Operation Glitterberries 02: Walking home

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Disclaimer: Daria and associated characters are owned by MTV and Viacom. This is fan fiction written for entertainment only. No money or other negotiable currency or goods have been exchanged.

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The pace that Melody had chosen for walking towards the hill was one that would take her to the hills and the security of the forest in a matter of minutes. She could have run there, on her college days she did the mile in four minutes, but she was burdened by her GOOD bag and she didn't know the extent of her injuries yet so she instead jogged to the woods.

Less that a few yards later she felt as if instead of jogging she had been running flat out. She still persevered; while stopping and smelling the daisies was tempting, if an enemy chopper came here to search for its buddy then the daisies would have to be used to decorate her deep, deep grave (the rumor that she had dug her way out of a shallow grave had spread around the intelligence community, now she was supposed to be cremated after execution).

She was completely out of breath when she reached the relative safety of the trees, as soon as she arrived her lags gave out under her and she had to half walk, half crawl on the nearest bush. 'That was pathetic; I have done better with a broken leg in the middle of the everglades.' She thought; she would have screamed in frustration but she needed the air. To decrease the soreness she was feeling she started rubbing her legs…

Her legs; there was something wrong with them; they were shorter and less toned than they had been when she was eight… These weren't her legs.

And finally all the little clues that she had been ignoring in favor of more pressing concerns came to the fore. The way her reach had decreased, the weakness she had been noticing when hauling her recently acquired stuff. Even the chest she hadn't felt when rubbing the unguent on her ribs. She removed the glasses that were on her face and the trees became brown and green blurs; she had been blaming the drugs on her system for her reduced eyesight, but it seemed that the eyes themselves were to blame.

"This… this is not my body." The words leave her lips almost against her will, there wasn't any other reasonable answer, but it sounded crazier that even the utter nonsense that was published by James Bond. Not even Codename: 707 had faced something as weird in his literary career.

'Stop. Think about something useful, leave imagination for the mission report. Okay, under which circumstances, no matter how improbable, someone would try to transform me from a lean mean special agent into a tiny girl with bad eyesight?'

The first probability was that she had been transformed as a sick form of payback by one of her enemies. Sheng Lok, the ruler of the New Kingdom of Siam for example had enough money to do so, plus he probably was still angry about her freeing the thousand or so concubines from his harem. But he had neither the power nor the smarts to establish an operation in the states, much less one capable of taking down the Farm. The ones that did had the ability to do such a complex operation wouldn't play games, they would put a bullet in the back of her head followed by a dozen more and then a few gallons of napalm just to be sure.

The other possibility was that she volunteered for the operation, the West has the best Plastic Surgeons in the world, and this body was without any doubt the perfect disguise, she could go in front of her mother and she wouldn't be able to recognize her. And that's not counting the fact that someone with her physic would be the last person suspected to be a highly trained veteran agent. No sane person would cripple herself like this before going into the wolf's maw, but if there was the clear threat of an enemy organization operating in the heart of America she would step forward for her duty, no matter the personal cost.

And for the eyes she could think of two reasons right off the bat, the first one was that whoever was doing this had a biometric scanner which included her profile, considering how many times she had been captured, a retinal scan wasn't out of question; the other reason was that maybe someone messed up her eyes, in which case he would probably do a donation of his own eyes as soon as she remembered who was at fault.

Having recovered her breath in one point or another of her musings, she decided to keep moving towards her destination once more, this time walking as fast as she felt comfortable. It just wouldn't do to force herself and finding that when she needed to run there was no juice left. She used the time afforded by the slow pace to better check the papers that were inside the Duffel bag, those might give her a clue of what was going on, and how did she got in this mess in the first place.

Starting with the credit cards and Driver's licenses inside, they belonged to the adults in the chopper, a Helen Morgendorffer and a Jake Morgendorffer; probably married and unless she was mistaken they were the parents of the teen. Then she saw a student's I.D., the name on it was Quinn Morgendorffer and the photo confirmed her supposition, she was their daughter. The roll of dollars she found alongside them didn't improve her mood too much, that family was for all intents and purposes destroyed.

Then she checked the opposite side pocket, this one contained a notebook, a pen and a few knick knacks of no consequence. The notebook and its contents were extremely interesting by themselves. While she couldn't read it in deep for obvious reasons, it held a combination of poetry, both limericks and darker content; long paragraphs of prose which depicted everything from the idiocy of football to a very detailed description of the collapse of a human pyramid. The last one was accompanied by two sets of illustrations, one a set of doodles full of blood and pieces, and another far more elaborate with a girl in pigtails drawn midfall.

Further contemplations about the notebook were put on hold when another student card felt from it. This time she didn't recognize the picture, even if she felt as if she should recognize the brunette on her green jacket and her big, round… "Glasses." Upon that revelation her hands when instantly toward her face, tracing with her finger the contour of her own spectacles and unless she was mistaken they matched. She was also wearing the same green jacket. This clinched it, this must have been a long term undercover assignment gone wrong. But why as a student?

"Who are you Daria Morgendorffer?"

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The world didn't revolve around Melody Powers, no matter how often if fate was on her hands, but in moments like this it did look like it.

Twenty minutes before the estimated time of arrival of the Parrot2 Medevac Mission the ground personnel of the Emergency Response Unit sent a radio message to the crew of Parrot2 reporting that the ambulances had already arrived to the heliport and that they would be on stand-by to take the victims as soon as they landed. The lack of response was the first sign that something was wrong with the flight.

After several failed calls the people of the county's ERU called the heliport's control tower and told them about their concerns. While the personnel of the tower weren't worried, captain Abrams was a veteran pilot with an excellent record; they checked his return flight plan. If nothing beyond a broken radio had happened, then it would be a matter of time for them to arrive. If not, then they would have to clean the dust out of several emergency procedures.

While waiting for the countdown for the helicopter's ETA to expire the members of the ERU tried calling the chopper on different frequencies, just in case the craft's radio was tuned on an incorrect one. When after the allotted time they didn't appear the control tower gave them another twenty; they had been a flying with a slight headwind, plus captain Abrams was a sucker for children and maybe he decided to take the scenic route to comfort the girl who had such a horrible weekend.

When that time limit was also surpassed the emergency manuals were finally opened, and a general alert was sent to the emergency services of the county. Parrot3 was removed from its current duty supporting police crowd control operations for the classic Oakwood-Lawndale Football match and was sent to backtrack his brother's estimated flight path.

Most of the personnel knew that they would have a hard time finding their comrade, the time between the last call from Abrams and the point they realized something was wrong surpassed the hour, and that in terms of distance was a radio of up to 120 miles.

Two and a half hours after the disappearance of Parrot2 the first clue came from one 911 call.

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Two hours! It had taken her two hours to reach the road. Three times the amount of time estimated. If old Virginia Hall ever heard of this she would chase her all around the Farm's training fields and whenever she caught her she would kick her ass, and considering that right now she believed that one legged octogenarian woman would outrun her the feeling of the wooden leg would hurt far less than her ego.

But now she was close enough to the road, and she could hear the cars from her vantage point. Now would be the perfect time to do the phone call to the authorities, there were people in need of help, and a couple of traitors whom the FBI would really love to have a word or two.

Making sure that she was out of sight she dialed 911 and waited for a human operator to respond.

"911, please state your emergency."

"I would like to report the crash landing of the ERU helicopter N6022-S."

"Could you tell me your name and repeat that please?"

Melody ignored the first part of the question, focusing on the rest. "The Helicopter with the registration number November 6-0-2-2- dash Sierra crashed in the border between the counties of Lawndale and Oakwood at eleven hundred hours, about four and a half miles northeast of the road, they're in the middle of a flower field, daisies I think, easy to identify from the air. For more accurate coordinates I would suggest that you tract this call."

"Do you know the status of the passengers?"

"There are five survivors trapped inside, three of them are civilians and they were out of danger the last time I saw, but they will require medical and psychological attention ASAP."

"As for former U.S. Army captain John Abrams and his copilot Henry Miles I believe that if you call the federal authorities you might find something interesting on their records, treason, and terrorism unless I'm mistaken."

"Terrorism?" She could hear the disbelief in the voice of the operator, after all most people could expend their whole life without being touched by terrorism while growing in Israel, and in the middle of the United States it was a much rarer phenomenon, but she only needed for him to listen, the truth would come out once they could see the discrepancies.

"And kidnapping, assault and use of illegal substances; although those are fairly recent events and considering the sloppy execution I doubt that they have any priors."

She decided that since she wasn't going to be able to cover her survival, then she would go the opposite route, feeding the system as much information as she had on her enemies. From their reactions, both public and otherwise she would be able to see just how deep the rot was.

"Dear are you sure about that!"

'Dear huh, do I sound that young?' Melody pounded while giving the dispatcher the relevant data. "About the kidnapping yes, after all I was there"

"Wait, are you telling me that you were there, in the crash?"

"First row seat."

"Okay, I… Help is on the way, just sit down, calm yourself and tell me your name. Everything is going to be all right."

"Melody Powers, at your service. Sorry but I have some prior commitments, so I'll have to decline. Goodbye"

"No please, wait! We can talk about it…"

Giving her Nom de guerre was a calculated risk, if they didn't know the true identity of her alter ego Daria, know there was any doubt. But she needed to stir the hornet nest to force her enemy to commit a mistake. She would try to contact Chuck Meyer later, he always knew hoe to provoke a feeding frenzy with his fellow reporters, but for know she wouldn't dare to put his favorite gay in any danger.

After hanging the phone she took the battery and threw it way, then using her knife to open the casing she methodically gutted the cell until reaching the circuits which she crushed with the help of her boots. Then she walked towards the road and pointed her thumb up in the American gesture for hitchhiking.

The first five cars were busts, it was good to know that people in the States wasn't as trustful as before, and that they did at least try to obey the local laws regarding hitchhiking, but in this occasion she had a limited amount of time, and she was already getting desperate enough to try to hijack a vehicle.

Then a silver sedan finally stopped, on the wheel was a black haired man in his late thirties dressed on a tweed jacket. Melody was immediately repulsed by the lewd looks he was throwing her way, but she suppressed her own disgusted frown with practical ease born of years of infiltrating the worst scum that crawled out of communist cesspools in the East.

She stepped inside as soon as he opened the passenger door and now she was playing the desperate and tired girl, an act that on this occasion was closer to reality that she cared to think about.

"Thank god, I thought that no one was going to stop."

"I wouldn't dare to leave a budding woman like you in such a lonely place. Tell me my precious blossom, which is your name?"

"Oh my, where are my manners? My name is Abigail Hall, can I ask yours sir?" Unless she was wrong he was the kind of man that preferred his women demure, so she gave him as demure a woman as she had never been on her life.

"Please don't call me sir, I'm Ken Edwards to your service, but you can call me Ken. Can I ask you where are you heading?"

"Sure thing… Ken. I'm going to Lawndale..." Then she hastily added, as if she was worried about him dropping her if their paths diverted. "But I just need to get to the nearest bus station, I'll manage from there. Really."

"Don't worry my dear, it seems that destiny is favorable to us, I live in Lawndale, and it will be my pleasure to get you there." She would have been happier about getting straight to her destiny if he hadn't chosen that moment to start stroking her hair.

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Mike was worried, unlike on many other different jobs, his position as a 911 dispatcher meant that the best days were the ones boring as hell, when he only had to fill or read reports of previous calls, answer the common incoming pregnancies and nonviolent crimes, with the old grandpa who just wanted to hear a voice from time to time, even prank calls from idiotic children were a relief compared to the real thing. The problem was that this day was anything but boring.

The previous shift had already to coordinate a complex rescue operation involving the ERU and the local park rangers, using both air and ground support. Thankfully the rescue ended being much easier than expected, with minimum injuries. But even then they had to turn back the remaining thirty men that were going to joint the advance team by land.

And then just almost as soon as he sat down on his post an emergency message had been sent to all emergency and law enforcement on the county, the ERU helicopter of that particular operation had vanished without a trace. He was struck, while he hadn't met cap Abrams in person he knew his voice better than his own, and now he, his EMT and another four souls were lost without then being able to even say a peep on the radio.

Then his computer screen registered a call, and he left his concerns for another time, he needed to give all of his attention to whoever was on the other side of the line.

"911, please state your emergency."

"I would like to report the crash landing of the ERU helicopter N6022-S."

'Oh my God!' Only his training and experience was enough to stop him from voicing that out loud. Did the girl on the phone decided to do a prank call about the lost of some of his comrades? As far as he knew the disappearance had yet to be released to the newsies. There was no way anyone not in uniform would know about that, much less joke about it.

"Could you tell me your name and repeat that please?"

"The Helicopter with the registration number November 6-0-2-2- dash Sierra crashed in the border between the counties of Lawndale and Oakwood at eleven hundred hours, about four and a half miles northeast of the road, they're in the middle of a flower field, daisies I think, easy to identify from the air. For more accurate coordinates I would suggest that you tract this call."

In a violent movement he cleaned his desk of all papers by throwing them to the floor, only the report sent by the heliport remained. And now he was seeing with his own eyes that the registration number that the girl was dictating matched with the data, as well as the rest of the facts. The only way she could have known all that was that she was a witness of the accident; an accident in which six persons had been involved.

"Do you know the status of the passengers?"

"There are five survivors trapped inside, three of them are civilians and they were out of danger the last time I saw, but they will require medical and psychological attention ASAP."

The report was short and concise, it told him in a short sentence the status and requirements of the five survivors, but there had been six in there, leaving one unaccounted for. Before he could ask about the fate of the remaining passenger she continued with her report.

"As for former U.S. Army captain John Abrams and his copilot Henry Miles I believe that if you call the federal authorities you might find something interesting on their records, treason, and terrorism unless I'm mistaken."

"Terrorism?" Now he could not stop the disbelief from his voice, no matter the amount of sensibility and psychological courses he had received in the last few years.

"And kidnapping, assault and use of illegal substances; although those are fairly recent events and considering the sloppy execution I doubt that they have any priors."

"Dear are you sure about that!" He was right to disbelieve such wild accusations, Abrams was a vet, and his service record talked by itself of what kind of man John is.

"About the kidnapping yes, after all I was there"

"Wait, are you telling me that you were there, in the crash?" If she was one of the victims then there was a high possibility that she was in shock, and that her life might be in as much danger as the ones trapped there.

"First row seat."

"Okay, I… Help is on the way, just sit down, calm yourself and tell me your name. Everything is going to be all right."

"Melody Powers, at your service. Sorry but I have some prior commitments, so I'll have to decline. Goodbye"

"No please, wait! We can talk about it…"

He heard the computer's alert about the end of the call, but he didn't let it continue before directing all his energies to deal with the emergency on hand. Thinking about Melody, or what could happen to she wasn't going to help neither her nor the rest of the victims.

In a moment he had the ERU's other chopper redirected to the Lawndale-Oakwood border while one of the other dispatcher was calling to the nearest firehouse to send there an engine filled to the brim with rescue personnel and their jaws of life, air bags and other power tools to pry open even the most stubborn wreck in the world.

His next step was to take the recommendation given by her and track the 911 call not only to find the crash site, but to see if she was still on the same place. It was a no-go, the call had been made from a cell, and the automatic tracker program didn't work with those. So he did the next best thing and called the cell company and begged for their help. For once understanding the seriousness of the matter they forgone the need of a warrant and gave him the location of the tower where the call originated from.

Armed with that information and the precise directions Melody gave to him he was able to direct Parrot3 to the estimated place of the crash, and now after another thirty minutes he could only wait.

"Parrot3 here, we have arrived to the coordinates, commencing search pattern."

"Parrot3 here, we see Parrot2 in the middle of a field, I can't see any damage to the craft from this position, I'll land next to it…"

"Dispatch, we have five survivors inside, we are removing them from Parrot2 and establishing a triage…"

They had managed to find all of them alive, and now as soon as the rest of the men arrived they would find the missing fifth girl, and with a little bit of luck then… His mussing was stopped cold by the next part of the radio message.

"… Dispatch… Mike, contact the police, something weird happened here, something really weird."