Zaedah bids you welcome and apologizes in advance for the lack of cheerfulness below...
Anthrax Affections
The maker of man, already exacting vengeance before the first sin was committed, made the facial orifice for misery. Olivia Dunham, one-time golden girl, had come to accept the stares, the pointing, the snubs. But the childhood idiom is wrong; words aren't like sticks and stones, they're wrecking balls plowing into the sanctity of self-worth. And they hurt like hell, demolishing through the thick skin and iron spine in return for her destruction upon those harming the populace. That newly safe, deep sleeping, oblivious public didn't appreciate the effort. And they'll never know the cost.
Months after a quad of misfits pushed a sinister corporation into a deep and early grave, the righteous spearhead of the campaign stumbled under the weight of ostracism. The conductors at the bureau callously switched her track, sending her train careening into the void of meaningless assignments. Worse, her face in the paper, caption giving her credit and condemnation, gave those counting on Massive Dynamics' innovations a target at which to shoot their venom. Life-changing miracles came to a colossal halt because one crusading woman sought revenge for the death of her traitor-lover. That deadly paranormal events were linked to the company was a matter never fully explored; by now hundreds of graves stood under the feet of mourners with no closure, no explanation.
If only they knew, Olivia mused as another burdensome morning promised no new horizons, no reason to leave the bed and trudge into the cold, grey world. It seemed to rain more often now, her personal black cloud hovering over entire cities. Still tangled the twisted mess of sheets that nightmares produced, Olivia flipped a mental coin between desk duty and snitch babysitting. The quarter predicted a long, dry affair with her workstation and the drive to the office saw a dry heaving at every stop sign. It was a cancer she couldn't cut out or radiate away, the knowledge that she'd given up everything to fight and yet they continued to take. There was so precious left.
The downpour drenched the waking city, slicking streets and drenching pedestrians in a show of heaven's wrath, but it failed to wash away the sins of the ignorant. Winter had begun early, no doubt her fault as well. Olivia parked, sniffed and ran inside to meet the day's hangman. The stick figure in a soaked pant suit moved through crowded halls and past coworkers like a mole under a flashlight, blindly scurrying and hiding. Head down, the blond ponytail hung over thin shoulders and the knowledge of its noose-like length scared her. But only a little. Was that all she had left, black thoughts of an end? And was it entirely unwelcome?
Four hours later, the distant sun beat puddles into cold vapor. A manila folder sat open under the wavering gaze of the inattentive, a yellowing photo of a disfigured drug czar was no face she wanted to ponder. The objective of the hastily formed team was to bring down as many members a multi-national cartel as could be found with the FBI's shaky intel. A small batch of U.S. and Mexican bad guys on both sides of the unfenced border turned a profit while senatorial hopefuls in Texas used the security issues to bolster their campaigns. Kingpins seemed a few steps down from the villains she'd been hunting. A fox reduced to chasing fake rabbits, Olivia's job was to support from the field office, a task which likely consisted of rescuing cats from trees. She'd never see action again, her hunches left to rot in her belly because no one was interested in her professional opinion. Surprisingly she still had a gun and Olivia wondered who she'd have to turn it on to reclaim the standard issue life that fringe science hadn't touched.
Spotting Agent Farnsworth conversing with Olivia's least favorite gawkers behind a cubicle divider, the breath rushed from her lungs. Astrid's reputation hadn't been tainted by association, a saving grace for her career. She must have discerned Olivia's attention because the kind face of one who knew the truth swiftly approached her, but the woman's impartial expression ill-suited her passionate nature. But many who'd once looked at Olivia with respect now regarded her with the affection reserved for anthrax.
"Astrid?" It was a greeting and a question.
The curly-haired woman didn't stop, almost colliding with a chair in her hurry. Olivia pulled the reins on her gasp, no previous rebuff hitting quite this hard. But Astrid flipped a whisper over her shoulder that lingered like perfume after her.
"Come with me."
Out the fire doors and into the icy asphalt parking lot, the pair of armed females darted through rows of standard sedans to reach a tiny patch of soggy grass. The smaller agent tugged at her hair for a moment, longer now than Olivia remembered, the fingers tangling in the curls appeared to shake. In response, Olivia dared a cautious hand on her former cohort's arm.
"Okay, first," Astrid looked both ways and sank into a conspiring tone. "I miss you. And you've gotten too thin, girl."
Smiles were too strenuous to form so Olivia settled on a shrug. "I'm fine."
"I know it doesn't solve anything but I'm sorry the whole stupid world doesn't get what we did."
"We should have expected it." So went the muttered mantra that put her to sleep most night. "But something's wrong?"
The younger woman's eyes blinked rapidly, as though the cloud-cloaked sun was at full glare. "You know that Walter's been living on his own, right?"
"I heard. They said he didn't need…" she nearly choked on the name. "A guardian anymore." Her heart clenched and she had no doubt Astrid would see it.
And she wasn't let down. "I don't think Walter's heard from him either. I check on Walter once a week, but this morning it looked like he left in a hurry. Days ago."
Olivia's gaze drifted to the curb, watching the robins fight over worms and wondering why she hadn't been checking on him herself. Of course, Walter's frequent sidetracking and occasional outbursts were hard on the ears, but his efforts to balance his earlier work had saved many. No, that wasn't the reason. She'd gotten used to the pair; where the father goes, so goes the son. But no longer.
Once the team no longer had a mission, Peter had grown restless. The bureau had offered him a permanent consulting position, but their treatment of Olivia had caused him to reject it. She remembered feeling terribly flattered by the gesture, even knowing that he had money stashed away somewhere. Despite the media coverage and questions, Peter had tried to stay, willing to work on this thing that had cropped up between them. But Olivia's world was as secure as peeling paint and she'd been in no mental place to reciprocate. A month into their tentative progress, Peter had gone overseas, presumably to finish an old job. When she'd asked if he would return, Peter had tossed the ball firmly into her debris-littered court. 'That's up to you.'
But she'd forgotten how to arrive at decisions, her bosses ensuring she'll need to make precious few. The night he'd left, Olivia had watched as every muscle in Peter's body had presented an invitation, one she didn't believe he fully understood and she couldn't possibly accept. Instead, he'd gifted her with their first kiss before walking out of her wretched life. The ball bounced into a far corner, sitting abandoned in the cobwebs of what had been a life lived dangerous, and now not at all.
When Astrid departed with a promise of careful communication, Olivia stood among the weeds waiting for the much sought black hole to swallow her. She was due in Brownsville TX tomorrow, leaving no time to follow up on Walter and less time to worry about Peter. Defeating drug runners working out of Matamoros Mexico would apparently require her paper-pushing skills.
She'd made Lucifer eat dirt, but she couldn't wash off the residue.
Humble thanks for visiting... More to follow.