Patriot City Nights - part 7
by Law2

Images swirled as if trapped in a raging tornado, spinning much too fast to make out. The bright light that accompanied the tornado seemed to feed a throbbing headache. However, El Diablo was determined to stay conscious and fought the storm of images and head pains until he could make out shelves with boxes. He tried to raise his arms to soothe his throbbing head and found that he could not move them. His feet too were immovable, tied down. He realized that he was tied to a wooden chair. He rotated his head from left to right and noticed a wooden door with a translucent viewing window.

"Where am I?" He muttered mostly to himself.

"Yer finally awake," El Diablo realized that another chair was tied to the back of his, and recognized the voice of Detective O'Brien. "We're in some sort of storage room. Those darn thugs got the drop on me and brought me here. They didn't spare the full treatment on the way over; I've got the black eye and bruises to prove it. The bastards even took the time rob me. Took me wallet, gun, and jewelry. I'm surprised they left me pants." El Diablo listened with half an ear he was examining the ropes that bound him and Detective O'Brien to the chairs. They appeared easy enough for him to burn through, nothing out of the ordinary.

"Prepare yourself senor O'Brien; I am going to burn through these ropes."

"Alright, give it try hot head."

El Diablo concentrated to get his flaming abilities to allow him to light up just enough to get through the ropes. He tensed his muscles and gritted his teeth, all the while working out the results in his mind. He was shocked to discover nothing happened, not even a spark. "Something is wrong."

"Weren't ya listening to me kid? I was trying to tell ya that they gassed you before tying you down."

"Gas?"

"It's a special type of gas made to neutralize Energy X. I don't know too much about it except that only EXET has it and that it has to be especially designed for each mutated person."

"Then my powers are gone!"

"Don't panic kid, the effects are only temporary. I don't know how long though."

"How long was I out?"

"I guess about fifteen to twenty minutes. I'm judging by the amount time that the fight has been going on."

"The fight?"

"Can't you hear it? Those goons are watching the fight in the next room. Its round five now."

"Who's fighting?"

"It's the rematch, the Patriot City Slugger versus Sledgehammer Joe."

"I forgot that the rematch was tonight. It is your fault that I am missing it now."

"My fault? If I hadn't gotten the crap beat outta me by those thugs and you weren't knocked unconscious we wouldn't be able to listen to it now." El Diablo and Detective O'Brien shared an uneasy chuckle.

"Don't do me any favors," El Diablo said jokingly. "Who is winning? I remember that in the last match the Slugger was beaten in the eighth round."

"Yeah, seems he doesn't have any stamina. He was doing fine beating everyone in the first couple of rounds, then someone makes him go the distance and he fizzled out like an open can of pop. This time though he seems to be toying with the Sledgehammer. Almost like the fight is fixed."

"Do you have any plans about getting out of here?"

"We can either listen to the fight and see what happens after or we can make a hopping charge out the door tied to these chairs. You pick."

The fight ended in the tenth round. It was a knockout. The Patriot City Slugger was victorious. Roars of excitement and explicit discontent pierced the walls of the room containing El Diablo and Detective O'Brien.

"Sounds like a pretty divided group," said El Diablo, "I was hoping the Slugger would win."

"More importantly it sounds like there are a lot of them. Getting out of here alive is going to be interesting."

The door to the small storage room was flung open and Heat stormed in with a couple of armed thugs in tow. He sported a grin that ran ear to ear. He was dressed in his regular uniform, which consisted of a long black trench coat and a body suit with flame designs. Sunglasses hid his eyes. In one of his gloved hands he held a large metallic brief case.

"I just made five thousand dollars," He said shaking his head from side to side, "Ain't life grand; five grand?"

"I suppose it depends on your prospective," replied Detective O'Brien.

"Ex-act-ly." Heat placed the briefcase on the ground and opened it. He knelt down and manipulated the contents. The lid hid the activity from El Diablo. "From my prospective," he continued, "I just hit the jackpot betting on a long shot and to top it off I get to kill an old enemy, El Stupido Ricky Ricardo and one of Patriot City's finest, Detective William O'Brien: the other white meat." The armed thugs burst into laughter.

"You muchachos are lucky that I do not have my powers right now," said El Diablo, "I would turn your laughter to screams."

"That gas is some nasty stuff," said Heat, "makes you nothing but a punk in weird pajamas. It turns out that the PCPD has some of that stuff tailor-made for every member of Freedom Force. Too bad you won't live long enough to ask them why. Nasty as that gas is," he rose to his feet with a syringe in hand, "this here is nastier."

"What's that?" asked El Diablo.

"Her'on, the same kind that killed Percy Smith. He died a happy man. This stuff is so nasty that he was begging for more before burning in that alley. He was dead mentally long before the fire got to him. And now, since I'm in such a good mood I'll pump you two full of this stuff and you won't notice your transition from this life to the next either."

El Diablo struggled desperately to loosen his bonds and was still unable to get even an inch of slack. Trying to use his powers only made him tired. He began gasping for air. Heat laughed and walked closer carrying the syringe. With his free hand, he yanked down on El Diablo's costume until the fabric tore enough to expose the flesh of his right arm. Heat lined up the tip of needle until it was just above El Diablo's bicep.

It can't end like this, thought El Diablo.

El Diablo recalled that the day he received his powers that there were three present, Heat, Heat's brother, and Ricardo Rodriguez. They were members of rival gangs in a turf war. Ricardo Rodriguez was heading home after a night of marking his territory with graffiti art when he ran into trouble. He was outnumbered two to one and getting beaten until the canister of Energy X changed each of their lives. Upon contact Rodriguez exploded with fiery energy that permanently disfigured Heat's brother and knocked Heat unconscious. He thought that he had killed them and was overcome with grief. It was that event that made him decide to use his powers, which he believed were a result of the demons inside him, to protect life as El Diablo.

He did not know that Heat's brother manifested uncanny superhuman powers of flame control, much like his own, while Heat developed an equally uncanny tolerance for hot and cold. He didn't know the two were alive until he thwarted a crime they were committing. He was relived, but continued to fight crime. In fact he thwarted their ill-conceived plans on a few occasions after that until the two disappeared. He was clueless about their whereabouts until now.

"Do you think the Slugger is ready to take Clay?" Asked Detective O'Brien.

"CLAY!" Heat exclaimed. He pulled the needle back and walked over to Detective O'Brien. El Diablo breathed a sigh of relief.

"Yeah. Cassius Clay, the champ."

"The man's name is Muhammad Ali! Why do you people insist on calling him by that slave name?"

"Are you supposed to be Malcolm X?"

Heat gave a sharp backhand to the face of Detective O'Brien that echoed throughout the room.

"Don't you ever mention that traitor and me in the same sentence. He turned his back on the man that opened his eyes."

"So yer a Muslim?"

"Not quite, I was a little too radical for them. I believe in sticking it to the man and his establishment and I also believe in putting money in my pocket. Thanks to you two I was able to accomplish both tasks tonight."

"How do you figure that?".

"Step out of the room for a second boys, it's about to get ugly in here." Heat looked towards the armed thugs at the doorway. They complied and closed the door behind them.

"When El Diablo came in flames blazing he managed to take out a large portion of the heroin shipment. This stuff," Heat said holding up the syringe, "is a new mixture that was heading to the streets where it would have been consumed by poverty stricken Negroes, furthering their mental bondage and causing a cultural implosion. I had plans to destroy it myself, but nothing that would have worked out so well. Now thanks to you two I can stay in the good graces of my very wealthy employer and save my people. Probably some of your people too hombre." Heat cracked a smile that only be interpreted as self-satisfaction.

"You're a regular Cesar Chavez," stated El Diablo.

"What about my people?" asked Detective O'Brien, "My family migrated from Ireland in the eighteen thirties. Five Points wasn't exactly Paradise."

"You're a funny man O'Brien, although I can't say I'll miss your sense of humor."

"Who's yer employer?" asked Detective O'Brien.

"It doesn't matter, because you two are about to die." Heat again walked over to El Diablo and prepared to inject the needle. "This may sting a little."

"Wait," said Detective O'Brien, "wouldn't you like to know how we found you?"

"Call me crazy," said Heat, "but I think you're trying to stall until El Diablo gets his powers back. You should stop trying. That gas lasts for hours and it's barely been one hour. But humor me. How did you two find this place?"

"El Toro turned stool pigeon when we botched his ambush and threatened to send him jail."

"Is that right?" asked Heat with sarcastic overtone, "What makes you think that's even important to me? You guys finding this place was a blessing in disguise for my cause."

"How did you get the crooked cops to cooperate?" asked El Diablo taking a cue from Detective O'Brien in order to buy more time, but he was uncertain if the Detective had any real plan.

"Crooked cops?" Heat leaned back and began laughing hardily. "Did you tell him this was the work of crooked cops Billy?" El Diablo could not see if Detective O'Brien gave a non-verbal response before Heat continued.

"Hombre, this is much deeper than crooked cops. This is Counter Intelligence, also known as COINTEL. The FBI is behind this. My employer is just a pawn in a much bigger scheme." Heat again returned to El Diablo's exposed arm.

The door flung open and banged loudly into the wall. Everyone present jerked to see a large man in a very expensive blue three-piece suit with equally expensive shoes.

"Pinstripe!" Exclaimed El Diablo and Detective O'Brien simultaneously.

"Boss," said Heat.

"Don't boss me! What's been taking so long in here? Those two should have been toast by now."

"I was just making them suffer."

"How? By talking them to death? Is that my heroin in that needle?"

"It is. I was thinking that if they wanted it so bad that maybe I should just give it to them and then kill them." Pinstripe did not respond immediately. He gestured as if he were pondering something.

"You know," Pinstripe said allowing a grin, "I think I like the sound of that. Give it to em'," he began laughing. Heat returned to El Diablo and again started to inject the syringe.

"Boss," shouted one of the thugs as he rushed into the room with a look on his face that would suggest having seen a ghost. "We gotta problem!"

"You know I don't like to be interrupted, this had better be good," said Pinstripe.

"I-It's..." Before he could finish a loud explosion sounded in a distant section of the warehouse. It was followed by gunfire and sounds of orders being called out. "It's the cops," said the thug.

"Everybody grab ya heaters," shouted Pinstripe while running out of the storage room with the others in tow, "they ain't takin' me without a fight."

A moment later El Diablo noticed a small spherical object roll into the room. He recognized it as one of Liberty Lad's flash grenades and immediately shut his eyes while turning his head away. The bright light penetrated his eyelids and he heard the screams of those around him including Detective O'Brien as they were caught in the blast and blinded. When the bright light receded El Diablo opened his eyes. He could see bright spots before him, but it did not any serious problems.

"I've found them!" said Liberty Lad, who was standing at the entrance, "hold on guys I'll get you out of those ropes." He ran over to the two prisoners and began freeing them.

"Liberty Lad, I can't tell you how glad I am to see you," said El Diablo.

"Aye, you certainly would be a welcome sight if I could see," added Detective O'Brien.

"You can both perform an interpretive dance once we get back to the Fortress." Liberty Lad finished loosening the ropes. "It's a war zone out there, we really need you El Diablo."

"Unfortunately amigo, I do not currently have the use of my powers."

"I thought it was funny that this rope was able to hold you down," said Liberty Lad while holding up some of the rope. "Alright then, follow me and I'll get you two to safety."

"You aren't going anywhere muchachos," El Toro stood at the entrance. His massive frame was easily wider than the doorway. Liberty Lad charged forward delivering a shoulder block that sent the man-bull staggering backwards, but fell short of knocking him down. El Toro delivered a punch to the young boy's face that sent him flying backwards through the storeroom and crashing into a stand containing several cardboard boxes. The impact bent the stand and sent the boxes crashing to the floor. El Diablo moved to check on his teammate. Liberty Lad was shaken but still conscious, El Diablo did not believe that the young superhero would be able to take another punch like that.

"Who's next?" asked El Toro with a sarcastic overtone.

"I am." The voice was slightly familiar to El Diablo and came from outside the room; El Toro turned his head in the direction of the voice. He was met with a punch that sent him flying as he had done to Liberty Lad. El Diablo ran outside to see who it was that had such strength.

Indeed it was a war zone, but unlike any he had expected. Instead of seeing policemen and thugs exchanging gunfire he saw several members of EXET. Some were firing energy blasts from their hands, others were flying around, and when he located El Toro he saw Sergeant Lucas exchanging blows with him.

"What is going on?" asked El Diablo.

"I lied," said Detective O'Brien, "EXET really means Energy X Enhanced Team. And I'm not a quarter Scottish."

To be continued...

Author's Note: Heat appears courtesy of MFlamer.