MHP presents Epsilon!

 

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by Nicholas Ahlhelm

GameStop, Inc. The Dew Drop was a unique fixture amongst the soaring towers that made up New Salem. The massive structure, shaped much like a massive drop of water, sat atop the otherwise nondescripts Works-Center Building. The Dew Drop took the otherwise relatively short forty-one story building and allowed it to tower nearly five stories over its nearest neighbor, the fifty-seven story Steel Hall. Works-Center, responsible for the maintenance of thousands of miles of electrical cables, gas lines, and water pipes, offered very few points of entry. All but the main entrance on the sixteenth floor connected only to Steel Hall, the city’s hub for all governmental bodies, whether they be state, local, or federal. Even the otherwise empty Dew Drop possessed a connecting point to the main police offices on the fiftieth story of Steel Hall. The official reason was for the connecting walkway was security purposes. But for decades, the word on the street was that the police used the Dew Drop for any extra-legal activities they participated in. They were partially right.

Purchased and designed by subsidiaries of the Benton Holding Group in 1957, the Dew Drop served one very important purpose: as a meeting place by then mayor John Flannery and the vigilante known as Vengeance. Though Flannery and Vengeance’s connections traced back to the early days of both careers, it wasn’t until the popular police captain ran for mayor that the meeting place came in to being.

As Vengeance stood inside it, surrounded by tons of steel, flickers of memory struck him. Images of John Flannery, from his days as a beat cop with a knack for trouble to his days as a multi-term mayor flashed through his brain. Rancor raised an eyebrow as he watched his new partner clutch his forehead in one gloved hand.

“You all right?”

Vengeance nodded as the Dew Drop’s access port opened. A woman in her mid-forties, her red hair tinted with gray, pushed through the door. She wore tan slacks and a matching long coat over a white shirt. She looked like any plainclothes cop over the last fifty years of the city’s history. But she seemed strangely familiar. She did have the small ears and solid nose of his old friend John, but she seemed far more familiar than that.

His mind flashed. Images of naked flesh. His hands moved across a writhing female form. A passionate kiss to a young woman’s hungry lips.

Vengeance clutched at his forehead again. Amanda Flannery looked at Rancor. “I don’t have time for your father’s games. I will not deal with some mental patient in a Vengeance costume.”

“He’s not a mental patient. He’s the real deal.”

“Ando’s gone. Anything human in him died decades now. Eric died wearing the cape. The legacy is over, kid. We all let it die. It’s time to let it stay dead. You and your dad just haven’t realized it yet.”

Rancor shook his head. “He isn’t Ando or Eric. He isn’t even dad. This is the real deal, Ms. Flannery. He’s the first, the best.”

“Robert Benton died decades ago, Andre. I’m tired of this game. I’m tired of your father sending his under-aged son out to fight crime. That’s a job for the police not a teenage boy. And I’m sure as hell not going to let him throw some other chump in to a Vengeance costume to get killed!”

“That’s just it! He’s not some chump. He’s—”

“Shut up!” Vengeance’s voice pierced the sound-proofed walls and echoed through the iron structure. “Both of you just shut up!”

The memories flooded in to his brain as they began to straighten in to something more cohesive…

*****

August 1985

I stand in the midst of the carnage. The dead men carry the facial scars of the Deathmask gang, but the bullet holes in all of them are clearly the work of Geneva. The vigilante promised to “do my job for me” and clean up the city. I never thought his actions would ever bring me to this.

I didn’t know Deathmask’s current location. I only knew he held Amanda hostage. He only knew her connection as my police liaison, not as her husband and the father of the two babies in her growing belly. But I couldn’t let her hurt her, or them. I had to follow his ultimatum.

Geneva sneered at me beneath his heavy beard. The so-called “warrior for peace” aimed the Uzi in his left hand directly at my chest. I could tell from his stance and from the way he held his weapon, he meant business. He knew I was here to take him down, and he was ready to kill me to retain his freedom.

He didn’t have any idea how desperate a man I was. My wife’s life and the life of my unborn children hung in the balance. I could not let this man get to Deathmask. It burned against every iota of my being. I could feel the legacy of the costume I wore harangue against the very idea of doing the crime boss’s bidding. He thought he held the police chief, my closest ally. But it was my family. I couldn’t let him hurt my family.

“I don’t always agree with your method but I didn’t want it to end like this.” My hand trailed down in to the pockets beneath my cape. “I cannot let you go any farther, Geneva. You need to stop this now. Let me handle Deathmask.”

Geneva shook his head. “Get out of the way. Otherwise I assume you’re an enemy of the mission.”

I hurled a pair of shuriken towards him. They fell far short of hitting him even as he opened fire with the Uzi. He never even considered I didn’t mean to hit him.

The explosives in the shuriken exploded just a few feet in front of him. The blast sent tear gas in to the air along with a blinding flash of white phosphorus. I hurled another pair of shuriken towards Geneva. These struck him in the wrist and forearm of his gun hand. As blood flowed from the wounds, the Uzi fell out of Geneva’s grip. I leaped through the gas and pounced on his foe.

I delivered a straight blow to the jaw followed immediately by a blow to the right cheek. The loaded pads across each knuckle increased the damage, but Geneva refused to fall. I saw a glint of metal, but before the blade could do its damage, I brought my wrist up and caught the falling knife against the armor plating beneath my gloves.

I brought my foot out and around. I caught Geneva’s knee. Geneva crumpled forward. I delivered a staggering uppercut that sent Geneva’s eyes rolling in to the back of his head.

Geneva fell to the floor, unconscious.

I pulled the communicator from his cape pouch. “It’s done. Where’s the chief?”

Deathmask’s voice slithered from the communicator’s speaker. “I have her. You will meet me with Geneva’s body at the docks in twenty minutes.” I listened carefully as he rattled off the address.

I bent down and retrieved Geneva’s knife. The eight inch blade was clearly crafted by a master. It could easily cut through flesh or bone. It would be perfect for the job in front of me. I leaned over Geneva and went to work with the knife.

I made it to the docks exactly seventeen minutes after my conversation with Deathmask. I pulled Geneva’s body up on to my shoulder as I disembarked from the Venjet. The VTOL engines kept it at a steady level behind me as the security locks automatically activated on my departure. I could already feel the blood leaking from Geneva’s limp form seeping in to my sleeve.

I entered in to what clearly was a trap. The warehouse was little more than a massive empty lot filled with over a hundred of Deathmask’s goons. Among them were the skull-branded faces of his highly-trained killers, the Death Elite. Deathmask stood across the room. Amanda dangled a few feet behind him. She hung from a chain over an open pool. The water churned at the motion of the hammerhead sharks beneath her.

“I thought we had a deal, Deathmask.”

Deathmask’s burnt, scarred face contorted in to a smile. “I’m not a fool. Why eliminate one enemy tonight when I can eliminate all three? You did the dirty work and killed Geneva. I will take care of Chief Flannery while my Death Elite make short work of you.”

I grinned.

Deathmask actually looked startled, shocked at the site of the Man in Black smiling. “Stop that! Death Elite, kill him! Kill him!”

“I thought you might feel that way.”

I let Geneva slide off my shoulder. As his feet touched the ground, he pulled the twin Uzis strapped to his chest free. The Death Elite fell in a hail of bullets.

I sprinted across the room and flew up and on to the platform, only inches from Deathmask.

“You killed him! I saw the blood!”

My left hand traveled to a cape pouch. I hurled its contents straight at Deathmask’s face.

The blood packet exploded as it struck. Blood stung the villain’s sensitive eyes and skin.

As Deathmask struggled to regain his vision, I turned to Amanda. I hurled a pair of shuriken straight above her head. The flying blades sliced through the cable suspending her over the water.

I took a running leap towards her. I caught her around the hips. I pivoted in midair, yanked the hook-launcher from my belt, and launched it in the far wall. I heard the whoosh of compressed air as it shot out and embedded in to the concrete. I depressed the trigger on the launcher. It instantly yanked us both towards the wall.

I triple-clicked the trigger to release the piton from the wall just as we cleared the water. I landed, relatively gracefully, a few feet from the wall. A second later, the hook-launcher’s cable returned to its starting position.

I turned to face Deathmask, but the villain was gone. Most of his men disappeared with him. The rest were motionless in pools of their own blood, victims of Geneva’s rampage.

I left Amanda to catch her breath as I sprung down to face Geneva.

“Thank you for your help,” I said. “Because of it I will give you a free pass. Take your guns, leave this city, and practice your trade elsewhere. Or next time, I won’t stop when you’ve just fallen unconscious. I’ll beat you to an inch of your life and turn you over to the authorities.”

Geneva glared at me. He slowly nodded. I kept in a fighting stance as he turned and walked away. As soon as he disappeared through the front door, my attention was back on my wife. I helped Amanda from the building and to the Venjet. As soon as we were inside, I pulled my cowl away and kissed her. We wasted little time as we were lost in one another.

*****

“I—I—” Vengeance struggled to wrap his head around his thoughts. He looked at Amanda. “Was I married to you?”

“What?”

“No, I mean—was my son, was Eric married to you?”

She nodded. He could see the tears in her eyes.

“This doesn’t make sense. No sense at all. I can’t, I shouldn’t have these memories. Why do I have these memories?” He yanked the cowl down as he collapsed on one knee. “What happened to me? How did I become this?”

He felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at Amanda Flannery. She ran a hand gently across the side of his face.

“It’s really you, isn’t it? You were Eric’s father. I mean, it shouldn’t be possible. You should be in your eighties, but it really is you. I can see his face in your features. It’s almost like going back to when he was still—” Amanda turned away as her eyes again filled with tears.

“Really?” Rancor’s voice cut through the room. “I have the city’s toughest police captain and the Masked Man in Black in one damn room, and they’re both weeping like damn school girls! Come on!”

Robert looked at Rancor. He nodded. “You’re right. This is just another burden with which I will have to deal. If the captain’s up to it, I think we should get down to business.”

Amanda nodded. She wiped a stray tear off her weathered cheek. “It’s been a few years, but I’ve been here before. What do you need from me?”

“We need to speak to an old foe of mine that you have in custody, the Dapper Gentleman. When I beat him a few weeks ago, my brain was too addled to think to interrogate him. Now I suspect he may know more than I thought about my current situation.”

Amanda’s eyes strayed down the floor. “I don’t think that will be possible.”

“What? Why not?”

She met Rancor’s eyes before she turned back to Robert. “The Gentleman died last night. The coroner thinks it was a heart attack brought on by the conditions of jail life or old age, but he’s currently investigating the whole deal. In the mean time, I only have his personal effects to go through. He didn’t have any living relatives, so—”

“I need to see the body.”

“I can’t just take you in to the morgue. It’s just not possible to smuggle you in. We would have to find a way to take you down to the ground floor and we you’re not dressed for it.”

Vengeance pulled his cloak and cowl off. He handed it to Rancor. He took a total of six steps before he reached a wall of sheet metal and concrete. He ran his hand over the seam that joined the two substances. With a soft click, the hidden panel opened in to a storage area.

“Vengeance is nothing if not ready for action.” He reached in and pulled out a lab coat and a dress shirt.

Just over half an hour later, he stood by the police chief as the assistant coroner rolled the body of the Dapper Gentleman out. Robert looked at the captain.

She gave the scrawny young man a smile. “Phil, can we have a few minutes?”

“You know I’m not supposed to—”

“Please, Phil?”

He sighed and shook his head. “Five minutes. That’s all I can get away with.”

Amanda looked to Robert. He nodded.

“That will be fine,” she said. “Five minutes will be more than enough.”

As Phil left the room, Robert pulled a pair of sterilized gloves on to his hands. As soon as the door clicked behind him, Robert had a scalpel in hand, retrieved from the nearest table. He lifted up the corpse’s thigh and pressed the blade in to the flesh.

“What are you doing? You can’t cut in to the body!”

“Just trust me,” he said. Robert pulled the blade down to make a neat four inch incision. As soon as he finished the cut, he reached his fingers in to the wound.

“The Gentleman worked with the Dragon’s Skulls at least for his last mission. Agents of the Skulls often work as spies and information carriers for a variety of interests. They often used a subcutaneous storage device located in the thigh to hold secret information too classified for even their eyes.”

“How do you know the Gentleman has one? He by no means worked for anything other than his own personal interests for most of his life.

Robert pulled a small cylinder of plastic from inside the cut. “Call it a hunch if you want. But I also know that the Gentleman wasn’t one to trust anybody.”

He closed the wound and quickly sealed it with a polymer resin retrieved from his lab coat. He turned back to the cylinder and twisted open a cap. Robert poured the contents on to the working table. He heard metal strike the metal counter. He retrieved the key from the table. He looked at the small hang tag connected to the key by a chain. It read “Metro Station Storage”, followed by a phone number.

“Looks like we’ve got our lead,” Robert said. “I think it’s time I head back up to the Dew Drop, collect Rancor, and leave.”

“Wait.”

“What is it, captain?”

“I—Do you really have his memories? Eric’s, I mean.”

“Some,” he said. “I’m not sure why. I’m not sure why I have much of anything right now. But I do know that I have more questions than I do answers and that this key may be the only lead I have. And even the memories I have are limited, keyed only to the events I see and hear.”

Amanda gave a weak smile. “I’d like to talk about it with you more. Later, I mean. After you’ve went off and done your vigilante thing.”

“Can I take that to mean you condone our actions?”

“I worked with my late husband long enough to know what I can and cannot do. And I know that even if I were to expose you and Andre, it would do little good. You’re a legend, Robert. I don’t think anyone can stop you.”

Robert said nothing.

“You need to go now. Phil will be back any minute and I have plenty of explaining to do.”

Robert nodded. “Take care of yourself Amanda. I—my son loved you very much.”

“I never doubted it.”

Robert remained silent as he ducked through the doors and back in to the hallway.

Amanda held her head in her hands as she watched him disappear. Years of rigid discipline broke all at once. She collapsed in to a stool and let the tears flow freely for the first time in years.

Read the Notes on this chapter of Out For Vengeance!
Out For Vengeance, Vengeance, and all related content and characters ™ and © 2009 Nicholas Ahlhelm unless otherwise noted.
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