Violet


Up in Montana, a tower of strange spires drew attention for miles. Of course, given that nobody was around for miles, there was no attention to be drawn. These spires, ascending into the air like strange radio towers, gleamed like cut amethysts, glowing with internal power and streaking bursts of electricity between them. In total, the spires numbered thirteen in total, arranged in a rough pattern, the largest in the center, ringed by three lightning spewing towers, ringed by six glowing and pulsating towers, ringed by three more lightning spewing towers.

At the very summit of the center tower stood a young woman, clothed in the same purples and blacks that made up the spire and halfway melded into it. Her vibrant, violet eyes glowed in time to the tower's pulsing, the woman herself not seeing anything. Instead she was delving within herself and into the Hivemind, sending out signals periodically in hopes that she might gain the attentions of her compatriots.

Bengani Brastacara stood, taking in the ebbs and flows of the Hivemind currents, reading the information presented to her as if it were scrolling on a computer screen. The Indian woman had changed even more than the others had, she mused, for her once bronzed and smoothed skin was now ashen gray and streaked with veins filled with pulsing violet light.

But, she found, she couldn't really complain too much. After all, what was a minor cosmetic change when compared to the vast amounts of power she now wielded? Frowning as something vibrated deep within the accumulated biomass of Gentek's Montana research facility and three regiments of the worst sorts of Blackwatch soldiers, she drew the object forth, noting the date and time stamped upon it

9/12/2008

9:15 a.m.

"Get going, murkha!"

She smiled to herself, finally she could meet up with the other five and compare stories!

"I think this will be a very good journey, yes?" She spoke to no one, and yet her words rippled the air, touching the minds of every living being nearby and filling them with a primal fear.

The towers collapsed.


Bengani strode forth from the wreckage of Gentek's facility, all of the purple and black biomass disappearing from the land and coalescing into her body, shifting into a denser, though still agile, form. The Violetlight woman strode forth across the Montana landscape, grass withering in her wake and animals collapsing where they lay.

"Hmm... unintended side effects... perhaps...?"

She frowned, it wouldn't do if everything she passed died in her wake. True, it would be visually impressive, but it would also be hell on subtlety.

Then again, she had grey skin. That tended to screw subtlety over like a burger with a fat man.

Pushing aside those thoughts for now, Bengani drew out her cellphone once again, tapping away on its screen until she found her music library. Slipping on her earbuds, she skipped gaily towards the general direction of Rhode Island, never noticing the twitching forms of the Blackwatch response team lying comatose in the bushes.


A few hours prior

As far as Blackwatch team 73 was concerned, the rest of Gentek's private army could take on this woman. They all had families, dammit!

Still, a job was a job, and the target standing still at the top of a tower was merely extra convenience. Never mind the arcs of lightning, dead animals, and weird, ominous glowing.

"Jones, got your rifle ready? We move out in five." One soldier tapped the team's primary sniper on the back, making sure that his rifle was indeed ready for the kill. Their position was a horrible one, given the fact that they were down in some bushes and their target was at the top of a one hundred foot tall tower.

John "E.T." Jones wasn't considered the best sniper in Gentek for nothing, though. He'd had to shoot from worse positions at far worse targets. The team's backup sniper, Bryce "Knight" Wynn, was almost as good. Hopefully only Jones would need to do anything, he thought to himself, shifting back under cover and loading his own rifle.

The remaining members of the strike force went as such: Shay "Eagle" Errol and Diana "Freedom" Kingston on demolitions, Chuck "Strongman" Kensington and Jon "Craftsman" Steward on heavy assault, and Walter "Speedy" Wessel on communications. The seven soldiers worked extremely well together, and as such, were always set together for missions.

Of course, they'd never had to do anything like this.

"Eight hundred hours. Time to move." Chuck commanded, readying his assault rifle as he spoke. "Eagle, Freedom, set the charges. You know where to go. Speedy establish a secure line to base. Knight, E.T., hold fire until my command. Craftsman, you're with me; we move into position then hold back until necessary. Ready?"

Six nods of agreement as all seven members replaced their helmets.

"Then break!"

Seven soldiers scattered around the towers, two planting shaped charges as they went, two sneaking into bushes for cover, two splitting to opposite sides of the towers, and the final one relaying info as he retreated to a safe distance.

An hour of setup later, and they were ready.

The towers fell and a terrifying presence spread across the land, instantly nullifying the seven deadly assassins.

"Team 73! Report! Team 73! Dispatch, team 73 is down, send reinforcements."


Now

Bengani made it to Lincoln without much further incident, even managing to keep her psychic presence from killing everything within a two hundred foot radius. Instead, she now merely terrified small animals and made humans nervous, though none could tell that it was her.

The formerly-Indian geneticist was now cloaked in a more conservative outfit; her previous one being nothing but her undergarments. Clad in all black and violet, the woman would have made a scene had she not stuck to the alleys and side streets.

As it was, she'd already nearly given six cats and two dogs severe heart attacks.

The rest of Montana passed with similar incident, though nothing serious. 'If there was ever a good thing about Montana', she mused, 'it'd be the fact that there's so much empty space around here.'


Seven down, the eighth to come, and the ninth barely a passing thought. Things progress as normal.