Was a long time coming, but I'm proud of this one. The denouement and final scene of Big Time.
Enjoy!
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Police lights flashed up and down the street, patrol officers put up tape barriers and told people there was nothing to see. I held an ice pack to the left side of my face, which didn’t help too much. Something was better than nothing.
Rock Boy (or Beavis, or Kyle) was stretched out on a reinforced hospital gurney. His foot was secured with a splint. He wasn’t covered in stone anymore. His hands were bound with power inhibitors. Just like Doctor Lynx, the police hadn’t bothered to take him into official custody yet.
“Where’s Nikki?” I asked.
He tried to give me a hateful look. His heart wasn’t in it. Kyle’s yellow eyes looked tired. I’m sure he’d been stressed over his arrest, his escape, but I couldn’t help thinking there was more to it.
He shrugged.
“She’s gone.”
“Gone where.”
“Just gone.”
I stared at him a second. There was bitterness in his voice.
“Don’t know where, huh?”
“Not a God damned clue.” He said.
“Kinda into her, huh?”
He seemed to think about his response.
“A little. She ain’t like some…gangbanger chick. She wanted into the action, and stuff.”
“Well, she got that.” I pointed out.
“Yeah.” He said. “Truck thing was her idea, ya’ know? That’s a big score for us. Was all pissed cuz we screwed it up.”
“That why she took off?”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Told her I wasn’t doing any of that cowboy crap anymore. Can make plenty of money moving ‘Dyne. She didn’t like that too much.”
“Why not?”
“Kinda stuff that’ll get you steady cash, you’re doing for someone else. Don’t think she was interested in doing for someone else.”
I nodded. It sounded familiar.
“She took off soon as we busted out.” He confessed. “No ‘bye bro’ or nothing. Just turned ‘round and she was gone.”
“No idea where?” I said. It wasn’t truly a question by this point.
“Wouldn’t tell you if I did know.” He said. The statement wasn’t convincing. “But she made sure I didn’t.”
“And we’re not gonna find her hiding out with her boyfriend in King’s Row.” I said. “Are we?”
“No.” He replied. “No you ain’t. She think like a cowgirl She’s in Peoria, or some sh*t. She’s gone.”
I looked at him for a long moment.
“Not sure how much time you’ll do.” I said. “Got a lawyer?”
“I will.” He snorted.
“Right.” I said. I wanted to ask him more questions, but there was nothing to ask. He said Fire Girl was gone, and I believed him. “Gonna turn you over to the cops now.”
Kyle just shrugged. I motioned to a couple of uniforms. I heard them reading him his rights as I strolled off.
Detective Sexy was standing near a squad car, talking to Bytor and Knightsaint.
“He’s all yours.” I said. “Anyone hurt?”
“No.” Sexy responded.
“Guy totally cannot shoot.” Bytor expressed.
I nodded.
“He says the girl split town. I believe him.”
“Gang types usually don’t stray too far from home…” Sexy said cautiously.
“Don’t think she’s content to stay a gangbanger.” I said.
“She’s gonna be trouble down the road, ain’t she?” Knightsaint rumbled. His armor wasn’t even mussed. Felt sorry that he’d come down here for nothing….but when had I started thinking of not getting shot at as nothing?
“Yeah.” I said.
“Blow that bridge when we come to it, baby.” Bytor grinned. I smiled, almost laughed
“Sounds like a good plan.” Knightsaint agreed. “Glad you got your guy, man.”
“Glad for the help.” I said.
“Anytime.” He said. “Now if ya’ll excuse me…suppers probably getting cold…”
Sexy shook her head. Knightsaint walked off, his big, blue, armor making each footstep a minor earthquake.
“So…paperwork now….” She inquired.
“Tomorrow.” I said.
“Tomorrow.” Bytor agreed, grinning. Sexy rolled her eyes.
“See you two in the morning….” She began to move away.
“When you roll over and nudge me?“ Bytor asked, loud enough for every cop around to hear.
“Only if you wear the spandex, bitch.” She shouted back.
“Good Lord…” I said.
“Ain’t she something?” Agreed Bytor. “So…this one’s over.”
“Yeah.” I said. “Yeah, I think it is.”
* * *
For once, I had the radio on instead of the television. It was late, and I was missing some favorite reruns, but I was cooking a much-delayed dinner and couldn’t have paid attention anyway. The girl from Bytor’s radio station was taking calls again.
“…so how can anyone criticize them, when, if they hadn’t been there, cops, or the suspect himself might’ve gotten killed? I just don’t get it.” The caller said.
“There are two sides of everything, I guess.” The DJ responded, sultry voice and all. “I, personally, agree with you, but some people say that capes promote rather than control violence.”
“But that argument makes no sense. If you follow it far enough, you have to say that, ‘well maybe the police promote violence’ too and yet no one argues that we need cops…I just…”
I tuned the radio out for the moment and stirred my hamburger helper. I was trying to put myself into a reflective mood. I was trying to worry about where Fire Girl was out, about how I was gonna pay for a new windshield, and other stuff. The effort was turning out to be futile.
The kid was alive, and I hadn’t had to hurt him that bad. I hadn’t been hurt that bad. All the cops would go home tonight. It was enough to make you feel pretty good about yourself. And it was enough to put some worries to rest.
So instead of brooding, I cut up onions and took another drink of beer.
“…and that’s really all I’ve got to say.”
“Like I said, personally I agree with you, and, especially when we’re talking about this incident…I don’t see how anyone couldn’t.” The DJ said in her ‘wrap up the call’ tone.
“All right…Joe from Steel Canyon, you’re up…”
I only heard a few words of Joe’s call. The phone rang. I picked it up.
“Famous.” said Jill. “And you were worried.”
I smiled.
“Famous?” I asked.
“You’re all over the news, again. ‘Commando Bob apprehends desperate fugitive’, and all that.”
“You called me just to tell me that?”
“I knew you’d be watching sitcoms or something, instead of the news.”
“TV isn’t even on.”
“Really? You must be cooking.”
“Yeah.” I admitted.
“So are you still…having issues?”
I gave the question some thought, stirred my pasta.
“Nah. Don’t think so.”
“Wanted to make sure.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Lunch tomorrow.”
“If you’ve not apprehending a desperate fugitive,” said Jill.
I grunted. Jill chuckled.
“I gotta get to bed.” She declared. “Having lunch with a big-time superhero tomorrow.”
“I am not a big time superhero.” I said.
“Whatever you say…” She hung up before I could object further. I chuckled at her, stirred my dinner. A few more minutes and it was done. I fixed myself a plate, turned off the radio, and turned on the TV. Frasier reruns can be held off only so long. I remember something else though, that couldn’t wait.
I took a cigar out of my pocket Bytor’s traditional victory trophy…from my pocket. He always smoked his. I kept mine. I’d even found a cigar box to store them in. It was stashed in the cabinet above my sink. I got it down.
I opened the box and couldn’t see the bottom. I stood there a moment, considering the revelation. Bytor’s voice was in my head.
Welcome to the big time, Commando Bob.
End
Topic: Big Time (Read 21277 times)