All characters contained herein belong to either Image or
Wildstorm/DC. I am deriving no pecuniary benefit from the
use of these characters. See previous chapters for full
disclaimers.
Additionally, this is my first attempt with these
characters. A thousand pardons if I err in characterization
or continuity, for I'm basing this chapter on three TPBs
and one sole comic. As for any of the obvious continuity
issues this chapter may provoke- well, the multiverse is a
strange and wonderful thing, as we'll see more of later.
This story is rated PG-13 for language and references to
violence and adult situations.
StormWatch: Antibodies 3/??
Somewhere, somewhen else:
"Mmmmmmmmm, that was nice." Lauren Pennington sighed
happily, savoring the delicious sensations coursing through
her body. After several long moments, her toes slowly
uncurled and she indulged herself in a skin-tinglingly
luxuriant stretch.
"Mmmm hmmmm. Bloody *great*. Now sleep," the man beside her
murmured. Face half-buried in a large pillow, his broad
chest was already beginning to gently rise and fall with
the first of what promised to be hours of prodigiously loud
snores.
Lauren propped herself upon on one elbow. She studied him a
few moments, then lowered her lips to his ear and whispered
in a wheedling tone. "C'mon, get up, Nigel..."
"Don't wanna," Nigel Keane protested sleepily, pulling a
pillow over his head. "Lauren, please, I'm beggin' yeh. I'm
an old man, I am, an' I need muh rest..."
One bouncy lock of curly red hair fell across her face,
neatly dividing her vision. "Ni-gel, we can sleep when
we're dead." She smiled brightly, and emerald eyes twinkled
mischeviously. "Let's do it again."
He sat up abruptly, and pale green limbs caught in tangled
blue sheets. He threw the pillow aside, sputtering. "Again?
Are yeh tryin' to kill me, woman?"
She moved towards him, lips stained with the remnants of
smeared lipstick curved upward in a wicked smile. "Don't
*make* me get the cowboy hat..."
He paused for a moment, considering, then shifted his
weight to his hip, moving atop her in one smooth fluid
motion. Green hands gently pinned her wrists to the bed,
and he grinned rakishly. "Well, when yeh put it like
*that*..."
Delighted laughter was interrupted by a sharp staccato
burst of radio noise. "Hellstrike. Fahrenheit. I need you
both in the Analysis Deck, now."
"Ah, ballacks," Nigel groaned, neck lolling to nestle at
the base of her throat. "Yer timing couldn't be better,
Jackson. What the bloody hell do yeh want now?"
The other man took a deep breath, irked at the insolence in
Hellstrike's tone. "*Want*? I *want* the medical staff to
figure out a way to get those creatures out of Molly and
the rest of the survivors so we can take them out of
cryogenic lockdown without killing them and releasing the
damn things. I *want* out of these damn politics. I *want*
permanent U.N. financing for StormWatch." He paused,
finishing rather sheepishly. "But I'll settle for the two
of you joining the rest of the team in Conference Room
Twelve as soon as possible."
Lauren frowned. "What's wrong, Jackson?" She sat up
straighter, though one painted toenail still absently
trailed up and down the area of electrified forcefield that
defined Nigel's calf 'muscle'. "Has Code Perfect been
invoked?"
The Weatherman was silent a moment. "No, nothing like
that."
The tone of his voice gave her pause. Lauren swallowed,
playful mood vanishing. She reached for her cast-off silver
uniform, suddenly all business. "Are the aliens back?"
Beside her, Nigel stiffened. StormWatch regularly faced
monsters and demons of all varieties without flinching, but
there had been something spectacularly sinister about the
creatures that had so recently ripped SkyWatch apart. He
glanced furtively at Lauren and scowled. If he hadn't come
in just in time to fry that thing trying to grab her
face...
"NO!" Jackson assured them hurriedly. "No, nothing of the
sort." His baritone voice deepened, as it often did when he
was annoyed. "I'll explain when you get here. And I know
it's asking a lot of the two of you, but please hurry the
hell up. Winter, Flint and Fuji are already waiting on the
Deck, most impatiently, might I add--"
Nigel cast one last longing look at the warm bed and the
warmer woman, then regretfully rose to don his uniform, arm
snaking out to grab a new beer as he did so. He glared in
Jackson's general direction, and words came pouring out in
a rush.
"Lissen here, wee lad, it waren't but two days ago them
alien buggers yeh're talkin' about invaded our bleedin'
*home*. In case yeh've forgotten, if Lauren, Nikolas an' I
hadn't managed t' fry their overgrown cock-roach lookin'
asses, we'd *all* be somebody's bloody breakfast right now,
thank yeh very much. I think yeh can excuse us bein' a few
friggin' minutes late."
Their leader said nothing, just sighed. No one could sigh
quite like Jackson King. Low, deep, longsuffering, his
exhalations were legendary in their exhortative power. They
were also totally lost on Nigel Keane.
"What?!?" Nigel blurted. He sat down on the edge of the bed
to slip on his boots. He tipped the bottle up and downed it
in a few long gulps. "Yeh're tellin' me that we don't
deserve just a little leeway after all the shit that's
happened in the last few months?"
Jackson's wince was almost audible. "I know, Nigel. Believe
me, I know- but we've still got a job to do. The U.N.
doesn't care if we've had a bad day- they just want
results."
Lauren, now fully clothed, climbed across the bed to
embrace Nigel gently from behind, resting her cheek against
his shoulder. He leaned into her. "Don't get your panties
in a wad, Jackson. We're on our way."
"Good. Weatherman out." The link went silent.
Lauren made a face. She sat back in the bed, curling her
legs underneath her. "Wonder what that was all about?"
Nigel twisted on the edge of the bed to face her. "Don't
know," he shrugged, tossing the now empty beer bottle on
the floor to join a pile of its discarded brothers. "Guess
we'll find out soon, though, won't we?"
"Guess so," she answered absently, trying to finger-comb
unruly hair into place. "I hope it's nothing serious. I was
looking forward to some down time."
"Really, now? I hadn't noticed." He teased, and was
rewarded by her answering smile. He rose again, extending a
hand to help her up. "Now come on, yeh wee temptress,
before yeh make me ferget we've somewhere to be and get us
both yelled at for bein' late again."
_________________________________________________________
Victoria Ojuku reclined in a uncomfortable conference
chair, dark eyes fixed on an overhead clock. She sighed,
and crossed and uncrossed her legs impatiently under the
table before leaning forward to rest her elbows against its
polished surface. Chin cradled in one hand, she stared
glumly through a large glass window at the bustling figures
moving around the Analysis Deck.
The raised side conference room offered a wonderful view of
the rest of the area. The Deck, and indeed the entire
Orbital Platform, was full of people. Blue and black clad
scientists swarmed around new equipment, testing,
calibrating, ensuring that machinery replaced in the wake
of StormWatch's battle with the recent alien marauders was
functioning properly.
"Those monsters tore this place apart," she murmured,
fingers reflexively clenching at the memory of ripping them
apart with her bare hands. One hand fluttered upwards and
she gently touched her face.
After two days, it still hurt. The acid alien blood had
splashed all over her face and chest, and while the scars
were rapidly fading from her supposedly invulnerable skin
the memory would linger for quite a while longer.
Apparently, she wasn't quite as invulnerable as everyone
thought.
The huge mountain of metal seated across the table from her
nodded sagely. "Ah, yes. Horrible creatures." His
mechanized voice was soft and strangely sad.
Victoria looked up- way up- and studied the expressionless
red mask of her teammate Fuji. She smiled, pearl white
teeth gleaming against the darkness of her skin. "I don't
know about you, Toshiro, but I'm ready to do *something*.
All this inactivity is making me nervous."
He inclined his head politely. "I think I rather enjoy the
quiet," his mechanized voice murmured softly. "This," he
waved his huge hand gracefully, "Is very troublesome to
me."
She tilted her head curiously. "What, new personnel?"
Misawa shook his head, settling carefully back into the
massive chair specially crafted for his use. It took up
almost one entire side of the table. "No. . . the need for
new personnel. I--" He broke off for a moment, then resumed
in an even softer voice. "It pains me that we could not
better protect Skywatch's crew. So many died in the attack.
They were our responsibility, and we failed."
Her eyes closed for a moment, then she reached across the
empty seat between them to briefly rest her hand on his.
Her hand, large for a woman's, was dwarfed by his huge
silver gauntlet. "Still, Toshiro- we did what we could.
SkyWatch is still here because we were finally able to pull
together and defeat them."
"I suppose you are right," Fuji murmured slowly, though
Victoria still heard more than a trace of remorse in his
synthesized voice. "Though my soul grieves for them, we
must go on so that others will not share their fate."
"Very true, Toshiro," Another voice sounded behind them,
and they spun in unison as their field leader Nikolas
Kamarov entered the room, a steaming glass of tea in his
hand. Hellstrike and Fahrenheit followed right behind him.
Victoria looked up and grinned. "Well, well. Look who the
cat dragged in." She eyed her friend's disheveled hair and
flushed skin and opened her mouth to make a comment, but
thought better of it.
"Hey, Vicky," Lauren greeted her friend cheerily, walking
around the table to take a seat beside her. "Has Jackson
shown up yet?"
"Not yet," Victoria shook her head. "But I gathered he
wanted to talk to us about something pretty important."
Nigel took a seat beside her, turning his chair around to
straddle it. "Aa, whatever it was, he needs to hurry up.
I've got better things to be doin' with me time." He leered
at Lauren, who just rolled her eyes.
Nikolas took his seat at the far end of the table. He
grimaced. "I'm not even going to ask. I'm *certain* we do
not want to know."
Victoria nodded emphatically, and Toshiro's huge frame
shook slightly, his genteel version of laughter. Nigel
fixed a teasingly baleful glare at him. "Laugh it up, ol'
son, and I'll get them geniuses out there," a green index
finger pointed at the Analysis Deck, "To figure out some
way to stablize the floors to eliminate all vibrations.
We'll see how yeh like *that*."
Toshiro straightened immediately, but his rumbling voice
still held a hint of amusement. "Please do not do that,
Nigel. I will be good."
Hellstrike nodded smugly and crossed his arms across the
top of the chair. "Aa, that's what I thought."
Lauren elbowed him in the ribs. "Quit teasing Toshiro,
Nigel. It's not nice."
Shaggy green eyebrows waggled in surprise. "HIM? *He's* the
one that bloody well has an orgasm every five fraggin'
minutes! He's the luckiest bastard I've ever met! Why do
yeh all take up for him all the time?"
Victoria leaned over the table and smiled sweetly. "Because
he's not a human pig?"
Nigel drew himself up indignantly. "I'll have yeh know pigs
are fine animals. Very intelligent, pigs are."
"I have always thought so," Toshiro added loyally.
Biting back a comment of her own, Lauren instead scooted
her chair backwards, extricating herself from the
conversation. She rose quietly and walked over to the far
end of the table.
"Hey, Nikolas," she spoke softly so as not to disturb the
banter. "Can I have a minute?"
"Lauren," Winter inclined his head at his deputy leader.
"Do you have something on your mind?"
"You might say that," she nodded, crouching beside him. "Do
you have any idea what Jackson wanted with us today? I have
a weird feeling that there's more to this than he's letting
on."
He pursed his lips, and ice blue eyes narrowed
thoughtfully. "To be perfectly honest, I don't know. He
mentioned to me something to me earlier about 'clearing up
a mistake', but I have no idea what that meant."
Almost on cue, the Weatherman's distinctive footsteps
sounded, and he walked into the room. SkyWatch Executive
Officer Christine Trelane was right behind, bright blonde
hair a sharp counterpoint to the dark suits they both wore.
Hellstrike spotted them first and leaned forward excitedly.
"Ahah! Jackson, Christine! I need yeh to settle somethin'
for us. We're havin' a bit of an argument, here-"
"First time for everything," Christine murmured dryly, then
took her seat at Toshiro's right side.
Jackson's lips quirked in amusement, but he managed a gruff
tone nonetheless. "This is an official meeting, Hellstrike.
Whatever it is can wait."
Fahrenheit and Winter exchanged a quick glance, then the
former moved back to her place at the table. The rest of
the team did likewise and the laughter faded as the team
smoothly shifted into professional briefing mode.
Jackson took his seat at the head of the table. He took a
deep breath, scanning the faces at the table. His eyes
rested on Christine, and her chin ducked slightly, a brief
nod of encouragement.
Jackson smiled faintly at her and began. "First of all, I
want to commend all of you for your recent performance in
saving Skywatch from the aliens. This was a prime display
of just why the world needs StormWatch, and I'm proud of
you all."
"We were just doing our job," Winter murmured quietly, an
edge of some unidentifiable emotion in his voice.
"I know that," Jackson replied, and stood up to pace the
room, arms clasped behind his back. "And you did it well.
That's not why I've asked you here today."
"*Asked*?" Nigel muttered, sotto voce. Lauren scowled and
kicked him under the table.
Jackson pretended not to notice. "You're here today because
I'm considering a drastic course of action, and I want your
imput before I make any final decisions." Feet spaced far
apart as if expecting a blow, Jackson raised his chin and
bluntly began.
"All this," he motioned to the technicians refurbishing the
deck, "Was almost destroyed because of one single mistake.
I was careless, and my actions almost cost us the station.
I don't want that happening again."
The others were quiet, barely daring to breathe. Nikolas
was still a moment, bright head bent as he considered the
other man's words. "What happened here is not your fault,"
he murmured quietly. "You know that."
Jackson's silver neural headset gleamed dully in the
starlight. "That's where you're wrong, Winter," he
corrected sharply. "As Weatherman, I'm responsible for
*everything* that happens on this Station. That's why I
called you here today."
"What is this all about, then, *Weatherman*?" Nikolas asked
quietly, his accented voice emphasizing the title.
"Let me show you," the tall man sat back down, murmuring a
sequence of commands into the metal headset cupping his
ear. A bright holographic display sprang out of the table.
The greenish image extended half the length of the table
and several feet into the air. It showed a close up of a
large viewscreen illuminated with flickering red light
inside.
"That's one of Molly's viewing ports, isn't it?" Lauren
looked up and the display casted undulating crimson hues on
her fair skin. "A lens made of altered atoms that lets us
see into other worlds."
Toshiro leaned down for a better view. "And that must be
the Bleed. It is. . . beautiful."
Jackson just nodded. "It is. In light of what happened on
the parallel world, we thought it might be a good idea to
have the techs keep a close eye on everything we can see
through it."
Nikolas' shoulders squared and he looked at Jackson,
challenge in his eyes. Both men thought of their fierce
argument regarding StormWatch's action- or inaction- to
help that embattled world. "I take it something else has
happened?"
Jackson's expression darkened, and Christine quickly
answered for him. "Well, that's the question. We probably
would never have noticed it if we hadn't had to replace so
much equipment on the station, but in all the
recalibrations somebody noticed an interesting anamoly."
"Please explain, Weatherman," Fuji intoned, hands resting
lightly on his armored knees. "I am afraid I do not quite
understand."
Jackson looked haggard in the eerie red glow of the
holographic image. "The Bleed has changed."
"What?" Nigel pursed his lips, his detective's mind rapidly
peicing together the scraps of information he'd gleaned
about the topic. "I thought the Bleed was a void separating
everything from everything else. Ain't it supposed to be a
bloody *constant*, or somethin'?"
"We *thought* so," Jackson answered slowly, crossing his
arms over his chest. "All the evidence to date would seem
to indicate that, yes."
"What does this *mean*?" Lauren demanded, face turned
upward towards the hypnotic flickers of light on the
viewscreen.
"It means," Nikolas' voice grew louder as he became more
agitated. "That we may be in great danger. If there are
fluctuations in the Bleed, it is very possible that all
worlds- ours included- may be affected."
Jackson nodded bleakly. "That's it, exactly. It's odd- none
of the Earth 'scopes are turning up *anything*, but I've
got three teams analyzing data from the Skywatch lens now.
There's been no damage so far, but some of the data they're
predicting-" He visibly repressed a shudder. "Catastrophic
doesn't begin to cover it."
Victoria twisted in her chair to face the Weatherman,
elegant features creased in concen. "What can we do about
this, Jackson?"
The dark man drew himself up to his full height and looked
directly at Nikolas. "StormWatch was formed to save lives.
If there's a possiblity that we can do something about it,
we should."
The former Spetznaz officer stared the other man for a long
moment, then his expression softened. "The Weatherman is
correct." This time there was no hint of mockery in the
tone. "We must do something."
"Agreed, but what?" Fahrenheit looked at both men in turn.
"You've got to admit, this isn't exactly our standard
scenario, if there is any such thing. You didn't answer
Vicky's question, Weatherman. What can we do about
something like this?"
Jackson met her direct gaze. "Not so long ago Winter
suggested crossing the Bleed to give aid to Jack
Hawksmoor's StormWatch. We-" He caught himself. "*I*
decided that was too dangerous, too risky." He looked down,
then up again. "It was a mistake. People died because I
wasn't willing to take that risk."
"Jackson," Christine extended a slender hand toward him,
but he cut her off abruptly.
"No, let me finish." He looked up and down the table. "Like
I said, StormWatch was formed to save lives. If that means
taking risks, so be it." His eyes fixed on Fahrenheit.
"Lauren, you were right. This *isn't* the kind of mission
StormWatch was formed for, the kind of thing you're even
remotely prepared to do." He turned to address them all.
"But there's nobody else to do the job."
One hand fell flat against the table. "I may be premature
in this. The fluctuation may be harmless- hell, for all we
know at this point it may be normal for the Bleed."
"I'm gettin' thirsty, Jackson, get to th' point," Nigel
interrupted ungently.
Jackson pursed his lips wryly. "All right. I called you all
together today for this. If something *is* wrong with the
Bleed and we can't solve it from here, I'm considering the
possibility of sending some or all of you into it, and I
don't know what the consequences of something like that
would be."
There was a long pause while the members of the team
collected their respective thoughts.
"Is that all?" Nigel asked suspiciously, putting aside
natural feelings of trepidation. "Yeh might be sending us
somewhere we might not come back from? Since when is that
something new? This job ain't exactly sellin' insurance,
Weatherman."
Nikolas beamed, pleased with the decision. "We will go
wherever the need is, Weatherman. If you think that is in
the Bleed, then that is where we'll go."
"Don't take this lightly," The Weatherman warned, both
hands now pressed flat against the table. "I'm telling you
now. This won't be like any other mission you've ever been
on. If any of you decide not to accept it, I won't hold it
against you."
Lauren paused, then made her decision. "You said it before,
Jackson. This job is about saving lives. If we can do that
on a grand scale- well, then, all the better." She rose
from her chair, resting her hands lightly along its back.
Victoria followed suit, dark eyes full of meaning. "I'm
in."
Fuji rose out of his chair and bowed slightly. "It would be
the greatest honor of my life to do this thing you ask."
Jackson studied them carefully. "You're all sure about
this?"
Nigel rose, yawning. "Sure, we're sure. Now is that all?
Are we done here?"
Jackson looked at Christine, who just chuckled. "I suppose
so," he snorted, a bit bewildered. "You can go."
Nikolas rose last of all and walked over to the Weatherman.
He didn't say a word, only rested his hand briefly on the
other man's shoulder approvingly before moving towards the
doorway.
His teammates followed one by one, murmuring amongst
themselves as they left.
"Aa, all this talking's made me thirsty. Anyone want to hit
the pubs tonight?"
"Breathing makes you thirsty, Nigel."
"That ain't all that makes me thirsty, lass."
"Ni-gel..."
"What about you, Nick? How does Clark's sound tonight?"
"That is an excellent idea, old friend."
"Although I cannot imbibe, I too would enjoy the
camaraderie of joining you at your drinking establishment."
"Glad t' hear it, Toshiro. Maybe yeh an' me can beat up
some young punks just for good measure."
"Hey, Lauren, while they're doing that how about you and I
swing by a few clubs and maybe pick up a few guys for old
times sake?"
"I don't fraggin' *think* so, Ojuku-"
Their voices faded away and Jackson King, Weatherman,
watched them go. Christine walked behind him, resting her
hands on his shoulders. She slowly began to knead the
bunched muscles.
"Well, well. That went a hell of a lot better than you
thought it would." She grinned. "I'm not the kind to say 'I
told you so'-"
"Yes, you are," He murmured, grunting as her fingers found
a particularly sore spot.
"Maybe I am, at that," she smiled softly. "Jackson, what
did you expect? You're a good Weatherman- more importantly,
you're a good *man*. I know that, and they know it, too."
She leaned forward, and strands of blonde hair tickled his
cheek. "They trust you, even if you're having trouble
trusting yourself right now."
"Maybe they do, at that," he allowed himself a small smile,
and reached back to take her in his arms. Laughing, she
took him by the hand instead and led him out of the dark
room into the bustle of the Analysis Deck.
Alone in the dark room, the holographic display of the
Bleed flickered crimson long into the night.
=====
-DuAnn
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give unto you. Not as the
world gives, give I unto you. Do not let your hearts be
troubled and do not be afraid.
-John 14:27