2:00 AM: A Rainy October Night…
Detective Christian Walker and his new partner, Detective Deena Pilgrim arrive at the crime scene and push their way through the curious crowd of onlookers…
WALKER: Kutter, goddammit, what are you doing here?
KUTTER: Hey, hey, don’t come down on me, big guy. I’m just trollin’…I see you brought the Munchkin.
PILGRIM: You know, I’ve had about enough shit outta you…
KUTTER: I know, I know. I’m ashamed of my little self, really I am.
WALKER: Can you two either kick the shit out of each other or get over it already?
PILGRIM: What’s the story here, anyway?
KUTTER: The story is another freak hit it. Dropping from the sky, these days. Massive trauma, many ugly dynamics at work when you fall from fifty stories. Leg bone’s connected to the neck bone, neck bone’s connected to the…
PILGRIM: We get it, Emo.
WALKER: So how do you know it was a superdude?
KUTTER: Chalk outline had wings, dontcha know. Already looked for graffiti…just the usual tags, no Kaotik Chic scrawl to be found. Not much evidence, either…we found parts of his costume; a boot, a belt, and a mace or something. Pretty dinged up. Stuff’s downtown already, tagged and bagged. No witnesses yet.
Detective Walker bends down to examine a white substance on the sidewalk surface…he touches it, lifts it to his nose to smell…
WALKER: …And what’s all this white gunk everywhere?
PILGRIM: …It looks like bird shit…
KUTTER: It IS bird shit. Whole goddamn perimeter was covered in pigeons ’til I had a blue fire a couple rounds. Hey, happy holidays, all right? Wanna napkin?
Two hours later, the two detectives are in the M.E.’s cramped operating room…
DR. TUCKER: Hand me that pan behind you, won’t you, Detective?
PILGRIM: Sure, Doc. What’s in it?
DR. TUCKER: The victim.
WALKER: Ha. Ha. Nothing like forensic humor.
DR. TUCKER: We do have our fun.
PILGRIM: Yer a hoot. If you can tear yourself away from yourself, can you tell us what killed the victim?
DR. TUCKER: What didn’t? Extreme maceration of the skin and organs, explosive cranial trauma, right arm and a portion of the right leg amputated upon impact, a near-complete cardial hemmorhage…not to mention the fact that he landed on a dog, and now has a poodle carcass mixed into his chest cavity…
WALKER: No, no, no…what she means is…
PILGRIM: What I mean is, why does a dude with wings stop flying, get it? Was he shot? He crash into a blimp? We already GOT some dead Powers, you’ll recall.
WALKER: The Doctor remembers Retro Girl, Detective. Back off a bit.
DR. TUCKER: It’s all right…Look. You bring me a baggie full of superhero and then expect me to solve the crime for you. I’ll do my best, but right now, I don’t have any answers for you. EITHER of you. Give me some time. Out, out, out.
WALKER: Okay, okay. I’ve gotta pick up the kid and get her some food.
PILGRIM: Ugh…you can EAT after this?
DR. TUCKER: After what? Hey, would you guys bring me back something? Some soup, maybe?
WALKER: I want a Quarter Pounder, and a large Coke…
CLERK: You want fries?
WALKER: You didn’t let me…
CLERK: Cheaper with fries.
WALKER: You being a hardass?
CLERK: So, no fries?
WALKER: YES, I WANT FR…
CLERK: Fries aren’t up.
WALKER: What are you saying?
CLERK: Fries aren’t up yet.
WALKER: I’ll wait.
CLERK: So, just fries and a Coke?
WALKER: And a Quarter Pounder.
Adorable Kid tugs at Walker’s sleeve…
WALKER: Oh, yeah, and a Cheeseburger Kid’s Meal.
CLERK: Fries aren’t up.
ADORABLE KID: Do you know what a clitoris is?
ADORABLE KID: The cop doesn’t know what a clitoris is.
CLERK: The clitoris is the erectile organ of the vagina, located at the top of the vaginal vestibule, right below the mons area.
ADORABLE KID: I want orange with my Happy Meal.
WALKER: So what?
PILGRIM: So what makes a wing-guy superfreak fall out of the sky?
WALKER: Deena, I’m trying to eat.
ADORABLE KID: That guy with all the zits told me what a clitoris is.
Suddenly, Deena stabs Detective Walker through the hand with a plastic fork
WALKER: AAAAAAH! CHRIST! What the HELL?
PILGRIM: Sorry. I thought you might have powers. I thought you might have been faking it when I kicked you that time. SORRY!
WALKER: GODDAMN IT! GODDAMN IT!
Deena hits Walker hard across the face with the hard plastic meal tray, spilling French fries everywhere, drawing blood and knocking him to the floor…
WALKER: OWWW! OWWW!
PILGRIM: Sorry! Sorrry! I thought you might have heat vision! SORRY!
BADGER: Hey, is that Walker over there bleeding on the floor, Larry?
SAVAGE DRAGON: Stop calling me Larry.
NEXUS: Man, this is my lamest cameo ever.
Walker is at his desk, holding photos of the crime scene with his newly-bandaged hand when an excited Deena approaches, carrying a stack of old comics.
PILGRIM: I think I got it, Walker. We were thinking one of the victim’s enemies took him down for revenge, but I’ve been doing some research…looka this stuff…see here? Look, here, the guy’s an archaeologist, right? And he’s with the WWII super-club…
WALKER Right, right, okay. So what are you…
PILGRIM: Just listen! Then, a few years later, he’s a cop, right? Like us, but he’s ALIEN. And his wife’s a costume, too, same-o same-o. And now he’s with the new super-club, with the heavy-hitters. So, now he’s a museum curator, or pretending to be…
Walker, suddenly interested, takes a closer look at the comics…
PILGRIM: It gets worse. THEN, he’s an alien cop, but suddenly, his home planet is this AWFUL place, and he’s not married. His wife is just his partner, all of a sudden. Stay with me here.
WALKER You’re saying…
PILGRIM: …and THEN, he’s suddenly some sort of bird avatar! I mean, he don’t even LOOK the same. It’s like a completely different guy, weird eyes and shit…He went through that Zero Hour thing, and it’s like BAM. Different guy, and now he doesn’t know WHO he is…! Imagine waking up every couple years and your whole goddamn LIFE is different… Your wife is gone, you have no family, you don’t know where you came from anymore…
WALKER: So he had Continuity Fatigue…
PILGRIM: Yeah, boy! Worst case of it the Doc’s ever heard of! And the print guys found no other prints on the victim’s anti-gravity belt, which was UNLOCKED. He took it off himself, six hundred feet up! He wasn’t murdered…he’s a SUICIDE, get it?
WALKER: Die with dignity, huh? Sounds right. Nice work, DETECTIVE.
Suddenly, Deena pulls out her gun and shoots Walker in the knee…
WALKER: AAAAGH! Shit! SHIT!!!
PILGRIM: Sorry! SORRY!
NEXT WEEK: THE HUNT FOR THE CLITORIS CONTINUES!