XMas in Milwaukee: Meeting Mister Immortal

[x-dominion.livejournal.com]

A lead takes them to the home of Craig Hollis, who bolts at the sight of the FBI, and is gunned down by Brand trying to escape. That's where it gets weird.



The address that the number from the poster was linked to was a squat, five story brick apartment building near the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. According to the phone records, the number terminated on the third floor registered to a Craig Hollis. Hollis was twenty-six years old, a student at the University, and had no prior criminal record. He did have a number of charges laid against him over the years that had been dropped; minor ones like trespassing in conjunction with a number of marches, protests and sit-ins. A quick look at his school file showed him as the President (and often solo listed member) of a dozen different activist groups. The causes were all over the board, from reproductive rights to reducing carbon footprints to closing loopholes in corporate taxes to fund welfare programs, Hollis seemed to have a cause for everything.

Kane was about to buzz the super when he noticed the front door was ajar, and he pushed it open, letting Terry and Brand enter first. "He's in 302."

Terry slid in and out of the way, nerves tightened by the open door. In a building likely populated by more students than brains, it's not an unusual circumstance, but better safe than sorry. She glanced around the lobby area, locating the geriatric elevator and the stairwell. She nodded and moved toward the latter. Three flights isn't that big a deal, right?

Brand nodded ever so slightly in response. It was the sensible move, to stay out of sight as long as possible. As they climbed, she wrinkled her nose. "Apparently the stairwell is still where the smokers go. It was the same when I was in school."

"Really? I figured you were assembled as an adult by SHIELD in a factory outside of Hoboken." Kane said as he pulled out his ID. Hopefully the badge would make this Hollis character talk quickly. His support group would be a perfect place to covertly recruit mutants, and based on the young man's profile of ineffective but earnest advocacy, he'd probably be horrified at the thought.

Terry made a face, halfway between amused and eye-rolling, at the banter. "Hoboken? Is there really such a place?" The door opened out onto the third floor with a little pop of the crashbar, and she held it open for the others while counting the door plaque numbers so she can gesture toward the appropriate door.

"Ah, Boy Scout, I'm a woman of mystery. One day you might get to unwrap some of my layers," Brand told Kane in that half-flirty, half-threatening way she had. "Keep an eye out in case he tries to run, Irish. You can manage that, can''t you?"

Kane gave Terry a look, as if attempting to explain Abigail's behaviour but failing. Finally, he reached the door and knocked. After a long moment, the door opened a crack and half a face appeared. "Yes?"

Terry shot Brand a sour look and hung back to do so, totally missing Kane's attempt at non-verbal communication. As if he could explain it satisfactorily using words either.

"FBI." Brand held up her badge for the young man to see. "Are you Craig Hollis? We'd like to ask you some questions."

"Oh. Oh, yes. Of course. Let me just-" There was a chain stretched across from the door frame to the door, and he closed it. There was the rattle of the chain, as if he was trying to pull it open, and then the sound of running feet.

"Shit!" Kane said. "Terry! Cut him off in the alley!" Kane snapped the door open effortlessly, fast enough to see Hollis' feet disappear out the window.

Startled, Terry jerked in place for a second before spitting a sibilant curse and spinning in place to head for the nearest access point to the outside. She scrambled down the stairs, using handrails to pivot herself around the turns faster and jumping the last few steps in each flight. Bursting through the door and out into the weak winter sunlight, she took another second to located the alley opening and darted for it.

Brand had clenched her fists, ready to send a blast after their fleeing suspect, but then Garrison had been in the way. Which would have been a lot of paperwork to explain. She hesitated only a moment before following Garrison into the apartment, swearing under her breath.

Kane had followed Hollis out the window. Unfortunately, the cramped confines of the fire escape all but negated his superior speed, and he was only at the first ladder when he saw Hollis drop from the second floor escape into a pile of garbage to break his fall. As the young man struggled free, Kane couldn't see any sign of Terry. Obviously she was still getting down the building steps or something. Hollis struggled to his feet, slightly unsteadily, and broke for the mouth of the alley, seemingly ready to escape.

"FBI, stop! Or I'll shoot!" The shouted warning came only seconds before the sharp report of Brand's service weapon. The first shot caught Hollis in the back, between the shoulder blades, the second only centimetres lower down. Brand remained on the fire escape, gun trained on the fallen suspect, knuckles white.

Hollis took a couple of staggering steps forward and then collapsed into the snow, red straining the dirty grey slush under him. Kane vaulted from the third story, hitting the ground at the same time that Terry appeared at the mouth of the alley.

"Fuck!" Kane said as he looked over the young man. He'd seen enough wounds to know that from the angle, the first bullet had perforated Hollis' lung, and the second one had ripped apart his heart. The young man would have been dead before he hit the ground. "What the fuck!"

Around the corner, Terry had pulled her gun before the shot rang out. She flinched, then picked up more speed just in time to skid around the corner. She took a few more steps into the mouth of the alley before the scene at the end penetrated, and she slowed to a jog as she approached, replacing the gun in her hand with a phone to call it in. Her face turned upwards to Brand.

Brand holstered her gun, face impassive. "He was a suspect fleeing the scene. I warned him. He failed to stop." She began descending the fire escape, slowly and methodically.

"Are you completely insane? He's not a suspect. He's a person of interest that we have exactly zero evidence to tie anything to him, and you just gunned him down!" The Canadian rounded on her, furious with the casual killing. He had known cops like Brand; people who were too quick to jump to a conclusion and suddenly leave a big mess for everyone. And thanks to his bright idea, he'd just led her to the apartment of some dumb college kid who she'd shot in the back in cold blood. "Terry would have had him at the mouth of the alley. On the ground, I could have run him down in a minute flat. Even if he had a goddamn getaway car waiting. What the hell where you thinking?"

Terry snapped her phone shut and knelt near the body, touching fingers to his neck to do a perfunctory search for a pulse. "He didn't have time to stop," she added quietly, evenly, temper super-cooled into emotionlessness. In the distance, audible to Terry's ears if no one else's yet, sirens wailed.

"He ran," came Brand's reply. "Innocent people don't run. You'll see, we'll find something up in that apartment of his."

"Innocent people don't run? Did SHIELD decide to implement martial law when we weren't paying attention?" Garrison said, right in her face. "Even if he was involved, unless you know a really good priest, he can't tell us anything now!"

Terry straightened, grimacing as she rose. "Great. Now we have to search his place. /You/ get the underwear drawer," she muttered, though to who was unclear. "Why is it they are always hiding things in their underwear drawers."

"If there's a problem with my methods, I'm sure any investigation will let me know, Boy Scout." Brand's tone made it clear she wasn't interested in debating the topic. "Irish, get up to the apartment and start poking around. Make sure you use gloves."

"Gloves, really? Is that how y' yanks do things around here? And here I was thinking I might just go around licking all the evidence," Terry snarked, glaring first at Brand, then sweeping Kane up in the look when she turned and made for the ladder access. She brushed past Brand and climbed to the window, throwing her leg over the sill and ducking inside where she started up a methodical search while the excitement continued outside.

They stepped back as the ambulance reached the alley, and a pair of EMTs disgorged from it. It took no more than a single glance to know that Hollis was dead, but they went through the process anyway. Kane helped them load the body on to a stretcher, still seething at Brand's casual and reckless behaviour. The worst thing was that the situation was amorphus enough that she would likely be cleared even if he did report her. Running from a law enforcement officer gave them an awful lot of options.

The EMT was getting the last details when the sheet shifted, and with a yawn, Hollis sat up on the stretcher, blinking and looking around like he'd just woken up from a nap.

At the sight of the corpse sitting up, Brand gasped, her hand going to her service weapon. "You were dead!" she exclaimed, pointing at Hollis with a trembling finger. "I shot you! You died!" Her usual demeanour was gone, her voice high-pitched and shaking a little.

"What? Oh, yeah. That's what happened." He blinked confusedly, and even the normally unflappable Kane was floundering. "Don't worry about it. I've been dead a bunch of times."

"I-" Kane shook his head. "You're a mutant. A-"

"Hero. Very well, Officers. I am Mister Immortal. And you've found the Immortal Base." He looked at the EMT. "No needles please? I'll throw up if I see one."

Kane shook his head and reached for a pair of cuffs. "They are never going to let me live this report down. Mister Immortal, you are under arrest."