by P. S. Power
“I'm Rene.” Her voice seemed to be subdued and a bit in shock.
It made sense. He'd have been in shock too if he'd remembered to be. Really it had to be the prolonged isolation and sensory deprivation that kept him out of it now. Steel gray walls tried to close in on his mind for a second, so he focused on letting that go. As an afterthought he started to hit the show crew with his power to help them out, then stopped. Did good guys force emotions on people? Even to help them? Gah. This was all too freaking complex. He sighed and shook his head just a bit.
“Um, guys? I know that everyone is kind of in a state here, I can help with that, make you all feel calm and relaxed, if you want. My, um, power. If that's OK? I should have done it earlier, but you know, fucking bomb in the room. A tad distracting.” He chuckled a bit.
“I know that you're a bit uneasy around Infected people Gary, but-”
“Do it.” Beardo said gruffly, a little sharply as if he expected it to hurt.
Denis did it immediately, but just to him. The man visibly relaxed and nodded to the sound woman and the bitchy Director.
“Try it. It seems to work. I feel... fine.”
They both agreed and once relaxed the harsh Director smiled for the first time since Kerry nailed her lines.
“I'm Darla Kennedy. Let's get a position and set up before we lose the light.” She looked at Denis and smiled.
“Denny, would it be possible to get some kind of light out here do you think? We'll need a generator and backup power and to have some of the studio cams brought out...” Her voice had a soft tone now and she looked almost pretty when she wasn't in mega-boss mode. Older seeming, about late forties at a guess, lines a little deep and face a tad horsey, but nicer by far with the smile.
Of course getting all of that done felt way out of his comfort zone. He didn't even know where to begin. Who did that kind of thing? Looking over at where the Director stood, make-up being applied by Clarice, Denis saw her. Charlot Chambers. Yep, that would be the one. Grand. He walked over, fighting to keep his displeasure off his face. The second he walked up she turned to him and growled.
“What the fuck do you want?”
Denis sighed.
3
“I love you too honey.” He said, his voice going sharp and halfway into pissed. Then he felt that way so who could blame him? Oh, right, the people that wanted him killed. Ah. Yeah, there was that, wasn't there? Denis fought for control.
Charlot glared, then waved him into speech. It took a second for her to get the idea, that this had to do with her area. PR. They had a camera crew and needed to outfit them? That, it turned out, she could deal with. Who she went to in order to get that done baffled him a tiny bit, not that anyone else seemed any better for the task, but still, not the person he would have asked first.
“Brian dear? A moment?” Her voice softened, a lot, when she called out. Denis nearly cracked that she didn't need to get all wet just because Yi walked toward them. The guy wasn't that hot.
Then, as he watched, Denis saw it. She really felt something for the guy. Friendship maybe... or something more. Interesting. How the hell had that happened? Yi had only been around half a year and had managed to break through to hard-ass Chambers already? Damn.
Denis had been there for three years and the woman still wanted to punt him through a wall as far as he could tell.
It took a lot of running around and three pretty strong team two members as well as Clark and Kerry, both telekinetics, to get the gear and generator out and running in time, but just as dusk fell everything got into place. They had nice giant flood lights and equipment that looked like military surplus, but it all worked.
Then Denis started getting everyone drinks from the restaurant on the first floor, and finally, after Mark assured him that they weren't needed for the show anymore, brought out the cakes and some plates. Might as well eat it, right?
When the local police showed up with their bomb unit, lights flashing, Proxy kind of freaked and drew a pistol that he'd had on the whole time, under his left arm, one he hadn't even brought out for terrorists. He'd been helping to bring out coffee when he saw the lights, which started to fall to the ground, but got taken up suddenly by Mark, who just appeared with it in his hands. Brian actually aimed at the cops, and started to pull the trigger.
“They're not taking me.” He muttered, sounding dead with just a hint of anger mixed in for good measure. It... didn't sound exactly sane.
Denis blinked.
“Um, damn straight they're not? If they try I'll drop them to the ground before they can yell that you're under arrest. Do you want me to do it now? I think they're here for the bomb, but if you know something I don't that's good enough for me.”
Yeah, he'd tried to kill the guy several times, but that seemed to be his problem, not Yi's. And the guy had gotten him out of a death warrant, basically by threatening suicide if the IPB didn't do it. Apparently with enough intent that they actually believed him. The IPB didn't joke around with those things. Having one basically meant you were dead, no matter who you were.
He'd never even heard of one being revoked before.
So if Yi wanted the police taken out, well, they were within sight and that could be arranged. Mark froze and gave him a really funny look, one that spoke of things that Denis didn't get. Brian took a deep breath and holstered the weapon.
“Not yet. You're right, I know it. They're here for the bomb, not me. If they do come for me though, I'd appreciate the backup.” The Chinese man looked scared, ready to fight and a bit wild eyed.
Denis nodded.
“They won't even get halfway to you.” He promised. Denis meant it too. The police had never helped him in life, not even once, and being a dick, he recognized that most of them were too. Some of them could half fake being normal for a while, on camera or in front of the judge, maybe with their mothers, but that didn't fool him.
It wouldn't be the first time he took out a few cops, if it came to that. Before he'd joined the IPB he'd had to live on the street for a while. Not that hard with his powers, but the cops liked to hassle street people. It made them feel big or something and no one really minded. Not the press, or the courts and certainly not John Q. Taxpayer. They'd learned to stop that after a few weeks, at least in the area he'd been staying in. They didn't know why, but finally stopped talking to the street people altogether. Every time they tried they ended up with horrible stomach cramps and like they needed to run to the bathroom desperately.
Brian didn't relax, not really, he looked sharp and ready to fight still. Tweaked and nearly vibrating with anger and fear. Marcia walked over when she noticed, her face looking stiff and a bit pissed. That she glared directly at Denis seemed a bit odd, and started to set him off too. Zen. Meditative. He couldn't do it, but the thought kept him from snapping at her first at least.
“What the fuck is going on Denis? If you've been running your mouth at Brian I'll break both your legs right here and now.” She moved close to him, way closer than would have been sane if she wasn't nearly invulnerable to all harm. At this range Denis knew he wouldn't have time to react if she decided to take him out, probably her intention. Crap.
Brian pointed gently, as if trying to not draw attention to himself his right hand held low and close to his body.
“Police. Denis is running interference if they move on me, so don't break his legs. I don't want him distracted.” The man swallowed and beads of sweat started on his brow.
What the fuck? No Federal agent should be having the sweats over a bunch of pigs. Especially not an IPB agent. What the fuck had they done to the guy?
That got Marcia to back off a bit at least, and her look toward Denis softened considerably.
“Oh? Good plan. If it comes to it try not to make it painful or too obvious though. We've had enough problems with this lot already. By rights we should have killed them all when they tried to invade with those protesters. They might be in with the terrorists here, so really, stay re
ady guys.”
Um, what? Denis didn't say anything, but he hadn't heard about a protest or an attack on the base at all. Oh the joys of lock-up. Well, no big. If they came, he'd take out the cops too and not hesitate. Just be nice about it? Maybe that sleep paralysis thing again?
Just in case something did happen, as unlikely as it sounded, Denis reviewed what had worked earlier and got ready. That and more calm and collected emotional stuff, some peace and love. He'd have tried it on Brian but the man seemed nearly immune to his powers anyway, and the last... every time really, that he'd tried to stop the guy that way he'd kept fighting through it without even hesitating hardly. So he was either immune or so crazy tough that... Denis didn't know. Could you be that tough and still be sane? It didn't matter. He decided that if Yi had his back then it was going to go both ways.
The bomb squad sent in a robot to detonate the thing after making sure it didn't have any secret toy surprises in the middle, like radioactive medical waste or germs. The prisoners confirmed that it didn't, not that they had a choice about helping, since Christian stripped their minds pretty hard.
When Marcia and Proxy went to get an update Denis found his arms grabbed by both of them and got pulled along, bits of soft dirt kicking up under their feet. The place was a bit of a dust bowl, even in the winter.
As they got to the main group, a bit of a meeting being held well away from the prisoners back by the building, the Director in the middle, Chris spoke softly.
“They're Hooper people. A terrorist cell, though they think of themselves as a “hygiene squad”. There's no direct link back to Hooper of course, but they believe he's the man in charge. They were doing it for him and their own irrational hatred of Infected. I think the hope here was to do enough damage that we'd retaliate and start an actual war.” Her look had a bit of frost to it, more than a touch really, a whole blizzard of cold poured off her.
“Holy fuck.” Den said, his voice taking on its old character for a moment. “These assholes really are terrorists? Attacking a government facility on the say so of a senator? Who is this guy, freaking Palpatine?”
Proxy laughed but no one else got it. After a few strange looks the younger man explained.
“Star Wars reference. Palpatine was Darth Vader's boss, who controlled everything from behind the scenes. If I remember he started out as a senator too and ended up taking over and becoming emperor.” Yi shrugged and looked at Denis.
“But yeah, that's pretty much the picture so far. He may be run by someone else, so he may be Vader, not really sure yet. If he turns out to be either of our fathers, freaking off the guy.” Yi shrugged.
It actually explained a lot, at least to Denis.
Just then an explosion took place behind them and to the left, on the opposite side of the building that the bomb was on. Near the mainly empty parking lot. When he spun Denis saw something streaking toward them directly, coming from the police line just outside the fence. The dark showed the trail clearly, a line of smoke and light from the shouldered fired rocket. The police really were attacking. Denis froze for a second. Wonderfully stupid. Didn't they realize that about a hundred people with super-powers made a pretty poor target? It seemed insane. He had super-powers, and he wouldn't have attacked this group of people himself. Not even if he brought friends. Not even if Prime and Beatdown threw in with him.
Marcia ran toward the missile hard, taking it in the chest some two hundred feet away from where she started, which meant she'd managed to move a heck of a lot faster than Denis had thought her top speed was. It detonated, blowing her backwards about fifteen feet, her body digging a furrow in the dirt when she landed. Denis nearly sent raw pain into the police, but instead remembered the plan and just made them drop, unable to control their own limbs. The dark could have been a problem, but they all managed to keep themselves in the lights of their cars.
Handy.
A few were trying to move a bit and the bomb squad people were too far to the side for him to see, so they weren't affected at all.
Staring hard, Denis pointed to the right side, not really knowing if he was indicating the right spot or not at all.
“I don't have those pricks. The bomb crew. Send someone to control them and then get the weapons from these guys? Let me know when though, so I can move closer and just hit the people we want. Watch out for any I might be missing, behind the cars or in the dark.” It sounded a little flat, calm at least. It had to do with the focus needed to use his ability, rather than some icy calm or steel nerves. He was freaked, even if it didn't show much just then. Someone had seen fit to target him, or at least one of the people near him, for death. For the second time that day. He'd be dead if Marcia hadn't taken care of that rocket like she did. If that didn't freak them all out, then a lot more had changed in the last months than he thought.
Bridget and Rachel subdued the bomb squad by simply carrying them over, arms and legs waving in the air frantically, and tossing them into the area he had under control. That worked. Smart too, because it didn't really take anymore effort for him to keep them down than already used for the others. Then all he had to do was walk forward slowly and not hit the tiny girl as she collected all the weapons, making a big pile of them behind the fence, which she just hopped over as if it weren't an obstacle at all. A twelve foot high fence.
A few of the cops caught a tiny shoe to the ribs as she passed. Not that anyone should be too bothered by that, but it put her too close to the targets for too long. Her hands and feet had to already be going on her as it was. If it bothered her she didn't let it show. About five minutes later she'd stripped the police of all weapons and dumped them off in her protected stack.
Then she waved.
“Can you release them one at a time when I get near them?” The little voice was loud and sounded like it came from a child. A very petite one at that. One who could kick his ass before he could blink, Denis reminded himself. He raised his right hand.
“Got it! Start from the right edge?”
The next trick took some focus. As the girl approached a blue clad man, Denis had to isolate them from the whole group, which took concentration. Then the girl ran up and thumped them pretty hard in the head and handcuffed each one, confiscating all their keys. That part took about half an hour. The girl moved fast, but there had to be sixty of them out front.
When that got finished a sense of relief poured over him for about ten seconds. Like he'd been stretching painfully and just let it go. He allowed himself to revel in the feeling for a few moments, closing his eyes. It had been a bit of a strain, picking out specific people like that.
Then it hit him.
“What, in the fucking hell, are we supposed to do with sixty odd prisoner cops? Have them arrest themselves? Ship them off to a government facility? Fucking retards.” Taking a deep breath Denis looked down as everyone around him stared for a second.
“Sorry. I didn't mean to imply that mentally challenged persons are as stupid as these ass fucks. What are we supposed to do though? They're clearly terrorists, but also cops...”
A dark suited man with short nearly blond hair and mirror shades stepped up and shook his head. One of the agents, the regular kind like the guards.
“First we need to pull them inside the fence line here and make sure they don't have backup beyond the perimeter. No snipers or vehicles rigged with bombs for a suicide run like last time. Then we have to call in the DHS and let them in on what's up. After that we either have to get ready to fight off a military attack or they'll come and take the prisoners. Fifty-fifty chance they're free by morning either way, since this whole thing is Hooper inspired, if I have it right. Good luck proving that though.”
Great. So the actual plan was for a military invasion they'd have to fight off? Good to know.
The next hours moved both fast and slow, Proxy and Marcia set up combat positions and military weapons just in case, big machine guns and their own rocket launchers and a string of grenades each. The Director
spent the whole time on the phone, usually yelling. Not having anything else to do Denis made sure that everyone had water, and if they needed it, food. It was all cake, but if they wanted more than that he could get it from inside, no one said anything about it though.
When the military got there they landed a good ways off, trucks pulling in slowly over time and phone calls going to a bunch of people standing around the Director all at once before anyone even approached at all. When the front gate opened it was a man in a black wind breaker that said DHS on the back who walked through.
Alone. Which had to take guts, Denis decided. It was a tense situation and Infected people didn't always have a reputation for calm reserve, but here he was anyway, not even showing a weapon. He looked a bit old and soft outwardly, his skin and hair both a bit gray. Broad faced and a bit like a bulldog.
“Galley, Department of Homeland Security. Heard you had a little bit of a terrorist attack today? Thought you folks mind want a hand with that, since it's our area, we thought we'd come and pick up what was left.” The man shook hands as if it were natural, with everyone that approached, his eyes wary, face in a frown.
At first the man didn't want to believe that the local police would do anything like what they had, thankfully Gary the cameraman had gotten turned around in time to catch most of the action, with a close up of Marcia taking a rocket to the chest.
It had blown her shirt off and she stood with her arms crossed over her chest even now, trying to cover herself. Taking off his own white baker's smock thing, Denis handed it to her. He had a team three shirt on underneath and while it was chilly, his tits weren't hanging out. He'd live. The cage had been cold the whole time he was there.
The woman didn't turn around to put it on, in fact she stood almost on top of him, using his body as cover, while she put it on. He tried to look away politely. It took work, she had a nice rack.
