-11 Months
"The UN summit this afternoon surprised many people, although this reporter knew better." Proxy Blue was looking particularly smug. "Given the panicked movements of so many world leaders recently along with various meetings behind closed doors, it was inevitable that they would all be brought to the big table in the end. The question is, what little alliances have been made outside the big table?
"It's been deemed that the mutant menace is a global threat since these monsters do reside worldwide, even though the greatest concentration by far is in the United States. Anyone wonder why that would be? But worse than that, you can't tell a mutant by just looking at them. Of course, no one is saying that because it wouldn't be politically correct, but how many are thinking it?
"Global martial law may seem like overkill to some, but reports of spontaneous combustion and core meltdown threats are abounding. But on the other hand, does anyone really think a bunch of human soldiers is going to stop lynch mobs either? And has anyone else noticed that since the Halloween Riot, no one has asked a single mutant their opinion on the subject? Maybe someone should. Keep the stories coming in, web weavers, things are spicing up."
*****
Brennan toasted the TV screen as Proxy Blue launched into a tale of conspiracy. Another day, another bar, and although he'd made some contacts over the last couple of weeks, he was finding that he was preferring his own company. The thieves he ran with these days really didn't care about mutants one way or another, mixing freely and only seeing 'special' skills in relation to a con or a job. But there was always the exception, and the exceptions were dangerous; they were the ones that saw the moneymaking possibilities of capturing and selling mutants on. The market was too limited at the moment, only Genomex giving a small reward. But word on the street was that it wouldn't be long before mutants would become a hot commodity. Big question was, would it be legalized or not? Those on the street hoped not, mostly because it would open up a whole new Black Market.
Word on the street also had it that there was someone, a Mister Big, who was manipulating all this from backstage. However opinion was divided as to whether it was a politician with his own agenda, a mind-mutant playing head-fuck with six billion people, or a council of aliens from Alpha Centauri.
His drink suddenly tasting sour, Brennan left it half empty and departed the bar to head back towards the motel he was staying at. He was acquiring resources, but had no direction to focus them in. However, since the other ex-members of Mutant X were having no real success in their chosen paths, he would keep going as he was for the moment.
Passing the alley next to the soup kitchen, some odd feeling made him look into it. A cat yowled and leaped away, but that wasn't what caught his eye. Rather, it was a foot poking out from under a pile of trash that gave him pause, and with a sinking feeling Brennan pulled the body out. Eli had not only been dead for at least a day or so, but it was clear to anyone who looked that the harmless old man had been viciously beaten to death.
It suddenly hit Brennan as he knelt over the broken corpse, breathing hard in shock, that this whole thing was serious and that the absolute worst in people was being brought out. He'd come from an environment where people had to look out for themselves, where alliances were formed and broken in a blink, deals struck and counter struck as fast as a number could be dialed. But there was always a rough code of honor, where those who preyed on the weak were taken out by their own. Where back street assassinations and shakedowns were the results of business.
To beat an old man to death simply for having an extra finger wasn't just plain sick, but went against every code of back street honor that Brennan had ever lived by.
*****
Adam couldn't believe his luck. He'd been lobbying in Washington when he'd run into Charlotte Cooke, a mutant who could alter moral polarity and an old friend of his. She'd grown up in the last few years from a frightened, malicious child into a confident young woman who had found a place on Senator Langley's staff. On the face of it, Langley was very liberal in her views, but rumors abounded that she was a hard, ruthless and ambitious bitch. Charlotte seemed to admire her though, and Adam suspected that she and Langley were each operating their own agendas, using each other. Still, Charlotte was an adult now and could look after herself.
The upshot of running into the young woman had been that she'd been able to get him in to see Langley. And what a meeting that had been.
Victoria Langley was a tall slim blonde, graying gracefully and elegant to the bone. She projected sincerity and care but, knowing that politics was no place for weak, Adam wished for Emma's powers to try and ascertain what she was really thinking. However, Langley had opened doors for him, given him a platform to start talking to people in power, start offering proof that the hysteria was unfounded.
And confident in his own persuasive skills, a small platform was all he needed.
He hoped.
*****
Jesse had spent hours poring over his accounts and drawing up plans.
Having come to the conclusion that power and influence were not areas where he was going to be able to do something, either through others or himself, there was only one option left open to him. Someone, somewhere, had decided that Noah was presumed dead, which at first sight had shocked Jesse to the core, leaving him staring at the screen numbly for an hour. Until he'd realized that the proxy certification of death had been signed off over month before the last time he'd met up with Noah himself.
As he put his plans together, tweaking here and there, he decided that the time had come to grow up and put idealism aside. He'd learned hard the last few weeks that there was little in the world that lived up to high idealistic standards, that he needed to take a leaf out of Brennan's book.
So he injected as much paranoia into his plans as he could possibly dredge up. Then, finally satisfied that it all looked good on paper, he turned his thoughts to pulling together a team to fulfill it. He needed them to be highly skilled, self-motivated, objectively neutral and loyal.
Enough money bought a hell of a lot. Even things that should never have been for sale.
*****
Emma and Shalimar had found that people were willing to listen to anyone who would give them the hope of having normal lives. Most mutants just wanted to be left alone to live side by side with humans who saw no reason to treat them any different from anyone else. It was these mutants along with the humans that accepted them that banded together around Emma and Shalimar.
But things were getting unmanageable, and with a couple of the new arrivals vying for leadership with aggressive agendas, the two young women decided that they needed to take charge and put some order into the growing chaos.
So far, they had come up with a name - Freedom Fighters – and made the decision to split up in order to cover more areas. They already had a base of operations, the old sub-station where they were gathered now, and Shalimar would stay there, organizing training and direct operations with an eye to protecting the innocent and thwarting aggressive maneuvers by both human and mutant.
They decided that Emma would move away and continue to find others, those willing to join forces as well as those who would give support from their day to day lives. On top of that, she'd also be keeping in contact with Adam, who was making in-roads into places that counted, and between them they would set up neutral meeting ground between human and mutant, with Shalimar's group providing security.
Immediately they announced their plans the most vociferous dissident in the group, a feral by the name of Vernon, ripped it apart. "We should be showing them that we're a hell of a lot more powerful than they are! They should be trembling at our feet, not the other way round!"
Shalimar smiled sweetly and prowled forward. "If you feel like that, honey, you shouldn't be here, you should be with the backwoods psychos arming up to nuke half the planet. That'd probably do it." She'd taken his stock the first time he'd spoken against her. He was some kind of dog, probably a wolf feral, and if she had her animal psychology right, he could be taken care of if he knew who was boss. She lowered her voice to a growl. "Or you could do things my way, which will give most of the world a chance."
He responded to her challenge, green eyes flashing gold, leaping forward to teach the bitch a lesson through sheer brute force. But Shalimar had years of experience that Vernon clearly hadn't. A boot below the belt, a kick in the head, and she was all over him, one hand throttling, the other ready to gouge his eyes out. "Uncle?"
Vernon nodded, surrendered, and she let him up to take himself off to lick his wounds in a corner. A little later, when the tension had relaxed somewhat, she went to talk to him.
"I could use you if you'd stay," she offered.
"Pity offering?" he asked, clearly ashamed.
She shrugged. "You're still here. You could have taken off."
"Nowhere to take off to."
She smiled and crouched down next to him. "A very good friend of mine said something similar once. It took him a long time to realize that he was already home. You don't have to be that stubborn. You're good with people, they'll follow you, and I need someone I can trust to help me. I can't do all this by myself."
"Hah! After they saw me get my ass kicked by a little girl?"
"That doesn't matter. I've been trained to fight, been fighting since I was fifteen, and that's a lot longer than I'll ever admit to. We'll have you trained up in no time, and when those people out there see that you can do it, they'll have more confidence that they can do it too."
Vernon took a breath. "Okay, well, I'm not a yes man, you know that?"
"I wouldn't want one. I'm not perfect and I need other viewpoints. Ollie has also agreed to help and with his Special Forces training and your people skills, we'll knock 'em in to shape in no time."
"But he's human!" Vernon protested.
"Yes, and so are a lot of our people. Deal with it, okay?"
Hesitating a moment, Vernon finally nodded. "Dealing. But what about the others then? Moleculars, psionics and elementals? They're different from ferals. And humans. Different advantages and disadvantages to take into consideration."
"That's where my experience comes in. I have some understanding of a few different types, so we'll assess and deal with as we can."
Emma watched the exchange and was confident that Shalimar could be a good leader. She'd spoken at length with Ollie, a large down to earth man who spoke little but said much when he did, and she was confident that he could keep the two volatile ferals balanced.
When she asked for volunteers for her own group, she wasn't surprised to find that the small handful that stood with her were a mix of humans and mutants that were not given to fighting. But she was surprised to find a husband and wife team joined her, a couple who were experienced soldiers, a resource that Shalimar would do well to keep hold of. Jeff was a molecular, could change his body into any base metal with reach, while Julie was a mere human but with a deadly line in kickboxing and street fighting.
"You'll need some security and protection," Julie pointed out, and with Shalimar giving her that 'don't you argue with me, missy,' look, Emma really couldn't find it within herself to object.
"Be careful, Shal," Emma said as she hugged Shalimar goodbye. They'd be in contact of course, but the psionic had a gut feeling that they wouldn't be seeing each other again any time soon.
Shalimar seemed a little uncertain, probably thinking that the younger woman was over-reacting, yet always willing to return a hug and cater to needs for reassurance. "And you too, sweetie."
They broke apart, and Emma rubbed the finger where her ring had been. "I still feel naked without it," she said.
"I know," sighed Shalimar. "But they're useless with Sanctuary's computers trashed, and they're too easy to identify us by. "
"I know, but I kind of feel like I'm casting off alone."
Shalimar shook her head. "I'm always here, you know that. And we're in contact with Adam and the boys."
"Sure," said Emma backing away to where her small entourage waited. "Be seeing you then."
Shalimar smiled and watched her until she was gone from sight.
*****
"Welcome."
Eckhart nodded his acknowledgement of Morrisen's greeting as he took his seat on the Inner Circle for the first time. The group of maybe a dozen politicians and businessmen from different walks was ruled by Morrisen, and controlled not only the US government from the shadows, but also a good many other governments by proxy.
"William," Byrnes said, "Mason has some knowledge of our little interloper that you may find interesting."
Morrisen turned Eckhart, with a questioning look.
"Yes, I used to work with him some years ago." That much was true, at least, and Eckhart liked to keep his cards close to his chest. "Is he causing a problem?"
Morrisen looked speculatively at the poker-faced Langley. "Not for much longer," he said with a cruel smile as he took a drag from his long Havana. "Not for much longer at all."
*****