One week later
An insistent knock sounded at the door. Deacon grumbled from his prone position on his couch, he had just gotten comfortable. He reached over and plucked the lit cigarette resting in the ashtray on the now clean coffee table and put it inside his swollen, busted bottom lip. The knock came again, and he groaned while trying to get up from the soft couch cushions that enveloped his sore back.
“Hey dude it’s me! Open up!” It was Nate’s voice on the other side of his apartment door.
“Hold up, I’m coming.”
Deacon answered the door with the cigarette still dangling from his lips and holding a cold beer to the side of his bruised and blackened eye.
“Dude, you look beat to shit still. I thought you healed faster when you turned into the metal devil.” Nate responded as he entered the depressing little one-bedroom apartment.
“Yeah, I do. But I got jumped yesterday by Sarah’s new boyfriend and three of his friends.”
Nate sat down on the dirty recliner opposite the couch, both of which faced an episode of MTV’s Headbanger’s Ball which was playing at a lowered volume.
“Dude, what? Why didn’t you turn into the beast and fucking eat them?”
Deacon shrugged his shoulders. It was a valid question but one he could not answer. When it had happened, he really did not have the enthusiasm or the will to kill the rich kids. It was one thing to physically have the power over life and death, it was quite another to wield that power indiscriminately.
“I thought that night downtown would have scared those bitches off for good.”
“They never put two and two together.” Deacon replied with a sigh and collapsing back to the couch heavily. “They saw a monster that night but didn’t know it was me. In fact, I think you guys and…” He trailed off.
“Zoe.” Nate was not afraid to speak the name, but it drew another heavy sigh from his best friend.
“Yeah. Just you guys know.”
The subject had been a sore one ever since the two Hollywood ladies left for sunny California almost immediately after they had rescued them from the vile clutches of Butch Verdun and the voodoo gang. The incident had not only made the local news but had been running its rounds across national news agencies ever since. Deacon had escaped the aftermath of the fight between he and the giant robot before any media cameras had arrived, but the following weeks had been filled with interviews from the officer workers that had been inside as well as the scores of police officers he had saved. And the name that Zoe had come up with had stuck, all over the media The Chicago Devil was being talked about.
Nate knew that it was not the media attention that was now keeping his friend down. It was the fact that he had not even had the opportunity to say goodbye to the beautiful Hollywood blonde before they had left for home. It had all been a bit anticlimactic actually, no happily ever after with the girl of his dreams, no hugs, no showering of praise, hell, Nate didn’t even think they had stuck around to even thank them.
“You’re still hung up over her huh?” Nate nodded and sank back into the well-worn recliner. “It’s like I always say man, girls like that…they just ain’t for guys like us. Never fall for a rich girl. It wouldn’t have worked anyway.”
Deacon was still holding the cold beer to his bruised temple, but it was the bottle of whisky on the coffee table that he was drinking. He reached for this and took a swig, wincing as it burned his throat on the way down. He nodded back to his friend but said nothing, knowing deep down that he was right.
“I mean, what? Was she gonna leave her glamorous life in California to come live in the Back of the Yards? Were you gonna go live in California and become a surfer?”
“Yeah…” Deacon sighed again. “You’re right.”
“But, here’s a better question…” Nate turned towards his friend, moping on the couch. “If you heal faster as the beast…why don’t you just shift now and heal yourself?”
Deacon blinked a few times and set the cold beer down on the coffee table.
“That’s a good question. I dunno, it’s not always that easy, I mean, I think I got a better handle on it but…”
“Well? Give it a try. What do you gotta do? Just get mad?”
“No not exactly.” Deacon began thinking of the few times that he had shifted successfully and had control over it. The first time had been in the basement of the club and he had been getting beat up pretty badly. He had been angry sure, but it was more than that. The second time he had been listening to a Metallica song, and psyching himself up to kick some ass. It was more than just being angry, he had entered an emotional state both times, shutting off the higher thinking part of his brain and reverting to a more primal state.
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The young Southsider began thinking of the events of the past few weeks. The way that Zoe had infuriated him with her spoiled, entitled attitude, but eventually had grown on him into something more. The fact that she had left so readily, without trying to contact him or…
The shift began and Deacon felt his muscles swell and his bones stretch. It was perhaps not quite as painful as the first time it had happened, but it was still not a pleasant experience.
“Yeah! Right on!” Nate pumped his fist.
Deacon could feel the extra weight, the extra height within the cramped confines of his small apartment. He looked down with some disappointment at seeing the Megadeth T-shirt he had been wearing ripped at the shoulders. With a small gesture he used the large black claws on his hands to finish the job, turning it into a sleeveless shirt.
Another knock came at the door and Deacon turned to Nate. He shrugged in response. Deacon had not been expecting anyone and in fact had been somewhat hiding from the outside world and the media circus going on inside the city.
“Answer it.” Deacon instructed while rushing back through the hallway which barely contained the width of his shoulders in this state towards his bedroom. Now would come the hard part, changing back.
Nate opened the door and saw a girl with long dark hair and a leather jacket standing there. She wore large hoop earrings and bright red lipstick.
“Gina.” He nodded and stepped aside so that she could come in. “Deke. Gina’s here!” He called towards the back of the apartment.
“There was a guy out there looking for Deke.” She said while stepping into the room. She looked around curiously at the clean state of the apartment, she had never seen it like that before.
“He’s been hiding from people lately I think.”
“I figured.” Gina walked around the coffee table and had a seat on the couch. She was wearing a pair of thigh high hooker boots, and when she crossed her long legs, Nate could not help but appreciate her at that moment.
The two sat in silence for a long uncomfortable moment. Nate took the opportunity to fish for the remote control and turn up the volume on the television. He frowned when the host played a White Lion hair metal song.
“Fuck you Riki Rachtman.” Nate scowled before greedily snatching the bottle of whisky on the table and taking a swig.
Deacon came out then, obviously having had an opportunity to master his inner beast somewhat, because he came back into the living room in his familiar greaseball long haired human form. He had taken the opportunity to switch his ruined band shirt for a plain white T-shirt. He stopped at the kitchen and raised an eyebrow at the glam rock playing on his TV set.
Deacon slumped heavily into the couch next to the young woman. He looked over at her and she smiled shyly back. What the hell? He put his arm around her before noticing his friend had commandeered his alcohol.
“Hey fartknocker, give that back.”
Deacon snatched the bottle, took a swig and passed it to Gina.
“So what brings you over?” Deacon eyed her curiously. She was weird and perhaps he was slightly tipsy at this point…but she was looking pretty good tonight.
Gina reached into her leather jacket, she wore the chick version, with the long tassles, and produced a set of keys. She handed them over gently.
“What the hell is this?”
“Some guy outside. He was looking for Deacon Crawford. I told him I was…” Gina blushed heavily. “You’re girlfriend.”
Deacon looked at her for a long moment before answering.
“Yeah, what the hell? Why not?” Deacon looked down at the keys and realized something quickly. “These are car keys.”
He exchanged a puzzled glance with Gina next to him, and then Nate across from him, before rising from the sofa.
“Come on.” Deacon motioned for the other two to follow him as he made his way the few steps to the front door and quickly outside.
Gina and Nate did follow, but both had to work hard to do so. Deacon was suddenly filled with purpose, and was walking quickly around the front of the apartment complex, up the stairs and into the parking lot. The parking lot was filled with the usual fare late on a Saturday night. There were a few kids making out in cars, a few seedy looking drug pushers on the stoops of their apartments, but otherwise, fairly quiet.
Deacon quickly made his way to the parking lot and began looking around. He was a man on a mission, trying to get to the bottom of this new mystery. He spotted it soon, parked in a spot not too far away. He regarded the sight with a mixture of skepticism and glee for a long moment before running over. It took the other two a minute to catch up. When they did, they found the long-haired cab driver taking out the keys Gina had brought and unlocking the door to an old Checker Cab.
Deacon slid into the driver’s seat and unlocked the doors for the others. Gina slid into the passenger seat while Nate opened the back door to climb in. Gina smiled at the sight of the man she had been so infatuated with for so long actually smiling from ear to ear for the first time in a very long time.
“Mmm. This car is pretty hot Deke.” Gina cooed next to his ear. “Just like the man behind the wheel.”
It took a special girl to appreciate a classic such as this. Deacon thought about what it would take to impress a California girl…a Ferrari? He reached onto the dashboard when his eye caught a sealed white letter up there. He stuck a finger in the corner and tore it open without another word.
“Dear cabbie. I didn’t get a chance to thank you for helping me and I left probably owing you money so please accept this gift as my thank you, it took a lot of effort to find one. Hopefully we are now even.” Deacon read the handwritten note out loud. “Signed Zoe Waters. P.S. if you’re ever on the West Coast look me up.”
“I hope you don’t really plan on looking that skank up.” Gina curled her lip and flipped her hair.
Deacon looked around the cab. He wasn’t sure what year it was, but it was a classic, the iconic A11 model, probably from the sixties. It had been restored to pristine condition. He ran a hand along the freshly upholstered seat before reaching across to wrap his arm around the offended girl next to him. Her annoyed look melted instantly.
“Nah. Fuck California. Something tells me I’m right where I need to be.”
Gina snuggled into him like a kitten purring and Deacon cranked the keys to start the engine. It started up and began purring too. Even with the crushing poverty, high crime and other problems that remained, Deacon could think of no more perfect moment in his life, warts and all. Did this moment make up for all of the headaches and almost getting killed or arrested the last few weeks? He wasn’t really sure, honestly. But it was nice that for once in his life, his deeds seemed as though they had gotten him a little ahead in life. He would take the victory for what it was.
He pulled the column shifter down and began pulling out of the parking space. Gina clicked on the radio and Krokus’ “Screaming in the Night” was just beginning.
“Let’s take this sucker out for a test drive.” Deacon smiled while turning the knob to crank the music.
The three then set out into the night with no particular destination in mind, the journey at that moment became the destination.