Hope you enjoy. Decided to toss in an homage to an earlier film (and yes, some of the characters), if only because this piece will need some lightening up. Based on the outline, it may be darker than Boiling Point. Just thought I’d throw in a word of warning.
****
Most people wouldn’t go through the trouble of robbing a diamond exchange in Colorado Springs during the midst of a late-autumn snowstorm. Some would be dissuaded by the fourteen inches of drift that fell the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. However, a good majority of people wouldn’t do it because stealing is just plain wrong.
Then again, the three young women riding to the steel-gray entrance never considered public opinion a priority.
“Ah,” Missy said, looking at the cold visage of the exchange. Her ponytail-tied, reddish black hair caught the occasional wayward flake. “Hasn’t changed a bit.”
Sissy smirked as she brushed her long, wavy brunette locks. “It’s not what’s outside that counts, babe. It’s what’s on the inside that keeping us from getting what Mr. Remington wants.”
The van plowed down the parking lot, its front plow lifting aside what drift stood in its way.
“Are you ready with the gear, Chrissy?”
The blonde in back pulled her long mane back into a ponytail. “Always ready.”
Sissy smiled. “Time to shine once again. Let’s go.”
The side door of the van slid aside, and the three thieves strutted out into the snow, poured into midnight-black pleather body stockings, which reflected every scant trace of moonlight. Stiletto heels dug heel deep into the snow.
The trio walked in straight-line formation as they reached the front steps. Memories flushed through each of their heads. This was the site of their last successful mission. Almost everything had changed since then, from those two stoners ruining their plans, to that traitor Justice, to the long hours in separate cells at Chowchilla.
Chrissy ran up to the alarm system and plugged in the password retriever.
“Everyone remember the rules?” asked Sissy.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said Missy. “Once we’re upstairs, not a word, not a sound, not a peep. We’ve only gone over this a hundred times.”
“Good. I want to make sure we don’t have a repeat of what happened last time.”
The five digit password lit up on the retriever’s monitor, and the front door’s vacuum seal broke. Chrissy purred, and Sissy gave her a slight scratch under the chin.
“Let’s go get the man his goods.”
They ran up the stairs to the second floor. Another stolen password later, and the door to the diamonds opened.
With the same aerosol spray can that she used five years prior, Sissy revealed the locations of the sensor lasers that would sound the alarm. Each tube of light appeared to be in the same place as in their last mission. The only difference was the improvement of a bank-style vault in the back of the room.
Well, at least they added one more challenge, Sissy thought as she got ready for her travel through the laser. Picking out a weak spot in the defense, she backflipped across the room, her body floating over and below the pink-tinted sensors. Missy followed with a series of cartwheels, and Chrissy followed by somersaulting over her targets.
Sissy lifted her hand up, keeping her cohorts from moving any closer. They waited for a second. No blaring electronic noise, no flashing red lights. The worst was over.
Chrissy went to work on the vault, using a different combination retrieval system. Sissy and Missy looked to each other, smiling. Man, it had been a long time since they had pulled off a heist, and they had almost forgotten about the adrenaline rush that came when the loot was in sight.
The combination showed up on the monitor, and Chrissy silently rolled in the numbers. Without so much as a squeak, the vault opened.
What the trio saw inside almost surprised them into breaking the silence.
Two women, clad in shiny blue leotards and electric blue tights, sat in the middle of the vault, between the burglars and the diamonds. Both were reading copies of the Colorado Springs Gazette. The one with the short blond hair looked up from her front page.
“You were a bit later than expected,” she said. “We were getting bored.”
At the first word, the lasers pulled back, and the alarms sounded off.
“Who the hell are you?” asked Sissy.
The blond smiled. “My name is Faith-Mari, and this is my associate Stacy. We’ll be your arresting officers tonight.” She folded her paper and rose from her chair. Her companion followed suit.
Sissy smirked. “I don’t think so.” She ran to Faith-Mari and aimed a crescent kick at the Blue Angel’s face. She telegraphed the move by a second, giving Faith-Mari enough time to duck down and spin kick Sissy’s grounded leg out from under her. The burglar’s body crumpled to the floor, and she moaned in discomfort.
Meanwhile Chrissy and Missy rushed Stacy, pinning her against the back wall, next to the cache of diamonds. They took turns raining down body blows, until Stacy fought back, first headbutting Chrissy, stunning the blonde, then grabbing Missy by her ponytails and hairmaring her over.
Faith-Mari stood above Sissy as the catsuit-clad thief rose to her feet. “You wouldn’t have been so vulnerable if you wore sneakers instead of stilettos.” Sissy swung with a fist, which Faith-Mari blocked. With each successive forearm, the angel gave her advice: “Function… over… form.”
Stacy moved closer to her partner, a jewel thief’s head under each arm in a solid grip. “You doing ok over there, boss?”
Faith-Mari slung Sissy’s prone body into the side wall of the vault. She followed her prey in and clotheslined her, the wall giving not a millimeter. The thief collapsed face down onto the metal floor. “Yeah. Having a grand old time. Say, kid, what are you doing for Thanksgiving?”
Stacy grabbed each thief by their locks and ran their heads together. The two thieves fell, heads on each other’s shoulders, sliding downward. Missy collapsed first, hitting the floor, and Chrissy followed, landing facedown on Missy’s back.
“Oh, I don’t know. Might stay at my domicile on HQ grounds, watch the Macy’s parade, make fun of Katie Couric and Matt Lauer.”
Faith-Mari picked up the groggy Sissy by the hair. “You shouldn’t spend the holidays alone. Look, I’m heading back home to see the family. You should come along.” She nonchalantly scooped up Sissy for a bodyslam, flipping the girl’s legs over her shoulder. Carrying the robber with one arm, she said, “Seriously, you should come on over."
“Sure I wouldn’t be trouble?”
Faith-Mari smiled. “No trouble at all. “ With a running start, she powerslammed Sissy on top of her cohorts, leaving the face-up victim the top layer of a thief tripledecker. The moans echoed in the vault, half-lost in the blaring electronic alarms.
“Great. Count me in.” Stacy opened a packet in her utility belt, taking out a cloth. She knelt down and smothered Sissy’s face. The burglar, panicked, kicked and flailed as furiously as possible, arms and legs flying in all directions, light reflecting in and off of her catsuit. After a few seconds she weakened, the kicks reverberating less off of the floor. In another few seconds, she fell off the tripledecker, limp and unconscious. She repeated the same process with Missy and Chrissy, and within a minute, the trio of would-be diamond snatchers were in dreamland.
By the time the cops arrived, they were the only three people in the vault.
“Director Quist, you should know that this is being done against the advisement of every scientist involved with this project,” Dr. Jonathan DeCocteau said as he scrambled into the secret area of the science room. He was surprised to see Lindsey O’Riordan already inside, clad in her agent apparel and tinted goggles. The JANUS director motored past him as the door opened.
“Duly Noted,” he said.
“And that we can’t be held responsible for any adverse effects you may suffer.”
“Again, Duly Noted.”
“We recommend, to a person, that you wait and make sure that this device is fail-safe, for your own safety.” DeCocteau wiped the sweat off his pale brow.
“Doctor, I Assure You, No Matter What The Result, It Will Be An Improvement. Now Get It Ready, And That Is An Order.”
“Yes, sir.” He ran to the power main grid and threw the switch. The giant grey contraption began to shimmer, then glow. The gun-barrel like bottom of the machine rotated.
“You Are Excused Now, Doctor. Miss O’Riordan Is More Than Able To Start The Machine.”
Dr. DeCocteau stammered momentarily. He was so damp that his normally sun-bright blonde mane turned into a maple shade. “Yes, Director.” He exited, looking back as he closed the door.
Quist wheeled up the ramp, stopping directly below the gun-barrel. The bulletproof glass doors closed behind him, sealing him off from the rest of the room.
“Ready?” asked Lindsey.
“Do It Now,” said Quist.
The JANUS agent placed the book, handprint up, into the scanner of the machine. She placed her hand on the outline, and the pink print turned green. An intense white light beamed down from the barrel, hitting Quist on the hairline, between the eyes. He let out an excruciating scream as the light blinded the room. The rotating gun-barrel’s noise eventually drowned out his howls. Even with the goggles, Lindsey shielded her eyes, having lost sight of the director. For two minutes, the process continued, the noise enhanced ever further, the light growing brighter, as though the visual of heaven mixed with the noises of hell.
Outside the Science Department, the massive widescreens in JANUS HQ flickered on and off, the energy temporarily sucked out. The ANGELS computer system went on the fritz, and the hardware responsible for the firewalls of the interagency web shot out sparks, fried out of commission. The lights at Langley browned out.
And then, as suddenly as it started, the beam turned off. Lindsey’s eyes reasserted their sight to normal. She first looked to the glass box where the machine was encased. Inside, the wheelchair was overturned, light sparks of electricity jumping from one fried component to another. Next to it, Director Quist lay on his side, unconscious.
Quickly, Lindsey took off her goggles, ran to the glass door, and pulled it open.
“Director Quist, are you all right?” She placed two fingers on his carotid, careful not to move him if he was injured. The heartbeat was there, strong and steady.
Then she heard him groan.
“Director Quist?”
Then she saw his fingers move. His right leg slid under his own power.
“Sir, are you all right?”
He moved his head to see her.
“Lindsey…”
Her eyes were opened wide with amazement. “Sir, you can talk.”
“I…” Only now did the realization sink in. Slowly, he placed one foot down on the floor, and with effort, pulled himself to his knees. Another minute, and with Lindsey’s assistance, he rose to his feet. Using his agent as a crutch, he took his first steps in twenty years.
“I can walk,” he said softly. “Lindsey, I can walk.” He turned to embrace her, and he felt several different waves crash into his senses. He could walk. He could embrace. For the first time since 1986, he felt the touch of a woman. He looked at his reflection in the glass walls, and he could see his age through different eyes. He saw a fifty-year-old man, a man with no thirties and no forties. The peak of his life was left in the chair that now lay broken behind him.
With so much positive and negative emotion, Quist broke down, weeping on Lindsey’s shoulders, tears of joy and sorrow flowing out in equal measure.
The main offices of Tachyon Energy had been the biggest daily meeting of roving reporters in the Dallas area. Every morning, fields of microphones pointed in the direction of CEO Spencer Remington’s car as he drove to work. As he stepped out, a team of assistants kept the newsmen at bay. On this morning, the frown on his face was deeper than usual. He ignored the usual questions about cooking the books, false profits, and cutbacks. He left the assistants at the elevators, going up to the 55th floor of Tachyon Square.
The floor was his alone. No other rooms, offices, VPs, secretaries. Nothing but him and his thoughts. Today, his only companion was Victor Evermonde, his servant since his ascension to the top of the electricity company. With a hulking, six-foot-eight frame, coated in muscles that threatened to rip his three-piece tuxedo, Victor made sure no one interrupted his employer on fifty-five.
“What’s the news?” asked Remington.
“The birds were shot down in Colorado Springs,” said Victor, cracking his neck. “The news said that they were captured by two women in blue.”
“Let me guess,” said the CEO. “The Angels.”
Victor nodded. “It’s only a matter of time before they spill the beans about their employer.”
Remington nodded, walked to his desk, and slammed his fist onto the surface. “Can I find anyone to do a good dirty job for me? Is that possible, Vic? I throw thousands of dollars to releasing them, and they go right back to jail before the check clears. And I still don’t have the funds necessary. I’m finished.”
Victor grinned without a trace of goodwill. “Not quite, sir. Your boys in decoding came upon quite an interesting list.”
Remington looked up. “What’s that?”
“We don’t know what happened in Langley, but now our hackers have discovered a full list of personnel working for ANGELS. I would recommend skipping town and letting us take care of these pests.”
“A full list?” asked Remington. With a renewed calm, he brushed his slick auburn hair back, straightened his red silk tie. “Who were the ones who were investigating Tachyon?”
Victor reached into his vest and pulled out three wallet sized photos. “Special Agent Faith-Mari Hopkins and Agent Stacy Pilar Delfina, under the direction of Karla Lee.”
The CEO of Tachyon walked to the washroom and splashed water on his clean shaven face. “Great. Now I can go out there, talk to the press one last time, and take an impromptu vacation to the Caymans, but who’s going to take care of these irritating blue gnats?”
“Sir, we made an error the last time. We went with thieves, but they had no defense against the Angels. May I suggest that if you’re going into the pest extermination business, buy yourself some exterminators.”
Remington smiled. “Very good, Victor.” He looked out at the skyline of the Texas metropolis. “You know, I look at the cover of Forbes I was on three years ago. They called me “The Ener-Genius” at age 32. Now they’re calling me a criminal. You know what I think, Vic? Good guy or bad guy, it’s always better to be rich.”
The pair laughed, and their cackles echoed off the walls of the otherwise uninhabited level.
Blue Angels: Rise of Oblivion
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The Great Dutch Ninja
- Henchman
- Posts: 53
- Joined: 22 years ago
- Location: Medford, MA
Blue Angels: Rise of Oblivion
Last edited by The Great Dutch Ninja 9 years ago, edited 1 time in total.
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superpics4les
- Elder Member
- Posts: 493
- Joined: 21 years ago
- Location: Indiana USA
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The Great Dutch Ninja
- Henchman
- Posts: 53
- Joined: 22 years ago
- Location: Medford, MA
Chapter Two (Thursday Morning/Afternoon)
Nathaniel Quist spent Thanksgiving morning relearning. After only a couple of attempts, he was walking around with as normal a gait as any agent in CIA HQ. Within an hour, he was running along the perimeter of the Science Department, smiling the entire time. He didn’t know whether the muscle memory was that eidetic, or if the power of his machine made the movements feel a bit heavier, more mechanical. He didn’t feel quite the same as in 1986, but he felt better. Infinitely better.
He ran back into the machine room, where Lindsey O’Riordan was finishing her results.
“Back so soon?” she asked, still surprised whenever she saw her boss upright.
“Yeah. I wanted to stop by to thank you. I know we needed help from the Angels, but you took the initiative. Van Gaalen was a dangerous man, and he could’ve ruined everything if he gave the book away. I am in your debt.”
Lindsey’s blue eyes moved up to meet his. “In all honesty, sir, I would’ve done it even if you didn’t give the order.”
Quist grinned. “I know. Miss O’Riordan, always tops in her class. First in skill, but more importantly, first in ruthlessness.”
She shook her head, and her garrison cap tilted to one side. “Not really. I mean, Van Gaalen was an idiot, and I can’t say killing him wasn’t a positive experience. But I didn’t do it out of bloodlust. I did it because I wanted to help you. Because… I care about you.”
Quist’s eyebrow lifted. He may have been cut off from the outside world for twenty years, but he could still read between the lines. “Lindsey, I don’t think that would be right. I’m old enough to be your father. And I haven’t been my best self.”
She put a finger on his lips. “Just the opposite, sir. You’ve been at your best. Most people would’ve accepted their fate and waited to die. You ran a covert spy network, even with one of the most crippling ailments possible.”
“I did my duty,” he said.
“No. You went beyond the pale. And you still knew how to get the bad guy’s attention.” A coquettish grin crossed her face.
Quist turned away. He turned away from his charge. “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
“Sure. Just like you had no idea when you designed the outfits for the Angels, and when you designed the outfits for us.” She walked toward Quist, who backed up with each advance.
“Sit down,” she told him.
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather stand. I’ve only been sitting for the last twenty…”
With a light shove, she pushed him back into the chair. As he pushed himself back into a sitting position, Lindsey grabbed a pinch of her silver catsuit from her side. With a laugh, she snapped the fabric back into place, making a slight rubberband-like flicker of noise that sent a rush of adrenaline through the JANUS director.
“So this is what gets you going?” she asked, knowing the answer full well. “Not the best material for covert operations. Easy to see, and it catches light like nothing else. But you knew that. Because you knew that any pair of eyes that caught the sight of us would be transfixed. They can’t help themselves; they’re only following the whims of their own testosterone.”
Slowly, she brushed her hands up the sides of her statuesque legs, then across her hips and sides. Quist closed his eyes and silently counted down from ten, trying to slow his heartbeat.
“You know what this suit is to me, Nate? It’s power. It’s being demure and classy and innocent and suggestive and sexy all at once. You know how many guys I’d have at my feet right now, if they caught a glimpse of me? I could kiss them or kill them, and they’d consider it a privilege either way.”
With a sly, seductive walk, she strode up to his chair, straddled him, then curled up on his lap. Grabbing his right hand, she placed his palm on her spandex-shrouded shoulder. The feel of the fabric, his first in two decades, sent his heart into overdrive.
“So tense,” she said softly. She gently guided his hand across her shoulder to the center, then slightly lower. The palm of his hand pressed against her necktie, but the fingertips absorbed this new, wonderful sensation.
“Believe me, I understand,” she said. “Feel mine? I’m nervous, too. And this isn’t being ruthless. This is being real.”
Quist tried to think of anything else. The JANUS work, the many enemies he had, Karla… Karla…
With his newfound strength, he got up out of the chair, cradling Lindsey in his arms as he did so. He soon found out he made a mistake, as her catsuit-clad body sank into his fingers. He had forgotten about the breath-stealing sensation of holding the weight of a woman in his arms.
“Lindsey, I don’t want you to get me wrong. I think you’re one of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever seen. You wouldn’t be in JANUS if you weren’t. But…”
He took a second to release her out of his cradle, and he shivered slightly as her figure slid down the length of his forearms, landing on her feet.
“It’s Karla, isn’t it?” she asked. The silence between them answered for him.
After a few seconds, Quist shook his head. “I have to go.” And with that, he left the science department. Lindsey walked to the wheelchair and sat in it, eyes glossy with barely restrained tears.
“Don’t do it, girl,” she told herself. “Never let them fall.”
Stacy Delfina had never felt so nervous in her life. Nothing, not the first mission of her career, not the brawl at HQ, not the fight in the bank vault, made her feel this ill at ease.
“So, let me get the story straight. I’m a freshman pledge at St. Luke University,” she said as she and Faith-Mari walked across the gate aisle, fresh off the plane from Washington.
“Luke’s. With an apostrophe. You’re going to my sorority, and we’re just having the best time there. You’re not on the gymnastics team yet, but you’d love to make it next winter. You live at the house, and this is our first semester together at the place.”
“Right, right,” said Stacy. “What if I mess up?”
“You won’t,” said Faith-Mari. “But if you don’t, I’ll make the save.”
They finished talking upon seeing the white expo marker with blue writing: HOPKINS. The man holding it had a naturally merry face, rose-tinted cheeks, silver-white hair, and sunglasses that looked a size too big for his head. The sweater he wore screamed Thanksgiving, all browns and reds, with a turkey in the center. Beside him, a buzz-cut kid in his early teens, staring around awkwardly, wearing an oversized WWE shirt and baggy jeans. His confused blue eyes hid behind a minefield of acne.
“Faith? Is that you?” the old man shouted out.
Faith-Mari stopped in her tracks and put her hands on her hips. “Oh, who else would it be, Pops?” She ran up to him and jumped into a hug.
As she leapt back down, she said. “Good to see you, Dad. Squirt.”
“Squirt, nothing,” said the teen. “I’ll hit my growth spurt eventually. Then we’ll see who the squirt in the family is.”
“Whatever,” Faith-Mari said. “Dad, Owen, this is my new Tri Delta sister, Stacy Delfina. Stace, this is my father the Professor, and my own personal pain in the neck, Owen.”
The old man gave a warm, fatherly smile. “Cardon Hopkins, but none of this Mr. Hopkins business. Just call me Card.”
Stacy smiled, letting her guard down just a little in the face of friendliness. “Pleased to meet you. And you too, Owen. Faith-Mari’s told me all about you.”
She instantly knew the look on his face. Beneath all the acne and uncertainly, the eyes became focused, pupils slightly dilated. Even though she had dressed conservatively for the trip (Blue blouse, plaid ankle-length skirt), she knew his eyes like she knew all the others. He was a fly, and she was the bugzapper.
“P-p-pleased to meet you, Stacy,” he said.
Card shook his head as he looked his daughter, who wore a White Stripes t-shirt, black knee-high skirt and matching tights. “I often wonder where your brain’s at, kiddo. You’re going to be freezing your tail off when we get outside. In case you’ve forgotten, this is Wisconsin, in November. Ain’t a place to be without a parka.”
“I’ll be fine,” Faith-Mari said. “Let’s just get our bags and head for home. Flight’s tuckered me right out.”
As Card Hopkins’ station wagon drove out of the Chippewa Valley Regional Airport, a black Ford sedan turned on its lights and followed. Inside, two young women, both in matching pink-bobbed wigs and trenchcoats, kept their eyes on their pursuit. The passenger took a clamshell cellular phone out of a pocket and dialed. She didn’t even wait for the other party to pick up.
“Target acquired. Will be weapons hot in a few hours. Await further details.” She hung up, her eyes still transfixed on the Escort ahead.
“Sir, they are in pursuit,” Victor Evermonde said as he shut his phone.
Remington smiled. “Good. Now it’s vacation time.”
The elevator trip down was unsuccessful. Spencer wished he could say the same about his beeline through the gaggle of sharks that called themselves reporters.
“Mr. Remington, what happened to the two billion in profits you claimed in the third quarter this year?”
“Spencer, what is your reaction to Tachyon’s $3 a share drop today?”
“Mr. Remington, are you preparing for indictments?”
He put his hands up in the air. “All of these questions will be answered in due time. However, I have a holiday to celebrate, and a family to share it with, so if you’ll excuse me…” He leaned into the back of his stretch limousine. With Victor driving, the mammoth vehicle drove out of the Tachyon parking lot.
They weren’t a mile out when a blue Toyota Camry entered the same lane of the road, following them.
“Sir, we’ve got a bird behind us,” Victor said.
Spencer looked behind, catching a full glimpse of the pursuer. “Dammit,” he muttered under his breath. “I was hoping it wouldn’t have to come to this. Do you have the transmitter?”
Victor threw a small metal device onto the seat next to Remington. “Primed and ready, sir.”
“And will there be any trace of it?”
“None,” said Victor. “Once it fries their electronics, the metal burns itself out. Anything left will be assumed as part of the wreckage.”
Remington grabbed the transmitter. “Great.” He waited until the two cars were within a couple hundred feet of the intersection. “Time to be an Angel for real, lady.” He pressed the black button on the side.
He watched as the blue Camry jerked from side to side in a futile attempt to regain control. He smiled as the Toyota, losing speed, crawled across the intersection, into the path of an oncoming Peterbilt.
He turned around before the crash, but the sound was easily identifiable, as was the explosion. Laughing, he leaned back into his chair, hands behind his head, as the limo headed for Dallas/ Fort Worth International.
As the sun sat on Thanksgiving evening, Karla Lee walked alone in her Alexandria apartment, cold turkey sandwich on a paper plate awaiting. She was just thinking about how nice and quiet the day had been when the phone rang.
“Karla, it’s Addison.”
“Julian?” she asked, surprised. “You’re not supposed to be back for another two weeks. You should be in the hospital.”
“The world doesn’t wait on account of me getting better,” he said. “We may have a situation. You tell her.”
The next voice belonged to Josie Beckett, the Angels’ new technical director. A couple of years Faith-Mari’s junior, she had not seen a field assignment yet, save the Archangel’s army battle. With a voice still soft and untouched by violence, she said, “M’am, this is some level 4 type stuff going on here.”
“Level 4?” asked Lee.
“Yesterday night, we had a surge in the building. We don’t know where from yet, and we’re still investigating. To put it simply, some sensitive material may have been available to hacking parties.”
“Some? Like what?”
“Name anything you want, m’am. It’s possible. We’re doing our best to seal the leak, but in the meantime, we’re recommending cutting off contact with the outside on this.”
Karla barely finished saying, “Do that,” when the doorbell rang.
“Hold on, Josie,” she said as she walked to the door. She opened with a faint creak.
Standing before her, in a tuxedo, with a dozen long-stemmed roses in his hand, was Nathaniel Quist.
“Hey, love,” he said.
Karla could feel her brain short-circuit, putting the information together. As she collapsed into unconsciousness from shock, she could her Josie say, “Hello? Hello? Director Lee?”
He ran back into the machine room, where Lindsey O’Riordan was finishing her results.
“Back so soon?” she asked, still surprised whenever she saw her boss upright.
“Yeah. I wanted to stop by to thank you. I know we needed help from the Angels, but you took the initiative. Van Gaalen was a dangerous man, and he could’ve ruined everything if he gave the book away. I am in your debt.”
Lindsey’s blue eyes moved up to meet his. “In all honesty, sir, I would’ve done it even if you didn’t give the order.”
Quist grinned. “I know. Miss O’Riordan, always tops in her class. First in skill, but more importantly, first in ruthlessness.”
She shook her head, and her garrison cap tilted to one side. “Not really. I mean, Van Gaalen was an idiot, and I can’t say killing him wasn’t a positive experience. But I didn’t do it out of bloodlust. I did it because I wanted to help you. Because… I care about you.”
Quist’s eyebrow lifted. He may have been cut off from the outside world for twenty years, but he could still read between the lines. “Lindsey, I don’t think that would be right. I’m old enough to be your father. And I haven’t been my best self.”
She put a finger on his lips. “Just the opposite, sir. You’ve been at your best. Most people would’ve accepted their fate and waited to die. You ran a covert spy network, even with one of the most crippling ailments possible.”
“I did my duty,” he said.
“No. You went beyond the pale. And you still knew how to get the bad guy’s attention.” A coquettish grin crossed her face.
Quist turned away. He turned away from his charge. “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
“Sure. Just like you had no idea when you designed the outfits for the Angels, and when you designed the outfits for us.” She walked toward Quist, who backed up with each advance.
“Sit down,” she told him.
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather stand. I’ve only been sitting for the last twenty…”
With a light shove, she pushed him back into the chair. As he pushed himself back into a sitting position, Lindsey grabbed a pinch of her silver catsuit from her side. With a laugh, she snapped the fabric back into place, making a slight rubberband-like flicker of noise that sent a rush of adrenaline through the JANUS director.
“So this is what gets you going?” she asked, knowing the answer full well. “Not the best material for covert operations. Easy to see, and it catches light like nothing else. But you knew that. Because you knew that any pair of eyes that caught the sight of us would be transfixed. They can’t help themselves; they’re only following the whims of their own testosterone.”
Slowly, she brushed her hands up the sides of her statuesque legs, then across her hips and sides. Quist closed his eyes and silently counted down from ten, trying to slow his heartbeat.
“You know what this suit is to me, Nate? It’s power. It’s being demure and classy and innocent and suggestive and sexy all at once. You know how many guys I’d have at my feet right now, if they caught a glimpse of me? I could kiss them or kill them, and they’d consider it a privilege either way.”
With a sly, seductive walk, she strode up to his chair, straddled him, then curled up on his lap. Grabbing his right hand, she placed his palm on her spandex-shrouded shoulder. The feel of the fabric, his first in two decades, sent his heart into overdrive.
“So tense,” she said softly. She gently guided his hand across her shoulder to the center, then slightly lower. The palm of his hand pressed against her necktie, but the fingertips absorbed this new, wonderful sensation.
“Believe me, I understand,” she said. “Feel mine? I’m nervous, too. And this isn’t being ruthless. This is being real.”
Quist tried to think of anything else. The JANUS work, the many enemies he had, Karla… Karla…
With his newfound strength, he got up out of the chair, cradling Lindsey in his arms as he did so. He soon found out he made a mistake, as her catsuit-clad body sank into his fingers. He had forgotten about the breath-stealing sensation of holding the weight of a woman in his arms.
“Lindsey, I don’t want you to get me wrong. I think you’re one of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever seen. You wouldn’t be in JANUS if you weren’t. But…”
He took a second to release her out of his cradle, and he shivered slightly as her figure slid down the length of his forearms, landing on her feet.
“It’s Karla, isn’t it?” she asked. The silence between them answered for him.
After a few seconds, Quist shook his head. “I have to go.” And with that, he left the science department. Lindsey walked to the wheelchair and sat in it, eyes glossy with barely restrained tears.
“Don’t do it, girl,” she told herself. “Never let them fall.”
Stacy Delfina had never felt so nervous in her life. Nothing, not the first mission of her career, not the brawl at HQ, not the fight in the bank vault, made her feel this ill at ease.
“So, let me get the story straight. I’m a freshman pledge at St. Luke University,” she said as she and Faith-Mari walked across the gate aisle, fresh off the plane from Washington.
“Luke’s. With an apostrophe. You’re going to my sorority, and we’re just having the best time there. You’re not on the gymnastics team yet, but you’d love to make it next winter. You live at the house, and this is our first semester together at the place.”
“Right, right,” said Stacy. “What if I mess up?”
“You won’t,” said Faith-Mari. “But if you don’t, I’ll make the save.”
They finished talking upon seeing the white expo marker with blue writing: HOPKINS. The man holding it had a naturally merry face, rose-tinted cheeks, silver-white hair, and sunglasses that looked a size too big for his head. The sweater he wore screamed Thanksgiving, all browns and reds, with a turkey in the center. Beside him, a buzz-cut kid in his early teens, staring around awkwardly, wearing an oversized WWE shirt and baggy jeans. His confused blue eyes hid behind a minefield of acne.
“Faith? Is that you?” the old man shouted out.
Faith-Mari stopped in her tracks and put her hands on her hips. “Oh, who else would it be, Pops?” She ran up to him and jumped into a hug.
As she leapt back down, she said. “Good to see you, Dad. Squirt.”
“Squirt, nothing,” said the teen. “I’ll hit my growth spurt eventually. Then we’ll see who the squirt in the family is.”
“Whatever,” Faith-Mari said. “Dad, Owen, this is my new Tri Delta sister, Stacy Delfina. Stace, this is my father the Professor, and my own personal pain in the neck, Owen.”
The old man gave a warm, fatherly smile. “Cardon Hopkins, but none of this Mr. Hopkins business. Just call me Card.”
Stacy smiled, letting her guard down just a little in the face of friendliness. “Pleased to meet you. And you too, Owen. Faith-Mari’s told me all about you.”
She instantly knew the look on his face. Beneath all the acne and uncertainly, the eyes became focused, pupils slightly dilated. Even though she had dressed conservatively for the trip (Blue blouse, plaid ankle-length skirt), she knew his eyes like she knew all the others. He was a fly, and she was the bugzapper.
“P-p-pleased to meet you, Stacy,” he said.
Card shook his head as he looked his daughter, who wore a White Stripes t-shirt, black knee-high skirt and matching tights. “I often wonder where your brain’s at, kiddo. You’re going to be freezing your tail off when we get outside. In case you’ve forgotten, this is Wisconsin, in November. Ain’t a place to be without a parka.”
“I’ll be fine,” Faith-Mari said. “Let’s just get our bags and head for home. Flight’s tuckered me right out.”
As Card Hopkins’ station wagon drove out of the Chippewa Valley Regional Airport, a black Ford sedan turned on its lights and followed. Inside, two young women, both in matching pink-bobbed wigs and trenchcoats, kept their eyes on their pursuit. The passenger took a clamshell cellular phone out of a pocket and dialed. She didn’t even wait for the other party to pick up.
“Target acquired. Will be weapons hot in a few hours. Await further details.” She hung up, her eyes still transfixed on the Escort ahead.
“Sir, they are in pursuit,” Victor Evermonde said as he shut his phone.
Remington smiled. “Good. Now it’s vacation time.”
The elevator trip down was unsuccessful. Spencer wished he could say the same about his beeline through the gaggle of sharks that called themselves reporters.
“Mr. Remington, what happened to the two billion in profits you claimed in the third quarter this year?”
“Spencer, what is your reaction to Tachyon’s $3 a share drop today?”
“Mr. Remington, are you preparing for indictments?”
He put his hands up in the air. “All of these questions will be answered in due time. However, I have a holiday to celebrate, and a family to share it with, so if you’ll excuse me…” He leaned into the back of his stretch limousine. With Victor driving, the mammoth vehicle drove out of the Tachyon parking lot.
They weren’t a mile out when a blue Toyota Camry entered the same lane of the road, following them.
“Sir, we’ve got a bird behind us,” Victor said.
Spencer looked behind, catching a full glimpse of the pursuer. “Dammit,” he muttered under his breath. “I was hoping it wouldn’t have to come to this. Do you have the transmitter?”
Victor threw a small metal device onto the seat next to Remington. “Primed and ready, sir.”
“And will there be any trace of it?”
“None,” said Victor. “Once it fries their electronics, the metal burns itself out. Anything left will be assumed as part of the wreckage.”
Remington grabbed the transmitter. “Great.” He waited until the two cars were within a couple hundred feet of the intersection. “Time to be an Angel for real, lady.” He pressed the black button on the side.
He watched as the blue Camry jerked from side to side in a futile attempt to regain control. He smiled as the Toyota, losing speed, crawled across the intersection, into the path of an oncoming Peterbilt.
He turned around before the crash, but the sound was easily identifiable, as was the explosion. Laughing, he leaned back into his chair, hands behind his head, as the limo headed for Dallas/ Fort Worth International.
As the sun sat on Thanksgiving evening, Karla Lee walked alone in her Alexandria apartment, cold turkey sandwich on a paper plate awaiting. She was just thinking about how nice and quiet the day had been when the phone rang.
“Karla, it’s Addison.”
“Julian?” she asked, surprised. “You’re not supposed to be back for another two weeks. You should be in the hospital.”
“The world doesn’t wait on account of me getting better,” he said. “We may have a situation. You tell her.”
The next voice belonged to Josie Beckett, the Angels’ new technical director. A couple of years Faith-Mari’s junior, she had not seen a field assignment yet, save the Archangel’s army battle. With a voice still soft and untouched by violence, she said, “M’am, this is some level 4 type stuff going on here.”
“Level 4?” asked Lee.
“Yesterday night, we had a surge in the building. We don’t know where from yet, and we’re still investigating. To put it simply, some sensitive material may have been available to hacking parties.”
“Some? Like what?”
“Name anything you want, m’am. It’s possible. We’re doing our best to seal the leak, but in the meantime, we’re recommending cutting off contact with the outside on this.”
Karla barely finished saying, “Do that,” when the doorbell rang.
“Hold on, Josie,” she said as she walked to the door. She opened with a faint creak.
Standing before her, in a tuxedo, with a dozen long-stemmed roses in his hand, was Nathaniel Quist.
“Hey, love,” he said.
Karla could feel her brain short-circuit, putting the information together. As she collapsed into unconsciousness from shock, she could her Josie say, “Hello? Hello? Director Lee?”
-
superpics4les
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The Great Dutch Ninja
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Part Three (Faith-Mari's Thanksgiving)
7:30 P. M.
“Hope you don’t mind slightly overcooked turkey,” said Card as he cut the first slice. “Never really got the culinary skills of the rest of the Hopkins clan.” He delicately placed the slice on Stacy’s plate. “Now Faith-Mari had the magic touch. Heck, even Owen can make some linguica with a kick. But me… just left of center. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Oh, stop with the self-mockery, Pops,” said Faith-Mari. “Every Thanksgiving dinner has been flawless and you know it.”
Card smiled, putting down the knife and brushing an errant crumb from his cardigan sweater. “Well, I thought I’d try the humility bit in front of our guest. Make her not see the pompous Shakespeare teacher within.”
“Well, it worked very well,” said Stacy, waiting for the others to be served.
“I tried my best,” said Card, and the warmth in his eyes almost radiated through his glasses. “Slice, Owen?” He turned to his son just time to miss the kid’s longing glances at Stacy.
“Uh, yeah, sure,” he said, his trance temporarily broken.
Card gave the prayer after the passing of the mashed potatoes, stuffing, and cranberry sauce. “And now, to use Mr. Pugh’s words: O God, when I have food, help me to remember the hungry; When I have work, help me to remember the jobless…”
Stacy was slightly startled out of the prayer when she felt something crawl slowly up her right shin. She looked down, and on her knee, she could see a trembling, but bold finger move across her tights, slightly scratching her tights. For a second, she looked to the next seat. Her eyes met Owen’s for a moment, and then he went back to staring ahead, playing unaware none too well.
Faith-Mari caught Stacy motioning to her with her eyes. At first, she held back a chuckle. She had always been aware of her brother, the wannabe Mr. Smooth. She put a finger up, as if to say: Don’t worry, I got this covered.
With a wry grin, Stacy held Owen’s adventurous hand. She could almost feel his heartrate go past the paper. With her right heel, she ran down Owen’s jeans, down to his left foot. Encouraged by the game of footsies, the kid let loose a smile, until he felt a second foot, also left, meet his foot. He looked across the table to his left. There, he saw Faith-Mari give him a knowing wink.
“By word and deed, those who cry out for what we take for granted, Amen.”
The punctuation was given by the shout of a thirteen year old as two heels pounded down on his left foot at the same time.
“Owen?” asked Card. “Are you all right.”
Owen, biting down on his lip, nodded.
10:45 P.M.
“Do these people ever go to sleep?” asked the passenger in the black Ford sedan, parked a block away from Hopkins’ two-story white Georgian house. Her binocular lens reflected the living room lights. Putting down the glasses, she popped open her alligator-skin handbag and took out a compact. As she made some light touches on her foundation, the driver chuckled.
“Honey, you’re going on an assassination, not prom. Don’t understand why you have go through all of this folderol just to kill someone.”
The passenger took her dabber of foundation and dabbed her taller companion in on the nose. She then looked in her compact. The hot-pink bobbed wig framed a face that skated the edge between adorable and ravishing, with dark, brown, saturnine eyes looking through a lightly tanned Nordic face. She peered at her softly defined cheekbones, at the natural cherry tone of her lips; no Revlon needed there. She smooched at her reflection. She liked what she saw.
“It’s real simple, Sugar,” she said, beaming all the way. “I want my victim to see who killed them. And I want the last face they see in this life to be the most beautiful face they see in this life. A little something to send them into the next life.”
Sugar shook her head, an unbelieving grin peeking through. “So how do you really feel about yourself?”
“I feel perfect,” she said.
The last lights went out in the house.
“About time,” Honey said as she exited the car, her trenchcoat billowing in a fresh gust of wind.
“You do realize that are our targets are chicks, right?” asked Sugar. “They probably aren’t going to be that into you.”
Honey laughed. “Who knows? You ready to rock this joint?”
With a lick of her thumb, Sugar pushed a follicle of her partner’s wig away from her face. “Strand out of place, Little Miss Perfect.”
Honey responded by straightening Sugar’s identical wig, barely off center to the trained eye. “Better a strand than the whole head, my dear.”
They put on black latex gloves that snapped on, then walked to the house. As they walked to the house, they tossed off their trenchcoats. If there was any traffic on this Eau Claire street, the two women would’ve stopped it. They strutted to the house in identical purple scooped-necked leotards that showed the slightest, tempting bit of décolleté. The nylon spandex shimmered, catching every bit of moonlight. The full seats of the leotards complimented and flattered in the way a thong possibly couldn’t. Orange lycra sashes tied around their waists, holding up the holsters that carried their silencer pistols. Rose-colored thigh-high silk stockings that equaled the suits in luster, and ballet slippers that matched the wigs finished the look.
“A time to be born, a time to die,” said Sugar.
“A time to plant, a time to reap,” whispered Honey.
Together, they said under their breath, “A time to kill.” Sugar didn’t see the wide smile on her partner’s face.
Dressed in an oversized red and black flannel shirt, her hands inside the sleeves, Faith-Mari took a look around her old room. Three years. Never would she have suspected that they’d feel like a thousand. With each glance, she tried to recognize the bright-eyed youth in her family photos, as though she were a stranger in her own room. She looked at the high-school pictures, some of theater class, some of her Math Club (president 10, 11, 12), an occasional pic from her swim team. She flicked at the kite she flew as a child, which swayed from the string that tied it to the ceiling. She peered at the late nineties film posters; Snow Falling on Cedars, The Newton Boys, Gattaca.
“You always had a fancy for Ethan Hawke,” said Card, surprising her.
She held her hand to her heart. “Dad, don’t frighten me like that.”
“Frighten you?” Card smiled. “You? The girl I brought up went kayaking on the Colorado at 14? Same girl who went camping hoping to see a grizzly? That girl?”
Faith-Mari sighed. “Those are universal worries. I’ve just felt a bit skittish these days.”
Card held his daughter in his arms, both pair of eyes locked on an image, barely five years old: Card and Faith-Mari, he with a little less gray in his hair, she a confident looking freshman, riding over the desert of New Mexico in a hot-air balloon, nothing but cloudless sky and the mountains behind them.
“I know why you’re worried,” said Card.
Faith-Mari’s eyes widened. “You do?”
“Yeah. Finals are a couple weeks away."
Faith-Mari kept her composure, but she was exhaling deeply inside.
"Then one more semester, and you’re done. Then it’s the real world, smiling at you with all its teeth bared.” Card looked away from the picture. “I wish I could tell you I don’t worry about you when you’re gone. Nothing you could do about that. Just a stubborn protective old man who doesn’t want to realize he’s becoming obsolete.”
Faith-Mari chuckled. “Ah, my father, the Drama king.” She hugged him. “Thanks for letting us come.”
“And thanks for hanging out with a geezer like me,” he said. He began to walk out, holding onto the knob. “Night, angel,” he said, closing the door.
Faith-Mari took a last long glance from her room, then jumped on the bed. For the first time, she thought of what life would be like after the Angels, assuming she made it that far. After the interventions, arrests, and close calls with death, what would she do? Would the everyday be too mundane? Would she fall back into life with no problems? The questions kept running through her head until she slipped into unconsciousness.
She didn’t wake up when Card opened the door, keeping a watchful eye on his daughter.
“What can scare my little girl?” he asked himself before shutting the door again.
Against the wishes of the Hopkins family, Stacy Delfina slept on the futon in the living room, clad in her fake St. Luke's t-shirt and sweatpants. She went to sleep first, exhausted from the flight and the low-level adrenaline of meeting a friend’s family. She dozed soundlessly, her hair extended across her pillow. As she slept, Owen Hopkins came down. The double-stomp given by Stacy and his sister did little to dissuade him. The shootdown didn’t register; to him, she was still the most drop dead gorgeous girl he had ever seen. The seven year age difference was lost to him. As he watched her sleep, heart too still to move, Owen whispered:
“Man, if the girls at St. Luke’s are hotties like you, I am so going there.”
He didn’t notice the faint rattle of the lock until the knob turned.
When the door quietly propped open, Owen took makeshift action. Taking a fireplace poker out of its stand, he tiptoed to the side of the frame. He lifted the poker over his head, ready to strike.
He stopped in midswing, when his eyes caught a glimpse of Honey. When he took in the sight of her uniform, her tights, and her flawless face, he could do nothing else but mouth out a “wow.”
“Thanks,” she whispered. “I get that a lot.” Then she put every ounce of her weight into a right hook that knocked him senseless and out.
The force of the blow woke Stacy from her slumber. “What was that?” she yawned. Her eyes opened to the two wigged assassins, with two silencer pistols aimed at her.
“Oh, sh…” She fell off the futon as bullets ripped into the mattress, sending white fluff flying in the air. They emptied their clips, barely behind Stacy as she ran to the andiron next to the fireplace. She took out a second poker, this one made of brass. She ran to the assailants as they reloaded their pistols. With a swing, she clocked Sugar between the shoulder blades, temporarily dropping her enemy. However, she took her eye off of Honey, who retaliated by hitting Stacy in the back of the head with the butt of her pistol, knocking her out. The standing girl put in a new clip.
“No,” said Sugar. “This one’s mine for ruining my golf swing for the next couple of days.” She placed in her own clip. She aimed square for the base of Stacy’s skull.
The shot went off, but not before Faith-Mari jumped across the futon and tackled Sugar, spearing her to the floor. The errant bullet ricocheted once in the fireplace, then embedded itself harmlessly in the brick.
Faith-Mari got in one, two fists to Sugar’s midriff. Honey ran in from behind, but Faith-Mari held her off with a crescent kick to the collarbone, sending her stumbling away. With a yank of the orange sash, she lifted the dazed woman to her feet. She then grabbed two handfuls of the neckline of the assassin’s purple leotard, bunching up the lycra in her hands.
“Who are you?” she yelled. “Who are you working for?”
“Too bad you’ll never know,” said Honey from behind them, her gun aimed at Faith-Mari’s head. She motioned for Sugar to move out of harm’s way. Wresting herself from the angel’s grip, Sugar stood next to her shorter accomplice.
“And this one’s for stretching out my chick’s outfit.”
The report of a heavy handgun tore through the air, and Honey’s pistol went flying out of her hands. Jumping back, she looked in the direction of the shot.
Card Hopkins stood at the stairwell, sleeping rope tightly tied, smoke billowing out of the .44 Magnum in his right hand. “You’d be smart never to point a gun at my daughter again.”
The two assassins took a step back, then raced out of the house. Card ran after them, Magnum in hand.
“We have to get out of here,” said Faith-Mari. “They’ll be back, and better armed. Stacy, get Owen. Dad, we got to go. Now.”
Card stopped at the front lawn. “Who were they?”
Faith-Mari shook her head as she ushered her dad into the blue Ford Escort wagon. “I don’t know, Dad. But we have to get moving, or we’re dead. “
Stacy carried Owen into the backseat. Faith-Mari got into the driver’s seat, keys in hand. Card ran to the passenger side.
A black sedan turned the corner, heading toward the house.
“Everyone,” whispered Faith-Mari. “Heads down now. They didn’t see us get in the car.”
The sedan pulled up next to the sidewalk of the house. The side windows rolled down, and a Gatling-like turret came out of the opening.
Then the firing came.
With a constant-looking blaze, the gun fired hundreds of rounds into the house per second, shredding the wooden walls. The porch planks went up, staying afloat through multiple shots. Tables collapsed as the legs were blown off from underneath. Windows didn’t merely break. They exploded.
Owen started to scream, but his howls were muffled by the gunfire and Stacy’s hand. Card instinctively kept his arms over his head
Then, after fifteen seconds of hell, the gun stopped. Acrid smoke poured from each of the barrels. The turret went inside, and the window rolled up.
“Now’s our chance,” said Faith-Mari. Turning on the ignition, she rolled the Escort out of the driveway. The sedan moved backward, trying to block its path. With a burst of speed, the station wagon clipped the sedan, knocking it slightly off kilter. Changing gears, Faith-Mari drove forward, pedal straight to the floor.
Faith-Mari took a sharp right, away from the heart of Eau Claire. Heading south, she wanted a road with a lack of complications, and plenty of open space to drive off of in case the need for evasive action arose. She gulped, knowing that was almost a certainty.
She heard the squealing of tires behind them, and knew full well the chase was on.
“Hope you don’t mind slightly overcooked turkey,” said Card as he cut the first slice. “Never really got the culinary skills of the rest of the Hopkins clan.” He delicately placed the slice on Stacy’s plate. “Now Faith-Mari had the magic touch. Heck, even Owen can make some linguica with a kick. But me… just left of center. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Oh, stop with the self-mockery, Pops,” said Faith-Mari. “Every Thanksgiving dinner has been flawless and you know it.”
Card smiled, putting down the knife and brushing an errant crumb from his cardigan sweater. “Well, I thought I’d try the humility bit in front of our guest. Make her not see the pompous Shakespeare teacher within.”
“Well, it worked very well,” said Stacy, waiting for the others to be served.
“I tried my best,” said Card, and the warmth in his eyes almost radiated through his glasses. “Slice, Owen?” He turned to his son just time to miss the kid’s longing glances at Stacy.
“Uh, yeah, sure,” he said, his trance temporarily broken.
Card gave the prayer after the passing of the mashed potatoes, stuffing, and cranberry sauce. “And now, to use Mr. Pugh’s words: O God, when I have food, help me to remember the hungry; When I have work, help me to remember the jobless…”
Stacy was slightly startled out of the prayer when she felt something crawl slowly up her right shin. She looked down, and on her knee, she could see a trembling, but bold finger move across her tights, slightly scratching her tights. For a second, she looked to the next seat. Her eyes met Owen’s for a moment, and then he went back to staring ahead, playing unaware none too well.
Faith-Mari caught Stacy motioning to her with her eyes. At first, she held back a chuckle. She had always been aware of her brother, the wannabe Mr. Smooth. She put a finger up, as if to say: Don’t worry, I got this covered.
With a wry grin, Stacy held Owen’s adventurous hand. She could almost feel his heartrate go past the paper. With her right heel, she ran down Owen’s jeans, down to his left foot. Encouraged by the game of footsies, the kid let loose a smile, until he felt a second foot, also left, meet his foot. He looked across the table to his left. There, he saw Faith-Mari give him a knowing wink.
“By word and deed, those who cry out for what we take for granted, Amen.”
The punctuation was given by the shout of a thirteen year old as two heels pounded down on his left foot at the same time.
“Owen?” asked Card. “Are you all right.”
Owen, biting down on his lip, nodded.
10:45 P.M.
“Do these people ever go to sleep?” asked the passenger in the black Ford sedan, parked a block away from Hopkins’ two-story white Georgian house. Her binocular lens reflected the living room lights. Putting down the glasses, she popped open her alligator-skin handbag and took out a compact. As she made some light touches on her foundation, the driver chuckled.
“Honey, you’re going on an assassination, not prom. Don’t understand why you have go through all of this folderol just to kill someone.”
The passenger took her dabber of foundation and dabbed her taller companion in on the nose. She then looked in her compact. The hot-pink bobbed wig framed a face that skated the edge between adorable and ravishing, with dark, brown, saturnine eyes looking through a lightly tanned Nordic face. She peered at her softly defined cheekbones, at the natural cherry tone of her lips; no Revlon needed there. She smooched at her reflection. She liked what she saw.
“It’s real simple, Sugar,” she said, beaming all the way. “I want my victim to see who killed them. And I want the last face they see in this life to be the most beautiful face they see in this life. A little something to send them into the next life.”
Sugar shook her head, an unbelieving grin peeking through. “So how do you really feel about yourself?”
“I feel perfect,” she said.
The last lights went out in the house.
“About time,” Honey said as she exited the car, her trenchcoat billowing in a fresh gust of wind.
“You do realize that are our targets are chicks, right?” asked Sugar. “They probably aren’t going to be that into you.”
Honey laughed. “Who knows? You ready to rock this joint?”
With a lick of her thumb, Sugar pushed a follicle of her partner’s wig away from her face. “Strand out of place, Little Miss Perfect.”
Honey responded by straightening Sugar’s identical wig, barely off center to the trained eye. “Better a strand than the whole head, my dear.”
They put on black latex gloves that snapped on, then walked to the house. As they walked to the house, they tossed off their trenchcoats. If there was any traffic on this Eau Claire street, the two women would’ve stopped it. They strutted to the house in identical purple scooped-necked leotards that showed the slightest, tempting bit of décolleté. The nylon spandex shimmered, catching every bit of moonlight. The full seats of the leotards complimented and flattered in the way a thong possibly couldn’t. Orange lycra sashes tied around their waists, holding up the holsters that carried their silencer pistols. Rose-colored thigh-high silk stockings that equaled the suits in luster, and ballet slippers that matched the wigs finished the look.
“A time to be born, a time to die,” said Sugar.
“A time to plant, a time to reap,” whispered Honey.
Together, they said under their breath, “A time to kill.” Sugar didn’t see the wide smile on her partner’s face.
Dressed in an oversized red and black flannel shirt, her hands inside the sleeves, Faith-Mari took a look around her old room. Three years. Never would she have suspected that they’d feel like a thousand. With each glance, she tried to recognize the bright-eyed youth in her family photos, as though she were a stranger in her own room. She looked at the high-school pictures, some of theater class, some of her Math Club (president 10, 11, 12), an occasional pic from her swim team. She flicked at the kite she flew as a child, which swayed from the string that tied it to the ceiling. She peered at the late nineties film posters; Snow Falling on Cedars, The Newton Boys, Gattaca.
“You always had a fancy for Ethan Hawke,” said Card, surprising her.
She held her hand to her heart. “Dad, don’t frighten me like that.”
“Frighten you?” Card smiled. “You? The girl I brought up went kayaking on the Colorado at 14? Same girl who went camping hoping to see a grizzly? That girl?”
Faith-Mari sighed. “Those are universal worries. I’ve just felt a bit skittish these days.”
Card held his daughter in his arms, both pair of eyes locked on an image, barely five years old: Card and Faith-Mari, he with a little less gray in his hair, she a confident looking freshman, riding over the desert of New Mexico in a hot-air balloon, nothing but cloudless sky and the mountains behind them.
“I know why you’re worried,” said Card.
Faith-Mari’s eyes widened. “You do?”
“Yeah. Finals are a couple weeks away."
Faith-Mari kept her composure, but she was exhaling deeply inside.
"Then one more semester, and you’re done. Then it’s the real world, smiling at you with all its teeth bared.” Card looked away from the picture. “I wish I could tell you I don’t worry about you when you’re gone. Nothing you could do about that. Just a stubborn protective old man who doesn’t want to realize he’s becoming obsolete.”
Faith-Mari chuckled. “Ah, my father, the Drama king.” She hugged him. “Thanks for letting us come.”
“And thanks for hanging out with a geezer like me,” he said. He began to walk out, holding onto the knob. “Night, angel,” he said, closing the door.
Faith-Mari took a last long glance from her room, then jumped on the bed. For the first time, she thought of what life would be like after the Angels, assuming she made it that far. After the interventions, arrests, and close calls with death, what would she do? Would the everyday be too mundane? Would she fall back into life with no problems? The questions kept running through her head until she slipped into unconsciousness.
She didn’t wake up when Card opened the door, keeping a watchful eye on his daughter.
“What can scare my little girl?” he asked himself before shutting the door again.
Against the wishes of the Hopkins family, Stacy Delfina slept on the futon in the living room, clad in her fake St. Luke's t-shirt and sweatpants. She went to sleep first, exhausted from the flight and the low-level adrenaline of meeting a friend’s family. She dozed soundlessly, her hair extended across her pillow. As she slept, Owen Hopkins came down. The double-stomp given by Stacy and his sister did little to dissuade him. The shootdown didn’t register; to him, she was still the most drop dead gorgeous girl he had ever seen. The seven year age difference was lost to him. As he watched her sleep, heart too still to move, Owen whispered:
“Man, if the girls at St. Luke’s are hotties like you, I am so going there.”
He didn’t notice the faint rattle of the lock until the knob turned.
When the door quietly propped open, Owen took makeshift action. Taking a fireplace poker out of its stand, he tiptoed to the side of the frame. He lifted the poker over his head, ready to strike.
He stopped in midswing, when his eyes caught a glimpse of Honey. When he took in the sight of her uniform, her tights, and her flawless face, he could do nothing else but mouth out a “wow.”
“Thanks,” she whispered. “I get that a lot.” Then she put every ounce of her weight into a right hook that knocked him senseless and out.
The force of the blow woke Stacy from her slumber. “What was that?” she yawned. Her eyes opened to the two wigged assassins, with two silencer pistols aimed at her.
“Oh, sh…” She fell off the futon as bullets ripped into the mattress, sending white fluff flying in the air. They emptied their clips, barely behind Stacy as she ran to the andiron next to the fireplace. She took out a second poker, this one made of brass. She ran to the assailants as they reloaded their pistols. With a swing, she clocked Sugar between the shoulder blades, temporarily dropping her enemy. However, she took her eye off of Honey, who retaliated by hitting Stacy in the back of the head with the butt of her pistol, knocking her out. The standing girl put in a new clip.
“No,” said Sugar. “This one’s mine for ruining my golf swing for the next couple of days.” She placed in her own clip. She aimed square for the base of Stacy’s skull.
The shot went off, but not before Faith-Mari jumped across the futon and tackled Sugar, spearing her to the floor. The errant bullet ricocheted once in the fireplace, then embedded itself harmlessly in the brick.
Faith-Mari got in one, two fists to Sugar’s midriff. Honey ran in from behind, but Faith-Mari held her off with a crescent kick to the collarbone, sending her stumbling away. With a yank of the orange sash, she lifted the dazed woman to her feet. She then grabbed two handfuls of the neckline of the assassin’s purple leotard, bunching up the lycra in her hands.
“Who are you?” she yelled. “Who are you working for?”
“Too bad you’ll never know,” said Honey from behind them, her gun aimed at Faith-Mari’s head. She motioned for Sugar to move out of harm’s way. Wresting herself from the angel’s grip, Sugar stood next to her shorter accomplice.
“And this one’s for stretching out my chick’s outfit.”
The report of a heavy handgun tore through the air, and Honey’s pistol went flying out of her hands. Jumping back, she looked in the direction of the shot.
Card Hopkins stood at the stairwell, sleeping rope tightly tied, smoke billowing out of the .44 Magnum in his right hand. “You’d be smart never to point a gun at my daughter again.”
The two assassins took a step back, then raced out of the house. Card ran after them, Magnum in hand.
“We have to get out of here,” said Faith-Mari. “They’ll be back, and better armed. Stacy, get Owen. Dad, we got to go. Now.”
Card stopped at the front lawn. “Who were they?”
Faith-Mari shook her head as she ushered her dad into the blue Ford Escort wagon. “I don’t know, Dad. But we have to get moving, or we’re dead. “
Stacy carried Owen into the backseat. Faith-Mari got into the driver’s seat, keys in hand. Card ran to the passenger side.
A black sedan turned the corner, heading toward the house.
“Everyone,” whispered Faith-Mari. “Heads down now. They didn’t see us get in the car.”
The sedan pulled up next to the sidewalk of the house. The side windows rolled down, and a Gatling-like turret came out of the opening.
Then the firing came.
With a constant-looking blaze, the gun fired hundreds of rounds into the house per second, shredding the wooden walls. The porch planks went up, staying afloat through multiple shots. Tables collapsed as the legs were blown off from underneath. Windows didn’t merely break. They exploded.
Owen started to scream, but his howls were muffled by the gunfire and Stacy’s hand. Card instinctively kept his arms over his head
Then, after fifteen seconds of hell, the gun stopped. Acrid smoke poured from each of the barrels. The turret went inside, and the window rolled up.
“Now’s our chance,” said Faith-Mari. Turning on the ignition, she rolled the Escort out of the driveway. The sedan moved backward, trying to block its path. With a burst of speed, the station wagon clipped the sedan, knocking it slightly off kilter. Changing gears, Faith-Mari drove forward, pedal straight to the floor.
Faith-Mari took a sharp right, away from the heart of Eau Claire. Heading south, she wanted a road with a lack of complications, and plenty of open space to drive off of in case the need for evasive action arose. She gulped, knowing that was almost a certainty.
She heard the squealing of tires behind them, and knew full well the chase was on.
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phoxy_brown
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superpics4les
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The Great Dutch Ninja
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Chapter 4 (Karla's Thanksgiving)
Thanks for the comments. Hope the rest of it is to up to snuff for you.
****
Her head stiff with pain, Karla Lee woke up, sitting at the end of her dining room table. She opened her eyes to a bright red tablespread, freshly cooked turkey in the center, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, a plate of vegetables, and a centerpiece of roses.
From across the hall, she could see Nathaniel Quist washing dishes. His tuxedo coat hung on the chair opposite hers.
“Nathan?” she asked, still groggy.
Quist turned off the spigot. He turned around and smiled. “Hello there, sleeping beauty.” He walked to the table. Karla felt an unusual mix of elation and fear. How was he doing this?
“I should’ve called you, maybe told you I was coming over. But it wouldn’t have made the surprise any less potent.”
Karla blinked. “You used the book, didn’t you?”
Walking around the table, Quist scooped up a dollop of mashed potatoes and gently placed it on Karla’s plate. “It wasn’t really a book. It was more of a key, the active part of our technological breakthrough. Sure, it could work by itself, as we found out through poor Penelope Drummond. But it worked better with the other components. You had to write in the book before. With the Neuron Mover, who needs writing? The synapses work within the body, builds a stronger bridge. The natural bridge may be broken by birth defects, paralysis…” He paused for effect. “Failed missions.”
“You had JANUS build this for your own purposes?” Karla asked.
Quist laughed. “Not just for me. I was a willing test rabbit. Imagine a military where injured soldiers could be brought back from what was once permanent injury. Envision a world where the workforce can remain productive and vital, maintaining what was once an unthinkable efficiency. The Neuron Mover will soon be a gift to the world.” He took a carving knife, with a metal handle, and cut himself a couple of slices of turkey. He attempted to let go of the knife when he was done, but the metal handle stuck to his hand. With a greater effort, he let go, and the knife hit the tablespread with a dull thud.
“Could’ve used it from our brawl with Cyan McCullers’ army,” Karla said.
The JANUS director shook his head. “Wasn’t quite complete. But if there are any angels with their wings clipped, JANUS would be more than happy to grow them back.”
Karla got up and put her finger over Quist’s lips. “Not quite yet. I think Julian and I would need a few more successful adventures first before we put any of our girls in there.”
Quist shivered at her touch. He remained silent for a few seconds as he soaked in Karla’s eyes. They still had the same heaviness as when he was in his wheelchair. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” said Karla as she picked up a carrot stick from the vegetable tray.
“After the accident, did you ever give me a second thought?”
The carrot stick fell out of her hands. “You even need to ask? Nathan, I thought you died.” She exhaled slowly. “There wasn’t a day where you weren’t in my thoughts.”
Quist from his chair. He could not look away from her. He never wanted to break this gaze. With one step forward, he held her in his arms for as long as he could, as hard as he could. “I missed you, Karla. And all those years don’t add up to anything. You still look amazing. I know you fainted when you saw me just now, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t almost join you. You still make me light-headed, girl.” He kissed her on the cheek, and her skin was almost sweet to the touch.
All of a sudden, the feelings Quist had were reciprocated in Karla. “Follow me,” she said.
From Eau Claire, I-94 was free of cities until Madison, 175 miles away. Plenty of open road and rural highway. Not the most scenic of routes (flat dairy farms and wheatfields all around), but Faith-Mari Hopkins needed the room to drive. And she wasn’t about the open the way for collateral damage, should the two assassins try to mow them down.
“How far are they?” Owen asked, his head still lowered beneath the seat in the back.
“Couple of hundred feet, kiddo. Don’t worry about them. We’re going to get away.” She looked to Stacy, and her face told a less confident story.
The sound of sirens blasted through the open air, and Faith-Mari looked into the rearview. Two Wisconsin State Patrol vehicles were in route, behind the black sedan.
“No,” said Faith-Mari. “Please stay out of this, officers. Turn around.” She knew they weren’t about to do that. She could only hope they wouldn’t be seriously hurt.
“Why not?” asked Card. “They can help, can’t they? Arrest these crazy people who are trying to kill us?”
Faith-Mari wanted to tell him that these assassins bowed to no authority, were not beholden to the police, had a different sense of law. But she told him nothing. Silent, she continued driving.
Sugar looked in her rearview. “Company.”
The head police car, blue with a white horizontal stripe, rammed the back of the sedan, knocking it slightly off course.
“Careful,” said Honey. “Make sure they don’t nudge you off.” She unbuckled her seat belt and reached for the briefcase next to the Gatling gun. She opened the buckles as the police car nudged the sedan again.
“Hurry up,” said Sugar. “He keeps doing this, we’re going to spin out.”
“I’m on it.” Honey put together the components of her Shoulder-Launched Multipurpose Assault Weapon. Made in the 1980s, the SMAW has a range of 500m, with the ability to stop a tank. Some might say that using it against a Ford Crown Victoria might be overkill.
Honey rolled up the sunroof, standing on her seat. She honed in on the front cruiser. Even in the night, she could see the faces of the officers go from confident to terrified in a blink.
“I know,” said Honey. “I get that a lot.” She pulled the trigger. A plume of smoke blew out from the rear of the SMAW, and the rocket bee-lined into the engine block of the cruiser. The front of the car exploded into flames, and Honey ducked back into the sedan to avoid any debris. The leading cop car went end over end from the sudden stop of forward motion, and the trunk of the car flipped over the burning engine block until it landed, upside-down.
The second police car never stood a chance. At pursuit speed, it slammed into the flaming billows of the front car, adding to the twisted metal and melting lights.
Honey re-buckled her seat belt. “Give me a minute to re-load.” She reached into the back for another missile.
Owen Hopkins looked back in terror. He had decided to watch the cops bust the two girls who attacked his family. He wished he had never gotten up. "They just blew up the cops!”
Stacy held onto him. “But they’re not going to get us.”
Card gasped. “How can you say that? They just used a rocket launcher! The next one may be for us.”
“The next one will be for us,” said Faith-Mari. “Which is why we need to do this now. Dad, give Stacy the gun.”
Without hesitation, Card handed over the Magnum. “Why can’t I use it?”
“Because Stacy’s experienced at this. You’re not.” Even with her life in mortal danger, Faith-Mari bit her lip. She knew she had just let something out of the bag.
“What?” asked Card as Stacy rolled up her backseat window. She was half out of the car when she saw Honey came back up from the sunroof, fresh SMAW in hand. With pinpoint aim, Stacy shot out the front left tire. The left headlight of the sedan lowered until it hit the ground, shooting off a brief display of sparks. Honey quickly got back inside and buckled her seatbelt.
The momentum did the rest, and the sedan somersaulted, side-to-side, until it crashed against a tree near the left shoulder. The wrecked car propped itself against the birch, front tires pointing skyward.
The angel brought herself back in the car and handed the Magnum back to Card. “Thanks.”
In disbelief, Card looked at Stacy, then at the wreckage behind him. “How did you do that?”
Stacy shook her head. “Comes naturally, I guess. Faith, where to?”
Faith-Mari kept her eyes on the road. “We need to get to Langley. We’ll be safe there.”
“Langley?” asked Card. “Who’s that?” He watched as his daughter sighed.
“Not who, Dad. Where. We’re going to Virginia.”
“Why?” Card asked. “What’s there?”
Honey woke up to the creaks and scrapes of the totaled sedan. She groaned as she felt the weight of the world on her ribs.
She looked to her left. Sugar was sliding out of the driver’s door. “Honey, you need to get out. Candy will be here with a ride in a minute. But the cops will be here any minute. And I don’t want to spend any more time in Wisconsin than I have to.”
Honey croaked out an affirmative. Then she saw her reflection. Her perfect lips, dabbed in blood. Her perfect cheekbones, bruised in uniform purple. Her perfect skin, cut. With a scream, she grabbed onto a small shard of glass from her chin and pulled it out, yelling as it fell out.
“I’ll kill them!” she yelled. “My face! I’ll kill them all!”
Nathaniel Quist waited in Karla Lee’s bedroom, sitting on the comforter, his hands shaking with anticipation.
“What are you doing in there?” he asked to the locked bathroom.
“Something you’ll appreciate, I think,” Karla said from inside.
Quickly, Quist moved up to the mirror behind her bureau. He checked his hair (thinner than 20 years ago, but still there, and in perfect place). Not a speck on his face. Teeth as white as his fear of disappointing her.
He put his hands on the oak bureau, next to a pile of change, mostly pennies and nickels. “You should get a bottle or cup for all this change,” he said. He looked down, and noticed that a penny and a nickel moved so slightly, almost unnoticeable, toward his hand. He backed away, and the movement stopped.
Weird, he thought to himself. But any bewilderment he had was blown away when the lights went off in the bathroom, and the door opened.
Leaning against the frame, come hither eyes glaring behind the mask, clad in her Blue Angels uniform, Karla blew a kiss in Nathaniel Quist’s direction.
He almost collapsed, but he held himself together. He knew she could see him trying, unsuccessfully, to get his breathing under wraps. But he didn’t care. He marched to her side, gently held her by the shoulders, moved her against the beige bedroom wall, and kissed her on the lips, with all the force that twenty years of loneliness could give. She tried to equal his tenacity, but he could feel his kiss sucking the air out of her lungs. When he felt faint, he let go, admiring Karla’s beauty. The ANGELS director sucked in a breath, then exhaled.
“Wow,” she whispered. She walked up to Quist, caressing his face. She moved in for a kiss, but he held her back.
“Not yet,” he said. He touched the sides of her mask, then slid it off the top of her head. The string gave way, and Karla’s long brunette hair cascaded over her shoulders.
“My God, you haven’t aged a day,” he said.
“Well, I have to let the girls know that age isn’t an excuse,” she said, trying not to blush. “Besides, I put in a couple hours a day so I can keep the same leotard and tights that I’ve had since ‘86. It better be worth it. Now whose idea was it to put a covert team of female agents in spandex and nylon? Oh wait, it was you.”
Quist laughed. “Thought it would make a nice distraction for the enemy.”
Karla laughed. “And I’ll say the same thing I did twenty years ago. I’m supposed to believe your personal fetishes had nothing whatsoever to do with it? And that’s why you designed your JANUS uniforms to be Lycra catsuits. Only for enemy distraction.”
“Hey,” said Quist, a sly smile across his face. “Whatever I get out of it is merely… an ancillary benefit.”
Without thinking, Karla grabbed two handfuls of Quist’s tuxedo shirt. “Well, we’re going to have to work on making it primary.” She kissed him, and Quist cradled her up in his arms. He laid her down gently on the comforter, then kissed her firmly on the neck, feeling her heartbeat, accelerating even as he let go.
Lindsey O’Riordan watched from her telescope as Nathaniel Quist and Karla Lee made love for the first time in two decades. She felt her grip on the telescope tighten as Karla came out of the bathroom. She turned away as Quist explored Karla through her uniform.
Walking back to her VW Beetle, she shook her hand in disbelief. What did that old director from ANGELS have that she didn’t? Lindsey had youth, exuberance, beauty, enthusiasm, and genuine love on her side. What was she doing wrong?
She ran up to the stop sign and smashed the telescope against the metal pole. Leaving it behind, she slipped back into the red Beetle and took off for HQ, strange tears running down her cheeks.
****
Her head stiff with pain, Karla Lee woke up, sitting at the end of her dining room table. She opened her eyes to a bright red tablespread, freshly cooked turkey in the center, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, a plate of vegetables, and a centerpiece of roses.
From across the hall, she could see Nathaniel Quist washing dishes. His tuxedo coat hung on the chair opposite hers.
“Nathan?” she asked, still groggy.
Quist turned off the spigot. He turned around and smiled. “Hello there, sleeping beauty.” He walked to the table. Karla felt an unusual mix of elation and fear. How was he doing this?
“I should’ve called you, maybe told you I was coming over. But it wouldn’t have made the surprise any less potent.”
Karla blinked. “You used the book, didn’t you?”
Walking around the table, Quist scooped up a dollop of mashed potatoes and gently placed it on Karla’s plate. “It wasn’t really a book. It was more of a key, the active part of our technological breakthrough. Sure, it could work by itself, as we found out through poor Penelope Drummond. But it worked better with the other components. You had to write in the book before. With the Neuron Mover, who needs writing? The synapses work within the body, builds a stronger bridge. The natural bridge may be broken by birth defects, paralysis…” He paused for effect. “Failed missions.”
“You had JANUS build this for your own purposes?” Karla asked.
Quist laughed. “Not just for me. I was a willing test rabbit. Imagine a military where injured soldiers could be brought back from what was once permanent injury. Envision a world where the workforce can remain productive and vital, maintaining what was once an unthinkable efficiency. The Neuron Mover will soon be a gift to the world.” He took a carving knife, with a metal handle, and cut himself a couple of slices of turkey. He attempted to let go of the knife when he was done, but the metal handle stuck to his hand. With a greater effort, he let go, and the knife hit the tablespread with a dull thud.
“Could’ve used it from our brawl with Cyan McCullers’ army,” Karla said.
The JANUS director shook his head. “Wasn’t quite complete. But if there are any angels with their wings clipped, JANUS would be more than happy to grow them back.”
Karla got up and put her finger over Quist’s lips. “Not quite yet. I think Julian and I would need a few more successful adventures first before we put any of our girls in there.”
Quist shivered at her touch. He remained silent for a few seconds as he soaked in Karla’s eyes. They still had the same heaviness as when he was in his wheelchair. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” said Karla as she picked up a carrot stick from the vegetable tray.
“After the accident, did you ever give me a second thought?”
The carrot stick fell out of her hands. “You even need to ask? Nathan, I thought you died.” She exhaled slowly. “There wasn’t a day where you weren’t in my thoughts.”
Quist from his chair. He could not look away from her. He never wanted to break this gaze. With one step forward, he held her in his arms for as long as he could, as hard as he could. “I missed you, Karla. And all those years don’t add up to anything. You still look amazing. I know you fainted when you saw me just now, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t almost join you. You still make me light-headed, girl.” He kissed her on the cheek, and her skin was almost sweet to the touch.
All of a sudden, the feelings Quist had were reciprocated in Karla. “Follow me,” she said.
From Eau Claire, I-94 was free of cities until Madison, 175 miles away. Plenty of open road and rural highway. Not the most scenic of routes (flat dairy farms and wheatfields all around), but Faith-Mari Hopkins needed the room to drive. And she wasn’t about the open the way for collateral damage, should the two assassins try to mow them down.
“How far are they?” Owen asked, his head still lowered beneath the seat in the back.
“Couple of hundred feet, kiddo. Don’t worry about them. We’re going to get away.” She looked to Stacy, and her face told a less confident story.
The sound of sirens blasted through the open air, and Faith-Mari looked into the rearview. Two Wisconsin State Patrol vehicles were in route, behind the black sedan.
“No,” said Faith-Mari. “Please stay out of this, officers. Turn around.” She knew they weren’t about to do that. She could only hope they wouldn’t be seriously hurt.
“Why not?” asked Card. “They can help, can’t they? Arrest these crazy people who are trying to kill us?”
Faith-Mari wanted to tell him that these assassins bowed to no authority, were not beholden to the police, had a different sense of law. But she told him nothing. Silent, she continued driving.
Sugar looked in her rearview. “Company.”
The head police car, blue with a white horizontal stripe, rammed the back of the sedan, knocking it slightly off course.
“Careful,” said Honey. “Make sure they don’t nudge you off.” She unbuckled her seat belt and reached for the briefcase next to the Gatling gun. She opened the buckles as the police car nudged the sedan again.
“Hurry up,” said Sugar. “He keeps doing this, we’re going to spin out.”
“I’m on it.” Honey put together the components of her Shoulder-Launched Multipurpose Assault Weapon. Made in the 1980s, the SMAW has a range of 500m, with the ability to stop a tank. Some might say that using it against a Ford Crown Victoria might be overkill.
Honey rolled up the sunroof, standing on her seat. She honed in on the front cruiser. Even in the night, she could see the faces of the officers go from confident to terrified in a blink.
“I know,” said Honey. “I get that a lot.” She pulled the trigger. A plume of smoke blew out from the rear of the SMAW, and the rocket bee-lined into the engine block of the cruiser. The front of the car exploded into flames, and Honey ducked back into the sedan to avoid any debris. The leading cop car went end over end from the sudden stop of forward motion, and the trunk of the car flipped over the burning engine block until it landed, upside-down.
The second police car never stood a chance. At pursuit speed, it slammed into the flaming billows of the front car, adding to the twisted metal and melting lights.
Honey re-buckled her seat belt. “Give me a minute to re-load.” She reached into the back for another missile.
Owen Hopkins looked back in terror. He had decided to watch the cops bust the two girls who attacked his family. He wished he had never gotten up. "They just blew up the cops!”
Stacy held onto him. “But they’re not going to get us.”
Card gasped. “How can you say that? They just used a rocket launcher! The next one may be for us.”
“The next one will be for us,” said Faith-Mari. “Which is why we need to do this now. Dad, give Stacy the gun.”
Without hesitation, Card handed over the Magnum. “Why can’t I use it?”
“Because Stacy’s experienced at this. You’re not.” Even with her life in mortal danger, Faith-Mari bit her lip. She knew she had just let something out of the bag.
“What?” asked Card as Stacy rolled up her backseat window. She was half out of the car when she saw Honey came back up from the sunroof, fresh SMAW in hand. With pinpoint aim, Stacy shot out the front left tire. The left headlight of the sedan lowered until it hit the ground, shooting off a brief display of sparks. Honey quickly got back inside and buckled her seatbelt.
The momentum did the rest, and the sedan somersaulted, side-to-side, until it crashed against a tree near the left shoulder. The wrecked car propped itself against the birch, front tires pointing skyward.
The angel brought herself back in the car and handed the Magnum back to Card. “Thanks.”
In disbelief, Card looked at Stacy, then at the wreckage behind him. “How did you do that?”
Stacy shook her head. “Comes naturally, I guess. Faith, where to?”
Faith-Mari kept her eyes on the road. “We need to get to Langley. We’ll be safe there.”
“Langley?” asked Card. “Who’s that?” He watched as his daughter sighed.
“Not who, Dad. Where. We’re going to Virginia.”
“Why?” Card asked. “What’s there?”
Honey woke up to the creaks and scrapes of the totaled sedan. She groaned as she felt the weight of the world on her ribs.
She looked to her left. Sugar was sliding out of the driver’s door. “Honey, you need to get out. Candy will be here with a ride in a minute. But the cops will be here any minute. And I don’t want to spend any more time in Wisconsin than I have to.”
Honey croaked out an affirmative. Then she saw her reflection. Her perfect lips, dabbed in blood. Her perfect cheekbones, bruised in uniform purple. Her perfect skin, cut. With a scream, she grabbed onto a small shard of glass from her chin and pulled it out, yelling as it fell out.
“I’ll kill them!” she yelled. “My face! I’ll kill them all!”
Nathaniel Quist waited in Karla Lee’s bedroom, sitting on the comforter, his hands shaking with anticipation.
“What are you doing in there?” he asked to the locked bathroom.
“Something you’ll appreciate, I think,” Karla said from inside.
Quickly, Quist moved up to the mirror behind her bureau. He checked his hair (thinner than 20 years ago, but still there, and in perfect place). Not a speck on his face. Teeth as white as his fear of disappointing her.
He put his hands on the oak bureau, next to a pile of change, mostly pennies and nickels. “You should get a bottle or cup for all this change,” he said. He looked down, and noticed that a penny and a nickel moved so slightly, almost unnoticeable, toward his hand. He backed away, and the movement stopped.
Weird, he thought to himself. But any bewilderment he had was blown away when the lights went off in the bathroom, and the door opened.
Leaning against the frame, come hither eyes glaring behind the mask, clad in her Blue Angels uniform, Karla blew a kiss in Nathaniel Quist’s direction.
He almost collapsed, but he held himself together. He knew she could see him trying, unsuccessfully, to get his breathing under wraps. But he didn’t care. He marched to her side, gently held her by the shoulders, moved her against the beige bedroom wall, and kissed her on the lips, with all the force that twenty years of loneliness could give. She tried to equal his tenacity, but he could feel his kiss sucking the air out of her lungs. When he felt faint, he let go, admiring Karla’s beauty. The ANGELS director sucked in a breath, then exhaled.
“Wow,” she whispered. She walked up to Quist, caressing his face. She moved in for a kiss, but he held her back.
“Not yet,” he said. He touched the sides of her mask, then slid it off the top of her head. The string gave way, and Karla’s long brunette hair cascaded over her shoulders.
“My God, you haven’t aged a day,” he said.
“Well, I have to let the girls know that age isn’t an excuse,” she said, trying not to blush. “Besides, I put in a couple hours a day so I can keep the same leotard and tights that I’ve had since ‘86. It better be worth it. Now whose idea was it to put a covert team of female agents in spandex and nylon? Oh wait, it was you.”
Quist laughed. “Thought it would make a nice distraction for the enemy.”
Karla laughed. “And I’ll say the same thing I did twenty years ago. I’m supposed to believe your personal fetishes had nothing whatsoever to do with it? And that’s why you designed your JANUS uniforms to be Lycra catsuits. Only for enemy distraction.”
“Hey,” said Quist, a sly smile across his face. “Whatever I get out of it is merely… an ancillary benefit.”
Without thinking, Karla grabbed two handfuls of Quist’s tuxedo shirt. “Well, we’re going to have to work on making it primary.” She kissed him, and Quist cradled her up in his arms. He laid her down gently on the comforter, then kissed her firmly on the neck, feeling her heartbeat, accelerating even as he let go.
Lindsey O’Riordan watched from her telescope as Nathaniel Quist and Karla Lee made love for the first time in two decades. She felt her grip on the telescope tighten as Karla came out of the bathroom. She turned away as Quist explored Karla through her uniform.
Walking back to her VW Beetle, she shook her hand in disbelief. What did that old director from ANGELS have that she didn’t? Lindsey had youth, exuberance, beauty, enthusiasm, and genuine love on her side. What was she doing wrong?
She ran up to the stop sign and smashed the telescope against the metal pole. Leaving it behind, she slipped back into the red Beetle and took off for HQ, strange tears running down her cheeks.
Last edited by The Great Dutch Ninja 20 years ago, edited 1 time in total.
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superpics4les
- Elder Member
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- Joined: 21 years ago
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The Great Dutch Ninja
- Henchman
- Posts: 53
- Joined: 22 years ago
- Location: Medford, MA
Part Five
Karla Lee woke up smiling on Friday morning. She stared into space, letting the events of the last night sink in. She held herself, pleasantly shivering at the thoughts.
The smells and sounds of sizzling bacon emanated through the bedroom. Footsteps echoed from the kitchen.
“You don’t have to make breakfast, Nathan. I’m due at work for 9. I’ll be lucky to have enough time to get showered and dressed.” Karla quickly tossed the sheets and ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
“Oh, I think you’ll want to stick around for this.”
She heard him walk into the bedroom. As he stopped, Nathan broke into an off-key rendition of “She Drives Me Crazy” by the Fine Young Cannibals.
Oh, you poor man. We need to get you to a record store, she thought to herself as she showered. Even this new emo music that the kids like today would be better.
She walked into the kitchen, dressed in her conventional blue pantsuit, and saw a fresh masterpiece of Eggs Florentine.
“You still remembered,” she said. “When did I tell you that this was my favorite?”
Nathaniel set up his own plate. “Around the time we were trainees. When was that? ’71, ’72? Back when Nixon was king, disco was a twinkle in some dance hall’s eye, and people didn’t have total mistrust of their government.”
Karla picked up her fine china, eggs and all. “So, what do you have to tell me? I may have to take this on the go. I’m late as it as.”
“So have I,” said Nathaniel. “I’m twenty years late.” He rose from his chair, and Karla noted the quick breaths, the fidgety hands.
“So… what’s up?”
Nathaniel gave a weak, wounded smile. “Do you know what that wheelchair was to me? It was regret. Every day in that chair, I would go through my head, thinking about what I wanted to do, and what I wished I could’ve done. If you were to have told me that I would’ve experienced last night, I would’ve yelled you out of my office. How dare you try to give me false hope. But with the technology, with the book key, the device, I’m back again. And the last thing I want to leave when I’m gone for good is a second wave of regret.”
He bent down on one knee. In his right hand was a blue velvet clamshell, with a single, sparkling diamond ring. Without thinking, Karla took a step backward.
“No more wasted time, Karla. No more regrets. Karla Lee, will you be my wife?”
Karla held her hand over her mouth.
“Oh, Nathan. Nathan, why so soon?”
His face dropping into a mask of confusion, he rose to his feet.
“So soon? Karla, you had to have known. I was going to ask you when I got back from the Ukraine mission. And nothing has changed.”
“Everything’s changed,” said Karla. “You just came back into my life days ago. And you want me to make this decision now, while I’m stretched for time. Nathan, I love you, but couldn’t we learn more about each other first?”
“What is there to learn? You know me.”
“Do I?” Karla took another step back, and another, until her back hit the door to the main foyer. “I know you must have had this is in your mind for a long time, but you can’t expect me to answer you. I love you, Nathan, but I can’t just now.”
Nathan closed his hand around the clamshell. The slight snap reverberated through the two minds more than it did through the kitchen walls.
“You don’t know anything,” said Nathaniel. “Twenty years in a chair can be forever. I am fifty-four years old.”
“Same as me,” said Karla.
“You didn’t have half of your life ripped away from you!” Nathan grabbed his plate and tossed his Eggs Florentine in the wastebasket. “I hope you enjoy saving the world for the rest of your days, because the world gives you nothing in return. I give you something. And I created this machine, and used all of that energy just so I could be with you.”
“Energy?” asked Karla.
Then it all clicked.
“You browned out our memory cards,” said Karla. “You destroyed our firewalls.”
“And if I did?”
Karla walked up to Nathan, until she was staring straight up into his face. “Then all of my girls are in danger. Who knows? Somebody may already be targeting them. So if you’ll excuse me, I have to fix the mess you made.” She slammed the foyer door behind her.
“The mess I made?” Nathaniel yelled. “I only wanted to walk again!” He slammed the china plate to the floor, and the impact made dozens of shards.
He heard her car drive off to Langley. He screamed out into nothing, little noticing that the plate pieces, only inches from his feet, began to implode into themselves, crumpling and letting off little fissures of light.
The rest of the ride in the wagon took on a crushingly heavy air of silence. Card and Owen asked the same litany of questions over and over. Where did you learn to shoot a gun? Did you know those girls who tried to kill us? Are those cops dead? Why are they after us? After the continued tight-lipped treatment, the Hopkins family and Stacy played the quiet game to O’Hare Airport.
Card insisted they couldn’t get seats with this short notice, but was stymied when Faith-Mari and Stacy flashed some strange, blue badges at airport security. Before he knew it, the two girls returned with four passes for the next flight to Dulles, free of charge.
“How did you do that?” asked Owen. “And why don’t you do it every time we go on vacation?”
“Because we aren’t shot at every time we go on vacation,” Faith-Mari said, straight faced.
“What do we do, boss?” asked Stacy.
“Before we leave, call Karla. If you can’t get her, get Addison if he’s back from the hospital. Let him know we’re cutting the weekend a bit short, and that somebody knows who we are. Maybe we’ll find out what’s going on.”
As Stacy ran to the pay phones, Faith-Mari turned to her family. Even after a two-hour drive, she hadn’t gotten used to the wild-eyed fear that shined from her father, her only brother.
“I don’t know who they were, and that’s God’s honest truth.”
Shaking his head, Card took off his glasses. “You seemed to have everything under control. I wouldn’t know what to do if I was being chased by an armory on wheels, but you did. Now how did that come to be?”
Faith-Mari smiled sadly. “There are some things about my life of which you may not be fully aware.”
“No kidding,” said Owen.
The intercom of the airport blared out the first boarding call for the flight to Dulles.
“I don’t know what to believe, kiddo,” said Card. “What have you been doing all this time?”
Before Faith-Mari could answer, Stacy ran up to her. “Bad news.”
“How bad?”
“Fatal, perhaps,” said Stacy. “There was a power outage at HQ. The firewalls to the computers were blown out. They’ve fixed it now, but a lot of information was unprotected. Someone probably got a hold of personnel files. Someone like…”
“Spencer Remington,” said Faith-Mari.
“Guess he wanted to pay us back.” Stacy spun around the terminal, looking for anyone suspicious. “Think there’s anyone here watching us?”
“After the crash those two had, I’d doubt it. But doubt isn’t strong enough.” Together, the group walked to the waiting jumbo jet, the two angels keeping an eye on everything the whole way.
****
“Unbelievable.” Candy shook her head as her two cohorts walked into the private jet. Dressed in the same uniform as Sugar and Honey, she looked away from the beat-up assassins.
“Don’t say anything,” said Sugar. “I told you strength in numbers would’ve worked. If you had gotten off your butt and gone with us, you could’ve taken out Grandpa and this would be a done deal. But no. The leader never goes. Just send the henchwomen.”
Candy smiled. “So you’re not up to the challenge?”
“Oh, we’re up to it.” Sugar bit her lip, knowing she didn’t look the part.
“Yeah,” Candy said, laughing. “You’re never going to get the grass and oil stains out of that leotard. And blood all over your stockings. Respect for the uniform, chick. That’s coming out of both your paychecks, you do realize that?”
“Whatever,” said Sugar. In the ensuing silence, both the elder leader and the sidekick realized Honey’s silence.
“What’s with her?” asked Candy.
Sugar sighed. “Like you don’t know.”
As the plane took off, the television set embedded in the cabin wall flickered on. The visage of Spencer Remington appeared, seated at his desk from his “undisclosed location.” Evermonde towered behind him.
“Go, Mr. R,” said Candy.
Spencer looked as if a blood vessel were ready to burst in his face. “I guess I don’t have to go through the whole spiel about disappointment, about my anger that Hopkins and Delfina haven’t kicked their breathing habit. So instead, I’ve decided to be an impromptu professor on economics.”
“Oh, brother,” said Sugar.
“Oh, brother is right,” said Remington as he stood up from his chair. “Victor?”
As the camera panned back, Evermonde walked to a graph chart, complete with a green and red line. The green mark went upward as the x axis went to the right, and the red line followed at the y-axis value of zero.
“The graph clearly illustrates that I’m not getting my money’s worth. The more cabbage I send your way for your services, the same amount of service I receive, which is to say, none at all. Now, I’m giving you this one opportunity. You’re going to Langley, and I don’t give a good damn if you have to break in to CIA Headquarters. You’re going to bring those two nosy little kittens to me.”
Evermonde tossed aside the poster of the graph, revealing a blown-up picture of the two angels, in uniform, with bulls-eyes superimposed on their faces.
“Here ends the lesson,” said Remington, and the TV screen went blank.
Even through the abrasions and cuts, the look of incredulity on Sugar’s face was evident. “He wants us to break into Langley? We’re assassins, not spies.”
“Yeah, but I’m not losing 400 grand because of failure. The Sweetness has never come up short. We have never aborted a mission. And I don’t feel like starting now.”
Sugar shrugged. “But how are we going to do it?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll think of something,” said Candy, frustration visible in her scowl.
“Like what? Wire clippers? Are we going to break into Central Intelligence with a paper clip?”
With a scream, Honey stood up from her chair. “Shut the hell up! Both of you!”
Candy turned around to face her charge. “Excuse me? Did you forget who you’re talking to?”
“No, but maybe you’ve forgotten who got victimized tonight,” said Honey. She ran fingers down the scabs of her facial wounds. “We’re going to Langley, and that’s it. And when I get there, I’m putting both of their heads on stakes.” She sat down back in her seat, arms crossed over her chest. Unblinking, she stared forward, pupils dilated, brows furrowed.
“Discussion over.”
****
Nathaniel Quist entered HQ without casting so much as a glance over at the elevator to ANGELS. He knew the chances of seeing Karla was next to nil, but he made it a point not to look. He noticed the looks of agents from other departments as he walked across the main atrium. He didn’t care that those who knew of his existence saw him marching upright. No need to keep it a secret. Let them wonder how he did it.
He took the elevator to JANUS HQ. Those who hadn’t seen him since the brownout gaped as he strode past the consoles. He paid no heed to them, nor to the giant screens. Everyday for the past twenty years, he would check on global chatter first. Many of the deployed agent locations beamed as red dots on the map, indicating their request for his attention. Without a word, he walked into the Science Department.
“So, how was your day whoring?” he heard Lindsey O’Riordan ask as he closed the door behind him. He began to turn to the agent, but was almost yanked off his feet as his hand bonded to the door. He grabbed at his arm, trying to pull the attraction apart. Finally, with his foot propped against the handle, he pulled his hand off the metal. He looked at his palm, which glowed red with agitation.
“What is wrong with you?” asked Lindsey. “First you reject me, and then you go with the old lady? Before the book incident, she hadn’t seen you since Max Headroom was in style. She doesn’t know you anymore, sir.”
Quist walked toward her, but Lindsey didn’t stop. “And you know you can’t trust her. What did she find out about JANUS, sir? She’s a stranger, Nathan. She’s…”
Without breaking stride, Quist placed one hand around her throat and proceeded to lift her off the ground. He only stopped when the wall stood in his way. Pinning Lindsey against the fresh paint, Quist stared her down. For an instant, he thought he heard himself growling.
“She is the only one who ever knew me. And it’d be very good for your health never to talk about her again.”
Lindsey kicked and flailed as the grip around her neck tightened. Even as her air supply choked off, she was more scared by the feel of her boss’s hand. The texture wasn’t of flesh, but of steel.
His teeth gnashing, Quist released his grip. Slowly, Lindsey slid down the wall and collapsed on all fours, her garrison cap falling off her head, her tightly bunned hair in disarray.
“Leave,” grumbled Quist. Coughing, the JANUS agent did as told, scrambling out of the room.
As she closed the door to the Science Department, the florescent light bulbs shattered above her. Looking in from the door window, Lindsey watched as Quist sat against the far wall. He was changing. The shape of his face looked as if it were falling into itself. The machine that gave him his freedom crumpled as if it were a finished soda can. The gun ray bent in half, then into itself, setting off a blinding ray of light.
“Everybody evacuate now!” Lindsey yelled. The various JANUS agents, who began to hear the rumblings in the Department, hurriedly gathered their documents and ran for the elevator, almost tumbling over themselves for space.
Lindsey was the last to enter. As she did, she saw the giant global screens blast open, setting off sparks. Then, to her amazement, the sparks stopped in mid-fall, then rose back into the broken screens as the frames imploded, sending a blast of light that caused the JANUS agents to shield their eyes. As the doors closed, she could see Quist suck in the Science Department door. The metal plank crumpled into itself, then flew into Quist’s body. For sure, the speed of the door should have flattened the director, but instead another blast of light burst forward. As the energy died down, she could see Quist walking for the elevator.
“Close the door!” yelled an agent behind Lindsey. As she hit the button for the doors, she saw Quist glowing red. His face no longer had any definition or characteristics, just an iridescent red slate that shone with enough brightness to make her squint. The intensity of the Quist-thing increased as the doors closed. The elevator cabin rose, even as the destruction of JANUS HQ could be heard below.
The smells and sounds of sizzling bacon emanated through the bedroom. Footsteps echoed from the kitchen.
“You don’t have to make breakfast, Nathan. I’m due at work for 9. I’ll be lucky to have enough time to get showered and dressed.” Karla quickly tossed the sheets and ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
“Oh, I think you’ll want to stick around for this.”
She heard him walk into the bedroom. As he stopped, Nathan broke into an off-key rendition of “She Drives Me Crazy” by the Fine Young Cannibals.
Oh, you poor man. We need to get you to a record store, she thought to herself as she showered. Even this new emo music that the kids like today would be better.
She walked into the kitchen, dressed in her conventional blue pantsuit, and saw a fresh masterpiece of Eggs Florentine.
“You still remembered,” she said. “When did I tell you that this was my favorite?”
Nathaniel set up his own plate. “Around the time we were trainees. When was that? ’71, ’72? Back when Nixon was king, disco was a twinkle in some dance hall’s eye, and people didn’t have total mistrust of their government.”
Karla picked up her fine china, eggs and all. “So, what do you have to tell me? I may have to take this on the go. I’m late as it as.”
“So have I,” said Nathaniel. “I’m twenty years late.” He rose from his chair, and Karla noted the quick breaths, the fidgety hands.
“So… what’s up?”
Nathaniel gave a weak, wounded smile. “Do you know what that wheelchair was to me? It was regret. Every day in that chair, I would go through my head, thinking about what I wanted to do, and what I wished I could’ve done. If you were to have told me that I would’ve experienced last night, I would’ve yelled you out of my office. How dare you try to give me false hope. But with the technology, with the book key, the device, I’m back again. And the last thing I want to leave when I’m gone for good is a second wave of regret.”
He bent down on one knee. In his right hand was a blue velvet clamshell, with a single, sparkling diamond ring. Without thinking, Karla took a step backward.
“No more wasted time, Karla. No more regrets. Karla Lee, will you be my wife?”
Karla held her hand over her mouth.
“Oh, Nathan. Nathan, why so soon?”
His face dropping into a mask of confusion, he rose to his feet.
“So soon? Karla, you had to have known. I was going to ask you when I got back from the Ukraine mission. And nothing has changed.”
“Everything’s changed,” said Karla. “You just came back into my life days ago. And you want me to make this decision now, while I’m stretched for time. Nathan, I love you, but couldn’t we learn more about each other first?”
“What is there to learn? You know me.”
“Do I?” Karla took another step back, and another, until her back hit the door to the main foyer. “I know you must have had this is in your mind for a long time, but you can’t expect me to answer you. I love you, Nathan, but I can’t just now.”
Nathan closed his hand around the clamshell. The slight snap reverberated through the two minds more than it did through the kitchen walls.
“You don’t know anything,” said Nathaniel. “Twenty years in a chair can be forever. I am fifty-four years old.”
“Same as me,” said Karla.
“You didn’t have half of your life ripped away from you!” Nathan grabbed his plate and tossed his Eggs Florentine in the wastebasket. “I hope you enjoy saving the world for the rest of your days, because the world gives you nothing in return. I give you something. And I created this machine, and used all of that energy just so I could be with you.”
“Energy?” asked Karla.
Then it all clicked.
“You browned out our memory cards,” said Karla. “You destroyed our firewalls.”
“And if I did?”
Karla walked up to Nathan, until she was staring straight up into his face. “Then all of my girls are in danger. Who knows? Somebody may already be targeting them. So if you’ll excuse me, I have to fix the mess you made.” She slammed the foyer door behind her.
“The mess I made?” Nathaniel yelled. “I only wanted to walk again!” He slammed the china plate to the floor, and the impact made dozens of shards.
He heard her car drive off to Langley. He screamed out into nothing, little noticing that the plate pieces, only inches from his feet, began to implode into themselves, crumpling and letting off little fissures of light.
The rest of the ride in the wagon took on a crushingly heavy air of silence. Card and Owen asked the same litany of questions over and over. Where did you learn to shoot a gun? Did you know those girls who tried to kill us? Are those cops dead? Why are they after us? After the continued tight-lipped treatment, the Hopkins family and Stacy played the quiet game to O’Hare Airport.
Card insisted they couldn’t get seats with this short notice, but was stymied when Faith-Mari and Stacy flashed some strange, blue badges at airport security. Before he knew it, the two girls returned with four passes for the next flight to Dulles, free of charge.
“How did you do that?” asked Owen. “And why don’t you do it every time we go on vacation?”
“Because we aren’t shot at every time we go on vacation,” Faith-Mari said, straight faced.
“What do we do, boss?” asked Stacy.
“Before we leave, call Karla. If you can’t get her, get Addison if he’s back from the hospital. Let him know we’re cutting the weekend a bit short, and that somebody knows who we are. Maybe we’ll find out what’s going on.”
As Stacy ran to the pay phones, Faith-Mari turned to her family. Even after a two-hour drive, she hadn’t gotten used to the wild-eyed fear that shined from her father, her only brother.
“I don’t know who they were, and that’s God’s honest truth.”
Shaking his head, Card took off his glasses. “You seemed to have everything under control. I wouldn’t know what to do if I was being chased by an armory on wheels, but you did. Now how did that come to be?”
Faith-Mari smiled sadly. “There are some things about my life of which you may not be fully aware.”
“No kidding,” said Owen.
The intercom of the airport blared out the first boarding call for the flight to Dulles.
“I don’t know what to believe, kiddo,” said Card. “What have you been doing all this time?”
Before Faith-Mari could answer, Stacy ran up to her. “Bad news.”
“How bad?”
“Fatal, perhaps,” said Stacy. “There was a power outage at HQ. The firewalls to the computers were blown out. They’ve fixed it now, but a lot of information was unprotected. Someone probably got a hold of personnel files. Someone like…”
“Spencer Remington,” said Faith-Mari.
“Guess he wanted to pay us back.” Stacy spun around the terminal, looking for anyone suspicious. “Think there’s anyone here watching us?”
“After the crash those two had, I’d doubt it. But doubt isn’t strong enough.” Together, the group walked to the waiting jumbo jet, the two angels keeping an eye on everything the whole way.
****
“Unbelievable.” Candy shook her head as her two cohorts walked into the private jet. Dressed in the same uniform as Sugar and Honey, she looked away from the beat-up assassins.
“Don’t say anything,” said Sugar. “I told you strength in numbers would’ve worked. If you had gotten off your butt and gone with us, you could’ve taken out Grandpa and this would be a done deal. But no. The leader never goes. Just send the henchwomen.”
Candy smiled. “So you’re not up to the challenge?”
“Oh, we’re up to it.” Sugar bit her lip, knowing she didn’t look the part.
“Yeah,” Candy said, laughing. “You’re never going to get the grass and oil stains out of that leotard. And blood all over your stockings. Respect for the uniform, chick. That’s coming out of both your paychecks, you do realize that?”
“Whatever,” said Sugar. In the ensuing silence, both the elder leader and the sidekick realized Honey’s silence.
“What’s with her?” asked Candy.
Sugar sighed. “Like you don’t know.”
As the plane took off, the television set embedded in the cabin wall flickered on. The visage of Spencer Remington appeared, seated at his desk from his “undisclosed location.” Evermonde towered behind him.
“Go, Mr. R,” said Candy.
Spencer looked as if a blood vessel were ready to burst in his face. “I guess I don’t have to go through the whole spiel about disappointment, about my anger that Hopkins and Delfina haven’t kicked their breathing habit. So instead, I’ve decided to be an impromptu professor on economics.”
“Oh, brother,” said Sugar.
“Oh, brother is right,” said Remington as he stood up from his chair. “Victor?”
As the camera panned back, Evermonde walked to a graph chart, complete with a green and red line. The green mark went upward as the x axis went to the right, and the red line followed at the y-axis value of zero.
“The graph clearly illustrates that I’m not getting my money’s worth. The more cabbage I send your way for your services, the same amount of service I receive, which is to say, none at all. Now, I’m giving you this one opportunity. You’re going to Langley, and I don’t give a good damn if you have to break in to CIA Headquarters. You’re going to bring those two nosy little kittens to me.”
Evermonde tossed aside the poster of the graph, revealing a blown-up picture of the two angels, in uniform, with bulls-eyes superimposed on their faces.
“Here ends the lesson,” said Remington, and the TV screen went blank.
Even through the abrasions and cuts, the look of incredulity on Sugar’s face was evident. “He wants us to break into Langley? We’re assassins, not spies.”
“Yeah, but I’m not losing 400 grand because of failure. The Sweetness has never come up short. We have never aborted a mission. And I don’t feel like starting now.”
Sugar shrugged. “But how are we going to do it?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll think of something,” said Candy, frustration visible in her scowl.
“Like what? Wire clippers? Are we going to break into Central Intelligence with a paper clip?”
With a scream, Honey stood up from her chair. “Shut the hell up! Both of you!”
Candy turned around to face her charge. “Excuse me? Did you forget who you’re talking to?”
“No, but maybe you’ve forgotten who got victimized tonight,” said Honey. She ran fingers down the scabs of her facial wounds. “We’re going to Langley, and that’s it. And when I get there, I’m putting both of their heads on stakes.” She sat down back in her seat, arms crossed over her chest. Unblinking, she stared forward, pupils dilated, brows furrowed.
“Discussion over.”
****
Nathaniel Quist entered HQ without casting so much as a glance over at the elevator to ANGELS. He knew the chances of seeing Karla was next to nil, but he made it a point not to look. He noticed the looks of agents from other departments as he walked across the main atrium. He didn’t care that those who knew of his existence saw him marching upright. No need to keep it a secret. Let them wonder how he did it.
He took the elevator to JANUS HQ. Those who hadn’t seen him since the brownout gaped as he strode past the consoles. He paid no heed to them, nor to the giant screens. Everyday for the past twenty years, he would check on global chatter first. Many of the deployed agent locations beamed as red dots on the map, indicating their request for his attention. Without a word, he walked into the Science Department.
“So, how was your day whoring?” he heard Lindsey O’Riordan ask as he closed the door behind him. He began to turn to the agent, but was almost yanked off his feet as his hand bonded to the door. He grabbed at his arm, trying to pull the attraction apart. Finally, with his foot propped against the handle, he pulled his hand off the metal. He looked at his palm, which glowed red with agitation.
“What is wrong with you?” asked Lindsey. “First you reject me, and then you go with the old lady? Before the book incident, she hadn’t seen you since Max Headroom was in style. She doesn’t know you anymore, sir.”
Quist walked toward her, but Lindsey didn’t stop. “And you know you can’t trust her. What did she find out about JANUS, sir? She’s a stranger, Nathan. She’s…”
Without breaking stride, Quist placed one hand around her throat and proceeded to lift her off the ground. He only stopped when the wall stood in his way. Pinning Lindsey against the fresh paint, Quist stared her down. For an instant, he thought he heard himself growling.
“She is the only one who ever knew me. And it’d be very good for your health never to talk about her again.”
Lindsey kicked and flailed as the grip around her neck tightened. Even as her air supply choked off, she was more scared by the feel of her boss’s hand. The texture wasn’t of flesh, but of steel.
His teeth gnashing, Quist released his grip. Slowly, Lindsey slid down the wall and collapsed on all fours, her garrison cap falling off her head, her tightly bunned hair in disarray.
“Leave,” grumbled Quist. Coughing, the JANUS agent did as told, scrambling out of the room.
As she closed the door to the Science Department, the florescent light bulbs shattered above her. Looking in from the door window, Lindsey watched as Quist sat against the far wall. He was changing. The shape of his face looked as if it were falling into itself. The machine that gave him his freedom crumpled as if it were a finished soda can. The gun ray bent in half, then into itself, setting off a blinding ray of light.
“Everybody evacuate now!” Lindsey yelled. The various JANUS agents, who began to hear the rumblings in the Department, hurriedly gathered their documents and ran for the elevator, almost tumbling over themselves for space.
Lindsey was the last to enter. As she did, she saw the giant global screens blast open, setting off sparks. Then, to her amazement, the sparks stopped in mid-fall, then rose back into the broken screens as the frames imploded, sending a blast of light that caused the JANUS agents to shield their eyes. As the doors closed, she could see Quist suck in the Science Department door. The metal plank crumpled into itself, then flew into Quist’s body. For sure, the speed of the door should have flattened the director, but instead another blast of light burst forward. As the energy died down, she could see Quist walking for the elevator.
“Close the door!” yelled an agent behind Lindsey. As she hit the button for the doors, she saw Quist glowing red. His face no longer had any definition or characteristics, just an iridescent red slate that shone with enough brightness to make her squint. The intensity of the Quist-thing increased as the doors closed. The elevator cabin rose, even as the destruction of JANUS HQ could be heard below.
-
superpics4les
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The Great Dutch Ninja
- Henchman
- Posts: 53
- Joined: 22 years ago
- Location: Medford, MA
Part 6A
Karla Lee was so lost in her own inner thoughts that she almost walked into the elevator without giving her password. The potential consequences (being knocked out by gas, put in quarantine, probable loss of command in ANGELS) failed to register.
Without looking up at her workers, she walked into her office and closed the door behind her. Busy at their desks, the agents didn’t notice their leader walk by, much less lock the door behind her.
She wanted to relax today. The effects of Nathan Quist’s surprise visit and his proposal left her pale, shaking. She prayed for silence.
The quiet lasted for less than a minute before Julian Addison opened the door, followed by Faith-Mari Hopkins, Stacy Delfina, and two strangers that bore a faint resemblance to the former.
“Who are they? Julian, did you clear those two civilians?” Karla jumped up from her desk. No matter what the response, this was not going to be good.
“Yes, m’am. Agent Hopkins’ father and brother, Cardon and Owen.”
“What the hell are you doing bringing them here, Faith? There isn’t a family day here,” Director Lee snapped. She almost instantly stepped back, surprised by her own anger.
“We were shot at,” yelled Card Hopkins, face tense. “And I want some answers. And since my daughter isn’t telling me anything, maybe you will be good enough to enlighten me.”
Owen’s face held an equal mix of awe and fear. “We’re in FBI Headquarters, aren’t we?"
“No,” said Deputy Director Addison. “We’re with the CIA. It is almost certain that assassins under the employ of Spencer Remington attempted to terminate Agents Hopkins and Delfina last night.”
“Who? I don’t even know this man. Why does he want to kill my daughter?”
Director Lee took out a file from her bottom drawer and slammed it against her desk. “Because your daughter found out how he conducted brownouts in households using competing energy companies throughout the Southwest last summer. In the middle of a drought. He’s fortunate no wrongful death lawsuits have been filed yet, but he is looking forward to some serious jail time if the sabotage sticks.”
Card looked to the girl whom he had assumed spent the last four months safe on a suburban college campus, secure in textbooks, with no greater threat than the onset of final exams. “You’re a covert agent.”
Faith-Mari looked away. “Sorry, daddy.”
“So am I,” said Card.
Then the alarm sounded.
“Code red,” said Karla. “Hopkins, Delfina, suit up. God, this day couldn’t end soon enough for me.”
“Not even noon yet,” said Addison as the group exited the office.
“Should’ve ended at 6 this morning,” she said.
Dr. Jonathan DeCocteau ran to the bend in the main hallway, almost falling as he turned the corner to the elevator for the JANUS Headquarters. As soon as he heard the alarm for Code Red, he knew it had to be the Lazarus Device. There was no other possibility. The worst case scenario was coming true.
He had warned Nathaniel Quist. He warned him over and over again. The Lazarus was not ready. But they went ahead. And now the effects were coming to pass.
He rushed into the elevator, tapping the panel below the lowest button repeatedly until the doors closed. He heard the lift of the elevator wheeze as it lowered the cab.
“Merrily, merrily we go to hell,” he said to himself.
The wheels of the elevator cranked itself to a still as the cab reached the low level.
The doors opened.
Nathaniel Quist awaited him.
It couldn’t be anyone else. It had the same characteristics of a man; head, legs, and arms. But the facial features were gone, and the outline of the body glowed red, causing DeCocteau to shield his eyes.
The red thing grabbed his arms, causing him to look at it face to face.
“Doctor,” it said, in a voice warped and distorted so that any semblance to a human was gone.
Then he felt the pull on his face.
My God, he thought. I’m being sucked in.
“We need to get you out of here,” said Director Lee as she rushed Faith-Mari and Stacy out of the dressing area. “Were you followed?”
“No,” said Stacy, pulling her arm through the sleeve of her leotard. “We stopped them at some point outside Eau Claire. They couldn’t have survived that crash.”
“Never assume,” said Karla. “Were they the only ones?”
“So far as we know.” Faith-Mari clasped her belt in place. “We didn’t get cozy enough to ask.”
They walked past Card and Owen, so Stacy couldn’t see the teen’s jaw drop to the floor. Owen stared, unblinking, at the first crush of his life, elegant but heartstopping in uniform.
“Cool,” he said under his breath.
“Julian will stay with me,” said Karla. The three angels walked to a remaining desk jockey, shirt almost untucked out of his shirt, but eager. “You drive Agent Delfina, Agent Hopkins, and her family to the nearest safe haven. Stay there until we send further instructions, or if we signal that the danger has passed. Got it?”
The deskman saluted Karla, then escorted Stacy and the Hopkinses to the elevator.
As the doors closed, Karla said, “It’s Nathan. I know it.”
Addison looked at his boss, a puzzled look on his face. “How’s that possible?”
Karla shook her head. “I just know.” She looked to the angels that exited the dressing room. “Beckett, I want you to secure the JANUS lift. It’s the one at the end of the L-Shape. If no one’s left, get in and press the panel below the lowest button. Don’t ask why, just do it. Make sure no one leaves that floor.”
“Will do, Director,” said Beckett. She waited for the elevator to return, then took the next lift up.
“We’ll be going to Silver Springs, in Maryland,” said Faith-Mari. “We’ll be safe there.”
Card stared back skeptically. “Really.”
“Look, Dad, we get there, we wait for the situation to boil over. Now, those two girls are dead, and even if they weren’t, they don’t know about Silver Springs. Okay?”
“I believe you, sis,” said Owen.
Smiling, Faith-Mari looked at her father.
Card nodded. “Okay.”
“So, whose idea was it about the uniforms?” Owen looked from his sister to Stacy. The attraction felt magnetic, as if she drew his eyes. “You’re absolutely gorgeous.”
Stacy was trying to think of a way of putting the kid’s mind back on survival when she looked back to the road. She saw the lights of the oncoming car turn on, then three shadows jumping out of the vehicle.
“Driver, look…”
She couldn’t complete her sentence before the impact.
Josie Beckett felt her heart almost beat its way through her ribcage, almost bursting out of her spandex. Blowing her fine brunette hair away from her eyes, she inhaled, exhaled, anything to calm down. She remembered the few moments of the battle royal when Archangel tried to storm the Headquarters. She only lasted a few moments before one of the Greek guard knocked her out cold. She wanted to do better this time.
She waited at the elevator, pistol at the ready.
Then she heard the wheels pull the lift up. For over a minute, the lone sound in the main entrance floor was the creaking of the damaged wheels as the cab rose higher.
The doors opened. Before she could react, a glowing red arm reached out from the doors of the elevator, gripping itself around her neck. Shocked, she dropped the pistol, failing to see it glow, burst into a pulse of light, and vanish. Cringing as she grabbed at the arm, trying to free her airway, Josie failed to see the figure that burst through the doors, snapping through the metal.
Exiting the cab, the red man carried her like a quarry. The electric hum from his body drowned out the groans and gasps from the stunned angel.
With a tender touch, glowing fingers brushed against the blue material, rubbing slowly up and down Josie’s sides. She could hear a distorted, electronic moan through the constant hum.
Then the grip around her neck tightened.
“Karla!” it yelled, unrecognizable. Then the red man tossed Josie across the hall. She instantly lost consciousness when her back slammed against the wall, sliding down as chips of cracked marble fell around her.
Without looking up at her workers, she walked into her office and closed the door behind her. Busy at their desks, the agents didn’t notice their leader walk by, much less lock the door behind her.
She wanted to relax today. The effects of Nathan Quist’s surprise visit and his proposal left her pale, shaking. She prayed for silence.
The quiet lasted for less than a minute before Julian Addison opened the door, followed by Faith-Mari Hopkins, Stacy Delfina, and two strangers that bore a faint resemblance to the former.
“Who are they? Julian, did you clear those two civilians?” Karla jumped up from her desk. No matter what the response, this was not going to be good.
“Yes, m’am. Agent Hopkins’ father and brother, Cardon and Owen.”
“What the hell are you doing bringing them here, Faith? There isn’t a family day here,” Director Lee snapped. She almost instantly stepped back, surprised by her own anger.
“We were shot at,” yelled Card Hopkins, face tense. “And I want some answers. And since my daughter isn’t telling me anything, maybe you will be good enough to enlighten me.”
Owen’s face held an equal mix of awe and fear. “We’re in FBI Headquarters, aren’t we?"
“No,” said Deputy Director Addison. “We’re with the CIA. It is almost certain that assassins under the employ of Spencer Remington attempted to terminate Agents Hopkins and Delfina last night.”
“Who? I don’t even know this man. Why does he want to kill my daughter?”
Director Lee took out a file from her bottom drawer and slammed it against her desk. “Because your daughter found out how he conducted brownouts in households using competing energy companies throughout the Southwest last summer. In the middle of a drought. He’s fortunate no wrongful death lawsuits have been filed yet, but he is looking forward to some serious jail time if the sabotage sticks.”
Card looked to the girl whom he had assumed spent the last four months safe on a suburban college campus, secure in textbooks, with no greater threat than the onset of final exams. “You’re a covert agent.”
Faith-Mari looked away. “Sorry, daddy.”
“So am I,” said Card.
Then the alarm sounded.
“Code red,” said Karla. “Hopkins, Delfina, suit up. God, this day couldn’t end soon enough for me.”
“Not even noon yet,” said Addison as the group exited the office.
“Should’ve ended at 6 this morning,” she said.
Dr. Jonathan DeCocteau ran to the bend in the main hallway, almost falling as he turned the corner to the elevator for the JANUS Headquarters. As soon as he heard the alarm for Code Red, he knew it had to be the Lazarus Device. There was no other possibility. The worst case scenario was coming true.
He had warned Nathaniel Quist. He warned him over and over again. The Lazarus was not ready. But they went ahead. And now the effects were coming to pass.
He rushed into the elevator, tapping the panel below the lowest button repeatedly until the doors closed. He heard the lift of the elevator wheeze as it lowered the cab.
“Merrily, merrily we go to hell,” he said to himself.
The wheels of the elevator cranked itself to a still as the cab reached the low level.
The doors opened.
Nathaniel Quist awaited him.
It couldn’t be anyone else. It had the same characteristics of a man; head, legs, and arms. But the facial features were gone, and the outline of the body glowed red, causing DeCocteau to shield his eyes.
The red thing grabbed his arms, causing him to look at it face to face.
“Doctor,” it said, in a voice warped and distorted so that any semblance to a human was gone.
Then he felt the pull on his face.
My God, he thought. I’m being sucked in.
“We need to get you out of here,” said Director Lee as she rushed Faith-Mari and Stacy out of the dressing area. “Were you followed?”
“No,” said Stacy, pulling her arm through the sleeve of her leotard. “We stopped them at some point outside Eau Claire. They couldn’t have survived that crash.”
“Never assume,” said Karla. “Were they the only ones?”
“So far as we know.” Faith-Mari clasped her belt in place. “We didn’t get cozy enough to ask.”
They walked past Card and Owen, so Stacy couldn’t see the teen’s jaw drop to the floor. Owen stared, unblinking, at the first crush of his life, elegant but heartstopping in uniform.
“Cool,” he said under his breath.
“Julian will stay with me,” said Karla. The three angels walked to a remaining desk jockey, shirt almost untucked out of his shirt, but eager. “You drive Agent Delfina, Agent Hopkins, and her family to the nearest safe haven. Stay there until we send further instructions, or if we signal that the danger has passed. Got it?”
The deskman saluted Karla, then escorted Stacy and the Hopkinses to the elevator.
As the doors closed, Karla said, “It’s Nathan. I know it.”
Addison looked at his boss, a puzzled look on his face. “How’s that possible?”
Karla shook her head. “I just know.” She looked to the angels that exited the dressing room. “Beckett, I want you to secure the JANUS lift. It’s the one at the end of the L-Shape. If no one’s left, get in and press the panel below the lowest button. Don’t ask why, just do it. Make sure no one leaves that floor.”
“Will do, Director,” said Beckett. She waited for the elevator to return, then took the next lift up.
“We’ll be going to Silver Springs, in Maryland,” said Faith-Mari. “We’ll be safe there.”
Card stared back skeptically. “Really.”
“Look, Dad, we get there, we wait for the situation to boil over. Now, those two girls are dead, and even if they weren’t, they don’t know about Silver Springs. Okay?”
“I believe you, sis,” said Owen.
Smiling, Faith-Mari looked at her father.
Card nodded. “Okay.”
“So, whose idea was it about the uniforms?” Owen looked from his sister to Stacy. The attraction felt magnetic, as if she drew his eyes. “You’re absolutely gorgeous.”
Stacy was trying to think of a way of putting the kid’s mind back on survival when she looked back to the road. She saw the lights of the oncoming car turn on, then three shadows jumping out of the vehicle.
“Driver, look…”
She couldn’t complete her sentence before the impact.
Josie Beckett felt her heart almost beat its way through her ribcage, almost bursting out of her spandex. Blowing her fine brunette hair away from her eyes, she inhaled, exhaled, anything to calm down. She remembered the few moments of the battle royal when Archangel tried to storm the Headquarters. She only lasted a few moments before one of the Greek guard knocked her out cold. She wanted to do better this time.
She waited at the elevator, pistol at the ready.
Then she heard the wheels pull the lift up. For over a minute, the lone sound in the main entrance floor was the creaking of the damaged wheels as the cab rose higher.
The doors opened. Before she could react, a glowing red arm reached out from the doors of the elevator, gripping itself around her neck. Shocked, she dropped the pistol, failing to see it glow, burst into a pulse of light, and vanish. Cringing as she grabbed at the arm, trying to free her airway, Josie failed to see the figure that burst through the doors, snapping through the metal.
Exiting the cab, the red man carried her like a quarry. The electric hum from his body drowned out the groans and gasps from the stunned angel.
With a tender touch, glowing fingers brushed against the blue material, rubbing slowly up and down Josie’s sides. She could hear a distorted, electronic moan through the constant hum.
Then the grip around her neck tightened.
“Karla!” it yelled, unrecognizable. Then the red man tossed Josie across the hall. She instantly lost consciousness when her back slammed against the wall, sliding down as chips of cracked marble fell around her.
-
superpics4les
- Elder Member
- Posts: 493
- Joined: 21 years ago
- Location: Indiana USA
-
The Great Dutch Ninja
- Henchman
- Posts: 53
- Joined: 22 years ago
- Location: Medford, MA
6B
Faith-Mari Hopkins unbuckled her seatbelt as soon as she took account of her surroundings. Smoke filled the inside of the car. She checked her father and brother. Both appeared to be okay; heart rates were normal, and they were secure in their seats.
“Stacy?” she yelled out. A groan from the front passenger seat greeted her.
“Are you okay, Stacy?”
“I think so.” Faith-Mari heard the seatbelt in the front seat unbuckle. “How’s the family?”
“Okay. We need to get everyone out of here.”
Faith-Mari grabbed around Card’s chest while unbuckling him. She dragged him out of the car, then took a look at the driver. She immediately wished she hadn’t. Although the air bag had deployed, the steering column had plunged into him from the force of the collision. There was nothing she could do for him.
She barely had time to lay her father down away from the crash site when she heard, “You’re mine now!” She turned in time to catch a tackle from Honey. The force of the impact knocked the wind out of her already bruised ribs, and she yelped out in pain.
“Wreck my face, will you?” A stiff right fist connected with Faith-Mari, almost loosening her jaw.
Stacy was in the act of unbuckling Owen when she felt someone grab her leg and pull her from behind. She lost her balance, landing face first on the door ledge. Holding her cheek, she got up in time to take a left hook from Sugar, then a matching one from Candy. Slumped against the tire well of the totaled Dodge, she braced herself as the duo rained downed stomps into her midsection. Racked with pain, she could barely defend herself as Sugar grabbed a handful of her highlighted brunette hair and slammed her facefirst onto the trunk door.
“I don’t like people who hurt my friends,” said Candy before grabbing another handful of hair and standing Stacy straight up, leaving her prone to a headbutt between the eyes.
Lights dimmed, Stacy slid down the side of the car, helpless as Candy yanked her up to her feet by the collar of her leotard. Sugar slid the mask off the angel’s eyes.
“Nighty night, chick,” Candy purred as she brought a knife-edge chop down on Stacy’s trapezium muscle, causing her eyes to roll up. She fell into Candy’s arms, unconscious.
“What should we do about her boyfriend?” asked Sugar.
Candy smiled. “Bring him along. Mr. Remington would probably like the additional bargaining chip.” She lifted Stacy into a fireman’s carry, and Sugar followed with Owen cradled in her arms. Together, they made a break from the CIA headquarters, and toward their getaway car nearby.
“Let’s see you look all pretty in the morning!” Each word coming out of Honey’s mouth was punctuated by flailing fists as she straddled her opponent, some of which struck Faith-Mari in the face, some hitting the dirt in a blind rage.
Shielding her head with her arms, the angel noticed the even timing of each blow, as if Honey’s was a metronome: an equal pacing of right, left, right, left. Faith-Mari bided her time, heard Honey’s breathing become more tired and frenzied. As Honey followed through with a right that hit nothing but air, the chance presented itself.
Faith-Mari rose up and headbutted Honey in the midriff. The wind out of her sails, the assassin doubled over, falling onto her side into the dead leaves.
Without hesitation, Faith-Mari jumped over her enemy. Lifting Honey by the collar of her leotard, she applied a full-nelson, neutralizing the left arm. With her free hand, Faith-Mari wrapped Honey’s neck with her own right arm, causing the wounded woman to choke herself. As soon as the hold was applied, Honey flailed, kicking back, connecting with solid blows to the angel’s shins and knees. But Faith-Mari refused to release her grip. It took one minute for the kicks to cease, and only seconds more for Honey to fall limp, breathing labored, her eyes rolled into the back of her head.
Dumping her adversary unceremoniously, Faith-Mari ran back to the scene of her wreckage. She saw the other two assassins, carrying Stacy and Owen away. She broke into a sprint, slowly gaining ground.
“What about Honey?” she barely heard on of them say.
“Leave her. She knew the risks,” said the other.
She watched, helpless, as Sugar and Candy ran to an unmanned El Dorado at the end of the road, dumped the two unconscious hostages into the back seat, and climbed in the driver’s side.
She kept running even as the El Dorado chugged forward, putting more and more ground in front of her. She stopped at the foot of the road, listening to the sound of the engine, quickly dimming in front of her.
Karla Lee waited at her desk, hands locked together on the oak surface. She stared at her own reflection in the polished wood. Shaking her head, she wondered to herself, How could I have been so stupid? Did I want to believe him so badly that I refused to ask the first questions that should’ve come to mind?
The elevator move downward. Accompanying the electronic whirling was a deep growl, guttural, reverberating. The cab knocked, as if the metal was being punched outward.
The doors opened to a blinding red glow. Even as she brought down her arms from shielding her eyes, Karla couldn’t see him. The light carried a weight, not truly translucent.
“Nathan?”
The only noise was a slight, almost electronic inhaling and exhaling, coming from the red light.
“Nathan, what’s happened to you?”
The breathing stopped.
“Nathan, you need help. You can’t be allowed outside.”
The elevator cab shifted, and the red light moved forward.
“Help?” asked the warped voice. “No. No help, Karla.”
Then a red arm, cracked with veins of light, burst out of the light. Karla felt a surge of energy push her forward. She was lifted from her chair, and tossed directly into the outstretched arm, as if magnetically drawn.
“Nathan… please…”
She could see into the light, into eyes that were no longer blue, but twin flashes of paralyzing white. Effortlessly, the arm released its grip by tossing the director into the office’s file cabinet. Karla couldn’t get back to her feet before the light intensified. Red bolts flashed from the aura, slamming into Karla’s body, causing her to convulse. Screaming, she was brought to her feet by the shocks.
“I am well,” said the warped voice as the bolts lifted Karla to the ceiling of the office.
“Hey,” said a voice from behind.
The bolts retreated back into the red light. Reclaimed by gravity, Karla fell to the ground, her head bouncing off the fallen file cabinet.
The eyes within turned in time to catch a blast of magnetic energy, issued from the gun in Julian Addison’s hands. The deputy director kept a steady beam of alternating current on Quist, causing the red light to back away from the office. The red, pulsating arms held out, trying to block the charge, and the light retreated back into the cabin. The elevator doors closed, and the lights indicated the carriage was going upward.
Dropping the coilgun, Addison ran back to his boss.
“Karla, can you hear me? Karla?” There was no response. He dared not move her; who knows what may have happened, what may have been broken?
Picking up the desk phone, Addison hurriedly dialed out to the infirmary. “Medic, this is ANGELS HQ. Director Lee is down. Send someone quick.” As soon as he slammed down the phone, he was back at Karla’s side.
“Karla? Please say something. Karla…”
“Stacy?” she yelled out. A groan from the front passenger seat greeted her.
“Are you okay, Stacy?”
“I think so.” Faith-Mari heard the seatbelt in the front seat unbuckle. “How’s the family?”
“Okay. We need to get everyone out of here.”
Faith-Mari grabbed around Card’s chest while unbuckling him. She dragged him out of the car, then took a look at the driver. She immediately wished she hadn’t. Although the air bag had deployed, the steering column had plunged into him from the force of the collision. There was nothing she could do for him.
She barely had time to lay her father down away from the crash site when she heard, “You’re mine now!” She turned in time to catch a tackle from Honey. The force of the impact knocked the wind out of her already bruised ribs, and she yelped out in pain.
“Wreck my face, will you?” A stiff right fist connected with Faith-Mari, almost loosening her jaw.
Stacy was in the act of unbuckling Owen when she felt someone grab her leg and pull her from behind. She lost her balance, landing face first on the door ledge. Holding her cheek, she got up in time to take a left hook from Sugar, then a matching one from Candy. Slumped against the tire well of the totaled Dodge, she braced herself as the duo rained downed stomps into her midsection. Racked with pain, she could barely defend herself as Sugar grabbed a handful of her highlighted brunette hair and slammed her facefirst onto the trunk door.
“I don’t like people who hurt my friends,” said Candy before grabbing another handful of hair and standing Stacy straight up, leaving her prone to a headbutt between the eyes.
Lights dimmed, Stacy slid down the side of the car, helpless as Candy yanked her up to her feet by the collar of her leotard. Sugar slid the mask off the angel’s eyes.
“Nighty night, chick,” Candy purred as she brought a knife-edge chop down on Stacy’s trapezium muscle, causing her eyes to roll up. She fell into Candy’s arms, unconscious.
“What should we do about her boyfriend?” asked Sugar.
Candy smiled. “Bring him along. Mr. Remington would probably like the additional bargaining chip.” She lifted Stacy into a fireman’s carry, and Sugar followed with Owen cradled in her arms. Together, they made a break from the CIA headquarters, and toward their getaway car nearby.
“Let’s see you look all pretty in the morning!” Each word coming out of Honey’s mouth was punctuated by flailing fists as she straddled her opponent, some of which struck Faith-Mari in the face, some hitting the dirt in a blind rage.
Shielding her head with her arms, the angel noticed the even timing of each blow, as if Honey’s was a metronome: an equal pacing of right, left, right, left. Faith-Mari bided her time, heard Honey’s breathing become more tired and frenzied. As Honey followed through with a right that hit nothing but air, the chance presented itself.
Faith-Mari rose up and headbutted Honey in the midriff. The wind out of her sails, the assassin doubled over, falling onto her side into the dead leaves.
Without hesitation, Faith-Mari jumped over her enemy. Lifting Honey by the collar of her leotard, she applied a full-nelson, neutralizing the left arm. With her free hand, Faith-Mari wrapped Honey’s neck with her own right arm, causing the wounded woman to choke herself. As soon as the hold was applied, Honey flailed, kicking back, connecting with solid blows to the angel’s shins and knees. But Faith-Mari refused to release her grip. It took one minute for the kicks to cease, and only seconds more for Honey to fall limp, breathing labored, her eyes rolled into the back of her head.
Dumping her adversary unceremoniously, Faith-Mari ran back to the scene of her wreckage. She saw the other two assassins, carrying Stacy and Owen away. She broke into a sprint, slowly gaining ground.
“What about Honey?” she barely heard on of them say.
“Leave her. She knew the risks,” said the other.
She watched, helpless, as Sugar and Candy ran to an unmanned El Dorado at the end of the road, dumped the two unconscious hostages into the back seat, and climbed in the driver’s side.
She kept running even as the El Dorado chugged forward, putting more and more ground in front of her. She stopped at the foot of the road, listening to the sound of the engine, quickly dimming in front of her.
Karla Lee waited at her desk, hands locked together on the oak surface. She stared at her own reflection in the polished wood. Shaking her head, she wondered to herself, How could I have been so stupid? Did I want to believe him so badly that I refused to ask the first questions that should’ve come to mind?
The elevator move downward. Accompanying the electronic whirling was a deep growl, guttural, reverberating. The cab knocked, as if the metal was being punched outward.
The doors opened to a blinding red glow. Even as she brought down her arms from shielding her eyes, Karla couldn’t see him. The light carried a weight, not truly translucent.
“Nathan?”
The only noise was a slight, almost electronic inhaling and exhaling, coming from the red light.
“Nathan, what’s happened to you?”
The breathing stopped.
“Nathan, you need help. You can’t be allowed outside.”
The elevator cab shifted, and the red light moved forward.
“Help?” asked the warped voice. “No. No help, Karla.”
Then a red arm, cracked with veins of light, burst out of the light. Karla felt a surge of energy push her forward. She was lifted from her chair, and tossed directly into the outstretched arm, as if magnetically drawn.
“Nathan… please…”
She could see into the light, into eyes that were no longer blue, but twin flashes of paralyzing white. Effortlessly, the arm released its grip by tossing the director into the office’s file cabinet. Karla couldn’t get back to her feet before the light intensified. Red bolts flashed from the aura, slamming into Karla’s body, causing her to convulse. Screaming, she was brought to her feet by the shocks.
“I am well,” said the warped voice as the bolts lifted Karla to the ceiling of the office.
“Hey,” said a voice from behind.
The bolts retreated back into the red light. Reclaimed by gravity, Karla fell to the ground, her head bouncing off the fallen file cabinet.
The eyes within turned in time to catch a blast of magnetic energy, issued from the gun in Julian Addison’s hands. The deputy director kept a steady beam of alternating current on Quist, causing the red light to back away from the office. The red, pulsating arms held out, trying to block the charge, and the light retreated back into the cabin. The elevator doors closed, and the lights indicated the carriage was going upward.
Dropping the coilgun, Addison ran back to his boss.
“Karla, can you hear me? Karla?” There was no response. He dared not move her; who knows what may have happened, what may have been broken?
Picking up the desk phone, Addison hurriedly dialed out to the infirmary. “Medic, this is ANGELS HQ. Director Lee is down. Send someone quick.” As soon as he slammed down the phone, he was back at Karla’s side.
“Karla? Please say something. Karla…”
-
superpics4les
- Elder Member
- Posts: 493
- Joined: 21 years ago
- Location: Indiana USA
-
The Great Dutch Ninja
- Henchman
- Posts: 53
- Joined: 22 years ago
- Location: Medford, MA
The Final Chapter
Nathan Quist didn’t wait for the doors in the elevator to open. As soon as he heard the bell ring, he ripped the metal barriers from their hinges and tossed them aside, leaving dents in the cabin.
He stumbled out, still confused. How did Addison know what to use to repel him?
“DeCocteau,” he said under his breath. He shook his head, knowing he should have completed the job on the doctor before releasing him. The same went for that brunette Angel he dispatched in the corridor.
They all wanted him dead. Why should he play any different?
“Because of Karla,” he said. Certainly, there was an escape route out of Angels HQ for the deputy director to take her out. Why build a top secret spy network three floors underground if you could be easily trapped? It was a done deal. Karla Lee was out of the building.
If she was still alive.
He ran the scene over and over in his head. The shockwaves sizzling her, the lifeless look in her eyes…
Screaming, he fell on all fours. He felt the surge rise in him, out of him, as if he was more than his physical body.
He didn’t look up when he heard the twisting of metal over his head, nor did he move when the glass doors ahead of him break inward from the energy pulling them in. He could only hear the quickening rhythm of his breathing, exhaling as the roof of the lobby caved in, absorbed into the red glow.
Card Hopkins opened his eyes, looking up to a cloudless midnight sky. He put his hands to his head, then pulled them back out in surprise. The blood on his fingers shocked consciousness back into him. That car hit them head on. Couldn’t they see him?
He sat up to see Faith-Mari dragging Honey back toward headquarters. The assailant was out cold, her arms limp in his daughter’s clutches.
“Where’s Owen?” he asked.
Faith-Mari looked up. Her eyes said everything he needed to know, and dreaded knowing.
“No.” He stood up to his feet, suddenly oblivious to his wounds.
“We’re going to get him back,” said Faith-Mari. “She’s going to tell us how, once we get her to interrogation.”
“What makes you think she’ll say anything? What if she knows nothing? What if they’ve already…”
Faith-Mari dropped Honey and held her father. “It’s not their style. They want me. They’d much sooner use Owen for leverage than satisfy any bloodlust.”
Card took her by the shoulders and kept her at arm’s distance. “Why did you choose this for yourself? Why didn’t you think? You were choosing this for us as well.”
Before she could respond, Faith-Mari heard running footsteps behind her. She turned to see Julian Addison racing toward them, with a body draped over his frame in a fireman’s carry.
“Addison, what’s going on?”
The deputy looked at her with a look of wild fear, through eyes that weren’t used to conveying it. “We need to get out. Now!”
Then they saw the fireball.
Quist screamed as tons of steel and concrete crumbled into itself, fusing, forming new elements which also collapsed. He could feel the snap of each electron bursting into his skin. His screams were drowned out in the nuclear fire that swirled around him. He could feel the floors below being sucked into his chest, crashing into a ball, and then exploding into light.
He stopped when he felt cold earth underneath. He dared to look up.
It was gone. The entire building. HQ had disappeared.
He got to his feet and took a look around, newly surfaced dirt crackling as he walked. There wasn’t a single support beam, not a window, not a tile of floor. It was a clearing in the forest. It was as if the headquarters had never been built.
A round of applause clapped behind him. Quist turned to see a vaguely familiar man, perhaps one he had seen on television, standing out of the building’s range. Combing a hand through his slicked back hair, the well-dressed man took a step toward the damage zone. Skeptical, Quist felt the red glow resurfacing in his bones, bursting out of his skin.
“No need for that. I’m just an admirer. That was very well done,” said Spencer Remington. “I had come to make sure my money was being spent properly. Looks like I was putting it in the wrong place. I wanted those two little Angels killed, but to destroy their entire building? Bravo, sir.”
“Who are you?” asked Quist as he felt the power give way.
“Spencer Remington. I own a little business called Tachyon. Perhaps you’ve heard of it. It’s in all the papers, for all the wrong reasons.”
Quist frowned. “I think I know some people who are after you.”
“And I think a lot of people will be after you, friend. People like the president, the CIA, the Pentagon. Folks of that nature. It seems we have the same enemies. They’re going to want someone’s head.”
The cold air sizzled on Quist’s skin. He knew Spencer was right. He was going to be hunted for the rest of his life, whether that was minutes or decades.
“But I think we can create a mutual friendship,” continued Remington. “There’s no sweeter sound in the world than everyone’s back being thoroughly scratched. I can save you. I can hide you. You won’t have to worry about the authorities.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“Because I’m your lifeline. And I’m looking for dividends. Look at you. I wouldn’t have believed it if I wasn’t present to witness your power. You’re just a walking oblivion, aren’t you? And yet, out of that destruction comes a power, an energy. Energy that can be harnessed. But in business, just as in physics, you can’t make something out of nothing. Simple equation, my dear Oblivion: I keep you out of their clutches, you supply me with clean, limitless energy. It’s a win-win situation.”
“And if I don’t agree?”
Remington smiled. “Mr. Evermonde?”
The hulking bodyguard appeared out of the darkness, behind his employer. “Yes, sir?”
“You would know what to do with our new friend if he gets out of line, correct?”
Victor nodded.
“I can implode buildings,” said Quist. “What makes you think I couldn’t implode a man without batting an eye?”
“Well matched. I did my best to help you. I hope you enjoy your painful death at the hands of the feds.”
“Wait!” yelled a female voice.
Remington and Evermonde stopped. “And who tells me to wait?”
Quist felt a light grip on his arm. He looked behind to see Lindsey O’Riordan, eyes watering.
“Take his offer,” she said. “You know the government will kill you if you don’t. Don’t be stupid.”
“Maybe I should die,” said Quist.
“Then you may as well kill me now,” said Lindsey. “I’m not leaving you here to die.”
“But I hurt you.” Quist’s eyebrows furrowed. “I’ve done nothing but set you aside.”
“Then it’s time to make amends. Wherever you go, I’m with you.” Without waiting for an answer, Lindsey ran up to Remington.
“We will join you,” she said.
The smile on Spencer’s face reminded her of the Cheshire Cat, but not in the jovial Disney version, but of the mischievous one in Carroll’s original work. The one whose sole purpose was to live for its own amusement.
“Very good,” he said. “Victor, let’s leave. I’d rather not be here when the authorities arrive.”
Their plane landed in Dubuque, Iowa as the sun rose. From the airport, it was a short drive to the Tachyon Energy Center for Development. As Spencer Remington watched field after field of cornrows pass by, he smiled and said, “The future is ours, at last.”
With his new allies in tow, he entered the fifth-floor basement, where Candy and Sugar waited for him. Surrounding them were blackened walls, ancient boilers, and pipes that creaked and let out jets of steam. Laying at their feet were Stacy Delfina and Owen Hopkins, still unconscious.
“Excellent work, losing one of your own,” said Remington. “Were you always this incompetent, or do you do it just to piss me off personally?”
“No biggie,” said Candy. “She was always the whiny one. And she knows not to rat. Besides, we brought you some complimentary gifts. Just to show there are no hard feelings.”
Remington walked up to Stacy, lifting her by the head. “Have you no manners? Wake our other guest up.”
Together, Candy and Sugar slapped Owen awake. “Get up, short stuff. Time to die.”
Owen coughed himself awake. His entire field of vision was taken up by the CEO holding up Stacy by the hair.
“Lovely girl,” he said. “Even if you were old enough, son, she’d be out of your league. But none of that matters much. I was going to kill her, but…”
“Don’t touch her!” Owen yelled. Before the assailants could grab him, he launched himself into Remington, knocking him off his feet. He punched the fallen millionaire over and over.
“Evermonde, get him off me!”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Victor grabbed the boy by the neck and lifted him two feet off the ground.
Remington stumbled to his feet, holding his face. “Now, are you going to behave, or am I going to have my friend snap your neck like a stalk of celery?”
Tears welled in the young boy’s eyes.
“Don’t try being a hero.” Remington signaled at Evermonde, and the bodyguard dumped Owen to the floor. Lindsey winced as the boy’s body crashed to the concrete, and Quist looked away.
“I have some new plans for the two of you, just in case your friends have any foolish ideas about rescuing you. Doctor Zorin?”
From behind one of the boilers came a red-haired, middle-aged man, thick glasses dominating his face, his body hobbled over a cane.
“You called, sir?”
“Abraham, I don’t think I need to remind you of how much capital it took for me to release you from prison. Now I was very impressed with the devices you made for that clergyman in Louisiana. What have you got for me?”
Zorin smiled. “Nothing but the ultimate in employer technology. Before the day is done, I am convinced you will have the most loyal charges in America.”
“Liking the sound of that,” said Remington. “How long do you think it will be until you can create a device for our new friend Oblivion?”
The doctor laughed. “It will be very simple, and very quick. It will be done in a matter of hours.”
“Shall we start?” asked Remington.
“Shall we ever,” said Zorin. Hobbling back to the boiler, he wheeled out a mirror from behind. Rolling it to Stacy, he said, “Wake her now.”
Evermonde lifted the Angel to her feet. “Say cheese, princess.”
Waking up, Stacy saw her own reflection… then the Fibonacci spiral behind the mirror, then another superimposed over the first, then a third, then a fourth, until she felt as though she were falling forever.
“When will she be awake again?” Faith-Mari asked.
Julian shook his head. “Maybe in ten minutes. Maybe never. They don’t know.”
Their footsteps reverberated across the corridor at the Quantico hospital. “What happened?”
“Quist happened. He turned into something else, something not human. He attacked Director Lee. I barely had time to get her and DeCocteau out before HQ began to implode.”
“How’s the doctor?” she asked.
Addison put his hands over his eyes, as though he could hide his sight from past visions. “I found him in the remains of the JANUS offices. He’s going to survive, but he has no eyes.”
“He’s blind?”
“Not just blind,” said Addison. “The force from Quist… the force sucked them out before he was released. There’s nothing in his sockets.”
Addison looked back up. “Thankfully, the other Angels were evacuated beforehand. Some of them came across Josie Beckett, and got her out. But all of our equipment, all of our computers were sucked in. And now we have the director on our backs, wondering where the hell his building is.”
“I should’ve stayed with Karla,” said Faith-Mari.
“And get yourself killed? No. Just be thankful you’re alive.” He stopped in the middle of the corridor, oblivious to the traffic of hospital cots and nurses. “We’re going to find Owen, and Agent Delfina. You do know that, don’t you?”
Faith-Mari shook her head. “Yeah,” but her voice betrayed her doubts. She could only see her father’s face, and the newly-found scorn.
“It is time,” said Zorin.
The iron clasps clicked around Nathaniel Quist’s arms and legs, spreading them apart, his hands and feet barely touching the edges of a circle built from mercury, making him look like a glowing, sick parody of Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man.
“Light it up,” said Remington, the only observer in the room.
Zorin flipped the red switch embedded in the wall. Instantly, red bolts of light were sucked out of Quist’s body, into the coils that surrounded the mercury circle. The circle buzzed electricity through the connecting wires, which took the heat up to the generators on the floors above.
“He’s quite the find,” said Zorin. “His insertion into the mercury circle negates any Peltier-Seebeck effect that we would receive from other sources. When one metallic surface gains heat, that usually results in the cooling of the surface that provided the heat. But Mr. Quist doesn’t seem to be cooling at all. He’s providing a continual energy source without losing any heat himself. In fact, he’s producing far more than he’s taking in.”
Remington looked to his charge. “Are you telling me he’s living fusion?”
“All evidence points to it.” Zorin backed away as the red glow resurfaced, swallowing the mercury circle, but neutralized enough not to damage the infrastructure. Eventually the bolts were loud enough to drown out Quist’s screams.
“The price of freedom,” said Remington before he laughed at his newfound fortune. He took a pair of sunglasses out of his breast pocket and put them on as energy poured into the generators, and then into the homes of thousands.
The heart rate indicator on the side of Karla Lee’s bed showed a dramatic increase, out of view of any nurses who may have assisted the Angels director. She opened her eyes briefly, unaware of the surroundings.
“Nathan,” she said so softly she could barely hear herself. “What have you done?” Then she fell back into the heaviness of sleep.
****
Blue Angels created by Mighty Hypnotic
Based in part on characters created by pzgr6 and Kevin Smith
Written by Liam Venture (a.k.a. The Great Dutch Ninja)
Blue Angels: Rise of Oblivion
Starring Faith-Mari Hopkins
Karla Lee
Nathaniel Quist
Stacy Delfina
Co-starring Julian Addison
Lindsey O'Riordan
Spencer Remington
Card Hopkins
Honey North
Victor Evermonde
Josie Beckett
Sugar Turner
Owen Hopkins
Jonathan DeCocteau
and Abraham Zorin
Q is for Quarantine presents a Hypnotics World story
(if it pleases the board)
The Angels will return in Blue Angels: Absolute Power
He stumbled out, still confused. How did Addison know what to use to repel him?
“DeCocteau,” he said under his breath. He shook his head, knowing he should have completed the job on the doctor before releasing him. The same went for that brunette Angel he dispatched in the corridor.
They all wanted him dead. Why should he play any different?
“Because of Karla,” he said. Certainly, there was an escape route out of Angels HQ for the deputy director to take her out. Why build a top secret spy network three floors underground if you could be easily trapped? It was a done deal. Karla Lee was out of the building.
If she was still alive.
He ran the scene over and over in his head. The shockwaves sizzling her, the lifeless look in her eyes…
Screaming, he fell on all fours. He felt the surge rise in him, out of him, as if he was more than his physical body.
He didn’t look up when he heard the twisting of metal over his head, nor did he move when the glass doors ahead of him break inward from the energy pulling them in. He could only hear the quickening rhythm of his breathing, exhaling as the roof of the lobby caved in, absorbed into the red glow.
Card Hopkins opened his eyes, looking up to a cloudless midnight sky. He put his hands to his head, then pulled them back out in surprise. The blood on his fingers shocked consciousness back into him. That car hit them head on. Couldn’t they see him?
He sat up to see Faith-Mari dragging Honey back toward headquarters. The assailant was out cold, her arms limp in his daughter’s clutches.
“Where’s Owen?” he asked.
Faith-Mari looked up. Her eyes said everything he needed to know, and dreaded knowing.
“No.” He stood up to his feet, suddenly oblivious to his wounds.
“We’re going to get him back,” said Faith-Mari. “She’s going to tell us how, once we get her to interrogation.”
“What makes you think she’ll say anything? What if she knows nothing? What if they’ve already…”
Faith-Mari dropped Honey and held her father. “It’s not their style. They want me. They’d much sooner use Owen for leverage than satisfy any bloodlust.”
Card took her by the shoulders and kept her at arm’s distance. “Why did you choose this for yourself? Why didn’t you think? You were choosing this for us as well.”
Before she could respond, Faith-Mari heard running footsteps behind her. She turned to see Julian Addison racing toward them, with a body draped over his frame in a fireman’s carry.
“Addison, what’s going on?”
The deputy looked at her with a look of wild fear, through eyes that weren’t used to conveying it. “We need to get out. Now!”
Then they saw the fireball.
Quist screamed as tons of steel and concrete crumbled into itself, fusing, forming new elements which also collapsed. He could feel the snap of each electron bursting into his skin. His screams were drowned out in the nuclear fire that swirled around him. He could feel the floors below being sucked into his chest, crashing into a ball, and then exploding into light.
He stopped when he felt cold earth underneath. He dared to look up.
It was gone. The entire building. HQ had disappeared.
He got to his feet and took a look around, newly surfaced dirt crackling as he walked. There wasn’t a single support beam, not a window, not a tile of floor. It was a clearing in the forest. It was as if the headquarters had never been built.
A round of applause clapped behind him. Quist turned to see a vaguely familiar man, perhaps one he had seen on television, standing out of the building’s range. Combing a hand through his slicked back hair, the well-dressed man took a step toward the damage zone. Skeptical, Quist felt the red glow resurfacing in his bones, bursting out of his skin.
“No need for that. I’m just an admirer. That was very well done,” said Spencer Remington. “I had come to make sure my money was being spent properly. Looks like I was putting it in the wrong place. I wanted those two little Angels killed, but to destroy their entire building? Bravo, sir.”
“Who are you?” asked Quist as he felt the power give way.
“Spencer Remington. I own a little business called Tachyon. Perhaps you’ve heard of it. It’s in all the papers, for all the wrong reasons.”
Quist frowned. “I think I know some people who are after you.”
“And I think a lot of people will be after you, friend. People like the president, the CIA, the Pentagon. Folks of that nature. It seems we have the same enemies. They’re going to want someone’s head.”
The cold air sizzled on Quist’s skin. He knew Spencer was right. He was going to be hunted for the rest of his life, whether that was minutes or decades.
“But I think we can create a mutual friendship,” continued Remington. “There’s no sweeter sound in the world than everyone’s back being thoroughly scratched. I can save you. I can hide you. You won’t have to worry about the authorities.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“Because I’m your lifeline. And I’m looking for dividends. Look at you. I wouldn’t have believed it if I wasn’t present to witness your power. You’re just a walking oblivion, aren’t you? And yet, out of that destruction comes a power, an energy. Energy that can be harnessed. But in business, just as in physics, you can’t make something out of nothing. Simple equation, my dear Oblivion: I keep you out of their clutches, you supply me with clean, limitless energy. It’s a win-win situation.”
“And if I don’t agree?”
Remington smiled. “Mr. Evermonde?”
The hulking bodyguard appeared out of the darkness, behind his employer. “Yes, sir?”
“You would know what to do with our new friend if he gets out of line, correct?”
Victor nodded.
“I can implode buildings,” said Quist. “What makes you think I couldn’t implode a man without batting an eye?”
“Well matched. I did my best to help you. I hope you enjoy your painful death at the hands of the feds.”
“Wait!” yelled a female voice.
Remington and Evermonde stopped. “And who tells me to wait?”
Quist felt a light grip on his arm. He looked behind to see Lindsey O’Riordan, eyes watering.
“Take his offer,” she said. “You know the government will kill you if you don’t. Don’t be stupid.”
“Maybe I should die,” said Quist.
“Then you may as well kill me now,” said Lindsey. “I’m not leaving you here to die.”
“But I hurt you.” Quist’s eyebrows furrowed. “I’ve done nothing but set you aside.”
“Then it’s time to make amends. Wherever you go, I’m with you.” Without waiting for an answer, Lindsey ran up to Remington.
“We will join you,” she said.
The smile on Spencer’s face reminded her of the Cheshire Cat, but not in the jovial Disney version, but of the mischievous one in Carroll’s original work. The one whose sole purpose was to live for its own amusement.
“Very good,” he said. “Victor, let’s leave. I’d rather not be here when the authorities arrive.”
Their plane landed in Dubuque, Iowa as the sun rose. From the airport, it was a short drive to the Tachyon Energy Center for Development. As Spencer Remington watched field after field of cornrows pass by, he smiled and said, “The future is ours, at last.”
With his new allies in tow, he entered the fifth-floor basement, where Candy and Sugar waited for him. Surrounding them were blackened walls, ancient boilers, and pipes that creaked and let out jets of steam. Laying at their feet were Stacy Delfina and Owen Hopkins, still unconscious.
“Excellent work, losing one of your own,” said Remington. “Were you always this incompetent, or do you do it just to piss me off personally?”
“No biggie,” said Candy. “She was always the whiny one. And she knows not to rat. Besides, we brought you some complimentary gifts. Just to show there are no hard feelings.”
Remington walked up to Stacy, lifting her by the head. “Have you no manners? Wake our other guest up.”
Together, Candy and Sugar slapped Owen awake. “Get up, short stuff. Time to die.”
Owen coughed himself awake. His entire field of vision was taken up by the CEO holding up Stacy by the hair.
“Lovely girl,” he said. “Even if you were old enough, son, she’d be out of your league. But none of that matters much. I was going to kill her, but…”
“Don’t touch her!” Owen yelled. Before the assailants could grab him, he launched himself into Remington, knocking him off his feet. He punched the fallen millionaire over and over.
“Evermonde, get him off me!”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Victor grabbed the boy by the neck and lifted him two feet off the ground.
Remington stumbled to his feet, holding his face. “Now, are you going to behave, or am I going to have my friend snap your neck like a stalk of celery?”
Tears welled in the young boy’s eyes.
“Don’t try being a hero.” Remington signaled at Evermonde, and the bodyguard dumped Owen to the floor. Lindsey winced as the boy’s body crashed to the concrete, and Quist looked away.
“I have some new plans for the two of you, just in case your friends have any foolish ideas about rescuing you. Doctor Zorin?”
From behind one of the boilers came a red-haired, middle-aged man, thick glasses dominating his face, his body hobbled over a cane.
“You called, sir?”
“Abraham, I don’t think I need to remind you of how much capital it took for me to release you from prison. Now I was very impressed with the devices you made for that clergyman in Louisiana. What have you got for me?”
Zorin smiled. “Nothing but the ultimate in employer technology. Before the day is done, I am convinced you will have the most loyal charges in America.”
“Liking the sound of that,” said Remington. “How long do you think it will be until you can create a device for our new friend Oblivion?”
The doctor laughed. “It will be very simple, and very quick. It will be done in a matter of hours.”
“Shall we start?” asked Remington.
“Shall we ever,” said Zorin. Hobbling back to the boiler, he wheeled out a mirror from behind. Rolling it to Stacy, he said, “Wake her now.”
Evermonde lifted the Angel to her feet. “Say cheese, princess.”
Waking up, Stacy saw her own reflection… then the Fibonacci spiral behind the mirror, then another superimposed over the first, then a third, then a fourth, until she felt as though she were falling forever.
“When will she be awake again?” Faith-Mari asked.
Julian shook his head. “Maybe in ten minutes. Maybe never. They don’t know.”
Their footsteps reverberated across the corridor at the Quantico hospital. “What happened?”
“Quist happened. He turned into something else, something not human. He attacked Director Lee. I barely had time to get her and DeCocteau out before HQ began to implode.”
“How’s the doctor?” she asked.
Addison put his hands over his eyes, as though he could hide his sight from past visions. “I found him in the remains of the JANUS offices. He’s going to survive, but he has no eyes.”
“He’s blind?”
“Not just blind,” said Addison. “The force from Quist… the force sucked them out before he was released. There’s nothing in his sockets.”
Addison looked back up. “Thankfully, the other Angels were evacuated beforehand. Some of them came across Josie Beckett, and got her out. But all of our equipment, all of our computers were sucked in. And now we have the director on our backs, wondering where the hell his building is.”
“I should’ve stayed with Karla,” said Faith-Mari.
“And get yourself killed? No. Just be thankful you’re alive.” He stopped in the middle of the corridor, oblivious to the traffic of hospital cots and nurses. “We’re going to find Owen, and Agent Delfina. You do know that, don’t you?”
Faith-Mari shook her head. “Yeah,” but her voice betrayed her doubts. She could only see her father’s face, and the newly-found scorn.
“It is time,” said Zorin.
The iron clasps clicked around Nathaniel Quist’s arms and legs, spreading them apart, his hands and feet barely touching the edges of a circle built from mercury, making him look like a glowing, sick parody of Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man.
“Light it up,” said Remington, the only observer in the room.
Zorin flipped the red switch embedded in the wall. Instantly, red bolts of light were sucked out of Quist’s body, into the coils that surrounded the mercury circle. The circle buzzed electricity through the connecting wires, which took the heat up to the generators on the floors above.
“He’s quite the find,” said Zorin. “His insertion into the mercury circle negates any Peltier-Seebeck effect that we would receive from other sources. When one metallic surface gains heat, that usually results in the cooling of the surface that provided the heat. But Mr. Quist doesn’t seem to be cooling at all. He’s providing a continual energy source without losing any heat himself. In fact, he’s producing far more than he’s taking in.”
Remington looked to his charge. “Are you telling me he’s living fusion?”
“All evidence points to it.” Zorin backed away as the red glow resurfaced, swallowing the mercury circle, but neutralized enough not to damage the infrastructure. Eventually the bolts were loud enough to drown out Quist’s screams.
“The price of freedom,” said Remington before he laughed at his newfound fortune. He took a pair of sunglasses out of his breast pocket and put them on as energy poured into the generators, and then into the homes of thousands.
The heart rate indicator on the side of Karla Lee’s bed showed a dramatic increase, out of view of any nurses who may have assisted the Angels director. She opened her eyes briefly, unaware of the surroundings.
“Nathan,” she said so softly she could barely hear herself. “What have you done?” Then she fell back into the heaviness of sleep.
****
Blue Angels created by Mighty Hypnotic
Based in part on characters created by pzgr6 and Kevin Smith
Written by Liam Venture (a.k.a. The Great Dutch Ninja)
Blue Angels: Rise of Oblivion
Starring Faith-Mari Hopkins
Karla Lee
Nathaniel Quist
Stacy Delfina
Co-starring Julian Addison
Lindsey O'Riordan
Spencer Remington
Card Hopkins
Honey North
Victor Evermonde
Josie Beckett
Sugar Turner
Owen Hopkins
Jonathan DeCocteau
and Abraham Zorin
Q is for Quarantine presents a Hypnotics World story
(if it pleases the board)
The Angels will return in Blue Angels: Absolute Power
Last edited by The Great Dutch Ninja 18 years ago, edited 1 time in total.
-
superpics4les
- Elder Member
- Posts: 493
- Joined: 21 years ago
- Location: Indiana USA
Great story, as always Ninja! =D> =D> =D>
I have the distinct feeling that we haven't heard the last of Oblivion! This series just keeps getting better and better! I'm looking forward to the rescue of Owen and Stacy, and Faith-Mari's revenge on Spencer Remington, not to mention the absolute chaos if Oblivion ever gets loose!
Again, spectacular tale, Ninja! My complements! 8)
I have the distinct feeling that we haven't heard the last of Oblivion! This series just keeps getting better and better! I'm looking forward to the rescue of Owen and Stacy, and Faith-Mari's revenge on Spencer Remington, not to mention the absolute chaos if Oblivion ever gets loose!
Again, spectacular tale, Ninja! My complements! 8)