Page 28 of Greed
“Did you complete your mission?” came a hollow voice. Just hearing her tone made him cringe. He didn’t know how he’d been attracted to her when she was out of her costume. The woman had a voice like nails down a chalkboard.
“Yes,” he said in a clipped tone. “I killed the witness, but I didn’t get the story. I almost didn’t make it thanks to that Lazarus prick. I need more serum.”
Silence again.
It extended so long that Donald thought maybe she’d hung up, but then she spoke. “We’re under no obligation to give you anything.”
“You don’t, I spill. I make my award-winning story about you instead of the vigilantes.”
“Did you just threaten us, Mr. Doppenger?”
He bit his lip. “I’ll do whatever you want, just give me the serum. This time, I’ll make it so the right people see me.”
As it was, only Lilo and Griffin saw Donald kill that man in the cell. He needed public witnesses to the actual crime, not just him dressed as Greed running from the explosion. It had to be big enough, senseless enough, that the city turned against the heroes. He’d almost succeeded two years ago when he wrote the story about the Deadly Seven destroying the building that killed all those people. He didn’t see a peep from the vigilantes for years after that. The city had lost their faith in them, and they lost faith in themselves. He did all that without the help of the Falcon lady and her benefactors. He could do it again.
“Mr. Doppenger? Are you still there?”
Donald snapped back to attention. “I’m sorry, I missed that.”
“I asked about the Lazarus you mentioned being there. Elaborate.”
“He’s irrelevant. A data analyst or some shit. But because of him, I didn’t get the lead for the story, and someone else did. He turned up to accompany my princess, then the asshole decided to fight me. The weapon you gave me was defective. I aimed for the head, but shot him in the shoulder and he walked away.”
He would ask for a refund, except, he didn’t pay anything for the serum. Strangely, they’d given it to him for free.
“Our weapons never fail. Your inexperience must be the cause.”
“I don’t think so. I spent most my teenage years hunting in the woods with my father and brother. I know how to use a gun. I know how to aim.”
“Interesting.”
Why the fuck? Donald wanted to ask, but he knew better than to pry with Falcon.
The serum was supposed to make him stronger, heal faster and sense the sin of greed in the foulest of sinners. She said she would supply a costume identical to the one the vigilante Greed wore, and then he was free to do as he wished. Kill whoever, whenever. The night Donald caught the sinners stealing from the jewelers was the first night he’d tested the serum. It worked like a charm. He felt invincible as he prowled the city streets following that gut wrenching radar to a crime. He hadn’t expected the other Deadly Seven member there, and he would’ve shot him too, but then the sirens dragged him away. His plan only worked if he wasn’t in a prison cell to write the story.
“You’re sure you mortally wounded him?” Falcon said.
“Yes. Absolutely.”
“And another woman was there.”
“Yes.” Nerves ticked Donald’s jaw. He didn’t like speaking about Lilo to this emotionless woman. He wanted Lilo all to himself.
“I want a full report emailed to me by the morning. You will have your serum Mr. Doppenger. You will have as much as you want, especially if you can capture a blood sample from the Lazarus man you mentioned was at the precinct. Try to be inconspicuous.”
Chapter Eleven
Griffin stormed into the workout area in the basement headquarters of Lazarus House. He needed to let off steam and hitting an inanimate object was the safest avenue for at least three reasons he could think of: it couldn’t hit back; it didn’t matter if he obliterated it; and it had no feelings. Perfect for the aggression he was about to unleash.
Stripping his bloody blazer and work shirt, he rounded the corner to the fitness room and stopped short. His mother was running drills at the wooden man. Why anyone called it that was beyond him. It looked nothing like a man. Just a stump with smaller stumps jutting out from it. More like a tree. She hit each branch over and over again in a well-timed routine. Punch, hit, slap, block, kick, knee. And again until her movements blurred.
Apart from training around the world, Griffin and his siblings were also taught deadly combat skills by Mary. The one thing she instilled was repetition.
Again. Again. Again. The sound of her voice echoed from his memory.
They ran through their drills until their brains turned to mush and it became second nature for their bodies. That way, when an attack took their minds by surprise, or their emotions got the better of them, the memory in their muscles could be relied on.
That’s what he needed now. Mush.
