Daniel had sent many signals through neuropeptides but only vaguely remembered the term. Scientific terms were irrelevant when using his abilities, he needed only to know the process.
“It is believed that these hormones can also be used by the nervous system to communicate to the immune system,” the doctor continued.
Daniel opened his right eye and focused it on Horchoff. “Believed?”
Horchoff took a breath and responded, “Little is known as far as exactly how these two very different systems interact in the body, as they serve two very different purposes. One controls bodily functions while the other fights off bacteria and infection. But if you ask me, the nervous system must play a part in the function of the immune system. The way this would happen is by the nervous system communicating to the immune system using neuropeptides, while the immune system delivers messages to the nervous system using interleukins.”
Daniel again gazed at Horchoff with his right eye, communicating that he had no interest in the confusing terminology.
“Right,” Horchoff responded to the silent criticism. “I want you to first open your neural pathways and search for any signals being sent in the direction of the injured areas of your body.”
Daniel sent his conscious mind back through his neural pathways and searched for any unidentified signals being sent to the area of his face that had been welted by Titan’s fist. Finding a signal for the first time always required extra time to explore.
Eventually Daniel did find a signal being sent from his nervous system to the bruised areas of his face, only they felt different than the commands his brain normally sent to the rest of his body. These signals felt less like commands, and more like requests.
“I think I found something,” he told Horchoff.
“Good,” Horchoff replied. “What’s it like?”
“These are different,” Daniel replied, attempting to sync his conscious mind to the area of his brain sending the signal. “It’s like my brain is telling the immune system that its assistance is required in that area, but it the immune system seems to be working on its own.”
Horchoff pondered a moment.
“Interesting,” he finally spoke. “Many doctors would say that stands to reason, I suppose.”
Daniel opened his eyes and turned his head toward Horchoff, ready for the doctor to admit for the first time ever that he was wrong.
“I think,” Horchoff started his thought, staring off into the distance as he did so, “that you still may be able to take command however.”
“How?” Daniel asked skeptically.
Horchoff turned his hand over and stretched out the lower region of his face as if the answer were quite obvious. “You know how to send commands. Just tell your immune system to do it.”
“Do what, exactly?” Daniel asked, realizing that the Doctor hadn’t yet explained how his immune system worked.
“Right,” Horchoff corrected himself. “First though, find any signals being sent back to the nervous system from the immune system.”
Daniel again closed his eyes and searched around the same area of his nervous center. He soon found signals being sent back to his brain, much like those sent from his nerve endings when he experienced pain. These ones seemed to be giving reports of the immune system’s activity. Again, he tried to sync his conscious mind in order to interpret them, but without having any understanding of what was going on, it was impossible.
“I think I’ve found them, but none of it makes any sense.”
“Alright then let me explain what’s happening,” Horchoff suggested. “Your damaged cells are currently building up oxidants, which are warning other cells around them that they are damaged. This has activated your immune system which is now dissolving the damaged cells. As this happens, antioxidants will neutralize the stray oxidants to maintain a chemical balance and prevent further damage. Once the damage is cleaned up, your healthy cells will split and replace the damaged ones.”
“So what do you want me to do?” Daniel asked.
“I want you to command your cells to start regenerating as the damaged ones are being destroyed,” Horchoff answered.
“But I have nothing to base that command on,” Daniel explained. With every other command he had sent, he had first felt his nervous system send it naturally so that he knew how to identify it.
“Point,” Horchoff conceited.
That was when the doctor got an awful idea. He pulled a small pin out of his pocket and pricked Daniel on the arm.
“Ow!” Daniel shouted.
“Sorry,” Horchoff lied. “It shouldn’t take very long to heal. Lay down and follow along as the immune system sends signals to your nervous system. Remember the process I just explained to you. Cellular regeneration will be the last step.”
“Seriously?!” Daniel protested.
“Homework,” Horchoff countered. “You’ll thank me when it’s over.”
It took the entire day, but Daniel stayed on the table with his conscious mind synced to his nervous system, following along as his immune system worked to heal the pin prick on his arm. Remembering the process Horchoff had explained to him, he believed he knew how to interpret each signal and in-turn send the coinciding command.
Monday morning he found Horchoff in his cluttered office on the medical level. They went back into the exam room and Daniel laid down on the table and closed his eyes.
“Okay, now listen closely, this is important,” Horchoff told him.
Daniel rolled his eyes underneath his eyelids. Nothing good ever followed Horchoff saying, “This is important.”
“I want you to tell your cells to start regenerating, but this may confuse your immune system. You need to also make sure it keeps dissolving the damaged ones as you regenerate the new ones.”
“Got it,” Daniel said, taking a deep breath. This was going to take a great deal of focus, but he felt up to the task.
“Also be sure that you aren’t letting oxidants run rampant. That would be a bad thing.”
Daniel again eyed the doctor. “Got it,” he said, closing his eye and focusing on his nervous center.
“You ate breakfast, right?”
“Indeed,” Daniel replied a bit snidely.
“Good. Have your digestive system absorb as many antioxidants as possible and direct them toward your injured area to keep the oxidants in check. I’m not really sure how this is going to go.”
Daniel picked up his head and looked at Horchoff. “Is that all?” he asked.
“Yes,” Horchoff answered definitively.
“What if this all goes horribly wrong? This is unnatural!” Daniel protested.
“Daniel my boy,” Horchoff said as he placed his hands on Daniel’s shoulders and pushed him back down onto the table, “everything about you is unnatural.”
With that Horchoff turned and scurried out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Daniel let his head drop on the table. “For fuck’s sake,” he said to himself.
He closed his eyes and sent his conscious mind back through the lab-grown neural pathways Dr. Horchoff had surgically placed into his brain. He knew attempting this was dangerous and stupid, but that was quickly becoming the norm for him. To this point he had yet to fail, why not let it ride?
Taking conscious command of so many neural impulses at once required immense focus—so much so that he needed to lose his conscious mind completely to his nervous center, leaving him without any concept of self. He paid attention to every command he sent from his nervous system to the cells and chemicals of his immune system, monitoring their status through the signals being sent back from his immune system to his nervous system. It was not unlike someone instructing another person how to diffuse a bomb over a radio.
He was able to differentiate antioxidants from oxidants because he was absorbing all that he could from his breakfast through his digestive system and directing them towards the damaged region of his face. He did his best to make sure the oxidan
ts never outnumbered the antioxidants, maintaining the chemical balance Horchoff had cited as being so important. Meanwhile his healthy cells were regenerating on command and replacing the damaged ones as they were being dissolved.
Just thinking about the process was exhausting, actually orchestrating it was a chore. It was extremely difficult trying to control and monitor so many functions at once. Daniel thought of it like learning to play the guitar. Learning how to make your strumming hand work in unison with all four fingers pressing down on different strings on different frets in order to create the desired sound did not come easy, but once you’ve spent hundreds of hours playing the same song it becomes almost second nature.
Once he had absorbed all of the nutrients from his breakfast Daniel had the neural capacity for a split-second of conscious thought. He decided that he had probably spent enough time healing himself and could let his immune system run its own show from here. He relinquished control of his nervous system and withdrew his conscious mind.
Daniel opened his eyes and sat up from the bed. There was a mirror on the wall to his left. He examined the area around his eye which had been a dark shade of purple when he’d walked into the room. The bruising and swelling had now almost completely disappeared. He had been successful in speeding up the healing process within himself.
At the time he had absolutely no idea how long he had been lost to his nervous system, working to heal his face. It turned out he had managed to almost completely heal his damaged tissue in just over three hours. He spent that night and the next healing the other areas of his body while he lay in bed, the process each time becoming easier.
“Another perk of being a biological freak,” Daniel said, referring to Titan’s comment about his healthy appearance.
Chapter 2
The warm sun beat down on Daniel’s face through the car window. It was a brisk fall afternoon, but the insulation of the town car held captive the heat from the sun and shielded its passengers from the cold air on the other side of the glass. He gazed out at the Chicago skyline as the tall buildings in the window grew bigger as the car neared the downtown area.
The Demérs assignment was slated to last a total of four days. Daniel would arrive at Demérs’ penthouse at five o’clock on Friday afternoon and would stay with he and Jordan through Monday night. After Daniel arrived that evening he would escort the couple to dinner with a client, and would then stay with them in their home the remainder of the weekend before escorting Demérs to a business meeting with that same client on Monday morning.
Their home, Daniel mentally sighed to himself. That was how it had been phrased in the briefing. It had struck Daniel as more odd than hurtful when he had first considered the thought of Jordan being engaged to the man who had ripped her away from him less than a year ago. He had grown into a different man in that short period of time, and he had learned to love another woman before she too was torn away from him after being killed while on an assignment. Still, there was an aspect of Jordan’s engagement that generated a primal sense of defeat within him.
The aspect of the engagement that had hurt him was that Jordan hadn’t even thought it important enough to at least tell Daniel that she was getting married. Maybe it was her way of getting back at him for not calling her when he made the final decision to join Elite—or at all since moving into the complex. If that were the case he would have a hard time arguing against her rationale. Regardless, she was in for a big surprise the moment her fiancé’s weekend body guard came strutting through their front door.
Richfield had bought Daniel two new suits for the occasion. Apparently Demérs felt the way a man dressed was an important statement on his character, and he expected all those he associated himself with to dress with the same level of elegance and class as he did.
Richfield had arranged for a tailor to come to the complex for a fitting a few days before Daniel was to begin his assignment. Daniel had never been able to afford a custom fitted suit before, but he had to admit that he looked pretty damn good when he tried the first one on.
“I could get used to this,” he said to Mr. Blank, who had come to give his approval of Daniel’s new duds.
“Lookin’ slick, Kid,” Blank replied.
Daniel had chosen to go with the more formal black suit for his initial introduction and dinner. The jacket hung nicely off his broad shoulders and fit stylishly around his midsection. Underneath the jacket he wore a white shirt with a thin black tie running down the center. A thin, golden tie clip hung onto the tie near the center.
It made him feel like a Secret Service agent—a very good looking Secret Service agent.
He considered adding Norma’s aviators to the ensemble—he had taken them from her defects after she died as a symbol of their companionship—but he thought Demérs might find them more tacky than “elegant.”
The other suit Richfield had bought him was a light grey leisure suit which he planned to wear on Saturday.
As the car pulled up to Demérs’ building in the center of Downtown Chicago, Daniel did not bother waiting for the driver to come around and open the door for him. He felt silly depending on someone else for something as trivial as opening a car door.
He hopped out of the car and onto the sidewalk. He stood in front of the building, staring straight up toward the top of the impressive structure. It had to have been at least forty stories high.
After only a few seconds the driver eventually came around to greet him.
“All set?” The round-faced driver in a black chauffeur’s hat asked.
“Good to go,” Daniel replied, adjusting his jacket as he strode up a set of concrete steps that lead to the front door.
As he approached, a doorman dressed in a green uniform opened the front door for him.
“Mr. Demérs is expecting you,” he said.
Daniel turned to the man and nodded, slightly confused at the fact that the doorman knew who he was and why he was there. He probably shouldn’t have been surprised—someone like Demérs would have done their homework before hiring a new security agent.
The lobby of the building was far more vast than one would have anticipated looking at it from the outside. The floors and many of the walls were made of black marble, and the ceilings were over two stories high with sparkling chandeliers hanging down from them.
To the right of the door was what looked much like a check-in desk at an upscale hotel, and to the left was what looked like an open lounge area. The far wall of the lounge area doubled as a fountain, water running down the side of it into a narrow collection area at its base. A curved staircase ran alongside the front of the fountain up to a second floor with an open balcony area that overlooked the lobby. The décor maintained a very modern and elegant feel throughout.
Beyond the desk and to the right of the fountain wall was a bank of elevators with two chrome sets of doors on each side. Daniel approached the doors and pushed the button that would summon the elevator car. As he did he could hear the pulley system inside kick on and watched the number on the digital readout above the door count down until it got to “2” and then changed to an “L.” As it did there was a bing alerting him that his car had arrived and the chrome doors slid open. Daniel made his way into the car and pushed the button for the top floor.
The car sat still for a moment as if it wasn’t sure what to do. Daniel guessed that traveling to the penthouse probably required key access for the elevator. After waiting several seconds for something to happen, he decided to go to the front desk to explain his situation and request assistance. Just as he started to move for the door another bing sounded, causing him to halt. The doors slide shut and the car started upward. Either Demérs or one of the building staff must have been able to approve his access remotely.
As the car moved upward Daniel stood and took an oversized breath, suddenly feeling very nervous. He wasn’t sure what he was more nervous about—beginning his first job as Elite’s top agent, seeing Jordan again for the first time
in over half a year, or meeting the rich and powerful man that was her fiancé.
Daniel realized that in a few short minutes his hatred for Gordon Demérs had turned to intimidation. Demérs lived in a world that Daniel had never dreamed of being a part of, and from what Daniel could tell Demérs pretty much ran that world. Daniel would now be the latest on a long list of men to serve under him.
Deep down Daniel knew that there was absolutely no reason for him to feel intimidated. Other than financially, he was in every way superior to Demérs, and Daniel wasn’t exactly hurting for money himself.
He also needed to remember that he wasn’t here because he needed Demérs, but because Demérs needed him. Gordon Demérs needed Daniel’s protection. That should have made Daniel feel more like he was in the power position, but being in Demérs world and on Demérs home turf, he could not shake the nervous tension that accompanied intimidation.
The elevator reached the top floor and again binged as the doors slid open. In front of him was a short hallway with wood-paneled flooring and bright white walls. At the other end of the hallway was a single red door with the number “40-A” upon it.
The hallway was empty but for a single man in a charcoal grey suit that stood to the right of the door, his hands clasped in front of him.
“Agent Hart, I presume,” the man spoke.
“Call me Daniel,” Daniel responded as he strode out of the elevator and toward the red door. “Agent Hart” just felt wrong to him.
“Daniel,” the man acknowledged, reaching out to shake his hand. “I’m Salvador, Mr. Demérs’ typical body guard.”
Daniel returned the handshake, not sure how to interpret Salvador’s greeting. The tone of his voice seemed light—as friendly as one could expect given the situation. But his choice of the word “typical” made Daniel wonder—did Salvador take offense to Daniel’s presence? As if him being there meant that Demérs didn’t have total faith in Salvador’s ability as a body guard?
“Nice to meet you,” Daniel replied.
“You as well,” Salvador responded. “Shall we go inside?” He asked, extending his hand toward the doorway.
Elite 2: The Wrong Side of Revolution Page 2
