Chapter 9
The three walk back towards the central plaza at Union Station.
Lady Truth looks at the Zombie Master with a distrustful glance and asks him again. “How did you track us? Did someone see us leaving?”
The Zombie Master considers the request and then decides to answer her.
“I can smell you,” he says. “Braiiiiins give off a very strong odor to a zombie. That’s how we find people when they’re hiding. And your brains were stinky with stress and fear. That’s like deep-fried beer-battered gravy to a zombie.”
He wipes away the drool coming out of his mouth with a nonchalant movement of his hand.
“They make great trackers for the police and the military,” Dr. Justice says. “We used to use Steve here back when I worked for the government.”
“And that’s why I knew you weren’t the killers,” ZM says. “This guy is on the side of right. Always. And as soon as I smelled that familiar delicious brain, I knew he was chasing the bad guys.”
“If you know we’re chasing the bad guys, then let us keep going,” Lady Truth interjects. “Don’t take us downtown. We’ll lose Nash forever.”
“No can do, little lady,” ZM says. “I’m a cop and it’s the job. Leave the crimes to the real pros.”
“Fuck you,” Dr. Justice says.
The three walk back through the archway into the central plaza and as they reach the center of the plaza a faint whistling sound comes from above.
A shuriken plants itself firmly into the Zombie Master’s head and he drops to the ground, twitching.
Lady Truth shouts, “We’re surrounded. Slash is everywhere!”
The red clad ninjas make their presence known as they leap down from the upper floor surrounding the central plaza.
Twenty Slash Ninjas form a ring around the two heroes and the Zombie Master.
Forty practiced hands flick their wrists sending shuriken flying at Lady Truth and Dr. Justice.
“Down!” the doctor shouts as he thrusts his right hand upward revealing his cellular steel robot arm.
In less than a tenth of a second, the hand flattens out and deforms forming a dome that covers the two. The shuriken bounce off and the dome retracts back into a hand.
As Dr. Justice’s hand returns to normal, Lady Truth, still on her knees, fires rapid blasts of light from her right palm, blasting holes through several ninjas.
The rest of the ninjas scream in defiance and move in for the kill.
Dr. Justice brings his hand up to eye level and extends out his fingers lancing five ninjas through the head. They drop to the floor, dead.
Lady Truth recovers her feet as the 10 little ninjas left reach the two superheroes. Her foot lashes out in a kick, catching one in the throat and sending him to the ground. She leaps on him crushing his throat and he dies in a gurgle of blood.
Behind her one of the nine remaining ninjas unsheathes his short sword and strikes at Lady Truth’s exposed neck. But Dr. Justice intercepts the stroke with his robot hand which he has formed into a shield.
As he pushes away the sword, he slams the edge of the shield up, nearly decapitating the ninja and sending a fountain of crimson blood across the increasingly gory tile floor.
“Bow, doctor,” Lady T shouts as she brings her arm cannon up, aiming for a cluster of ninjas who are hesitating to take on the vicious duo.
Obligingly, the doctor gives a deep bow, holding his shield hand out to keep any errant shuriken from stopping his partner as she unleashes a firestorm of laser blasts that kill seven more ninjas.
They explode like piñatas, but the prizes inside aren’t so sweet.
One little Red Ninja left. He stands all alone in the middle of the central plaza.
“Please don’t kill me,” he begs.
Dr. Justice looks at him with contempt and replies, “No Slash is a good Slash.”
The doctor’s hand lashes out and slams through the last ninja’s head. A fountain of blood shoots up and the headless body falls to the floor.
The two look around for anyone else who needs a good killing and then both breathe a simultaneous sigh of relief.
As they catch their breaths, the ninjas bodies begin to smoke and dissolve.
“Looks like Slash doesn’t want to leave any clues behind,” Lady Truth says.
Dr. Justice stoops down and plucks the shuriken from the Zombie Master’s forehead and the body begins to twitch.
“Let’s get out of here,” the doctor says. “He’ll fully re-animate in about 20 minutes and he’s going to need some braiiiiins.”
Chapter 10
The two leave the aging Union Station behind in the safety of another metro bus.
As the two begin to come down from their adrenaline filled evening, they start to droop against each other. That’s more action than either has seen in a long time.
“So, that was a trap wasn’t it?” Lady truth asks with her eyes half closed.
“Oh, yeah. They wanted us to find her body and find that locker. I think that’s obvious,” Dr. Justice says.
“Think Slash finally wants to get rid of us?” LT asks, jiggling in her seat as the bus hits a pothole.
“Probably,” Dr. J says with a resigned sigh.
Reaching into his scrubs pants pocket he pulls out the few papers that he found in the locker and shows them to Lady Truth.
There’s not much there. He passes over a couple of birth certificates, one for Valerie and one for Vicki. A Whore of the Year award for Nevada listing her as the top bottom bitch at Moneybags Fuckatorium in Harrumph, Nevada.
There’re also a few personal photos. One is of a little blonde haired girl with wide trusting eyes and a happy smile. Holding her is a thin, slightly balding man with a broad slightly brown face. His work shirt says Robert.
“He really looks like Rob Slash,” Dr. Justice says in a whisper. “I’d almost call them brothers. The man is definitely younger, but it’s like looking at a twin.”
“Where do we go now? Or do we just wait for him to attack us again?” Lady Truth says as she sits up straight and adjusts everything.
Dr. Justice looks down at the photos and birth certificates and sighs, “Actually, I think we’ve been invited to get our asses kicked. He could’ve had his ninjas clean out that locker before we got there, so I think he left that stuff for us to find.”
“So we’re just going to walk into that trap?” Lady T says with disbelief in her voice. “Isn’t that sort of stupid? I mean, I know we’re not the smartest superheroes, but we usually aren’t that stupid.”
“Yeah, but I don’t think he realizes that we’re not that stupid,” Dr. Justice says with a laugh. “We’ve got a date in Harrumph and I think it might be the only way we are going to catch up with this Nash clone.”
“Fine,” Lady Truth says with a pout. “But I want to go on record as saying I don’t like getting my ass kicked.”
“Noted,” Dr. Justice says with a smile. “Now we need some wheels, a new Justice mobile, and I know just where to go.”
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Monday, November 21, 2011
Jesus hates you
I know they always say that Jesus loves each and every one of us, but I don't really see it.
I think Jesus hates people. Not all people, but some people. I think he looks at some people and just says, "Nope. He fucking sucks." I know someone will say, "But suffering makes you a better person." I say "BULLSHIT" to that. People who get shit on are not better for it. They just feel like they've been shit on. People who have a good life are many many times happier and probably more loving because they don't have anything good they try to do shoved back down their throats time and time again.
Just my opinion drawn from my observations.
I think Jesus hates people. Not all people, but some people. I think he looks at some people and just says, "Nope. He fucking sucks." I know someone will say, "But suffering makes you a better person." I say "BULLSHIT" to that. People who get shit on are not better for it. They just feel like they've been shit on. People who have a good life are many many times happier and probably more loving because they don't have anything good they try to do shoved back down their throats time and time again.
Just my opinion drawn from my observations.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Saving the World for $12.50 an hour Chapters 7 and 8
Chapter 7
Union Station has seen better days, but then so has Dr. Justice and probably Lady Truth.
The sprawling transit center joins the city’s rail and bus service into one massive hub of traffic congestion. People with no money from all over the US of A converge here with dreams of joining the ever-growing western expansion that started in the 19th Century. Problem is it peaked in the 1950s and has been on the decline ever since.
Once Union Station was a place for families and fresh faces from the East, now it only services the downtrodden and the luckless who don’t have cars or the ability to buy a plane ticket.
Really, who takes the train cross country anymore, much less a bus.
People who don’t want to be noticed and people who don’t have the money to disappear in style, that’s who.
And Vicki Vixen was one of those people. As was her erstwhile boyfriend and obvious Slash clone, Robert Shan. Everything about this case speaks to the lowest rungs of human nature.
“Why is this girl worth killing over?” Dr. Justice says as the two leave the bus behind and walk through the Art Deco front doors of the station. “Why would a Slash clone bother with someone so worthless? What’s the point?”
Lady Truth looks over at Dr. Justice with an annoyed look in her eyes.
“Who knows. All I know is he killed Vicki and stole a small child. That’s enough for me,” she replies, her dark eyes showing her anger and resolve.
“Slash doesn’t do anything without a reason,” the doctor says. “And there must be a reason behind this.”
“How bout we find this clone and beat the reason out of him,” Lady T says with an edge to her voice. “We don’t need to beat ourselves up about reasons why. We just need to find Valerie.”
“Fair enough,” Dr. J responds. “But we need to understand his plans if we ever hope to defeat him.”
“I don’t see him here,” she says.
Lady Truth scans the room with a concerned look on her face. Peering at the upper gallery with it’s pueblo styling and gawking at the grand central room that used to be an impressive welcome center and now just looks dated, sad and empty.
“Great,” the doctor says. “Maybe he just went in a different door. Let’s go find the locker that fits this key. Maybe we’ll pick up the trail there.”
“Agreed,” Lady T says with a sigh and a wary look over her shoulder at the huge WPA mural against a far wall next to an ancient newsstand. “Where are all the people? It’s so dead in here.”
They pass through the faux Spanish doorway into one of the arrival wings. Following signs they soon reach a large chamber filled with rows of lockers.
Quickly finding No. 432, Dr. Justice slides the key into the lock and turns. It’s the right one, all right. Just as the door swings open a voice from the chamber’s entrance says, “I’ve found you.”
Chapter 8
Lady Truth whirls around her laser arm shooting out a lance of light and blasts a hole into the wall next to a pale man who just as quickly dives for his life.
As he hits the floor the man shouts, “Hold on, I’m with the police.”
LT aims her arm at the man’s head but holds her fire.
“Not the time to sneak up on us little man,” she says in a tense, tight voice.
Dt. Justice continues to rifle through the contents of the locker, never once looking over at the lean pale, balding man in a rumpled suit lying on the floor.
“Hey, guys. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on. I know you didn’t kill that woman back at that hotel. It’s not Capt. Justice’s style,” the man says.
Finally, Dr. Justice glances over at the man. “Let him up Lady Truth,” he says with dismissive tone.
“Who is this guy? How did he track us?” Lady Truth asks.
As he adjusts his tie, the balding middle-aged man extends his hand and in it is a badge.
“Detective Lieutenant Brian Brainman at your service, ma’am,” he says with a smile that reveals incredibly yellow teeth.
“Also known as the Master Zombie,” Dr. Justice says as he continues to read through the documents from the locker.
“That’s Zombie Master if you please,” the Zombie Master says.
“What’s the difference?” Lady Truth asks.
“Well, it’s just that I am able to create and control zombies. If I were just a master zombie I would only be able to control my own zombie nature. Which I can. So, I’m the Zombie Master who is master of his own zombie,” he says with a laugh.
“What?” LT replies.
“It means he doesn’t eat people’s brains unless he wants to and he can create other zombies,” Dr. Justice says with a sigh.
“Yeah, what he said,” ZM says.
“Anyway, I’m afraid you’ll have to come with me, so we can clear up this dead hooker problem you have,” Zombie Master says.
Putting the papers away in his pocket, Dr. Justice looks over at the smiling zombie who’s dead eyes show no emotion and says, “Let’s get going then.”
Union Station has seen better days, but then so has Dr. Justice and probably Lady Truth.
The sprawling transit center joins the city’s rail and bus service into one massive hub of traffic congestion. People with no money from all over the US of A converge here with dreams of joining the ever-growing western expansion that started in the 19th Century. Problem is it peaked in the 1950s and has been on the decline ever since.
Once Union Station was a place for families and fresh faces from the East, now it only services the downtrodden and the luckless who don’t have cars or the ability to buy a plane ticket.
Really, who takes the train cross country anymore, much less a bus.
People who don’t want to be noticed and people who don’t have the money to disappear in style, that’s who.
And Vicki Vixen was one of those people. As was her erstwhile boyfriend and obvious Slash clone, Robert Shan. Everything about this case speaks to the lowest rungs of human nature.
“Why is this girl worth killing over?” Dr. Justice says as the two leave the bus behind and walk through the Art Deco front doors of the station. “Why would a Slash clone bother with someone so worthless? What’s the point?”
Lady Truth looks over at Dr. Justice with an annoyed look in her eyes.
“Who knows. All I know is he killed Vicki and stole a small child. That’s enough for me,” she replies, her dark eyes showing her anger and resolve.
“Slash doesn’t do anything without a reason,” the doctor says. “And there must be a reason behind this.”
“How bout we find this clone and beat the reason out of him,” Lady T says with an edge to her voice. “We don’t need to beat ourselves up about reasons why. We just need to find Valerie.”
“Fair enough,” Dr. J responds. “But we need to understand his plans if we ever hope to defeat him.”
“I don’t see him here,” she says.
Lady Truth scans the room with a concerned look on her face. Peering at the upper gallery with it’s pueblo styling and gawking at the grand central room that used to be an impressive welcome center and now just looks dated, sad and empty.
“Great,” the doctor says. “Maybe he just went in a different door. Let’s go find the locker that fits this key. Maybe we’ll pick up the trail there.”
“Agreed,” Lady T says with a sigh and a wary look over her shoulder at the huge WPA mural against a far wall next to an ancient newsstand. “Where are all the people? It’s so dead in here.”
They pass through the faux Spanish doorway into one of the arrival wings. Following signs they soon reach a large chamber filled with rows of lockers.
Quickly finding No. 432, Dr. Justice slides the key into the lock and turns. It’s the right one, all right. Just as the door swings open a voice from the chamber’s entrance says, “I’ve found you.”
Chapter 8
Lady Truth whirls around her laser arm shooting out a lance of light and blasts a hole into the wall next to a pale man who just as quickly dives for his life.
As he hits the floor the man shouts, “Hold on, I’m with the police.”
LT aims her arm at the man’s head but holds her fire.
“Not the time to sneak up on us little man,” she says in a tense, tight voice.
Dt. Justice continues to rifle through the contents of the locker, never once looking over at the lean pale, balding man in a rumpled suit lying on the floor.
“Hey, guys. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on. I know you didn’t kill that woman back at that hotel. It’s not Capt. Justice’s style,” the man says.
Finally, Dr. Justice glances over at the man. “Let him up Lady Truth,” he says with dismissive tone.
“Who is this guy? How did he track us?” Lady Truth asks.
As he adjusts his tie, the balding middle-aged man extends his hand and in it is a badge.
“Detective Lieutenant Brian Brainman at your service, ma’am,” he says with a smile that reveals incredibly yellow teeth.
“Also known as the Master Zombie,” Dr. Justice says as he continues to read through the documents from the locker.
“That’s Zombie Master if you please,” the Zombie Master says.
“What’s the difference?” Lady Truth asks.
“Well, it’s just that I am able to create and control zombies. If I were just a master zombie I would only be able to control my own zombie nature. Which I can. So, I’m the Zombie Master who is master of his own zombie,” he says with a laugh.
“What?” LT replies.
“It means he doesn’t eat people’s brains unless he wants to and he can create other zombies,” Dr. Justice says with a sigh.
“Yeah, what he said,” ZM says.
“Anyway, I’m afraid you’ll have to come with me, so we can clear up this dead hooker problem you have,” Zombie Master says.
Putting the papers away in his pocket, Dr. Justice looks over at the smiling zombie who’s dead eyes show no emotion and says, “Let’s get going then.”
Monday, November 14, 2011
The layaway of giving
Here's the deal. You can give to charity. It's not that difficult.
I'm not going to enumerate the reasons, because we all know the reasons why giving matters. All you have to do is look around you and think of all of the friends, former co-worker and family who have been hit hard by the Great Recession to know the reasons why. Everyone needs a hand now and then, and this is now and then.
Especially as the holidays approach.
Here's my special plan for the next month and half. Charity layaway.
Step 1: Put aside $20 immediately (or whatever you can spare, but $20 really seems doable). Then save $20 a paycheck from now until Dec. 17. That's probably three paychecks worth.
Step 2: Take that $80 and spend it wisely on what you want to donate. Or just give it as cash to a good local charity. Cash is always appreciated. Why do I say local? Well, I'm all for giving it to major charities and international charities too. But, I figure if charity starts at home, so does giving. If you give to a local charity, then you know it goes to the people in your community.
That's it. That's Charity layaway. Save it up in small bits and when you have a good amount, hand it over.
Here's what I do with mine during the holidays.
I save up my $80 and then I look out for a good sale on sports equiptment. I buy as much sports equiptment as I can and then I give it to The Spark of Love campaign. The way I figure it, you buy a bag of baseballs or several basketballs and everyone of those starts a game. That involves several children playing with the same toy over and over again. That's bang for your buck and you helped a kid get off the couch and get some exercise.
Here's some nice local charities:
Spark of Love and many others
https://www.calfund.org/page.aspx?pid=622
Los Angeles Missions
https://semdonate.losangelesmission.org/losangelesmission/main.php/micro_sites/showpage?id=1&utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_term=california%20%2Bcharity&utm_campaign=landingpagetest
Foodbank of Southern California
http://www.foodbankofsocal.org/index.php
There are many more. But all of these help in our areas. Go search for one of your own.
I'm not going to enumerate the reasons, because we all know the reasons why giving matters. All you have to do is look around you and think of all of the friends, former co-worker and family who have been hit hard by the Great Recession to know the reasons why. Everyone needs a hand now and then, and this is now and then.
Especially as the holidays approach.
Here's my special plan for the next month and half. Charity layaway.
Step 1: Put aside $20 immediately (or whatever you can spare, but $20 really seems doable). Then save $20 a paycheck from now until Dec. 17. That's probably three paychecks worth.
Step 2: Take that $80 and spend it wisely on what you want to donate. Or just give it as cash to a good local charity. Cash is always appreciated. Why do I say local? Well, I'm all for giving it to major charities and international charities too. But, I figure if charity starts at home, so does giving. If you give to a local charity, then you know it goes to the people in your community.
That's it. That's Charity layaway. Save it up in small bits and when you have a good amount, hand it over.
Here's what I do with mine during the holidays.
I save up my $80 and then I look out for a good sale on sports equiptment. I buy as much sports equiptment as I can and then I give it to The Spark of Love campaign. The way I figure it, you buy a bag of baseballs or several basketballs and everyone of those starts a game. That involves several children playing with the same toy over and over again. That's bang for your buck and you helped a kid get off the couch and get some exercise.
Here's some nice local charities:
Spark of Love and many others
https://www.calfund.org/page.aspx?pid=622
Los Angeles Missions
https://semdonate.losangelesmission.org/losangelesmission/main.php/micro_sites/showpage?id=1&utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_term=california%20%2Bcharity&utm_campaign=landingpagetest
Foodbank of Southern California
http://www.foodbankofsocal.org/index.php
There are many more. But all of these help in our areas. Go search for one of your own.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Saving the World for $12.50 an hour Chapters 5 and 6
Chapter 5
Dr. Justice and Lady T meet up at the Heaven Scent coffee shop and she explains the case over chicken fried steak and eggs.
“And then mmmmffff, crunch slurp, crunch, crunch,” she says through forkfuls of the luscious breaded steak and country gravy. After she finishes her meal she looks up at Dr. Justice and says, “Well. …”
“I haven’t understood a damn thing you just said. Try it again, without the food in your mouth,” he says with a laugh.
Once explained they rush out to meet with Vicki. They park the Justice Cycle (a 50-year-old white Vespa with a red RX crudely painted on the side) and the Truth Machine (the Honda scooter) in the lobby of the Greenhouse and make their way up to Room 432.
Outside the night has begun and the trash heaps in alleys all across the city are pushed aside as the homeless emerge to roam the emptying streets. Gang members drug business gets into full swing as the working stiffs look for a snort, toke or tar to make the day’s iniquities float away.
As they approach the door, they both notice that the light fixture is broken. Not necessarily a strange thing in this dilapidated building. To think a child was being raised here.
Lady Truth reaches out and knocks on the door and it falls inward with a thud. This is bad. LT’s hand cannon begins to whine as it powers up. Dr. Justice hits the light switch and wishes he hadn’t.
Vicki is sitting on the couch. Well, most of her is. Her body has been dressed in a tight red dress, which goes well with the blood splattered like paint on the room’s off-white walls. Her hands are placed primly in her lap and her legs are crossed as though she is a proper lady waiting for her suitor.
Her head is staring at them from the coffee table in front of the couch, deliberately placed so it would greet whoever opened the door. Her glazed, dead eyes stare intensely at nothing. She will never stare at anything ever again.
The corners of her mouth are sliced to the edges of her ears and her lips are sliced away to expose her teeth in a demon’s smile.
The signs of her struggle and murder are everywhere. Chairs flipped, a TV lies broken on the floor and the little kitchenette is in ruins.
On the wall behind her painted in her blood is a nice little note: “A whore is a whore even if she don’t fuck no more.”
The doctor and Lady Truth stand for a moment in the doorway. Then Dr. Justice inhales sharply.
“Oh my God,” he says in a whisper. “This is a clusterfuck.”
Lady Truth leans over and pukes up her chicken fried steak and the couple meals she had before that for good measure.
“We need to search the room,” Dr. Justice says in a matter of fact tone. “Find out who did this.”
“I know who did this,” Lady Truth says in a breathy voice, heavy with emotion. “I can see him everywhere here. It’s Rob Slash.”
“Sheeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiittttttt,” Dr. Justice says.
Together, they turn the room over, searching every drawer, closet, nook and cranny. The only thing they can find is her wallet hidden in a hole in the mattress. In the wallet is a California Identification Card with the address to the Greenhouse on it in the name of Vicki Valerie. And in a side pocket is a key.
The number on one side of the key handle is 420 and imprinted in the center of the other side are the words Union Station.
Outside, the two can hear sirens. Their time is up and they need to leave before the cops get there and lock them away for questioning.
“C’mon, we’re going out the window,” Dr. Justice says.
“Wait, what about the scooters?” Lady Truth says.
“Too late, they’re probably already in the lobby. This room faces the alley, so if we go out the window we still have a chance to get away.”
Dr. Justice pushes up the window with his robotic hand, breaking through generations of paint that has sealed it shut. He hooks two fingers of his right hand around the sill and pushes them into the wall and slides through the window.
He calls for Lady T and she crawls through the window and down the doctor, and puts her arms around his neck to hold on. Dr. Justice activates the cellular metal mesh of his fingers and they elongate out lowering the two heroes to the alley below.
Unfortunately, the cellular metal can only stretch for about three floors, leaving the two about 15 feet short of the ground. But luckily, the wall into which Dr. Justice had pushed his fingers was old and weak.
It rips away in a large chunk with the doctor’s fingers still inside. The two fall the last 15 feet onto the hard concrete. They were down and free. Above them they could here the police shouting.
They must have reached the room.
Chapter 6
Dr. Justice and Lady Truth start booking it.
They reach the end of the alley at the back of the building and Lady T turns left as Dr. J turns right.
“This way,” she yells. “I’m tracking Slashes. They went this way.”
The doctor puts on the brakes and about faces and runs after the mane of black and purple hair as it dashes down the street.
She stops after about 100 yards and lets the heavily breathing Doctor Justice catch up.
“He got into a car here,” she says with a slight pant. “He’s got the girl with him.”
“How can you tell?” Dr Justice wheezes.
“I didn’t say this before, but I can sort of see her too. She comes through faintly, but I can see her.” Lady Truth says.
“Is she a clone?” the doctor questions.
“I don’t think so, it’s different. I shouldn’t see her, but I do,” she says. “I don’t know.”
At that she takes off running again and the doctor rushes along behind her. It’s probably not a bad idea to keep moving, he thinks. The police are going to start searching the neighborhood soon enough and we need to get gone, fast.
About a half mile later, they reach a freeway on-ramp and it’s clear where the car headed.
“If only we had our bikes,” Lady T says.
“Which way are they going?” Dr. Justice says.
“East,” she says.
The doctor takes a deep breath to calm himself and wipes at the sweat on his forehead. He can feel the sweat weighing down his bouncy bouncy hair. The run has awoken his body and his mind. Now that he’s clear of the carnage, he can finally think.
He pulls out the key and he knows where they went.
“They are on their way to Union Station,” he says. “We need a yellow cab.”
Lady Truth wipes a little light perspiration from her brow and look at him with a skeptical glance.
“Babe, we are in the GETTT TOE. There ain’t no yellow cabs here. These people rely on the big blue cabs from the MTA,” she laughs and points towards a bus dropping off passengers across the street.
They hurry across the street and find with a couple transfers they’ll be at Union Station in about 20 minutes. Not bad. They swipe their bus passes and are on their way.
“Being poor finally pays off,” Lady Truth says with a sigh as they walk towards the back of the bus, past the usual circus of freaks, old people and the working class. “I’m never without my bus pass.”
They take seats towards the back and spread out a little. It’s past rush hour and the night is beginning to really settle in, so the bus is starting to empty out.
Dr. Justice chuckles in agreement. “Mine’s free from the state, along with my lavish mental ward accommodations.”
“Lucky,” LT says with a slight smile. She begins to clean her eclectic clothing as best she can. She managed to keep most of the blood and her own vomit off of her clothes, but there are still small spots.
The doctor wasn’t quite so lucky, on the green scrubs top there is a sizeable dot of blood. Well at least he’s wearing the appropriate outfit for blood, Lady Truth thinks.
Dr. Justice and Lady T meet up at the Heaven Scent coffee shop and she explains the case over chicken fried steak and eggs.
“And then mmmmffff, crunch slurp, crunch, crunch,” she says through forkfuls of the luscious breaded steak and country gravy. After she finishes her meal she looks up at Dr. Justice and says, “Well. …”
“I haven’t understood a damn thing you just said. Try it again, without the food in your mouth,” he says with a laugh.
Once explained they rush out to meet with Vicki. They park the Justice Cycle (a 50-year-old white Vespa with a red RX crudely painted on the side) and the Truth Machine (the Honda scooter) in the lobby of the Greenhouse and make their way up to Room 432.
Outside the night has begun and the trash heaps in alleys all across the city are pushed aside as the homeless emerge to roam the emptying streets. Gang members drug business gets into full swing as the working stiffs look for a snort, toke or tar to make the day’s iniquities float away.
As they approach the door, they both notice that the light fixture is broken. Not necessarily a strange thing in this dilapidated building. To think a child was being raised here.
Lady Truth reaches out and knocks on the door and it falls inward with a thud. This is bad. LT’s hand cannon begins to whine as it powers up. Dr. Justice hits the light switch and wishes he hadn’t.
Vicki is sitting on the couch. Well, most of her is. Her body has been dressed in a tight red dress, which goes well with the blood splattered like paint on the room’s off-white walls. Her hands are placed primly in her lap and her legs are crossed as though she is a proper lady waiting for her suitor.
Her head is staring at them from the coffee table in front of the couch, deliberately placed so it would greet whoever opened the door. Her glazed, dead eyes stare intensely at nothing. She will never stare at anything ever again.
The corners of her mouth are sliced to the edges of her ears and her lips are sliced away to expose her teeth in a demon’s smile.
The signs of her struggle and murder are everywhere. Chairs flipped, a TV lies broken on the floor and the little kitchenette is in ruins.
On the wall behind her painted in her blood is a nice little note: “A whore is a whore even if she don’t fuck no more.”
The doctor and Lady Truth stand for a moment in the doorway. Then Dr. Justice inhales sharply.
“Oh my God,” he says in a whisper. “This is a clusterfuck.”
Lady Truth leans over and pukes up her chicken fried steak and the couple meals she had before that for good measure.
“We need to search the room,” Dr. Justice says in a matter of fact tone. “Find out who did this.”
“I know who did this,” Lady Truth says in a breathy voice, heavy with emotion. “I can see him everywhere here. It’s Rob Slash.”
“Sheeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiittttttt,” Dr. Justice says.
Together, they turn the room over, searching every drawer, closet, nook and cranny. The only thing they can find is her wallet hidden in a hole in the mattress. In the wallet is a California Identification Card with the address to the Greenhouse on it in the name of Vicki Valerie. And in a side pocket is a key.
The number on one side of the key handle is 420 and imprinted in the center of the other side are the words Union Station.
Outside, the two can hear sirens. Their time is up and they need to leave before the cops get there and lock them away for questioning.
“C’mon, we’re going out the window,” Dr. Justice says.
“Wait, what about the scooters?” Lady Truth says.
“Too late, they’re probably already in the lobby. This room faces the alley, so if we go out the window we still have a chance to get away.”
Dr. Justice pushes up the window with his robotic hand, breaking through generations of paint that has sealed it shut. He hooks two fingers of his right hand around the sill and pushes them into the wall and slides through the window.
He calls for Lady T and she crawls through the window and down the doctor, and puts her arms around his neck to hold on. Dr. Justice activates the cellular metal mesh of his fingers and they elongate out lowering the two heroes to the alley below.
Unfortunately, the cellular metal can only stretch for about three floors, leaving the two about 15 feet short of the ground. But luckily, the wall into which Dr. Justice had pushed his fingers was old and weak.
It rips away in a large chunk with the doctor’s fingers still inside. The two fall the last 15 feet onto the hard concrete. They were down and free. Above them they could here the police shouting.
They must have reached the room.
Chapter 6
Dr. Justice and Lady Truth start booking it.
They reach the end of the alley at the back of the building and Lady T turns left as Dr. J turns right.
“This way,” she yells. “I’m tracking Slashes. They went this way.”
The doctor puts on the brakes and about faces and runs after the mane of black and purple hair as it dashes down the street.
She stops after about 100 yards and lets the heavily breathing Doctor Justice catch up.
“He got into a car here,” she says with a slight pant. “He’s got the girl with him.”
“How can you tell?” Dr Justice wheezes.
“I didn’t say this before, but I can sort of see her too. She comes through faintly, but I can see her.” Lady Truth says.
“Is she a clone?” the doctor questions.
“I don’t think so, it’s different. I shouldn’t see her, but I do,” she says. “I don’t know.”
At that she takes off running again and the doctor rushes along behind her. It’s probably not a bad idea to keep moving, he thinks. The police are going to start searching the neighborhood soon enough and we need to get gone, fast.
About a half mile later, they reach a freeway on-ramp and it’s clear where the car headed.
“If only we had our bikes,” Lady T says.
“Which way are they going?” Dr. Justice says.
“East,” she says.
The doctor takes a deep breath to calm himself and wipes at the sweat on his forehead. He can feel the sweat weighing down his bouncy bouncy hair. The run has awoken his body and his mind. Now that he’s clear of the carnage, he can finally think.
He pulls out the key and he knows where they went.
“They are on their way to Union Station,” he says. “We need a yellow cab.”
Lady Truth wipes a little light perspiration from her brow and look at him with a skeptical glance.
“Babe, we are in the GETTT TOE. There ain’t no yellow cabs here. These people rely on the big blue cabs from the MTA,” she laughs and points towards a bus dropping off passengers across the street.
They hurry across the street and find with a couple transfers they’ll be at Union Station in about 20 minutes. Not bad. They swipe their bus passes and are on their way.
“Being poor finally pays off,” Lady Truth says with a sigh as they walk towards the back of the bus, past the usual circus of freaks, old people and the working class. “I’m never without my bus pass.”
They take seats towards the back and spread out a little. It’s past rush hour and the night is beginning to really settle in, so the bus is starting to empty out.
Dr. Justice chuckles in agreement. “Mine’s free from the state, along with my lavish mental ward accommodations.”
“Lucky,” LT says with a slight smile. She begins to clean her eclectic clothing as best she can. She managed to keep most of the blood and her own vomit off of her clothes, but there are still small spots.
The doctor wasn’t quite so lucky, on the green scrubs top there is a sizeable dot of blood. Well at least he’s wearing the appropriate outfit for blood, Lady Truth thinks.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Saving the World for $12.50 an hour Chapters 3 and 4
Chapter 3
It works perfectly.
E-mails flood in. Some are legitimate, some are jokes and some are offers for penile enhancement and herbal viagra. Dr. Justice saves those for later review.
Meeting at the Angel City Main Library, Dr. Justice and Lady Truth sift through the best of the offers and put them into three categories. 1. Immediate need. 2. Long-term projects and 3. Is this is a joke.
Most of the immediate ones can be taken care of in a matter of hours. Like getting little Billy to quit farting on his brother's head, or getting Minnie the Mooch to get off of his brother's couch and get a job. It's quick money and involves little more than some talking and the occasional threat of violence. Though, that little Billy was a tough asshole.
Flush with cash, (well, flush with a little cash) the doctor and Lady T are starting to feel good about their new business venture.
Vicki's e-mail falls under Immediate Need.
Vicki Vixen's child Valerie is missing and no one will help her. You see, as far as the authorities are concerned, Valerie Vixen doesn't exist.
The police tell her in a no nonsense way, that they have no record of her child and that her medical records say she is childless and they refer her to a psychologist for help. But Vicki says it's not true. She has a child. A sweet blond-haired 8 year old named Valerie with eyes of blue and a button nose too. She likes puppies, rainbows and all of the other things little girls are supposed to like. And she has a mommy who misses her very much.
Vicki needs help and she needs it now.
Lady Truth looks over at Dr. Justice and says, "This is our job. Whatever the cost. This is our job."
"No one elses," Dr. Justice agrees.
After a quick call to get an address, Lady Truth leaves the public library they are using as their headquarters to meet with Vicki Vixen.
Into the dark places of the bad side of Angel City, Lady Truth travels on her Honda scooter, festooned with black and purple flames. She leaves behind the malls and clean yards of the Angelic suburbs for the dank hole that sits at the city’s heart. The buildings change from dwellings to ominous abodes of vileness.
At its center Angel City has fallen into Hades. The once stylish outer facades show the wear and tear of decades of misuse. The corners crumbling and the windows of the brown buildings are permanently darkened with grit and grease. Welcome to the inner circle and all who live here have abandoned all hope.
Lady Truth keeps her laser cannon arm warmed up because she knows this is the neighborhood where bad things happen. Dark dreams are real here.
This is the neighborhood where she comes from and hopes she never returns. Ten years is a long time, but its fresh for her. She remembers waking up in these oily, garbage strewn streets and finding herself alone and unable to remember who she is.
Lady Truth can see the sun starting to set through the towers of stone that man has built. Soon it will be night, soon the darkness will swallow up these poor streets and the real horrors can start.
But that was then, she thinks. I’m not the scared little woman who woke up here with nothing. Now I’m Lady Truth and I have a life and powers and a job. And that job is to help Vicki Vixen.
The grimy five-story Greenhouse Arms Hotel and Apartments has seen better days. It's once-bright cement porch is almost black with grit and the brown stone that makes up its facing is streaked from decades of dirty rain. Lady Truth rolls right past her rendezvous point and only realizes it when she sees the hotel’s neon sign flashing in her side mirror.
Lady Truth lets out a sigh and mutters an obscenity as she hits the brakes hard and fishtales the scooter around towards the Greenhouse.
She drives up the porch steps and into the lobby before stopping with a "Woah, Nelly," She jumps off and cuts the motor, taking the key with her.
A shabby, unkempt fat man behind a cage yells at her. "You can't park that here," the building manager thunders in his weedy voice.
"Apparently, you're wrong, because I just did," Lady Truth responds, as she wonders where guys like him find pre-stained wife beater T-shirts. "And it better be exactly where I left it when I come back."
Chapter 4
Lady Truth takes the aging elevator to the fourth floor. It shakes as though an old man with trembling hands is pulling the car upward and smells like the public urinal it probably is. When she reaches the fourth floor, the doors open with the grinding sound that means they haven’t been oiled in years.
She walks down a dingy, poorly lit hallway. The walls are covered in some kind of flower print wallpaper that probably used to be colorful and cheery but now is just brown with dirt and grease. Lady Truth isn’t sure if the floor actually has a carpet or if the dust has just matted into a uniform covering.
The light from the fixtures is intentionally low, so no one notices just how bad the place really looks.
Room 432. She gives one knock and waits.
A solid, lyrical voice responds from the other side. “What do you want?”
“I’m Lady Truth, you asked for help.”
The door opens cautiously. Lady Truth can see the chain is still bolted and that the eye peering out from behind the door’s crack is wary.
“You look kind of strange,” a voice says.
“Honey, I’m a superhero, I’m supposed to look strange,” Lady T says with a slight laugh and a big smile.
Lady T can hear a sigh of relief as the woman behind the door lets go of some of her tension. The door opens wide and Vicki Vixen stands before her.
Vicki’s beautiful blond hair is slightly disheveled and her face has the look of tension etched into every soft edge. But even though she is not at her best, most women would be satisfied to look like her at her worst.
Her eyes can light fires with their intensity, and her light, yet curvy body takes all the right turns from toe to the top of her head.
“Come on in then,” she says to Lady T.
Vicki sways out of the way to make room for Lady Truth. As she passes, Lady T can smell the sent of Gardenias on her. Vicki offers her a seat on her worn couch that obviously started out white, but now looks more like a dirt rainbow with all the stains.
Lady T is startled by the room. She can see trails. Normally, her cat-eye glasses and their special lenses mask all of the trails of normal humans. If they didn’t she would be blind. She could see the slight emanations that people’s souls leave behind as they travel beside the body. They would fade after a few days, but in a city people were everywhere and so were their soul trails. It was annoying when you were in a crowded room, but useful when tracking someone. Her specialized glasses filtered most of that out, except for Rob Slash's soul. For some reason, she could see his and his clones.
Well, Slash has been here. She could see trails. Old trails. Trails overlapping. Trails of someone short. Like a little girl. Like maybe, Valerie.
She sits down, a slightly quizzical look on her face, and Vicki starts talking. Lady Truth is jolted out of her trance.
“He’s got her. I know it. He’s fucking crazy and he took her,” Vicki says with an almost hysterical edge to her voice. “That bastard tracked us somehow and he took her.”
“Who is he?” Lady Truth interrupts before Vicki can really get going.
“My ex-boyfriend, Valerie’s baby daddy,” she replies. “Robert Shan. He used to be the maintenance man and cum-mopper at the place I last worked.”
Her story unfolded like most love stories. The guy treated her nice at first. Listened to her and told her what she wanted to hear. Then came the lovin. From that sprang Valerie.
“Everything was awesome,” Vicki says. “He was the best daddy ever. I thought we might even make it permanent. Then it’s like a switch went off.”
Five years after Valerie’s birth, Robert started talking strange. He also started doing strange things. He started disappearing for days, weeks, even a month here or there without any explanation.
“He just said he was doing the great boss’s work,” Vicki says. “But I know Moneybags didn’t send him on no outings. He was pissed when Robert started disappearing. If he wasn’t my man, Moneybags would have fired him.”
Then the unthinkable happened. Robert started beating her. Telling her that she needed to have more kids and when she didn’t get pregnant right away the fists started landing home.
“That’s when I cut him off and threw him out,” she says. “But the fucker would keep showing up and then he raped me. That was it. I took Valerie and ran. We’ve been running for two years.”
She thought she had successfully disappeared, or that he stopped looking. Then she met a former co-worker on the street last week.
“Misty looked a little different, but it was Misty. You don’t forget tits like that,” she says.
“Huh?” Lady T says with a little surprise.
“She’s a working girl. I am too. Awesome tits means awesome cash in our business,” Vicki says. “Anyway, she looked different, somehow. Kind of like she was wearing a mask. I just thought she had some plastic surgery and everything was still a little tight. You know.”
“She starts talking about the old times and asking about Valerie. I don’t think nothing of it, so I tell her about our life here. But I didn’t say where I live or nothing.”
“Two days later, Valerie’s gone.”
Lady Truth sees the agony in Vicki’s eyes. She knows she has to help her.
“Do you have any pictures of Valerie or of this Misty?” Lady Truth asks.
“Not here. When you’re on the run, you don’t keep stuff about your past hanging around. But I can get it.”
“Good, we’ll need all you have. I’m going to go get my partner and we’ll be back within the hour to get things going. I promise we’ll help you,” Lady Truth says and puts her hand on Vicki’s arm.
“Thank you,” Vicki says with relief in her eyes.
It works perfectly.
E-mails flood in. Some are legitimate, some are jokes and some are offers for penile enhancement and herbal viagra. Dr. Justice saves those for later review.
Meeting at the Angel City Main Library, Dr. Justice and Lady Truth sift through the best of the offers and put them into three categories. 1. Immediate need. 2. Long-term projects and 3. Is this is a joke.
Most of the immediate ones can be taken care of in a matter of hours. Like getting little Billy to quit farting on his brother's head, or getting Minnie the Mooch to get off of his brother's couch and get a job. It's quick money and involves little more than some talking and the occasional threat of violence. Though, that little Billy was a tough asshole.
Flush with cash, (well, flush with a little cash) the doctor and Lady T are starting to feel good about their new business venture.
Vicki's e-mail falls under Immediate Need.
Vicki Vixen's child Valerie is missing and no one will help her. You see, as far as the authorities are concerned, Valerie Vixen doesn't exist.
The police tell her in a no nonsense way, that they have no record of her child and that her medical records say she is childless and they refer her to a psychologist for help. But Vicki says it's not true. She has a child. A sweet blond-haired 8 year old named Valerie with eyes of blue and a button nose too. She likes puppies, rainbows and all of the other things little girls are supposed to like. And she has a mommy who misses her very much.
Vicki needs help and she needs it now.
Lady Truth looks over at Dr. Justice and says, "This is our job. Whatever the cost. This is our job."
"No one elses," Dr. Justice agrees.
After a quick call to get an address, Lady Truth leaves the public library they are using as their headquarters to meet with Vicki Vixen.
Into the dark places of the bad side of Angel City, Lady Truth travels on her Honda scooter, festooned with black and purple flames. She leaves behind the malls and clean yards of the Angelic suburbs for the dank hole that sits at the city’s heart. The buildings change from dwellings to ominous abodes of vileness.
At its center Angel City has fallen into Hades. The once stylish outer facades show the wear and tear of decades of misuse. The corners crumbling and the windows of the brown buildings are permanently darkened with grit and grease. Welcome to the inner circle and all who live here have abandoned all hope.
Lady Truth keeps her laser cannon arm warmed up because she knows this is the neighborhood where bad things happen. Dark dreams are real here.
This is the neighborhood where she comes from and hopes she never returns. Ten years is a long time, but its fresh for her. She remembers waking up in these oily, garbage strewn streets and finding herself alone and unable to remember who she is.
Lady Truth can see the sun starting to set through the towers of stone that man has built. Soon it will be night, soon the darkness will swallow up these poor streets and the real horrors can start.
But that was then, she thinks. I’m not the scared little woman who woke up here with nothing. Now I’m Lady Truth and I have a life and powers and a job. And that job is to help Vicki Vixen.
The grimy five-story Greenhouse Arms Hotel and Apartments has seen better days. It's once-bright cement porch is almost black with grit and the brown stone that makes up its facing is streaked from decades of dirty rain. Lady Truth rolls right past her rendezvous point and only realizes it when she sees the hotel’s neon sign flashing in her side mirror.
Lady Truth lets out a sigh and mutters an obscenity as she hits the brakes hard and fishtales the scooter around towards the Greenhouse.
She drives up the porch steps and into the lobby before stopping with a "Woah, Nelly," She jumps off and cuts the motor, taking the key with her.
A shabby, unkempt fat man behind a cage yells at her. "You can't park that here," the building manager thunders in his weedy voice.
"Apparently, you're wrong, because I just did," Lady Truth responds, as she wonders where guys like him find pre-stained wife beater T-shirts. "And it better be exactly where I left it when I come back."
Chapter 4
Lady Truth takes the aging elevator to the fourth floor. It shakes as though an old man with trembling hands is pulling the car upward and smells like the public urinal it probably is. When she reaches the fourth floor, the doors open with the grinding sound that means they haven’t been oiled in years.
She walks down a dingy, poorly lit hallway. The walls are covered in some kind of flower print wallpaper that probably used to be colorful and cheery but now is just brown with dirt and grease. Lady Truth isn’t sure if the floor actually has a carpet or if the dust has just matted into a uniform covering.
The light from the fixtures is intentionally low, so no one notices just how bad the place really looks.
Room 432. She gives one knock and waits.
A solid, lyrical voice responds from the other side. “What do you want?”
“I’m Lady Truth, you asked for help.”
The door opens cautiously. Lady Truth can see the chain is still bolted and that the eye peering out from behind the door’s crack is wary.
“You look kind of strange,” a voice says.
“Honey, I’m a superhero, I’m supposed to look strange,” Lady T says with a slight laugh and a big smile.
Lady T can hear a sigh of relief as the woman behind the door lets go of some of her tension. The door opens wide and Vicki Vixen stands before her.
Vicki’s beautiful blond hair is slightly disheveled and her face has the look of tension etched into every soft edge. But even though she is not at her best, most women would be satisfied to look like her at her worst.
Her eyes can light fires with their intensity, and her light, yet curvy body takes all the right turns from toe to the top of her head.
“Come on in then,” she says to Lady T.
Vicki sways out of the way to make room for Lady Truth. As she passes, Lady T can smell the sent of Gardenias on her. Vicki offers her a seat on her worn couch that obviously started out white, but now looks more like a dirt rainbow with all the stains.
Lady T is startled by the room. She can see trails. Normally, her cat-eye glasses and their special lenses mask all of the trails of normal humans. If they didn’t she would be blind. She could see the slight emanations that people’s souls leave behind as they travel beside the body. They would fade after a few days, but in a city people were everywhere and so were their soul trails. It was annoying when you were in a crowded room, but useful when tracking someone. Her specialized glasses filtered most of that out, except for Rob Slash's soul. For some reason, she could see his and his clones.
Well, Slash has been here. She could see trails. Old trails. Trails overlapping. Trails of someone short. Like a little girl. Like maybe, Valerie.
She sits down, a slightly quizzical look on her face, and Vicki starts talking. Lady Truth is jolted out of her trance.
“He’s got her. I know it. He’s fucking crazy and he took her,” Vicki says with an almost hysterical edge to her voice. “That bastard tracked us somehow and he took her.”
“Who is he?” Lady Truth interrupts before Vicki can really get going.
“My ex-boyfriend, Valerie’s baby daddy,” she replies. “Robert Shan. He used to be the maintenance man and cum-mopper at the place I last worked.”
Her story unfolded like most love stories. The guy treated her nice at first. Listened to her and told her what she wanted to hear. Then came the lovin. From that sprang Valerie.
“Everything was awesome,” Vicki says. “He was the best daddy ever. I thought we might even make it permanent. Then it’s like a switch went off.”
Five years after Valerie’s birth, Robert started talking strange. He also started doing strange things. He started disappearing for days, weeks, even a month here or there without any explanation.
“He just said he was doing the great boss’s work,” Vicki says. “But I know Moneybags didn’t send him on no outings. He was pissed when Robert started disappearing. If he wasn’t my man, Moneybags would have fired him.”
Then the unthinkable happened. Robert started beating her. Telling her that she needed to have more kids and when she didn’t get pregnant right away the fists started landing home.
“That’s when I cut him off and threw him out,” she says. “But the fucker would keep showing up and then he raped me. That was it. I took Valerie and ran. We’ve been running for two years.”
She thought she had successfully disappeared, or that he stopped looking. Then she met a former co-worker on the street last week.
“Misty looked a little different, but it was Misty. You don’t forget tits like that,” she says.
“Huh?” Lady T says with a little surprise.
“She’s a working girl. I am too. Awesome tits means awesome cash in our business,” Vicki says. “Anyway, she looked different, somehow. Kind of like she was wearing a mask. I just thought she had some plastic surgery and everything was still a little tight. You know.”
“She starts talking about the old times and asking about Valerie. I don’t think nothing of it, so I tell her about our life here. But I didn’t say where I live or nothing.”
“Two days later, Valerie’s gone.”
Lady Truth sees the agony in Vicki’s eyes. She knows she has to help her.
“Do you have any pictures of Valerie or of this Misty?” Lady Truth asks.
“Not here. When you’re on the run, you don’t keep stuff about your past hanging around. But I can get it.”
“Good, we’ll need all you have. I’m going to go get my partner and we’ll be back within the hour to get things going. I promise we’ll help you,” Lady Truth says and puts her hand on Vicki’s arm.
“Thank you,” Vicki says with relief in her eyes.
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