Unknown (8 page)

When I got within sight of my van I saw somebody there waiting for me. He was Big, Green, and he was carrying, of all things, an ax. Said ax had been, from what I could tell, used to cut through the engine and cab of my van. Fine. I suppose this meant I’ve come face to face with the guy that wanted to kill me. He turned from my van and sprung at me. What. no witty banter? No denouncement for what I’d done to him? Sorry Charlie. None of that. I had something or someone bounding at me with apparent violent intent.
 

I won’t bother describing the fight, both because I don’t rightly remember most of the details, and my head still hurts from where I got hit with a phone pole. He’s at least as strong and tough as I am. I gave as good as I got, I think, and he ended up running for it when the sun started coming up. Strange. Don’t know if he’d turn to stone if hit by stray sunbeams or if he’s merely really sensitive to light, but I’m just going to call him Troll from now on.
 

When I’m done posting this I have to get in touch with different people to try getting fixed what I couldn’t clear away, a police report to file, and I’ve got to get in touch with those agents what are supposed to be my go-to people on Mr. Troll.
 

Twenty says it’s some egghead that wanted to try copying the sort of genetics package granddad had and screwed up. Hope it’s reversible, because Troll didn’t seem too big on the brains department. Most of what he used on me was raw strength and little in the way of finessing.
 

I KNEW THERE WOULD BE DAYS LIKE THIS.
 

 
I’m not at home. Never went home today, since I’m pretty sure Troll has a handler of some sort, or at least I have to go under the assumption it wasn’t just a lone bruiser shoving his way through town to get to my neck. My name and face off hours isn’t much, but it’s my business and I don’t like the idea of having to wade through cameras just to get to my front door. It would probably piss off my landlord too.
 

So. What did I do today? I went out of town for a bit. I promise I’m not running. Think of it as gathering information. While I was away I met with those agents that were working my case and explained what happened the night before, or is it this morning, not sure. They told me my assumption was partially correct. Mad Science afoot, but a minion turned monster instead of the man that made the formula.
 

Why FBI instead of NSA? Actually now that ‘we’ are pretty sure it isn’t just some guy in a costume or a hired gun they might get involved. Until then this is being treated much like any other crime, investigate, interview, go over and over what facts are available, and try building a list of suspects from all that information. Great. Getting interviewed by two agents while at the same time being told off for tampering with the crime scene.
 

Look. I’ll let you folks in on something since you’ re being such good sports about all this. Sure I get the occasional reward, but the money isn’t steady or a sure thing. Plus anytime something gets broke, like say a building or cars or whatever, I have to somehow cover costs. So I’ve been trying to keep collateral damage as low as I can and I’ve tried making it a habit to clean up after myself. Both of these things I had taken along with lessons on subduing armed and desperate men, the best way to punch a car to make it stop without hurting anyone inside, how best to take an explosion, and so on.
 

In spite of the ‘OMG the sun is about to explode!’ moments, and cliché villains I could almost wish life were like the comics. None of them ever have to fill out claims forms or accident reports. Then again generally their romantic lives are in the toilet and they’re too wound up about keeping their precious secret identity from the people closest to them.
 

So not a good day. Not a very productive day. I’m cranky, tired, and if tall, green, and stupid shows up again I’m probably going to try ramming a tree down it’s throat.
 

BUSINESS HAS JUST GONE UP.
 

 
Stopped a bank robbery. Two guys with automatic weapons and body armor. I’d heard about something like this going down in LA a few years ago, and as soon as I heard what was going on I told Agents Twiddle Dee and Twiddle Dum to shut up, let me work, and help keep everyone else clear.
 

Quite happy to report they didn’t argue with me and by the time I got there a blockade had been formed. People were hit and the two gunmen could have hostages but this is the kind of thing I was born to do. I’ll update when this is over.
 

CRANKY.
 

 
One dead, the other in intensive care. For the record I think the guy bit down on a cyanide pill when I grabbed him. Kinda shows when he’s foaming at the mouth and such. Other guy tried taking a hostage, so I broke his hand. Got shot in the process and I probably could have been a little gentler when grabbing the guy, but they’re sure he’ll live. The only other injuries, thankfully, are relatively minor. At least everyone else will be alright save for a few scars. Sure I could have stayed when the news vans started showing up, but why bother? I don’t want the glory, and I sure as hell don’t want to take anything away from Winston’s Finest. I just stepped up so good men and women wouldn’t get hurt.
 

Though if you look close enough you can see me in the background waving to the camera.
 

I’m going to have to send Sergeant Laurie something nice when I get the money. She kept a clear head and if she hadn’t been as quick there might have been more people in there than the ones in the bank. Also gonna need to send something to the tellers at First and Union. Calm, didn’t budge or give in. They kept their heads about them.
 

Dad’s one question to me, when he called, was ‘why did you let one of them kill themselves on national TV.’ Figures. We love each other, and the man busts himself to try keeping me and everyone else in my business safe. It just seems like there’s no making the man happy sometimes.
 

To take matters from wishy washy to Fail for the day I come home to find somebody waiting for me. Thankfully I already changed out and such. It’s just annoying when Spooks show up, no sense of courtesy sometimes. He had out the bottle of whiskey I’d been saving since... well it was a gift for busting a couple of would-be-thieves that tried getting into some rich guy’s house. I don’t like bartering, but it’s good whiskey, and the bottle alone is a work of art. It felt insulting to have some stranger show up out of the blue pouring himself a glass and otherwise acting like he owned the place.
 

We talked. He was blunt and to the point. People wanted me to try coming in one way or another on the political mudball that was going on in DC. Y’know, try getting me in somebody’s corner to try getting their bloc ahead. I told the man, calmly, I don’t do politics and if he didn’t get out of my home I was well within my right to shove him face first through the door.
 

I know, a bit harsh since I’m sure he was just doing his job, but I wanted to make it clear that I will not be bought and bartered like so many others in the past. I don’t want to end up like poor Bill.
 

History lesson:
Not sure how many people studied Masks from the Cold War era. For awhile it seemed like any town of any real size had some sort of masked avenger. The bigger the town the more inflated the Mask’s reputation. Bill was DC’s in-town Mask, and he was actually pretty good at what he did. Trouble is he tried getting political, thought he could use the system to make positive changes if he played things right. He ended up on McCarthy’s lists for some reason or another, and even though the commie hunt ended up backfiring Bill was an early and dramatic casualty. Ended up feeling alienated by everybody he’d worked decades to defend and killed himself after years of soaking in cheap booze.
 

I don’t want to end up like him, so that’s why I was so blunt about telling the guy to buzz off. Probably not a politically savvy move, but I don’t care what goes on with The Hill. I’m already up to my neck in trouble without adding that kind of mess to my life.
 

No leads from the Feds on where Troll came from, so I decided to vent by putting my suit on and see what could be seen.
 

No Murders (thank God.)
 

Two Robberies (both surrendered peacefully.)
 

One Rape (I caught the guy in the act. He no longer has those parts of his body anymore. I’m sure he’ll sue, but it’s not funny. It’s not a laughing matter. I catch anyone pulling that crap and I will gladly rip their jewels off to keep it from ever happening again, and that’s when I’m in a good mood.)
 

FIVE
domestic abuse calls (two ended peacefully. I
ended up punching one guy in the face (gently!) after he kicked me in the sweets. Another guy tried stabbing me and I hauled him out for the cops to sort out after I left face sized holes in one of his walls. Fifth case ended up with the wife Macing me then trying to stab me in the neck with an ice pick while I down. I was raised to not ever hit a woman, but I sure as hell will if they want to start something.)
 

Look. I know tempers flare up but please, c’mon people. If
I
show up that means show’s over. Stop trying to kill each other, and don’t try taking it out on me. I don’t like getting maced, stabbed, kicked in the danglies, or bit. It makes me irritable, and I’m not above breaking furniture with your face before the boys in blue get there. I am generally well within my rights to subdue aggressive persons while making arrests, and I have enough training to do so without killing you but make you wish I had.
 

/rant
 

I’m goin’ to bed.
 

BODIES IN MOTION.
 

 
I have five names. Five people that the government knows of that are theoretically smart enough to have been behind Troll. I’m going to go question these people myself. I want to see how they react personally. Unless anyone tries anything I will be polite and nice. no sense in making more enemies than I probably already have.
 

Me and my lady friend are keeping in touch via VoIP, webcam, and gaming sessions. It boggles my mind at the number of people that leave their wireless unsecured. Even basic WEP protection and not broadcasting your ID would offer a small measure of protection from casual passers by leaching off your bandwidth. I’m not guilty of this. Just imagine the headlines now. No, really. Leaching is illegal. I’m just pointing something out that the wider public might not be aware of. Thank you Sarah for pointing that one out to me. So, I’m going cross country to try flushing out whoever could send genetically engineered thugs after me, or at least supplied the concoction that got used in the process. I’m going to have to assume whoever this is could very well be a victim themselves, so no busting doors down or threatening to make all their shiny equipment go kaboom.
 

How do I even begin to approach this? I was told it would be better if a professional handle matters, but something in my gut disagrees. Whoever this is will probably be prepared for a trained by the book sort of questioning. If this is someone that has disfigured someone to make them a weapon against me I want to be able to look them in the eyes when they try denying involvement. If whoever this person is has been used I still want to look them in the eye. My instincts have been wrong in the past, but I still trust them enough to point me in the right direction most days.
 

Besides, there’s the practical considerations to take into mind. Whoever this is, if they’re violent, they might have lain traps out. I’m not invulnerable, but I can take far more than any normal person, even wrapped in layers of ceramics and bulletproof fabrics. I will go in and ask my questions, and I will give the recordings of these conversations to the agents accompanying me.
 

Want a summary of what being on the road is like? Agents Toot and Tweet flip to see who drives first.We do a little work with what new material comes in, hit a rest stop around lunch, then back on the road with the agent that hadn’t been driving before now in the hot seat for another four hours. Check in at wherever and get in touch with the rest of the investigation, keep tabs on what Winston PD is facing while I’m gone, and pass the time until morning.
 

I hear people out there wondering why we don’t just fly. Turns out being known internationally has the downside of making me a high profile person, enough so that me showing up at an airport could not only clog the place with gawkers, but turn the place into a giant blazing target for whoever wants my head. Sure me on the road with just two agents sounds like an even bigger risk, especially considering the amount of time it takes to get from Here to There, but we agreed it’s safer to be a single face amongst millions instead of risking airports or train terminals.
 

The positive of having all this time on the road means I get to catch up on a bit of reading. Right now plowing my way through
Tripod Invasion: Fact or
Fiction?
and after that I’ve got
World War Z
on my to read
list. Not a bit fan of the whole Zombie thing in general, but I hear good things from all sorts of people about that book, so I figure why not.
 

Beats yet another nutcase trying to convince the world that the Tripod Invasion at the turn of the century was intentionally covered up. Everyone who’s looked into the matter agrees that what wreckage was recovered from the two known invasions was so far beyond even what we have today that we can’t make sense of any of it, much less figure out how to reproduce the technology. Hell, the Germans tried with one of their wonder weapons and look where it got them.