Unfinished Business -TotB-*HF* Part 2

By Gene

It had been a while since I'd been to Mitchell International Airport. As far as airports went, I always thought it was pretty cool. The highlight, of course, is the used bookstore and comic shop, which stands in addition to the usual newstand and new book store you find in virtually every airport across the country.



The bookstore didn't have anything I really needed this time, though it's always great to look. And their comic selection was about the usual - all the 80's and early 90's stuff speculators picked up hoping to make quick bucks, but ended up selling for pennies. Holofoil covers, embossed covers, and endless spinoffs of Ghost Rider, the X-Men, the Titans, and the Avengers. Looking at them, I felt embarassed that the industry had ever put them out.



Chastity arrived on a private White Court jet at 1 o'clock sharp. It was the only plane that managed to make it in exactly on time, not a minute late, not a minute early. It was also the only plane that wasn't delayed in landing or taxiing to the terminal. Ahh, the advantages of being connected!



The plane wasn't labeled or coded as a White Court jet, of course. IT was a Lyonspaw Industries corporate shuttle. As far as the world is concerned, there is no White Court of the Hellfire Club, just as there is no real Hellfire Club aside from references in fiction and the occasional S&M clubs that pop up in major cities. I'm still convinced that Gomurr is behind those. I think the guy overcompensates in perversion for what he lacks in a third leg.



And as always, the cover for the mission was complete. The plane's charter showed it had one passenger, Brenda Wilcox, who was being flown to Milwaukee to meet with me, Gene Ahner, to discuss a series of special features in upcoming issues of Lyonspaw, and possibly even one or more specially-produced magazines. Wilcox was previously unknown in the mass media world, but had been discovered by Lyonspaw after I saw a few issues of an underground publication she wrote and published herself.



Knowing Chastity, I was curious to see how she would pull off the guise of being a 20-something independent publisher, seeing as she was a 19-year old professional sorceress and assassin. I wasn't disappointed. She walked through the terminal door in a very professional yet sexy blue skirt suit and sunglasses, with her hair pulled back and pinned. Normally white, her hair today was dark brown, almost black. She looked like a very formal dominatrix who could beat a board room into submission through words alone. I was impressed. Nebula chose her Pawn well.



"Ms. Wilcox," I said, extending my hand. "I'm Gene Ahner, Editor-in-Chief for Lyonspaw."



Chastity grabbed my hand and shook it, showing no emotion. She held a clutch purse in her other hand. I wondered what was inside.



"Pleased to meet you, Gene," she said. "Thanks for flying me to Milwaukee."



"Thank you for coming out," I said, releasing her hand. I turned and began to walk away from the terminal, encouraging her to follow. "I was here on vacation visiting family and couldn't leave quite yet, but definitely wanted to meet with you as soon as possible."



"I understand you'd like to discuss the issue and have it done as soon as possible?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.



"Yes. While I don't want to rush things and I wouldn't call this a crisis, we would like to finish the issue quickly, and we would like your help."



Chastity smiled, obviously enjoying the doublespeak. It was refreshing to see a Hellfire operative actually enjoying the job.



"I'll be glad to help you in any way that I can," she said.



Minutes later, we were climbing into a rental SUV in the airport parking lot. As Chastity closed the door, she pulled the hairpin out of her hair and shook her head, her hair changing from brown to white as it tumbled down past her shoulders. Her facial features also changed, as did her outfit, the suit morphing into red leather pants and a bustier.



"You got us a rental car? We're working for the most powerful organization in the world and you got us a rental? What, are we slumming?"



I looked Chastity in the eye for a moment as I started the car. "I always get rentals for missions, and always pay in advance, in cash, under a different name. That way if the car is trashed, we're covered. If the car is seen, we're covered. If the car is traced through global tracking, we're covered. If I used my own car or Alice's car, that puts the whole Club at risk if anyone is smart enough to follow me from mission to mission. All they have to do is spot the gold SUV with New York plates and they know where I am, or Alice is. It's stupid."



Chastity shrugged. "Good point. But then, why the Hell did I have to fly in here? Not that the jet wasn't comfortable, but I could have teleported and been here hours ago."



"I thought Nebula briefed you on that," I said. "We're really trying to not tip our hand here. You don't get a lot of teleportation going on around Wisconsin, okay? There's plenty of cults to go around in the North and Central parts of the state. If they have any decent skills at all, they'll know you've 'ported in by the energy discharge made when you appear. We don't want that. This is low key all the way."



Chastity ran a fingernail along the seam of her leather pants. "Fine, we're low key, then. Care to tell me what we're here for, now that I'm here. Nebula wouldn't say, she just told me you needed help."



I turned the car out of the parking garage and accelerated onto the on-ramp for Highway 94. "She didn't tell you because I didn't tell her. I didn't even tell Alice yet. Partly because I'm not sure what's up and partly because I only want to go over this once."



"Okaaaay," Chastity said, intrigued.



"My sister and her boyfriend told me there's been reports of some weird activity going on in the center of the state, all pretty localized to a small radius. Some have seen an odd figure. Some say it's a ghost. And there's been at least one reported attack on a resident, who was choked by this bizarre figure."



"Sounds like something for Unsolved Mysteries."



"Yeah, well, it's not so unsolved. Checking the news stories, my suspicions were confirmed. They're all centered in the area of Crivitz, near an area of woods. In the middle of the woods is small lake, with some swamp ground."



"So? Maybe it's a bear or something."



I glared at her for a second. "Think about it, Chas. Bears don't choke people. And people around here know damned well what a bear looks like. We're either dealing with a loony, or something else."



"And you know what the something else is?"



I nodded, keeping my eyes on the road as the car shot past a seemingly endless line of senior citizens driving 50 in the left lane. "I have a pretty good idea. Several years ago, before I was with the Club or even worked as an operative, I worked as a manager for an office cleaning company after school. One of my crew members was very nice, but she had a lot of problems, all stemming from one thing - her stepfather was a piece of crap who emotionally and sometimes physically abused her. REal Cinderella story. At the same time, her boyfriend beat the crap out of her, too.



"The boyfriend is alive, but last I heard is still a vegetable. I beat him so bad, he's afraid to leave the house or meet strangers, and needs his parents' care 24-7. And he'll never use his hands again. I put them in a vice and smashed them with a hammer until all the bones were pulp. Even pins and plates couldn't straighten those things out.



"The stepfather was another matter. Given the family dynamic, it was clear he had to be removed from the picture, and he'd never voluntarily leave or respond to any kind of therapy. I waited for him after casing the house for a while. Bound him up, put him in the trunk, and off we drove to Crivitz. There, I had a nice talk with him so he knew why this was happening. Then I grabbed the rope that was binding his hands behind his back and lifted his arms high while kicking him in the back. He went down, the arms went up and both his shoulders were broken and out of joint. Cried like a baby.



"I dumped him in a little boat and we rowed out to the middle of the lake, where I dumped him overboard. Without the use of his arms, he found it hard to swim. I sat there in the boat for a while, watching the water, then rowed to shore and watched some more. I never saw a body come up, never heard a sound other than the animals there in the woods. When I was satisfied he had drowned, I drove home. After that, the girl was pretty okay. She got some help, and the two big problems in her life were gone."



Chastity narrowed her eyes and spoke. "So you think this guy has something to do with what's going on now."



"Uh huh. A lot to do with it. I don't think he's dead. And I don't think he's normal anymore. And maybe not alone."



"Why? Why him and not someone or something else?"



"Because the people here have been choked. Carolyn - the girl - was usually choked when she wasn't just slapped. It's not a standard attack, but when you like to do it, you keep doing it. It's a personal style kind of thing."



Chastity nodded and looked away. "But if it's that guy, why doesn't he go home? Or try to go home? Abusers are control freaks. That would be his first thought - to go back home and get control again."



I smiled slightly and nodded, steering the car onto the exit for 12th street. "Right. That's why you're here. The guy alone I can handle in my sleep. I want to know if it's him, or something else. If it's him, he's not behaving right, so there's something more going on. There's cults up there, some of them knowing a bit about what they're doing. Maybe they're involved. So I need backup with combat and magic experience, and a brain. You."



Chastity smiled. "And I'm cute, too."



I shrugged and steered the car onto Wisconsin Avenue. "Not important. And I can't tell. I'm married. Alice lends me my testosterone on weekends."



That was a lie, of course. I knew damned well she was cute, and had been forcing myself not to continually stare at her cleavage and leather pants for the whole ride, knowing I'd have an attack of drooling, I'd probably soil my own pants, and we'd almost certainly have a car wreck. However, knowing how hot she was, I could only think of how hot my own wife was, and how much I loved her, and how no one would ever compare or even come close when it came to her effect on me.



I parallel parked the car and turned to face Chastity. "Change," I said.



"What?" she asked.



"Change. We're undercover in Milwaukee. Low-key, remember? No one here looks like you. Take a look at the street. This is one of the fattest states in the nation. We're just blocks from Marquette University, full of horny young college girls, and still no one looks like you. You get out of this car looking like that, youll turn heads for a block. Fit in."



Chastity glared at me. "I am NOT under your command. I'm here on this mission at the request of my Queen. You know the problem and the area, I'm supposed to help. That's all. I'll wear what I want and look how I please. THis is how I am." She pulled the door handle, but found it locked.



I glared back. "You're not under my command, that's right. You're the Queen's Pawn, I'm the King's Pawn. No one orders us but our King and Queen. We stand alone. But this is my territory, my state, my city, my people, my business. And you were told this was to be a quiet mission designed to attract no attention. The crew at the Mansion work hard to cover our asses and make us invisible. Play along and help out, or go home. I need a full partner on this one, not someone who's a liability because she doesn't know enough to tone down her image when she's in a town that's terminally stuck in 1963."



Chastity's eyes began to glow faintly as she pressed her lips together. I felt a burning feeling around my right ring finger, where I usually wore SHaman's ring. I'd been keeping the thing back at the Mansion since I had been posessed, not wanting to run the risk of being possessed again while having the ring on. The thing was always meant to be for emergencies, but now I took that seriously. THe thing could destroy worlds. It had to be treated with care. Still, if this bitch wanted to throw down, the ring would appear on my finger in a flash and I'd blow her straight to Hell, let Diablo pick up her pieces.



Chastity's eyes glowed brighter, and her hair became curlier, and darker again. Her features filled out and compressed, until she appeared a few inches shorter, and at least 20 pounds heavier. At the same time, her bustier became a tube top, and her leather pants became over-tight jeans. She continued to smile when she was done.



"This what you had in mind?" she said sarcastically. "An overstuffed house frau? Sorry I can't go 100% and smell like spoiled beef, but my powers only work on my appearance, not my smell."



I opened the car door. "It's okay, we'll work with it."



I heard her sigh as she got out and slammed her own door.



"Okay, so what are we doing?" she asked, stepping onto the sidewalk.



"Gearing up," I said. "This is the Oriental Imports store. Most Milwaukee area martial artists get their stuff here." I held open the door for her and she stepped inside.



"Why don't we just use the stuff we already have? You have enough swords and stuff in your office to arm a small militia."



"Because it's in my office. I was on vacation, remember? Airport security is tight. We'll have to make do with what we can find here."



And we found enough. A pair of sai and some shurikens for the lady. A pair of tonfa, a hook-sword, and a katana for me.



We left the store and I pointed across the street.



"See that place there? The Navy surplus store?"



"Yeah? Don't tell me we're going there."



"We're not. It's just historic reference. THat's where Jesse Anderson bought the survival knife he killed his wife with. He killed her and blamed it on some black guys. He even bought a ski cap from a black kid at a mall on the north side and tossed it on the ground at the scene as false evidence, knowing the cap would have hair from the black kid in it. Anderson himself was found guilty of the murder and sent to jail. Same jail Jeffrey Dahmer was at. And Dahmer, of course, lived just a few blocks up the road here, and picked up one of his victims on that corner right there."



I opened the car door and Chas climbed inside. I walked around the front and climbed into the driver's seat.



"Dahmer, of course, killed mainly gay black men, though he dabbled with others a bit. Well, when they were in prison, one day they were put on the same laundry detail, though they had always worked on separate things before. And oddly enough, while they were working, everyone in the room quietly cleared out except for the two of them. That's when a guy came in with a free-weight bar and beat the two of them to death. It was such an odd thing, since there's security cameras all over, and guards by every room. Naturally, there was a full investigation, but there was never a real conclusion. All they know is the guard watching the monitors must have turned away for a second, and the guards by the laundry door had to step away to check something out. They caught the guy who killed them and sentenced him to life, but that didn't really matter. He was already a lifer, and was dying of AIDS."



Chastity raised her eyebrows and nodded. "Wow, I didn't know that. I thought Dahmer was still alive."



"Nope," I said. "Dead as Hell. The Violent Femmes even did a song about it. It just amuses me, y'know? Our prison system at work. The inner wheels of justice."



I pulled the car back into traffic and drove up a few blocks, then turned right. AFter a few blocks, I steered the car onto I-43. After a few miles I got off, then got back on the highway going south.



"Forget something?" Chastity asked.



"Nope," I said. "Just remembering things. That route going north goes past too many things I'd rather forget right now. We'll take the long way around and go north. Only makes half an hour difference." I shook my head and turned up the radio, pumping the bass as the Stones played "Brown Sugar."



"Man, just too many memories in this damned town."



My mood was turning black.





End Part Two.