The bubbles stop. Vicious hauls Captain Hawk up out of the pool of blood, then grabs his big shiny gun and blows some more holes in his chest.
“He’s dead,” he mutters. “He’s dead now.”
“They don’t die,” says Professor Cold. He’s tired. His robes are open; his undershirt is dingy. “You really can’t understand? He’ll be in suspended animation, or a clone, or some kind of time anomaly…”
“I cut him and shot him and drowned him!”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“I hate them!” screams Vicious, and throws down the body. “Fucking heroes!”
“Really?” Cold shrugs. “I don’t envy them at all.”
Troy’s already just waiting when he hears the Hairy Lady come around to the back of the truck, and with one strong backspring he’s up and out. His sneakers contact her jaw directly and she’s down like a stone, while he wiggles and twists and just manages to land on his feet. “KUNG FU!” he shouts, triumphant.
One sharp rock later he’s free of the trusses and pushing the truck into the river, Hairy Lady conked out in the bed. As he’d guessed, it floats gently away with the current. Troy nods, satisfied. “Now,” he says aloud, “time for Professor Cold!”
Wednesday, December 31, 2003