by Jay Phillips
He downed another drink. The red tinted reflection from the armor’s fiery skin danced across the room. “I was pretty sure I had that particular model bio locked so that it would only allow me to command it, but I guess you always were quite adept at getting around such minor inconveniences.”
“I told Psychosis all those years ago that those damn mind locks of his were never going to hold.” Barren looked back at the seven foot tall armored suit standing behind him. “And you know what? Sometimes it really fucking sucks to be right.”
The machine lowered its head down towards him, the soulless eyes, glowing red, staring at him to the point they appeared to be looking all the way through him. He held up the bottle towards the machine. “Drink?”
The armor said nothing in return.
“I take it that’s a no.” Barren turned back towards the fire and swallowed another drink. “I guess we are kind of past the point of two old friends sharing a drink together. Can’t blame you for wanting to kill me. Hell, I can’t blame any of the thousands of people that I’ve fucked over in this lifetime for wanting to kill me, but you, after the shit we did to you, I completely understand why you would want all of our heads on goddamn platters.”
He downed another drink from the bottle. “Hell, it doesn’t matter. All of the would ofs, should ofs, and could ofs in the whole fucking world wouldn’t make a goddamn bit of difference. Not now, not anymore.” Barren turned the bottle up one last time, finishing off the last of the brown liquid. He looked into the bottle, verifying for himself that it was empty. He turned back toward the machine and stared up into the metal face. “I guess there’s no time for another round?”
Without a sound, the armor shook its head from side-to-side.
“Well hell,” Barren replied, as he turned back towards the still roaring fire. “I guess we should just get this shit over with.”
The machine took a step closer to the sofa and raised the right wrist towards the back of Barren’s head. A gun barrel ejected from the wrist and settled into place with a loud click.
Barren turned back towards the armor, staring up at the machine he had created what seemed like a lifetime ago, back when he was a man, back when he had been a hero. “One thing. There’s a file within the system. It’s labeled ‘Self-Defense Protocols.’ It is a complete listing of strengths and weaknesses for every member of The Seven, just in case, you know, just in case they ever turned on me, and I had to defend myself. A cautionary tactic, but also, sadly, a necessary one.”
Barren turned back towards the fire. “You’ll need that. I don’t have to tell you the power they possess. I’m nothing, just a drunk with a knack for building things and a fancy mechanical suit, but the rest of them, they are beyond deadly. And they will kill you without hesitation, without thinking twice. But you know that already, don’t you?”
The machine pushed the gun barrel hard against the back of Barren’s skull.
“If it helps,” Barren began to say, even as he continued to face the fire, “I really am sorry for everything we did to you.”
“It doesn’t,” the machine responded in the same computerized voice The Iron Knight had once spoken in.
The gun fired, pushing a single bullet through Barren’s head. The brains of the man who had once been The Iron Knight splattered onto the fireplace and the adjacent wall. The liquor bottle rolled out of his hand and landed on the floor, rolling to a stop next to several bloody pieces of skull, and the empty body collapsed against the couch, crimson blood soaking the expensive material.
The armor walked out a door and stood on a balcony, the just setting sun reflecting from the suit’s metallic skin. A compartment on the left wrist opened, revealing a series of buttons and gadgets. After pushing several of the buttons and marking a set of coordinates, the machine disappeared, leaving the body of Anthony Barren behind without a second glance.
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Journal Entry
[Found on page 53]
Note: The following is a news story published approximately twenty years ago in an old daily paper called The US Now.
A man in a red and black armored suit has been seen destroying terrorist cells throughout the Middle East. The man, calling himself The Iron Knight, is using a machine capable of firing machine gun rounds from its wrists and rockets from launchers on its back. According to several reports, the man is trying to follow on the heels of more recent successful superheroes such as Agent America in Metro City.
But while The Agent has kept his crime-fighting duties isolated to the local level, this Iron Knight is taking the fight to all of America’s enemies. So far, the man in the armor has targeted several alleged terrorist outposts and training centers in Afghanistan, Iran, and Iraq. But the Iron Knight has done more than just fight America’s enemies. When a French shipping freighter found itself under siege from Somali pirates, the Iron Knight, after picking up the ship’s distress signal, intervened and saved the lives of twenty crewmen.
Atlantic City, New Jersey resident and MIT graduate Anthony Barren takes claim for the invention of the armor itself, but he refused to confirm or deny if he was the man beneath the red and black helmet. Barren claims to have obtained from the M-Virus the ability to create any invention he can think of or imagine. Before this revelation, Barren was known more for his good looks and party life style, having built himself into a minor celebrity, famous for dating billionaire debutantes, famous actresses, and super models.
While the claims of Barren’s powers haven’t been tested or proven, his advanced scientific skills and high intelligence are both well documented from his time at MIT. Currently though, the technology inherent within the Iron Knight armor seems far more advanced than anything currently available, which may add validity to Barren’s story of being the super powered individual who created the suit. But now, without knowing who is in the suit or who created it, we do know we have a hero fighting for America throughout the world whose name is The Iron Knight. And he is on our side.
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Super Powered Containment Unit #3
Also known as “The Hole”
Located one hour from Metro City
Main holding cell placed approximately 1000 ft below ground
“Light up containment unit 5,” he heard the voice yell. It was one of the usual voices, a guard probably, too deep and scruffy to be one of the scientists or doctors. “Light up 616.”
616. That was him, or at least what they called him. He had a name, but it was gone from his memory, at least for the moment. Everything always seemed foggy, a fog mixed with flashes of the voices around him.
“This is him,” another voice said. This one did belong to one of the doctors, a female doctor, pretty from what he could remember, short brown hair. She had been polite to him, almost apologetic. He always liked hearing her voice.
“Can he hear us?” Another voice asked. This one he didn’t recognize. A male voice, whiny, weak, lawyerish, he automatically didn’t like it.
“Theoretically, no,” the doctor answered. “But 616’s advanced senses make it nearly impossible to say with any kind of certainty.”
“But he is awake?” Yet another voice asked. Another female, this one was not as soft as the doctor’s, light, female, but harder, confident, battle tested.
“Yes, he is,” the doctor answered. “Anthony Barren designed the containment units to hold the prisoners and to keep them in states of semi-awareness. They are never fully awake but never fully asleep.”
“So it’s torture?” the other female voice asked.
“Why do you ask like you hope it’s true?”
“Because I do,” the other female answered. “Torture is what they deserve.”
“That, I guess, is a matter of opinion,” the doctor said in return, the slightest hint of annoyance in her voice. “But yes, you are correct. The prisoners here are in a constant state of torture, simultaneously never res
ted and never aware. Their existence is hell.”
“Good,” the other female said. “Take him out and bring him to us.”
He heard the sounds of buttons being pushed, electronic devices activating, and then a rush of air encompassed him. And then, there was nothing but darkness.
He opened his eyes for what felt like the first time ever. Lights. Everywhere lights. Voices he could no longer understand surrounded him. Pain flowed throughout his body. He was on his back, staring up at fluorescent lights across the ceiling. There was something in his throat, round, deep, a tube, preventing him from talking, from breathing. He clutched at it, tried to pull it out, but he couldn’t maintain a grip.
Two guards stood beside him, large men, massive men, holding his arms down. The doctor with the brown hair stood over him, staring down into his face.
“It’s okay,” she said softly with the same soft tone he had always appreciated. “This will only hurt for a moment.”
She reached down and ripped the tube out of his mouth.
He wanted to scream; the pain was excruciating, but all he could do was sit up and inhale the deepest breath of his life. And then there was nothing but darkness.
_______________________________________________
Prisoner 616 opened his eyes. The room was bright, and the smell of sanitizer filled his senses. He felt paper beneath him. It all reminded him of why he hated doctor offices.
“You awake?” The doctor with the brown hair and kind voice asked. She had apparently been standing beside him the whole time. He lifted his head and looked toward the door; the two guards stood beside it, both staring at him with malicious intent.
“Is he ready yet?” The larger of the two guards asked, a man that 616 could have sworn used to be the super-powered criminal called The Constrictor. Of course, he could have been wrong.
The doctor turned towards the guard. “He will be ready when I say he is ready. No sooner, no later.”
“He has people waiting,” the guard growled, his large nostrils flaring out as he spoke.
“And I could care less,” she said in return. “I have final say on prisoner health in this facility, and you will wait on me to have him ready for his visit. Understood?” The last word came out of her mouth with a slight growl of her own.
“Yes, ma’am,” the guard said with a nod.
She pointed toward the door. “Out. Both of you, stand guard on the outside until I’m finished with him.”
Without a single word of argument, the two large men turned around and walked through the door.
She turned back towards 616. “Now, any arguments out of you?”
“Nope,” he answered, finding out for the first time just how much speaking hurt his damaged throat. “How long was I out?”
“About twenty minutes,” she answered as she poked and prodded the various orifices on his face.
“No,” he said in return. “How long was I in the box?”
She stopped her exam and looked him in the eyes. “About a year.”
“Same government in charge, I assume?”
“Yes.” She went back to examining him.
“And that’s who’s here to see me?”
“How do you know that?”
He smiled as much as he could. “Who else would want to visit a man convicted of treason? The local Ladies Auxiliary?”
“They were disbanded five years ago,” she replied while examining his bare legs.
“Crying shame,” he said, just then realizing he was only dressed in a hospital gown. “I used to love their bake sales.”
“Oh well,” he said as he scooted himself to the edge of the table, slightly pushing her out of the way as he did. “Never let it be said that I kept a couple of government suits waiting. That would just be rude.”
“I’m not done with you.”
He lowered himself to the floor, not exactly sure that his legs would support his full weight. He wobbled for a moment, momentarily reaching out to the table to steady himself, only to find himself feeling solid on his feet after a few seconds. “Who knew standing could be such an adventure?” He said, looking back at the doctor with a grin.
“I said I am not done with your examination,” she said in return, her voice the same growl she had used on the guard.
“Sorry Doc,” he said as he slowly walked towards the door. “But I’ve never been one to put off the inevitable.” He opened the door and stepped out, leaving her shaking her head at him as he walked out of the room.
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Journal Entry
[Found on page 78]
Note: The following is a newspaper article published when the government assumed control of the media, forcing papers, television, and movies to conform to The Agent’s point of view and always paint the government in a positive light. Any newspaper that wouldn’t conform was forced underground and, most were eventually hunted down and put out of business by one of The Agent’s many security squads.
Supreme Chancellor Rogers announced today that all news media and entertainment projects, including film and television, would have to be approved in advance of production by the government’s new media council. To begin immediately, media companies and publishers will have to submit written proposals of their work before the project can lawfully begin.
“For too long, television and movies have bombarded our families with violence and sex,” Chancellor Rogers said today in his announcement. “We will no longer allow our children to be subjugated to these perverse images. All movies, television, books, even the nightly news, will have to pass through our rigorous screening process, and any product deemed irresponsible to our family values will be cancelled before any production can begin.”
Along with television and movies, all newspapers, books, and magazines must also pass through the screening process. Any company or individual person caught in the process of producing media without permission will be incarcerated and sent before their local tribunal, where they will be tried for treason and sentenced appropriately.
_______________________________________________
The two guards walked on each side of him down the long hallway. The shiny linoleum floor felt cold to his bare feet, and a slight draft wafted against his bare backside. After walking for several minutes, albeit slowly and still painfully, he could see a door a few hundred feet away; the door seemed to open into a small room, and he could see two people, a man and a woman sitting inside.
The larger of the two guards stopped and pointed into the room. “You, in there, now.”
“I’m really happy to see those years of phonic lessons haven’t been wasted on you, big guy,” 616 said with a smirk despite the pain he still felt in his raw throat.
“Fuck you,” the guard growled as he opened the door and pushed the prisoner into the room.
Inside, the two people sat across from him at a table. The first was a man, forty years old or so, too skinny, balding, wearing a suit which screamed, “I’m a lawyer; please take me seriously.” The other person was a woman 616 recognized instantly from the years she spent as a celebrity superhero, not to mention her stint as one of the founding members of The Seven. The white hair, the crystal blue eyes, the stunning good looks were all dead giveaways for the woman known throughout the world as The Ice Queen. 616 looked at her, momentarily enthralled by her looks. Her skin, at least what bit of it he could see, was as white as snow and flawless. Her hair, a sparkling white color that didn’t seem natural, was long and straight, with bangs just above her eyebrows which made the hair seem to frame her face.
“Sit down, Detective,” the lawyer said to the prisoner, calling 616 by a name he hadn’t heard in well over a year, though it felt much longer than that.
616 sat down, staring at the two people sitting across from him. “I’m here. Something you need?”
“Let’s see,” the lawyer began, shuffling a stack of papers in front of him. “Prisoner 616, real name unkno
wn, better known by the moniker, ‘The Detective.’ Caucasian, six feet one, approximately 190 pounds, age approximately thirty-five years old, history unknown, but it is rumored that he was an actual homicide detective when his powers developed; he never registered with the old government, left the country, moving to Canada shortly after the war began. Abilities consist of enhanced senses, including increased hearing, highly accurate olfactory abilities, and advanced levels of taste and touch.”
“You forgot that I have 20/20 eyesight and a pleasant body odor.” The Detective replied.
The lawyer ignored him. “The size of the adrenal gland is also five times the size of a normal, which increases blood flow throughout the body, causing the enhanced senses and a massive increase in strength and speed when under distress. After several examinations, all of the doctors at this facility agree that the increased blood flow will eventually burn out most of your major organs before the age of forty, give or take a year. Actually, Detective, by placing your body in a suspended state, we may have given you an extra year of life.”
“I guess I should say ‘thanks,’” The Detective said, his voice filled with sarcasm. “I mean I should, but I won’t. You understand I’m sure.”
The lawyer continued without a response. “After allegedly helping the Canadian Government resist a super powered rebellion several years before, he was arrested one year ago, assisting in an illegal smuggling operation.”
“I was ‘assisting’ in an operation to liberate human beings from a corrupt dictatorship.”
The Ice Queen pulled herself closer to the table. “What you did,” she said, her voice emitting a sense of cold which made the room feel suddenly air conditioned, “was commit treason by attempting to smuggle normals in an unlawful manner to Canada, a state this country does not recognize.”
“Keep heading north, you can’t miss it,” The Detective said as he looked at the former super heroine. “You might actually like it there, considering your little cold problem and all. Now did you guys come here to play, ‘Hey Detective, this is your fucked up life,’ or did you actually need something from me?”
