. "Any requests?"

  "Anything with a penis. I can
't stand looking at you dressed like that."

  Her hand moved and her features blurred into a burly man with brown overalls and a blue work shirt. His face was chiseled and flawless with sharp cheekbones, big brown eyes, wavy dark hair, a deeply cleft chin and what I knew to be a permanent five o'clock shadow. He often wore this projection.

  "Why do you do that, anyhow?"

  "Do what?"

  "Dress up like a girl?"

  "Oh, a social experiment really." He went back to examining the orb at the end of the Stasis Pen, "I want to see what it's like to be a girl and deal with men."

  "Kind of a skewed experiment, don't you think?" I replied.

  "What do you mean?" He hadn't changed his voice yet so he still sounded like the Scandinavian goddess.

  "Well, if you really wanted to find out what it's like to be a girl, shouldn't you adopt a persona that was a bit more average?" I motioned to my throat.

  Ted nodded and touched his neck.

  His voice was decidedly more masculine as he asked, "Why?"

  "To get an idea of what a non-perfect woman actually goes through?"

  He looked confused.

  "Forget it Ted. Hey, thanks for the help."

  "No problem." He turned back to the workshop area of his lair, "You mind if I hang on to this?"

  "Naw, knock yourself out."

  Finished with my stretching and relieved that I was free of the flaming orb, I turned back toward the car. I flipped off my Inertial Dampener and sat back down.

  "Hey," Ted called out, "I've been meaning to tell you. I came up with a better power source for that thing."

  "Yeah, what's that?"

  "Oh, it absorbs energy from the sun, from particles in the air, from movement... it's pretty much self sustaining," Ted replied.

  "Sounds good."

  "It's a bit heavier."

  "Define 'a bit.'"

  "Couple of pounds."

  I thought about it, "I can deal with that."

  "Capacitors are a bit unstable though."

  "Again, define 'a bit.'"

  "Occasionally overload and explode?" Ted shrugged, "I think I got it locked down though."