Part 19 : Plan B
November 2nd, 2011 - New York
1 : Jet
As Jade would say, being a shapeshifter was a fine art. Every little detail mattered when it came to impersonating any target because the tiniest slip could mean death. Unfortunately, today was not the day to be a perfectionist. As Jet changed bodies for the fifth time in less than twenty minutes, he hoped the Unit had so much to deal with that they would overlook any odd behavior.
"Robinson! Where are the reports?" someone asked as Jet diligently walked towards the control room. Those cameras needed to be off before Kal could start his part of the plan.
"I sent them to Gomez for one final review," Jet smoothly lied. Gomez had been his identity three agents ago.
"But he's going to take forever!" the man said in despair, walking away. As he did, Jet took his form and continued to his destination.
Three floors below, Van had already been told to create a medical diversion, but that could take time. They also needed to minimize how many people would notice something was amiss, and that meant keeping dead bodies to a minimum. As much as Jet would gladly execute every single agent here, he needed them walking around and creating confusion. He just needed to avoid being seen twice.
"Green! What are you doing here? Where are the reports?" yet another agent stopped him.
"I asked Robinson the same thing. Can you believe he sent them to Gomez for some review?"
"What the hell? Why?"
"That's what I said! I sent him to Gomez, but if you want those reports fast, you better go get them yourself."
Out the agent went, and Jet shifted once again. He fleetingly wondered what was so important about those reports and if he should hunt those down. Every piece of information was important, especially if it helped him keep his cover.
Other agents crossed his path, but they weren't Unit agents. He'd gathered this was a federal building of some kind, and he wondered if any of them knew aliens were walking among them. He bet none of them were happy with having the Special Unit taking over their quarters today, though. McKay was not a man who cared to make friends.
Everything about that man made Jet feel uneasy. Dave had managed to keep the Unit away from Zan and the others, but no one—not Dave, not Kal, and certainly not the Rebellion—had ever thought he would become a threat to Van. Now the rebel leader waited for their escape plan, and if they weren't successful, chances were McKay would cut him into tiny pieces before the week was over.
Over my dead body, Jet darkly thought. He'd kill McKay before he could put his filthy alien hands on Van or Zan or any of his kin.
"I want those aliens!" someone roared behind the door Jet was walking by. It opened right that moment, and none other than the head of the Special Unit himself placed his heavy hand on Jet's shoulder. "Where are the reports? Where is Max Evans right now?"
Suddenly, Jet knew precisely what to do with those reports. "We've got him, sir. Max Evans has just been captured not two minutes ago right in the same spot where the blinded prisoner was caught."
McKay's eyes shone like the Fourth of July. "Why are you telling me now?!"
"I was just in my way to report, sir. Gomez has the details, but…" Jet said, getting closer, "I think the field agents need your personal supervision?"
"Of course they do," McKay said, his ego as big as the threat he represented. He turned into the room, yelled at everyone to get the hell out of there, and five minutes later, Jet was standing alone in the hall, watching the man go out on a wild-goose chase.
He allowed himself a moment of triumph before turning around to the control room. Those cameras were not going to malfunction on their own.
2 : Kal
The last time Kal Langley had planned and executed a royal escape, he'd been boarding a spaceship to Earth with four corpses and with nothing but unproven cloning technology as his last hope. Not exactly a stellar record, true, but that plan had given him sixty years of freedom, ensured a rebellion, and delivered one last chance to take Khivar down for good.
In a way, that plan was still in motion. He only needed to get Van out of here, reunite him with Max, witness how the half-brother somehow survived the crushing realization Zan was long dead, and then call it a day.
As Kal silently moved through the walls in search of Jake, a thousand thoughts swirled in his mind. When Max had commanded him to shapeshift ten years ago, Kal had lost decades of allowing his body to settle in one form and function somewhat normally. Once Van had entered the picture, Kal had lost any illusions that he was free to choose his life. What was it about royal brats that kept imposing on him and his plan of living free?
Oh yeah, I'm their goddamn Guard.
One didn't retire from being an Invisible Guard. One died being one, which was the highest honor a shapeshifter could ever aspire to achieve in life. Six decades of civilian life, however, made the whole concept seem rather empty. Kal had given up on Antar the moment he'd realized the pods were not hatching, and the clones inside would be too alien to be thought of as Antarians. By the time Max had emerged, Kal had already surrendered any thoughts about taking the throne back and liberating his home planet.
He'd become human much in the way Zan had become Max.
Still, neglecting his guard duties was no longer an option. If not for Max, then certainly for the memory of Zan and everything Kal had sacrificed both back on Antar and here on Earth. Zan deserved better—and so did Antar.
But then again, just to picture Khivar's infuriating smirk turning into complete horror as his reign comes to an end is more than a worthy cause. He'd forgotten how much he hated the man responsible for all of this. Zan might have wanted to do too much too soon, and Vilandra might have been a frivolous airhead, but Khivar had played them both. Khivar had brought Antar to its knees.
Oh yeah, to wipe that smirk away…
Which brought him to the here and now, with a blind Van and a lair full of enemies. He knew little about Van, but he'd liked what he'd seen. He respected his fellow shifters who were stationed here, knowing full well that any single one of them could be ordered to kill him for abandoning his post. Still, they were here for his ward, for Zan, and if all else failed, then Van would be king.
Van would defeat Khivar.
That was all that mattered, really. If at the end of all things Kal could go back to his house in LA and order people around in Hollywood, then he'd be pleasantly surprised, but he wasn't holding his breath on that. He wasn't counting on going back to his human life any time soon, if at all.
He absently took McKay's form and swiftly entered the clinic where Jake was taking notes beside a microscope. Technically, Kal didn't need to rescue Jake, but having the doctor would lend credence to their escape plan.
"Sir?" the agent guarding Jake asked, alarmed.
"It seems there are a few missing pieces our guest here is hiding from us," Kal said, looking at Jake. Before he could elaborate, another alarm went off. "Find out why they haven't fixed the goddamn alarms," he said, tersely.
"Yes, sir!" The agent took off without a second glance. Standing in front of him, Jake narrowed his eyes.
"You're not him," the doctor whispered.
"No. Now, this is what we're going to do to get you both out of here," Kal said.
3 : Jake
The man who'd haunted Jake's nightmares had a particular way of looking at him that the shapeshifter sitting in front lacked. It was the only giveaway, really, because everything else—the way he paused, the way he breathed, the way he leaned on the table—was exactly the same.
"What is Van's blood telling you," the alien asked in McKay's voice, sending an icy whip down his spine.
"He's not metabolizing the sedative particularly well, but it's hard to tell," Jake said, staring.
"He's not getting his sight back anytime soon, then."
"I don't know, but I don't think so," Jake answered, still staring. "Who are you?" he finally asked.
"Zan's Guard, apparently," NotMcKay said in a rather cynical way. "There are two of us here, Jet is playing with the cameras, Van should be about to find his way back to this room. And then the fireworks will start."
Outside, the alarms were cut off.
"That's you."
"That's me. The building has already been cleared once when Dave escaped. People are ignoring the alarms this time around, thinking they're just malfunctioning from the first time. We won't get the cover of a crowd, so we need everyone to stay as far away from us as possible. Give them a reason to not stop us despite the fact we're moving a blind man. I'd rather not waste time executing agents, but unless you have any other ideas, it might get violent."
Jake thought for a moment. "Maybe I do. Can you make it look as if you're suddenly injured, maybe even bleeding?"
McKay's slow grin was as unsettling as it was reassuring. "I can make it look like anything you need. And I do mean anything."
"In that case, we're about to encounter a deadly alien power."
4 : Van
Faking a medical problem was one of the oldest tricks in the world, so guards were always distrustful of anything that suspiciously looked like an escape plan. Van had known this since he'd been a little kid. In fact, he'd been taught the necessary skills of how to act injured, and then he'd been encouraged to imagine all kinds of ailments. Playing dead had been as much part of his childhood as dreaming of a better future had been part of his teenhood. And he was extremely good at both.
The irony here was that he was already injured: he was blind. His guards wouldn't expect him to fake a secondary injury—especially if no amount of good acting was going to aid him in escaping. He was a prisoner of his own body, and everybody knew that.
So, let's go with the eyes, Van thought. The most convincing prop was blood. One didn't need much for people to react at the sight of it, and at the very least, guards would have to come close enough to examine him. Most importantly, it was something he could fake fast.
When the latest alarm went off, it was his cue to start his part of the plan: getting back to the infirmary. Antarian teeth were far sharper than human teeth, something he wasn't aware of when he sliced open his ring finger, and liberally applied the royal blood of Antar around his eyes.
"Help…" he said in agony as he slowly stood up and tentatively stepped forward, having no sense where the door was. "Please, it burns," he said louder, imagining what it would feel like if his eyes were suddenly bleeding right now.
It was the kind of thing that would rapidly build up into a full-blown panic attack, and that was exactly how he was playing it.
"Somebody, please! I can't see, but this doesn't feel right!"
He found a wall and placing his hands on it, he went searching for the door. His breathing increased, his hands searching with urgency a way of getting help. "It burns!" he yelled, and when his hands connected with the cold metal of the entrance, he banged on it as if his life depended on it.
Which it did.
"Shut up!" somebody said from the outside.
"It's getting worse!" Van yelled.
"You have no idea how much worse it's going to get," the Guard said with the promise of dark things to come.
"I think I'm bleeding," Van pleaded, fear leaking in his voice. "Please, just tell me is nothing, and I'll shut up."
Something metal slid open—a window of some sort, he guessed.
"If you think you can—oh my God, what did you do?!"
Yes!
"It just burns, I have no idea what's going on," Van said.
"Get on the ground, now!"
Van did. Soon, the door opened, feet came, curses were exclaimed, and finally, he was half-dragged out of his cell and on his way to the infirmary.
It was always nice when things worked out in his favor.
5 : Jake
As ironies went, Jake had to appreciate this one: he'd spent years working with Ray to develop strategies to help Max, Michael, and Isabel to use their powers to escape, and here he was, the unlikely planner of an unlikely team.
He had no idea what full-blooded Antarians could do, but curiously enough, that wasn't going to be a problem.
The door slammed open as a panicked agent brought Van into the room, blood smeared all around his eyes. Both Jake and NotMcKay stood immediately, and for one strange moment, Jake really thought Van was getting worse.
"He says it burns," the agent said.
"Don't stand there, doctor. Do something!" NotMcKay sneered, promptly moving out of the way so Van's guard could sit him down on the chair.
Jake took a penlight from one of the drawers and flashed it in Van's eyes. No reaction, but most importantly, that blood was not coming from the rebel's face.
"This—this isn't good," Jake said, fearful eyes turning to NotMcKay and then the agent. "I saw this with Max once. He had some allergic reaction, probably like Van's having with the sedative. Fifty-two people died."
"What do you mean died?" the agent asked, horrified.
"He started sending random psychic waves that interfered with our brains. People started blee—bleeding through their…eyes," Jake stuttered, as NotMcKay started doing just that. The agent immediately moved as far away as he could, drawing his weapon.
"We need to kill him," the agent said as Jake put himself between them.
"We're not killing anyone," NotMcKay said, wiping the blood off his face dismissively. "Knock him out," he ordered Jake, who promptly moved to the drawer to fetch a syringe. "Get me an unmarked car, I'm personally moving him out of here—with you, doctor. You better pray this alien doesn't die."
As soon as Jake injected the saline solution, Van slid forward as he feigned falling asleep, all for the agent's benefit.
"What are you waiting for?!" NotMcKay yelled in order to get the agent out of there. The man opened the door, just to be met by another agent, who was also bleeding through his eyes.
"My God!" the agent said, "You're bleeding!"
"I'm what?" the second shapeshifter said, confused.
"Your eyes! We need to get that creature out of here before this affects the entire building!"
"I'm—I'm bleeding?" he said, wiping out the thick drops of blood. "I'm just here to give the reports…"
"Sir, are you sure we shouldn't execute him right here, right now?"
"Get me. That. Car."
The agent fled the infirmary, leaving all four co-conspirators alone for a brief moment.
"This might actually work," Jake said, earning a fleeting smile from the newcomer.
"Get him in the wheelchair and wait here," NotMcKay said.
"Where are you going?"
"People are bleeding through their yes, doctor. We need to be those people." Both shapeshifters walked away, and Jake wondered how many agents they were going to fool.
"They're not really burning, are they?" he asked Van, who was still pretending to be asleep on the chair.
"No, but I haven't improved either."
"Good thing we have a wheelchair, then," Jake said as he got up to get the lonely chair by the corner. Once Van was seated and pretending again to be sedated, Jake nervously waited behind him.
Outside, the alarm went off again, but Jake had the curious sensation that this one was real—and yet no one was going to pay any attention to it.
This might actually work, indeed.