by P. S. Power
"Hey, where did Ms. Turner go?" She just asked that out loud, looking around. Her voice was raised and people heard her, but no one said anything, until one of the CSI guys, who was in a light blue water and goo proof outfit that pulled over his clothing, waved and called out through his face mask. It was just a little, white, surgical kind of thing.
"She told everyone she was going to the new headquarters? She didn't mention where that was."
Bridget waved, since, thankfully, she did. It was the old shoe shop. She'd never been there, or anything, but it wouldn't take her that long to find it. Not if she hurried.
All it really took was sprinting up and down a half dozen streets, her bare feet tapping the pavement with loud thunking sounds. She didn't let her feet slap when she ran, since that was poor form. It was all about putting her max effort into forward momentum. Most of the time at least. The place was just about in the exact center of the old downtown area. She knew it was the right one, since there was a hand lettered sign on the front door, stuck there with clear tape.
It said, "IPB, National Headquarters."
That was correct, but it seemed a bit sad, seeing it in writing. The big sign in front of the building said Sho. The last two letters of the word Shoes, being missing. The first part was made of plastic and looked like the kind of thing that had space for light bulbs inside. That way it would glow and attract late night shoe fetishists, she supposed. If it had ever had another name, the yellow and red sign for the store refused to divulge it.
The glass door was unlocked, and while it was a bit of a mess inside, with some old boxes stacked in the corner, the floor had been swept, and several people were sitting in folding chairs. They were black and at least the one Marcia was in had cracked vinyl on the seat. It made the whole thing seem both temporary and like they were playing make believe at the same time. If so, it was a cosmic and unrelenting game of make believe.
Her entire life was though and always had been.
That fact hammered home, cresting on a wave of hunger and strangely, apathy. Bridget smiled, but didn't mean it, noting the others in the room. Doug was still cleaning up, using an old rag to dust for cobwebs, floating in the corner so that he could reach the twelve feet, up to the ceiling. That was made of plain white tiles made of something like sheetrock. That was what she'd always supposed things like that were, anyway.
Kenny the Intern was there too, talking on his cell phone. His voice was a bit higher pitched than it had been, and squeaked a bit when he spoke, exasperation ripping from him like a person about to throw down. In this case, the victim seemed to be the telephone company rep.
"No, wait, just effing wait! We need the numbers transferred, and it does not need to be disconnected physically first. Why? Great question! Because the building got nuked! Yeah, from the news, that's right. So what I need you to do today, Sandra, is to get on your computer and transfer all the numbers to this location. No... I don't know. Hold on for a second? I'll find out." There was a sneer on his face, and he looked over at Marcia, who was busily talking to someone herself on a cell. How she'd gotten it, Bridget didn't know.
Theft came to mind, to be perfectly honest. It's what she would have done. Borrowing would work too though, and probably be easier to show in the budget, when the person was paid back later for its use.
Getting that Marcia was busy, half yelling herself, and Doug was floating, the young man looked at her.
"Ms. Chambers... How many phone lines do we need? We don't have a trunk line, or whatever, at the store, but we can have up to six lines."
Bridget nodded, not having a clue what to tell him at all.
"Four. One for each of us. We can add as we go along. No, wait, make it five. We'll need to have a special line for the President." Because the man always called her when he was feeling upset or cranky, didn't he? She smiled at that one, but Kenny didn't know that she was kidding, and reported that to the operator, who actually gasped a little.
Bridget however, didn't care. It was either the right answer or not and really, she didn't have the energy to think about it at the moment. They'd all get cheap and unsecured cell phones and use those anyway. No one used land lines anymore, except the government... and old people.
Pulling at the edge of her borrowed and rather filthy jacket, which hit her mid-thigh, she sat down. Then she proceeded to fidget. It was what she did, when at rest. At least that was what people told her it was. Useless movements. Except that to her perception it all made sense. She wasn't just aimlessly looking around, or tapping her leg, it was just that she lived in a slightly different time frame from everyone else. Her grandma, Rachel, the one that had raised her when she was little, did the same thing, if not quite on the same level.
Jason from Team One did too, only he tried to stop himself from doing it all the time, which made him seem almost identical to her that way. That was a lie though. The man was several times faster than she was. She'd tried to race against him several times and had never even come close to winning. If it wasn't for the fact that they'd left everyone else in the dust she would have felt bad about it. She hated to lose. Not as much as a lot of people, but enough. Worse, Argos was always so humble about winning. You couldn't be mad at the guy over it, because he really meant it. He'd be standing around for five minutes, waiting for you to finish the running course, and then, without even a hint of irony, thank you for letting him win.
Letting. Like anyone had a choice?
That was his first mode talking though, and while it wasn't that bad, just being humility, it could grate on a person, after a while.
Focusing her mind, she tried to stop the errant seeming movements, and keep her mind still. It was hard, but she'd had a lot of practice doing it. Bridget still didn't seem like a statue, but she was, suddenly, normal seeming. It was enough that Marcia looked up, checked the door and started to shift, standing up to look behind her. Without breaking her line of communication.
"Let's do this. We'll let you go over the scene, but this is still an IPB case. We don't have the manpower to do it, but we can make sure you have a guard for your team on the ground. There are Infected involved. That makes it ours." The man on the phone, who Bridget thought was Talley from the DHS, growled that they didn't have the manpower left to see about lunch, much less an investigation. Which to his mind meant they should shut up, and be good little boys and girls.
That wasn't totally wrong, Bridget knew. They were down, at present, to about two percent of their old manpower. Less than that, even if she and Doug kicked butt. They weren't Team Two, and more to the point, they also weren't Proxy. He could get places fast, and might have to anyway, which needed to be covered up. Somehow.
Blinking, she nodded to herself, which had Marsh glaring, because it was too subdued for her and the woman couldn't help but respond to change. Especially if she couldn't see the reason for it.
"We have Mary however, who can teleport us into place. She isn't a fighter, but that will help a lot, I think. Or, I mean, we can beg her to try and do that. She isn't one of our people, only having a class one power." Which meant that the woman wasn't required to give them aid at all, explaining why the woman hadn't been in the IPB. Bridget was just making that one up however. Just being able to teleport normally had a person classed as a two.
Those kinds of people could go places quickly, and unexpectedly. It made a difference in a fight.
Marcia squinted at her and made a face that told Bridget she smelled something bad. That had to be about her idea, since she didn't stink. Quartz didn't even have a sense of smell, so even if Bridgie was wrong, which she wasn't, it couldn't be that.
Suddenly Ken yelled into his cell phone.
"No! This is a matter of national security. You're required by law to do everything you can to help us, and right now that means having a tech out to fix those lines, pronto. You have two hours to have someone here, or at least come up with a really good reason why we don't have phone service. Do you understand?" There was metal in his vo
ice, and any trace of civility was nearly gone. The woman on the other end replied that she did get it, and seemed a little scared.
Which Bridget understood, even if Kenny didn't. When he finally got a confirmation that someone was coming, right that moment, he hung up and glared at the phone.
"How hard is it to get that set up? It's not like I was asking for her to come and do it herself. I've never had that much trouble with the telephone company. Ever."
Bridget made a small circle in the air with her right hand, pointing her index finger in an elegant fashion. At least she tried for that, and thought she'd gotten it right. It paid not to let yourself get lazy, as far as presentation went. Her mom always said that.
"Welcome to the world of the Infected, Ken. It won't even matter to most of them that you aren't one of us. Just being too close is a sign that you're probably filthy and corrupted. Just remember, that isn't true. You're a good person, no matter what they say about you. And they will say things. You should hear some of the things that people claimed about my mom." She went silent then, which was part of her exercise, as far as she was concerned. Learning when not to speak.
To everyone else it seemed like she was sad, she bet. Her parents were make believe dead. Of course two of the people there knew that.
Kenny coughed and shook his head, looking a bit tired already.
"I need to get on having a real press conference set up. If we don't say anything it will make it look like we don't have the manpower to get basic things done. Which is darned close to true, from the sound of it."
Marcia glared at him, since he was too loud and Talley was laughing on the other side of her cell phone. He relented however and went with the IPB plan, since it was pretty much just guard duty. For Doug, it turned out.
When she got off the phone she explained that one to them all.
"Chambers is the best fighter we have right now, except for myself. We need to hold her back in case something major takes place. Basically, Bridget, for the time being you're both Team Two and Three. Set up that transport with Mary. I... We're strapped, resource wise, but I'll open a line of credit for each of us and get some funds flowing again. It wasn't like all of the IPB accounts were destroyed. That means Tibs has to cover all the Team One duties, and some of Team Two's. We need more bodies. I don't suppose we could hire that girl from town to answer the phones? It's dangerous, but so is living here." The woman seemed a bit pale and blank, her youthful face looking fresh. Her hair was gone however, making her seem a little monk like at the moment.
Bridget nearly snapped at her that Charity needed to be protected, but realized that it might not really be possible to do that. Not anymore. They were too low on manpower for that kind of thing.
"We can ask if she'll do it. We need to get with the Chief and make sure he isn't planning to kill us all. Again. I know it was a mistake to induct him like that, but..." She hadn't really thought about it at the time. Bridget nearly just admitted to it, when Marcia gave a tired smile of her own.
"But what were we supposed to do? It was either out the man or send him to prison, and that second one takes a lot more time and wouldn't be easy on an older guy like him. Even if he knows when the soap is going to be slippery in advance. A cop would be in for hard time, especially an Infected one with low level powers. It was the right call at the time. Still, we need to get with State and make certain we have a death warrant ready to go on him, just in case we need to kill him later. Really, we need one for each of us." Stretching upward, she leaned back, her clothing still the ugly things that Bridget had borrowed from Liz for the press conference.
Bridget rolled her eyes. "Especially that Kenny the Intern guy. I mean, how dangerous do you have to be to pick a superhero name like that? I wouldn't want to fight him. He has to be a badass, doesn't he?"
Doug floated to the floor, landing gently on one foot. Bridget felt slightly jealous that he had shoes, when she was left without even a pair of Uggs.
"That's a good point. I mean, if we're going to have those military super soldiers in play. They were pretty much designed to fight us, so we need to make sure that if we have to kill them, it's covered in advance. Can we do that?"
There was a pause as all eyes turned toward Marcia, who shrugged.
"That's one of the reasons I insisted that we were in charge. It's remarkably easy to get a death warrant, even an unsigned one, for IPB personnel. I'll need a land line first. When are they supposed to get here for that?"
Ken looked at his wrist watch.
"In about an hour and fifteen minutes, if they can get through the military line. I'd call them to make sure they knew about that, but I don't have a number that will work." No one did, yet.
That was fine, since she could just go and talk to them, or, someone could. She actually needed to find some food.
"Dinner time! I'll go and get something. Doug, can you go and make sure the phone techs get in here? After that..." Really, she didn't know what to do, but Gravity did. He was smart that way.
"Then we need to get you something to wear. I nearly had to hit three different guys earlier, when you were running around naked. Perverts." There was no anger in the words.
"Well, I was the one being all sexy, so who could blame them? Good plan. I'll see to it. I still have my card. Do you think it will work? It's in my bag." So were her terrorist clothes, but wearing those around would be kind of a red flag. It was actually better for her to keep to her borrowed coat than give that away. Really, she needed to burn them, as soon as she got a chance. It also meant a trip over to Mary's real quick, before she did anything else.
They all chatted about that, but the fact was, they wouldn't know if the accounts were still up until they tried it. Not really.
It took longer than it should have, or would have, if she'd been at the base. There was an open food shop. A grocery store, that she jogged over to. True it was in the next town over, but it was only about twenty miles, so it didn't take long. She paid for it out of her personal funds, which reminded her to get a receipt. It was food for everyone, after all. Then she stole the shopping cart it was in and ran back, going slow. The wheels didn't come off at least. Because she was taking her time, she noticed that there was a clothing store that was still open, and looked to have some trendy stuff. One of the mannequins was even a child, if a boy.
That might mean they'd have clothing in her size.
It wasn't until she got in that she understood the vast irony that the day held for her still. Every single shirt inside the place had a TCC logo on it. Smiling she looked at the rather gray haired woman behind the counter.
"Do you own this place?"
"Oh, no, I just work here. My son-in-law and daughter own it. I would have picked slightly different things, if I had my way. Some of it isn't too bad however. Good, sturdy clothing." The woman looked at her and smiled, gesturing at the coat she wore. "I saw you, on television earlier. I think we can find some things for you, if you need?"
She nodded, looking around.
"Seems like a plan! I can finally get all the TCC gear that my heart has secretly been yearning for!" She giggled, and the woman joined in, not seeming all that nervous about having one of the Infected there.
She was even helpful about getting Bridget set up. Like she really did just work there and wasn't a bigot at all. It was telling, and when the woman's son-in-law came in, as she was running Bridget's card, she smiled up at him.
"Jon? The IPB came to get some clothing. I know that you're a big supporter of them." There was ice and a bit of derision in the words, but the guy looked at Bridget, and then at what she was getting, which was a healthy pile of stuff, most of it with TCC clearly on the front. He... Smiled.
"Good job, Joan! Not everyone can sell this kind of stuff to an Infected person. She gets a ten percent discount." The man, who had a beard on his face, and seemed like the kind that would have owned a comic book shop, not a bigot clothing outlet, winked at her. "All government employees get
that, so it isn't a bribe. It's just our way of saying thank you. In this case for today. I saw that thing earlier. We can't afford terrorism. I don't know what people are thinking."
She sighed, and then made a circle with her hand, to get him to turn around. After all, she had clothing now, and while putting it on in the store was probably weird, it meant she could talk at the same time. It took a while, since she told them everything that she had Gene earlier.
"Which is why all of this is really happening. We need to get the word out, to the hate groups. They're being used and made to make mistakes, on purpose. I know that it's hard to understand, but we, your team and the Infected, we're really all on the same side. So if you could pass that around? The more people doing it, the greater the chance that Braid won't win."
They stood there, with their mouths opening and closing, or at least the counter woman's was. The man had actually turned his back, since she was struggling into a complete change of clothing. Complete with tiny, kid sized, jack boots. Camo pants and a tan shirt with short sleeves that said TCC in big black letters on the front. She glanced into the full length mirror and had to smile.
"Okay, I'm totally rocking this look. It's the hair, I think. I look like a boy, but hot, don't you think?" She said this to the woman, who was still in shock, and told the man he could turn back around.
"Not bad, really. You kind of fit the season, at any rate. So, we're being controlled by a super psychic? That seems a bit, I don't know, I'd say impossible, but with the Infected, who knows? I guess we can let people know what you said. It seems a bit off, but after the base was lit up like that... We couldn't get that done. Our people." He glanced at the older lady and then back at Bridget. "My people, I mean. We'll, if you need anything else, do come back. There were friends of mine in that crowd you saved today. I guess, in a way, I owe you."
She shrugged. "It's literally my job. Thanks for the discount though. I lost everything, in the blast. Everyone." Her voice dropped, but she left quickly then, as if hiding her tears. None were coming, but she moved quickly enough that it had to be hard to tell that was the case.
