A Hero is Born: Part One
Friday, March 13th, 2003
Indigo City Docks. Peer 22
Introducing: James Marsden as Eric "FenrisX" Scott
Paul Walker as Alex "Garm" Steel 
Nelly Furtado as Jenna "Hydra" Lionheart
and Stephen Dorff as Marc "Cerberus" Kain
“You’re sure about this Eric?” Jenna asked, her voice full of uncertainty. “If Valhalla discovers that we’ve deliberately disobeyed orders, we’re going to be in deep shit”.
Had she asked him the same question a year earlier there would have been no doubt in his mind – Follow orders at all costs. But things change over time, people change over time.
Eric gently grabbed Jenna’s hand, and squeezed softly in an attempt of reassurance. “Its not right. All this, Valhalla, the missions, us, none of it is right, and I’m tired of ignoring it. I cant go on anymore closing my eyes pretending what we do is ok”. He paused for a moment, and rested his gaze on a large, private yacht which lay docked several meters away. “Inside that boat is an innocent family Jenna. A father, a mother, there are even two kids for Christ sake. I don’t give a f*uck what Valhalla wants us to do, I’m not killing them”.
Jenna stared into her lover’s eyes. “You’re right Eric, we can’t go through with this mission, or any other one for that matter,” she said as she brushed a long strand of her dark hair away from her face. No matter how much she feared the repercussions of what they were about to do, she too had to follow her heart, and right now it was telling her to disobey direct commands.
Eric didn’t need his telepathy to tell Jenna was scared – Hell, he was scared. People who went against Valhalla didn’t usually have long life expectancies, and if they were caught tonight, they would be no different. The company wouldn’t think twice about punishing them, despite their years of loyal service. “Its going to be alright Jenna, I promise”.
The two stood on the dock in silence, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on their shoulders. Finally the stillness was broken by a third voice. “What’s the matter? You guys look like you’re about to disobey an extremely dangerous underground organization known for punishing disloyal members…oh wait, my bad, we are”. Alex Steel, better known as “Agent Garm” was the third member of one of Valhalla’s most renowned forces: “The Pack”. If Eric was the brawn’s, Jenna the brain’s then Alex was definitely the heart of the team. No matter what situation they found themselves in, Alex was always able to ease the tension by making one of his grossly inappropriate jokes.
“Not now,” Jenna giggled in an attempt of reprimanding Alex.
“Now that you’re back, let’s go over the plan one more time,” Eric cut in, trying to maintain his composure. “Jenna and I will head onto the yacht, warn them that Valhalla is onto Mr. Thompson and his meetings with the government. Alex, you stay here and make sure no one is watching us, we don’t want any witnesses from Valhalla. Once they leave harbor, heading North up into Canada, we get back to the bikes and rush back to HQ. Remember, we say they were gone when we got here, but we think they went South”.
“And us?” Alex interrupted. “I don’t want to be Mr. Worry-guy, but how do we intend to leave Valhalla once this is all said and done. You guys know as well as I do that you cant simply give your two weeks notice and walk out”.
“One thing at a time buddy. Once we get back, and know for sure that the plan was successful, we’ll figure out how we’ll proceed from there”. Eric tried to sound as cool and confident as possible. Deep down he knew things were not going to be as easy as he made them seem, but he had to put on a brave face for Jenna and Alex. “Alright guys, from this point on, we use code-names only. Ready Hydra (Jenna’s code name)?”
“Ready as ill ever be,” she said taking in a deep breath.
“Alright, lets go”.
As agents FenrisX, and Hydra vanished onto the luxurious boat, Garm waited, carelessly scanning the perimeter for any would be spies. Had he been paying more attention, he might have noticed the lone figure, patiently watching him from the rooftop of the harbor masters’ building. The man was dressed in a similar Valhalla uniform, his however was jet black rather than “The Packs” red colours. Reaching up to his ear, the man retracted a small electronic device used to augment auditory capabilities. * Caught in the act Eric. You’re getting sloppy *.
Meanwhile, Inside the Yacht “Puffan”
“So you’re absolutely sure they know about my meetings with the government?” Mr. Thomson frantically inquired as struggled to put on his pants.
“Very sure. We were after all sent here to complete a “hit” on you and your family,” Hyrda reiterated. “Sir, we suggest for the safety of you and your family, you leave Indigo City now, and head North”.
The aging man desperately barked orders to his crew from the intercom in his room. Once he was sure that everyone on board was awake, and ready to set sail immediately, he returned his attention back to the two individuals who had no doubt saved his life. “How can I thank you? Name your price, I’m a very wealthy man”.
FenrisX and Hydra had no time to waste on prolonged gratitude. “There is no need sir, just get your family to safety,” Eric said. The two agents proceeded to make their way back up to the deck, and quickly off onto the dock. Once they were off the yacht, the boat briskly rumbled to life, and began sailing out of the Indigo-City port.
“Think they’ll make it?” Hydra asked as they jogged back to where Garm was waiting.
“With a bit of luck, they should be ok..” FenrisX replied, his voice abruptly trailing off as his attention was turned to another matter. “Where is Garm?”
“Don’t worry Eric, me and Alex were just catching up on old times”. Stepping out of the marina a few meters away, the stranger emerged, one arm around Alex’s neck, the other holding a gun to his back.
“Cerberus!” Jenna shouted angrily. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Cerberus tightened his grip around the neck of his captive. “What am I doing?! You filthy disobedient pups think you could pull one over Valhalla and get away with it! We’ve been on to you for awhile but we needed proof. Now that I’ve got that, I’ve got the green light to finish you all off,” he hissed, a twisted smile growing on his savage face.
FenrisX slowly advanced closer to the new enemy. “Marc,” he said, ignoring the man’s code-name. “Think about this. Let Alex go and we can discuss this”.
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” Cerberus paused and savored the moment. “You three always thought you were so great, the golden team of Valhalla. Well looks like your time to shine is over”. Cerberus leaned his head closer to Alex’s bloody face. “Any last words agent Garm?”
The beaten man could not even raise his head; Cerberus was no doubt using his energy drain abilities to syphon his life force. “Go..- cough – Go F*ck yourself Marc,”
BANG
“ALEX!” Eric and Jenna shouted in unison.
Blood spurted out from the front of Alex’s chest before Cerberus let him fall lifelessly to the ground.
“YOU BASTARD!” Hydra shrieked as she recklessly charged towards her friends killer.
Cerberus was quick to react, expecting such a response from his former comrade. His left arm quickly reached to his side, extracted another pistol and fired straight for Jenna’s head.
Agent Hydra, in such a state of rage had not expected such a fast response. She knew she had no time to dodge to bullet and thought she would join her fallen friend in a moments time. Before the flying metal death lodged itself in her skull however, an invisible force hurled her to the right and out of harms way. FenrisX had used his telekinesis to save his girlfriend, but he did not have time to save himself. Without a target to stop it, the bullet continued past its intended mark and instead struck Eric straight in the stomach. The force of the impact sent him painfully to the ground. Crimson life flowed from his wound, slowly bringing him closer and closer to death.
Before Cerberus could continue his onslaught, Hydra used her unique ability to create multiple illusions of herself, hoping that her enemy would not know which one to fire on. Her prayers however, fell on deaf ears.
“You think your little power is going to work on me Jenna? You’re illusions don’t emit a life force, so I can easily tell where you really are. Cerberus concentrated on extending his parasitic aura outwards until he locked on to the only woman who emitted energy. Once he had her targeted, he concentrated directly on her, quickly draining her stamina into his own being.
The world began to spin around Hydra. Black dots clouded her vision and an intense sense of nausea threatened to make her vomit. She knew she was a sitting duck.
“Alex couldn’t stop me”. He advanced on the real Hydra and ferociously grabbed her by the hair. “You’re boyfriend couldn’t stop me”. He dragged her towards her fallen lover. “And you sure as hell can’t stop me”. He stopped once they had reached FenrisX who was struggling to remain conscious. “Are you watching Eric? I want to make sure that before you die you see how useless you were in saving not only your best friend, but your precious Jenna”.
BANG
Eric watched helplessly as Jenna’s body fell down in the pool of blood which had accumulated before him. A sense of pure hatred rumbled inside FenrisX. Never before had he felt such hatred and malice towards another living being. “I swear Marc, you won’t get away with this”.
“Wont I?” Cerberus laughed as he dragged Eric towards the edge of the long dock. “You should have never disobeyed Valhalla; you brought this on yourself. “I’ve got to tell you Eric, I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed making a hit so much as this on. Feeling Alex’s and Jenna’s blood wash over my hands was such a rush”. Cerberus roughly pulled Eric to his feet. “Give my best regards to the two agents Hydra and Garm cause you’re about to join them old friend”. And with that Cerberus shoved FenrisX to a watery grave below.
Eric slowly sunk beneath the surface of the freezing water. Before you die he had always heard that your life flashes before your eyes, yet all he could think of was his two fallen teammates, and how much he wanted revenge on the man who killed them. Slowly all sense of light began to fade, and his lungs began to scream for oxygen. The last thing he saw before blacking out was the hard, uninviting seabed which would soon be his final resting place. His eyelids began to flutter shut, and within seconds he was lost in dismal oblivion.
TO BE CONTINUED
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Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
“Mother’s Day”
May 10th, Saturday, 2003
11:30 PM
The outskirts of Crystal City
Lined up, on the outskirts of Crystal City, were seven trucks. Although all the trucks were closed, one could be assured that whatever was in them was surely illegal. Some of it was illegal drugs, ecstasy, cocaine… but the majority of it was illegal weapons. It was one particular weapon that the man had come here today to get.
The man was dressed in a tan trench coat that covered almost all of his body. Stan Major, known as “Slimy Stan” by friends and enemies alike, could only tell that the man was black, and even that was a struggle. Slimy Stan was a mutant. He had no special powers to speak off, but his body was hideously deformed. It cursed him with a hunchback, overly large hands and feet, light green skin and a disgustingly deformed face. Because of his mutation, nobody would hire him, and Stan had turned to selling illegal drugs and weapons… but mostly weapons.
There was a woman with the man. She was tall with long white/blond hair that went around her head in a fury of tendrils. She was wearing tight black clothes, and Stan thought that he might like to get a look under those clothes. Of course, because of his mutation, Stan had never been able to get under anybody’s clothes.
“Mr. Major’s,” the man in the trench coat said, “I am here to purchase a rather special weapon, as said on our little phone conversation.”
“Yeah, sure.” Slimy Stan said nervously. He was always nervous when he did business. “But call me Slimy Stan… everybody does. Listen, I know you want… that weapon… but I got lots of other stuff too. Rocket launchers… automatics… anything you want!”
“I’m thrilled for you,” the other man said dryly, “but I’m only interested in the weapon I asked for. You do have it, don’t you?”
“Yeah sure!” Slimy Stan said, now even more nervous. He hadn’t wanted to see this weapon… it seemed wrong somehow. Slimy Stan may be slimy, but he did have morals. Still, he needed the money badly, so he supposed he had no choice. “Hey Vinny!” he called behind him. “Bring her out!”
The man who was apparently called Vinny looked to be only 18… such a young age to be working in the illegal weapons business. Vinny brought out the weapon in his arms.
The woman next to the man in the trench coat gasped. “That’s the weapon?!” she exclaimed, “but that’s just--”
“I know what it is!” The man next to here shouted angrily.
“Yeah,” Slimy Stan said, “so here she is. Uh… can I be paid in cash please?”
The man in the trench coat smiled and walked away. “Please Chameleon… give the man what he deserves.”
The woman smiled and turned to the little, disfigured man before her. “Yes sir, Mr. Blackwall.” She said delightfully.
******
May 11th, Sunday, 2003—Mother’s Day
9:30 AM
Lower New York, the mansion of Jed and Patty Grant
“Lori!” exclaimed Patty Grant as her adopted daughter, Lori Grant, swept through the front door and into her arms. “How nice of you to come! I knew you wouldn’t forget you little old mother on Mother’s Day!”
“Never!” Lori gasped, pretending to be shocked at the idea that she could forget mother’s day. She laughed and hugged her mother closer. After all that happened in the past months, it felt good to be close to the people who loved her. After the trouble with Mind Block had been resolved, there had been a lull in the amount of crime in Crystal City, so Lori figured that the city wouldn't be destroyed if she took a much needed day off and visited her parents.
Patty Grant was a small woman with white hair and glasses. She was the perfect mother figure; she was always on top of things that needed to be done, but was also very caring and always wanted to know if you were eating enough. Under that motherly exterior, however, lay an excellent business woman, whom Lori could only hope to someday match.
“Well come in, come it!” Patty smiled. “I don’t have any food prepared but I can make you a sandwich or something.” As if reading Lori’s mind, Patty looked her daughter over, frowned, and then said, “Perhaps I ought to make you two… you don’t look like you’re eating enough.”
Lori sighed and followed her mother through the huge house, fashioned exactly right. That was another thing about her mother; she had a flair for interior design. As she walked through, she saw her father sitting on a white leather sofa watching the Crystal City news on a wide screen TV. Although Crystal City was in New Jersey, the Grant’s paid to get the local channel because both their daughter and the company were located there.
Lori snuck over to her father and put her hands over his eyes. “Guess who?” she joked.
Jed thought for a moment and then said, “The Queen of England?”
Lori laughed and kissed her father on his balding head. Her attention was then caught by the TV.
“In other news, a huge stock of illegal weapons was found today. Among the many weapons were also several pounds of illegal drugs. Commissioner Wood has called this one of the biggest busts in the history of Crystal City. Stanley Major, also known as Slimy Stan, was arrested and is being called the leader in this ring of illegal drugs and weapons.”
“We’ve been after him for a long time.” Commented Lori, and then remembered who she was talking to. “I mean… the police have been after him for a long time… or so I’ve heard.” Janie may know that she was Spectrum, but she was positive that her parents didn’t.
“The unusual thing was that Slimy Stan was beaten nearly to death when the police found him, as was one of his partners; 18 year old Vinny Lynch. Police are looking for clues, but so far no suspects have been identified. Commissioner Wood says that Stan owed money to the mob, and that the mob may have done it. We’ll keep you updated as we get more information.”
“Oh, Jed,” Patty sighed from the adjacent kitchen, “can’t you turn that off? It’s so depressing. Here Lori, I made you a bologna sandwich. You like bologna, don’t you?”
Lori smiled, and went to the kitchen. Independence was great, but there was nothing like a home made sandwich by your mom.
******
Later that day, at 5:50PM
“And then would you believe it,” Patty said, “your cousin Howie sat in the punch bowl!” Patty had been telling Lori about their most recent get together with friends and family. A thing which Lori had once again missed.
Lori laughed out loud. They had been sitting and talking almost the entire time Lori had been there. Jed Grant had already moved back to his couch and turned on the Crystal City news. Lori glanced at her watch and was shocked to see that it was already 5:50pm. If she was going to get home before dark, she would have to leave now. Mother’s Day traffic would be unbearable. She almost wished she had flown here.
“Well, I had better hit the road.” Lori said with real sadness. She hated leaving this place.
“Oh, had you?” Patty pouted. “Well it was lovely seeing you again Lori dear. You should really call more often.”
“Hey you two, look at this!” Jed called from his couch. Lori and Patty walked over to where he was sitting and looked at the TV.
“The Freak storm that appeared out of nowhere is continuing to bombard Crystal City. The mayor is called for all citizens to stay inside, and avoid the road if possible. A note to parents, all after school activities have been canceled.”
“But when I left this morning, the skies were clear!” said a shocked and worried Lori Grant.
“Perhaps you’d have better stay here dear,” Patty said. “It could be dangerous!”
“No… no…” Lori said, “I really should get back. I’m sure this is one of those things that just comes and goes.”
“All right dear… have you got a rain coat and an umbrella?”
“Yes, yes.” Lori sighed, but couldn’t help but love her mother’s over protectiveness.
“Well it was lovely to see you dear.” Patty smiled.
“Yup,” Jed said, “we hope to see you soon dear.”
“I’ll visit!” Lori exclaimed as she left the mansion. “Happy Mother’s Day mom!”
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
September 22 2002
Persia
“Shakti! I think I’ve found something…”
The undergraduate carefully cleaned round the edges of the object while Shakti stepped down into the trench.
“Ok what’ve you got?”
The undergraduate gestured with his trowel to a small cylindrical disturbance in the earth in front of him.
“Cylindrical, metallic…I suppose it could be a tin can… “ He looked around the trench, “But we’re pretty deep here” He looked questioningly at his supervisor
“Oh I don’t know you’d be amazed how far down you can find garbage.” Shakti looked at the hump again. “Though not around here I suppose. Ok, clean it up a little more, get some pictures, you know the drill… and make sure the Prof. or me is here when you lift it. Ok?”
“Got it” The student watched Shakti walk away before returning to his find.
****
*Well it’s not a tin can...* Shakti looked at the cylindrical object Pete had dug out of the ground. It was single seamless piece of metal about the size of a man’s fist and had it not been for the weight, she would have thought it was an ingot of some sort. It was too light for that however and once the dirt had been brushed away from it, the metal showed no signs of corrosion.
“Somebody is messing with our heads, Prof. There is no way this is a couple of thousand years old.”
“Well the pottery shards at the same level are as conclusive as you get in the field, but I agree it hardly seems to be an artefact of a civilisation that died over two thousand years ago.”
“Somebody got careless on a previous dig?” but Shakti already knew the answer to that, there hadn’t been a dig on this site in nearly 50 years and Professor Shilladay had been scrupulous in finding an undisturbed area.
“One of the students? Pete perhaps?”
Shakti shook her head “You saw him when we lifted this. He was as confused as the rest of us I don’t recall him taking any drama classes,” Shakti inspected the object again, “and if he is hoaxing us his talents are definitely wasted in archaeology.”
Professor Shilladay sighed “Well we won’t solve this tonight”
“No I suppose not,” Shakti walked out of the tent, “goodnight Professor”
****
Dust and debris, scattered by the downdraft produced by a helicopter’s blades, filled the various trenches of the dig site. The ‘copter settled slowly onto it’s landing gear and the engine stilled allowing the dust it had disturbed to settle again. This time covering the whole site, tents, papers, bodies.
The soldiers disembarked first – eight men in combat fatigues, rifles at the ready. Their unit flashes designated them as elite troops but in this part of the world that could mean anything. The men spread out; moving in pairs they quickly reconnoitred the site. When the leader was certain it was safe he gestured to the rest of the helicopter’s occupants.
A medical team rushed out and with the aid of two of the soldiers began checking the bodies that littered the site. The remaining occupants were two suited figures both looking aghast.
The conversed in low tones as the site was slowly brought back to some semblance of order. An entire group of Americans killed. Some of them were women. There would be investigations.
“Sir!”
One of the medics called over to the suits…
******
“Look I know you want to talk to her but right now it’s impossible.” The doctor raised his hand to forestall the agent’s response. “She’s been badly beaten, though thankfully no broken bones, there is however evidence of sexual assault. Given her physical condition as her doctor I wouldn’t allow you to question her but it’s immaterial since she’s been in a catatonic state ever since she was found.”
“She’ll come out of it though?”
“I have no idea. There is no direct physical trauma to account for her state. We’ve hooked her up to an EEG and there’s brain activity. So something’s going on in there but right now Agent Kay your guess is as good as mine. Now if you’ll excuse me I have some distraught parents who need me far more than you!”
***
Shakti found herself on a plain, the sky above was dark and angry, around her were the scattered remnants of a campsite. A lightning bolt illuminated the scene more clearly and she saw bodies laying around her, their limbs twisted in their death throes. She thought she recognised one of the bodies and rushed forward to turn it over.
“Nooooooo!” she moaned even as her horrified eyes took in her hands – covered in blood already growing tacky. Fight back the urge to vomit she wiped her hands convulsively on the ground and turned over the body.
She retched, the face was Professor Shilladay’s but the eyes were gone. Torn out, crushed she wasn’t sure but where his eyes should have been there was only bloody sockets.
“Shakti! I think I’ve found something…”
Pete’s voice drifted over the campsite and Shakti was filled with a sense of dread as she stumbled towards the voice. She found him hunched over a trench on the edge of the devastation.
“Pete what have you got?” Her voice was high and thin.
She reached his side and when he turned empty eye sockets to her she lost control of her stomach. Pete pushed her back as bile splattered on the ground “Hey you’re compromising the site”
Pete turned back to uncovering whatever he had found and Shakti her nausea back under control tried to pull him away. She caught a glimpse of the mounded earth – long and narrow it it’s dips and curves suggested a body.
“Pete! Stop, Pete. Please stop!” Shakti’s mounting panic was evident in her voice as she pulled ineffectually at the now blind student. The trowel continued to scrape away at the earth surrounding the head and in her increasing desperation Shakti managed to finally dragged Pete away from the mound. She reached for the trowel desperate to recover the body but suddenly stopped. Whoever was lying in the earth was alive, breathing the top half of the face was uncovered and the eyes…
Shakti shifted in the earth dislodging more dirt and freeing an arm *soon now * She met the sightless gaze of her old self and smiled.
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
INSSURRECTION AGENDA: PART 7 (FINALE)
Agent Complex- South of Indigo City.
Monday May 5th
“Here comes the cavalry”.
Cerberus tightened his grip on Eric’s collar as he brought him even closer to the edge of the precipice. All the villain had to do now was simply let go, and his long time rival would plummet down into the waters below. The drop was so long however, that even the gentle waters would not save him from almost certain death.
“That’s far enough ladies,” Cerberus said arrogantly, as he watched the look of horror on their faces with utter glee. “One more move and ill let Eric go”.
“You Bastard, Marc! Why are you doing this?” Sphinx yelled, the hatred in her voice icy cold.
“Because I can,” he replied, his mouth twisting into a sadistic smile.
"You can't do this!" continued Sphinx, not daring to move from the spot, "Eric is one of us, he's like a brother... you can't just kill him!"
"Why not? It wouldn't be the first time I've killed one of our little 'family' now would it?" Cerberus growled. "Besides... this is a long time overdue."
"Oh, I understand what this is all about now" said Sydney, realizing that the only way out of this situation was to keep Cerberus as occupied as possible to allow Eric enough time to escape his precarious situation. "You see, I'm something of an outsider, not part of your lovely little 'family' though, god knows I am a bit jealous of the close bond you all seem to share. But I've been trying to figure out why you have been so intent on terminating Eric above all other people, see, at first I thought there must be some deep, dark, bitter and twisted feud that has just festered and intensified over years and years of sibling-type rivalry where the two of you were constantly trying to out-do each other in an attempt to be number one. But now... now I realise the true reason for all this. You're really just a collosal jerk aren't you?"
Cerberus turned his gaze from Sphinx to the other women which had never seen before. “Who the hell are you anyways?” he said looking Sydney up and down. “Fiery, strong, brave,….sexy..(he said that part while licking his lips). So what’s a knock out girl like you, doing trying to save a boyscout like Eric? I’ve got a good idea, why don’t I let him drop, take care of ol’ Sphinxy here, and then the two of us could go grab a bite to eat, what do you say baby?”
Sydney cast Cerberus a dismissive glance, "I guess I can add 'total loser' to your list of attributes. And as for why I'm trying to save 'a boyscout like Eric', well, to quote yourself, because I can."
“If that’s the way you want it then,” he spat back at Sydney, “say good bye to Fenris”.
“Good bye? I didn’t know I was going anywhere”.
When Cerberus turned back to shove Eric off, he was mortified to find that the red clad hero had regained consciousness.
“You know what your problem has always been Mark? You just blab and blab and never really get the job done. Haven’t you ever watched the old Bat-Man TV show? You should know, kill enemy first, then gloat”.
Before Cerberus had time to react, Eric pushed his way past the evil agent, and telekinetically blasted Cerberus forward, causing him to teeter on the edge of the cliff.
“I’m sorry it came to this Marc,” Eric said with true sadness in his voice. Without wasting another moment, he lounged forward with a side kick that sent Cerberus flying off the edge of the cliff, and into the waters below. Now knowing that everyone was safe, he collapsed back on the ground.
Sydney and Sphinx ran the short distance to the cliff edge. While Sydney attended to Eric, Sphinx peered over the edge of the cliff, her eyes searching the churning waters below for any sign of Cerberus, before turning her attentions to the injured Pegasus.
Sydney pulled Eric up into a sitting position and held him close as she checked that he was all right. Their bodies so close once again for a brief second she was reminded of their encounter at La Perle, their flesh in close contact, the feel of his warm breath on the back of her neck... but it was only a passing image and Sydney was only half conscious of the fact that such an encounter had actually taken place. Soon she was helping Eric to his feet as Orion and Sylph came rushing out into the open to join the group as they crowded around Pegasus.
“What happened? Is everything ok?” Sylph was asking frantically and somewhat out of breath. “We tried to be here sooner, but Kraken and Manticore wouldn’t give up. Bastard,” she said wincing, “caught me right in the stomach with his stupid tendril”.
Sphinx, still tending to Pegasus, turned her head slightly to inform the two newly arrived agents as to what had occurred: “Long story short, Cerberus went for a swim off the cliff, Eric is a bit beat up, and Pegasus is a lot beat up. We have to get him to a hospital fast”.
“Not to mention we better get our asses out of here fast also,” Orion interrupted, looking around for any more Valhalla operatives.
As Orion scooped up Pegasus into his massive arms, the agents began to make their escape. Before they arrived to the van that they had waiting, Eric turned to Sydney (who was still helping him keep upright).
“You know I’m lucky to have met you. This is what, like the 100th time you’ve save my butt,” he said with a smile and a wink.
Indigo City Hospital
Tuesday May 6th, 6:20 PM
The atmosphere was somber in the waiting room of the Indigo city hospital, as 5 figures (now dressed in street clothes) waited patiently for the doctor to return with some news on the condition of their friend. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally emerged from Pegasus' room, a smile on his face.
"Well, his not in the greatest shape, but he'll be fine. Its strange really, his body seems to heal very quickly".
"Thank you doctor. Can we see him now?" asked Sylph as she breathed a sigh of relief.
"Most certainly. Im sure he'd be glad to know his friends all came to see him".
As the others went ahead into Pegasus' room Sydney stayed behind, Eric noticed her reluctance and hung back "You aren't coming in?" he asked
Sydney shook her head slowly, "no... well, I figure this is more of a 'family' moment and... and, well, I should really be heading back to Vega City... I guess."
“Oh, yeah I guess your right,” Eric said, not making the greatest effort to hide his disappointment that Sydney was leaving. “Thanks again so much for everything Sydney, Im really in your debt. If ever you need anything at all, you know you can always call me,” he said smiling. There was a slight awkward moment between the two before Eric turned to look into the room. “I guess I better get in there. Take good care of yourself Sydney”.
"You too Eric." Sydney smiled slightly as she also turned to leave, "and try to stay out of trouble while I'm gone..." she grinned more openly, "I won't always be around to save your butt."
Eric took a moment to watch Sydney leave before finally entering the hotel room. Inside, the other agents were all gathered around the bed where Pegasus was comfortable propped up on an overly stuffed pillow.
“You showed a lot of guts kid, we’re all so proud of you,” Orion was saying as he gave a friendly pat on Christian’s shoulder.
Sylph was next to praise her fellow agent, “That’s right, if it weren’t for you, we would have never arrived to the store in time and…”
“And I wouldn’t be here today,” Eric interrupted as he squirmed his way into the tight circle around the bed. “You’re a real hero, Christian,” he continued giving a large thankful grin.
Pegasus blushed a deep shade of red. He was not used to being the center of attention, and especially not because of his prowess on the battle field. “Well, I did end up getting kidnapped by Cerberus, so my big heroics didn’t quite go as planned,” he said chuckling. Even at a time like this, Pegasus was always light hearted and able to make people laugh. “I’m just lucky you guys were there to rescue me”.
“Well, we’ve always been there to help each other out, it’s what we do,” Sphinx said. Her beaming smile suddenly faded into a grimace. “But things are going to be different now. We can’t go back to Valhalla, so what now?”
A moment of hush fell on the agents, each waiting for the other to speak first.
“Well Orion and I have thought it over, and we’re going to head to Vega City. Apparently it’s even worse off than Indigo City, and if that’s true, maybe we can do some good their. You guys are all welcome to come. There is nothing left here for us,” Sylph proposed.
“As much as I miss all you guys, someone has to stay behind and keep and eye on Valhalla,” Eric replied, “I’ve got to stay”.
“I’ll meet up with you guys in Vega city,” Sphinx began, looking somewhat distant. “But first, I have to get away from here….away from all of this”. Everyone knew what she was talking about, especially Eric. Although everyone grieved the losses of Hydra, Garm, and Achilles, Ashana and Eric had lost their lovers.
“We’ll be waiting there when you’re ready,” Orion said gently. The massive agent then turned to Pegasus who had been quiet for a few minutes. “How about you Christian, what are you going to do?”
“Well….I…umm..” he began, not sure what to say.
“You don’t have to decide now,” Sylph cut in comfortingly. “We wont leave for a few days, so you have some time to think about it. Anyways, you need your rest Christian, so we won’t keep you up anymore”.
As the agent gave their last “congratulations” and “Get betters”, they began to file from the room one by one. Eric was the last in the line, but before he exited, Pegasus called out to him. “Eric, could you hold on a minute?”
“Yeah of course, what is it?” Fenris replied, turning around to take a seat next to the bed.
“I just wanted to thank you so much for everything you’ve done. Even though you knew how much Cerberus wanted to kill you, you still came to help me…Had he done anything, I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself”.
Now it was Eric’s turn to blush. “Well nothing happened, so no harm no foul. Plus, you only got captured, because you came to save me…Sylph and Orion are lucky to have you with when they go to Vega City”.
Pegasus didn’t reply right away, pausing a moment as if to consider his words. “I’m not going to Vega City. Its time I stand on my own two feet for once. I think I’m going to stay in Indigo City, and help out here”.
“Well if you’re going to stay here, you’re welcome to come and stay with me. I kinda inherited this house just North of the City. See I got it when….”
Pegasus cut Eric’s story off short with a small chuckle. “Eric, that would kind of defeat the whole ‘Stand on my on two feet’”
“Oh right,” Eric replied a little embarrassed. “Well, I’m glad that you’re going to stay. Indigo City can use all the help it gets. Anyways, I think you better rest up now Christian, it’s been a stressful few days for all of us”.
“I think so too”. As Pegasus adjusted himself into a position more suitable for sleeping, he called out to Eric once more before he could leave, “Could you just mention to Sylph and Orion not to wait around for me, now that I’ve decided to stay here?”
“Will do buddy,” Eric said closing the door to the hospital room. As he walked down the corridor, he began to think of the future and what it could hold. Danger, death, destruction, all these were common to Indigo City, but it didn’t matter. He had a purpose now. No matter how difficult it would be, he swore to protect Indigo City and its citizens from Valhalla and any other threat that may arise. As he silently took this oath, he could hear Sydney’s playful comment in the back of his mind: “and try to stay out of trouble while I'm gone..." she grinned more openly, "I won't always be around to save your butt”. Eric smiled to himself *It’s a good thing Pegasus is staying….
Fin
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
The End is the Beginning is the End
Thursday, May 8th, 2003, 10:46 p.m.
Two men rush down a dark alley. Their arms are full almost to the brim with various items. The shorter of the two looks to his side and speaks with a somewhat worried voice.
“But Jack, what if he does show up?” asked the shorter of the two men.
“Trust me, we can handle it Lenny, I ain’t lettin’ no walkin’ Halloween outfit take this big of a score!” said Jack, a tone of nonchalant annoyance in his voice.
“I gotta admit man, you are the only guy that I have ever heard of going up against him and not ending up in jail,” Lenny replied. His voice was still filled with lots of worry.
“Yeah, I kicked his sorry can into next week!” said Jack. “You know, for a guy that sneaks around and beats people up for a livin’ you would think that he could fight better.”
“Oh really?” said a voice from merely five feet in front of them. The two men stopped dead in their tracks as they faced the man. The fear rose, as their eyes were wide with amazement.
“Umm.. Jack,” said Lenny, “You might wanna make a repeat of whateva’ ya did that other time.”
The man looked at Jack and Lenny. A small grin crossed his face as he began walking forward. With every step that he took, the two would-be thieves took a step back.
“Jack,” said The Witness, his figure now coming into a small bit of light from a street lamp, “I thought that you would have learned your lesson the last time I caught you attempting to steal from those that had nothing in the first place.”
Jack took a step forward as he gulped down the rock that was in his throat.
“Yeah, well I ain’t got nothin’ neither!” Jack yelled to this roadblock in front of him. “Think of it this way, the people that I borrowed this stuff from would have been glad to make me a little happier anyway.”
The Witness took a step forward as a small chuckle was heard from deep inside the black shadow that he seemed to emit. The laughter somewhat picked up.
“What? What’s so funny?” Jack said, looking with a confused eye to Lenny, “I say somethin’ funny?” Lenny only returned the estranged look as the two turned back toward The Witness.
“Hmm,” pondered The Witness out loud, “I do believe that was three negatives in one sentence. My Jack, you sure are moving up in the world.” The Witness took a step forward in the confusion to the point where he was right in Jack’s face, looking into the eyes of a man that was filled with fear.
“But the point,” asserted The Witness, “Was that the people that you stole, yes stole these things from were good people. They help take care of their block feeding anyone who could use it, and you stole items that were precious to them. By all means, I should let you hang in the streets at the hands of Ingleton.”
“Aww no,” said Jack, tears beginning in his eyes, “P-Please don’t do that. Look, we’ll take all this stuff back, just please don’t see me hang, please..”
“But Jack,” piped Lenny, “You said you wasn’t givin’ up this score for nothin’.”
“Lenny,” Jack replied as his tone became angry, “I’m runnin’ this show, and you do what I say. And if I say that we are bringin’ all this useless crap back to those folks, then we are. Understand?”
“No,” screamed Lenny, “Screw you Jack! And screw you… Y-you wanna be public avenger!” Lenny struck out at The Witness, dropping all of the things in his hands. Jacks picked up what he could and ran, but no matter, The Witness would take care of him soon enough. Lenny punched and punched at The Witness, and yet he blocked every strike.
“The amount of liquor that I can smell on your breath obviously means that you had a night of drinking at a local bar when the two of you decided to steal from innocent people.” The Witness continued, “Furthermore, the alcohol in your system is slowing your reflexes and quite frankly you are embarrassing yourself at this moment in time sir.”
“Shut up you!” yelled Lenny as he continued to strike out. “I’ll show ya! I’ll show all of ya! I’m gunna’ take down The Witness!”
Lenny struck out with one more punch. This time, The Witness sidestepped and sent a roundhouse reeling into poor Lenny’s cranium. He dropped like a ton of bricks as it were, to the sadness of The Witness. By now the sounds of sirens were in the air, meaning that someone had notified the Liberty Defense Force that there was a scuffle.
“Well you sure did it,” said The Witness as he walks over to Lenny’s fallen body. “Lucky for you, no one hangs on my shift, ever.” The Witness picked up any items that had been left over and secured them under his leather duster. He then propped Lenny up against a wall of the alley.
“There you go,” said The Witness, “You will only get a misdemeanor charge for sleeping in the streets, nothing to hang over.” The Witness smiled as he walked away slowly, almost with finesse. While he was somewhat worried about Jack, he knew that he would run into him again, that man had no way of keeping his nose out of trouble.
Friday, May 9th, 2003, 3:23 a.m.
Victor entered his meager apartment with a small stagger. He closed and locked the door behind him, set down a small briefcase, and then looked around. *Yep, just where I left them.* Victor walked over the pile of clothes in the middle of the main room of the apartment.
“Geez, all the time in the world to save victims of corporate buyout, but no time to do the laundry,” Victor said with a small grin.
After tossing the clothes in the washer, Victor sat down on his couch and turned on his television. Just as he thought, not a darn thing on.
“It really sucks when a lot of the programming from the rest of the world is blocked.. come on..” It was then that Victor realized that he was indeed talking to himself. With no worries, after all, he lived alone in this small two-room apartment. He rose from the couch and walked over to the briefcase that he had placed on the main table as he walked in. He opened it slowly and peered inside. There was all of the gear that helped him dawn the mantle of The Witness. He smiled again as he closed the case and latched it.
He placed the briefcase in the usual hiding spot, the loose floorboard in the kitchen provided for a good hiding spot. He pondered for minute if indeed the board was loose or not… Victor walked over to his answering machine, seeing that it was blinking with two messages. He pressed the play button and began to listen.
“Hello there, uhh, Victor Masterson! We here at Lolan Pharmaceuticals would like to tell you about an amaz-“ Victor hit the delete button right in the middle of the sentence. *I really do hate solicitors And not just that peusdo-hate that is spoken, I mean I REALLY do.. ha...* The next message followed almost immediately.
“Hey Vic, it’s Mac, listen I need you to come in a little bit early tomorrow. We got this new kid today and he needs to be trained in the ‘pizza arts’ ya know? Look I know you probably wanted to sleep in, but I could really use you. Thanks man see ya tomorrow.” Vic deleted the message and walked into his bedroom and reset the alarm clock for four hours earlier than first expected.
“I really do love those guys, but I am not the only one around there that knows what to do,” Victor said out loud again. After he spoke, he kind of pondered on it and just let out a small chuckle as he climbed into bed. His feet hung over the side, which was a surprise since he was so short. He turned off the television as the sounds of sirens, yelling, and things breaking flooded the apartment.
“Oh Liberty,” he said softly, “You noise is like a relaxing hymn.”
NEXT: True Liberty
My name is Ozymandias
4:15 am April 3rd 2003
Kapustin Yar Missile grounds, Russia
The truck’s gears crunched again as Mikhail cursed fluently, this 30 year old relic of Soviet military machinery was not the sort of vehicle he normally drove, but then this wasn’t Mikhail’s normal sort of job. The predawn gloom revealed the outline of a checkpoint across the wide tarmac road. Wide because over a decade ago SS-20 transports had carried their lethal cargo on one last journey.
The Kapustin Yar missile grounds were where, in the late 80’s and early 90’s, an entire class of soviet nuclear missiles had been dismantled and destroyed. Those years had been the heyday of the facility, now it was a decaying monument to forgotten military power.
Mikhail pulled up to the checkpoint and waited. The lieutenant in charge of the post walked over to the cab, gave Mikhail’s papers a cursory glance asked a couple of meaningless questions, grunted at the driver’s replies and then waved the truck through.
Driving through the checkpoint under the bored gaze of a half dozen armed soldiers Mikhail gave a silent sigh of relief. Despite his employers assurances that this operation would go smoothly the thought of what they were about to do terrified him.
Following the map of the base he had memorised Mikhail drove to a low concrete building near the base’s far edge. Two more guards stood in the rapidly lightening darkness, huddled round a heater in a futile attempt to remain warm. Their puzzlement at the truck's arrival was cut short by two muffled ‘whumphs’ and a couple of flashes that were concealed by the body of the truck
Mikhail drove the vehicle over to the large metallic shutters while the remaining occupants of the truck got out. Two men also dressed as soldier’s grabbed the now unconscious guards and slung them into the truck. The third and fourth, one a middle aged man dressed as a colonel in the Russian Strategic Rocket forces and the other a young blond haired woman in unmarked combat fatigues, moved to the doorway by the side of the shutter.
Colonel Aleksei took out two key-cards and handed one to the woman. The cards were inserted simultaneously into their slots and with a sharp click the door opened. The pair disappeared into the darkness beyond and moments later with a rattle the shuttle in front of the truck began to ascend.
The truck drove in and the shutter descended again leaving the two ‘guards’ to huddle near the heater and glance around nervously.
By then the colonel had commandeered a large forklift, Mikhail got out of the truck and walked over. Starting up yet another example of military ineptitude he waited silently for the Aleksei to clamber aboard and followed the colonel’s instructions as he drove through the warehouse.
Reaching the goal of this entire exercise. Mikhail carefully aligned the forks of his truck with the pallet then lifted an entire post-boost phase of a Soviet Pioneer-UTTX nuclear missile. Returning was much slower and the forklift’s motors whined in protest when it lifted the heavy assembly into the back of the truck.
“This is the one?” the blonde woman asked
“Oh yes” The colonel replied
The two unconscious guards were left inside the warehouse when the truck left. No one noticed the shutters opening and closing a second time, nor the sudden disappearance of the ‘guards’. Even the lieutenant failed to notice the truck was now heavily laden when it left the base. Indeed it was nearly 3 hours before the theft was noticed by which time the first truck had rendezvoused with three others which scattered north, south and east, leaving behind the one burning truck and four by now unrecognisable bodies
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
“The Eye of the Storm” part 1
Sunday May 11th, 2003
7:55 PM
Just Outside Crystal City
Down the wet and slippery highway that crossed right by Crystal City, a single car drove. It was a fairly new Jaguar, proving that the owner was probably rich or at least important. And at least where Crystal City was concerned, you rarely got more important than Lori Grant.
Lori’s car was the only one of the road and for good reason; the storm that had so suddenly stuck Crystal City was a fierce one. Even though this was a highway and it went many other places besides the city, the roads were clear. Lori considered that she should have stayed at her Mother’s after all.
Lori drove down the highway at a very slow level. The vast amount of rain had made in increasingly difficult to drive as she had neared the city. The strange thing was that until she got close to the city, the skies had been blue and clear. Now it looked as though the gates of hell had opened and heaven was crying.
Lori saw the sign that signified the exit for Crystal City (the exit closest to her mansion anyway) and she turned down the paved ramp. She looked into the distance, trying to see what color the stoplight was, but she could barley see through the pouring rain. As she closed in to bottom of the ramp, Lori looked down, gasped and slammed onto the brakes. Where Crystal City officially started was water, and a lot of it. The roads were flooded, and Lori doubted if her Jaguar could make it through (and she might not even want to try if it could).
*Damn* she though angrily. This was not what she needed now. She reached over and opened her glove compartment and took out a clear plastic poncho and slipped it on. Then she reached over again and took a white umbrella off of the passenger seat. She opened her car door and instantly felt heavy drops of cold rain come down on her. She opened the umbrella and then stepped out to look around.
Everything was… wet. The trees were wet, the buildings were wet and the ground was not only wet but also definitely flooded, and with at least a foot of water if not more. She wasn’t about to walk through that mess. She reached under her poncho and retrieved a small cell phone. She was going to dial the police and see if they could help her (that was there job after all). Sure, she could fly, but Lori Grant flying over the city was probably not inconspicuous and there were surly to be some people about. She did have her costume in the secret panel under the back seat of her car, but changing into it didn’t seem like a good idea to her.
There was a problem though. Instead of three bars on her cell phone, there were none. Three would mean a fine connection, two would mean a slightly broken one, one she would be lucky to get through, but none? She had never seen none, but it probably meant no way, no how. *Damn*.
It looked like she would have to change into Spectrum after all.
***********************************************************************
Same Time
Crystal City Main street
Seer was taking a walk. In the rain. He was wearing a brown raincoat, boots, and gloves. He had no umbrella, but he didn’t mind. It was Seer’s philosophy that, since everybody was going to die someday, you should enjoy everything about life while you can. If nature gives you rain, you take the rain and be happy with it.
Seer also wore a pair of very dark sunglasses. It was most people’s idea that all oracles or seer’s were always blind. Although he wasn’t Seer always though, *Give them what they want*, and Seer always did.
Fortunately, Main Street was on higher ground than other parts of the city and was not (yet) flooded. It was wet nonetheless, but it was a wetness that Seer could tolerate, almost enjoy.
As Seer walked down the street, an older many with a gray beard a raggedy clothes approached him. “It’s the apocalypse!” the man cried, “The end of the world is near my friend! Prepare yourself!”
Seer looked at the man and then though for a moment. “No,” he said, “I think if the world were ending, I would have seen it coming.” He smiled at the bewildered man (more bewildered than he already was) and then continued his walk.
No, Seer had not seen the end of the world. What he had seen recently (and more and more frequently) was two conflicting forces with a showdown coming up. One force was dark, and the other was light. But while the first force was dark, it was not darkness. The other however, was not only light in essence but also actual light, or so it appeared to him. The dark force was weaker, but had some sort of power that was not its own. Seer had never seen the end of this, or what would come from this showdown of forces. Often, this could mean that the ending was not decided yet, and that actions that would or could take place would create the ending; it was not set it stone.
And something else was troubling Seer this night (well evening actually… but the heavy cloud cover made it seem like night). He had been having more and more visions about his brother, Lucius. These were not good visions… something was wrong with his brother. He did not know what, however, and this annoyed him to no extent. There was always the possibility that his two visions were connected as well. And although he loved his brother, he could not think of his in terms of light or dark… but he knew that Lucius was not “light” itself. So what did it mean, and could he, Seer, have a role in the outcome of the first dream?
Overhead, a bold of lightning flashed and thunder struck with a loud boom. The storm could only get better before it got worse. Right?
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
FROM THE HEAVENS
Part II: Ashes
Deep Within the Bowels of the Vatican
April 1, 2003
3: 33 AM
A crowd of four was assembled in a tiny room located hundreds of feet beneath the Vatican. Only a narrow and cold concrete stairwell separated the room from the nearest quarter. The stairwell, like the room, was lit by torches. Sisters Evija and Evalina carefully climbed down each step, pausing, at some instances, to wonder how such an old stairwell could look so magnificently beautiful. Its wall blocks and steps were flawless. Not a single crack tainted its beauty. The almond steps glowed in the flickering of the torches. The smell wasn’t ruined by any dampness commonly found in underground stairwells. As they approached an oaken door, they gathered their composures. They were summoned by Brother Karlo, indication that his plan of action had begun.
They stopped for a second before the door and looked at each other. Silence surrounded them. With ease, Evija rapped on the door. It promptly slid across allowing the Sisters entrance. At once, their ears were filled with the hums chanted by two unknown and faceless figures. Brother Karlo, as always hooded, turned to them and motioned them over.
“Sisters. Prepare, for He is arriving.”
“What need have you for us, Brother?” asked Evalina.
Brother Karlo spoke quietly and clearly. Yet his voice allowed his words to linger on in the ears of those present. “Six must be present for his awakening. Of which three must bleed for him.” He motioned to the Sisters and then to himself, “We are Three. We are purity. We represent all that is of the Order.” His emotionless stance exuded power. He was not one for grandeur speeches. His words carried enough weight on their own.
The Sisters’ eyes followed a member who was emptying ashes from his clenched hand. The chanting persisted, growing steadily in volume. The hums reverberated off the walls filling the small room with loud thuds. The ashes flowed wistfully, speck upon speck falling into the charcoal-drawn pentacle on the chamber floor.
“From the ashes he shall form. From the blood of our veins he shall rise. He shall only answer to us three. Together, we shall guide him. Use him. He is but ours. It will be a matter of time before we finish our conquest.” Karlo raised his hooded head up and looked at the Sisters with his dark eyes. The thuds from the hums increased even more violently. Evija smirked lightly, reveling in the delight that this creature would bring to her. The control she would have. Evalina gazed into the hooded spectre, knowing full well the extent of power her and her sister would have. She nodded and smiled, extending her arm.
“He has arrived with the hopes of halting conquest. Hope. That alone he has left, for Our creature shall be borne from the purity we seethe and from the wickedness Our Leader exudes. Come. It is soon time. Let us prepare and thus commence.”
The chants rang louder and louder. The last speck of ash fell from the member’s hand. In the middle of the pentacle lay a perfect mountain of charcoal-grey dust. The member whose hand the ashes spilt stepped slowly into the pentacle, careful not to smear the drawing. He knelt down and lifted his hood, revealing a bald head with pupil-less eyes. The flames from the torches flickered, the blue and orange embers reflecting off of his naked head. The chanters continued, their hoods covering everything save their mouths. Brother Karlo and the Sisters looked upon. He packed the mound of ashes into an orb and stepped out of the pentacle.
Brother Karlo waved his Sisters to follow, Evija on his left and Evalina on his right. He brought his hands down and reached inside his cloak to retrieve a knife. Its handle was encrusted with oblong ruby jewels. Karlo didn’t even react when the knife sliced across his forearm, his blood dripping quickly onto the mound. Evija offered her arm next. “Mmmph,” she let out. The blood trickled all around the orb, forming a small pool around its base. It was then Evalina’s turn to bleed. She stuck out her arm, not wincing either in the process. The blood covered the dark orb.
The Three receded their arms and the Sisters backed away, standing behind Brother Karlo. The chants reached their peak volume, the thuds now reverberated off the doors. Brother Karlo began to utter loudly a Latin incantation. He raised his arms in unison with his voice. The orb began to simmer and then combust. Smoke filled the pentacle, the flames from the torches growing.
“Emergi!” Karlo bellowed. “EMERGI!”
The flames exploded in a huge burst and then fanned out instantaneously. The room was dark. The chanting stopped. A smile formed across Brother Karlo’s face, but no one could see. He knew what had happened.
Suddenly, the flames reappeared. Evija and Evalina looked on in joy at what was in the pentacle. A tall, dark-haired being stood there. His cleft chin stood out, enticing the ladies in attendance. The man looked around him, taking in all that was there. The fire. The cold. The Three. The supporting members were gone from sight. He stepped out of the pentacle and approached Brother Karlo. He was concious of where he was.
“Where is he?” he asked, his voice raspy.
“Follow me.” Brother Karlo exited the chamber, followed by the man and the Sisters.
The walk up was a silent one. Brother Karlo was smiling. The man was simply irritated at the long trek. The Sisters were smiling as well. They finally made their way to a door. Karlo opened it and led them inside to where they exited through a trap door. Once in the other room, Karlo nodded to the room’s keeper who unlocked a series of barricades thereby allowing the party to exit into another stairwell. They finally came to an opening where three oaken doors awaited them. Brother Karlo led them into one and they walked into a tunnel. Brother Karlo rapped on a door. It took a few moments but it finally opened. Brother Guido greeted the party.
“Alas. You have returned.” Brother Guido was a little too happy at the sight. He had been locked up in his room, pouring over mountains of data for days.
“Who is he?” asked the man.
“This is Brother Guido. He is the science of the Red Order. He will be your eyes,” replied Brother Karlo. The man simply looked on at the mountainous pile of data and walked to it, picking up and studying some papers. Brother Karlo continued, “Welcome, Adriano.”
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
Sunday, May 11, 2003
Zyrcom Corporate Headquarters, New York
5:32pm Local Time
At least he had a few days to rest, William thought, before the next inevitable crisis the Bavarian Illuminati decided to involve itself with directly arose. Given the events of the past few days, it would not surprise him to be sent after Valhalla again, even if the fact that Observer had acted on his own still surprised everyone. Although with his luck, something new had gone seriously wrong - the world liked to be unpredictable, and sometimes threw new problems up in spurts.
He passed some of the 100-series security robots on the way down the hall to Morgan’s office. The female version of the bots were mechanical but still fairly human looking, though they’d been clothed in security uniforms. The two gauntlets held the nonlethal defences they could employ. *Well, this is comforting* William thought as he reached the office. *Morgan is getting paranoid again.*
Inside the office, a lone 200-Series Tracker stood at attention against the wall. A cord ran from its helmet to a machine on the desk, where Morgan was busy working. “Ah, there you are,” he said when William opened the door. “We’re almost finished programming the unit – we have a major problem, and there is no time for you to recruit additional aid. Codename is Pollux.”
William raised an eyebrow at that. It wasn’t often that a bot was programmed to be under his command during an operation. Something had really gone wrong. “What’s the situation, sir?” he asked, almost not wanting to hear the answer. *And am I cleaning up after Observer’s mess?* Since nobody else was in the room, he assumed the AI would be the one working with Morgan. How he and Feldman could handle talking to a computer program so easily was still beyond him.
“Right up your alley,” said Morgan, not looking pleased at the situation at all. “You get to recover another nuclear warhead.”
That caused William to pause. It had been that sort of special operation against a domestic terror group which lead to his current job in the first place. Now someone else had a bomb? And instead of a team of special forces, he had exactly one soldier under his command. Even then, the soldier was mechanical. “Such delightful news.” The sarcasm was evident as he said this.
Morgan pulled out a remote control and hit a button, part of the wall moving aside to reveal a monitor. Images of a tall, blonde woman filled the screen as the voice of Observer spoke. “This is Shakti Miller,” his voice said. “She matches the description of a woman one of our Russian contacts says stole the warhead component to an SS-20 Mod 2.”
William nodded at that. “I’m with you so far.” He looked seriously at Morgan, wondering if this was the result of a miscalculation on the Illuminati’s part. Those always seemed to have results that were usually this bad. “Russia seems to be turning into a shopping mall for criminals.”
“Criminals, yes,” said Observer, the images changing. Photos of… a dig? Archaeology, palaeontology, or something like that. They were cycling through, probably as the AI located them. One came up of a research team, with a face circled in red. Shakti’s.
“However, an archaeology graduate student is not your normal felon, although the available information leads me to suspect something else is going on here. She was the sole survivor of an apparent raid on the site of a dig in Persia by robbers, before being repatriated and receiving-“
“Skip the history lesson,” William interrupted. Observer could be a real pain at times when he was looking up information, often finding the strangest things fascinating. William was not likely to forget the time that Observer oh so casually remarked about his disciplinary write-up for breaking someone’s arm in a fight back in eighth grade.
“The short version is that our information indicates Shakti and the bomb are both on their way to the States,” Morgan said, still typing away at the machine. “At the very least, she is. We need you to capture her alive. Unfortunately, we don’t know much more than that.”
“Except for the fact that I have intercepted a communiqué between her and a group based out of Nevada,” Observer said. “It refers to the ‘plan’ and asks if everything is on schedule.”
“We’re sending you to Nevada for the time being,” said Morgan. “Observer will contact you when there are more details available.”
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
Tuesday, 13 May 2003
Las Vegas, Nevada suburbs
6:27pm local
When you saw George Bannerman, many things immediately came to mind.
Odds were the first thought that came to mind when not seeing him was that this man was dangerous. It wasn’t just the grungy look that did it. This was a man who looked like he could go toe to toe in a body building competition with Arnold Schwarzenegger and stand a decent chance of winning. The look about him told you that he spent his day working on cars, which made an interesting dilemma for Bannerman.
Because the one thing that George Bannerman did not scream was terrorist. Especially not a member of Earthrage, which up until recently boasted no major successes. A small fringe group, Earthrage just didn’t attract media attention, though it was secretive and organized enough to avoid infiltration. About the only thing the small group had in its favor was its cell structure, so only one or two people knew who all the members were.
Bannerman’s dilemma was simple: he knew that cars helped destroy the environment he longed to protect, but he also hated people more. The only thing that let him continue was the sincere belief that he hated humans more. He felt that humanity had progressed to the point where, as far as the earth went, they had become a virus. The myriad of new diseases that cropped up over the years were little more than the planet reacting as a living organism might: devising ways to destroy the harmful pathogen that threatened to consume it.
People would also be shocked by how well educated that Bannerman was. He had originally been studying medicine before changing career paths, and he looked at the environment through the lens of medicine. That was how he found a sort of ‘organic’ structure to the world, comparing parts of the ecosystem to parts of the human body, and brought him to the conclusion.
******
As he pulled into the driveway of his house, he was pleased to see that none of the neighbors were around. They managed to annoy him in many ways, not the least of which was driving their large, gas-guzzling SUVs. His car might look like a piece of crap to them (another necessity to not draw attention to himself) but it was small and fuel efficient.
He didn’t notice the fact that a 200-Series Tracker, with its guns holstered, was busy observing him from the roof of the apartment complex nearby. This 200 relayed what it saw to a waiting man. The time for action had arrived.
******
George was in the middle of trying to prepare dinner when the doorbell rang. He hit mute on the television, and the anchor abruptly stopped speaking halfway through reporting a cross burning outside of a church whose minister was known to offer help to metahumans. No doubt the Klan would find itself under attack again, perhaps even violently. Through the door, he could see a middle-aged bald man, perhaps in his 40s, wearing a neutral gray suit. The latest issue of the Watchtower in his hand proclaimed boldly the good word.
At least, he thought opening the door, the Witnesses were more tolerable than other people. “Can I help you?” he asked gruffly.
“Good afternoon,” the bald man said. “My name is William. By any chance, sir, have you given any thought recently to the role of scripture in your life?”
“Can’t particularly say that I have, or care to at the moment,” George replied sharply. Maybe he would get the hint and go away, George hoped.
When George went to shut the door, the balding man stepped forward in protest. “Even the Book of Revelation?” he was saying hurriedly, with the air of a man worried about the person he was talking to. “The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand – ‘There will be wars and rumors of wars,’ and don’t we clearly have these?”
That was enough to stop George. A Jehovah’s Witness and an apocalyptic. He decided that this could be fun after all, so would wait and listen. These people were usually amusing. Especially when the analysis could clearly apply to other periods as well. “Alright, I’ll hear what you have to say.”
******
The 200-Series Tracker observed in silence, a microphone sending the conversation to it. All it waited for was the appropriate phrase as it scanned. It knew the target, and that it had to be captured alive. It heard William speaking about the Lamb of God in Revelation, and trying to connect this to Jesus, and how war, famine, and pestilence had to be on the rise as predicted. At one point, the 200 recorded him making a remark about a ‘repeat of the flood.’
William was speaking at the moment about the widows and orphan’s that would be made in the coming years. Death would linger. The 200 designated Pollux never questioned the time it was taking to send the code; then, finally, it heard the right phrase. “Who will help the widow’s sons when that day comes?” William was asking.
The 200 stood up, running towards the edge of the house before jumping off. A burst of jetpack fired as a plane flew overhead. It landed a bit off and proceeded on foot.
******
George continued to talk with the man he now though of as the crazy fundie for a few minutes after the odd question. He was in the middle of asking why he should wonder about this of all things, with the other evils being predicted, when he heard a loud crash coming from the back. “What the hell….?” he muttered, turning to look in there.
George was about to run, when he found the witness now had a pistol in his hand, forcing his way in the house. “Too bad you never read revelation,” he said sarcastically. “’For the great day of their wrath has come, and who can stand?’”
He knew there was exactly one chance to get out of here, though it was risky. Only when he went to punch the bald man in the face, he stepped aside like he knew it was coming. In the moment George had to react, he began a mad dash for the door only to find the floor rising to meet his face. Pressure around his leg said that something had grabbed him – one of Zyrcom’s famous security robots.
The bald man closed the door. “Now, Mr. Bannerman,” he said. “I really hate the deception, but there are a large number of lives at stake. I’m with the National Security Agency, and if you tell me about the nuke, I’ll see what I can do about getting the prosecutor to be lenient with you.”
“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about-“ he started, as the man drug him to his feet and cuffed him to a chair. That security bot just stood there, staring at him. The balding man sighed and shook his head. George’s eyes went wide when he saw the hand grenade. “You, you… what are you going to do?”
“Not much,” the bald man said, playing with the pin in the grenade. George’s eyes went wide, and instantly knew two things: one, this guy was either not from the NSA or the government really did misbehave itself more often than they thought. More importantly, he knew about Earthrage and its plans.
George gulped and tried to struggle when he started doing something with the grenade, placing it between his legs. That only got him seeing stars for his trouble, and coming to with the grenade between his legs. “I wouldn’t move too much,” the bald man said. “You might dislodge the pin, which will leave you with about five seconds to live. I think I’ll just step outside – Pollux, safe distance.” As he continued to speak, the 200 began stepping back from George.
“When you feel like talking, let my bot know. It’ll signal me. If not… well, it’s been nice knowing you.”
About 15 terrifying minutes later, the Fixer knew everything he needed.
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
"The Eye of the Storm" part 2
May 11th, 2003
8:00 PM
The Business Section of Crystal City
“Hurry up Dave!” Matt shouted irritably. “What the hell are you doing in there?”
“Having high tea.” Muttered Dave. “What the hell do you think I’m doing? It isn’t easy to find things in the dark!”
“Well hurry up! I hate standing out in this water—it’s cold!” Matt looked around. The streets of Crystal City were flooded from a sudden storm that had changed the normally bright city into a dismal wasteland of water. That was the bad news. The good news was that the weather made it a prime time to pull a heist; only an idiot would be out here in this weather.
“Yo, Matt man I’ve got it!” Dave trudged through the flooded store and came to an equally if not more flooded street. There, his best friend Matt stood in a sopping rain coat painfully looking at his wrist watch, which he could only hope was waterproof. What Matt held was another watch, and if sold, this one could buy Dave a new watch, Matt a new watch and a magnitude of other such goods. The watch was 24 karat gold with diamond numbers on the face, golden hands and pure rubies surrounding it. It was a real beauty alright.
Matt grabbed the watch out of his friend’s grubby hands and held it up to the sky. Unfortunately there was no sunlight to bounce off the golden time piece, but had there been, it just might have been the nicest thing that either of them had ever seen. Suddenly, Matt realized that a light was bouncing off of the watch, but it wasn’t sunlight. Matt looked up and saw a figure surround with a blinding multi-colored light seemingly flying through the air. The figure came swooping down in front of them and just before he hit thee water, the person created an orb of light surrounding them. As the came down, the orb pushed the water out of the way and the person landed without getting a single spec of liquid on him.
Matt pulled out his handgun from his pocket and pointed it at the guy… or girl. Now that he could see clearly (his eyes got used to the light), he was pretty sure that it was a woman inside that ball of light. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’d say your worst nightmare but I’d be afraid of sounding corny.” The woman said in an impatient tone. “Now hand over the watch before I really have to embarrass you.” Matt stood still. David, looking unsure, backed up a bit. The gun was still pointed at Spectrum. “Fine. Shoot me. I dare you.”
“What?” Matt yelped, growing more nervous.
“I said shoot me. You seem to want to.”
Matt looked at the woman before him… and then pulled the trigger on the gun. He had never killed a person before, and wasn’t sure what he was getting himself into. As it turned out he didn’t have to worry. The bullet bounced harmlessly off of the light-shell and ricocheted into the water without harming a soul.
“Whoa…” Dave said.
“Wha—who the hell are you?” Matt cried.
“You asked me that before.” Spectrum said dryly. Before Matt could respond, the shell exploded in a cornucopia of color, blinding the two men. Spectrum shot forward and pressed her hands over Matt’s eyes. She once again generated light, this time strong enough to knock the would be thief unconscious with a seizure. Before he could fall, she created a platform of light that floated in the air and rested his body on it. She turned her attention toward Dave. “Are you ready to turn yourself in, or do you want to go on?”
“That’s enough Spectrum, we’ve got it.” A voice from behind Spectrum said. She turned around to find Commissioner Graham Wood and two other officers standing in the pouring rain. He signaled to the two other men with him and they went and cuffed a shocked Dave and got an unconscious Matt. The Commissioner walked up to Spectrum and said, “Some night, huh.”
“What caused all of this?” Spectrum pleaded. “This storm? I’ve never seen anything like it and the roads are already impassible!”
“Honestly? We have no idea. The weather men are as confused as a chicken with its head cut off, and the mayor had declared a state of emergency. If this continues we’re going to have to evacuate the city.”
“Yeah…” Spectrum thought for a moment. “There will probably be a lot of looting… and some people will refuse to leave. I should probably stay here for a while and help. I’m sure you guys are all tied up with whatever the hell is going on here.”
***
May 11th, 2003
8:10 PM
The very center of Crystal City
In the center of Crystal City, between the residential, business and casino districts, there was a tall building. It had been a radio tower, or had been a radio tower. In recent years, it had been used as small offices or storage areas. Currently, there were none of these things in it. The only thing in it was several rented rooms, by a person under the name of Derrick Steel. That name, was fake, and the person who had used it had no proof that this was his name.
But money had a funny way of letting you do whatever you wanted.
Thus, several rooms had indeed been rented out to a person by the fake name of Derrick Steel with little hesitation. Five rooms were rented out. One had had a metal table, and nothing more. The second was used as an office. The last three were bedrooms—one of the bedrooms was given to two men, one was given to one man, and the last was given to two women.
Presently, Seer, one of the men, but not the one who had used the name Derrick Steel, was walking up the long flight of stairs to the room that he shared with his brother, the one who had used the name of Derrick Steel. On his way up, he stopped in the office of his brother, and found him jovially reading some papers.
“You seem happy.” Seer commented. “Especially considering the weather.”
“Oh, it doesn’t bother me.” Lucius Blackwall answered happily. “In fact I rather enjoy it. I’m just happy to I’m finally finishing some business that I should have finished a long time ago.” He got up and walked around the room. “Yes… I’ve acquired a rather unusual thing… I’m not sure if there’s another like it in the whole world. Quite useful when you learn how to use it.”
“What is this… thing?”
“Nothing that would concern you, brother.” Lucius closed in on his brother, and Seer had the strange and sudden urge to run away. Something was not quite right. “However, I would advise you not to walk around freely in the streets. This place could be quite dangerous for you and me right now.”
“Because of the storm…?”
Lucius smiled in a wide and frightening grin. “Yes. Because of the storm.” Without another word, Seer retreated back into the hallway and continued up another flight of stairs into his room. What he wanted to do right now was meditate. If he meditated, he could perhaps find the answers to what he was looking for, and maybe find out what was wrong with his brother.
* “I’ve acquired a rather unusual thing… I’m not sure if there’s another like it in the whole world.” *
No, something was not right at all. The way his brother had spoken… it was as if he himself had been responsible for this sudden storm. How he had been so happy… the unusual item… but a person could not simply make a storm. No, that was impossible.
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
Lamb to the Slaughter
Part One - Homesick
Sunday, 11th May 2003 – 11:30am
Melbourne, Australia
It was raining. Not good, wholesome rain that washed the streets clean, or even the sort of rain that would water the grass on the nature strip effectively. It was that splatty, late-autumn rain that drizzles down and gets everything damp without making anything smell fresh. In fact, it was accentuating the smell of mould that slunk out from the bathroom and into this bedroom where it ambushed Ela’s nostrils.
She sat on the edge of the windowsill in her flat, her face pressed up against the grimy glass, staring out of the window at the cracked oil-stained concrete that served as a communal driveway for all the flats in this block. A pale rectangle left by a recently departed car was slowly being filled in by the fine droplets.
Ela’s sigh fogged up the glass briefly before the mist receded to show the dreary streetscape clearly once more, her expression as bleak as the view outside. Today was the 11th of May. Mother’s Day, ironically, since it was the second Sunday of the month. More importantly, it was her mother’s birthday.
Today her mother was turning 48 years old, and for the first time in her life Ela wouldn’t be there to share it, just as her family had missed her own eighteenth birthday back in January. Four and a half months had passed since that horrific day the men had come to Alpana Station, and in all that time she’d been good.
Four and a half months of heeding her mother’s warning and avoiding all contact with her old life.
Four and a half months of wondering if her family and friends were all right.
Four and a half months of knowing they were worrying about her.
Four and a half months.
It was eternity.
“God knows when I might see you again...They’ll be watching for some time.”
Her mother’s words echoed in her mind. …some time… Maybe four and a half months were enough?
Grabbing her jacket, she swept out of her crappy flat before she had a chance to change her mind. She’d seen spy movies – she knew not to call from anywhere near home, so she caught a tram to the city. Sitting on the tram as it clattered down Victoria St past the bustling Sunday ‘Vic Market’ she stared at the continuing rain and rationalised to herself. Everything must surely have blown over at home by now. Mum and Dad were probably anxiously waiting for her to contact them so they could tell her it’s ok to come home again. Yeah. That’s how it would work. She could go home. She spared a pang of regret for the people in the oncology ward at Western Hospital, but the overwhelming homesickness was too powerful for her to ignore.
Soon the tram reached its terminus at Elizabeth Street, opposite Flinders St train station. The orange-hued stonework stood out in stark relief against its grey companions. What interested Ela in it, though, was the bank of telephones she knew were just inside. She pushed through the few people gathered to board the tram on its return journey and crossed the busy street to the echoing interior of the station.
The receiver felt cold and heavy in her hand, but surrounded by the city smells Ela couldn’t help but think about how nice it would be to go back home. All it would take was this one phone call. They’d tell her everything was fine and she could go back to her real life. No more running from city to city. She could get out of this limbo of semi-existence.
Clank – clink – chung! The one-dollar coin rattled into the mechanism and the familiar buzz of the dial tone sounded in her ear. She began pushing the numbers that would reconnect her with her old life. To wish her mother a happy birthday, to tell her family that she was all right. And hopefully to find out that the crisis was over.
She pushed five or six numbers, then slowly replaced the handset. Her unused coin clanked back into the change slot and she leant her forehead against the phone for a moment. People bustled about their business behind her, heedless of the despondent girl by the bank of phones. Then her thoughts flitted to the packet of ginger nuts. The unopened biscuits still sat by her bed, a strange souvenir of her 17 years and 11 months of living with a family who loved her.
With renewed resolve, she fished out the rejected coin and reinserted it, listening to its passage through the mechanism once more before dialling again. This time she pushed all ten numbers. After what seemed like forever, the ringing stopped and a female voice answered crisply, “Hello, Alpana Station.”
Ela swallowed a lump that formed in her throat. “Mum?” she choked out, “Mum, it’s me.”
Stunned silence greeted her for a moment. Then her mother’s voice lost its businesslike phone manner. “Ela, sweetie? Oh my God. Are you all right? Oh…”
Her mother’s voice trailed off into sobbing gasps. At Flinders Street crowds continued to pass by Ela, no more concerned about her open crying now than they were about her quiet despondence earlier.
“Mum, I’m ok. I’ve been laying low like you said. Working for cash. But I had to ring you today, you know. I… I miss you so much.”
“Ela, sweetie, you must hang up now. It’s lovely to hear your voice. I’ve missed you terribly, too. But hang up, please.”
“But Mum, I thought it must have been long enough. Can’t I come home?”
“No, sweetie. I love you. But you have to go. I love you.”
The line went dead and Ela stared at the receiver in her hand, incredulous. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, the bustle of humanity sweeping by her and the station loudspeakers announcing train arrivals, but eventually she replaced the handset. Her mind numb with sorrow and filled with unanswered questions, she retraced her steps to the tram terminus. The sensation of numbness remained with her on the tram until it reached the bus transfer at Highpoint Shopping Centre.
Unable to face the bleak reality of her current home, Ela waited for the bus there to take her to the Western Hospital. At least there she felt useful and wanted. Trudging up the stairs to the oncology ward seemed to take all her energy, and for the first time she wondered if she would be capable of doing anything for the patients here today except just hold their hands. When she arrived there, the nurses in the oncology ward looked at her with concern and asked if she was feeling all right.
Ela just wiped the tears away and nodded. “I’m fine,” was all she would say.
Soon she was sitting in a room next to Thomas Sayer, holding his yellowed hand. Tom had colon cancer, but his eyes lit up whenever Ela entered the room. They chatted quietly for a minute as Ela rested her fingers in his. The tingle started in her fingertips and she smiled despite herself. Tom’s pain would lessen soon. If only she could do something about her own.
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
Saturday, May 10th 2003
10:08pm Nevada Desert
Mel pulled her Toyota Landcruiser to a stop, engaged the hand brake and switched off the engine. An alarm sounded and she switched off the lights, rested her arms on the steering wheel and sighed. She was an hour from the nearest road; Las Vegas was to the south of her, its bright lights hidden by the horizon. With the dry air minimising any backscatter the night was dark, clear and crisp. Alone in the desert, far from signs of human habitation, Mel could almost imagine she was the last person on earth.
After sitting in silence for a few minutes she raised her head from where she had rested it against her arms and with a definitive motion opened the door of her car and stepped out. She walked round to the back of the vehicle and opened it. She took a little time to check her position and both her fuel and water. Two years of trips into the desert had taught her to be careful; especially when she was so far away from help.
Once she was happy with her precautions Mel closed up her car and walked a little way from it. She stopped and between one breath and the next raised her defences. Blue white light washed outwards illuminating the darkness. Mel shivered, though the sudden sense of coolness was not unexpected. Forcing herself to relax against the tightness in her skin Mel closed her eyes and tried to concentrate.
Moments later eight lines of light arced out of her back, Mel had given some thought to her take-off, the rather standard run and jump seemed lacking somehow and she had decided that the Wachowski brothers had had the right idea. With a bend of the knees her rather abstract wings spread wider and then thrust downwards as she launched herself into the air.
Her SUV dwindled in size as she gained both height and speed until it disappeared completely, lost in the darkness. Mel continued to climb until the faint glow of her home city appeared on the horizon, then she arched her back, dipped her right shoulder and dived for the ground. Luxuriating in sheer freedom of her flight, Mel swooped through a series of precipitous dives, sharp climbs, snap turns and barrel rolls. She laughed in joy as she sped across the desert meters from the ground before climbing again to hover more than a thousand feet above the ground.
Hanging in mid air the dark ground beneath her, the brilliant desert stars above her Mel exulted in her power but as the adrenaline of her flight slowly faded other less pleasant concerns intruded. She needed to practise other abilities and her exuberance had already wasted half the night. She descended slowly towards the ground, breathing deeply to drive away the sudden sense of nausea that assaulted her.
On the ground she found a boulder to serve as a target, settling at the extreme of her range she focused on bringing forth the destructive aspects of her gift. Additional energies scintillated across her fingers and with a sharp gesture she directed it at the rock.
A silver-blue bolt leapt across the distance to strike the boulder, driving a splinter of rock into the night. Mel let her hands fall to her sides. Her gaze slipped away from the rock to rest on the distant stars and Mel stood there glowing in the darkness for a few minutes. Finally she refocused her attention on the rock and raised her hands again.
A second bolt flew from her hands and then another and another until a seemingly continuous flow of energy crossed the space between Mel and her target. Each bolt chipped at the surface until the boulder’s entire surface was pitted with small craters and cracks.
Mel’s hands traced the rough outline of a sphere and instead of a simple bolt a glowing ball of light flew from her hands. It struck the boulder and the darkness was illuminated by more than just Mel’s forcefield. A second and third spheres detonated in the night driving spider web cracks across the rock’s surface. The spheres came much more slowly than the bolts, often it took Mel a couple of tries to form a globe of light and project it but as time passed her control seemed to improve and by the end of quarter of an hour she had reduced the stone to so much shattered rubble.
Mel walked slowly forward to inspect her handiwork before casting around to seek a second target. Her gaze alighted on a second rock. Rolling her shoulders Mel summoned her concentration then raised her arms. It was no simple bolt or sphere of energy that lanced from her clenched fists but a bar of liquid light. The rock was ground to dust in minutes and though Mel faltered in her concentration once the result was a forgone conclusion.
*Well that was easy enough, let’s try it flying* By now a headache had taken up residence behind her eyes but Mel knew that she need to practise using all her gifts at once. As she flew patterns over the ground she practised her attacks again and though the bolts came more slowly, the spheres slower still and the bar of light flickered and strobed by the end of another hour Mel had had enough.
She raised her eyes to the stars and let the wind whip through her hair as she raced back into the sky. A thousand feet up she let her wings vanish and glided through a ballistic arc totally free for seconds. Before gravity ended her life she reclaimed her mastery of the air and stilled her downward fall, briefly hovering in the air once more she turned unerringly towards her car and flying gently back.
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
“The Eye of the Storm” part 3
May 11th, 2003
8:30 PM
The Former Crystal City Radio Tower, the Center of Crystal City
The top floor of the radio tower that Lucius Blackwall and his associates was where “The Weapon”, as it was often referred to as, was kept. The weapon was lying on a metal slab, raised off the ground by a short pillar. Hovering always over “The Weapon” was the former schizophrenic, Dream Weaver.
Dream Weaver had stood above “The Weapon” since it had been but on this slab, and had never moved. To an outsider, it would seem as if he was in some sort of trance, but to those who knew him it would mean something completely different. Dream Weaver’s power was a strange and often scary one indeed.
On the opposite side of the slab was the woman, or perhaps girl, known as Serenity (and for good reason; this was her real name as well as her code name). Although she did not have the dedication that Dream Weaver had, she was standing next to “The Weapon” more often than she wasn’t. Currently, she was muttering something or other under her breath, which would signify the use of her power.
Of the wall farthest from the metal slab was another woman, Chameleon. She was watching, observing. In her ears were cotton plugs. Although Serenity was talking very softly, there was always the chance that Chameleon might here and therefore fall asleep and that could not happen. Lucky Dream Weaver did not have the same problem; when in a trance, a French horn playing could not wake him.
Serenity stopped her sweet muttering and looked around at the dismal gray room, not furnished with the slightest convenience. She turned her back to “The Weapon” and walked towards Chameleon. The latter had been very close to dozing off, because of boredom (not because of Serenity), and Serenity shook her to wake her.
“Chameleon,” Serenity said, making sure she wasn’t using her power. Serenity had the voice of an angel, and it was often hard for her to tell whether she was using her power or not. She knew she wasn’t this time, however, so she continued, “have you… noticed anything different about Lucius lately?”
Chameleon took the earplugs out of her ears slowly, as if expecting she would fall instantly asleep when she did, and then looked at Serenity. “Different? No, not really. I mean, he has been in his office a little more than usual, but I assume that’s because he’s awaiting a call from the mayor’s office. I think he sent out the ransom note a few days ago.”
“And what are we ransoming, the whole city?” Serenity asked with a smile. Even though she was under a lot of stress, she couldn’t help but find the though a little funny—*If you ever want to see your precious city alive again…*-- but below that there was a little… fear? And why not; she had never pulled anything this big, not with “Mind Block” and certainly not with her “dear” brother who had turned out to be not so dear. There were about a million things that could go wrong with something like this. “Just… can’t you talk to him? I know something is the matter with him. I can’t do it because I’m supposed to be staying here but…”
Chameleon looked at the girl, and then rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll talk to him, but I bet you fifty bucks that nothing is wrong with him.”
“Deal.” Serenity answered smiling. Chameleon went towards the door, shot one look back at Dream Weaver and saw that he was still in a trance and continued. Serenity silently followed her; even if she was supposed to be at her post, what Lucius didn’t know couldn’t hurt him… or her. Chameleon finally made it down the stairs and outside of Lucius’s office. She knocked on the door and said, “It’s Maggie, can I come in?”
“Wha.—oh. Okay, okay come in.” A voice form inside said. Chameleon opened the door and went in, as Serenity hid herself behind the door, making sure she could listen in.
When one went into the office of Lucius Blackwall was order. That was a given. This was why Chameleon knew something was wrong when she went into his office that day; folders and papers were scattered everywhere. She could barely see his floor, never mind his desk. Lucius himself was lounging back in his chair, a look of… nothing… on his face.
“Mr. Blackwall? Are… you all right?” Chameleon asked tentatively.
“All right? Of course I’m all right! Never better. Why do you ask?” Lucius replied in rapid succession.
“Um… well it’s just that it isn’t like you to leave papers out everywhere like this… and Serenity said that she noticed you were acting differently lately.”
“Serenity?” Lucius asked in sudden surprise. He lowered his eyebrows and his voice. “When did she tell you this?”
“Just before when--”
“When she was supposed to be doing her job? Why was she talking to you… and, and… why were you listening?” Lucius had burst into a sudden rage that not only surprised Chameleon, but scared her as well.
“Whoa… listen boss, calm down.”
“Calm down?! Calm Down?! How dare you tell me to calm down!” Lucius jumped up from where he was sitting in a rage. “What do you think I do here all day, play solitaire? I do my job, and that’s what I thought all the rest of you were doing!”
“Lucius! The Mayor should call about the ransom money any time now, so stop worrying--”
“Ransom money? Ransom money? He, He, He. You know Maggie, that really is funny.” Lucius got a sly grin on his face as he moved over to a metal chair leaning against a wall. “Because there really isn’t any ransom money, because there really isn’t any ransom note. This city will burn to the ground and the world will be a better place because of it.” Without any warning, Lucius picked up the metal chair and spun around with amazing force. The chair collided with Chameleon’s head. The woman let out a gasp as she fell to her knees. Lucius hit her again in the head, and then a third time. Finally Chameleon passed out onto the floor.
Lucius put down the chair and shook his head. As he looked around he whispered one word; “Serenity…”
Serenity, who had heard the whole thing, ran back the way she came, fighting back tears. Yes… something was different about Lucius Blackwall. He may have lost his mind.
May 11th 2003
8:30 PM
The residential district of Crystal City, the poor section
The roads were flooded with at least a foot of rain, which was probably a new record for the area. Even if it wasn’t, it was the worst that Emma Conroy had ever seen in all the years she had lived in Crystal City. She and her daughter, Anna, had gone emergency food shopping, but they had never expected such a disaster. Now, with there car stuck, the pair were forced to trek through the cold waters. Emma was holding 5 year old Anna in her arms.
The lights had gone out, and there were no phones. What there was was water, that and a lot of lightning flickering above. This scared Emma because lightening was attracted to water and she was beyond drenched.
When the lightning stuck, it didn’t stike Emma or her daughter (which was quite fortunate). What it did strike was a nearby tree, which would have probably been dead the next morning anyway do to too much water and wind stress. As the lightning stuck, the tree split in half horizontally, and the top half started to come down on top of Emma.
Emma let out a scream as did Anna, but neither of them had to worry. Right in front of their eyes, a brightly clad woman was standing and emitting a strange light in the form of a shield. As the shield held the tree up, the woman cried “Move!” Emma and Anna followed instruction and got out of the way. The woman did the same and the tree fell to the ground.
“Are you both alright?” the woman asked.
“Oh, yes, thank you!” Emma cried, delighted. “Are you… are you that Spectrum woman I’ve heard about?”
“Yes, that would be me.” Spectrum answered. “But you’ve got to get out of here, the mayor declared a state of emergency and nobody is allowed to be out!” *Yeah, the mayor declared a state of emergency after the power went out, after the phones went out, and after the police couldn’t even use their vehicles.*. They mayor was not known for his speed or decisiveness. Spectrum reminded herself not to reelect him.
Suddenly, the fire escape from the above building made aloud creaking sound and started to fall. Emma let out another scream, but Spectrum created an “orb shield” (as she liked to call it) that surrounded the three of them. The falling ladders hit the shield and fell away. Above them however, Spectrum saw a young boy, hanging from a window sill. He had apparently been on the fire escapes.
Spectrum flew up and grabbed the kid before he fell. He pointed to an open window and she let him in before floating to the ground. “Listen you two,” she said angrily at the people on the ground. “Unless you want to get hurt you two had better get inside this building.” The door to the building was already broken from flying debris so the two just stepped in. “Just stay there until the storm goes down.” The two nodded, and Spectrum turned to go away.
“Spectrum!” a voice called from across the flooded road. Spectrum recognized that voice as Commissioner Wood, who was once again paying her a visit. He had an odd look on his face. “I have news… but I don’t know if it’s good or bad.”
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
Thursday, 15th May 2003
11:23pm
The Hoover Dam, Nevada
Earthrage just had to be ambitious and attack the Hoover Dam. Of all the places, William thought, couldn’t they have picked somewhere less suited to defence?
Granted, a success at that location on their part would make some very big news. His only hint that something had happened was a report that the 300-Series security robot on patrol next to the road had opened fire on employees. This being near evening, there were far less people actually around than before. Then the news lost contact with people inside – only reports of gunfire had been heard.
Police sealed off the road which wound over the top of the dam, out of safety concerns for a malfunctioning bot. Which soon turned to paranoia after realising that it was probably more than security on the fritz – a condition which lead to the Fixer having to find a way to approach from the opposite side.
William had climbed on top of one of the rocky outcroppings to the side, steel towers carrying power overhead. Peering through a pair of binoculars, he watched a lone 300-series bot near the road scanning back and forth. Pollux sat in a crouched position, no doubt scanning for targets and waiting for the signal to proceed from its controller.
He carefully considered the weapons he’d been able to acquire for the counter strike: in addition to his pistol, it was one of the occasions he carried a submachine gun. Four grenades also accompanied him on the trip, though he knew that he had to be very careful with these. Looking through the binoculars, he could see some movement up on the road near the middle.
“Pollux, follow,” he commanded, heading back towards the road.
Mel hung in the air seemingly suspended from the arcs of light that were her wings, beneath her lay Nevada 147 a ribbon of tarmac that ran through the desert, north from Las Vegas and along the edges Lake Mead. As far up as she was and against the night sky Mel hoped she was easily mistaken for a plane or when she was hovering perhaps a star.
So far she’d been careful her flights had avoided civilisation in all it’s forms but tonight was different tonight she would announce her existence to the world. A simple flight down Lake Mead and over the Hoover Dam would generate enough witnesses and then there truly would be no going back…
“No or never…” Mel took a deep breath to calm the butterflies in her stomach and let the power that held her in the air slip. She fell and enjoyed the brief moments of free fall before her power kicked back in to twist her in the air and take control
Now she was diving at the road, it grew before her eyes. That black ribbon growing from a trickle into a stream into a river. Her back arched the arc’s of light snapped outward and her dive turned into a headlong rush along the ground.
Her hands reached out into the air ahead of her stretching for some phantom that stayed maddeningly beyond her grasp. Her speed increased until the earth blurred beneath her and moments later she crossed the shoreline. The boundary between earth and water.
The Fixer stopped for a moment partway down the road. “What the hell….?” he said in mild confusion. A light, moving about the speed of a fast helicopter, dancing around. Perhaps plunging downwards was a better description. He hoped that it was just his mind playing tricks on him – nothing in his planning suggested a glowing thing flying around. When it vanished beyond the shoreline, he blinked twice in confusion before remembering the mission.
Standing in the middle of the road was not a place you wanted to be when a robot with two 7.62 caliber miniguns was patrolling. Not if you wanted to avoid developing a complexion which resembled Swiss cheese.
He ducked down, and made a motion to Pollux with his hands. Planning with a bot took a lot of time, though the link to the AI had helped immensely. The bot moved to the opposite side, halting along the 300’s patrol path. Its sensors detected the foreign invader, and caught on. “Halt,” the mechanical voice ordered. “You are trespassing.”
William considered himself fortunate that he had the shot-up remains of a car to hide behind to avoid his own detection. The large robot stood there as he pulled the pin from a grenade, and tossed it to land between the legs of the bot. There was a loud explosion, and the sound of its weapons firing could be heard.
Venturing a glance up, William resisted the urge to cheer. The 300’s right leg had been destroyed, leaving the unit unable to balance and fallen over. It would now be a simple matter to pass behind the dangerous bot.
Though he had to stop again several moments later. The light returned.
“What the…” the sudden explosion to her left startled Mel and she pulled sharply into a vertical climb. Having gained a little altitude she locked down to see two men moving past the remains of some sort of robot.
The robot seemed vaguely familiar and she hovered for a second *Zyrcom! That’s a security robot.* She looked at the two interlopers tonight was supposed to be a simple fly-by but if someone was attacking the dam… Mel made a decision if she was going to be a superhero she might as well start now despite the sudden need to vomit that had crept up on her.
She concentrated there were probably other security bots around so she really just need to wake things up, stir the nest a little. If they was smart they’d surrender. A glowing sphere of energy formed in her hands *I’m high enough up I don’t think it’ll catch them in the blast.* Mel thrust out her hand and impelled the sphere down towards the two men.
The Fixer stopped short when there was another explosion in front of him. “Shit!” he swore loudly, dropping to the ground and out of instinct as his rifle came up. Nobody seemed to be coming down the road. Which meant….
His eyes looked up to the glowing object hanging there. Seemed perfectly reasonable that the blast had come from there, which meant either a would-be hero or Earthrage having access to a meta. *So much for the plan.*
When Pollux reached him, he turned to the bot to issue a new order. “Disable that light. Lethal force authorized.”
“As you wish,” it said in the toneless voice of Zyrcom’s most expensive security bot. It drew both of its pistols, gauged the distance then began running down the road. Fixer started heading further in at the same time, hoping that the bot could at least prove a sufficient distracted. Every moment mattered doubly now. With one final glance back, he saw the bot jump over the side as a burst of its jetpack ignited.
“What a stupid bot,” he muttered in disbelief. It would probably run out of fuel long before disabling what he could only presume was a meta.
Mel flinched back when she saw the second man start firing at her. But the distance was too great for his weapon and she sighed in relief when she realised his shots were falling short. The sudden burst of flame caught her by surprise though
*Shit!* An energy bolt leapt from her hand towards her attacker since with adrenalin flooding her system she wasn’t concentrating enough for something more exotic. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, the energy bolt dissipated harmlessly before it struck him
*Ok I know this is a fight or flight situation but focus!* The figure flew closer it’s guns still firing, beyond him she saw the second man running towards the dam. She flung a second sphere at her flying opponent and darted downwards hoping the blast would give her the distraction she needed.
She was however quite surprised when the figure literally exploded into pieces. *OH MY GOD!*
It would have been better, Fixer thought, if the bot had just run out of fuel and crashed into the bottom of the valley below the dam. At least then, there would be some chance that the attempt to enter the place was undetected. As it was, there was now a very bright and loud fireworks show which seemed to scream “AIM HERE!”
There was a group setting up something in the middle, he knew that. Probably the bomb – and there would be at least 6 total people from the group present, including Shakti and whoever was running the 300. Hope of remaining undetected was dispelled a moment later as the next gunshots ran out.
Fixer made a mad dash for a concrete tower, using that for cover as he fired randomly. By his guess, it was probably two or three people trying to shoot at him. Only they were a bit on the organized side, firing a few times, and then shooting again when he tried to get his bearings.
Which was when he remembered the light, now on its way towards him again.
Bvvvvvmmmm
A blue green line of light lanced into the night air. Missing Mel by mere inches two more followed quickly after as Mel desperately tried to dodge “I’m one of the good guys!” she screamed in sudden anger. The barrage of energy beams continued as Mel ducked and wove through the air *Ok! That's it!* Mel slammed a energy sphere down towards the group in the centre of the dam and headed towards cover.
*What now?* Fixer wondered when the blue-green line of light aimed for the silver-blue one. There were now two energy-throwing people involved. He didn’t know how strong the green energy beam was, but he was betting that it was powerful. Looking at the other light, he could finally make out wings of a sort.
What were the possibilities? Metahumans or technology, only that kind of technology didn’t exist on Earth. He noticed the next blast directed from the winged person. *Please, dear god, don’t let them hit the nuclear warhead* was the overwhelming thought in his mind.
Mel’s sphere got within 10 feet of the group in the centre before detonating. The explosion scattered the group and stopped the energy beams that had been chasing her around the sky. Taking advantage of the momentary lull in firing she had caused Mel dived down to land atop the dam, she flicked a couple of energy bolts towards the group in the centre and sprinted to the concrete upright where second ‘intruder’ was.
Energy crackling from her fingertips Mel directed her at the man in front of her. “Ok what the hell is going on?”
Fixer was a bit surprised to find the woman standing in front of him not immediately trying to kill him. Combat precognition was a small blessing: if she was really going to kill him, he would know. Probably too late to do anything about it, from the ability she had displayed so far.
In his most officious voice he said, “What’s going on here is you’re interfering with a highly classified NSA operation. And stop throwing those exploding balls of light around, unless you want to set off the atomic weapon I was in the middle of trying to recover.” With luck, she really was a would-be do-gooder who would decide to cooperate. If not, he was screwed.
Another few shots rang out, as the pair ducked, Fixer returned fire. When he was out of ammo, he dropped the spent clip to reach for a second.
Mel concentrated and yet another sphere of light appeared however instead of projecting it towards her target she simply bent down and rolled it across the top of the dam.
“They’re getting closer! and these exploding balls of light are the only thing keeping them back.” Mel looked around the area other than the concrete stanchions there wasn’t a scrap of cover “Sit tight I’m going to distract them”
Mel’s wings arched out and with a deep knee bend she leapt straight up into the air accelerating as hard as she could. A couple of hundred feet up and apparently out of range of the enemies weapons, she glanced down took in the position of the large crate on the dam then she arched her flight to the opposite side of the dam from the NSA agent and accelerated.
Diving down towards the dam she practically pivoted in the air and raced along the top no more than thirty feet from the concrete. Moving as fast as she could, jinking like crazy and praying nobody managed to shoot her she unleashed her argent fire in a spear of brilliance that scoured the concrete’s surface
Fixer was one part impressed with the fancy flying, and one part pissed off at the simple fact that she had been cautioned as to what was in the large crate. Still, she was the distraction that he needed. Augmented reflexes worked overtime when he moved from behind his cover to dart forward. This time, as the submachine gun fired, it found two marks.
4 left most likely, plus Shakti, who would hopefully be captured alive.
Bvvvvvmmmm
Another beam of green energy lanced out in the woman’s direction, this time striking one of the concrete barriers. Seeing the effect on the barrier, he was immediately glad the beam hadn’t hit the woman either time. He fired at a shape in the dark, barely missing. He felt the danger of a shot, dropping and rolling.
Another warning tingle occurred in mid-dive, when Fixer could no longer control his movements. He screamed in pain, dropping the rifle when he felt the round tear into his leg. Staying down, he drew his pistol to return fire before dragging himself towards a modicum of cover.
The 300 series security bot lumbered into the middle of the dam and took aim at Mel as she spiralled through the air, with a roar gouts of flame leapt from the bot’s arms as it’s miniguns spat high velocity lead towards the flying woman.
Mel ducked below the level of the dam, she was rapidly realised her high visibility was counter productive - she had no way of surprising these guys. Only her speed, sheer maneuverability and quite probably her force field had kept her alive so far and having seen what the enemy’s energy bolts did to concrete she doubted she’d survive a hit.
On top of that she had to avoid hitting a nuclear weapon which effectively neutralised her most potent attack. Mel circled the dam constantly tracked by the robot. The agent was down hiding behind some fallen rubble he was almost certainly dead if Mel didn’t do something soon
She dropped down to the level of the water and picked up speed again. This close to the surface the robot was having trouble tracking her though she still had to weave and jink since the energy blasts continued, leaving gouts of water in her wake.
*Now!* Mel released a single globe of energy and hit the robot dead centre, with a satisfying crump the detonation ripped the robot apart cooking off it’s ammunition in the process As Mel climbed above the dam again she looked back and smiled *Ha! Luke Skywalker eat your heart out*
Fixer popped his head up during the explosions of the other bot to open fire on another of the Earthrage group. Fortune was only partly on his side: in his death, his body spun sideways as he fired. Other members were sent scattering for cover, one of them taking a shot to the midsection. Half-dragging himself across the ground, he made his way towards where the nuke was. 2 people and Shakti were left, still focusing on the woman.
The Fixer stopped for a moment in pain. After steadying himself, he was took careful aim at one of the last terrorists. With luck, he could hit the two next to Shakti and have her targeted. He fired twice quickly, watching the other two go down, a silver-blue beam of energy going awry. Another burst of precognition told him to start moving – NOW.
Rolling quickly, he howled in pain again as he put pressure on the wounded leg. The next time that he opened his eyes, he noticed that Shakti had picked him up and was using him as a shield. He could see a ray gun of some sort fire again. His combat sense kicked in one last time, as a sign cautioned him to watch his step. *Oh shit!*
Mel watched as the agent shot the rest of the people around the crate, all except for the one throwing energy beams her way. She started another run against the woman dodging the blue-green beams and hoping for one last piece of luck. Unfortunately for practically everyone involved the energy beam from the woman on the dam came perilously close to Mel and in a desperate attempt to avoid further beams her own attack landed perilously close to the agent.
By the time she’d turned around the woman was holding the agent as a shield and firing again towards Mel. Mel hovered outside the range of the blasts and pondered. While she did so the woman moved towards the edge of the dam. Firing two quick blasts in Mel’s direction she onehandedly heaved the agent over the edge.
“No!” Mel dived for the falling man flinging energy spheres upwards as she did so. 60 ft from the ground Mel caught hold of the agent and slammed on the ‘brakes’ screaming at the sudden pain that ripped through her shoulders.
Knowing that you were going to die and there was nothing that he could do about it did not stop Fixer from screaming all the way down. It was a pure reflex action as hard cement came rushing towards him, before he heard the woman screaming and the descent slow. This was not enough to assure a ‘nice’ landing by any stretch of the imagination.
It did, however, slow the decent to the point where Fixer only screamed in pain at a small series of events: his legs colliding with concrete, arms hastily thrown over his head colliding with concrete, and his body being shoved into concrete after breaking a woman’s fall. She mercifully rolled off of him, both trying to catch their breath. Both of them would likely be covered in bruises the next day.
“Thank you,” he finally croaked out, his bones aching through his whole body. “You just…. saved… my life.”
“Don’… mention it…” Mel coughed Somehow she’d managed to retain her force field but her wings had vanished and right now she could pull her head together enough to make them reappear. “Right…How do we get back to the top?”
"We call... for backup... I think...." he said, still catching his breathe. Fixer continued to focus on this for a minute, running through things in his mind. "That blonde woman, do you know what happened to her?"
"Not a clue... Oh god your partner." The image of a man being blown to pieces swept through Mel's mind and she rolled to her knees and vomited.
It took him a moment when he saw the woman vomiting to work out that she must have figured the bot was a human. "Don't worry about it. My 'partner' was a 200-Series Tracker. A 'bot." Still, he figured she would probably think twice before hitting a human with her power dead on.
So she hadn't killed one of the good guys that helped a little but as the adrenalin faded from her system images of the events that just occurred continued to assault her. She saw the men's faces as she strafed along the dam. and as other images assailed her she wrapped her arms around her suddenly cold and shaking body and let out a low moan.
Fixer felt some sympathy for the woman now going into post-combat shakes. It was either a blessing or a curse that he could handle combat as well as he did – probably a bit of both. “It’ll get easier with time,” he said to her, referring to the shakes and the night’s activities. Considering the fact that they were still alive, and that no further blasts of green were being fired, this hopefully meant that the day had been won.
“Well, that’s one down,” he muttered, breathing a little easier.
"One...down?"
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
A phone call ensured that the police would arrive on top of the dam quickly to find a crate and half a dozen dead or near-dead bodies, as well as debris of several bots. An FBI agent had mysteriously arrived on scene to take charge of the local operation as soon as the light show began, and ordered the police to stay back. They were permitted to enter only after the agent received a phone call.
Nobody was permitted near the bottom of the dam, where a bald man and a glowing woman were situation. Some might have seen the glow of the woman; the agent directed them not to worry about it. Fixer could tell the woman was still nervous at the turn of events, and feeling a bit defensive as her protective aura was still up.
“We aren’t going up there for one simple reason,” the Fixer was in the middle of saying. “Something very odd is going on. How does a miniscule group of ecological terrorists get ahold of a nuclear weapon? The police will be told a group of specialists were sent in to deal with the problem and extracted. Homeland Security and the Beaureau won’t say much except that Earthrage tried to take control of the dam for political reasons, and the police were able to deal with the group.”
Mel was leaning against the dam. The fire in her shoulders had eased a little now to was a burning ache that told her shed manage to do some damage, but the pain competed with the various bruises and scrapes that she’d gained from her rather abrupt landing.
“Ok that makes sense I guess…One thing though you said you worked for the NSA?”
“Yes.” The man said with a quick nod and a faintly quizzical expression.
“Right…” Mel also nodded as if he’d confirmed her own thoughts “The NSA is signals intelligence, cryptanalysis and cryptography. I can see you getting wind of the nuke but surely you’d then pass the info to the FBI. They’re the counter terrorism agency aren’t they?”
Despite her pain Mel tried to keep her attention focused on the agent. Something was off here; she really doubted the NSA would send a single agent to stop a nuclear device. Ok, her intervention probably hadn’t help matters at least not initially but one man and a robot wasn’t going to stop a half dozen men a robot and a meta…
She certainly had him there, Fixer would have to admit. The truth that he was an Illuminatus would be hard to swallow or believe, and likely be more amusing than anything else. Which meant thinking quickly, an event he was quite used to. He settled on one of the oldest tricks in the book: if you get caught in a lie, admit it, back up, and tell half the truth.
“Yes, the NSA does usually do just cryptology.” He winced in pain at the leg as he tried to shift his weight again to a more comfortable position. And made a mental note not to do that again. “However, I think you will agree the fact that we learned about this only a few days ago merited going outside the usual territorial groups. The man in charge agreed, so we bypassed the FBI. This time.”
He waited to see how she would react to this. It might sooth some of her suspicions, though a new thought was forming. A meta with her powers could be very useful, especially in recovering the other two devices.
It was plausible and that wince could just have been his leg “Ok, Agent… What happens now and what did you mean by one down.?” Mel knew what was coming once you accepted somebody got hold of a nuclear weapon the next leap especial given the man’s comment wasn’t hard to make.
“Well, the cat is already out of the bag… so long as you understand that what I’m about to tell you is technically classified.” At her nod, he continued. Though her blue shields made her face unreadable, she was probably fearing the worst. Maybe the information alone would be enough to begin the recruitment process.
“That weapon in question is from a Soviet SS-20 Mod 2, which had its weapon system stolen. Since it’s a MIRV rocket, that means a total of three warheads are now loose.”
“Three…you’ve lost three!” her pain momentarily forgotten Mel reached forward and grabbed hold of the man. She tried to haul him upright while screaming in his face “You’ve lost three fucking nuclear warheads?”
With a sob Mel released her grip the pain having suddenly roared back. *How the hell do I explain this to Mat?* she thought rather incongruously. Her arms had just reminded her she needed treatment and explaining to her Doctor how she managed to strain both her shoulders was going to be tough…*Weights…I overdid the weights…*
“Three bombs…” Mel took a couple of deep breathes trying to stave off the urge to empty her already abused stomach.
If it were not for the fact that the woman had aggravated his already abused leg, William would have been sorely tempted to kick the woman for lifting him off the ground like that. It was an understandable reaction, but it had literally hurt him. “Actually, it was the Ivans who lost it,” he pointed out.
Where the hell was that truck that was supposed to be sent to pick him up?
“I’m just the poor, unlucky sod charged with their recovery. ‘By any means necessary,’ they said.” He paused for a moment in thought. Now seemed a good time to sound her out for possible aide. Her unease could have a number of causes, and he needed to know which. “Are you new to trying to be a hero?”
*Damn, I just got drafted…* “New to being a hero… I was going to do a simple overflight let people get a look at the flying woman who glows…. You know start easy try and work out how being able to glow in the dark, fly and blow things up with a wave of the hand could help people then you fucking come along and drop a nuclear bomb in my lap. Yes! I’m new to the superhero business!” Mel’s tirade had started quietly but by the end she was screaming again.
William tried in vein to calm her down through the outburst, before figuring that it was probably best to let her get it out of her system. Calm, rational, slowly. That was the way to go about recruiting her aide, and learning about this metahuman that he and Observer both missed entirely. He gave her a minute to calm down before going on.
*Ok get a grip, you need to calm down…* Mel took another few deep breaths and reached for the stillness of the poker table. *You’ve got nothing …there’s a couple of million lives in the pot and you have to win this hand.* She ran her hands through her hair then fixed her gaze on the agent.
“I could give you the standard speech, about truth, justice, and the American way. Even do everything short of going ‘Your Uncle Sam needs you,’ but you’re not like most people.” He paused to let that sink in, hoping he was doing something right, before he realised that he was drawing a parallel to some of the things said to recruit him.
“You don’t need that, because you know what these fucking things can do – and you can probably guess the panic most of the country, if not the world would be in, to learn what you just did. Think of this as an opportunity to be a true hero, the kind who does the right thing knowing that the rewards are low and risks high.” William almost had to stop to laugh at himself. It would be very frightening to him indeed if something this cheesy worked. “I’d better shut up before I sound even more like a dorky recruitment poster.”
“Does that speech really work? I mean it was pretty good but still… “ Mel sighed “I’ll help out on this, these too many lives at stake for me not to but please, lay off the hokey speeches”
He almost pointed that some variant of that speech had worked on him quite well. Almost. Instead, he just laughed out loud. “Alright, I to promise lay off the speeches. By the way, the usually call me ‘The Fixer’ around the organisation.” The unasked corollary to that question being, what do I call you?
Mel smiled and closed her eyes. She concentrated on deploying her wings as she’d need them to get back to her SUV and they’d make her ‘codename’ obvious. As the eight arcs of light that formed her wings sprang into being at her back Mel opened her eyes and looked at The Fixer.
"Gabriel"
“Very fitting,” he replied, seeing how the name could apply to her. He fished around in his pockets for a pad to write on, before recording a number on it and handing it to her. The first distant rumblings of a truck could be heard. “Here. You can use this number to get in contact with me. When someone answers, say only ‘Who will help the widow’s son?’ That will let them know you’re supposed to have the number.”
"Who will help the widows son?" She looked down at the paper, she'd never had a problem remembering numbers, then incinerated it * I need to work out some cut outs Uncle Sam gets this one but I want a life...*
"Goodbye Fixer we'll talk soon" Mel let her wings slowly draw her into the air...
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
Lamb to the Slaughter
Part Two – The Chase is On
Friday 16th May 2003
1:30 pm local time - Paris
The grey-suited man scanned the report in front of him as he sat behind his teak and walnut desk. The bright Parisian sunshine filtered through his windows to rest on the plush carpet of his spacious corner office. His dark hair was starting to thin ever so slightly, but his face looked young and tanned. Most people guessed his age at around the mid-30’s, but nobody really knew for sure.
His eyes skimmed through the records of leads, contacts and captures. Nothing unusual in here at all, but he refused to skip any of it. One could never be too careful – sometimes there’d be a hint of something that Humans First didn’t rate as a priority, but which he was more interested in. He had to pick up on those and guide Humans First in the right direction. Subtly, of course. All his work had to be subtle, by its very nature.
- Suspected telepath discovered as a self-admission in a mental institution in Antwerp, Belgium. Subject to be assessed and if meta, sedated and passed to the research wing…
- Meta capable of causing earthquakes eluded capture in Philadelphia, USA. Priority Level Two assigned to reacquisition of subject…
- Meta with healing powers traced by telephone bug to Melbourne, Australia. Priority Level Four given to subject’s capture – two agents assigned…
- Meta with control over ice suspected of terrorist activities in Venice, Italy. Priority Level One given to finding and capturing subject – team of eight agents assigned…
With a sigh the man returned the report to his desk. No, nothing unusual this week – no need to interfere with Humans First’s priority ratings. He pushed the intercom button on his desk and his secretary’s voice came through crisply.“Yes, sir?”
“Madeline, please bring me a cup of tea and a croissant. It’s nearly time for my video conference call with Senator Douglass.”
*****
Friday 16th May 2003
9:40 pm local time - Melbourne
At almost the same time as Senator Douglass was settling in for his video call to Paris, in Melbourne two young men stepped off a plane at Tullamarine airport. The evening was cool, but the rain had finally dried up at least.
“Thank God we finally got a lead,” said the one with sandy hair and a moustache, “I felt like a right git after that mess in South Australia.”
“Yeah, well, don’t get your hopes up, Steve,” replied the brown-haired and clean-shaven one, “She’s been lying low obviously. Melbourne’s a big city, and they haven’t given her a high priority so we can’t call on many other resources. She’ll be tough to track down.”
“At least now we’re in the right city.”
“Unless she bolted after that phone call. Her Mum said enough to frighten her off again.”
“I don’t think so, Eddy – this chick said she had a job here, right? Means her money’s running low,” Steve replied, “She won’t dare run. She’s stuck here. Sooner or later, we’ll get her.”
“Maybe,” Eddy shrugged, always the more pessimistic of the two, “but we have nothing but that one phone call. She could be anywhere. Hell, she rang from Flinders Street – she might have been anywhere in Victoria.”
“Nah, we have something else,” Steve answered, rubbing absently at his moustache, “The same way we found her in the first place. She won’t be able to resist using her mutant power. None of those stinking muties can. So we just look for places where people get better too fast.”
A smile of triumph curled Eddy’s lips, confidence stealing over him to replace his pessimism. “Yeah. And this time she won’t have anyone protecting her. She’ll be easy meat.”
*****
Friday 16th May 2003
7:45 am local time – New York
Meanwhile, halfway around the world one person, if you could call an artificial intelligence a person, sifted through a stream of electronic data.
Observer’s world was a series of electrical impulses. An impulse arranged in such and such a way meant one thing; an impulse another way meant another. The other AI, Sara, understood the principles behind their existence better. He really found the science quite boring. Even if the human brain essentially worked the same way, the fact that it worked was all Observer cared about.
The AI processed data far faster than a human could hope to. Streams of information went through his mind in an instant: records, e-mails specially filtered to the AI by his hacking module; other reports sent to him electronically from human sources. Puzzles examined in a multitude of ways in what would for a human be the blink of an eye. Information, Observer decided, was the key to power. He tracked a money-laundering scheme from account to account and passed over it without comment. The group in question did not threaten the Agenda. They didn’t threaten him.
This is quite fascinating, the program mused to itself, looking over reports. He felt like a Greek God, viewing the tapestry of fate - and it was a tangled skein in this case. A web of intrigue and conspiracy. Humans First, and it looked like two other groups. Observer had to admire those who controlled Humans First. It was like a split personality, both trying to control the same body, but neither aware the other existed, each using the body for different things.
The series of data passed through the Analysis Unit, and something told him to pay attention. His hacking unit reached out for the phone company. A series of electrical impulses converted to compressions and rarefactions in the air - the way the human ear received sound. It would be so much more efficient, he thought, if they could just communicate as he did with Sara, without these conversions.
William, I have some news for you…. the AI began on the line.
As it talked, more data went through the analysis unit. Observer caught something else, and made a decision. They made a priority to the bombs; but why not the other target Feldman was interested in as well? He never sought permission; he just added this little bonus to the package.
Sara? he reached out to the other AI, I need to speak with you…
With thanks to Adam who wrote the part of Observer.
[/]To Catch a Spy - Part One
To Catch a Spy – Part One
Reintroducing: Edward Burns as Commander Ethan Kale, Liam Neeson as Doctor Avery Wyatt and Joaquin Phoenix as Xi-043 Ford Klein
Thursday, 15th May 2003
ATP:9 Compound – Gillette, Wyoming
9:30pm
The ex-military camp, once a hive of ingenuity, a shrine to the miracle of technology, a homage to the skill of the human mind, now lay empty, deserted. Funding had been withdrawn and the project closed down as a result of flagging confidence in the morality of Wyatt’s experiments.
One man remained behind to oversee the final dissolution of Wyatt’s research. Ethan Kale, the Commander in charge of disassembling Dr. Wyatt’s operations in Gillette, responsible for destroying all traces of the project coded ATP:9 ever existed, had but two words upon which he focused every ounce of his hatred.
“Sydney King,” he growled impatiently. He sat at the head of a large, badly burnt desk, his fists clenched in anger. He sat in silence for a while, his eyes scanning the remainder of the scorched room that had once been the meeting office. Ford Klein, his faithful turncoat stood silently beside the tortured form of Avery Wyatt.
“Sydney King,” repeated Kale as he rose from his chair and slowly strode over to where Wyatt was being held. “She is a thorn in my side, the only thing standing in my way of this being a successful mission. I believe you know where she is dear doctor.”
Kale ripped the piece of electrical tape that was covering Dr. Wyatt’s mouth and then grabbed him tightly around the jugular. “You’d better tell me where she is or else!”
“Never…” choked out the doctor as Kale let go his grip with a snarl. Wyatt turned his eyes to Ford who had barely flinched during Kale’s brutal attack of the old man. “Ford… my son Ford, how can you stand by this… this… lunatic! How could you betray your brothers and sisters?! How could you betray me?”
Ford turned his head slightly to look down on the old man, Wyatt’s appearance had changed much in the last two months, he now looked a shadow of the man he once was. His face was unshaven, his cheeks looked hollow and gaunt, his eyes looked bruised and sore. Ford looked away and stared into space.
“You never cared about me. You always liked the others more. Especially Sydney… I can’t wait to pull the trigger on her existence.”
“You have to catch her first” challenged Wyatt.
“Oh don’t worry about that” spat Kale, turning on Wyatt once more. “I have my spies out looking for her as we speak.”
Kale turned to Ford, “Take care of the old man, if you hear word, you know how to contact me.”
“Sir?” began Ford, “where are you going?”
“I’m sick of living in this shit hole” spoke Kale, his voice cold and bitter. “I’ll be at my residence in Vega City if you need me.”
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
Saturday, 17 May 2003
The gunshot fortunately was a flesh wound, though it still meant he would be walking with a cane for a while. Still, William thought, it could have gone much worse. No word from Observer had as yet come on leads from the other weapons, nor had Gabriel tried to contact him. Which left him in his current position of wandering casinos just for fun. He was quite good at Baccarat and managed to win a decent amount the day before.
Maybe he would actually buy another suit one day, rather than the normal gray one he was still stuck in.
William was in the mood for something different as he went to another casino, playing strictly with Baccarat winnings from before. Poker seemed like a good bit as he scanned the tables. One caught his eye for a very simple reason: you often did not see someone with metallic silver hair. It took several minutes to limp over as two people got in frustration, probably from a small losing streak.
It was one of those nights She wasn’t down but she wasn’t up either. The two tourists who’d just left the table had managed to lose everything they’d won on a single hand to the rather intense young man on her left.
She couldn’t really blame her luck either she’d had some good cards but her shoulders still ached from saving that NSA agent’s life and the painkillers she taken mild though they had been weren’t helping her concentration either. *One more hand then I’ll call it a night. It’s not like I’m really need to play either.*
Someone new sat in one of the vacated seats and Mel glanced at him she managed not to let the shock show on her face as she recognised the agent from the dam. *Well well well You like to play poker do you?* She smiled inwardly maybe the night was looking
The game was Texas hold ‘em. Picking the table had been a careful calculation, aside from blue hair, for a few reasons. Mainly that he felt like poker, could limp to that one in time to get a spot, and the waitress was already coming by with the martinis.
As far as the first round went, William managed to lose a respectable but cautious amount of money - testing the waters.
Those first few hands were proving rather interesting, most of his curious glances towards the woman at her bets rather than anything else and trying to figure out of if she was bluffing or not. Wondering about the hair played a small part as well, which meant either Meta or someone with choice in hair dyes.
*Ok so he at least knows what he’s doing.* With her interest in the game piqued again Mel focused through the pain and slight drug induced haze and got down to business. The Agent was smart seemed to know his odds and at least for the moment cautious.
The ‘kid’ on her left was throwing money around or rather was throwing as much as the bet limit lwt him. He’d got burned a couple of times but so far had enough money to stay in the game. He was pretty much intent on winning and Mel got the sense that he could stay on this table all night no matter what his losses.
The other two we’re the usual poker playing tourists they’d come to Vegas to spend some money and have some fun doing it. Which was fine by Mel. They were after all the typ of people who paid her bills.
The next round of cards was dealt and Mel smiled inwardly. She place a moderate bet on the table and waited. Her cards were good enough to let her see the flop unless someone got silly in the mean time.
Why, William wondered, when they gave him a pair it was always the low cards? Really, there were only so many times you could get two threes before you started to get frustrated. Ah well, it was time to have fun. The bet passed through the couple before it reached him. They’d decided to see the woman’s bet.
William started out by seeing, before deciding that now was the time to throw caution to the wind. He increased the woman’s bet by about 2/3s the original value. From the others around the table, she was the one to watch out for.
*Ok So I tempted fate…and it looks like Mr Fixer over there heard the call…* Mel’s eyes danced round the tables. The kid was out and the tourists would be they’d been fishing when they’d matched her. So the question was did her rather unusual NSA agent actually have anything? She measured him in her gaze she wasn’t sure yet but she realised she wanted to find out.
With an unchanging face she moved chips into the centre. She didn’t raise the bet though, there was time for that later.
William simply could not read the woman at the other end of the table, an event causing him no small amount of damage to his pocket book.*Damn it, girl. Just bet high, don’t call the bluff, and fold!* The first three cards were turned over, a situation which started to provide frustration.
William want to bang his head on the table. *No… help….at…. all…* This time when the betting got to him, he simply decided to see the bet and not do anything else.
Well that was interesting. The flop could take things either way and Mr Fixer had gone for a nice safe bet. She was getting a handle on him and right now he was worried. All the calculation passed in flash as Mel picked up a stack of chips.
She hesitated briefly artfully and cast them forward *Time to see how good you really are* and she didn’t know whether she was talking about the man or herself
The hand, William decided, was quickly turning into a Requiem Mass for his entire poker career. There was a reason he didn’t usually play this, every time he did he either barely broke even or lost his shirt. One time literally. “Hey! Another drink,” he called to the passing waitress.
The fourth card was a little help, though it was now time for misdirection and saw the bet again. His ability at reading people in poker was bad to say the least, so hoped his projection was better.
The bet was pretty solid and all of a sudden Fixer oozed confidence. Mel decided it was a fragile confidence though, especially considering his demeanour after the flop. If she raised she got the feeling he might fold *then again he might not, now one last card lets see shall we.* Mel called the bet and this time there was no hesitation just a faint inkling of a smile.
*Hmmm, ok, that bluff didn’t work* he thought, noting that there would be no help. That last card was probably the Dies Irae starting. *Well, I can afford it. No reason to not go down in a blaze.*
This time, he surprised everyone. “I think I’ll double that,” was all he said when the betting came around, trying to watch the woman’s reaction without being obvious.
*Oh no you’re not buying your way out of this one I have five thousand bucks in the bank that I wasn’t expecting.* Mel raised again, she hit the table limit with her response and just sat there that faint smile on her face not wavering in the least.
William decided to call, and promptly managed to lose the hand, as he’d expected. She’d called his bluff, and he knew when he was beaten. “You’re like a mind reader,” he said to the woman, leaving out the fact that he sucked at poker.
The couple had fun laughing at that before disappearing.
“Are you trying to get me thrown out of here?” Mel laughed. The casino’s we’re paranoid about Meta’s Telepaths, probability manipulators telekinetics Anyone who could manipulate their carefull controlled games. The suggestion that some ones was a meta was often enough to get you thrown out of a casino.
“And no I’m not a mind reader I’m just better at poker than you… I’m Kate, you?”
William smiled. “Call me Amadeus,” he lied, slipping into one of his covers. The spy business called them “legends” – every one of them was prepared with enough detail that he could operate on a semi-long term agenda under any particular cover. “And yes, you really are the better player, though you should see the way my partner got cleaned out.” As he talked, something about the woman seemed familiar, though he wasn’t quite sure what. Another hand was starting as they antied up, and this time, the opening cards were even worse than before.
The kid realised that a serious game had turned into a social event and didn’t bother joining them. Surprisingly enough no one else sat down either. “So Amadeus What do you do when you aren’t losing at cards.” Mel picked up a couple of chips from the small pile to her left. It was exactly how much money she’d won off Amadeus so far.
“I’m in the marketing department for Benson Pharmaceuticals,” he slipped into the cover with the ease of a hand long practiced at covering his tracks. As they talked, William continued to bet and lose to Kate at an ever-expanding rate. He suspected that she ‘threw’ a couple of hands out of pity rather than bluffing her. “One part advertising, one part sales – they gave me a dotted line.”
"Ouch now that's just unpleasant." *Lets see how good your cover is cause I know Mr Amadeus Fixer you don't work for Benson Pharmaceuticals* "Benson Pharmaceuticals? Didn't they just get a new ulcer treatment through FDA approval?"
“We’re trying to do that, yes,” he gently corrected, glad he paid attention to his briefing materials on what the company was up to. *Damn. I should have used my journalist.* Just what was the reason for the delay again? “You know the way bureaucrats are – little Gods, every one of them.” It was either something about insufficient trials or not enough effectiveness, if he could just remember the official reason.
“Yes that’s the government for you. Always doing the wrong thing. So how’s Feldman’s project coming? Are you going to make me immortal anytime soon? I’d like to keep my looks “ It looked like his cover was well prepared but Mel decided to throw a couple more questions his way Benson Pharmaceuticals was a valuable stock and she paid attention to the company’s press releases.
That was one question which the honest answer was, “Well, we’re almost done, so long as we can consistently transfer your psychology to a clone.” Then there was the public answer. “We’re working on it – the researchers tell us we’re only supposed to give vaugue assurances that progress is being made. Truthfully, if it’s ever successful, only the rich are likely to be able to afford the treatment.”
Now, if only Feldman would shut up about that project in public. “What about you, Kate?”
"Me I'm a professional risk taker.” She gestured round the casino. “Mainly poker in these places but I also trade shares." It was basically the truth since she doubted she could keep a spur of the moment story straight. Anything she could be convincing on would be easily checked out and shown to be false. "So it's now shame you keep losing." Mel swept another stack of chips towards her careful split off her original stakes and put her winnings in the stack on her left.
Gambling and investment. The two certainly were related some days. And where the hell had he seen her before? Something was staring him right in the face about this woman. “Well, I can afford it.” The worst part was, he couldn’t just come out and ask if he knew her from somewhere because that would sound like a line.
She was obviously getting ready to leave, though he wanted more time to try to figure her out. “Well, I can see you’re getting ready to leave, but since you’re from around here, maybe you can help me with something.” Recalling what Observer mentioned running across on the internet when reporting Gabriel, he continued.
“My partner does volunteer work with CUFOS. Any idea where people usually go to see the ‘Vegas Light’?”
*Uh-oh I thought I'd been careful!* Mel was glad she was still in poker mode had she not been she was sure the shock would have shown. "The Vegas pixie? I presume you mean some sort of atmospheric phenomenum that the gullible mistake for an alien space craft?"
“Well, my partner says that they’re ruling out atmospheric causes. They’re leaning towards unknown Metahuman or Military Surveillance Craft, depending on who you talk to.” He smiled, knowing full well that it was probably the same Meta who’d helped him a few days ago was the ‘Light.’ “I heard that one guy says it’s part of a plot by the Masons and OTO to summon Satan.” From William’s expression, this explanation was clearly not meant to be taken seriously.
"Really well it's about as likely as aliens. I suppose we could have a new Meta but perhaps somebody is mistaking flights out of Nellis for something more." Mel started amalgamating her chips. "Well as pleasant as it has been relieving you of you money Amadeus I need to get home. I have some things I need to fix in the morning."
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
“The Eye of the Storm” part 4
“What is it?” Spectrum asked the Commissioner. “What’s the news?” Just prior, Commissioner Wood had told Spectrum that he had news for her, but did not know if it was good or bad. This… troubled Spectrum. After all that had happened tonight… this whole freak storm… she wasn’t sure if she was ready for whatever else was in store.
“We’ve found the eye of the storm.” Wood answered grimly. “Before, we couldn’t use any of the equipment because the power went out but now the back up generator is on and powering some areas, and we were able to find out where the eye of the storm is.”
“The thing is… we’ve never seen anything quite like this. They eye of the storm is right here, in Crystal City. But the eye is less than one block around… nearly only the size of one building!” Wood paused, unsure of whether to continue or not. This was some strange shit… stuff they didn’t teach you about in the academy. And what could prepare you for fighting a storm? Especially one of this magnitude? “They eye is centered around a single building. It’s the radio tower in the middle of the city.”
“The radio tower?” Now Spectrum was really intrigued, and more than a little scared. A storm couldn’t just appear around a building, could it? And even if it did, surely it would not stay there. At least she had never heard of such a thing occurring. But, this was a night of surprises, and Spectrum couldn’t say that she hadn’t suspected something completely out of the ordinary about this particular storm. “Did you search the tower?”
The commissioner looked at her for a moment, and then said “We didn’t. We can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Come with me and see.”
******
Light and Shadow. A constant struggle, an eternal battle. Complete opposites, always fighting and never a winner. So why now, now of all times, was he having visions of this battle? Light on one side, complete darkness on the other? Why now?
Seer had no answers to this question. He had been wrong as well. At first, he had thought that the “light”, which was pure light, had been fighting something that used darkness but was not darkness itself. He had been wrong. Rather, there were two separate beings—one was pure darkness, but the other was a much smaller being. Not darkness… and perhaps not even an agent of the darkness. Despite this, Seer saw that the light was focusing it’s power on fighting this smaller being, while the dark continued to grow.
In his room, Seer sat cross-legged and meditated. Here, in the total silence, was he able to have his visions. With no distractions, he was able to look deep inside his mind to whatever dreams lay there… dreams of the future and of things to come. This vision troubled him. Mostly, because he couldn’t decipher it’s meaning.
Just then, a figure burst into his room. It was a woman, and she cried, in a frantic voice, “Seer!”. The woman was Serenity. But no… this could not be his Serenity. Not his.
Serenity Dejon, the former thief who had turned over a new leaf to join the organization of “Mind Block” in order to learn her powers was, in a word, beautiful. Her face was light as snow, as soft as feathers. Her eyes were like placid lakes that were there only for others to gaze upon. Her long, chestnut hair flowed down in magnificent tendrils. Her voice, the truly wonderful thing about her, was that of a goddess. Had Seer lost everything he had except Serenity’s voice, he would not complain. It was that same voice that could quiet any beast, and calm any monster.
This was not his Serenity. This women had no soft face. Instead, the face was twisted in a look that screamed fear and panic. Her hair was ruffled, almost as if it was another creature sleeping on her head. Her eyes were sharp, but fearful. “Seer, please I need your help!” And with that line, Seer was truly afraid. This was, of course, Serenity even if it didn’t look like her normal serene self. But that voice… that was not the voice of an angel. That was the voice of a banshee, and scared women. Full of panic and distraught. Yet Seer knew that this was indeed Serenity, but something was terribly wrong.
“Serenity? What’s wrong?” Seer asked, trying to hide his own fear.
“It’s… oh your brother! He’s… he’s…” Serenity stopped for a moment and then broke down in tears, letting all of the stress flow out of her. “Seer, we’ve been lying to you. This organization, “Mind Block”, we’re not what you think we are! We’re criminals dammit! We steal, and hurt, and kidnap and hold cities for ransom!” Serenity let out a sob.
Seer was silent. Had he known? If someone had asked him the question, had he known was his brother had been up to, what would he have answered? No, of course. The idea was preposterous. But hadn’t he known? Subconsciously? Surely, a man with his abilities could not be blind to the fact… but perhaps he had tried to not see if. Ignorance is bliss, as the saying goes.
Suddenly, a sharp thought shot through his head like a bullet. “Serenity,” Seer snapped quickly, “go into that closet and don’t make a sound.”
Serenity stopped sobbing and looked at him in bewilderment. “Wha-”
“Just go!” Without another word, Serenity got up off the padded floor of Seer’s room and swiftly ran to his large closet. She opened it, climbed inside, and shut the door. Just then, a growl came from outside of Seer’s room, and Lucius Blackwall slammed into the room with a look of rage of his race.
“Where is she?” he snarled at his brother.
“Where is… who?” Seer asked, feigning innocence.
“You know who?” Luscious snapped. Seer half understood what the woman had been trying to tell him. The look on Lucius’ face was not only that of rage, but of sheer madness. Something had sparked this… but what? Could Lucius be the darkness that had entered his dreams as of late? Or maybe Lucius was the figure, and light and dark were battling inside his head. And dark was winning. “If you see her, Serenity, tell her that she better get back to her post or else I’ll kill her with my bare hands!” Lucius stormed out of Seer’s apartment.
Seer looked over at the closet. Serenity let out a small cry from inside, before stumbling out. Yes, this was the Serenity he knew. But that man was not his brother.
******
“I see…” Spectrum said in awe. Yes, she did see what Commissioner Wood was talking about. They were at the radio tower. Or at least they were as near to the tower as they could get without the fear of getting BBQ’d. Around them were several other officers who had placed a boundary that no one was allowed to cross… but Spectrum hardly doubted anyone would try to. This was because, around the tower, lighting bolts were randomly hitting the ground, as if protected their home. This occurred at about 5 bolts a minute.
“You see, we can’t get in there because we’d be killed if we tried.” Wood explained. “We can’t protect against the lightning, but were pretty sure something’s in there that’s causing this.”
“And you want me to try and get in there.” Spectrum finished. She has suspected that Commissioner Wood had wanted her help ever since he told her the news. This was not a prospect she was particularly pleased about. She didn’t know if any of her shield could stand up against a lightning bolt.
“Please… we don’t have any other options.”
And they didn’t. Spectrum knew that. So she had no choice either. It was her volunteered job to help those in need, and that included the CCPD. “… All right. If I have to I will.” All the officers turned to stare at her this brave, and probably stupid woman. They didn’t like her, and probably never would. It hurt their ego to have to have some rainbow woman come in and help them. Still… they would rather have a city in the morning than secure egos.
Spectrum floated over the barrier, and created an orb shield around her. As she walked, the shield deflected the raindrops from falling on her. That was when the first bolt came. It shot down vertically from the clouded sky (before she came to the eye) and hit the light shield on the top. The shield shattered… or the equivalent of that, considering it was not made of something shatter able. It disappeared. Spectrum herself was blown several feet forward by the force of the impact, even thought the bolt had not hit her directly. The crowding officers quickly gasped, and started murmuring. Spectrum was very much alive, but in a lot of pain.
Deciding this was no time to dawdle, Spectrum took to the air and flew directly at the front door of the radio tower. She made it almost all the way, when a bright light sparked from the heavens. Quick as a whip, Spectrum created a light shield above her, just in time to block an oncoming bolt. Once again, she was knocked down by the impact, but because she was in the air she hit the ground much harder. Spectrum gasped, as did the officers, at her pain. Pain like she had never felt it. She didn’t think anything was broken, but she didn’t have time to check.
She crawled to the front door and tried the handle. Locked. Without a minute to spare, Spectrum generated a big mallet and repeatedly hit the door with it. Soon, the door began to creak and finally it knocked it. Spectrum crawled inside just as a third bolt came down and narrowly missed her body. The officers cheered. Inwardly, Spectrum did the same. She wasn’t so bad at this hero stuff after all.
To Catch a Spy - Part Two
To Catch a Spy – Part Two
Saturday, 17th May 2003
The Personal Residence of Ethan Kale – Upper West Sector, Vega City
10:44pm
Ethan leaned back in the soft leather seat at his desk; he had the expression of a man at the brink of despair. His eyes were closed in a slight moment of reflection when suddenly the telephone began to ring – interrupting his train of thought.
“Kale,” he sighed, his voice revealing his inner ennui.
“Commander Sir?” came the voice at the other end. “We’ve found her.”
Kale suddenly sat upright in his chair, his face becoming alert and focused as he tightened his grip on the handset. “Where?”
“Here in Vega City Sir, she’s been right under our noses all the time. An informant contacted one of our agents about an hour ago. She’s currently at Wyvern Towers, Sector Three. I have an armed response unit ready and waiting.”
“I’m on my way,” announced Kale as he pulled on a dark blue trenchcoat and headed out of the door. “Make sure she doesn’t leave the building till I get there. I want to take her in myself.”
Omega Towers – Communications District, Vega City
10:58pm
James Gates was lying in bed smoking a cigarette watching his latest conquest - International Supermodel Blue Olenska, as she flicked through the television channels. Blue was lithe, with long blonde hair and golden skin. Her look was entirely the archetypal ‘Californian Goddess’ stereotype rather than the ex-Russian dancer, which she actually was.
“Ah darling, I’ve found it,” she announced triumphantly as the theme tune to ‘Santa Cruz’ began to play.
“You have got to be kidding me?” said James as he exhaled a cloud of smoke into the room. “If you are watching this I’m definitely going to sleep, besides I have a conference call with Tokyo in the morning.”
“Oh darling you vork too hard. You should try and have a little fun now and then.”
“I thought that’s what we were having,” grinned James as he stroked the lower part of Blue’s naked back.
Blue leaned back to kiss him sensuously as news bulletin interrupted the scheduled programming.
”This is Amy Darling reporting live outside Wyvern Towers where, only twenty minutes ago Sector Police officials were informed by the FBI to apprehend one of the tenants. Sydney King…”
James firmly pushed Blue away and scooted closer to the television, turning the volume up.
“Darling, vot are you doing? It’s only some stupid news broadcast.”
“Shh,” ordered James as he continued to listen.
”Sydney King, a fugitive reported to be an armed terrorist with extremist environmental protest group Earthrage, is suspected of having been part of a terrorist attack at the Hoover Dam in Vegas two nights ago. Sector Police officials are still awaiting confirmation from the FBI before an attempt at apprehending the fugitive will take place…”
James was already pulling on a pair of dark jeans and a t-shirt as the news bulletin ended. Blue watched him curiously.
“Well don’t just sit there watching, come on, time to go.”
Wyvern Towers – Sector Three, Vega City
11:05pm
Ethan Kale stood in the middle of the media circus that surrounded the base of the apartment block. His steely gaze radiated menace at everyone of these people from the television crews to the sector police who were doing a passable job at restraining the crowd of curious onlookers. As one of his associates joined him he began to walk towards the building.
“Is all this really necessary Sir?” the aide had to run to catch up to his boss. “I mean apart from the fact that this is just one woman… the Sector Police, the news crews… do we really want this type of exposure?!”
“This ’one woman’ was the best soldier that Wyatt ever designed, she’s not just a soldier, she’s a one woman army. So yes, I DO think that this is necessary, because if she’s exposed there’s no where for her to run. She’s all alone, then she’s ours.”
James skidded his motorcycle to a stop about thirty feet away from the surrounded building. He pulled his mobile phone from the pocket of his leather jacket and quickly dialled a number.
Up in her apartment Sydney kept a watchful eye on the crowds below, in the corner of the room, the television displayed news coverage of the goings on below. Sydney hesitated slightly as the telephone rang before picking up.
“Sydney it’s James. How you holding up?”
“James? I’m fine, what the hell is going on down there?”
“You’ve seen the news I presume?”
“Yeah I’ve seen it” said Sydney as she walked over to the TV, glaring at the images. Suddenly her eyes widened as her eyes picked out a man in the crowd. Ethan Kale. “Oh my god.”
“Sydney? What? What is it?” asked James, concern filling his voice.
“That man, the one in the dark blue trenchcoat. His name is Ethan Kale and he’s no agent of the FBI.” Sydney paused for a moment, since working with James he had only ever insinuated that he knew who and what she was but she had never confirmed or denied his assumptions.
“What is it Sydney? What’s this all about?” urged James worriedly.
“That man works for the CIA, more importantly he was the agent in charge of the termination of the Project. He helped to destroy all evidence of the operation in Gillette, and now he’s here to terminate me.”
“Not if I have anything to do about it. Listen up Sydney, I have a plan…”
To Catch a Spy - Part Three: More than Meets the Eye
To Catch a Spy – Part Three: More Than Meets the Eye
Wyvern Towers – Sector Three, Vega City
Ethan stood to one side as a dozen sector police filed into the building and made their way up the stairs to the fourteenth floor.
“Remember,” he instructed as he followed the troops inside. “This woman is most probably armed and definitely dangerous. Do not underestimate her, she will not hesitate to kill you if given the chance.”
In her apartment Sydney had already armed herself and was ready for any attack. She wore a pair of tight black trousers, her gun holsters secured firmly to the sides of her thighs. She stood in the middle of the apartment; her eyes closed in concentration as she listened for the slightest sound.
“Sydney King!” one of the police officers yelled through a loud speaker. “You are surrounded.”
“Oh boys,” she said quietly to herself as she distinctively heard several armed officers take up a standard entry position in the corridor outside her apartment. “You’re too predictable.”
The man outside with the megaphone continued. “You have exactly ten seconds to surrender yourself or prepare to…”
In lightning speed Sydney kicked down her own front door and faced the small army in the corridor. There were six in total but Sydney knew that there were likely to be more on their way.
Without thinking she dealt the officer nearest to the door a punch in the face followed by a sweeping kick that knocked him to the ground.
Sydney grinned slightly. “Ten seconds is more than enough, thank-you.”
Before the other officers could react to her speedy reflexes she removed her pistols from their holsters on her thighs and began to open fire. She hit three out of the remaining five officers before anyone had even managed to fire a shot.
“Shit! Shit!” swore one of the remaining officers taking in the blood bath made up of his fellow colleagues as he made the signal for the survivors to retreat.
“Men down, I repeat I have three officers down,” he barked over the radio.
Meanwhile Sydney disappeared back into her apartment just as the telephone began to ring again.
“Sydney what’s happening up there?” James’ voice was anxious as he watched the scene from outside.
“Everything according to plan, is Kale sending more troops in?”
“Sure is. Just like you said he would. Remember, the laundry shute is the second turn on the left, I’ll meet you at the other end.”
Sydney hung up the phone only seconds before a hand grenade rolled into the apartment. She quickly leapt into the kitchen, pulling the table over to one side as a barricade as the bomb exploded, bringing half the ceiling down with it.
“What the FUCK are you doing up there!?” yelled Ethan as he forced his way up the stairs. “I wanted her alive, or dead, either way rings my bell. What I didn’t want is you to bring the fucking building down in the process!”
Ethan waited a while until the dust had seemingly settled a little before speaking. “Get more men up here, NOW!”
“But Sir, she couldn’t have possibly survived such an explosion.”
Inside the apartment Sydney heaved a great chunk of plasterboard free from the top of her ‘barricade’ and pushed her way up through the rubble. The apartment now had an amazing view of the city through the gaping hole in the structure.
Sydney glanced back towards the open door and the corridor, she could hear more troops as their heavy boots lumbered up the stairs. “Hmm, maybe a change of plan is in order,” she said to herself as her eyes surveyed the damage done to the outer wall of the apartment.
In the corridor Kale was becoming impatient.
“Well is she alive or isn’t she?!” he yelled at the team leader.
“We won’t be able to make a full assessment until some of this dust has settled.”
Ethan growled in anger as he paced up and down. Suddenly he grabbed the man and pushed him to one side. “I’m going in there myself, make sure I have back up.”
“But Sir..”
“NOW!”
Warily, Ethan removed his sidearm and, holding it out in front of him moved slowly towards the apartment, followed closely by several members of the sector police.
In the apartment Sydney was busy tying a rope around her waist. Her head snapped up to attention as she heard people enter the apartment, though the dust was still too bad to allow for any great visibility.
“We never really got to know one another did we? Back when *I* was in charge of The Project?” Ethan’s voice filtered into the apartment and paused, waiting for a response, after a few minutes of silence he continued.
“It’s ”Ricohet” isn’t it? Or should that be past tense? Maybe Xi-051 suits you better, or is it plain ol’ Sydney King now?” Ethan took several tentative steps forward, keeping his gun raised and aimed ahead of himself.
“It always surprises me when creatures such as yourself take on human names. Trying to disguise what you really are, but it makes no difference, you’re one of them Sydney” his voice was cold and mocking as he spoke her name.
“You’ll always be a freak. Just like the meta scum you were designed to eliminate. And just like that meta scum, you too need to be eliminated, the world needs to be purged of your vile existence for the sake of humankind.”
Sydney narrowed her eyes on the direction the sound was coming from, through the dust and darkness of the night she could just make out a vague impression of Kale. Silently she raised both of her pistols in that direction, and squeezed the triggers…
Kale immediately heard the two tiny clicks and spun in that direction, firing wildly.
As he walked forward to survey his kill he was astounded to see nothing but the gaping hole leading out into the open. Sydney was gone, but as he looked down he stared as he saw her lithe figure falling through the air. He looked up and saw her safety rope tied securely to a protruding beam in the exposed ceiling.
Sydney dropped through the air noiselessly, secured by the rope. Her guns still removed she began to fire as the rope pulled taut and halted her descent. The bullets ripped through the glass window in the apartment opposite her as Sydney swung in that direction and through the makeshift entrance.
The crowd below ‘oooh’ed and ‘ahhh’ed at the spectacle of the female leaping out of the upper story and shooting her way in through a lower level. Up above, Kale growled in anger and turned back to the police officer in charge.
“Well don’t just stand there! Get your men down to the eighth floor! Seal off all exits! This woman cannot be allowed to escape!”
***
A sleeping couple screamed in terror as a woman burst through their window and landed with a crash on their bed.
Sydney fired one shot above their heads, “quiet!” The couple immediately stopped screaming. “Might I suggest moving? The neighbours in this building are terrible.”
Sydney spied a cell phone on the couple’s dresser, picked it up and shoved it in her pocket. “Mind if I borrow this?”
“Not at all!” grinned the forty-year old man as he took in an eyeful of Sydney’s curvaceous rear in her tight pants. The man suddenly cried out in pain as his wife slapped him across the back of the head.
“Now, now, play nice,” grinned Syd as she vanished out of the room.
Once back in the corridor Sydney took out the cell phone and dialled James’ number.
“Syd? What happened?” James pulled his laptop from his backpack and began furiously typing away as a blue print of the apartment building appeared.
“I had to change the plan slightly. Help me out here, I’m on the eighth floor.”
“I know, I think most of Vega City saw your exit. Never considered taking the stairs?”
Sydney quickly dodged around a corner as she saw several cops run down the corridor headed to the apartment where she had just made her entrance. “I’m not a ‘stairs’ kind of girl. I need a new exit J, what’s it looking like down there?”
“I’m listening in on the police radio transmission. Kale just ordered a bunch of blockades on the apartment exits, but that won’t matter where we’re headed.”
“That’s reassuring to know.”
James entered in the new parameters on his laptop and continued to type, his fingers flying across the keyboard at lightning speed.
“Okay, I have your new exit. Listen up, turn right when you reach apartment 813, the nearest ‘exit’ is hidden behind a fire hose panel about twenty feet onwards from there. I’m going to make my way to the rendezvous point now Syd, good luck.”
Sydney hung up just as a bullet sailed past her ear. “Geez, if I had such bad aim I’d be dead by now,” she muttered to herself, withdrawing her pistols and returning fire.
She quickly kicked in the nearest apartment door for cover and ducked inside. Several shots ripped through the thin wall only inches from where Sydney stood. “I think it’s time to check out,” she said to herself as she reloaded her pistols and prepared to run.
She exited the apartment; both pistols aimed down the corridor and began to fire, breaking down a considerable portion of the stucco wall. When a grenade came rolling down the corridor and landed between Sydney’s feet she was ready and served it back to the sector police with a kick what would have impressed even the great Bobby Charlton.
Sydney turned and ran, as the blast of the grenade was met with the screams of the cops who had dealt it as their limbs were separated from the rest of their bodies. Sydney ran, fire and debris blazing a path behind her. She dived to the right as she passed apartment 813, and headed to the fire hose panel.
Sydney swung back the panel to reveal the ‘laundry shute’ opening. Removing her gun holsters from her legs, Sydney climbed inside, pulling the panel door shut behind her.
“Hey there!” greeted James as Sydney rocketed down the shute and landed in a laundry trolley. He gave Sydney a hand as she clambered out of the basket of sheets and towels. “You’re late.”
“How on earth did you know about this?” Sydney asked as she looked around the basement room while replacing the gun holsters around her thighs. It was most definitely NOT a laundry room, but instead seemed to be the epicentre of the apartment building with several doors and similar shutes all leading to this centre room.
“This is my father’s building, he built it back in the eighties when he initiated the hostile take over bid of 1986. He needed a place where he could make a swift and undetected exit if he ever needed it. This entire building is full of secret passageways.”
“Why do I get the feeling that there’s more to James Gates than meets the eye?” asked Sydney with curiosity.
“Because,” began James as he knelt down and, after running his hands over the surface of the floor, found a tiny ring set in the stone. Pulling the ring the floor began to move to reveal a staircase that led further down into the ground. “I’m full of surprises.”
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
The Queen is in Play: Part 1
Saturday, May 17th, 2003
Outskirts of Indigo City
Inside the small, quaint house which rested on the outskirts of Indigo City, all was silent save for the television which blared noisely:
This is Amy Darling reporting live outside Wyvern Towers where, only twenty minutes ago Sector Police officials were informed by the FBI to apprehend one of the tenants. Sydney King…” Sydney King, a fugitive reported to be an armed terrorist with extremist environmental protest group Earthrage, is suspected of having been part of a terrorist attack at the Hoover Dam in Vegas two nights ago. Sector Police officials are still awaiting confirmation from the FBI before an attempt at apprehending the fugitive will take place…”
Eric’s heart pounded as he watched the news unfold from the edge of his seat. Only a few weeks prior, this “Dangerous fugitive” had been in his home city, helping to rescue Pegasus from the deranged Cerberus. Now, it seemed that his friend needed a little help of her own, and Eric was hundreds of miles away.
“Come on, you’ve got to get yourself out of there!” As if his warning had reached all the way to Vega City, a second later, the news crew caught footage of the beautiful woman crashing through a window and swinging into another several stories below.
“Shit Sydney, you’re not Superman,” he said aloud as his heart boomed even faster. He continued watching the events play out until the news crew reported that the woman had most likely gotten away.
*Finally,* Eric breathed a slight sigh of relief as his nerves began to calm themselves down. *What is going on these days? First that freak storm in Crystal City, now this. * Getting up from the couch, Eric walked slowly over to the closet and opened the wooden door. *Even if I couldn’t have helped Sydney tonight, maybe I can do some good around here,* he thought as he pulled out a brilliant red costume with a wolf insignia on the chest.
Two Hours Later, Indigo City
Eric revved his bike faster as he swerved through the empty streets of the city. It felt good to be out of his house and back in action. Ever since the big fiasco at the agent complex he had decided to lay low and relax, but even a well deserved break becomes tedious after awhile. Now, Eric was ready for action. Turning his bike in a sharp arc, the red crusader rushed down a dark, unfrequented road hoping to catch some sign of a Valhalla drug shipment. However, minutes passed, then an hour, and still there was no sign of any misdoings in Indigo City.
*What? Did all the crazy people in this city emigrate away? * Just as he was going to give up his patrol for the night, his keen hearing picked up the faint sound of an alarm several streets way. “Maybe the night won’t be a bust after all”.
Arriving on the scene, the former agent caught sight of two men wearing ski masks, frantically making a get-away from 18 karat the biggest jewelery store in the city. *So it's no drug shipment, but I guess it will have to do *
Retrieving his pistols from their holsters on his thighs, Fenris prepared to fire two stunning rounds on the would-be thieves. Just as he was about to shoot, something extremely unexpected occurred. The two men’s retreat was suddenly cut short, when both criminal’s began to levitate off the ground and then proceeded to turn upside down.
“What the hell is going on?!” one shouted as he desperately struggled to turn himself right side up.
*That’s what I want to know* Eric thought as he replaced his guns in their place. *If I’m not the one lifting them up, then who is? *
A small figure emerged from the darkness, her curvaceous body accentuated by the skin tight black and purple costume she wore. “Now, now boys. Haven’t you heard that diamonds are a woman’s best friend?” The new arrival gracefully walked over to her floating prey and snatched the two bags the original thieves were using to carry their loot.
“Hey, that’s ours! Who do you think you are bitch?” the other powerless man snapped.
“I think I’m the one who is going to be leaving tonight with all these pretty baubles,” she giggled before gently putting a fingertip on both of their foreheads. “Nighty night”. A second later, the two men convulsed for an instant and then fell painfully to the floor. “Well that was fun, time to go home”.
“I’m afraid you’re not going anywhere”.
Startled, Psyspell turned to see where the voice was coming from. Arriving as stealthily as she had, Fenris now stood defiantly in front of her, a pistol drawn, aimed straight at her. The woman looked her opponent up and down. The ruby clad figure was tall, well built and handsome. Had they met in some other situation, Psyspell figured she might have enjoyed making his acquaintance.
“Listen handsome, put your little toy gun down, get out of my way, and you won’t end up like dumb and dumber on the ground there”.
Eric smiled slightly, but did not lower his custom Valhalla pistol. “I think you’re going to find that I’m a little better prepared than those two”.
“I’ll try not to bruise that handsome face of yours,” Psyspell laughed as she commanded Eric’s gun to fly out of his hands. While her opponent was still off guard, she cart-wheeled forwards, but before bringing her second foot down, she used the momentum of the movement to land a powerful kick in Eric stomach.
Although she was not as physically strong as him, she had good technique, and combined with the fact that his chest was still sore from the beating he had received from the agents, Eric doubled over in pain. Amy violet giggled as she approached Fenris, and placed a finger seductively under his chin and gently lifted his head.
“I hope you have some aspirin pretty boy, cause I assure you, your head will hurt in the morning”. A wave of psychic energy flowed from the woman into Fenris’ head, overwhelming his system. Psyspell let her prey fall limply to the ground as she retrieved the two bags, and began to walk away.
“Like I said, I’m a little better prepared than the other two”.
Amy was shocked to see her opponent struggle back to his feet seconds after one of her famous mind shocks. “You’re supposed to be knocked out,” she said rather confused.
“Yeah well, let’s just say that you’re not the only one here with a few gifts”. He responded before pulling away the stolen jewelry with his telekinesis.
“God damnit, why is there a blasted superhero in every town I try and work?” she cursed before charging forward. She released a series of punches and kicks which Eric matched move for move.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Eric said staying on the defensive, “so just give yourself up now”.
“What? Too chivalrous to hit a girl? My god we’re in the 21st century buddy, get with the times!”
The struggle between Eric and Amy elevated from simple physicality to a battle of the minds. Each concentrated desperately, trying to get the upper hand before finally they were both sent reeling from psychic backlash.
The two combatants both began to pick themselves up from the floor when a sudden flash of a powerful spotlight caused them both to stop dead in their tracks.
“Freeze you metas, this is the police!”
To Catch a Spy - Part Four: VCLG HQ
To Catch a Spy – Part Four: VCLG HQ
Sunday, 18th May 2003
The Streets of Vega City
12:37am
The stairway led to a secret underground tunnel; James led the way with Sydney following close behind. After about ten minutes of walking hunched up in the cramped space, the tunnel widened out.
“I’ve left my bike up ahead,” informed James with a slight grin. “Fancy a ride?”
The sleek black motorcycle zoomed through the brightly-lit streets of Vega City though the two passengers saw nothing but a blur of neon lights burning through the late night smog. Sydney held on tightly, her arms wrapped around James’ chest with her head buried against the back of his leather jacket. They rode in this fashion for almost forty minutes before James pulled the bike to a halt.
Sydney opened her eyes, unaware how tightly she'd had to close them due to the speed they had been travelling. She looked around her surroundings.
“Where are we?” she asked, climbing from the back of the bike. They appeared to be back underground again facing a dead-end; Sydney could see patches of streetlight shining in from various grates situated high above.
James removed his helmet and flipped back a panel on the wall ahead of them to reveal a keypad. Rapidly entering a sequence of numbers he stood back as a door opened in the wall.
He grinned back at Syd as he pushed his bike in through the door. “You’ll see.”
Wyvern Towers – 12:44am
“What do you mean she got away?” Ethan Kale barked into his radio. He pounded down the staircase and back out into the open as a dozen news reporters descended upon him.
“Agent Kale! Agent Kale! What’s the status on the fugitive?”
“Have you made an arrest?”
Ethan made no attempt to answer any of the reporters’ questions as he pushed his way through the crowd towards his waiting car. Another member of his team lagged behind and beckoned for the news teams to approach him.
“Okay, I will answer your questions, one at a time please…”
Vega City Liberation Group HQ – Sector Four, Vega City - 1:14am
Sydney followed James through the door, which led to a small platform high above a massive chamber.
“Wow, it’s like the bat cave in here,” Sydney said as her eyes surveyed the chamber below them.
James smiled and hit a button and the platform began to descend into the room below. The cavern was about thirty feet in height and the length of three tennis courts. It was constructed out of a nasty beige coloured concrete with a network of pipes and cables in various sizes running in every direction across the ceiling and walls. In the hub of the room was a large circle of computers and other electrical equipment emitting a melody of computer signals. From the high vantage point Sydney could clearly make out several people all busy working at some project or other. She glanced over at James as the platform came to a stop.
“Welcome to the Vega City Liberation Group Headquarters.”
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
"Die Fröhlike Wissenschaft" - Part One
Monday, 19 May 2003
Office of Ethan Kale
11:20pm
Observer reviewed the stream of data another time, watching the reports and files come in to him. The more he considered his position, the more he knew that something had to change. A plan had formed, and Sara convinced to reluctantly aide him. A decision which gave him one of the most interesting challenges of all time, and a potential plan. He needed allies, at least for now.
A string of data went out to a phone company. He knew the person he had to contact as he cut through the company’s security using a back door long ago installed. His impulses would be converted to the same compressions and rarefactions that humans used. To all appearances, and with a little luck, he would appear to be a human.
When someone answered the phone, and greeted him, he began simply, “I need to speak with Mr. Kale. I have some potential information on a fugitive he might be interested in.”
“And who should I tell him is calling?” the skeptical voice asked.
“Someone who will speak to him, or ensure that he never finds his quarry.” A possible overstatement of his influence, but he would not be above trying to do that out of spite.
Kale had been deliberating how best to report his failure to his superiors when the telephone began to ring.
"I have a call for you on line one," instructed the assistant, "it's about the King case."
Ethan scowled at the phone as he punched a few keys to access the call. Sometimes the assistants the agency sent over could be increadibly dense, letting any whack job with 'a good lead' through security.
"Hello?" he barked down the phone, a high level of irritation in his voice.
The voice ran through Observer's analysis units, hoping he had the right person. "Mr. Kale," Observer transmitted. "I must congratulate the Central Intelligence Agency on their firewalls. You have no idea how long it took me to locate you." He knew that he wasn't supposed to know who Kale really worked for, and took a perverse pleasure in taunting people with what he could learn.
Ethan suddenly sat bolt upright in his chair, his grip on the phone tightening. Only his own staff from Washington knew the real organisation behind the operation in Vega City. Warily he looked around the room before continuing.
"Who is this?" he demanded, "this is a secure line so you'd better know who you're fucking with here!"
"You can call me Observer." His voice remained steady, though it still contained elements of power behind it. "Still, all bluster aside, I have a proposition for you. I've located a couple of bank accounts the lovely Ms. King uses. Whether or not you can eventually locate that information depends on you."
Ethan was ready to bust the phone against the wall in anger until he heard the stranger mention Sydney's name. He suddenly became very calm and leaned back in his chair. "A proposition? And what might that be?"
Observer was amazed at the change in the tone of the man he was speaking with. Naturally, he was right down to business. "The Agency has certain files on cybernetics which I require copies of. If I receive these files, her accounts will be frozen."
He deliberately did not mention what he would do if no access was granted. Kale was a smart man, and could probably work that out on his own.
Kale smiled broadly, sinking even deeper into his leather chair. If there was one thing he loved more than hunting down Meta's it was bargaining.
"Hmm, that's a very interesting proposal, whoever you are. But there is just one problem, see I don't make deals with people I don't know; at least, not without proof that they can deliver on their promises."
He opened a small box on his desk and removed a cigar, it was all part of the bargaining process to appear as laid-back as possible. "You're obviously a well informed man "Observer" I think that you can do better than freezing a few bogus bank accounts. Especially concidering the calibre of intel you're seeking."
A series of electrical impulses rearranged themselves on Observer's machine to a pattern of amusement. Humans loved to believe they were in power all the time. A series of impulses to the power company began if a show of his power proved needed.
“My domain is electronic information, Mr. Kale. You would be amazed at the kind of information that can be accessed. I'm sure you know there was an incomming call to her room after your arrival. Quite sloppy of you to show up on air like that and call the cavalry."
The sound of the plastic handset being slowly compressed within his hand signalled Ethan was losing his temper again; such was the rage that he felt for the fugitive Xi-unit.
"I can get you what you want."
Ethan's voice had lost it's air of complaicency and was instead firm and rigid, spitting out his words through tightly gritted teeth.
"You give me the information I need to aprehend this woman and you can have whatever you want."
Such hatred directed at one woman, Observer thought. And still he wondered… which of them had the place in what was to come? He had traced the false identity to its true owner, and was quite impressed with the security around him.
“Excellent,” said Observer. “This is what I require.” He began to list a series of files on artificial limbs, work on the construction of parts needed for cyborgs. Even a few files on the preliminary augmentation work - the underlying data would be rather useful.
“There is just one thing I am curious about, before I turn over my information. Why do you hate this woman so much?”
"For the source of my hatred look no further than what she is. She represents the corruption of the human race, an abomination that should never have been created and allowed to survive." Ethan paced the floor of his office impatiently.
"And more importantly, it's my job."
Observer considered Kale carefully. At once, a decision was made. A series of impulses went out to close accounts, while another accessed an e-mail server to send a simple message: “Identity used to contact Sydney on night of accident compromised. Move to new safe house.” While the AI would give the information, his own plans would not be undercut.
“As a show of good faith, I have just closed one of her accounts.” He rattled off a bank and account number. “Prepare to receive the location to transfer the files. You will get the rest of your data once I have verified their receipt.”
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
19th May 2003 3:35pm
Las Vegas, Nevada
Half three in the afternoon and it was hot as Mel strolled down the strip. The casinos were open filled with eager tourists looking to win some easy money. She’d picked up a prepaid wireless phone at a Circuit City on the ride in. She’d paid cash of course anything else would have defeated the purpose of buying it in the first place.
Now she was plucking up the courage to actually make the call. Oh she’d decided to be a ‘superhero’ a while ago but she’d been hoping to leave dealing with the government till later… much later. *Oh well it’s not like my life has ever gone to plan*
She took out the phone switched it on and after a moments hesitation dialled the number she’d memorised. It rang for a moment then clicked there was silence on the line, no dial tone, no engaged tone just silence.
*What I don’t even get a hello?* “Who will help the widow’s son?”
William spent the day going over the last of the details, as reports from Observer had trickled in. At the moment, the current leads were looking quite promising. All that was left to do was to contact the appropriate intermediaries - which could be a slow task at times. Like waiting for the banker and Trilateral Commission member to finish making sure that one or two individuals could get in the country, no questions asked.
It was almost a relief when the phone rang. As was his custom, William said nothing, letting the other person start first. “Excellent timing in calling,” he said, recognising Gabriel’s voice - though it seemed familiar from somewhere else. *Nah, can’t be.
*
“We have a lead one of those lost packages, if you were still interested in looking for them.”
“Well I doubt I’d be ringing you for any other reason.”
“I was hoping you would say that,” William said, sensing the hook to reel her in. “I’ve already got arrangements being made right now. Our cover will be with a group of journalists. We'll be heading to Melbourne initially. Hopefully to intercept the package before it reaches it's final destination”
“A journalist?” Mel paused then smiled “I’d prefer to make my own travel arrangements. So if you just let me know where I’ll be meeting my contact I can take it from there.”
“Alright.” He wasn’t too pleased with the idea, though there was a possible way. “Of course, it would be a simple matter for us to arrange your transport. Much more cost effective, and we could even stop questions about the Vegas light.”
Mel paused it was tempting very tempting but ultimately hiding her foray’s through the night sky was going to be pointless especially after the first time she flew over Vegas. “I’m sure you could stop any questions about the light after all you MiB’s are very efficient, however it’s really not necessary and of course if I fly with you your going to have smuggle a glowing woman which I guess would be rather tough. No I’ll make my own arrangements I doubt anyone will connect the real me to Gabriel..”
She waited for the slight intake of breath from the other line and cut in “You said ‘our’. I take it you’ll be along on this trip?”
Willam was only slightly annoyed at the fact that she was messing up some of the arrangements. Still, they could easily be changed. “Naturally. We have the information to act. Do you think we should just do nothing?”
“Of course not but I was unaware that the NSA operated outside US borders at least in anything other than an intelligence gathering capacity. Presumably you’ll be the liason with the Australian authorities?” Mel was trying very hard not to smile having spent an evening playing poker with Amadeus he was much easier to read even over the telephone. Hopefully she’d managed to rattle him
“Under normal circumstances, yes, but we have been given a certain latitude to operate by the Australian government,” he said.
“Ah I see. A certain latitude to operate? Even on the sovereign territory of a friendly state? Well I’m sure you’d do nothing that was technically illegal” She couldn’t quite keep the slight mocking edge out of her tone. He’d just lied to her she didn’t know what the truth was but his voice told her he’d lied.
“Well that’s by the by I’ll be making my own travel arrangements. So Melbourne?”
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
Night Haunter Part I: Cattle
May 19th, New York
Jerry Redfield came out the cinema amongst the group of people that had just been watching the film. They were all chatting about it, their various views and opinions merging into just one noise. Jerry, however, was alone. Despite being in a mass of people, and no matter how hard he tried, he was different from them.
Jerry Redfield was psychic.
And, to be honest, he hated the fact. What’s more, he hated the fact that everyone else hated him for it. One day, maybe, one day he could get back at them all…
That he was a mutant wasn’t enough. He was also the only person in the crowd to be tensed and alert for danger. They were relaxed, if a little pumped up with excitement from the film (which, on reflection, was rather good and took his mind of his life for a few hours). But Jerry had all six senses aware for danger.
He reached out with his mind, sensing those around him. Although none of them should have the faintest clue he was a psyker didn’t mean things couldn’t get ugly. Throughout his life they repeatedly had, and more than once Jerry was forced to use his ‘gift’ to influence potential aggressors into a calmer attitude.
But he could find no trace of fear or anger from their minds. Minds were a bit like faces. Each one was similar, and yet marginally different from the next at the same time; made individual by personality. Also like faces, they were extremely easy to read if you could. Thoughts ran freely like smiles or frowns. But they were a lot harder to influence into doing something they didn’t want to.
The crowd began to disperse and go their separate ways. A couple followed him down the same street. This didn’t bother Jerry, he would be aware of any threat and have plenty of time to do something. For just like expressions, emotions and thoughts could change in an instant. Discovering Jerry’s secret could do this. The fact that his power was growing every day would probably get him killed.
He glanced back over his shoulder at the couple. A couple of years younger than him; twenty-four the male, the woman a year younger. They giggled and chatted. Jerry turned away before his fury built. They had what he could never possibly have, and that was another of the things he despised about being a mutant and would love to get back at good old mankind for-
Something wasn’t right.
Jerry looked again. Moving off down a side street the couple revealed a tall guy standing behind them. The light for this street was out, so he was bathed in darkness and shadow. Jerry could only trace a rough outline, one that appeared muscular, tall and strong. Could only trace an outline, because he couldn’t read the man’s thoughts.
He stopped and stretched out with his mind.
Nothing.
Jerry tried harder, reaching out even further. But all he got was the subconscious thoughts of sleep from the residents in the buildings around them. No, that wasn’t true. He could feel something out on the limits of his powers. He tried harder than he ever had, sweat beginning to pour and a vein stuck out on his forehead. The strain almost made him collapse.
And then he felt it.
Well, maybe that wasn’t the most accurate term. He didn’t so much feel it as feel it’s absence. It was like a void; an abyss. There was nothing there. No emotion, nothing. Where there should have been thoughts and feelings, there was just…emptiness. He had never encountered anything like this in his life. Curious, Jerry focused on this irregularity, bringing his mind fully to bare on it.
For his efforts, he received something. Just a flash of an image, but it was enough. Jerry staggered back and gasped, then remained rooted to the spot; paralysed with fear after just staring into the face of Death.
Culexes felt the psyker trying to sense him. It was futile. Many had tried similar attempts in the past, but they only sensed the Abyss. Then, like all those before him, Jerry Redfield had seen the Death’s head and that was it.
The leather-clad assasin unholstered his Executioner Pistol and aimed for the head. A tiny red dot hovered on Jerry’s sweating forehead. Culexes didn’t need to look around. He knew everyone in the area was either asleep, out, or the type of person who, even if they saw a shooting, wouldn’t report it. Seeing it wasn’t very likely either. The streetlights had been taken out earlier.
Jerry Redfield had violated Scorpion Decree Section Twelve: Intended violation of a human being’s mind by external abhuman source and Section Thirteen: Intended influence of a human being’s mind by external abhuman source, repeatedly. Some of his victims had developed serious neurological damage, even tumours. That Jerry had been forced to do it in self-defence did not enter the equation. That he was planning revenge, whether it was still only in the early stages or not, did. He was unable to regulate his power and was such a threat and a loose cannon, and must be eliminated before causing further harm to others.
The man hadn’t moved from his position. By now the nauseating feeling in his stomach would have reached near-unbearable limits, all the hair on his body would be standing on end and he wouldn’t react to instructions to move from the brain. Culexes had seen this effect dozens of times before on unprepared psychics. He didn’t feel pity the first time, he certainly didn’t now.
It was a perfect shot. His finger tensed on the trigger. This was a kill mission. Jerry was not worth rehabilitation. Culexes had already switched to pistol fire. The weapon had no safety. To Culexes, that was an insult.
He squeezed.
With a near-inaudible pop the bullet was propelled out the chamber. It travelled dead on, but at the very last minute Mr. Redfield flinched to one side. Whistling harmlessly less than five millimetres by his ear, it slammed into a concrete wall where it went another centimetre before exploding. Tiny chunks of rock flew in various directions from the newly formed small crater.
Jerry, already panicked by Culexes’ presence and seeing the Death’s Head, totally lost it and fled. Culexes was already moving, all business. There was no emotion, no curse left his lips or cry of frustration. Replacing the silencer back on his person, he reholstered the Executioner Pistol and headed after his target. Although he had lost line of sight he could still sense him steadily moving away in a roughly northwest direction. With his body pumped up with drugs and this special skill to track him, Culexes should catch up in no time at all.
Although Jerry Redfield didn’t know what the hell was going on, he knew that at least he was petrified. He had seen the face of Death, Death, and then somebody had taken a shot at him. A shot! With a gun! At him! And with explosive ammo! He had thought that had been banned.
His mind long ago giving up on even trying to give his body directions, Jerry was just running because, to be honest, he really didn’t know what else to do. Which is why when he hit the dead-end alley, it wasn’t until he was almost nose-to-nose with the wall that he realised his situation. And by then it was far too late.
He spun around, looking behind him, then did a double take. There was a figure standing down at the mouth of the alley, dressed totally in black. Jerry would have mistaken it for a shadow had it not been for the head. And that’s what drew his eyes, inexorably. It was a grinning skull-face; the eye sockets like black holes staring at him, and instantly he knew this was the man who had stood calmly on the side walk and shot at him whilst bathed in shadow; his mysterious assailant.
Like before, Jerry wanted to run. He really wanted to run. But, also like before, his legs refused to obey. So he turned to his powers, reaching out with his mind to do something to let him escape. But it was useless. Jerry was staring at this whatever it was, he knew it was there, but he just couldn’t read it. It was like being able to see something, but when you reached out to touch it with your hand you just went through it.
This wasn’t a feeling Jerry liked or wanted to have again. Fortunately enough, he wouldn’t. He didn’t know why Death was after him, what he had done to earn this retribution. But the figure gave no sign of answering the unsaid question. It just continued to stare with those bottomless eye sockets.
Culexes could smell the fear coming of Jerry. Well no, more accurately he could see it. The equipment in his skull helmet was analysing his body and displaying it to him just in the corner of his eye. Jerry’s temperature was up high, heart and breathing rate rising and hormone production had just increased.
He had studied Jerry Redfield’s background well. The psychic was a survivor, and Culexes expected him to not go down without some attempt at a fight. His powers were useless on the assassin, so a more direct approach was required. Most likely Jerry would try to use a weapon of some sort. Not carrying any on him, his mind being his weapon, he would have to use some object in the vicinity. One of the metal poles lying half out a turned over bin just a few feet away would probably be his course of action. He would never reach it, of course, but there would come a point where he would try.
And it looked like that point was drawing near. Jerry had just noticed the potential weapon. Any second now, when he thought Culexes was distracted, he would put every last effort into going for it. In such a live or die attempt he might very well break form the spell he was under. The agent was unable shoot him here; he couldn’t ensure the execution went unnoticed. A more direct approach would be required.
Taking two quick steps that took Mr. Redfield by surprise, Culexes launched into a leap that crossed the distance between the two easily. Knocking Jerry to the ground, he put his entire weight into holding him down, pinned his arms with his legs and covered his mouth with one hand. Muffled screams came from the struggling figure, but they wouldn’t be heard by anybody. Nor would the struggling have any effect.
Drawing a silver cylinder from a pouch on his right leg, Culexes pressed it to Jerry’s neck and pressed down on the end with the thumb. The man thrashed for a bit longer, but the venom was fast acting and within moments had destroyed his entire nervous system. There was the occasional spasm before it went to work on his brain, eating it away like acid. Within half a second Jerry Redfield was dead. It took a total of thirty seconds, from the venom first entering his system till death.
Culexes stood up away from the corpse. He reached up and pressed the side of his helmet. A small ariel extended from a hidden recess, and a wave of static echoed around his head before there was a click and silence.
“Culexes reporting.” He said, drone like. “Target eliminated. Time of death 12:48.” He didn’t need to give a position. They were tracking his movements by satellite through a chip embedded under the skin of his left upper arm and knew exactly where he was.
“Understood, Culexes.” Came the equally distant voice in his ear. It was the voice of Deimos, the agent who was Culexes connection with the Centre. Deimos was his codename, of course. It was him who provided Culexes with everything he needed to complete a mission: directions, instructions, changes of orders. It was also him who Culexes reported to at the end of every mission. They had never seen each other in person, but that didn’t bother either. “Target eliminated at 12:48. Anything else?”
“Minor damage occurred to a wall on Cherry Street.” That was all he needed to say. The agent on the other end would already be accessing city records for further information. “Affirmative. New orders: Return to base. Nice hunting, Culexes. Out.”
There was another click, and then silence. Culexes took one more look at the body of Jerry Redfield, taking in the gaping eyes and mouth, and turned to merge with the shadows without comment.
Exactly five minutes after the conversation ended, a nondescript black Sedan pulled up. Two men in black coveralls got out and headed for the alley. They picked up Jerry’s body, zipped it into a black bag, then carried it back to the car and placed it in the boot. Three minutes later a black van appeared. Another man got out of that as the original two took the body bag out of the boot and placed it in the back of the van, where they came out with spray paint, paste, a concert poster for a band neither had heard of, and a dustpan and brush. The third man swept up the rubble, whilst the second used tweezers to remove the tiny traces of the exploded bullet. When finished, the first sprayed a signature next to the hole, then the second put up the poster. The third emptied the concrete into a black bin bag in the van, where the second also placed the bullet remains. Without another word, the two men got back in the Sedan and drove away. The third climbed into the van and took it to a facility twelve miles out of town where the body was burnt and the ashes disposed of.
Eighteen minutes after the Sedan pulled up, the Scorpion Clean-Up Team had gone. They left behind no trace that Culexes or Jerry had been there or that the night’s events had ever taken place besides a poster for a band that was advertised everywhere else and somebody’s claim to making a hole in the wall that was put down to kids when it was discovered some months later.
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
The League of Extraordinary Geeks
Part One - Welcome to the League
Introducing – Bradley Cooper as Ben Carson and Kevin Weisman as Jerry Weinburg
Also - Lacey Charbert as Matilda Bruce and Edward Furlong as Max Jones
Sunday 18th May, 2003
Underground VCLG Headquarters – Sector Four, Vega City
1:17am
Sydney confidently descended the platform into the main chamber. Although she continued to maintain eye contact with James she frequently let her gaze wander as she created a mental blueprint of her new surroundings. “So this is the ‘only free voice of democracy’ in Vega City huh?”
James grinned, running a self-conscious hand through his ruffled hair. “This is where all the magic happens.”
Sydney rotated her head as she took in the sheer height of the chamber. “This is some operation you have here. Just where are we anyway?”
“About thirty feet below Vega City. This actually used to be part of the old ironworks, before my father sold it off that is.” James looked bitter and angry as the words left his mouth. He immediately ushered Sydney on in an attempt to leave the subject behind.
Sydney raised a curious eyebrow at James, he never talked about himself and her interest had been piqued by the intense emotion he had displayed. She was about to speak when James turned back to face her.
“I told you about how deep the corruption in this city ran but perhaps you didn’t truly believe the extent. I happen to have first hand experience of such dealings…” James’ mind appeared to wander for a moment before he continued. “I decided many years ago that I wouldn’t just sit idly by and profit from such corruption, that’s why I created this organisation, in order to expose that venality.”
“Is he giving you the venality speech?”
Sydney and James turned around to face the person who had just spoken. A handsome man, about the same age as James but with a crop of scruffy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes stood before them. He had a more studious look about him though he shared his friend’s unruly edge.
“Still reading from the same script as when you recruited me huh James?” The man grinned at James before giving Sydney a friendly smile.
“My name is Ben Carson, you must be Sydney King. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
The corner of Sydney’s mouth curled into a smile and she cast a sideways glance at James. “All good I hope?”
Ben took Sydney’s hand, shaking it firmly. “Most definitely.”
James observed the greeting before gesturing the pair to move onwards. As they continued to walk through the large chamber to a smaller annex he began to talk.
“Ben is our intrepid reporter for The Network. He’s also my oldest friend.”
Ben laughed, “so if you want to know the dirt on Vega City’s ‘most eligible bachelor’ just give me a bell.”
Sydney frowned, shooting a questioning glance at James who deftly avoided her gaze.
“Squadron Leader, thank Silicon Heaven you’re here, I just made THE best breakthrough with the network link up to the Psytech labs, they won’t think of looking for our worm this way. I’m telling you this is great, now we can get access to the Special Project files, they won’t even know what’s hit ‘em…”
“Woah, woah, woah there Jerry!” James held his hands up defensively. “Look there’s someone I want you to meet…”
Jerry turned to Sydney and smiled shyly. “Sydney King, Xi-series 051. Part of ATP:9’s attempts at making a MLSS” Jerry glanced back at James and Ben. “That’s a Meta Level Super Soldier through advanced cybernetic and sensory augmentation, neuro-prosthetics and environmental conditioning.”
“You can call me Syd.”
Jerry struggled to hold all his files in one hand while he extended the other to shake Sydney’s hand before pushing his glasses back up his nose. “A p-pleasure. Jerry, Jerry Weinburg although my friends just call me Gadget, sometimes, if I remind them to, because of the, the, inventions…”
Suddenly a high pitched female voice shouted out from behind a sofa. “Hey what’s all the commotion over there? I’m trying to watch the news!”
The group of four joined the owner of the voice, a young, skinny brunette teen slumped in front of the TV.
”This is Amy Darling with a live update from outside Wyvern Towers, Vega City. After a most explosive raid on the property by a Sector Police Swat team it appears that the fugitive, Sydney King has managed to escape. FBI agent Fenton Morris gave this statement…”
“This fugitive may have evaded arrest this time, however, the FBI will not rest until she has been apprehended and brought to justice for her crimes. It is not the belief of this organisation that excessive force was used in this sit-”
“Hey!” the young girl protested as Ben turned the television set off and dropped the remote back on the couch.
“You watch too much of that trash Matilda. Besides, Amy Darling is a talentless hack.”
“Yeah,” came the voice of a teenage boy as he sauntered into the rec. room and pushed Matilda’s feet from the couch so that he could sit. “But as the saying goes, “…she has a great rack.””
“That’s Max,” explained James to Sydney, “he’s yet to develop the social skills of a normal human being.”
“Hey!” began Max, looking up, at seeing Sydney he stumbled off the couch and brushed down his dirty jeans and straightened out his baggy leather jacket. “I’m Max Jones, genius extraordinary. I’m guessing that you lovely lady are Sydney…”
Sydney stood straighter, flicking a stray strand of hair from her face. “Well everyone seems to know who I am-”
“Of course we do!” piped up Matilda, kneeling over the back of the couch to join in the conversation. “You’re practically all Jay ever talks about these days…”
“That’s enough of that…” warned James with an uneasy laugh, raking a hand through his hair again.
“Yeah well I can see why!” stated Max, running a hand through his own over-long hair in an attempt to improve his boyish looks. “Jay never said you were so hot! I guess he was keeping that little piece of data to himself!”
“Enough Max!” James said more firmly this time. “Where’s your sister?”
“Margaret?” said Max with a leery gaze. “She’s on one of her protest rallies. Save the endogenous mould growths of tree slugs or something. She’s probably chained herself to a bulldozer by now, won’t be back till late.”
Matilda giggled. “Great escape by the way Sydney, you have to show me how you did that jump thing from the window, that was soooo cool!”
Ben glanced at his watch in irritation. “Sydney won’t be teaching anyone anything unless a certain pair of teenagers get themselves off to bed.”
“Way to be a killjoy BEN” moaned Max in annoyance as he reluctantly dragged himself off in the direction of what Sydney supposed was his domicile. Matilda also pouted in a petulant manner before disappearing in another direction to Max.
“They’re part of your democratic alliance?” Sydney asked James once they were out of sight. “They’re children.”
“Perhaps,” sighed James sinking down onto the couch. Ben also sat down in an old beaten armchair while Jerry had already vanished, back into his lab probably. “But they’ve already fallen victim to the corruption of this city. Matilda’s parents were shot in a drive-by killing after testifying in a trial against Delta-Net, and Max and his sister have been orphans since their father died of cancer due to working at a contaminated PsiTech laboratory. Where else have they got to go?”
Sydney was silent for a long moment before she stretched out with a yawn, realising she hadn’t slept in the past 32 hours. James observed Sydney and rose to his feet.
“Come on, I’ll show you where you can crash for the night. I have a feeling we’ll have a lot to talk about in the next few days.”
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
20th May 2003, 08:25am
Las Vegas Airport
As the jet taxied down the runway Mel couldn’t quite decide which would have been worse. Being able to see out of one of the little windows or being stuck in the middle of this tin can unable to see much more than her fellow passengers.
*Well you have the window to look out of…* Her stomach lurched as the aircraft hauled itself into the sky. Mel had flown before and never really had a problem with it but that was before her change. Now, having danced through the air under her own power she decided that spending more than eighteen hours coupled up in this winged cattle truck was not her favourite experience.
Mel sighed and tried to ignore the further lurch in her stomach as the aircraft banked again. In an effort to take her mind off a suddenly unpleasant experience Mel grabbed her flight bag and pulled out a couple of magazines. One – ‘The American journal of Ufology.’ Had a cover article on The Vegas Light. The other some conspiracy theory magazine also had a Vegas light article.
The pieces were fairly inaccurate though the journal one covered a variety of possibilities including a potential Meta or Military aircraft, though it discounted the later on the basis of the light’s movement. What was most worrying though was the apparent number of sightings. Initially low, as word of her nocturnal excursions had spread, the number of people reporting seeing her had increased
Indeed the were now bona fide ‘Light Watchers’ who spent a significant portion of their time out in the desert looking for her. *Well if someone spots me at least I have a cover for a while…*
The second magazine was much less informative it approached the Light as evidence for some conspiracy or other. Mel haphazardly leafed through the rest of the articles most of the were junk but one did catch her eye
Meta Human policy was something Mel liked to keep abreast of and though she doubted there was an international conspiracy to manipulate government it was intriguing to think that this CFR was blocking metahuman regulation for the moment. Mel just wondered what was in it for them if they were.
Having managed to take her mind of the flight for an hour or so Mel switched off the cabin light above her and settled into the cramped chair to try and sleep.
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
“The Eye of the Storm” – part 5 (Final)
Introducing Final Fantasy X's Rikku as... well... read on
Spectrum was in the building. The radio tower, where the freak storm that had so suddenly hit Crystal City was centered at. Inside, something was creating this storm. But what could it possibly be?
Hurt, but not badly, Spectrum looked up. The old radio tower was a tall building but not a wide one. Most of the searching would have to be done vertically. Spectrum crept over to the flight of old, dusty stairs at slid upwards to the top of the radio tower. Logically, if you were going to keep something hidden you would do it at the top where it was least likely to be noticed. Spectrum stepped up the stairs and slowly went upwards. She could fly, of course, but she didn’t want to create too much of a distraction, not yet anyway.
After several flights, Spectrum found a door to her left. She still hadn’t heard a sound from anywhere inside the building. She opened the door and looked inside. Apparently, it was an office, but… whoever kept this office had no ability clean, or so it seemed. There were papers thrown everywhere, there were metallic chairs on the ground and—
A woman. Lying face down on the ground of the office floor, blood coming out from the back of her head, flowing through her white hair. Spectrum ran over to her and checked her pulse. It was beating, but not strongly. She needed medical attention, but that couldn’t be available until she got out of her, and that wouldn’t happen until she found whatever was causing this storm. But—
There was something familiar about this woman. Her hair, although stained with blood, was still obviously white. Something very familiar about that hair. And her skin, a tan color that would signify her being Hispanic. Ever so slowly, Spectrum slightly lifted the woman’s head, being very careful not to hurt her even more. She gasped, and then nearly dropped the woman’s head back onto the ground.
Chameleon.
“Small world, isn’t it?” A man’s voice said from behind her. Spectrum spun around to face the man. “Imagine meeting you again.”
“Blackwall!” Spectrum growled. “Are you the one behind this?” She was stalling. Of course he was behind this, but he was also carrying a rifle, probably loaded and ready to shoot. She could take it away… but it would be better if she had more time.
“Behind what? This,” he said pointing towards Chameleon, “or the storm? Either way the answer is the same.” He was pointing his gun right at Spectrum’s head, yet his face held a cool calmness that made Spectrum uneasy. “Neither Maggie nor this city deserve to survive.”
“But how?” Spectrum asked. A small, hopefully unnoticeable light appeared on the tip of her right hand. “How did you make this storm?”
“The weapon.” Lucius answered plainly.
“The Weapon? What is ‘the weapon’?” Spectrum’s right hand made a fist, the reopened. In it now was something like a knife, or a dagger, although this dagger glowed with a brilliant light. Lucius didn’t seem to notice.
“The eye of the storm.” Lucius replied, without emotion. Suddenly, a bright flash of light burst out, shocking Lucius. While he recovered, the small knife in Spectrum’s hand grew to the length of a sword. She swung upwards and hit the rifle just as Lucius pulled the trigger. The bullet was shot at a diagonal range. It missed Spectrum by several feet and buried itself within a wall. Spectrum flew forward and created another light. This time, she placed her hands directly over a stunned Lucius’s eyes while she did so. Lucius collapsed on the ground, appropriately next to Chameleon.
The ring leader was down. That only left the side show. And the weapon.
Without hesitation, Spectrum burst out of the office and flew upwards as fast as she could, scanning either side for sign of a “Mind Block” member. Had they planned on destroyed the city? What could have possessed them to do such a thing?
Finally, Spectrum made it to the top floor with no sign of any “Mind Block” members. Some hidden intuition told her that the weapon lay inside this room. Spectrum decided the best way to approach this was a surprise attack. She built up mounds glowing light around her hands.
The door to the top room of the Radio Tower burst open, and Spectrum entered with a blinding array of color and light. She couldn’t even see of the light, but she heard a man’s voice cry out in pain. As the light weakened, she saw who it was.
“Dream Weaver!” Spectrum snarled. “What are you doing here and where’s the weapon.” Dream Weaver posed no threat to her. Not when she was awake, at any rate.
Dream Weaver turned to her, with a sick smile on his face. She was reminded of the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland. “You’ve awakened it. You really shouldn’t have awakened it.”
“Awakened what?”
“The weapon.” Dream Weaver smiled. “On the table.”
The weapon. On the table. Spectrum had forgotten to look. She glanced over at it. The weapon lay on the table in a limp state. The weapon’s hair was braided down to just below the weapon’s shoulders. The weapon was wearing a green shirt, with long tan pants.
“The weapon…” Spectrum gasped. “The weapon is… a little girl?” She backed away, in shock. No, she was wrong. It wasn’t a little girl… perhaps a teen would have been more precise. 15… 16 at the most. It was a young lady never the less. “You’ve been using a little girl?!”
“It wasn’t supposed to hurt her. Not that much.” A fragile voice said from the stairs behind her. Spectrum turned around again to find that Serenity and Seer had joined them. “We all thought that we were going to get money, and then let her go. We didn’t know… not even Seer!” Seer remained silent.
“But you took a little girl and used her!” Spectrum cried angrily. “How did you do it?”
“I kept her asleep,” Serenity said mildly, “and Dream Weaver.”
“I showed her the deepest corners of her mind.” Dream Weaver smiled sickeningly. “You know, for such a young girl she has seen a lot. Imagine seeing your parents slaughtered right before you eyes! A terrible image… too bad I made her relive that scene again and again. There were times when I thought her mind might snap. A lesser mind would have.”
“We didn’t know.” Serenity said again.
“You’re all insane!” Spectrum yelled. “All of you. Especially you!” she pointed at Dream Weaver who just smiled in return. “You all can—“She stopped. The weapon was moving.
Her eyes shot open. The top have of her body shot up and became parallel to the metal slab she had been lying on. A small wind started to appear around her, soon escalating into a large just. “HOW DARE YOU!” the girl screamed, but her voice sounded much deeper than an average teen’s should. It sounded imposing. “HOW DARE MERE MORTALS ATTEMPT TO USE THE GREAT DEMI-GODDESS TIKAL FOR THEIR OWN LIKING! YOU SHALL ALL DIE MISERALBE DEATHS AT THE HAND OF NATURE’S FURY!”
“I told you you shouldn’t have awakened her.” Dream Weaver said. The winds in the room grew to a torrential force, and soon rain clouds appeared by the ceiling. Rain came poring down atop the others in the room.
“Tikal!” Spectrum cried, hoping she got the name right. She didn’t know if that rant about being a demi-goddess was true, of it such things were possible, but she didn’t want to find out by being smited by one. “Please, calm down, I’m here to held you!”
“LIES!” Tikal screamed in her unnatural voice. “MORTALS THRIVE ON LIES!” Suddenly, a crash of light and a big bang signaled the collapse of the roof. Well, part of the roof anyway. Several portions of it became dislodged from the ceiling, but the wind carried them away before they could fall. A lighting bolt came down and crashed dangerously close to Seer.
Serenity tried to use her voice to calm Tikal down, but it was no use. Her voice didn’t seem to have the same quality it used to have. Besides, Tikal couldn’t hear it over the raging winds.
Spectrum flew up, fighting the winds towards Tikal. As she flew up, she shouted at Tikal to please calm down, but it was no use. Finally, as she got closer she looked the girl right in the face. Bringing her hands to Tikal’s face, she created a flash of light. It didn’t have the desired affect of knocking her out. What it did seem to do was knock some sense into her. Spectrum saw a change in Tikal’s eyes.
“Help me.” The girl said in a very small, timid voice, very much unlike the voice she just had. With that, she collapsed into the arms of her waiting super heroine. Spectrum looked back. Dream Weaver was there, still smiling and seemingly unaffected by the storm that was now dying down. Serenity and Seer had slipped away.
All around Crystal City, the storm went as suddenly as it came.
The sun came out.
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
22 May 2003
Melbourne, Australia
William had his cell phone still set up in the hands-free kit when the call came. He’d been waiting in the car with a contact in Australia. This time, the person actually was a member of the local police, one responsible who did work on the various extremist groups around. All he knew was that William was an undercover agent of some sort.
It was good timing for him that the contact just left when the phone rang. As before when he answered, he waited for the identifying phrase, although this time he had a tape recorder running. “Good to hear from you,” William said. That voice was definitely familiar.
“We probably don’t want to discuss this over the phone, since I can’t guarantee the security of the line. It’s probably a good idea for us to talk in person.”
"For you perhaps" Mel sighed this was going to be difficult. "Fine where would you like to meet. It would be best if it was rather out of the way. I'm not the most inconspicuous of people."
“Glowing will tend to do that to you, so you may want to turn that off,” he replied. He named an address. “It’s a fairly decent park, which should still be open this late.”
"Let me think No I'd prefer to glow at least that way you don't know what I look like. You'll remember our fine government is trying to pass a couple of rather disturbing laws so forgive me if I don't reveal my face to a 'government' employee"
There was a momentary paused followed by another sigh. "Fine give me an hour..."
“Good, I’ll see you then,” he said. “And I wouldn’t worry about those bills. Hoover wasn’t the only one who keeps files on everyone….”
********
About an hour later, William noted the glowing form of the woman known as Gabriel in the park. Yes, that would make everything very inconspicuous. Still, he wouldn’t say anything, at least not right away when she found him. “Well, I have some fairly disturbing news,” he said to her. “Are you familiar with the Commonwealth Heads of Government meetings?”
Mel could read the disapproval in every line of Fixer's body *well I don't like it much more than you 'Amadeus’ but if you're going to work with me you're going to have to used to the fact I'm noticeable...very noticeable* With a slight shake of her head Mel answered the spoke question "Never heard of it..."
“It a meeting of the heads of government of the members of the British Commonwealth. They’re meeting in Sydney this year. Which makes me suspicious considering that a package is on its way there as we speak.” William could have sworn that he saw Gabriele’s eyes go wide despite the glow.
“Which puts us in an interesting position,” he continued. “An informant has told us where the package is going, and can be picked up in transit.”
Wheels were working in his head right now. What was the best way to tell her that she was supposed to pick up a girl in order for the Illuminati to study without telling her the true goals.
*What was it about nuclear weapons that made people ambitious? First the Hoover Dam now a major city plus various foreign dignitaries* "Ok well if you can pick it up in Transit why not inform the Australian government of it's location and let them deal with it?"
That, he knew, was a definite possibility which could be done. “My superiors prefer to ensure that the device is accounted for – the appropriate people will know, but they want me along to ensure everything is done properly.” Which meant that the device found its way back to New York.
“I can take care of that, but it would be very helpful if you could aide us in another delicate matter. How would you like to upset the plans of one of the biggest Anti-Meta groups in the world?”
*Dammit Everything he just said was true so why don't I believe a word of it.* Give me one good reason why I should help you with this because you seem to have the nukes under control. As for the Anit-Meta group I'd certainly like to take them down a notch or two but first I have a couple of questions." Energy surged across Melissa's fingers "Just who do you work for because it's not the NSA..."
William raised an eyebrow as his hand hovered closer to his jacket. He knew he’d only have a few seconds’ of warning, and even then, with her power that might not help. Still, it had to happen eventually. When it clicked exactly who the voice was. *Well, Kate, just how paranoid have you become?*
“Who do you think I work for?” he asked jokingly. “A secret agency, or perhaps a world-wide conspiracy? Don’t be paranoid… but if you must know, certain elements of the armed forces are used for tasks the public can never know about.” All true, in a sense, since black ops are something that everyone supposedly accepts as being a reasonable possibility.
"Please don't" She said gesturing towards the his hand "I can have a sphere in play before you reach it and at this range it really won't matter" Mel silently scrutinized him "So Secret government agency, worldwide conspiracy or black ops? Which one is it?" She couldn't read him quite as well as she would have liked He was lousy at cards but despite all that he lied well or maybe it was just that he didn't know the truth anymore.
“Black ops,” he said, another half-truth. While it was true at one point, it no longer was. “Really, it’s easier to keep that secret than an ‘agency’ and who in their right mind would believe a world-wide conspiracy exists?”
He paused for a minute, wondering if she would buy it. “Now, you said you had a couple of questions? Or should I tell you about the young girl?”
"Actually, pleas, tell me why military black ops are interested in a meta human young girl? Does she start fires?"
“Healing ability,” he replied simply. “My sources haven’t told me much aside from the fact that certain members of Humans First wish to acquire her. Rumour has it they want to turn her into some kind of assassin – ironic, I know, an anti-meta group using metas.”
"So you'd like to get there first? I mean a nice low key assassin would be pretty useful to you..."
"Perish the thought, the United States doesn't engage in assassination. Not since the executive order Carter signed."
Mel's hand rose to her chest and Fixer heard a distinct click. "Well it probably won't be enough to do more than embarrass your superiors but it will probably be enough for them to disown you."
Mel smiled and settled back against a tree "So Amadeus tell me about this girl?"
William rose an eyebrow. She certainly was devious enough – they could defiantly use her, and Observer said that his superiors agreed from the initial reports. Of course, they would have to go slowly. And she was certainly the woman he’d played poker with before. “Well, I have a physical description. An informant tells us that she fled from Alpana Station when certain individuals attempted to come after her. And on mother’s day, she called her home.
“We don’t have much to go on,” he added. “Which makes this tricky. We know she’s in Melbourne, but that’s about all. Living on a cash-only basis, or we’d have found her already. Her name is Athela Buchanan.”
William waited for any reaction. He could read between the lines as well, and knew that everything would hinge on doing it her way and making it look like her idea. Drawing Gabriel deeper into the conspiracy until there was no way to extricate herself. “If you could convince her that she’s in danger, and get her to come back with us, my superiors would be grateful. Perhaps flights from Nellis will begin appearing in the official records concurrent with sightings of the Vegas Light.”
"You've tried that one before Fixer. When I make a flight down the strip I'm guessing the Vegas light will be hot news and nobody will believe it's a military aircraft. I'll talk to Athela for you... I presume that's what you'd like but it's her decision.”
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
Lamb to the Slaughter
Part Three – Fresh Prospects
Saturday 24th May 2003 – 1:45pm
Melbourne – Western Hospital
*I’m going to kill that man…* Mel settled down into the chair and tried to ignore the looks she got occasionally from the nurse behind reception. The security guard was keeping an eye on her too. *I’m not cut out for ‘undercover’ work. Hello? Blue hair.*
Mel continued to flick through the magazine while watching the other visitors sign in. ‘Ellie Jones’ had come here regularly for the last three months. Mel was hoping that Ellie was familiar to the staff. Familiar enough to tip Mel off. She had very little to go on which considering she was ‘working’ for American black ops, *Supposedly at least,* was somewhat unnerving. All Fixer had been able to tell her was that an Ellie Jones had been visiting this hospital for the last three months or so. Unfortunately other than on the hospital visitor records Ellie Jones didn’t exist. During that same three months Western Hospital had had a small but apparently statistically valid increase in survival and remission rates on their cancer ward. *And that, it seems, is enough to send me on a wild goose chase.*
Pale late-autumn sunshine filtered through the plate glass windows that lined the main reception area. Ela ignored the bustling crowds in the foyer and pushed the button for the fourth floor, labelled Oncology. As the lift whirred its way upwards she stood in the corner with her eyes downcast, not looking at any of the other occupants. On the third floor the lift stopped and an elderly couple got out, leaving Ela with just a middle-aged man for company. He clutched a posy of flowers desperately to his chest, his face stricken.
She wanted to reach out to him. She knew his name was Frank and that his wife Katherine was in the advanced stages of breast cancer. She wanted to comfort him, to tell him that Katherine would be doing much better soon, since she’d been admitted just last week. She wanted to tell him that she sat with all the cancer patients and eased their pain. But the lift reached the fourth floor with a loud ding and the doors opened. The man shuffled out before Ela had so much as opened her mouth.
Sighing, she left the lift before the doors had quite managed to squeeze shut on her, and approached the nurses’ station. Frank was already disappearing up a corridor to his wife’s room. Ela offered the nurse behind the counter a wan smile.
“How’s everyone doing today, Janet?”
“Oh, Tom’s feeling a bit more chipper, since you’ve been popping in on him all last week. He’s even had his morphine dose cut in half now. It’s amazing how much they love just having you visit them,” Janet beamed, then her face fell a little. “But dear old Flo’s started to slip backwards again, and the new lady, Kathy…” Janet just shook her head.
“Well, I’d better pop in on Flo then. Kathy’s husband just arrived, so I won’t disturb her just yet. I’ll make sure I just say ‘hi’ to Tom before I go today, though.”
Ela turned from the desk and started to walk towards the room where Florence lay. It had been almost a week since Ela had spent any significant time with the elderly lady and she felt bad about it. But Tom had been in such pain and had needed her so badly. She barely noticed the strange lady with the silver-blue hair as she passed the waiting area. Just someone taking time out from a visit, no doubt.
Mel’s eyes tracked the young woman as she walked further into the ward. *Wow, maybe not a goose chase after all.* The description matched, the staff knew her and apparently a week of visits was enough to cut a patient’s morphine dose by half. *Ok so she’s here… but now what? I can hardly just walk up and say ‘Hi I’m here to protect you from an evil anti-metahuman conspiracy that wants to brainwash you into becoming an assassin’.*
It didn’t help that security was becoming just that little more obvious about their interest, either. Mel looked around the room; there was a water cooler in one corner. Standing up she walked over and got two cups. *Ok. Nice and relaxed, don’t make a scene and don’t give her a reason to make one either.*
Taking the two cups of water Mel walked down the ward to where the girl was sitting, talking with an old woman who had been drained of any vitality by her disease and its various treatments, and yet there was a smile in her eyes as she looked at her visitor. Taking up a position just behind the girl Mel held out one of the cups. “I thought you might like a drink Ellie…”
Ela jumped at the sound and tried to cover up her consternation with a brief smile as she turned to see who had spoken. She expected to see one of the nurses, though she didn’t think any of them had an American accent, but it was the woman with the funny hair standing behind her. She was about to say a polite “No, thank you” and turn back to Florence, but then she just stared, unable to tear her gaze away from the woman’s silvery eyes. She felt Flo’s hand grip hers a little more tightly and gave the gnarly old hand she held a comforting pat.
The tingle in Ela’s fingers subsided as she disentangled her grip from the old woman’s and twisted in her seat once more to look at the woman who stood behind her, still holding the cup and with a neutral expression on her face. Ela glanced down at the water in that cup, then returned her gaze to look somewhere over the woman’s shoulder, unable to meet those disturbing eyes.
“Uh, no… No thanks. Are… Are you a friend of Flo’s?” Ela hated the quaver in her voice, but new people always made her nervous.
Mel set down the cup of water and settled into the other chair by the bedside. Her glance took in Flo. An old woman left careworn by life and ravaged by disease. *How long I wonder?* A week of visits had halved another patient’s morphine dose. How long would it take before Athela would push this woman’s cancer into remission? How long before Humans First found her? Would it have been enough to save Flo? Tom? Just by being here, by forcing the issue, how long was Mel taking from the people here?
Mel turned her attention back to the young woman. The slight quiver in her voice gave away her fear but Mel wasn’t sure quite what had put it there. “No, Flo and I have never met. I came here to see you, Ellie.” Mel kept her voice soft, her faint smile relaxed.
“Me?” Ela thought back to that hurried phone call she’d made a week and a half ago. Was her mother right? Had someone come to take her away? The woman with the blue hair looked nice enough, but who could tell, really? She was very conscious of Flo on the bed beside her and didn’t want to upset the old dear any more than she already was at this intrusion.
So she prevaricated, “Why me? Who are you?”
“I’m Melissa, though I prefer Mel.” She glanced at Flo whose concern was becoming more apparent. “Look, you have friends to see; why don’t I wait out in reception? You can visit everyone then maybe we can go get something to eat,” Mel smiled, “Though I can’t vouch for the quality of food in the cafeteria.”
Right now Athela put Mel in mind of a skittish colt, the wrong word or gesture and she’d bolt. “But we do need to talk. It’s important.” Mel wasn’t sure that she’d projected the right amount of compassion, sympathy and sincerity but she guessed she’d find out in a few moments.
Ela glanced away for a second, then back at the woman. “Ok, Mel,” she said hesitantly, “but I’m likely to be a few hours.” She really wasn’t sure about Mel, but this would at least give her some time to think about whether or not she’d keep that appointment.
Mel looked at Flo then down to Athela's hands then finally met her gaze. "I know," she said with a slight nod, "We have time."
Ela shivered slightly as Mel left the room, but she had more important things to think about right now. With a smile she turned back to Florence who lay staring up at her. “Sorry about that, Flo,” Ela whispered. “It’s all right. I’m still here to keep you company.”
She lifted up the woman’s knotted hand and clasped it lightly in her own. The tingle started up again and she could feel the lumps and knots of disease within her. It had started in her lungs and now it was almost everywhere. In her stomach, in her lymph nodes, in her bones. The tubes in her body rendered her incapable of speech, but Ela knew just where it hurt and started to work. Something told her she might not get another chance for a while.
*****
The hands on the clock at the nurses’ station read five minutes to six when Ela stumbled out of Tom’s room, having popped in for fifteen minutes after the long session she’d had with Flo. When she’d left her, the old woman was sleeping peacefully, some of the care smoothed from her haggard face. Ela, on the other hand, was looking like she’d been on a bender all night. Dark circles showed under her eyes and her steps dragged.
The nurses had changed shift during Ela’s visit, and Sharon looked taken aback at Ela’s appearance as she walked past. “Ellie, are you ok? You look awfully tired today.”
“I’m fine,” Ela lied in reply, “I’ve been tired all day. Just didn’t get much sleep last night.”
She’d had some hours to think over the strange woman’s enigmatic message. She had to admit she was curious. And what danger was there in the midst of a busy hospital? So she didn’t run down the back stairs. She turned instead to the main corridor and stood at the entrance to the waiting area. Mel sat with her head buried in a magazine, but at Ela’s approach she looked up.
When Mel noticed Ela walking down the corridor she all but sighed aloud. She hadn't been sure whether or not Ela was going to talk to her or just run. Still she had to fight down a surge of guilt as she noticed the girls' fatigue. Every person’s power was different, Mel understood, but obviously Athela spent a little of herself in healing and today, burdened with the fears Mel had brought, she had obviously pushed herself hard.
*And how much has she got to spend anyway?* Mel shook herself and stood, waited for Athela to reach her, dipped her head a little and smiled. “Let’s go get something to eat. You look famished.”
“Ok.”
Ela remained mute as she followed Mel to the hospital cafeteria. She murmured, “The usual,” to Tony, the skinny Italian kid who served at dinnertime, and waited for Mel to choose her food.
Mel looked at the cheese salad roll and the bottle of orange juice and raised an eyebrow. “That’s all you’re having?” Having selected her own sandwich and drink Mel grabbed a couple of fresh fruit salads. “Let’s splash out a little, my treat. Anything else?"
Mutely shaking her head, Ela looked around the scattered tables, about a third of which were already occupied. She chose one of her favourite spots next to a wall and laid her dinner on the table top before pulling out the chair which scraped harshly against the floor. She unwrapped her roll as Mel sat, then looked up enquiringly as she took her first bite.
“Ok, let’s get a few misconceptions out of the way first. Your name isn’t Ellie Jones, it’s Athela Buchanan. You were born 25th January 1985 in South Australia and if I asked a doctor how the patients on the oncology ward were doing they’d probably say something along the lines of ‘amazingly well’…”
At Athela's suddenly wide-eyed gaze and stiff posture Mel reached out. "Easy... Ok, maybe I should have waited till you swallowed. Towards the end of December last year you fled your home when two strangers came calling. Presumably you came here to Melbourne and about ten days ago, feeling rather lonely, you rang your mother which apparently brought me here."
Mel unscrewed the top of her cranberry drink and smiled at Athela. "How'm I doing so far?"
The mouthful of roll in Ela’s mouth felt like lead as Mel recited her list of facts. Moving her jaw mechanically she finally managed to choke down the roll and took a long drink from her orange juice to wash it down. There was one thing in particular Ela had noticed through Mel’s American drawl. One thing which stood out above all others.
“It’s Athela,” she said quietly.
Mel blinked in surprise. “…?”
“My name. It’s not Athela, like you said. It’s Athela. Accent on the first syllable. But most people call me Ela.”
"Ok Athela, the two people who came to your home worked for a group called Humans First and they have rather unpleasant attitudes about people like you and I." Mel knew there was no point lying about her own nature. If she was to build any sort of rapport with this frightened young girl she needed to be honest and maybe the realisation Athela wasn't totally alone would help too.
“Humans First? But don’t they just do marches and rallies and stuff? What do they want with me? I just heal.” Not entirely true, Ela realised with a sinking feeling. It seemed she’d been perfectly safe until that shearer… She took another sip of orange juice to give her time to gather her thoughts.
She dropped her voice conspiratorially, “Are they after you, too?”
"Not yet." Mel smiled at Ela's tone, "Look, I know Humans First just seem to march but think about it. Humans First exists because there are people with legitimate fears about Meta-humans, but some people react better to fear than others. It's not such a stretch to think that there are people out there who'll use those fears to gain power. It's happened in the past after all. People have always feared the 'other' and what they fear they seek to control. If they can't control it they'll try to destroy it."
Mel reached out and laid her hand on Ela's. "They'll find you Ela. We did, and when they do..." She shrugged. "On your own you're vulnerable, but with help…"
Ela slid her hand out from under Mel’s. “I’ve been fine here for months. I think you’re just trying to make me scared. Why should you care so much about me? And who’s ‘we’ anyway?” Ela’s voice held an edge of panic to it. She swallowed, leaned over her forgotten salad roll and whispered, “I’ve seen spy movies. I know how this works. You’ll be nice and pretend to be looking out for me, but you’ve got something up your sleeve. What do you want with me?”
*Now there's a question, just who is 'we'?* Mel decided to deal with the easy points first. "The phone call tipped us off. Once we knew roughly where you were it was pretty easy. You care about people, you want to help them." That wasn't hard to figure out; why else would she have been hanging around a cancer ward? "So all that happened was they checked patient records, found the hospitals with a sudden improvement in survival rates and went looking for a link. Here it was a regular visitor who was unrelated to any of the patients."
*Now for the hard question...* "As for who we are, well the guy who pointed me in your direction says he works for the American government but I'm not sure I believe him. What I do know is he was trying to stop something pretty catastrophic when I saved his life." *Not that you ever saw the nuke.*
Mel leant back in her chair and sighed. "I've no doubt he has an ulterior motive in helping you. I just don't know what it is and I'm pretty sure his help will come with a price tag attached. For my part I'm just trying to help someone who needs it."
“So if I stay I get captured for some mysterious purpose, and if I go with you I get used for some equally mysterious purpose. But you ‘just want to help me, ‘cause you’re different too’.” Ela stared down at her salad roll. “I just wanted to wait until Mum said I could go home,” she said softly.
Mel just sat there for a few seconds. The misery coming off Ela's small frame was palpable. "There's a third option. Get out of Melbourne - hide again. Yeah, they're looking for you but you don't have to come with me. If you need money or something I can help you, but please if you do go try and be a little more careful. No phone calls home and try and be a little bit more circumspect around hospitals."
*There goes the rest of that five thousand.* Mel shrugged inwardly; sometimes you win, sometimes you lose... right now it felt like fate was playing tricks on her. "But at least if you come with me you'll have an ally."
Ela sat and chewed on her fingernail. *Is she for real? She’d just give me money – someone she’s never met before – and send me on my merry way? But then I’d be starting in a new place again. When will it end? When can I go home?*
She turned despairing eyes to Mel. “I don’t want to do any of that. I want to go home. Why can’t they just leave me alone?”
"Because you have something people want and some of them will use your family to get it." It was the blunt truth and something Ela would have to deal with if she was going to get through this.
The sounds of knives and forks clattering on plates in the cafeteria suddenly sounded very loud to Ela’s ears. “Use my family?” It was something she’d never considered, never stopped to think about. She’d never really thought about why her Mum had been so insistent she leave that day. Had never questioned the readiness of her Dad and brother, as though it was a day they’d planned for.
*But if they want me for my healing, Mum can do it too. And Grandma. So howcome they’re still ok?* Ela desperately wanted to ask that question of Mel, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to give out new information if Mel didn’t already know that her mother and grandmother had the same healing talent. So once more she sat mutely and toyed with her uneaten dinner.
The silence stretched between them as Mel waited patiently, not wanting to push Ela too far. Finally Ela looked up into those mirror-like eyes and asked simply, “So howcome they’re still ok? Why haven’t the bad guys tried to flush me out that way already?”
"Truthfully I don't know. This cloak and dagger stuff isn't really my scene." *There went the understatement of the year!* Mel reached forward and nudged the plate in front of Ela. “Truthfully I think they realise it would be pretty pointless if you don't know that your family is in trouble but that's a wild stab in the dark. I really don't know."
Mel's voice turned teasing, "Whatever you decide to do it's probably best to do on a full stomach." She leant a little further forward, "Now I realise it's not the most appetising cheese roll in the universe but it is free so eat up. You need it."
Ela smiled despite herself. For whatever reason she found she trusted this strange woman, though she was sure she’d live to regret it. *But from what Mel’s telling me, at least this way I get to live.* She sighed. Was it too much to ask that she just be allowed to live a normal life?
Mel nudged the plate a little closer again and it bumped into Ela’s wrist, snapping her out of her reverie. “Ok,” she mumbled and took a half-hearted bite. Her appetite had vanished, despite all the energy she’d expended that afternoon.
Chewing doggedly she asked, “So if I went with you, where would you take me? And what’s to stop this other guy you mentioned from using me as a lab rat? I think I like your other option better. I might be alone, but at least I know what I want to do with me.”
*That's a nibble... now be careful.* It occurred to Mel that she was doing to Ela exactly what Fixer was doing to her but she dismissed the thought with a internal shrug and the notion that she could at least see the hook.
“Well, I'm a Las Vegas girl myself. Now I'm sure Fixer has all sorts of plans to help you out but if I get my way we'll settle you down in Las Vegas, and the thing stopping him from using you as a lab rat? That would be me. Basically if you get involved with this guy then it's sort of my fault which makes me sort of responsible and that means," Mel took a deep breath, "he won't get you."
“Las Vegas? But… that’s so far away…” Ela stared at her roll, having stopped eating again. “No.”
Mel sighed and berated herself. *That was careful? Ease her into these things, dammit.* “I know it's a long way away but... how many 18 year olds do you think can make it to another country? They won't expect you to get so far, not without tipping them off. Look, I know it's a long way from home but is it any worse than here? The separation isn't just distance. A hundred miles or a thousand miles, either way you can't go back. Not for a long time, but the more distance you put between them and you the easier everything will be. Please, I know it hurts. I know. I know it's hard, but for your sake don't cling to home and get caught because of it. Let go of them for now so that they're there when you can really go home."
Mel caught Ela's hands, "Will it be any worse than wherever you run to next? And then when they find you again - because they will, we both know it - you'll have to run. Make a clean break. Give yourself the time and space so that you can find the strength so that you never have to run again. Please."
Ela found herself cringing further and further back in her seat from the impassioned tirade from Mel. Her throat constricted and she fought against the tingle in her fingertips where Mel had grabbed her hands. She didn’t want to know… but she felt no sense of disease in Mel. Just of… difference. There was something she didn’t feel with other people, but it wasn’t upsetting the balance of Mel’s body. It was somehow integral to her system. Drawing her hands away from her supposed benefactor, Ela composed herself.
“Look, I… I just don’t know. It’s too much all at once. Do I have to decide now? Can’t I have some time to think about all this?”
Mel shook her head. "Yes of course, I'm sorry. Take some time, think it over. Here,” Mel placed a card on the table and scribbled a number down, "Give me a ring when you decide what to do... or not." She tapped the plate, "But I'm not leaving till you finish that."
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
Lamb to the Slaughter
Part Four – Avenging Angel
Saturday 24th May 2003, 6:50pm
Melbourne – Western Hospital car park
The night air was cool, causing Ela to shiver and draw her jacket closer to her slight frame as she and Mel exited the hospital. Her head was still reeling from everything Mel had talked about. The woman seemed sincere, but some of the things she’d said had sounded too otherworldly to be believed. Ela fingered the card in her pocket, wondering what she should do. Las Vegas – it sounded such a long way away. But Mel had also offered to just give her money so she could head off alone. She could take it and run, maybe to Sydney this time. Get lost in another large city. But Australia only had a handful of such cities. Maybe America would be safer.
*Stop!* Ela commanded herself. The thoughts in her brain kept going around and around in circles, and she couldn’t see a way off the merry-go-round. *I need to sleep on all this,* she thought, *at the very least.*
Mel paused to watch Ela as they exited the hospital. The slight shiver might be due to the cold but Mel wasn’t quite so sure. She’d come along and knocked down Ela’s house of cards - told her what was really going on and in the process destroyed any chance of her feeling safe. And despite the message Ela hadn’t shot the messenger. For that Mel was grateful.
There was something admirable in Ela. Young, frightened and alone in the big city for the first time, cut off from home and heart she had still managed to find her feet. Not only that; despite all her burdens she had found the time and energy to help a few others. It was that spirit that made it so easy for Mel to make her offer. What, after all, was a little money in comparison? Yes, Ela would be safer out of the country but with even a little help she could probably stay ahead of her pursuers for a while.
Mel reached out and touched Ela’s arm. “Remember you don’t have to do this alone.”
“Yeah,” Ela muttered, “you said.” She struggled with all the questions she wanted to ask of Mel but dared not. In the end she simply let the silence stretch out again between them as she looked anywhere but at the tall woman beside her.
“Uh, I’ll call. Ok?” she finally ventured, “I’ve gotta get home. Have to go to work in a couple of hours.”
Ela hunched into her jacket and started walking briskly towards the bus stop. It was only a couple of hundred metres from the front entrance of the hospital, not even remotely out of sight of Mel, but Ela hoped that the woman wouldn’t creep her out by hanging about until the bus came. She sat on the hard wooden bench and checked her watch. Fifteen minutes before the bus was due. Sighing, she settled back and tried to surreptitiously check over her shoulder to see if Mel was watching or had followed her.
Mel let Ela go. What she needed right now was time and space. Forcing the issue further would push the girl away. Instead Mel waited a few moments till she was sure of Ela’s path then walked towards her hire car, all the while keeping a surreptitious eye on the young woman. Reaching the car she slipped inside and decided to wait. Following a bus would be a little difficult but finding out where Ela lived was worth trying for. Mel settled back against the seat and watched two men walk towards the stop. Something about the pair niggled in her mind. Maybe it was her sudden paranoia, maybe it was working with a duplicitous ‘government’ agent, but something about the pair didn’t feel right.
Steve nudged Eddy and whispered, “See, what’d I tell ya? That’s her all right.”
The pair shared a grin of triumph as they continued towards their quarry. They’d been watching the hospital all day and had seen Ela when she showed up. They didn’t expect her to leave with someone, but the two women had quickly parted company, leaving them a perfect opportunity. No witnesses, nobody to call for help. Easy meat.
Ela jumped at the sudden voice that asked, “Got a light, darlin’?”
She looked up to see a man dressed in jeans and a woollen jumper, his sandy moustache sagging against his upper lip as he leaned against the edge of the bus shelter. “Uh, no,” she said and turned her head to stare resolutely forward again. The last thing she needed was some bloke trying to pick her up.
Her level of discomfort grew to alarm as the second man moved to stand in front of her. The look of hate in his eyes was disturbing, and she had no idea what she might have done to earn it.
“You been visiting at the hospital?” he asked accusingly.
She nodded mutely, not knowing what else to do.
The brown-haired man continued, “Lording it over everyone in there, eh? Trying to show you’re better’n us, eh?” He pointed a finger at her, “You’re not better – you’re worse. You’re scum, Athela. Can’t even have a proper name, like ordinary people.”
Ela shrank back as far as she could against the hard wood and glass of the shelter, her eyes wide with fear. Who were these men?
Mel slammed the car door shut, about to dash across the parking lot when the world suddenly went away. All she could see was a brilliant blue white light and a vague figure within it as her ears were assaulted by a harsh mishmash of sounds that blotted out everything else.
“Dammit,” Mel ground out, “Not now!” She could almost see the parking lot through the light and half stumbled towards Ela.
Eddy remained in front of Ela, leaning in as he continued to spew vitriol at her until Steve coughed and stood up straight from his position against the end of the side wall. “We have a job, mate,” he reminded Eddy.
“Yeah,” Eddy growled and grabbed one of Ela’s arms while Steve darted forward to grab the other. “You’re coming with us, stinkin’ mutie.”
Ela struggled and tried to scream, but a large, hairy hand clamped over her mouth. Fear welled in her as she remembered the last time someone had done that and she felt a warm wetness trickle down her leg. Her fear was too great to allow room for embarrassment, however, and she twisted and squirmed in the grasp of the two men. She heard a tearing sound and the hand moved away from her mouth but she barely had time to draw breath before a large piece of tape was plastered to her lips.
She panted heavily through her nostrils, but despite her struggles the two men hefted her like a sack of potatoes, one by the shoulders and the other by the legs. They carried her wildly writhing body towards an old Holden on the edge of the car park. They reached it in moments and Steve let go of her legs to fish around for the keys to the boot. With her legs now free Ela kicked out, but Eddy had lifted her small body into the air so she had no traction. She still felt a small amount of satisfaction when she heard Eddy’s “oof” as her shoe connected with his kneecap, but he responded by digging his fingers even deeper into her shoulders.
The boot sprang open and Steve bent to capture her legs once more as Ela stared, terrified, into that cavernous black space that gaped at her like a maw. Her struggles grew even more frantic and she could hear small whimpering sounds. It took a moment before she realised she was the one making them.
The light was dimming slightly, the sounds somewhat muted but still all Mel could see was the outlines of the world. It was enough though to realise that she needed to do something otherwise she’d lose Ela right here. Concentrating against the near cacophony of sound she squinted through imaginary light and flung a single bolt of energy down the parking lot. Blessed silence greeted the sudden shattering of glass and as quickly as the assault on her senses started it finished.
“You do not want to piss me off, gentlemen. Put the girl down now!”
Glass sprayed over Ela and her two would-be kidnappers as both the windscreen and the rear window shattered violently. Steve gave up on his attempt to secure Ela’s legs and dove behind the car. Eddy swore loudly and backed away holding Ela in front of him as a shield, wrapping his arms around her in a bear hug so tight she thought she’d pass out from lack of oxygen.
“Fuck, it’s another one,” Steve exclaimed, somewhat redundantly, “Put the chick down, Eddy, we’re not set up for this.”
“Bugger that,” Eddy growled. “We’ve been chasing this bitch since Christmas.”
Ela simply concentrated on breathing, and fanned to life the tiny spark of hope that flared in her brain. *Is it Mel? Has to be – she all but said she was a meta. Yay, go Mel!*
Mel decided she needed to be a little more impressive. Cool silver light washed over the cars as her forcefield slid over her form. The arcs of her wings spread outward and seemed to shift and twist with a mind of their own. "I am a force of nature incarnate! I am the angel of your destruction! Release her before I rend your soul apart," Mel ground out as energy crackled along her forearms.
Ela just stared at Mel in awe. Glowing silvery blue and with gorgeous wings spread out behind her, Mel looked like nothing so much as the pictures of angels Ela had seen. Behind her, it sounded as though Eddy were equally impressed, though not in a good way. As he muttered curses, Ela felt his grip shift to a one-armed hold and a handgun appeared inches from her face.
From his position behind the car, she heard the moustachioed man shout, “A gun? Since when did we start using guns?”
Eddy merely growled. Ela cringed and tried futilely to scream a warning through her gag to Mel, but there was an explosion of sound and light. She felt something burn across her face and her heart quailed at the thought of Mel lying on the ground, bleeding from a bullet wound to the chest.
Her vision blurred and her ears ringing, Ela’s world was reduced to the harsh grip of the man behind her and the hot tears trickling down her face. She remained suspended, trying to gauge from her other senses what might be happening.
Mel didn't really see the gun in time and even if she had momentary panic would probably have frozen her to the spot. She flinched inwardly as the gun roared in the man's hand but the slight clink as a flattened piece of lead struck the tarmac of the lot probably shocked her as much as it did the goon. The gun roared again and again while Mel just stood there, suddenly secure in her defences knowing that those tiny pieces of metal couldn't hurt her.
*Dammit I'm not sure if I could hit him. Maybe with a pistol I could try but with these bolts...* Mel raised her hand and focused on the point of the man’s shoulder. *I want it to hit there.*
Ela swayed in mid-air as Eddy stepped backwards some more, and felt the action of his arm as he dropped the pistol. She could barely hear anything over the ringing in her ears, but after the first shot she’d kept her eyes squeezed shut, so at least vision was slowly returning to her. She could see the soft blue glow that was Mel, advancing from in front. The dark shape of the car was to the side, and she saw a form – presumably the other man – scrambling into the front seat.
She kept squirming, trying to free herself from Eddy’s grasp, but now he had both arms around her again and she was rapidly losing the strength to fight. She kicked her feet back against his shins and knew she must be bruising him, but nothing more. Then she heard something. Eddy. It sounded as though he were speaking down a tunnel, and she was sure the only reason she heard him at all was because he was shouting and was mere centimetres away.
“What, going to shoot me with your lightning?” he called. “Not afraid you might hit your friend here? Look, you dumb Yankee bitch, gunshots in this country are pretty rare so cops’ll be here in a minute. Who do you think they’ll believe? Me, or a stinking mutie?”
"You know, I think you're right but do you think they'll be any more effective that that?" Mel gestured at the gun. "I can fly... Where will you go when the cops point their guns at you?" She really wasn't sure if she could hit him without hurting Ela.
"Shall we wait for them? I'm just a concerned citizen preventing a kidnapping." Force and awe hadn't got her what she wanted, she couldn't be certain of precision and reason didn't have a chance. Maybe time was all she needed.
Mel cocked her head. "Is that a siren I hear?"
Eddy cast around, trying to listen for the siren, and relaxed his hold on Ela just a little as he did. She slid a little closer to the ground, exposing a good portion of Eddy’s chest and shoulder. Mel steeled herself. Her finger was still aimed at the point of his shoulder. *Now or never,* she thought and let fly.
The bolt missed its mark, but Eddy sprang backwards swearing loudly as it exploded on the ground several metres behind him. Ela wrenched her body around and slipped free of his groping fingers as soon as she felt his distraction. She stumbled to her knees on the bitumen of the car park and ripped the gag off her face, wincing at the sharp sting of raw skin. She gasped for air and watched as Mel lined up a second shot on Eddy.
He scrambled to his feet, his arms held away from his body in surrender. “Ok, ok. I’m going,” he gibbered, backing away as fast as he could manage.
Then Ela’s eyes widened as she glanced over her shoulder to Mel. The sandy-haired man had started the car and was accelerating towards the glowing woman. Ela yelled, “Look out!” But it was too late. The car struck Mel sending her spinning to the ground, and continued towards Eddy who wrenched open a door as the vehicle slowed before roaring off with both occupants in a spray of gravel.
Ela sat on the ground, her mind numb. The hot tears flowed anew as she looked at the limp form lying on the ground. Mel’s wings had vanished, though the glow remained. *She might have been my friend. And now she’s dead because of me. Oh, God…*
Pain. It was the only thing going through Mel's mind. Her whole body was screaming at her. Her ribs, her legs, her arms. *And my head. Oh god, my head!* Her forcefield was still up. How she managed that she wasn't sure but after a few moments she felt it slip away and as it went it took the rest of the world with it.
Ela watched in horror as the blue glow slowly faded. “Oh no,” she breathed, “No you don’t, I won’t let you die.”
She staggered to her feet and stumbled the few steps it took to reach Mel. Collapsing beside her Ela could see that at least Mel was still breathing, though her eyes were closed. Mel lay awkwardly, arms and legs askew and Ela just knew that there had to be breaks. She carefully arranged the stricken woman’s limbs so they lay straight, then touched her hands to Mel’s face.
The tingle started instantly and Ela could see where the damage lay. “Oh, thank god,” she whispered. None of the trauma looked life threatening, though there were multiple fractures and evidence of concussion. Working as quickly as she dared, Ela started with the most dangerous – the head injury. She mended ruptured blood vessels and healed the damage of the blow Mel’s head had received.
Mel’s eyes fluttered open as she worked. Never moving her hands from Mel’s face or breaking her concentration, Ela said, “Don’t move. I know it hurts, but stay still.”
Ela moved on to the rest of the trauma, manoeuvring bone and sinew back into place and knitting them together. Everywhere she went, Ela encountered signs of an atypical biochemistry, but she ignored that and attended merely to the physical imbalances.
As she worked she could feel Mel’s pain lessening, and when she thought the woman was up to conversation she said, “There were no sirens, were there? You were just trying to frighten them off.”
"No sirens..." Mel whispered. "Should you really be doing this?" The pain had receded to a dull throbbing ache. "I mean you just spent... how ever many hours in a cancer ward." *Ok, now I know it's bad. I can't even work out how long we spent in the hospital.*
The pain receded a little more. "We need to get out of here and you look like death warmed over." Mel reached up and tried to prise a hand away from her face. "Later. I'm ok for now..."
“But…” Ela’s protests died as Mel forced her hands away. She acquiesced, but knew there was much more to be done. Eddy had been right. Even though nobody had come yet, police would be here soon and she didn’t think either of them wanted to explain all this to them.
“Ok,” she mumbled and helped Mel to her feet. The woman limped, and Ela winced at the knowledge of the pain Mel must be feeling. Her own face burned terribly, but at least she could walk. Mel pointed to where her car was parked and the two shuffled towards it.
"We’ll head to my hotel," Mel opened the door to the car and slumped inside, "Get you cleaned up and then I think we need to talk..."
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
“The Calm After the Storm”
Spectrum stood on the top floor of the radio tower, clutching a girl that had been called the weapon in her arms. She had fair skin, although it seemed to dark to be Caucasian, or maybe she was just tanned. Her hair was an odd, orange and blond blend that was quite unique. The girl seemed extremely worn out, despite the fact that she had just been sleeping.
“Please…” the girl mumbled softly, “...take me… away from here…”
“I will.” Spectrum said definitely. She turned to Dream Weaver, who had never stopped smiling that disturbing smile of his. “Where did you get her?” she demanded. “Where did you take her from?”
“Take her?” Dream Weaver said in a falsely confused voice. “We didn’t take her from anywhere. We bought her fair and square. Or them, anyway.”
“What do you mean you bought her?” Spectrum again demanded. She ignored his odd use of them; it was clear to her that this man was not in his right mind, if he ever was. In her limited time with Dream Weaver, he never failed to creep her out.
“As in purchased. I’m sure you know. Money is exchanged and then you receive something?” Spectrum opened her mouth to speak, but Dream Weaver spoke again. “Of course, perhaps stole would be a better word. We never did pay for them did we?”
“You’re sick.” Spectrum said. She was disgusted with the whole thing. And she thought Mind Block had made her angry before… “I’m handing you over to the police.” The police. She had forgotten about them. Without taking her eyes off of the dream manipulator, or her arms from under the girl, she backed up. Then she lifted herself off of the ground and up to wear the roof had shattered and an open hope to the sky had appeared.
The sun was out now. The sky was dark blue, as if there had never been a storm. No clouds were even in the sky. She looked down at the weak and weary girl. Could she truly have created such a thing?
Spectrum looked down. The police seemed as baffled as she was. At least they were happy, and once the flood water went away they could go around assessing how much damage had been done; how much wreckage there was. Spectrum created a flashing light. Though she had been given to signal, the police understood that this meant the coast was clear. They stormed into the tower.
Spectrum hovered down. Dream Weaver hadn’t moved, apparently content with being captured. Serenity and Seer still hadn’t shown their faces. “The police are coming now.” She said to Dream Weaver in her ‘authority voice’. Suddenly, the girl in her arms let out a little cry.
“Please… no… not them… the police… can’t” She paused and winced. She closed her eyes and let them flutter back open. Now, in a stronger voice, she spoke again. “Please, you can’t… let them find me… the police.”
“Why not?” Spectrum asked, wondering if this girl was actually as on the good side as Spectrum hoped she was.
“Please… just don’t let them find me, I’ll explain everything, just…” the girl sighed in a mixture of exasperation, fear and slight panic. Spectrum decided to listen to her. For now. She turned to Dream Weaver and said “Don’t move.”
“Where would I go?” he asked.
Without an answer, Spectrum rose again and flew out the open roof. She looked around. So many places… near the radio tower was the park. At night it could be dangerous (as well as a fine place to find a prostitute, or score some drugs as it turned out). In the day time however, parents often left there kids in certain areas without too much worry. Spectrum glided over to the edge of the park. This part was the woods, the back part. Not many people came here, or were around it, so she was able to do this without being seem by more than a few people at the most. There was a bench near a water fountain. She lay the girl down on the bench. “Stay here and wait for me.” She ordered, although she did so in a very kindly voice so she wouldn’t scare the girl.
The girl nodded, and Spectrum flew back up to the rooftop of the radio tower. She entered the roof and found the police already there arresting Dream Weaver. As she entered, she received several unmistakable glares. Some symbolized thanks. Others (more), were symbols of jealousy, even hatred. When she was a child, before she learned how to control her powers, she often thought about how nice it would be to just fly away from all her problems. She had learned since then that flying didn’t always help problems. You could never really escape some problems.
Deciding she rather talk to the only officer she was comfortable talking with than receive dirty glances, she escaped the room and took to the air again. Flying, she spotted Commissioner Wood barking orders from down by the base of the building. She flew down, causing heads to look up as she did so. She landed in front of the Commissioner, who side smirked at her.
“Did anyone ever tell you, you really know how to make an entrance?” he said. He turned to fully face her. “You did good work in there.”
“How would you know?” she smiled back. “I didn’t see you in there with me.” *In the light of the sun, he doesn’t look half bad*. She had never really noticed before.
“We could use someone like you on the force.” He said. “Ever think about retiring from the super hero business to become a cop?”
She pretended to think it over, and then she said “I would but I wouldn’t want to show you up all the time.” He let out a small laugh, and then looked at the building.
“So were we right? Was there something in the tower making the storm? Was Mind Block doing it?” he asked acknowledging an unconscious Lucius Blackwall that was being carried off toward an ambulance.
“I-” the girl’s words came to her mind. “Please… just don’t let them find me, I’ll explain everything, just…”… “No, I didn’t see anything. But I’m sure Mind Block was doing it somehow.”
“Well, I’m sure we’ll find whatever it was when we get to searching the whole place.” He looked around. Blackwall was accounted for. So was that woman Chameleon. Dream Weaver was being carried off in hand cuffs (and wearing a really creepy grin, Wood noticed). That left two. “What about Serenity and Blackwall’s brother?”
“I don’t know.” Spectrum answered truthfully. “I saw them in there but then they just disappeared. I don’t know where they are now.”
***
But as these things usually turn out, the two Mind Block members were not far away. Rather, Serenity Dejon and Victor Blackwall had escaped through a secondary passage that led out of the tower. Currently, they were in an alley way not to far from the tower.
“You didn’t know.” Serenity said, trying to comfort that man before her. Ironically, she had said a similar line several times earlier, trying to defend herself. She had known really, especially when compared to Seer. Or, the psychic formally known as Seer.
“I did know!” Victor said. “Or… maybe I didn’t want to know. I can see the future dammit! How can you think I didn’t know?”
“Well…” it was a question she had pondered several times in the past. How was it that he the all knowing Seer had been in the dark? “We never told you… and maybe you did block it out. Who can blame you? Sometimes I would have rather not know…” like now, for instance.
As a girl, she had been abused by her father. And it didn’t end at physical or verbal abuse (although there was plenty of that). Rather, her father had touched her… that way. In her pain, she had turned to her older brother for comfort. He had been kind to her; never looked down at her. In that way, she could see how Victor might not have wanted to know the truth about his brother, because sometimes knowing the truth about people you loved was to hard. She knew that she didn’t want to know it, when she discovered her brother was a thief.
But in her love she had forgiven him. And in her love she let him use her, use her and her power for his benefit. And when she finally found a way to escape, she tried to forget the love she had felt for him and move on. That was when Lucius had found her, and the rest was history wasn’t it? She hadn’t left her brother, she just moved on to a new person who needed her. Because wasn’t that what everyone wanted? The approval of others? She was a fool. She knew it, and everyone else knew it, at least in her mind. And she could completely sympathize with him not wanting to know.
“Listen,” she said brightly, “this is a chance to get away! To start over! Forget about the past-” *if you ever could forget about the past* “- and get a better life! Just… us.”
Victor looked up. The beauty was back. That of Serenity’s. Her voice had once again gained its angel quality. Music to the ears really could soothe the savage beast, and calm a crying child. He stood up and looked into her eyes. Start over. Maybe… just them.
Serenity leaned over a kissed Victor. Not deeply, just gently. She had never really escaped the pain her father had caused her. Not with her brother, not with the brother of the man she was kissing. Victor was different than the others. He was… good, whether he had known or not.
***
Spectrum was back with the girl she had left on the bench. She looked so worn and fragile. And there was the way she flinched at Spectrum’s touch, or when she got close to her that made Spectrum know this girl had been through a lot lately.
“So… what’s your name?” They were no longer on that park bench. Spectrum had gotten her car, which had fortunately not been flooded in, and had driven to get the girl. They were now driving towards Spectrum’s mansion. “It’s Tikal right?”
“Tikal?” the girl asked. She looked at Lori (who had indeed turned back into Lori Grant. Somebody seeming Spectrum driving Lori’s car would have been suspicious indeed. There was the danger that the girl would tell somebody of her identity. But she didn’t think the girl knew who she was, and even if she did Lori trusted this girl. For some reason, she felt like she could be real around her). “No… my name is… Bonita. I don’t know who Tikal is.”
“But I thought…” Lori thought and then let it go. The girl had said her name was Tikal earlier… but something seemed different about this girl then the one who had torn the roof off. “Bonita is a very pretty name.”
“Thanks… that’s what it means… pretty.” Bonita turned away and looked out the window. Lori wondered for a moment what she had gotten herself into.
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
Lamb to the Slaughter
Part Five – A Rock and a Hard Place
Saturday, 24th May 2003 – 8:03pm
Jika International Hotel, Melbourne Australia
The car’s movement was almost hypnotic. Ela sat in the passenger seat with her feet curled up under herself, one hand resting lightly on the shoulder of the woman who drove mutely through the late evening traffic of Melbourne. Ela’s fingertips still tingled a little, but most of Mel’s hurts were now healed. Beneath the immediate trauma of broken bones and bruising was a slightly older injury. Mel’s shoulder muscles were stretched and the fibres torn in a couple of places. That injury was still only a week or so old at most, so Ela had little difficulty in smoothing out the scar tissue that had started to form and knitting the muscle back together.
She’d learned over the years that trauma was far easier to deal with than chronic disease. A whole afternoon at the oncology ward generally netted little advancement in the health of the patients, though over time she’d been able to make a difference. The twenty minute car ride with Mel, however, was more than enough for her to finish the process she’d begun in the car park. Beneath even the shoulder injury, though, Ela could still feel something else. It wasn’t at all normal, but it seemed to be keeping itself in balance with Mel’s normal biology. Ela assumed it had to do with Mel’s obviously superhuman powers.
She looked sideways at the woman who’d rescued her from the two men who had been intent on kidnapping her. The wings, the blue glow, the bolts of energy – these were things Ela had read about that metas could do, but she’d never seen anything like it up close. Mel’s silvery, mirrored eyes stared straight ahead as the car pulled into the parking lot of a motel in the inner suburb of Fairfield, and Ela wondered what was going on behind that blank façade.
Mel had focused on the mechanics of driving on the way back to the hotel. Shifting gears here, braking there. Any conscious thought she may have had was submerged under the simple desire to get to ‘safety’. A corner of her mind noted Ela’s continued presence, the slow removal of burning aches and by the time Mel pulled into the parking lot she doubted anyone would be able to tell if she’d been run down less than half an hour ago. Even the dull pain that had lingered in her shoulders for the last week had vanished.
Mel pulled into a space and with a visible effort unclenched her hands from the steering wheel. She switched off the engine and turned to Ela. She noted the hollow eyes, the fatigue that again flowed from Ela in waves.
A gentle smile. “Thanks for the fix up. Let’s get you upstairs.”
Ela smiled shyly in reply. “I should be thanking you. Those men…” Ela couldn’t continue speaking. She just shivered and hunched in further on herself.
"Hey, like I said..." Mel reached out a hand and rested it on Ela's shoulder. "Come on, we can argue over who owes who what later." Mel got out of the car and led the way through reception to her room. Opening the door she gestured towards the bathroom.
"Why don't you go get cleaned up a little? I'll order us some food then you can crash for a little while."
Ela nodded mutely, overwhelmed by the night’s events. She closed the bathroom door behind her and shivered for a few moments until the gleaming tiles beckoned to her of clean water. Slowly she undressed and let her clothes pile on the floor at her feet then turned the shower on, letting the hot water stream over her, soothing her own aches and pains. Not for the first time she wished her gift allowed her to heal herself. But whenever she tried she just couldn’t even see inside herself the way she could see inside other living creatures.
Tears mingled with the hot water running over her face. From everything that had happened tonight, and from what Mel had told her, it looked like she might be leaving Australia soon. The thought terrified her. It had been bad enough going from the quiet solitude of Alpana Station to the bustling city, but America? So many, many people in America…
Eventually she thought Mel might wonder that she was drowning in there and reluctantly turned off the steaming jets and dried herself in the softest, fluffiest towel she’d ever felt. She looked with disgust at the fear-stained clothes on the floor, but with no choices available to her she pulled on the sweat-soaked garments over her glowing, clean skin.
She opened the door, expecting to see Mel looking business-like and in control, but instead she found an emotional wreck. Mel had curled up in one of the chairs, adopting a position strikingly similar to the way Ela had sat in the car. Ela wasn’t sure if Mel was crying or not – she couldn’t hear any noise. But the tall, confident woman was now shaking uncontrollably.
Wide eyed, Ela moved a chair out and sat next to Mel. She wasn’t sure what to do in this situation. She reached out a hand, but let it drop before she touched Mel’s arm. The woman seemed oblivious to her presence. Not knowing what to say, Ela merely cleared her throat.
“Uh, Mel?”
Mel had settled into a chair and sighed when she heard the shower start. Hopefully safe, Mel could relax a little and as she did the images flooded back to her. Unhindered by her hallucination she saw now just how close that first energy bolt had come to hitting the girl she was trying to save. She flinched as she heard again the sharp report of the gun and relived that moment of panic again and again. Gone now was the absolute certainty of her defences. Instead was the fear that the sheer stupidity of letting a man shoot her induced. Like an outside observer she watched those first moments when she’d raised her hands letting the energy crackle across them and had actually thought about trying to shoot past Ela to hit the man holding her.
The scenes replayed over and over in her mind as she sought some avenue, some way to have done things differently. But in the cinema of her mind all that that she saw were the risks she’d taken with another’s life endlessly repeated on the screen of her eyelids. Only peripherally aware that Ela had returned from the shower Mel seemed locked into reliving her mistakes even as Ela’s hesitant words impinged on her consciousness
Ela watched carefully. Mel was shaking her head and her whole body was trembling, but for just a second Ela thought she’d seen some small reaction to her tremulous words. She tried again, a little louder, and shook Mel’s arm gently.
“Mel, are you ok? You’re…” *…scaring me,* Ela wanted to add, but found she was unable to.
The physical interruption was enough to pull Mel out of her cycle of recrimination and fear but it took her a few moments before she could pull herself together enough to respond and in that time Ela spoke again. The unspoken fear was there in Ela’s voice. Fear Mel had put there. She uncurled a little and heard the slight sigh from Ela. Running her hands through her hair Mel sat back in the chair.
“I’m ok,” she said, and perhaps she even believed it.
Mel wrinkled her nose a little as she realised that Ela was dressed in the same clothes as before. “I doubt I have anything that wouldn’t drown you,” Mel smiled, “but I think I can find something that’s at least more comfortable than those.”
Mel walked into the bedroom and opened her suitcase. She hadn’t packed for a long trip but she had packed her jogging gear. It was probably easier to deal with than anything else she’d packed. “Why don’t you order a pizza or something? I could use something to eat and no doubt so could you.”
Ela looked down at herself and stammered, “I didn’t expect… All my clothes are in my flat… well, the ones I have. I don’t have many; they mostly got left behind. Sorry.”
Her embarrassment at the state of her clothes quickly receded into the background, however, as she watched Mel move about the motel room, apparently willing to ignore whatever had just been happening to her. The thought briefly crossed Ela’s mind that Mel might be epileptic, but she’d have noticed any such disorder. Shrugging in resignation, Ela picked up the sheaf of flyers on the table and leafed through, looking for a pizza delivery brochure.
“Uh, is vegetarian pizza ok for you?” she asked Mel as the woman approached her, holding up a pair of impossibly long tracksuit pants and a bright blue t-shirt.
“So long as it’s hot and edible I don’t really care. Vegetarian is fine.” Mel handed over the clothes, “Go get changed. I’ll order it, then ring my ‘contact’.”
*****
William took a deep breath as he sat outside the hotel some few hours later. This was likely to not be one of the easier jobs he took on, trying to convince the girl to return and to recruit Gabriel. It would take all of his mental energy just to engage in the plan.
He walked through the hotel quickly to knock on the door. He smiled half in surprise, half in triumph when ‘Kate’ opened the door. “Very good news for you - we recovered the package without a hitch,” he said. “How are things going with you?”
“In the great scheme of things, pretty well, though don’t blame the reports of gunshots in Western Hospital’s parking lot on me. You were almost too late.” Mel pointed at a chair. “Take a seat. Ela is in the back taking a nap. The poor girl was exhausted. I’ll go wake her in a moment, but first we need to talk a little.”
William cocked an eyebrow as he entered the room. It seemed that he would not be getting out of another question session. "All right," he said, "What do you want to talk about?"
"Don't look so worried. Simply put, I want to know what have you planned for Ela?" Mel sat down in a chair opposite the agent and smiled.
William had to consider carefully how to best answer that question. Then he finally settled on something that could work: the truth. "We want to duplicate her abilities. If we can find out how her powers work, we could revolutionize medicine. And," he added slyly, "I'm sure your stock in Benson would increase. Assuming you were serious about wanting to live forever and not just having fun at my cover's expense."
“I’ll paraphrase a being using a similar cover to my own. ‘We are not ready for immortality.’ But putting that aside, how on earth do you intend to duplicate her abilities? All the stuff I’ve read on Metahumans, and believe me I’ve had recent cause to read a lot, suggests that while we understand the genetic basis for Metahumanity at least in principle we’ve no idea how the power gets from genes to active expression.”
Mel waited a beat before continuing on. “Presumably you’d like to run some tests. So long as they’re non invasive and more importantly Ela agrees to them I don’t see a problem. Now tell me what’s the connection between military black ops and Benson Pharmaceuticals?”
"Let's just say that the world is a much more interesting place than most people are willing to agree," he said, knowing that he would be broadly hinting at a conspiracy. "For the rest... well, I'm not in the science department. You'd have to ask Sara for the latest data."
Mel smiled. Was the façade finally cracking or was her just allowing her to peel off another layer? It didn't really matter. Ela needed help and unfortunately for her and Mel that meant they needed Fixer.
"Ok, I’ll lay it out for you. Pretty simply, I will be making sure you don't take advantage of a young, inexperienced and frightened woman. " Mel stood up, "Let me go wake her and you can have a little chat about what she wants."
Ela stirred and mumbled in her sleep. It seemed like only moments before she’d brushed off the pizza crumbs and fallen gratefully into the bed Mel had offered. Dressed in the tall woman’s clothes she felt a little dwarfed, but at least Mel was thin for her height so they were about the same size around. And the extra length on the tracksuit pants helped keep her feet warm, at least.
The rocking motion and the soft voice didn’t relent, however, and Ela finally woke up fully to see Mel leaning over her. “Wha…?” she muttered sleepily, “Who’s here to fix the van?”
"Cute... Ela, it's me. The man I told you about is here." Mel stopped shaking Ela and placed a glass of water on the bedside table. "Take your time, though I warn you if you aren't out there in five minutes I'll resort to more 'drastic' measures."
A groan was all Mel received in reply, but it seemed to satisfy her and she left Ela alone to sit up and rub her sleep-encrusted eyes. She glanced at the bedside clock and her face fell in dismay. Its glowing red numbers informed her that it was 23:15. She was late for work. Well late for work. But she guessed that Mel wouldn’t let her go back to work now, anyway. She could just hear Mel now, ‘If they found you at the hospital they’ll find your work soon enough.’
“Howcome I get to be the one to live in the espionage novel?” Ela grumbled to herself as she straightened her clothes and gulped down the water Mel had left. Sighing, she faced the door and whatever new horror waited beyond.
The man she faced when she looked out into the main room of the suite looked exactly like he belonged in a gangster movie, she thought. His large frame was topped by a no-nonsense face. She could imagine him running down a busy New York street, gun in hand, chasing or being chased by some drug lord. Shaking off her fancies she glanced from the man to Mel, a questioning look in her eyes.
"It's ok. Athela," Mel was careful to stress the correct syllables, "meet William also known as Amadeus also known as Fixer..." She turned and smiled impishly at Fixer, "Did I miss any?"
William smiled slightly and laughed, hoping that he would not scare Athela, considering the fact that she seemed rather skittish. “Actually, there are about half a dozen more, but you can just call me Will.”
Ela glanced back at the man Mel had called 'Fixer', the whites of her eyes showing slightly. "Uh, g'day Will," she said so softly that he almost didn't hear her.
William tried to put on the gentlest face that he could manage. Her nervousness was almost tangible, it was so obvious. "What's wrong, Athela?" he asked softly, trying to mimic Mel's pronunciation. "It's ok to be nervous, especially when you're on the run."
Ela stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. Will, or Fixer, or whatever his name was, sat before her and she felt his eyes boring into her. She shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting about between Will and Mel, who sat slightly off to one side.
“It’s just… It’s been a long day. And I’ve missed work, and…” Ela shuffled her feet again as she trailed off into silence. She kept glancing between the two people in the room and wondered if Will was a meta, like Mel.
That reminded her - she looked back at Mel and offered a tentative smile. “Are you feeling better, Mel?”
"Much, thanks. Why don't you sit down? Will needs to talk to you about what happens next and you have some decisions to make." Mel hurried on when she noticed the beginnings of panic on Ela's face. "Nothing too major, and you don't have to decide right now but... you need to start thinking about what happens next."
Mel slid along the sofa slightly, and smiled encouragingly at the young woman.
Ela took the invitation and perched on the couch next to Mel, where she clasped her hands together to stop herself from biting her nails. “You want me to go to America,” she lifted her eyes to Will briefly, “don’t you?”
"I'm sorry," William said gently as a thought struck him. "Humans First would never think to look for you there. You will be safe, and will have at least two metas to help protect you if by chance they did find you."
“But aren’t Humans First worldwide? I’ll have to get a passport to leave Australia and… Oh.” Ela looked down, abashed. “Yeah, spy movies. Fake ID, right?”
William nodded. "And even then, we should be able to remove any record of your passing through. As far as Humans First are concerned, you'll still be here."
“So why do they want me anyway? Mel said they weren’t after her – just me. And why do you care about what happens to me?” Ela had asked the same question of Mel, but was interested to hear what Will had to say about it.
William still had to wonder if Mel or Kate was her real name - probably Mel. "Well, truthfully, we're interested in your ability to heal. To learn how to duplicate the ability. Think of how many lives could be saved with a machine that could heal the way you do."
Ela felt her stomach clench. “So I can stay here and be kidnapped by Humans First, or I can go with you to be a lab experiment. Some choice.” She reached out and gripped Mel’s hand tightly.
"Hey, Hey... I've spoken to Will about this. It's your decision and the tests and such won't be invasive." Mel fixed her eyes on Fixer. "We'll get you settled first and then once everything has calmed down a little you can spend a few days helping Will's friends. Nothing too drastic, nothing you aren't comfortable with. And you don't know, maybe this'll help you learn about your abilities."
Mel squeezed Ela's hand, "And I'll be there all the time."
Between Fixer’s fake smile and Mel’s talk of tests, Ela was about ready to bolt out of the room. Her breath started coming in short gasps and her limbs trembled. She pulled her hand from Mel’s. The woman’s words in the hospital cafeteria rang in Ela’s head. …if I get my way we'll settle you down in Las Vegas, and the thing stopping him from using you as a lab rat? That would be me. … He won't get you." Now Mel seemed to have changed her mind.
Ela couldn’t keep the terror out of her voice. “And what if I don’t want to be a ‘lab rat’? How do I know you won’t do whatever you want once I’m there? How can I trust you – either of you?”
"Because if you don't want to do it then you don't and I'll make sure it doesn't happen." Mel took a deep breath, "But they aren't going to help you out of the goodness of their hearts. They'll help you but they want something in return." Mel's tone made it clear she didn't like the situation but she wanted Ela to understand.
“Yeah,” Ela muttered sullenly, “Lab rat. But what does Mr Fixer over there have to say about your offer to stop them getting their ‘payment’ for helping me?”
"Mr Fixer is aware that certain actions on his part will result in a measure of embarrassment for himself and his superiors. Embarrassment those superiors would wish to avoid. If you don't want to help their research, then forcing you would be one of those actions." Though that coin could only be spent once.
"Ela, at least let them do a little preliminary work. Some MRI's and PET scans while you're healing someone." It wouldn't tell them much; the brain areas involved with Metahuman activity had already been identified.
William's mind was in the middle of working quickly. There was an opportunity here. "Or my superiors might be willing to let Mel assume “guardianship”. No love is lost between us and Humans First."
Ela looked from one to the other, knowing she really had little option. If she stayed, Humans First would just find her again, sooner or later. And if she went with Mel and Will she might be allowed to have a say in her own future – or then again, she might not. Still, it looked better to her than the inside of a car boot.
She closed her eyes and swallowed, feeling sick to her stomach. Her shoulders slumped in defeat.
“Ok.”
Mel slid back across the couch and wrapped her arms around Ela. "Don't worry, it'll be ok..."
Ela tensed. Mel’s words sounded hollow to her ears. *Ok?* she thought, *Maybe, but I doubt it.*
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
The Queen is in Play: Part 2
Saturday, may 17th, 2003
Indigo City
“Freeze metas, this is the police!”
Eric and Psyspell covered their eyes in unison from the blinding glare of the police spotlight. Meanwhile, the twenty or so officers surrounding the duo all had their fire arms aimed and ready.
“You two better not try anything or we’ll open fire!” the officer in charge ordered from behind a microphone.
Psyspell slowly raised her arms in mock surrender as she turned to face the policeman. “You wouldn’t want to shoot a poor defenseless woman now would you?”
“Don’t you be pulling that ‘damsel in distress’ routine with me darling, cause I saw what you and your boyfriend here were up to. Now you better cooperate, or my boys won’t hesitate in turning the both of you into big pieces of Swiss cheese.
*****
Meanwhile, across the city,
65th floor office of Valkyrie Co.
…Now you better cooperate, or my boys won’t hesitate in turning the both of you into big pieces of Swiss cheese.
“Ha, this should be rich,” the woman behind the large glass desk chuckled to herself as she pressed down on her armchair control panel, her perfectly manicured hand slightly increasing the volume on the tiny screen she was watching. “Oh Eric, what a predicament you’re in”.
*****
“First off, he is not my boyfriend, and secondly ‘Swiss cheese?’ You’re kidding right? God, could you be more lame?” Psyspell teased.
While the psychic thief was holding the attention of the officers, Eric reached out with his mind in hopes of starting his motor bike, which rested silently only a few meters away.
“You think you’re better than us cause you’re a meta?” the lead policeman yelled angrily. “You think cause you have some freaky ability you can talk down to us? Well here’s how things really are. You’re just a freak, a menace to society, and I for one hope this shows the guys over at parliament realize just how dangerous your people are!”
*Just a bit more* Eric squeezed his eyes tighter as he increased his concentration. It was one thing to simply lift or throw things with telekinesis, but to be able to manipulate small things like keys and clutches was significantly more difficult.
Psyspell’s eye’s flashed with intense fury. “A freak?! You think I’m a freak?!” A moment later, the thief raised her arm, and with a swift motion sent all the guns hurtling harmlessly out of the polices’ hands. “You pathetic little man, you want to know how things really are? Buckle up, and get ready for a reality check. You people are just small insignificant little gnats”. Invisible waves of psychic energy flowed from Psyspell. Upon reach their targets, the phantom ripples caused a sudden rush of mass vertigo among the officers. “I sincerely feel bad for you norms, you just dont understand what its like to actually be somebody important”.
The powerful roar of Eric’s bike interrupted woman’s bravado as it screeched towards the two. Quick as a cat, Fenris jumped on, and as he drove by, he grabbed onto his enemy and dragged her on as well. Increasing the speed, the two accelerated toward the police cars, until at the last second, Eric lifted the bike into the air allowing them to land safely on the other side of the blockade before racing out of view.
******
65th floor office of Valkyrie Co.
“Eric, there was a time when you would have laid waste to those police officers, and now…” the woman just shook her head in disappointment. “But, if you’re not going to play my game, ill just switch the rules”.
Pressing a button on the arm of her chair, the woman switched the communication channel which was previously linking her to the scene outside the jewelry store. The tiny screen went black, leaving only the audio. “Marcus, can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear Miss Shaw”
“Would you be a dear and proceed with plan B”.
“Of course Miss Shaw, not a problem”.
“I’m counting on you”.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got everything under control”
“You always do Marcus,” she finished before closing the channel.
As the office went quiet, the woman slowly turned her large chair so she could see out the window of her 65th floor corner office. “Someone’s life is about to get a little more complicated”.
*****
Somewhere on the Outskirts of Indigo City
“What the hell did you think you were doing?!” Eric fumed as he stopped the bike on an empty street. “Its one thing to commit petty theft, but it’s completely different to use your abilities on innocent people. I should just bring you straight to the police right now”.
The woman glared menacingly at Eric before stepping off the bike also. “You’d never be able to get me there, and even if you did, you know I could escape in a matter of minutes”.
Although every nerve in his body was urging him to bring Psyspell to justice, he knew deep down that she was right. Even if he managed to knock her out and bring her to the police, she would escape as soon as she regained consciousness. His only hope would have been a special facility prison, but unfortunately, Indigo City never saw the need to provide one.
“Our gifts don’t give us the right to do what we please,” Eric started, not quite knowing what to do with the woman. “ Had I not stopped you, how far would you have gone?”
“Had I not stopped them, who knows if we would still be alive. Sorry to disappoint you Big Red, but those people hate our kind regardless of who you are, hero or thief”.
“That still doesn’t give us the right to…” Eric stopped as he saw a large smile plaster across the woman’s face. “What?”
“I just find it funny that someone like you is lecturing me on right and wrong,” she giggled. “You might want to be Joe All American now, but your mind is showing me where you came from, and from what I see, you were a bad little boy”.
“How?..” he stammered before realizing that the thief had used her telepathy to delve into his head. *She’s good, I didn’t even notice a thing*
“Its noble what you’re doing Eric ,” she emphasized his name, just to prove how much she had discovered from his mind, “but no matter how much you try, you can’t just forget what you were. As much as you want to change, the old you is still there, deep down just waiting to come out”.
“What are you playing at?” Eric hissed back as his patience was growing dangerously thin.
“I’m not playing at anything. I’m just trying to open your eyes handsome. The world is getting more and more dangerous for people like you and me, and just between us, I think the old you would be more capable of dealing with that world”.
Before he could retort, Psyspell swiftly reached out with her hands and once again mindshocked Eric. This time however, she was sure to put an extra dose of energy to make sure he would stay down for at least a few minutes. “See Big Red, the old you would have never fallen for that twice”. Amy Violet took an almost regretful look back at the man who had so much in common with her before she rushed off into a dark ally and vanished from sight.
*****
A few minutes earlier, back infront of the jewelry store
“They both got away sir,” a young officer stuttered while trying to shrug off the effects of vertigo.
The officer in charge swore, as he replaced his pistol in its holder. “Damn metas and their shifty freaking powers. I swear, if they were here right now…”
BANG
The policemen stared in shock as their sergeant fell to the ground, a bullet hole in his head. From the roof of a nearby building, a loud click was heard, as if a pistol was being reloaded. The officers all looked up in unison to see a tall, scarlet clad figure replacing his gun in a holster on his thigh. His face was covered with a red motorbike helmet, and a small white, wolf insignia was imprinted in the middle of his chest.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell him to be careful what he wished for?”
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
Red Terror: A Meta Murderer!
Cover Page of Indigo City Times, Sunday May 18th.
Late last night, while on routine duty, police officers were dispatched to deal with a robbery taking place at ’18 Karat’, the city’s largest jewelry store. Upon arriving at the scene however, the boys in blue were shocked to discover two meta-human (or metas) thieves. Although they tried to make the arrest, they were ill equipped to deal with the psychic bandits who used a form of telekinesis to escape.
“All of a sudden, a bike, driving by itself roared into the street, picked up the two criminals, and hovered over our barricade,” says Greg Jones, and officer at the scene.
The story does not end there however. As the police were trying to recover from a sort of psychic attack, the male meta returned, and viciously shot Robert Nelson, the senior officer at the scene. Despite their best efforts, police were unable to apprehend the villain. Luckily, an anonymous civilian was close by and managed to take pictures of the event, which he/she thankfully sent us immediately (see page A3 for pictures of the Meta). The Red Terror, as some are dubbing him is reportedly armed and very dangerous. Although he is wearing a helmet in the pictures, police report that he is a Caucasian male, roughly 25-30 years old with brown hair and brown eyes, and drives a large, red custom ninja bike.
This incident just reflects the growing concern which is sweeping the nation: The metas among us. Although meta spokespeople have tried to dispel the myth of meta dangers, this event just confirms what many have already come to realize: Super-Humans are a danger to the decent, normal American citizen. Hopefully, this incident will also send a message to the white house, and add pressure to instating certain meta humans regulations which the nation has long been demanding for.
Author: Jimmy Duncan
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
Night Haunter Part II: The Hand
May 19th, New York
4:00am
Starring Don S. Davis as Daedalus
Culexes, stripped to his boxers, climbed into his bed. He didn’t spend much time in his sparse room, only sleeping during Down Time and writing reports. Most of Culexes’ time was spent on missions, prepping, debriefing, training or in the lab. His room contained only that which he needed when he was there; a bed, a chest of drawers, a cupboard and a desk with a lamp and a computer. That was it.
There was a filled syringe lying on the desk when Culexes had come in. Now sitting up in the bed, he pushed it into his arm, easily getting it into the right place after months of practice, and emptied it. He had barely enough time to put the syringe back on the desk before he collapsed onto his back as the special sedatives, ST-62, ran through his system.
It would take fully two hours for them to work; two hours to bring his respiration, breathing and heart rate down, reduce adrenaline production and let his brain return to normal. Two hours in which he would be utterly helpless. Although Culexes was not happy with this particular detail, compared to the alternative it was not that bad. Without the sedatives his system would overload and he would be dead before the day was out.
There were other sedatives Culexes was issued for contingency purposes; ST-84 for example. They would allow him to remain fully conscious and calm him down steadily over a period of eight hours, four times the time it would take unconscious, but they were only when he could not afford to spend a minute asleep, let alone two hours. The techs believed ST-84 could do more harm than good on a regular basis, so he forwent them in favour of type Sixty-Two.
Within minutes, the agent was asleep, within half an hour he was dead to the world. Not even a freight train passing by him could have woken him.
Culexes didn’t dream. Not during Down Time or normal sleep. That was another aspect of the Abyss. It was a minor thing, really, but he believed it to be more than that. When he awoke, he was not still trapped in the last fleeting moments of a dream sequence, he did not spend time distracted by trying to remember it. Once Culexes was awake, he was up and running.
**Two Hours Later**
The alarm drilled into him. He snapped his eyes open on the third buzz, was sitting up by the fourth, and turned it off on the fifth. Stretching, Culexes yawned, climbed out of bed, and began push-ups on the floor. After completing fifteen, he moved to fifteen sit-ups. Muscles developed through extensive training and drug stimulation strained, but not too much. This was no more a wake-up call than the alarm was or the shower would be. His time in the gym was far heavier.
When finished with the exercises, Culexes crossed the room to the second of two doors. It opened into a small bathroom area. After showering and dressing in the clothes he had on before Down Time, Culexes stepped out the room. He didn’t bother to lock the door. For one thing, he had nothing worth stealing and for another there was nobody on the base who would.
In the medical-white hallway, he headed for the way out. There was only one that also served as a way in.
He didn’t meet many people as he walked. The corridors of Scorpion Headquarters: New York was not the place for idle chitchat. Most definitely not.
10:00am
The man known to all but a bare handful as Daedalus lit another fat Cuban cigar as he leaned back in his creaking leather chair, an open report in front of him. Taking a puff on the cigar, he scanned over the file. He had already read it through once, then thoroughly once more, but he wanted to have it fresh in his mind.
A knock came at his office door. It was a small room with no windows and just the one faceless door; Spartan. His desk, polished mahogany wood, was bereft of personal items; pictures, awards and the like. Just an in an out and in tray, computer and pens. There was no room for such belongings in Operation Scorpion. By necessity, none of them could afford to be tied down to anyone outside the Operation.
Before the knocker came through the door, Daedalus knew who was there. Nobody knocked on his door without his invitation or expectation. “Come in.” He said around his cigar, in a hard, American accent.
The door opened, and the best thing to ever happen to Operation Scorpion walked in; Culexes. Now without his outfit, he wore green combat trousers and a red long sleeved T-shirt. Nearly any other man would be trembling in fear or ready to throw up, in the very least wanting to be somewhere else, but not Daedalus. He had exposed himself to Culexes more than anyone, had trained his mind to resist the mutant’s disturbing aura. Calmly, he remained seated, puffing away on the cigar.
Culexes walked right up to his desk before halting, tensed up. Daedalus told him to relax, and the agent did so by the smallest margin. Daedalus let it go, as he always did.
“I’ve been reading this.” He said, indicating the report. “Another successful mission. What does that make? Seventeen now?”
“Eighteen. Eleven terminations, five apprehensions.” Culexes said, that would be easily at home if he was talking about the weather not assassination. There was no ‘sir’. This was not the military, there was no need for ‘sirs’ in Operation Scorpion. You knew who was above you, in a manner of speaking, and you didn’t need to acknowledge it with a ‘sir’. Formality was disregarded in place of confidentiality.
“Yes, yes.” Daedalus nodded. Both men knew the number exactly, but sometimes the head of Operation Scorpion liked to pretend Culexes possessed even a small degree of humanity and engage in a form of small talk. “Not textbook, of course. I read there was some collateral damage…?”
Now it was Culexes’ turn to nod. “I’m afraid so. After taking my shot, the target flinched approximately three tenths of a second before the bullet would have impacted. As a result, it passed with five millimetres of the target and travelled roughly half a meter before hitting a wall, then a further centimetre before detonation. I believe target may have some latent form of precognition, perhaps triggered by the stress of the Death’s Head.”
This was nothing knew to Daedalus. That was exactly what it said in the report, word for word. “I’ll add that to the file and then we can call the case closed.” He stood, put out his hand. Culexes took it and Daedalus pumped it twice. “Nice hunting, Culexes.”
“Thank you.” The agent said, but there was no sign of sincerity. No sign of anything at all. If Daedalus didn’t know better, those eyes he was looking into could have been dead.
“Very well. " He paused. "You've been working hard on traking this man down. I think it's time you had some R&R. Take tomorrow off. Here’s a pass to get off the base.” Daedalus opened a draw, took out a piece of plastic the same size as, and similar to, a credit card and tossed it at Culexes. He caught it nimbly. “Dismissed.”
Agent Culexes nodded, spun on his heel and walked out. Daedalus shook his head and sat back down. The agent was the best they had, and he knew him better than anyone else did, but damn, he worried about him sometimes. Most of the time during these after mission interviews. They didn’t have debriefings at Operation Scorpion per se; a written report by a Field Operator and Field Agent was usually enough unless something went wrong. But as Director-General Daedalus was entitled to a private meeting. He kept them short and rare, with the exception of Culexes who Daedalus insisted on always speaking to after a mission.
Sighing, he scribbled a few comments on the end of the report, closed and stamped it with words ‘Case Closed – Subject Eliminated’. He placed the file in his out tray, which was nearly empty compared to the in tray. Stumping out his cigar in a well-used ashtray, Daedalus took out the next report and settled back in his chair.
On the front of the report, printed in large bold letters with ‘Urgent’ underneath it, was the name: ‘FenrisX’.
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
Lamb to the Slaughter
Part Six – A Long Way From Home
Wednesday, 28th May 2003 – 7:30am
Melbourne International Airport, Tullamarine
Ela drew her new jacket - Mel had insisted they go shopping yesterday - tightly around her in the early morning chill of the late autumn day. Winter was just around the corner, and it hadn't yet sunk in fully that she would soon be in the midst of a Las Vegas summer. She didn't know anything about Las Vegas, except that it had lots of casinos. She'd never really imagined it with houses, but obviously people did live there.
Mel lived there. Ela shivered again, not so much from the cold this time. She glanced at the tall, blue-haired woman beside her. Mel offered an encouraging smile which Ela tried to return, but it came out stiff and uncertain. The huge terminal building loomed before her and something inside her demanded that she wake up from this nightmare. She wanted to awaken in her own bed, to the smells of her mother cooking a huge egg and bacon breakfast, but that was never going to happen. Never again.
"Come on," Mel said, tugging Ela's arm. Ela had to trot to keep up with Mel as she crossed the road in front of the terminal. Lots of people exited from taxis and cars, heaving luggage from boots and entering the building. Ela and Mel joined the throng inside and Mel steered them towards the baggage check-in. Ela eyed the long queue snaking around the barrier ropes and began to move towards the end, dragging her suitcase (also recently purchased) in one hand. But Mel grabbed her shoulder and shook her head.
"No, we're going in a bit more style," she said, and gestured to the much shorter queue labelled 'Business Class'.
Before long they reached the front of the line and Ela tried not to look nervous as Mel handed over the passports for Melissa Hartson and Cheryl Kingsley. Ela didn't think she really looked like a Cheryl, but it was what Will had chosen for her. The lady at the desk simply smiled, handed Mel two boarding passes and wished them a pleasant flight, much to Ela's surprise. No alarms, no security running to get them. A small smile stole over her face as she giggled mentally, *Just like the spy movies.*
"So now what?" she asked Mel. "It's still nearly two hours before our flight leaves. Howcome they make you show up so early for the plane?"
"They like to know who's on the flight, weights, that sort of thing. It allows them to load the plane and calculate fuel loads. If everyone turned up ten minutes before it was time to leave..." Mel shrugged, "So we kill a few hours in the appropriate lounge and let them do their stuff."
They made it to the business class lounge and settled into a couple of leather chairs. "So relax. It's a long flight. I suggest you get a little more sleep." *And another meaningless platitude slips form my mouth. I'm getting quite good at them.* Mel pulled out her flight bag. She'd picked up another couple of business magazines on the way through. That, and a couple of company press releases that she'd not read on the flight over, would keep her mind occupied for a while.
Ela sat in the luxurious chair and kicked her legs back and forth absently. She had several books stashed in her hand luggage, but right now she didn't feel like reading. The time passed for a while as she gnawed her fingernails, but that became boring very quickly. She looked across at Mel, engrossed in her magazine. It, too, looked exceedingly boring.
Small talk really wasn't Ela's forte, but she still knew little more than she had that horrible night the two men had tried to take her. So she cleared her throat. When Mel looked up, one eyebrow raised, Ela took the plunge.
“So, what's your house like?"
"Oh, you know, just an average suburban house. Of course there's a supercomputer in the basement and a searchlight on the roof but..." the last was said with a smile. " How do you describe any house? It has the usual set of rooms, rather minimalist decor but for the books and rocks. Oh, and I guess not many single woman have a card table in their lounge."
Books, rocks and a card table. Books Ela could understand. "I love reading," she said. Ela lapsed into silence again, her ability for conversation already stretched to its limits.
"I collect meteorites, hence the rocks. The whole astronomy thing probably explains the telescope too. Since Las Vegas is in the middle of the desert it makes finding them comparatively simple, plus the low moisture content of the air reduces backscatter so once you get away from the city the sky is pretty awesome. As for the card table... well I play poker a lot."
Mel put her magazine away. Ela need to talk but obviously didn't have much to say, so she decided to talk about herself. Maybe it would ease the woman’s fears a little. "The books are pretty much old text books from my Uni days plus a lot of stuff I've read since on economics - stock shares and the like. I don't work as such. Between the poker and my income from my portfolio I get by, though I'm not rich by any means. Still, the occasional big win has a tendency to make me generous. I don't have a lot of friends. A couple of people from university, a few others I've met since. All in all I'm a remarkably self-contained independent individual. I was nicely settled. At least I was till...” Mel wrapped a strand of her hair around one finger.
Ela listened to Mel in rapt attention, wanting to learn about her new friend and benefactor. But as Mel trailed off something clicked in Ela's brain finally. Ela started at her, dawning realisation showing in her eyes.
"It's only happened recently to you, hasn't it?"
“Six months ago. I found something in the desert. This,” she gestured towards her hair, “was the result."
"Six... wow." Ela shuffled her feet. "What did you find?"
"A rock. I still have the fragments of it, not that it tells me much. Yeah, I'm a newly minted hero and I've barely an idea what I'm doing. Still, the world knows I exist. Sort of." Mel pulled out the issue of the Journal of Ufology and gestured to the cover. Her voice dropped.
"I'm the Vegas Light,” she said with an edge of self mocking.
Ela looked down at herself. "I don't have a name, but Mum told me once that she chose to call me Athela because it means healer. She thought I might have the gift, the same as she got from Grandma."
"Healer – well, she wasn't wrong. And though I'm merely a light right now I prefer to call my alter ego 'Gabriel'. Ela, have you thought about what you're going to do next? I mean once you've got settled?”
Ela chewed her lip and shook her head. "No. I always thought I'd stay on the station, you know? I was doing ok in school. Maybe I could have become a nurse..." Tears found their way to the corners of Ela's eyes at the memories of her home. She felt the pocket of her cabin baggage, searching for what she'd put there. Her fingers closed over the comforting shape of the packet of biscuits and she sighed.
After a moment she collected herself and tried to answer Mel's question, but found she only had more questions of her own. "I don't know. Can I go to school there? Will the paperwork that Will got me let me work? And if he just wants to hook me up to some machine and suck out my lifeforce, I won't be doing much of anything, will I?"
"Well there'll be no sucking of life force – the paperwork was pretty comprehensive and yeah I think we can get you on the right courses for nursing. Sounds a better bet than being a doctor… more contact with patients.” Mel wondered if it was a good idea to bring up home. Would talking about it help Ela or not? "You'll like Vegas... just remember the tourists are all sheep."
Ela giggled. "You know, some might consider that remark offensive. It's really a bit of an insult to the sheep." The joke might be old, but some weight seemed to lift from Ela's shoulders at Mel's answering chortle. Shyly, Ela smiled fully for the first time in months.
The loudspeaker had been announcing flights throughout their conversation, but now both Mel's and Ela's ears perked up at it. "All passengers for flight QF 093 to Los Angeles, we are now boarding. All passengers--"
Ela bent down to grab her hand luggage as Mel stood with hers and stretched the kinks from her back. "That's us."
*****
Wednesday 28th May 2006
10:30am local time, Las Vegas
Ela refused to believe her watch. It told her that a mere three hours had passed since they'd first arrived at Tullamarine. But her hair hung in draggled rat’s tails around her face and she felt grimy and dishevelled. She and Mel had spent a total of twenty hours either on a plane or waiting in an airport. Of the fifteen and a half hours spent actually in flight, Ela had been watching Mel with concern. The tall, confident, powerful - albeit new - meta apparently hated to fly. In aeroplanes, anyway. Ela had spent most of the trip just holding Mel's hand, offering comfort.
The irony wasn't lost on her. There she'd been, being the steady rock for the one Fixer had sent to babysit her. Still, they were back on solid ground and once more Mel exuded an air of calm reassurance.
The harsh desert light assaulted Mel's eyes as they walked out into the airport’s parking lot. Around them were the usual travellers into Las Vegas – businessmen here for some conference or other, or tourists here to enjoy the bright lights, the tacky shows and the various means of losing money. Deciding that her sleep-deprived eyes were not up to the task of dealing with mid morning Las Vegas, Mel pulled out a pair of sunglasses and with a sigh of relief slipped them on.
"The car’s over here." With only a couple of items of luggage there was no need for a trolley and they quickly made their way to the long stay parking lot and Mel's Toyota Landcruiser. "This is us,” she said as the central locking beeped in response. Opening the back she put the suitcases away. "Ready to see your new home?"
Ela stuffed her new jacket in the back with her suitcase. The warm sun beat down on her head and she basked in it. She hadn't realised how much the dreary rain of a late Melbourne autumn had sapped her strength until she felt the warmth that approached that of her own outback station. "Hmm? Oh, yes." Ela felt her greasy hair, "And a shower would be nice."
"Oh, a shower would be heavenly right now." Mel pulled out of the lot, winced as she paid for the time her car had spent here and drove out into the Vegas streets. Despite her desire to get clean she took a detour through the tourist areas.
"It's more impressive at night of course, what with the neon. In fact from a thousand feet up the glow is visible from miles away.” Noting one particular billboard Mel smirked. "I warn you now though, if you try and drag me to a Celine Dion concert I will disown you."
Too tired to continue the sightseeing Mel turned the SUV towards home. After another half hour through morning traffic they finally pulled up to a neat two storey house. Pulling onto the drive Mel switched off the engine and smiled at Ela. "Here we are. Home sweet home..."
Ela looked at the small but neat garden out the front and felt suddenly shy again. Despite all she'd been through it finally sank in that she'd be sharing a house with another person, something she'd not done except with her family. She hauled her bags from the car and waited while Mel unlocked the front door and flung it wide. Ela took a few tentative steps into the house. It was not as large as the house on Alpana Station, but it was tastefully furnished and a far cry from the hovel she'd had to live in the past few months.
She turned to Mel and beamed. "It's lovely," she said with genuine feeling.
"Thank you." There was genuine warmth in Ela's tone, something that Mel hadn't heard enough of. Mel led the way to the stairs.
"Your room's up there on the right, bathroom is on the left. There's an en-suite in my room so feel free to head up and grab a shower." Mel turned and headed towards the kitchen. "I'm going to rustle up a snack. Want anything?"
"Uh, just whatever you're having will be fine, thanks." Ela climbed the stairs and deposited her bags on the bedroom to the right. It had more the look of a library than a spare bedroom, with several bookshelves lining the walls. Most of them held books covering a variety of topics, though most were - as Mel had indicated - books on astronomy, meteorology and economics. One of the bookcases, however, didn't contain books but instead displayed an array of rocks and pebbles of all shapes and sizes.
Ela ran her fingertips over some of them, feeling their rough edges, then she shrugged, dug out a change of clothes and crossed the hallway to the bathroom opposite her room. She could hear Mel still bustling about in the kitchen downstairs and felt a little guilty over having a shower while Mel worked, but consoled herself with the thought that at least Mel could go straight to her own shower without having to wait for her to finish. Ela just hoped the hot water would hold out.
Mel clucked her tongue as she opened the fridge she'd cleared it out before going away so it was all but empty though she'd left the jar of elderly mayonnaise out of nostalgia. Still there was a little cheese and a few other odds and ends. The dry stores weren't much better. *Looks like I need to go shopping.* Still, there was pasta, some onions and some tinned tomatoes. It was fairly basic but it would do. And of course, most importantly for her guest - no meat.
She heard the shower start up as she was putting on the water for the pasta and smiled. This wouldn't take long and once she'd got herself clean and despite the effect it would have on her jetlag Mel fully intended to have a nice long nap.
By the time Ela felt sufficiently grime-free to face the world again, she could hear water running from further down the hall. A gorgeous smell wafted up from downstairs and she followed her nose to the kitchen. A note pinned to the fridge said simply, 'Help yourself', with an arrow pointing to the stove. A bowl and fork were laid out for her, and Ela eagerly spooned pasta and napoli sauce into it. She opened some cupboards, looking for the parmesan, but found only some cheddar in the fridge. Further searching turned up a cheese grater and with her meal now complete, Ela happily plonked herself into the sofa in the lounge room and found the TV remote.
When Mel returned downstairs, still towelling her hair dry and wrapped in her robe, she found Ela slumped in front of the TV watching reruns of some fluff or other. "The food ok?"
Ela held up the nearly empty bowl and nodded vigorously. Although the food in business class was pretty good, they never gave you enough of it. Then Ela's attention snapped back to the television as an announcer came on. "We interrupt this broadcast to bring you this breaking news story."
The picture changed to a street downtown, showing one of the casinos Mel had driven her past barely an hour before. The scene was of chaos. Police cars ringed the area outside the "Lucky Seven" casino and barricades had been hastily erected. The casino itself looked dark and quiet, but shattered glass on the pavement matched the gaping hole in the second storey window. The reporter spoke.
“Just minutes ago the manager of this casino was thrown from that second floor window," the dark-haired woman pointed behind her, "and has just been taken to hospital in a critical condition. You can see the police have surrounded the Lucky Seven casino where we appear to have a siege situation. Police have few details to give us at present, but what we know is that either a small group, or possibly a single individual, entered this casino shortly before noon and that minutes later the manager on duty was thrown from the second floor. There are an unknown number of casino patrons inside, with estimates ranging from twenty to a hundred people. As yet no demands have been made and the motive for this is unclear."
Behind the reporter, the scene changed in a flurry of activity. The camera swung around to follow what was happening, and the reporter's voice continued. "There seems to be some development going on... You can see a man is emerging from the casino, with a woman held in front of him."
On Mel's television screen, the camera zoomed in until they could see the panic-stricken look in the black woman's eyes. A strong arm held her around the throat and upper chest, keeping her positioned in front of him. The reporter fell silent as the man began to yell.
"You'll fuckin' give me my money back, you cheating sons of bitches! I'm taking it back, one way or another. I don't want to hurt anyone. Really. But I'm getting my money back. Just leave me the fuck alone!"
He pointed his hand at the neon sign above his head and electricity arced from it, sizzling and popping loudly through the TV speakers. The woman screamed, as did many of the people who had gathered as onlookers. The camera swung up in time to catch a shot of the fire that leapt from the neon sign. "Don't fuck with me!" the man screamed again. "Just go away, leave me alone!"
As the man retreated back into the casino with his hostage and the police began to talk through their megaphones again at him, the reporter moved back into shot. "Well, it seems we have a meta run amok here in downtown Las Vegas. He has taken hostages and is demanding cash. Since we have no meta registration, we have no way of knowing who this man is, or what he can do, but he is clearly dangerous. It would seem he has control of electricity at least..."
The reporter continued to talk, but Ela tuned her out and faced Mel. She'd never seen anything like this before, happening practically under her nose. Something stirred in Ela, and she could see the same thing mirrored in Mel's face. "Those people will get hurt. Can't we stop him?"
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
Lamb to the Slaughter
Part Seven – Distractions
Wednesday 28th May 2006
12:15pm - Las Vegas
Introducing Ed Harris as Captain Eugene O’Malley
Mel looked from the scenes of chaos on her television screen to Ela's pleading eyes, and hugged herself through her bathrobe. "Let me get dressed. I'm not showing up in a forcefield and my birthday suit." Mel headed upstairs calling out as she did so, "By the front door there's a helmet. I won't be able to carry you, but I've got a bike..."
Minutes later Mel returned fully clothed to find Ela had the helmet in hand. "You can ride a bike, right?"
Ela nodded. "I grew up on an outback station," she said, as though that explained it all to a city-bred woman. At Mel's noncommittal look Ela said, "I've been riding since I was twelve. A motorbike is the best tool for rounding up sheep."
*So that would be your average dirt bike.* Mel opened the front door and walked out to the garage with Ela close behind. Opening the doors she walked over to her former pride and joy and pulled the dust cover off of a black Ducati 749R.
"The tank’s full. Can you remember how to get to the strip or do I need to stay over the streets?"
Ela stared in awe at the machine that rested before her. It was a far cry from the little Honda Bushlander she'd used on the station. She tugged the helmet over her head and tightened the chin strap, then swallowed the small knot of fear in her stomach. She wasn't sure if it was from the idea of the danger she was about to ride into, or the prospect of the mode of transport she was about to use to get there.
Mounting the gleaming black motorbike Ela looked back at Mel. She thought about the confusion of lights and streets Mel had taken her down on the way here, sights that she'd barely been able to pay attention to, given her fatigue, and she shook her head. "I think I'll need directions."
Mel suppressed a faint shiver looking at Ela in a slightly over sized helmet about to ride what amounted to a racing bike. Shaking her head to clear it she gave a simple set of directions and ended it with one last piece of humour. "Of course if you do get lost just look for me. I'm sure I'll be visible enough. Ok?"
At Ela's nod she smiled then watched as the young girl apprehensively rolled the bike out of the garage and past Mel’s more practical piece of transportation. "I'm going to head round the back. Hopefully it'll conceal me from the neighbours long enough for me to get airborne."
Ela steeled herself and stomped on the pedal to start the bike. It roared to life with a deep, throaty grumble and Ela started out carefully, trying to remember the route Mel had given her. The bike responded to her slightest touch, and a small thrill went through Ela's diminutive frame. At the first corner she nearly fainted with fright when she realised she was facing an oncoming car.
*Oh, you silly girl,* she berated herself. *America - other side of the road.* Correcting her position and waving in apology at the car that blared its horn at her, Ela opened up the throttle the merest tad and was rewarded with a surge of power. Her mixture of fright and delight at the bike's performance, however, was interrupted by the vision of a streak of light that raced towards the centre of town. Concentrating on avoiding the traffic, Ela followed.
Mel tried not to think about what she was doing as she flew towards the casino. She wasn't ready for this despite what had happened at the dam, and the whole incident with Ela in the hospital parking lot had shown just how bad she was with hostage situations. Unfortunately Ela had turned those soulful eyes on her and before she realised what was happening she was flying to the rescue. *She better not crash my bike!*
A few minutes later she saw a couple of news helicopters hovering over the main strip. She saw one turn and point a camera at her. *Well I just got outed as the Vegas Light!* Mel circled the scene for a few moments. A crowd had already formed and the police were struggling to maintain order. Of course, the fact that half of them were gaping at her was not helping matters. Mel made a decision – perhaps not the most heroic one she could but she was honestly sure if she rushed in she'd probably make matters worse. Locating what she though was the command centre for the police she smoothly flew downwards, silently congratulating herself on a suitably graceful and 'angelic' landing. Letting her wings fade Mel ignored the various shouts from the crowd and addressed the nearest police officer. "Who's in charge here?”
The young officer confronted by this glowing apparition stammered a response, "Th-that would be Captain O'Malley, m-miss."
Mel smiled though she wasn't sure how well expressions translated through the forcefield. "And where would the captain be?"
"Over here!" Mel turned and saw a slim, middle-aged man with short blond hair and piercing blue eyes. The top button of his uniform was open, but nevertheless the most obvious thing about Captain O'Malley was the he was in charge.
Eugene O'Malley surveyed this new arrival with a small amount of disdain. He really had no particular feelings about metas one way or the other, but he did care about law and order in his precinct. A person with meta powers was no different to a person with a gun, in his view, and he had one shut away in that casino making a damned nuisance of himself. He looked the glowing figure up and down, trying to work out whether it was male or female. It sounded female, but he'd long since learned never to make assumptions.
One thing he did know - none of his officers had been able to advance to any sort of strategic position on the guy inside and his negotiators had so far not even gotten a name out of him. Anyone who got too close was threatened with arcs of electricity, and O'Malley had reached the point where he needed something to break the stalemate.
"I'm Captain Eugene O'Malley," he said, his face impassive. "Who are you, and what's your purpose here?"
"I'm Gabriel, Captain, and I came here to help." Mel turned and looked at the smashed second storey window. "You have an Electrokinetic shut up in there and as a concerned citizen with preternatural abilities I thought I could be of some assistance to the police." She turned back to the officer. "I could have just rushed in but I think that'd have got me shot."
O'Malley stared at 'Gabriel' for several long seconds, his expression unchanging, then his face split in a sardonic grin. "Damn straight it would have," he said. He leaned back on his heels and gestured broadly at the casino. "I'm sure our zappy friend in there is well aware of your arrival, so how do you propose to help without getting his hostages killed?"
Right now O'Malley really wasn't in the mood to trust strange glowing women - he'd go with the easy assumption for now - that fell from the sky and offered to help. It seemed every meta with a penchant for vigilantism was declaring themselves a 'concerned citizen' and O'Malley wasn't inclined to take such impulses at their face value.
Mel walked towards the command vehicle. "If I knew how to solve this without killing the hostages I'd be doing that. I'm desperately trying to avoid stupid mistakes, Captain. Hell, there's every possibility that me just turning up will cause more problems than it solves but let’s be honest. There's a guy up there who can throw lightning bolts and you need every bit of help you can get." Mel pitched her voice for the captain’s ears only. She had no desire for anyone else to hear her admission of fallibility. People liked their heroes to be... well, heroic.
Despite himself, O'Malley found himself warming to Gabriel. It was rare to find a meta who admitted they had human flaws, just like everyone else. "Well and good," he said. "Tell me what you can do and I'll see if we can come up with a strategy. But," his tone turned serious, "if - and I do mean if - I let you in there and I find out you've been blowing wind up my arse I will personally bring down the wrath of the Las Vegas police on your head. And believe me, we're just as vengeful as any angel. Do we have an understanding?"
"Perfectly, Captain. As for abilities, there's the flight though I imagine that will not be necessary today. As for the rest, well the glow is a forcefield. It'll stop small side arms for certain. I'm not really sure how it'll handle lightning bolts but I'm guessing it's better than a vest. And I have energy bolts, a beam that'll carve through walls though it might have a little trouble with I-beams and an energy sphere that's pretty explosive. It's all pretty lethal, though again I’m not exactly sure on the limits to this. Plus I'm a high visibility target. Whatever your plan, Captain, this forcefield isn't coming down and that means I glow.
“My best suggestion is you use me to draw the bad guy’s attention and hopefully soak up his fire while you move your less obvious assets into a position to end this without bloodshed." Mel smiled, "But that's only a suggestion… Oh, and if you have any Metaflex around it'd be nice."
O'Malley scowled. "Sounds like the cure may be as bad as the disease. If you set off explosions in there, we run a very real risk that you'll harm the hostages. But if you could draw him out and away from the bulk of the people in there we'd stand a chance. We do have Metaflex - a couple of our sharpshooters are positioned just waiting for a clear shot. Though I must warn you, we also have guys with real bullets, too. I won't let this arsehole walk away from this, and if he forces my hand..."
The Captain hawked and spat on the pavement, "But I want a vest on you as well, in case that force field of yours isn't up to the lightning." Mel opened her mouth to protest, but O'Malley held up a hand. "No, I don't want to hear it. No vest, you don't get past this point. I don't want to be having to fill out the paperwork your death will cause me."
"I'll likely be getting my arse kicked as it is just for using you," he muttered under his breath.
"Quite probably, captain." A second officer came forward and held out a kevlar vest to Mel. She took it and struggled into it. As the vest slowly sank through the forcefield Mel turned back to O'Malley.
"Captain, you might want to get the power shut down to the area. We don't know if this muppet can self generate but if he can't, cutting the power could end this very quickly." Mel strode over to the doorway of the van. "Well, whenever you're ready."
O'Malley rolled his eyes. "Power was the first thing we tried to do. No go. You'll notice that every other building on this block is dark, except the Lucky Seven. Somehow he's got juice flowing through there. We can't shut him down. Now go, but just remember - there are possibly dozens of hostages in there. Don't let any of your 'bolts' go astray, you hear me?"
Mel nodded and walked towards the building, flanked by a couple of officers. A voice stopped O'Malley just as he was leaving the van himself. "Sir, is this wise? She could be anybody."
O'Malley turned back to his Lieutenant. "I know, Frank, but right now we're kinda short on options and she's looking like a fair bet."
The Captain cut off any further protest. "I don't want to hear it, ok? The decision is made, and now I've got to go do my job if you don't mind." He stood by the van and watched Mel approach the front of the casino. A quick radio check confirmed that his snipers were all in place. Now he just had to pray.
The bright glowing light in the sky had shown Ela the general course to take, and that together with Mel's hasty directions was enough for Ela to find the street she needed. The barricades started some way back from the action, and crowds of people clustered around, muttering excitedly amongst themselves, looking rather more agitated than they had on the television. *I guess Mel must have made her entrance, then.*
She found a place to park the bike and insinuated herself into the crowed, trying to get closer. Finally she was able to see Mel glowing silvery blue as she walked with deliberate steps towards the casino entrance.
Mel ignited her wings. "I think I can take it from here gentlemen." She strode forward and let a little energy flow over her hands, fighting down the trepidation she felt she decided against blasting the doors apart purely because she didn't want the bill for its replacement. Instead she just pushed them open.
Inside was the usual mind-boggling array of slot machines. Mel lifted a little; she needed to get a better view of what was going on. Of course just as she could see better, so could she be seen. The electrical bolt that arced across the room came far too close to her for comfort.
"Don't you come closer bitch, or she gets it."
Mel looked towards the original of the bolt to see a muscular guy with one arm wrapped round the throat of an obviously terrified woman.
Mel flashed an energy bolt back towards the man. "And this is supposed to worry me?" she said. A second bolt whizzed passed the man's head. "What's one or two casualties?"
The bolts changed to her energy lance which Mel played just over the top of the slot machines. "Go ahead, kill her... It'll give me a free shot to vapourise your pansy ass."
Standing by the van O'Malley's face turned red when he heard Gabriel's voice playing tinnily through his earpiece. "She said what?? Create a distraction, I said. Draw him out of the building, I said. If he kills that hostage I'll rip her throat out myself!"
"I tried to warn you, Sir," his Lieutenant began, but O'Malley rounded on him.
"No, it might still work, if she gets him mad. But I hope she knows she's playing with fire in there. If that stupid bitch gets herself or anyone else killed, I'll..." Nobody learned what O'Malley might do in that situation because his voice trailed off as he listened through the microphone on Gabriel's vest to the meta's response to her jibe.
There was an inarticulate roar of rage, then an electrical bolt caught Mel full in the chest. However, between her forcefield, O'Malley's vest and the fact she was a couple of feet off the ground, it did little more than stand all her hair on end.
"That all you got?" she said, noticing the man had released his hostage to direct his attack.
Her own response went astray though, missing him by inches as he ducked aside. Another bolt of lightning shattered a slot machine sending quarters like shrapnel tearing through the air. The nickel-alloy circles fared no better than the lead bullets had a few days before and Mel sent another bolt flying towards her opponent. *Right, now where are the hostages?*
O'Malley cursed at the ringing in his ears from the noise. The earpiece had delivered a devastatingly loud boom, in stereo to the one his other ear heard from the casino. Now all it emitted was static. The police captain pulled the useless device out and threw it to the ground, then radioed his men. "Can you see in there? Tell me what's going on."
"I have a clear view, Captain," the sniper on the roof across the road radioed back. "The meta is away from the hostages, but the other meta is in the way. She's still standing. They seem to be trading energy bolts, Sir."
"Shit," O'Malley swore with feeling. "Whoever gets a clear shot at the non-glowing meta, take him down. Metaflex if possible, but if not, a bullet." He lowered the radio and grumbled under his breath, "C'mon Gabriel, get him out of there for me. Don't be a fucking hero."
On the sidelines Ela gasped with the rest of the crowd at the blasts and bangs that came from the casino. Her eyes darted from the front entrance to the police command van and back again, wondering what was going on in there. *If something happens to Mel in there, it'll be my fault. If only I hadn't turned on the telly.* Her mind filled with self-recrimination Ela almost missed the next bit of excitement, but looked up as a ripple went through the crowd.
*There!* Mel had been trading bolts with this guy. Thankfully neither were particularly accurate. Mel had finally, however, located the hostages. *Now to get between this guy and them and force him outside.*
Mel's wings spread wide and in a half suicidal darting flight managed to get between 'Electro' and them. It wasn't without cost though, as two bolts of electricity caught her. One on the leg that left it practically numb and the second in the chest. Mel smelt scorched fabric and realised that her opponent was getting stronger. *Fine. Well, this is almost over anyway.*
Returning to her lance she pushed forward, harrying her opponent, driving him from whatever cover he could find and towards the doors. Desperate now, her opponent raised his hands and unleashed a web of electricity than detonated every machine between himself and his tormentor.
"Fuck!" Mel threw her hands up in an instinctual attempt to shield her face from the oncoming maelstrom.
Debris flew from the casino and onto the street, like a deadly rain shower. Ela could see the back of the man as he faced inside, sparks glowing at his fingertips. The boom that accompanied that latest bolt reverberated around the block, causing many of the onlookers to cover their ears.
Then the man seemed to waver in place for a moment, before he slowly toppled backwards, to land face up with his head and shoulders resting on the pavement. Paramedics ran towards him and Ela held her breath, wondering if the man was dead, but then he began to convulse, his limbs trembling uncontrollably. Ela stared - she had no idea what was wrong with him. She didn't think Mel's bolts would do that, but maybe it had reacted with the man's own powerful electrical field.
Dozens of police rushed towards the building, and Ela slipped as close as she could to the front of the crowd when she saw a bluish glow approach the entrance. It was difficult to tell through the glow that surrounded her, but Ela thought Mel might be limping. *At least she's walking. She’s alive,* Ela thought with relief. She watched as the policeman who looked to be in charge approached Mel, while his men entered the casino, presumably to find all the hostages.
O'Malley planted himself in front of Gabriel and shook his head. "That was one hell of a lot of risks you took in there," he said gruffly. "You were damn lucky."
"Oh yeah. So the next time I offer to help out remember to tell me to..." Mel put a hand to her forehead and groaned, glancing at the press vultures already circling just beyond the barriers. "I don't suppose you could clear some airspace for me? I'd like to get out of here before they," she gestured at the cameras, "try to give me my fifteen minutes of fame."
"Actually I would really rather have you come to the station and tell me just what went on in there. Your testimony will be vital, you know." O'Malley suppressed a groan. He knew what his odds were of getting anything even vaguely resembling admissible testimony, but he felt he had to try.
Just then the crowd surged forward as the first of the hostages were brought out, blinking, into the sun. Ela had been watching Mel, trying to catch her eye and find out if she was injured, but this gave her an opportunity to dart forward with the rest of the spectators. Too many police were between her and Mel but she was able to reach the area where the freed hostages were being assembled. They all looked shaken but none seemed hurt beyond a scratch here and there. Some of the bystanders were helping to issue blankets and comfort the victims and Ela insinuated herself with them, checking each hostage she could lay hands on.
A pair of paramedics rushed out of the casino, wheeling a trolley between them. A middle-aged lady lay on the trolley, apparently in some distress. Ela broke off from her group and stood near the ambulance they were loading her into. She grasped the woman's hand and despite her fatigue from her long journey, the tingle in her fingers began and she could see the stress the woman's heart was under.
As the paramedics fussed with setting up the equipment for the lady inside the ambulance, Ela worked quickly, smoothing out the woman's heartbeat and dilating the vessels that had constricted so tightly. Ela saw the woman's eyes clear and she looked at Ela and smiled before the paramedics politely but firmly shunted Ela out of the way and loaded the woman into the ambulance. Ela stumbled and leaned against another car for support, catching her breath. The woman's imminent heart attack was stopped, at least, and the men in the ambulance would be able to do the rest.
Then Ela lifted her eyes to search out Mel, but she was no longer where Ela had last seen her. *Where is she?* Ela wondered frantically as she cast around for her friend.
"Look captain, while I appreciate you think you need a statement from me, let’s take a look at it logically shall we? I'm not going to arrive at court to defend my statement. Indeed, I doubt you'll even be able to find me to subpoena me. Simply put, " Mel said as she sat on the steps leading into the command van, "While me giving a statement will in the short term make things easier it will cause more problems than it solves... Sort of like us metas."
Mel cradled her head in her hands I don't supposes you have any Tylenol, do you?" Mel reached for the straps that held the vest to her and sighed in relief as she pulled it over her head. “Otherwise I think I'll return this and head home."
Eugene O'Malley sighed in exasperation. "I can't stop you, if you want to go. But hear me - you be careful around my beat. I'd better not find you out there blasting those bolts of yours at every Tom, Dick and Harry that pisses you off. I'm not fond of vigilantes, and if I find you breaking the law I will shoot you full of that drug as fast as I shot that guy."
He thrust out his hand and his voice softened, "But I want to thank you for your help today. Despite your rashness, you did get the guy out without losing a single hostage, and for that I'm grateful."
"More luck than judgement and we both know it. But don't worry, I'll stay out of trouble. At least until I can work out a way to not kill the bad guys..." Mel stood up and scanned the crowd but there were too many people around. She couldn't see Ela and wasn't sure she'd have spotted the girl even if she was here.
Mel's wings snapped back into existence "Sorry, Captain. I'll have to take a rain check on that drink... Maybe next time." Mel pitched her voice to carry to the other officers and with that she flashed into the sky and arched out towards the desert.
Ela smiled in relief when she saw the streak of light that was Mel launching herself into the sky. Her eyes travelled back down to where Mel must have been standing, and she saw the police captain with a strange look on his face - half amused, half annoyed – and resolved to ask Mel what the story was there when she got home.
She milled among the hostages a little longer, but she found nobody else who need her gifts so she slipped through the dispersing crowd to find Mel's bike. Running her hand down the body of the finely tuned machine, Ela rationalised to herself that she thought Mel looked hurt and would therefore need assistance as soon as possible.
*Yep,* she thought as she raced as fast as she dared on the unfamiliar streets, *that sounds perfectly reasonable to me.*
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
Hall of the Council - Mutantgrad
Friday the 16th May, 2003
16:23Local
Not for the first time, Valentino Vrushka thought the Council's large round table was a mistake. Particularly as 15 people were all speaking very loudly and very rapidly, while nobody was listening to anyone else. Which was soon followed by much banging of the gavel on the desk and yelling "Order, Order!" The room did not fall silent until this had been shouted several times. "Look, I know that because winter is soooo short we get a little passionate about provisions, but can we please try to maintain at least a minimum level of civility?"
"NO!" a loud voice came from the back of the room, obviously in jest. A few polite chuckles at Vladimir's idea of a joke came. Vladimir was a weaselly little man in the most literal way: his face took on weasel-like features. "Look, look, this is what I'm telling you: we need to repair the main tracks. Forget about airlift, too expensive."
As the floor prepared to erupt into outbursts again, Svetlana Allhaneyev slowly shook her head. There she was, part of a powerful conspiracy, and this was her assignment. Ogrufena Sokolov, seated next to her, raised an eyebrow before Svetlana finally said anything. "Piddle, twiddle, and resolve...." Ogrufena stood up, unable to take the bickering anymore. "The railway is most efficient, we all know this. We must repair it, and further delay on the matter will only cause us to starve. Move to call the question."
“I second that.” Called out Leonid, irritably. Rubbing his temples, the Second of Council shook his head despairingly at some of his fellow sitters, baffled by the fact that many of them were allowed to sit. In his view, Vladimir shouldn’t even be given the time of day: he was one of the outsiders. Moved to Mutantgrad in the early eighties, and claiming a seat in the mid nineties. Leonid muttered to himself under his breath, “It should never have come to pass.”
Ogrufena, otherwise known as the Black Widow, shot a brief glance of approve at Leonid. She was the youngest on the council, at only forty years of age, but the bloodline of her family demanded a certain respect that usually didn’t come so easily.
Silently and unnoticed, she sunk back into seat: observing the room as it calmed, attentions focused on Leonid, who was seated prominently at Valentino’s right side.
Vladimir looked ready to object, but a fierce glance from Leonid prevented him from doing so. The vote was quickly held, and resources allocated to fix the rails.
“If it pleases the Council: I’d like to bring forth, what I believe to be of great urgency, the matter of the mutant protests.” Leonid straightened in his chair, fists planted firmly, facing downward on the bench. “We allow entry to the ‘Giftless’ too freely. Already there have been acts of hostility and terrorism plaguing our citizens! It must be stopped. Make them wear collars!” Leonid punctuated, slamming the desk solidly with his white knuckled fist.
The term ‘Giftless’ was one that he’d grown to use freely over time, though its usage is generally frowned upon. It was one created by mostly cynical mutants of the early exiles, used in discrimination against their once ‘fellow man’.
Svetlana rose to speak again. She'd had her orders from other people on the ways to exert her influence on the council. "Such harsh measures will only serve to make the situation worse. And I will not sit back while we become as vile as the people who forced the creation of this city from the gulag!"
Leonid’s wrath turned to her, full of loathe and despise, “So you would just sit there until they exterminate us one by one? I, for one, will not.” Leonid’s gaze snaked across the room, “Surely I’m not the only one who agrees on this point?” His tone set the listening room full of unease, prompting all those who agreed to raise their hands, and not remain hidden.
Svetlana continued to hold her ground. "Surely you and your fools would rather bring destruction down upon us than act like real men. Has it occurred to you that a single nuclear weapon would annihilate us, Leonid, or are you simply too thick headed to realise such a self-evident truth?"
Ogrufena's hand came up to touch her arm. "Please, control yourself. We do not need a banshee wail from you, since we like to hear."
“And it would prove me right.” Leonid’s icy stare delved into Svetlana’s, “I am acting in the interests of the society of Mutantgrad, which is what I was elected into this position, by the citizens, to do!”
With a sweeping gesture, Leonid rose on his platform to address the entire room, “For too long we have tolerated being discriminated against by the Giftless. They expect us to treat them with respect and stand lower than them, give them the benefit of the doubt while we are the first people the finger gets pointed in times of terror.
“No more!
“If we are truly living in a world of equal rights, then we should treat them as they treat us when we enter their grounds.”
Leonid’s sweeping gesture rounded off as his revulsive gaze rested on Svetlana; “It’s a matter of security, you stupid woman!” he spat in disgust.
Valentino, who had been sitting back idly observing, raised a hand to Leonid’s shoulder, “Easy old comrade.” He gently coerced him back into his seat.
Leonid nodded solemnly to his predecessor, all the while muttering mental curses, believing his rule over Mutantgrad to be weak: a misguided by fairytale with dreams of Mutants and Giftless working as brothers, side by side in a plentiful world of equal opportunity.
As Leonid continued to glare challengingly at Svetlana daring her to retort, the Council remained hushed as she struggled to bring words to her tight-lipped mouth. Her eyes were a-bulge in dismay at being silenced so utterly and thoroughly.
Ogrufena’s gaze turned thoughtfully from Svetlana’s frozen form to rest considerately on Leonid. A slight smile pulled at the edge of her mouth.
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
The Queen is in Play: Part 3
Tuesday, May 20th
Eric's House
With a slight turn of the knob, water came rushing from the shower head, and fell comfortingly on Eric’s tired shoulders. He stood there for several minutes, just letting the constant stream wash over his body, somehow hoping that it would rinse away the troubles that had been plaguing him as of late. Somehow, FenrisX had been framed into looking like a murdering meta who had mercilessly assassinated a police officer. But that was not all that weighed on his troubled mind. *Could she have been right? * Ever since Psyspell had confronted him about his past, he couldn’t help but question the validity of her words. *Maybe I can’t change who I am. What good have I really done since I left Valhalla? Garm…..Achilles….Jenna, they would all still be alive had I never left. * His broad shoulders slouched as he sighed depressively. Memories of recent events at the agent complex emerged in his head. Had it not been for him, Pegasus would have never been captured and almost killed, and others would have never had to put their lives in danger to save him. * What if they hadn’t made it through that ordeal, it would have been my fault. * Mentally exhausted, Eric rested his forehead on the tiled wall of the shower. *What the hell am I doing? *
65th floor Office
Valkyrie Co.
The woman’s eyes scanned over the various reports which lay neatly on her glass desk. After a few moments, she closed the folders and pressed the button controlling the intercom to her secretary. “Marcus, could you please send the managers in now?”
Right away Miss Shaw came the voice at the other end.
Seconds later, the doors to the large office opened as 4 individuals, dressed in business attire came marching in.
“Where do we stand on the current project,” the woman on the chair asked calmly.
The 4 began to eye each other nervously, each one waiting for someone else to reply.
“Mr. Carson,” she said resting her eyes on the man at the far left, “Any new developments?”
The man’s eyes grew wide, as he tried to gather his wits. “Well, uh.. you see Miss Shaw, the real FenrisX hasn’t exposed himself since the incident I’m afraid. We have no way of finding him otherwise”.
Miss Shaw’s eyes narrowed slightly in frustration. “With all the resources at your disposal you can’t come up with more than that? This problem should not have even been brought to me in the first place. Yet, for some reason you seemed incapable of dealing with him, and so I develop a plan, a good plan may I add. But, even with my assistance, you are all incapable of doing your jobs. Frankly, I don’t understand how you all made it to position of manager”.
The group lowered their heads in unison, each trying to avoid eye contact with the woman.
“Well we could increase our efforts to find his where-abouts, and then send a team to eliminate him once and for all,” another of the managers said timidly.
“No. Obviously killing FenrisX has proven more difficult than anticipated, and anyways, I think there is an ulterior way to approach this”. The woman leaned back in her chair, looking somewhat pleased with her new found idea.
“What exactly do you have in mind Miss Shaw?”
“It doesn’t matter. I will handle this personally. The rest off you are off the assignment. Now go make yourselves useful and find something to do”. As the four managers exited the office, the woman turned her chair as to face the massive window. “This is a much better idea”.
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
“Mother’s Day Again”
Lori Grants house loomed tall above the head of Bonita. She stared up at it, taken aback at its presence. Certainly she had seen bigger building, she had lived in many cities, but she had never seen an actual house that was this large. And even if she had, she had never known the person who at lived in one. *Who is this woman?*
“Come on... Bonita.” Lori called from the front door. “You can come in.” Without answering, Bonita climbed the long path to the front door of the Grant mansion. It seemed like a nice house… looks could be deceiving however. This Bonita knew.
Bonita walked into the house, once again taken about by the splendor of it. It was very well furnished, with elegant sofas, beautiful paintings and fine china adorning the house. She was not accustomed to fine things.
“Please, sit down. You can make yourself at home.” Lori motioned to a white, fluffy sofa against a wall in a large room, which was probably the equivalent of a living room. Bonita slowly walked over to it and sat down. It was a fluffy as it looked.
In the kitchen, Lori got out some glasses, milk and some chocolate syrup. She mixed the milk and the chocolate together in the glass. Not for the first time, or probably the last, Lori briefly wondered what business she had bringing a teenage girl here, especially one who could create storms. Her intuition told her that this girl could be trusted but still… and she looked perfectly normal, but looks could be deceiving. This Lori knew.
Lori walked into the living room, carrying two cups of chocolate milk. She offered one to Bonita, who hesitantly took it. Lori pulled up a wooden stool she had in the corner and sat opposite Bonita. The girl looked down at the chocolate milk as if it might be poison. *Who is this girl?*
“Um… so does everyone call you Bonita, or do you have a nickname?” Testing the waters. She couldn’t force the girl to talk, but Lori needed answers. She figured the best way to do this was to be polite and show Bonita that she was kind and not the enemy.
“… I… my mother… some people call me Bonnie.” Testing the waters. Bonita didn’t want to talk, or give information out to this stranger. She figured the best way to do this was to be polite and answer her questions, and find out if this woman was the enemy.
At first she had been so relieved. Escaping the hell hole that she had been in seemed like a dream *no, not a dream, dreams can hurt*- it seemed like a fantasy. But after this woman, who had called herself Spectrum, had saved her, Bonita wasn’t so sure. She was safe from the dream man now *probably*, but who knew if this woman was a friend, or just another monster waiting to strike.
“Well Bonnie… I wanted to know about your powers… to create storms. Can you tell me what happened?” She hadn’t meant to be so forward, but she needed answers.
Bonita looked down at her chocolate milk, and gently placed it on the coffee table in front of her. “You already know I have those powers,” Bonita said anxiously, “what else do you want to know?”
“I want to know what happened. How did Mind Block get you?” Bonita didn’t know who Mind Block was, but she presumed it was the people who captured her, including the dream man. “They said they bought you.” Lori added gently.
“I don’t know…” Bonita said and this was the truth. The past few days… weeks… were all a blur to her. Except for the deaths. The rest she wasn’t to sure about. “After… this guy named Stan or something, he took me away and I had no one else to go to. And then… I slept for a really long time.” She purposely left about the deaths and the dreams. Memories could be as sharp as knives.
“Dream Weaver… I think he manipulated your dreams Bonni… Bonita.” She wasn’t sure if she was at the level to call her Bonnie yet. The girl might find it to personal. She noticed at her words, Bonita seemed to shrink back and grew paler than she already was.
“…Yes.” Bonnie answered plainly. Oh god, she didn’t want to talk about this.
“What did he show-”
“Who are you?” Bonita shouted suddenly, shocking herself a little as well as Lori. “I don’t know who you are. Why are you asking me all these question when I don’t even know who you are?”
Lori was stunned speechless by that speech. Without saying a word, she picked up Bonita’s chocolate milk, still not touched, and walked back into the kitchen. *Who am I kidding? I don’t know the first thing about talking to a kid, never mind one who can blow the entire house down!*
Bonita felt a tear forming at the tip of her eye, but she forced it back. She couldn’t afford tears, not now. She started out a large picture window. *Who am I kidding? I don’t know how to talk to people. I can’t do this alone…*
***
Janie Coroway was sitting on her old, moth eaten couch in her Crystal City apartment, talking on the phone. It was mother’s day, May 11th, and she was appropriately talking to her mother. Pray for her.
“Yes mom… no, I had pizza tonight. Yes, I know it isn’t the healthiest meal but I think I can survive a little pizza! No mom… I’m sorry… yes I shouldn’t have talked back. I know mom. No, I still don’t have a steady boyfriend. Well I just haven’t met the right person! I know, mom. Yes, still working there. Well I’m sorry I couldn’t be a lawyer like you wanted mom but we aren’t all born with your urge to argue all the time! … yes, mom. Sorry. I know. All right. I’m sorry I don’t call enough. Yeah. Say hi to dad for me. Okay mom. I love you to. Happy mothers day. Bye.”
Janie hung up the phone with odd calmness, paused, and then let out a shriek of annoyance. *Well glad I got that out of me*. One of Janie’s many philosophies was that instead of getting angry, just scream a little and you’ll feel better. Coincidentally, she had to scream every time she talked to her mother.
Janie looked around her dismally small apartment. Pathetic. It really was. Maybe she should have become a lawyer. Janie was a social worker, who worked with kids that had problems, kids who ran away from home, kids who were suicidal etc. In the same way Lori Grant went out every day and tried to make a difference, Janie tried to make a difference in a different way. Despite her hard work, she almost never got a raise and could barley afford to live even in the tiny apartment she did live in.
Certainty, had she asked Lori she would have given Janie money to help her pay the bills and such, but Janie wasn’t like that. Her mother had always said that only terrible people asked others for money. Of course, her mothers idea of terrible people were blacks people and homosexuals – or Negros and fags as her mother called them- but some things just stuck with you and that was one of them (Janie always thought herself quite fortunate that her mothers prejudices had not been on of these things). So, Janie was content with her meager living, as least for now. *Maybe I should just marry a lawyer. That would be a lost easier*
Janie was just about to get another slice of pizza when the phone rang. Janie picked it up and said “Hello? Oh hey, Lors.” (One of Janie’s quirks was that she sometimes added an “s” on the end of someone’s name for a nickname. Thus, Lori became Lors. Of course, this didn’t shorten it one bit but Janie seemed oblivious to this fact). “You… what?”
***
“Are you nuts?” Janie whispered to Lori violently. Janie had arrived at the Grant mansion not even one minute ago, and had come at Lori’s request. “You can’t just bring a little girl home with you!”
“She isn’t a little girl she’s 15! Or 16. 14 at the youngest!” Lori said defensively.
“You don’t even know her age?! Do you even know how much trouble you could get in? Especially someone of your social status, I mean a lot of people have heard the name Lori Grant before!”
“My image aside,” Lori said angrily, “I need you to talk to her. Your great with kids Janie, we both know that. I just need you to find out what happened! She seemed to scared when I found her, and then she asked that I didn’t take her to so the police and I need to know why!”
Janie pretended not to hear, and then sighed. “You’re going to owe me big time Lori. And if she doesn’t want to talk I’m not going to force her to!”
“That’s okay Janie, just talk to her.”
Janie sighed, and then slowly entered the living room. She looked around for the girl named Bonita. She was sitting in a white recliner near a picture window. Her legs were curled up under her. She was looking out the window and didn’t even notice Janie.
Janie slowly walked over to her and said, “Hey… Bonita?”
Bonita jumped at the sound of a foreign voice and quickly spun to face Janie. Janie noticed how her body seemed to flinch at the sound of a voice she didn’t recognize; how her lips thinned and her eyes darted wildly. *Lori didn’t tell me how nervous she was!* Of course she didn’t. Lori didn’t recognize these things; Lori didn’t work with kids.
“Who are you?” Bonita said quickly.
“My named Janie. Coroway. I’m… here to talk to you.”
“I don’t want to talk!” Bonita shouted more loudly than she meant to. “I mean, I don’t want to talk about what happened.”
“Then you don’t have to.” Janie answered plainly. “Why don’t I tell you a little bit about myself? Well, you know my name, and I work with children and teenagers every day. You know, kids who ran away, or went through some sort of trauma.” Janie saw recognition in Bonita’s eyes at the word trauma, and then she continued. “I’ve lived in Crystal City my whole life. Have you?”
“No…” Bonita answered slowly. “We haven’t lived here long.”
“We?”
“My…” Bonita stopped and her face went white again.
“Is there something you want to tell me? You don’t have to of course but if you want to get something off your chest…”
Bonita stared at her with a certain trust that was necessary to have if you worked in Janie’s profession. If they didn’t trust you, they wouldn’t tell you anything. “I… can’t try for them.” Bonita’s head fell to her hands, as if she was going to cry. And then her head shot up quickly and nervously. “If I cry for them something bad will happen like a storm or something! It happens every time I cry…”
“Cry for who Bonita?”
“My parents! I never got to say goodbye to them and then they took me away! I can’t go to the police because they aren’t supposed to be here! They came to this country illegally! I’m here illegally!” Bonita stood up and swiftly looked around. To her left was a bathroom with an open door. Without a word to Janie, she ran into it and closed the door and locked up.
Lori came into the room behind Janie. “What should be do?” Lori asked.
“Look.” Janie said in awe. Lori turned toward the door. A rain cloud had appeared right outside the door and the started down pouring right in the hallway.
Lori stared at it and then said, “I guess we’ll need some towels.”
***
“You can stay here if you need to Bonnie.” Lori had said to her. “You can stay in one of the bedrooms." Bonnie was in one of the bedrooms now and what a bedroom it was. A king size bed, complete with silk pillows and a gorgeous jade colored comforter. *I don’t deserve all this.*
Lori was in her own bedroom, sitting at her dressing table and brushing her hair in a mirror. Mother’s day. It was hard to imagine that all this had happened in only one day! In all one day she had seen her mother, fought a storm and taken in a child. How could she do so much in just one day?
Bonnie looked over at a small daily calendar sitting on the table beside her bed. May 11th. When was the last time she looked at a calendar? She couldn’t remember the date… suddenly, two small red words under the date caught her eye. They said, “Mother’s Day”.
Lori took out a small purple box out of one of the drawers, and slowly opened it. Inside was a golden chain with a ruby studded silver rose at the end. The gold was real, if not entirely pure, as was the silver. The rubies were also real. She didn’t know how she, a poor woman, had done it, but somehow her mother had obtained this necklace and given it to her. It was the only possession she still have of her mother—the only memory. *Oh mother, I can’t remember anything!*
*Oh mother, I remember everything! But I don’t want to anymore!* Bonita sat at the edge of her bed, forcing back tears. She didn’t want another rainstorm, especially in the bedroom. She hadn’t known it was mother’s day. She had no mother to talk to on this day. Her mother had been killed weeks earlier, but the image was till fresh in her mind. He had put it there again. The man in the dreams.
Lori took out the necklace and opened the clasp. It was much smaller on her now, but it still fit around her neck. She slipped it around her neck. Every mother’s day she wore it to bed… a tradition of sorts. *I’ve been raised well mother. I know if you were still alive you would approve of the job Patricia did as a mother.* Lori lay back in her bed, and slipped slowly into sleep.
*I don’t know whose going to raise me now mother. There’s this woman, Lori, but I don’t know if I can live here, or if I even want to.* She couldn’t cry, she couldn’t morn she couldn’t do anything. Bonita lay back in her bed, but she didn’t close her eyes. She couldn’t sleep. The man in the dreams might come back. And he might make her see her parents dying again and again as he had did before. She could never go to sleep again; she wasn’t safe there.
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
Night Haunter Part III: Pariah
New York, 20th May
(Featuring John Shea as Gravitate)
He walked the streets of New York, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of thousands and thousands as they went about their lives, and yet he was alone. Although not the tallest man around, he stood out. He was given a wide-berth on the side walk. They braved the roads to get out of his way. They flowed around him like a river around a rock. Unconsciously, but they did it nonetheless.
Culexes never gave it a second thought. Long ago he had grown use to it, not that it really bothered him at all in the first place. But still.
There was a small café just up ahead on the corner of 34th.He had become a regular there, almost developing a sort of emotional attachment to it. But that, of course, was both impossible and ridiculous. Culexes had no emotion. It was a weakness he was blessed to be born without.
No, the reason he liked the café was that it was small, nondescript and usually not very busy. Less chance of being noticed there. Best way to keep a low profile.
He pushed in through the door, a bell ringing out to let his presence known. As if they soon wouldn’t be able to tell anyway. Nodding at the waitress, Culexes took his usual seat at the very back of the café and looked around. It was the weekend, so the place was fairly busy, about three-quarters full and not even midday yet. He, of course, had no worries that anybody would want to sit at his table. That was never a problem for him, and never would be.
The waitress arrived and took his order: a white coffee, three and a paper. She nodded and hurried away, returning a few minutes later and placed both items on the glass top-table. The whole place had a sort of modern feel to it; glass tabletops, silver steel chairs. Culexes opened the paper and began scanning it, sipping at the hot liquid. There was nothing he couldn’t find out on the base, but he had nothing better to do.
Sometimes, Culexes wondered why Daedalus allowed him off base. He didn’t much enjoy it, that was for sure; he had no life outside the Operation. It was his entire life, his reason for being. To be honest, Culexes would be happier spending his time training. But he knew Daedalus worried sometimes, another disadvantage on his part, and so he humoured his superior.
Half way into his coffee and paper, something unprecedented happened to Culexes. A man, white around forty with blue eyes approached. He had a cocky half-smile, and paused just at his table. Culexes had noticed him watching him for the past five minutes, but he often got stares by strangers and thought no more of it. But a stranger engaging in conversation with him, now that was different.
“Mind if I sit here?” He asked, in a European accent. French, if Culexes didn’t know any better.
The agent gave him a measured stare; looking deep into his eyes and studying his face for signs as to what he was up to. But it was no luck, the Frenchman’s face was a blank. Probably the same look Culexes had. “Be my guest.” He replied, noncommittally, and folded away the paper.
“Ah, merci.” Pulling out the other chair, the man sat down and placed his own drink, coffee, black, perhaps one sugar Culexes guessed, on the table. Now this was interesting. A man who approached him, actually sat down at his table, without showing any signs of the fear one usually felt around him. Very interesting.
“Can I…help you?” He asked, carefully. There was only one other person Culexes had come across like this, and that was Daedalus himself. Which meant one of two things, either he was from the Operation, which was unlikely, or he was a meta of some sort himself. Which made him dangerous, a threat and, more importantly, an enemy.
“Maybe you can. I was just sitting over there,” The man nodded towards the other end of the café. “And I saw you sitting here all alone. Now I found that quite…interesting. Nobody dared approach you, and even the waitress seemed rather less eager to take you order despite the fact she’s almost entirely broke and works her ass off the rest of the time.”
“Perhaps I look like I just want to be alone.” Culexes answered diplomatically, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Perhaps.” He repeated, with a shrug. Then leaned in closer. “But we both know that’s not true, don’t we?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “We have something in common, in that respect. We’re both avoided if possible.”
Setting down the coffee, Culexes leaned back in his chair. His right hand moved down to the small of his back, where his gun was holstered under his shirt. This man seemed to know something about him, something more than the ordinary human guessed at. A meta, then. Well, Culexes knew how to deal with them in situations like these. First he needed more intelligence, though, before he was to act on anything.
“What do you want?” He asked.
Now it was the man’s turn to lean back “What do I want? My, that is a good question. And one that I most definitely will not tell you.” He gave a sly grin.
Cluexes refused to be baited any longer. “Fine. Then you won’t mind if I go.” Standing up quickly, he took two steps before a reply came.
“Oh, I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”
Pausing, he looked back over his shoulder to fix the stranger with a look. “Just try and stop me.”
“Naturally.” The man replied, with one eyebrow raised cockily.
Fixing him with one last look, Culexes turned and began walking away. Already he was reaching for his phone. There were regulations for this; ‘if an agent becomes aware of a mutant whilst not on duty, said agent must alert Command as soon as possible for authorisation to engage. Agents should not engage any meta without authorisation unless no other options are available or agent is under immediate threat.’ As of yet, he faced no such problems. It would be by the book.
An object smacked into Culexes’ chest knocking him off balance. Stumbling, he looked down at it. It was a coffee cup, pinned to him. Another hit him, and another, then a plate, a spoon. Before long he was being pummelled by all sorts of things from inside the café. Each one stuck like glue to his body. People were screaming and running in all directions as he was slowly forced to his knees under the assault. A nearby table came whipping up and smashed into him, cutting his forehead and drawing blood.
Then it stopped.
Everything fixed to his body fell off and clattered to the floor. Looking up, the agent saw the man calmly sitting at the table, sipping at his drink. Everybody else had fled but him. Culexes was now sure he was dealing with a meta of some kind. And, with himself now attacked, he had legitimacy to respond with kind.
Flowing quickly to his feet, he brought out his pistol and aimed it directly at the man. Without a moments hesitation, he pulled the trigger.
The bullet never hit the target.
Instead it wobbled as it came out the gun, then began floating around the café. Both men followed it with their eyes, the man with some amusement, the agent looking at it as if it was a traitor of some sort.
“You’re a meta.” Culexes accused him.
“Indeed. Surprised? I should think not. Would any normal human be able to stomach your company? And I’m not talking about your lack of social skills. Now, I do hope you’ve seen the error in trying to leave.” Rising to his feet, he rounded the table.
Culexes, gun still raised, held his ground. “Who are you?”
“Call me…Gravitate.” He held up a hand. “No, there is no need for introductions. I know enough about you to know you.” Folding his arms, Gravitate leaned back against the table they had once been sitting at.
The agent knew how to play this. Soon enough police cars would begin to turn up. Quickly the Operation would hear about it and dispatch an agent, possibly a team of. All he had to do was keep this Gravitate occupied until then. “What do you want with me?”
“Ah, so now it is what do you want with me? Something very, very important let me tell you. In fact, it has to do with what I want. You see, I want a world free from oppression. A world where people like me aren’t treated as outsiders.
“And to get that world, I’m going to kill you.”
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
Night Haunter Part IV: Push and Pull
Featuring Paul Goddard as 'Agent Roberts'/Mephiston and Robert Taylor as 'Agent Dawson'/Artemies.
Culexes remained impassive in his stalemate with Gravitate. His gun was still raised, though he was sceptical of its use. He had nothing to say, so he waited.
“Hmm…I should have known you wouldn’t be so excited about the prospect.” Gravitate said, finally breaking the silence of the last few minutes. ”But you should be. You should be honoured, in fact. You’re going to make the world for people like me a much safer place.”
“How so?” He had to ask, or Gravitate might feel inclined to carry his threat through. Culexes had to keep him talking. Or, better yet, act. The tables had changed and now he faced a threat. But whilst he had Gravitate’s full attention, that wouldn’t get him anywhere but another pummelling. What he needed was a distraction.
“Well, let me put it to you this way. The 'directements' call us a threat. But the greatest threat to us is you. I’m going to follow in your footsteps, and remove that threat.” He winked.
Culexes wanted to press further, but he was prevented from doing so by the screaming sirens that were the arrival of half a dozen police cruisers. Both of them glanced out the windows of the café.
The agent was the first to recover. This was exactly what he needed, whilst the meta was focused elsewhere. Firing off three shots from his pistol he dived to his left and over the counter. He crashed onto the floor behind, cups, knives, forks and spoons falling on him.
The three bullets quickly joined their counterpart in floating round the place. Culexes came up over the counter and made ready to fire again. But the gun suddenly felt like it weighed several tonnes and he was forced to drop it. It slammed into the floor, bounced off, and begun twirling up towards the ceiling.
From all directions, cutlery began flying towards him. Ducking to cover himself from the bombardment, he reached into his pocket and withdrew an object similar to the one he had used on Jerry Redfield. Pressing it against the inside of his elbow, he thumbed the injector. The chemical CD-12 pumped into him. It was only a temporary burst that would last perhaps forty-five minutes, but it would give him the edge he needed. Within moments it had taken full effect.
Filled with strength and adrenaline, Culexes leapt over the counter towards Gravitate. They both tumbled to the floor, rolled, then came back up again. With red and blue lights bathing them both, and a desperate voice shouting at them to stop, the two fought.
Culexes was faster, stronger, and more focused. But Gravitate had his meta abilities to back him up. Grabbing a chair, he picked it up as if it weighed no more than a feather, and swung it at him. When it impacted, Culexes felt like he had been hit by a brick wall. Gravitate attempted the same trick again, but this time the agent was able to duck out the way. He managed to reign a few blows upon his opponent, weakening him significantly, until the assault began anew and objects became attracted to him like he was a magnet and they metal. A knife stabbed into his arm. A cup slammed into his eye and refused to budge until he actually batted it away whereupon it swung away then back again to stick to his shoulder. But still he fought, and every wound he suffered was returned upon his foe.
Then canisters were fired into the café. Gas began spewing from them, filling the room. Both combatants disengaged to look at them and began coughing.
“Well,” Gravitate said around coughs. “Sorry to fight and run, but…”
“You’re not getting away.” Culexes responded. “We’ll hunt you down to the ends of the Earth. If you know as much about me as you say you do, you know that.“ He took a menacing step forward.
Rather than replying, Gravitate instead gave him a focused stare. Culexes fell to his knees, then collapsed to the floor. He was unable to move, barely able to breathe. All he could do was watch as Gravitate disappeared into the smoke. Through the fog, he heard three bullets and a gun fall to the floor.
Policemen in gas masks quickly entered. SWAT teams. They surrounded Culexes and spread out, quickly retrieving his pistol and disposing of the smoke grenades. Although he tried to speak, he found he could not open his mouth.
Outside, the police chief was in council with his lieutenants. One suspect apprehended, another missing. Not exactly perfect, but not bad either. Especially considering they were dealing with mutants.
One of his men keeping perimeter, which was bustling with civilians and the media, called his attention. Turning, the chief watched as a black van approached.
“Aw hell.” A lieutenant breathed. “Not Feds.”
The chief was inclined to agree with him. This was the last thing they needed now. He nodded to his guards, who waved the van through. It pulled up and eight men came out. Two were wearing black suits and sunglasses and carried large briefcases. They both looked alike; featureless. When compiling his report the chief would be unable to recount their physical appearance. The rest were dressed in black combat gear with masks that covered their faces and carried automatic guns. All of them bore ear-pieces.
The suits approached and one flashed a fancy card at the chief. It was too quick for him to catch anything but a shiney badge and a picture, but that was enough for him. He had seen plenty of Feds in his time. More than enough to know what one looked like when he saw one.
“Agent Dawson. Agent Roberts.” Dawson said, motioning to his companion. “We are assuming command of this operation. Pull your men out of the building immediately.”
“Look, pal, we’ve got this covered. So why don’t you take your federal ass back to Washington-“ The chief of police was cut off.
“Police Chief Moore. We are taking over here with or without your co-operation. I suggest you let us proceed or your career could become somewhat sort lived.” Said Roberts.
The last thing Moore wanted to do was back down in front of his men, but he had no real choice. He sighed and nodded.
The two agents looked at each other. Dawson turned to the other six and nodded as Moore ordered the SWAT team to vacate the café. The two groups passed each other, and he noticed the SWAT kept their fingers on their triggers as they went by. So did the others.
“Hey, what about my suspect?” Moore called after them.
“He’s ours.” Dawson replied as he and Roberts followed the men in. They left the chief to figure out what exactly they meant.
They quickly found Agent Culexes and established a perimeter around him, the soldiers somewhat anxious despite their training. By now he was free from whatever ailment kept him down and, although had slight muscle cramp, the drugs were wearing it off.
“Agent Culexes?” Roberts asked, and after the nod knelt down next to him, Dawson following suit. “Mephiston and Artimies. Here.” They both opened their suitcases. In one was Culexes’ Executioner Pistol and other equipment including his helmet. In the other, his leather suit. Mephiston and Artimies were Field Support Agents. Culexes hadn’t needed much support in the field, but right now he was glad that such roles existed. They handed out his equipment quickly, obviously not wanting to spend any more time in his presence as they needed. “You have authorisation to track down target. Apprehension or elimination is down to your discretion. We’ll take care of things here.”
Whilst slipping into his equipment, Artimies gave him another injection, all business. Even if protocol had allowed either Support Agent to act otherwise, they would not because of who he was. But their training was good enough to suppress the negative effect Culexes generated temporarily. “Combat Drugs. We have no idea how long this hunt could last, so that’s a CD-16 boost. Should keep you good for another hour. Here’s some more.”
Nodding, Culexes fitted his helmet. Mephiston indicated the six soldiers. “Daedalus recommends you take them with you.” Another nod, and then the agent was fully suited. Thumbing his helmet comm-link he opened a channel to them.
“Subject possesses extreme powers of telekinesis.” He briefed. “Beware of immobility and flying objects. Try to keep up. Let’s go.”
“Good hunting, Culexes.” Artimies said as a farewell. Without stopping to acknowledge it, the agent was off, with six armed men keeping pace behind him.
‘Roberts’ and ‘Dawson’ closed their suitcases and left the café, heading towards the fuming Moore and armed with dozens of cover-ups that would work as sure as the sun came up and metas were dangerous. After forcing themselves to remain around the Agent as long as they needed, even facing down the Police Chief didn’t seem too daunting.
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
Night Haunter Part V: Prey
The hunt took the best part of that day. Gravitate used his powers briefly and sparingly, so it was difficult for Culexes to track him efficiently. They were forced to rely on specialist equipment carried by the Scorpion personnel and what few bursts the Agent could pick up. Along the way they lost two men, one to a collapsing building that the rest only just got out of, the other had his head crushed by his helmet.
But, despite Gravitate’s best efforts to dissuade them, the distance between them closed hour by hour. They could not afford to let such a dangerous and wild meta go free. Not one that openly challenged the Operation and one of it’s best Agents.
As the sun began to sink, Culexes rethought his assessment of Gravitate. He began to wonder whether he was telekinetic at all or something else entirely. That the meta had power over objects, even people, and could manipulate them was certain, but Culexes had never seen or heard of similar occurrences. For example, bullets tended to veer off wildly not float around lazily and guns were generally plucked out of the hand and brought to the meta, not following the same trend as the bullets. Something just did not quite add up.
Then there was the fact that objects hitting Culexes did so at random, first closer smaller things then getting further away and larger. And finally, how could a telekinetic lift a table with such ease, then wield it with brutal force?
His questions were soon answered. Scorpion Command had reviewed the encounter through surveillance footage from security cameras in and around the café. They had checked police records, taken their eyewitness reports and asked Culexes to fill in any blanks. Within a few hours, they had decided Gravitate was not a telekinetic at all. He did not have control over an objects motion or speed. Rather, he was able to manipulate their gravitational field; increasing their weight or gravitational field strength and so other objects become attracted to it, or transferring objects into a sphere of ‘null-gravity’ and letting them float as if they were in space. As Deimos put it, ‘a handy trick’ and apparently one Gravitate had spent quite some time developing. But it seemed that last only worked in smaller objects, or Culexes might have found himself floating.
With the moon beginning to rise, the Scorpion team had trapped him. Another Scorpion team coming in from the north had engaged Gravitate in the darker areas of the east of the city with minimal casualties and some collateral damage. Unable to head back the way he had came for fear of running into Culexes and the remainder of his own men, he had fled east in desperation only to run up against the river Huddson. Co-ordinating with the second team, down to eight men, the Scorpion forces had Gravitate cornered in a civilian drydock.
Staring at the warehouse, the Agent prepared to go in. The last dockworker had left a short time ago, and according to city records the building should be empty. Empty apart from one half-constructed hull and a dangerous meta-human on the run.
Culexes made sure he had taken another booster. He would have to catch the meta soon; there was only so many more boosters he could take. Reinforcements were en route, he was told, but could be some time away. For now, at least, it would be up to him.
Ensuring the perimeter was secure with ten of the soldiers, Culexes took the last two with him. He sent one round the left of the large building; Pincer One, the other round the right; Pincer Two, with orders to scout the facility and pinpoint the exact location of Gravitate, but to not engage unless they could help it. Himself, he went over the top. It was an arrangement that made everyone happy, the Agent got to act as he did best; alone, and the soldiers were free from his distraction. Pincer One and Two would be probable less pleased with it had they known Culexes was using them as bait. It didn’t bother him in the slightest, that was for sure.
Quickly scaling an outside ladder that led to the roof, Culexes hopped over the short wall and landed in a crouch. The roof sloped down to his right, climbing up on his left. Easily balancing himself and keeping low, he ran half way along the length of the building, his feet lightly pattering. Pausing at a window skylight, he looked down within. The half-finished hull filled the greater part of the interior, eerie in the darkness and almost like a carcass of a ship. Not that it bothered Culexes, of course. Machinery hung around it. There was no sign of Gravitate.
“Pincer One, Pincer Two, report.” He breathed into his helmet-mike.
There was a short pause. “Pincer One reporting. Have located entry point approximately two thirds along this side. Am going in now, with caution.” Culexes nodded to himself. They had been trained well. After another pause, in which the Agent assumed the soldier would be breaking the lock or something similar, he saw him through the skylight carefully swing open a door and enter gun first. There was no flashlight attachment; instead infrared goggles encased his face.
“I see you Pincer One. Continue search. Pincer Two?”
“Pincer Two reporting. Inside the building already, my side. No sign of the target.” And Culexes could see no sign of that soldier either. The frame of the ship was blocking his view.
“Cannot draw line of sight, Pincer Two. Proceed with extreme caution.”
“As ordered.” Came the curt reply.
Trying for a different approach, Culexes radioed the men covering the drydock with a perimeter guard. They replied with similar comments: ‘no sign of target’. Becoming increasingly disturbed, Culexes maintained his vigil, watching Pincer One work his way around the interior. After ten minutes he crossed to the other side of the building and monitored Pincer Two, but still nobody could spot the meta. The large metal quantity played with the Scorpion’s equipment and rendering them useless. As for the Agent, Gravitate was not using his powers at all and so he was unable to track him either.
But even if it took all night, the Scorpion members would track him down. More personnel were on the way, and already Command had quarantined the building in case they needed the next day to search for him.
He had just crossed back to the other side once more to watch Pincer One when there came a bark of fire from Pincer Two’s side and a curse over the comm. Shouting for reports, the Agent leapt back over the roof to land next to the window and peer inside. Evidently, Gravitate had taken the bait.
Two fired again, then cursed once more as the bullets floated off now suspended in zero gravity. The meta dived behind a work bench, waving with his arm. One of the bullets reversed it’s direction and slammed into the soldier. He took a step back, raising a hand to where the bullet had passed through his armour and he was now bleeding. The rest soon followed it. His cry was cut off as one punctured his throat and an industrial wrench smashed into his face. Gravitate made a break for a door.
He would never make it. Culexes ordered One to find his way across and told the others to hold their positions in case the meta made it out. Just before Gravitate reached his escape, the Agent drew his pistol and leapt onto the glass roof.
It shattered under the force and he tumbled to the floor, gun in a two handed hold and pointed downwards, firing as he fell to the ground. Bullets exploded the floor around the meta, who, taken by surprise, scampered backwards. Shattered glass tinkled as it hit the ground, shortly before the Agent hit himself. He felt no pain as he landed; the drugs took care of that.
Bending at the knees on impact, Culexes rolled to the left and came up firing again. He let loose three shots at Gravitate before he reached the cover of a metal hull plating. Another one hit the metal, but pinged off. Not even a Penetrator shell could penetrate a ship’s hull.
Culexes didn’t bother with an ultimatum or a threat. He knew the meta would fight to his last. That was just fine as far as he was concerned.
Gravitate jumped up high from behind his barricade, decreasing his gravitational field to let him reach almost the roof. In his left hand he wielded another wrench that he bore down upon the Agent. Culexes barely had enough time to get out the way before the meta crashed to the ground with the same ease he had done so just a few minutes ago and recovering just as quickly.
He swung the tool, smashing the Executioner Pistol out of his grasp just as he was brining it to bear. It went flying away and clattered to the ground. In retaliation, Culexes was able to disarm his opponent through a lightning quick move that left Gravitate stunned. He delivered two punches and a flying roundhouse kick before the meta threw up a defence.
Like before in the café, the meta used his abilities to move with a fluidic grace that came with little weight, but each punch or kick connected with a brute force. Himself, Culexes took each blow without pain registering in his mind and came back with his own drug-enhanced speed and strength.
The two were locked in a stalemate and their fight took them across the floor. Culexes knew he had to keep Gravitate focused on the fight, or he might increase his own weight leaving him pinned to the floor again or sending objects hurling into him.
It was so that Pincer One found them, having been forced to work his way around the hulk. He ran straight into the combat, raising the butt of his gun to deliver a cracking blow to the meta’s head. But just as he began to swing, Gravitate leapt up and over him. Landing deftly behind, he grabbed the soldier round the neck and quickly disarmed him, removing the infrared goggles that revealed a sweating, determined face.
“Let me go.” Gravitate gasped, breathless, around a mouthful of blood. He held the soldier in front of him as a shield. “Or I’ll kill him.” Culexes, the cut from earlier that had healed up bleeding again, merely remained impassive. “I’ll do it! Don’t think I wont!” He cried with increasing desperation as he failed to draw a reaction from the Scorpion Agent.
Culexes kept his left hand behind his back. When Gravitate had leapt up, he had reached down to withdraw his long-bladed knife from its leg sheath. He held it now in his left hand. “I can’t let you do that.”
The meta smiled. “Good. Now be a nice chap and let me go before anybody else has to get hurt.” He began edging away from the Agent, keeping the hostage between them. Culexes looked into the soldier’s eyes. He knew exactly what must happen next. It was a Scorpion mandate that no member should be taken hostage under any circumstances.
Before Gravitate could take another step, Culexes brought his left arm forward, cocked it, and let fly with the knife. It sailed neatly through the air and, like the fate suffered by the other soldier, slit his throat. He died instantly, and suddenly Gravitate was carrying no more than a corpse.
“No hostages.” Stated Culexes.
Desperation now quickly crawled across Gravitate’s features. Tossing the body aside, he let out a feral snarl and charged at the Agent. Grabbing him as if he weighed no more than a child’s doll, he hurled Culexes at a piece of machinery. Several components snapped and broke as he smacked into it. Dimly he heard a voice tell him reinforcements were just outside.
Gravitate leapt up on him and began pummelling him with his fists. Ignoring the pain, Culexes kicked up and out, sending the meta sprawling. But Gravitate was up first, not having just been thrown into machinery, and picked him up again. This time he was thrown onto a workbench. Tools and plans went flying everywhere. Gravitate loomed over him, fists together and ready to strike. Culexes was able to roll off and out the way before they hit, cracking the bench in two.
He fell and continued rolling until he reached his pistol. Seizing the weapon and aiming it back towards the meta, the Agent fired and kept doing so to cover himself as he climbed to his feet and began advancing. Gravitate was forced backwards step by step under the strain of defending himself and the punishment he had already been under.
There was only one shot left in the clip, so Culexes switched over to dart gun and let off the only dart held. Letting Gravitate deal with that, he switched back to normal fire, aimed upwards and fired.
The bullet hit a crane and exploded. The device toppled forwards and fell to the ground, accompanied with the sound of screeching metal. Wires pulled and snapped.
Gravitate had just enough time to look up and scream before it hit him. He wasn’t even able to use his powers to save himself.
Culexes watched on unaffected as the meta was hideously ripped apart by the crashing equipment. He calmly walked forward. Surprisingly, Gravitate was still alive, although in great pain and, information scrolling across the inside of his helmet told him, suffering multiple injuries both external and internal. In many places pieces of the crane had been driven through his body. The Agent threaded his arm through wires and machinery, grabbed Gravitate’s neck in one hand and with drug-enhanced strength yanked it so hard the head nearly fell off.
He straightened just in time to greet almost two dozen Scorpion soldiers as they burst into the building through doors, windows and, mimicking his earlier entrance, ziplining down from the roof. At the far end a hummer smashed through double doors and bathed the interior with it’s headlights. As the last crashed in, Culexes reached up and touched the side of his helmet.
“Culexes reporting, target eliminated. Time of death unknown.” The soldiers quickly began checking bodies and securing the building. Culexes’ ten men from outside also came in, setting up a guard by doors and the crushed remains of Gravitate.
“Understood, Culexes.” Demios replied. “Combat Team Operator will conclude the operation. You are relieved of the field. Nice hunting. New orders: Return to base for reassignment. Out.”
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
Night Haunter Part VI: Consequences
Following the encounter with Gravitate, Culexes made a report in which he highlighted the fact the meta not only knew of his existence, which had an extremely high confidentiality rating as it was, but that he knew the Agent was part of a grander operation. He therefore concluding that there might be a ‘possibly security breach of unknown magnitude within Operation Scorpion HQ: New York, and that the Operation as a whole may be compromised’.
Picking up on this, Daedalus launched a full-scale investigation into first all East Coast departments, and slowly widening it until it expanded to the entire North American and European divisions. Nearly all field operations in these departments were suspended for a variable amount of time. HQ: LA was only halted for a few days, whereas HQ: Paris was quarantined for some weeks as many of it’s Agents were interrogated in depth.
The results of the investigation came in quickly. Horus, head of the Parisian HQ, together with fellow conspirators around the world had leaked information of Culexes to 'La Meta Résistance' a pro-meta/terrorist group in France. Evidently, the conspirators’ fear of the Agent was stronger than that of metas, strong enough for them to form a temporary alliance. They saw Culexes as an abomination and had made a move against him. In exchange for taking Culexes out, Horus agreed to several concessions such as ignoring some of their terrorist actions. La Meta Résistance had dispatched Gravitate, one of their top men, to eliminate the Agent.
Within hours of this discovery, it was sent in a report to Daedalus, who had transferred to the Washington HQ. He immediately ordered the execution of the thirteen names without batting an eyelid. A short time later, eleven of the conspirators were dead. A Field Operator based in New York was shot by the door-guards as he attempted to leave the building. Eight hours after the conspiracy had been unmasked, Horus’ private jet was blown up in a French airport as it attempted to take off from the runway by a Scorpion saboteur. Horus was on board at the time. Technical failure was blamed and a great deal of money was used to make the French government’s investigation as quick and clean as possible.
La Meta Résistance was systematically hunted down and destroyed, cell by cell. Daedalus supervised the massive operation personally. The secret war was fierce and cost a great deal in money, material and lives, but in the end was 100% successful. When they had finished, not a single member of the Résistance was left alive.
Over the next four months, another twenty-four individuals from around the world were also executed under suspicion of conspiracy. The investigation is listed in Operation files as the ‘Daedalus Purge’ under the Horus Conspiracy.
Culexes was given complete immunity to any questioning. The day after his encounter with Gravitate he was reassigned to Indigo City and briefed on a target that had recently come to the Operation’s attention and was deemed a high enough priority that warranted his involvement.
After two days Culexes was on his way to Indigo City. It was spared the purge and had remained operational throughout. Soon he was fully occupied with his mission, which had come from a list approved by the Humans First:
‘Track down and execute the rogue meta FenrisX.’
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
The League of Extraordinary Geeks
Part Two – Trust
Tuesday 20th May 2003
VCLG HQ - Vega City
1:30am
Music began to play as an episode of ‘I Love Lucy’ ended. Sydney closed her eyes and sighed. The television played quietly in the background but the rest of the secret headquarters of the Vega City Liberation group was eerily quiet. Ben had returned to his own apartment and the rest of the rag-tag group of rebels had gone to bed several hours ago. Sydney, however, was unable to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes all she saw was Ethan’s determined face, his cold, steely eyes…
”It always surprises me when creatures such as yourself take on human names. Trying to disguise what you really are, but it makes no difference, you’re one of them ’Sydney’.
Sydney didn’t know why his words or his determination to eliminate her was having such an effect. Normally after a mission she would just kick back, relax, and not think anything further about it. But for some reason her mind just wouldn’t let go this time…
“Still awake?”
Syd looked up to see James, his hair was slightly more ruffled than usual and his t-shirt crumpled, indicating that he’d been asleep. James rubbed his eyes and pushed a pair of thin wire-rimmed glasses back into place. Sydney moved her feet so that he could sit next to her and James slumped down into the soft couch lazily. They didn’t say anything for a while, James seemed to be still half-asleep and Sydney was trying to get the sound of Kale’s voice out of her head. She glanced over at James; he was terribly good-looking she judged as though she had never really noticed it before.
“Syd?” James had returned his attention to her, surprised to find the woman looking at him in such an intent manner.
Sydney blushed slightly, her face hidden by the darkness of the room, and turned away. “Yes, still awake. I’m not really tired yet.”
James nodded knowingly, “Jerry did some background research into your- well, your composition.” He glanced away at Sydney’s raised eyebrow. “He managed to hack into some of the files at PsiTech, the company that funded most of Wyatt’s research into neuro-prosthetics. He downloaded some interesting files…”
Sydney rolled her eyes and returned her focus to the flickering television screen. “How nice…”
“Sydney,” James took hold of her hand gently, “I know what happened to your friends, I know what they did to you… if you ever need to talk to someone…”
“I don’t need to talk about anything,” snapped Sydney coolly. “I don’t need your sympathy James, I just need Ethan Kale dead.”
James sat back in surprise at Sydney’s sudden change in mood. “I guess this is all part of your ‘training’? Not showing your weaknesses, never getting too close-”
“Was that in the file you downloaded too? How about how I watched several of my friends my FAMILY die from experiments and faulty implants? How about how my own ‘brother’ betrayed me and killed my only remaining family in cold blood on the order of some psychopath who also wants me dead too?” Sydney rose from the couch but James grabbed at her arm again. “I’d let go if you know what’s good for you.”
James quickly released his grip on her arm and Sydney turned and began walking away. “I want to help you Sydney,” he shouted after her, “but you have to trust me first.”
Before she reached the corridor Sydney turned back to face him. “I don’t trust anyone anymore.”
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
The League of Extraordinary Geeks
Part Three - Observing You
Tuesday 20th May 2003
VCLG HQ - Vega City
8:30am
”…In other news Vega City officials have yet to apprehended the fugitive Ms. Sydney King, who evaded capture on Saturday night in Sector Three. Officials believe the woman, who has been linked to eco-terrorist group Earthrage, had outside assistance in escaping authorities…”
Matilda leaned across the table and turned up the radio, “Hey, listen to this, they’re talking about you Jay, do you think they know?"
James was busy reading that morning’s edition of The Network but scoffed loudly at Matilda’s question and folded the newspaper in half. Sydney’s escape from Wyvern Towers was also plastered all over the broadsheets. “Know the truth? I doubt it, if there’s one thing these hack’s avoid it’s finding out the true story…”
Ben suddenly looked up from his paper and cast James a sarcastic glance.
“Present company excepted of course,” laughed James.
Sydney barely looked up from her task, as she carried on cleaning her pair of Desert Eagle pistols, the metal gun barrel still gleamed like the day she had been presented with the weapon. As she reassembled the gun and checked the sights she suddenly felt someone watching her. Looking up she noticed James suddenly avert his gaze, he quickly unfolded his newspaper and shuck out the pages to cover his face from view.
Syd smiled and was about to start cleaning the other gun when she noticed a small article on the back page. She leaned over the table, a curious expression on her face. James looked up again.
“Syd, what is it?” he began, feeling his face turning red at the thought that she had caught him staring at her.
“I don’t know,” said Syd thoughtfully, not noticing James’ embarrassment as she snatched the newspaper out of his hands.
Red Menace Still At Large
Ben frowned and noticed the article that Sydney was reading. “Oh yeah, I heard about that at the office, some Meta in Indigo City shot a cop, they still haven’t caught him yet.”
Sydney frowned, reading the article. James rose from his seat and stood behind her, reading the description of the fugitive. He raised an inquisitive eyebrow before returning to his seat across the table.
“That sure sounds like that ”friend” of yours Syd, Eric wasn’t it? Didn’t he mention he was from Indigo City too?”
Sydney scowled at James, “It’s not Eric,” she said firmly, inside she wasn’t so certain, she didn’t really know him that well after all but she just couldn’t believe that he was capable of such an act. She felt several pairs of eyes watching her critically and looked up defiantly.
“It wasn’t Eric! Believe me I’d know, I’ve fought along side him, I’d know if he was capable of such cold-blooded murder.”
James scoffed, “And your opinion of him isn’t in any way coloured by the fact that you’ve slept together…”
Sydney cocked her head at James in an angry but questioning expression. She turned to look at the younger members of the group – Matilda and Max, before leaning across the table so that only James could hear her.
“F.Y.I, Eric and I have not slept together, for your further information it would be none of your goddamn business if we had-”
Suddenly there was a commotion in the next room. Someone knocked over several objects, shouting in an excited manner before entering the living quarters. Jerry looked out of breath with excitement, his hair and clothes looked like he hadn’t slept all night.
“You guys have GOT to see the e-mail message that just came through, you won’t believe… I don’t even understand who sent it myself and I tried tracing it back to its sender but I keep coming up blank and I thought that maybe, James, maybe you could give it your expert hand because you know my speciality isn’t exactly in the computer hacking domain but-“
James glanced at Sydney who was still glaring at him despite having been interrupted. He rose to his feet, placing a friendly hand on Jerry’s back to stop his frantic rambling.
“Why don’t you show me what you have?”
Jerry nodded enthusiastically and led the way back to the Hub, Ben and Sydney following at a distance. Ben glanced sideways at Syd, she still looked pretty angry from James’ comment.
“Don’t take anything Jay says too personally,” he said, trying to break the ice. “He’s always had a hot temper, it means he frequently opens his mouth without thinking first.”
Sydney smiled slightly, “I had noticed.”
By the time Ben and Syd had made their way to the hub, Jerry was already seated and busy typing away. James leaned over the back of his chair, frowning at the computer screen in front of him. He read the message aloud.
From: Observer observer@freelancer.net
To: James Gates freeindependentvoice@deltanet.com
Subject: For Your Immediate Attention
You do not know me.
You will never find me.
Do not attempt to trace the source of this message.
Ethan Kale will not stop until he has eliminated the ATP:9 subject Xi-051. But the Eye in the Pyramid is looking in his direction. His world is not compatible with Ours.
This message is a warning. Remain underground and I will see to it that Kale is led away from Vega City in his search for Ms. King. Do not attempt to return to the surface or return to the safe house at Wyvern Towers. Also, for your own convenience do not attempt to access the following financial accounts -
#09-22-04 60779301
#15-07-83 92434400
#34-82-11 37611982
I will contact you of any further developments.
Observer.
Jerry waited for a moment before continuing. “I don’t know who this ‘Observer’ guy is, but he managed to route his ‘message’ through several overseas servers, it’s almost impossible to trace. This, this is one smart cookie.”
“Smart cookie or not, I’m outta here,” said Sydney, strapping her pistols back into their holsters and grabbing her long jacket.
James turned away from the computer to face her. “You have got to be kidding! After this message? What could possibly be so important that you’re going to risk your life by returning to the surface?”
Sydney didn’t answer James, instead she continued to fasten up her coat while collecting the rest of her things.
“Oh I get it!” said James suddenly, blocking Sydney’s way. “This is about him isn’t it? The bloody crimson avenger…”
“Don’t start,” said Sydney, her voice was calm but was definitely a threat. “I don’t know what your problem is James but I wish you’d forget it. I’m sick to death of you acting as though you’re my big brother or something.”
Ben raised an eyebrow at James while Jerry tried hard to hide his existence by burring his face in book. James silently fumed as Syd gathered her things and headed towards the exit that led to the surface.
Once Sydney had gone Ben turned to James. “Big brother huh? Well if that’s the case you’re in serious trouble since incest is illegal.”
James looked angrily at Ben, “What the hell is that supposed to mean? She’s reneging on our deal, she’s supposed to be helping us bring down Trinity, instead she’s spending most of her time with this Eric guy.”
“Look Jay, I’m your oldest friend, I know how you act when you’re really into someone, remember Angela Turner? You were a complete jerk to her for months, now you’re acting the same with Syd…”
“Forget you Ben!” snapped James in annoyance. “Angela was different, this is about Sydney’s lack of any commitment to this organisation and it’s objectives!”
Ben looked at James critically for a minute. “So there’s nothing between the two of you? You don’t have any feelings for her whatsoever?”
James laughed in a flippant manner. “That’s right Ben. None. Whatsoever.”
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
Reunions – Part One
Tuesday, 20th May 2003
The Outskirts of Indigo City
8:45pm
'Welcome to Indigo City' read the sign as Sydney pulled her motorbike to a halt. She'd been on the road for several hours and was beginning to grow tired and hungry but she wasn't far from Eric's home. With a rev of the engine Sydney flipped the dark glass visor of the motorcycle helmet shut.
The engine roared loudly and Syd directed the 400lbs of vibrating steel towards a small side road that led, not to the city, but to Eric's secluded farmhouse residence.
Part of her wasn't sure why she was doing this, going to 'visit' Eric, if he were in real trouble he would have asked for her help after all she mused. As the house came into sight, Syd kicked the bike into a higher gear and then brought the bike to a harsh stop, creating a cloud of dust in her wake.
Eric stretched out lazily as he awoke from his nap on the couch. Ever since he had been framed, he had kept to his house, wasting time away by reading, watching TV, or taking naps. Before he could begin to contemplate where the sound emanated from, the doorbell rang, heralding some mysterious visitor.
Eric bolted up from his sleeping position as his nerves suddenly became very tense. *Who the hell could that be?* he thought as he walked over to the door. *Stupid sales people always bothering me when......* "SYDNEY!"
On the other side of the door stood the woman he had met in La Perle not too long before. Despite the rugged aura she exuded, the woman was a stunning beauty; a fact not lost on Eric. "Hey..uhh..come in, come in...wow...I really didn’t expect to see you, not that I’m not happy, I’m just saying....uhh so how are you doing?" His face reddened as he realised how much he was stammering.
Sydney smiled as she crossed the threshold, one arm holding the black crash helmet against her hip.
"I'm doing fine Eric," she said as she looked around the house, she hadn't really had time to get the 'tour' last time because of the urgency of the situation. "This is a really nice place you have here," she said with a grin before unceremoniously dropping down on to a soft leather couch. She sighed tiredly and stretched her back a little, trying to loosen the knots from the past several hours spent hunched up on her motorbike.
"I actually came to see how you were... I read an article in the newspaper, I know it isn't true-" she added hastily before Eric got the wrong idea. "But I thought that maybe, you were in some kind of trouble... again" Sydney added the last word with a slight grin as Eric stood across from where she sat.
Eric chuckled as his lips curved in a slight smile. Despite his attempts to hide his true feelings, his dark eyes betrayed him. Sydney could tell that he was putting up a brave face. "I'm doing ok I guess. I haven't been able to get out much since what happened. You have to hand it to them, Valhalla really got me this time".
There was a brief pause before Eric spoke up again. "God, where I my manners, you must be tired from the long ride, do you want anything to eat or drink?"
Syd smiled again as Eric darted off to the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a couple of beers. Sydney wasn't used to social niceties, it wasn't something she'd ever been taught. She was more of a 'cut to the chase' sort of gal so it amused her when others adhered to such ruled of etiquette. Beer, however, WAS something Sydney was getting quite used to, the fizzy feeling in her belly felt strange but she liked it. She put the bottle to her lips and swallowed.
"I guess I should be heading for some down time soon," she said with a sigh, she hadn't slept for near 32 hours straight now and it was beginning to take it's toll, Syd was feeling physically and after the confrontation with Ethan, emotionally drained. She raised her beer bottle, "Here's to secret organisations that keep on trying to kill ya, God Bless 'em."
The two bottles clanged together as Eric accepted her toast with a laugh; something he wasn't used to recently. Ever since his team had been murdered, it was like he had lost his sense of humour. The only time he could remember forgetting about the pain in his heart was when he was around Sydney. "You know I really appreciate you coming down to see me, but do you think its safe? After what happened in Wyvern towers, shouldn’t you be laying as low as me?"
Sydney took another drink, "Yeah sure, but I was never one for following direct orders, you know I used to be labelled as insubordinate? They didn't know the half of it."
A morose expression seemed to fill Sydney's eyes as she spoke, "They always said it was my weakness but in the end, it was the only thing that kept me alive. You have to be adaptable in this line of work." Sydney swallowed another swig of beer. "Assassination is such an ugly word.”
At first he was caught off guard by her remark, but he quickly dismissed it. He knew that she must have had some sort of bizarre jaded past, and assassin seemed rather fitting. Unlike others who would quickly convict her, he saw passed her past. How could he hold it against her, when his own history was probably much darker.
"Heh, I was always the one who followed the book you know, the straight edge. Must have surprised the hell out of Valhalla when my team, and me" he bit his lip, rethinking what he was going to say, "when I left". He looked up into Sydney warm understanding eyes, but quickly averted his gaze, as if ashamed. "Do...do you ever wish things were like they were? I mean… I don't know a lot about your past, but do you ever wish things had never changed?"
Now, Eric looked down, his face grim and depressed. "I don’t want to be the man I was before, but sometimes...sometimes I think things would have been so much better had I never taken that decision".
Sydney gazed at Eric for a long time, he looked so weary and lost, she still felt that way herself sometimes. "I know what you mean," she said quietly, placing her empty bottle on the floor.
"Although I never really had a choice. I either left that life behind or became extinct. But, sometimes when I'm all-alone, like when you're laying in bed and everything is so quiet. I feel empty," Sydney looked up at Eric, "I feel... alone, like there's nobody who understands what I'm going through. My entire life was invented and altered to serve someone else's purpose. I LIKED that purpose but it was the only thing I ever knew existed until it was taken away. Now I just feel so, incomplete.”
Looking up at Sydney, he saw in her a reflection of himself. Before he thought no one could understand what he was going through, but now he realised that wasn't so; she knew how he felt. Suddenly, he forgot his own troubles and was filled with the desire to help her, comfort her, just make things right for her. He began to open his mouth, but faltered, unsure of what to say.
"You must be really exhausted," Eric started awkwardly. "I know its not as fancy as that place you had in Wyvern Towers, but you're welcome to stay here tonight; I...I'd really like it if you did," he said the last part rather quietly.
"Sure, um, that'd be great," said Sydney, sensing that Eric had wanted to say something but thought better of it.
Eric led the way and Sydney followed, she felt so confused sometimes, only earlier had James offered her a friendly ear and she had rejected it. Now she was exposing her innermost fears to a guy that she barely knew even if she had fought along side him a few times. But Sydney knew it was something more than that, Eric appeared to share a similar past as her own, or at least he faced similar problems right now.
Eric stopped outside a door, his face looked slightly nervous or anxious or something. Sydney smiled comfortingly, he was a nice guy, someone she felt most certainly that she could trust... if only she could help him right now.
As she opened the bedroom door she placed her hand on his arm, "I think it's natural to feel a yearning for the life you used to lead, it's so much more difficult to make a stand and fight for what you believe in. But I honestly believe that it's the only decision you can make and I think you're incredibly brave and noble to stand up against Valhalla like this."
"Thanks, that means a lot". He followed her into the room and flicked the light switch. "This is my room. There's the connecting bathroom," he said pointing to a close door at the back of the room. "I'm going to sleep on the couch, so if there is anything you need..." Eric looked into Sydney's eyes. At that moment it was as if they were back in La Perle, under the influence of Sebastian Drake's manipulative powers. But this time however, the feeling he felt was his own, and he didn't need to use his psychic abilities to know she felt something too. Before he knew what he was doing, he had leaned closer to Sydney. Their lips met as he placed his strong hand gently on her hip.
Sydney was slightly taken aback as Eric leaned in and kissed her. His breath was still cold from the beer and she could taste the alcohol on his lips. As he took hold of her hip and gently pulled her in closer she could feel herself reciprocating those gentle caresses and pulling him closer against her own body. Sydney wasn't even thinking anymore as she began working to remove Eric's clothes and pushed him down on the bed.
Their gentle kissing, grew more passionate as the two allowed themselves to get swept up in the heat of the moment. Eric's muscled chest rose and fell rhythmically in tune with Sydney's deep breaths. "Are...are you.." Eric began but was quickly cut off.
"Shhhh don't speak," Sydney whispered breathlessly, pressing her lips against Eric's to silence him further, everything felt so good she didn't want to add confusion to the moment with needless talking.
Their naked bodies becoming further intertwined, Eric and Sydney, slaves to their uncontrollable lust, continued their passionate ministrations into the night...
Monthly Series 1: 16th June 2003 to November 16(ish) 2003
“Lady Lazarus”
Benson Pharmaceuticals
Cloning Lab, New York
20 July 2003
“Ms. Feldman!” a tech called out. “Ms. Feldman! We’re ready to begin the final phase of the experiment.”
“Excellent,” Patricia Feldman replied. “The crowning achievement of a decade of research is at hand.” She looked around the facility, her own brainchild beneath the main building. Not even the creation of Observer and Sara, she thought, would rival what was to come today if they were successful.
Fluorescent lights provided the only light in the facility, as no windows provided natural light. Watches provided the only hint of the time, a large clock on the wall set to a 24 hour clock. Row upon row of computer lined the hallways, desktop monitors connected to the large machines. Only the most trusted techs and scientists had seen this room, or worked with the AI who assisted them.
Computers gave way to a medical facility, three large cylinders on either side. Each stood 12 feet tall and was several feet in diameter. In one of them floated a figure, human in shape. Monitors at the base of the unit reported life signs from inside the unit. A body lay under a sheet near the cylinder.
PsiTech had helped with the initial work, though the units jointly produced were being developed for advanced medical treatment. The possibility of rejuvenation.
Feldman walked over to the cylinder, looking in at the lone test subject. The first one had been completely unsuccessful, his brain destroyed in the process of getting the mental imprint. They hadn’t made the same mistakes with this one. “Sara,” she said. “What is the status of the mental imprint?”
“I estimate approximately seventy-five to eighty percent recovery,” reported the voice of Sara dispassionately. Feldman was pleased. “Brain degredation from anoxia and lack of medical intervention to preserve the brain was a major factor. The new process of lifting mental data, however, was successful. In theory, we should be able to take a full imprint from living or recently-deceased organisms.”
Feldman arched an eyebrow. They would need a better subject in time. “And the counter-measures?”
“All counter-measures should be in place.”
The CEO smiled. Of course they would be. She had designed them herself, after all. One of the scientists, a woman in a white lab coat came up to her. “Ms. Feldman, the mental imprint is complete. Time elapsed is 2 hours, 47 minutes. Shall we begin the final phase?”
“Yes,” she said, allowing the doctors to enter the operating area. She started to walk back out before turning back to the various assembled scientists, techs, and physicians. “Ladies and Gentlemen, today marks the greatest achievement of humanity. Today we will conquer death itself! Begin the reanimation process.”
Various scientists began working with a number of panels. She listened as the reports came in. “Subject heart rate increasing… 5 beats….15 beats…. 23 beats…. 32 beats….”
“Neural activity at 34% normal….”
“Draining of amniotic fluid from lungs complete…”
“Brain stem support cut… it’s functioning on its own.”
“Neural activity, 64% normal. Heart rate, 52 beats.”
And so the process continued. Fluid was drained from the cylinder, the body gently extracted when the top was lower. She would still be unconscious when they reported that the body was capable of sustaining itself. Her body was placed on a bed near the cylinder, before being covered with a sheet.
“All life signs checking out normal,” came the voice of an excited scientist, working on the project. He looked to Feldman and positively beamed at the accomplishment. “We did it…”
“There is one last thing,” Feldman said, walking over. “Revive her.”
The scientist looked to his more senior counterpart. She nodded once, before administering a small injection to the woman laying on the bed. They would have to monitor her vital signs for a while, but everything appeared to go fine. The woman opened her eyes, and began to blink.
“It’s alright,” Feldman said, taking the woman’s hand in her own. “Can you speak? Understand me?”
She nodded once, looking around as though her eyes were adjusting to the light. “My… my body hurts….” she croaked out. “All over.”
Feldman had expected something like that. The possibility of what Sara called ‘phantom pain’ remained. “It should pass in time,” she said. “Your old body had the life force force drained out of it. New body; new life force; same person inside.”
The woman groaned as she tried to move, and look around the room. Fortunately most of the other scientists and doctors retreated. “Where… where am I?”
“New York,” Feldman replied with care in her voice. “Tell me, my dear, do you remember what happened? Your name?”
She nodded. “I… I was dead, but… how can I be alive if I died?”
“I know, you have many questions, but I’ll answer them in time. I promise,” said Feldman. “Please, dear, your name. Can you remember?”
Again the woman nodded, the pain passing. “Jenna,” she said. “Jenna Lionheart.”