Meta 2: The Second Wave

by Tom Reynolds

  "Breach charge mounted. Detonation in five, four, three ..." Charlie says.

  Before I have a chance to ask, "Detonation?" there’s a flash of light followed closely by the sound of an explosion. Shards of metal hit the office's Italian marble floors, and a person-sized hole appears in the metal casing around Keane’s office. No one waits for the smoke to clear before running through it and into Keane's office.

  Between the flash of light, smoke, and sound from the explosion, everything becomes a blur. I follow the rest of the group into the office where I can barely make out muted yelling from the ringing in my ears. It’s like the soldiers are all underwater until my metabands do their job and begin to clear up my vision and hearing. I see the five soldiers with their guns trained on Keane. Five identical red laser dots all rest on his forehead. The soldiers yell for Keane to raise his hands slowly and hold them out to his side. They specifically tell him not to raise his hands above his head since he might be able to activate his metabands before any of them would even have time to react.

  Suddenly, there are new noises directly outside the steel-encased office, the sounds of boots and the metallic clicks of safeties being disengaged fills the office. In another instant, another team of men enters Keane’s office through the hole in the wall. It's Keane's personal security team, ten men even more heavily armed than we are. They’re wearing expensive looking black suits and yelling at us to drop our weapons. Us, the militants who have just blasted our way into the office of one of the world’s richest men and who are not wearing any type of identifiable insignia or flag. There’re absolutely no symbols indicating who we are on our uniforms. All of this is by design, of course. Plausible deniability if Keane turns out not to be a meta after all, and The Agency needs to do damage control. If Keane's not a meta, we were never here. It would be a great plan if it weren't for the ten men with rifles pointed at our heads.

  Half of my team, if I can even refer to them as that, turn in an instant and train their rifles on the security guards. They’re screaming just as intensely for Keane's men to drop their weapons, or they’ll shoot Keane. My heart drops into my stomach at the thought that they’re probably not bluffing. Keane's security does not relent, though. They have us outnumbered, and while they might not know who we are, it's safe to assume that if we were here to kill Keane, it would have already been done.

  My gun is trained on no one. I stand in between the guards and the soldiers. Just my luck for being the last guy in the room. I’m terrified out of my mind and unable to utter a single word, even if I could find one I thought might help diffuse the situation.

  Suddenly, there’s another figure in the room, entering through the smoke from our explosion: a woman, unarmed and wearing a cocktail dress. The look on her face is one of complete and total confusion. Her eyes find Keane's, and she cries out his name. Before she can even finish the last syllable, one of the soldiers is screaming at her to stop and moves his laser sight to her chest.

  "No!" Keane yells as he reaches out his hands toward her, motioning for her to stop where she is and not come any closer.

  Before his arms have even come close to the front of his body, Beta yells, "Take him!"

  Bullets fire from three of the soldiers’ guns simultaneously. They stop in mid-air as I rush to jump between them and Keane. Everything is moving in slow motion as I move faster than anyone in the room can even register. With each step I take, I notice something else; metabands begin appearing on Keane's wrists. He's summoning them, maybe even unconsciously, but they're appearing. He is a meta.

  The bullets hit my back. Just three at first, but three more an instant later as the automatic weapons continue firing. Keane's metabands have now fully materialized, and my hands are reaching for them, trying to ignore the pain of the bullets ricocheting off my back.

  More gunfire comes from all around the room. Even moving at this speed, I don’t dare chance the time it might cost me to look back. Judging by where the sounds are coming from, it's safe to assume that Keane's security has also opened fire.

  I reach both hands toward Keane's wrists and feel the cold metal of his bands. They’re straight out in front of his chest, inches away from touching. I pull on them, sliding them off his wrists before they can touch. They come off easily, just as they did when Midnight disarmed me the first night we met, and he couldn't be sure if I was friend or foe.

  Time resumes its normal speed, and Keane's bare wrists slam into each other before he's even had a chance to realize that his metabands are gone. There's a look of contorted confusion and horror spreading across his face when I stop moving and time catches up again. His powers are gone, and he already knows that he’ll never get them back. The slow, low rumbling booms of each gunshot turn into a seemingly endless barrage of noise.

  "We've been infiltrated! Fire!" Beta yells as I begin to feel heavier caliber ammunition, like grenades, hit my back.

  There's hardly any pain, but even still, getting hit by a grenade isn't exactly pleasant. My tactical uniform has been mostly torn away at this point, exposing the deep red Omni suit underneath.

  "Hold your fire!" I scream at the top of my lungs as I turn to face my now former teammates. I’m careful to stay in front of Keane in order to block any errant bullets in case they don’t listen. "I'm with you!"

  "The hell you are!" Charlie yells back, his gun still trained on me, and his finger itching for a reason to pull the trigger.

  "Halpern assigned me. I swear."

  "Drop Keane's metabands and kick them over. Now!" Beta barks at me.

  I do as he says.

  "Fine. Fine. Here. Take them. I'm on your side. I just don't want anyone to get hurt," I say, trying my best to defuse the situation.

  "It's too late for that," Delta growls.

  It's then that I notice what's happened. The ten security guards are all lying on the ground, motionless. Echo and Foxtrot are down too, along with the woman who came running into the room and started all the confusion. They’re lying in a puddle of blood.

  "No!" Keane screams, his voice cracking. "What have you done?"

  Keane runs toward the woman, but only makes it a few steps before an electrical charge is fired at him, dropping him to the floor in a fit of convulsions.

  "Not so fast," Delta says to him, holding the stun gun responsible for the hit.

  Keane lies on the ground in a heap, writhing in both physical and emotional pain as Beta pulls his arms behind his back and handcuffs them. Charlie places the metabands into a titanium case and seals it shut.

  After Keane and the office are secured, I assume they looked back toward me, still trying to figure out if I'm a liar, and if I am, what to do with me. But it's too late; I'm already gone.

  Chapter 14

  When I teleported out of Keane Tower, I go to the first place that literally pops into my head: Midnight's water tower. I'd hoped that Midnight wouldn't be there so I could have some time to just be alone and think. My hope is misguided.

  Midnight is across the room when I materialize, sitting at his computer and analyzing whatever it is that he spends all night analyzing when he's not busy breaking noses, but within seconds of my arrival, he's across the room.

  "What is this? What happened?" he yells, pulling at the shreds of the military uniform that’s been ripped to pieces by the bullets.

  "I got shot at."

  "I can see that. By who, and why are you wearing this?"

  "Security guards."

  My mind is still in a daze over what happened. All those guards. All dead. They weren't bad guys. They weren't killers. They were just men who were paid to do a job: protect Desmond Keane. They had no idea who he really was or who we were. All they saw was a group of soldiers opening fire on their boss, and they reacted. They didn't deserve to die. I should have protected them.

  Midnight steps back, and his concern turns to unnerving quietness. "Were you at Keane Tower?"

  "Yes. How did you know?"

  Midnight stare
s at me for what feels like an eternity. Without saying a word, he turns, picks up a remote control from the nearest stainless steel workbench, and hits a button. All of the monitors in the water tower, including the massive north-side wall, which unbeknownst to me was a video monitor this entire time, change to one of the news channels.

  The news channel is showing the view from a helicopter hovering outside Keane Tower, next to the eighty-eighth story windows that were shattered by gunfire only minutes ago.

  "We're looking at Keane Tower, which just moments ago became the scene of what sources are telling us was a siege enacted by rogue militant forces. The unknown assailants have taken billionaire Desmond Keane into their custody and have killed a number of security personnel here at Keane Tower. Their motivation is unknown at this time, but considering the wealth of Mr. Keane, it can only be assumed that their target was chosen based on his significant financial holdings. Currently, the whereabouts of Mr. Keane and his alleged captors are unknown. The city has issued a full-scale search and an all-points bulletin on the white van seen entering the Tower’s garage earlier tonight. City officials ask that any meta-powered individuals stay back at this time to avoid risking contamination of the crime scene," the anchor says over video footage of bodies laying on the ground as seen through the veritable hole the gunfight put through the building's exterior.

  "What the hell were you doing there?" Midnight growls at me through gritted teeth.

  I hadn't even noticed that he'd moved within inches of my face. I was in a complete daze watching the newscast, trying to wrap my head around the events that just transpired.

  "They asked me to help," I say.

  "Who? Who asked you to help?" Midnight screams back.

  "The Agency."

  Midnight stares into my eyes, seething with rage he can barely contain.

  "Get out."

  "What?"

  "You heard me. Get out. Now."

  "This wasn't my fault. None of this was supposed to happen this way ..."

  "I'm not going to tell you again," Midnight says as he turns his back on me.

  I decide not to test Midnight's threat that he won't ask me again, and teleport to the second place that pops into my mind: home.

  Chapter 15

  It isn't until about three a.m. when Derrick comes home. I'm sitting on the couch, still wearing the tattered tactical uniform over my Omni suit. I've pulled back the parts of both suits that cover my face. Even though the Omni suit feels like a second skin when it's on, the mask feels like it’s suffocating me tonight.

  "What are you doing, Connor? You can't just be sitting in here like that! What if I was with someone?" Derrick whisper yells as he opens the door, steps inside, and quickly shuts it behind him.

  "Ha. That's the first funny thing I've heard all night," I reply.

  "What's your problem?" Derrick asks.

  "Rough night. Very rough night," I say.

  "Another one of those 'rough nights' that you can't talk about because Midnight doesn't trust me?" Derrick asks with a sigh.

  "Midnight does trust you. Ish. Kinda. But no, Midnight wasn't even with me tonight. I was working for The Agency."

  There's silence before he asks, "You were at Keane Tower tonight, weren't you?"

  "Yeah."

  More silence. I'm not surprised. He hasn't mentioned it yet, but I'm positive the reason why he was working so late has everything to do with what happened at the tower tonight.

  "What happened there?" he asks.

  "Confusion. It was an accident. I couldn't stop it in time."

  "There weren't any reports of a meta other than Keane at the tower tonight."

  "I was undercover. The Agency didn't want anyone to know that they needed a meta to take down Keane. The other guys on the squad didn't even know I’m a meta. When they found out, they weren't happy."

  Derrick slowly slides down onto the leather couch next to the armchair I'm hunched over in.

  "Connor, this is some serious stuff. People died tonight. You're telling me there was a cover-up about what happened?"

  "Yes, that’s what I'm telling you. Off the record, of course."

  "You have to tell me something is off the record before you say it. That's how it works."

  "Well, I'm trusting that you probably can't print that your source is your sixteen year-old brother since I doubt many people would buy that."

  "Look, I know I'm just your brother, and even though I'm bigger than you, I can't make you do anything you don't want to ..."

  "And I have super strength," I interject.

  "I'm trying to be serious here. I don't think you should be working with The Agency anymore. I'm worried about them getting you into trouble, especially since they'll lie and say anything to protect themselves."

  "I know, but if I'm not on their side, then they're going to start asking a lot of questions about whose side I'm on."

  "You're on your own side."

  "Ha. The only thing they like less than people who aren't on their side are people who are independent. Makes it harder for them to put you in a box and figure out what exactly it is you want."

  Chapter 16

  The next day at school, I'm even more tired than usual, which is saying something. I couldn't sleep at all the night before. I just kept replaying the same images through my mind over and over again, trying desperately to think of some way I could have prevented what happened. I can’t see how, though. If I had let them execute Keane, those security guards still would have shown up. There still would have been a fight, and they still would have lost. Even with my speed, there were just too many of them to take out all at once.

  "Mr. Connolly?" I hear a voice ask through the haze my mind is currently neck deep in.

  It's Mr. Morrison, my chemistry teacher, and by the tone of his voice, I'm guessing this isn't the first time he’s had to say my name to get my attention.

  "Sorry. What?" I ask, trying to shake the cobwebs out of my brain.

  "I was asking just what it is outside the window that you find so interesting?" Mr. Morrison asks, presumably for at least the second time.

  There’s a chorus of giggles from my classmates.

  "Nothing. Sorry, Mr. Morrison. I didn't get much sleep last night."

  "Maybe you can see the future, Mr. Connolly, and were up late studying because you knew we were going to have a pop quiz today?" he says.

  The class' giggling changes to groans, and a handful of insults are hurled at me.

  Mr. Morrison hands a stack of papers to the first person in each row, who then takes one and hands the rest back until I get the last quiz since I’m seated at the end of the row. I stare at the paper, completely dumbfounded, realizing I know absolutely none of the material. How could I? I've slept through about eighty percent of the class this year.

  After class, Mr. Morrison holds me back to “have a talk.” The talk is pretty one-sided, with him telling me how close I am to failing and me listening to something that I'm already pretty much aware of. I wait until he's finished, and then explain that I understand, and I promise to make an effort to do better. This is true, I am going to make an effort; the problem is that it probably isn't going to have that much of an effect.

  My grades are in the toilet for one reason and one reason only, and that's the metabands that are around my wrists right now in standby mode so they're invisible to the rest of the world. Lately, with everything going on, something’s had to give, and that something wound up being school. I can't be out all night bashing bad guys' heads in and still be expected to have read half of Pride and Prejudice by Monday.

  If something is going to get lost in the shuffle, I don’t want that something to be Omni. With all that's going on, with thousands of new metas all over the world and new metabands being found every week, I need to be Omni right now. The world is becoming a very dangerous place. Everyone is remembering the metas who use their power to kill innocent people and steal, or the maniacs who quickly lose all sense of
their own humanity once they think they’ve become gods. For every meta who gets recognition for doing a good deed, there're ten times as many who become infamous for being bad. It's the names of the bad metas that kids remember and think about at night, worried that they're under their beds.

  And for all the bad metas who are out there, there are even more with dubious morals. Those who do good when it’s convenient for them, or when there’s some kind of financial gain involved; men who have become indestructible and choose a career performing movie stunts instead of becoming a firefighter; or those who kill when they think it’s necessary, knowing that the courts have little or no recourse when trying to convict a meta, other than issuing a warrant through The Agency, despite knowing that it will go to the bottom of a very long pile for the overworked department. There aren't enough metas like me out there right now, and the world needs more.

  Plus, I like being Omni. Being Omni is cool.

  There's another priority I don't want to give up right now either, and that's Sarah. It might have taken me awhile to get a girlfriend, but now that I finally have one, I really hit a home run, if I do say so myself. She's perfect in every way. No matter how rough a day I’ve had, she always makes me laugh and smile. She doesn't even know the most interesting thing about me, but she makes me feel like I'm the coolest guy on Earth just because she cares about me.

  I'm lost in thought for about a minute, thinking about how lucky I am to have Sarah, when I finally snap out of it and realize that she's standing right in front of me. Okay, so maybe I was actually literally asleep on my feet.