The Unbelievable Mr Brownstone Omnibus

by Michael Anderle

  Tyler shrugged. “Sounds fair to me. You got time right now? There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  Hanson nodded. “Yeah. Lead on.”

  A half-hour later, Tyler and Hanson stood in the Eyes’ dark and smoky room.

  Hanson frowned. “What the fuck is this shit?” He pointed at the Eyes. “I’ve heard of you, some freaky Oriceran information broker, and you like mindfuck people, but they get off on it. Better than dust.”

  “Yes,” the Eyes hissed. “Better than dust. Oh, so rapturous.”

  Hanson nodded, and a smile slowly formed on his face. “Wait. You mindfuck some of these people, and they’re not dead from what I saw walking in here.” He snapped. “You want to establish a new revenue stream. You need someone to offload the merchandise.” He patted his chest. “I’m your man. I can get them out of the city or the country. I’ve got clients all over, firmly established and guarded distribution routes, and partners. Now, some of my more exclusive clients have specific tastes, but I can unload anyone. It’ll just be you’ll earn more cash for some than the others.”

  Tyler managed not to gag, either at Hanson or concerning what was likely about to happen to him.

  “Perfect,” the Eyes wheezed.

  Hanson grinned and slapped Tyler on the arm. “Yeah, this is great. I’ll give you a little bonus for hooking me up—”

  The trafficker’s eyes rolled up in the back of his head, and he collapsed to the ground drooling. Light bands flowed up and down his body.

  Tyler looked down at Hanson. “What are you going to do with him?”

  “An experiment. I need to test the limits.” The Eyes let out a quiet laugh.

  “The limits of what?”

  “Of the human mind and its tolerance of pain.”

  Tyler winced and swallowed. “Okay, so I gave you what you needed. Now, don’t you owe me some information? And not generic fortune-teller shit.”

  He stuck his hands behind his back so the Eyes wouldn’t see him trembling.

  The Eyes disappeared entirely, and when he spoke next, his voice seemed to come from all around the room.

  “The Council. They aren’t what you think. No grand plans of conquest. No purity of ideology. This isn’t magic over technology, or Oriceran over Earth. No, no, no. Nothing like that at all. Far, far from it.”

  Tyler surveyed the room slowly, not liking having nothing to focus on other than the unconscious and drooling man at his feet. “If they aren’t interested in that sort of crap, then why gather an army? Why stockpile dangerous artifacts?”

  The Eyes chuckled. “You of all people should understand that there is another use for strength than conquering.”

  “I make a living using my brain, not my muscles. I’m not Brownstone.”

  “Yes…Brownstone.”

  Yellow eyes reappeared a few inches above Hanson’s body.

  Tyler couldn’t stop himself from jumping back.

  This guy is creepy as fuck. Did he escape from some Oriceran mental hospital?

  He took a few deep breaths. “What about Brownstone?”

  “He’s strong,” the Eyes replied. “Strong enough that he could have seized wealth by taking it. Instead, he let the followers of the Resurrected God warp him, turn him into a defender. He punishes the darkness to earn his money, praying to his Lord to forgive his sins, even though he could make his own law with his power.”

  Tyler snorted. “That’s your great insight? That Brownstone isn’t a complete asshole because he was raised by priests? I already knew that shit.”

  “I use him as an example.” The Eyes drifted into a corner. “The Council has great power. There are six. No. I hear there are four now left. All powerful in their own ways. Crazak, a most ambitious Light Elf. Yilin, an Eastern Frostling, mistress of ice magic. Ferrao, a gnome of exquisite and diabolical ability when it comes to dark artifacts, and He Who Hunts.”

  Tyler laughed. “’He Who Hunts?’ What kind of fucked up name is that?”

  “Even I don’t know what he is, and I don’t think they do either. A summoned being, perhaps a creation of dark magics long forgotten. He lives to kill and seeks chaos. It’s odd, really.” The Eyes chuckled. “The Council doesn’t seek chaos, but he does. Their goals aren’t compatible.”

  “What does the Council want, then?”

  “The same as anyone. The same as you.”

  Tyler blinked, and his eyes widened. “Just power and influence? That’s it? No supervillain plans to take over the Earth and become new royalty or some shit?”

  “Yes,” the Eyes hissed. “Nothing more. Nothing less. Ruling is difficult. Why do people rule? For power. For wealth. Skip the ruling and just go for the power and wealth. Find the opportunities and exploit them. That’s what the Council believes.”

  “I don’t get it. You’re saying they’re just a bunch of businessmen?” Tyler furrowed his brow.

  “No. Like you and me, they’re more interested in the more efficient collection of power and wealth. Criminals who seek to take advantage of a great opportunity, Earth, a place that had been all but stripped of its true magic for millennia. They moved slowly and subtly, gathered their time and resources, their contacts. A senator, a minister of parliament. If they’d waited long enough, maybe even a president or prime minister.” The Eyes wheezed. “But they pushed too hard and too fast. They chose the wrong city with the wrong defender. Decades of effort, now on the precipice. Perhaps wasted, but they aren’t done. Each individual Council member has tremendous magical ability, and they’ve collected artifacts. They intended to research them and copy them. To create servants who would be too powerful for most to challenge, while sitting in the shadows and pulling the strings. Control without rule.”

  Tyler blinked several times and stared at the darkened wall. All of this meant that if Brownstone hadn’t gotten involved, the Council might have gotten away with all their artifacts and no one would have even known to start looking into them. Hell, for that matter, Tyler had played his part.

  Did I help save the fucking world from some super-Oriceran mafia?

  A broad grin struck his face.

  “Too hard,” the Eyes whispered. “Too hard and too fast. Balance. Equilibrium. Let the light push the darkness back, and then let it return. Those without subtlety deserve no subtle treatment. I will reward you, Tyler, for services rendered past and present. I’ve heard things. I know you are striking at them, but you’re only striking at fingers. It’s time to cut off some limbs.”

  Tyler smacked a fist into his palm. “We’re tracking those bastards down, and we’re taking them out.”

  His phone buzzed with a text.

  “Look at it,” the Eyes insisted.

  Tyler looked down at the phone. Three sets of two numbers, each separated by a comma.

  “What are these?”

  “Enough to restore balance.” The Eyes disappeared. “Now leave me. I have to begin my experiments.” A quiet giggle followed.

  Tyler glanced down at the unconscious Hanson one last time before opening the door and stepping outside. He gave a nod to the two guards and headed down the hallway, doing his best to ignore all the blissed-out people in the building.

  He forwarded the text to the contact numbers he’d been given for Heather and Peyton.

  I got this from a contact. I have no fucking idea what it means. Maybe you can make heads or tails of it.

  The next afternoon, James threw a laminated picture on the table in the briefing room. Shay, Lieutenant Hall, Tyler, and Trey all leaned in to peer at it. It was a map of the United States, with three locations circled, one in Colorado, another in Northern California, and a third in West Texas.

  Trey chuckled. “Planning your next few vacations, big man?”

  James grunted. “If I go on vacation, I’ll probably end up having to kill some ancient monster that just woke up.”

  Tyler arched an eyebrow. “They figured it out? They know what those numbers meant.”

  James grunte
d. “Coordinates, once you spread the numbers out. Longitude and latitude. How did you get this shit?”

  The information broker shook his head. “Trust me, you don’t want to know. I don’t even want to remember.”

  Trey smirked, but James didn’t know what was going through his head.

  Shay pointed at the map. “So the Council members are there?”

  James shrugged. “Maybe. I thought about asking Johnston for help, but that might end up leaking to the Council. We need to be careful and gather as much information as we can so we don’t make the same mistakes as the government, and I think the best way to handle that is the old-fashioned way. No funny magic or satellites or shit.”

  Lieutenant Hall frowned. “Meaning what? What old-fashioned way?”

  He pointed at the map. “Meaning something you cops love. A stakeout. Dannec sent me a message this morning, he’s ready to deliver most of what I need. We can equip some teams and stake out the locations. Just for observation, but at least we know they won’t be defenseless. If we verify the Council members are there, then we send everyone there. All the locations are within an hour by supersonic flight.”

  She nodded. “I think I’m going to take a little time off to help you with this. It’s like you said—I’m a cop, and we’re good at stakeouts.”

  James nodded. “Fine, then. I’ll lead a team with a few guys. Trey will lead some guys. And you and Shay can be a team. We’ll watch these fuckers for a few days and see if we spot any roaches that need to be squashed.”

  He grunted and stared down at the map. With each base or safehouse that fell, the Council had fewer places to hide. The noose was tightening.

  You fuckers should have run all the way back to Oriceran if you didn’t want me coming after you.

  17

  James grunted as he looked through his binoculars at the mountain cabin. No activity. Sitting in a fucking truck for days was torture, especially since the men he had with him were rigid as statues half the time: Lachlan, Deshawn, and Max. The worst part was he was in a damned Chevy. The rental place had been out of Fords, but at least the thing was big enough that it wasn’t cramped for four grown men.

  I know I don’t exactly hang out with them all the time, but it’s not like I’m gonna fucking put them through a wall if they look at me the wrong way. Shit, not even a wall for hundreds of feet to put them through.

  He chuckled.

  “You see something, Mr. Brownstone?” asked Lachlan from the front passenger seat.

  “Same shit as before, just some cabins. No one’s up there, not that I can see.”

  “Maybe Tyler’s info was shit.” Lachlan frowned.

  Deshawn snored, his head resting against the back window and drooling. He’d taken most of the night shift along with Max. The other man snored on the other side, but he managed not to drool.

  James grunted. “Maybe. I wish the fucking Council would hurry and show up so we could kick their asses already. Fucking pussies.”

  Lachlan grinned. “Yeah.” He laughed. “It’s funny.”

  “What is?”

  “I mean you’re a class-six bounty hunter, the Scourge of Motherfucking Harriken, the Granite Ghost, but you’re just like us. You don’t want to sit around on your hands. You want to beat the asses of those dumbass motherfuckers.”

  James shrugged. “I don’t mind relaxing, but when it’s time to do a job, I like to get it over with. I became a bounty hunter because I’m tough, and it was a good way to make money while cleaning up trash. I don’t have to worry about a bunch of paperwork and evidence shit like cops do.”

  Lachlan laughed. “I hear that, big man.”

  Good. At least one of them is finally loosening up.

  The young man’s smile disappeared, and he looked down at his hands. “Shit.”

  James frowned. “What?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  Lachlan sighed. “The first time I ever seen you, you were in your truck. I wanted to jack your fine-ass wheels.”

  “Everyone with brains appreciates a classic Ford.” James chuckled. “Good thing you didn’t. That would have ended badly and painfully for you.”

  The younger bounty hunter snorted. “Yeah, I didn’t get that far. I told Trey I wanted to do that, and he laid into me about respect and showed me a video of you kicking ass.” He shook his head. “But then you got all those guys to quit the gang and go join up with you, and I thought they were pussies at first. So I was a dumbass again.” He shrugged. “Now I have a good job, and even the 5-0 respect me. The way I was going before, I would have been dead in a few years. Now I got some shit to look forward to, and it’s all because of you.”

  James shook his head. “I haven’t done jack. Royce was the one that whipped you guys into shape. Trey and the other guys were the ones who gave you the real second chance. I’m just a guy who is good at kicking ass, and needed some help to kick more.”

  Lachlan grinned. “Just saying, big man—you could have been one of those high-level guys you hunt. You could have busted up banks like King Pyro or killed like that crazy bitch at the farmer’s market. But you ain’t doing that, even though everyone knows you’re the baddest motherfucker in America.”

  When James activated Whispy Doom, the amulet constantly stressed killing and defeating his enemies. He didn’t need to be a xenopsychologist to understand that his home planet must be filled with violent, warlike assholes.

  Then again, I’m a violent asshole half the time.

  “Some priests gave a damn when I was young,” James explained. “They taught me about right and wrong. Taught me that no matter how powerful someone thinks they are, there’s always a more powerful being watching you and that it’s the duty of the strong to protect the weak.” He shrugged. “I’m not perfect, and I’ve fucked up a lot in my life, but the one thing I’ve realized this last year is that I’m a part of the world, not some fucking island, and I owe a little something to it. I’ll never be as good as the men who raised me, but if I can fight against the kind of people I might have been and make money on the side, well, why wouldn’t I do that?”

  Lachlan stared at him and nodded slowly. “Damn, big man. I ain’t ever knew you was so deep. That’s some Marcus Aurelius shit right there.”

  James grunted. “Deep as a puddle.”

  Lachlan grinned and shifted to look at the cabin, bringing up his own binoculars. “How long we gonna sit here and stare at this empty bullshit?”

  “Until I get bored.”

  “How long is that gonna take?”

  James chuckled. “No barbeque out here, so not long.”

  Shay tapped the side of her AR goggles. “Magnify 10x. Activate Thermal Mode One.”

  She moved her head slowly as she surveyed the sprawling mansion in the distance. A few small thermal signatures here and there, but all obviously animals. Nothing looked humanoid, or even non-humanoid and Oriceran.

  Maria peered through her decidedly-less-sexy binoculars. “Now I remember why I joined AET. So much of investigation is boring, and now I’m using my vacation time to sit around on a stakeout.” She snickered.

  Shay laughed. “When I’m working on tomb raids, I’m as excited by the research beforehand as I am by the actual raid. In another life, I might have ended up as a regular archaeologist.” She tapped her goggles to deactivate the enhanced mode and pushed them up her head.

  She pulled out her phone to cycle through some of the drone feeds.

  “Think they might spot them?” Maria asked. She lowered her binoculars.

  The tomb raider shrugged. “Maybe, but I’d rather not stare at them for a while. Peyton’s got a bunch of algos set up to send me a message if there’s unusual activity, so it’s not even like I have to do much. Heather’s got decent coverage at the other sites, although magical types have a way of hiding from machines, so it’s still good we’re here in person.”

  Maria whistled. “All this fancy tech. I meant to ask the other
day, why isn’t Brownstone using it, or his guys? I mean, I know his hacker has got her eyes in the sky, but why not the fancy AR goggles and shit like that?”

  Shay laughed. “Because James clings to the delusion that he can maintain a simple life despite being a class-six bounty hunter with a half-Drow adopted daughter and a tomb-raider girlfriend. He doesn’t like fancy tech, and by extension, his agency doesn’t like fancy tech, except for the occasional jammer.” She grinned. “I, however, believe in working smarter, not harder.”

  The cop sighed and leaned back in her seat. “If you went back in time and just picked what you wanted to do, what would it have been? I mean, I know life pushes us in directions, but say you knew everything you knew now. Would you be the regular archaeologist after all?”

  Shay furrowed her brow for a moment, then pulled the AR goggles off her head and set them on the car’s console. “Anything?”

  “Yeah? Anything.”

  “Yeah, I guess I would be a professor.” Shay shrugged. “I already give lectures, you know, on history and archaeology.”

  Maria blinked. “How did you swing that? You don’t strike me as the type who spent years in school earning her Ph.D.”

  “According to my official records, I did.” Shay chuckled. “I love history and archaeology. I have for a long time. Love that we were so wrong about it. We thought we knew what was up, but we knew shit. When I see some of these students…” She sighed. “It’s weird. They think they’re worldly, but they’re so innocent. Even Alison isn’t as innocent as some of these kids, but then again, she’s dealt with a lot of darkness.”

  “So it annoys you, then? That they’re clueless?”

  Shay shook her head. “No, because they still bring themselves to give a fuck about quaint shit like, ‘What is truth?’ and ‘What actually happened in the past?’ instead of just, ‘How can I make the most money?’”

  Maria nodded, bringing up her binoculars again. “I think about career crap a lot lately. I was even joking about it with Sergeant Weber before telling him I was taking some time off. I became a cop to help people, but half the time anymore I wonder. City Hall’s more interested in looking good than protecting people. It’s like they aren’t happy unless I’m reporting the same shit six different ways and writing memos telling people how to wipe their asses.”