Pinnacle Plot: Days of Resonance Episode One

by Brett P. S.

  Caleb stepped aside, held the door open for Star, and bowed his head gentlemanlike. Star rolled her eyes and stepped inside. She’d dyed her hair a flat blonde and wore unassuming set of overalls with a set of the nerdiest specs she could gather from a thrift shop down the street a few days back. Admittedly, he didn’t think the biggest pop idol in Europe could hide in plain sight, but she dressed the part surprisingly well. Besides, most of the concert traffic had left the city.

  House Records, the Fortune Strongholds subsidiary that organized her concerts and events, was working on a reschedule, but that was another thing entirely. Star wanted to lay low for a while and Caleb agreed with her. Those Pinnacle scum attacked her practically in broad daylight and with a resonance user no less. He was lucky that shadow fellow arrived when he did. The woman who attacked, aptly named Live Wire, was an electrical themed Elementalist and electricity did not sit well with him. Caleb could shoulder a number of offensive techniques, but increasing the carbon density of his body, even just the skin, amplified the conductivity of any tissues affected. He gulped at the thought as Star strolled past and into the coffee shop. Anything electrical affected him tenfold, though he wasn’t about to spill those beans to Star or the lady Adamson.

  “You’re such a gentleman,” Star said with a tone of sarcasm. “Go ahead and grab a seat. I’ll place my order and be with you in a minute. You want a black coffee, right?”

  “No, ma’am,” Caleb replied. “I don’t need any handouts. I’ll be fine.”

  Star crossed her arms. “Nonsense. We’ll be here for a while, so I’m going to buy you something.”

  “There’s no arguing with you, is there?”

  Star smiled. “Most people roll over, so you’re doing pretty well.”

  “Pardon me, ma’am,” Caleb said. “But it sounds like you’re applauding me for refusing to follow your orders.”

  “I’m applauding you for being an individual and thinking for yourself. That’s more than I can say about most of the people who work for me. It’s all about the paycheck for them, but you aren’t like that. I can tell.”

  Star smiled and continued through the entrance to the café. Caleb followed suit, and once Star found her way into the line, which had backed up a bit, he located a booth with a window seat like the one she requested. Caleb sat down and heaved a deep sigh. He wasn’t used to that sort of praise, especially not for the particular behaviors she mentioned. Acting on instinct, doing good when his superiors forbade it; that kind of gumption usually landed him out the door. Maybe Fortune Strongholds was different though. He had a good thing going for him. He just needed to keep his head low long enough to earn some respect from the heads of this establishment. He was in. Now, he needed to keep it that way.

  Star placed a cup of black coffee down beside him, breaking his concentration.

  “You’re thinking about something, aren’t you?” she said.

  “Nothing important,” Caleb muttered, grabbing his cup.

  “Now you’re lying to me,” she said, sitting down. “You’re probably lying to yourself too.”

  “I apologize,” Caleb said. “I just have a lot of concerns recently that I don’t want to bring up with you or the people who sign my checks.”

  “I get it, Caleb,” she said. “Three days ago, you were temping for our business under the table. Now you’re full timing in a position most would kill to dream about. It doesn’t take much observation to see that you’re worried about screwing it up.”

  Caleb’s eyes grew wide, and he did his best to stare down at his coffee mug.

  “I get that you have a history of disappointment,” Star said. “It must feel awkward to hear praise from someone like me, but I don’t give it without good reason. You did well during the concert. You saved the day, and you stood up to me, and the latter more than anything else, not your skills or abilities, was the reason I hired you.”

  Caleb sipped his coffee and set the mug down. “I’ll try not to disappoint.”

  Chapter 6

  Suiting Up

  Gregory’s Palace, Paris

  Six days after the incident, House Records schedules a new benefit concert in lieu of refunds while 4Love recovers from her injuries …

  An evening sun beat down on Caleb’s shoulders through the sunroof as his limo crawled through barren streets. Traffic had dropped to a minimum, but he liked to take it slow. Moving quickly held its advantages, but sometimes it paid to take in the sights. He’d driven past the slums, now entering ritzier regions. He rolled down his window and peeked out as the car parked, eyeing a cathedral across a relatively empty parking lot.

  Caleb shrugged and pushed the door open, stepping away from the vehicle as it drove off into the ember depths of a setting sun. He glanced back to the castle, averting his gaze from the orange giant sinking from the skies. Caleb strode toward the steps when his earpiece beeped from an incoming transmission. He tapped the communicator pad on his belt.

  “Yeah?” he said.

  “That’s Gregory’s Place,” she said.

  Caleb crossed his arms and grimaced. “Looks like a cathedral to me what with all the flying buttresses.”

  The building stood seven stories tall with an old standard of architecture reinforced with some modern additions. The cathedral’s windows, formerly stained glass, had been replaced and refitted with tinted windows, giving off a somewhat darker vibe than he felt comfortable observing. It looked as if he’d be walking into a shady dealer’s lounge, but he trusted the information.

  “The catholic church donated the monastery to him,” Star replied.

  “I’ve never heard of a church selling out,” Caleb said.

  “You’ve never heard of Gregory. He paid good money, several times what the real estate was worth just for the location.”

  “Fair enough,” Caleb said. “So what’s after my suit fitting? Any details on the new job title?”

  “Actually, on that note, I wanted to surprise you,” Star said. “I’m heading to do a movie shoot, and I won’t need your protection. I’ll have Fortune’s finest watching me, so you can take a half day.”

  “This is a bit strange,” Caleb said, sighing. “Am I still working for Fortune or am I working for you?”

  “As long as you aren’t a resonance user, you’re my personal bodyguard,” Star said. “Let’s keep it that way, kay?”

  “Easier said than done,” Caleb said. “I can’t hide my resonance smack in the middle of your lime light for very long. It’s a matter of time before someone plasters my face on Spotlight or some other website.”

  Star paused, and he could sense a smile coming on. “Don’t worry about an occasional slip up. Bandwidth will clean up most messes. He’s been doing it for years.”

  “Yeah, about that,” he added. “For a company whose slogan is we don’t hire resonance users, you people sure are lax on the upkeep of your own standards.”

  “You could say the same about Pinnacle,” she replied. “Artifice Industries probably does the same thing. If you want to play the big game, the rules change from time to time.”

  Caleb shrugged. “Said so casually. I guess I have a lot to learn.”

  “You’ll get there,” Star said. “Now, go get your suit. I have an incoming call with my mother.”

  Chapter 7

  Fortune’s Love

  Magma Studios, Paris

  “The UN.C. Joint Forces Manual classifies three primary types of resonance users by nature of their resonance. Manipulators have power over a physical object or material, sometimes both. Abstractors have power over an abstract concept or phrase. Finally, Elementalists have power over a force or form of energy.” – Old UN.C. Order Knowledge Division

  Star Adamson, adopted daughter of Rebecca Adamson, resident queen of Fortune Stronghold’s ever expanding empire. By all accounts, she was Fortune’s flesh and blood, however. Bandwidth saw to that with his digital mani
pulation of public records, a somewhat underhanded tactic just to conceal a point. Mother refused to go public with her hard light body, but she’d need to eventually. The world was getting older and soon, she’d cease to be a well aging queen and turn into a freak of nature. Star herself had actually been sixteen for three years, though her condition depended on a different kind of magic.

  Star sighed and laid back in her soft cushioned chair. The fitting room in the backlit heart of Magma Studios glowed with a subtle radiance. Reddish lamp light hung in the highest corners of the room while four makeup artists worked tirelessly to plaster the perfect mix of colors on her face. Star hated wearing makeup. She hated the fact that people looked at her differently, but she dealt with her vice with a heavy smile. The movie was for Magnanimous, and the people who loved him. Letting some cronies smother her with two metric tons of foundation was the least she could do. Star frowned, causing one worker to avert his subtle gestures and wipe off a smear beneath her bottom lip. She kept doing this, pleasing people.

  “Excuse me,” she said. “Would it be too difficult for me to call my mother while you work?”

  “Not at all,” the worker said.

  Star pressed down on her communicator pad and hit the speed dial for Fortune. She waded through the dulcet tones as music from her newest hit single played through her ears. She caught herself humming the tune and stopped. The phone clicked with a bit of static as Rebecca popped on from the other end.

  “Good afternoon, Star,” Rebecca said. “How’s the movie shoot?”

  “We haven’t even begun,” Star answered. “By the look of it, we’ll be ready for some indoor scenes in a few, but it took two hours just to get the ball rolling.”

  “I’ll have a talk with the producer,” Rebecca replied. “Maybe we can schedule the prep time in the morning.”

  “There’s no need,” Star said. “I’m fine, if a little bored.”

  “Are you sure,” Rebecca asked, a hint of concern in her tone. Star decided to drive the conversation in a different direction.

  “Yes. Now, I need to discuss my bodyguard’s payment.”

  “That’s probably not a good idea on an unsecure line,” Rebecca said. “We can talk about it when you get back to Fortune Tower.”

  “Can’t Bandwidth secure it?”

  “Bandwidth has his hands full at the moment,” Rebecca admitted. Star sensed a heavy sigh, though her mother hid it well. “Besides, I prefer to talk money matters in person. This is your employee, and I’ll need to transfer some rights, which means conveying some more than privy information.”

  Star paused. “So, you’re fine with this?”

  This time, Rebecca paused. “I’m fine with it as long as you understand the consequences. You know what I’m talking about, right?”

  “I’m aware of our company’s stance on the matter. I’ll take care of anything that crops up.”

  “Good,” Rebecca said. “Managing someone like him will be a good exercise for you.”

  Star said her goodbyes and ended the phone call just as the last brush stroke hit her face. What did she mean by that? Star shrugged and stood up from her chair, stretching her arms and trying not to mess up what took hours to prepare. She waltzed over to the door, ready for some movie magic.

  Chapter 8

  Duty Calls

  Gregory’s Palace, Paris

  Caleb stretched his arm into a slim burgundy sleeve and slipped out the jacket to a special suit tailored to his exact measurements, a parting gift from the lady Fortune herself. The material glided on more smoothly than silk, though the material retained its shape while he wound his arm around to test the fabric.

  He buttoned up the rest and barged out of the fitting room to come face to face with Gregory himself. This was a back room, specially reserved for private fittings and special orders, so the lighting was dimmer than in the foyer of the palace. Gregory clasped his hands together, sliding them together with a mischievous grin. Gregory was a short man with a number of wrinkles covering his face. He looked around fifty with thinning black hair and lush sideburns.

  “You like?” Gregory asked. “Gregory made suit special for you. Head mistress personal orders.”

  “It, uh,” Caleb started before he trailed off. “It fits well … better than anything I’ve ever worn, actually.”

  Gregory placed a hand on his shoulder and walked with him out of the back room and down the oak fashioned halls in the depths of his palace. Gregory seemed to always smile, no matter his internal disposition. Caleb preferred to know what people were thinking, but his third person act made reading him difficult.

  “Gregory’s suits are best, like angels bosom. You will wear clothes to bed; never take them off. You can shower in them too.”

  “Won’t that ruin them?” Caleb asked.

  Gregory patted him across the back. “Gregory’s suits are too good for water. Comes right off. Special material. Gregory’s specialty.”

  “I don’t understand,” Caleb said. “Forgive me, sir, but that seems a little outlandish. I’ve worn some cloth in my day, but I don’t think …”

  Gregory jutted in and cut him off. “Hold your tongue in front of Gregory. This is gift.”

  Caleb bowed to the Greek man. “I apologize. I never meant to doubt your skills.”

  The man stopped next to an old oak door, and his face twisted as he peered back down the hall and ahead into the depths. If Caleb recalled, a few more meters ahead would lead them to the foyer, but Gregory released his grip on Caleb’s shoulder, an act that must have been at least a little uncomfortable for the 5’5” man in dress shoes. Gregory grabbed the handle on the door beside them and twisted it.

  “Let me show you something,” he said. Did he break character?

  Gregory gently pushed the door open and led Caleb through the entrance. What he laid eyes on stunned him, a rich tapestry of fabrics interwoven from strands of fiber that faded into beads of light. It was difficult to describe. From the look of it, beams of light had crept in through the dim light of the foyer and slowly solidified into strands that coalesced into fibers, all within a quaint loom in a dark room. A prism broke the colors apart into a full spectrum.

  “Gregory has many looms like this,” he said.

  “It’s fascinating,” Caleb said. “You mean you make all the suits in your line by hand with resonance?”

  “Light weaves into fabric,” Gregory said. “Suit is bullet proof and more. Not all might draws blood, but Gregory would not expect you to understand.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Manipulators,” Gregory replied. “You are one, no? What is it you move? Or perhaps transmute?”

  Caleb crossed his arms. “There’s only one resonance user in this room, sir.”

  “Star is right. You are terrible liar,” Gregory said with a chuckle. “Gregory does not care. Star is good girl. If she believes in you, then Gregory does too.”

  “Thank you?” Caleb said with a grimace and a raised eyebrow. He didn’t know what to think.

  The tiny man strode out of the room and gestured for Caleb to follow. Caleb exited the creation chamber with a hurried step and an uneasy demeanor. Playing the normal human wasn’t going to be easy if little Italy managed to peg him within minutes. He sighed, but stopped in the middle of the hall as his receiver beeped. The number was from Star, so Caleb tapped his communicator and listened in. He was about to say hello, but something seemed odd about the sound of lumbering and shaking through static. Had she butt dialed him? No, hold on a second. He heard voices in the background, but she wouldn’t have …

  “Hey, Gregory, thanks for the suit, but I have to go.”

  Chapter 9

  Null and Void

  Magma Studios, Paris

  Minutes earlier …

  Star checked out for the day, her mind drifting elsewhere with thoughts of a soft bed back at Fortune Tower. It would
have been quite a walk if she had scheduled a stroll, but being as late as it was and the fact that Pinnacle might still have their eyes on her, Rebecca decided to send her a ride. Star rested her aching feet at the street corner outside the two-story complex that was Magma Studios.

  The organization practically ripped its title from Magnanimous, but that was okay. At least they intended to make good on their petty thievery and deliver a full on documentary of the man himself. Star had spoken with her mother on the life of Miles Emmerson on a number of occasions prior to her part in the film. He seemed ordinary, not special, but it was as if Rebecca hoisted him on a higher pedestal than herself. Star shook her head and stared at the concrete, a mess of grungy textures bathed in starlight.

  She would never understand the man unless she met him herself. She thought about it, from time to time; what would it be like to resurrect a person from another generation? She’d brought back friends and subordinates on certain occasions, but only because she remembered who they were. Without a sufficient mental recollection, her ability to reinstate a life was useless. She had to remember them, who they were, more or less.

  Star sighed as the limo pulled up beside her, but she squinted and saw that the vehicle was missing its Fortune Strongholds insignia. She stood up and glanced back toward the detail of RTF operatives stationed at the rooftops of the building. She caught them just in time to witness one man dissolving into a murky mist before his body dispersed into open air.

  Star tightened her fists and bolted back toward the door, but her movement grew sluggish. She could no longer lift her legs beneath the binding pressure of some resonance user she couldn’t spot. She turned with little other options, facing the limo as the door opened and a dark cloaked man in a wide brimmed hat stepped out. He hobbled as he walked, propping himself up on a cane. She took in as much as she could, however little it might have been, informing herself of the man’s gait and his chosen clothing. He covered his face in wrappings, but his voice rang clear in the night air.

  “Good job, Locke,” he said in a gruff tone. “I never should have trusted a grunt with my prize. It’s better to do it myself.” He strode over with some difficulty, landing the butt of his cane on the concrete pavement by Star’s feet and wrapped his fingers around her face. “I have plans for this one,” he said. “I refuse to erase something so valuable, though I can’t say the same for her protection. May their spirits rest in peace.”