Chapter 6

Despite his mother’s warning, Blaine found himself in Special Agent Tiffany Trujillo's FBI-issued Lincoln cruiser the next morning, heading north up the Taconic Parkway toward Sing Sing Correctional Facility and Dr. Necropolis. Tiffany had worn a professionally laundered white shirt beneath a plain, dark blue pants suit. For once, she looked more like an FBI agent than one of the world’s most famous former superheroes. She remained quiet to the point of being uncommunicative, however, and after twenty minutes or so, her demeanor started to make Blaine nervous.

“I talked to my mother yesterday,” he said to break the silence. “It seemed like maybe Dr. McGuinness scared her. Any idea why? She’s always been, well, outspoken about whatever I do. But yesterday, she actually seemed… frightened, maybe? I don’t know. It was weird.”

Tiffany didn’t reply. She seemed lost in thought. Blaine was about to try asking his question a different way when at last she said, “I don’t remember your folks ever tangling with Frank. But your mother struck me as a woman who was all about control back in the day. Of herself, her surroundings, her image…

“She’s the Ice Queen, y’know? That’s the way I remember her, anyway.”

“She’s still like that,” Blaine agreed.

“Well, Frank could be like that, too. Every time we went up against him, we wound up walking into an ambush. So maybe your mom’s afraid we’ll lose control somehow? When you deal with Frank, that’s a distinct possibility.”

She lapsed back into silence. Blaine looked out his window and watched the endless green forests of upstate New York blow past on either side. He couldn’t help feeling antsy, but then, riding in a car always made Blaine antsy. Thankfully, the Taconic sat nearly empty that morning, at least in the northbound direction, though it remained a winding, decidedly hilly road. Tiffany drove exactly the speed limit. She seemed in no hurry to get where they were going.

“I don’t know,” Blaine said after a while. “How scary can this guy be? He’s been in a cell for the last ten years!”

“Sure,” Tiffany replied, “but there’s never been anyone like Dr. Necropolis. Not back in the day and certainly not now. The things he did… nobody did that shit. Nobody else could.” She took a deep breath and then slowly let it back out again. “Maybe he’s mellowed over the last ten years, but somehow I doubt it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Blaine asked.

“Look, can we just drop it? You’ll see for yourself soon enough.”

Blaine sighed. “You guys always get like this whenever you have secrets to protect,” Blaine said. “You always act like you want to protect me from some hard truth or whatever, but in my experience, you’re really just trying to cover your own asses.”

“Who’s ‘you guys’ in this, Blaine?”

“You and the other legends. All you old guard superheroes.”

“Jesus. You make it sound like I belong in a retirement home.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly. “It’s just that I’ve been around enough Society-types to know the brush-off when I hear it.”

“I’m not trying to keep anything from you here, Blaine. There are case files. You can read them. They’re not classified or anything.”

“But that won’t tell me what the man was like. You actually knew him.”

“Like you said, Frank McGuinness has been in prison for ten years. Probably none of this will even matter.”

“And yet, you’re driving us all the way up to see him,” Blaine replied. “Clearly somebody thinks he might know something. And my mother, the freakin’ Ice Queen, got scared silly when I mentioned it to her.

“I’m not asking for state secrets here,” he continued. “I just want a little insight. I’d like to be prepared.”

“It’s not state secrets I’m worried about, Blaine. You’re asking about my life.” 

Another long moment passed, and Blaine was about to say something else when Tiffany finally started talking again. “I don’t know exactly what your mother’s deal was, okay? I didn’t know her particularly well back in the day, and we haven’t exactly moved in the same social circles the past few years. 

“Your mother, I mean, who knows what goes on in her head? She was an actual supervillain before she married your father, and a lot of people thought maybe she married your old man just to get out of going to jail. But who knows? Maybe that’s just jealousy. Your dad was a rich, good-looking guy, and suddenly, instead of going down for her part in the Radical Robot Rampage, she married arguably the most eligible bachelor in the State of New York. I can see why people found that fishy.

“That’s not the kind of backstory you want to take into a fight with Dr. Necropolis. A story like that? That’s the kind of thing he’ll use. And then you’re screwed, big time.”

“But how can he gain control here? That’s the part that doesn’t make sense.”

“Who knows?” Tiffany replied. “He’s a freaking genius. A real one. We’re talking Einstein or Edison here. 

“He started making designer drugs and testing them out on club kids.” She shook her head, and her voice got bitter. “One batch, the press called it ‘Sex’. He pumped that shit into the ventilation system at a rave in Brooklyn and—”

“You’re kidding,” Blaine said, aghast.

“I wish I was. Dude triggered an orgy.”

“Jesus!”

“Four hundred naked teenagers, all gettin’ it on right on the floor of some abandoned warehouse down in Greenpoint. He called it a marketing ploy.”

“So what happened?”

“These were upscale kids, Blaine. Preppies. It sent the press into a feeding frenzy. They nearly had a riot down at one of the big private schools, although what all those pissed off parents thought the school was gonna do is beyond me.”

“I remember that,” Blaine said. “I was just a kid, but it seemed hard to imagine at the time.”

“Believe it,” Tiffany said. “That shit he uses is real. Me and Oberon, we were chasing him this one time, and he turns around and starts laughing. And Oberon starts laughing, too, because, y’know, everything was a joke to Oberon, and anyway, they’d been friends. But then Frank pulls out this gas grenade. Next thing I know, it’s two weeks later, and me and Oberon are married. We lived in this little hut down on a beach in Cabo San Lucas.” She looked over at him. “We were married, Blaine. Me and Oberon, the all-time king of commitment-phobia.”

“Wait. You and Oberon got—?!”

“Yeah. We both went bat-shit insane for two full weeks. Dropped everything and just went for it right then and there.” 

“Oh man…”

“I know. But we got it annulled once the drugs wore off.” 

“Oh shit. That’s—”

“It was,” Tiffany agreed. Quietly, she added, “Best two weeks of my entire life.”

Blaine didn’t know what to say to that. Outside, trees rolled past. Tiffany grew quiet again, and this time, he decided to respect her privacy. Eventually, though, she started talking again. 

“That shit, whatever it was, it scared the hell out of Oberon.” She hesitated. “He was different afterward. I don’t know if he freaked because Frank somehow cracked the code on his DNA, or if things somehow got personal between them. Whatever it was, he was never the same happy-go-lucky guy after that. He got more serious. About Necropolis and a bunch of other stuff, too. And it still took him almost a year to bring Frank down.”

“At the Federal Reserve Bank of New York?”

“Yeah,” Tiffany said. She looked over at him and sighed. “Look, Blaine, story time’s over, okay? You want the rest, go read the reports. Just know that the hype is real. Be careful in there. Frank has a way of turning the tables on you right when you least expect it.”

* * *

Sing Sing Correctional Facility turned out to be a squat collection of off-white brick buildings set down by the Hudson River. The set up reminded Tiffany of a medieval castle, all turret towers and low brick walls surrounding an inner keep, the whole topped by razor wire. The place had been built for defense-in-depth, though the danger in this case came from within. The layout gave the prison an ugly, inhuman vibe, even as talking about Frank McGuinness had put Tiffany herself into an ugly mood. 

But at least Blaine had finally stopped with his twenty questions routine. 

The trip still seemed an exercise in futility. Necropolis had spent ten years in prison without giving up the real names or locations of his partners, the Siberian Tiger and Gun Girl Gracie, and Tiffany doubted that this would change any time soon. The police knew that Frank and Gracie had been an item, and they had tape of the Tiger talking, so they knew that the man was Russian. Beyond that, they’d never had much. Necropolis had been amazingly thorough back in the day, to the point that whenever the authorities had found DNA or other forensic evidence at any of his old crime scenes, the samples had always degraded to the point of uselessness by the time they’d gotten to a lab. Since Frank had gone down, though, the Tiger and Gracie had made a point of staying off the radar. The Diamond District job was the first anyone had seen or heard of either in over ten years.

Frank McGuinness had always cherished his secrets. Tiffany didn’t think for a minute that Sing Sing would have changed that. If anything, Frank’s secrets were all he had left. If she and Blaine could get out of the interrogation room without inadvertently helping Frank escape or otherwise giving him a chance to showboat in front of his fellow inmates, Tiffany would consider it a win. If they could somehow manage to avoid spending too much time strolling down Memory Lane, that would be something of a miracle. 

SAC Casey Walcott had, of course, called ahead, so it didn’t take long for Tiffany and Blaine to get through security. After flashing their identification cards at the front gate, crossing the prison courtyard, and then showing identification again at the prison building itself, a guard proceeded to usher her and Blaine into a sterile interrogation room. Like everything at the prison, the interrogation room had been built using plain, off-white painted brick. The room was little more than a claustrophobic cube running about ten feet on a side. It sat empty when she and Blaine arrived, save for a couple of metal folding chairs and a single metal table that someone had bolted to the floor.

“You ready for this?” Tiffany asked.

Blaine shrugged. “How bad could it be? It’s not like he’ll be bringing gas grenades with him this time. And even if he does, we’re in the middle of the prison. It can’t possibly go all that wrong.”

Tiffany was about to respond when the door buzzed open. A man walked in wearing a bright orange jumpsuit. 

Tiffany blinked.

The Frank McGuinness that Tiffany remembered had been a short, kind of pudgy guy with a receding hairline and a perpetually self-satisfied smirk. Prison had changed that man. The man in front of her now was definitely still Frank — she remembered him well enough to be sure of it — but though he still stood a bare five-foot-eight, he was now cut entirely from lean muscle and prison-yard bravado. Even shackled hand-and-foot, his shoulders stood out from his jumpsuit to define a newly found weight-lifter’s build. Incredibly, he now carried himself with the casual confidence of the supremely fit. He’d shaven his head at some point, so that his forehead caught a nasty glare from the room’s harsh fluorescent lighting

Frank’s old self-satisfied smirk looked long gone. Behind heavy wire rim prison glasses, his eyes now came alive with malice. Prison had turned one of the most dangerous men on the planet into a hardened, angry-looking bastard. 

Despite herself, Tiffany felt her breath catch in her throat. She had to force herself to take a beat and calm back down. She looked again and saw — finally — that Frank had been beaten up recently. His left eye looked puffy and yellow, and the left side of his cheek was still swollen from where someone’s fist had left a definite impression.

She couldn’t see how this would help, but it was something. 

Still, she wanted to at least try to start off politely. “You look good, Frank,” she said, though her mouth felt suddenly dry. “I think prison agrees with you.”

He flopped down in his seat and rattled his manacles. “Who’s your friend, Tiff?”

“Lieutenant Blaine Winters, EFD,” Blaine replied. “I’m the new Centurion.”

“The new…?” Frank smiled, and Tiffany could see that he was now missing a tooth. “Shit. You’re Scott and Emma Winters’ kid, aren’t you? That’s hysterical. I didn’t know your old man, but back in the day, your mom was one hot piece of ass. Huh. The Centurion dragged her off with him like she was some kind of goddamned war prize. What a legend. Damn, it’s a shame he’s gone.”

“Be nice, Frank,” Tiffany said. 

It was too late, though. Frank looked to be enjoying himself.

“Fuck you, Tiff,” he said. “Be nice, my ass. I’m in here for almost ten years, and the first thing you say to me in all that time is, ‘Be nice’? Come on, I thought we were friends. You could’ve at least called.”

“We were never friends, Frank.”

“Are you serious? Don’t make me start with the old home week crap, Tiffany. You won’t like it, and the boy here might learn a few things.”

“Just tell us where the Siberian Tiger and Gun Girl Gracie are, Doctor,” Blaine said.

Tiffany ignored him, and so did Frank. 

“You’ve developed quite a mouth, Frank,” Tiffany said. “Is that why somebody busted your eye open? Or why you’re missing a tooth? Did one of your fellow inmates get a little too tired of your bullshit?”

“Would you believe that the Owl did this?” Frank asked. He smiled, flashing his gap tooth like it was a trophy. “The bastard did me a favor, believe it or not. He didn’t have to hit me quite so hard, though.” Frank rubbed the bruising around his eye and then glared at Blaine. “He sends his love, by the way. Asked me if I could find out why he’s in the joint while the fucking Ice Queen is still out there living the high life.” Frank shrugged. “I told him I didn’t think you’d know. What’d’you think, Blaine? Got any ideas you’d like to share?”

“I think you need to shut your mouth, you bastard,” Blaine spit back.

“Ooo,” Frank said. “I like him. You banged him yet, Tiff? Does he know what kinda girl you are?” He looked at Blaine again and whispered conspiratorially, “She likes ‘em big, my guy. You’re just her type.”

Tiffany went very quiet. She’d known what to expect, and still, she knew a moment’s fury. Blaine started to get up, but she forced herself to grab his shoulder. She pulled him back down and said, “He’s just baiting you, Blaine. Oldest play in the book.”

Frank held up his hands to show off his manacles. “Come on, big guy. I’m no threat. I can’t even move.” He looked back at Tiffany. “So what? Have you just come for a visit, or is there some reason you came to see me? And can we lose these cuffs? Seriously, Tiffany, it’s not like I’m going anywhere. I know they gave you the key.”

Tiffany said, “Tell me about the Neural Disruptor, Frank. How’d the Tiger get it, and how can we stop him from using it?”

Frank held up the cuffs. “I can’t think with these things on my hands, Agent Trujillo. But maybe if you loosen ‘em, something’ll come to mind.”

“I’m not gonna take off your cuffs, you asshole. Be serious!”

“Ah, come on, Tiff! What am I gonna do? These things’re driving me crazy. You can even leave ‘em on my feet if you want. I can’t very well sketch out plans for the Neural Disruptor with my hands shackled together.”

Tiffany started to respond, but Blaine cut her off. “It’s okay, Agent Trujillo. It’s like he says, he’s not going anywhere. And besides, maybe if he attacks us, it’ll give me an excuse to pop him in his other eye.”

Tiffany sighed. “Fine. What can it hurt?” 

She pulled the key from her pocket and leaned forward. Frank held out his hands. He smiled gleefully as the cuffs came off. 

“Happy now?”

“Very,” he replied. He pulled his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose with the fingers of his right hand. Then he leaned back, both hands under the table, glasses still in his lap. When he spoke, his voice was low. Subdued. “I missed you, Tiff. Truly. But you said you had some questions?”

“Yeah,” Tiffany replied, “about the Neural Disruptor. Your old partner used it to put ten people into a persistent vegetative state the other night. But I don’t remember you ever using it that way, at least not on purpose. What’s he doing differently?”

“He’s a hack,” Frank said. 

Tiffany had to lean forward to hear him, but against all odds, she suddenly felt a flash of hope. Maybe Frank had just needed to show off a little before he opened up. That didn’t seem impossible. He hadn’t always been an asshole, after all. 

“There’s a reason I used to use all those gas grenades back in the day. The drugs, they open up the mind. Make a person more susceptible to the Disruptor’s effects. If you just go in cold, you have to overwhelm the person. Brutalize them. That’s dangerous. But if you prepare the mindspace properly—”

Tiffany didn’t realize how far forward she and Blaine had leaned until Frank struck. At first she thought he’d just slammed his fist on the table, but then Blaine cried out and grabbed his right hand. For a split second, Tiffany couldn’t process what she’d seen. Then her stomach dropped. 

He’d played them. She’d come in ready for it, and he’d played them anyway.

Frank fell back and moved to cover up, but it was already too late. Blaine threw a roundhouse that caught him right at the jawline. Frank flew from his chair like he’d been hit by a truck and bounced off the brick wall behind him. Then Tiffany was moving at superspeed, trying to grab Blaine to keep him from killing Frank while Frank himself cowered with his hands over his head and face.

“What the Hell are you doing?!” Tiffany screamed.

“He attacked me!” Blaine yelled back.

“Not you, you idiot! Him!” She looked at Frank, who now lay bleeding on the ground. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Frank?”

“Fuck you, Tiff!” Frank yelled back. His voice sounded rough, but Tiffany didn’t think Blaine had broken his jaw. “You come in here after ten fucking years and think I’m just gonna tell you everything?! Fuck! You! I’d sooner eat shit and die!”

“That can be arranged,” Blaine fired back. 

“Where’s Oberon, Tiff? They got the Owl in here, but not the big man. You wanna know why?”

“Fuck you, Frank! He left. You know that.”

“That’s funny. You know, they asked me how to control him. This was back before the bank job. And then suddenly he was gone. It’s funny how that happened, isn’t it?”

“What?!” Tiffany stared at Frank and saw the truth sitting there, right in his eyes.

Frank smiled.

Tiffany felt the room close in around her. For a heartbeat she couldn’t breathe.

And then the guards came in and separated them. One kicked Frank so hard in the gut that he doubled over. Tiffany and Blaine let themselves be forced out the door, and only once they’d gotten out into the hallway was Tiffany able to start thinking again. 

“What the Hell was that?” Blaine asked.

The door slammed abruptly, and Frank disappeared from view. The hallway grew weirdly quiet. Blaine stared back toward the interrogation room, looking angry and confused. 

Tiffany shook her head, still stunned by what he’d said about the government and Oberon. Could it be true? Part of her already knew that it was. They’d been so quick with the Enhanced Forces legislation after he’d disappeared. In hindsight, they’d obviously had it ready and had merely been waiting for the right opportunity.

She looked and realized that Blaine was still staring at her. “What?” she snapped.

“Are you okay?” 

“Christ, how should I know? I warned you what he was like.”

“Well, did we learn anything, at least?” Blaine asked, still holding his hand. Tiffany noticed that he’d started bleeding a little.

Serves the kid right, she thought. Maybe next time he’ll listen.

“Yeah,” she said aloud. “We learned that Frank is still smarter than both of us, and that he still thinks I’m a slut.” She started walking toward the exit. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. I told fucking Casey Walcott that this was a waste of time. Turns out I was right.”