She gave me the stink-eye. "You the mook paying the bill?"
"Sure am."
Her expression changed to a sour smirk. "Then I believe there's something we can do to help you out, Mr. Trubble."
Chapter 5: Harmed and Dangerous
Poddar's eyes snapped open, and he sat up in the hospital bed, gasping. "Mick, look out—" He blinked, staring at his clinical surroundings. "What…happened?"
I chewed the end of my gasper where I stood in the corner. "You got your ass handed to you is what happened. Not to worry — happens to the best of us, Ace."
"Mick? Who was the man that attacked us?"
"Name's Kilgore. Count yourself lucky to still be breathing. A lot of people aren't tonight. The guy just blew up the New Haven Power headquarters not too long ago."
"What?"
"That's right. How are you feeling?"
He stretched, grimacing. I understood how he felt — accelerated healing hurts nearly as bad as the injuries. "Sore, but fine, I guess."
"Good. Because you had a broken sternum, cracked ribs, a ruptured kidney, multiple contusions, and a concussion when Benny brought you in here."
He examined the fading bruises on his chiseled chest and arms. "How long have I been out?"
"Less than twenty-four."
"That's impossible."
"Not with the healing accelerants they pumped into you. I figured you might wanna ride with me on a payback tour if you're up to it. "
"Healing accelerants? Aren't those dangerous?"
"Well, the ones I took nearly killed me. But the ones they administered to you were more up-to-date. The quacks said there was only a fifty-five percent possibility you might reject the procedure and go into cardiac arrest. You didn't. So, get dressed and let's light some fires. We got an entire Haven to save."
Benny leaped up from his chair, eyes wide when I came out with Poddar in tow. "What in the — youse guys leaving already?"
"Yeah, we're not the patient types, Benny. Listen up: I need you to go to your uncle and arrange a sit-down with the other family heads. Gotta be pronto — one hour from now."
"One hour? That's impossible, Mick. Plus, I'm just a connected mook these days — I don't even work for Uncle Flacco anymore. No way he'd listen to me about something that major — fuhgeddaboudit. Call up Electra. If anyone can pull it off, it's her."
I gave him the look. "One hour, Benny. If he gives you lip, you tell him I didn't ask — I'm telling him. Pipe that?"
He swallowed. "Sure, Mick. No problem."
"Okay, then. See you in an hour."
We went our separate ways when we ducked out of the hospital into the pouring rain. Poddar stalked alongside me, eyes darting back and forth, taking in the ongoing chaos of flashing emergency lights, wailing sirens, and streaking air and ground vehicles all headed toward Downtown. His expression turned murderous.
"You say this guy Kilgore took out an entire building?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"To make sure I understood he's not playing around."
"What does he want?"
"Dr. Faraday."
Poddar blinked. "I thought you said he was dead."
"Looks like being dead in this town ain't what it's cracked up to be. Kilgore's convinced Faraday pulled a fast one. He wants him found."
Maxine's doors opened, and we slipped inside. The tires screeched, barreling down the road before we could settle into the seats. Poddar glanced at me. "Obviously, if Kilgore wants Faraday, then we're not going to comply, right?"
I said nothing, eyes on the light show in the center of town. Smoke still hung in the air, spreading over the surrounding buildings like storm clouds. Dust and ash mixed with the rain, turning into grey mud on the sidewalks and streets. The city that never slept was at a standstill, shocked onlookers standing in the downpour, staring at the damage that Kilgore had so casually unleashed.
Poddar stared at me. "Right, Mick?"
"Not sure about that one, Pod."
"Not sure? What do you mean? You saw what the guy can do. He's the enemy. Our enemy. That makes Faraday an ally at the very least."
"That makes Faraday an enigma at the very least. You forget — he's the quack that played with my memories like a deck of cards. Not to mention being the architect of this Haven for who knows what kind of nefarious purposes. He's not exactly an angel, is what I'm saying. And if handing him over to Kilgore can stop another few thousand people from dying, I'll hand him over in a hot sec and won't exactly lose any sleep over it."
"Is that you talking, or the HSSC agent?"
"We're the same guy, Poddar. Better get used to it quick 'cause that's not gonna change anytime soon."
He glowered for a moment, watching the city blur by the rain-slicked windows. "Fine. Mind telling me where we're headed?"
"Neither one of us is gonna put a dent in Kilgore in our current condition. To take on a metahuman, we're gonna need some upgrades."
We pulled up to Johnson Arms a few minutes later, monitored by cameras and sentry guns as we entered the building. Inside, the main lobby was stocked to the max with firearms of every sort, from old school revolvers to tech-savvy bioguns. Weaponry, ammunition, and accessories lined the walls, shelves, and tabletops — the best wetware a man could purchase in a town where being armed wasn't an option — it was a necessity.
Sargent Johnson looked up from an overcrowded worktable where he put finishing touches on a deadly new masterpiece.
"Just a sec."
Picking up a slim round object no wider than his palm, he slung it across the room, where it slapped against a thick metal plate inside a transparent cube. Grinning, Johnson set a string of linked pen grenades on the worktable and yanked a cord, arming them simultaneously. The slim explosives flew across the area, straight toward the metallic sheet. The safety door hissed shut when the grenades found their mark, magnetically sticking to the plate. Two seconds later, they exploded, rattling the secure box in a bloom of fire and smoke.
Johnson threw up his thick arms like a kid. "Woo — look at that!"
"Yeah, that'll put someone on their back," I said. "Permanently."
"Smart-grenades: slim as a pen but pack a major punch. The targeting disk is layered on one side with micro-hooks so that it'll stick to anything. It emits a homing signal to the bombs, which fly over and work their magic."
Pushing up his goggles, he gave me a friendly nod. "Mick. Thought I might see you, considering what just went down." He pointed to the screen on the wall, where Kilgore's face was plastered on the news. Johnson stared at the screen with a pensive expression, scratching his beard. "Kilgore. Never thought I'd hear his name again."
I glanced at him in surprise. "You know him?"
"Just by reputation. The man was a hero in the Red War. Battle of Olympus Mons: entire books have been written about that skirmish. Wasn't for him, the war might have turned out different."
"So, what happened to him over there? What made him snap?"
Johnson shrugged. "Who knows? Lots of wild stories. I was just a fobgoblin manning an ion cannon far away from the action. Some say Kilgore's company was ambushed because of bad intel, and he blamed Command. Then there's the wild stories about nightmare aliens and interdimensional portals."
"Interdimensional portals?"
"Like I said — wild stuff. Either way, everyone says he was never the same after Olympus Mons. Came back to Earth and started this streak of terrorism and mass murder. Been one thing after another."
I looked at Kilgore's face on the display. Flask was quick with the intel I sent him, putting the word out on every available info channel. The pic of Kilgore was old, before his hair turned white as a penguin's belly. Even so, he still looked like a total psycho, coal-black eyes staring from the screen as if he hated every living thing in the world.