A fist burst up from the ground; rotting, flesh and fabric dropping away from it as the body twisted and groaned its way back into the light. Dozens more hands joined it... and Jason ran. Leaping over bushes, dodging beside trees... but there always seemed to be more of them. Broken faces. Torsos crawling forward without legs. Boys. Women.
Most of them though... if they had faces... had the same one. Mark Maxwell. Lightning. When one burst beneath his feet, bringing him to the ground, and its companions started to swarm over him, Jason couldn't help but scream as he struggled to escape...
He awoke. Sweaty, chilled, lying in his sleeping bag in the tent. After years in the desert he'd gotten used to sleeping on rough cots, on the sand, on the rocks. This wasn't too bad. But... he didn't usually wake up sweating.
The air was cold, but the fire was warm. The tent good, solid, well-insulated; and with its opening up to the fire, comfortable once he got it started back up to cook himself some breakfast. If it started to snow, he'd probably pile it up around the tent for more insulation; but otherwise, his little camp seemed fine.
Jason laid back, relaxed; reading a book. Practicing his make-up skills to try out different ways to shape the prosthetic nose, and that patch over his forehead; while still vaguely resembling the 'Jason Byrne' fake ID. Maintained his usual workout regimen; push-ups, pull-ups... jogging laps around his little camp; each circuit taking him to the top of a nearby hill where the hole his bike; and the cash; were in was just barely visible.
His stamina now was... a bit disturbing. He was a bit stronger, could run further, than he had at his peak, before that first injury had laid him out for a few weeks. He hadn't really tested himself out on it... but he could do one-handed pull-ups now like it were trivial, and even at his best that had been a challenge.
One of Jason's burner phones was active; and he was studiously avoiding any suspicious activity on it. Checking the local news was good. Looking at craigslist postings? Good. Definitely no looking into the lawyers representing known supervillains, or the villains themselves.
Granted; with the notable exception of Valkyrie, all of the other supervillains were either in prison, outside the country, or hidden. Nobody wanted to screw with Valkyrie, not even the feds; the woman had been known to crush dense metals with so much force small-scale nuclear explosions had cleared out the surroundings; and of course, nothing, not even Lightning, had been able to hurt her.
Still. No way in hell he would want to go to her for advice laundering money. Her whole town was always being watched. A lawyer though? Much better. Spying on a lawyer's conversations with his clients would get the cops themselves in serious trouble, so the moment he laid money down it should be safe to talk.
There was a law office down in Nevada, if he recalled right, that would handle things well.
The first day, he saw himself in that Eyeball gimmick as headline news, and the ongoing manhunt that had spread into Wyoming, Utah, and Nevada. Nobody had a clear picture of him leaving; reports of a purple Harley were the most common; a few cameras at nearby gas stations had blurry, partial images that just showed a purple blob with a black and silver blob atop it; so with those added up, they had exactly the wrong picture; and even if they'd found him on his bike, might not have stopped him.
By the end of the second day, the news had... dozens of crimes. Jewelry heists. Bank robberies. Lightning hadn't stopped that many crimes in the area; because everyone knew he was seconds away. Just knowing he was here had dropped crime dramatically in the state; there were days the entire state of Colorado didn't have a known felony.
The third-rate heroes in the area were stepping up; but by the fourth day, it still seemed as if things were a bit chaotic. With Lightning here, criminals had moved out to the edges, operating outside the range he usually worked; and now, they were all coming back.
A special task force was being sent in... not to track him down... but rather, to help deal with the sudden surge in supervillain incidents.
After five days, the ice chest was almost empty. Some raccoon; probably; had gotten into his food.. and most importantly... he was out of beer. Finally, it was time.
He loaded up the bike in the back of the truck; the cash went in the back seat, the extended-cab truck's bench folded shut atop it. The various gear he'd decided to keep in as well.. and the tent folded over to cover the bike. Shutting off the burner phone and slapping a bit of tape on it after pulling the battery, he set it aside; he would probably find a use for the parts of it, later.
Turning on Burner #8, he pulled onto the highway headed south; and soon enough switched over to interstate; pulling up a web-search on his phone for famous court cases of Super-villains. And finding just what he needed; the name of a Lawyer just north of Vegas who had represented, and got acquitted, an obviously guilty enforcer for the Russo crime family; Tommy Tops, an over-the-top personality who ran a string of ads clearly designed to appeal to supervillains.
Perfect. Either he'll be able to help, or will know the right person; and of course, he's a lawyer. Toss him a few grand and of course he'd work things out.
***
Burke and Tops LLC was a nice, expensive-looking building across the street from a guarded parking garage; all shiny glass and steel, the names lit up in neon on the front, and '24/7 Consulting' planted below the name; he felt a bit better having his truck, and over a hundred thousand dollars in cash, in a facility with armed guards outside it... even if it cost 20$ just to leave it there for a few hours.
Jason's current outfit; picked up at a thrift store while passing through Wyoming; didn't quite cost that much; black slacks, a checkered blue long-sleeved, and a cowboy hat that had clearly been worn quite a bit. Rather than make-up, this time he opted for a bandage wrapped around his forehead, just barely visible beneath the hat.
The guard at the parking garage gave a solemn nod. The rifle he held... whatever the hell it was, it was damned expensive. The barrel was squared off rather than round, and from the lights on the side, it had a battery pack. He'd seen similar designs before; usually energy weapons made to stun... or kill.. bulletproof targets. Between the energy rifle, the black body-armor, and the 300-pound frame, he was a ridiculously intimidating sight.
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Focusing for a moment as he started to walk by... the gun... wouldn't shoot if Jason grabbed it. But if he made the guard shoot it? It would burn a hole right through the garage, and the engine block of that car.. and make a furrow in the concrete.
He gave an admiring nod in return. "Nice piece. Might want one myself sometime."
"Expensive to get. More to keep running. The batteries this thing takes..." He shrugged. "If the boss didn't pay for it, I wouldn't have it."
Jason smiled, and turned back to the street; waiting a moment before heading across to the law office's front door. It was 2PM; likely just after lunch for most in this profession. But then.. if the place is open 24/7, do they have lawyers working shifts? What lawyer would do shift work?
The front lobby was immaculate; dark oak wood with brass fittings, two armed guards at the doorway who gave Jason a quick look-over.. clearly spotting his sidearm and skipping over it without concern. They didn't spot the grenade in each boot; but then, that was the only reason he was wearing the boots. Steel-toed cowboy boots? Obvious reason to set off metal detectors. And with the hat, not draw an ounce of attention.
The secretary was a beautiful red-head who likely had some work done from the excessive curves trying to burst free of her dress; though she didn't look too happy to see Jason; giving his appearance a once-over as he approached the desk. "Welcome to Burke and Tops, Don't talk to the cops until you call Tops. This is Amanda. What can I do for you?"
"I actually wanted to briefly consult with a lawyer about something. Shouldn't take too much time, probably less than an hour.... and considering the cases he's worked, mister Tops seemed like a good candidate."
Amanda looked Jason over again, and sighed. "Mister Tops doesn't do free consults. Thousand bucks an hour minimum." She turned back to her computer, clearly intending that as a dismissal.
Jason started peeling off bills from a roll straight from the ATM; crisp, clean, hundred-dollar bills, he peeled off ten and laid them down on the desk. "Then let him know he has someone for the next hour. I'm assuming I need to sign something?"
She tilted her head for a moment, thoughtfully. Assessing. Green eyes? No... grey. They seemed to change in the light. She reached forward, touching his hand briefly as she started to collect the money, in a deliberate act that might have been considered flirtatious if not for her attitude. After a few seconds, her eyes widened. "No... that won't be necessary. I'll let him know you're coming. Top floor. The door that says Mister Tops."
She nodded at the elevator... and Jason studied the elevator for a moment. Was this a trap of some sort? He had one shroud, one burster, steel-toed boots, and his tenner. That should be enough for most threats, but... This was a lawyer for supervillains. He glanced at Amanda one last time... and then headed to the elevator, as the girl dialed the phone on her desk. He could just hear her saying "Mister Tops!" in an excited voice before the doors closed.
The elevator had six floors; at first he was a bit surprised; from the outside, it looked to be at least eight stories tall. But then... the 6 didn't light up when he pressed it; the elevator just kept right on past. He kept his hand at his hip, by the gun... but before it opened, he could already see the floor was clean. Bulletproof glass; would stop the tenner, but not a grenade; protected the offices.
To his right, a fancy office, with a slick-haired man in his 30s already rising to his feet and marching to the door.. and when it opened, the man looked... afraid? Excited? Nervous? He'd visibly started sweating before opening the door, and Jason could see the man would cower in terror at the slightest provocation... but he still marched on, sticking out his hand.
"Bill Tops at your service, sir! Why don't you come on into my office, and we can talk about whatever it is we can help you with?"
Jason shook his hand thoughtfully. What exactly was going on here? Was that receptionist a Meta of some sort? "That sounds like a plan, Mister Tops. You can call me Jason. I'd like to hire you on for a bit of legal council..."
Jason followed him into the office, and offered the wad of cash. "I'm aware your receptionist said it wasn't needed, for whatever reason. But before we talk, I'd like to officially hire you, so that anything we say will be protected ..."
The lawyer nodded, and pulled around his desk, sitting down; the desk was massive, mahogany, with marble inlay and a variety of carvings embedded in its surface; even if it was a gaudy replica it would still be expensive; and after a moment, slid a piece of paper out onto the desk.
"Of course. You don't actually have to pay me to hire me... especially not under the circumstances.. but I can understand the paranoia. Here.." Tops wrote a few things on the form, and slid it across. Jason reviewed it for a moment. The number '100$' and the time period of 'For the duration of the client's presence on my property' were filled out. He glanced up at Tops a moment... slid a 100$ bill across.. signed it.. and passed it back.
"Excellent. Now. What brings you to see me today?" The eagerness and fear seemed to grow more intense... he wasn't as sweaty now, but he seemed on the verge of leaping from his chair, twitching with energy.
"I seem to have earned some money without any legal paperwork to go along with it... and would like a bit of assistance converting it into an account I can use without problems to acquire property and equipment. I don't know anyone on this side of the ocean that could do the job... but you seemed like a good starting point."
Tops's grin expanded almost impossibly wide. "Not only can I help you with that... and for only a ten percent cut... but I can put you in touch with the man himself so you can get the bounty paid out promptly. You know, he has people out looking for you right now, and you waltz right into his lawyer's office... would you mind if I pretend like I found you? I'll make it five percent rather than ten?"
Jason blinked. The old Jason would be confused. Lost. The new Jason... put the pieces together almost immediately. "Am I required to meet him in order to collect? I'm a fairly... private individual."
The lawyer laughed aloud. "Oh, come now, mister Titanslayer. Or do you prefer Eyeball?" "Jason works. Or... well. Eyeball if need be." "Perhaps you didn't know the exact terms, but the boss wants a memento. Frankly, when we saw you collect the mask on the news, we thought you knew that; he's got a spot already cleared off on his wall for that mask, and ten million dollars waiting for when you hand it over. If you let me tell the boss I found you for him, I'll turn that into a swiss bank account with 9.5 mil in a name that will pass every security check you need to get back out of the country, if thats your plan."
So. Meet a mob boss. Collect nine million dollars, for work he'd already done? That was a hell of a deal. He could go setup shop in New Zealand, Britain, Australia, anywhere he felt like... or even a country with no extradition treaty. "What if I just give you the mask; you can act as an intermediary."
"Mister Eyeball. Sir. I'm afraid he's insistent on meeting you in person. At the very least, he'll want to shake your hand. And I suspect that he's going to have some very lucrative jobs to offer you.. the sort that you might be one of the few people on this earth that can perform. Sure, this bounty was enough to retire. But think.. a month or two of working for the team, and you can retire with style."
Jason inhaled slowly. This... would be incredibly dangerous. This could be a simple bounty payment. Or it could be a test of some sort; or even a trap by someone who wanted to kill the man who'd taken out Lightning. He gave a low whistle.
"Fine. But if I'm going to meet someone that important, I need to get outfitted properly. I'll need you to launder the cash I've already got on me from the bank so I can be in proper style to meet a prospective employer. I left most of my gear overseas." If he was going to go walking into a cave full of god knows how many supervillains and criminals, with no idea if they intended him to come out alive... he was going in loaded for bear.