While Dead Head was busy back at home base, getting the beginnings of construction going, he had squads of his men out on the streets, selling the remnants of the Condottieri deal to various groups and individuals.
Pax led one of these squads. Or at least he felt like he was leading the squad. He hoped he was. He was joined by O’Malley and Duck. O’Malley was expecting the deal to go a lot better compared to his last job for Dead Head; the one in which he was the only one that avoided jail then an attempted robbery conviction. Duck? Despite the goofy name, he was a tall, hardened man with his black hair slicked back down his head. He walked with his fist clenched to his side and his jaw sealed shut, eyes watching every corner for trouble.
Inconspicuous was the name of the game and Pax dressed for the occasion, trading out his more stylish winter coat for an insulated work jacket. He was missing a nametag but looked the part. O’Malley might have not worn some kind of work outfit, but he was carrying a toolbag with him with their produce-for-sale stashed in the bottom.
With Duck wearing a close-fitting work uniform, the three of them looked like a trio of repairmen. No one around looked twice. As far as anyone was concerned, they were repairmen or electricians or something and they were on a way to a job. No cops were around but if a cruiser drifted by, Pax and his boys would have been left alone. Probably.
The meeting point was at an unfinished construction site off of Adelaide. Looking like labourers was good for blending into a public but they looked undeniably appropriate for the meeting place. They parked their car at a McDonald’s and walked down to the block with the construction. In a square of bare dirt, there was a tower of red-painted girders with only the first storey of the building having anything of walls– thick concrete slabs that nested the outside of what was going to be the ground floor.
Walking down the hill, Pax had to wonder how quickly things had changed for him in the last couple weeks. He had gone from having his own small little gang to being on the lowest tier of Dead Head’s crew. He was making more money but didn’t call any real shots.
Pax put the thought out of his head. He and his guys stepped inside the building. The roof hadn’t been finished. Some of steel framing had been built and the basic was done but Pax looked up and through a large hole got a view into the overcast sky.
“How many guys are they gonna have?” asked O’Malley, referencing the buyers.
“Wasn’t told,” said Pax. “I’d wager no more than four.”
“More than us?” said O’Malley, his volume spiking and his voice trembling off concrete walls.
“Don’t be a wuss,” said Pax. “They’re not going to try anything. I know these guys. They’re not going to try a thing.” He stepped in front of O’Malley. “I’ve done two of these deals this week and they’ve gone off without a hitch. Quit being paranoid.”
“You guys talking about us?” a voice called into the room.
Around a corner on the other side of the floor, in came two guys: Caberough, an overweight guy with dyed blue hair, and Big Morrie, a man built of muscle and towering at six feet plus. Caberough fingered the bag at O’Malley’s side. “I’m assuming the stuff is in there.”
Pax took the bag from O’Malley and patted it, holding it up for the others. “Three bags. Three packets.”
Caberough slung a hand down his face. He changed the topic completely. “How’s it been, Pax? I heard you been working for that new Dead Head guy.”
“Yeah,” said Pax, straightening his posture, “currently, anyway.”
Many girders hung above. Basic foundation was complete a few floors above the shell of a building that the guys had their deal inside. If someone was spying from above, Pax wouldn’t have known.
Caberough craned his hands out in a shrug, “What’s the matter? Did you get tired of scaring people out of their homes? Is the property devalue business not lucrative enough nowadays?”
His tone was mocking but in that world, it could have been a genuine question. Caberough could have outright admired Pax’s line of work and his ability to grab a nice job with Dead Head (because the money was nice). But Caberough (and pretty much every other guy in the room) had a tendency to front condescension as a conversation tool.
“Dead Head’s been good for me,” said Pax. The sentence was “Dead Head’s been good to me” but Pax edited it as it left his mouth. He dropped his face. “Listen... I’m not here to catch up. You got the money?”
Caberough glanced at Big Morrie and Morrie reached into his jacket to pull out a wad of bills. It looked the right size.
Something clacked from above. Everybody froze and got tense when a pop can came ringing down from above, landing in the room and bouncing off the floor before rolling to Pax’s boot.
Everybody looked above. “Who is it?” barked O’Malley as he erratically shuffled his stance.
Pax eyed the girders, but saw nothing. “It was the wind knocking over a can.” He brought his eyes back down to the ground floor. “Let’s get this deal over with then.”
And from another part of the building, a voice shouted: “Let’s not.”
In walked a lady, dressed in like a valkyrie from legend, her armour silver but laced with gold. On her head was a steel mask shaped like a falcon’s beak, covering all but the very bottom of her mouth with a trim of black puffy hair sticking out the back. Her breastplate, gauntlets, and greaves all sharing the same sheen. Usually her arms and knees were showing but it was almost winter though so she had tight black thermal underneath.
She might have been a superhero but she still had to dress for the temperature.
Pax sank his brow, his voice full of disbelief. “Lady Beat...”
“It is I,” said Lady Beat, orating for the room. “And you–” She brandished a judgmental finger at Pax– “You have been seeping poison onto these fair streets. I know what’s inside that bag you carry.”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
The only person who didn’t know the name Lady Beat– hadn’t heard the legends about Toronto’s most noteworthy superhero– was Big Morrie, but seeing everyone else on edge because a costumed woman walked into the room wised up to Big Morrie that she was someone to take seriously.
Pax knew who she was. But all he had heard about her was that she fought crime. How she fought crime was never in the details. He didn’t know if she was a magic-user like Thrash or some other kind of mutant. He looked at Lady Beat’s side and there was a stick of some kind that looked like a dimmed yellow lamp. Was it some kind of magic wand?
Caberough picked up the pop can. “Beat it, lady!”
He tossed the can but Lady Beat raised her hand and the can arrested in midair, the men stunned to see something defy physics like it was. Lady Beat twitched her fingers and the pop can fired back at the person who chucked it. Caberough dodged out of the way like the can was a shuriken.
Pax gave a resigned sigh. Lady Beat was a witch. He could have almost laughed; the humour of the situation– him facing off with a freak again– was not lost on him.
There was no point in conversation. Pax looked at the bag in O’Malley’s hand. A wrench stuck outward. Pax took it, gripping it firmly in his hand. It was time to go to work.
He rushed Lady Beat and when she ducked out of the way, he took the wrench at her. She removed the wand she had at her side and struck at Pax’s wrench. The wand glowed and there was the sound of static as Lady Beat’s rod smacked Pax’s wrench. Pax felt a shock going down his arm, and then Lady Beat brought the instrument down on Pax’s back.
“Ah!”
Pain went over his back so Pax dropped the wrench and fell to the ground, rolling away from Lady Beat. Duck and Morrie went at steel-clad superheroine. Morrie got a hit in, smacking his knuckles on Beat’s helm. The edge of her helm scraped on Morrie’s fingers and the big guy could handle whacking his hands but Lady Beat didn’t even flinch and Morrie felt like he got hurt more than she did.
Duck might have practised martial arts. He put his hands up, a boxer’s stance, and took a couple jabs at Lady Beat, but didn’t land any one of them. He took steps forward, gaining ground as he threw his mighty punches, but Lady dodged out of the way with ease.
She took a swing at both of them– Duck and Morrie– and cracked the wand on both of them. Both Morrie and Duck were surprised: the wand she had zapped them like a taser.
Pax clutched his arm, pain shivering down his back. “Careful! That thing is electric!”
They knew.
Morris and Duck hopped back and Lady Beat took a wide stance, holding out the wand for everyone to see. It was like an air traffic wand, except it glowed with an indignant light.
Lady Beat had her eyes on the prize, though. It was O’Malley’s bag, or rather the packets of illegal drugs hiding within. Before anything else, those needed to go.
She rushed at O’Malley. O’Malley yelped and froze, the utility bag tight in his hand. Lady Beat blew a stalwart palm into O’Malley– causing the guy to let out a deep “Oof”– and grabbed the bag. All it took was a little waggle to get O’Malley to loosen his fingers.
Seeing Lady Beat take the bag and hop across the room was enough to get Pax’s adrenaline pumping. He rose to his feet. “She’s trying to take the stuff!”
O’Malley collapsed to the floor. Caberough didn’t know what to do and felt alright standing back when Big Morrie, Duck, and Pax corralled Lady Beat. The bag was heavy so Lady Beat set it down to dig for the drugs.
That was an opportunity. Big Morrie ran at Lady Beat and even if she swung at him and landed a good electrifying hit on his chest, the momentum from his speed had him fall forward onto Lady Beat. One second she was swinging a rod, the next she was on the floor with a giant on top of her.
Her wand rolled away from her, catching O’Malleys eye. While Pax and Duck helped Morrie up, O’Malley took the wand and looked at it. The light was gone. With a careful finger, he prodded the glass. Nothing. Didn’t even hurt.
“Is it broken?” asked O’Malley.
“No,” said Lady Beat, her voice muffled by the men surrounded her. “It’s light only shines for me!”
A blast of electricity arced from under Morrie, striking Duck, Pax, and Morrie. Morrie fell down again, this time on his backside, and Lady Beat got up. She was covered in some scrapes and her armour got marred with some dirt but she stood up– defiant. That was not going to stop her.
O’Malley panicked again. He held the wand out at her, looking down and shaking it, hoping for it to activate.
“What’s with this thing?” he asked.
Lady Beat reached out her hand and webs of electricity rode up and down her fingers. Before O’Malley could react, a nest of light screamed out of Lady Beat’s hand and clutched O’Malley.
“Ahhh!” he screamed, dropping the wand.
He collapsed against the wall, and the groaned, clutching his chest. Not a lethal current, it was. It was an arc of electricity, not a lightning bolt, but for all the times that Lady Beat used that preternatural ability, she didn’t know the voltage of it.
Lady Beat left the bag alone for a second and grabbed the wand. Reentering Beat’s hand, the wand brightened once again, the Lady’s psychic power flowing out of her arm into the device, channelling it.
Pax knew he had to act fast if he was going to get any harm on Lady Beat. He took a couple milliseconds to look for a weapon before giving up; he would have to engage with her bare-handed. She had her eyes on the bag of drugs when Pax jumped at her but she noticed his attack and stepped out the way.
There was no time to waste. Pax took a few swings at her and got a good hit on the side of her head. She recovered quickly and tossed a roundhouse kick at Pax, knocking him right on the head. He wasn’t wearing a mask, though, and Beat’s greaves hit like, well, metal boots.
Pax found a place on the ground to collapse.
Duck came racing behind Lady Beat, and got a good fist into her back. Easily the hardest Beat had been hit that encounter. She clenched through the pain and swung the wand back at Duck. He dodged and went for another heavy jab at the Lady, but even through the pain, Lady Beat was agile and swooped down to avoid the attack. Another swing of her wand and Duck had smacked in his side, coursing electric energy through his nerves. Everything faded to black for the tightened warrior.
Everyone but Caberough was on the floor, but Caberough wasn’t going to interfere with a lightning-wielding witch! Lady Beat dug into the utility bag and found the packets on the bottom, mixed around since the bag had been thrown around a bit. She took the packets out and threw them to the ground. She didn’t want to strike them with lightning since that could have caused a reaction, so she stepped on them and crushed them to the pavement floor.
“Nooo!” said Caberough.
This inspired him to attack Lady Beat, although it was too late. Lady Beat’s work was done and she didn’t care to unfold all amounts of violence possible. She jumped up onto the roof; her psychic powers allowed her to defy gravity in a way most couldn’t.
Pax collected his head and looked upward. His vision clearing, he saw Lady Beat disappear from the scene. He took his eyes to the ground and saw the packets had burst open, the product scattered on the floor.
He groaned, but then sirens were heard. He looked out the building’s opening to see red and blue lights flashing on the strip mall. “Crap! The cops!”
Caberough booked it. Pax saw O’Malley, Duck and Big Morrie lying there. He went up to Duck and wiggled him but the guy was out, Lady Beat’s lightning shut him down like a washing machine done its load. Pax tried picking up the product with his hands but it was a useless gesture and the cops were getting close.
Where was the money? In a panic, his breath frantic, Pax looked around for the wad but didn’t see it. Was it on Big Morrie? Did the Lady take it? He couldn’t leave there without something, but he heard a car door shut and worried it was a police officer.
He dashed to another opening on the opposite side of the floor. Outside, he didn’t see any cop cars parked along the perimeter of the lot, not from where he could see. He raced across the dirt to a tunnel underneath the corner by the intersection. The tunnel was dark and hopefully it hid him well.
He didn’t want to stay to see what would happen to the others but he was without the drugs, without the cash. The deal had gone terribly.
Back at the in-construction building, O’Malley woke up to find a cop pointing a gun at him. This time he didn’t get away.