One of these days, I’m going to visit a city on my own terms, not on someone else’s.
The Big Easy is wasted on business trips; this is a city I could really have some fun with. But of course, there I was, working for Hire-A-Hero, and the New Orleans City Council. Some bugger down at one of the cemeteries noticed that someone had been robbing graves. Over the space of about a month, there were over a hundred corpses stolen from three different cemeteries. Nobody could figure out why, but the voodoo shaman that the City Council has on the payroll (not on the books, of course) said something wasn’t right. Wouldn’t give much more detail than that, so the City of New Orleans decided to hand it over to someone better equipped to deal with the things that go bump in the night.
And that of course, would be me. The leading source on everything mystical, magical or metaphysical. Or at least, the leading source that money can buy. Jack Roman probably knows more than me, but he’s signed up with the Boomers, and he’s nowhere near as strong as me. And then there’s the Keeper, but the less said about him the better, that’s a trade secret for us magic users. Oh, and that prat Merlin of course.
Anyway, where was I? Oh, the voodoo bloke. Voodoo’s a weird magic, it doesn’t work the way I’m used to magic working, so I wasn’t exactly in my comfort zone. This bloke on the other hand, knew exactly what he was talking about, and still had no idea what was going on. I was bloody out there on his hunch, but at least I was getting paid. And by “paid”, I of course mean that Hire-A-Hero was getting paid, and I was earning my own bloody freedom.
Fortunately, any magic leaves traces. A residue. One look at the gravesites, and I knew a big-time magic user had been there. He hadn’t actually been on the graves though, looked like he’d had someone else doing the hard work. Brilliant, he had lackeys.
Of course, the residue is only obvious enough when the magic hangs about in one place, if the magician is moving… It’s not so easy. The trail goes faint, paths intersect, and you lose it within a couple of yards. It was a good start though. I knew this wasn’t just a red herring.
So I asked the voodoo bloke what he knew about the local scene, he said there were a couple of big names around the city. I don’t remember half of them, but I interrogated all of them. Baron Voodoo was among them. I had a bad feeling about him, and what kind of arrogant bastard calls himself Baron Voodoo?
So I decided I’d track him down, the bastard led me on a merry chase around New Orleans, before disappearing somewhere in the French Quarter. He’d made me, and decided to have some fun with me. At least I knew I was on the right trail.
It took me a while to piece things together. I was in the city for a week before I read a newspaper. Apparently one of the logging companies outside the city had laid off a few hundred workers a few months ago. There was a big uproar, and they were fighting them in the courts. Strange thing was, the company had actually increased production. They sacked every man who worked for them, and they were still, somehow, putting out more timber than ever before.
It took me a while to twig on to the fact that there was a link. Like I said, voodoo’s not my strong point. But horror flicks are. I know one thing about voodoo: Zombies.
So I figured out these guys must have been using zombie labour. Baron Voodoo hooks them up cheap, they don’t have to worry about salaries, benefits or unions, and they get workers who can go all day and night, until they drop. And there are no shortage of replacements. There’s not exactly a premium on corpses in a big city like New Orleans.
Of course, this was all just speculation, I’d have to check out their operations. So, when night fell, I grabbed my sword and head to the nearest sawmill.
It didn’t take long for me to make up my mind. Dozens of shambling corpses populated the sawmill, working at their snail’s pace. It looked fairly obvious. Nothing left for me to do but start taking them apart.
The thing with zombies is: once they’re given an order, there’s no stopping them from carrying them out indefinitely. Until they can’t do it anymore. Cut one in half, they’ll keep reaching for their target. You’ve got to keep cutting until there’s nothing left.
Of course, that also means they’re not going to fight back until they get the order. I got all the way through the sawmill without any of them stopping me. Still, it was strange they’d been left unsupervised. I checked the next location on my list and headed out there. More of the same.
I reached a third location, another sawmill, and that’s where I found what I was looking for. Baron Voodoo.
Apparently he knew what I’d been doing, and had summoned every zombie under his command to this spot. He gloated for a while, you know what those evil types are like. Then he ordered them to attack.
There’s nothing like fighting an enemy you know you don’t have to hold back on. Against people, you have to make sure you don’t kill anyone. That’s what got me into this bloody mess in the first place. Against the undead, or demons, or any of the other hundreds of inhuman beasties I have to fight, there’s none of that nonsense. You unleash everything you’ve got.
My sword was everywhere, cleaving zombies from arse to elbow. Dozens of bloody zombies everywhere, I had to move faster than bloody GL to keep them away from me. It didn’t help that Baron bloody Voodoo was chanting and shaking powder everywhere. Felt like a curse. Looks like we were playing serious.
I didn’t have the time, or the concentration for a full spell. Of bloody course. I had to tap into my natural magic. The ground erupted below me, putting me on a pedestal, ten feet above the zombies, out of their reach. They started climbing, but it gave me time. Even with my head throbbing, the bloody ringing in my ears, I began the incantation. My counterspell was stronger, and my style was more intricate than the Baron’s, I reversed it on him. He collapsed, his knee started to rot out from underneath him. I followed it up with my own spell, a basic fireball, which engulfed the zombies.
I moved to trap Baron Voodoo, but he was already gone. One of these days, I was going to learn that trick.
Still, bloody good fight.
Friday, 3:39 AM
Glendora
It barely took an hour for me to find him. The only man in the city I really trust to have my back.
Pumpkin King. Perhaps better known as Firestorm. Or even Ben Mosley.
From then, it was simple. We rode out to Glendora on his motorcycle.
“You looked like you were just getting started back there.” I commented, as the wind whipped my face.
“Yeah, had to wait for the old man to pass out.” King replied over his shoulder.
“A little late by his standards, wasn’t it?” I asked. Something wasn’t right.
“You’re telling me. The past few weeks, he’s been going out during the day. He’s not drinking in the afternoon anymore. And when he does drink, he’s taking longer to get drunk. Like he’s in better condition now. Makes life a lot harder.” King said.
“Maybe he’s got a job.” I suggested, not wanting to say what I really thought. The ‘hero’ formerly known as Napalm could be making a comeback, or at least in training for it.
“Maybe.” King dismissed the topic. “Is that the place?” He pointed.
I looked up at the hill ahead. I could barely make out the lights of a large house at the top.
“I guess so. Let’s find somewhere to hide the bike and continue on foot. Don’t want to alert the guards just yet.” I said.
Lucky for us the house was far on the outskirts of the suburb, and was actually surrounded by sparse woodland. We easily found some bushes to dump the bike in, and headed up towards the house.
<><><>
I returned to our hiding spot.
“Eighteen guards. Six guard posts, each with two guys manning it. The other six walk between posts. Of course, that’s once you get over the wall.” I explained.
“And these guys are on steroids?” King asked.
“Of some description. They have super strength. Probably stronger than me.” I said.
“Guns?”
“Handguns. Still not a lot of fun, but at least they’re not automatics.”
“This should be fun. What’s the plan?”
“Try to sneak in, and find the boss before the guards find us.”
“You don’t think we can take these guys?”
“We might be able to… I don’t want to risk it.”
King grunted a reply. He was a little more hotheaded than I am. Always wants to be the badass.
“On three, we both run to that bush against the house. Keep your head down.” I said, keeping an eye on the two nearest guards.
“Got it.” King said simply.
I had to time it perfectly. The first guard turned and began walking the other way. “One.” I said. The second guard continued walking towards the bushes. “Two…” I continued. The guard turned and walked away. “Three.”
The two of us ran as fast as we could, with our heads down. We made it halfway, before the first guard tripped and fell. He turned as he climbed to his feet and spotted us.
“HEY!” He shouted.
“So much for that.” King said, his head and fists flaring up.
The second guard had his gun out and opened fire, as he ran towards us.
“I’ll go left.” I said.
“Guess I’ll go right.” King replied.
I sprinted at the second guard, taking a bullet to the chest for my troubles. I kept running, hoping to heal up before I reached him. He was huge, probably a side-effect of whatever drug he was on.
The bullet fell out of my chest, as I leapt into the air, hoping for a fly-kick. I connected with his face, but he just grabbed me in mid-air and slammed me onto the ground.
“It’ll take more than that to beat me, Shadow.” The guard said, as he began pounding away at my face and torso, cracking bones and busting me open.
I screamed in pain, the combination of the blows themselves, and the subsequent healing caused my body to be in constant agony.
As he hit me in the stomach with his right, I grabbed onto his hand, using his momentum to pull myself to my feet, before taking a few steps back, out of his reach.
As I caught my breath, and my injuries healed, I noticed three more guards coming up behind him, obviously drawn by gunfire.
“They’ve got reinforcements.” I said, as I saw King backing up to me out of the corner of my eye.
“I noticed.” King replied. I turned briefly to see more guards coming from his direction.
The two of us stood back to back. “Feeling up to some fireworks?” I asked.
“Looks like it might be my only option.” Pumpkin King replied.
“Well well well…” One of the guards said. “The Shadow and Pumpkin King decided they were going to take down the biggest producers on the West Coast… Big mistake.”
“I guess you didn’t know about us.” Another said.
“The finest private security firm in the world. Rock Steady Inc. We’ll work for anyone, assuming the pay is right. And the pay here is definitely right.” The first speaker said.
“Blah blah blah. Can we just fight?” King asked.
“Fight? Listen, I don’t care who you think you are… You can’t win. I’m going to give you both the chance to get the hell out of here. I’ll let you go home, and think about what you’ve tried here.”
“Your bosses are going down.” I said.
“Actually, no. You and your Tim Burton reject friend here are the ones going down.” The guard replied.
I looked around and noticed that all eighteen guards were now surrounding us.
“Do you guys know why I took the name Pumpkin King?” King asked.
“Because of your man-crush on Jack Skellington?” The guard asked.
“No. Because I’m your worst fucking nightmare.” King said, a burst of flame from his hands burning the speaker and a man on either side, all three dropping to the ground and writhing in agony.
I took that as my cue to roll to the side, un-holstering my guns and opening fire on my nearest adversaries, hamstringing one and shredding another’s shoulder.
As I emptied my clip into the crowd, taking down one more man, King was on top of another guard, pounding him in the face with his flaming fists, beating and burning him into unconsciousness.
There was no time to reload, I instead put my guns back in their holsters and decided to take them on hand-to-hand, because it worked so well before. This time, I knew I had to fight harder.
I met one guard face-to-face and grabbed his right wrist and elbow, reversing his elbow and breaking his arm, forcing him to drop his gun, which I snatched in midair and fired at another man, putting three in his chest, before turning the gun on my initial target and scoring the belly-wound.
I dropped both man and gun, before moving onto my next opponent. I ducked a wild swing at my head and went low, hitting an uppercut on the poor guy’s groin. He roared in agony, as he brought both fists down and hit me in the back of the head with a double-ax-handle. I saw stars, and almost lost consciousness, but my healing factor kicked in and I was fine, choosing to sweep the leg of the stunned man, before a punt to the head left him concussed.
I saw a man run past me on fire, screaming as the flames consumed his clothes and flesh. Pumpkin King was certainly enjoying himself.
“That’s my seventh!” King shouted. “What’s your score?”
“This isn’t a game.” I replied. I had of course, taken down only six, but taking the concussed man’s gun and firing two bursts of bullets at two approaching guards’ chests brought my count back past even.
Then I was grabbed from behind by one guard, as another began working the body. I laughed as he crushed my internal organs.
“What’s so funny?” He asked.
“By my count, all that’s left is you two, and one more guy.” I said. A flash of light, and a man tumbled into view. “Make that two of you. I suggest you get out now, before you make my friend and me very angry.”
The man punching me pulled out his gun. “Guess I’ll make this quick.” He said, firing six shots into my chest. At that range, they went straight through my body and into the man holding me. We both collapsed.
<><><>
I came to a few minutes later, the final guard was smoldering on the ground next to me.
“Guess we could take them.” I commented, before turning to the house.
“Think there’s more inside?” King asked.
“They’d have joined in. There should only be the guys making the drugs left inside.” I replied.
The garage door opened and a station wagon sped out, the passengers firing wildly at us. A stray bullet hit me in the shoulder.
“God damnit. That always hurts like a mother.” I cursed, as the bullet pushed out and the wound healed.
“Guess they didn’t want to play.” King sounded disappointed.
“Let’s just bust the place open.” I said, kicking the front door down.
The inside of the house looked like a factory. Pill presses, industrial labs, barrels of chemicals.
“Holy crap. Guess we should get to work.” Pumpkin King said, as he flared up and set a nearby table on fire.
“You idiot!” I shouted.
“What?” He asked. “I’m impervious to fire, you can just heal anything.”
“That crap is going to explode. You’re not impervious to shrapnel.” I said.
“Oh yeah…” King trailed off. “Run?”
“Run.” I agreed.
The two of us sprinted down the hallway, I pushed King in front of me. The fire was spreading. We made it halfway to the fence when the entire goddamned house exploded. I felt stabbing pain in at least a dozen places in my back, as shards of brick, wood and tiles embedded themselves in me. I could also feel chemicals burning on my back.
What confused me though, was the pain in my front. I looked down and saw a huge piece of wood, probably from the house’s framing, sticking out of my belly. And then I saw black.
<><><>
Friday, 10:12 AM
Glendora
The sun shining in my eyes woke me up. I sat up immediately, looking around and taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. I quickly realized I was in the spot we’d stashed King’s bike the night before.
I saw a huge piece of timber sitting on the ground next to me. It was at least four feet long. Judging by the fact it was still covered in my blood, King must have pulled it out. Thank god, that would have taken days to force out of my body.
I felt the wound… It was still scabbed over. This was going to take a while. I was probably filled with splinters. I was going to need to find somewhere to hide until nightfall, so I could head home.
I stood up to make a move, when I heard a sound.
I ducked back down and looked to the source of the noise.
I almost died of shock when I saw a cop walking towards me, obviously looking around.
“This is crap. Whoever took those guys out did us a favour.” He shouted.
A shout from my left revealed a second searching cop, out of my sight. He said something about assault and arson.
And that’s when the first cop looked me straight in the eyes.
I tensed, ready to sprint into the distance.
He didn’t take his eyes off me.
“Harry, we’re not going to find anything. Let’s just head back.” He shouted.
His partner said something in agreement.
He nodded at me. Before he turned away, I snuck a look at his badge. Jack O’Hara. Good to know I had some friends on the Force.
I waited until he was out of sight, before I ran deeper into the woods, in search of somewhere to rest.
<><><>
Friday,9.20PM
King Estates
I snuck into the house through the window, careful not to wake up my mom. She was going to kill me. I’d been gone for a whole day. I was going to need an excuse.
But first thing was first. I reached under my mattress and pulled out my notebook.
I wrote down two things.
’Finlay. Drug dealer. Manhattan Beach.’
’Rock Steady Inc. Security firm. Research.’
Satisfied with my notes, I stashed the notebook and collapsed on my bed, pulling the remains of my mask off and hiding it under my pillow.