I call myself Pantha. I'm half-woman, half-cat, and all bad attitude. I was made this way by the 'Beests. That's the Wildebeest Society for you punks. They called me X-24. I was the only one of their "creations" that lived, damn them to Hell. Most of them are dead, some of them at my own claws.
The Beests did leave another legacy. The brat who adopted me as it's "mommy", a bouncing, battling bundle of fur that grew up in the image of the Beests' armor. Can't say I'm that fond of the brat... Ah, who'm I kidding? The kid's great. Tough little sucker, even if it eats too much. I left it with Leonid for the time being. The Ruskie enjoys being the brat's "daddy". Let him. I'm on a hunt. Not for food, but for identity. Those two would just get in my way.
I decided to start with some of the Beests who survived. Just my luck that the eggheads died in the explosion, leaving just the brain- dead grunts. Not much info there.
I suppose it's time I hit a real detective. I heard that Dicky- boy's hanging out in Bludhaven nowadays. So now, I'm on top of a bus with a stop there. Boy, is he gonna be surprised to see me. I can't wait to bust his chops. He needs that from time to time.
Still, I don't want to be seen by any of the "normal" folks, and Dick's of the school that keeps the Spandex outfits locked in a foot locker when the civvies are around. Yeah, yeah, I know. Graciousness ain't my strong point. So why don't I just go up and knock on the door of his apartment rather than use the window? Quite frankly, I enjoy spooking him like this. That's why I'm hanging upside down in the alley outside his kitchen window.
There he is. Dammit, he's whistling. I thought only fags and sailors did that. I can't wait to see his face.
"Boo!"
He jumped. Gotcha, Dicky-boy.
"Pantha! Get in here before someone sees you!"
"In this town? They'd think I was normal."
He gives me that "what are you doing here?" look of his. I'd seen it several times before, when we first met. This guy is too serious.
"Okay, look. I'm not here on a social call. I heard that you were one of the best detectives in the world. I want to hire you."
"For what?"
"Find out who I really am."
I can see his face change expressions several times in two seconds. Boy, do some of the looks in between look ridiculous. He's shocked at first, then his eyes narrow, studying me to see if I'm sincere. Like he can tell through this metallic mask I wear to hide my face. Then his mouth goes into this quirky pull to the right, as if he was thinking about that. Finally, he smiles, and tells me he'll look into it for me.
"So what's the charge, Dicky?"
"No charge," he tells me. "For Titans, all jobs are free." What a putz. I mean, at least V. I. Warshawski asked for a dollar from her friends.
The flash hurts my eyes. I blink several times before I can see again, growling at him. Okay, I know my eyes are sensitive, but I give him the growl routine anyways. I dunno if he knows it's an act. I really don't care.
After I see that my face didn't break the camera, he inserts the photo into a computer scanner. I'll let Dicky do what he has to. I'm raiding the fridge.
UGH!! Talk about a health-food junkie! Low-fat this, Healthy Choice that, Diet-Rite Cola... this guy needs a serious Death-by- Chocolate ice cream attack. Hrrm? Wuzziz? Seems Dicky has a dark side to his food choice. Haagen-Däaz Double Fudge? Dicky, you just went up a good-sized chunk in my book.
"Okay, Pantha!" ALWAYS when I'm eating! "I think you might want to see this."
I wander back out into the "crime lab", and drop the Haagen-Däaz all over his floor as I stare at the screen on the computer. I don't know what he did, but I'm looking at a photo of myself. At least, I think it's me, without the cat-features.
"That's me! How?"
"Simple," he tells me. "I took the photo I took of you, and ran it through some manipulation software, to remove the fur, normalize the eyes, et cetera. I've got an expert looking through FBI and police files nationwide to come up with a match. Right now, all we have to do is wait." I hate waiting.
I study the face on the screen, and then it hits me. A scene flashes through my mind. Kinda like an acid flashback, but cleaner. I see myself in a mirror, blow-drying my hair(?). Then there's an explosion, and the next thing I see is Dick's ugly mug in my face, his hands on my shoulders.
"What is it?"
I tell him what I saw, and that same concerned look he used to give the others appears on his face.
"Pantha? Do you remember anything else?" I shake my head.
"Nothing."
"Still, you remembered. But why that scene?"
"The Beests musta grabbed me that day," I mutter. "That explains the explosion."
"It's a definite possibility." He looks at the clock. "I really should be following up on some leads I have for another case while we wait. Care to join me?" Action? Try and keep me away, Dicky-boy!
"Oh, come on, guys. I'm not even breaking a sweat here! Sheesh! Last night's sushi was tougher than you guys." I slam the last remaining smelly drunk face-first onto the table, smashing two chairs in the process.
"Well, Wingnut, this being your sidekick is fun and all, but I don't think you got what you were looking for. Where to next?"
He gives me that quirky smile again. "Next bar." I could actually get to like this guy, if he wasn't so obsessive at times.
Wingnut's pretty methodical about this kind of thing. Too methodical, in my opinion. Still, he's only human. He leaves me in the living room with the list of names as he crashes for a few winks.
Good idea. I toss the mask in a chair and relax on the couch, going over the list again.
My eyes fall on one name as my eyelids fall over them... "Elizabeth Derringer". Now why does that name seem so... familiar... zzzzz....
Yeep, he did. Hrrm... where would Dick keep the coffee? I sniff around the room for a bit, before finding it in a cabinet above the fridge. Now, if I time this right, I can make the coffee and have it ready before Dick wakes up...
Wait a minute? Why the hell am I doing this?! Oh yeah... I've had Dick's coffee. SHUDDER!
Okay, I got a fresh pot of the black stuff brewing, and Dick's still in bed. I head back into the living room, and go over the list of names again. My eyes keep falling on that Elizabeth person... why? Is that me? Or just somebody I knew? There's an address listed for the next of kin. Hrrmm... a husband? I'd hate it if I was married. What would hubby think of the brat? Best not to think that way until I know for certain. I don't need the headaches. The brat's headache enough. Every time I tell him to go play in traffic, no cars survive.
I hear footsteps in the hallway. Must be Dick. No, wait. Wrong direction. Those footsteps are outside. Shit, I gotta get undercover.
"Dick?" It's a woman. Dick, you slut! Is she better than Goldie and Miri were? "It's Clancey! You awake?" Sorry, girlie, but poor Dicky had a rough night... with me.
Dick rounds the corner, wearing a towel around his waist. Woo- hoo! Nice pecs! No wonder all airheads in the Titans wanted him. I disappear into the kitchen... no sense in blowing Dick's cover just yet, heheh.
He comes in a few minutes later, without anyone else.
"So, tell me, Dicky... she as good as Bubble-bod was?" He glares at me. Nyah!
"Clancey's just the superintendent of the building," he tells me.
"Shyoor, she is."
"Stuff it, Pantha. Anything new since last night?" Toldja... he's all business.
I tell him about that Elizabeth person sounding familiar. He nods for a bit, then gives me that quirky smile again.
"Looks like we should look into it," he tells me. "Where's it say she was from?"
"Sayville, Long Island."