by P. S. Power
"Gah! I hate this stuff. It makes sense, doing it this way, but... Belcky. So, what's the plan for the day? Just hanging with our peeps?"
Brian shook his head, trying to remember if there was anything like toothpaste and a brush in the supply area.
"Nope. Training. Starting at seven, which is in... Time to get up." He had half an hour, but it would look bad if he didn't get to it on time, even if it was only him, Simpson and Sinclair. Bridget nodded, but didn't say anything, probably figuring that he didn't mean her. She had to practice fighting, like anyone else, but she couldn't get out of shape, and as far as he knew, exercise didn't make her physically stronger. It was all about technique for her.
He got up, still dressed, though with his shoes off, and headed out with a wave.
"See you then? Out front here, in half an hour. Eat something first." She needed more than some oil. Really, they should have some real food in for the big eaters, soon. Telling them that they had to just drink their calories like machines getting fueled up was rude. Like Bridget had said, it made sense, but that wasn't a good enough reason to suggest it to anyone if they had something better they could do. It was worth thinking about if he got the time.
He took the chance in the green tent full of stuff to get supplies, including soap and a little plastic carrying box for it, along with a green duffle bag for all his things. So that he could move when the time came for it. That left him with about five minutes to get back to the office, and pack things up before he was really going to be late.
When he got out the front door, he found that about fifty people had shown up, and that Simpson was standing in the front already, talking to them.
"We meet here, at seven sharp, every day that you aren't on leave or on a mission. Any questions?"
No one raised their hands, and everyone was standing in one of four lines, with the military people to the front, and left, and most of the others kind of tacked on to the end. Marcia was there though, and everyone was dressed just like he was. It was a bit funny, but Simpson turned to him, and saluted. He didn't do it back, not being military, but did nod.
"Thanks, Greg. If I'm not here, Simpson is in charge. Right now we'll start with a half hour run, around the outer perimeter. Fast people on the outside, so you don't hit the rest of us. Go at your own best speed for that amount of time, I'll call you in when it's time... Or better, does anyone have a watch?"
Doug raised his hand, and so did a couple of the military men.
"Good, Doug, you time us. Slow people stay inside the fence line. Not that we have one of those, but you can see where it was. Let's go." He started off, on the inside because he was, he knew, slow.
Bridget started making good time though, right off the bat, and Marcia wasn't doing too bad either. There were four of the twenty soldiers that had started on the fast side that moved in after the others made their first lap, realizing that anything under thirty miles an hour meant they couldn't safely hang with that crowd. The others mainly tried to keep up with him after that, as most of the people were further back, some barely managing a real jog.
Phoebe didn't even try jogging. It wasn't even a fast walk. Sauntering came to mind. When he started to pass her, he rolled his eyes and stopped.
"Seriously? Are you injured? Sick? Have a condition we need to know about? Don't say cramps..."
The girl gave him a sour look, called him names, and then begrudgingly started a slow jog that at least made it seem like she was trying to do something.
The whole morning was like that, with most of the military men and women doing a good job, sometimes a great one, the old IPB people hitting the same basic tenor, and the new ones either barely hanging on, or kind of not really trying. When it came to fighting practice he worked with Marcia first, and then some of the super soldiers for a while, as all the new people stood around, looking lost.
Because they didn't know how to fight at all. It was probably fair, but pointed out a real problem. They weren't a military organization, but that just meant that any of them might end up in the middle of a real fight, more often than if they'd been army and working on a base like they were.
Even Doug managed to take a few turns with some of the lower powered soldiers. They weren't all that great either, but when told to try, they did their best. Brian was about to let himself get frustrated, but then shrugged.
"Right. Two sections for this part tomorrow. If you don't know how to fight, you'll be with me. Everyone else with Marcia. This is good for today. Thanks for coming. We have some work to do, but as long as we all do our best, things will smooth out and get easier, over time."
Half the people nodded, and it was nicely scattered through the crowd of people. Simpson called them all to attention, which made some of them stiffen up, then he sighed and looked blank. It was the all white eyes that really sold that last part.
"Dismissed. Unless you have any orders for the day, sir?"
Brian didn't, but looked at Marcia, who came forward, the ranks filling in after she did.
"We have a press conference at three, I'd like you all to attend. Don't speak, and if asked any questions, please refer the person to me or Brian, at least until you get lessons on handling the press. If you get pinned down, remember that the food here is really great, and we hardly ever beat you at all. There should be a crew coming to set up the official mess at noon, so if you aren't busy, help with that. Any questions?"
Doug tucked his hand up in the air, looking a bit shy about it.
"Tibs? You have something for us?" She didn't seem all that happy about the idea. It wasn't fair, but to her mind it was clear that anyone saying anything would mean more work for her.
It didn't keep him from speaking though.
"We need a regular run into town, for personal time off and supplies. Can we get a vehicle for that? I can drive."
There was a moment of silence, and finally a slow smile.
"Yes. See to that. You have the authorization for it. For the time being if you're going off base, check with Tibs here. He's in charge of that part of things. We'll set up leave and liberty through him, too. That's vacation and days off, for the civilians. For now, if you have anything else you need, get with Yi. Dismissed."
Why they should get with him, he didn't know, but he had volunteered to help with the paperwork side of things. That reminded him that he needed to get to his write ups, if he could manage that before he had to go fight again. Waving Phoebe over, he jogged into the command trailer. Penny, who'd skipped out on the actual physical training, was behind the front desk, with Wendy, manning the phones.
He smiled, "You two and anyone else that missed morning exercise will get a chance in the afternoons. Penny, you can lead that part. Don't let anyone slack off too much." It would be hard for her, since it meant going against her first mode, but she didn't say anything about it. There wasn't even a glare. Wren seemed a bit baffled at the idea, but nodded too.
They took turns getting showers, since both he and his new partner were coated in sweat. That meant a change of clothing, and given the rate of things, that he'd need to do some laundry that night, if possible. It would be a pain to get to, he bet, but it had to be done. He had a feeling that laundry services weren't that high on the priority list.
After that, they actually ran through the day, with him having to trade out and kill three kids that were trying to murder a school teacher. They all had powers, but nothing all that dangerous, except for one girl that managed to throw out huge bolts of pure pain. It faded after about ten minutes, but it was severe enough that he nearly passed out first. It was bloody though, and required more washing and yet another clean uniform. Not pressed, which would have been nice for the cameras, but good enough.
At two he headed over to the press tent area, to find everyone setting up. It turned out to be a mistake though, since regardless of the time schedule, everyone wanted to have a word with him first. On camera.
"Hey... That's not fair, if you want an exclusi
ve, call in and ask. Today you just get the one chance to pester us!" He made his voice soft and friendly at least. "Now, back. Back!" That got a chuckle, but they moved. For their kind of beast, these press people were being fairly well behaved.
That didn't last too long, once Marcia started speaking to them. She did a good, if slightly dry, job, hitting most of the salient points about what Brian had said.
Yes, she informed them, there were other realities, and yes, the one they knew about wasn't a threat to them.
That part didn't get many questions, because everyone was really interested in what he'd been up to. Like that mattered?
"Proxy! How do you feel about everything that's been happening?" This came from a young looking man with gray hair. They'd actually met before, and the man asked uncomfortable questions all the time.
Marcia looked at him, as if he were really supposed to go up and dignify that one though. How did he feel about things?
"Well..." He didn't know where to start, but took a deep breath and tried to be honest. "I guess I feel horrible about it. The death, the fighting... I really want it all to stop, and think that the new program that Impulse has is a great step in that direction. Instead of fighting, people can simply give us their names and let us know what their concerns are. We're going to have a newsletter, and actually try to help people when we can. Because that's the level of response we actually need right now. Talking things out and acting like human beings, instead of blind hate and fighting. Sure, that doesn't work for everything, but..." He shook his head. "But we've let Braid take too many of us already. It really hurts, each death does."
Then he stood back. He eventually had to take a turn answering questions, after Marcia finished, but kept up the line he was using. Bridget left halfway through, but came back before they were done, and smiled at him, walking to the front herself.
"I got a domain name. Infected.gov, so it's easy to remember. We should have a web-site up by tomorrow. Sign up for the newsletter!"
She had to repeat it all on camera, and then take questions, which had always been considered too risky before, since it was really hard for her to lie to anyone for too long. Marcia looked on nervously, but Brian just got out of the way, as the girl moved to stand beside the podium. She was too short to be behind it, but that was where the microphones were set up.
Finally Doug got the idea and waved her behind the thing, then slowly had her lift into the air. It wasn't perfect and she had to hold on to the lectern, but it did make her taller.
"Whee. Gravity is making me float. So, questions? Or I can get out of the way and let each of you take a turn doing this?"
A woman in the back called out, her voice a bit snotty sounding.
"You've killed nearly a thousand men and women in the last month, and now you're doing a newsletter? People are calling for your arrest, and you keep acting like no one can touch you." She stopped talking, but scowled, her face looking mean.
Like she was personally affronted by the evil Bridget in front of her.
Rather than get defensive, which would be anyone's normal response to the kind of thing, or even making a joke, which Brian might have if put on the spot like that, she just answered, her voice normal. High pitched, young, and sounding like she had to answer things like that every day. Which given her life lately might have been the case.
"That's true. All of it. I know that people are angry at me, and understand why. They should be. Killing is always the worst option. Most people understand that it was the only one that I had at the time, and that me not taking action would have led to more killing and destruction, not less. I'm happy to announce though, that both the Infected and the now mainly defunct hate groups, have decided to come together as one over the issue, showing that we really can all get along. I don't take any of this lightly however." She gestured with one hand and bobbled a bit in the air. "Next question?"
They kept after her like piranhas, trying to wear her down and get her resolve to crack, so they could get an angry reaction, but she stayed the same way the entire time. Like no one could hope to move her emotionally, while still being kind and showing concern, if not outright compassion.
She did keep mentioning that the hostilities were ending, and that the next thing to happen would be Braid, and her cronies, trying to start things back up.
"So, if that happens, try to help each other, and run away when you get the chance. I can't tell what's coming, but it seems big. This is a real war, but all of us are on the same side. We know that now."
Then, as if she were finished, she started to move away, which got Doug to slowly let her down, making it seem almost like she was in control of the move. It flowed, nearly as if planned.
That was it, and they got to send the press away then. Brian moved with Marcia and the others, as a group, to prevent ambush by the press, but no one even really tried it. At the trailer he waved to Simpson, who was the only military man he knew by name.
"We need guards on the perimeter, and for the trailer here. Also, if anyone knows how to set up a web-site? Ask around for me, please. We really don't have any good IT people here, so anything will probably help, a lot." He didn't have the right to set that kind of thing up, but the man saluted again and went off at a run that covered distance about fifty percent faster than his own best sprint.
Which given what he'd done that morning, meant he was just jogging, for him.
It turned out that they did have a person that was decent with online stuff. Phoebe. She called him a monkey sexer, whatever that was. Then offered to set things up for them. It was a hobby of hers, she explained, as she started working. Bridget had some ideas as to what they needed, and they had it coming together without too much waiting or trouble. The big thing was that they needed their own server for it, or at least one that would be able to hold out against the massive hacking that they were going to inevitably get.
Honestly he had to leave that to other people, because he didn't know how to set that kind of thing up, and didn't have time to learn yet. Instead he sat down at Marcia's desk, and wrote up the reports on the events he had the day before. It didn't take that long, but he didn't know some of the information he was supposed to have in the file.
Like the location, and names, of the police involved in the second to last event, or any information on the nuns. He did however, have a computer, and knew how to use Google, so put in Proxy, and the date of the day before, looking for anything that mentioned him. He had to steel himself first, knowing that not everyone loved him, but it had to be done.
It was only about half as hate filled as he thought. Mainly he was called a killer, which was correct, and a few people seemed to be confusing him with Bridget for some reason, but in the main no one seemed to be all that harsh, as far as just being mean. Oh, he was called gay a few times, but could take that. It wasn't about those people trying to say he wanted men, just them not knowing how to hold a conversation online. The big surprise came when he actually found the information he needed.
It was on a web page for the "Proxy Union".
At first he didn't understand what it was. He wrote down the needed information, which included the number for the police station in New Jersey, and some indication that the police really had just let the man go, after Proxy left, since he hadn't been doing anything wrong. That was good news, but had to be checked anyway. The story on the nuns had less info, but the online people said it was out of Barcelona, which gave him a place to start looking.
It was the rest of the site that he didn't understand. It seemed... favorable. Like these people didn't hate him personally, for some reason. It was, it seemed, a fan page.
He had a fan?
Looking, he saw that there was a message board, which was a lot more interesting than he would have expected. It was run by a man named Tobias, out of Canada. Most of the entries, and there were a lot, discussed fights. Things done to help save people. Not his, or not all of them, but things that the members there had done, tr
ying to save people. Sometimes succeeding, too, it looked like. Not always, but enough to make it worth doing.
He nearly got sidetracked, but bookmarked the page to come back to later. It was work time, and he wasn't allowed to goof off during work hours. He didn't think so anyway.
The call to the police to fact check things was harder to do than just getting the number had been, since more than a few people were calling them to complain about their treatment of innocent Infected people. He got that from the man he talked to, who growled at him, in typical asshole cop fashion.
"We can't discuss ongoing cases with the public. If you have any questions, please submit them in writing. We can't answer all your questions, but we'll try to do what we can."
It was the tone really. Of course, he was a bit biased on the matter, wasn't he? Being locked up by police and nearly killed by them several times kind of made him assume the worst about them. Always. That wasn't fair though, because some of them had managed to do the right thing, eventually.
"Hey... This is Brian Yi, IPB. Proxy? Anyway, I was there for the event yesterday and just need to go over some things for my records. Paperwork, you know? Just the names of the officers involved, how it was handled, that kind of thing. Who do I get in touch with for that?" There was no arresting officer, so he was finally given to the watch commander, who called him back.
After checking the number to make certain he was actually calling from an IPB line. It made sense, but Brian had to doubt that a lot of people went around pretending to be him on the phone.
The man was professional sounding, and actually got out the reports on it, which they had because shots had been fired. Other than the fact that they made him sound like a patronizing jerk, they actually all seemed to be fairly correct. They'd gotten the number of the glowing man too, so when he finished that part, he called the fellow up, just to check in with him.
"Um, hello?" He sounded a bit nervous, but given everything, Brian could understand that.
