5th Column Comics: Peacekeeper #22
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Scahill Mansion
Every TV and radio in the room is on, the broadcasts cocooning me in a cacophony of noise, the words of the newsmen and the on-air experts clinging to me like flies on a corpse. Everything I have done, every villain I’d ever fought, it means nothing now, not after being humiliated out on the runway like that.
“It was bound to happen soon.” Terra coos, as she runs a finger down my spine, long nails stopping at the welts on my back, sheer agony running through my skull as she traces a line between them. “Let Cassie die, let me loose. Those fools think they have a story, well I’ll give them a story, but I need your help.”
“No, this way is better.” I groan, as I take a sip from the shot glass in my hand, before slotting it back into the oversized test-tube holder on the desk behind me.
“So you say.” Terra states, as she moves from behind me to a squatting position in-front of me, her body completely naked from the waist up. “But honestly I think you haven’t thought this through too well.” She states, before kissing me passionately on the lips. At first I try to push her away, but my hands don’t feel her marble skin under my fingers, only the floor as I plant my face into the indigo and amber tiles.
“Cassie are you okay?” An accented voice asks from the other side of the door. I know who it is, and while the ex-assassin turned housemate Mayday may be just who I need to talk to about Terra, I choose bluntness and solitude over her helping hand.
“Go away, I don’t want to talk to anyone.” I hiss, as I pull myself off the floor and look around for the vodka bottle I had opened hours ago when I first got home.
“Cassie walling yourself off isn’t going to help, believe me I know.” A male voice, another ex, this time an entomologist known as Clive Anderson, states, genuine concern for me floating in his voice. It’s almost enough to make me open the door, almost, fortunately the sight of my bottle draws me back to my selfish brooding.
“I said go away!” I snap, before walking over to the table and the bottle, my trembling hands picking up the glass container before dropping it onto the floor, the glass smashing and the alcohol rushing down the joins of the tiles and pooling in the centre of the room.
“Don’t make me come back with a search warrant Cassie.” A second female voice states. I know its Torres, and this time there is no bottle to call me away. Wearily I walk over to the door and open it, my naked body barely covered in the blanket I was given by the airport siege officer, my feet bleeding after I trod in the broken glass. “You look terrible!” She gasps, as I blink my eyes.
“So do you.” I reply snarkily, before I begin to close the door, only to see Clive jam his hand into the gap and keep it from closing. “Leave me alone, let me deal with this!!” I snarl, as the door is forced open and Torres surges forward and embraces me. “I don’t want…”
“Well tough, being alone won’t help.” Mayday states, as she joins the hug, the two bodies completely immobilising me. “Now sober up enough to enjoy this and get dressed, we’re going out and you’re going to show the world that you are more than this.”
Will there be alcohol?” I ask slowly. “And will there be booze?”
“Of course.” Clive answers with a smile, it’s a lie and if I were sober I would have realised that, unfortunately I’m not.
**
The Cyan Crayfish, Indigo City
The Cyan Crayfish was a dive before the Great Impact, and honestly it hasn’t changed since then, it’s just now everything around it is as rundown as it is. As I sit at the table, nursing the mandatory black coffee I’ve been given (despite asking for another vodka when we arrived), I look around the room, at the carriers and normal people having a fun time, and while my airport escapades appear on the news every half an hour most are paying it no attention. Most that is, save for the young woman dressed in a black t-shirt and miniskirt, her lip pierced with a metal stud, sitting by the door selling posters of me. As well as the heroic one, a common site around Indigo City, there’s one of me naked, holding my tonfas coyly over my breasts, my cheeks showing a lot of blush, a shocked yet sexy look on my face. It's obviously been photo-shopped, yet it is still quite clearly me.
“Ignore it.” Clive orders, as I start to get up from my chair. I know that even half-drunk I can take ‘poster girl’ in a fight, well maybe nine times out of ten. Taking a deep breath I flash him a forced smile, before taking a burning sip from my coffee. “I know it bugs you, but honestly it was going to happen what with you being a public figure.” He adds, as Torres returns from the bar with a beer in one hand and a shot of rum in the other.
“Oh thank the goddess!” I gasp, causing Torres to blush as I take the shot glass from her. Seconds later the glass cracks, and the alcohol leeks out. “Tease!” I hiss at Mayday, her tattooed scalp covered by a hat with cat ears, one that clashes her T-Shirt emblazoned with the words ‘Quoll the Police’ in big blue letters.
“How did you do that?” Torres asks, as I covertly reach out to steal Clive’s beer, only to see that glass shatter too.
“Carrier Powers.” Mayday answers, as she looks Torres up and down. “But you already knew that, what with your…history.”
“Time for more drinks.” I state happily, “I’ll buy.” I add, as I get up from my chair and walk to the bar, pausing only to shoot ‘poster girl’ a dirty look. “A pint of Barton’s Amber Blend, a shot of Captain Brooks Rum, and two of Windski Vodkas.” I tell the bartender, a short man dressed in a sweater vest and chinos with a bald head and a faint moustache.
“Your cop friend ordered me to serve you nothing but black coffee.” The bartender replies, as her pours the spirits into shot glasses. “Told me I would be shut down if I served you anything alcoholic, and with that terrible face she was wearing, well I wasn’t going to argue.” He adds, as he pours out a black coffee and hands it to me.
“The lady wants to drink.” A hoarse voice states, causing me to turn round to see the speaker, his skin and suit looking like it’s rotting, whilst the rope noose round his neck has caused one of his grey eyes to bulge out slightly. “Have a drink on me.” He adds, as he slides the vodka just poured out over to me. Winking at him, I go to take a sip when I feel something in my palm. Opening it slowly I see some kind of seed, one that looks similar to those from the Strychnine plant, and while my mind cries for me to stop, the carrier next to me has other ideas. “Go on, you want it all to end, I can sense it, it is because of that why they call me Suicidal Tendencies. Those seeds wouldn’t have appeared to you if you weren’t thinking about killing yourself.”
“I shouldn’t…” I whimper, as I look at my friends talking and laughing at the table.
“Oh man up Cassie.” Terra purrs, as she stands on the bar dressed like someone out of Coyote Ugly. “You know you want to.” She adds, as I go to drop the seeds in my vodka. Suddenly Suicidal Tendencies shudders, as he’s grabbed by the shoulders and thrown into a dilapidated wall. As soon as he’s been removed I raise the glass so Mayday can see it, the alcohol and poison sloshing out as she cracks the glass from afar. Sighing I see Suicidal Tendencies get to his feet, his eye bulging even more than before.
“I know who you are!!” He snarls at my rescuer. “Me and mine will be waiting outside for you.” He states as he scuttles away.
“And I’ll be ready for you.” The man replies in a Texan accent, one that makes my bones go cold. I know this man, even had a crush on him before he threw me into a pit with Clive, albeit Clive when he was a starving and angry Daddy Wrong Legs. As Elouise and Terra I knew him only as Stallion, Cassie however…my thought is interrupted as Stallion speaks again. “As for you darlin, I’ve been looking for you for a long time.”
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