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Posted by The Spirit
on 7/27/2009, 6:07 pm
69.47.233.55
I awaken to the sound of a pistol cocking and the feel of cold rain on my face. The upsetting thing is I’m not shocked at the sound. I need a new job. The world gains focus, and I see a figure in front of me, a tall, lanky sort in an old green T-shirt and blue jeans, pacing back and forth. Gusterman. The memories come flooding back, and with them, the shooting pain in my shoulder. No pun intended.
“Y’know, Louie—can I call you Louie—shooting the investigator when you’re a suspect of the crime he’s been investigating—not a good idea.” I wobble my bleeding arm, trying to get it to move. It doesn’t. Gusterman keeps pacing, doesn’t respond. Keeps cocking his pistol, then lowering the hammer.
“All the loose ends tied up except for old Gusterman, right?” He’s mumbling to himself, barely even registers I’m here. “I did what I had to do. He was gonna betray me, run off with Levinson. ‘Oh, how convenient—the man making you work for him for years wants you to run away with your big score!’ I know better. They were always close. Morris replaced me, and was gonna screw me. I couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t let that—“
“So you killed Morris,” I say, pulling myself to my feet slowly, letting out a short grunt of agonizing pain, “To keep him from running off with Levinson. That’s all I needed to hear.” I put my hand—my good hand—on his shoulder. He spins around, slapping me with the pistol, sends me flying back a good 6 feet. I land with a thud right on my shoulder. My head feels like a bag of rocks and my shoulder’s going through a meat grinder.
Oh dear lord, he’s injected himself with the formula.
“Levinson was a crook!” He’s pointing the pistol at me know. “He was gonna turn on poor Jackie the second he let his guard down! I was practically doing him a favor!” Gusterman is screaming now, waving the gun around.
And that’s when I hear them. A choir of angels from afar, bringing sweet, sweet salvation. Helicopters. The police are on their way.
“So you shoot poor old Jackie to put him out of his misery, then pop the Apex formula to keep it out of Levinson’s hands. All that makes sense. But why come back to shoot Levinson?” I pull myself up and lean on my good elbow.
“YOU BE QUIET!” Gusterman snaps and kicks me in the side. I don’t need to be told what the cracking noise is. Gusterman stands still for a moment, and wipes back his hair. “I didn’t… I hadn’t planned on killing anyone. I just needed answers, that’s all. Why he wanted to betray me. Why he changed the formula. Whe he—“
“He changed the formula? That doesn’t make sense.” I try to shut up, but apparently blood loss and broken bones make me a bit gabby. “Morris, Levinson—they weren’t scientists, they didn’t know formulas and science and whatsits. They couldn’t have—“
“You think I didn’t know my own formula!? I knew it like the back of my hand and they changed it. They changed it and were gonna screw me over with it. I just needed to know how and why. But now Morris is dead and Levinson was dead and—“ He stops. Looks around. Oh no. He hears the choppers. No, no, no, just one more moment. I gotta get desperate. I kick at his ankles. Try to trip him. He goes down, it works. Super strength or no, man can always get tripped. By the time he crawls to his feet and stares down at me, ready to strike, the chopper is upon us. It floats over our heads, and the noise is unbearable, and one by one the SWAT Team leaps onto the rooftop, guns pointed at Gusterman. One of them steps towards me, slowly, never taking its eyes off of Gusterman. It pulls off its mask, and my jaw drops to the floor.
Silk Satin. Angel with an Assault Rifle. If I weren’t a happily taken man, Silk’d be the girl of my dreams. Tough as nails, smart as hell, and cute to boot. Of course, I’m taken, so really she’s a nightmare in combat boots. Ellen won’t be happy to hear who I saw today.
“Just stay cool, Gainsborough--” I hate that nickname she gave me—“This is SHIELD business.”
“SHIELD? You’re CIA, silly.” The words are barely forming in my mouth. I’m losing blood. This might be it.
“I got promoted, thanks for asking.” She looks back at Gusterman. He’s raising his hands now. SHIELD soldiers closing in. A trap. They have to know. I try to tell them, try to shout it at the top of my lungs, but no words come out, only an ineffectual groan. The best I can do is grab Silk’s ankle to try and hold her back. It works, she turns and looks at me, eyes wide and brows flaring—she’s not happy, but it bought enough time for her to hear the first screams. We both look over to see two decapitated bodies and Gusterman laughing as he punches his hand through an agent’s chest. He twirls around, slicing another’s head off with his left hand, and catches with his right. He winds up and beans an agent with his colleague’s head. The poor sucker gets knocked clear off the roof. Silk looks at Gusterman, looks at me, and I can tell she’s got a plan.
She drops her rifle, pulls out her pistol, and starts strafing, keeping her gun pointed at Gusterman. I pull myself to my as quickly as I can. She fires off a shot, knicks him in the shoulder. It bounces off and he turns around.
“Shouldn’t have done that. You’re no better than they are.” He mumbles, inching towards her, grinding his knuckles. He passes right by me, and I see my moment. I wrap my arm around his neck and try to pull him back. His arms grab mine and try to rip me off of him, and the pain is unbearable and the darkness is setting in just as Silk pulls something off of her belt—something small, metallic, almost like a pistol but not. She points it forward just as the world goes black, and all I hear is the scream, and the world is gone.
I wake up in a hospital bed, Silk sitting next to me, still in her SHIELD gear, watching TV. She looks over with a grin. Now this is surprising.
“We lived? That seems unlikely.” I say, shaking off the unconciousness. She reaches onto her belt and pulls out… a taser?
“Thanks to this baby. SHIELD issue just for such a situation.”
“Care to explain further?” I crack a grin. Silk stands up slowly, puts her taser away, and starts walking back and forth across the hospital room.
“I hate debriefings… Ahem. As soon as news about the possibility of the Apex formula started surfacing, SHIELD knew it had to stop it. Levinson was, according to our records, untrustworthy—he would likely sell the formula to the highest bidder. So he had to move beyond him.”
“Morris & Gusterman.”
“Right. The only problem is we also knew the possibility of a rogue superhuman was too risky for us, so we needed to install a failsafe, a way to easily take down someone who had taken the formula. We knew Gusterman was too attached to his work to change it, and too potentially deranged, as we saw. So we approached Morris, offered him full protection from Levinson, a new identity, and fair compensation if he handed over the formula. He assured us all he needed was the money.”
“Because he got the promise from Levins—“
“Don’t… don’t interrupt me, Gainsborough. Far as we can tell, Gusterman heard about Morris’s plan to leave, got angry, they had a fight, Morris died, and Gusterman stole the formula. He then panicked, and injected himself so no one could do the same to him.” Silk looks at me,
“That explains that. But, then, why the taser?”
“It’s the failsafe. Basically, every cell in Gusterman’s body, though impervious to most harm, is a superconductor of electricity. The taser completely A) shortcircuits his powers, and B)gives him the nastiest shock he’s ever gotten. Enough to put him down.”
“You mean you…”
“No, we knocked him out. Any other questions?” Silk steps backwards and gets ready to leave.
“Yeah, two.” I lean forward surprisingly casually. “Who’s paying for my med bills and how long am I in here?”
“SHIELD and you’re ready to go. Darnedest thing, Gainsborough, your bloodtype matched with a colleague of ours, a Mr. Warren Worthington the 3rd, socialite, great guy, real angel. A quick transfusion of his blood, and your wounds miraculously healed. Take ‘er easy, blue boy.” She twirls, walks out the door, stops, and backs in. “One more thing.” I raise an eyebrow, and she plants one on my cheek. if I wasn’t happily taken…
So let’s review: In the last 3 days, I’ve been shot, beaten up by a Superman, harassed by cops, nearly torn apart by bodyguards, and healed by a superhuman’s magical blood.
Just how it goes here in Central City. 
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