by P. S. Power
Except that he'd really been glued to the screen most evenings, keeping tabs on everyone, so he knew what his friend really meant. Things weren't just bad, they were horrible.
"No squirrels would lend me their TVs. What's up? I've heard a little, but..." His hands came out, and the old folding chair made a bit of a noise under him. Sinclair shifted too, and looked away.
His oldest Infected buddy made a hard face.
"Death. Every few days there's a major event happening. Buildings are being blown up by different groups. Infected are being attacked and killed. Getting higher level people that have been hiding to come out. They've taken to going and stopping the mobs that form, which just turns into a bloodbath half the time. We can't field an anti-riot squad from here, so everything is getting out of hand. In most places the police won't even try anymore. They just let people go and kill until we show up. I can't blame them in some cases, but we can't be everywhere. Last week we were hit on four different fronts at once. We're losing people. Not a lot of IPB, but Americans. Our people, all of them. Even if they are dumb-fucks sometimes." She looked grim and shook her head. It was a slow thing, but seemed tired.
Exhausted on a level that Marcia wasn't physically capable of being. She went on though, because there was no room for stopping.
"Thousands of people are dying every week. Sometimes each day. People aren't willing to leave their homes in a lot of places, and the Infected have stopped caring about being known. We've openly told the hate groups that Braid is behind all their operations, and trying to force a war, but the more idiotic members can't see that as valid. It's a real war already, and at every turn, we're losing."
He could see that. It was the problem with any civil war scenario, wasn't it? Eventually all the dead were your own people, no matter who won in the end. The numbers were already piling up, and it would keep getting worse, until it hit a level where people would be motivated to keep fighting, until one side or the other was victorious. The point at which people were afraid that they would simply die if they didn't fight. It had to be close already. When that happened...
Well, then Braid would get her way, and millions would die. The conflict would spread and the whole world would change to meet her vision of what the future should be. The problem there was that it ended with the Earth dying.
It would take a few thousand years, true, but her version of things wasn't good in the end. It would lead to a hard world, ruled by the fist. Much like her own was. She thought of it as being strong, most likely, but he'd seen those people. They were dying too. Hobb's world was slowly tearing itself apart, and would eventually end, if they couldn't find a better way to live. Yes, they were all strong, and hard, but that didn't make it a good place to live. The lowest caste of people, who made up the majority of them, all suffered, from what he'd seen.
Devorah had tried to make this reality like that, except that too many people were too powerful for that to last. Sure, there were only a few thousand really powerful Infected on the planet, but they were so strong that they pretty much had to try to get along, or the thing wasn't going to work. Not in the long run.
He nodded, and glanced at Sinclair, then into the brown eyes of Marcia.
"So... We're losing. I kind of feared that would happen. We just need to work together and stop being morons, you know that? How hard is it to see that the strength of humanity has always been in forming groups, and being inclusive? Too hard, I guess. Well, maybe I can change that?" There was a reporter coming, after all.
There were worse messages to spread than that they should calm the hell down and stop killing too.
It got a nod from the new boss, and then she stood and stretched, her hands going over her head, as she flexed backwards. It was a nice enough show, but he didn't stare too hard. That would be rude.
"Good. You can go and fix that part then. Our budget can't take a lot more of this anyway. Especially since half the government is busily trying to shank the other half like a prison stoolie right now. Congress is practically getting into fistfights daily any more. The conservatives want an all out war budget, but the troops they send in keep being slaughtered until we show up to bail them out. Worse, when that happens, everyone, on all sides, keeps pretending that Bridget is walking around like a little Hitler, just killing anyone she meets. It isn't true, but no one is reporting on what she's been doing to save lives."
Sinclair kept writing, but set her pen down on the page and stood up herself, getting that Marcia was about to be on the move. Probably so that Brian could grab his clothing and change before Jim got there.
The pretty blonde girl, who probably should have been a cheerleader, rather than living on a government base, gave him a hand up. He didn't need it, but took it anyway. She meant well, and refusing any help just then was probably a poor plan.
Work together was the word of the day, after all.
She spoke when he got to his feet.
"Yeah, Impulse is doing a lot. Doug too. We need to help them more. I just don't know how."
Brian didn't either, really, but he started to get an idea, finally, as the women left him standing there.
It was different than what he'd been thinking, but it might just work. There seemed to be very little left to lose.
Chapter three
The area they had set up for the interview, their new press room, Brian guessed, was a lot different than the old one. Instead of lights built into the ceiling, they had stands of them, and a generator sitting out back, to provide power for everything. It was in a regulation green tent, one that smelled a little bit of mildew, and had what seemed like a wooden platform made out of untreated or painted plywood and four by fours. The podium was nicer, but they weren't going to be using that, since it was a one on one interview. Live though, which was either nice because they all trusted him not to shout obscenities, or the scariest thing Brian had ever heard of that didn't involve a knife or fire.
Trying to force a smile, he kind of thought it might be that second one. There was a subtle trembling in his hands already. Excitement, he thought, rather than fear. That felt different.
He wanted to beat the footage of him from earlier however, and that meant taking shortcuts. Big ones that defied rationality, or else there was no way for him to make it happen in time at all. He had to run not just through someone's yard, but their living room and kitchen as well. That meant taking risks with pretty much everything. If he didn't, then who knew what Braid might have set up for him. More to the point, who knew that anyway? Devorah Timberland, and perhaps Brie?
That the girl he'd wanted to ask out from his favorite book store back in the day had turned out to be a super villain... Well, she wasn't really, being an IPB spy, but still, she'd been there, for years, before he even had a super power. Sent in by Braid to watch him? Maybe even just to seduce him, though if that was the case, she kind of failed. All Trivia would have needed to do was suggest they go out for a coffee and then tell him she wanted his body in bed after that. It wasn't like he was all that hard to woo, was it?
Honestly, she could have skipped the coffee, and it still would have worked, because he'd already liked her. He still did, which was less than fair, but possibly the real point of the whole exercise. If so, how had Devorah managed it, without knowing about him using her powers? She'd claimed once, where he could hear it, that she didn't see him in space and time, and he was working on that idea being true, but it was, he knew, at best a fifty-fifty split as to how likely it was.
They just didn't have anything else to go on.
As he settled into the hard wooden chair, dressed in a tan uniform that had IPB above the left breast pocket in black embroidered letters, a young guy, who was only a year or two younger than he was, came over with a makeup kit. The idea that everyone even a bit less aged than he was had to be a kid now made him smile. It was funny, because it was ridiculous. This guy may not have to go and fight every ten minutes, but if he was working for the IPB he was not child either
.
The man gave him a nod and hefted that paint box like he was slightly embarrassed by the idea still. That or he figured Brian might be.
"Hey. Um, I'm Ken. I do PR for the IPB. We need to get some paint on your face here. I'm not that great at it. You are fine with looking like a clown, aren't you? I can do little hearts on your cheeks..." He was deadpanning the whole thing, but Brian nodded. It was good to see that they were getting some people in that had a sense of humor. That was rare on the ground now.
"I prefer roses, but we can't be too picky these days. Actually, I think the basic idea is to blend in a foundation, then add a bit of color to the lips. There can be more if you're good at it, but I've never really done much that way. I only know that because our old makeup lady muttered while she worked." Clari had more than muttered, turning the whole thing into a lesson for him every time.
The man nodded.
"That's about the level of skill I have in this. I wish Bridget was here. She's better at this than I am. She's out in Vegas right now, trying to keep people from murdering school kids for smelling like oysters. Literally, if I heard right. Things are getting so insane. You'd think that people would have heard about DMSO, you know? Well, here we go. Wish me luck?"
He didn't nod, and muttered without moving his face too much.
"Good luck. Make sure to tuck some tissues into my collar first, so things won't get on the clothes."
It didn't take too long, though Brian had to remind Ken to tuck tissues into his collar so that nothing would get on it. Twice. Then he worked fast, and if it wasn't perfect, it added enough smoothness and color that he wouldn't look like a ghost on camera, which was the point. He also didn't look like a clown, which was good, because a lot of people thought those things were scary.
When the news man got inside he was wearing a suit jacket and tie, but had his own crew with him, to get things set up. That was good, because it would have taken too long if he and Ken had to pitch in. Brian really didn't have a clue as to what to do that way. Ken might, but it was always best to have the pros involved when possible.
"Mr. Yi? I'm Jim Morse. I was told that you were willing to speak to me? This is going out live, so I figured that we could do a normal interview. I'll ask about where you've been, why you were in hiding, and what your plans are. Softball questions." There was a tone to the words that Brian didn't trust, so he smiled.
Because he'd met reporters before, and knew them for the diabolical fiends they really were.
"Right before you accuse me of eating babies or whatever you have planned? What is it? Give me at least half a second to think of something clever to say, will you? I promise to stammer enough to make it not seem too rehearsed."
That got the man to sigh, and shake his head.
"I have some footage of you from earlier. Where you ran away from an attack. It looks a bit, well, not exactly brave. I figured I could needle you on that."
Brian made a considering face and nodded.
"Good plan. I know for a fact that I don't have any sex tapes. So you have to use what you can get. Shall we get ready? I've never done things live before. I bet I look like a complete tool."
The man gave him a look that made it seem like he was a moron. "Um, yes you have. Ten times or so. In those daily briefings? Didn't you know that all the feeds were live?"
He hadn't, but the news actually made him relax. After all, America already knew he was a giant goof then. Brian didn't have to worry about holding to their high expectations of him. It was actually comforting, really. The man touched his ear then, and looked into the camera. They were both sitting and had lapel mics, so he just spoke.
"This is Jim Morse, I'm currently with Brian Yi. Proxy." He glanced at Brian, who was no doubt in the shot, he realized. "Mr. Yi. Can you tell us where you've been for the last weeks? Were you in hiding?"
"Yes. When the base was destroyed here I teleported away. Not a switch like normal. I've done that a few times now. When I was able to function, because doing that really hurts, I hid. Anyone able to take this place out is way out of my power class." It was true, as far as it went.
The people that had done it, Doug and Lancaster were probably both capable of killing him, if they wanted to.
The man nodded, and then asked about the conditions he'd been living in, and if he was feeling healthy.
"It... You know, I hid. Trying not to call attention to myself. Thankfully I've managed to not get too injured. It was close a few times. Without medical backup..." He shrugged. Most people had to be smart enough to get that kind of thing. Didn't they? Fighting was dangerous, every time you did it. He'd been nearly killed as many times by angry regular people as he had super powered ones.
Jim lobbed a few more set up questions, like he'd promised, then had the station they were going out on run the feed from earlier. "We have footage of you fleeing from an attack earlier. Leaving an IPB agent to fight several deadly looking feline creatures by himself. It doesn't make you look good. Do you have anything to say about that, Mr. Yi?"
His voice actually went dark and slightly sinister sounding, as if being a coward would make Brian look bad? Didn't these people get that about him already? He did what was needed, not what was brave.
"Yeah. Dev'an. He's one of the new people on Team Four. Thankfully the new people were able to get backup to him in a few seconds after that happened. Those cat things are biological weapons commissioned by Devorah Timberland. Roughly class four in killing ability. Out of my league by far. Really, if Dev'an and those others hadn't been there, I would have died, I think. Even running away wouldn't have worked. It may not have been brave, but I'd taken the place of an older woman, and if I didn't make it, she would have been left there to face them. I couldn't allow that." It was part of who he was. It was strange though, because it felt hollow now, rather than like it used to. Remote and a bit thin as an excuse. Still, it was his mode, and everyone knew that, so he went with it.
The man tried to press him on the running in fear thing, his voice a little smarmy about it suddenly. Snotty. Still it was a good enough point.
"Do you often run away in the heat of battle, Mr. Yi?"
Smiling, he nodded. "I sure do. Half the time, at least if I get the chance. It works better than fighting most of the time, and is something for people at home to keep in mind. If attacked, don't be too proud to get out of there, if it's at all possible. Things are getting crazy, and while we all need to cut that stuff out, and work together instead of letting Braid control everything, protect yourself too. Most Infected won't chase a person trying to run away, and I'd like to ask any mobs or crowds that might form to hold to the same rule. If a person is running away from you, just let them go. It isn't perfect, but we need to start letting things calm down now. Pass that around too. All over the internet. At work and school. Let people get away from you, if they can. Even if it's hard at the time. Emotions are running high, but we can afford to take a step back and not worry about looking a bit bad on the news for it."
He nearly wanted to shout at the man, crying out; coward that, but he just smiled, and let his voice stay polite and calm.
"That, and working together. Everything right now has been forced on us. Everything going on is part of a trap. The way to win is kindness. Be good to other people, and work together. It isn't hard to understand."
Except that most wouldn't do it, would they?
Jim looked troubled by the idea, for instance.
"But, you're Proxy. The killer. The bogeyman that makes all the bad guys wonder if they'll live through whatever they have planned. You're calling for peace now? Explain to me how that works."
"Easy enough, Jim. I protect people. I'll keep doing it, too. That's my gift, and curse all rolled into one. It doesn't mean that I endorse violence though. We might have to fight in some cases, but we don't need to make those up. Yes, if someone is being hurt, try to help them, even if it means losing your life to do it, but don't look for reasons to hurt others, and if i
t's just you on the line, and it will work at all, run the heck away! I don't care if you look bad in the minds of people that weren't there, later. I know that you're all brave people, so protect yourselves, and the people around you, but with kindness, when you can."
The man looked constipated for a moment, then touched his right ear. He seemed to be listening for a bit.
"Right Barbara, I'll ask that... Mr.Yi, are you saying that you think the current troubles are being orchestrated by one person? This Devorah Timberland?"
He nearly blinked. Didn't they all know that already? It had been in a Presidential address to the nation, along with a call for peace. More than one, to be honest.
"Exactly. She's been working on this for a long time, and has very high level precognitive skills. So much so that it's hard to explain how they work. Chances are, if a person has even read an anti-Infected pamphlet in the last twenty years, she orchestrated the printing of it herself. She's insane at this point, driven to it by her power."
"Not her first modality? That emotional disorder that all Infected seem to have?"
He almost hid the truth, but then shook his head a bit. It was time for everyone to know what was going on. Plus, he was live. It wasn't like anyone could really stop him. No one would believe it though, would they?
"Not at all. This is all part of her power, which seems to be genetic, not an Infected ability. She's from a different reality, which she escaped from about fifty years ago. So, really, she's an alien, after a sideways fashion. Before anyone panics, no, they aren't planning to invade. Actually, they've offered to help us with this problem, by sending in some of Devorah's family members to help fight her. The problem there is that most of them don't really want to come. Still, it was a kind offer. Some of their people are going to be coming here soon to give us advice on how to handle the situation, I believe. We should set up an interview or two for that. Hold classes for everyone at home. For right now, though, the big thing is to calm the heck down and work together. This is all about one woman and a small group of people trying to kill regular individuals, so that the Infected can take over. We need to prevent that, for the good of all."
