Seven Wonders (24 page)

  Tony twisted in the air and found himself lying on the floor on his side. He looked up, just in time to see Bluebell stepping over his body, exchanging smiles with Sand Cat. The assholes were actually enjoying it. Sand Cat looked down at him, her expression darker than her companion's. She placed a foot on his chest and applied just enough pressure to tell him to stay down. He could take her out, and she knew it, but the message was pretty clear. Linear and Bluebell moved to flank the mystical warrior.

  "What the fuck is this shit?"

  Three heads snapped around to Jeannie, standing in the bedroom doorway in her pajamas. Tony craned his neck to see, noticing that he could push up against Sand Cat's leg with no effort whatsoever. Sand Cat glanced down at the movement, displeasure crossing fleetingly across her face. Jeannie held her gun loosely in one hand, the same weapon she'd fired into Tony's chest a couple of weeks back. He saw her finger wasn't on the trigger; pulling a handgun on members of the Seven Wonders was probably a very bad idea indeed, and thankfully she seemed to realize that.

  "Apologies for the intrusion." Bluebell stepped around Tony again and toward Jeannie, holding out her hand in greeting. "We understood that Mr Prosdocimi was in fact single and lived alone. I can see our intelligence was incorrect." She paused expectantly, but Jeannie did not move to accept the handshake. Bluebell lowered her own arm, but her smile did not flicker. "My name is Bluebell, this is Sand Cat and Linear. We represent the Seven Wonders."

  Jeannie folded her arms, gun held awkwardly against her body, and narrowed her eyes.

  "I know who you are. What are you doing here, and what are you doing to Tony? Is harassment one of your superpowers?" Jeannie's look was black, but Bluebell was unfazed. The superhero turned away and indicated to Sand Cat. The warrior woman removed her foot from Tony's chest, and reached down toward him. Tony looked from Jeannie to Sand Cat to Bluebell, then grabbed the proffered arm and allowed himself to be lifted to his feet. He made a show of brushing himself down, even though he was dressed only in a dirty tee and dirtier sweatpants.

  "I'd kinda like to know what you're doing here myself," he said. "I'm thinking that was a little impolite, even for government officials."

  Bluebell laughed, her voice light and airy, the voice of someone without a care in the world. "Mr Prosdocimi, we're well above the government, as you well know. Now, do you prefer Tony or the Justiciar?"

  Tony shook his head, laughing through a clenched jaw. Ignoring his superpowered guests, he brushed quite pointedly past Linear and made his way into the kitchen, where he threw the faucet on and filled the kettle.

  "Word gets around," he said. "So now what? You want me to stop, right? This town ain't big enough for all of us, right? Orders to ship out by sundown? Or do I get a medal for handing you the Cowl?"

  "The Cowl is not in our custody," said Bluebell. Tony snapped the faucet off.

  "Excuse me? I dumped him right in front of you. How can he not be in your custody?"

  Bluebell and Sand Cat exchanged a look, the same kind of look that adults swapped when dealing with a particularly stupid child. For all Tony knew, Linear might have had the same expression on behind his smooth silver face.

  "Our operation is running according to plan," said Bluebell, before changing the subject. "You'll forgive our abrupt entrance, but we had to be sure. The Seven Wonders are impressed with your powers. Genetics, magic or technology?"

  Tony turned back to Bluebell, leaning back on the kitchen counter and folding his arms. His lips moved as he ran Bluebell's options over again. "Huh," he said, finally. "None of the above. I stack shelves at Big Deal. I woke up as Superman. End of."

  Linear buzzed around the room before returning to where he was standing. The other two superheroes didn't even seem to notice. Bluebell's smile flickered off, just for a second, confirming to Tony it was as real as her platinum hair and her turbocharged tits.

  "Interesting," the superhero said. She pursed her lips slightly. "Unusual, but not unheard of. But the offer still remains."

  "Offer?" Jeannie met Bluebell's vaguely disparaging look before turning to Tony. "What did I miss?"

  "Ah, come on." Linear stepped forward, shaking his head at Bluebell. "Cut to the chase. All this cloak-and-dagger stuff cheeses me off." He looked at Tony, holding his hand out to shake. "Join the Seven Wonders. See the world, et cetera, et cetera."

  Well,
ho-ly she-it
. Tony had been right the first time. He could show the Seven Wonders how the city deserved to be treated. He grasped Linear's hand firmly, allowing just enough power to show him that he wasn't a mere mortal.

  "Done."

  Easy.

  "Good man." Linear slapped Tony on the shoulder then tugged his mask off, revealing the face of an old man, lined and worn, with goatee beard the same color as his silver suit. Tony raised an eyebrow and Linear's face split into a huge grin. The speedster ran his fingers through his short hair and winked at Sand Cat. He leaned in on Tony and whispering loudly in mock conspiracy. "Don't mind her. Heart of gold, strength of a lion. She was just playin' with ya, the kitten."

  Bluebell kept to the back of the group as Linear joked with Tony. Jeannie had ducked back into the bedroom and returned wearing something more substantial, minus, Tony noticed, the gun. As Tony watched she saw Jeannie catch Bluebell's eye, but the superhero looked away quickly, immediately calling her companions to order.

  "We'll be in touch, Justiciar. Welcome to the defense of the city." She let Sand Cat and Linear out first, then paused at the threshold. She turned, nodding at Tony, and then holding her gaze on Jeannie. She smiled the fake smile again. "We'll talk later, Doctor Ravenholt." She turned and left, leaving the door open. Tony reached and swung it shut, while Jeannie went to the kitchen to finish making the tea. Tony heard her rattling china in the cupboards. They'd been spooked, the both of them.

  But… what a way to start the day. Then he paused.

  "
Doctor
? You didn't tell me you were a doctor. She knew your name?"

  Jeannie's voice floated around the partition. "She's telepathic, remember? Bitch probably read my mind."

  Tony clicked his tongue. "Oh yeah. Now that would be some freaky shit, poking around in
your
head." Tony paused again.

  Jeannie reappeared, holding two steaming mugs of tea. "Yeah, real horror show," she said, but her voice wavered without conviction. "And I'm a PhD, not an MD." Tony nodded in appreciation, and shuffled back to the bedroom.

Jeannie held her mug to her hand as she sat next to Tony on the bed. He was saying something, but she wasn't listening. The hot liquid in her mug vibrated as she trembled.

  Bluebell had read her mind and knew the truth. She had to get over to the Lair ASAP and warn Geoff.

CHAPTER THIRTY

"Hello?"

  She'd been asking the same single-word question for the last halfhour. There was never an answer; hers was the only voice in the whole place. The question rang around the Lair's main cavern and its less natural ancillary rooms. The echo changed to flat muffled tones as she went up the main stairwell that ended in Geoff Conroy's hillside mansion. In the house itself her voice seemed to hang in the air. The furniture had sheets over it, and it creeped Blackbird out like nothing else.

  But the sheets were good, right? The sheets meant he was coming back, because if he'd fled in some kind of panic then he wouldn't have made the arrangements, right? When she'd woken in the infirmary the night before, the Lair was empty, but that wasn't unusual. Satisfied that her head injury was nothing more than a purple bump, she'd headed back to Tony's apartment. She'd catch up with the Cowl and find out what happened with the Flyball Ninja's component later. Now she needed to talk to him about their little visit from the Seven Wonders.

  But she didn't remember all the sheets in the house, although it had been a couple of days since she'd gone upstairs. The sheets meant that maybe he wasn't coming back for a while.

  This wasn't quite what she had planned.

  Blackbird completed the fourth circuit of the house. The doors and windows that she had tested were locked, but the alarm wasn't on. She wasn't even sure there was an alarm. Maybe he had security staff coming to keep watch or patrol or whatever. She'd never seen any before, but that didn't mean he didn't have them. Maybe he had staff that came in and put sheets on everything when the house wasn't being used in a while. Who the fuck knew about the lifestyles of the rich and famous and their army of housekeepers?

  Returning to the study which housed the top end of the Lair's stairwell hidden in a grandfather clock, she found herself staring at the ghostly outlines of the furniture, all draped in white. The house was still, and quiet, and she didn't think about anything in particular. After a few minutes the hair on the back of her neck began to crawl and she spun around, as if the Cowl had made one of his famous silent entrances and was waiting behind her, hands on hips, mouth set into the tough-guy grin.

  But Blackbird was alone. She turned and headed back downstairs.

  This wasn't quite what she had planned. Not at all.

  Then again, what
had
the plan been, exactly? Remove the Cowl's powers, transferring them to a stooge carefully selected – someone with a
reason
to act and someone who could be controlled. With the Cowl de-powered and the stooge powered-up, the balance in the city could be shifted and a new supervillain would take over.

  Of course it sure as hell wasn't going to be her. Firstly, if she suddenly replaced the Cowl as a
gin-you-ine
supervillain, then perhaps the Seven Wonders would change their policy and take her out. They had the power to, it was obvious. But it was almost as if they'd come to some arrangement with the Cowl – don't kill anyone too important, and you can run around the city at night scaring the little people all you like.

  Secondly, the device hidden in Tony's closet wasn't something she wanted to use on herself. Sure, it worked, but she wasn't sure
how
it worked, and what it would do to you long-term was a total mystery. She might have been better off sticking her head in a microwave for all she knew.

  Tony… well, Tony was the stooge, the mark, the target, the someone who could be controlled. If his brain turned to jello in a year then what did she care?

  It sounded simple enough. But she hadn't thought through every angle. She hadn't expected the Cowl to pick up sticks and get the hell outta Dodge, although in retrospect that was probably one of the most likely outcomes.

  But did it matter? He was out of the way, that was the primary goal. It hadn't even taken that much – just the loss of power and a hint that there was a new guy in town who wasn't going to take any shit like the Seven Wonders seemed happy to do.

  Blackbird was back in the Lair. She sat at the main console and saw that all systems were on security shutdown, the computer locked. That was annoying. Here she was, having apparently inherited, well, everything, and she couldn't even turn the main lights on.

  Fear. She'd gone and done it with the Cowl's own favorite weapon – they'd scared him shitless and sent him running. There was something to be enjoyed about that. Poetic justice or irony or whatever the hell it was. And even if he'd fled San Ventura to maybe build himself a supervillain army from all the contacts he had around the world, by the time said force returned to the city she'd be ready for him. So would Tony. The stooge.

  Blackbird made a mental note to check on Conroy's financials, to see if he could be tracked on his travels. He had plenty of money and plenty of friends, but chances were he'd need to use an ATM or credit card once in a while.

  Blackbird had seen enough. Wondering if they could move in to the house above without anyone noticing, Doctor Jean "Jeannie" Ravenholt headed back to Tony's apartment.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

It was funny. Summer in the city was always looked forward to with great expectation. In the lead-up to the "official" start, the weathermen on TV went into overdrive with predictions, radar images, statistical comparisons with past seasons. This was going to be it, the summer of summers, the barbecue summer, the summer of the beach. Pack your bags and head to the house in La Jolla. But if you didn't have one – and really, why the hell not, you poor, godforsaken layabouts? – stick around San Ventura, North Beach. This was it, we were in for a sizzler. And don't forget the lightshow of the Draconids. The meteor shower was going to be better and bigger and brighter than ever before (as they said each and every year), so stock up on ribs and beers and invite your friends.

  Of course, it wasn't that winters in southern California were anything approaching harsh, or even cold. But if you were a local, born and bred, the mid-seventies were just not warm enough. Praise the sun god and all who bask in his glory.

  And then summer arrived, and after a few days of delight the novelty wore off. Bright, hot mornings were great, but by early afternoon the concrete of the city had heated, turning the whole place into a kiln. Those not on the beach retreated inside to sit in front of air conditioners and start checking predictions for a cool fall with pleasant sea breezes. Who needed summer? It was too hot to do anything, to go outside even.

  Tony was, in general, ambivalent. His apartment's AC hadn't worked for years, so the heat outside was actually a slight relief to the stuffy oppressiveness inside. It crossed his mind that when the heat arrived he should probably switch out of his customary black attire. Yeah, probably should. Maybe next year.

  Summer meant frequent trips to the convenience store. It was only a block away, and for this Tony was grateful. At this time of the year, the water from the faucets in both kitchen and bathroom actually came out hot. Tony didn't much like to drink the city's water when it was cold anyway, so stocking the fridge with bottled water was his number-one summer hobby.