Disclaimer: Don't own Aberrant, White Wolf does. Don't own Incredibles, Pixar/Disney does. Come to think of it, I don't own any of the characters who show up at all in this particular installment. "Land of Confusion", performed by Disturbed, originally written by Phill Collins and Genesis (damn, talk about recycling oldies!).


Flash Point – Noun

The lowest temperature at which the vapor of a combustible liquid can be made to ignite momentarily in air.

The point at which eruption into significant action, creation, or violence occurs.

In international relations, a flash point is an area or dispute that has a strong possibility of developing into a war. As with the laws of physics, for something like that to occur, pressure and heat have to be applied. In this new world we live in, there is plenty of pressure and heat provided from both sides, both nova and baseline alike.

Most of us, I would like to believe, would do anything we can to avoid such a situation. However, there are some of the baseline community who want to see this happen and, sadly, there are some of my fellow Teragen members who would also want this to come to pass.

Sadly, while I know most of the world is filled with sane and rational beings, I know that all it will take is just actions of a few to ignite. Some would claim it's for 'the greater good', but I feel that those people who actually start that fire are more interested in watching the world burn than assisting in any cause.

The numbers don't lie, the equations are solid, the logic is sound. No matter what we do to stave off the inevitable, it won't stop it.

-From the Private Journal of Pedro Santiago, "The Mathematician"


Somewhere in Texas

Buddy took a moment to compose himself before he walked out onto the stage. Already, he could hear people chanting "Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel" and he couldn't help smiling at that. He had chosen that name as a private joke because he was dealing with the Michaelites, he didn't intend for it to become his new identity.

And yet, only a couple weeks later, the name and his actions catapulted him to rock-star status among the thousands of members within the movement. Yes, there were members of the leadership who didn't trust him, but most of the rank and file members saw him as a hero. Within hours of his attack on Mexico City, various Michaelite compounds were already preaching sermons about him and how he was sent by the Lord in their time of need.

Damn, had I known that I would get this kind of momentum so quickly, I would have given up trying to be a hero and taken up religion sooner.

He managed to stifle a chuckle at that thought. A large screen had been erected behind the stage, showing the images of his handiwork in San Francisco and Mexico City. In the background, Willie Nelson's somber version of "Amazing Grace" was being played as various images taken from news clips and raw video footage of those events played across the screen. It was surreal to hear a normally uplifting song being played in such a way and being used as a soundtrack for his accomplishments, but he liked it…and so did the members of the congregation.

It was a relatively small gathering in this old building that had once been a Unitarian church until the Michaelites had acquired it. Maybe fifteen…sixteen hundred people, mostly standing room only, were there. Then there were the other Michaelite compounds that were receiving this sermon via encrypted satellite transmission and on-line. All told, at least half a million people were watching this from other locations such as this and who knew how many countless others would be watching this on-line via streaming video.

Obviously, Piper spared no expense when setting this gathering up and Buddy appreciated that. He felt it was kind of odd that, given the devastation that hit the world in the last couple weeks, he was in a building where spirits were high and people were celebrating.

Then again, I was responsible for most of the devastation, but the sheep here don't have to know about that. Although, I'm sure some of the real die-hard fanatics are probably saying the Indian Ocean disaster was God's will…but hey, whatever works!

As the music ended, Buddy performed a last-second check of the ZP gauntlets he wore on each forearm. Like his newly rebuilt cybernetic arm, he had redesigned them to be sleeker and more functional. They could be easily concealed by wearing a jacket, but he decided not to wear one. Instead, he stood there, wearing cargo pants, a t-shirt and work boots. He had considered putting an artificial flesh-skin cover over his arm, but dismissed that idea almost immediately because it would ruin the image he tried to project.

Besides, didn't have time to "flesh" it up, it's been a busy week. Let them see the arm and the scars…it just adds to the image.

And what an image it was. He knew that he probably appeared to be some sort of resistance leader, especially with the shoulder-holster and the slight muscular physique he had acquired while working out in the prison gym. Overall, he was certain that his image intimidated his audience but, combined with the images displaying the devastation he had brought down on San Francisco and Mexico City, also inspired a sense of awe.

And look at them…they're so giddy, so full of anticipation. This is going to be fun.

He smiled slightly before taking a neutral expression as he stepped onto the stage. He intentionally avoided getting behind the podium, instead standing off to one side. A quick tap on the small headset he wore activated the headset's tiny microphone. He waited several more seconds as he was hit with a loud roar of approval from the mass of people in front of him.

Oh god…this is awesome. Now I know how those idiot pro-wrestlers on television feel like.

He closed his eyes and struck a small pose, as if he were momentarily basking in the energy being felt in that facility. Finally, after he had motioned for them to quiet down with a wave of his arms, the crowd went silent.

Better make it good, Buddy, or they will eat you alive.

"My friends," he said quietly, in a deliberate awkward moment, as if he were uncertain. "My brothers…my sisters," he continued, before pausing for a moment to look down at the ground and close his eyes as he took a deep breath and…

"Mah fellow human bein's!" he drawled.

His sudden loud proclamation ignited another roar of approval that was more deafening than the first. He allowed himself a small chuckle as he waited for the crowd to calm down.

"Oh, what a week it's been," he said, drawing some chuckles from the audience. "First it was San Francisco, then it was Mexico City, and now, here I am, taking a breather and talking to you. No, I'm not here to bask in the glow of your adoration…I mean, let's be honest. Until this last week, it's a safe bet that all of you gathered here and around the world had never even heard of me."

There were some hesitant murmurs in the crowd, but Buddy ignored them, continuing on.

"In fact, let me ask you this one important question. Why are you cheering for me, a complete stranger who you had never even heard of until this moment? It's a fair question, right?" He pointed to some random man in the audience, a man in his late twenties or early thirties who looked like he worked as a mechanic. "You, the black haired guy…tell me, why do you cheer me?"

The man seemed to hesitate for a second.

"Aw, c'mon, it's okay, I'm not going to do anything to you, just answer the question."

"Well," the man said after some encouragement from his friends, "you killed a bunch of these freaks, made the world a better place."

His response got some cheers from audience and Buddy nodded, giving the man a tiny smile.

"Yes," Buddy said, "you could say that. And you people killed the Texas Tornado, but while I killed more novas, that doesn't make me different from you. The only reason for my accomplishment was my God given intellect and ability to build the tools needed."

Never mind the fact that I'm actually a nova myself, but I'm not going to tell you sheep that.

Again, his words drew applause and cheers from the crowded sanctuary, but they started to die down as he gave them a somber look and shook his head.

"It's time to be honest, folks, I don't deserve your praise and you shouldn't be too proud of what you did to Texas Tornado. The only reasons we managed to accomplish what we've done is because they were complacent and we were lucky. Now I'm not trying to demean what we've done, but think about it. Until now, we…yes we, my brothers and sisters, were looked upon as a joke, branded as members of a 'lunatic fringe' by the false gods and their masters. They underestimated us, and we made them pay for it with their own blood."

Cheers erupted from the crowd and Buddy had to force himself to keep a serious expression on his face and not chuckle as he heard several "amens" in the crowd.

"But now," he continued, his somber tone obviously beginning to affect the crowd because the cheering had quickly faded, "the enemy knows they are being targeted. They know that we have declared war on them and they also realize that while we may pose the threat, they still wield greater power, because most of the world is asleep and willing to let them control it. Very soon, in fact, I'm guessing maybe within minutes of this little gathering being mentioned, the world media sucking up to Utopia will portray us as the 'evil enemy', as hate-mongers, as something that needs to be dealt with. And you can bet that Utopia and its puppets in the United Nations will pressure people in our own government and the rest of our country to rise against us because 'it is the right and just thing to do'."

He shook his head again. "Against you, good people who have lost their jobs because Project Utopia deemed what they do as being 'not friendly to the environment'."

Nods of agreement and more than several "amens" were heard through the auditorium again.

"Against you, good people who lost their jobs because a single Utopia backed nova can do the work of twelve 'baseline' human beings."

Soft applause started to ripple through the audience as he randomly pointed to people in the audience.

"Against you, and you, and you, and you, good people who don't live in the big Utopia sponsored cities and prefer to work instead of being lazy and letting Utopia determine what you do, what you believe, and how you and your children should live."

The applause got louder and more intense, along with some shouts of affirmation.

"Against you!" Buddy was now starting to shout, not only to speak over the growing storm of cheers and applause, but because he was getting fired up at his own words. "Good people who see the devil's own for what they are and are willing to make a stand!"

By now, the deafening roar was back, louder than before. For a moment, Buddy let himself get lost in the energy and enthusiasm, enjoying it, but not letting himself falter because he didn't want to lose his chance to manipulate where this momentum was headed. He waited patiently for the roar to die down again.

"It is written," he said after the crowd quieted down enough for him to continue, "that there would be trials and tribulations at the end before a final judgment will be made." He paused again, giving the crowd another somber expression. "There are some, even here among us, who believe that we should do nothing, that we have done all we can, and that we should let the judgment come to pass." He held up a hand, as if to quell an argument. "Don't hold that against them, because a lot of us felt that at some point, but I'm sure they never expected the end to happen like this…none of us did.

"Make no mistake, people, this is not just a trial…this is THE trial. This is OUR trial, OUR baptism of fire. The good Lord did not put us here to simply stand by and watch as the false prophets trample us down and force their way on us, oh hell no! This, good people, is where we make our stand and prove that we are not weak lambs to be led to the slaughter."

Once again, applause started to ripple through the sanctuary, building up momentum.

"This, good people, is where we prove ourselves worthy of the Lord's blessings and we are willing to fight for what we believe in."

More "amens" and at least one "hallelujah, preach it, brother," could be heard. Buddy, didn't bother to hide his smile, because now he was really enjoying this.

"However, I am not ordering you all to blindly march in and die for the cause. No, I am not one of those leaders who psych you up, then sit back and order you to march on. In fact, I'm not even a leader." He paused again, letting that last comment sink in for a moment. "I'm just a man, a mortal like you. One who has seen where this world is headed, doesn't like it, and is willing to fight. I am one man among many of you, with specialized talents and gifts given by the Lord, willing to give it all I've got and see this battle through the end.

"Compared to the rest of the world who stands against us, we are few. And yet, we very few are the ones whose cause is righteous, my brothers and sisters. Each and every one of us knows that the final war has come and we stand on the front line. For those who stand there with me are truly my brothers and sisters and, as it has been said before, if God stands with us, who can truly stand against us?"

To punctuate that last comment, Buddy thrust his fist up in the air, the ZP gauntlet on his right forearm firing off a blue bolt of energy that exploded in a dazzling display of blue lightning above the crowd, causing them cheer and chant even louder. On a programmed cue, the building's sound system kicked on and Disturbed's version of "Land of Confusion" exploded through the speakers.

Buddy raised his arms triumphantly as the crowd cheered and he smiled.

Damn! This is a fucking rush!


Three hours later, Buddy was once again standing on the stage in a now empty auditorium, tapping away on a lap-top that he had set up on the podium. He did a little bit of net-surfing and already saw that Viasoft's "LiveSearch" engine had registered the name "Gabriel" as being one of the top five searched topics. He checked Google and Yahoo as well and noted the same thing. A quick check of some of the various chat-rooms showed "Gabriel's Proclamation" (as it was called) was the subject of a lot of discussion. Some were even calling it the "Baseline's answer to Divis Mal's Null Manifesto".

He chuckled when he saw that. It's not every day that an on-the-spot monologue was suddenly turned into something epic.

And all I did was bastardize pro-wrestling promos, Shakespeare, Churchill, and various right-wing nut-jobs off the radio. Shit…I really should have gotten into this years ago!

"I'm glad you find this amusing," he heard someone say.

Buddy turned and saw the four main leaders of the Michaelites walking onto the stage. He merely shrugged, but didn't get rid of the smile. "Well, I have to admit, I did have a little fun with that speech, Horton."

Theobald Horton scowled at him. "Do you realize what you've done?" he asked.

"Hey, Piper here wanted me to rally the troops and I did," Buddy replied. "You're just pissed because it wasn't you out there doing it."

Horton snarled at him, but Buddy ignored him. Though the man was an ass, Buddy knew he wasn't dumb enough to attack him and ruin the movement's chance to get a hold of his hardware.

Though killing and removing him from the gene-pool would be a service to humanity.

"By binding yourself to our cause, you have made us a target for Utopia and its allies." This time, it was Milo Arboghast that spoke. Buddy knew the man didn't like him, but carefully hid his hostility behind a cold mask of neutrality. "You have endangered us all with your theatrics, especially when video clips of your little 'sermon' go worldwide."

Buddy grinned at him. "I hope it goes worldwide…get the message out."

"But not like this," said Esteban Torano. "You went too fast too soon."

"Reluctantly," added Micah Piper, "I agree…we are not ready."

Buddy silently stared at them for a moment, then laughed and shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe you people! You're the ones who wanted to take the war to the novas, and I'm helping you do that."

"Yes, but you moved to quickly," Piper said. "And our movement is not ready for this."

"When is anyone truly ready, Micah?" Buddy asked him. "After all, you've been preaching that you're fighting the good fight for the Lord, but all of you are operating a loose-knit operation that can easily be taken down piece by piece. If I hadn't come along, how long do you think it would be before someone like Utopia or the Teragen decided to take you down? How long do you think you could actually last in a fight? And don't tell me that you took down Tornado, because let's face it, the man was a drunk and you ambushed him after he had a few kegs."

"And who the hell do you think you are?" Horton snapped. "You waltz in out of nowhere and think you can take over?"

Buddy shook his head; the grin never left his face. "Actually, I don't want to take over. You want to be preachers and leaders of your movement, that's fine. I'll just stick to killing novas. Speaking of your movement, that's one of your main problems."

"Care to explain that one?" Piper asked.

"You told me that I should rally the movement, but that's not what you need. You need an army, and that's what I was doing tonight, raising you one." Buddy reached over and removed a flash-drive from the laptop. He held it for a moment, looking as if he were reconsidering something, then handed it to Piper. "Your 'movement', Piper, is no longer a movement. Until tonight, you were looked upon as a joke, a loose-knit collection of radical bible-thumper rednecks and militia whack-jobs that nobody took seriously. That's all going to change."

"What's this?"

"That, Piper, is the records of several members of your group, all I have selected have military experience, seven of them specifically tagged because I can use them in a leadership and training capacity."

"And what do you intend to do with them?" Oddly enough, the question came from Torano, and he actually sounded curious instead of hostile.

"I told you, I intend to share my technology and provide you with an arsenal to carry on your crusade. These people have experience with small unit operations. Now that they're getting some decent hardware, we'll be able to take things up a notch." Buddy then shut down and closed up his laptop before turning to reface the others. "You see, gentlemen, I meant what I said, we're at war. You have taught that to your followers and now it seems like you yourselves are reluctant to follow your own teachings. I'm sure your followers would really hate it if you started to look like a group of hypocrites."

"Watch your tone, boy," Horton warned, "or I'll-"

"You'll what?" Buddy snapped back at him, cutting him off. "You think just because you're a 'leader'," he made imaginary "air-quotes" with his fingers when he said the word leader, "that you will probably order someone to take me down because I'm a threat to your 'movement'? Go ahead. The people who follow you know what I've done and you've taken great pains to point out my accomplishments to them, all the while making it look like you had helped orchestrate those attacks."

He smiled at them again.

"Get rid of me, and they might see me as a martyr betrayed by their own leaders."

Buddy studied the faces of the four men in front of them. Though Horton's face showed hatred, the fear in his eyes at Buddy calling his bluff was obvious. Torano also seemed concerned, but also curious. Arboghast's face was a cold mask of neutrality, but Buddy could see something cold and calculating in that man's eyes.

Okay, there's something off with this guy...not sure what it is, but he's not a cowardly wuss like Torano and Horton. He seems willing to get his hands dirty, but also views me as a possible threat. Well...he's right, but I'm not going to tell him that.

It was Piper's reaction that caught Buddy off guard. The old man was actually laughing with real amusement.

"I have to hand it to you, Gabriel, you've done a very good job motivating the troops," Piper said. "My only concern is that your actions, and subsequent speech might attract attention and prompt retaliation that we might not be ready for."

Buddy thought about it for a second and nodded. "Understandable," he replied, "but I wouldn't worry too much about it. I have a few 'side projects' planned that will discourage certain governmental bodies from focusing too much attention on us."

"What kind of 'side-projects'?" This time it was Arboghast that asked the question.

Buddy chuckled and shook his head. "Relax, gentlemen, nothing to worry yourselves too much about. Let's just call it a 'gathering of essential resources'." He then turned and grabbed his laptop. He started to walk away, but stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. "Just remember, gentlemen," he said, his voice taking an icy tone of finality, "we're in this together now. As the old saying goes: 'United we stand, divided we fall'...it's your call."

The others said nothing as he walked away. It wasn't until he exited the auditorium that Horton spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper. "This is wrong," he finally said. "That man is insane."