2 Brooklyn James (27 page)

“After while crocodile,” he returns on cue, never having forgotten the affectionate exchange. He pulls away from her, heading toward the door. Stopping at its threshold, he turns back to his father. “I’m coming back for her.”

Lon nods, his inflection proud, “I would expect nothing less.”

Marks extends a handful of badges. “Not until now. We sent SWAT. They were first in. The damn things blew up the rigs. I’ve got two SWAT teams in the hospital with life-threatening burns. We don’t need to lose any more. We’re not trained for this, Sarge.” Marks pauses catching his breath, still wearing the torso brace from his broken ribs at the hand of Hell Hound. “We’re in the air and on the horn. That’s about all we can do. Essentially, the Gambinis are on their own. Chief put in a call. We’re waiting on the National Guard. Maybe some tankers in the street would sway them.”

“Is Hell Hound with them?” Max asks.

“Oh yeah. He’s leading the party,” Marks replies.

“Alright. Are we doing this, boys and girls?” Tony hands out badges to Max, Emily and Aubrey. In unison, they pin the silver shields on their shirts affirming their participation. “Well, that makes four.” Tony rubs his hands together briskly, the wheels of his detective mindframe smoking with where to start.

“You can count me in,” Marks chimes.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Aubrey rebukes. Tony, Max and Emily back her.

“I know you want to help. That’s real brave, man. But all you’ll do is end up getting one of us hurt.” Tony’s eyes shift in Aubrey’s direction knowing she would put her life on the line for the courageous officer.

Marks nods, disappointed but unable to argue. He grabs Aubrey, planting a kiss on her full, pouty mouth. “Come back to me.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,
Lancelot.”
She presses her lips to his one more time before taking off in stride next to Emily. “You smell funny,” she remarks on Emily’s scent.

“It’s Gina. She gave me her powers. Her blood,” she explains.

“Just like you to hog up all the good stuff,” Aubrey jibes never missing a beat. “Save any for me?” She smiles. “I’m sure she gave it to you for a reason. You always wanted it anyway, right?”

“Yeah,” Emily huffs, now mindful of the burden it carries.

“What’s the plan, Tony?” Max asks, the two of them hoofing it in front of Aubrey and Emily. “Do we take them out, ETNA? Or just try and contain them?”

“I say we do unto others as they would surely do to us,” Emily pipes up. “I’m not containing anyone wearing a white lab coat. Besides, if we don’t take them out now, it will only come back to haunt us.”

“But then we’re no better than they are,” Max states.

Tony huffs looking at him. “Yep, you belong to her, alright,” he references Gina, uncertain how much Max does or does not know. “That’s exactly what she would say.”

“Gina?” Max inquires. Tony nods. The comparison causing Max to beam proudly.

“I agree with Max,” Aubrey concludes. “Contain whoever we can. Annihilate only those who give us no other option.” She elbows Emily trekking along beside her. “You got that?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Emily dismisses.

The sun now setting early in the evening as wintertime is in full swing, the infamous Blues Bar is set for a full night of entertainment. Vinny Gambini and his Rat Pack refuse to heed New Orleans Police Department’s warning. After all, they own the city. No one, certainly not some four-eyed, white coat-wearing scientists can take them down. The place hums with a live blues band and the same scantily-clad dancers abound as if it is any other night in the
Big Easy.
By Vinny’s request, the establishment is full of his biggest, boldest Guidos, heavily armed should the need arise. Vinny headquarters his usual post at the Blackjack table, accompanied by his irrepressible entourage. The Zeuses stand behind him, readying themselves as a familiar face appears from the crowd making a beeline for Vinny.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” the man to Vinny’s right comments, eyeing Manny Briggs who arrives with his own flagrant posse, five of ETNA’s finest garbed in bright, white lab coats. Three of the five wear spectacles, all of them sporting pocket protectors, making for a less than intimidating presence. The men of mediocre stature certainly do not appear the least bit militant with the exception of their coordinated cadence and lack of individuality. They stand behind Manny straight-faced and patient, not a single defiant soul in the bunch, true drones.

“Just like a cat to drag in a rat,” Vinny comments. Refusing to give Manny the respect of his attention, he continues puffing from his cigar looking down at his cards.

“I may be many things, Gambini, but I’m not a narc,” Manny fires back.

“That’s Mr. Gambini to you, punk!” the man to Vinny’s right slams his fist down on the card table, standing challengingly.

Manny laughs, his aim to entice the man to follow through with his altercation. Vinny taps his friend on the forearm coaxing him back down in his chair.

“You still owe me ten-grand,” Vinny reprimands, focused on his cards, his lack of eye contact a message to Manny that he is not even worth a glance. With the wave of his hand, the Zeuses move from behind him towering over Manny. Simultaneously, they tap billy clubs in the palms of their hands. “Leave it on the table or get it beat out of you,” Vinny says, calling his Blackjack hand. “What do you figure a pair of legs go for these days?” he asks the man to the right of him.

Grinning smugly at Manny, the man replies, “I’d say about ten-large.”

Manny returns the smug smirk, his eyes suddenly ablaze, the violent red cast heating up the entire corner. He unleashes on the Zeuses, apprehending their billy clubs, slinging their large bodies against the wall as if they are nothing but ragdolls. He inhales deeply, his skin beginning to burn crimson red. With one effortless exhale aimed at the Zeuses, their bodies disintegrate to ash from the massive fireball. Vinny finally looks at him, his confident eyes now growing fearful.

“Now that I’ve got your attention,” Manny’s voice is fully distorted convincing Vinny he is in the presence of the devil himself. He lunges across the table grabbing the mob boss by his tie. Vinny turns his head away from Manny, his stench nauseating. A plethora of gun shots fire off into the middle of the white coats, a slew of bodyguards surrounding them. With their blood comes the release of their Vigilare pedigree. Vinny and his friends watch in disbelief as the mundane-looking scientists morph before their eyes, a synthesized glare of hungry red light emanates from behind their spectacles shattering the lenses and everything in their direct line of sight. Bodyguards fall off one by one as the drones release fireball after fireball. A few scattered orbs contacting beams holding the building upright set the wood ablaze. The music stops, dancers and patrons alike flee toward the exit, their frantic voices shrilling about. Manny laughs, his tone demonic. His raw tongue darting from his mouth, he runs it the length of Vinny Gambini’s neck, causing him to pull away with nowhere to go as his tie chokes around him.

“Manny Briggs!” a voice shouts through the chaos causing the beast to whip his head in the direction, his fiery eyes scoping. With the image of Detective Tony Gronkowski and his crew, Hell Hound releases his grip on Vinny.

“I’ll see you around,” Manny warns the mob boss slapping his hand aggressively off the side of his face, taking flight for the back exit.

The white coats turn on Tony and his Vigilares, their red eyes beaming, zoning in with their crosshairs. Tony employs his shield, a sequence of fireballs pelting off of the armor. Max catches the ricocheting spheres, canceling them out with his ice cold, blue hue. The balls shatter, crumbling to the floor below, shards of ice cascading over the Blackjack table. Vinny and his friends hunch their shoulders. Aubrey releases a curtain of emerald green over the white coats affecting their minds through her telepathy, as Emily stands rigid, forcing the drones to do the same. Max takes off for the back exit, his primary interest reserved for Hell Hound.

Tony slaps his hand down on the Blackjack table in front of Vinny drawing his dazed attention. “Thought PD told you to take shelter,” he yells over the commotion, making a quick assessment of Aubrey and Emily still holding their own. The building creaks, its foundation giving in to the onslaught of fireballs.

Vinny nods, his expression hypnotized. Tony smiles assured Vinny Gambini would agree to almost anything at the moment. “Get us out of here. Can you get us out of here?” Vinny pleads, still disbelieving.

“Sure can,” Tony affirms. “On one condition.”

“Anything,” Vinny agrees.

“Your books,” Tony lays it on the line. “New Orleans PD gets your books...payroll, bank accounts, everything.”

“Fuck you,” Vinny rebukes.

Tony shrugs. “Let ’em go ladies,” he shouts to Emily and Aubrey who are happy to relieve their powers. Both of them stand nearly drained, their respiratory and heart rates labored, their bodies fighting for recuperation.

The white coats turn on Vinny’s table. Tony ducks, knowing what’s to come.

“Ah shit!” the man to Vinny’s right yells, scurrying from the table.

“Alright! Alright! You can have the goddamned books. Just get me the hell out of here!” Vinny brays clutching the table, attempting to turn it over, hiding behind it.

Tony centers his energy releasing his shield. Before it can fully expand, a fireball whizzes past slamming into the up-turned table, splitting it down the middle and lighting it up in flames. Vinny howls in pain, his hands clutching its smoldering edge. The rest of the fireballs ping off the invisible metal shield flying through the air. Aubrey grabs a few with her emerald green glare, winging them harmlessly off the mirror behind the bar. The mirror cracks and pops. The remaining fireballs light up among the room, singeing any wood upon contact into flames.

“Gronkowski!” Emily reprimands, engaging her telekinesis yet again, holding the white coats at bay.

A fire engine sounds outside as the heat from the flames inside grows excruciating. A horde of brawny firefighters work their way through the front door assessing the scene. Behind them appears a shuffling familiar form, sans his usual white lab coat. The round-faced, bespectacled hematologist bears bulky yellow fire gear, nearly swallowing his small frame, and a matching yellow helmet twice the size of his head. “Good job, my dear.” He pats Emily on the back, her posture staunch and inflexible, still holding ETNA hostage. “Give me a quick minute, and we’ll have you out of this bind.”

Aubrey hustles toward him eager to help. He digs through his black leather medical bag, assembling needles on the end of syringes filled with a clear tranquilizing agent. Handing Aubrey a few syringes, he demonstrates, sticking the needle into the paralyzed backside of one of the white coats, pushing the serum into his gluteus maximus. Within seconds, the scientist falls to the floor,
Thump!

Aubrey winces. “Ooh, right in the tuchas, huh?” Dr. Godfrey chuckles at her infectiously elevated spirit even in a time of crisis. She follows his lead, taking great pleasure in literally giving the members of ETNA a swift kick in the keister. One by one, they drop, their bodies giving in to the tranquilizers. Tony heaves Vinny Gambini over his back, employing the ever appropriate fireman’s carry, escorting him to an awaiting ambulance.

“Aubrey?” Emily calls her voice shaky.

“One more,” Aubrey warns, skillfully sticking the needle deep into the last member of ETNA. “Okay!” she releases Emily. The white coat not yet fully
tranquil,
a fireball escapes him headed straight for Emily. Already exhausted, she lets her body slump to the floor, dodging the big ball of flames. The gnarly sphere takes out another beam, causing the roof to give further. Firefighters herd people from the Blues Bar, dragging the unconscious white coats to safety. Dr. Godfrey’s first grade memory serves him as he stops, drops and rolls to Emily. Wrapping his arms underneath her shoulders as he witnessed the firefighters do, he drags her to the exit. Tony returns searching for Aubrey, as he has yet to see her come out of the building. The place ablaze and dark from smoke, he drops to his knees crawling on all fours. There in the rubble, he sees Aubrey’s blonde locks peeking out from under a large wooden beam. Flanked by two of New Orleans finest, they heave on the beam lifting it off of her lifeless form.

“Aw Jesus,” Tony laments grabbing her up. “Aubrey!” he shouts, her head and limbs hanging feebly from her body. “Goddammit,” he sputters, his mind shifting to Officer Sam Marks. The two firefighters grab him, one at each arm, running for the door as the entire building collapses on their heels.

“Oh...no, no, no,” Dr. Godfrey cries seeing the
blonde one
in Tony’s arms. An ambulance crew races toward them loading her onto a stretcher.

“You got her?” Emily asks. Tony nods, freeing her to find Max. She hops on his motorcycle, peeling off down the street.

As Aubrey is being loaded into the ambulance, Tony turns to Dr. Godfrey. “ETNA? Can you manage them?”

“My laboratory is not far. Not to worry, Detective. I’ll take
good
care of them,” Dr. Godfrey vows, the first time Tony has ever witnessed the gentle man speak vehemently.

“One more thing.” Tony grabs him forcefully by his collar. “Don’t think this releases you from your part in deceiving Gina. About her
dead
husband.” Tony grits his teeth. “You deceive me about your intentions with ETNA, and I’ll string you up. You and your sidekick,” he refers to Dr. Ryan. “I swear I will.”

“I believe we’re all searching for atonement, Detective. My intentions are good, you will see,” Dr. Godfrey replies, guilt ever-present in his expression. Tony lets go of him with an understanding nod. “Here.” Dr. Godfrey hands him his medical bag full of tranquilizers, in both syringe and dart form. “Godspeed,” he says knowing Tony has nearly fifteen more white coats to collar.