XWF∞

“Your operative failed.”

The voice that issued from the speaker was flat in its denouncement. Ranged around the glass oval conference table were eleven members of the Board; all dressed in identical grey business suits, faces hidden beneath cloth hoods. The CEO stalked a wide circle, clockwise, around them. She was the only one not wearing a mask, her identity a matter of public knowledge: Evelyn Van Helsing, owner of the Van Helsing Corporation -- though the public at large had no idea what the company actually did. Instead she wore an expression of disdain as she regarded the speaker in the center of the table.

“My operative did precisely as expected,” she replied, voice even and neutral.

“You planned to let the target escape?”

“The plan was to test her capabilities. You were told this particular operation would take time. This isn’t a simple extermination.”

“When I pay for a job to be done, I expect it to be carried through.”

“She is the bride of the Serpent. Until we know the extent of the powers he’s conferred upon her, we would be unwise to move against her.”

There was a long pause. As one, the members of the Board looked to her, expectation written in their collective posture. Evelyn stared at the speaker, waiting for continued argument. None was forthcoming.

“Are we in agreement, then, Your Excellency?” she asked at last.

“For now.”

“Good. We’ll be in touch.”

With an air of satisfaction that bordered on unprofessional, Evelyn Van Helsing disconnected the call. She stalked to her chair at the head of the table and sat, the force of her presence filling it like a throne. Every eye she met looked down, as if by unspoken command. Here, in the Boardroom, she was Queen. Ambition warred with common sense. There were plenty of other targets, and the price tags attached were well worth the expenditure of resources; but this one would net the company -- and her -- something of a value far beyond the expansive holdings of the Van Helsing Corporation.

This job would make her career, cement her reputation as the most cunning CEO in the corporation’s history. And all she had to do was capture -- or kill -- Bonnie Blue.

“Gentlemen, alert your departments. As of today, we proceed to Phase Two.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Deep in the throbbing heart of Chicago’s Chinatown is an establishment that appears to be the result of an ill-advised love affair between a Panda Express and a TGIFriday’s: a noisy, rauccous bar known the world over as the Golden Dragon. Owned by a ginger-bearded giant, the bar is legendary for its signature drink, Zim-Quila -- a concotion of equal parts Zima, bottom-shelf tequila, and anything else its creator chooses to inclued on any given night. No two cocktails are ever identical, aside from the aftereffect; a hangover so powerful, it makes you grateful you can’t remember the previous night.

The Golden Dragon, of course, has another reputation as a place of utmost discretion, where information can be traded without interference from the law, as long as nobody gets out of line. And if they do, police will be the least of their concerns. Perfect for Bonnie’s purposes tonight. Moreso, since the proprietor is her close friend and former tag team partner, Alex Richards. She grabs a stool at the bar, and almost immediately, a glass appears in front of her, looking uncannily like sewer water with a spritz of seltzer. The rim is salted and garnished with a wedge of lime.

“Didn’t expect to see you around here, after that whole thing with Mayor Sanchez,” Richards comments. 

“Sanchez got what he deserved, Alex.”

“He totally did. But he’s still got a hard-on for kicking your ass, and ever since the acquittal… I wouldn’t put it past him to try.”

“Shit.”

Mayor David Sanchez had been a thorn in Bonnie’s side for half a decade, alternately trying to bed her, hire her, or fight her -- or occasionally all three at once. He had thrown all of Chicago into chaos during his tenure as Mayor, issuing a state of emergency order and declaring martial law in an attempt to seize absolute control of the City in preparation for grander ambitions. And because he had removed the homeless from the streets -- hiding them away in secret laboratories where they had been subjected to horrific experiments in a misguided attempt to manufacture superpowers -- the majority of the population thanked him for his service and would have happily voted for him again. At least, if it hadn’t been for Bonnie Blue and the Guardians. But that was a different time.

“He’s running for state senate,” Alex says, snapping her out of her reverie.

“Christ. If someone doesn’t stop him, he’ll end up President.”

“Couldn’t be worse than Trump.”

“The sad part is, that’s pretty damn accurate,” Bonnie replies with a sigh. “Remember when we used to be the good guys?”

Alex’s answer is a bark of laughter.

“We thought we were. But people don’t like heroes. Not while they’re alive, anyway.”

“Do you think we did the right thing? Stepping back into the shadows?”

“What else could we do? That whole Guardians thing did nothing but put the people we cared about in danger.”

His gaze drifts across the room, to where a dark-haired woman in a low-cut black dress is hustling drunk businessmen at the pool tables, while Alex’s half-brother, Shaun, keeps an eye out for trouble.

“Honestly,” he continues, “I almost envy you. Marrying your archnemesis was pretty fucking genius.”

“I don’t see Evil Paul Rudd as the type to commit,” Bonnie says, with a wry grin. 

“Probably for the best. Anyway, your contact is here. That Navarro guy’s been skulking around for the better part of an hour.”

“Well, he’s a private eye. Skulking is kinda the job description. Reckon I better go see what he’s dug up for me.”

“Good luck. And Bonnie? Don’t be a stranger.”

“Can’t be any stranger than the Archduke of Mass Confusion.”

She gives him a wink and walks away, melting into the crowd. Navarro has his eye on something distant, his focus acute, but he nevertheless turns to greet Bonnie as she approaches.

“Kurt.” She reaches up to kiss him lightly on the cheek. “Good to see you again.”

He stiffens and pulls back from her.

“Mrs. Rabid. Shall we?”

She follows him to an empty booth in the corner, undoubtedly chosen for its unobstructed view of the entry and both rear exits. He reaches into his coat and tosses an envelope onto the table. Hesitantly, the Serpentine takes it. It’s light. Thin. The contents are hardly more than a few photographs and a single-page transcript of a telephone conversation.

“That’s it?” she asks, passing him a thick envelope stuffed with cash in exchange.

“Your husband’s a hard man to find at the best of times. Now it looks like he -- or someone -- doesn’t want him found.”

“What do you mean ‘or someone’?’

“I can’t be sure. On one hand, I know your husband very well, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he just randomly took off for some obscure reason, without telling anyone. But then again…”

Her raised eyebrow invites further explanation.

“Like I said, there’s a possibility, however slim, that he may have been -- called away. Urgently.”

“Or abducted?”

“Or that,” Navarro agrees reluctantly. “It’s just, I really hate to consider who might have enough power to forcibly remove John Rabid from his day-to-day life so thoroughly that I can’t find traces of him less than a month old.”

The young woman’s brow draws down in a troubled frown.

“I can think of a few. None of them mean him well.”

“Not to mention, you’re being tailed. You have been for about a week now. If I were you, Bonnie, I’d get out of Chicago.”

“Can’t do that. Got a match. Speaking of which…”

“Oh, that. Yeah, so your opponent wrestled for a previous incarnation of XWF. Looks like there might be come kind of breach of contract or something. Threats were made. Kieran Overton isn’t likely to be an issue. Even if he shows up for the match, he won’t be in any shape to fight.”

“Convenient, isn’t it, Kurt? All this going on, and now my opponent gets harassed and threatened with a lawsuit if he fights me at this particular event.”

“You know how I feel about coincidences.”

Bonnie nods in agreement. Kurt’s eyes dart to something at the periphery of the crowd. The young woman follows his gaze, just in time to see a figure slip out the doors. When she turns back to Navarro, the detective is gone.