The Legacy of Eros - Dark Son Ch. 03

*Editing magic performed by Shyqash, plus contributions by the regular gang of brigands and neer-do-wells*

*This tale is a bit tongue and cheek as well as kinky, so be warned.*

*The carnage of unintended consequences*

[PRELUDE]

[LATER THAT NIGHT]

Liberty Lincoln lying there in her ICU hospital bed looked like hell warmed over. They had blown her the fuck up. The 'they' was yet unknown, but I was going to find out who they were before I paid them back tenfold for what they had done to ... my friend.

"Is she going to be safe in there?" Arachne fidgeted.

"Why are you asking him?" Lucky Dead reacted before her spoken word engaged with her brain.

"She is asking me because she already knows what you can bring to bear," I snapped back.

"You guys ...," Arachne played peacemaker once more.

"To answer your question, Arachne, I've let people in Freedom Force know about this and I've got their pledge they will be looking after her from here on out," I put a comforting hand on Arachne's shoulder.

"Is this the end of ... us ... working together," Lucky Dead deflated.

"No," both Arachne and I said at the same time.

"Lucky, whomever did this isn't going to like the cost of their escalation. They dropped a city block on Liberty ... untold 'normies' buried in that mess plus Liberty," I assured her. "We are going to drop the whole city on them."

"But we don't even know who did this?" Arachne worried.

"So we start busting heads until we get the answer we are looking for," I insisted.

"But what are we looking for?" Arachne fretted.

"Bomb-makers aren't a dime a dozen," I started. "Furthermore, someone had to be scouting Liberty's neighborhood. We check over surveillance cameras at the local stores for anyone, or anything, which seems out of place."

"How do we do that?" Lucky Dead wasn't convinced.

"You two get the surveillance data and go over it. I'll go looking for the bomb-maker," I suggested. "We keep in touch because it makes sense we are next on the hit parade."

"You think any of us could be getting blown up?" Arachne asked.

"It depends on how tight a secret identity we have," I reasoned. "Liberty lived out in the open thus was easy to find. They will be looking for us looking for them from here on out - ambush us as we look for information on them."

"Fine ... that makes sense, so what do we do?"

"Be damn careful," I demanded. "I'm going to find out who would dare make a bomb big enough to drop a city block - even in Brocton. That kind of sick fuck shouldn't be that hard to locate."

"If it is that easy, why haven't the cops found them yet?" Luck Dead mused.

"The people I'll be talking to don't normally talk to the cops," I smirked.

"But they will talk to you?"

"I'll make them an offer they can't refuse," I let my smirk grow into a full-blooded predatory smile.

[~]

"Tell me about the bomb maker, Eddie," I insisted.

"Fuck you!" he spat back. The wisdom of that response was questionable because I had said criminal flunky known as Eddie Grover by the heel and a hundred feet off the ground. Beneath us was the back alleyway filled with junk and asphalt.

"I don't like that answer, Eddie," I mocked him ... then let him go.

"AAAAAHHHH!!" he screamed as he plummeted toward the ground. I gave him a moment to really feel the likelihood of death then raced to catch him with my TK gauntlets. Inches over the ground, I secured his heel once more.

"You ... you fucker," he gasped.

"Your attitude hasn't improve with your change in altitude," I shook my head. Up we went again.

"Noooo," he groaned.

"Let's see how much closer to the ground you'll get this time," I chuckled.

Three drops later, Eddie was a mess and willing to talk. He gave up what he knew about someone seeking the talents of a bomb-maker and I was one step closer to finding out who was behind all this. The reality was I was willing to do whatever was necessary to get to the truth while Arachne wasn't. Worse, the street level goons knew this about her. She wouldn't kill them while the people behind the attack on Liberty Lincoln just might kill her, or them for ratting the bomber out.

Four contacts later and I had an identity, though not the real name of the paymaster behind all this. The name of the paymaster ... The Orchid. I couldn't pursue my leads further though. I had to return to my public life and that meant a late brunch with Boniface Franklin ... plus a dozen other members of the Press as I was now one of the Ten Most Eligible Bachelors of Megalopolis. Ugh.

[CHAOS AT THE CONTEST]

I barely made it in time to my appointment. I was still adjusting my tie when I approached the table where Boniface was waiting for me.

"You just made it," Boniface smiled. "Tough night?"

"I count tardiness as a crime on par with Involuntary Manslaughter in my hierarchy of sins," I responded.

"Ouch!" she snorted. "Remind me to always be on time around you."

"That shouldn't be a problem," I physically greeted her ~ an arm stroke and a kiss on the cheek. I even held her chair for her as she resumed her seat.

"You are also a gentleman," she noted.

"I'm behaving special just for you," I winked.

That earned me another laugh.

"I'm glad you see me as something more than a pocketbook," she chuckled.

"That has never been a problem," I agreed. Nah, she knew who murdered my Mother, or so she claimed. She also claimed Mom was a Monster yet I never remembered her being that way.

That was the highlight of our brunch. During a break in the shooting the female producer asked us to 'spice up' the encounter.

"Like what ~ sit in her lap?" I joked.

"That might appear to be a bit too much," the producer mused thoughtfully. Noting she had really missed my sarcasm, Boniface and I did our best to make brunch a rather confusing blast.

As we were leaving, she turned to me and gave me the first truly authentic smile.

"Calling me Boniface is getting old," she regaled me. "Call me Bonny. All my friends do."

"We aren't friends," I reminded her.

"No, but we could be," she winked. Oh Boy!

[~]

It didn't take a Svengali to realize something was wrong when Bonny and I arrived for the late morning contest in Patriots' Park. We had been scheduled for an obstacle course filled with brain games at eleven. It turned out Barry 'the Brush' Bushnell, Point Guard for the Megalopolis Magicians NBA franchise, was missing and his 'highest bidder' was a bit distraught.

It appeared he'd missed his 'brunch date' as well. I could see the headlines already: 'The Brush brushes off Brunch'. Real catchy, I know.

It turned out I was wrong about ole Barry. He'd been kidnapped - names and nature of the kidnappers unknown. Their demands, if any, were unknown as well. As word of this trickled down to the small number of police cordoning off the contest from our adoring masses, the cops closed in on the nine survivors ... and our 'dates'.

The first questions the responding detectives aimed our way was about our well-being. Had any of us noticed anyone stalking us? Had anything been misplaced in our dwellings? Was anyone we regularly knew who had access to our dwelling missing / non-communicative?

After they ascertained (came to the erroneous conclusion) none of us were in immediate danger, the inevitable questions about how we felt about the victim came up. In essence, they wanted to know which one of us would want Bushnell removed from the contest. Was winning this dumb contest enough of a motive? Apparently the cops thought so.

What could I use as an alibi ... 'gosh, Mr. Policeman, I went to the hospital room of a known vigilante you failed to protect then beat up some street toughs in order to figure out who built the bomb which dropped a city block on her' ... That wasn't going to fly so I plead the 'Fifth'.

But wait, I wasn't a suspect so I couldn't plead the 'Fifth', or so the FBI Special Agent claimed. Then I declared I wanted to see a lawyer ... which they claimed I wasn't eligible for because I wasn't a suspect - yet. Then I said I didn't feel like answering their questions because I was a citizen of a supposedly free country and their fascist Police State tactics disgusted me (they were actually very polite, if determined).

"What's your problem, smart guy?" the aging police detective sergeant who came over to me got gruff.

"Lying to the police is a crime," I elaborated. "So, I'm telling you I don't want to tell you where I was last night at the same time insinuating I'm not your guy."

"Why don't you let us handle that bit of information?"

"Fine, 'tough guy," I leaned into him and lowered my volume, "I'm a costumed vigilante who was doing illegal shit last night. I'm not going to tell you what I did - because then you could A-R-R-E-S-T me for this shit which had nothing to do with what happened to Barry."

"Why don't I just arrest you on 'suspicion'?" he glared right back.

"Suspicion of what?" I simmered. "My lawyer will bust open your ass if you try to detain me on something so insubstantial. All the while, the investigation into who kidnapped Barry Bushnell will be going nowhere."

"Who says Mr. Bushnell was kidnapped?" he thought he'd tricked me.

"There being the three FBI agents I've talked to in the past hour," I pondered. "FBI special agents don't investigate many local crimes - except kidnappings - thus my supposition Mr. Bushnell was kidnapped."

"Fine, Mr. Einstein, don't do anywhere," he responded. Off he went while I hung around.

"You are not making friends," Bonny, along with several others, migrated my way.

"I'm not prepared to sacrifice the portion of my soul which allows me to be impolite to law enforcement types," I simmered.

"Your bad attitude doesn't help anyone," was her mote of wisdom.

"My bad attitude allows me to sleep soundly at night," I countered.

"You slept well last night?" Kyle Rodney inquired playfully.

"Not really. I had some late night school work to attend to," I lied.

"I can't believe we are throwing so many detectives at this with the bombing down in Brocton last night," Inez Neustadt, the young police detective griped. Mind you, she was currently assigned to Narcotics; not Counter-Terrorism, or some kidnapping taskforce.

"Well, I heard Barry was kidnapped by the Uptown Crew," Louise Dresser, the workout icon, whispered in a rather conspiratorial manner.

"Damn it!" Inez spat. "That was something they should have been holding back." By 'they' I assumed she meant the FBI Special Agents, or their assorted group of MMPD (Megalopolis Metropolitan Police Department) detectives.

"Who is the 'Uptown Crew'? I've never heard of them," Louise looked suitably worried.

"As the name suggests they are some rich clique operating out of one of the finer neighborhoods uptown," I explained.

"Oh My God ... like 'High Society'?" Louise gasped.

"No," Inez enlightened the majority of us, "The Uptown Crew hates High Society, though they are both criminals. Really just sick fucks in costumes."

"You have something against the costumed types?" I inquired.

"They shouldn't need some special piece of federal legislation to protect them, that's for damn sure," she grumbled. "They should also leave law enforcement to the professionals too."

"What about taking down super-villains?" Bonny queried.

"They hide behind the CAA (Costumed Actors Act of 1952) as much as everyone else," she stuck to her guns.

"Keep deluding yourself," Bonny muttered.

"I don't know," Kyle spoke up. "You two (meaning myself and Bonny) handled the Festival of Crime pretty well last night with no super-powered help."

I didn't like the way Inez studied us ... as if she was waiting for us to lie.

"My training in things like jujutsu, acrobatics and Parkour go back to an early age," I stated. "My Father was an ogre of a disciplinarian."

"I never said I wasn't super-powered," Bonny added.

"Who would you be then?" India Figueroa prodded.

"Ultima."

"The fuck you say," I croaked.

"Yes, Reynard, I'm Ultima. I don't have a 'secret' secret Identity. I was born Boniface Franklin back in 1919. I rarely come out for 'normie' activities anymore. I haven't done so ... since the Bicentennial (1976)."

There was a major pause for a variety of reasons. For starters, Ultima was the World's premier superheroine / hero and leader of the Ultimates. The Ultimates included some of the baddest-ass heroic types on the planet ... and beyond. Had Mom crossed paths with them ... well, she had ... and she was dead now.

Sadly, I was never one to fall back from a challenge nor find forgiveness in my heart when it was the wiser of the two options. Nah ... the Ultimates had to pay for my Mother's death. I was that kind of maladjusted moron.

"So who are you, Reynard?" Inez, the fastest to recover, turned on me.

"I'm nobody," I snapped. "I'm certainly not an Ultimate."

"Reynard hasn't lied to you about his origins," Ultima answered for me as well.

"Origins?" Kyle pondered.

"Even if I was a super, I would be covered by the Costumed Character Act," I elaborated. "If I had a secret identity, there would most likely be a reason behind it."

"Something criminal," Inez muttered.

"Oh, stop it," India rallied to my defense. "Reynard risked his life to save lives last night which was far more than the rest of you accomplished." 'You' meaning the Megalopolis Metropolitan Police Department no doubt.

"Proper procedure was to bring in a police negotiator unless civilian lives were immediately endangered. Besides, the only civilian endangered was Ms. Dresser ... who was put at risk only once the villains began their hasty escape," Inez made her case.

"The Resurrecting Bunny?" Kyle offered up a sign of their malfeasance.

"Who is immortal," Inez countered.

"That still equated to rounds being fired," Kyle quipped.

"Fine ... we didn't have things fully in hand - YET," Inez snapped. "Happy now?"

"No," I exhaled deeply. "Normally I would agree with you in that in a hostage situation the costumed sorts should let the police do their thing ... except this time as the Festival of Crime is hardly sane by any metric. They are all unstable entities."

"Fine," Inez conceded. "I'll give you that one. They are all nuts."

"Sssoooo ... Rey, who are you, really? You can trust us," Louise Dresser cuddled up to me.

"No, I can't," I shook my head. "I don't really know you people from Adam and that includes Ultima here ... who bought my last night at auction without letting me know who she was."

"Oh ... I thought you were in this together," Louise pouted. "You make such a cute couple."

'NO! No, we did NOT!' I screamed internally.

"I'm growing on him," Ultima grinned.

"No - you are not," I corrected that misconception. "As far as I know, you've been yanking my chain since before you even gave me your name."

"Cool it, dude," Kyle pulled me somewhat aside, "You don't want to piss her off. She is like ... the most powerful person on the planet."

"She also has hyper-hearing," I whispered back, "so she heard everything you just said."

"Besides," Bonny / Ultima announced, "I like his emotional honesty. It is rather rare for a woman in my position."

"Are you afraid of her?" India inquired.

"No, but I probably should be," I confessed. "In reality, she is not doing my desire to live a quiet public life any good. At any time she is going to reveal her identity and then the Press is going to start going over my background with a fine toothed comb."

"What are you afraid of coming out?" Inez wouldn't let go. Since I was a secret villain that was probably for the best as far as the general public welfare went.

"All kinds of crap normal people wouldn't understand," I blasted back. "Shit regular people should leave well enough alone."

"Like us 'normies'," she did a 'gotchya'.

"I didn't use that term - she did," I pointed to Ultima.

"Oh - that is where you were last night," Kyle Rodney had his own 'eureka' moment. "You were investigating the building block which was blown up!"

"You mean the natural gas main explosion in the 'Bricks'?" India murmured. That was the police's current cover story for the bombing.

"I can neither confirm nor deny said accusation," I sighed.

"That would make sense," Ultima nodded. "Someone attempted to kill Liberty Lincoln in that blast ... making the whole occurrence rather suspicious."

"And Liberty Lincoln is the prime suspect in the death of Kori Ivankov," Inez nodded putting her own suspicions in order. "So Reynard, you work with Liberty. That would make you the mysterious fourth man ... who some are calling 'Dark Son'."

"I can neither confirm nor deny said accusation," I sighed yet again.

"Well that would certainly explain your life being in danger," Kyle nodded. We had WAY too many people nodding around me. It put me on edge.

"Why did you do it?" Louise questioned me.

"Do what?"

"Take out Kori Ivankov," she murmured.

"I didn't take out anybody," I clarified. "Furthermore, I'm not some vigilante who likes to engage in free-for-alls with villains and villainous sidekicks for shits and giggles. I'm a freelance entrepreneur."

"You are a mercenary?" from Inez.

"You are a free agent?" from Kyle.

"You are a money-for-hire kind of guy?" Louise pondered.

"No comment, I'm not in anyone's league, and not really - my loyalty is not for sale," I answered each allegation in turn. "I'm my own man and the type of guy who takes exception with someone blowing up a whole damn city block - end of story."

"Especially if you could be the next one to have a whole building drop on them," Inez insinuated my ulterior motive.

"If that was the case, I would be leaving town, Detective," I riposted. "I'm not afraid of jack right now. Bombers aren't terribly brave people and I'm not someone you want to attempt to drop a building on and fail to connect."

"That sounds positively villainous," India remarked.

"I'm glad we are all on the same page now," I exhibited my inner Tiger Shark ~ plenty of teeth with soulless eyes.

"You've come across as a totally legit guy," Kyle Rodney reexamined me.

"I'm still the same guy, Kyle," I cooled my jets a bit. I liked the guy. "My unwillingness to take shit shouldn't change your assessment of who I am - which is a man of my word."

"I think this is the first time he's known someone who threatens to kill someone and really means it," India replied.

"I don't like to threaten. I like to make promises and stick to what I've promised to do," I explained. "Empty threats are abhorrent to me."

"You are young. You will learn," Ultima advised me.

"Not this man," I brutally shut down that path of reasoning. "I will live by my word and be-damned the consequences."

That was to become my battle cry - my anthem ~ I will live by my word and be-damned the consequences.

"That almost sounds noble," India muttered.

"Noble is nice," I grinned, "but finding out what happened to Ole Barry should take precedence. He has gone missing and any of us could be next."

"Yeah ...," Kyle Rodney agreed.

"We should let the professionals handle this," Inez disapproved.

"He was kidnapped," Louise repeated. "He was a big guy and in good health ... so how does something like that happen? Couldn't he have fought them off, or made an escape by now?"

"They could have threatened him with metahuman force," Inez suggested, "which is all the more reason for us to leave this alone."

"I prize remaining free and at large," I countered.

"Me too," Kyle added. India and Louise agreed.

"We don't even know Mr. Bushnell being kidnapped had anything to do with this stupid contest," Inez pointed out.

"I got a bad feeling about this," Louise complained.