Disclaimer: I don't own F.E.A.R.
Author's note: Sorry this update took forever. I've been extremely busy in the real world :). Anyway, we're finally back to Lucy! Oh and you guys should go read a story called "The FEAR Tracker" by Alardem. The main character in that story will be appearing later in mine. So they're going to tie in. It's basically that character's history. It takes place during the Fairport Crisis so think of it as a prelude of sorts to this story.
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(Lucy Wade)
We delayed moving to a different apartment building because an incident had taken place at the one we planned on going to.
Yesterday, we saw an emergency broadcast on the television as we were packing up. I had eaten a plate of scrambled eggs to sate the hunger that I didn't even know about until I put the loaded fork into my mouth and tasted food for the first time in two days. But as the members of the group slowly woke, I found that my eyes were more prone to examining the floor rather than the screen.
At the apartment complex eight blocks away, there was a reported sighting of one the "terrorists". I only looked up when a picture drawn of the suspect appeared.
"If you see this woman," the reporter stated as a picture of a blond individual with scars creeping up her neck was shown,"Then please call the number at the bottom right hand side of your television."
That was an odd moment for me. While everyone else looked at the drawing indifferently, I recognized the woman from when I was imprisoned in the ATC facility. Danielle had even said, what I assumed to be her last name, out loud. The name being given, Joan Pierce, must be false, because I distinctly recalled that her last name began with an M, though my memory refused to deliver the remaining letters.
In my peripheral vision, I noticed Aaron looking at the visage with a certain interest. My intuition said that she wasn't a stranger to him. I tried reading his mind but, for some reason, that trick didn't seem to be in my repertoire of randomly discovered powers any longer. I wondered if the mind reading was a one-time thing, or if I just needed to learn better control of my abilities.
My curiosity getting the better of me, I formed a way to ask Aaron about the woman without letting him know I suspected him of any history with her.
"Who's she," I casually inquired, directing my question at no one in particular.
I received a few nasty looks, as if I wasn't allowed to speak. But, as I predicted, Aaron answered.
"That's Elizabeth Main. She's an Armacham phasecaster."
But that was all he said. It looked like his short answer satisfied everyone. They probably just assumed he knew her from his days with Armacham.
But the manner in which he'd replied, short and gruff, raised an inkling of disbelief in me. Nevertheless, I'd made the decision not to press him for further information. He'd told me about his past with ATC and the replica soldiers easily enough. If he wanted to inform me about Elizabeth, he'd do it on his own eventually. I happened to see Jin Sun Kwon giving Aaron a scrutinizing glance as well. Maybe she'd thought of the same thing I had.
We must've made quite a curious sight, all eight of us huddled in the morning gloom. Eight haggard faces illuminated only by the ghostly artificial light produced by the TV. Some distraught, some angry, some tired. Every one of these faces had seen a difficult life.
Except mine. Just something else to set me apart from the rest of the group I'd thought morosely.
The reporter continued,"In other news, the United States' relationship with the European Union is consistently deteriorating. The tensions that have been building for sixteen years over speculation of America's supposed development of super weapons seem to be coming to a head. We can only hope that it doesn't erupt into a war. But we should all be prepared for the worst. Once again, we ask that you cooperate with the Armacham soldiers. They are currently standing in for the U.S. military while marines make their way here to our city. Until the terrorists are found, we will be experiencing martial law. This is strictly for the safety of Fairport's citizens."
After that, Betters had switched the TV off. He'd said that he couldn't listen to those lies anymore. I was relieved, I didn't think I could've either.
During the day, Aaron had pointed out each member of the team that Betters, Point Man, and Jin had put together. Aaron had been the most recent addition until I'd arrived. Excluding me, there were seven of them: Jin Sun Kwon, Point Man, Rodney Betters, Keira Stokes, James Sandor, Yohn Ramar, and Aaron Carter. I could easily tell that none of them trusted me except for Aaron and maybe Point Man. James, Keira, and Jin even refused to speak to me. Aaron had mentioned that they used Keira for any conspicuous activities. She was their main operative for anything that required an identity because Armacham wasn't looking for her. She'd been pronounced dead sixteen years ago when she'd been shot by the Armacham president, Genevieve Aristide. Aristide assumed Keira had died, so she had replica troops bury her in a shallow, unmarked grave to cover up the murder. She'd been officially reported K.I.A. ever since.
However, she had been still alive, though just barley. Fortunately for her, the replicas weren't perfect at that time and could only mechanically follow orders. They'd noticed her faint breathing, but buried her anyway. Later she'd regained consciousness and dug herself out.
The rest of yesterday had gone by agonizingly slowly.
Today was even worse. It was apparent that the shock of the many revelations of the past weekend had begun to fade. Leaving me with the crushing weight of the reality of my severe situation finally coming to settle on my exhausted mind.
Looking back on my life, I'd never known that one day I'd be called a terrorist, a super weapon, or a murderer.
Though the last one was true. I did murder my teacher, whether it was by accident or otherwise. Despite Mrs. Williford being a hateful woman, she didn't deserve an execution. If I could've take it back, I would've done it in a heartbeat.
My troubled thoughts also drifted back to my adoptive parents, Edward and Catherine Morgan. They'd taken care of me as if had always been their real daughter, and I'd loved them as if they were always my real parents. Alma was my mother, I'd known that from the moment she'd told me. As soon as the words had been uttered, I'd seen a vision of my moment of birth. I'd seen my brothers fighting to determine my fate. I shuddered to think of the person I'd be now if Fettel would've won. I'd seen it through my brother's eyes. So I knew Alma was being honest when she'd explained my true origins.
Despite that, I still loved Mom and Dad, which I was determined to continue calling them. And I wanted to know if they lived or not. If they were alive, then that would be stupendous. If not, well at least I'd be able to close the book on the matter. The not knowing was just killing me.
And then there were my powers. They were extremely dangerous and I hadn't the faintest idea of how to make them obey me. I'd gotten angry for just one second and blown someone's head clear fucking off! What if that happened again?
I was expected to stop a war and destroy an atrociously cruel organization that was far bigger than me. I didn't know how that, in such a short time, this amount of responsibility had landed squarely upon my thin, small shoulders. Everyone thought I'd be all-powerful or something like that, but the truth was, I didn't trust my own abilities in the slightest. Despite yesterday's strange novelty when I first uncovered my psychic prowess and confirmed that I really was getting stronger, just as Aaron had said I would. I'd even been a little proud of myself when I'd lifted that desk for the first time.
So much had happened in the past three days. And yet I hadn't really felt it through my frayed nerves until day four.
The first three days had passed by me in a horrified daze, but today, for the first time, I really started thinking about my new life.
I thought about the tragic loss of friends and family.
I thought about the rapid gain of enemies and memories that I hadn't experienced.
I thought about how I didn't belong in a war. About how I wasn't a fighter.
Regardless of all those conclusions, I still found myself riding to the new location that Betters had settled on last night before everyone went to sleep and James was assigned to the first watch. In the morning, Betters had drawn lines on a map of Fairport that indicated the paths each of us would take to the motel across town that we were to rendezvous at. Point Man dragged two large boxes from his room into the den and pried one of them open. Inside, there were stacks of bulletproof vests and limb guards, about four flak jackets, grenades, small cases filled with various types of ammunition, and the weapons to match them.
Everyone pulled the gear that they required from the box, then they returned to their respective living areas to don their sets of Kevlar armor. I assumed it went under the clothing.
When he and I were the only ones left in the room, Point Man sifted through the remaining equipment and pulled out the smallest pieces of armor he could find. He strapped the vest on over my shirt to test the fit. When he saw that even the smallest size was still bulky on me, he removed his belt and tied it around my waist to better tighten the vest to my petite frame. He went over to the other box, which held clothing items, selected a baggy hoodie, and gave it to me to put on. He then proceeded to dump the rest of the armor into my arms and point to the bathroom.
I shuffled inside and quickly pulled off my pants, buckled the leg and arm guards to their appropriate places, threw my clothes back on with the addition of the hoodie, and stepped back into the main room.
Point Man looked me up and down, after deciding that the armor was properly concealed, he reached back into the box.
I was stunned when he lifted a out pistol and dropped it into my hands.
This was the first time I'd ever held a real gun.
"Umm...," I started.
Point Man's face contorted for a moment as if he were solving a math problem in his head. Then he leaned back over the crate and handed me a thigh strap to holster the pistol in.
I got some of the strangest looks when the others came back. James frowned, Betters nodded at Point Man, Jin glared at Point Man, Keira shook her head, Yohn raised an eyebrow, and Aaron smirked.
We split off into three teams and took the differing routes to our planned destination, so as to arrive at separately. Aaron and Jin loaded the crates of equipment and clothing into their box truck and left first, Betters got into a van with Keira and James and drove away when they were gone, and Point Man, Yohn, and I departed after the others in a small, dingy car with spots of mildew dotting the inside.
I wondered were they'd acquired the vehicles.
Yohn was driving while Point Man sat in the passenger seat, his right hand wrapped tightly around the handgun he'd retrieved for himself from the box. I, on the other hand, was in the the back again and experiencing an immense predilection of paranoia while I turned my own over and over in my hands nervously. Despite me never having even fired a gun, the weight of a weapon served to slightly ease my mind. I even levitated it around a bit in an attempt to hone my telekinetic skills.
Armacham had always had a very strong presence in Fairport, but with ATC preparing for Prometheus, there were replica troops everywhere.
Most of them were just garden variety ground forces with high tech armor and weapons, but we did come across heavily plated APCs and unmanned, bipedal war machines that stalked among the traffic like predators searching through tall grass for some hidden prey.
Ten minutes later, we were moving down a wide street when we noticed a massive form standing at an intersection. As we approached it, we discovered that it was some sort of robot. Its gargantuan size dwarfed even Alexander Burnwood. The ends of its arms had mounted chainguns instead of hands. The shining sliver surface and oddly shaped head made it look like a giant Knight.
"What is that thing," I asked out loud.
"It's an Atlas mech," Yohn answered. "They're Armacham's newest unmanned machine. We don't really know much about them ye-."
As we were passing the Atlas, it jerked to life as if it had been waiting for us to get close.
It raised its enormous metallic arms with blinding speed and fired.
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Author's note: Those of you who have been wanting to see some action won't be disappointed by the next chapter. Once again, read "The FEAR Tracker". Alardem is a better writer than me anyway. Please review. It honestly does make me more motivated to write.
