Chicago Wildlife - 16. What Are We, Some Kind Of...(Part 3)

Mega Chapter 14: What Are We, Some Kind Of...(Part 3)

Fred could hardly contain himself. He was going to go on a big adventure with his best friend Cid, and this time they were bringing along friends. He even got a new, crisp, blue suit, and it seemed that it was even tailored to his measurements. Even if the lady planted a bomb inside his head, she sure knew how to pull out all the stops. Fred quickly put on his new suit. Cid was slower to put on his new clothes, but Fred was sure it was because of Cid’s dedication to precision. And this You guy got a set of knives! And the mime got a big sniper rifle! And the Disappearance guy took off all of his clothes! It was wild. Fred hadn’t seen anything like this since high school. Even after Disappearance put on his stealth suit, Fred had to admit that the guy looked really cool. The mime inspected his rifle like a pro.

“I didn’t see anything else in here for you, Cid!” Fred shouted helpfully.

“I doubt a Bic lighter would dramatically improve my performance,” replied Cid, so full of confidence.

“That’s what she said!” countered Fred with the sick burn.

Everyone else was too dumbfounded to reply.

“Alright You,” continued Robin, “Tell us where to find Ditto Perfect, and I swear if I hear one more wordplay out of you…”

The funny part was, he didn’t even know he made another wordplay of his own! Fred couldn’t help but to snicker.

“You think it’s time the scene shifted back to You,” You suddenly butted in.

#

“Say what?!” Fred yelled.

You can tell that you’re making the right decision. Comic book team-ups are always big deals, with high stakes. Too much comic relief and the tone of the whole piece becomes schizophrenic. The team is filled with jokes to begin with. The fat man with no powers whom no one respects. The energetic man who looks like he had fried his brain a long time ago with copious amounts of drugs. You aren’t sure about the mime anymore. Mimes can be comedic, but give them an assassin’s rifle and suddenly you aren’t sure whether they can be considered a “comic relief” character or an “artistic dark horse.” That means the burden of carrying all of the seriousness befitting a crossover laid squarely on the sexual eye-candy’s, the Author’s erroneous interpretation of autism made incarnate’s, and your shoulders.

“It has been approximately eleven issues since Ditto Perfect was last seen,” you explain, ignoring the boy.

“Issues?” Cid interrupts.

“I think he means ‘months,’” replies Robin.

You certainly don’t mean that, but you also know how pointless it is to enlighten those who do not seek the truth. You let the comment slide.

“The important people will need to be reminded as to who he is. He will be in a location that paints a perfect picture as to his character. The background stand-ins you call ‘city folk’ commonly portray him as a pedophile. An erroneous assumption, of course. This continuity doesn’t allow for such controversial topics. But you digress. In short, Ditto Perfect will be near a place where children would commonly congregate.”

“There are any number of schools in the city to choose from,” suggests Cid.

“Hey, what about all those arcades downtown?!” chimes in Fred.

“Y’know, if little kids are constantly going near him, maybe they’re those fucked up ones that’re always hooked on drugs? Maybe we can find this creep hiding underneath a bridge, peddling crank to six-year-olds,” offers Jacques.

“I think we’re thinking about this all wrong,” says Robin. “There’s too many places he could be at. We need to start thinking where whoever this troublemaker wants Ditto Perfect to be at. We’re all the morally irreprehensible sort here. So think: where would we send Ditto Perfect in order to give him some destructive superpowers?”

You start to worry. Running from objective to objective is standard procedure in these sorts of events. Robin just skipped over a major one. Will they have enough content left to finish the volume without resorting to shameless filler? If only Robin knew that his life is being threatened not by some fantasy technology in his body, but rather the will of the Readers. Your life, too, hangs in the balance, affected by all of their actions.

“Perhaps the perpetrator requires access to many types of blood,” you say. “As in, say, a hospital?”

“The closest hospitals to New Eastside would be Northwestern Memorial and Ann & Robert’s,” provides Jacques.

“You are certain that Persephone would be the sadistic type to ensure that her prey do not have enough time to visit both, if they stuck together,” you lie.

“So we either gamble with one of the two hospitals, or we split up our group of merry men and hope we survive at half strength. Is that it?” summarizes Robin.

“Could you think of anything more enticing for the important people?” you prod.

Robin sighs in frustration. He should be thanking you. You are, after all, telling a half-truth. Needlessly splitting up the group and delaying the resolution would provide for more material. It is the best you can come up with on such short notice.

“Okay…so where are we now?” Robin continues.

“Hey look! That’s Raymond’s Tacos No. 2 right over there. See? See?!” shouts Fred.

Robin sighs with more frustration this time.

“Oh my God, she was being literal. We’re actually in the Heart of Chicago.”

“By my best estimates, considering we do not have an exclusive mode of transportation ourselves, it would take approximately 50 minutes to travel to either of our destinations, provided we are traversing via the bus system,” provides Cid.

“This ain’t New York,” interjects Robin. He motions at Pierre. “You think we’re getting away with that on a public bus?”

You all look at Pierre, who is busy using the scope of his sniper rifle to survey the surrounding area.

“If we are walking, then the time of arrival is much later,” replies Cid.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious!” barks Jacques.

“Look, we’ll just steal a car or two, drive to the hospitals, bust a cap in someone’s ass, get our shock collars deactivated, and then I never see any of you again,” says Robin.

“This sounds like an adequate plan,” concurs Cid.

“Yeah! Let’s do this!” Fred agrees.

You see Pierre give a thumbs up.

“Fine,” Robin says. “Now let’s get off this roof and out of this rain.”

This is not exactly how you would have liked the plan to go, but it should provide ample opportunity for entertainment, and…

There will be less people around to try to stop you from killing one of these men.

#

Pierre followed the rest of the group down the multiple flights of stairs and out into the street. He made sure he obscured himself, seeing as he was the only one obviously carrying a weapon. Cid and Fred only had their brightly colored suits on, Jacques was dressed like a mobster, his gun easily concealed, You was bizarrely dressed in a fuzzy sweater of sorts, striped, with an alternating pattern of black and slightly brighter black, and wearing black slacks. His two knives were hidden behind his back, seemingly locked into place by a magnet. When he had caught Pierre staring, he explained that it was courtesy of Persephone. Pierre glared daggers, but didn’t shoot. Robin had put on his thieving suit and then his janitor outfit on over it. His excuse was plausible deniability. His tools he kept in a backpack he wore behind his back. In summary, no one was openly displaying weaponry besides Pierre. He could only hope that Cid and Fred’s outfits made it so that his own face makeup wouldn’t stand out as much.

Nearby, Fred noticed a healthy-looking parked car. Robin ordered Jacques in a rather rude way that hinted at a prior, familiar relationship, to commandeer the vehicle. Once done, Robin started talking about who was going where with who. Fred and Cid, through a one-way conversation nobody was willing to have, immediately made it clear that they were a packaged deal. Robin decided that You would go with Cid and Fred. Pierre was relieved that he wouldn’t have to deal with the deranged psychopath, and he was betting that Robin was thinking the same thing when he ordered You to go with the boys.

Just then, a voice called out. Robin swore under his breath. The voice called out again, saying Robin’s name. Pierre had to make a split-second decision: take the shot, or assume the target knew Robin and not Disappearance? He opted for the latter and trusted Robin to take care of it. Robin quickly directed Cid, Fred, and You to take the car and go to Northwestern Memorial. He mentioned something to Pierre about his gun, but his haste jumbled the sentence together. Robin then turned around and acted as if he’d just heard the person’s voice for the first time.

Based on the tone of his voice, Pierre could sense that Robin knew this old woman—Mabel, he had called her—and for quite some time now. Pierre was not about to shoot an unarmed old lady, so he deftly kicked his gun further down the street, hoping that the rain and lack of good lighting would make it hard for this blind old bat to see anything.

Robin inquired as to why such a frail old thing like Mabel would be out this late at night, and in the completely wrong part of town. Mabel, however, was undeterred. She whipped Robin’s own question back against him so fast, Pierre got the image of a boy rolling up his wet towel and whipping it at another boy’s exposed butt. Robin tried to defend himself by calling upon the fact that he was younger and stronger, to which Mabel retorted that she was older and wiser. She followed it up with saying that she could see that Robin associated with the rest of the group just now, and before Robin could retaliate, Mabel continued her onslaught by questioning his choice in style.

Despite it all, Robin performed a miracle, attributing all of their bizarre costumes as part of a talent show. Cid and Fred were Heat Miser and Snow Miser, respectively, You was going as Edward Scissorhands, Jacques was doing a comedy routine, Pierre was, of course, doing a mime skit, and Robin was merely wearing a janitor’s outfit as a model because one of his coworkers wanted to show off her cosplaying skills. He was supposed to be a Ghostbuster.

Mabel inquired as to where the show was, so that she could see it. Robin informed her that it was a late night show in a rather seedy bar of ill repute. Mabel didn’t like that part. Robin eased her by explaining that it’s not his sort of place, but he’s doing his coworker a favor, AND he wasn’t drinking. The moment Mabel showed hesitation, Robin quickly bid her adieu, citing an urgent need to rehearse. Everybody knew their cues. Jacques more bluntly said they had to leave, and Pierre simply waved to Mabel before turning around and running off to the street corner, making sure to scoop up his rifle. Jacques and Robin followed suit.

Jacques expressed some mild displeasure at being delayed for so long. Robin rebuked him. He clearly wasn’t happy himself, but apparently appearances still had to be made. Pierre decided not to point out that Robin was currently under two layers of disguises, and projecting a third. Robin seemed rather confident in the notion that he’ll live to see the end of this. Pierre looked around and saw a disparaging low amount of cars on the street. Was everybody walking everywhere nowadays? Robin felt it fit to tell Jacques and Pierre that he can scale the building at any time and hop rooftop to rooftop to more quickly get to the second hospital, but he didn’t trust either of the other two to not do something stupid that’ll get them all killed, so he was being slowed down by the two. Both of their nerves were starting to get to Pierre, and before the three of them could start a shouting match, they all heard a loud, expensive car speed directly towards them, slam on the breaks, and skid to a stop just inches before colliding with the three guys. The expensive car rolled down its driver window and both Robin and Jacques looked exasperated more so than they already were.