Chapter Twenty-Four
FTL Assassin
I had only had my powers back for about two hours when
I decided to dash over to London to grab a pint. One of my only memories at this point was of
a pub in Kensington called the Churchill Arms, which was both a great English
pub serving London Pride on tap, and also a world-class Thai restaurant. Obviously, I didn’t have any pounds on me,
but a lifted enough for a few rounds from my fellow patrons. Only taking from those who could afford to
spare a few pounds here or there, of course.
These may seem morally nebulous to you, dear reader, but as I had been a
supervillain, accused of all sorts of crimes, it seemed fairly innocuous to
me. Besides, Jill and Jackie’s brand of
socialism was starting to rub off on me.
I had just placed my order for my pint of London Pride,
when I heard someone behind me say in a thick Cockney accent, “Well, if it isn’t
Alex Fucking Donkers.”
I turned around to see a giant of a man standing
behind me, bald, brash, and mammoth. I
was clearly surprised that anyone would recognize me, let alone know my name. One word popped into my head, and I blurted
it out:
“Dog Shit!”
That was his name.
I had remembered it somehow. He
seemed happy to see me.
“I haven’t seen you in years, mate. Quite kind of you to remember your old pal,
Dog Shit.”
I didn’t, of course, just his name. “What are you drinking, Dog Shit? Can I buy you a pint?” I offered.
“Damn right, you can!”
Then, out of nowhere, I felt a stabbing pain in my
shoulder blade, and saw a blur rush by out from behind me and then dart out of
the pub. Dog Shit didn’t see anything,
his wide smile turned into a frown, as I collapsed out of the barstool onto the
floor with a dagger sticking out of my back.
“Whoa, Fuck!” Dog Shit cried out.
This should not have been possible. Clearly, I had been attacked by another
speedster. But, no other speedsters
where as fast as me, and this person could run so fast that I could scarcely perceive
them.
Dog Shit helped me up, and discretely took me to a
corner table, pulling the blade from me.
“Cor, mate.
WTF?”
“I don’t know man,” I said. My super healing quickly repaired the wound. “But, whoever did it, is faster than me, and
no one is faster than me.”
It was a mystery.
(c) Copyright 2020 by Diana Hignutt
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