CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY-FIVE

Taken, Part 2

A team of heroes arriving at a crime scene wasn’t uncommon in New York, a city whose crime rate was ridiculously high despite being the center of the Olympian pantheon’s religious worship. However, Sam’s and Thunder’s new partnership was yesterday’s headline, and the reporters staking out the scene were quick to pounce on New York’s newest power couple in the hope to get an exclusive.

Fortunately for Sam, the NYPD officer in charge of the situation was a familiar-looking African American man who didn’t much like reporters. Especially not reporters who shoved their badges in his face, claiming he was impeding the press.

“I’m with NNC!” a female brunette in too much makeup protested.

It was a declaration that Sam knew would only make Police Sergeant Andrew Graham angry. To Sam’s surprise, however, the police sergeant didn’t glower or shout at the NNC reporter.

“Ma’am, we’re still trying to figure out what happened here, but as soon as we know something, you’ll be the first to know what we know,” Sergeant Graham offered the reporter an awkward smile that Sam thought had no place appearing on that usually stoic face.

Sergeant Graham kept his smile up while he drove the reporters away from Sam and his friends. That smile faded once he turned to face Sam though.

“Shepard,” he growled.

He sent Sam his usual glower, his eyes like headlights pinning Sam in place. The glower was the thickset black man’s most defining feature, and one Sam didn’t enjoy being aimed at him once again.

“Um, I’m not—”

“Save it.” Sergeant Graham crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve been doing this for nearly thirty years. You think I wouldn’t know whose annoying face is hidden under that mask?”

Sam spent a few seconds weighing his options in his mind, but in the end, he decided that Sergeant Graham had been straight with him throughout their many interactions—albeit a little confrontational—and he knew the sarge wasn’t the kind of man who’d blab about Sam’s identity to anyone. An identity, Sam realized with a sigh, wasn’t very well-protected anyway as probably all of Chimera knew Sam’s full name by now thanks to Medea.

“Um,” Sam nodded toward the reporters, “why were you never that nice to me?”

“They’re hard-working professionals trying to get the truth out to the world as quickly as they can. You were just slumming it because you couldn’t hack your actual job,” the NYPD sergeant answered.

He eyed Sam up and down, taking note of the shiny bronze plating on Sam’s new armor.

“You going to run away again?” he asked.

“No,” Sam insisted in as confident a tone as he could manage. “I won’t.”

Seconds ticked by while the sarge eyed Sam, but he eventually offered the hero an approving nod that was a sign of recognition worth more to Sam than getting into the US hero top charts.

“Good.” Sergeant Graham’s gaze took in the other three heroes standing around Sam. “Then maybe your team can help us figure out what’s happened.”

The sarge briefly explained the nine-one-one call they’d received about an explosion at the top of the Flint Consolidated tower. However, while the building’s private security was willing to cooperate with the NYPD, they were reluctant to invite police investigators up to Marcus Flint’s residence, citing that there was a lot of proprietary technology in Marcus Flint’s private residence that they needed to secure first before allowing outsiders in.

Sergeant Graham wasn’t buying this obvious stalling tactic, but he did have an idea around this deadlock now that Sam and his friends were here.

“You’ve recently worked with Raven Knight on the Bloodfyre case before, correct?” Sergeant Graham asked.

“Yes,” Thunder answered.

“Then maybe you can convince her to let us secure the crime scene,” Sergeant Graham replied. “Preferably before the Wardens or Homeland Security arrive… Or I’ll never hear the end of it from whichever arrogant suit arrives claiming jurisdiction over this mess.”

“Raven Knight can get us in there?” Sam asked.

“She’s their interim head of security when Crow-Man’s not around,” Sergeant Graham answered.

“Already got that covered.” Farsight, who’d moved to the side to make a call, returned to the team with a grin. “Raven Knight’s waiting for us at the top.”

“Good to know someone’s quick on the uptake,” Sergeant Graham through shade Sam’s way.

Sam sighed. “Everyone’s a critic.”

The team was escorted up to the penthouse by one of Flint’s security team as well as another familiar face that Sergeant Graham insisted be part of the group that would first set eyes on the crime scene. He was a young, brown-haired, gray-eyed police officer named Nolan.

“Sarge isn’t the only one happy to see you back in uniform,” Officer Nolan whispered to Sam while they were on the private elevator that was taking them up to Marcus Flint’s private residence.

“I don’t think happy is the word I’d choose to describe the sarge regardless of his mood,” Sam replied.

Sam couldn’t lie about his identity to the young NYPD officer either because he had been the first member of law enforcement to recognize Sam was a hero. Officer Nolan had even helped Sam during the burning apartment incident that had introduced Sam to Crow-Man. It felt strangely appropriate that he and Nolan were reuniting in another incident that included Crow-Man.

“Thank you for believing in me,” Sam whispered.

“Thanks for proving me right,” Officer Nolan replied.

Soon enough, the elevator pulled to a stop, and then the doors slid open to reveal a sight that Sam had already seen in his vision; a once-stately room turned into a literal warzone, complete with broken pieces of wood, stone, and glass scattered across a burnt floor.

It was literally like walking into a nightmare for Sam as he followed the others into Marcus Flint’s ruined living room and took in the smell of the singed carpet.

“Is this how it always feels for you?” Sam asked Farsight.

“Can you believe this isn’t the worst thing I’ve seen in my dreams,” Farsight replied.

That was an uncomfortable thought.

Marcus Flint’s living room was even darker than it was in Sam’s vision, with only the spotlight of the NYPD helicopter periodically shining through the balcony helping them to see. Shadows filled the space, and they seemed to be writhing like tendrils snaking across the floor and walls.

A beam of light appeared as Officer Nolan turned on his flashlight. He swept it across the room and caught a shadowy figure kneeling by the overturned couch. Only then did Sam and the others notice Raven Knight’s presence.

She had a device pointed at the red stain on the white sofa’s fabric, and a loud ping from this smartphone-looking tool made Crow-Man’s former sidekick frown.

“The DNA scanner’s confirmed that this is Marcus’s blood,” Raven Knight said in a strained voice.

She got up and glanced around the room, her gaze taking in the heroes and their minders, before drifting over to the balcony.

“He was unconscious when whoever took him brought him there.” Raven Knight pointed a gloved finger over to the edge of the broken balcony. “That’s how they got him out without the security catching them on the lower floors.”

“There’s an unverified report of something monstrous appearing above the Flint tower…” Officer Nolan glanced sideways at Sam. “From the descriptions that we gathered from the few bystanders in the street below, it was most likely a dragon-type horror. Golden scaled and medium-sized.”

He mentioned that last part knowing it would get a reaction from Sam and his friends.

“That tracks with the claw marks that were left on the balcony,” Raven Knight added.

“It must have been Medea’s solar dragon,” Thunder guessed.

The dark brown eyes beneath her raven’s mask flitted toward Thunder’s face. “The sorceress came for Marcus?”

“Not Medea herself,” Farsight answered for Thunder. “It was the Trickster who caused this mess.”

“You’ve had a vision…” That same steely gaze Raven Knight had sent Thunder turned on Farsight now. “Explain it in detail… and leave nothing out.”

Farsight did as Crow-Man’s former sidekick asked, with her usual brand of teenage snark attached to her explanation, ending with a question of her own, “Wouldn’t Flint’s cameras have told you all this already?”

“There are no surveillance devices inside Marcus’s private residence, and the exterior cameras were tampered with through means that must have been arcane in nature,” Raven Knight answered.

It was only a moment, but Sam thought he saw Raven Knight’s lower lip quiver, suggesting she must have been very worried for her mentor.

“Why would the Trickster want with Marcus Flint though?” Dr. Hearthstone asked the room. “He doesn’t strike me as someone who’d kidnap a billionaire for money… Could he be using his collaborator to draw Crow-Man out?”

That would have been the likeliest story. Although Sam, who now knew the truth about Crow-Man’s secret identity, thought otherwise.

As to why the Trickster kidnapped Crow-Man, well, Sam had an answer for that. Crow-Man had been marked by Bloodfyre after they’d captured her, with the empousa calling the veteran hero a sacrifice that would be used to bring the dead back to life. Sam wasn’t sure what Bloodfyre meant by this, but he was sure nothing good could come out of being cursed. And now that the Trickster and Medea were involved, Sam thought the situation was even direr.

Sam couldn’t tell Raven Knight that while there were those in the room who didn’t know Marcus Flint’s secret identity, however, so, instead, Sam placed a spotlight on the Trickster’s admittance that Medea was interested in the billionaire.

As usual, Thunder was quick on the uptake, and she piled on to Sam’s deduction, by suggesting that Medea might use Marcus Flint to enter the underworld, which was a plausible theory. This wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth.

“We should have known that the Trickster would be the one to come after Crow-Man. Bloodfyre did break him out of the Crucible,” Sam whispered into Thunder’s ear.

“Do you think this is why she helped him?” Thunder whispered back.

“I guess,” Sam answered, frowning as he did. “But my instincts say the Trickster has a bigger role to play here. Bloodfyre wouldn’t have bothered to break him out of prison just for this…”

“Medea then?” Thunder guessed.

Sam nodded. “Probably… but to what end?”

A second elevator dinged, and when its doors opened a second later, a tall, middle-aged man in a crisp gray suit and short-cropped salt and pepper hair peeking out of his gray fedora stepped into Marcus Flint’s living room.

Even in the dark lighting, Sam recognized the villain’s mustache underneath the large hooked nose. He was also quite familiar with that skeptical steely-eyed gaze.

“Nobody move,” Warden Malarkey said.

A team of wardens fanned out of the elevator in lockstep with their captain. All of them carried elemental cannons, which they quickly trained on everyone in the room who wasn’t a warden.

Warden Malarkey flashed Sam a grim smile, one that sent a shiver up the hero’s spine. “You’re all under arrest on suspicion to commit treason against the city.”