InFamous: The Wrong Choices For The Right Reasons
Chapter 6: The Disturbance.
An inFamous Story
By The Vegna
Rating: (T)
Disclaimer: The main characters of this story are from the video game inFamous and therefore they are all owned by Sucker Punch. All others are my own original characters.
Catch up: Cole and Zeke have been successfully enrolled into the First Sons, though Cole still harbours some doubts over the good it actually does. He has been left to relax with an increasingly pregnant Trish, to enjoy his inflated pay check in return for his membership.
Note: This chapter contains greater swearing (though not excessive) and violence, than previous chapters. It may require a (M) rating, though I currently believe it is still (T) appropriate.
Daniel's arms throbbed with pain and he was ashamed for their weakness. Martha had only wanted him to chop down these past dozen trees, however he had only been able to get past five. The others worked tirelessly around him, their blank looks lacking the signs of discomfort that he felt, moving with robotic precision.
His headache was only worse now, a nudge in his brain, pushing at him to do something that he'd forgotten.
Daniel thought hard, as he wiped the sweat from his dark brow.
The man was doing everything he had planned to do, why did he feel like there was something else. He dragged his tree trunk towards the determined group, who hacked it quickly into smaller pieces.
Satisfied with their work, he followed the pathway they had forged from dragging wood, a green and brown road that led to the concrete, where the pick-up truck waited with its patient driver.
As he drew closer to the official road, the veins in his head spasmed, his ears filled with a static buzz. He clutched his head, trying to abate the pain, as the countless other workers continued their jobs. His left leg, coated in dirt and golden sap, lurched forward towards the road.
Daniel grabbed at it, awkwardly trying to hold his head and leg, but the other one also began to move against his will. The worker cried in frustration as his body began to ignore him, marching him towards the road. The buzzing of a thousand bees echoed in his mind, as in his last act, he threw himself across the concrete.
Just the sound of the monotonous axing reached his ears, as Daniel's mind cleared. Slowly, he forced his body on to his feet, turned to look back at tree-bark and sweat-coated crowd and ran.
The aching body of Cole MacGrath eased into the bath, the hot water relaxing his worn muscles. The past weeks he'd had nothing to do except exercise across the roofs of Empire City, the First Sons having brushed him off ever since his entrance exams. He rubbed the fresh sponge across his scalp, quietly laughing at the seemingly insignificant, black cube that sat on his sink top. Its gift growing in many of new found ways, he was even considering scuba diving at this rate. He dragged a small arc across his head and face, mirroring the actions of a razor; he didn't feel right with a full head of hair yet.
A knock rattled the bathroom door, as his wife entered. Trish's frame was just beginning to suggest the life within her, a small bump across her stomach had started to form underneath her nurse's scrubs. 'Hey, Cole.' She smiled at her husband, as she sidled onto the edge of the tub.
'Hello you.' He planted a tingling kiss on her lips, whilst raising a wet arm to rub her bump. 'And how's my little fella here?'
'Heh heh, they're fine too.' He left a dark palm print across her shirt, as he returned his hand into the warm water. 'How was your day?' Trish asked in a sing song voice.
'Oh, you know. Jumped from active one El Train to the other. Pretty normal dull stuff, you?'
'Oh you know. Delivered another set of babies to another set of happy mothers, two tried to name their daughters after me. Pretty normal stuff.' She gave her shaven husband another kiss before rising back to the door. 'You pay for the new teevee yet?'
'Done, you just enjoy it.' Cole replied. 'I'll be out in a sec to fix dinner.'
'Thanks.'
Cole picked up his towel off the radiator, dabbing his body dry before rapping the cotton around his waist. He moved out into the living room, walking towards the counter top in corner. Rummaging around in the cabinets, he pulled out a packet of pasta and started on his Mac and Cheese. Soon the thick smell of cheddar filled the apartment room; Cole passed Trish her slightly larger portion before sitting down to watch her favourite crime drama.
He was raising the fork as the phone rang, cursing as hot cheese scaled his unprotected chest, Trish barely muffling a laugh. Wiping off his dairy assailant, Cole picked up the receiver. 'Hello, MacGrath residence.'
'Hey, man!' A memorable voice seeped from the phone.
'Hey Zeke, where you been?' Despite leaving on good terms, Cole hadn't seen his best friend since the firing range.
'Aw, sorry man. I've been swamped, with the work these lot have been givin' me.'
Cole's smile fell slightly, sensing the reason for the call. 'You're calling for the Sons?' Trish turned her head to him, alert.
'Yeah man, sorry. They thought it'd be best if I made the call.'
'Huh, I bet they did. What do they want?'
'They need you for a capture and control mission. Just get outside your building; they'll be a white freighter truck outside. We'll explain on the way.'
'You're outside? What the-'
'Sorry Cole. Gotta talk later.'
'Zeke? Zeke!' The only reply was the dial tone. 'Shit.'
'Cole? What happened?' Trish was obviously worried; Cole rubbed his forehead, trying to look brighter.
'I've got to go. The First Sons want me for some mission. Well, we knew they weren't just gonna' pay me for doing nothing. I gotta go.'
'So soon?' She drew him into a hug, gripping him tightly.
'Sorry, I should get changed.' He reluctantly pulled himself away from Trish, marching with clenched fists to their bedroom.
Cole zipped up the top of his yellow and black jacket, as the pavement of Empire City met his shoes. Across the sea of yellow cabs, a resting Zeke lied against the white truck, the name: 'Channelling Enterprises' etched on the side, with the motto: 'First in quality, first in delivery' below it. Cole's friend waved across to Cole, beckoning him towards the vehicle. The former delivery man made swift time across the road, sliding across a bonnet or two before being motioned into the passenger seat. Zeke took his seat, turned on the gas and began to pull out into the street. 'So, you mind telling me why the First Sons want me now?'
'Sorry, Cole. We didn' want to spring this on ya like we did. But this thing only just showed up and you're the most powerful guy we could get a hold of, on the way.'
'On the way where?'
'Rutland, Vermont, man.'
'Vermont? What the hell is so important that you gotta take me make a five hour drive?'
'Think it's better if Sammy explains it.' Zeke motioned to the wall behind them and pressed a button. A doorway fell open behind Cole, connecting the compartment to the truck's package.
The cargo hold had been lavishly outfitted, despite its rustic exterior and lack of space. The floor was covered in a thick, green rug; the roof had several shaded LED lamps connected to it, dimly lighting the room in a perpetual twilight. The wall to Cole's left was coated in a row of chrome cabinets, their locks and contents rattling with the truck; the other side was lined with one long dark sofa, seated on which, some meters apart, was Samuel Tate and Jak Faraday. Jak was packing various canisters into a combat vest, his attention captured by the organisation with the few pockets available. Samuel was quickly typing on a laptop, noticing Cole, he beckoned him over beside him. 'I am glad you decided to join us, Cole.'
'Well, gotta earn my pay check. What's so important that you need to drive me to Vermont?'
'This woman here, is why.' Samuel turned the computer screen to face Cole, it was a picture of a young, brunette woman waiting in a car, taken obviously from some distance and without her knowledge. Her face was partially obscured by the glare of the window, but her appearance, speckled with a pair of small glasses, struck him as slightly stronger than it should be. 'Martha Burthain, another powerful conduit like yourself. We have been monitoring her for over a year, but her powers have already manifested to the point where we have to take action.'
'What happened, did she set a house of fire?'
'Nothing like that, her power is some kind of long range hypnotism. Sometime two years ago, she left her job as a lawyer and opened her own cult of as 'Prophet Martha' of the Holy Mother. At first, we did not even suspect a thing, cults are formed all the time by lonely types who have some 'vision'. After six months, she had her own village set up, with loyal residents calling her the chosen one, whenever they leave the site.'
Samuel clicked a button, a shot of a large cul-de-sac replaced the photo, the buildings surrounding a four story tower and, in turn, surrounded by a tall wooden wall. The picture was filled with residents, living seemingly normal lives, a barbeque was even cooking between two fathers and their sons. To Cole, the image was idyllic, hardily the base of an evil hypnotist.
'And how do you know this woman isn't just any other peaceful cult leader.' He questioned the mission leader, who responded with a raised eyebrow. 'Well, over the time we had been monitoring her, three other possible conduits we had been watching joined the ranks, however as part of its hierarchy, not some general believers. Then four months ago, we sent in a member of the Sons to join the cult and feel out if she had any powers.' He typed again, a passport-plain picture of an adult African man appeared over the site shot. 'Our agent, David Gaspard, managed to escape and call in the situation less than an hour ago. He had, we believed, reached the maximum of her power's effective range.'
'How come no one else has escaped then?'
'David has T-2 level hydrokinesis. Nothing potent, but his natural conduit abilities likely gave him some resistance to the power. He managed to phone in, that her powers only began to work once he met her face to face, nevertheless we have no idea what else we'll be expecting when we get there.'
Jak turned to face them, placing his finished jacket aside. 'This mission will be find her, incapacitate her and then hopefully imprison her, until we can non-lethally neutralise her power.' He passed Cole a dart gun and a packet of rounds, the reluctant soldier looking at the small barbs, each tip was coated in a strange dark-red tar. 'With any luck, two or three of these should knock her out. You get the chance, you take that shot and get her out of the site.'
Cole turned over the weapon in his hands. A sharp bump knocked it out of his grasp, Zeke called 'Sorry!' from the front. Jak picked it off the green carpet, passing it again. 'No one gets hurt?' Cole asked.
Samuel patted on the back, 'As long as you move fast. Now, let's get the plan set.'
In the growing night, the truck rolled slowly before the wooden gate, the dull hum of the radiator filling the silence that covered the area. The doors of the vehicle quickly rattled opened and shut, its occupants moving beside the great wall. Jak had donned his vest along with his gun holstered, moved aside Zeke who had attached a belt with various small compartments. Samuel and Cole had stuck to their lone dart guns, watching the wall top as they followed.
Zeke pushed with increasing force against the timber door, however it wouldn't budge. 'It only opens from the inside.' He whispered to Samuel. 'Do you wanna take care of it, or should I?'Their groomed leader began to remove his leather gloves.
'I will take care of it.' Mustering his energy, he felt through the wall, catching the log that locked the gate. He planted his feet firmly, digging into the ground. Then he pulled, straining his arms as the log slowly raised itself over the latch, then dropping to the dirt with a soft 'thud'. Samuel gasped for air, his left arm resting on his leg, as the other motioned for the group to continue.
Jak moved first, creaking open the door inward, as he drew his first dart gun. The door opened into the main road, surrounded by log cabin homes on either side, though not a light emanated from the homes, only from the concrete citadel at the core. As they began to walk down the street, Cole searched hard for any power, but unfortunately all he could catch was the glow on his own wrist-cube.
Suddenly a dull red body appeared, Cole turned sharply as movement began inside the initial home beside them, then another, and another, the cabins filling with danger as the first doors inched open. 'Shit.' Muttered Jak, aiming his gun at the creaking doors. Cole pushed the titan's arms down,
'There's too many, don't waste them.' By now, the shuffling crowd had formed two unbroken lines, alongside the road, staring with blank faces at the four.
From the swarm, three figures emerged. The first was a beast of a man, a build to match Jak's, but his hair hung beyond his shoulders, his appearance unblemished by scars. The second moved smoothly, her fair hair glimmering in the pale light, between her accomplices. The last had raised his chest, in an attempt to emulate the first, except his sickly figure made it only more obvious what he was lacking. Each wore small blue robes, reaching down past their legs, though they appeared closer to martial uniform than holy garments.
The sickly man was the first to speak, 'Well, well, well. Looks like we've got some trespassers on our private property. That's a federal offense, you know.' Samuel stood in front of his group, his arms raised as a sign of peace.
'We are not here to cause any trouble; we are here to help you all.'
'Oh? Help us with what?'
Samuel pointed to the tower that sat in the middle of the cul-de-sac. 'The woman who resides there has hypnotised you all. If you let us, we can save you from her.' At this, the three laughed, before the poised woman replied. 'Oh, you really don't see how we work. We don't need to be saved. We are High Prophet Martha's faithful priests.'
'Oh yes, we play the commanders, whilst she brings in the troops. We are here of our own desire.' Samuel's shoulders dropped slightly, realising the added difficulty they now faced. 'If you come with us peacefully, we promise that we can find you a place where you don't need to hide your gifts. You can be free citizens with the First Sons.'
The former inactive brute barked at Samuel, 'We are kings here. We not live as your equals, now give up or die!' Samuel dropped his hands his sides.
'I am afraid we cannot agree to your terms.'
'Then I'll decide.' The man took a step forward, but stopped as the sound of a can rattled near his feet.
The four had their faces to the ground and had covered their ears, as Jak's flash bang rang across the street, blinding the zombies and their retainers. 'Go.' Cole, Zeke and Samuel spilt off, dashing across the crumpled bodies at different angles, disappearing behind the houses, Jak only began to pace towards the conduits. The enraged blonde cried, 'Get them!' as she followed one of the invaders with a few of the remaining puppets, the rest hunting another escapee. The sickly man had already covered his eyes before the blast, had already disappeared after the last man.
Jak pulled his gun onto the lone monster before him, firing a tag into his arm. The black tip hit its mark, nevertheless the man raised himself, completely steady. His eyes were bloodshot, his ears leaked gore that dyed his dark locks, however he was completely focused. Jak held another three darts between his right fist, jabbing them into the man's stomach with an 'oof', but the blooded man simply patted them away. The soldier leaped back, preparing himself for the monster's reply. With uncanny speed, the man tore towards Jak, grabbing his vest and slugging his stomach.
Jak coughed blood, his breath was lost though he still managed grab the offending hand and twist out of his opponent's grasp. He rolled away, but the conduit simply closed the gap, kicking Jak several feet across the dirt of a resident's garden, smacking him against a log wall. 'It seems that you don't know when to give up.' Smiled the conduit. Jak's hand reached for his dart box, pulling a lone dart out with his left hand as the gore-haired animal walked towards him. 'Heh.' He spat some blood. 'I'll give up when I can't smack your mug.' Pushing his body up, Jak threw a pitifully slow, right hook at his attacker, the hand was caught with ease. 'Really? We'll have to fix that.' Then, to the First Son's horror, the ogre squeezed down, but still, a muffled groan was all that left Jak's mouth as his right knuckles snapped.
After too long, the bones were released. A pained Jak rolled away again, holding the crippled appendage by his stomach as he struggle to make distance. He brought the black dart up with his remaining, shaking, good hand, the conduit looked on unimpressed. Then, he brought it down into his own arm, gasping as the pain faded. With renewed vigour, Jak growled, 'Fine, let's fight dirty.' His opponent charged again, this time, though, the soldier brought out another flash grenade. He pulled out the pin in his teeth, then jammed it towards the conduit, with clenched eyes.
The blast pushed them both to the floor, but Jak was up first, pulling out another canister. He tossed it in front of the blinded conduit, smoke venting from it, covering him in a thick fog. The monster swung his arms around, unable to use his damaged eyes, unable to hear the fourth and fifth canister to roll at his feet. The wounded brawler watched as the smoke lit up twice, hearing the thick 'thud' as the animal fell to the floor.
As the smoke cleared, Jak saw the ogre's twisting body emerge, clutching his bloodied hair. The First Son marched towards his fallen foe, who reached out towards him, screaming 'Just drug me out. For god's sake, drug me!' Jak clutched his gun awkwardly with his left hand.
'Hrm.' With one move, he clunked the monster out cold, with the hilt. 'Got to hell.' He slowly pulled another black tag from his box, stabbing his arm with the tranquilizer. Then, with a shake of his head and a sharp breath, he began to march gradually towards the tower.
Zeke ran with every ounce of his being, not even turning at the second bang that had gone off behind him. He knew that if he turned, the hordes of Martha's 'cultists' would catch him. Turning the corner at another identical cabin, he ran smack into a concrete wall, impacting his shoulder as he tried to stop himself. His eyes flicked across the wall, catching an door in his sight. He moved with all haste to his escape, but the door rattled locked. Cursing, he pulled a small tack from his belt, placing it over the keyhole. The recent engineer's fingers began to tremble as he attached the fuse, the sounds of stamping feet growing louder.
With a click of the trigger, the tack exploded, blowing the lock and opening the door inward. He pulled out a pocket flashlight, jumping indoors and began to pull the closest, heavy objects towards him to barricade the door. Breathing deeply, he looked back at his blockade, he had used crates of food stuffs to block his pursuers, Zeke was in a kitchen. The air was stuffy, the smell of porridge hung heavy in the air. 'That bitch, too cheap to order pizza,' he mumbled to himself.
A buzzing filled the silence, as the lights flickered on. 'Crap.' Zeke turned to see across the chrome room, the blonde woman had her hands over the light switch, a look of venom in her eye as heavy as her breathing. 'Now, it looks like someone is going to be in big trouble.' Despite her attempt, her voice was no longer as sweet as earlier. Zeke reached for his dart gun, but it had left his holster. 'Looking for this?' Beside her, suspended in a yellow, shifting vine, was his gun.
Her hand presented the vine, as if she was modelling it for a commercial. 'This is sand. Teeny tiny fragments of stone, which I am lucky enough to be able to shape to my heart's desire.'
'Wow, the power o' being the world's best sandcastle maker. Imagine prizes you could-' Zeke ducked behind the solid worktop between them, as the vine shot for his head. The woman began to pace around the worktop, trying to get a clean sight of Zeke as she shot the sand again at his exposed trainer. Zeke quickly retracted his shoe, crawling around the kitchen floor as the sand vine crashed around him.
He spied beside him an open cabinet, flashing a look inside to find a bottle of vodka. Not exactly useful if he planned on living longer, with or without the gravel queen. 'Unless.' Zeke hauled the bottle from the cabinet, the vine snapping a inch from his foot, and pulled out his pocket light. 'Ready to surrender yet, ma'am?' The sand crashed over head, Zeke regretting his speech immediately. 'Fine then.'
Drawing a large swig of the bottle, Zeke turned to the woman head on. Placing the small flame before his lips, Zeke blew at a surprised conduit. Humongous, twisting flames burst beyond the lighter, the city dragon's breath blocking his own vision as the enraged woman covered her face, with her hands and sand. The bright light filled the reflective room, as Zeke finished his attack with a chocking 'coff'.
The woman dropped her hands, the front of her beautiful blond curls was singed almost entirely, with a soot outline formed from around her hands. The sand, to Zeke's disappointment as he took another gulp, hadn't turned to glass. Instead, it trembled with the burnt blonde's rage, as she bellowed, 'You son of a bitch! I'm gonna make you drown in my sand!'
Shocked, and frankly terrified, at the statement, Zeke accidentally sprayed his swig of vodka at the malevolent sand queen. The alcohol hit the sand straight on, causing whatever was suspended to become soaked, hitting the counter top with a resounding 'splat'. The burnt blonde yelled in frustration, her sand having become inert to her efforts to kill Zeke. As she raged in her maddening world, Zeke quietly crawled over to his dart gun. She so preoccupied with the static sand, she didn't notice by the time Zeke had fired the two darts into her arm.
Awkwardly, Zeke checked her breathing, then dismantled and fled through his barricade.
Samuel slammed the timber door behind him, his pursuer was very aggressive to say the least. The humming was growing louder again, swelling within the cabin. He threw himself to the floor, as the door and subsequent roof exploded above him, raining splinters across his back. He turned onto his back, the glowing light in the sickly priest's hands beginning to grow again. 'Sorry, I guess you aren't suitable for our cause. Thanks for showing up though.' He apologised with a psychotic smile.
'It was a pleasure to meet you. Better luck in the next life.'
The Vegna's note:
For those of you who have been waiting for a real fight scene, well there you go, Fire-breathing Zeke, can't get much more action packed than that. Well the 'PLEASE CONTINUE' from RYAN (thanks by the way, very blunt) and a Favourite from the Mafia-Maori-Spartan (three times deadlier than any regular fan-fiction fan) have kicked me out of my proverbial funk and have allowed me to produced Chap 6. This is obviously the independent arc I mention in Chap 5, which I hope has lived up to the standards of the InFamous Fanbase. I know Cole got to do nothing, but he gets his own scene in Chap 7 (when ever that is) so don't worry, he still gets a look in. Other than this short arc, it's nearly time for the Beast to appear and that's when the excrement hits the fan for the whole planet, I'll tell you that.
Same as before, all reviews are welcome, good or bad. Review, question or subscribe, just let me know you're out there and I'll make it happen.