The Serpent League

by Brendan Walsh

  “Lord above…” Jane said. “This… this may not even be about us.”

  “Exactly right.” Lindsey replied. “Right now on the phone, it sounded like that Brent guy was trying to get information about us from my dad, but maybe the whole thing is a cover!”

  Patrick did a doubletake, being the first to look away from the screen. “It’s in all the big cities. San Francisco, Los Angeles, Austin, New York, Chicago…”

  “Their achieving the coup Elder wanted in much less time!” Gary said.

  Johnny replied, shoving off his cooking garments. “This whole thing reeks of him. It wouldn’t surprise me if this league is just another front of his, just like his business was for his evil. Not again. We can stop this.”

  Not wanting to rush right away to their watches, the eight of them made a plan. The gang would be divided into two groups. One group would take the station where Lindsey’s father was being held and the other group would hit the northwest station, the other police station in San Francisco being held. One group would have Edgar and the other would have BJ, since they were by far the most enabled of the gang.

  Not a tick of the clock after, Gary and Patrick faced each other, watches blazing with motion and heat. One group grabbed on to Patrick and the other to Gary, since everyone needed to be in physical contact for it to work. Like a twinkle of a star, they vanished, with Lindsey’s phone as their guiding light.

  Upon their materialization all the way across the country they divided themselves into two squads. The first one consisted of Patrick, Slate, Edgar and Lindsey while the latter was the remaining half. Patrick’s squad was in charge of taking care of Detective Hunter’s station. After dropping them off securely, Gary teleported his gang to the other occupied building.

  Compared to the hundreds in peril across the country, their efforts wouldn’t put a dent in whatever the Serpent League’s plans were, but they couldn’t just watch the takeovers in their base and do nothing about it.

  Armed with their remaining supply of beam-guns from their battle a week ago, the ones they prayed they wouldn’t have to use again, they scoped their quarries from behind the station. Neither squad’s positions offered them good screenings of what was happening. But based on the few people Patrick could see lying down on the ground, things weren’t going well. Odds are those people weren’t taking naps.

  “I can’t make anything out.” Slate said. “But at least I don’t hear any gunshots.”

  Lindsey turned to face them. The group was squatting behind a dumpster. Her gun was tight at her chest. “It’s a good thing we have a good pair of ears among us, isn’t it? Got anything for us, pal?”

  The bat raised an ear over their old sugar and rank ketchup-smelling shelter. They twitched inquisitively. Edgar crouched back down, nestling himself in his wings. He gave them an affirmative nod.

  “You’re saying it’s safe to try the back door now?” Patrick asked.

  Edgar gave him another nod.

  Patrick faced his group, all his weight on his grounded knees. “Anybody have a suggestion for a rational course of action?”

  “Lindsey,” Slate started. “you’ve been around the station several times before, right?”

  “Like I had a choice. He loved to partake in ‘Bring Your Daughter to Work Day’.”

  Patrick spat a chuckle. “Isn’t that the time when that unruly woman ended up-?”

  “Time and place, Patrick!” Her voice almost escaped a whisper. “This is what we do: assuming Edgar doesn’t detect any of those bastards sliming their way through the exit halls, we should have an easy time getting past the maintenance cabinets. From there we get through an elevator hall and then the detective rooms. Our culprits should be gathered there.”

  After another minute’s discussion the group decided it was as good a plan as they would have. One after the other, with Edgar acting as a guardian angel in the front of the charge, they shot off the door knob with a point-blank beam-shot, hustling in on the balls of their feet. The bat’s ears were arched forward like satellites. So far, through the maintenance hall, there was no resistance to their invasion.

  Once they were passing by the elevator, the three humans could sense what was going down. He didn’t need to see to know, but Patrick peeked a quaking eye around the corner. There were three of them. Resting by the front desks near the main entrance were a few more dead bodies. He could feel everyone behind him wince.

  Detectives Hunter and Guajardo were among the many that were still alive. They had been relieved of their pistols, now kneeling on the ground in execution mode. A young man in long sleeves, who was most likely Jacob Brent, was circling the survivors like a shark. A gun eagerly twitched in his hands. Two henchmen of his were parked along the side pillars of the main room. They were facing the front glass doors, eyeing nervous bystanders and media that had gathered outside.

  “We’re a very busy organization.” Brent said. He wagged his gun like a finger at the detectives. “You’re all not going to be here for much longer, so just come out with it. Tell me your affiliation with the Raven Gang.”

  “He’s our state endorsement and my father, you psychopath!”

  That’s not how they expected things to go, but everyone suddenly tunneled forth from the side, Lindsey leading the charge. The two guards at the front turned around, assuming position. Their guns rose steadily, unshaking. Jacob Brent turned away from his hostages, giving them an almost welcoming expression.

  “I was wondering when you would show up.” He greeted, as if they weren’t aiming SciFi weapons at him. “Something told me this is the station I’d find you at.”

  Lindsey didn’t seem to hear anything he said. “All your weapons down, right now! Maybe if we’re all still in a fresh mood, you won’t have to pay too hard for what you’ve done.” She cocked her weapon. It sounded like a vibrating cell phone.

  Brent eyed her like a bewildered child. His pistol was still in his hand, but it was aimed impotently at the ground.

  “You’ve got no moves right now.” Slate said. “Our weapons were developed by your boss, Sam Elder. They’re much more reliable than the shotguns your guards are hugging over there. Chances are we’ll hit, they’ll miss.”

  During Slate’s speech Brent’s gaze had turned to Edgar, whose wings were set on the ground, ready to pounce like a track runner. The way he locked eyes with the bat, it was nothing that he hadn’t seen before.

  “At last here he is. The fabled Edgar.” Brent turned around, dropping the weapon to the floor. He turned his back on the gang, now addressing the small legion of officers who were staring in disbelief. “Ladies and gentleman, this is proof you can’t trust your government. The president has tried to keep the truth of the Raven Gang secret, but that’s not what I want to talk about right now.”

  Brent gave his two men a nod. They turned to the entrance door, which was made entirely out of glass, and shattered them. The deafening bangs of the shot gun bursts caused the four of them to recoil. A chorus of gasps echoed as the entire room was now visible to the outside news teams. With a few more blunt jabs all the windows were taken out. Now even the casual pedestrian had a perfect front-row seat to the mayhem. The flashing of many cameras was worse than the sun, and Patrick’s gang felt naked.

  “You’re wrong about a few things, kids,” Brent returned to them, galloping like a thespian. “Samuel Elder is not our boss. But boy, if any of you could give us his location we would be in your debt.”

  Patrick’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Gary was calling him.

  Jacob Brent took note of it politely. “Oh, no reason you shouldn’t pick that up. You have the high ground right now. You’re in charge.”

  Patrick answered it, his other hand unsteadily pointing his gun.

  “Gary?”

  “You need to get out of there right now!” The sound of something like a barfight glittered Gary’s background. Brent seemed to be aware of it. His smile deepened to non-human lengths.

  “Wh
at are you talking about? We’re about to have them arrested over here.”

  Mostly static was returned. Amongst the echoes of lasers and animalistic growls, Gary’s voice managed a few words. “t..’s….Brent….uman!”

  Patrick clicked the speaker on. “Come at me once more, Gary.”

  “It’s Jacob Brent! Don’t shoot him! Don’t even give them a scratch!”

  Gary didn’t give him any more time to reply.

  “We’ve been duped. This isn’t just an invasion. They want to multiply! They’re not hu-”

  A slimy noose coiled around Patrick’s palm, forcing the phone out of it. The sticky rope stretched all the way back to Brent’s open mouth. It wasn’t the color a human’s mouth should have been. There was no pink. It was rusty red, riddled with blotches of poisonous dark brown.

  After his tongue was tightly wrapped around the phone Brent jerked his neck to the side. The phone made contact with the far wall as quick as a pitcher’s fastball, and the screen shattered on contact. Patrick, Slate, Lindsey, Edgar and the two detectives along with the rest of the police and the outside onlookers were silent. They all knew the battle was going to begin.

  “You didn’t really think we were your average name brand terrorist group, did you?” Brent chuckled. His two henchmen tossed their weapons to the side, shifting down on all fours. Their clothes melted off them, sinking into their skin, and predatory stripes and spots formed on their backs as the prepared to charge, claws already bare.

  It was then that Patrick realized that they were wearing the same shapeshifting clothes that BJ had met them with.

  9

  The Anointment

  “No. No. We can’t just sit here!”

  “What else can we do, Laura?” the doctor asked her. “I’m a fugitive, and if I were wise to any way of defeating the Serpent League, believe me, I would have done it long ago.”

  The pair had returned to Elder’s New York office. After a few false alarms regarding the police hunt for him and hitching a ride on a gryphon, some of the scientist’s few remaining of the species, their eyes were stuck to the monitor. News about the police station hijackings across the country spread like steaming butter.

  The one on television, which was the first to be attacked, was the San Francisco office. It was the one where detectives Hunter and Guajardo worked.

  It was it. Now the world knew more. Now Edgar and the Serpent League were exposed to light. It was not something that could be brushed off as some manic political stunt or some conspiracy generated from foggy photos or wild minds.

  It was right there. And it was live.

  “My son! Patrick!” Laura rose from her seat, pointing a stiff finger at the screen.

  The reporter had turned the attention to a camera surveying the scene. Humans, at least what had initially looked like humans, were starting to change physical forms after their skin seemed to imitate swirls of watercolors. Their leader had used an elastic tongue to swat a phone away from her son’s hand.

  The giant bat had immediately leaped into action. He slammed against one of the men, but his effort backfired as the man’s skin morphed quickly into porcupine spikes. He recovered, but it didn’t look like the other kids knew what to do.

  “The Raven Gang.” Elder finally said. “The ones there: Patrick, Slate, Lindsey, Edgar. There is no way they can win. If they’re as smart as I think they are, they won’t try.”

  Laura turned around. Her hands weren’t still at her sides. “What are you saying? That they should surrender to these terrorists? That they could all be killed?”

  “I’m saying they should run.” he replied tamely. “A fight is just what the Serpent League wants. Your son and his friends won’t be killed. That’s not what they want. They want to kill me. The gang? Think of it as a sort of mating ritual.”

  “What on earth do you mean?” Her eyes were back at the screen. The news had switched to a different camera. She couldn’t see her son anymore. “Dammit, bring it back! Samuel, tell me they’ll be alright.”

  “They won’t be killed, I can tell you that much. But I think what they’ll suffer will be worse than death. Any drop of blood spilled from one member of the Serpent League will release something into the air. It…what happens is horrifying. Trust me, I’ve seen it. Lord help them.”

  Outside the office a tumbling of footsteps disrupted them. Now both of them were on their feet.

  “I take it we weren’t expecting anyone?” Laura asked.

  He nodded. “Smells like trouble.” He sheltered her behind him, positioning himself between Laura and the open office door as the group of two men and two women arrived.

  They were dressed in athletic clothing. The colors of their uniforms were all black with purple pinstripes running down them. It was the standard attire of the Serpent League.

  He’d been found.

  “Doctor Samuel Elder,” one of the women, the leader, began. She had brown hair that seemed to pass through the rest of her body. “Your infection of this world is over, as well as our use for you.”

  “Are they talking about your monster invasion?” Laura asked, shoving herself to Elder’s side.

  No one acknowledged her. “Your other crimes are more personal.” the lead man with a hawkish face added. “Going against League orders, along with your arrogant decision to go rogue with your little crusade. You know what the sentence for that is.”

  Elder took a step back. The squad of four was blocking the only exit, and since they were Serpent League sentinels, he knew what powers they were capable of. The window behind them was several feet off the ground. There was no escape. But Elder shifted his hip to them as if preparing to draw a revolver from a holster.

  “What do they mean, Samuel?” Laura asked. “What is the sentence?”

  “Death.” he replied.

  The lead woman strode forward. Her arm morphed in viscous, liquidy solid. Its metallic colors shifted into a red and white massive tiger claw. She savagely flexed her clawed digits in morbid fascination, giving Elder a proud smirk.

  “The league has looked forward to this moment for a very long time.” she beamed. “Do you and your girlfriend have any last words?”

  The doctor’s feet were firm on the ground, and Laura’s grasp tightened on his upper sleeve. He faced his four adversaries, his canines nearly piercing his bottom lip. The tail of his long coat seemed to swish in aggression.

  “Death? Of course that’s the sentence. Why the hell wouldn’t it be?” Elder suppressed a laugh. “Because you guys have the moral high ground, right? Because none of you have ever thought twice about the righteousness of your cause? So you think that makes me a radical!”

  His companion took her arm off his elbow. Elder approached them fearlessly. It was an act she couldn’t follow.

  “Because God forbid anyone tries to deal real change to this world!” he continued, his tone changing to a bellow. “No way my personal crusade could be both a personal pleasure and an effective revolution! No, no chance of that, right? Me, a former tool of yours has the audacity to question the league’s fanatical dogma, and I’m the one that must die! No. You will die!”

  The doctor doubled back and made a 180 turn from the four leaguers. His right arm jutted into his inner breast pockets and dug out four small blades, clicking them between each of his carpal digits. Before any of the leaguers could get another morphing trait, the blades flew from Elder’s hand with a sharp flick. They soared through the room like missiles and necks of the leaguers became their graves.

  The four fell to the floor, making guttural choking sounds as they tried to use their powers to make their necks adapt to the lodged blades. But there was nothing they could do. Their powers couldn’t work with inorganic material lodged in their bodies.

  And blood filtered out of their necks and on to the floor, slowly pooling around Elder and Laura like hot lava.

  “We need to run.” He grabbed her arm and shoved her out the door. Together the leaped over the ble
eding bodies. By the time the hurled themselves through the doorway two of the leaguers were dead.

  Laura was dumbfounded. Her shock forced her grip on Elder’s arm to tighten, but under his adrenaline he couldn’t feel anything.

  “Why are we rushing out?” she asked. “You killed them. They aren’t following us!”

  “It’s like a was going to say earlier,” he replied. In a matter of moments, they were nearing the final exit door. “it’s their blood. It’s how they multiply. Their blood infects the host and they…become one of them.”

  “Then stop! There’s blood on your coat.”

  Elder scoffed, ripping the coat off his body as if it were made of paper. A subtle metal clacking sound came from the dropped coat. They both hoped they wouldn’t have needed whatever other tiny weapons he had in there.

  “Thank you.” he sighed as they made it outside. The day was silent and the sunlight reflective off the fresh snow on the floor. It was as if waking up from a dark dream. They both forgot it was still daytime from all the mayhem. “It’s been a while since I’ve done moves like that. Muscle memory can really be a bitch.”

  Laura was bent over. She was recovering her breath. “What do we do now? The Serpent League is nearly taking over the country, and my son is in the crossfire.”

  “I think we should meet with the Raven Gang.” Elder said.

  “No. I won’t have my son find out I’m still affiliated with you. He can’t find out th-”

  Elder silenced her with his hand. “Fine. But I’m going. Hopefully this meeting will be more civil than our last one.”

  His parry was met with another parry, countered by a jab from his claw that would have been fatal if Gary wasn’t prepared. His opponent was relentless, and he prayed that Patrick’s team was having better luck against the Serpent League.

  Especially against the most powerful one, Jacob Brent, who he was currently fighting as well.