Chapter One:
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I leaned back against the leather chair, surrounded by the silence engulfing the vast space of my office, and silently glared at the brightly illuminant silver screen of the computer monitor before me.
Pushing my reading glasses up, I adjusted it on the bridge of my nose and then released a suppressed breath.
Frustration built inside of me and it was becoming rather unnerving. Eyes sore and weary, I took off the reading glasses and exchanged them with my usual black ones. Sunglasses make my eyes less erect to bright lights.
But that's the least of my problem, for we've been preparing for this operation all week, I've been supervising every step from the very beginning, but who knows if things would go as planned. With a frustrated huff I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut, and arched my throat as I threw my head back against the chair's head rest, hoping against all hope that the dull ache pounding against my skull would take a hike.
Our foe is cunning and devious, worse than those meddling turtles, worse than the Foot, and- dare I say, worse than myself.
He had been captured time and time again, yet only to escape time and time again.
If I don't put an end to this madness, it will be the death of me!
Or something along that line; not that he could kill me.
Malignus, that psychopathic nut-job with that bizarre exo-suit and a fetish to possessing people; I've never come across anyone as annoyingly challenging as him. Well, aside those blasted reptiles, but that is another matter all in itself, since Malignus is on a whole different level. He is more of a threat than they are. Attacking moronic people and manipulating them when they don't even realize it, just like any stereotypical madman trying to take over the world. Except, he's not; he's a lot smarter than I give him credit for some times.
Although Silver Sentry had captured him months ago and tossed him to the police, having that maniac pickled in a befitting prison cell, that wretched man still escaped no more than a week ago. Manipulating the few people who janitor his area, he used them to free himself. No more than three hours after that, a truck of toxic waste was high-jacked and it is making its way half way across New York as we speak.
Malignus's destination is yet unknown, but recent reports have estimated him to be heading towards Northampton. From what my sources tell me he is probably heading to that old toxic waste station stationed somewhere along the river. If I remember, I had that place shut down months ago, but perhaps there are still living essences of toxic leftovers present?
Nevertheless, here I am now. Glaring at the bright screens of six monitors and satellite shoots, available as screenshots with each showing a watch posts check point, hoping the truck would come out of its hiding and pass by.
I need to get back that truck and retrieve its shipment to be disposed of. I cannot allow him to dispose it anywhere near city limits. Not only will it annihilate the population within days, if not hours, the president will never let us live this down! There definitely will be an uproar. Countless of snoopy reporters from all over the globe, newspapers, news channels and with the media trying to scope out what is about to happen, I'll probably lose all the funding for my projects, if not fired and booted out of the country after all of this!
Damn you, Malignus! Does he understand that if anything happened to that tank, even he won't survive any possible explosion? The contamination would not only harm him, it'll affect everything within a ten mile radius. It's radioactive and highly poisonous. He'll keel over and die for just being in a five feet radius of the actual truck.
If I recall, he always wears a mask on his face, so I wouldn't be surprised if it would filter the air he breathes, but it would still kill anyone the truck passes by on the street, if not the natural vegetation around it. There had been trails of leakage around the streets leading to Northampton with contaminated trees, and it helped us figure out the routes he was taking, but no clue where he was heading.
Somehow, it almost felt like he was just leading us in circles, a wild goose chase… If I know him as well as I think I do, I think that's his plan.
But then what? What's he about do with gallons of toxic waste in the middle of a godforsaken forest, and why?
That stolen truck had to be around there somewhere. With the amount of toxic waste aboard it, even a madman like Malignus would not want to stay at close proximity to it, which explains why the contaminated people Sentry had saved, when they fainted and nearly drove off the cliff while driving, looked so confused when they finally came to; sick and feeling horrible, but still alive for the moment.
Stupidly enough, some people still agree to work for him for meager promises of power and riches. Stupid people; I don't know why I bother trying to save their hides from possible alien invasions. Frankly enough, with their idiocy, it's no wonder aliens keep attacking this planet.
Yanked from my thoughts, a loud ring emitted from my phone. I quickly grabbed the speaker and stabbed my finger on the receive button, fully aware it was the hotline and the boys found something. "HQ here, report." I almost shouted, but kept my voice stoic, no need to get excited, I'm used on getting bad news when having high hopes with these imbeciles.
"Agent Bishop, sir." One of my men replied but with a hint of fear in his voice, probably because of my snappy answer, "The truck had been sighted near the assigned area. What are your orders, sir?" he reported.
"Scoop them out. How many people are there? What's your status?" I ordered sharply, hastily freeing a hand to follow the satellite screenshots to pin down where they located.
While waiting for an answer, I inhaled a slow and deep breath, held it in and then let it pressure against my lungs. I felt my lips draw off my teeth and a hiss emitted, frustration slowly seeped out, only mildly but not whole, while I hoped it was indeed the vehicle we were looking for.
For the past ten hours three similar trucks had passed by, but after a feverish scout and search, they were proven to be invalid targets, and were then allowed to pass. I knew Malignus had probably sent them this way to throw us off track, something told me one of those trucks were his, probably to test the waters and clear the path for the real truck to pass without us noticing.
But I'm onto him! We will not fall to that petty trick!
But there was the sound of buzzing static, followed by wind in the speaker for a moment before the man answered.
"Uh oh," I heard the man gasp, and I did not like it, not at all.
"What is it, solider? Report!" I demanded.
"There is an old car with a trailer approaching the truck, sir. They're trying to pass but it's blocking their way." he hastily replied, "An old fifties looking Cadillac, Chevrolet, It's reddish-crimson paint with a milky-white hood, I'm not too sure, the truck is blocking the view." He added.
"The driver?" I snapped, feeling my jaw ache as an ominous sensation sent a horrible chill down my spine.
He took a moment, probably looking through his binoculars for a better look, "The passenger seat has one redheaded woman, looks European, probably around four to five feet tall, adult and about twenty five to thirty years old." he began, "The driver is a black haired man, Caucasian male, about the same age and apparently stands about six feet tall." There was another second of static buzz interrupting the transmission.
But then the buzzing grew louder, and louder, and if my ears weren't playing trick on me, I would have said it sounded like a swarm of bees!
I frowned, that didn't sound the least bit comforting.
Knowing Malignus he usually hoards more people to protect and carry out his plans, and usually he uses the normal approach: Two to three men boarding the truck, not using a trailer. Also, he often sends his manipulative insects to survey the area, but as far as I know he doesn't have enough recourse, to make a whole swarm enough to make the loud buzzing. .
"Anyone else aboard? Another vehicle nearby or following perhaps?" I questioned, wanting to know if I missed something important.
"No sir. There doesn't seem to be anyone else," He informed. Then there was a stranger sound emitting from the speaker, aside the buzzing, there was now- screechy scratching sounds? "I- Hey! What the hell!" he yelped, before I heard more wind whistle and the scratching static grow louder.
I tensed, quickly pushing off the leather seat to glance at the monitor screen, browsing through each one in an attempt to find which one he was reporting from, "Respond! What is going on?" I demanded, "Report your location!"
The buzzing was closer now, so close I could have sworn bees have gathered on the speaker, "It's an ambush! We ca- AH!!" was all I could hear before the shouts started to fade, now overshadowed by the ear popping noise of buzzing. But then there were even more noises! Noises so alien I could not identify, quickly followed by a scream and then rapid gunshots.
"Answer me! Where are you?" I demanded, my fist hit the desktop and made the contents that sat on it rattle. "Report!"
"Malignus! He- he Whoa!" Cries of battle and roaring erupted, I could hear more men shouting to open fire, more buzzing…
And suddenly, as if the wire was snipped by scissors, the line went dead.
I gritted my teeth tight, slammed the speaker on the receiver, and then shouted in utter anger and frustration. I tugged at my tie to loosen its binds around my neck, then unbuttoned a button or two to let the steam of bottled frustration and anger hiss out, freed of the pressured captivity of my body like the whistling of waster bubbling inside a hot bronze kettle on a stove.
I never realized I was sweating until I touched my bare chest… I reek of sweat, actually. Another malfunction I need to fix in this body; another flaw in Stockman's brilliance, just what I needed…
I fished out a device from my pocket, seething through my teeth, I felt hot and tight and infuriated beyond reason, and I knew I can not keep everything in console if I lose it now. Hitting a significant series of buttons, I picked up the discarded phone speaker and then simply slammed it back in place, just because I had this infuriating urge to do so, before I pressed the communication device to my ear.
It didn't take long until I received a reply, because slamming the phone receiver did not make me feel any better.
"Agent Bishop, sir?" the calm voice of the silver knight replied.
"Sentry. Where are you?" I hissed, and then drew in a deep breath. I have to keep my temper in check. I guess the many hours from lack of a restful sleep are finally showing their side effects.
"At the third checkpoint as assigned, sir." He answered after a moment, probably sensing my irritation. "Are you alright, sir?" he then asked, a hint of confusion, and possible worry, were evident in his tone.
"That isn't our concern right now, Sentry." I snapped gruffly, and then tiredly pinched the bridge of my nose, the narrow space between my eyes. "We have more important things to attend to."
"Swat Team 5 had been attacked. I'm betting Malignus ambushed them. The truck with the toxicant is still on its way to Northampton, and from the monitor's screenshots it is on the main road thus far. They were at the second checkpoint when the truck got away. "I informed briskly, then inhaled a deep breath and rubbed my tired eyes, already resisting the urge to gnaw on the inside of my cheek, "Go to that location and retrieve whatever useful info you can find. In case the tank had been damaged, keep the protective suit on." I growled, sitting down again I tugged the chair towards the desk, my fingers flying over the keyboard, "Malignus should still be in the area, he might have escaped his prison, but he wont get out of it again, not alive." I vowed.
There was a pause, "Affirmative. Silver Sentry, signing out." He then replied, and then the line went dead.
I turned off the device, tossed it onto the desk with a loud clatter, and went back to my typing, faster and more furiously than before. Eyes fixed on the text as the miniature screen hummed in and out with the disturbed transmission, I let my eyes flicker across the words I've written. If there is one think I hate while writing reports, it's the pesky typos that ruin my overall effort-built work.
Regardless, whatever type of weapon it is that Malignus is using, it's powerful, but unlike his usual equipment, this seems like a more advanced and improved material.
He probably didn't have time to prepare for this mission, since he had only escaped his confinement a week ago, so when exactly did he get a mass swarm of his insects created for a possible attack to succeed?
And still, it doesn't make sense nor answer the most important questions.
Why a truck of unidentified toxic waste? Why Northampton of all places? Just what is that nut-job thinking?
As I typed in what people would call inhuman speed, I relaxed, willing my tense body to ease and tune out the discomfort, focusing on the sound of the keys as my fingers hit them. It didn't take long before my body relaxed into its natural state, collected and blank, though anger still laid dormant inside. It allowed me a few more moments to file my thoughts and try to piece them together, in hope to figure out what that nut-job was trying to accomplish.
Suddenly, there was a beep. Stealing a glance at the monitor, I spied one of the screenshots provided by the satellites.
To my surprise, it was an area that looked like a crater, but I knew better than what it showed. Wherever this place was, it was a mess. Like a giant bowl with bubbling ooze pooling in the middle, in what appeared to be the middle of the street, and what appeared to be remnants of a truck scattered about, as if blown to smithereens.
Taking a double take, it was obviously caused by some sort of enormous explosion, spreading the crater to about fifty feet wide and thirty feet deep. The ice cold chill that pummeled into the pit of my stomach did not help ease the bad omen I saw before me. The remains of a vehicle-- no, two vehicles; there were two trucks and the aforementioned car at the scene now. There were also scattered human bodies, intact or splattered to pieces. Some were horribly marred, seared bodies littered the area where bright, blackish ooze splattered everywhere.
A white speck flew into the scene. It was probably Sentry arriving a little too late. All the anger that was dormant merely seconds ago, flared back into scorching fires in an instant. I grit my teeth so tight I was surprised they did not pop out of my mouth. I could taste the blood in my mouth, I probably bit onto my tongue, but the anger was blinding and the dull ache was somewhat welcome, distracting me from my red-hazed vision.
The truck that contained the toxic waste had been destroyed, blown up somehow. I had warned them not to damage it in any way, for the results were too hazardous.
Why the hell didn't they listen to me? Now it's all over the place!
Everything within a ten mile radius will be affected and killed within the next twenty four hours, and unless we manage to shut off the area, to close it off as much as possible, because anyone who comes within range is a goner!
Glancing at the screen again, I spied Sentry wearing his protective suit, along with Ananda in her giant battle suit. I was a little startled at the sight of Dr. Dome's daughter, because I don't recall asking her to attend this mission.
I watched them linger about, they seemed to talk but the microphones were switched off, so I did not hear their conversation. A moment later they separated to scan the area, poking into the nearby bushes and trees that survived, those still standing around the surroundings of the craters. After a moment, Ananda straightened up and almost ran towards Sentry, waving the mechanical hand for him to come towards her.
When he arrived, they dwelled into the nearby bushes, and a little niggling feeling in the back of my mind wondered if the rumors about them liking each other decided to pop in. I jerked at the mere improper thought and shook my head, honesty now, Bishop! This is not the time! Besides, those kids know better than to go for a roll in the hey in a situation and a location like this!
Maybe I just need a cold shower…
They probably found something and were working to retrieve it, and from the way they diligently worked around it with the utmost care, I knew it was probably something important. I was half tempted to pick up my communicator and ask them about their findings, but I did not need to.
To my surprise, when they stepped out of the bushes, each carried a massive, yet limp figure in their arms.
They were green- like turtles? No, not just turtles, but the turtles…
Why am I not surprised?
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A/N: Chapter revamped, edited and reposted. Constructive critique is welcome.