by David Reiss
PlagueDog (member):
- basturds @elliot should go 2 jail! my
- aunt spent 4 months fiting them, lost
- her house + job.
Blond/Blue (senior member):
- No word on criminal charges? WTF? They
- forged hundreds of foreclosure statements.
v464b0nd (Original Poster):
- It will be a while before we hear of any
- charges, but there's enough publicity that
- the Attorney General can't just sweep this
- under the rug. There's another thread
- discussing the Elliot Property Holdings job,
- and the aftermath. Keep this thread on
- topic, please?
PlagueDog (member):
- should have sent fid instead of root, hax
- and colonel panic. tehy wud send chex
- faster if there was a bodycount.
(user has received a warning from the moderator - stay on topic, please)
Doctor_Fid (junior member):
- I assisted with gathering information
- gathering. Root, Hax and Colonel Panic did
- a fine job on the infiltration and on their
- video presentation. If they wish for me to
- join them in any future endeavors, they
- need only ask.
- To keep this on topic, how about Quest
- Automotive? Their factory in Pennsylvania
- has been causing significant ecological
- damage to the region. Cancer rates among
- children in Beaumont are seventeen times
- the national average.
- P.S. I took the same oath you did,
- PlagueDog. No body count.
Lucky7 (senior member):
- I think targeting Paragon Research would
- generate too much heat. They sell equipment
- to just about every superhero team in the
- country.
- Quest Automotive isn't a bad idea. Also,
- what about Hebert Natural Resources?
- They've been cashing federal checks for 'clean
- coal' research, pretty sure they're rigging
- the testing.
v01d_h34rt (junior member):
- McSweenie Burger, Inc! I think they put
- crack cocaine in their fries. So addictive!
White_Bishop (member):
- How about AH Biotech? They're consistently
- getting FDA approval in half the time as
- their competitors. If they r paying
- someone off, their safety research might be
- faked, too.
PlagueDog (member):
- thats scary. i used there ez-clot bandage
- after my dirtbiike crash. we shud do them.
Helios (senior member):
- I haven't heard anything negative about
- AH Biotech products. Hebert Natural Resources
- is a sure thing. Lots of safety violations in
- their mines, too.
White_Bishop (member):
- AHBT could be covering it up.
- The CEO of AH Biotech is creepy. Here is
- a video of him taking his pedo sex robot on
- play dates at a public pool.
PlagueDog (member):
- lol
Enigma_North (senior member):
- I hadn't seen that video. Do you know who
- manufactured it?
PlagueDog (member):
- y? u want pedo sex robot of ur own?
Enigma_North (senior member):
- Screw you. A quick public records search
- shows that he adopted the android and has
- requested a citizenship hearing. This could
- be a good court case for non-human rights.
- Even if he's a creep, he's rich. He can buy
- off a judge and do something good by
- accident.
PlagueDog (member):
- MY LUV PILLOW IS MY WAIFU! HOW
- SHE GET HEERING?
(user has received a second warning from the moderator - stay on topic, please)
Enigma_North (senior member):
- I suggest we table AH Biotech for now,
- and focus on Hebert Natural Resources. If
- we see any more strange stuff at AHBT, we
- can target them another time.
v464b0nd (Original Poster):
- Seconded. I've set up a separate topic.
◊◊◊
And that thread is why I ended up moderately drunk, angry and depressed, and hurtling through Boston's night sky wearing the rebuilt Mk 28 medium-combat powered armor.
CHAPTER TEN
The phone rang twice before the man began to stir. Miguel Espinoza groaned softly, whispered a soft apology to the woman who shared his bed (she voiced only a wordless complaint and rolled over) and reached for the nightstand. The caller was displayed as unlisted, but he answered anyway.
“What?” he asked bluntly, chilango accent more pronounced in the throaty weariness of his voice. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“Two forty-seven AM. This is Doctor Fid,” I replied. “I was wondering if we could talk?”
“...Not even a little funny, Bryce. Good night.” The unmasked superhero ended the call and closed his eyes, tiredly running his fingers through his hair. It was a warm evening; he'd slept nude and the bed bore only a sheet for warmth, but still sweat had dried to his tan skin. He scratched at his chest absently, rolled back onto the mattress and fumbled tiredly for the sheet.
Again, the phone rang. Even half-asleep, his reflexes were fast; Miguel lifted the phone to his ear before the first ring's completion.
“I'm really not in the mood for this,” the man hissed angrily.
“Look across the street,” I suggested. The playground bench on which I was sitting was shaded by maple trees, so I boosted my armor's crimson luminescence for visibility's sake and waited for him to roll out of bed.
“Madre de Dios,” he whispered, peeking through a gap in the blinds; when he spoke again, his voice shook. “Please, don't hurt my family.”
“...Why would you even SAY that?” I asked, glad for the vocoder that stripped the plaintive whine from my voice. “We've fought for years, and I've never—not even once!—threatened someone's family.”
“People change. And it's been a strange year for you.” He'd stepped away from the window; the brief moment of fear quickly faded, replaced by the thoughtful intensity that I had always associated with him.
“That, at least, is certainly true,” I agreed and dimmed the armor's glow. “I'm not here to fight. I'm just here to talk.”
The Red Ghost cradled the phone between his shoulder and ear, using one hand to gently shake his lover awake and gesturing for quiet by bringing a finger to his lips with the other hand. “Then talk, Doctor Fid.”
The woman stilled. Interesting reaction to hearing a supervillain’s name spoken aloud. I tasked one of the microdrones that was infiltrating Miguel Espinoza's house to perform more detailed scans; She was of average height, late twenties, dusky skinned and dark shoulder-length hair, attractive features and a very athletic physique. Ah. 98% certainty body-type and feature match to the Ghost's team-mate, Regrowth.
I activated a subroutine for my armor's on-board sensors to monitor the local flora, and to raise alerts in the event of unexpected movement. Just in case.
“If I'd wanted to talk over the phone, I wouldn't have flown to Medford.”
“And what did you want to talk about?” Inside, Miguel was using sign language to explain the situation to Regrowth. Her response (also using sign) would have peeled paint from the walls were it spoken aloud. My personal opinion of Regrowth (Elaine Goldman, facial recognition now confirmed) was rapidly improving.
“I've had a strange year.” After a brief pause, I grit my teeth and added, �
��...Please.”
“What, did you expect for me to simply put on my slippers and come chat with a notorious supervillain in plain view of my neighbors?” The judgmental scorn in his voice was partially negated by the fact that he was, in truth, putting on his slippers as he spoke.
“This park has a secluded trail that leads to the river. I thought we'd walk.”
“...You are serious about this?” His brows furrowed, as though the surreality of the situation had faded and he was reviewing our conversation more rationally. “Why would you come to me?”
“I don't have anyone,” I admitted. And swallowed another mouthful of scotch from the storage-bladder in my armor. “You are...respected.”
He cursed under his breath, then took a deep breath. “Give me your word, that you will harm no one.”
“I swear, on my memory of Starnyx, that I intend no harm to you or yours.”
“Ok. Ok.” He signed something to Regrowth, but by chance he had turned such that my microdrones and visual sensors did not have a clear view of his hands. Whatever he'd said, she frowned and nodded reluctant agreement. He looked down at himself, clad only in slippers, and sighed. “Give me time to change into something more appropriate. I'll meet you at the treeline along the south edge of the park.”
I ended the call and silently drifted south.
(“You are insane.” Elaine pursed her lips irritably.)
(“Possibly,” Miguel replied easily. Rather than dressing in civilian garb, he'd taken a spare costume from its hiding place behind a false wall in his closet and swiftly donned the first layer of deep-red under-armor. “But it's also an opportunity. Also, I'd rather take a risk and talk with him, instead of letting him fly off and then sit around wonder what he's doing instead of talking.”)
(“We should call in the full team.”)
(“And we would do what, then?” He pulled on his costume's second-layer of padding. “Fight Doctor Fid in the park where my nephews play? Elaine, he obviously knows where I live...”)
(“That's reason to be more careful! Not less!” Despite her disagreement, her movements were calm and professional as she assisted him in quickly placing and attaching the Red Ghost's body-armor plates.)
(“I will be careful, and you will watch over us with a gauss cannon.” He pulled on his cowl, chuckled and hugged her close, kissing her forehead affectionately. “If there is a fight, it will be a mess...but it will be in a wooded area where your powers are strong. We can make a safe escape.”)
(“Don't trust him,” she advised, handing him the hooded cloak that completed his costume. “Don't forget what he is.”)
(“I won’t. Stay safe.” Miguel got the last word by transforming his body into the red mist that was his namesake, then flowing through a slightly-open window.)
The crimson cloud, near invisible under dark moonlight, coalesced into a hero at the edge of the clearing. I'd waited in shadow, parsing through footage and sensor readings relayed from my microdrones.
“You have a beautiful home,” I began without turning to face the man who I'd oft considered my nemesis. “The rock-garden and bench area are lovely.”
“Thank you,” he replied evenly. “May I ask how you knew to find me here?”
“I've had the information for years. The knowledge has never seemed relevant in the past,” I shrugged.
He stared at me for a while, absorbing the statement and turning over its possible implications in his head. “And what changed?”
“Life,” I answered, thinking about Whisper. And then, thinking of my friend, I added, “And death, of course.”
“I'd heard.” He started walking along the wooded path, towards the river. “I was genuinely sorry to hear about Starnyx's death. Despite our differences, he seemed a good man.”
“He was.” I moved alongside the Red Ghost; the Mk 28 armor stood head and shoulders over him, and my longer stride required a slower gait lest I leave him behind. I barked in short laughter. “He would have hated this. Nyx never quite forgave you for the manner in which you orchestrated Beazd's capture.”
Beazd disliked the fact that Starnyx spoke to me. Starnyx would have been skeptical of my decision to talk to the hero before me. Regrowth certainly disapproved of the Red Ghost agreeing to converse. I was the only commonality in these scenarios. What, I wondered, would Apotheosis have thought of my guardianship of Whisper? Would he have been added to the list of concerned loved-ones, who suspected that any association with the notorious Doctor Fid could only end in tears?
I had to believe that Apotheosis would have wanted for Whisper to be happy and free. I dismissed my maudlin worries; the Red Ghost was speaking:
“Given how that ended, there are days I feel that I should not be forgiven either,” he exhaled deeply. “I visited Beazd several times in prison. The world was diminished by his passing.”
(Once she thought herself clear of my view, a now-costumed Regrowth sneaked from Miguel Espinoza's backyard. A heavy-looking rifle was slung over one shoulder, but she carried it easily as she sprinted towards the tree line. Unnoticed, my microdrones followed overhead.)
“I've heard you speak out against Sphinx and Peregrine.” I triggered another ounce of scotch's delivery and it burned as I swallowed. “Starnyx would have appreciated that. I appreciated that.”
(Note to self: Next time I choose to replace any of my internal organs, I should add a liver with programmable functionality; the current revision was too efficient for some purposes. I was drinking far more alcohol than should have been necessary to maintain a pleasant buzz.)
“It was only right. I only wish that the FTW had known about Beazd's murder earlier. Sphinx and Peregrine would not have escaped with a wrist-slap if their crimes had been revealed by an eff-tee-dub exclusive!” His sad smile turned vicious.
“Starnyx knew, within a day.” An alert; the leaves among some of the nearby trees were rustling at a speed that did not conform to the night's breeze. Regrowth was watching us, but not interfering. “He had a broadcast planned...but another expose had a higher priority.”
“I will admit to being an occasional slave to curiosity.” He made a subtle gesture with his hand, likely some sort of secret message to Regrowth. Telling her that he was in no immediate danger, I hoped. “What could have a higher priority?”
“As near as I have been able to determine, it was a scandal involving the Legion refugees and the New York Shield.” I stared at the night sky through the canopy of leaves. “I haven't been able to find details. All relevant information was lost in the fire.”
“Ah,” he grimaced. “Today's Shield is not the Shield that I remember.”
I bit back a vitriolic reply. It would have been counterproductive to accuse him of a selective memory, of willful blindness to the faults of his super-powered brethren. I could tell him of his team-mate Marble's infidelities, or of Epsilon's link to the Ancient, or the allegations that Defender had stolen from evidence lock-up in order to pay his bills when he'd been having financial difficulties. But I was carrying enough disillusionment upon my own armored shoulders; I didn't want to inflict the same upon anyone else, tonight.
“Today's Shield does seem to have more than its fair share of problems, yes,” I said, instead.
He looked up at my helm, his expression intense; his powers, I was reminded, had never been what had made him a threat. His red mist form was used to great effect in combat, but it was the Red Ghost's mind...his quick ability to analyze action and intent...that had established him as the rival I respected. Why had he made that comment about the New York superhero team's past? What had he gleaned from my response? I was wearing armor that could (even without the integrated force-fields) shrug off the impact from .50 caliber machine gun fire...and yet, I felt naked.
“You didn't wake me up at two forty-seven in the morning to speak to me of the New York Shield,” the Red Ghost stated evenly.
“True.” The trail had brought us to the bank of the Mystic River. It was quieter he
re, any noises from traffic dulled by distance and absorbed by the trees and bushes. I could see stars, even through a haze of moisture from the Atlantic and the nearby city's light. The view wasn't as clear as I recalled from that first night in the Appalachian Mountains that inspired my armor's starfield motif, but the expanse was still beautiful. “I have regrets regarding several of my life choices.”
“Given your history,” he made a sound as though struggling to bite back a laugh, “I would hope that to be a long list.”
I sat down carefully in a park bench that faced the river; the Mk 28 weighed several hundred pounds, but the seat was (fortunately) constructed of concrete and four-by-six studs and could withstand the armor’s mass. Was the Red Ghost testing me, I wondered? A gentle poke at my pride, to see if I succumbed to anger in response? I considered how to respond and decided upon simple honesty: “It is.”
(A quarter mile to the west, Regrowth lay prone, aiming the gauss cannon directly at me. There was far too much brush and shrubbery barring her line of sight for the scope to be much use; she must have been able to target using her power of perception through plants under her control. There was nothing in her official records that indicated that level of fine control! Interesting.)
“Is that what this is, then?” the Ghost asked, sitting down next to me. “You are looking to unburden your conscience?”
“The weight of my sins could not so easily be set aside.” I noted that the Ghost had chosen a seating position such that he was not in Regrowth's line of fire. That implied either more detailed communication than I'd been able to detect, or else significant pre-planning. Either achievement was remarkable. “I just wanted to speak the words aloud to someone who might understand.”
“I've never understood you, Doctor Fid.”
