Dr. Lost

Matt Devon logged on to his site as he ordered his coffee. The waitress glanced back at him after he ordered but hadn’t come back, for which he was grateful for. It wasn’t so bad now and he hoped by the end of the year no-one would recognise him at all.

It helped he wasn’t wearing the skin tight outfit and the ridiculous cape for one thing. Why had he ever thought the cape was a good idea? Matt would have liked to have put it all on the booze, but he knew there was only a certain amount of truth in that. After his ma died he was aware of having some sort of breakdown, he simply didn’t allow for how it would manifest itself. Dr. Sidoran could never be held accountable and was a great help after he was convicted too, but seriously; what doctor would have written ‘possible urge to become a super-villain’ in his notes and hope to keep his job?

The coffee tasted good and he decided to order a muffin to go with it as a treat. As he skimmed through his e-mails he identified three possible jobs for the coming month. Two were local and he suspected the other one would only take around two days to complete, which would free a week or two in the rest of the month for a break. The travelling had seemed exciting when he had started up, but it soon became burdensome; the hotels lost their appeal in double quick time and there was little chance of sight seeing when the search was on.

And Matt Devon was lonely.

Not lonely the way men were in their twenties, but when they hit their thirties. His relationship with Danni had led to a divorce while he was in prison and anything after his release seemed either unlikely or flat out impossible; the inevitable ‘so what do you do?’ questions would have sent any sane woman running for the exit. The fact he’d had fans, borderline stalker fans, on the net made him worry more for them than himself; Dr. Lost, in his heyday, could find any item, his speciality being keys to safes (bwah-hah-ha!) but he couldn’t help lost souls, no matter how hard he tried.

He peered into his site and looked at the re-invented version of himself; M. Devon, Problem Solver-If it’s Lost, I will Find It. The marketing had been a bitch, but once he had got his foot in the door, the word of mouth had kept the business steady; early on he had filtered out the cranks and he now had a regular flow of work to the point where he actually had to hire a Personal Assistant to deal with the day to day stuff. The fact he had been a crook and a super powered one at that, seemed of little importance to his clients; most of them were a recovering something or other and his admission had led to little more than a shrug from the majority of people. It was only when he turned down work that was possibly criminal that he received some snapshot judgement calls on his character, but being insulted by a white collar criminal after having his ass handed to him on a plate by the cities heroes was small potatoes.
 
The only real trouble he had were from the legitimate lost souls. Twice he had sat in the same room as heartbroken spouses as they explained their stories and he had had to gently explain how his powers worked and how they were flawed. Matt could not locate people or worse…bodies. He could only detect products, the majority of which were metal based. In layman’s terms he couldn’t track anything with blood; but he’d be damned if he was going to put it so bluntly to those poor people. Each time he had explained himself to the clients and each had given him the same terribly sad smile and thanked him for his time. Matt had shaken their hands and left feeling useless and dejected; each night he wondered why, having been given such a genetic quirk, why it could not extend to doing some real good for damaged people. He fell asleep both nights still having found no answer.

He paid for the coffee and thanked the waitress; leaving her a healthy tip for not asking if he was, in fact, Dr. Lost-cue camera phones and tweets. Matt decided to walk home, revelling in the balmy evening and knowing his potential clients could all wait until the morning. People bustled by, all lost in their own world of small dramas and shops closed for another day. As he cut through the park he picked up a hot dog, thinking he could burn all the junk off down the gym in the morning. As he fished out his keys-his parole officer had bought him a key fob for a joke-Matt felt a small flicker of something passing overhead, making him look up. There was nothing but the autumn skyline.
 
The knock on the door came a few minutes after he’d sat down with the news. Matt flinched slightly; he was not used to unexpected calls and wondered if it was the landlord explaining there was some sort of problem. As he spied through the peep hole he saw a man around his age, looking down at the floor, his head buried under a cap. Matt had a bad feeling about the man and backed away from the door. He cautiously walked back to the sofa wondering how loud he had been walking to the door. A minute later the door opened, the man clutching the lock delicately as he strode in.

“What the hell?” Matt said, pulling himself off the sofa. The man gently set the door back in its place, clearly unfazed either by what he’d done or by any sort of retaliation Matt might have offered: good call on the latter.

“Let me explain,” the man said. He was talking low but his voice still had an oddly clear tone to it, as if he was a news anchor. Or even…

“You have got to be kidding me!” Matt said walking around the sofa and over to the man. “For god’s sakes take the cap off.” He folded his arms and waited. Dutifully, like some naughty school boy, Captain ‘Tacular looked up at him, chiselled jaw-line and all.

“Okay, for starters I have done absolutely nothing wrong. Second of all, that’s breaking and entering right there.” Matt stopped using his fingers for numbers long enough to wave at the door.

“Lower your voice, please,” the Captain said. His actual name was Danny Shiff. “The neighbours…”
 
“The neighbours?” Matt looked at him, possibly feeling even more stunned, if that was possible.

“Look, I don’t need the press on me right now and this is urgent; I need to speak to you and I can’t access your website by law, so…can we sit down?” He actually had the good grace to look embarrassed. Danny extended an arm to the sofa.

“You’re paying for that door,” he said, absent-mindedly walking over to the coffee pot. The man looked over to it and seemed to concentrate for a second or two.

“Done,” he said and smiled.

“Freaky,” Matt muttered as he fished out his spare mug. “So you have the time it takes to make and drink one cup of coffee before you get the hell out of here.”
“Look. It’s a private matter.” He hoisted himself off the sofa and walked round to the pot. “I need your help locating something that means a great deal to me and I need it found by tomorrow morning. I’ll pay top rate if you can help me.”

“Yeah, to be honest, it’s not so much the pay-rate that bothers me,” Matt said as he heaped in a spoonful. “It’s more the whole…you threw me in jail thing that kind of sticks in my craw a little…I’m weird like that, you know? Sugar?”

“One please...you were breaking the law,” he responded sheepishly. “I had to act.”

“By carrying me over the square, photographed by god knows who? Those pictures last man, okay? With the internet, that picture’s going to be on my tombstone, most likely. I looked like a newborn baby being delivered by the goddamn stork for Christ-sakes!” Matt handed him the coffee and filled his own.

“Look, we have to do that, okay? Our media contracts demand it. It’s not like I want to go out of my way to humiliate people, okay?” He blew on his coffee and sipped it.

“So you say,” Matt said, hating how petulant he sounded. “How’s the coffee?”

“Good, thank you. You know I put in a good word at your hearing…” He blew on the steam and looked up again out of the corner of his eye.

“Don’t even think about using that, don’t even think it…”

“I know, cheap shot, I’m sorry. But what can I say? I’m in a bind here.” He looked up and stared at Matt square in the eye; a second passed. Matt sighed.

“You know the rules, right? Nothing illegal, no humans or pets…” He looked over as the other man broke out into a smile. Damn it, Matt thought, setting down his coffee mug. “You were flying over my building a few minutes ago, weren’t you?”

“Yeah, do you want me to…” his voice trailed off as Matt stared hard at him. “I’ll book a cab.”

****

The guy did of course live in a mansion, but it was surprisingly sparsely furnished and tasteful, Matt thought. As they walked through the rooms he tried to think of why it reminded him so much of his own tiny apartment; Jesus, the guy’s living on his own, he realised. As Mat turned round, he saw Danny looking at him.

“Yeah, Jenny’s left me,” he said and sounded about as sad as a man could be. ‘Jenny’ was of course, Exocet-Girl, the most famous woman in the city and possibly the world.

“But…how?” Was all Matt could think of to say and immediately realised how dumb it sounded.

“It’s complicated…” he started off saying as he sat down in a director’s chair. “Actually, no it’s simple; we were cheating on each other.” Matt stared, realising his mouth was hanging open.

“That…doesn’t help, I guess,” he answered, sitting down opposite him. “Within the Team Power or-”

“I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you.” He wasn’t smiling. “No really.”

“Best not to pry, I always say,” Matt said quickly, seeing the infra-red flicker in his eyes ramp up a notch. “Sooo…this missing item?” He went on, trying not to notice how high his voice suddenly sounded.

“My wedding ring,” he said flatly. As soon as he said it, he lifted up his hands. “I know, I know, but for appearances sake we have to keep it going. If I turn out tomorrow for roll-call without the ring, all hell’s going to break loose amongst the press. Plus, our sponsors would give us hell, contract wise.”

“Your corporate stuff’s got more control than any of us ever did, right?” Matt shook his head. He knew the good guys relied on donations to a point, but this was ridiculous.

“Like you wouldn’t believe. Last month Tectonic was grounded for over an hour because he’d lost his watch. We nearly lost Norway over that, I can tell you that much. So, how does this work?” He looked over anxiously as Matt stood up.

“I get an image of the item in my mind and try to immerse it to the surroundings; hopefully they align and it goes from there.” He looked around at the place and was genuinely surprised at the scale of it all.

“Do you want me to get a picture?” He asked, getting to his feet. Matt looked over.

“Relax. I saw the wedding on the tube just like everyone else.”

“Really? I didn’t think you’d be into that.” He saw Danny was frowning in genuine surprise; for a second he looked like a normal guy.

“You don’t get a remote in jail,” Matt replied and closed his eyes.

The sharp sensation of throwing out the image and then clarifying it always made Matt rock back on his heels, such was its force. After the initial wave of power settled, it was just a case of following the target. Beams appeared in certain areas of his mind, ‘cooling’ some places and making others ‘hotter.’ As he streamlined the waves, the image of the ring suddenly came into focus; from that moment it was simply a matter of waiting for the lights to match up and tracking it. As they did, Matt spluttered, cleared his throat and then controlled himself. He opened his eyes and looked over to see Danny’s concerned face.
 
“If you’re going to tell me it’s not here and I’m looking at a theft and ransom gig, I’m going be upset.”

“It’s in the u-bend of your toilet,” Matt said, with what he hoped was a straight-face.

“Right,” Danny answered after a second. “Well…that’s a relief.”

Disappointingly for Matt, Danny didn’t use his powers to retrieve the ring but instead used the plunger. He listened, feeling slightly stunned as the other guy explained how it must have slipped off when he was washing his hair and that he hadn’t in any way either swallowed or inserted the world’s biggest emerald inside himself. Matt nodded along, mumbling ‘uh-huh’ occasionally, genuinely at a loss for words. Finally it was over and they wandered back into the kitchen to cut the check.

“So you never thought about taking the plunge?” Danny said and saw Matt’s mouth drop open slightly. “I mean get married,” he added hurriedly.

“No…I mean I was close before all the stuff started but not after.” Matt thought about it and wanted to put the guy at ease; for a superhero, he actually seemed like an ok guy. “I was dating a girl for a while but it fizzled out. I asked her why and she said she couldn’t get her head round the idea of being with someone who knew where everything was.”

“But you explained about the blood-rule?” He said, looking up from his check-book.

“Yeah, I think she really meant not hiding things or stashing secrets and stuff, even harmless things, it was like a control thing. I get where she was coming from. I don’t know.” He looked over and accepted the check. “Whoa. This is too much.”

“Think of it as a thank you from our sponsors,” he answered and flashed his best ‘superhero saves the day’ high wattage smile.

****

Matt slept long into the morning and woke up still feeling a little spaced out from the evening before. He looked around, checked his e-mails and decided to put off work for another couple of hours. Rather than cook breakfast, he slotted his lap-top into his bag and walked back to the café where the coffee was so good the day before. As he settled into a booth he hailed the waitress, the same lady as the day before. He flipped up the website and began replying to the clients, but kept letting himself get distracted by the world outside his window.

“It must be cool to have your own business,” the girl said from out of nowhere. He looked up and saw her looking at his profile picture and then back to him.
 
“It’s okay,” he answered. It dawned on him she wasn’t a celebrity watcher after all, she was just being polite.
 
“I like sitting at this table after work; it’s good for people watching,” she continued, pouring coffee into his mug.

“I agree,” he said. “I’m Matt.”

“Christina,” she replied and smiled.