by P. S. Power
Or it wouldn't have been if the passenger in the front seat, the tall man, hadn't kept turning to look at them suspiciously every three seconds. That and the fact that the man kept fingering his right pocket making Den feel a bit uneasy. If Hobbs noticed the advocate didn't bother to show it. No, he merely sat quietly, face blank, relaxed and like he was at one with the world.
Grand.
At least the guy in the driver's seat seemed normal, what did they think this was anyway? Some kind of elaborate set up by government agents? Or maybe that Infected were infiltrating their ranks? That just didn't seem likely at all, did it? Even as he sat doing both things himself, the idea made him want to laugh at the men. Maybe “The Pure” just took themselves a might too seriously?
It seemed likely when they got to the place they were going, a large and slightly run down warehouse with silver aluminum sides and a well packed gravel and dirt parking area out front. The place didn't have a visible sign, but on the building, in three foot high faded white letters, it proclaimed itself as being an “Alcon” company holding. Nope, no way to trace that at all. Driving in circles for hours was more than enough to throw off the likes of him.
Hadn't these freaks ever heard of the internet? He could probably find the building from space on a home computer in about ten minutes and he kind of sucked with the machines. A pro would probably already know where they were. On the other hand, if you really believed that you were in the right, you wouldn't have to go way out of bounds to try and hide would you?
Who would these bigots fear anyway? The government? Half the feds would probably help them right now. Infected? Sure, but most of them wouldn't exactly bother digging out an organization like this. They would attack, or run away from them, but only if confronted. No these people were actually smart enough to realize that there must be about fifty people in the world that would actually care enough to even try to find them like this.
Most of those just happened to be people Denis knew, that was all. It gave him a slightly skewed perspective. As it was the only one that had really bothered with them was Proxy. Denis had gotten enough hints to realize who'd suggest that he and Hobbs take this assignment, even though sending him “undercover” was about the last thing any normal person would think of. Then Brian Yi was a lot of things, but a “regular Joe” wasn't one of them.
Just as Den started to wonder if the whole thing might be a set up, they were taken inside and given sandwiches and sodas to drink. He had an unusual one, a grape flavored thing, the likes of which he hadn't known even existed. It was actually good, once you got past the sickening too sweet portion of things. The sandwich was lunch meat on white bread and looked to have been bought at a convenience store. Still, providing food like that meant two things as far as he could tell.
These people were going out of their way to be polite and courteous, treating them as honored guests, which was a lot more genteel than he'd ever suspected the bigots would be. The other thing was just as clear to him. Even though not visible, there had to be someone else here already.
The food was fresh, still cool from at least a fridge or cold chest, but sitting on the table waiting for them. Not just cool, cold. The room wasn't hot or anything, true, but small beads of condensation still clung to the outside of the can.
The space inside was big and open, and they all just sat around a black vinyl covered folding table with metal legs, on matching chairs. The seat Denis got had holes in the covering, and the stuffing inside hung out, an off yellow colored stuff that looked like it should cause lung cancer, even if it was really safe. Denis and “John” both prayed first, but the other men just watched them do it, then ate until the food was done and then waited.
And waited.
The nervous, thin man kept fingering his pocket, ready to draw down on them the whole time, if they... That part baffled Den. If they did what? Forgot to pray at the right time? Started chanting about how the devil was their friend? Demanded equal rights for all Infected? After nearly an hour of relatively quiet sitting the heavier of the older men pointed to his partner with a gentle smile.
“Alright, I think we have time now.”
The other man reached into his pocket and pulled out...
A pack of playing cards.
That was very nearly the last thing that he did, because by the time he'd gotten the cards out, Hobbs had moved behind him and started delivering a blow to the back of the neck which Denis stopped with a gentle wave.
“Easy now John. I know you aren't a fan of gambling, but really, we can play a friendly game of cards every now and then to pass the time. The lord never spoke out against games for entertainment, he just doesn't want people throwing their money away.” The words just popped out as the men both looked at the red-haired fellow with shocked amazement.
The other man, the heavier one, spoke after a few seconds.
“Um, fast...” He suddenly looked suspicious.
Denis got that at least. It hadn't been super-human speed, but Hobbs had done it silently and without hesitation. Everyone hesitated. Even pros did. Even Marcia. But not Hobbs. Not Brian Yi either. It stood out.
He smiled and waved Hobbs back down.
“Sorry about that, John's seen a lot of action over the years. Somalia, South America... Other places he won't even tell me about. All I can tell you is don't get into a fist fight with him over... anything.” He spread his hands and grinned. “Then, we probably don't need a bunch of wimps on the front lines here, do we?”
The nervous man had moved from a little shaky to nearly panicked and the other man just raised his chin and looked... amused. With a single gesture the other man started dealing cards. That would have been fine, except that the only one there that knew how to play was the twitchy guy.
At least he didn't have to sit alone wondering how to fake playing. The man calmed a little as he explained the rules to the game, some kind of poker. Denis tried to pay attention, putting his focus on the game for a bit. Hobbs sucked at it, of course, all his attention going to the environment, looking for changes, attack or possibly things Denis couldn't even imagine.
After all, the job of an advocate was something that Denis barely understood at all. Who knew what things Hobbs had been trained to notice or not?
They didn't play for money, which was good, because the skinny tall guy who'd never given so much as a nickname would have walked away with their life savings after about two hours. Den really wanted to know what the hell this was all about, but didn't ask. After all, it could be a test, or a set up, maybe even just something to buy their people time for background checks.
That didn't seem right to him, but maybe the whole group was just a bit more on the ball than they seemed at first? That wouldn't be hard to do after all. The idea of people being that clever, acting inept like this on purpose, kind of scared him though. How smart did their leader have to be if that was the case? Genius at least. Not someone to mess around with.
It was sometimes nice to think of all bigots as being mentally sub-par, using that as an excuse as to why they hated the Infected. It made it easier to believe that not everyone in the world felt like they did. The truth was that the most dangerous anti-Infected people were all really smart. Dedicated and filled with fear or hate, not stupid or slow. Not even ignorant or uneducated. That illusion came because the leaders didn't go out to stand against Infected themselves. They sent cannon fodder instead. Were these men just pawns then? Or were they testing them somehow to see if they were?
The heavier gray haired man adjusted his button up shirt a little and finally spoke about something other than cards after looking at his watch.
“In about an hour Seraphim will be here. Yes it's a code name and no, you don't need to know the real one at all. For that matter if you pass this point you'll need your own false identities. They'll be assigned. The government has computers capable of tracking people based on fake IDs they pick for themselves. We select at random. Don't make any sudden moves when t
he time comes and don't be alarmed. I assure you that regardless of how the interview goes, no one will be harmed. Just answer honestly and everything will go well.” The man's voice had gone light and sing song, leading them to agree with him. To feel good about the idea.
The pull of it was subtle, a tiny effect really.
Clearly a power though. The man was Infected. Ah. That probably explained the tall suspiciously nervous man too. What the fuck? The Pure were run by Infected? Or... Maybe they had just infiltrated themselves and had made inroads to a higher level of the organization than would normally be likely without help? Denis nearly laughed, fought that down thanks to the meditations that Hobbs had been working with him on and managed to smile instead.
“Not a problem. We aren't very violent people anyway, gambling issues aside. I'm sure we can manage a job interview without difficulty.”
Then they all just waited again.
Sure, he had questions, a million and a half of them it felt like.
Asking underlings wouldn't get them answered however, so they waited. An hour of sitting later and no one had come in that he could see. Something changed in the room though, a subtle whisper of moving air, a feeling of being watched, something. It felt a little creepy at first, cold seeping into first the air around him and then his bones. Deep into his core, a crawling feeling that made him want to run, but only a little. Denis focused on the sensations trying to note were they came from.
Some deep warning from his most primitive mind? He felt like running even more for a moment and the others all looked more and more agitated, not Hobbs, but the two men with them. Over the course of another fifteen minutes a near panic had swallowed the room, dark things flitted in the corner of their eyes, the two with them wincing and starting every now and then. Denis nearly did too a few times, but he understood what had to be happening.
A full sense of fear and terror was being projected at them. He could do much the same himself, only without the ghosts. That part was kind of cool. Whoever was doing it could easily get seasonal work at a Halloween haunted house. The strength of it ramped up slowly, until after a while the guides both got up and started pacing in agitation, wringing their hands. Even the calmer, heavier set man seemed nervous and a bit scared.
Either the person doing this was subtle as all get out, or they just weren't that strong. A class three maybe? Probably not even that. This feeling was real and strong enough, but it wouldn't stop anyone from fighting. Hobbs watched the room with that total focus of his and Denis tried to do the same. He wondered if they had anymore of the grape soda. It wasn't perfect, but it had tasted pretty good once he'd gotten used to it. Chemical purple. The thought let him sit quietly, just waiting for whatever was coming next.
Terrified the older, heavier man stared at them for a while and finally started yelling. Not screaming, just calling out.
“Seraphim... It's not working... I don't know what these guys are, but they don't scare easy. Georgia said they seemed liked true believers to her, maybe that's it? Their faith protecting them? I don't-”
“Silence!” A female voice tore from the back, the sound angry and hard. “Don't give away more you fool! We haven't even gotten to the interview yet!”
Ah. So there would still be an interview? Interesting. Alright... He'd been wondering if it was just going to be an attack.
It was pretty clear that these people weren't exactly afraid of the Infected. It was also clear that they weren't pros after all. This entire approach was messed up. That didn't mean they weren't dangerous or committed. It just meant that what they were doing might be very different than the IPB had thought.
Three forms... no four, all small, walked toward them slowly, in lock step. If any of them were over five-four Denis would have been shocked. All women? Hard to tell really, they had on dark black ski masks that probably had been special ordered, since you couldn't even buy those anymore. Not since the laws had been passed in the late eighties making wearing a mask in public illegal. The police could shoot you on sight for hiding your face now. It had been to stop people from using Infected abilities in secret of course. The idea was to prevent criminals from using their powers without being identified. The net effect being that those few Infected that had been willing, as private citizens, to go out and use their powers to stop other Infected from hurting people all stopped doing it. Being known as Infected was just too dangerous. Better to let little kids and grannies die than be known. Denis didn't blame the people that had just gone into hiding either.
After all, look how people treated little, totally inoffensive, Tobin?
The two on the outside stood with hands outstretched, as if ready to use powers on them if they twitched wrong. The two in the middle just stood.
Staring.
First at him, then Hobbs. After a few seconds the terror in the room left. The relief felt wonderful, delicious. A calm rushed over him that could have been a rebound effect, but wasn't. It came from the one on the far left. Almost as if coming from her palm directly. This effect was far stronger than the terror of a few moments before.
What, the holy fuck? They had a team of Infected that approximated his own abilities? Sure, he wasn't God's gift to emotional projection, or sensory imaging either, but a whole group with similar abilities? That seemed... rare. Unlikely. Then two did not a group make. After a few moments a sense of conviction started to roll over him, before words had been spoken. A slightly familiar tone to it that Denis had felt before. A lot.
It was “the holy spirit” what he used to feel around the Prophet Darren as a child. Fuck! Denis got ready to fight himself, if Darren was behind this, the man wasn't leaving the room alive. Yeah, he wasn't a killer, but there was one person that he'd take out if he could. Then he realized that the sense of conviction, of desire to do what was asked, came from one of the women in the center, the one right in front of him. Ah. Well, not Prophet Darren then. Not unless he'd had his legs surgically shortened. Good. Maybe.
Sure, they still had a group of women trying to dance all over their emotions and trying to take control of their minds, but maybe it would work out. Obviously The Pure weren't what they seemed. They also weren't all that strong.
Denis could have taken them all to the ground with a thought. Hobbs could probably take them all out without much work at all too, including Denis if he wanted. The women didn't even have guns out yet.
As a joke, one totally inappropriate to the situation, Denis pulled the cross he wore from around his neck and held it out toward the small black figures.
“Back demons! The power of Christ compels you!” His tone didn't sound as wry and funny as he'd intended. It sounded like a pretty good imitation of what a real Christian would have wanted to sound like, if faced with so many “unclean”. No fear, just power in the words. Faith. Conviction that rang in the air like passing thunder.
Hobbs held up both hands and yelled, “Praised be the Almighty!”
His voice held that same level of power and faith. Heh.
Denis had to fight to keep his face still and not laugh at the whole scene.
Oddly, almost comically the women stopped hitting them with their powers and froze for a bit. They looked at both the men uneasily for a moment. Then the woman that had been using her powers hardest, the one compelling them to trust or whatever... snorted. It was soft but a little derisive sounding.
“We're not demons. God granted us powers to smite those evil ones that would harm his children unfairly. Please, there is no need for alarm, we don't mean harm to you or your friend. We merely wish to stop those that wish to harm us and our kind. Surely that's not so hard to understand?” The sense of compulsion came back, hard, but Denis was able to block it out.
It occurred to him, for the first time, that he could do the same thing... Make people want to trust what he said. Make people believe him.
It was just a bit creepy though.
“Um, sorry, not trying to be rude here sister, but what? I'm not certain
what you said made sense at all. Are you guys The Pure or not? And if so, why the fuck are you all Infected? Not that I have anything against taking out evil people, but I'm not exactly sure who that would be for people like you.”
The woman in front took a few steps forward and nodded, black head showing light blue eyes and pale skin under the mask. She didn't say anything for a long time, and a soft sense of compulsion to trust her and do what she asked came again before she said anything. Denis got it, this was how they turned bigots into people that would help them. Quick and dirty brainwashing. Like what Prophet Darren used to do. Only without the evil. So far.
“Stop that.” Denis said firmly, “just explain. We aren't unreasonable people. If you tell us the truth and it isn't completely insane, we may still be able to work together.”
The two men in the background had sat again, the feeling of calm coming from the masked lady on the left effecting them still, but not targeting Hobbs or him. It was a very interesting way to do things. Maybe that woman thought that he and Hobbs were immune to her abilities?
The woman spoke softly then, the mouthpiece, the compeller.
“Have you ever heard of Senator James Hooper? Or of the Reverend Darren Jones? These men are not what they seem. We don't have proof that Hooper is Infected, but Jones is. He's also a monster, a true one that has nothing to do with Infection. We can provide proof of this if you need to see it. The Pure is a front organization... to try and use the Christian community to get close to these men in order to take them down. We're all good Christians here, but Christ compelled us to protect children, didn't he? These men would harm the most innocent among us. Please at least let us give you our evidence before turning against us... We know this isn't why you came to us, but I promise you, this is the lord's work. Even if you hate the Infected blindly, helping us is truly aiding Christ.”
The woman didn't sound desperate. Just a bit pissed. Well, Denis could see that. Especially since he had an inkling of who these women would have to be. Well it explained the similar powers, didn't it? Not all powers ran cleanly in families, but it happened about half the time. The rest of the time they tended to be related, a flying man having kids that could glide or produce force from their hands or something. No one knew why that was.
