Edited! Thank you Creative Girl, Bow Echo, Tikatu and Whirl Girl. Promise responses, soon. Bit complex, over here, just at the moment... :')
48
The Chaos Cruiser, under a crowded bridge, in London's New Town-
She had to prep first, of course. There wasn't much info out there on the power of specials in general, or Dos Santos, in particular… but what she eventually learnt, wasn't good. Deeply buried stuff, the files revealed that these "bio weapons" had point-time manipulation skills. Meaning, she gathered, that they could speed or slow a target, relative to everything else.
"Blimey…" Havok mused aloud. "Age ya t' dust, soon as look at ya, won't 'ee?"
Def, she was going to need talented help to find and pinch that crazy-dangerous blighter. Fit right in with her lust for revenge, that did. All she needed was to reach the GDF Tower Hospital, and take a hostage. Someone the Tracys would hop to and get busy, rather than see killed. (Though, of course, she'd off them all afterwards, anyroad. No sense leavin' loose ends, was there?)
Havok leaned away from her data screen, at last; stretching and yawning till her joints popped and the implant went all staticky inside of her head. While it reset, she reached back into her chest armour for a sweet, popping it into her mouth for the sudden explosion of sugar. Closed her eyes for only a tick, she thought, but when she sat up and looked around once more, reboot sorted, the world outside had gone shadowy-dark, and the match had concluded. Well... Fuse was out, yet. That was something.
Anyhow, they'd slept long enough already, both of them. Havok got out of her seat, scruffed at her own brown, white-streaked hair, and then went on over to Fuse. He lay curled up on his left side, jerking occasionally in response to a dream, or his implant. Squatting down on the deck beside her softly rumbling brother, Havok nudged him. Then again, when the first time got her nothing but mumbles.
"Get up, you," she ordered; being fierce, because somebody had to be. "Rise n' shine, Sleepin' Beauty."
Fuse yawned hugely. Rolling over onto his back, he gave her a sweet, drowsy smile. He got like that, just after a good tranking.
"All right, Evie?" he said, scratching at his tightly braided white hair with a hand that could crush stone.
"It's 'Havok'," she corrected, not reaching out to dab at his food-stained face. Not calling him 'Paul'. "And we've got work t' do, Sib. On y'r feet!"
"Urghh… Again? 'Aven't we just finished a job? I'm 'ungry!"
Havok rolled her blue eyes.
"Y'r always hungry," she groused, helping Fuse to sit up. "Here, have a sweet, and shut y'r gob."
Gave him a Milk Bar. Her last, till the bloody Hood paid out. Being almost his old self, Fuse broke the Milk Bar in half, and gave her part.
"Oy, that's right," he exclaimed, as the choco and sugar took hold. "The match! I were watchin' footy, Havok! Wot 'appened, eh? We won, did we?!"
Havok consulted her implant, which was always awake. Always recording. Swiftly replaying the telly's shrill clamour, she said,
"Erm… Aye. Abso-feckin'-lutely we did. Man U. over Real Madrid, five t' two. Don't wreck nothin' goin' daft over it, neither. We need this tub in one piece."
No use talking to Fuse for a bit. He was up and doing his 'patented' Crush-em dance, putting dents in the deck with each loud, rhythmic stomp. The whole ruddy cruiser shook to the strains of Glory, Glory Man United. Lads.
When at last he'd calmed down once more, she hustled Fuse into his partly wrecked seat, and forced him to strap in. Seconds later, with a raging migraine from that elephant voice and seismic stomping, Havok took off for the hospital, leaving their muddy bolt-hole far behind.
XXXXXXXXXX
A little bit earlier, in the GDF Tower Officers Club-
A couple of beers later, and, yeah… Gordon was ready to admit that Kayo and Rigby had probably saved his pride, if not his whole future. Didn't mean he had to like it, though. Or be gracious about getting 'blocked'. Except, it was dang hard to stay mad at Wayne Rigby. The guy just bought drinks and kept listening, as Gordon poured out more than he'd ever intended to say.
The O-Club was deserted that night, the staff polite, professional and largely robotic. They were tucked away in a corner booth, far to the rear of the place, and there was nothing to stop Gordon Tracy from opening up a gashed, frozen heart. There, amid framed beer labels and GDF memoribilia, he said,
"It's just… he's my father. He was gone for six years. Disappeared when I was fourteen. Then comes back for awhile, gets pulled away by the GDF, comes home for Scott's party, and then, um… then, y'know… just point-blank shoots me n' Al. Virgil, too, almost. I know that it wasn't his fault. The Hood was controlling him, but I…"
Gordon shrugged, drained his beer, and then set down the mug; carefully placing it onto the previous condensation ring.
"I just keep seeing his face, over the rifle, with that red targeting light in my eyes. I dunno… guess it's h*ll for him, too. I just had to… to kneel there. He had to pull the d*mn trigger. Sorry, man. Lots of crap daddy-issues to unload on you, like this."
"You came to his rescue," Rigby reminded him. "The Colonel, the Skipper… all of us… would have died on Mars, if you and Kay hadn't shown up to bail our ass out. What happened before may hurt, but it didn't stop you from doing the right thing. Not sure I ever said thank you, by the way. I know you guys specialize in hauling bacon out of the fire, but… Thanks, Gordon. I owe you."
The Marine stuck his right hand out, then, to shake Gordon's. He had a firm grip.
"It means a lot, knowing that someone's going to be there, when it looks like the end. I'm just me, Wayne Arthur Rigby, one of the crowd. Your sister's beautiful, really special, and I'd like to get to know her better… but I'm not sure I deserve that honor. Up to last week or so, all I wanted was to do my time in the Corps, then set up a law practice, back home in Virginia. Now… I don't know, anymore."
Gordon shook some of the beer-haze from his thoughts, and looked, really looked, at Wayne Rigby. Liked what he saw; for a friend, and maybe a brother. Smiling, the aquanaut signaled for another round and said,
"She could do a h*lluva lot worse, Captain. And, I think she likes you, too. Have to warn you, though, Kayo's a brass-monkey pain in the arse, sometimes, and she…"
That was when the lights first flickered, then went out completely, in the GDF Tower Officer's Club. Primed for trouble, but a little bit slow, Gordon surged to his feet and out of the booth. Heard Rigby, too, getting up. Then a grunt, a brief, savage scuffle and… oh. Sh*t.
When the lights came on again, Gordon saw the bomb-girl from Mars. Havok. She had an unconscious Rigby in a headlock, with a drill-bomb planted right on his shirt, clamped to the torn white cloth and bloodied flesh, beneath.
"Get the picture?" she sneered. "You breathe funny, I blow him t' shreds. My partner's down below, ready t' bring the whole buildin' down, if I don't turn back up, or call in. Your move, Tracy."
Caught totally flat-footed, half-drunk and confused, Gordon said,
"What d'you want?"
Rigby was breathing, still. That was something, although from the way she'd hammered that bomb into his chest, it might not be long before he died of blood loss, or shock.
"Whatever it is, we can talk it over. Don't hurt him."
Havok snorted.
"Talk? Not bloody likely. Everyone 'ere 's out cold. They stay alive… and 'im, too, so long as you do as y'r told. Cross me, an' the whole ruddy buildin' comes down. Understood?"
Gordon nodded.
"I understand," he said, keeping his voice calm. "But I still don't know what you want me to do."
"For right now, find a storage closet. Need t' place our sleepin' friends where they won't be found, in a hurry. Then, I'll plant a few more bombs, and you an' me takes a walk, Tracy."
Gordon's heart hammered. His metabolism shot into overdrive, burning off every bit of that alcohol. Sober as a judge, he helped the armoured girl poke around the Officer's Club, finally settling on a large, walk-in freezer.
"It's too cold in there," the aquanaut objected, when she ordered him to drag the club employees inside, and then lock them in with the downed Marine. "They'll…"
Havok turned to look at him, fingering a small, flattish electronic device. Purple, like her armour. The detonator?
"I don't give a rat's hairy arse what happens t' them, Tracy. Or, t' you. I can always go get someone else. Y'r sister, maybe?"
Breathing deeply, Gordon shook his head.
"No need for that. I'll do what you want."
"Thought so," Havok sneered, gesturing toward the kitchen door. "Posh lot, aren't ya? You Specials, an' y'r nice, clean friends."
"Specials?" Gordon repeated, mystified. He had to walk in front of Havok, hands where she could see them. But she hadn't taken his wrist comm. Didn't know what it was, maybe? "That's just an old story, from before the conflicts. You can't really make super-soldiers."
Behind him, Havok chuckled, sounding bitter.
"That's what Pap toldja, is it? Sorry, Luv, but y'r about as natural as one a' them gen-mod space colonists. Now, I'm about t' disappear. We're walkin' down the hall and back t' the hospital ward, slow n' easy. Far as anyone else c'n see, Luv, you're just out f'r a nice stroll. Anyone catches wise, I kill 'em. Got it?"
Gordon nodded tensely.
"Yeah. Got it," he said, wracking his brain for some way to warn Kayo. She had to get Wayne and the rest out of that freezer, and then evacuate the tower.
There were images, afterward; fan selfies and video footage of his walk from the O-club, back to the hospital. In them, he looked pale and composed. Smiling, even. But the truth was, he'd been in a constant cold sweat that one of those eager groupies, those cheerful security guards, would do or say the wrong thing, and get themselves killed. Thankfully, Havok was more interested in stealth than her body count, that night.
Finally, they reached the hospital wing's main elevator, right in front of the computerized admissions desk.
"Wait f'r an empty car," Havok whispered, behind him.
"Right," Gordon replied, quietly enough that the desk orderly didn't look away from his data-pad. They snagged a free elevator car after a bit, and walked inside, hearing,
"'Evening, Mr. Tracy!" from a passing guard. "Good work, back on Mars!"
Gordon managed to smile, willing the man to keep walking. To just go away, and not die.
"Yeah. Thanks, Steve." He'd long since learnt the names of each peace officer and ward nurse. "Good night."
Then, thank God, the elevator doors closed; leaving him sweaty and cold, trapped in a small, moving box with an invisible killer. Peering closely at one of its mirrored walls, he could just make out a bit of distortion. Havok did not drop the cloak. She simply said,
"Not the VIP suite, Tracy. The secure holding level. Number thirteen. Once we arrive, y'r going t' use that security clearance o' y'rs, an' get past the guard station. We're lookin' f'r cell B."
"Who's inside?" Gordon asked quietly, keeping his eyes on that reflected bit of smudged air. He got the impression that she wouldn't have answered him, if she'd had any choice.
"Just somethin' I need t' pick up, f'r a client. It's another o' your sort. Only, a time-bender. Keep 'im happy, is my advice. I need 'im outta that cell, an' back in this lift, in twenty minutes from reachin' th' ward. Otherwise, you, the guards, and everyone in this buildin' dies. We clear, Tracy?"
Gordon nodded again, wondering how a girl that young could have been turned so hard, and utterly cold.
"What d'you plan to do with a time-bender?" he asked, as the lift peeled through one floor after another.
"Not a clue, and none o' my look-out, anyroad. All I do is deliver th' goods, an' get paid. Now, shut y'r gob and look relaxed, Tracy. Y'r fine actin' skills are all that's between them rental-bobbies, and my gun."
Right. The elevator came to a halt with a brief, gentle thump. A chime sounded, and then the doors hissed wide. Gordon stepped through, forcing a smile for the nest of armed guards who were clustered around the ward nurse's station. Oddly, they were not roaming the halls, checking doors, but remained seated or standing, right there up front. Looked tense, at first, but then saw who he was, and calmed.
"Good evening, Mr. Tracy," said the ranking peace officer, coming forward. "Are you lost, Sir? This is, um… not really a safe place to be."
Tall fellow, worried smile, thinning brown hair. Like the other guards, he wore quilted green body armour, and lots of sensors. Searching wildly for a reasonable excuse for his presence here, Gordon said,
"I'm, uh… responsible for patient security, tonight. Heard there were some, uh… unusual inmates up here, and thought I'd take a look."
He could feel icy rivulets trickling down his back, as the officer thought things over. Then,
"I'll not lie to you, Mr. Tracy. There're some right dangerous types in here. Brain-scraped, and impossible to control. I can't stop you, if you really want to go see 'em… but I also can't order my men to rush in and help, if something goes wrong. Just so you understand, Sir."
Gordon blinked.
"That bad?" he asked.
"Worse, Sir," the officer told him. "Way worse."
"Okay," Gordon replied, forcing another smile. "I understand, and you don't have to come in after me, any of you. I'm a big boy. I know the risk."
Wished he could have suggested an evac, but Havok was back there, somewhere, invisibly listening. Just shook hands, instead, then turned in the direction indicated, and stalked down-passage for door B.
It looked… old. Peeling, rusty and fragile, with an electronic lock system that had corroded just about out of the wall. There was no carpet hereabouts, but the yellowed floor tiles were split and curling, like they'd been in place for a very long time. None of the overhead light panels worked, for a ten-foot radius outside of that room.
Gordon hesitated. Then, he thought of Rigby, implanted with death, down in that freezer. Thought of Kayo, if the man she was starting to love got blown to pieces, or froze to death.
Yeah. No choice. No choice, at all. Maybe he couldn't do much to help his brothers, but he could sure as h*ll do something, here. Clearing his throat, Gordon knocked softly on that rust-pocked metal door.
"Hello?" he said, in a carefully calm, neutral voice. "It's me, Gordon Tracy. I'm coming inside."
