Anne had cleaned herself up for patrol, as she always did. They went to
populated areas, for god's sake, clubs and malls. Plus, she was going to
try and prove to everyone that Greer was indeed human. From the bottom up
she was wearing pale blue high heels, a slender silver chain with little
heart charms around her left ankle, bare legs up to her pale blue mini-
skirt, a midriff exposed by the white, near see-through blouse with sleeves
just past her elbow, several silver bracelets, a few rings, a silver cross
around her neck, white heart earrings, and her long blonde hair pulled into
to pigtails at the very back of her head. Her face was made up in soft
blues and pinks. Dressed to kill, literally.
She knocked on Greer's door, and when he answered he looked surprised.
"This is patrol, Anne," he said gruffly, "not a date."
She crossed her arms. "You expect me to go outside looking like trash?" she demanded. "You're not exactly armed to the teeth."
She thought he looked disgusting, in point of fact. He was wearing more jewelry than she was even, with at least seven piercings in each ear, most in the cartilage, and that gaudy dragon thing handing down from one lobe. His hair was perpetually pulled back and hanging over his face menacingly, and a number of large pendants with skulls and things hung from his neck over a dark blue wife-beater shirt, which in turn was under a black straight-jacket-like coat with silver buckles, a heavy belt hanging over tight black jeans, and he had a pair of combat boots on.
He grunted noncommittally. "Come on, let's go." He closed the door of his room and they headed out in silence. Anne hoped he wasn't going to brood the entire time.
When they got to street level Anne immediately went to require her car, but Greer grabbed her wrist.
"Hey!" she protested.
He shook his head. "There is no way I'm going to be seen with the Barbie- mobile. We'll take my bike."
"For your information-" she began to protest, but stopped when she saw the motorcycle he'd required. She stared at its midnight blue and chrome. Now there was a sexy bike.
"Fine," she said with a shrug.
"It's require a coat if I were you, or you'll freeze."
She required a white Pleather duster, and put it on, as well as a white and pink helmet.
"Get on behind me," he said, mounting the bike.
She got on, and asked, "Where's your helmet?"
Instantly he was wearing a blue helmet with an Asian green dragon. "Happy?" he asked.
"Sure, whatever," she replied boredly, wrapping her hands around his waist. He was skinnier than most recruits were, but also impossibly well muscled. She could almost count his ribs, but he had a firm stomach. She leaned up against his back. Maybe sleeping with him would be more fun than she thought.
He didn't bother to warn her to hold on, just started the bike, revved it twice, and sped off onto the dusk.
Inconsiderate jerk.
Greer felt Anne's hands around his waist and tried to ignore them as he drove. Would she be trying to vamp him all night? That was the only goal she could have in mind, hanging around him this morning, the outfit, the roaming hands...
Well there was no way. First of all he was loyal to Jones no matter what. Second of all sure she had a great body, but Anne was nothing but a tramp, right down to her heavy makeup and exposed bellybutton. If she hadn't become a recruit she probably would be sleeping her way around Hollywood or somewhere equally glamorous. How on earth did she get recruited in the first place? She had no mind behind those looks, so far as he could tell, unlike Stef, who Greer thought must be some sort of closet genius. Not only that, but she didn't have to try to be sexy, she just was. The walk, the smirk, the casual way she held herself and her gun. Stef was a woman, Anne was just a girl.
Maybe, thought Greer, if he hadn't gotten involved with Jones, he and Stef might have had a relationship. But he was in love with Jones, and he was happy with that, discontent as he was with the secrecy of it all. Maybes were another lifetime.
Right now he just wanted to figure out a way to keep Anne from getting too friendly. He was trying to be as unpleasant as possible, but he got the feeling that wasn't enough to turn her off. He did wonder though, if she was genuinely attracted to him, or just took the idea up on a whim. He suspected it was the latter.
He pulled into the parking lot of a cyberpunk club, the destination of their patrol. Anne wasn't really dressed for it, but that was her problem, not his. He made sure nobody was looking and 'required' away their helmets.
"Come on," he said to Anne, who stood first, before he followed.
"Eugh," she said, looking at the club with distaste, and it's patrons with even more. The place was called Final Heaven, but the neon lights were in Japanese, and Greer had been there many times in his pre-recruit days. Unlike Monkey Boxing, it was the sort of place that rebels spread propaganda, in fact, it had been here, after a long chat with the bartender, that his own search for Morpheus had tentatively begun.
Anne followed him inside, as he walked into his old stomping grounds with more confidence than he felt. Would he recognize anyone? Would anyone recognize him? It had been a year practically, since he'd been there; but it hadn't changed a bit.
The whole place was a cement bunker spray-painted a mishmash of black, and Technicolor graffiti, some put there by the owner deliberately, and some by zealous patrons. Along the walls and ceiling there were sharp metallic outcroppings at odd angles, the chairs and tables were metal, and painted to look rusty in spots, strewn around the dance floor haphazardly. The multi-colored strobe lights, which were the only illumination, flickered sporadically, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, and once in while they would go out entirely, leaving the club pitch black for a moment. One wall was dominated by a huge flatscreen TV on which clips of various dark sci-fi movies flashed in silence, except that at odd intervals, a nuclear blast would rock the screen, sound at full volume. The greatest effect was when this corresponded with one of the strobe blackouts. The patrons were awash in makeup and glitter, studs, spikes, torn clothing, black, neon, plastic, heels, leather, and just about anything they wanted to wear. It was very post-apocalyptic.
The DJ tonight, set up on a dais that was sometimes used for a band, and had tattered blood-red curtains pulled halfway around it, was wearing a particularly large amount of black leather with blue, red and green wires sticking out and tangled around him. He was shaved bald and had large, suction-cup-like goggles on his forehead. The music right now was to an echoing, rather schizophrenic techno-beat, the remix of one of Greer's favorite songs by the band 'Shadows'. It was called Nightmare Seduction, and it had just started.
{Crawling...crawling...crawling... through the darkness oh and the blood}
Anne was sticking very close to him, as they waded through crowd, looking for rebels, and rebel potentials. Greer wondered if they would find any tonight. He needed a good fight.
"What is this place?" Anne asked trying to whisper, and be heard above the din at the same time.
{falling...falling...falling into your arms covered in sweet blood and I'm}
"Final Heaven, cyberpunk club," he told her. "Named after the club in ff seven, actually."
"What?"
He shook his head.
{calling...calling...calling but you're too busy licking my wounds}
"Never mind," he told her. "See any rebels?"
"They all look like rebels," she hissed. "Why don't we get something to drink?"
"You're not even eighteen," he protested.
{oh and tasting the blood...blood}
"So?" she demanded.
"We're not supposed to drink on the job, anyway."
"So?"
{But that's what you do and god knows, it's know harm to you}
Greer rolled his eyes. "Fine, okay, come on. Let's get over to the bar. I just hope Risen isn't tending tonight."
"You know the bartender?" she asked.
"I used to come here a lot," he shrugged, pushing people aside so they could get through. Nobody minded. A woman with large DJ headphones over her ears that weren't plugged into anything, the cord wound around her belt, shoved him back with a grin that he returned.
{lick your fingers, in the morning no one will remember and no one will care...care}
There were no stools at the bar, just a lot of people. Behind, tending, was just who Greer did and did not want to see; his old pal Risen. The man was a couple of years older than Greer was but much shorter and skinnier, with short blonde hair dyed green at the tips, and brown eyes. He was wearing a black fishnet shirt with plastic Halloween spiders stuck all over it, and a lot of black and purple makeup and glitter. His lips and eyes had more color than Anne's. His pants (or was it a skirt today? So baggy he couldn't tell) were covered in excess chains and zippers.
{as long as I'm bleeding you'll be happy, as long as I'm wounded, baby you'll be there}
Risen stared at him. "Yo, Greer, man is that really you?!"
The recruit grinned at him. "Yeah, it's me. Been a while, eh?"
"Damn sure has," he slapped Greer on the shoulder, and then saw Anne, standing behind him. He took her in with a dubious eye, "who's the Chiquita?"
{nobody said...nobody said...nobody said it was fair...}
Greer jerked a thumb at her. "Just a chick. Name's Anne."
"Excuse me, just a chick?" Anne glared at him.
Risen chuckled. "Well you sure ain't his girl, babe."
"And why not?" she demanded.
To his credit, Risen just laughed.
{Crawling...crawling...crawling through the darkness oh and the blood
falling...falling...falling into your arms covered in sweet blood and I'm calling...calling...calling}
Greer had met him here, two years ago, and they had been lovers for a while, not really so much dating as just being together for its own sake. He was a good friend, and had continued being one after they discontinued their relationship when he'd started going with the club's bouncer, Derrek. In addition to tending bar, Risen, whose real name was Shane, also sometimes danced in the cage suspended above the dance floor.
{This bloods for you}
"So what can I get you two?" the bartender asked dutifully.
Anne ordered some kind of silly mixed drink that Greer didn't here the name of. He was busy surveying the crowd now for rebel activity, and listening to the music. Oh and worrying. Risen wasn't a rebel as far as he knew (how could he work at the club otherwise?) but he did have sympathies in that direction. After all, it had been Risen's interest in Morpheus that had led Greer to him.
{my nightmare desire; languid lover, sanguine lover}
"Nothing for me," he said. "Hey Ris, have any e133t Haxors been in lately?"
He thought for a moment. "Nah, nobody really worth calling elite. Got a few warez d00ds around though, if you're in the market for any cheap software."
"No thanks," he said. There was a time when Greer would have eagerly snapped up any pirate software that came his way, but not any more.
{you won't let me die and I can't leave you til I'm six feet under}
"So nobody around spreading the hacker message lately?"
"Actually the buzz I've been picking up lately is that somebody heavy's gonna stop by soon," Risen said, taking a drink of his beer. "Like maybe Trinity even. Or Neo."
Well great, he thought to himself. Just what I need. He looked over to find Anne chatting warmly with one of the more conservatively dressed guys in the club.
{This blood's for you}
"So where've you been man?" Risen asked him finally.
"Around," he shrugged, "I got a job and it's eating my life." If he told Risen even the half-truth that he worked for the government he'd be tossed out of Final Heaven on his ear. To them Greer was on the nark-side.
Phone conversation suddenly cut through his thoughts.
/-almost to the club Morpheus/
His eyes went wild for a moment, but he quickly suppressed his rage. He wasn't sure what rebel's voice he heard but he knew one thing. Rebels were coming, the signal was too close for them to be headed anywhere else.
The bartender nodded and didn't ask what his job was. Risen was the type who didn't ask for more information than one offered.
{they're chasing me around in the dark}
"Got a new squeeze?" Risen asked curiously.
'Yeah actually," Greer said with a grin. "Game designer, sweet guy. Short, brown haired, really shy though."
"Hey speaking of game design, have you seen that new net game, 'Virtual World that seems really real Smackdown'?"
Greer nearly choked before he remembered that Jones had released it onto the net a few weeks ago. He made a mental note to ask what kind of feedback he was getting.
{it doesn't matter with your watchful eyes but its no walking in the park}
"Yeah, I've played it," he replied, a bit distracted. He looked around for Anne again, but now he couldn't find her. God damn it, where was she? The rebels would be here any minute.
"Isn't it awesome? Absolutely awesome game-play, hilarious characters. It must have taken years to develop, yet whoever made it released it free on the net. He woulda made a zillion bucks if he'd sold it to Playstation."
"Maybe the guy who created doesn't care about money."
{and I know you sent them, that's why I scream...scream...scream...}
"If a guy that brilliant can be that selfless I'd love to meet him. Hell, I'd love to take him home to mother," Risen joked.
Too bad, Greer thought, he's already taken.
"So, are you and Derrek still together?"
"Are you kidding?" Risen chuckled, "We went at if for like three months before he got tired of me. He's on a chick-kick right now."
"How could anyone ever get tired of you, Ris?" Greer asked with a grin.
"Beat's the hell outta me."
{It's all a dream, I'll wake up, you were never there}
"So anyway," Risen said, "Now I'm seeing this Chinese guy Hsu Hu. Do you believe it?"
Greer chuckled, "How's he treat-"
/Can you come ansh pick me up? I shink I'm drunk-/
It was just too much. He couldn't control it anymore, not reliably, and soon it would have him completely. He cried out, swept his hand across the bar in rage knocking Anne's drink to the floor, and watched it in slow motion fall, spilling pink liquid and ice in globules through the air, until it hit the ground and shattered on the cement floor. Then he buried his face in his hands.
{you're there in my sleep, I never do anything but sleep, I'll never wake up}
Risen put a hand on his shoulder. "Yo man, you okay?"
Greer's head snapped up. Outside he could hear a car pulling up and rebel voices. Yes, over the din of the club, he could hear it.
He glanced back at Risen and struggled not to see a potential rebel. 'Run," he snarled at him. "There's going to be a gunfight."
One look at Greer's eyes and the man didn't need to be told twice. He pressed a hand to the bar and with the agility of a gymnast hopped over it and dashed out the employee exit. Nobody looked twice.
{Crawling...crawling...crawling through the darkness oh and the blood}
Greer stood up and his eagle eyes found Anne with her 'new friend' in a corner. He stalked towards her quickly, pushing people roughly aside, no trace of joviality now.
Anne was lost in a deep kiss form Jaren when suddenly he was pulled violently away, and shoved several feet across the room. Anne looked up, who the hell would-
{falling...falling...falling into your arms covered in sweet blood and I'm}
It was Greer, but he wasn't his usual sulky self. His eyes were flashing and his lips were twisted in a snarl.
"What the hell?!"
"Shut up, we've got rebels," he growled, and grabbing her wrist and twisted her around so that she was facing the doorway. He scared her.
{calling...calling...calling through the darkness}
Six people filtered through the doorway slowly. The first was a stocky blonde man, the second, wiry and red haired, there was a tall brown haired man, a skinnier blonde guy, a kid who couldn't be any older than fourteen, and last was a tall woman with black and red hair. They were all wearing heavy black clothing.
"Them?" she asked in a whisper, shrinking back from the feral Greer.
{Crawling...crawling...crawling}
"Don't move until I-" he stopped mid sentence, surveying the rebels. "Yami," he spat, and, almost forgetting to let go of Anne's wrist, leapt forward, towards the rebels, howling.
The rebels were startled by the man rushing towards them with such animal furry.
"The hell?! Greer!!" the woman rebel screeched. "He's an agent!!"
They drew their weapons in the blink of an eye.
Greer didn't seem to notice or care, but took a flying leap towards the woman, and Anne saw that he was holding a long curved sword.
{oh and the blood}
Now people were starting to notice, and hurry out the emergency exits.
Anne was caught between two and a half impulses, on the one hand she was trained to fight, on the other hand she didn't want to get anywhere near the crazed Greer. And she just generally wanted to leave. To run away and never come back.
She drew her gun and leapt dutifully into the fray.
{falling...falling...falling}
Greer had been fighting all of them at once, though obviously trying to get to the woman who knew him specifically. But with five against one his odds weren't great.
Anne joined him now, picking off the lanky guy from a distance with one well placed bullet, and jump-kicked the stocky blonde.
Greer paid no attention to her, but had grabbed the brown haired guy who was staunchly keeping him from the woman, by the ankle. The woman was running around the club trying to find a good distance to shoot from.
{Into your bloody abyss, your hell}
As she was trading martial arts blows with the stocky rebel, she grabbed him in a punch and managed to throw him to the floor. Her gaze followed him, and she was nearly physically ill from what she saw.
Lying on the ground was the mangled body of the skinny blond rebel. One on his arms was severed clean off, pooling blood on the cement floor, there were numerous lacerations all over his body, and his intestines were pouring out from a deep gash in his stomach. The worst part was that she wasn't sure the rebel was quite dead yet.
{Trapped by your demonic voice, crooning sick lullabies}
Greer had done that.
Anne looked terrified up at her fellow recruit, and as she did so, another mutilated corpse fell to the ground in a pool of blood and gore. A victim Greer had just tossed aside.
{I never could say my goodbyes}
The rebel she had thrown had gotten up, and was aiming a shot at her when she bent over to be sick. The bullet just grazed her shoulder, and it made her stomach empty even more of its contents.
{in sweet blood and I'm in your arms covered}
But the rebel didn't finish her. She wasn't worth it any more. All the rebels were running for their lives. Every man for himself.
Still sick, shaking and drooling vomit, Anne scrabbled back, and cowered in a corner. Greer had the woman rebel pressed up against a wall; he was laughing. Anne squeezed her eyes shut.
{You've made me a demon...demon...demon}
He was a killer, just like the killer who had tried to hurt her before. Just as cruel, just as cold, and horrible. Only he wasn't just a man this time, and she couldn't fight him.
Run, she thought. Run from the monster.
Greer chuckled, a deep hollow sound in the back of his throat, as his piercing gaze penetrated the terrified eyes of the woman he held, Yami Yamashita. The beast, Grimoires, had lied. Yami has escaped alive, and now her blood was his to spill.
"Any last words?" he rasped, pressing his blade up to her throat.
{Tasting the blood...}
"You-you're dead," she whispered in terror. "The jabberwockies got you."
"Dead?" he croaked. "I'm invincible."
Something hit him in the back of his head, and he crumpled. The katana, covered in slick, crimson ichor, clanged on the hard floor.
{...calling...calling...calling...}
Yami stared at the small rebel boy, Obsolete, in relief. He held a heavy metal pipe in one hand, and with the other, grabbed her wrist.
"We have to go," he said urgently, peering around at the gruesome spectacle.
"I-" Yami too surveyed the atrocities. She reached down hastily, and pulled the dragon earring from her foe's ear with surprising care. She shoved it in her own ear, nodded at 'Lete and the two sprinted out of the building. They paid no notice to the blonde girl, sobbing and trembling in the corner.
Jones had not been watching Greer's patrol; he had had other things on his mind. In fact, he had looked in once to make sure everything was all right, and found Greer chatting it up with the bartender, who seemed to be an old friend. Jones was almost jealous, and he hadn't checked on him again.
He had however discovered what had gone wrong with the Edmund twins and the cause of their power. He had checked Claire Edmund's pod, and the same electrical burn marks were on her spike. Both burn marks were also twenty years old, the same time frame as when they'd died.
With trepidation Jones had finally checked Greer's pod. He had wanted to avoid it, because it made him think of Greer's mortality and his real world body, but it had to be done.
And there were the burn marks, slightly less extensive, but much, much more recent, current in fact. And with this discovery came the origin of the burns. There was a slight but fatal flaw in the plug that was inserted in the back of Greer's head. Every so often it would emit a spark, causing the burns, firing neurons in his brain allowing him to pick up telephone signals, driving him slowly insane, and killing him.
The power of the Edmund twins, their insanity and their deaths were now inextricably linked, and tied to the fate of recruit Vincent Greer.
Jones sat with his sunglasses off, his face in his hands, crying.
He didn't notice that a light on his monitor was blinking softly.
When Greer regained consciousness a few minutes later, it was with none of the fury of his berserker rage. The whole incident was clouded in a fog, and he could barely remember it. But by what he could remember, and by the macabre scene around him, the blood on his sword, and the torpid, sweet smell in the air, he was horrified, and sickened.
He stood.
What in god's name had he done? This wasn't getting rid of dangerous rebels; this was murder, simple and disgusting. Greer gagged and was nearly sick.
What had he, how had he lost control like that? He'd become a monster. What would Jones think? Had he killed any innocent bystanders? What would the Agents do to him if he had? What would he do if he had? There were only two bodies and he was sure they were both rebels, but that was no excuse, what he'd done was ...inhuman. Bestial.
He heard muffled sobbing coming from a former and turned. There, curled into the fetal position, and covered in stale vomit, was Anne. He stepped over to her, and knelt down.
"Anne?"
She looked up, and immediately cowered backwards, closer to the wall. Greer winced visibly. No doubt she'd witnessed his rampage.
"Anne, listen to me. I know you saw what I did."
Her eyes got wider.
"I don't have the time to explain to you what happened. But you have to trust me that-" he stopped mid-sentence. That what? That it wasn't him? That he was temporarily insane? That he wouldn't do it again? The only one he knew was true was the second one, and he wasn't so sure about the temporary part.
"Listen," he began again. "You have to promise me that you will never, never tell anyone about this. Can you promise me that?"
She nodded weakly.
"Do you think you're okay to drive?" he asked.
She nodded again.
"Go back to the agency, I'll come back when I can. Alright?"
Nod.
"And remember, tell no one. Now go."
She stood up, avoiding Greer as he proffered his hand, and hurried out of the club as fast as her shaking legs would carry her.
Greer stood and looked again at the bodies, simultaneously trying to banish the image from his mind, and to fix it in his memory forever, a grim reminder of his own inner demon. He held out a hand and made a few requirements. Most of the blood dissolved away, and the bodies repaired themselves except for a few bullet holes. There, a nice, clean pair of dead rebels.
He touched his earpiece.
"Cleanup crew to Final Heaven club."
Several agents, whose only duties were to remove bodies, wipe witnesses memories, and come up with plausible explanations for when the media arrived. Greer nodded at them and strode out of the club.
He got on his motorcycle, helmetless, and sped away into the darkness.
Anne knocked on the door, her knees still shaking a little.
Agent Smith answered it.
"Yes?" he asked.
Agent Smith had recruited her, and so she was a tiny bit more comfortable around him than around the other agents. But only slightly.
"May I come in, please, sir?" she asked in a small voice.
Smith nodded. "You may."
He led her into his office, and gestured to the chair before his desk, as he took the one behind, and laid his hands on the desk.
Anne sat down gingerly.
"Something is troubling you," Smith stated.
She stared at the desk, feeling sick, and ashamed, and scared. "I want to go home, sir."
The Agent seemed to be surprised. "This is a rather sudden change."
She swallowed, trying to moisten her dry throat. "No, sir. I've been thinking about it for a while. I'm not cut out to be a recruit. I'm an average fighter, and I don't like killing people, even rebels. And I know...I know that if I stay a recruit, I'll just die really soon."
"I was under the impression that you were satisfied as a recruit."
"I have friends here but..." she didn't know what to say. She couldn't tell him what had happened; Greer would come for her if she did. "Do you remember the day you recruited me, sir?"
"Of course."
"The only reason I have any ability as a recruit at all is because of that man. I was going to die if I didn't do something. I wanted to live so bad that I bent the laws of physics. I still don't want to die, sir."
Smith nodded. "I understand. It does not happen often, but be do have provisions for when a recruit wishes to leave us."
"Can I have my old life back?" she whispered.
"Yes, you may."
There were tears in Anne's eyes as she looked up at him. "Thank you. Thank you so much, sir."
"You know that you're memories of the last few months will be erased?"
"Yes sir."
"This is what you want?"
"Yes."
"Do you wish to say goodbye to your friends?"
She nodded.
"Do that now, and report to the infirmary when you are ready."
Anne stood, and walked out the door.
She turned momentarily. "Thank you."
The door clicked closed softly behind her.
Smith felt sorry for the girl as she left his office. It was one of the times when he wondered if the Agents were any more right to take recruits than the rebels. But this same action proved that they were; the Agents let their recruits go home if they wanted.
He wondered what had happened to upset the girl so much. Was there something different about this patrol that had made it her last? But then, according to clean up, several rebels had been killed, so perhaps it was simply the straw that broke the camel's back.
Smith sighed.
Driving back to the agency, leaning low over the handlebars of his motorcycle, Greer had stopped halfway there, and stood at the side of the road, indulging in an old bad habit.
He put the cigarette to his lips, lit it, and took a long drag. He hadn't smoked since he was sixteen, but right now he needed it to calm him and clear his head. Lungs be damned.
He puffed on the cigarette for ten minutes successfully thinking about nothing, then dropped it to the grass, and ground it out with his boot heel. He got back on his bike.
Shane Montgomery, sometimes called Risen, huddled close to his boyfriend Hsu, as they sat on the dirty old couch in Hsu's living room.
What a day. His old buddy Greer shows up for the first time in months, chats for a few like it was old times, then has a major freak out and tells him to get out because there's going to be a fight. Guns are going to be fired. Not waiting to find out what's going on Risen books, only to find out later on the news that two guys were shot dead in the club. Greer was not one of them, but why did he have a feeling that Greer had been the one to pull the trigger? What the hell kind of street war had the boy gotten himself involved in?
He looked up at Hsu's warm, slanted brown eyes.
"Are you alright?" Hsu asked.
He shrugged. "I'll be okay."
Yeah, he would be okay; times healed all wounds for Risen. But he felt sure that tonight was the last time he would see his old friend.
"You wanna put in a movie Hsu?"
"Sure."
Anne walked into the recruits' lounge, where they often gathered and hung out when they weren't out on assignment. She had many fond memories of the place over the last few months; soon she wouldn't have any.
Tasha and Casey, and a few other friends looked up when she came in, and saw her distress.
"Annie, what's wrong?" Tasha asked, and both girls got up hurriedly from their movie to comfort their friend.
Anne hugged them both and put her arms around them each in turn.
"I'm leaving," she said simply. "I wanted to say goodbye."
"Goodbye?" they asked, shocked.
She nodded. "I'm going home."
"What, why?" Casey demanded.
"Because I want to. I can't take it anymore."
"What happened?" Casey asked her.
She just shook her head.
"I won't remember you," she said softy with tears rolling down her cheeks, "But I'll miss you anyways."
"Oh Anne," Tasha embraced her fondly.
"Promise you'll remember me?"
"I promise," Casey breathed.
"Cross my heart," said Tasha.
She let go of the one friend, and then hugged Casey. She whispered in her ear, "You were right Casey, he isn't human; he's a monster."
Casey gasped, and began to speak, but Anne shook her head and pressed a finger to her lips.
She spent a few more minutes with her friends, and said goodbye to a few other recruits, then she turned and left their presence for the last time, heading for the infirmary.
If she passed them on the street now she would never realize, except for a quiet murmur in her heart, and a missing piece of her affection that she would always carry deep inside, unknowingly. Innocent once more of the world's abomination, and content.
Greer knocked softly on Jones' office door, and immediately knew something was wrong.
"Come in," Jones said softly.
He unlatched the door, and looked in, Jones had his head rested on his arms, on his desk. Greer closed the door behind himself.
"Jones, what's wrong?"
"I..." Jones took a deep breath.
"You've been crying," he said. Fear gripped Greer's heart. He'd seen; Jones had seen the horrible thing he'd done.
"Sit down," he said tiredly.
Greer collapsed heavily into the chair. "Jones I didn't mean..." he began, but couldn't finish. "I didn't mean to intrude," he gulped instead. Would Jones say anything about it?
The agent shook his head. "I needed to talk to you."
Greer braced himself. Jones hated him now. He didn't want anything to do with such a murderous creature.
"I found out what's causing your powers."
Greer stared at him, open mouthed. "You, did?"
He nodded. "I worked the entire time since you left my office. I had a breakthrough while you were on patrol."
Greer breathed a mental sigh of relief. If Jones had been working the whole time, then he hadn't seen it! He was saved. Or was it out of the frying pan and into the fire? Jones had found the source of his power, but he'd been crying. The news could not be good.
"What is it?" he asked, bracing himself for the worst again.
"The cause of your power is a slight malfunction in the equipment that connects your mind in your real world body to the matrix. A small spark fires neurons and allows you to hear things, but, but," Jones voice broke.
"But I'll eventually go insane?" Greer finished heavily.
Jones nodded. "And... it will kill you, eventually."
Greer swallowed. "H-how long?"
Jones shook his head. "Judging by the current extent of structural damage, a year, at the very most."
Greer stood, walked over to Jones and embraced him tightly. They stayed that way, silent for many moments, comforting one another with their simple presence.
Finally they let go, and Greer drew his chair up right next to Jones, sitting down again.
"What can we do?" he asked the agent.
"I don't know," Jones whispered. "Maybe Stef will have an idea."
He nodded, and looked over at Jones monitor. A small light was blinking.
"Jones," he said, "your computer wants you."
"Oh?" Jones looked up, morosely, and inspected the light. "Ah. That just means a new Exile has appeared. You know..." he trailed off.
"Yeah, I know what Exiles are. Stef explained to me." It didn't seem like that had been only that morning. It seemed an entire lifetime away. He had less than a year to live. It was as if he had been told he had AIDS, or terminal cancer, only worse, because he was going to lose himself to a monster first.
Jones clicked the monitor, and the profile of the new Exile came up. Greer envied him, free to live his life how he wanted. Not handed this death sentence by fate.
Jones gasped as he looked at the screen. "What in the mainframe?"
Greer's head snapped over to look at him, puzzled. "What it is?"
The monitor held the visage of a young man in his early twenties, pale skin, with small round glasses and a long blond braid.
Jones continued to stare at the screen. "That is Nicholas Edmund."
A day later, Anne lay in the sun on a lawn chair, by her Olympic sized swimming pool. It was warm, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and she was perfectly relaxed. Later tonight her father was holding a big party, just for her, just because she'd asked a few weeks ago, to have a party before she went back to school in the fall. The last few months of vacation were a bit of a blur, but that was okay.
Life was good, and Anne was happy.
...To be Continued in Power Surge
Part Two of the Powers Trilogy
She knocked on Greer's door, and when he answered he looked surprised.
"This is patrol, Anne," he said gruffly, "not a date."
She crossed her arms. "You expect me to go outside looking like trash?" she demanded. "You're not exactly armed to the teeth."
She thought he looked disgusting, in point of fact. He was wearing more jewelry than she was even, with at least seven piercings in each ear, most in the cartilage, and that gaudy dragon thing handing down from one lobe. His hair was perpetually pulled back and hanging over his face menacingly, and a number of large pendants with skulls and things hung from his neck over a dark blue wife-beater shirt, which in turn was under a black straight-jacket-like coat with silver buckles, a heavy belt hanging over tight black jeans, and he had a pair of combat boots on.
He grunted noncommittally. "Come on, let's go." He closed the door of his room and they headed out in silence. Anne hoped he wasn't going to brood the entire time.
When they got to street level Anne immediately went to require her car, but Greer grabbed her wrist.
"Hey!" she protested.
He shook his head. "There is no way I'm going to be seen with the Barbie- mobile. We'll take my bike."
"For your information-" she began to protest, but stopped when she saw the motorcycle he'd required. She stared at its midnight blue and chrome. Now there was a sexy bike.
"Fine," she said with a shrug.
"It's require a coat if I were you, or you'll freeze."
She required a white Pleather duster, and put it on, as well as a white and pink helmet.
"Get on behind me," he said, mounting the bike.
She got on, and asked, "Where's your helmet?"
Instantly he was wearing a blue helmet with an Asian green dragon. "Happy?" he asked.
"Sure, whatever," she replied boredly, wrapping her hands around his waist. He was skinnier than most recruits were, but also impossibly well muscled. She could almost count his ribs, but he had a firm stomach. She leaned up against his back. Maybe sleeping with him would be more fun than she thought.
He didn't bother to warn her to hold on, just started the bike, revved it twice, and sped off onto the dusk.
Inconsiderate jerk.
Greer felt Anne's hands around his waist and tried to ignore them as he drove. Would she be trying to vamp him all night? That was the only goal she could have in mind, hanging around him this morning, the outfit, the roaming hands...
Well there was no way. First of all he was loyal to Jones no matter what. Second of all sure she had a great body, but Anne was nothing but a tramp, right down to her heavy makeup and exposed bellybutton. If she hadn't become a recruit she probably would be sleeping her way around Hollywood or somewhere equally glamorous. How on earth did she get recruited in the first place? She had no mind behind those looks, so far as he could tell, unlike Stef, who Greer thought must be some sort of closet genius. Not only that, but she didn't have to try to be sexy, she just was. The walk, the smirk, the casual way she held herself and her gun. Stef was a woman, Anne was just a girl.
Maybe, thought Greer, if he hadn't gotten involved with Jones, he and Stef might have had a relationship. But he was in love with Jones, and he was happy with that, discontent as he was with the secrecy of it all. Maybes were another lifetime.
Right now he just wanted to figure out a way to keep Anne from getting too friendly. He was trying to be as unpleasant as possible, but he got the feeling that wasn't enough to turn her off. He did wonder though, if she was genuinely attracted to him, or just took the idea up on a whim. He suspected it was the latter.
He pulled into the parking lot of a cyberpunk club, the destination of their patrol. Anne wasn't really dressed for it, but that was her problem, not his. He made sure nobody was looking and 'required' away their helmets.
"Come on," he said to Anne, who stood first, before he followed.
"Eugh," she said, looking at the club with distaste, and it's patrons with even more. The place was called Final Heaven, but the neon lights were in Japanese, and Greer had been there many times in his pre-recruit days. Unlike Monkey Boxing, it was the sort of place that rebels spread propaganda, in fact, it had been here, after a long chat with the bartender, that his own search for Morpheus had tentatively begun.
Anne followed him inside, as he walked into his old stomping grounds with more confidence than he felt. Would he recognize anyone? Would anyone recognize him? It had been a year practically, since he'd been there; but it hadn't changed a bit.
The whole place was a cement bunker spray-painted a mishmash of black, and Technicolor graffiti, some put there by the owner deliberately, and some by zealous patrons. Along the walls and ceiling there were sharp metallic outcroppings at odd angles, the chairs and tables were metal, and painted to look rusty in spots, strewn around the dance floor haphazardly. The multi-colored strobe lights, which were the only illumination, flickered sporadically, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, and once in while they would go out entirely, leaving the club pitch black for a moment. One wall was dominated by a huge flatscreen TV on which clips of various dark sci-fi movies flashed in silence, except that at odd intervals, a nuclear blast would rock the screen, sound at full volume. The greatest effect was when this corresponded with one of the strobe blackouts. The patrons were awash in makeup and glitter, studs, spikes, torn clothing, black, neon, plastic, heels, leather, and just about anything they wanted to wear. It was very post-apocalyptic.
The DJ tonight, set up on a dais that was sometimes used for a band, and had tattered blood-red curtains pulled halfway around it, was wearing a particularly large amount of black leather with blue, red and green wires sticking out and tangled around him. He was shaved bald and had large, suction-cup-like goggles on his forehead. The music right now was to an echoing, rather schizophrenic techno-beat, the remix of one of Greer's favorite songs by the band 'Shadows'. It was called Nightmare Seduction, and it had just started.
{Crawling...crawling...crawling... through the darkness oh and the blood}
Anne was sticking very close to him, as they waded through crowd, looking for rebels, and rebel potentials. Greer wondered if they would find any tonight. He needed a good fight.
"What is this place?" Anne asked trying to whisper, and be heard above the din at the same time.
{falling...falling...falling into your arms covered in sweet blood and I'm}
"Final Heaven, cyberpunk club," he told her. "Named after the club in ff seven, actually."
"What?"
He shook his head.
{calling...calling...calling but you're too busy licking my wounds}
"Never mind," he told her. "See any rebels?"
"They all look like rebels," she hissed. "Why don't we get something to drink?"
"You're not even eighteen," he protested.
{oh and tasting the blood...blood}
"So?" she demanded.
"We're not supposed to drink on the job, anyway."
"So?"
{But that's what you do and god knows, it's know harm to you}
Greer rolled his eyes. "Fine, okay, come on. Let's get over to the bar. I just hope Risen isn't tending tonight."
"You know the bartender?" she asked.
"I used to come here a lot," he shrugged, pushing people aside so they could get through. Nobody minded. A woman with large DJ headphones over her ears that weren't plugged into anything, the cord wound around her belt, shoved him back with a grin that he returned.
{lick your fingers, in the morning no one will remember and no one will care...care}
There were no stools at the bar, just a lot of people. Behind, tending, was just who Greer did and did not want to see; his old pal Risen. The man was a couple of years older than Greer was but much shorter and skinnier, with short blonde hair dyed green at the tips, and brown eyes. He was wearing a black fishnet shirt with plastic Halloween spiders stuck all over it, and a lot of black and purple makeup and glitter. His lips and eyes had more color than Anne's. His pants (or was it a skirt today? So baggy he couldn't tell) were covered in excess chains and zippers.
{as long as I'm bleeding you'll be happy, as long as I'm wounded, baby you'll be there}
Risen stared at him. "Yo, Greer, man is that really you?!"
The recruit grinned at him. "Yeah, it's me. Been a while, eh?"
"Damn sure has," he slapped Greer on the shoulder, and then saw Anne, standing behind him. He took her in with a dubious eye, "who's the Chiquita?"
{nobody said...nobody said...nobody said it was fair...}
Greer jerked a thumb at her. "Just a chick. Name's Anne."
"Excuse me, just a chick?" Anne glared at him.
Risen chuckled. "Well you sure ain't his girl, babe."
"And why not?" she demanded.
To his credit, Risen just laughed.
{Crawling...crawling...crawling through the darkness oh and the blood
falling...falling...falling into your arms covered in sweet blood and I'm calling...calling...calling}
Greer had met him here, two years ago, and they had been lovers for a while, not really so much dating as just being together for its own sake. He was a good friend, and had continued being one after they discontinued their relationship when he'd started going with the club's bouncer, Derrek. In addition to tending bar, Risen, whose real name was Shane, also sometimes danced in the cage suspended above the dance floor.
{This bloods for you}
"So what can I get you two?" the bartender asked dutifully.
Anne ordered some kind of silly mixed drink that Greer didn't here the name of. He was busy surveying the crowd now for rebel activity, and listening to the music. Oh and worrying. Risen wasn't a rebel as far as he knew (how could he work at the club otherwise?) but he did have sympathies in that direction. After all, it had been Risen's interest in Morpheus that had led Greer to him.
{my nightmare desire; languid lover, sanguine lover}
"Nothing for me," he said. "Hey Ris, have any e133t Haxors been in lately?"
He thought for a moment. "Nah, nobody really worth calling elite. Got a few warez d00ds around though, if you're in the market for any cheap software."
"No thanks," he said. There was a time when Greer would have eagerly snapped up any pirate software that came his way, but not any more.
{you won't let me die and I can't leave you til I'm six feet under}
"So nobody around spreading the hacker message lately?"
"Actually the buzz I've been picking up lately is that somebody heavy's gonna stop by soon," Risen said, taking a drink of his beer. "Like maybe Trinity even. Or Neo."
Well great, he thought to himself. Just what I need. He looked over to find Anne chatting warmly with one of the more conservatively dressed guys in the club.
{This blood's for you}
"So where've you been man?" Risen asked him finally.
"Around," he shrugged, "I got a job and it's eating my life." If he told Risen even the half-truth that he worked for the government he'd be tossed out of Final Heaven on his ear. To them Greer was on the nark-side.
Phone conversation suddenly cut through his thoughts.
/-almost to the club Morpheus/
His eyes went wild for a moment, but he quickly suppressed his rage. He wasn't sure what rebel's voice he heard but he knew one thing. Rebels were coming, the signal was too close for them to be headed anywhere else.
The bartender nodded and didn't ask what his job was. Risen was the type who didn't ask for more information than one offered.
{they're chasing me around in the dark}
"Got a new squeeze?" Risen asked curiously.
'Yeah actually," Greer said with a grin. "Game designer, sweet guy. Short, brown haired, really shy though."
"Hey speaking of game design, have you seen that new net game, 'Virtual World that seems really real Smackdown'?"
Greer nearly choked before he remembered that Jones had released it onto the net a few weeks ago. He made a mental note to ask what kind of feedback he was getting.
{it doesn't matter with your watchful eyes but its no walking in the park}
"Yeah, I've played it," he replied, a bit distracted. He looked around for Anne again, but now he couldn't find her. God damn it, where was she? The rebels would be here any minute.
"Isn't it awesome? Absolutely awesome game-play, hilarious characters. It must have taken years to develop, yet whoever made it released it free on the net. He woulda made a zillion bucks if he'd sold it to Playstation."
"Maybe the guy who created doesn't care about money."
{and I know you sent them, that's why I scream...scream...scream...}
"If a guy that brilliant can be that selfless I'd love to meet him. Hell, I'd love to take him home to mother," Risen joked.
Too bad, Greer thought, he's already taken.
"So, are you and Derrek still together?"
"Are you kidding?" Risen chuckled, "We went at if for like three months before he got tired of me. He's on a chick-kick right now."
"How could anyone ever get tired of you, Ris?" Greer asked with a grin.
"Beat's the hell outta me."
{It's all a dream, I'll wake up, you were never there}
"So anyway," Risen said, "Now I'm seeing this Chinese guy Hsu Hu. Do you believe it?"
Greer chuckled, "How's he treat-"
/Can you come ansh pick me up? I shink I'm drunk-/
It was just too much. He couldn't control it anymore, not reliably, and soon it would have him completely. He cried out, swept his hand across the bar in rage knocking Anne's drink to the floor, and watched it in slow motion fall, spilling pink liquid and ice in globules through the air, until it hit the ground and shattered on the cement floor. Then he buried his face in his hands.
{you're there in my sleep, I never do anything but sleep, I'll never wake up}
Risen put a hand on his shoulder. "Yo man, you okay?"
Greer's head snapped up. Outside he could hear a car pulling up and rebel voices. Yes, over the din of the club, he could hear it.
He glanced back at Risen and struggled not to see a potential rebel. 'Run," he snarled at him. "There's going to be a gunfight."
One look at Greer's eyes and the man didn't need to be told twice. He pressed a hand to the bar and with the agility of a gymnast hopped over it and dashed out the employee exit. Nobody looked twice.
{Crawling...crawling...crawling through the darkness oh and the blood}
Greer stood up and his eagle eyes found Anne with her 'new friend' in a corner. He stalked towards her quickly, pushing people roughly aside, no trace of joviality now.
Anne was lost in a deep kiss form Jaren when suddenly he was pulled violently away, and shoved several feet across the room. Anne looked up, who the hell would-
{falling...falling...falling into your arms covered in sweet blood and I'm}
It was Greer, but he wasn't his usual sulky self. His eyes were flashing and his lips were twisted in a snarl.
"What the hell?!"
"Shut up, we've got rebels," he growled, and grabbing her wrist and twisted her around so that she was facing the doorway. He scared her.
{calling...calling...calling through the darkness}
Six people filtered through the doorway slowly. The first was a stocky blonde man, the second, wiry and red haired, there was a tall brown haired man, a skinnier blonde guy, a kid who couldn't be any older than fourteen, and last was a tall woman with black and red hair. They were all wearing heavy black clothing.
"Them?" she asked in a whisper, shrinking back from the feral Greer.
{Crawling...crawling...crawling}
"Don't move until I-" he stopped mid sentence, surveying the rebels. "Yami," he spat, and, almost forgetting to let go of Anne's wrist, leapt forward, towards the rebels, howling.
The rebels were startled by the man rushing towards them with such animal furry.
"The hell?! Greer!!" the woman rebel screeched. "He's an agent!!"
They drew their weapons in the blink of an eye.
Greer didn't seem to notice or care, but took a flying leap towards the woman, and Anne saw that he was holding a long curved sword.
{oh and the blood}
Now people were starting to notice, and hurry out the emergency exits.
Anne was caught between two and a half impulses, on the one hand she was trained to fight, on the other hand she didn't want to get anywhere near the crazed Greer. And she just generally wanted to leave. To run away and never come back.
She drew her gun and leapt dutifully into the fray.
{falling...falling...falling}
Greer had been fighting all of them at once, though obviously trying to get to the woman who knew him specifically. But with five against one his odds weren't great.
Anne joined him now, picking off the lanky guy from a distance with one well placed bullet, and jump-kicked the stocky blonde.
Greer paid no attention to her, but had grabbed the brown haired guy who was staunchly keeping him from the woman, by the ankle. The woman was running around the club trying to find a good distance to shoot from.
{Into your bloody abyss, your hell}
As she was trading martial arts blows with the stocky rebel, she grabbed him in a punch and managed to throw him to the floor. Her gaze followed him, and she was nearly physically ill from what she saw.
Lying on the ground was the mangled body of the skinny blond rebel. One on his arms was severed clean off, pooling blood on the cement floor, there were numerous lacerations all over his body, and his intestines were pouring out from a deep gash in his stomach. The worst part was that she wasn't sure the rebel was quite dead yet.
{Trapped by your demonic voice, crooning sick lullabies}
Greer had done that.
Anne looked terrified up at her fellow recruit, and as she did so, another mutilated corpse fell to the ground in a pool of blood and gore. A victim Greer had just tossed aside.
{I never could say my goodbyes}
The rebel she had thrown had gotten up, and was aiming a shot at her when she bent over to be sick. The bullet just grazed her shoulder, and it made her stomach empty even more of its contents.
{in sweet blood and I'm in your arms covered}
But the rebel didn't finish her. She wasn't worth it any more. All the rebels were running for their lives. Every man for himself.
Still sick, shaking and drooling vomit, Anne scrabbled back, and cowered in a corner. Greer had the woman rebel pressed up against a wall; he was laughing. Anne squeezed her eyes shut.
{You've made me a demon...demon...demon}
He was a killer, just like the killer who had tried to hurt her before. Just as cruel, just as cold, and horrible. Only he wasn't just a man this time, and she couldn't fight him.
Run, she thought. Run from the monster.
Greer chuckled, a deep hollow sound in the back of his throat, as his piercing gaze penetrated the terrified eyes of the woman he held, Yami Yamashita. The beast, Grimoires, had lied. Yami has escaped alive, and now her blood was his to spill.
"Any last words?" he rasped, pressing his blade up to her throat.
{Tasting the blood...}
"You-you're dead," she whispered in terror. "The jabberwockies got you."
"Dead?" he croaked. "I'm invincible."
Something hit him in the back of his head, and he crumpled. The katana, covered in slick, crimson ichor, clanged on the hard floor.
{...calling...calling...calling...}
Yami stared at the small rebel boy, Obsolete, in relief. He held a heavy metal pipe in one hand, and with the other, grabbed her wrist.
"We have to go," he said urgently, peering around at the gruesome spectacle.
"I-" Yami too surveyed the atrocities. She reached down hastily, and pulled the dragon earring from her foe's ear with surprising care. She shoved it in her own ear, nodded at 'Lete and the two sprinted out of the building. They paid no notice to the blonde girl, sobbing and trembling in the corner.
Jones had not been watching Greer's patrol; he had had other things on his mind. In fact, he had looked in once to make sure everything was all right, and found Greer chatting it up with the bartender, who seemed to be an old friend. Jones was almost jealous, and he hadn't checked on him again.
He had however discovered what had gone wrong with the Edmund twins and the cause of their power. He had checked Claire Edmund's pod, and the same electrical burn marks were on her spike. Both burn marks were also twenty years old, the same time frame as when they'd died.
With trepidation Jones had finally checked Greer's pod. He had wanted to avoid it, because it made him think of Greer's mortality and his real world body, but it had to be done.
And there were the burn marks, slightly less extensive, but much, much more recent, current in fact. And with this discovery came the origin of the burns. There was a slight but fatal flaw in the plug that was inserted in the back of Greer's head. Every so often it would emit a spark, causing the burns, firing neurons in his brain allowing him to pick up telephone signals, driving him slowly insane, and killing him.
The power of the Edmund twins, their insanity and their deaths were now inextricably linked, and tied to the fate of recruit Vincent Greer.
Jones sat with his sunglasses off, his face in his hands, crying.
He didn't notice that a light on his monitor was blinking softly.
When Greer regained consciousness a few minutes later, it was with none of the fury of his berserker rage. The whole incident was clouded in a fog, and he could barely remember it. But by what he could remember, and by the macabre scene around him, the blood on his sword, and the torpid, sweet smell in the air, he was horrified, and sickened.
He stood.
What in god's name had he done? This wasn't getting rid of dangerous rebels; this was murder, simple and disgusting. Greer gagged and was nearly sick.
What had he, how had he lost control like that? He'd become a monster. What would Jones think? Had he killed any innocent bystanders? What would the Agents do to him if he had? What would he do if he had? There were only two bodies and he was sure they were both rebels, but that was no excuse, what he'd done was ...inhuman. Bestial.
He heard muffled sobbing coming from a former and turned. There, curled into the fetal position, and covered in stale vomit, was Anne. He stepped over to her, and knelt down.
"Anne?"
She looked up, and immediately cowered backwards, closer to the wall. Greer winced visibly. No doubt she'd witnessed his rampage.
"Anne, listen to me. I know you saw what I did."
Her eyes got wider.
"I don't have the time to explain to you what happened. But you have to trust me that-" he stopped mid-sentence. That what? That it wasn't him? That he was temporarily insane? That he wouldn't do it again? The only one he knew was true was the second one, and he wasn't so sure about the temporary part.
"Listen," he began again. "You have to promise me that you will never, never tell anyone about this. Can you promise me that?"
She nodded weakly.
"Do you think you're okay to drive?" he asked.
She nodded again.
"Go back to the agency, I'll come back when I can. Alright?"
Nod.
"And remember, tell no one. Now go."
She stood up, avoiding Greer as he proffered his hand, and hurried out of the club as fast as her shaking legs would carry her.
Greer stood and looked again at the bodies, simultaneously trying to banish the image from his mind, and to fix it in his memory forever, a grim reminder of his own inner demon. He held out a hand and made a few requirements. Most of the blood dissolved away, and the bodies repaired themselves except for a few bullet holes. There, a nice, clean pair of dead rebels.
He touched his earpiece.
"Cleanup crew to Final Heaven club."
Several agents, whose only duties were to remove bodies, wipe witnesses memories, and come up with plausible explanations for when the media arrived. Greer nodded at them and strode out of the club.
He got on his motorcycle, helmetless, and sped away into the darkness.
Anne knocked on the door, her knees still shaking a little.
Agent Smith answered it.
"Yes?" he asked.
Agent Smith had recruited her, and so she was a tiny bit more comfortable around him than around the other agents. But only slightly.
"May I come in, please, sir?" she asked in a small voice.
Smith nodded. "You may."
He led her into his office, and gestured to the chair before his desk, as he took the one behind, and laid his hands on the desk.
Anne sat down gingerly.
"Something is troubling you," Smith stated.
She stared at the desk, feeling sick, and ashamed, and scared. "I want to go home, sir."
The Agent seemed to be surprised. "This is a rather sudden change."
She swallowed, trying to moisten her dry throat. "No, sir. I've been thinking about it for a while. I'm not cut out to be a recruit. I'm an average fighter, and I don't like killing people, even rebels. And I know...I know that if I stay a recruit, I'll just die really soon."
"I was under the impression that you were satisfied as a recruit."
"I have friends here but..." she didn't know what to say. She couldn't tell him what had happened; Greer would come for her if she did. "Do you remember the day you recruited me, sir?"
"Of course."
"The only reason I have any ability as a recruit at all is because of that man. I was going to die if I didn't do something. I wanted to live so bad that I bent the laws of physics. I still don't want to die, sir."
Smith nodded. "I understand. It does not happen often, but be do have provisions for when a recruit wishes to leave us."
"Can I have my old life back?" she whispered.
"Yes, you may."
There were tears in Anne's eyes as she looked up at him. "Thank you. Thank you so much, sir."
"You know that you're memories of the last few months will be erased?"
"Yes sir."
"This is what you want?"
"Yes."
"Do you wish to say goodbye to your friends?"
She nodded.
"Do that now, and report to the infirmary when you are ready."
Anne stood, and walked out the door.
She turned momentarily. "Thank you."
The door clicked closed softly behind her.
Smith felt sorry for the girl as she left his office. It was one of the times when he wondered if the Agents were any more right to take recruits than the rebels. But this same action proved that they were; the Agents let their recruits go home if they wanted.
He wondered what had happened to upset the girl so much. Was there something different about this patrol that had made it her last? But then, according to clean up, several rebels had been killed, so perhaps it was simply the straw that broke the camel's back.
Smith sighed.
Driving back to the agency, leaning low over the handlebars of his motorcycle, Greer had stopped halfway there, and stood at the side of the road, indulging in an old bad habit.
He put the cigarette to his lips, lit it, and took a long drag. He hadn't smoked since he was sixteen, but right now he needed it to calm him and clear his head. Lungs be damned.
He puffed on the cigarette for ten minutes successfully thinking about nothing, then dropped it to the grass, and ground it out with his boot heel. He got back on his bike.
Shane Montgomery, sometimes called Risen, huddled close to his boyfriend Hsu, as they sat on the dirty old couch in Hsu's living room.
What a day. His old buddy Greer shows up for the first time in months, chats for a few like it was old times, then has a major freak out and tells him to get out because there's going to be a fight. Guns are going to be fired. Not waiting to find out what's going on Risen books, only to find out later on the news that two guys were shot dead in the club. Greer was not one of them, but why did he have a feeling that Greer had been the one to pull the trigger? What the hell kind of street war had the boy gotten himself involved in?
He looked up at Hsu's warm, slanted brown eyes.
"Are you alright?" Hsu asked.
He shrugged. "I'll be okay."
Yeah, he would be okay; times healed all wounds for Risen. But he felt sure that tonight was the last time he would see his old friend.
"You wanna put in a movie Hsu?"
"Sure."
Anne walked into the recruits' lounge, where they often gathered and hung out when they weren't out on assignment. She had many fond memories of the place over the last few months; soon she wouldn't have any.
Tasha and Casey, and a few other friends looked up when she came in, and saw her distress.
"Annie, what's wrong?" Tasha asked, and both girls got up hurriedly from their movie to comfort their friend.
Anne hugged them both and put her arms around them each in turn.
"I'm leaving," she said simply. "I wanted to say goodbye."
"Goodbye?" they asked, shocked.
She nodded. "I'm going home."
"What, why?" Casey demanded.
"Because I want to. I can't take it anymore."
"What happened?" Casey asked her.
She just shook her head.
"I won't remember you," she said softy with tears rolling down her cheeks, "But I'll miss you anyways."
"Oh Anne," Tasha embraced her fondly.
"Promise you'll remember me?"
"I promise," Casey breathed.
"Cross my heart," said Tasha.
She let go of the one friend, and then hugged Casey. She whispered in her ear, "You were right Casey, he isn't human; he's a monster."
Casey gasped, and began to speak, but Anne shook her head and pressed a finger to her lips.
She spent a few more minutes with her friends, and said goodbye to a few other recruits, then she turned and left their presence for the last time, heading for the infirmary.
If she passed them on the street now she would never realize, except for a quiet murmur in her heart, and a missing piece of her affection that she would always carry deep inside, unknowingly. Innocent once more of the world's abomination, and content.
Greer knocked softly on Jones' office door, and immediately knew something was wrong.
"Come in," Jones said softly.
He unlatched the door, and looked in, Jones had his head rested on his arms, on his desk. Greer closed the door behind himself.
"Jones, what's wrong?"
"I..." Jones took a deep breath.
"You've been crying," he said. Fear gripped Greer's heart. He'd seen; Jones had seen the horrible thing he'd done.
"Sit down," he said tiredly.
Greer collapsed heavily into the chair. "Jones I didn't mean..." he began, but couldn't finish. "I didn't mean to intrude," he gulped instead. Would Jones say anything about it?
The agent shook his head. "I needed to talk to you."
Greer braced himself. Jones hated him now. He didn't want anything to do with such a murderous creature.
"I found out what's causing your powers."
Greer stared at him, open mouthed. "You, did?"
He nodded. "I worked the entire time since you left my office. I had a breakthrough while you were on patrol."
Greer breathed a mental sigh of relief. If Jones had been working the whole time, then he hadn't seen it! He was saved. Or was it out of the frying pan and into the fire? Jones had found the source of his power, but he'd been crying. The news could not be good.
"What is it?" he asked, bracing himself for the worst again.
"The cause of your power is a slight malfunction in the equipment that connects your mind in your real world body to the matrix. A small spark fires neurons and allows you to hear things, but, but," Jones voice broke.
"But I'll eventually go insane?" Greer finished heavily.
Jones nodded. "And... it will kill you, eventually."
Greer swallowed. "H-how long?"
Jones shook his head. "Judging by the current extent of structural damage, a year, at the very most."
Greer stood, walked over to Jones and embraced him tightly. They stayed that way, silent for many moments, comforting one another with their simple presence.
Finally they let go, and Greer drew his chair up right next to Jones, sitting down again.
"What can we do?" he asked the agent.
"I don't know," Jones whispered. "Maybe Stef will have an idea."
He nodded, and looked over at Jones monitor. A small light was blinking.
"Jones," he said, "your computer wants you."
"Oh?" Jones looked up, morosely, and inspected the light. "Ah. That just means a new Exile has appeared. You know..." he trailed off.
"Yeah, I know what Exiles are. Stef explained to me." It didn't seem like that had been only that morning. It seemed an entire lifetime away. He had less than a year to live. It was as if he had been told he had AIDS, or terminal cancer, only worse, because he was going to lose himself to a monster first.
Jones clicked the monitor, and the profile of the new Exile came up. Greer envied him, free to live his life how he wanted. Not handed this death sentence by fate.
Jones gasped as he looked at the screen. "What in the mainframe?"
Greer's head snapped over to look at him, puzzled. "What it is?"
The monitor held the visage of a young man in his early twenties, pale skin, with small round glasses and a long blond braid.
Jones continued to stare at the screen. "That is Nicholas Edmund."
A day later, Anne lay in the sun on a lawn chair, by her Olympic sized swimming pool. It was warm, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and she was perfectly relaxed. Later tonight her father was holding a big party, just for her, just because she'd asked a few weeks ago, to have a party before she went back to school in the fall. The last few months of vacation were a bit of a blur, but that was okay.
Life was good, and Anne was happy.
...To be Continued in Power Surge
Part Two of the Powers Trilogy