by Scott Young
Jill immediately felt her anger rise at the condescending insinuation that she was a helpless female incapable of taking care of herself. She opened her mouth to protest when DeVane added, “If I were you, Dr. Musik, I would put all this out of my mind and focus on helping the agents that are under your care. After all, we have to ensure something like this doesn’t happen again on your watch. I trust this is the last I’ll hear on this matter.” He walked out without even a glance at the stunned therapist.
“Son of a –” Jill muttered but stopped herself when she realized the remaining Sec-1 agents were staring at her.
They all seemed rather amused by her confrontation with the Director, whispering and smiling to each other. Instead of reacting to their snickers, the infuriated therapist simply took a seat behind her desk, busying herself with organizing her notes on the day’s patients and their respective cases. The Sec-1 agents left once the maintenance staff arrived. Jill sat comfortably in her office chair with her legs crossed, writing in a yellow legal pad as they went about their work. Once they finished with the clean-up and installing her new door, the lead member of the crew, a man with Gene written on his uniform, approached her desk smiling meekly.
“We’re all set here but unfortunately we won’t be able to stencil your name on the door again until Monday, Dr. Musik. I hope that’s okay.” Gene said respectively. “Stan, the guy who does our stenciling, left early today for a family function.”
“No problem at all, Gene. You guys did a wonderful job. Thanks so much,” Jill responded in the friendliest way she could muster, despite still churning inside at the way Director dickhead had treated her. She even managed a half-hearted smile. The maintenance man turned to leave but stopped himself.
He said very quietly, “Um...I know you just started here, Doctor, so if you ever need someone to show you around or if, I don’t know... you’d ever like to...if you want to have lunch together sometime, I’d like that very much.” Gene blushed a little, smiled awkwardly and left the work order on her desk before quietly leaving the room without waiting for a response.
As soon as she heard the unmistakable “click” of the door closing, Jill put the maintenance man’s awkward advance out of her mind. Her brow furled as she moved to the edge of the chair, her back rigid, and began typing into her computer. She quickly opened her access to the patient server and entered her password. She was determined to figure out why her patient had snapped, to help Agent Meadows any way she could, no matter who told her otherwise. She entered his name in the search bar and hit enter. “File not found” appeared in a red box accompanied by a ding. She tried it again. “File not found.”
Dr. Musik made a bewildered face as she ran her hand through her hair. She closed the server access and went to her desktop, opening a folder marked “patient files.” She scrolled down the file list but went too fast, passing the “M’s” completely. When she went back up, nothing was there. None of Agent Meadows’ personnel files that were forwarded to her, none of her session notes, nothing! She slowly let out a long breath, her mind racing. Jill quickly opened her scheduling calendar, instantly noticing that all of Darrell Meadows’ upcoming appointments were gone, replaced with the name Ian Conroy.
“God damn it!” Jill yelled, slamming her fist on the desk.
She thought to herself, Those bastards erased him! There is no evidence Darrell Meadows was ever my patient. But why? She stared at the blinking cursor on the screen, pondering what Meadows had said: “Just remember, they’re always watching. Always listening. Keep your eyes open, Doctor.” Finally, she slumped back into her chair, thoroughly frustrated, but with a single thought in her mind: This isn’t over yet.
Four hours later, Jill Musik sat slumped in the same position on her beige, sectional couch. She wore an old hospital scrub top and yoga pants with her hair up in a ponytail. Cake and chocolate crumbs littered her chest and torso, the empty plates from her comfort food feast next to her. On her left, shoved between two couch cushions, was a rapidly dwindling bottle of Yellowtail Merlot. She clutched a wine glass in her right hand, now empty after multiple refills. A rerun of How I Met Your Mother played on the television, but her eyes were unfocused, her mind still replaying the events from her office. Anger and resentment sat in her stomach like a bad case of indigestion.
The buzzing of her cell phone broke her out of her musings. She reached for it instinctively and checked the caller ID. Jill hesitated for a few seconds, before placing it face down next to her empty plates. The next instant her front door opened and Colleen Crenshaw walked in.
“Really, Musik? You’re just gonna ignore me? That’s fucked up,” Colleen said with false indignation as she took a clean wine glass out of the dish rack in the kitchen before making her way toward Jill.
“I knew giving you that spare key was a bad idea,” Jill replied stone faced, before breaking into a smile. “Sorry, Col. Just had a really bad day and I wanted to wallow in my crappy mood for a bit longer.”
Colleen threw her oversized purse on the recliner before plopping herself on the other end of the couch. “Well, you do love a good wallow. Want to talk about it?” she asked, before adding with a laugh “Let me guess...I can’t, its classified.”
“Give that woman a prize!” Jill said, handing Colleen the bottle of merlot, already feeling better despite her best efforts not to. “I seriously doubt my bosses at the NDSA would want me talking to a highly respected, Washington Times journalist such as yourself about the goings-on at my new, hush-hush government job.”
“Highly respected journalist?” Colleen said, rolling her eyes as she poured herself a glass of wine. “Yeah, in my dreams. I’m nothing more than a gossip columnist with delusions of grandeur.”
“Still,” Jill said shrugging.
The two friends had met years earlier at Ithaca College when The Crenshaw family dropped Colleen off a week early. Colleen was surprised to find Jill crying alone in the dorm room they were assigned to share. After the initial awkwardness and embarrassment subsided, the two girls became fast friends, despite their differences. While Jill was a traditional beauty: tall with long, curly brown hair, sparkling eyes, and a slim feminine physique, Colleen was more of an alternative type: zaftig with an angular face, short, jet black hair, multiple piercings and tattoos with a penchant for outlandish clothing, over-the-top accessories and weird eyeglass frames. The two women found their disparate personalities meshed well and fell into a rhythm fairly quickly. Colleen definitely liked to stand out in a crowd, usually the center of attention wherever she went, while Jill mostly kept to herself that first year, trying to recover from the tragedy her family had endured.
Colleen definitely had the more typical college experience, replete with drunken revelry, uninhibited sexuality and other out-of-control behavior. She pleaded with her reserved friend to join in, but to no avail. Despite not participating during her Ithaca years, Jill paid close attention to her friend’s keen ability to be the focus of any social gathering. She patterned herself after Colleen during her “Elevator” years at Stonybrook, applying the tried and true methods she’d observed her roommate successfully employ time and time again. By the end of their first semester at Ithaca, Colleen had taken on a guardian role, protecting Jill while she dealt with her various anxiety issues, never allowing the other students to dismiss or diminish her roommate in any way. It was one of many reasons Jill loved her friend and always felt comfortable with Colleen.
The quiet moments when the two women were alone in their dorm room truly bonded them. They’d spend hours talking, laughing and sharing their dreams and secrets, making pacts to always be best friends and to be there for one another. Rather than pledge a sorority, the two co-eds decided to rent a house for their second year, moving off campus and living with various other students. The memories made there always buoyed Jill’s spirits during times of doubt or struggle. It was the kind of relationship Jill used to have with her brother and she realized how much she missed having som
eone she could always count on in her life. It is highly unlikely Colleen could ever fully understand how much she helped Jill rediscover herself during that time.
After graduation, Colleen went back home to Pittsburgh, interning at the Steel City Gazette. She’d realized journalism was her passion in her junior year and had chased it like a cheetah stalking a gazelle. After the internship, she worked as a copy editor for the Gazette’s city desk, researching and adding up-to- the-minute information for articles written by other reporters. While a valuable learning experience, that position didn’t feed her passion so she put out feelers in every direction, eventually landing a job with the Washington Times. Within a year, Colleen was in charge of the newspaper’s burgeoning Webpage, creating its unique and acclaimed voice almost all on her own. When not supervising the various contributors to the page, she was writing scathing, entertaining and informative editorials on everything and everyone from the newest tech gadgets to at-home births to Kim Kardashian to President Barack Obama.
When Jill got the official job offer from the NDSA, the first person she called was Colleen. Her former roommate helped the therapist in so many ways, but especially with her companionship and joie de vivre. Still, despite their long history together, Jill knew Colleen as well as one person could know another so the therapist kept waiting for the question she knew was coming.
“Soooooo....” Colleen began, as Jill held her breath. Was this it? Was she finally going to ask? “...without giving away anything, how was your first week overall? Did you see any of them?”
Jill smiled. She knew it was hard on Colleen not to be able to ask about her job, the NDSA and most importantly, The Power Elite. No member of the press had ever gotten an interview with even one member of the super team. If anyone ever did, they could write their own ticket for as long as they wanted. “It was okay. I met a guy named Gene. I think he has a crush on me.” Jill finally said. “And, no. I didn’t see any of them. They really don’t hang around the cafeteria or low level therapists’ offices. Sorry.”
“That Achilles sure is a hottie,” Colleen said before finishing her wine in one gulp.
“Colleen, enough,” Jill replied, still too raw after her day to engage in meaningless small talk. “If you have something to say, just say it. I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re beating around the bush.”
“I don’t –” Colleen started before looking at her friend with a mixture of embarrassment and love. “Yeah, you’re right. I need your help and before you automatically say no, let me tell you what I have. It’s big, Jillie Jill. Really big.”
“How big?” Jill asked.
“Big. Huge. Enormous. King Kong sized big,” Crenshaw replied. “Big enough that I am willing to ask for your help despite your repeated monologues about boundaries, crossing said boundaries and blurring the lines between our jobs and our friendship.” She raised her eyebrows expectantly.
“That big, huh?” Jill said with a grin. She poured herself another glass of wine and offered the bottle to her friend. “Okay, I’ll listen, but no promises.”
“No promises. Fair enough,” Colleen said as she filled her own wine glass before putting both the bottle and her glass on the coffee table. She then reached over to the recliner, snatched her purse and took out a file folder overflowing with paper. She looked through it for a few moments, pulled out four specific items and then put her purse and the folder back on the chair.
From where she was sitting, Jill could read the words “Power Elite/NDSA” on the top of the folder. This was even bigger than she’d expected. This wasn’t going to be an interview request.
Colleen took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She looked at her friend while biting her lower lip before finally saying, “Look, sweetie, there’s no easy way to say this so I’m just gonna say it. I think the NDSA is shady as hell.”
“Shady? What do you mean shady?” Jill replied, stunned by what her friend just said.
“Shady as in under the table arms deals with foreign powers, overthrowing governments, hundreds of covert ops including assassinations and generally conspiring to dupe the American people,” Colleen said, her voice getting louder as she went along.
“You think the NDSA is doing all that? The agency is strictly support for The Power Elite. We don’t do independent missions. That sounds more like the CIA to me.” Jill said, somewhat defensively.
“There’s a whole lot more to it than that,” Coleen said. “What I told you is just the tip of the iceberg. If I’m right, this would be the biggest story since Watergate.”
“Well, that’s just it, isn’t it? It’s a story,” Jill said, getting angry. “The story you’ve been looking for to make your career, the story that’s your ticket to the big time and you’ll do whatever it takes to get it, won’t you?”
“Wow. Really?” the reporter said, her friend’s words hurting her more than she could’ve ever imagined. “Is that what you think of me, Jill? That I’m capable of making this up? That I would actually do that? Fabricate a story for my own selfish ends?”
“Well, where else is this coming from?” the therapist asked.
“From my love for you, you idiot!” Colleen yelled. “Do you think I would ever do anything to hurt you? Ever?” She looked away for a moment, desperate to stay on point before turning back to Jill. “The second I hung up the phone the day you told me about this new job, I started digging into the NDSA. It was purely instinct. I figured I wouldn’t find much but I did. The Times has a file five times the size of this one about that agency.” Colleen turned her head once more, trying not to let her friend see how upset she was by her implication. She refused to get upset until could convince her friend of the seriousness of the situation. “Sure, I found a lot of unsubstantiated rumors but also a lot of unexplained coincidences. Stuff that raised a lot of red flags. The kind of things that worried me, worried me a lot. I kept digging, using all my connections, everything I had. I did it for you, Jill so I could be sure you’re safe!”
“Safe from what exactly?” Jill said a little too loudly.
“From whatever it is they are really doing there!” Colleen snapped in response. “I know it’s only been a couple of weeks and most of that was orientation but are you telling me you haven’t seen anything that’s a little off? Something strange or unexpected? Something that made your spidey sense tingle? Maybe just a bit?”
Immediately Jill thought of Agent Meadows, the look on his face just before the Zapper rounds hit him and what he’d whispered to her. She looked in her friend’s worried eyes and wanted to tell her about the day’s odd events but she couldn’t. She’d sworn an oath not to divulge anything about the NDSA to anyone, not even her best friend in the world. “I – I...I don’t know what you mean,” she finally said softly.
“I think you do but let’s put a pin in that and calm down a bit,” Colleen said, taking a swig from her wine glass. “I’m not trying to hurt you, honey. I’m really not.” She reached out and took Jill’s hand. “Just hear me out. Like you said, no promises. If you think I’m crazy, I’ll never mention it again, ok?” She smiled gently at the woman who was closer than family to her.
“Ok.” Jill said, afraid of what her best friend might show her but more afraid not to see it. “Show me what you’ve got.”
“Alright, let’s start slowly. Tell me what you know about The Power Elite,” Colleen said earnestly.
“I know what you know. They’re the only team of heroes sanctioned by the gover –” Jill started to say before her friend cut her off.
“No, not the team as a whole. Each individual member. What do you know about Bolt?” Colleen asked.
“Only what’s been made known to the public,” Jill said with a sigh. “His name is Wendall Walker and he’s from the year 3445. He has the ability to teleport by changing himself into electrical energy. In his time, they used him as a garbage man, disintegrating the refuse instead of just piling it in landfills. He was one of many with this ability but
he yearned for more, to be a hero. So he illegally used a time portal, outlawed centuries earlier, to travel to our time. He was taking in the sights of what is ancient, lower Manhattan to him when The Crimson Barracuda and his undersea terrorists attacked the South Street Seaport. He helped the four other heroes defeat the villain and they decided to form a team.”
“Right, right...” Colleen said excitedly. “...but what else do you know about him? Nothing, right?”
“What else is there, sweetie?” Jill replied. “What else do you want?”
“I mean, in all the footage, the cell phone vids, the press conferences, have you ever heard Bolt say anything? One single word? Has anyone seen him take off his mask? Do we even know what he is? Human? Android? Cyborg?” Colleen asked.
“Of course, he’s human,” Jill said derisively.
“Is he? How do we know for sure?” Colleen replied. “But let’s move on. How about Ambrosia? What do you know?”
“This is getting old already, girlfriend,” Jill said with a smile. “How about I just run down the rest in one fell swoop, ok?”
“Sounds good but start with Ambrosia,” Colleen said, winking.
“Ooookay.” Jill said with an exaggerated wink back at her friend. “Ambrosia is the goddess Nike banished to Earth in spirit form by Zeus, King of the Ancient Greek Gods. She took the form of the first person she came into contact with, a heroin-addicted, street- walker named Latasha Jenkins. Nike controls her host body, having pushed out the essence of Latasha completely. This new form is super strong and has the power of flight, as befits a goddess. How’m I doing?”
