Promethean

by P. S. Power

  At least he didn't think that explaining himself to them would be an option. If he tried, it seemed that they might well shoot him. So far in his seven months of life, he’d been threatened by police twice. True, he’d been shot once as well, and that hadn’t been law enforcement at all. Not that he knew of. It was probably the fact that the hostage takers had dressed like the CERT team members earlier that had him thinking about that. As far as he knew, such people only took hostages using the pretense of law.

  Not that he wasn’t going to keep that kind of thing in mind, going forward. It didn’t seem likely, since the FBI wasn’t a group that anyone would normally attack at all, much less people in the same line of work doing it.

  For all that he tried to help after that, it wasn’t simple or easy to do. A lot of that wasn’t even due to his lack of knowledge or life experience, though that was certainly a portion of what would be suspected by the others. It was mainly down to the fact that no one considered him to be one of them. Not enough to confide in or go to for help. Not even caring enough to have him stand next to them.

  In the end, someone did come and do that. Mitchel, the elemental.

  The thin, light skinned man, who looked to be about thirty, give or take a year or two, moved in next to Liam, just standing silently, as everyone else either spoke on their cell phone or just as commonly, in a small huddled group with either the police or other FBI agents. The numbers of both had gone up a lot, as the hours passed. Enough that the crowd that had been there originally was at least four times larger as four in the morning rolled around.

  It was an increase in numbers that meant Liam was being looked at aggressively on a nearly constant basis. Most of the people ignored him, naturally. One in five or so seemed ready to try and tackle him without cause. It was only the fact that he was literally doing nothing that had prevented that so far. If he’d tried to approach anyone, he didn’t doubt that he would have been shot at again.

  True, that was due to his nature and the effect that he had on other people, but it wasn’t fun to soak in as he tried to work out who, or what, had killed the other FBI people that evening.

  Mitch slapped him on the back, turning toward him, as if trying to prevent the others from seeing his lips move as he spoke.

  “Tiff asked if you two could stay at my place for a bit. We’ll go there as soon as this is finished. It isn’t big or anything. I normally don’t need much. Is that good, do you think?”

  From the description, Liam didn't know and had no way to understand if it would be or not. It didn’t take a brilliant mind to work out why Brenner didn’t want them going back to her house after the attack earlier. Even if it had been meant to stall them, to prevent people from going to aid the FBI agents in town…

  Which meant many things, of course. The biggest one would be that, whoever had done it, knew where Brenner lived. If it was related and it certainly had to be, given the similar style of dress and the same make and model of truck having been used both times, if in different colors, then that meant whoever had set things up had inside information.

  Instead of answering Mitchel, he spoke about what he was thinking, which would, he didn’t doubt, seem off to the man.

  “Who would both know where this place is, and where Brenner stays? Also, the trucks were the same, except for the colors. Is there a way to check that kind of thing, do you think? Who might own or have access to trucks like that? Neither was new, but both were nice enough. Would anyone in the supernatural community be able to have all of that information? About the vampires, I mean. That and know where Tiffany stays, and where this place is. That kind of thing?”

  Mitchel might not have been an FBI agent but he was informed as to his own work, which was tied intimately into that particular community, it seemed. At least he showed up at things involving a lot of different types of beings and people.

  After a moment, the man blinked, then took a deep breath.

  “I was going to say it was everyone, but that isn’t really true. While a lot of people might find out that kind of information, the people that actually know, for certain both locations are… Probably about a hundred, maybe a hundred and fifty people? There were at least four of them here and some at Tiff’s earlier, so…”

  Liam nodded.

  “It would only take one person to have the right information though, not all seven of them. A hundred and fifty is better than everyone in the world though. They also looked to be normal sized. Tall enough that they blended in with the CERT team here. Some of the other community is far too small to do that. I couldn’t pull that off. It was too far away for me to tell what they had going on earlier, that way. They all seemed like men, too.” He shrugged about that one, since the driver of the truck earlier could have looked like anyone, since he didn't really see them. Only the one that fired at him had carried himself that way. “Fit, too. No one was fat, that I could tell.”

  That information got Mitchel’s eyes to narrow a bit.

  “Which doesn’t clear everyone, but could help a bit. You and I are in the clear, as well as part of the FBI agents, since we were with them during different parts of the attacks. Well, I guess I could have been there for the first one. I wasn’t, but we have to keep that in mind anyway. Otherwise we might clear someone that’s actually guilty, making the whole thing harder to solve. Not that it’s our job to do that, strictly speaking. As civilians, you and I probably aren’t supposed to be involved. Not that I’m going to be able to manage that part of things.” The last words held an air of them being true on a level that Liam suspected was related to magic.

  As he thought that, several large vans pulled into the parking lot. They all were plain blue vehicles, in the same color as the first truck from earlier but of completely different manufacture. These had solid sides and a large, boxy appearance that was different than anything he’d ever noticed being on the roads. On the side it said that they belonged to the FBI in big, bold, white letters.

  They didn't park off to the side, driving up onto the grass in front of the government building, about twenty or thirty feet away from where the largest clutch of FBI agents stood. As soon as the bad men got out and they were the same ones from before, who had kidnapped his mother, one of them ran directly at Liam.

  Simpson. Not the pleasant one either. The man didn’t have a weapon in his hands but actually jumped at Liam, attempting a flying tackle that was aimed more or less at his middle. Mitchel moved away from the attack, dancing backward gaining about twenty feet of distance in fairly short order.

  “Die!” That was the only warning that he got that a real attack was incoming. Since he doubted it was warranted, Liam simply jumped to the side, his left hand moving to nudge the bad man’s head down, gently, just a bit, as he did it. It worked well, since Simpson was in the air at that moment. His face didn’t have a mask over it for the moment, though he did have a helmet on. That meant the man managed not to strip the skin off his face, taking the main brunt of the action on the side of his head, instead.

  Not that it really stopped his aggression.

  The man in black jumped up, almost instantly, and pulled out something that Liam had never seen before. It was like a collapsible stick. It sprung to life in the gloved hand, with a soft but interesting noise. One that vibrated the air. Then, without much pause, the bad man tried to hit him. It was a thing that Liam had been practicing to handle, over the last two months, once it seemed that fighting would be a regular part of his life.

  A thing that this showed as well.

  Rather than jump back, he put his arms up, hands in fists, and stepped in as he was hit. That hurt but not enough to damage him really. It was mainly just the shock of the whole thing taking place at all that got him to be passive and simply defend himself as the aggressive man tried to kill him with the little baton. Harm him at any rate. Nothing landed that solidly, except on his arms. The blows were aimed at his head, which Liam understood the reason for, even if it was more or less incorrect
in regards to him.

  While he had something that probably looked like a brain in his head, having been made from parts that had that trait, his intelligence was more centralized than that. His entire being was different that way. He didn’t hear with his ears, but rather all over his skin. The same was true of thinking and so forth. It happened everywhere in his body. So, hitting him in the head wouldn’t knock him out, in particular. It would hurt, though no worse than the damage being done to his arms at the moment.

  Liam didn't hit back, since he wasn’t certain about what was allowed that way. The man was trying to hurt or even kill him, obviously. It wasn’t being done in the line of duty and Liam really disliked him. More than almost anyone in the entire world. Really, that wasn’t strictly true, since there was no way for him to place such a caveat on the matter. He loathed this man so much that he’d actually learned a word greater than hatred just to describe him in his own head.

  The man didn’t stop, though he did try some new techniques. A kick came in, which was easily blocked, as well as a punch with the left hand and swings of the baton coming from different directions. Several other men ran over, including police officers, who had been glaring at him for hours. One of them simply pulled his side arm and started shooting.

  Liam was hit once, though only on the right arm. It left a line, from which no blood flowed. To stop the shooting he decided to do something different. Throwing an object at the aggressive and dangerous cop. The only thing to hand was either one of his shoes or Simpson, so he picked the later. Not only because of the greater weight, but also because he wasn’t going to risk damaging the shoes he’d worked so hard on.

  Something interesting happened about then, though. Instead of being shot again, half a dozen weapons came out, pointing at everyone that had been attacking him. Brenner was doing it, but so was Kim Simpson, and Sanchez. Kim was pointing her side arm at her ex-husband’s head.

  “What the fuck, Rick? I was just telling Liam here that you weren’t normally a giant asshole. That’s going to be a hard sell now, isn’t it? You know that he was with me during this whole thing, right? He isn’t involved.”

  The man didn't bother to answer, just letting himself be pulled away by the others on his team. They did the police as well, shouting at them, which seemed to work.

  “Stand down! Stand down!”

  Why they needed to do that, no one bothered explaining. Then, they didn't let Simpson say anything either, just pulling him away into one of the vans. A thing that took off almost instantly, leaving lines in the short grass. Everyone moved away from him, except for Mitchel. That particular man lowered his head, and glared at the back of the van that was driving away. Nothing happened, though Liam could sort of feel some kind of energy moving in that direction from the fellow.

  If it had any impact on the van or the people inside, it didn’t show.

  Liam, thinking about what had just happened did something that probably wouldn’t go over well if the FBI had realized he was doing it. He was measuring the various men, to see if they might fit the general size of the hostage takers from earlier. They all did, which meant very little. The position was probably the kind of thing that had prerequisites on it. You had to be a certain size and shape just to be considered for the job.

  They were all tall and looked fit. Lean instead of like superheroes or drawings that he’d seen online. Even the ones that had stayed behind, who were glaring in his direction for some reason now, all could have fit in with that general description. So could anyone on the police CERT team, so that didn't mean much at all.

  Really, Mitchel could have fit in there as well, if he were outfitted with the right clothing and armor. Agent Sanchez was a bit too big, honestly, even if he was in shape as well. The man carried more muscle than most did. Some in the supernatural community were like that as well. Though, as a group, collectively, regardless of type, they all tended to be either average looking, muscular or lean. Most of the types of other people simply weren’t chubby or fat in particular.

  Why that was, Liam didn’t understand, in particular.

  It meant that a lot of them could be able to pull off blending with the police, like the ones earlier had, as well.

  As he stood there, not moving, Brenner walked over, her face seeming annoyed. A thing which was pointed at him, even if he couldn’t see how his being there would have set Simpson off like had happened. The others there, the police officer that had shot him for instance, had been closer to him and both under his influence as well as triggered into action when Simpson had piled out of the vehicle, moving on him instantly. His field of effect didn’t affect people that far away from him, really. Maybe thirty feet.

  Really, he wasn’t certain that the man, Simpson, had any reaction to him that way at all. It could be, but it couldn’t explain what had just happened.

  When she got to him, the red-head growled a bit.

  “I didn’t bring you here to get into fights, Liam.”

  It was Mitchel who answered her, his own face going annoyed.

  “Um… Excuse me? That… Jerkwad jumped him. There was no provocation or even a glance in that direction, just an attack. Then the kid didn’t even really do anything other than dodge and block. Which he was shot for. I don’t see that cop in handcuffs, for some reason.”

  Which was both true and made sense, given that the man had been taken away in the big van that had driven off.

  Brenner rolled her eyes as Sanchez moved over to them. Kim Simpson was next to him. She at least seemed not to be upset with Liam over the whole thing. That was shown by a pat on his shoulder.

  “Yep. This one isn’t about Liam, Tiffany. I get the inherent issues he has. That doesn’t explain what we just saw here. Plus, the police should be locking their man down right now, if nothing else, even if he walks later. I could get that, since all he saw was a man in plain clothes fighting with one in uniform. Really, he wasn’t wrong for backing Rich up, given that but… There was a shooting. No one has even tried to take a statement yet.”

  Sanchez nodded then.

  “Everyone is distracted and on edge. Maybe we should get Liam out of here for now? Do we have a place for him?”

  Mitchel waved then.

  “Yeah. He’s with me. Tiffany… Maybe you could find someplace else for the day? At least if you can’t manage to back up the innocent people right now. Which, I get the stress here. That can’t allow attacking our own people. We need to pull together, not take off after one another due to prejudice.”

  Liam didn't understand what was being said, suddenly. Oh, he knew all the words, without understanding the specifics of the meaning in the moment. The main problem being that he wasn’t certain who exactly Brenner’s people were supposed to be in this instance.

  A middle finger was stuck up into the air in the thin man’s general direction by the FBI agent.

  “Bite me, Mitch. I was just making sure that Liam knew that going around fighting for no reason wasn’t a good thing in life. I get that Simpson was off there and we can press charges against that officer later. Not that it will…” She shook her head then, and sighed. “Not that it will be allowed. There are too many side problems here.”

  Now he understood her, at least. He’d been shot, but the wound was already closed. In a few weeks it would be gone, totally. Not even a mark or scar would remain. That meant he couldn’t show the wounds that would be normal to prove the event had even taken place. Worse, he was too young to be him, if he were a human. The courts would demand that he be a tiny baby, when he went to insist that the police officer answer for illegally shooting him. When Liam walked in, even if he did nothing but tell the entire truth, no one would be able to believe him. Not a judge or the jury, at any rate.

  So, there not only wasn’t going to be justice for him in this case, there couldn’t be. For anything. In many ways, that meant he needed to take care of things himself, since the humans wouldn’t do it. Not that he was holding a grudge against the ma
n in this case. The shooting really was his own fault, even if he hadn’t meant for it to happen at all. Liam, like it or not, affected the minds of some people around him.

  That didn’t explain Simpson at all. Why he’d become suddenly violent…

  It didn’t make any sense to him at all.

  Mitch relented and let Brenner know that she could sleep at his place, after she explained. That got her to wave at the man.

  “Maybe you should get Liam out of here now? I have my SUV so I can get there on my own. Make sure you aren’t followed?” She whispered the last words, which had a nod coming from the man.

  “Right. This is… Weird. I have some calls to make, so we should leave now, if that works for you Liam?”

  He nodded, even if the idea of doing something new felt scary to him. In his entire life he’d only been in two places for any length of time. Mary’s and then Brenner’s. On the good side, he didn't need to sleep like most people. Even if he had to sit quietly, it wouldn’t be a problem for him. It wasn’t as if he needed a bed or anything along those lines.

  They left then, with Liam waving to everyone on purpose, before leaving. Even Agent Carlisle, who saw him do it in the distance, frowned but also did it back. He was about a hundred feet away, and didn't seem to be angry or scared of him in particular with that kind of space between them. It was instructive, in a way.

  There were just some people that needed to be stayed away from, when he could. It was hard to pull off in certain circumstances, without being truly impossible day to day.

  Mitchel had a smaller vehicle, though it had four doors on it. The light-colored machine had been parked to the side, in an actual spot, as demarked by slightly reflective yellow lines. It took a few minutes to work out onto the road, since there was heavy traffic in the lot at the moment. When they got onto the road, the man drove in a direction that Liam had never gone before in town. It was, he thought, to the north of the places he knew. Brenner lived to the east, he’d driven in with them to the west and the bridge by the river was to the south of his current location. In the direction they were driving was a nice set of hills.