by P. S. Power
“I fear that I haven’t made any introductions. Forgive me the oversight. I’m Baron Tomas Harrison. So pleased to meet you all.” He seemed to mean it, with only a little bit of stress to the voice.
Given that they’d pounded on his door in the middle of the night, or at least rang the buzzer in the evening, that was rather understandable.
Willum gestured at the others, one at a time.
“This gentleman is Douglas Tibs. Second in command of the Infected Protection Bureau. Bridget Chambers is the third in command. Both are very powerful beings. Intelligent and kind as well. I’m Willum Baker. A line walker.”
The man nodded then.
“Baker… I think I heard you and Gwen on the TS the other day? That was fascinating. I didn’t think that I’d meet anyone other than my wife, when it came to people from other worlds like this.” He stopped then and looked strained. “My manners! Do you need refreshments, or to use the facilities for anything? You’ve been traveling.”
Willum was fine, but didn't know about the others.
Douglas shook his head, however.
“We’re good, for the time being. Thanks. It’s bad enough we’re coming to ask for help like this. We’re… The problem is that we want to get the hostages back alive, if possible. Six people from France, Infected, have taken them. We can go in and fight, that isn’t the issue. They’re all in one room, so if we try it, a lot of innocent people will probably die. Regular people.”
The man seemed confused, the feeling of that pouring off of him. Willum could see that, since many of the terms were different than the ones he was used to.
“Um… Basically, incredibly powerful magic is being used by some deranged individuals? It’s different than that, but I think that will give you the right feeling of things here.”
The man seemed to get the idea, but didn't speak, the device chiming, distracting him.
Then things started to move quickly. Very much so.
Chapter ten
The S.R.R. agents had many things in common with each other. The ones they got, for instance, were all men. If you could count a ten-year-old boy as a man. Apparently, they were doing that for the time being. Steven Lisle wasn’t anyone that Will knew, from any reality. At least so far. The other man they got was fifteen, and called Carlton. No last name had been given, though the feeling from the people there wasn’t at all that the kid didn’t have one. It was simply that no one cared to talk about what that might be in an emergency.
That part was interesting, of course, since it was very clear to Willum that the second agent was his brother, Carl. They even looked the same, in almost every way. The boy didn’t seem to recognize him, however. Then he wouldn’t have. Willum wasn’t alive in that, or most other, realities.
The leader of the crew that came in was a man who was going to leave an impression on him, Willum didn’t doubt. Captain Morse was scarred and mutilated as far as his face went. From the way he moved there was hidden damage under his clothing as well. Regardless, the fellow was in uniform, being dressed in blue and red, just like the boys were. It left them seeming sharp and official.
Plus, and far more importantly, when strangers had come to beg help from him the man had shown up, within minutes. That part had been interesting, given that the boys had, from a distance, first gotten each other into place and then the older man. It had taken a few minutes, but only that.
Steven, the youngest, made a face.
“Sorry about that. We should have been faster… What’s the situation?”
Will didn’t even pretend to care about the age of anyone there at all. There was a mission to get to, after all. Doug and Bridget were both looking on, but Douglas was the one to step forward. Captain Morse was staring at the girl, a bit uneasily. It was enough that a fight could have been in the works, given the lingering glances and suspicious looks being given.
It wasn’t that kind of thing at all. The man wasn’t even concerned with trying to get the young lady, and he did think of her that way, into bed. He was simply afraid that his face would frighten her. That his face was so monstrous that she might cry, or cower in fear.
The second in command of the IPB cleared his throat, very gently.
“We have something going on back home. That’s in a different reality. We need people extracted from a potentially deadly hostage situation. There are two hundred of them. The people holding them probably aren’t exactly predictable or sane. They have a lot of power… Um…”
Willum, who had at least been in the world they were in before, had an answer for that one. A thing that could be understood, he hoped.
“Powerful magical abilities, more or less. Very specific, but incredibly hard to beat.”
The man in charge of the S.R.R, winced, which accentuated the fact that part of his nose simply wasn’t there any longer. Will tried to ignore that part, and worked on understanding what was going on inside of him instead. A lot of it was about how he looked, rather than the mission they were going on.
“We had problems, in the last war. We’d… go to get prisoners of war back, but after a bit the Europans would start killing them, instead of letting us have them. Two hundred is a lot. The men here can do… Two a minute. Maybe. More likely one a minute, which would give the killers far too much time to take the loses out on your friends.”
Looking at the man, and then the others, Willum simply smiled.
“I thought that might be the case. So… Are you willing to take the attackers, instead? I tried to get pictures of them, if that will work. It will be more dangerous for your people, though. I’m not kidding when I said these people are powerful. We have some strong and tough people as well though, but…” He didn't want to lie. It was very possible that anyone being too close to where the bad men were coming in would die.
Even if they were guarded. Possibly even with a shield on.
Though that would help, so he nodded, as he moved toward the location he was holding open by force of will.
“I have some magical shields for you all to wear. They won’t stop everything, especially very powerful mental effects, but they can protect against a lot. Then our people will stop them. Um…” He shook his head a bit, not wanting to say the next words, really.
You didn't hold class five or above Infected people. Regardless of what their powers were. You might bribe them into good behavior, or possibly imply that they had a duty to their people, which was basically what the IPB was, over all, but you didn’t enslave them. Not for long.
Simply being a class five meant that small armies would be expected to die if they fought a person. At least in theory.
While he thought, Bridget moved forward, twitching a bit. It wasn’t nerves as much as the fact that she was showing normal body motions, simply at a rate about ten times faster than was normal. It made her seem agitated most of the time. It wasn’t reflected by her thoughts. In her interior landscape she was nearly motionless. Even compared to Douglas, who was pretty calm about the whole thing. Willum was as well, of course. Not that it was enough to deeply hide his inner concepts from everyone.
The tiny girl brushed at her short and bristly red hair, then tugged at the front of her tan outfit. Her voice was high pitched, but managed to sound serious at the same time.
“We’ll probably have to kill them. The attackers. I… We all understand if you don’t, or can’t help us, given that. The power levels involved are so great that we really can’t risk doing anything else.”
Then, almost deliberately, she moved back.
The older man in the other group, the scared and mutilated one, looked at the boys. The youngest of them took a deep breath and kept moving.
“We’ll help. We can’t leave two hundred to die, due to personal fear. Even if we have to die ourselves in doing this.” The boy actually did seem a bit worried, inside. It didn’t show too much externally, however. Really, he wasn’t a lot worse off than the rest of them were that way, Will noticed.
Finall
y, as they all stopped, the hole in the air looking like nothing to anyone there, but opening up for Will anyway, as he forced it apart, Steven nodded once. It was a very firm seeming thing.
Confident.
“After all, we must live up to our pledge and motto.”
The others all nodded, but let Will take them by the arm, first doing Bridget and Doug, then, one by one, the others, with Captain Morse going last. As they walked out of the official, and somewhat cute, red hut on the far side, the man cleared his throat. He had a very normal seeming voice, for all the damage done to the rest of him.
“We will not leave you.”
He said the words, which were echoed by the kids. It took Will about half a second to work out that the phrase was their motto. Also their pledge. Their oath, after a fashion, no doubt. Instead of being a promise to the king, or ruler of their land, it was directed at those in need. Anyone that was lost or hunted.
These men then, were preparing to die, or suffer in untold ways, to make certain they got those in need back from danger.
Bridget got it as well, and nodded gently, waving everyone to follow her. She moved quickly, which made sense. There were people to save, if they could. Ones in real danger at that very moment.
“And we will stand between you and death. Come on!”
They all hurried, and Willum got them what they needed, by a bit of clever calling out and digging in the bag that was on his right hand side. It seemed like woven grass, and was tan at the moment, but it didn't really fit his IPB outfit at all. No one else had anything like that. The interesting part was that no one had called him on that at all so far that day. Probably due to the fact that there were real things going on and noticing that kind of detail wasn’t important at all.
Except that, for once it was. He had shields, as well as healing amulets in there. Also several vehicles and a few weapons that might actually work pretty well against what was coming at them.
As Marcia Turner came over, her face not nearly as suspicious as he was used to seeing it, she glanced at everyone.
“You brought help?”
Douglas smiled then. It was a bit grim, but wasn’t upset or angry seeming. Not really happy either.
“People from the S.R.R. These men can move people from distant places to themselves. About one a minute. Just the younger two, I think?” He glanced at the older man, and felt a bit bad about that, in case he was wrong, but the Captain gave a nod.
“Correct. I’m learning the skills, but don’t have things at that level yet. Don’t let their ages fool you though. Both of these men are war veterans, who have done this before.”
Bridget blew out a breath of air, then moved in and patted the scarred up man on the arm. He stiffened a bit, but only due to the fact that he didn't want anyone to think he was taking advantage of the young boy. That part was interesting. He was, Willum could tell, entirely certain that Bridget was a little boy now, who was probably about the same age as Steven.
It was the clothing that did it, of course. That and the short hair. Along with the fact that she hadn’t screamed or acted like she was going to cry when she saw him. Will could understand it, of course. She didn't hold the sense of being male around her, but most people had to judge things based on the surface of reality, not the deeper levels.
Still, the man was worried that they’d think he was going to abuse the boy anyway. Not because he enjoyed such things, but due to the things that had happened to him in the war. He’d been abused himself, which to his own people would mean they might fear he’d do that to others. If they knew about it. So he generally hid that part of things tightly. Hoping no one guessed his darkest secret.
The tiny girl didn’t get any of that though, and her words were addressed to everyone, but mainly Marcia.
“They’re a bit slow, for two hundred people, so we’re going to bring in the bad guys instead, if we can get pics or whatever on them. Then we’ll take them down.”
That was Will’s cue to move then, he decided.
“Right. I have shields for you all, and healing devices. Also cutters. If you touch the sigil and want them to turn on, they will. The shields will do it if you feel frightened or too worried at any point. The cutters are designed to work through the shielding, going one way, but be careful. Anywhere the blue guidelights go, will be separated in two parts. Um…” He glanced at the Captain then.
It was hard, but needed to be spoken of, before the fight came.
“Healing all of that will probably hurt. A lot. It’s safe, but we can’t really afford to have you screaming in pain if things are going on… So… I don’t want to be rude, but you might want to heal that up first?”
Willum felt like a heel, saying that to the man, but instead of striking him, or calling him to a duel, there was a laugh.
“Oh? I just tap this then and I’ll be healed of all the wounds I hold?”
Willum shook his head.
“Only those of the body. We can’t replace missing limbs with this, but everything else should be repaired. The others… The things inside… That kind of thing we have to bear. We’re… All of us here, I think, understand that kind of thing. If you ever need us, we’re here for you. But, yes, the amulet will heal most of what’s wrong for you. Even regrow teeth.”
He didn't know the extent of things that way for the other man, or how much pain would be caused, but the things really did work pretty well.
There was almost no hesitation, though the man, wisely it seemed, steeled his nerve first and bit down, so that he didn’t call out over the next minutes as his flesh warped and bent visibly. The scars faded and parts of his face altered. The end of his nose, a thing that had been raw looking, rough and exposed, flowed back into being. The skin, which had been a silvery pink, became flesh colored. Lighter than most of the people back home, but darker than Will was by a few shades.
As the others went to get things from outside, and to set up combat lines in the main open area, as far away as they could get from the buildings there, the man spat a few times.
With a shocked expression on his face.
“My false teeth are coming out.” He sounded a bit upset about that, though Willum just nodded.
“The re-growing ones will do that. Don’t worry.” Then, as he stood there, not screaming, the man finally yelped a bit. His eyes, which were clear and blue, watered enough for things to leak down his face. It was just from the pain though, not his emotions. At least Willum was willing to back that up, if anyone asked about it.
Cindy, holding manila folders with pictures in them, passed things to the kids. Her voice was strong though, and certain, as she spoke.
“It will heal everything, Captain. All of the physical stuff. Including the things you’re worrying about. Give it five more minutes and you’ll be whole again. We need to hurry with the rest of this, since our hostage takers are gearing up to toss some bodies out if their demands aren’t met. Since we can’t actually put France in charge of the rest of the world, which is all they’ll accept from us, we might need to hurry. The pictures are in order. The leader first, then the most dangerous to the least.”
Director Turner got the lines formed, and a rough plan worked out. That would, no doubt, change when things started to happen, but the basic idea was pretty solid sounding.
“Team three is up first. Cindy and Chris will hold back and let us know what’s going on mentally with them. Cindy, you have the people at the U.N. Christian, you’re on the people coming in. Mark will hold back, ready to go in if we have to, on the far end. Baker and I will do the actual take downs. Team Two is backup for that. We can’t let anyone get away. Level, Twitch and… Argos. You’re on that. Energy users, get ready to fry them if we start to fail. In that case…”
She glanced at the strangers, in their blue and red outfits. They were by far the most colorful people there at the moment, since no one had gotten into their special outfits for crime fighting. Not everyone there had those, but Bridget and a few
of the others did. Why that was Willum had never really been informed of. His guess was that it had to do with public relations, more than anything else.
The other boy, Carlton, took a slightly shuddering breath.
“In that case, we keep bringing people in for as long as we can. If a military force can’t handle this… Well, it’s our job to protect those others there. The best way to do that will be to bring the trouble to us, here.”
It wasn’t the best speech ever given, but Turner smiled at him.
“There we go. Everyone got that? If this goes sideways on us, we protect the boys here, then fight until we can’t any longer. As soon as you’re ready, Captain Morse?” She looked at the man, and they actually waited for his healing to be done, even if he looked ready to put the amulet down in order to do the work first.
As soon as he was finished, the thing was turned off, but placed in his pocket, along with the shield, the cutter, interestingly enough, was turned on, as he moved to stand in front of the boys. To defend them with his life. Bridget moved in alongside of him, which nearly had the man speaking out about that, until her right hand started to glow white. Then he simply nodded, waving the blue cutter beam a bit. It was about four foot long. Lethal to anyone there not wearing a shield, most likely. Unless they could heal from the damage fast enough. Bridget might, if it came to that, so it was fine for her to be right there with him.
The others all looked impressive enough, though they were in their own locations. Turner waved for Willum to follow her, heading to stand just off of where the attackers were going to be coming in. At least if all went to plan that way.
It was nerve wracking, but once the lady in charge waved her pale white hand, and gave the word, it did not take long for things to start.
Marcia Turner was the person in charge of the IPB, but had come up through the ranks, and was nearly as powerful as anyone there. She was quick as well, so stepped in, moving about five feet, and slammed the side of her hand into the neck of the woman who showed up. That required reaching upward, since the lady, who wore a striped piece of cloth wrapped around her huge body, was taller than the Director by about two feet. That didn't stop something in her neck from cracking on contact, as the vastly strong woman hit the other, her hand connecting as if it were made of living stone.
