Untitled Superhero Novel - Ch. 1

I


*
The doom of a nation can be averted
only by a storm of flowing passion,
but only those who are passionate themselves
can arouse passion in others.
*

          Trick’s pub was packed tonight. The stench of sweat and cigar filled the tavern walls. Groups of businessmen laughed and shook each other’s hands. Their gray and black suits were all identical. Stooges. Pencil pushers. They were the lawmakers, and the lawbreakers. Trick hated the bastards, but credits were credits. Between the Suits, the cheap synthetic alcohol, and the small time gangs, there wasn’t much money for the honest blokes like Trick to pass around. But if you did have a little extra credit to throw away, Trick is one of the very few who still have the real deal. Prohibited alcohol. Single malt Scotch.
 
          “Hey, you need another one, pal?” the bartender called over the noise of the tavern.
 
          Sitting on a stool at the corner of the bar was a man in his late forties. He was de-shelling peanuts, one of the few things that would never change, into an empty schooner. A quick nod was the sign for the bartender to slide the man another mug filled with the government’s foamy synthetic beer. Taking the mug in one hand and tossing the bartender his credit stick with the other, he poured the liquid down his throat. It burnt all the way down, but it was all he had. At least it was some sort of feeling. He wiped his mouth with the corner of his suit sleeve.
 
          By the time the bartender retuned with the stick of credit, the old man needed another. The bartender knew the man would have another, and the man‘s sneer told him he had better hurry. He scanned the credit stick again, and slid beer across the bar towards the man. For a moment, the bartender thought he saw the man’s mouth twitch, a smile repressed, before the liquid followed the same path of the first two schooners.
 
          Within the next sixty seconds, a few strange things began to occur. First of all, one of the drunken suits punched the song “Hells Bells” by AC/DC into the jukebox. At the same moment the song began, the bar door swung open. Two men walked through the door in single file being that they were bigger than the doorframe itself. Both men wore identical navy suits, and heavy gold necklaces and earrings. As they walked through the door, their hands covered earphones stuck in their right ears, and they were both silently whispering into their wrists. They split apart and took their posts on each side of the door frame. The Heights. A low level, low life street gang. They act like they're high rollers, but appearances are deceiving. Behind these two gorillas walked the head honcho, Philip Danchino. He was ready for a night on the town wearing his freshly dry-cleaned white suite and twirling his white cane. It would be cliché to call him rat-like, but hell, he looks like rat. Thin mustache, bushy nose, and beady eyes. No doubt the another two apes waited outside.
 
          But even more interesting than The Heights showing their faces at Trick’s place and the odd, possibly ironic song choice was the young blond that started to hit on the suit at the corner of the bar. There was no doubt that this twenty year old girl was looking for a good time based on what she was wearing: a low cut halter top and mini skirt.
 
          “I guess you’re the strong and silent type, eh.” The girl leaned against the bar giving the man a good view of her breasts. She reached out and rubbed his shoulder and forearm. She smiled as she said, “Oh, I guess I’m right.”
 
          “Whatchya drinkin’ sweetheart?” His gruff voice was just loud enough for her to hear over the meetings and greetings of the other suits.
 
          “Cosmopolitan.” She giggled.
 
          “Hey barkeep,” He yelled. “Another schooner and a cosmopolitan for the lady.” Who would have guessed she was drinking a Cosmo. He carelessly slid his credit stick towards the bartender again. “Take a little bit for yourself this time too.” The woman giggled at his ability to toss his money away. But it wasn’t the woman’s attention he wanted; He watched the man in the white suit, Danchino, over the shoulder of the young woman.
 
          “So what’s your name anyway? Or do you have one, stranger?” The blond smiled and started to stroke his thigh.
 
          “The name’s Nick. Nick Cylick.” The bartender slid Nick and the woman their drinks, and handed him back his credit stick with a thank you. “What’s yours?” Nick asked, only half-interested. Hey, it’s been awhile, and she was a pretty good-looking dame.
 
          She brushed her hair behind her ear, took a sip of her drink, and flashed Nick a sexy smile. Her eyes flickered into a mystical violet color. Synthetic contacts. Uncommon at best. “Name’s Candy, sweet heart.” Her eyes focused in on the credit stick still lying on the bar. “So what department are ya in? I mean, the suit and all, of course, but what exactly do you do?”
 
          What do I do, he thought. Nick smiled for the first time that night. “Well, technically, I’m data and financial solutions . . .”
 
          “Oh baby,” Candy interrupted. “No wonder you can spend credits like you do. Have you ever,” She pulled her stool closer. “Done anything illegal? Kept some data streams to yourself?”
 
          Nick pulled himself closer to the girl, and moved in like he was going to kiss her, but instead put his cheek against hers, smelled her intoxicating scent, and began to whisper in her soothingly into her ear. “The suit job is actually just a cover. But as a plus side to it, it does get me some credits.” He picked up the stick and rolled it around in his hand. “I actually kill people for a living. And trust me; I’m quite good at it.” Nick turned away from the woman and knocked back the rest of his schooner.
 
          “Like an assassin?” She laughed nervously and sipped her cosmopolitan.
 
         Nick slid the empty glass towards the bartender, and again moved close to the woman to whisper into her ear. “Well I guess so, but I don’t really get paid for it. So I guess it’s not technically a living.” Her smell was lovely. “More just for fun.”
 
          Candy suddenly turned deathly pale and spilt her drink across the surface of the bar. Nick smiled and turned to be disappointedly looking at an empty beer schooner. When he looked back to the girl, he was no longer looking at a hot little blond, but instead a skinny, rat-faced man. So the rat likes blonds, Nick thought to himself.
 
          “Well my pretty lil thing, is dis suit 'ere botherin’ ya?”
 
          “Actually,” Nick interrupted. “I was just telling her we were going to head up stairs for a quick drink.” He waved the bartender over to him. “Me and the lady here want to make friends with Trick’s secret stock.” He handed the bartender his credit stick.
 
          “You got to be kiddin’ me. No suit I know got the credits to go up stairs.” Two of The Heights’ goons appeared out of the bar crowd to tower arms crossed behind the rat.
 
          “Sorry boys. This guy's legit.” The bartender appeared next to Nick. “If you can follow me, sir,” The bartender looked at Nick. “I can take you upstairs with the lady if you wish.”
 
          Nick grabbed the woman by the wrist before she could refuse, and pulled her behind him as the bartender led them to a door on the opposite side of the bar. He pulled a key card out of his pocket and slid it across the face of the card reader attached to the wall and the door glided open to reveal the inside of an elevator. “Once you get in press the button on right side of the door. The elevator will do the rest.”
 
          “Come on baby.” Nick said to the girl. He wrapped his arm around the girl’s waist and led her into the elevator. He patted her on the ass as they crossed the threshold. “This is gonna be the time of our lives.” The girl was in shock and simply held onto Nick’s suit sleeve as the elevator door slid shut. Danchino stood staring, almost growling, at Nick as the door slid shut. His weight bore down onto his white cane that he twisted into the dusty bar floor.
 
          Once the doors had slid shut sealing the two of them into the elevator, Nick reached over and pressed the single button on the elevator wall. The metal box began to hum and vibrate as the gears and levers started to pull the elevator to the upper floor. Trick’s floor. The floor Nick had seen many times before. A room that no one can remember him going to before. No one but Trick himself of course.
 
          The girl began to tremble in Nick’s arm, which soon led to her beginning to whimper. The girl began to tear up. “Are you going to kill me?” She whipped her tears with her forearm causing her mascara to run. She pushed herself free of Nick’s grip and fell to the floor. She huddled herself into the corner of the elevator.
 
          “No.” Nick said. He leaned against the back of the elevator. “I have no need to hurt you one way or another.” He sighed. I could have used the roll in the sack though. “I may not be a good guy, Candy.” Nick looked towards the girl huddled in the corner. “But I don’t kill for no reason for the most part. Not anymore anyhow.” Candy pulled her legs into her chest, and buried her head between her knees.
 
          Nick turned and knelt in front of the girl. He rubbed her shoulder in an attempt to soothe her. To quiet her. To comfort her. “What are you doing in a place like this? You’re going to get yourself into trouble. And you’re too young to get mixed up in the things you’re already mixed up in.”
 
          Her head shot up and her eyes went wide open. Eye color changed to green. “What do you mean too young, I’m . . .”
 
          “Fourteen.” Nick cut her off. “A legality issue on its own. Section 4.1 of the Liquor and Games Act, which was established in the country’s national bylaws prior to the signing of the Re-Constitution.” The elevator squealed slightly as its system of mechanical pulleys brought the elevator to the upper floor of Trick’s place. “But then again, I wouldn’t be considered exactly legal according to the Re- Constitution either.” He reached out his hand and pulled Candy to her feet.
 
         “But what do you mean, not exactly legal?” Candy asked as Nick led her off the elevator.
 
          “I wouldn’t worry about it, my dear.” A gaunt, pale man sat crossed-legged in a red suede couch, which sat in the middle an apartment style flat. He gently sipped at a green martini. “I don’t think you’re going to remember him five minutes after he leaves you.” His lips curled into a smile. “He’s a very easy fellow to forget.” He said looking at Nick. “Although he always seems to show up on my door step.” The man stood up and bowed deeply towards his guests. “Although I do terribly love to take his precious credits away from him.” The man stood straight up and spread his arms wide enough to take in the entirety of the room. “Allow me to introduce myself: I am he that was renamed after the Re-Constitution as Trick. The owner and operator of this little piece of heaven who many call home.”
 
          “Ah Trick, over-dramatic as usual.” Nick said as he sat down in the love seat opposite of Trick’s couch. “This is Candy by the way. She’s a fourteen year old girl playing dress up in your standup establishment.” Trick glanced at Candy quickly and sat back down onto his sofa. He sipped his martini and stared into its green haze. “Since I can’t drink that real stuff you got stashed up here anyway, I figured the nice thing to do would be to give this beautiful girl a ride home.” He paused to study Candy one last time. She was only fourteen, but that had never stopped him before. “Before she gets into any more trouble.”
 
          Trick raised his arm in the air and snapped his fingers twice. By the time he had brought his arm back down, a servant in a black suit was next to the couch. “Please clean this young girl up, and make sure she gets a nice ride home tonight. Sooner rather than later,” Trick said in disgust. “I already noticed Mr. Danchino had some interest in this young girl. A very marketable piece of flesh no doubt.” Candy gave the two of them one last startled look as she was led out of sight into a back room. “What a lovely girl,” Trick said to himself as he sipped his drink.
 
          Trick had always bothered Nick. He was never sure what it was, but Trick’s paleness and hollow, dark eyes had always sent a shiver down his spine. A bloody walking zombie. Right out of those old movies from the twentieth century. Not to mention that he had the credits, and the power to back those credits up. Unless they had the money, even the higher level suits never bothered him for anything except the odd shot of scotch or vodka. Trick gave them the odd sample of his secret stock, and they turned their heads when some of his less legit business deals transpired. A high class escort service and the trafficking of illegal substances to name a couple.
 
          “So here we are again Trick.” Nick stretched his arms above his head and plunked his feet on the coffee table separating the two men. “I guess this is the point where we both agree to let the past die. Let bygones be bygones. Shake hands and be sleep-over buddies, right?”
 
          The blank expression on Trick’s face didn’t change once. He just sat their opposite of Nick staring straight ahead as if he was board out of his mind. “What did they use to call you?” Trick closed his eyes in concentration. “The Phantom. The Ghost.”
 
          “One of those complex metaphorical names that are supposed to be related to your inner psyche. Or in our case, our powers.” Nick paused for a moment. “But I’ve never been one for names anyway.”
 
          “I suppose when I’m the only one that can remember that you do exist, it is somewhat of a nuisance to have an alternate identity.” Trick reached for a coaster and set his drink on it. “I’ve always sort of wondered if that was a blessing or a curse to have no one know of your existence only moments after you speak with them. But no one ever remembers the killing and rapes either.” Trick grinned as he tried to push Nick’s buttons. “It’s really a euphoric moment when the memories start to wash over us.”
 
          “That’s all we are right? We’re only memories of our past deeds.” Nick pulled out a cigar from his inside breast pocket. “You got a light?” He began to pat his pants and suit in search of a lighter. “Oh. Never mind. I found it. Don’t get up.”
 
          Trick cringed as Nick lit the cigar. “I thought that stuff was poison for you. Burnt like fire.” Trick’s crossed leg began to bounce from agitation.
 
          “Like the fires of Hell.” He blew out a cloud of grey smoke. “But it pisses you off.” He ashed the cigar on the coffee table.
 
          With a snap of his fingers, Trick again summoned a servant next to the couch. “Could you please show my old friend Nicholas to the exit? I believe he was just about to leave.” A light pick flush appeared on his shallow face. Hatred grew in the black depths of his eyes.
 
          “Don’t worry about it bub.” He stood and began to walk to the back of the room. “I remember where the back door is at. I may not be an encyclopedia, but I do remember a few things from my life. See you in the news, boss.” Nick walked out of the room into the darkness of the night.
 
          When the door closed behind Nick, Trips fury released itself. His martini flew across the room exploding against the farthest wall. He flipped the coffee table into the love seat. Then put his foot through the closest wall. After taking a couple quick breaths, he snapped his fingers to summon his servant. “Did you clean up that girl? Candy? The one from the bar.” The servant nodded in silence. He knows of his master’s anger. “Good. Bring her to my room. I think we are going to have a little bit of fun with her tonight.” The flush left his cheeks as his smile grew. “And after you bring her, break out the bleach and clean this mess. You disgust me. And while you’re at it, purify this air so I can breathe properly.”