Our Contest

by Phillip Murrell

  Melanie cringes as Mr. Polite’s free hand reaches toward the top of a nearby building. She watches as a figure dressed in police attire is flung from the top of the four floors.

  “Don’t do that again,” Mr. Polite warns. “It’s very rude.”

  “Please listen to him!” Melanie begs.

  She sees Benji consider his options. Just as she believes they’re finally going to let them leave, a new threat announces itself.

  “Amorph, have your team take him down,” a man says before transforming into a fourteen-foot monster.

  “Got it, Beast Mode,” Amorph answers before aiming his carbine at Mr. Polite.

  Mr. Polite uses a force shield to crush the weapon before it fires. He then turns his attention to the massive monster flying toward him with pincers clapping. The beast is inelegantly plucked from the air and slammed into one of the orange floats decorated to look like a spaceship that was long abandoned by its driver. The beast remains pinned to it, as do all the additional people, both A-Men and civilian, who surround the two.

  “We’ll be on our way now,” Mr. Polite boasts as he easily detains all adversaries.

  Melanie watches as Amorph squeezes out of his trap.

  “No!” she shouts at him as he aims a recently drawn pistol at Mr. Polite.

  Mr. Polite hears the warning and uses two invisible force shields that are ten feet diameter squares and presses them against each other. Melanie is horrified as the man flattens beneath the force. She looks away from another horrible death.

  “He’s fine, my dear. You can see his eyes still moving,” Mr. Polite says.

  Melanie looks again and is relieved to find the A-Man is blessed with an augmentation that makes him capable of surviving Mr. Polite.

  “Thank you for the warning, my love. It was unnecessary, but it truly means the world to me. Shall we go home?”

  Mr. Polite holds out the crook of his arm, and Melanie unwillingly takes it. She uses the contact to wish more disease on him. The two stroll past hundreds of immobilized people. He whistles a jolly tune as they go.

  Chapter 6

  Drorus enters a room on the Womb filled with Malignant analysts reviewing the media coverage from the parade attack. The room is mostly silent as the crew properly engage only in their duties and speak when necessary to relay information. Idle chatter is never allowed, but Drorus senses something is off. He approaches the young officer-in-charge to determine the source of his concern.

  “Commander Ooly, which recording is that?” Drorus asks.

  The officer snaps to attention and quickly reports.

  “Sir, this is an informational recording from Earth. Apparently, a powerful augment could easily defeat the local law enforcement and several government-trained augments. His power was unprecedented.”

  “How so? What exactly did he do?”

  Commander Ooly nervously clears his throat. “We are not sure, sir. He rarely gestured at his aggressors, but they were easily moved aside. We have two hypotheses. First, he is telekinetic, but some opine that he has mastery over indestructible force shields.”

  “Indestructible? That is a specific word. Defend your hypothesis.”

  “Yes, sir. The sub-pens the ISH fired seemed to deflect off him.”

  “Curious, but you do realize they are called sub-pens for a reason. What makes you believe that our pens would equal failure as well?”

  “Our analysis of the most powerful augments known on this planet. Please regard this.”

  Commander Ooly interacts with the vapor board at the closest station and shows Drorus a montage of Earth augments using a variety of powers to overcome what should be insurmountable odds. The recording ends with the footage that Abel sent over of how easily the Templars captured the Ahika. Drorus grimaces as he watches the display and unintentionally voices a thought that was not appropriate for the crew to hear.

  “Does Earth even have ISH?”

  This comment draws curiosity from all who hear it. Drorus understands many are looking at him. He must comment further.

  “Most on this planet have no augmentation or something that can only be considered as an amusing trick. Then we find the rare individual who comes closer to Father and Mother’s end of the spectrum than our own. Why is that?”

  “Sir, we believe that something in this environment may have bolstered a few Malignant. Some hypothesize that the seeding process Captain Jillarni initiated a solar cycle ago was the catalyst.”

  “Of course, it was, but this was not the first planet seeded. Why is it so special?”

  “We do not know, sir.”

  “You are responsible to find out.”

  “I am responsible, sir.”

  Drorus scans the eyes and is pleased to see their interest in the conversation has waned. They are once more dutifully executing their tasks.

  “I will inform Mother of your hypothesis. She may wish to halt her attack.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Drorus turns and leaves the intelligence section of the Womb. His pace quickens as he tells himself to inform Leebuch before he speaks with Mother. This information may serve their purposes.

  Claire sits on the floor of the bridge. She’s still shackled at various locations and constantly shivers from the cold alien metal that snuggly grasps her flesh. She watches Mother with hateful eyes as she waits for a moment to antagonize her nemesis again.

  Mother turns and looks at Claire. She smiles. It’s clearly meant to anger her.

  Some deity, Claire thinks. She’s just a bully who likes to torment the weak.

  “You look like you wish to speak, Familiar. I am ready for another joust. What hateful little daggers have you practiced this time?”

  Claire stands. She’s determined to always face this woman on her feet.

  “Perhaps I should start,” Mother comments. “Your last informational recording was sent. It was modified to show your death. It pleases me to know that I have caused suffering to those who care about you.”

  “You would,” Claire says. “You’re a spiteful bitch.”

  “You love that word, bitch. A bitch is a mother, so it is not as insulting as you seem to think.”

  “Fair enough, you’re a spiteful ISH.”

  Mother’s face drops all amusement and turns red from rage. Claire smirks at how many veins she can easily count on the woman’s forehead.

  “You do not know the full power of that word, but utter it again and I will have your tongue grafted to the roof of your mouth.”

  Claire believes the threat and decides to reserve her nuclear option noun for the eventual moment of her death.

  “I apologize, bitch, but how are you going to inform the augments on Earth about your ultimatums now?”

  Mother regains her composure and sits again on her elegant throne. She smooths the flowing robes that gently rest on her body and once again assumes a demeanor befitting a ruler.

  “They have received ample instructions. The wise ones will come to me and the rest will die, along with every ISH on that planet.”

  “What happened to allowing them to keep pets? Surely you aren’t one to go back on your word.”

  “Absolutely not,” Mother says as Claire senses the annoyance level rising in her. “However, my analysts hypothesize that the ISH with attachments will not be able to choose. Those who join us will rightly deduce that no ISH are worth preserving.”

  “I’m surprised you’ve already run out of tools.”

  “I have simply run out of patience. Father has forced my actions. I long to go back to purging this galaxy of the animals that encroach.”

  A thought comes to Claire’s mind.

  “Perhaps that’s the key to convincing Earth to support you. Show them your recordings of battles with the animals.”

  “What game are you playing, Familiar?
Why would you want to help me in this area?”

  “I want to save my people. My people like to fight. Show us a threat that doesn’t look like a neighbor and watch the recruits flood in. Perhaps even a few normal humans will slip in and change your opinion about us.”

  Mother rubs her chin. The metal ornaments that decorate her fingernails twinkle as she does.

  “That is an intriguing hypothesis. Perhaps I will show the ISH and Malignant of your planet the threat that approaches them. The levels of prejudice on this planet are higher than most I have seen. It may well work.”

  Claire smiles. From what she’s overheard, the animals aren’t warriors at all. Claire imagines Malignant marines slaughtering sentient pandas will embolden resistance more than despair.

  “Do you need to relieve yourself, Familiar?”

  Claire does. The offer of the possibility makes her body surge with a sense of urgency. As much as she hates to, she nods. Mother smiles.

  “Very well, I shall have a bucket brought to you.”

  “Thank you, Mother,” Claire says.

  She learned at the last bathroom opportunity that anything but explicit politeness will lead to an extended delay. The indignity of squatting over a bucket in front of more than a dozen people has become a mild concern.

  Nick strides into the A-Men headquarters and searches for either Ibbles or Roger. Luck is with him as he sees both hunkered over a laptop. They watch a report on the embarrassing defeat by a single augment pulling a woman along with him.

  “Is she an active supporter or a captive?” Nick hears Ibbles ask Roger.

  “I’m not sure, sir,” Roger responds. “My gut says she’s a captive.”

  “Then why doesn’t she run? She had opportunity to get away during the commotion.”

  “Did you see how easily he sidelined us? If he wants her, she can’t escape.”

  “There has to be a way to take that maniac down. He’s killed at least two dozen people that we know of between here and Canada.”

  The two men finally seem to realize that Nick is standing behind them. They turn to include him in the conversation.

  “Nick, I haven’t seen you for a while,” Roger says as he and Nick pound hug.

  “Master Sergeant Sanders,” Ibbles says with a nod.

  Of course, he’s still a massive prick, Nick thinks. “Fort Chamberlain raised the DEFCON level, so I had to go back. It’s lowered again, so here I am.”

  “Glad to have you,” Roger says.

  “So, is that the guy from the parade?” Nick asks about the frozen image of Mr. Polite.

  “It is,” Roger answers. “He’s got Templar-level powers. He hit me with some invisible wall and held me down like an underclassman.”

  “Any plans on how to take him out?” Nick asks.

  “That’s what we were discussing before you got here,” Ibbles says. “Feel free to enlighten us with your suggestions.”

  Nick ignores the curt response and looks around the room. Several more staff and A-Men walk around than just a few weeks earlier.

  “It looks like you’ve been busy recruiting,” Nick comments.

  “Hell, yeah, we have,” Roger answers. “Some of them are really good. We’ve got a guy named Stun Lock who can touch you and paralyze your movements for about two seconds. It’s quite impressive how easily he can beat you when each blow stacks the two second time limit.”

  “I bet, but that doesn’t sound like the kind of thing you need to beat a man with force shields.”

  “I don’t have time for these games,” Ibbles snaps. “Say what you want to say on the matter.”

  Nick obliges. “What happened to that explosive saboteur you captured?”

  “Over Pressure? He’s with us now. After a quick meeting with Purpose, he decided to stick around. At least at first,” Roger answers.

  “Why don’t you send him? He’s an assassin already. He can target this guy from a distance and blow him up. If he makes it a timed explosion, it should work.”

  “If it doesn’t?” Ibbles asks.

  “If it doesn’t, you aren’t any worse off. This guy probably won’t know who attacked him, and if he does, it’s only the team’s sociopath that you lose.”

  Ibbles and Roger look at each other and silently consider the suggestion.

  “We’d probably have to pay him for this one,” Roger muses. “He’s not as willing as the others after speaking with Purpose, and if we let him out of this facility, he may run away.”

  “We already pay him. There are no prisoners here,” Ibbles says.

  “Keep telling yourself that,” Roger counters. “He’s gonna want a professional fee for a professional hit.”

  “Perhaps. Go and find out if he’ll take the job. He has to volunteer,” Ibbles instructs.

  “He could just lie to leave,” Nick says. “He needs to have a team with him.”

  “I doubt he’ll accept. If we’re gonna gamble on this, we have to pick which psycho we’re more comfortable having walking free. The one who acts professional or the one who seems irrational.”

  “Good point,” Nick admits. “Let’s go find OP.”

  Nick and Roger leave Ibbles and wander through the halls of the dirty building.

  “I would have thought you guys would have moved buildings by now,” Nick mentions.

  “Nah,” Roger grumbles. “Budget cuts. You know how it is.”

  “Not really.”

  “Good to be Special Forces then, I guess.”

  The two meander through the building and find the living quarters for the A-Men recruits. Each room is small, only ten feet by ten feet. They’re barely large enough for a single bed and a plain wooden desk with a chair and a lamp.

  OP lies on the bed in his room.

  “OP, you good?” Roger asks.

  OP holds up a finger. He reads a little longer and, after two minutes, places a bookmark between the pages and closes his book.

  “Sorry. I was close to the end of my chapter. What’s up?”

  Nick doesn’t appreciate being this close to an augment of OP’s power, but he trusts that Roger has his people in line. He allows Roger to lead the conversation.

  “Are you looking forward to another round of purpose?” Roger asks.

  “No, I’m trying to get clean of that shit,” OP jokes.

  “Alright, how about making some serious money?”

  “It’s the only reason I’ve stuck around here as long as I have. It keeps me from being hassled by Enterprise assassins, and I knew you’d eventually have a problem that took someone like me to solve.”

  “Well, today’s the day. What’s your going rate for a hit?”

  OP rises from the bed.

  “Alright, straight to business. The killing kind. You guys must have really gotten embarrassed from the ass whupping you received the other day.”

  “How much to take down that RA?”

  “Just one? The video shows two rogue augments?”

  “We think the woman is a prisoner.”

  “That complicates things. Now I can’t just blow up his house; I have to preserve her as well.”

  “If you can,” Roger says with a shrug. “If not, well, shit happens.”

  “Fair enough. For the heroic A-Men, I’ll give my preferred client discount, one million dollars.”

  “Done,” Roger says.

  “Good,” OP replies. “Do you at least know where he is?”

  “We’ve known for some time. The arrogant bastard doesn’t do anything to hide his movements. He lives his life normally and simply pushes people aside when they get in his way,” Roger says.

  “Except for when he kills them,” Nick feels compelled to add.

  “Except for that,” Roger admits.

  “Well, good,” OP says, “I’ll have
this done by dinner.”

  “That’s what I like to hear,” Roger says. “Do you need any equipment or backup?”

  “Nope, it’ll just slow me down, and they’ll just get in my way. Why don’t you ask what you really want to?”

  “Do I need to tag you or send a babysitter?” Roger rephrases.

  “Not if the check clears. I like steady work. You’ve got it. I’ll be back.”

  “Good. Let’s go talk to the boys and girls in S2 and get you read up on the RA’s patterns and current location,” Roger says.

  “Lead the way,” OP says and gestures with his hand.

  Roger leaves the room, followed by OP. Nick shakes his head. Before leaving, he glances at the cover of the book that OP was reading. It reads: The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Nick wonders which he just met with as he follows the two A-Men out the door.

  “Sit your ass down!” Benji screams at Maria as he slams the door to his office.

  Maria calmly takes the seat across from Benji’s desk. He’s annoyed that she wears a smile as she defiantly crosses her arms and legs while waiting for Benji.

  What happened to this one? Benji thinks.

  “You got something to say to me, Benji?” Maria curtly states.

  “You think you’re real cute, don’t you?” Benji says as he paces on the opposite side of his desk. His emotions won’t let him take a seat.

  “We’ve been over this. I know I’m cute. So do most people in this precinct. Read any of the bathroom stalls in the men’s room if you don’t believe me.”

  Benji stares daggers at her.

  “Or you could look at the colorful drawings of me taking multiple dicks at one time,” Maria suggests.

  Benji slams his hands onto his desk. He’s pleased when he notices the outburst startles Maria.

  “Cut the shit! Do you realize how many complaints I have about you?”

  “No, how many?”