Kingdom of Heroes (45 page)

The Detective placed the empty pistol back in his holster as he looked at the scene, all the while doing his best to suppress a smile. The Agent dead, it was something he never believed he would truly see, but there it was. He looked down at his left hand, still covering the stab wound in his sternum, and he knew it was a miracle he was still alive; he had been lucky enough to survive long enough be the one to pull the trigger. He knew he couldn’t ask for much more that.

He turned around, and Emily had already crossed the distance between them. Her hair and eyes were back to their old selves, leaving no hint of the power she had just wielded. He looked at her, smiled, and fell to one knee. His right hand dropped to the ground, trying to support his weight just to keep himself from falling over.

She grabbed the upper part of his left arm. “We have to get out of here.”

“You have to get out of here,” he corrected. “I’m sorry, beautiful, but I’m not going anywhere. This is it.”

She gave him a stern look, her face a concentrated mix of anger and sadness. “I am not leaving without you, jackass. Now get your ass up and come with me.”

He really liked it when she was mean and that worried him. There was obviously something seriously wrong with him. He used the last of his strength to pull himself up to his feet. She held his arm and guided him through the carnage.

“I swear,” she began, “everywhere we go, nothing but dead bodies.”

“It’s a talent,” he replied, his voice noticeably weaker.

“Jackass, do not die on me, not yet.”

They crossed the threshold that separated the terrace from the penthouse. He looked at her, and she winced ever so slightly as they entered the psychic barriers, but nothing like the last time she had encountered them. He knew that something had woke up in her, some level of power he doubted even she knew about. They continued walking, across the piles of shattered glass, past the giant monitors, and into the kitchen. She stopped in front of the counter long enough to retrieve his hat and the journal.

“We’re almost there,” she said with a smile as she pulled him towards the elevators.

“And what happens when we get there?” His voice was barely above a whisper. It was taking everything he had left just to remain on his feet.

She smiled that sad smile, the one he was learning to not like very much. “We get to go on our date,” she answered.

They stopped in front of the closed elevators, and she pushed the button to call the lift.

“Beautiful, I’m not going to make it,” he whispered as he looked down at his blood soaked left hand, still trying in vain to hold back the bleeding.

“Shut up,” she replied in the nicest way possible. “Stop saying that.”

With a whoosh, the doors slid open, and they walked past Peterson’s still unconscious body. She pushed the button for the ground floor; the doors closed again, and the elevator began to move in that direction.

The Detective fell into the corner of the elevator, opposite the giant panel of buttons. He looked up at her. “I got you out,” he said with as much of a smile as he could produce. “I got you out…The Seven are dismantled…The Agent is dead…things are going to change…I did good, beautiful…I think…I deserve a nap.”

“No goddamn it!” she yelled as she dropped to her knees in front of him. “Please, not yet.” She placed her hands on each side of his head, leaned in close to him, and shut her eyes. For a moment, he thought she was moving towards him for a kiss. Then, everything went black.

_______________________________________________

The Detective opened his eyes. He was in the truck, driving through the middle of Metro City. It was the Metro City of fifteen years ago, a vibrant, thriving metropolis, filled with bustling streets, busy people with places to be, crime, decadence, debauchery, the Metro City he remembered, not the broken city of dreams it had become. He was dressed in his usual clothes, his hat placed firmly on his head, his tie nice and straight just the way he liked it.

Emily was sitting next to him, dressed to the tee, hair put up, face fixed perfectly, wearing a strapless blue dress that barely contained her cleavage and came up a foot or so above her knees. She looked out at the city streets, at the people walking to all of the thriving businesses, the restaurants, hotels, stores, none of which existed anymore.

“Was this really what it was like?” she asked. “I would have only been about ten or eleven at this time; Pammy and I were in Shore City right now. It was nice, but it was nothing like this. All of the lights, the people, the skyscrapers completely lit up, it’s almost pretty.”

The Detective reached across the truck and rubbed the top of her bare thigh. She giggled.

“That tickles,” she said with a huge grin as he pulled his hand away. She grabbed it and pulled it back. “I didn’t say you had to stop.”

“Just wanted to make sure you were real and not just a figment of my imagination,” he said as she interlocked the fingers of her left hand with his right. “Are we in your mind or mine?”

“Kind of both,” she answered, squeezing his fingers as she spoke. “It’s a world made up of both of our thoughts and memories. I was never in Metro City before the war, so I took all of this from your mind. Fifteen years ago, where were you right now?”

He looked at his left hand and the bullet hole that was no longer there. He looked down, no bleeding shoulder, no stab wound either. “I was out there working the streets as a uniform; I would have been about twenty, just joined the force. I had no idea what was about to come. God, I was an idiot.”

“No picking on my man,” she said, her smile wider and more full of joy than he had ever seen it. “The last person who did that, I hollowed her mind out.”

He chuckled. “It was impressive.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you know where were going or am I just driving you around?”

“We’re on that date you promised me,” she answered. “I said you weren’t getting out of it.”

“I’m glad you made me keep my promise.”

“You better be,” she added. “I’d hate to have to kick your ass for standing me up.”

He smiled. “I’ve had my ass kicked enough for one day.”

She pointed to a large hotel. “Pull off to the right and park. We have reservations.”

He parked the truck in front of the building. He walked around to the other side and opened her door, taking her hand as he helped her out. She had heels on that added an extra three or four inches to her height. He didn’t tower over her like he had before. They started to walk toward the front doors before he stopped, turning toward her and taking a long hard look. She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

She grabbed him by the arm and squeezed herself against him. “Do you like my outfit? I don’t normally dress like this, but I figured it was a special occasion, might as well go all out.”

“I’m not complaining,” he said as they walked, all the while feeling almost overwhelmed by how surreal all of this was. He knew none of it was real; he knew it was all in his mind, but it felt just as real as any other day in his life. He could feel the wind; he could feel the ground beneath his feet; he could feel her hand and body pressed against his arm. And he could smell her; even in a world that wasn’t real, she still smelled like honey.

“Do you mind if we just skip the whole checking in process and just go straight to our room?” she asked as she looked up at him with an imploring expression across her pretty face.

“Not at all,” he started to say, but before he could get the words out of his mouth, they were already standing in front of room fifty-two, the key in his hand ready to open the door. “Well, that was quick.”

She walked past him, taking his hand as she walked by and leading him into the room. They entered a living area where a table had been set up with plates of food and several bottles of wine, and around the corner, he could see a large bedroom. She saw him notice the bedroom. “Food or dessert, which one do you want first?”

“Food,” he answered with a smile. “I would like to sit down with you and have an actual meal before I…you know.”

She put her forefinger against his lips, telling him to shut up without saying a word. “We’re not going to talk about that.”

“But---”

“No,” she interrupted. “This is my date, and I’ll be damned if its going to be ruined by that kind of talk.”

She took off his coat and hat, placing them both neatly in the floor next to his seat. She pushed him into the chair and took his glass, pouring the wine halfway to the top, before sitting in the chair across from him and pouring her own glass. In front of him was all the food he could ask for and more, steak, salad, various cheeses, a chocolate pie, all of his favorites.

“Does it look good?” she asked. “I took the liberty of going through your memories to see which foods you liked the best. Hope that was okay.”

“It’s fine,” he answered, finding himself unsure what to start with first. “How long has it been in the real world?”

“About five seconds,” she answered with a bit of hesitation. He could tell she had no desire to break the mood.

He took a bite of salad. He knew it wasn’t real; he knew it was no more genuine than an imaginary friend, but it tasted real; it smelled real; it felt real, for all intents and purposes, it was real. “Only five seconds, that’s good,” he replied as he turned his attention to the steak. “The elevator will take about five minutes to get all the way down. We have time to come up with a plan to get you out of the building.”

“I don’t---” she started to say.

“Indulge me,” he interrupted. She took a drink of her wine and pouted. He smiled at her. “You’re gorgeous when you’re mad. Now, Peterson there is still alive, no helmet, no psychic blocking patches; wake him up, control him, you can be his ‘prisoner,’ and you can use him to walk you right out the building. After that, the truck is right down the street from The Agent’s tower; the keys are still in the ignition. Once you’re in the truck, get to the hospital. Collect your sister and the babies, the four of you need to get out of this city as fast as you can. You need to find someplace safe, someplace where you can protect yourselves. As much as I hate to admit it, the old bastard was right. Without him, this whole damn country is a giant powder keg, and the power vacuum is going to light this place up. If you can, just get out of the states completely. It’ll probably be for the best.”

“Are you finished?” she asked, wiping her mouth with her napkin after finishing the last of her wine.

“Talking or eating?”

“Both.”

“I’m finished,” he said as he wiped his own mouth.

She stood from her chair. “About time.” She walked over to him and reached out for his hand. “I have a question,” she asked as he stood to his feet. “Here in about ten minutes, when I’m screaming your name, can I please use your real one or do I have to yell ‘oh Detective’ over and over?”

He sighed. “I take it you already know what it is?”

“I do,” she answered with a devious look on her face. “At this point, there’s very little I don’t know about you.”

He shook his head as they walked hand-in-hand towards the bedroom. “I tell you what, you call me whatever you want. I promise; I won’t complain.”

They stopped next to the bed. She turned around so he could access the back of her dress. “A little help,” she said, referring to the zipper.

He took it in his hand and guided it all the way down to the bottom of the dress. She lifted her arms over her head and allowed the dress to fall to the floor. She turned around, her bare breasts in full view. He leaned down and kissed her neck as she reached up and undid his tie, taking it off and throwing it in the floor next to her discarded dress. His shirt came next, landing in a the pile with the rest of the clothes. They fell into the bed together, their lips locked in a passionate embrace. She rolled him on his back and straddled his hips with her legs.

He looked up at her. “Be gentle with me,” he said with his usual grin. “I’m delicate.”

“Shut up, jackass,” she said just before leaning back down to his waiting lips.

_______________________________________________

“My God man,” Emily said as she rolled on to her back. “I don’t know what it is you’re doing with your tongue, but I know I like it.”

“It’s a talent.” He crawled back up to the top of the bed alongside her.

She smiled, all the while still attempting to catch her breath. “You seem to have a lot of those.”

“I have a few.”

“A couple more than a few.”

He smiled back at her. “We don’t have a lot of time left.”

“Jackass,” she began, her pretty face covered in an angry expression, “what did I tell you about talking about time?”

“You said not to,” he answered as he stared at her; he thought her angry face was just adorable. “But I’m getting tired; I can feel it.”

She scooted closer to him. He could feel her bare breast and hard nipple pressed against his arm. “We have more time.”

“Not enough,” he said in return as he leaned in close to kiss her still angry face.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she replied as she returned his kiss.