by Kipjo Ewers
Both Graves and Rogers had mirrored expressions of contempt for the lack of respect of today’s youth. Lady Tech turned her gaze long enough from her game to catch it, and responded with an apologetic look laced with sarcasm.
“I’m sorry,” she smiled. “I forgot what the PC terminology is for geriatrics these days.”
With a slide of her hand, she switched off the game, and sprung to her feet strolling over to the group standing before Rogers.
“Sergeant Abraham Arthur Rogers, forty-eight years old,” she began to recite. “Born in Manhattan New York. Former Marine, received the Medal of Honor for the Iran-Iraq War from 1987 to 1988, a silver star for the Invasion of Panama, and a purple heart for injury from a landmine that ended your military career during Operation Desert Storm. In addition to that, a former professional wrestler for Battlefield Wrestling Alliance, holding four World Championship titles, on top of being the company’s third Triple Crown Champion and second Grand slam Champion. You also don’t like the fact that you have a kid on your team.”
“You got all of that from reading my mind?” Rogers steely asked.
“Heck no,” she grinned, “I follow the Xavier code of ethics. First part I got through your files, second part you can just Google. Not to mention my little brother is a huge fan of yours. My parents took us to the Memorial Coliseum to see you fight $ee Money to retain the BWI Undisputed Platinum and American Championship belts in that Prison Rules match. One of the best matches of your career, and then at the Garden when you defeated Scott “The Crippler” Bentley at “Legacy Three” to win your first World Heavyweight Championship.”
With a slide of her hand and a couple of finger taps her tablet projected a 3D YouTube video feed of Rogers wearing his wrestling attire, a Desert Storm colored wrestling leotard topped off with matching knee/elbow pads and black boots. Patriot tattoos adorned his left breast, right shoulder, right forearm, and left shoulder. As he sets up into a three-point stance in a ring corner before hollering “Charge!” He bolted slamming a dazed opponent with a vicious shoulder tackle driving him into the mat of the ring. He then pulled the same opponent to his feet, slapping on a front facelock while throwing the challenger’s arm over his neck. Abe saluted the fans before hoisting him into the air, as if going for a vertical suplex. Instead he moved his arm from around his neck letting him fall backwards down to earth. He timed it plowing him into the mat with a side slam completing his Search and Destroy finisher. Rogers hooked him up getting the three-count. Kid Rock’s “Warrior” blared as Rogers sprung to his feet, marching over to a turnbuckle leaping on the second ropes. He saluted the cheering fans celebrating one of his latest victories. With another hand swipe, she cut off the feed.
“The rest about not liking me,” she shrugged. “I got that from your facial features.”
There was a calm silence as Rogers leaned forward looking her in the eyes removing the cockiness she had; she flinched a little while holding her ground.
Rogers leaned in closer giving her a look over and then lunged forward to whisper into her ear.
“First off, I don’t hate kids,” Rogers dropped in a stern tone, “I hate disrespect, and I hate disobedience; things that children such as yourself are full of these days. You want to prove me wrong; you tighten up right now, and do, as I say, when I say… no discussion. You disobey or challenge me; I won’t give a damn if you built the entire world. I will throw you out on your ass faster than you can calculate the speed in which I do it… do you understand me?”
Erica swallowed as she struggled to meet Rogers’ extremely intimidating gaze, which felt like it was putting a ton of weight on her.
“Yes…” she began to utter.
“Sir.” Rogers calmly snapped at her. “I work for a living.”
“Sir! Yes, Sir!!” she quickly barked out snapping to attention.
Rogers stood tall again looking down at her. Graves smiled with approval that he had chosen the perfect candidate for this new operation.
“Well expert,” Abe motioned to her, “show me what I’m working with.”
“Gentlemen,” she coughed getting her groove back, “welcome to the Ranch. Ninety percent of the facility is operational. Completion of the other ten percent will be by the end of this week. With my modifications and upgrades this is the most fortified base of operations on the planet.”
All four men looked around at the abandoned base, which clearly had not been touched.
“What modifications?” Graves raised an eyebrow.
“Oh right,” she smacked her own head, “I forgot; this is the ten percent, this way please.”
Minus the Secretary’s security detail, Rogers, Graves, Dr. Alexander, and Mendes followed Lady Tech taking the lead to one of the old hangers used to maintain helicopters. As they neared the massive doors, a large black orb twice the size of a basketball emitted an array of green and red beams that scanned each individual present.
“Please stand still for scanning,” a female voice echoed from hidden audio speakers within the hanger, “recognize, Erica Champion, EVO Class 8 Promethean, and Creator. Recognize, Robert Edward Graves, human, United States Secretary of Defense. Recognize, Jason Nathanial Alexander, human, doctor in human genetics and biology. Recognize, Michael Eduardo Mendes, human, Executive Assistant to Secretary of Defense. Recognize, Abraham Arthur Rogers, EVO Class 5 Titan; reinstated United States Marines Sergeant under the Regulators project. Bio scan completed and stored in memory for future records. Welcome to the Ranch.”
The massive hanger doors slid open revealing an empty room. Graves’ face scowled as he glared at Mendes unimpressed with what he had seen so far. Lady Tech strolled into the hanger before the four men.
“Step lively gentlemen,” she asked in her best British voice. “Step lively, these doors close fast.”
Rogers stepped through with no hesitation, followed by Graves, then Mendes, and Dr. Alexander in unison. The doors closed behind them locking shut, leaving them in darkness for a split second before interior bright lights brought sight back into the room.
“Brace yourselves boys, the initial disengage is kind of jolting,” she warned.
Aside from Abe and Dr. Alexander, Graves and Mendes didn’t even notice that the floor of the hanger that was originally concrete was entirely metal. Yellow and red siren lights flipped up from each corner of the floor. Half of the floor, which ran the length of a high school football field, disengaged underneath them descending on a sliding slant down into a massive complex. As the lift brought them down, the Secretary of Defense looked around in amazement at the underground facility, but more so the assortment of two-armed quadruped-legged droids. Some of them clung to steel rafters like spiders drilling, welding, and installing structures as well as electronic components. The underground complex was three quarters the size and length of a super carrier.
“They’re call Doozers, multi-application droids created to build, run, maintain, and defend this facility if need be. The entire facility runs underneath the camp, and a little beyond,” Lady Tech explained. “Top side will be reconstructed to give the illusion of a regular military base, while the real operations will take place down here. 360 degree surveillance on both ground and air. The entire complex is fortified from top to bottom with a new metal alloy that I created called dark metal.”
“Dark metal?” Graves asked.
“Tungsten mixed with titanium, carbon nanofibers, and a dash of a woman’s best friend,” she smiled. “Very difficult to mix and blend, but once you get it right, it’s virtually indestructible. This place can take more punishment than the President’s safe room.”
The floor came to a rest at the bottom of the underground base, locking into place with the ground floor.
“Welcome home, Miss,” emitted the same female voice from the facility’s speaker system.
“Thank you, Maxine,” Erica acknowledged. “She’s the central computer that runs everything within the facility with the most advanced AI system cr
eated to date. She runs the Doozers, security, defenses, and can link to worldwide surveillance and satellite systems in every country on the planet. There’s really nothing she can’t do. Right now, she is compiling research on every EVO on the planet and categorizing them by type, power level, threat level, and location. If they’re affiliated with a government or terrorist organization, if they’re just civilians, whether they’re current superheroes or criminals.”
“What does Maxine stand for?” asked Graves.
“Uh nothing,” Erica shrugged, “I just thought it was a cute name for an A.I.”
Rogers and Graves turned their attention to four human size Doozers. Two were working on a large aircraft type vehicle, which was smaller than a cargo jet with the look of a space shuttle. The other two were putting together a heavily armored vehicle that appeared to be a cross between a tank and a Humvee.
“That’s the Tornado,” Lady Tech pointed out, “our mission air transport. It has V/STOL capabilities like a Harrier and can outmatch the speed of an SR-71. It even has suborbital capabilities, which have not been tested yet. It also includes an advanced targeting system for tracking up to twenty multiple targets and can fire anything from armor piercing, heating seeking, and heat plasma based rounds.”
“We have someone to fly this?” questioned Graves.
“Yep, me,” she answered with no hesitation.
“Come again?” Mendes stepped into the conversation.
“When I got my driver’s license, I also went for my pilot’s license,” she huffed. “Was pretty easy. Tornado has special signature recognition protocols in place recognizing only me as its pilot. So only I can fly it. Worst-case scenario if I am unable fly, Maxine is capable of remoting in and piloting it. Next is the Warthog, an all-terrain transport with aquatic capability. Heavily armored with dark metal and outfitted with various guns and cannons some possessing anti-aircraft capability. There isn’t a conventional combat vehicle on land, sea, and air that can beat it.”
“Fascinating toys, Ms. Champion,” Graves came off dryly, “but I didn’t hand you over a two-point-five billion dollar budget to bring to life things that you see in a blockbuster movie.”
“My apologies,” Erica returned with a sardonic tone, “I should have shown you the flashing Regulator signal first, but I’m still deciding between the middle finger and the forearm salute.”
“Young lady,” Graves’ tone had steel coursing through it.
“You gave me a two-point-five billion dollar budget to put together a superhuman unit capable of handling threats both domestic and abroad Mr. Secretary,” Erica returned with her own steel-like tone. “Every piece of equipment that I have fabricated here is essential to doing just that. So excuse me if I take offense to you thinking I’m not taking my job seriously just because I’m below the drinking age. Especially since this place will be charged with housing some of the most dangerous superhumans on the planet.”
“What do you mean by “housing”?” Rogers interjected.
An awkward silence lasted for half a minute before Lady Tech burst out with a chuckle.
“Holy shit,” she shook her head. “He never told you.”
“Watch your mouth,” Rogers warned her, “Tell me what?”
“Rogers,” Graves sighed while switching to a delicate tone, “there were some slight changes made to your role and that of your new team subsequent to you signing on.”
“What changes?” The bass in Abe’s voice became more forceful.
It made the conversation all the more uncomfortable for everyone except for Lady Tech.
“Sir,” Lady Tech stepped in, “you weren’t just recruited for this new unit to be a soldier again; you were also recruited to be a cop and a prison warden. Maxine, project an entire layout of the facility, please.”
Her tablet lit up again as the camera projected a holographic schematic of the entire base revealing a lower level underneath them.
“I call it Purgatory,” she sighed. “A fortified prison facility constructed to incarcerate EVOs.”
“Why is there a prison located on this base?” Roger’s voice grew with irritation.
“Because no regular human wants to be a C.O. in a prison where the inmates can either tear you apart with their bare hands or turn you to ashes with a snap of a finger.” She rolled her eyes. “Why do you think we were given this big ole space in the middle of nowhere? Superhumans may be the norm of society now Sergeant Rogers; but we still make regular folk a tad bit nervous. We’re good enough to protect them, but just not good enough to be in the same room as them. Ain’t that right, Mr. Secretary?”
A chainsaw could cut the awkwardness and tension that had developed, Dr. Alexander, a man of science stood in an uncomfortable spot between the Secretary of Defense with loyal Mendes at his side, and the super humans.
“I can smell bull manure a mile away Secretary Graves,” Erica sneered. “I don’t need my nose rubbed in it. I think I speak the same for the Sergeant even though I just met him.”
“What the kid said… sir,” Rogers changed his stance standing next to her.
Graves’ face said it all. With formality thrown out the window, he shifted into a more authoritative stance to project the point of who was really in charge.
“Let’s get an understanding here, shall we?” Graves began dropping the base in his voice. “The only reason this unit was even authorized was because POTUS could no longer ignore the threat growing at our door steps. As of now China, Russian, the UK, North and South Korea, as well as Israel and Iran either have or are assembling superhuman units of their own. It is a completely new Cold War out there, and we do not intend to lose this one either. However, do not make the mistake of believing that you are irreplaceable. If I have to, I will take away all of your toys and find someone more suitable to run this operation, for the right price.”
“I’d love to see you try,” Erica scoffed at him.
Graves raised a finger to warn Erica that she was testing his patience, when Rogers stepped in.
“Last I checked, sir, there was me, the kid, and only three other recruits for this job,” Abe dryly stated. “So unless you intend to throw a couple billion more of the tax payer’s money into this, I believe your claim is slightly over exaggerated.”
Graves focused his attention on the Sergeant, whose visual intimidation had his beat ten-fold. Graves, nonetheless, did not back down from him.
“We’re not going to have a problem are we Rogers,” Graves sighed, “because I really do like you.”
“As long as you don’t continue to yank my chain, sir, we won’t,” Rogers returned, “and it’s Sergeant, I work for a living.”
“Fair enough,” Graves nodded finally backing down.
“Now that we’re done measuring sizes,” Lady Tech jumped in, “shall we continue the tour?”
The two elder men once again were at an accord turning their disapproving gaze on a fresh mouth Erica. She returned fire with an eye roll before giving them her back as she continued the tour.
“As I was about to say,” she proceeded to walk away not caring if the men followed her or not, “I constructed Purgatory with various unique holding cells capable of dampening EVO powers and abilities across the board regardless of power levels, all except for the Source that is.”
“What’s the Source?” Rogers asked.
His question once again stopped the procession, as Graves grabbed his nose feeling a migraine coming on. Lady Tech spun around on her heel in disbelief.
“You’re joking, right? You don’t know?” Erica turned her disapproving attention to Graves and Dr. Alexander. “Out of curiosity, what exactly did you tell the good Sergeant to get him to join this operation?”
“I’m pretty sure, Ms. Champion, you can, and will, update Sergeant Rogers on all EVO affairs later,” Graves’ said steely. “Especially considering the Source is not an imminent threat at this time to National Security. Now may we continue the tour? I have other appointment
s to keep.”
“I’ll fill you in later,” Lady Tech’s mental voice came like a whisper in Rogers’ ear.
It made the old Marine wince as he narrowed his eyes at her. Clearly not accustom to telepathy, he would have a talk with Ms. Champion later about invading his mind without permission.
“Anyway, to your left are the living quarters,” she continued her tour, “and down this way is the Hurt Locker.”
“Hurt Locker?” Graves raised an eyebrow.
“Training facility for our new recruits to develop their super powers,” Erica answered with her now trademark sarcastic tone.
A tone that was visibly wearing the Secretary of Defense’s patience thin. As they continued to walk through the massive facility, a pack of miniature Doozers the size of small dogs scurried by disregarding them to get to their next project.
“Over there is the mess hall, armament, fabrication, and my lab,” she pointed trying to wrap up her tour, “and over here is the central command.”
Before them was a massive circular steel door with the symbol of a metallic eagle with its wings spread out with the letter ‘R’ etched into its chest covered the door. The insignia broke into two as the two halves of the door opened. As they walked in, aside from Lady Tech and Dr. Alexander, the look of awe broke through both Rogers and Graves’ granite exteriors, while Mendes believed he was standing on the main deck of the starship Enterprise. A gargantuan theatre display screen wrapped around half of the room. In the center of the room, flashing pictures and identification of known EVOs around the globe were sorted and catalogued around a holographic globe that rotated as red lights popped up one by one indicating their locations on the planet. The entire room had a sleek clean look to it with its white on black color scheme and steel blue accents. Everything operated by voice command, touch screen, or holographic projection.
“Welcome home,” greeted Maxine.
Her voice threw off men as it projected from inside the room as if among them, not over the speaker system like before. They turned to face the real Maxine not prepared for what was before them.
