by P. S. Power
“The allegations made are one hundred percent true, and we have iron clad proof. More, I've seen years of abuse at this man's hands myself, and this isn't an isolated thing, there are over fifty women and children involved in this case and countless young men that have been driven to their deaths by Darren Jones, using Infected coercive abilities.”
After that it was just a matter of watching the meltdown. The guy virtually crapped himself then and it got even worse a few moments later when Kerry started laying into him. She had a sudden feeling of righteous indignation that overcame the programming from dear old dad. Denis looked at the screen, but angled himself so he could watch her speak too and kept pumping that feeling out the whole time. The monster may have had his little sister for a lot longer than Denis had known her, but Denis was much stronger. Vastly so. Plus, they had right on their side.
It made a difference.
The spot actually got extended after Darren Jones ran off the set where he was in Washington D.C. Mainly because of what Denis did next, he thought, which was inform the public that there was a warrant out for the arrest of anti-Infected hate leader Reverend Darren Jones and that a Death Warrant was being sought due to the dangerous nature of the man's abilities. He said it clearly and repeated it several times, also spelling out that Jones was Infected and dangerous so clearly that it nearly made him laugh the second time he did it.
No one else did.
“It could be that many people in his organization are Infected as well. The IPB is looking into all of his known associates in the hate community.”
The newscaster, a good looking man with a fake tan and comfortable lines on his face, asked the needed follow-up question as if he were on script. Denis practically cheered when the man actually said the words. This guy was definitely his favorite newsman from now on, he decided.
“The Reverend Darren Jones is a known associate and longtime close friend of Senator Hooper. Both have been very outspoken in regards to Infected issues...”
“Well Gerald, I can't comment on that right now, except to say again, all of Jones' associates are being looked into. But even if it's shown that Senator Hooper is in fact hiding his own Infected status, like some of his colleagues in the hate community, that doesn't mean that he's purposefully broken any law with the use of his ability. The IPB does not, in any way, seek to persecute people simply for being Infected. We only seek to protect the public from wrong doing at the hands of people that cannot, or will not, control themselves. That goes for everyone, even Senators.”
Sitting next to him Kerry nodded firmly. She was IPB too after all. The first line of defense against the real horrors of the world.
Sometimes the only line.
The next weeks went mad, for Denis at least. He nearly started to look forward to Hobbs beating him or whatever torture the day would bring. The press had started to get old fast, asking the same things over and over again like they did. It took all of his will not to cuss them out on the air. He spent hours each day talking to reporters and on the phone giving interviews. As bad as it was for him though, the girls all had it way worse.
Finally, Charlot Chambers had to step in and slow down the rate of exposure, fearing that the women would break mentally under the strain. That she could see that and cared... It made him wonder if the woman was different than he thought somehow. She still glowered at him when they met, but she was nice to the girls, which meant a lot.
Mark's show aired, to interesting ratings. Kind of mixed.
After a strange and bizarre fashion.
People watched, a lot of them, more than any other new cooking or baking show in history. That part was going fine, they had the numbers and that made the network very happy. Mainly.
Then the watchers screamed and hollered about how evil it was. Showing Infected being nice and safe? Doing nothing more than baking and serving food to people? The horror. Not all of them, but enough that there was some worry about the show being boycotted by advertisers responding to a call for it from Senator Hooper.
Kerry got a larger role after that since the Senator couldn't really be seen to try and attack her personally without drawing attention to his own recent scandal. That part went pretty well. When the first poll was taken she was actually tied with Warren as the third most popular person on the show, with Prime coming in second, even though he was mainly just the pot washer still. He just naturally did well in things like that and managed a lot of screen time somehow. It was like magic, how often his face was on the screen.
To everyone's amusement and his own personal amazement, Denis was tied in popularity on the show with Mark in the first spot.
“People really do like watching other people fail and struggle. Plus the way the show is geared, he's the comedy relief, which always makes for decent exposure.” Charlot told them as she gave them the numbers. She hardly even glared at him when she revealed the news. A little, but her hands didn't glow every time they met anymore, so that was looking up.
For nearly a whole month everything went fine. Not perfect. But all right.
For instance, Denis kind of thought that Lauren had a crush on him. He didn't want to be rude to her, or mean in any way, since the woman was sweet and so lonely it hurt for him to watch it, but a physical relationship just didn't seem to be in the cards there.
As in not physically possible, even if he was willing to try it out of friendship, which... well, he was. She was a good person. If he could make her life better by sleeping with her, Denis would. He would have missed it happening altogether, except that Kerry, in her new role as sister, pointed it out to him several times. That... could be dicey. Insulting the giant woman wouldn't be good for her mental health at all. For the time being he decided to just ignore it. If nothing else he could always tell her he was already seeing someone. Which he was, after a fashion.
Shrugging he wondered if he could use his ability to get the giant off. Maybe make it feel like she was being hugged and cuddled too? It did nothing for him... but then he really did kind of have someone already. He'd just have to try, if that's what Lauren really wanted, at least. They could have a date night or something.
Peggy was low key about the whole thing, and certainly didn't seem to expect much from him, but managed to come to his door at least twice a week. They normally spent the night together then. Denis felt a little awkward about it, because he didn't love her. Really, he didn't know if he was even capable of love, not after all he'd been through in life. Still, no one else was vying for the place in his bed either, so for the time being that worked. Didn't it?
It was Cellophane that came for him when it happened. She pounded on the door next to his, loud and hard, three beats followed by three, followed by three. It seemed a little off, but he figured it for S.O.S. Old Morse code.
Emergency.
Denis ran to the hall and felt his arm grabbed, the left one, and the girl propelled him through the base. He kept up a bit better now at least, thanks to all the regular jogging in the mornings. When they got to the conference room the murder was being played on a loop. There, on his knees was the Prophet Darren, who looked thinner and bedraggled, wearing filthy clothes and begging a small figure dressed in all black not to kill him.
The form behind him had on an all black ski mask.
Denis could have told him begging wouldn't work. Really, he should have known that, being that it was him that had taught that to all his children.
Nothing the man could have said would save his life right then, not even if he'd had the cure for cancer and all poverty in his head. He cried and moaned about how it wasn't fair. It was pitiful, but made Denis laugh right until she capped him in the back of the head without preamble. The bullets ripped his head open again and again as she fired until the clip was empty. They played it without stopping, making comments about it the whole time. Denis smiled. It was gross, but he couldn't help but feel a sense of relief.
It was finally over.
The little black form
walked off the screen and no one had any way of knowing who it was at all. Except Denis of course. He recognized her instantly.
Mindy.
That it was her was so certain that Denis didn't doubt it for a moment. Kerry walked in, took one look at the screen and grinned.
“About time, so the Death Warrant was finally served? Who is that, is it-”
“No one we know. Obviously. Well, he had that warrant out anyway, so I doubt that anyone will look very hard, will they Director Moore?” If Denis led the conversation with his tone anymore it would have been over the top. Then he'd never had acting lessons, had he?
The old man, gray hair still thick, middle still blocky, shook his head.
“For someone that killed an Infected criminal with a Death Warrant? I really don't see a lot of resources being spent there, no. A shame, but that isn't our area. The killer didn't show any Infected talents. In fact, technically speaking, it was a legal action. At any rate, whoever they are, they saved us the time and effort of finding and killing the man ourselves. Probably someone from the anti-Infected movement taking revenge for his betrayal of them. We need to move now and try to stem the tide of violence. Make sure that other anti-Infected hate leaders aren't killed in the same fashion, since some of them are almost certainly Infected.” He left the room, a happy smile on his face. The threat was all implied, and for Hooper and his friends specifically, but clear enough.
They might find themselves on their knees, a bullet to the back of the head, from “their own people” if they weren't careful. Denis had to fight his own smile then.
Mindy really would have to lay low for a while, of course. At least until everyone forgot to look for her anymore. So a few months. Maybe less. Especially since she had work to do.
It didn't take long for that to happen at all.
Denis and Kerry stayed out of it, but strangely all the paperwork on the topic had gotten “misplaced” somehow. At first it was just at the IPB, but a week later Marcia took him for a walk, a forced march, along with a couple of agents, Lancaster and Reyes. They didn't pack a lunch, and moved fast, almost a jog for him. For a while he kind of wondered if they were taking him out to kill him, or at least kick his ass for something, but they kept going until they hit a small stream, then under the shade of a pine tree, or possibly fur, since the leaves were dense and a little bluish, they laid it out for him without hesitation.
Lancaster spoke first. His deep voice low.
“We've had your sister, Mindy, redacted. It took some string pulling, but she doesn't exist in the system anymore. Not at all. That way she can keep running “The Pure” along with your other sisters and not ever pop in a trace. We had to make them vanish too.” The tone was matter of fact, but a little cold.
“And that means...” Denis asked, his voice leading.
They all looked at him like he was stupid. Maybe he was. It just didn't make sense to tell him at all until Marcia touched his arm gently.
“It means you can't have any contact with her, Den. She's basically deep under cover now and so are about half your other sisters. It's messed up but...”
Ah. He got it then. Mindy had to keep fighting and now that Darren Jones was out of the way she'd decided to go after the anti-Infected crowd.
Good.
It wasn't like they'd been close, and yeah, he'd worry about her, but he wouldn't stand in the way of her doing what she needed to. Not after everything she'd been through. The others either. If they needed to wage war on bigots and monsters... Yeah, Denis really could get that. They were so angry they had to lash out at something, that or go insane. The Prophet Darren being dead didn't make the pain go away, just the problem. Now they had to deal as best they could.
As they walked back Marcia kept slapping him on the back.
“I thought you'd be a bit more torn up about this.” She said finally, giving him an odd look he didn't know how to read.
“That my sister's part of the war?” He said, which oddly Lancaster got, but Reyes just looked baffled at.
The tall blond man shrugged.
“That you can't see her for a while. Maybe ever. That can be hard on people. Especially families.”
Denis laughed.
“She's my sister. But you guys, the IPB, even you pricks in your black suits, you're my family. As much of one as I have. How's that for screwed up? On the good side we don't have to go far for the family reunion.”
This got a chuckle from the others, but no one denied it was true, not even Marcia.
They just walked the rest of the way home in silence.
Probably wondering if this admission from him meant they had to get him birthday and Christmas presents.
It did, he decided.
It most certainly did.
Cast Iron
P.S. Power
1
Marcia stared at the black suited man in front of her wondering if she should buy what he was trying to sell her at all. The uninfected IPB agent, Reyes, was solid in general and one of her oldest friends, but taking her for a long walk outside the compound without there seeming to be a reason was more than a bit strange. They knew each other too well for things to just spring up out of the blue in general. Worse, when they got to cover under an evergreen tree, he’d pulled out a phone and claimed that someone wanted to talk to her. If she wanted to play at being a spy anymore she wouldn’t have left the CIA. Not that she’d had a choice at the time, but it was the principal of the thing. She wasn’t a spy and shouldn’t have to do garbage like this.
“This is potentially sensitive Turner, you know how it works, a friend got in touch with me and asked that I open a line of communication for you. I can’t vouch for anything past the fact that my friend once saved my life and that you know them too, so, take the rest of this with a grain of salt.” The man had slightly dusky skin and wore the same kind of sunglasses that all the regular agents did to hide his eyes. Mirrored. It made them look tough, not being able to see their eyes, which was the point, no doubt. The gold rim glinted in the sun just a bit, catching her attention. From the white puff her breath was making in the air it was probably cold out, even though she couldn’t feel it. To her it was a bit cool maybe, but even that could be ignored.
She moved closer to the cover provided by the evergreen trees, back to the bark, so she couldn’t be seen from space as easily. Not that it couldn’t be done, but there was only half a chance that anyone was bothering to watch her anyway. At least that closely. For now. If they stayed out too long, or alerted any of the Pentagon’s watch systems with what they were doing, that might just change. Taking a few precautions wouldn’t hurt. Not making any other outward sign or show of concern, she held out her right hand, the pale skin smooth and hairless in the bright light sticking out of her brilliant white uniform sleeve.
“Let’s get it done then.” She couldn’t feel happy about the cloak and dagger stuff anymore, even when she tried. Things had been too screwed up for her for much too long, and odds were that this was some kind of trap. Reyes might be all right in general, personally, but they were dealing with people behind the scenes that could control minds and set up complex plans that no normal person could beat. She couldn’t at least. Not easily. That meant being extra careful all the time now. It grated on the nerves.
Since being suspicious was her first mode of mental operation it came to her easily enough, but that didn’t mean Marcia couldn’t be fooled by a friend leading her down the wrong path. Anyone could. It had happened before. More than once. That was the life of a spy, which was a portion of why she wasn’t in that life anymore. The rest was being Infected, which kind of trumped her personal decision on the matter, but if she wanted to keep the illusion of being in charge of her life, what harm was there to it?
The agent didn’t smile at her, looking more than a little suspicious himself as he hit two buttons on the tiny black phone and waited for it to ring, then handed it over carefully, not making contact with her skin. That could mean an
ything, his avoiding her like that. It wasn’t something she remembered him ever doing before, but it could be a sign that he didn’t want to get to close to her now. People often did that if they thought things had gotten dangerous. They avoided contact with a potential victim on a subconscious level, distancing themselves from what they were about to do.
Bigots did that too, avoiding Infected people when they could, as if they could catch it, like it was a real disease instead of something that just happened, but Reyes wasn’t that kind of person. He might have been turned against them, anyone might these days, but if so it wasn’t about that kind of thing. It would take money or blackmail to do it. Maybe sex… but probably not. The guy was good enough looking for that not to be a big issue for him. If you could get something easily, it’s hard to use it against you. She’d had his mind searched for that kind of thing though, and did as often as she could.
She had everyone done, of course, to make sure no tampering had taken place. Christian wasn’t wild about spying on their own people, but she did it anyway, since they really couldn’t trust anyone day to day anymore. Not even themselves… so she had herself checked every few days. If Chris got taken over they were in trouble though. Hopefully her telepathy would give her some resistance to mind control if it came up. Otherwise they were really screwed.
Marcia felt the shape in her hand, smooth and flat, but not if it was hot or cold. It could have been on fire and she wouldn’t have felt it as more than slightly warm, which wouldn’t matter anyway, since it couldn’t hurt her. It was one of the few cool things about being her now, after the Infection had taken hold. She couldn’t be hurt by almost anything. Even if the thing was a bomb, she was safe, putting it up against her face like she was to listen to it ring. The worst it could do to her was ruin her outfit and possibly burn her hair off. That would bite, of course, but she had more clothes, wearing her standard heavy white outfit, made of multiple layers of cordura, which was what they used to call ballistic nylon. It was heavy, but didn’t tear too easily, which was nice given everything. The IPB paid for them too, so it didn’t even come out of her salary when the outfits got destroyed.
