Kodiak Jack: Heroine Blood

"Graveyards.....Mr. Ex-Detective." She replied with a muffled voice.

I pulled back and slowly looked behind me, scanning the room. Several people had just come in from the night and were perusing the tables. I looked back at her. "Which one?"

"Grey jacket. Whitish hair." She mumbled from behind her hand.

I pretended to drink from my glass and looked out over the room again from under the brim of my fedora. There were about six people who had come in, not all of them together, but the one with the grey jacket was tall and thin. His whitish skin was hard to miss, but easy to overlook as a goth and not the real thing. Real vampire - that is.

I covered my mouth with my glass. "That the one do that to you?" I asked, referring to her bite marks.

"No." She whispered back. "The woman."

I looked at her sideways. "She here?"

"No. But, that's her friend."

I nodded my understanding. I moved away from the bar and kept my drink at my lips, my other hand in my trench coat pocket. I slowly moved across the room, nonchalantly strolling in the general direction of the mark. He was creepy alright. Un-kept despite his slightly eighties looking jacket and black slacks. Pointed shoes, probably boots up the pants leg. Boney hands, discolored finger nails. Black lipstick, so no possibility of my catching a look of blue-ish lips of the un-dead.

Freak! I thought to myself. Black lipstick on a man? Jeeze!

Though boney and slim, I surmised that he could indeed be stronger than he looked and when I moved passed him, supposedly on my way to the men's room, he stunk of graveyard. Layla wasn't shittin' me.

She wasn't anyone's blood bank either. Not if I had any say in the matter.

I went to the little boys room and relieved my bladder and then re-entered the pool room. I walked back to the bar where Layla was serving other patrons. I motioned to her to come over to the end, away from nosy ears. She walked over and leaned in to listen.

"Set me up another..... and get the kitchen to slap together a pastrami on rye.... when that freak leaves.... I leave with him."

She nodded her understanding and smiled at me. She then reached up and touched my cheek. "The kitchen's closed at this time of night.... ya know that."

"Open it."

I grabbed the seat at the end of the bar which would allow me to watch Mr. Nightmare while he played pool and would then eventually order a Bloody Mary. It figured to me that he would order a drink that one only has the morning after.

From under the brim of my hat I watched his ugly ass with steely, determined eyes.

******

Mr. Nightmare played billiards for something like two solid hours before calling it a night. He sucked at it. I kept the pastrami coming with the whiskey, just to be safe. When he headed out into the early morning, something like 1:30 or 2:00am, I gulped down my last glass and nodded my intent to Layla. She gave me a cute closed mouth smile and a wink as I went for the door.

A big street sweeper was out in the road making all sorts of flushing noises as it passed by the hall. I had to avoid it and cross behind it in order to keep up with skinny and ugly. He was quick. He moved at a joggers pace without the extra effort. I was fortified by my late dinner and the alcohol made me more than brave. More than brave, but not stupid. I kept my distance behind him. He never knew I was there, tailing him. It was an old practice that was now in my blood. I could tail anybody.

Turning a corner about three blocks away, I could see there was some sort of disturbance in the road. The skyscrapers in this part of town reflected red flashing lights on their towering facades. Red flashing lights of course meant cops. Backed up traffic extending around the corner meant cops in the road. I peered around the corner of the next building to get a look, seeing as Mr. Ugly had headed right for the disturbance. I pondered if he had maybe smelled the blood from a car accident, and was looking for his own late night dinner. I felt a little disgusted by it all. What can I say? I hated the idea of vampires.

In the road was a phalanx of cop cars. They were all surrounding a spot somewhere about half a block up from my position. Nightmare skipped along gleefully and then disappeared somewhere behind the group of cars, gawkers and various pedestrians who had stopped to take a look at the commotion. He was headed in the direction of St. Smithen's mortuary. "Graveyards", Layla had said. I grimaced when I realized Nightmare had probably headed for the accident on purpose, not to find blood, but maybe to lose his tail. Namely, me. And lose me he did. I cussed under my breath.

I looked up and saw a two story warehouse that I knew was vacated from the overall condition it was kept in. I headed up the back alley, black in contrast to the many lights in the street, and found the fire escape. I then skipped up the bar steps and entered a broken window. Inside the long, empty room was little but trash, dust, broken glass and an old mattress in the center of the floor. I could only imagine what went on here on those nights when the cops weren't so close by. There was a low level green glow that covered the walls and floor and the bright lights of the street, the flashing lights of the cop cars, illuminated the ceiling as they shone through the cracked and broken glass windows that lined the street side of the building.

I walked over to the last window on the west side and leaned in to view the street below. Glass shards cracked beneath my shoes. Down in the street there were six, maybe seven cop cars all in a make-shift circle. There were various perps, maybe about a dozen, all lined up and sitting on the curb on the opposite side of the street. They were cuffed and being processed by several officers. I could hear police radios chatting back and forth, cops questioning the men and the men shouting back now and then. But the thing that caught my eye was the center of the mess down below. In the center was a police lieutenant in a suit and tie, his name was Spencer. Harvey Spencer. I knew him from my former days as a detective. We had crossed paths once or twice in a blue moon.

Spencer was chatting with an incredible woman I had only heard about in random conversations here and there. She was a super known as Destiny Blue. Standing about five foot nine, built like a brick shit house... that is to say she was major stacked, it was hard ....eh, difficult to take my eyes off of her. She had a big hair head of dark auburn that flowed down her head and over her shoulders like an oil rig that had just blown. Her torpedo shaped breasts were big, real big, I'd say she was a double "D" for sure, and they held up tight and smooth as the jutted out from her chest. Slim waist and rounded hips made her any man's wet dream, for sure. I had to hold my breath and try to relax when I saw her.

She had a dark blue and magenta super hero outfit that hugged her body like the clear wrap they use in a butcher shop to keep the steaks fresh. Her mask was full faced from head to neck with only her eyes and nose and mouth exposed. Her low cut top showed off plenty of her massive cleavage and ended just above the belly button of her tightly ripped, flat tummy. The spandex tights on her bottom were low cut as well and ended somewhere near her knee high boots. They had long, spike-y heels that looked dangerous.

I had a device in one of my inner pockets that could augment distant conversations and I grabbed it and shoved it into my ear as I regarded the scene down in the street. My receiver unfortunately picked up all the surrounding conversation and ambient noise as well, so I had to work at picking out the words I wanted to hear. Double D was explaining her reason for being there that night and the battle that had ensued in the warehouse across the street. Officer Spencer nodded, wrote in a pad he held, and spat a question or two her way as they discussed the situation.

She had been trailing a drug ring for some time, it seemed. Finally caught up with them, and engaged them in a little "one-on-twelve". From the size of the cuffed group, I figured she must be one hell of a fighter to have taken them all down. She spoke to Spencer in calm directive tones, outlining everything that had transpired. I noticed something else though. I noticed she seemed a little out of breath. She also seemed to be struggling to get her head to work as she searched for a word here and there to describe the prior events. Fatigue. I liked this. I liked this a lot.

Destiny Blue. A super heroine who wasn't quite on the same level as Lady Liberty, but she was no rookie either. She held that upper middle class position in the ranks that made her dangerous, but not unbeatable by the right timing and planning. I watched her in the street and felt myself motivated by opportunity which could not be ignored. She was steak alright. She was a steak dinner all cooked and ready and sizzling on the plate. I was hungry. I had lost Mr. Nightmare in the crowd below, and I would have to use old hunting methods to catch an animal.

Destiny Blue was Filet Mignon.

After another twenty minutes or so, Double D said her goodbyes and thanked Spencer for taking care of the rest of the mess she had created.

"I have to go..." She told him. "It's been a long night."

As she moved down the street, I turned from my own position, keeping the timing and pace of her gait in the front of my mind. I couldn't see her, but I could estimate just how far she would travel in the direction she had left. I checked my inner coat and my trench coat of all my arms and tools which I carried everywhere, always ready for a situation like this. It was a pain in my ass, for sure, but one never knows when one will stumble upon a million dollar haul.

I made it down the ladder and then out into the street, covered by the surrounding pedestrians still milling about. Double D was about a block down and her lovely behind was swaying back and forth as she made her way east. Luckily, a few adoring fans had run up to her and were pestering her for autographs and peppering her with questions. She was patient and helpful, but I could tell her patience was quickly running out from some of the closed palm gestures and sideways body language she used. The fans blindly missed the signals. They were a big help at keeping my tail of the heroine hidden from her, no doubt, superior senses.

I could see as she headed down the street, that there was a large yellow van that had been parked facing the street with its body hidden back in an alley. I smiled. I knew just what miss heroine had done and where she was going. Slipping behind one of the buildings, I ran down a dark alleyway and jumped up and over a dumpster that was against a brick wall. I scaled the wall and tossed myself over it and landed in the adjoining alley. Several cats scattered as I interrupted their late night exercises.

I did this a few more times, making headway on Blue's progress, so I hoped, and ended up in the alley behind the van. Just where I wanted to be. I took out some short mooring rope from my trench coat and tied my wrists to the top baggage rod of the van to ensure that I didn't go splat on the cement during a wide turn and I hunkered down on my belly atop the roof of the van. In the alley darkness, I felt I would be hidden from view as Destiny Blue returned to her transport.

I was right. The fans kept Destiny chatting as she made it to the alley and then told them she had to leave in polite, clipped tones. She climbed into the van and cranked it up without even checking the outer perimeter. A sloppy move, if you ask me. If I had wanted to discover who she was, I would have pretended to be an annoying fan too, or maybe paid a kid to do it. Now I had her van location, and all I would have to do was wait until next time. If I had been one of the bad guys, that is. But if things worked out, there would be no next time for Destiny Blue.

The trip was fast and windy. I had to shove my hat under my chest and inside my coat so as not to lose it. I covered my head with the outer coat so as not to freeze in the cold night air. Double D was a cowgirl at the wheel, she wasted no time getting up on the interstate and barreling along at what must have been over sixty miles per hour. My wrists ached from the pull on the mooring ropes, but the rope and the baggage bar held tight. The van made its way up into the high rent district with all the mansions and palm trees lining every neighborhood street. When we finally stopped, it was at a gated home that was surrounded by high brick masonry and wrought iron metal work.

As the van moved beyond the swinging gate entrance and up the driveway, I listened for dogs. Dogs could be a problem as they made too much conspicuous noise when an unknown trespasser entered the grounds. Surprisingly, I didn't hear any. Not at first, at least. But when Destiny parked in the garage and entered the house, I could hear the security dogs running up to meet her. From her reaction, she must have had more of a "love" relationship with them as pets, more so than a pure security exchange. I slid down the opposite side of the van, the side away from the interior entrance and made my way around to a nearby inner window. I could see that the dogs were Rottweilers. They really seemed to love old Double D, too. Beautiful dogs, they were. Beautiful and not totally safe for an intruder like myself.

I waited until the lights had gone out on the lower level of Destiny Blue's mansion. I could see all the Ethan Allen furniture and high end gold fixtures that decorated the house. She was some sort of high society rich girl, for sure, which told me that perhaps there was some bucks to be made here after all. Considering the future use of Destiny Blue in my own plans, those that would lead me to the bigger prize of Lady Liberty, I had decided to forfeit the potential income, but now I surmised that perhaps I would return later, load up her van for myself.

When I heard the water pipes begin to roar down in the garage, I knew it was time to move. I pulled my tranq dart gun from another pocket in my trench and readied for the approach of the two Rottweilers. Picking the lock on the interior garage door, I let myself into the spacious kitchen within. Naturally, the running paws, scraping nails on the marble floors, and huffing breath of the dogs began almost immediately.

Standing in the darkened kitchen, I held my tranq gun ready for them to turn the corner at any second. They did as expected, and two single shots took them down quickly. I stepped over the sleeping dogs and unloaded the liquid casing from my gun that held the sleep potion I used on puppies. Making my way quietly and quickly up the large swaying staircase to the second floor, I replaced the liquid tube with another which was especially formulated for nosy, pesky young women with super abilities.

Like a policeman expecting an attack at any second I held my gun with both hands and with extended stiff arms. I moved down the hallway toward the sound of a running shower and marveled that it appeared as though Double D lived alone in this big house. I slowly opened the bathroom door, peering through the crack of the door and found that Blue was indeed inside of the shower. The shower had a fancy, flower printed curtain, which was helpfully opaque. I could see the silhouette of her tremendous body outlined behind the curtain by the omni directional overhead lighting. She was friggin' fantastic!

Scrubbing and washing and soaping, she was blissfully unaware of my presence. I suddenly pulled back the curtain, shoved my gun in her tummy and fired, all at once. She turned and gave me a wide eyed look of shock and surprise which might have been followed by a statement like: "What the fuck?????" But she had little time, as my drug worked almost instantly and she collapsed unconscious into the tub.

I stood there watching the shower water run over her shiny, beautifully formed breasts. Her hair was back above her head and floating in the swirling water like a great auburn colored crown.

"Goodnight, princess." I told her, and I lit up a cigar.

*******

The note on the front door of the house, the one I had left there for the hired help, told the day workers, whomever they were, that Ms. Hansen would be out of town for the day and that they could all take a day off with pay since she wouldn't be around. Rachel Hansen was some sort of society big wig, for sure. She had awards and certifications and degrees all over her living room wall. She had photos, too. These photos spelled out the story for me that she would be unable to relate.

There were lots of charity event type pictures, ones with the Mayor, the District Attorney, a few powerful men from the business world that I recognized, and of course, Lieutenant Spencer from the police department. I didn't know if he realized that Destiny Blue and Rachel Hansen were one and the same. He's a smart guy though, not a fool, so I would say that if he's been in social situations taking pictures with Rachel Hansen, standing right next to her, and also out in the street chatting with her after Destiny Blue broke up a drug ring; then I would say he at least has some strong suspicions. Funny thing how some cops will look the other way with certain vigilantes.

Rachel had a big den with a pool table, a wet bar and lots of 12 year old whiskey. Needless to say, I enjoyed quite a bit of it during my stay at her estate. Tastefully done, filled with lots of Ethan Allen style furniture, I was amused to see a neon sign above the bar for Burmiester beer. I filled a glass with some of the finest whiskey she could buy, and turned off all the lights except for the neon sign and then sat back in her expensive recliner and listened to the neon buzz in one of the quietest houses I had ever been inside of.

I picked up a framed picture from the table next to the recliner as I sipped the warm, delicious whiskey and looked over a pic of Rachel with what looked to be family members, brothers, sisters.... maybe even a little nice who was cute as a button. Rachel held her on a hip and they both smiled happily into the camera.

The dogs I put into some cages I found in the rear washer-dryer room and let them sleep off their dart drugs. They were beautiful animals. I would have to see to it that they weren't destroyed. If I brought them to the pound, it was only a matter of time. That shouldn't happen. It's kind of like when you have kids, the government is the worst place they can be cared for. They will take them away from you within two hours of leaving them home alone and then it takes six months to get them back. If you do get them back. Some die in government custody. Some are abused. You never know if it's your kid who will be the next kid scarred for life. That shouldn't happen either.

I loaded the van with some of Rachel's more expensive items, lamps, gold ash treys, some silver ware, a few watches and other good money getting items which I would hock or sell some other way. I loaded the dogs in their cages into the back of the van, too. Before I took off to my own home for some needed items and then returned to put the finishing touches on Destiny Blue, I went back up to the bedroom, which was her own I surmised, and checked on her condition where I had left her about six hours ago.

I had taken a hammer from the garage and punched some holes in the wall around the stud just above her bed head board and then ran some mooring rope through and around the back of the stud. I then laid the naked hero on her bed and tied her wrists high above her head with opposite ends of the rope. Her sleepy head lolled to one side and rested upon her arm which was pulled upward and back.