Advocate
"So what do we do?" It was 5 a.m. The council had been working on this decision for nearly 12 hours straight.
"We need to send a force to attack them, duh, what have I been saying for the last two hours?" Aidam exalted for the fifth time.
"What you've been saying is complete suicide for the two men being held. If we go in there shooting, most likely they'll shoot them. So screw that idea, ok?" Shane was all but about to give Aidam a new face.
"We need a detective." Trevor said. After many debates, he had been awarded a seat on the council, since he had more experience with settling rebel disputes.
"One problem, the only good detectives are at Wing, and, unfortunately, we haven't heard from the factions or Trunks for a couple of days. I don't know how long we can hold out here, for all we know those guys might be dead and this is all a hoax." Shane put his head in his hands on the table.
"Funny you should say that, because I just spoke with the factions." Trunks entered the room and patted Shane on the back, comforting him; then he spoke to the whole group. "We have the cooperation of the Silver Wing Collective."
"Why can't we get Gold Wing?" Aidam asked dryly.
"They're busy." Trunks answered shortly.
"Busy!" Shane exploded. "We have people down there being held against their will and a rebel uprising threatening to kick us outta' town, what the hell are they busy on, huh?"
"You know better, Shane. This is Wing we're talking about, if there's something they're working on, we know it's important." Trunks told him off and continued with the news as he sat down at the head. "I'm just not allowed to say what. You know our ways, Shane."
"Trevor, do the honors please." Trunks said as he passed the folder he was carrying down to Trevor's place.
Trevor hesitantly opened the folder and read, "Your requested assistance is felt as-
"Skip that. Go to the bottom." Trunks ordered.
"... Lieutenant Commander... Thomas Pollo?"
"Correct. We have the same detective who arrested Cinder."
There was moment's silence as the 12 men contemplated these odds with this officer.
"By the way, he'll be here in ten minutes for a full instructional report." Trunks added, grinning when everyone struggled to act alive. "And I ordered some coffee, more like espresso, to keep us awake that long." A short-lived chuckle arose and fell amongst the council.
5:06 a.m.
"So why can't I go?" Leon had just climbed into Thomas's newly furnished Hurricus hovercraft cruiser. Thomas simply would not give in. Finally, he sighed a deep sigh and abruptly whirled in his seat to face Leon.
"You can't go because I need to act as an ambassador for both Direct and the rebel force, getting demands, and mainly, getting involved. The main reason you can't go is that I don't want you to get shot." Leon quietly stepped out of the cruiser and onto the sidewalk. He watched passively as his friend sped away toward his alleged enemy's lair.
5:23 a.m.
Thwunk! The punch hit the defenseless soldier directly in the gut, knocking out his air. He slumped back against the wall coughing. The other sat in tatters of his own armor, bruises and weakness all but swirling around him. "I think this trash needs one more beatin'" But the man's fist was caught, and then all you could see was his wincing face and hear the snapping of bones. Then he was thrust back against the opposite wall.
"That's enough." The stranger said.
Vor' worked his way through the crowd and demanded the stranger's reason.
He answered as if Vor' were an idiot, "These "enemies", as you so lovingly call them, are completely defenseless, where's the honor in that?" he motioned to the two soldiers. "Don't you realize what you're doing?" The rebels stared blankly at him.
"We are doing what we have to." Vor' turned to leave.
"This doesn't have to be done." Vor' turned back and acted as if he had been struck by the stranger's words.
"What?" he questioned.
"This isn't just." The man kept talking as Vor' stalked toward him, "these men have gone without food, water, ...Or sleep for days. You can't just treat them like animals. You are putting all the mistakes of Direct on their heads, and then beating the crap out of them as if it were their fault. You people are just angry, that's understandable, but you're being coaxed on by something, by someone." He looked directly at Vor' and a small murmur arose through the crowd, considering this possibility.
Vor' was a good 6 inches taller than the stranger, but it seemed as if his shadow cast no darkness over him, so he continued his accusation. "What happened to Jim? Oh yeah, I remember, he's on the roof, playing lookout. You, on the other hand, are sitting here getting drunk and beating these people senseless while he's not looking, so he can't keep you in line." Vor' took one more step closer to the speaker.
"Look, I don't know what your past is. I don't even know where the hell you came from. But this isn't right, and you know it."
The Russian was about to pull back his fist, but Jim's voice interrupted him. All eyes now focused on the old veteran. "We've got company, a scout. A rebel scout."
The scout ran in moments after with a newspaper in her hand. She held it out in her hand and read aloud, "The terrorist's demands have been reviewed and a detective has been hired to investigate the matter." She stopped reading and looked up, "His name is Thomas Pollo of the Silver Wing Collective."
Jim took this in and said to Vor', "Get these men some food and new clothes, I'll talk to you later."
Vor' slowly turned back to the grinning stranger, then grunted and entered another room.
5:31 a.m.
"Lieutenant Thomas Pollo, Silver Wing Collective, second class." Thomas was standing at the foot of the council's table, introducing himself. At this hour, he felt stiff as a board, and basically looked the same, too.
"Lieutenant?" Simon asked.
"Yes sir?" he stiffened more.
"At ease."
"Oh, sorry." Thomas basically let all his worries leave him.
"Let's get down to business... The terrorist hostages have been held for approximately three days now, and are expecting rescue." Shane started the instructions.
"I know all of this. Councilmen, I just want to do my job, I already know the facts. So just tell me what I need to do." Thomas just wanted to get the job done.
Pretty much everyone nodded in agreement. "You need to approach them as a friend and have them change their demands or get those soldiers back, peacefully."
"Sounds easy enough." Thomas murmured, then turned to leave.
Trunks stopped him at the door, "By the way, I shall be accompanying you. Wait in the lobby."
6:03 a.m.
"What were you thinking?" Jim asked.
"They need to be taught a lesson." Vor' answered weakly.
"The only thing we're teaching in there is that Direct is bad and whoever is part of it should be killed."
"I thought we came here to stop Control from surfacing?"
"We did, just not like this."
"But they're Direct scum!"
"The innocents Direct manipulates are not the scum they produce! If you quit going by instinct and nature, perhaps more lives would be saved." Jim turned and walked back inside.
6:23 a.m.
Coeschhhhhhh! The door slide open and Trunks stepped inside the tower dome. "You wanted to see me?"
He could hear the whir of the gears and turbines spinning as Simon's electronic body slid down to Trunks's level on its cylinder.
"I believe we may have a problem."
"Of course, we need to find out how to get our men back, if they're even still alive." Trunks said while he paced past and to the window.
"Not that, something else."
There was a dead silence.
"It's about Trevor."
"What could Trevor have to with-
"Sir, your advocate is about to leave." The speaker boomed into the silenced room.
Trunks looked expectantly at Simon. "It can wait. Go." He said as he ascended into the darkness.
With one last look at his master, Trunks quickly strode out of the room.
6:24 a.m.
Thomas heard the beep, beep of his hovercraft as Trunks walked up and stood next to him. "About to leave without me, huh?"
"These kinds of things stand still for no one." Both stepped into the craft simultaneously and sped toward the outskirts.
8:00 a.m.
"Do you think it'll work?" Leon was sitting on the couch, skimming through the newspaper.
"I don't know." Jeremy was leaning against the wall, tossing an old basketball up and down in his hands. "I mean, it just got outta' hand again. Just like the rally." He tossed the ball in the air again.
Leon caught the ball in his right hand, pausing Jeremy's thoughts, "Don't you think there's something we should try and do?"
Jeremy took the ball back, "What can we do? For all I know, Mortar's probably with them doing God knows what."
"Then I guess all we can do is wait." Leon sat back down with a thump.
"... As I said, I can't tell the future. And I don't know what's caused you to resort to this extreme, but I can help." Thomas had been there for nearly three hours straight, trying to calm people down and most of all, trying not to start a war.
"They lied, it was a simple cover-up and you know it! You even gave us the truth." A protester stood up.
"I gave you that paper to just show you the truth, not knowing you'd go psycho about it!" Thomas flared.
"Excuse me." Jim had silenced everyone. You could tell by his calm that he knew what to do, "You might wish to use better words around us. We've had a long few nights, and we're a little grumpy." There was some drunken wisdom in his tone.
Thomas put his hands on the table and leaned his weight on them. He looked up, "Why can't you just let them go and forget this ever happened. There would be less suffering for all of us."
"Know this, Thomas." Jim stood to speak, "The sins of Direct can never be forgotten. They have done things that you could never have imagined."
"What did they do?" Thomas asked with dark interest.
"Ask the one they call Simon."
"Simon, huh?"
"Yeah, that's what he said." He was talking to Kane in one of the many alleyways of the city.
"Humph! Seems like they really know something we don't."
"Yeah." Thomas took off his helmet. He wondered in the silence for a moment.
"You wanna' find out?" Kane asked out of the blue.
"What?"
"Do you want to find out what Direct did in the past?" Kane repeated.
Thomas was suddenly awake.
"So this is what you do on your spare time?" he asked through the communicator in his helmet.
"Yeah, why not? Make plans to infiltrate the leader of the Factions headquarters and find out numerous government secrets and failures." Kane replied with a laugh.
"Sounds like you have a hell of a time doing so. Or maybe you're just as eager to know what's goin' on."
"It's one of those."
Thomas let go a nervous laugh. "So where'd you get this key? I hope you didn't have to slit any throats." He asked, thumbing the keycard in his pocket.
"Some idiot showed it to me when he was drunk at Harvey's, then passed out in front of me, leaving it on the table."
"Huh. Lucky you." Thomas felt a little guilty at the thought.
Thomas strode into the lobby, turning into the hall leading to the executive and military rooms, but stopped short. There were about three guards near the entrance, but no one noticed him yet. Not chancing it, he slipped back around the corner and whispered into his microphone. "There're guards here, I can't get through."
"I'm fully aware of that, just a few more seconds. I'm almost through."
"Huh?" Through to what?
"All right, the signal's sent. Look back at the guards."
He was already doing so. They were holding their fingers to their ears, listening to their earphones. All three looked at each other, then raced away toward some unknown room.
Thomas proceeded through the door unnoticed.
The Wing officer sped around a corner and stopped short when he heard footsteps. Finding the nearest room, an open closet, he flattened himself against the wall as a platoon of soldiers flooded past. He poked his head out after; everything looked clear. He sprinted out of the room and down the hall where the soldiers had come from, only to be stopped by a translucent fence of lasers. He was just centimeters away from triggering the alarm. Thomas inched backward until he was a few feet away, then charged the opposite direction. Hearing voices again, he ducked into the closet.
The platoon flooded the hallway, and stayed there. There's got to be a way out. Thomas gazed around the room. There were boxes and brooms everywhere. Nothing of use. But then, something useful finally came into view, the air vent.
Thomas entered the room unnoticed, kicking the grate out of his way and dropping from the ceiling. He landed with a small clang on a pipe, leapt to an adjacent platform, then dropped to the floor. He walked around; coming into the little light that was emitting from the crack in the door. Only the faint glow of his control modules on his gun could match the light.
"Who are you, spy, explain yourself?" Thomas suddenly readied his gun and could hear the rustling of gears around him.
"Lieutenant Thomas Pollo, First Class Silver Wing Collective." Thomas steadily answered, turning around to try and see whatever was making the noise. He couldn't see it yet, whatever it was. "And you are?" he challenged
"Simon Temper. President and founder of the Direct Councilmen Collective Legion, number 90667998."
"Then show yourself." Thomas was turning every which way, then finally stopped, giving up.
"Turn around, advocate."
Thomas was utterly annoyed by this, but did as he was told and turned. This time, however, he did see something that sent him against the near wall from fear and wonder at the sight before him. It was dark, so shapes were hard to make out. He saw two triangular, metal shoulders, with arms of wires running down, covered by a shining, clear material. From the elbow, or what he thought was the elbow, down it looked like a sort of metal gauntlet ending with three-fingered talons. The least he could make out of the body were two poles connecting the arms to each other and the head. There were no legs.
"My God. You've got to be kidding me."
"Why are you here?" Simon didn't believe in long introductions.
"I've g-got every reason to be here like you." Thomas stuttered out, which surprised him, since he doesn't stutter.
"Of course. But the look in your eyes tells me otherwise of your intentions." Thomas looked worried, like he didn't know what to do. "Oh, out with it. You look as if you're about to burst. You can't keep anything from me."
Thomas finally let in and spat it out in a rush, "I heard the rebels say that you had committed millions of crimes that hadn't happened yet. I was confused at first, but then I remembered that there were rumors of you planning something, something called the, the Termination?" Thomas took another breath and paused for a reaction. Simon was still. He went on, "So I came down here to try and find out what those other plans were, and then you came down here."
"Ingenious. The way you got in. I had been watching you the whole time when your little scheme took place. Oh, and by the way, if you're thinking of going down there again, you're too late."
It took Thomas a second to realize what he was talking about. "Why am I too late?"
"Trunks is already on his way there."
The fire was dying. Rebels growing ever more restless. The captives had given up struggle. But all commotion ceased when a loud thump echoed outside.
First, the fire abruptly puffed out. Next, the roof flew off. In the moonlight, a shadowed figure could be seen, but he quickly found the shadows after he dropped down to bottom floor. The crunching of bones could be heard, with the thud of the victim's bodies littering the floor.
Only a few moments later did Vor' and a few others light flares. The soldier checked the bodies. Unconscious. A few broken bones were all the damage done. Vor' lit the rest of the room, searching for the attacker, until the glint of a blade reflected off his visor to the left. He instantly reacted, dropping to one knee and arming his blaster as a longsword slashed over where his head had been a moment before. The blaster fired a primary shot directly at the heart.
The shot singed the nearby wall. Vor' was stunned. No one can dodge a laser blast. At least none he knew of could. The next blow to his chest sent him through the opposite wall and rolling down the hill. The other rebels reacted almost precisely after, punching and kicking, all missing, at the attacker.
The figure re-drew his sword and jumped/spun into the air, whirling over their heads and landing to slice through the ropes binding the officers in one swift movement. A club raised over the figure's head, but the ceiling crunched down on its holder, the weight of another tall, armor-clad figure crushing him. Vor launched himself at this new figure, only to be easily picked up with one hand and tossed over its shoulder.
"Go!" the new figure said to the old.
Trunks nodded and lifted up the two hostages and dashed into the darkness. The huge figure continued to take on the other attackers and rebels. Jim watched in silence from the only other room from a distance. Vor turned up from his spot on the floor and glared after Trunks.
Trunks half-dragged/guided the guards through the streets, nearly picking them up. In the distance, Vor appeared at the end of the street, gun armed and taking aim. Trevor watched in horror from his quarters window.