Chapter 6: Omniscience
Los Angeles – Seven hours earlier
"Beverly Hills," Logan asked incredulously.
"Vampires," Selene began evenly, "tend to prefer the niceties of money."
He cast an eye in her direction, realizing she was leaving herself as an exception. "But, I'd have expected somethin' less … obvious."
They were staking out a mansion set back from the road. Its massive lawn was surrounded by a nine-foot tall blackened iron fence. The mansion, itself, seemed to pay homage to every creepy, gothic building from classic monster movies. In the moonless night, the house seemed to be bound tight, holding something sinister in its confines. Its brick walls seemed to ooze malevolence, keeping out anything that might somehow decrease its shadows. On the edges of the roof, stone gargoyles sat, perched as if ready to swoop down to eat the hearts of the living.
"You should have seen the manor in Budapest," Michael whispered. "It was that much more gothic."
"You were saying," Jean said, addressing Selene, "that we need to find a high-level Death Dealer?"
"Yes," she replied. "Though I doubt they would actually know where the den is, they would undoubtedly have access to the accumulated information on the lycans."
"And how are we supposed to recognize one of these Death Dealers," Logan asked, keeping an eye on the mansion.
Selene reached into her inside jacket pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. "Say hello to Richard Delacroix, head of both the Death Dealers and security for the Los Angeles coven."
Taking the picture, he saw a man with a razor-sharp nose, and hollow cheeks. His dark hair was combed painfully back, revealing an impossibly high forehead, and thin, almost feminine, eyebrows. His thin lips seemed to be pulled back into a sneer, revealing impossibly white teeth that matched his bloodless skin.
Taking the picture, Jean asked, "So how're we going to … acquire him?"
Michael answered, "One of us is going to act as a decoy to scramble their security. The other three are going to get in the mansion in the confusion, and while the security is dealing with the decoy, the other three find Delacroix."
"I'll be the decoy," Logan volunteered.
"Logan?" Jean had already known that if there was a dangerous situation, Logan would go headlong into it. She knew, just as everyone at the mansion, he tended to act as if he was indestructible. Just because he could handle pain, and could heal, didn't mean he had put himself into a situation where he would have to. It was an argument they'd had several times before.
"I'm the best choice, Jeannie," he replied. "I'm prob'ly the best trained here, and I can take a bullet." She nodded in silent acquiescence, though her mouth was still set in a grim line. She already knew she wouldn't be able to argue him out of it, and, though she didn't like to admit, he was right.
"The best approach," Selene began, "would be to get in on the top floor." She pointed to the windows on the third floor. "They keep a large distance between the fences and the house so that nothing can jump from outside onto the roof."
"But they've never considered someone floating onto the roof," Jean said.
"Exactly," Selene replied. "Make the alarm sound when you get into the mansion," she said, addressing Logan. "Breaking a window should suffice. If not, make as much noise as possible."
"No problem," Logan replied.
"Take out as many Death Dealers as you can, to keep our path as clear as possible."
"It ain't a problem," Logan replied, tersely.
"While Logan's providing a distraction, the three of us," Selene said, indicating herself, Jean, and Michael, "will be going in through the front doors."
"Isn't that a little risky," Michael asked.
"If Logan is half as dangerous as I think he is," Selene answered, looking up to the hirsute man, "I doubt it'll be a problem."
"Logan's probably more than their Death Dealers are used to," Jean said, looking to her husband.
"I wouldn't doubt it," Selene replied. "Once the three of us are on the property, Michael is going to take out the guards patrolling the grounds." She looked up to her beloved's face, catching his eyes momentarily. "While he's doing that, Jean and I will enter the mansion to find Delacroix. Michael will join us after finishing with the guards." She looked up at Logan. "If Logan happens to find Delacroix first, he'll contact us, and we'll meet in the front room of the mansion. Otherwise, we leave the same way we entered.
"Any questions," she asked. Convinced there weren't any, she continued, "Good. Let's go."
- - - -
Logan was hovering behind the mansion, eyeing the window he was planning on entering. It was dark, and if he was not mistaken, the room was empty. He was waiting for the go command, his claws almost itching to come out.
He was beginning to get restless, when suddenly, he heard Jean's voice in his head. It's time.
He smiled to himself, moving silently towards the mansion. Landing on the part of roof that ran around the third floor, he crouched, listening intently. Satisfied the room he was going to enter was empty, he moved quietly to the window. With a single thought, an invisible force broke the large window. As the sound of breaking glass receded, he heard a supposedly silent alarm; it was, apparently, only silent to those with normal hearing.
Entering the room, he moved to the other side, behind a door that, he assumed, led to a hallway. It was an obvious hiding spot, but he already knew he wouldn't be hiding that long.
Several moments later, he heard hurried footsteps outside. They suddenly burst the door in, three Death Dealers moving into the room. Logan noticed, with satisfaction, they were in single-file; the first was blocking the second's line of fire.
As soon as he saw the first vampire step clear of the door, he charged, hitting the first in the temple with his fist. The Death Dealer fell in a heap, his head cracking against the side of a table, blood pooling beneath his head. Without wasting a movement, he unsheathed the claws on his left hand, and with a backhanded motion, cut the second vampire's gun in half. But judging from the sudden screams, he must have gotten something else. "My eyes, the fucker got my eyes!" That confirmed it.
Taking advantage of the third vampire's slow reflexes, he brought his left arm down, cutting through his gun equally as easily. He pushed against the Death Dealer, punching him in the gut, his claws erupting through his skin, and the vampire's, at the last second. Their momentum carrying them through the door, and against the opposite wall of the hall, Logan head-butted the undead warrior, hardened metal cracking bone. Logan took him off his claws, his body sagging to the floor.
"What the hell is that," he heard a voice to his left. Turning, Logan saw two more, and reaching out his hand, froze them to the spot. Suddenly, from behind him, he felt the jolt of a bullet entering his lower back, and burning of gunpowder. He lashed out blindly, hoping to hit whatever was behind him. He must have; he suddenly heard blood splashing on the floor.
Turning slightly, he saw another Death Dealer, only his face had been cut into four. And judging by the depth of the cuts, he'd also partially lobotomized the vampire. His body fell to the ground, revealing another one behind him. She spoke into a radio. "Mia to Delacroix – Send reinforcements. Repeat, send reinforcements."
Too late to stop the transmission, Logan turned back to the two he held frozen in place, and with a single movement, sent them hurtling towards the two behind him. "Oh, shit," the female vampire said, just as they were thrown against a wall. The three of them sagged to the floor, unconscious.
"I'm the best at what I do," Logan muttered. He'd taken out seven of their troops in under twenty seconds. And he'd only killed one, possibly two. In the room, he heard the now-eyeless-vampire wailing in agony.
- - - -
They're starting to come my way, Jean heard Logan' voice in her head. She turned towards Selene. "He's in, and they're already starting to move against him."
"Good," the vampire replied. Turning, she said, "Michael, go over the fence. Take out as many guards patrolling the grounds as you can."
He nodded in reply. He immediately underwent a metamorphosis, his skin becoming a blue-gray color, and his eyes becoming entirely black. His nails grew in length, becoming thick, and hard. His canines became longer, and much sharper. To Jean, he appeared more demonic than anything else.
He crouched, and his legs working like pistons, jumped over the fence in a single bound. Turning towards Jean, Selene said, "We'll give him thirty seconds, and then we'll go in."
Jean's heart fluttered in anticipation. She was ready for the fight, but a thought had kept on repeating through her head as they had planned this attack. She couldn't but wonder if a vampire could be considered human. True, they were evil. But, as she looked at Selene, she wondered how many of them actually were like her. Selene had told them that the Elders had decreed that the vampires should not hunt humans. And if they did not hunt humans, then did that mean that she shouldn't feel right about possibly killing them? She knew Logan would undoubtedly kill some. But, she also knew that he didn't have to (what with telekinesis, telepathy, unbreakable metal claws and bones, and a healing factor). And she knew that Selene would undoubtedly kill every one of them they met. Michael, she thought, would probably do the same. So, she was still trying to sort it out when Selene interrupted her.
"Don't think of them as humans," Selene told her, almost reading her mind. "They're not. Think of them only as your enemy, as nothing more. If you think of them as something more, you may not be able to do what is necessary."
Jean eyed her, digesting the cold words. "Have you ever hunted humans," she suddenly asked.
"Hunted? No. Bitten," she continued, pausing. "Once."
"Michael?"
"Yes," Selene answered, "to save his life." She looked at the fence, hearing a muffled thud. "Let's go."
Selene, with a single leap, jumped over the fence, just as Michael had earlier. Jean followed, floating gracefully to the ground. To their left, they saw a guard with his throat torn out, his gun broken in half. Beside him, a Doberman pinscher crouched, trembling, its eyes wide, its ears against its head. Closer to the house, they saw a similar scene, with a dead guard, and a dog that was walking as if shell-shocked.
They started moving towards the mansion, keeping their heads low. They were heading towards the front door; they had rationalized that the vampires would not expect an attack on their front door. As it was, the plan had called for the two of them, with Michael, to carry out a sort of shock and awe operation. There would be less Death Dealers around, with Logan fighting on the upper floors, and more of the vampire social elite in the main areas of the mansion. It meant that, if everything went according to plan, they would have little resistance while trying to find Delacroix.
They ran stealthily across the open lawn, knowing this was the most dangerous point before they entered the mansion. If they were spotted, they're plan would be shot to hell. Reaching the shadow of the mansion, Jean sighed silently. They made their way into bushes that were on either side of the main entrance. Selene turned to Jean, "Are you ready?"
"Yes," she replied. Stepping out of the bushes, Jean walked to the large double doors. Placing her knuckles against the door, she rapped hard against the wood, noticing belatedly that she had scarred it.
- - - -
"Mia?"
"Mia?" The female vampire suddenly awoke, only to find herself face-to-face with Cameron, one of her fellow Death Dealers. "What happened," he asked.
"We were attacked by the intruder," she replied, rubbing the back of her head. "Where are the others," she asked, noticing the absence of her unit.
"Sergio's dead; his head was quadrisected," Cameron replied. "Enoch … he's blind; his eyes were cut out. The others are okay; they're studying the room where he came in." He paused, looking behind him. "Apparently, no one got a good look at him? How about you?"
"No," she replied. "I only saw him for a moment. But, he was fast, and strong, and a much better fighter than any lycan I've ever seen."
"Do you think he was a lycan?"
"No," she responded. "I think … I think he was a mutant."
"Why would a mutant attack us," he wondered.
"I don't know," she replied. "Do you know where he is?"
"No," Cameron answered. "There's no sign of him."
Behind him, a dozen Death Dealers walked out of the room, entering into darkness. Mia looked above her, where a light fixed into the ceiling shone brightly. "The lights were still on when I was knocked out," she told Cameron.
"Funny," he replied. "When we got here, they were all …," he grew silent. Realization dawned upon his face, as a scream was suddenly heard from behind him. Turning, he saw a metallic glint on a set of three blades as they plunged into a Death Dealer's chest. Cameron stood, and ran into the darkness, his gun cocked.
Mia tried to follow, but the room began swirling around her, her stomach threatening to erupt. She fell back to the floor, watching helplessly as the fight took place. Gunshots suddenly erupted, muzzle-fire casting the faces of the combatants in an eerie light. She noticed, a sour taste in the back of her throat, that the intruder seemed to take the silver hollow points of the vampire's guns with ease. Blood was streaming down his chest, his shirt full of holes, but he was still fighting. His claws lashed out with lightning speed, and she was shocked to see a head thump to the floor. It rolled towards her, losing momentum along its way.
The head, she noticed forlornly, was Cameron's. His face was fixed in an awful expression of surprise, blood streaming from the gaping hole where his neck used to be. She was about to stand, to fight against this intruder, when she realized the hallway had gone silent.
She looked up, trying to see into the darkness beyond the bright light. The light above her head revealed long slashes of blood and gore on the walls. She noticed, repulsively, that blood seemed to be soaking into the carpet. But, it was spreading into the large circle of light; there wasn't enough carpet to keep it in the dark. She suddenly heard a loud, nauseating squelch as something stepped towards her. The squelches kept sounding, each one more horrible and terrifyingly revolting than the last. Finally, he stepped into the light.
He was short, barely over five feet. But, what he lacked in height, he more than made up for in sheer musculature. Muscles seemed to bulge from his body beneath a veritable pelt of dark hair. His eyes stared into hers with a dark malevolence, his teeth bared in a snarl. Blood covered his arms from his hands to his elbows, the metal claws glinting in the light, despite the layers of crimson liquid. Bullet holes dotted his shirt in jagged lines. His chest was covered in blood, but, despite that, she could swear he wasn't bleeding.
With a simple movement of his hand, an unseen, irresistible force picked her up, and pinned her to the wall. He plunged his claws into her shoulder with a sudden movement, white hot pain running down her arm like molten metal. "Where's Delacroix," he asked savagely, his hot breath on her face.
"Who," she asked between gritted teeth, feigning ignorance.
"You know who," he replied fiercely. He turned his wrist ever so slightly, the same pain blossoming in her shoulder. She could feel a bone threatening to snap under the pressure. "Last chance," he began. "Where's Delacroix?"
- - - -
The door opened, revealing a vampire dressed in an expensive looking dinner jacket. With but a thought, Jean lifted the male vampire into the air, shock covering his face. "Selene," Jean motioned towards the vampire. She came up behind her, as they entered the mansion, the male vampire still held three feet above the ground. "Where's Delacroix," Jean asked.
The vampire motioned with his eyes to a massive room behind and to the right of him. Looking over his shoulder, she saw that it was a massive living room. And, in the middle of the room, stood two dozen vampires, all dressed in black, with guns of every shape and size hanging from their bodies. And in the middle of these Death Dealers stood Delacroix, speaking with several of his subordinates.
"Niels," one of the fighters asked, looking up suddenly.
"Niels can't talk right now," Selene said fiercely, her trusty Berettas drawn on the Death Dealers before her.
"The two of you must either be very stupid or very brave," one of the vampires said. "There are twenty-five of us, and only two of you."
"There're four of us," Selene replied, as Michael suddenly appeared beside them, still transformed.
"I count only three," the same vampire replied.
"Four," a gruff baritone suddenly resounded. All attention was suddenly shifted as Logan came walking into the room from an unseen hallway opposite the front door. The gathered vampires were taken aback; they realized he was the intruder on the upper floors. He appeared as if he'd fought an entire war himself, blood covering his entire body as if Ares himself. Behind him, he dragged the body of a woman. As he reached the room, he dumped her unceremoniously on the floor. "If she's the best you've got, you ain't gonna last the whole o' two minutes."
"Where are the others," Delacroix asked. "What did you do to them?"
"She's the only one alive," Logan replied. "Or, Undead."
"You will pay for this," Delacroix responded. "Death Dealers," he began.
"You don't want to do that," Selene sagely suggested. "Logan here decimated – what? – twenty some odd of your elite." She fixed the leader a cold stare. "And he did that by his self. Think about what the four of us could do to you if we wanted. It wouldn't look so good if the entire Death Dealer population of Los Angeles were wiped out in a single night." As if to punctuate that, the guns hanging from the vampires' shoulders suddenly lifted into the air. The weapons turned on their owners, and cocked in mid-air.
"What do you want," Delacroix asked, his teeth clenched.
"Information," Selene replied.
"On what?"
"The location of the lycan den," she responded.
"We don't know that," he answered.
"But, surely you know something," Jean interjected.
The vampire sneered at her, baring his teeth. She unleashed the claws on one hand, keeping her arm to her side. He seemed to get the point, as he said, "There's a woman; she's supposedly a psychic. Her place in neutral territory, both we and the lycans go to her for info."
"Where," Selene asked.
"Chinatown."
- - - -
The address they'd gotten from the vampires was in an area of Chinatown few tourists ever visited. The actual building seemed to be mostly made of an old restaurant. But, the woman they were looking for had a small part of the building as a psychic shop. They'd had to walk through a back alley, past a large trash bin that reeked of rotting food. Now, standing in front of the shop, advertising in English, and Mandarin, they found it seemed to catch their attention.
As they were about to enter the building, a teenage girl, maybe sixteen or so, with a light smattering of acne across her forehead, came to the door. "Welcome," she said, in slightly accented English. "You are expected," she continued, gesturing for them to enter. "Please hurry," she pleaded, noticing their hesitation, "there isn't much time."
"Time for what," Logan asked, suspiciously.
"It is not my place to explain," she replied, guiding him into the building. The smell hit him like a brick wall, pungent herbs and burning incense making his nose run, and his eyes water. Jean, he noticed, was having the same problem. Selene and Michael, he noticed with annoyance, didn't seem to be affected the same way.
The girl led them through the shop, to a room in the back. Four rickety chairs were set in front of an ancient desk, it surface scarred and burned from years of abuse. "Please take a seat," the girl politely said, gesturing to the chairs. "She will be with you momentarily." She walked past them, into a door against the far wall. The four did as the girl instructed, though Logan and Jean did so carefully, neither sure the chairs could support their metal-encased skeletons.
Several minutes later, the girl reappeared, carefully leading an old woman. She walked with an old, wooden cane, her back half-bent with age. With each step, she trembled, seemingly on the brink of toppling to the ground. Her eyes were pale, the irises having died long before. But, despite her small, weak frame, the woman seemed to possess an intense aura of power. There was something about her that seemed to belie her physicality.
"Welcome," the woman said warmly. "It has been many years since I've had the company of such accomplished warriors as yourselves."
"You've heard of us," Jean asked.
"Of course," the woman replied. "You are Jean Grey, Marvel Girl, the Phoenix, Casa Nareph, one of a handful of people who take it upon themselves to defend the human race. And your husband, has many more names, does he not?" The woman turned towards Logan. "Logan Black, the Wolverine, Patch, Caríl Talúk, and many more you are known by. It has been said, in certain circles, that you are, perhaps, the most accomplished warrior to be known. You have even been called Death."
"How did you know that," Logan asked, his teeth bared in a snarl. Jean placed her hand on his shoulder, restraining him, for the moment.
"More importantly, how do you know of Apocalypse," Jean asked. "How do you know about us, and what do those names mean? That is only the second time we've heard them."
"Your questions I shall answer after I've answered theirs," the woman said, gesturing towards Selene and Michael. "And, I believe there is a question that all four of you have, as well."
"How do you," Selene began, before being cut off.
"Ask your own question first, if you please," the woman said politely, but firmly.
The vampire studied the woman; it seemed to her that the old woman was playing with them. "Where can we find the lycans," Selene finally asked.
The woman answered, simply, "Do not go in search for the werewolves. They will find you before long." Before Selene could ask what the meaning of the woman's words were, she asked, "Now as for the question that all of you have – would one of you be so kind as to voice it?"
The four of them looked at each other, trying to decide who should ask the question. Finally, it was Michael who spoke. "How is it that the two of us," he asked, gesturing to himself and Selene, "have never heard of mutants, despite the fact that Logan and Jean say they've been known of for about thirty years or so?"
"Very good," the woman replied. "But, is there not another side to the question?"
"How can there be more than one race of vampires," Jean asked.
"Very good," the woman responded. "You've asked the correct questions, and on the first try." She sat back in her chair, smiling slightly. The young girl placed a cup of steaming tea in front of the elder woman. "The short answer is that you've been touched by the energies of Avalon."
"We already knew that," Logan said. "And what exactly does that have to do with our questions?"
"You two knew that," the woman began, "but they don't." She gestured towards Michael and Selene.
"What do you mean by Avalon," Selene asked.
"It is another dimension," the woman replied. "It exists as the crossroads to all universes, and is ruled by a being which is beyond godhood." She paused, taking a sip of her tea. "It is because you were touched by the energies of that realm that your minds did not … reset when your dimensions collided."
"What," Michael and Selene asked at the same time. Logan and Jean looked at each other, quizzically. They hadn't been expecting anything to do with multiple dimensions.
"Yes," the woman replied. "Infinite dimensions exist simultaneously with this one, and, unfortunately, they are beginning to converge."
"But how," Jean asked, looking at Logan. "Something like that would take massive amounts of energy to accomplish."
"Yes," the woman replied, pleased with the younger woman.
"Who could do something like that?"
"The Dark Lord."
"What are you guys talking about," Michael asked, his face a mask of incredulity.
"Good and evil exist," the woman said. "They do not only exist as aspects of the human psyche, but also as actual forces, actual beings. A war is on the verge of erupting, and we are only now seeing the beginning. What is happening now is similar to a warning shot being fired across the beam of an enemy ship."
"This is one of the tests, isn't it," Jean asked, suddenly comprehending. The woman nodded in acquiescence. "When did it start? And is there anything else you can tell us, either about this test, or about the dimensional collisions?"
The old woman sighed, resigning herself to explaining. "This first test began when the four of you met for the first time. Your meeting was not coincidental, though it may seem as if it was. It was a direct result of merging of dimensions, which is being done to consolidate the power of the Dark Lord."
"What the hell are you talking about," Selene asked, just as confused.
"That is right," the woman began, "you have no idea what we are talking about." The woman began speaking in an unintelligible language, something that sounded like phlegm being coughed up from the lungs. "This should fix that." A reddish energy materialized around her left hand, suddenly spreading out to the area around Michael and Selene. The energy coalesced into nebulous rings around their heads, before dissipating like a fog.
"Who … what just happened," Michael and Selene asked together. But the confusion in their faces cleared, leaving an abrupt thoughtfulness. "And I thought my life was weird," Michael muttered.
"What do they know, now," Jean asked.
"Enough to know that you've both faced things such as magic and demons before," the old woman said. "And now," she continued, "let me finish answering your question." The woman took another sip of her tea. "We do not know how long these dimensional collisions will continue; it is, in fact, one of the few things we do not know." She sat back again, sighing slightly. "As far as you other question is concerned, information about your tests, there is very little information I can give you."
"Then tell us what you know," Jean pleaded. "Any information will be that much more helpful."
"Yes, I suppose so," the woman replied, her mouth set in a grim line. "You will have three tests, of that I am certain you already know. The first test will be to defeat an evil that is a scourge, a disease, upon humanity. The second will be against an evil that is created by humanity, and the third will be against one that is outside of humanity."
"Is there anything else you can tell us," Logan asked.
"Each test will be more difficult than the last. And, the last two will require you all to make especially … long journeys."
"Can you tell us anything about those journeys?"
"No," the woman replied. "I am sorry; I cannot."
"I am rather curious," Selene suddenly interrupted, "as to how it is that you know all of this information."
The woman smiled wryly, seemingly expecting the question. "I am a member of an ancient, secret society," she began. "It is called the Order of the Elements. Specifically, I am a member of the Water Clan." She placed her hand over her steaming cup. With a single, simple movement, the liquid was floating, defying gravity. Another movement, and the tea froze in place, ice crackling as its temperature lowered. "And, we know many, many things." The tea thawed, and went back into the cup. "For example, the name Caríl Talúk," the woman said, "means, in a language ancient beyond reckoning, 'Great Warrior'."
"'Great Warrior'," Logan asked, incredulously.
"Can you think of something else that is able to portray you in so few words," the woman asked. Logan considered her words, and seemed to slowly acquiesce. "Yes," the woman said, "there is a reason that you were named that. It is believed, in some circles, that you are the best warrior in the world." The woman faced Jean. "And Casa Nareph," she said, "means 'Flaming Spirit'. You were called such for … obvious reasons."
"How do you know all of this information," Jean pleaded.
"I can only tell you that we know many things. I am, however, unable to divulge how we know many of them." The woman sighed, and became silent for a moment. "The truth is," she continued, "that I am not entirely aware of all of the manners in which we acquire information." The old woman suddenly raised her head, her blind eyes seemingly focused beyond their heads. Slowly, her face turned to her right, once again seemingly focused on something beyond the walls. "You have been followed," she said. "The vampires will not so easily forgive the insult which was laid upon them this night. And, if I am not mistaken, the truce that has protected this area from bloodshed between vampires and werewolves is about to be broken." The sound of guns cocking suddenly hit Logan's and Jean's ears, followed by the sound of several … creatures growling.
- - - -
Jornada del Muerto, Twelve Hours Later
"So, can tell us anything about this Order of the Elements," Scott asked Marty, as they sifted through what was left of their previous camp.
"Yes," the physicist replied.
"How about who you are, exactly," Ana asked. She was perturbed by the fact that he had been able to keep such a secret from her. But, she was also annoyed at the fact that she had been unable to figure out how to deactivate the suit of armor she was wearing. She was hesitant about pressing the button on the small remote she had; Celeste had explained that if she did, her urine'd be worth several billion dollars.
He smiled wryly, and said, "My name is, in fact, Martin Nathaniel Childress." He turned towards his colleague, squinting in the sun. "And I did earn a doctorate in nuclear physics from Stanford. However, I was also born to a woman who happened to be a relatively powerful sorceress, and a man who was a mage. Both of them were members of an ancient society that strived to safeguard the world against evil."
"This Order," Celeste asked.
"Yes," he replied. "And as far as it is concerned, I can only tell you that it is ancient beyond even the reckoning of the Earth."
"What the hell does that mean," Ana asked.
"I am not at liberty to say," Marty responded. "However, I can tell you that we have the absolute best intelligence gathering capabilities." He paused, deciding whether he should continue further. "I suppose it won't hurt for me to say this. We have agents, if you will, in every government in the world, in every society and organization. We know EVERYTHING. There is nothing that can be hidden from us."
"What about SHIELD," Bishop asked. "Don't they know you exist? Or HYDRA?"
"Yes," Marty replied. "But, every time they try to infiltrate us, the agent becomes loyal to us. We see, and hear everything. Nothing on this planet can be done without our being able to find out about it."