THREE: Schlichting, Frank a.k.a. "Frank Payne" a.k.a. "CONSTRICTOR"

- start THREE -

I followed the car. Guy and a gal inside.

My hands shook, teeth chattered, sweat poured outta my skin and the ache made me wish I could die, but I followed the car. Man on a mission, man with a purpose, man who made something out of himself. Just needed to get level, then I'd cut the stuff forever. This time, with money in the bank. Bring Penny into it later, not at the beginning like last time. Didn't need to scare her again.

Whazzat they said in the movies - "don't tail too close." Bob and weave, like a boxer. Rope-a-dope. Rumble in this concrete jungle. Hang back in this 15-year-old Ford junker, try not to shake to death, don't bite that tongue in two. Might need it later, may need to talk after the fight.

Needed a fix, needed it BAD.

Followed the car with its flashy paint and hubcaps. Car slowed down, turned into a fenced area covered by plastic.

The signs on the fence made it clear. Vacant lot.

Nice car, good paint. Bad part of town.

I drove past the lot, got a bit of building between us. I pulled to the curb, nudged a MINI forward a foot or two. "Get a real car," I thought and laughed out loud through clicking teeth. I got out of the car, took off the trenchcoat, pulled the mask over my face. Looked to the right and left - neighborhood for rats only, no one around, just passing cars.

I tried to relax, let my cables go to work. No dice, too worked up, not calm enough. I shook as I ran to the vacant lot and the nice car. I walked right in, no signs of alarm. No sign of anyone in the car 'cept the cheap shocks giving away movement.

Jimi Pit Bull and his lady were busy in the back seat. Windows not fogged yet. I knocked on the glass. The lady jumped off Jimi's lap, looked at me with this wild mix of hate and fear. Caged cat, heavy on the makeup. Lady's painted eyes went all sorts of crazy, her mouth and teeth gnashed angry. Jimi Pit Bull moved without looking, brought up his .38, aimed it at me.

I waved and smiled. "Hi there," I whispered.

Jimi went all gangster on me, held his gun sideways. He yelled some stuff I couldn't understand. He pulled the trigger a few times. I listened to it. POW. POW. click. click. click.

After the first "pow" hit my suit of kevlar and adamantium padding, it relaxed me enough to connect with my cables. They snaked out of the arm holsters smooth and quiet. As each column notched against my wrist it reminded me of when Penny caressed my hand.

The right cable crashed through the shot-out window and wrapped around Jimi Pit Bull's paw, the one with the empty gun. I sent the command "squeeze" but I saw "crush." Way too soon, Jimi Pit Bull was a bleeding, screaming heap. Way too soon. Way too soon.

The left cable wrapped around his lady, kept her from leaving til I said so. I pulled her out of the window, none too gentle. Oops, forgot about that glass - she started in with the screaming. I'd check her later.

My right cable relaxed the grip on Jimi's hand, let it go. I got mad at that car door, ripped it off with my right cable, tossed it through that third story window in the burned-out building next door. Glass exploded! Check out the noise!

Another ache hit me and I noticed all my sweat.

"Shut up, your yellin's killing all the fun," I said to Jimi's lady.

I sent some amps through my left cable, shocked her deep and good, kinda sizzle that'll leave some burn marks.

She went quiet.

I looked back into the car. Jimi had grown some brains, opened that other car door with his good hand. He tried to make a break for it, pants down around his knees, lower than those rap guys.

I sent my right under the car, snagged Jimi's ankle. Pulled sssssssssssssslow.

Jimi screamed, tried to fight the pull. He slipped, went splat on the tar and gravel. I started to drag him under the car. I heard his arms and legs bump the undercarriage and smiled. While he got up close and personal with his transmission, I loosed his lady. She didn't move.

When I had Jimi through to the other side, there wasn't much fight left in the dog. Fun time was over.

I wrapped the cable around him a good four or five times and slowly started the SQUEEZE.

"Lissen man, whatever you want, you can have it! You want the car, man it's yours! You want the woman - she's yours!" Jimi Pit Bull pleaded.

"The drugs, dog." I demanded, and my teeth started in again.

"I can hook you straight up, jack, yes I can do that for you today!" Jimi said, "You let me loose, I will fly you higher than Iron Man on turbo boost, put you calm like Doctor Strange, you hear me, jack?"

I unwrapped him and he went back to the car, pulled his pants up with bloodied fingers. He hit a few buttons on the dash, backed up and the entire front seat flipped back. A box with a glass top, hidden underneath now open for all to see.

Jimi Pit Bull's pharmacy on wheels - open for business.

I shopped.
Blue Beedles, KT-28's, Hoztezz, X-Meth, Booster Goldies, Cryptonights, Green Llamas and Screaming Skulls.

The ache multiplied, but I knew enough to be surprised at premiere lines for a small-time hustler.

Rodeo Drive products, flea market vendor. Something WRONG.

"The Beedles. The Green Llamas. All of them."

Jimi moved back to the car, Mr. Salesman, eager to please. As soon as he turned, I grabbed his head with both cables, wrapped it tight, crushed flesh, muscle and skull and let the amps rage. I threw - his burnt and bloody carcass met his car door.

I didn't bother his woman. She was dead.

The cables retracted. The shakes kicked me hard, teeth felt like they wanted out of my head. I had to level out NOW.

I pulled back my mask, inhaled a Green Llama, rode it all the way to Tibet or Istanbul or wherever those grinning freaks called home. Ahhhhhhh, the ache melted away and cool rivers rinsed my nerves with calm. I floated on air, passed smiling chinamen in emerald robes on my way to the magic mountain.

The dream passed quick, but the calm stayed on. Really, really good - top of the line, genuine article.

Using the cables was easy now. I took the whole box from the car, carried it to my junker. Put the trenchcoat back on. Drove.
.... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... ....

Two hours later, at a red light, I heard a phone ring inside the box. I answered it.

"Jimi, you're late man, what's up? You know you don't show, you're good as dead!" the voice said.

"That's right," I answered, and hung up. Out of the corner of my eye, a green chinaman gave me the thumbs-up sign, laughing as he faded away.

Whoooooo - good stuff.

I hit Penny's number: No answer. She'd be headed to the bar, looking for me.

I kept the phone, stashed the box at my "safe place" and headed to the bar to see if my guess was right.
.... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... ....

I walked in the bar. Everyone was in the corner, standing, watching TV, quiet-like. Not something you see everyday. Mr. Hairpiece on Channel 11 tossed it over to another guy on the West Coast, and I saw the caption on the screen: "Death of an Avenger."

Yeah, buddy, I could get behind that headline. But it was out in California, so you knew it wasn't any of the big guns. Sure enough, it was some teenager who thought he was the new Electro or something.

Still, it was a good way to start the afternoon. I got a beer, asked about the pool and the bartender said, "it's a secret. You know how some of these guys can be."

Probably one of the big-brain guys. Put money into a pool like that and you play a sucker's bet with Egghead, Mento, Sergei Cerebellum, Big Brain Bostisto and other guys like that dropping by from time to time.

I ordered a beer and tried to find a table with a view of the set.

"There you are," I heard her say.

I let her walk to me. She was none too happy. I was getting used to the look.

"I've been searching for you everywhere - the police are out in force, trying to make sure no one gets any ideas," she said.

"Who did it?" I asked.

"Whirlwind, according to CNN," she answered. I felt her looking at my eyes, trying to see if I'd been using again.

"Huh," I said, "don't really know the guy," I remarked, and I hoped Green Llamas didn't mess with your pupils and the way they adjusted to light. A transparent emerald chinaman shook his head back and forth, assured me they didn't.

"Me neither," she said.

We sat down and relaxed for awhile. I told her some bull about casing out an upcoming jewelry delivery, looking for weaknesses. I didn't share a single detail about Jimi Pit Bull and his dead girlfriend. Penny didn't know how mean I could get, didn't know the kind of violence I could deliver. I liked it that way. She knew I had trouble with the drugs, but thought it was all behind me now - and thanks to the premium Green Llamas, I could keep that going for awhile longer.

I wasn't sure if she loved me, I wasn't sure if I loved her. We were both kind of aimless that way, but I knew I was stronger with her than I was alone so I played the boyfriend as best I could. Penny could probably do alright on her own, but she was a joiner. She joined The Corporation and was the star pupil. She joined SHEILD and blended right in. I was more of a maverick type, but together we did okay. "Opposites attract" they said, right?

Like everyone else in the bar, I stopped watching TV when the winner of the pool came by to collect.

Average looking guy - I didn't recognize him, and his melon wasn't huge like Egghead or the Leader or nothin'. Still, the bartender was impressed with him, whoever he was.

I turned to Penny. "Guy's a genius, guarantee it."

"He is," Penny said.

"Follow him, find out what he's got going, see if we can cash in somehow," I said.

Penny nodded and went outside.

Penny was the best thing in my life right now, along with the box. We'd met way back in the early days, back when The Corporation was up and running strong. Money was available for every idea, as long as the idea was tied to making more money.

Back then, I had just changed my last name to Payne and hit Chicago to restart my life with the mob. I left a no-good trailer park life, a drunk do-nothing wife and a one-way future to nowhere back in Racine, Wisconsin and decided to try my luck in the Windy City. Fortune smiled, and within a year I was collecting debts and contract killing. Then one day I was told to report to a new boss, that it was a big opportunity for me if I played the cards right.

Next thing I knew, I was thrown into a group underoing all sorts of high-impact training. All sorts of tests: endurance, psychological, physical and mental strength, personality, personal history, you name it. That's where I met Penny - even though she doesn't remember it.

After the training, The Corporation offered me a contract to become an elite hit-man. They explained the bullet-proof navy blue and orange costume and deadly electric cables of the Constrictor uniform and without even blinking I said "yes." Couldn't get into the snake suit fast enough, really, but some changes had to come first.

There was painful surgery. Now I got some computer stuff inside my spine and arms, micro transmitters to the suit, makes the cables do what I tell 'em. Doesn't cause me much pain anymore, just some stiffness now and then.

Penny didn't have surgery, but I think she got the worse end of the deal.

The Corporation had some files on a hero guy named Captain Marvel. Way he worked was, he was stuck in some far-off dimension and had to swap places with someone on earth to arrive on the scene and play hero. The Corporation made a machine to copy the process, swapped Penny with some ugly shaved pink caveman from outer space or somethin'. They did it over and over and over and over again, tryin' to kick-start some "latent ability" they thought Penny had, make her and the caveman come to some sort of agreement, some arrangement.

Then one day, she made it happen WITHOUT the machine.

After she gained some control, they sneaked her into SHEILD to act as an undercover agent. She didn't tell SHEILD about the caveman, of course, but they told her all about fighting hand-to-hand, gave her some security clearances, a belt gizmo that made her stronger for short periods of time and gave her a code name: Vamp.

She fought Captain America a bit, same as me, same results. She was nearly killed by that Scourge guy, but shifted places with the caveman right before the bombs went off. She said he was in that "other place" now, banged up bad and healing slow, still in a lot of pain. Caused her to lose a lot of memory, let me come in with some false history, gain her trust.

She didn't like talking about the caveman. I didn't press it, didn't want her to start remembering the way the past had really been.

My trip down memory lane stopped once the genius guy walked out of the bar, laughed out loud like some freak all the way to the door. Penny'd be waiting for him outside, she'd decide the best way to act: follow, confront, whatever. I trusted her instincts a lot better than mine, and it usually paid off.

I drank my beer and looked at my watch. She had twenty-four hours to find out what she could and get back to me. I kept watching the TV - Whirlwind - I was gonna have to buy that guy a beer someday. The green chinaman laughed whenever the photo of the dead kid flashed on screen, gave him the raspberry. I let myself drift on toward magic mountain.

Premium stuff, really.

- end THREE -