Author's note: New Disclaimer! Cause this story is taking all kinds of turns! I own nothing in regards to any previously published work or character portrayed in this simple expression of my fandom. :-) I've decided on my last two members of Logan's team. Hope they make worthy adversaries for my hero and heroine!
Chapter Ten:
O'Hare International Airport
Jay Malloy stepped off the small jet and adjusted his shoulder worn bag nervously as he walked down the metal steps leading to the tarmac. He was aware of the rest of the team around him, but his mind was on the bustling crowd in the terminal. The team had trusted his judgment, and so had the Council elders. Now that they had landed in the windy city of Chicago, Jay felt a quiet anxiety creeping into his chest.
It was not doubt about his decision. No, he was absolutely positive that the answers for the mystery in River Mead would be here, as much as he had been certain the young blind boy in his vision had not been a ghost. What he felt was a sense of dread, of warning. Each step he took forward was taking him to some point where he could never turn back.
It was the same sensation he got when he was younger and lost his temper. Angry words would come, blows thrown, hits taken, until the anger drove him to a point where he could not take back the insults his temper gave to whomever it had been directed upon. Like just before he left home, his last argument with his father.
The words had come, oh yes, words that would have broken lesser men much sooner than the men of the Malloy family. His father had not wanted him to join the Council and Jay knew that before the day he told his father he had made up his mind to go. At first the debate had been equal in ferocity and partially deserved on both parts. Then, Jay had pushed harder, like he always did, until he had given his father an insult that broke him, and insult Jay could never take back.
I called him a failure, Jay thought to himself, those old memories as stark and vivid as the day they were made, I called him a pathetic farmer...no, a wasted, pathetic farmer...the words that earned me my first and only black eye at the old man's hands. Jesus, why am I thinking of this now?
Jay took a long breath and continued to walk forward. He knew exactly why he was thinking this now. Because he suddenly felt as if he was walking into another argument, another fight he could never take back...another surprise shiner from somewhere he never expected. Before that last argument, Jay had not thought his father was capable of striking his own children. But he supposed everyone had a breaking point, even a former cop turned cornhusker, who any of the hen-peckers back in Gatlin would have said had the patience of a saint.
You know what he would say, right? Jay asked himself solemnly, You know exactly what would come out of Martin Malloy's mouth if he was standing in front of you now, right? Overconfidence, Jay, is worse than overcautious. Watch your step, boy. The wolves love the reckless...
Jay suddenly felt his face break into a smile when his old man's voice echoed in his head. Good advice, as much now as back then.
The team entered the main terminal and met their escorts from the Chicago branch of the Council of Watchers. There were five very young men and women, who Jay guessed were candidates trying their damnedest to keep in their teachers' good graces by aiding the visiting team from Oxford.
Way to stay inconspicuous. Heaven forbid the Watchers carry their own shit to the limos, Jay thought, suddenly hearing his father's voice again, Pick up your suitcase, Jeremiah. Don't act like you're any better, cause at the end of all things...you won't be...
"Okay, Dad, lay off," he muttered with amusement to himself as he hoisted his travel duffel back onto his back. He caught Giles giving him a very cynical glare and Jay simply grinned in returned.
He began to follow the rest of the group toward the main gates, when another sensation of dread washed over him. He glanced around at the other travelers, trying not to look at anyone directly. He knew what he had to do...or he knew what he wanted to do...but he had to buy himself a few minutes.
"Yo, Rupert," he called out, in a very un-Watcher-like fashion, "I'll catch up...I gotta run to the can!"
Giles nodded and then shook his head, "I told you to go before we left the plane..."
Without waiting for another reply, Jay moved quickly toward a sign hanging from the ceiling that read, RESTROOMS. When he was sure he was out of sight of the rest of the team, Jay positioned himself near a line of pay phones and lifted one to his ear. The harsh dial tone was barely noticed as Jay closed his eyes and focused.
A moment later, he saw the world as only he could see it. There was still the normal flow of arrivals and departures moving past him in both directions, but the people were now alive with light. As the crowds moved, so did their shining auras, the clouds of life that would follow them until they were free of their earth-bound bodies. So, Jay saw...and he knew...
...and he watched...
Francis Dolarhyde walked through the terminal quickly, shifting his large, muscular form around the other pedestrians without touching them. He did not like to be touched, physical contact of any kind beyond what was necessary in combat made him uncomfortable...extremely uncomfortable. So did stares, the watching eyes of the crowd that may be focused on him at any point. He did not like to be watched, any glance that lasted more than a few seconds made him anxious...extremely anxious. He was consistently conscious of his appearance. As a child, he had suffered criticism from his family and all those around him because of his physical deformity. If he had been born only a few decades later, his hair lip would have been a minor curse in a world whose definition of freak had been narrowed down to only those individuals known as 'mutants.' Unfortunately for him, fate gave him an earlier birth and then the resulting traumatic childhood.
When his team leader told him to search such a public location for their target, Dolarhyde had known this was another test...another challenge. Logan wanted to be sure he had Dolarhyde's absolute and utter loyalty as part of his team.
He moved quickly toward the main doors of the hanger, shifting his body weight almost gracefully left and right through the sheep around him. Sheep that the wolves kept safe...kept unaware of the dangers standing right in front of them. But, Dolarhyde was not a wolf...he was a dragon. His chosen code name in the small, select group known as the Carnivores was the Red Dragon.
Dolarhyde glanced upward once, and spotted Victor Creed standing in one secluded corner of the terminal. He made his way past a little overhead sign reading, RESTROOMS, and gave Victor a simple nod in greeting. Logan was standing closer to the window, as was Cain Marko and Wilson Fisk, who would soon be known to the world of crime by the same code name he used now, Kingpin.
Each individual standing in their small group had a dark past...and a darker future to come...but none of them would have ever guessed there was a dutiful Watcher-in-training carefully learning about their current mission.
Logan nodded in return to Dolarhyde as he joined and completed their team. He sniffed once and grimaced. Logan shared the Red Dragon's distaste for crowds. But their target was running, and every avenue needed to be inspected.
"Anything?" Logan asked Dolarhyde, who simply shook his head in response.
"I checked the security reports for a girl matching the target's description, but no game," Fisk added quickly. He seemed the most relaxed out of their quintet, leaning casually against the wall and admiring a few select females from the crowd with a broad grin.
"What did you learn from the witnesses at Systems Ops, Marko?" Logan asked in a low voice to the tall man known at the Juggernaut.
"Not much, even under heavy persuasion," Marko replied, making no attempt to hide the amusement in his voice, "Just that they're all pretty much scared shitless of this bitch. Even after the interrogations, I'd say they'd rather spend a month with me of ten minutes with her."
"Sheep..." Creed muttered with distaste, and then glanced down at Logan, "She's not here...she's never been here...we all know it. So...where to next, boss man?"
Logan glared up at him viciously, "Bus stations. Train stations. Anywhere that could get her far away cheap. Marko, Fisk, check out the main bus stops starting outside the city and move in. D-man, check out the rental car places here and find out if any of them have had stolen cars reported over the past twelve hours. Creed and I will head to Union Station. Call in immediately if you have even the slightest suspicion of the target, got it?"
Logan watched with satisfaction as each member of his team registered a silent affirmative to his orders.
"Sulfa and ash, gentlemen," he finally said before marching off with Creed, "Sulfa and ash. This bitch is ours."
In the years since Jeremiah Malloy discovered his gift for seeing people in this unique way, he had never been in greater terror then when he spotted the five men hidden conspicuously in plain sight. No ghost or demon or evil force he had studied or encountered in his years as a student of the Council compared to what he saw in the life lights of those five men.
Blue...blue...blue... the word rang through Jay's head like the chime of a great bell, heavy, mournful, song of the dead. In the world of auras, blue meant wrath. But, blue also meant murder. And that was all Jay saw when he looked at the small group in the corner.
The first hint had come as one of the men passed him, less than two feet away. The cloud of the man's sickly light made Jay shrink back against the phone booth in horror. Once, it might have been bright, once there may have been innocence, but now there was nothing but that deadly blue.
He had not been able to take his eyes off the tall man weaving through the crowd until he joined his 'friends.' When their combined lights closed in, they formed a tight circle. To the causal eye, they would have looked like bad asses for sure, but under Jay's trained mind, they were revealed as more. The truth shone as bright for them as for anyone else, even if they were trying to hide who they were.
Jay resisted the urge to run into the men's room and lose the fine airline food he had eaten on the flight from Chicago. The sense of dread was everywhere now, yet Jay knew these men were one of the keys that would lead him to his answers.
After a few moments, the group broke up, heading in opposite directions as if they had no previous association. Jay moved to the wall by the phone, wondering if his own fear might betray him to the men as they walked by. Two passed close, and he kept his eyes locked on them. There was something else in those lights...something else he recognized.
Jay focused his entire attention on one of the men, and started to follow them before he even realized his legs were moving. This one was the leader, he knew...he just damn well knew...and he scrutinized his aura closely.
The leader's aura was one of those rare lights Jay noticed every now and then. Two others among them also had that same prismed sharpness; the taller blonde man walking with the leader was very similar. But the leader's was stronger somehow. His light was rimmed in that horrid blue, but it was jagged, harsh and held very close. Whatever the reason for the special clarity of this man's light, it was obvious that he desperately tried to keep it hidden.
Jay blinked a few times and winced as the lights faded away, his vision returning to normal. He was starting to get a headache...
Leaving his companions behind and forgotten, Jay Malloy followed the two assassins through the crowded terminal, toward one of the parking garages and, hopefully, toward some answers.
Author's note part deux: Sources sited: The Red Dragon belongs to Thomas Harris and was chosen because he's one of the scariest/saddest villains in print. Kingpin belongs to Marvel and was chosen because Michael Clark Duncan is just so f-ing cool. :-) Thanks for those who threw out suggestions and added a little review along with it!
