Pierce turned his glass counter-clockwise on the bar. He stared mindlessly at the scotch, trying not to think of anything in particular. Being focused and specific, that's what got him in trouble. So he resigned himself to be empty.
That sounded good on paper, but when the door to the bar burst open and smashed against the wall, his mind was anything but still. A policeman who knew where to find him took three steps in and shouted.
"Pierce! We need you! Get up you sorry son of a bitch!"
Pierce turned his head in disdain. "Haven't I caused enough trouble for one day?"
"Get your ass downtown, now! You of all people know you need a short memory in the people-savin business. Some of 'em are just gonna die on ya! Now move!"
"Sargent Walsh, you sure know how to motivate a guy." Pierce threw back his drink and shuffled toward the door. He cinched up his tights and adjusted his cape. Made sure his mask was on just right.
"Where's the trouble, Walsh?" he asked.
"Vine and 7th. Domestic turned hostage situation. Husband shot the wife and took one of our boys as leverage. We don't have much time."
Pierce stiffened like he had a bucket of ice-water dumped over his head. "This was no joke," he thought. Was three drinks too many? On an empty stomach too."
Walsh drove like a maniac but they arrived in one piece. Some of the cops protested when they saw him. One of the surly veterans shouted, "Haven't you screwed up enough for one day?"
Walsh shouted back and the cop said no more. Pierce could see the movement in the second floor window, just as Walsh had briefed him. He turned to him one last time.
"Remember the code word. If I shout it, send in SWAT. Got it?"
"Crystal, Pierce. Now go bring him out. We don't care if the thug buys it. Just get Rodriguez out."
Without answering Pierce rushed across the street and into the door. He made for the stairs, not wanting anything to do with the elevator. He tried again to empty his mind. He only had this one shot and he had to come through. He banished the morning from his mind, again.
On the second floor landing, Pierce followed the voices to an open apartment door. "This is it," he thought, and walked right in without waiting. He stepped over a corpse in a pool of blood. The gunman entered the room from the kitchen.
"Shit. Random Man," he whispered.
"Chance!" Pierce yelled, summoning his super power. Pierce's clear mind held. A random super-power filled Pierce's being, called forth by his one word command. Random Man assumed the ability to subdivide his body into two equal halves. Those halves would then become whole and operate independent of one another.
The gunman froze in shock as Pierce's body split like a spirtual axe clove downward, head to pelvis. The halves folded over and suddenly Random Man existed times two. It was over before the killer could even fire a shot.
The next day, Pierce arrived at Doherty's Pub as Patrick Jr. was opening the door. He didn't act suprised to see Pierce because, well, he wasn't.
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