Disclaimer:
I do not own any of the "Invisible Man" Characters. I do own Julie and
Tayler.
Darien stood on a darkened street corner. The quicksilver that coated his body felt colder in the cool California evening. He was following an arms dealer who was selling to Al Qaida. He felt tired, anxious. "What's your sit-rep, Fawkes?" "Nothing's happening. Are you sure that this deal is going down today?" "Of course I'm sure! Why do you do that?" "Do what?" "Doubt my sources?" "Not this again! Wasn't it your sources that led Arnaud to us just so that he could infect me with that flu? You remember that?" "This is different. Never trust ex-KGB." "Oh, I see." He saw a black van pull up to the curb. "O.K. here we go." A man in a dark suit climbed out of the van. "You have my weapons?" asked the Buyer. "You have my money?" asked the dealer The buyer smiled and placed a black briefcase on the dealer's hood. Opening it, the dealer's eyes lit up. He too, smiled, closed the briefcase, placed in on the ground and led the buyer to the rear of his car.
Darien quietly sneaked across the street, quicksilvered the briefcase and placed an identical one in it's place. Then he crossed back over to the other side of the street and down the dark alley and climbed into Golda. He knew what would happen. He could almost see it. Hobbes switched Golda on an almost silently coasted out of the alley and down the street. Behind them, they heard gunshots and knew that it was over. The next day, they knew that they'd hear that an arms dealer or some unidentified man was found shot to death in a river or a car. Maybe even on that street corner. "Hobbesnet" had pulled through once again. Out of habit, Darien glanced down at his wrist. His body was completely saturated with quicksilver, but he didn't feel that pounding on his skull or the light feeling of no inhibitions. At this moment, he wished that he could have been quicksilver mad. It was a strange feeling, knowing that you had just caused the death of a person. Maybe even two. None of this seemed to phase Hobbes. He just sat there listening to the hum of Golda's engine.
Upon arriving at the Agency, Darien went straight to the Keep. Even though they had cured the need for counter-agent, they kept Claire since none of them knew what they were dealing with or what to do if something went wrong. Darien strolled in and sat down in a chair. Claire was leaning over her microscope. Without even looking up, she asked, "What's wrong Darien?" "What makes you think that anything's wrong?" "Well, you just don't seem your usual chipper self." "I just killed a man. I think that I have earned the right to not be 'chipper'." At that, Claire looked up at Darien, surprised. "Darien, that 'man' that you are talking about was making possible the deaths of hundreds of people. You remember September 11th. For all we know, he's the one who sold those terrorists their weapons." "I guess." "Darien, what's troubling you, really?" "I don't know. It's like, O.K. it's like before, you know when I went all red-eyed and violent, I killed people, I hurt people, but I was never in control. And even when I was, it was to save my life that I did that stuff." "And now?" "And now, what's the point? I mean, I won't go quick silver mad, so I'll never be out of control, and well, I won't go quicksilver mad so I don't need to keep coming back. I don't need to be the good little secret agent boy anymore." "Were you ever the good little agent boy?" Darien just rolled his eyes. "Look, Darien, the case load hasn't been nearly as heavy as usual lately. Maybe you could convince the official to give you a couple of days off. Maybe you could get away, gain some perspective."
* * *
"No." "'No?' How can you just say 'no'?" "Very easily. No. You promised to keep working when we cured your little quicksilver problem." "I have been working. I've been working day and night since Arnaud gave Claire the antidote. I need a vacation or I'm gonna go crazy. Then you'll have two Hobbeses on your hands." "Actually sir," "Shut up, Eberts." "Yes, sir." The official sat for a moment, then said, "What is it, Eberts?" "Well, sir, under law, you are required to give each of your agents two weeks off a year. Mr. Fawkes has taken two days, sir. And besides, sir, we don't want another Mr. Hobbes, do we sir?" "Fine. All right, Fawkes, you've got a week. But you will come in if you are absolutely needed. Agreed?" Darien, all too happy to get any time off at all agreed.
The next day, Darien slept in for the first time in ages, and it felt wonderful. But even after a long, restful night, Darien still felt listless. He went walking, half in a daze. After he had gotten the finger the third time for running into people, Darien turned down a blind alley and disappeared. He smiled when he ran into a well-dressed business man and watched him turn, right hand at the ready, and seeing no one suddenly looked bewildered and returned to his walk.
Darien stood alone on a street corner. Alone, that is, except for a teenage girl. She was dressed in blue jeans and a t-shirt. She looked oddly familiar. She was carrying a large bag with a shoulder strap. The 'walk' light was taking forever. The girl looked at her wrist and cursed under her breath. "Damn it!" she said, shaking her wrist and listening to her watch. Then, tapping the face, she turned and asked, "Excuse me, but do you have the time?" Darien started then looked around. There was no one else around. He could tell that he was still quicksilvered. "Hello? Yeah, I'm talking to you." Darien said, "You can see me?" The girl's eyes darted from side to side and said, "Yeah. What, do you think you're invisible or something? Oh my god, you actually think you're invisible, don't you?" Darien quickly unquickslivered. The girl's eyes grew huge. "Aw crap," The two said in unison.
Darien stood on a darkened street corner. The quicksilver that coated his body felt colder in the cool California evening. He was following an arms dealer who was selling to Al Qaida. He felt tired, anxious. "What's your sit-rep, Fawkes?" "Nothing's happening. Are you sure that this deal is going down today?" "Of course I'm sure! Why do you do that?" "Do what?" "Doubt my sources?" "Not this again! Wasn't it your sources that led Arnaud to us just so that he could infect me with that flu? You remember that?" "This is different. Never trust ex-KGB." "Oh, I see." He saw a black van pull up to the curb. "O.K. here we go." A man in a dark suit climbed out of the van. "You have my weapons?" asked the Buyer. "You have my money?" asked the dealer The buyer smiled and placed a black briefcase on the dealer's hood. Opening it, the dealer's eyes lit up. He too, smiled, closed the briefcase, placed in on the ground and led the buyer to the rear of his car.
Darien quietly sneaked across the street, quicksilvered the briefcase and placed an identical one in it's place. Then he crossed back over to the other side of the street and down the dark alley and climbed into Golda. He knew what would happen. He could almost see it. Hobbes switched Golda on an almost silently coasted out of the alley and down the street. Behind them, they heard gunshots and knew that it was over. The next day, they knew that they'd hear that an arms dealer or some unidentified man was found shot to death in a river or a car. Maybe even on that street corner. "Hobbesnet" had pulled through once again. Out of habit, Darien glanced down at his wrist. His body was completely saturated with quicksilver, but he didn't feel that pounding on his skull or the light feeling of no inhibitions. At this moment, he wished that he could have been quicksilver mad. It was a strange feeling, knowing that you had just caused the death of a person. Maybe even two. None of this seemed to phase Hobbes. He just sat there listening to the hum of Golda's engine.
Upon arriving at the Agency, Darien went straight to the Keep. Even though they had cured the need for counter-agent, they kept Claire since none of them knew what they were dealing with or what to do if something went wrong. Darien strolled in and sat down in a chair. Claire was leaning over her microscope. Without even looking up, she asked, "What's wrong Darien?" "What makes you think that anything's wrong?" "Well, you just don't seem your usual chipper self." "I just killed a man. I think that I have earned the right to not be 'chipper'." At that, Claire looked up at Darien, surprised. "Darien, that 'man' that you are talking about was making possible the deaths of hundreds of people. You remember September 11th. For all we know, he's the one who sold those terrorists their weapons." "I guess." "Darien, what's troubling you, really?" "I don't know. It's like, O.K. it's like before, you know when I went all red-eyed and violent, I killed people, I hurt people, but I was never in control. And even when I was, it was to save my life that I did that stuff." "And now?" "And now, what's the point? I mean, I won't go quick silver mad, so I'll never be out of control, and well, I won't go quicksilver mad so I don't need to keep coming back. I don't need to be the good little secret agent boy anymore." "Were you ever the good little agent boy?" Darien just rolled his eyes. "Look, Darien, the case load hasn't been nearly as heavy as usual lately. Maybe you could convince the official to give you a couple of days off. Maybe you could get away, gain some perspective."
* * *
"No." "'No?' How can you just say 'no'?" "Very easily. No. You promised to keep working when we cured your little quicksilver problem." "I have been working. I've been working day and night since Arnaud gave Claire the antidote. I need a vacation or I'm gonna go crazy. Then you'll have two Hobbeses on your hands." "Actually sir," "Shut up, Eberts." "Yes, sir." The official sat for a moment, then said, "What is it, Eberts?" "Well, sir, under law, you are required to give each of your agents two weeks off a year. Mr. Fawkes has taken two days, sir. And besides, sir, we don't want another Mr. Hobbes, do we sir?" "Fine. All right, Fawkes, you've got a week. But you will come in if you are absolutely needed. Agreed?" Darien, all too happy to get any time off at all agreed.
The next day, Darien slept in for the first time in ages, and it felt wonderful. But even after a long, restful night, Darien still felt listless. He went walking, half in a daze. After he had gotten the finger the third time for running into people, Darien turned down a blind alley and disappeared. He smiled when he ran into a well-dressed business man and watched him turn, right hand at the ready, and seeing no one suddenly looked bewildered and returned to his walk.
Darien stood alone on a street corner. Alone, that is, except for a teenage girl. She was dressed in blue jeans and a t-shirt. She looked oddly familiar. She was carrying a large bag with a shoulder strap. The 'walk' light was taking forever. The girl looked at her wrist and cursed under her breath. "Damn it!" she said, shaking her wrist and listening to her watch. Then, tapping the face, she turned and asked, "Excuse me, but do you have the time?" Darien started then looked around. There was no one else around. He could tell that he was still quicksilvered. "Hello? Yeah, I'm talking to you." Darien said, "You can see me?" The girl's eyes darted from side to side and said, "Yeah. What, do you think you're invisible or something? Oh my god, you actually think you're invisible, don't you?" Darien quickly unquickslivered. The girl's eyes grew huge. "Aw crap," The two said in unison.