by P. S. Power
Marcia couldn’t do the math on it all, but figured that if someone like her could even question Braid being a part of it, or even see it as possible, that probably meant she wasn’t. Not directly. Given everything, that probably meant it was something to do with the old missions, possibly an enemy they’d failed to kill.
What she did know for sure was that whoever was behind this had asked for her by name, Lancaster and Reyes too. All the people from the old crew that worked with the IPB. For certain missions at least. No one had mentioned Jason Montrose though, so that narrowed the window they needed to look at first. They’d only been on about ten missions together, over the course of five years. It had been nearly twenty years before, more than that really, but back when she was just in the field as a CIA operative, and wasn’t Infected yet.
When she’d had her first code name still.
Cast Iron.
It had been a joke nickname then, short for “Cast Iron Bitch”, given because she was so loving and charming all the time. It had been given to her by the commanding officer of the unit she’d been attached too, a covert ops team so exclusive it didn’t really even have a name. It had just been called Six. Not Team six, Unit six, or anything clever like that, no other designation or code either. Just a number. One that showed up for a while in some files, and then went away.
They’d done some shit though. In that five year period three world leaders had died of one thing or another, and three Columbian drug lords were killed by “rivals”. There would be a few people that might be a bit miffed at them still, if they ever found out that they’d been involved.
There were thirteen others, all men, if they were still alive… and her. Girls weren’t allowed in the special forces, but then she’d just been attached to them, not really one of them. She’d managed to get the job done and ended up married to one of them. That last part was probably one of the main reasons for not letting women in when it came down to it. That was going to be her next call of course. If anyone not in the IPB should be involved in this it would be him.
Conroy. Her ex-husband, Mike.
The idea didn’t thrill her all that much. It wasn’t Mike that caused her to feel that way, he was great. Better than she was in most ways. His only mistake had been marrying her before she became Infected. When she’d turned he’d been willing to try and make it work, but her new first mode had been fierce back then and she hadn’t had any skills to manage something like that. She’d always been pretty careful before that, but suddenly she saw the potential for danger everywhere. In every situation, no matter how tame it really was to everyone else. Some of it made sense, because there really was danger everywhere. Some of it was just way over the top, like thinking that the paperboy was a covert operative in disguise, because he kept coming to the house each day. She could see he was young, but wouldn’t a twelve year old be the perfect cover for intelligence gathering?
Over the years she’d learned to cope with it mainly, but in those first few months it just didn’t happen. Marcia had spent half her time wondering if her husband was going to kill her for being Infected and the rest of the time planning how to stop him.
That turned out to be hard on a relationship.
No, the difficult part now was that she still loved him. She always had, even when she thought he might really want her dead for being Infected. It wasn’t that great romantic love of youth, but the feelings were still there every time they met. Half of her wanted to just chuck the government job and take up with him again, move off to the woods or wherever he’d set up for the time being and just stay there until he died.
That would be sad, but every day she was losing time that could have been spent on that, being with him. Of course there was a problem with that. A real one that she feared had nothing to do with her being too cautious at all. Identified Infected with abilities higher than class three had to be in the system, or they’d be killed. It wasn’t public knowledge, and even most of the IPB didn’t know it was the case for certain though there were rumors, but if they wanted to stay alive they had to either play ball with the government one way or the other, or hide in a hole so deep no one could ever find them.
If she left, they’d try for her. They’d fail too, most likely, but anyone too close to her would probably go down. So she stuck with the Infected Protection Bureau. It was a job, and it allowed her to do some good in the world. Plus she already had twenty years in, which made her senior to everyone except Martin Joabs and Director Moore.
Some day’s it didn’t feel like enough, but since she wasn’t planning on retiring any time soon, it would have to do for the time being. She didn’t like the implied threat hanging over her, but she understood the general idea. Everyone was afraid of the Infected. That honestly made sense, because most of them were monsters. Killers of one kind or another, or people driven to do things no one else could understand. If they were too powerful and went off the rails, almost no one could stop them.
It was why they had the IPB.
She shook her head just a little, forcing herself to pay attention to the moment, since Burke was busily slapping Morris around a bit. The heavier man tried to fight back, but it wasn’t working too well. Neither spoke though. After about thirty seconds Warren stepped between them, covering his head at first, getting hit by Cal on the arms as he pushed the obviously angry agent back. Burke didn’t strike Warren though, he just moved a bit when pushed and managed to hit Morris in the face again with a backhand.
Marcia winced. She’d gone so far into her memories that she’d lost track of what was happening? That couldn’t be allowed. That kind of thing just got people killed. The memories and thinking about Mike always did that to her, but now really wasn’t the time for such things. It was horrible, but she wasn’t even sure what had happened, until Lancaster pointed to the note the other man had written.
It said, “no F-ing Infected!” on it. Underlined.
Well, that would do it, given that they were all IPB there at the moment. Bridget glanced at the paper too and shrugged, doing something that none of the adults had thought of even trying.
She asked about it.
“Why not?”
The man stopped his pitiful attempts to hit Warren on the back, even though the guy was keeping him from having his ass handed to him, and wheezed for a bit. When he could speak again he waved his hand for the pad again and wrote a note quickly. Then he pointed at it, glaring at Burke the whole time.
“They said. When they called yesterday. If I let you get the Infected involved, they’ll kill Bethy. I can’t risk it.” He rubbed his jaw, which was red from being hit at least a few times already.
He spoke out loud then, worried about the people listening or not.
“Besides, you can’t trust them. Who knows what an Infected person would do? They might just freak out and get my daughter killed. Or find her and rape her instead of getting her free. Maybe eat her at the same time. Only a fool would work with them.” He was clearly agitated, but didn’t seem to get the fact that he was talking to two of the evil Infected at the moment. Adrenalin made you stupid though, so it might not be his fault. That and sleep deprivation might just account for the lack of caution on his part.
Marcia half expected one of the others to jump him again, but Bridget just took the pad, talking and writing at the same time.
“Oh? Well fuck you then. If you think you’re too good for our help, why even come? Make sure to let us know when you find your friends and daughter so we can send flowers for the funeral. Jerk.” She sounded angry, like an Infected about to lay the hurt down on someone for being insulted, but she flipped the pad around so they could read it.
It said, “we’re being monitored. We can use this?”
Lancaster nodded, then looked at Cal, who shook his head. He was serious as far as his part went, it seemed. A lot of people would have felt that way, but it didn’t make a lot of sense at the moment. The man needed their help. His kid was probably already dead and
so were the others, and given his background he had to know that. If they weren’t behind it in the first place. If that wasn’t the case the best chance they had would be using all the resources of the IPB, which included Infected operatives, if they were willing to help.
The man just kept shaking his head as he left. Not even bothering to say goodbye or explain what he thought they should do as far as he was concerned.
It was a bit of a letdown, but she made sure the door was locked behind him, feeling like she’d wasted a lot of time coming in the first place. The cooking show people could use the publicity, so it wasn’t a total loss that way. Tobin could too. She made herself think through things, trying to understand it all before she spoke.
“Was that weird, or is it just me losing my mind?” She asked the room, not looking at anyone in particular. “I mean, does anyone understand what’s really going on here?”
Lancaster stared at her for about half a minute, thinking.
“Not really. We need to check out what Morris said first. He used to be pretty solid, but he’s clearly had a rough time lately. I don’t even know if he has a daughter for certain. We should check on the others as well and see if anything is really going on that way. We… should probably get on that and rest too. We won’t do a better job just because we’re tired. I’ll take the first shift. You four here get some rest. Turner, meet us at eight in the morning please? I should have something by then. It’s going to be hard juggling this plus work. Maybe we should call in some of the local boys for support?” He glanced at Reyes who lifted his chin once and then Burke who pulled out his cell phone. It was black and plain, IPB issue, but had the local office information already programmed in. It had all the district offices for the entire country in it.
“Call now, or in the morning, when we know what’s actually going on, if anything?” He sounded a bit sharp when he spoke, but then he clearly wasn’t all that happy with Morris at the moment.
Marcia wasn’t either, to tell the truth. The guy had never been exactly pro-Infected, but this was a bit harsher than she’d expected from him after getting her in specifically, especially if his daughter's life was on the line. He’d always seemed willing to do whatever it took to get the job done in the past. Maybe he’d just gone soft?
Or just as likely he felt that for some reason he had to make a fool of himself in front of two high powered Infected? He really didn’t seem to want their help though, but he’d called her in… Or at least he’d been told to do it. It was pretty clear that was what he was claiming at the end there.
It just didn’t make sense.
Luckily for her, for what seemed like the first time in years, everyone else agreed with her. Even Warren was baffled at the whole thing.
“Is he just nuts, do you think? Morris I mean. Or… I don’t know. I need to get some sleep, like Daryl said. I don’t think I’d act on what he’s said so far. Not without other proof. I’m not in charge though, so…” He shrugged and moved to get back in bed, even though Marcia had to doubt sleep would come easily for him. Not after being part of a fight, no matter how lame it really was. Burke had looked ok and even Warren had seemed to handle things well enough physically, if fairly non-violently, but Cal had been flapping around like someone had electrified the floor. Sure, he was out of shape, but he used to be decent at hand to hand.
It was almost like he was another person altogether.
That… Probably wasn’t the case though. It could be brainwashing though, or maybe someone substituted him with someone else? That or he being on drugs for a long time. It was hard to see the old him under the fat after all. A switch didn’t sound too likely, but it was worth looking into, if she got time for it.
The agents agreed with the cook and took off to see what they could find on the phone and computer while she lounged around napping. Technically it should have been her on the computer since she actually had some skill there, but she wasn’t going to complain. If Lancaster wanted to do it, she’d let him. He was at least as good as she was at it and had cultivated more connections in other agencies over the years. It was a bit easier for a guy to do that, since a man asking another dude out for a beer was generally accepted as just trying to get in good for some reason, or even just trying to be friends.
When she’d tried it the guys had always wanted to sleep with her. That would have been fine, most of the time, except for the fact that only about half of them were really happy with it just being a casual thing. The other half wanted more. Actual relationships and stuff like that. If that was going to work out she would have been with Conroy again or at least making a play for him. She probably couldn’t handle having a real boyfriend anyway. They’d eventually piss her off and she’d start thinking they were going to cheat on her or something. It was just easier not to care and make sure that she didn’t sleep with anyone that wanted too much of her. If she wasn’t really with them, then it didn’t matter if they saw someone else.
It didn’t take her a long time to get to bed, working fast in the bathroom and dressing in her normal sleep wear, which wasn’t much different from what Bridget wore. A huge t-shirt. Hers was just a forest green men’s undershirt, meant for a giant. It was cheap and they sold them at the base store. It made her shopping a whole lot more simple not having a vast selection. It took a bit of skill to get into the bed once she was ready, because the lights were off already. Hopefully Penny was in bed with Warren, because otherwise things were about to get awkward, she realized, climbing over the foot of the bed and getting under the covers. She didn’t get too hot or cold when she slept, but she liked the feel of having something over her. It was why she didn’t sleep nude for instance. Marcia couldn’t really feel the cloth most of the time, but when it was gone she missed it. A subtle kind of psychological issue no doubt. Before she was totally settled Bridget snuggled into her. Like a puppy or something.
A dangerous, potentially lethal one, with control issues.
Luckily she wasn’t personally in all that much danger from her. The kid was stronger and faster, but there just wasn’t a lot that could hurt her anymore. It made sleeping next to her easier. As she drifted off to sleep Marcia wondered if that was what Bridget had in mind? If she flailed in her sleep and hit Warren, she might just kill the man. If it was Penny they wouldn’t even know she was hurt or dead for hours, maybe longer, until Brian came and found the body.
If Marcia got hit the same way, she might not even bother to wake up, just sleeping through it. It was a moot point, since it turned out that other than being a cuddly sleeper, Bridget didn’t do anything out of bounds at all. No kicking in her sleep or anything. She didn’t even try to make out with her while she was unconscious. Not that the girl would want to, but you never really could tell with her. If the thought struck her, and she didn’t have a reason to fight it, she’d act on it.
In the morning the heavy bedspread was doubled over on top of her and Bridget was sprawled on top of the crisp white sheet, naked. It wouldn’t have been a problem at all, except that Warren and Penny already seemed to be out for the morning. Not that it was a big deal, but when she was fifteen, if other people had seen her like that she would have been mortified. Odds were that wasn’t going to be as big an issue for Bridgie.
She was just different that way. A bit freer than most people.
“Up an at ‘em Kiddo. We have work to do and mysteries to solve. Or at least I have a mystery, you just have work, but that’s the wonder and beauty of being the junior squad member. Just be glad your dad doesn’t have you in washing dishes on Mark’s show yet.” She managed to sound chipper, which was about twenty times better than she really felt.
She’d dreamed of Mike again, all night long. They were pleasant things, for the most part, but she kept ruining them by waking up. Reality was a bitch some days. That didn’t get her out of work and she needed to hit the shower before she went and mingled with people. Not that she could tell that was the case for certain since to her she felt totally normal
, but it was just habit to get washed and dressed in the morning. Normally in one of her dozen uniforms, which made it simple, but today it was full make-up and a dress again. One of the two she had left, so the red one today. She hadn’t exactly over packed it seemed. Then, she hadn’t really thought she’d be getting shot the first day either. She unfolded it from her pack and saw the wrinkles. They were bad enough that she’d hear complaints if she tried to wear it in public. She could borrow an iron from Charlot or Scott, but that would have to wait until later in the day.
“Argh. OK, so plan B then.” She had two full uniforms at the bottom of her bag, and pulled one out to take with her to the shower. Cordura didn’t wrinkle easily at all. Then it didn’t really fold either, so was kind of rolled up, but it would work well enough for the early part of the day.
Bridget had stood while she messed with things, and then nodded; looking sleepy and cute like a child, face just a tiny bit puffy and red on one side. It was from the heat her body put off all the time, not pressure, but it looked about right.
She yawned and stretched, hands going over her head, then she folded nearly in half, legs straight, arms wrapped around her legs. Marcia would have been jealous, but she could do that too. After fifteen seconds the girl stood and yawned again.
“Good morning.” Waving at the bundle of white in Marcia’s hand she kept going without a pause. “Workday for us you said? What am I doing again? Warren watch? He really probably doesn’t need a bodyguard you know. The people here run television shows and advertising firms, I don’t think they’re going to be shooting much. Am I supposed to protect him from bad truffles or something? Not that I can’t do that. I’m totally all over the mushroom situation. I have the magic sniffer for that sort of thing.” She was trying to be cute and was probably right, but the fact was Marcia couldn’t babysit all day, so someone else would have to do it.
So she’d assign her partner to the task. Seniority really did have its privileges. Plus, people tended to get in less trouble when they were made responsible for others, didn’t they?
