short timers: Episode 5b

Stella was looking at him intently, one eyebrow arched and her eyes glimmering with curiosity and mild humor. You alright Ed? Lost you there for a sec.

Ed shook himself from his thoughts. Uh…Yeah I’m cool. Just ‘out and about’ for a second. Did you catch any of that stuff I was thinking?

A little, She said. But you seemed to be enjoying it, so I decided I’d leave you some privacy.

I appreciate that. He said.

Wasn’t about me, was it? She asked. The look on her face, teasing and curious at the same time.

No. Ed said, chuckling. ...That, I would have just sent to you. You might have enjoyed it just as much I would.

They both enjoyed a chuckle…and a very long and strange moment of feeling a border being tested. A border made of a material that neither of them could see beyond their own unspoken judgments and fears. It could be made of stone, or steel. But when they touched it…They felt it give. Like they were standing on either side of a wall of smoky glass, hands as shadows touching palm to palm. Feeling that a simple pressure would bring it clattering down from between them in a sparkling shower of possibility. Each wondered if the other would apply the final ounce of force, but neither would risk it themselves…yet.

The moment ebbed away slowly. But each remembered the walls texture beneath their shaking fingers.

They looked at each other over the small space between them, ready, but not. Finally Ed did the only thing he could think to do. He smiled and winked. He was nervous and shaking a little as he reached over, and with all the politeness and care he could bring to him, he squeezed Stella’s small warm hand. He gave that last ounce of pressure. She squeezed back. Ed brought his hand back to the arm of his chair, marveling at the after glow her skin had cast into his flesh.

The wall of smoky glass shattered between them.

God damn. Jimmy said. I wanna get shot next time. He said. Effectively breaking the moment, but in a way that made them all laugh full throated and honest into the Field, and into the cold halls of the complex.

All the Short Timers had felt the exchange between the two.

About Goddamn time. Morgan said.

Stella looked over at Ed, and giggled at the blush that streaked his very lean cheek bones. She felt the heat in her own cheeks and tried to rub it away, which only made it worse. They both knew that they were in no physical condition to do anything about what they’d just experienced, but to seal the possibilities for Ed and for herself, she scooted her chair closer to his and laid her hand on top of his. She felt the veins in his hand beneath her fingertips, and the strong muscles beneath his skin. She felt the scars on his heavy knuckles and the tiny hairs across the backs of his fingers. She looked at their hands. How tiny hers was above his.

He flipped his hand over, and their fingers laced together. He squeezed again light and comforting, and she stroked his thumb with hers.

So are you guys going to go out and kill people or what? She asked the crowd of eavesdroppers that she wouldn’t block out even if she could.

F**k off lass. Do you know what I’m standing in right now? A goddamn paint sprayer for Christ sakes. Jimmy said.

Stella had only a handful of lovers in her life, and few that she would consider anything more than physical stimuli. There had always been to much risk associated with a relationship. This had been the first real moment she’d shared with a man. She was very thankful that it had been Ed. Despite her strange and dark past, the man had opened something up within her that allowed her to feel a true desire that went beyond just physical hunger. She wanted to know him, and be known in return. Despite this feeling, and wanting to pay full attention to it, she was curious to know what Jimmy was talking about.

A paint sprayer? She asked.

Yeah. I don’t f****n wanna talk about it. He said. But I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough. I guess this is gonna be our new suit.

She looked up at Ed (still inches taller than her even sitting down), who was staring down at their interwoven fingers and smiling. He shrugged his shoulders. But continued to look at their hands.

He could see her pulse in the veins across the back of her hand. He could feel the pulse in his arms. They made a strange rhythm, that matched like a chord built of different toned instruments but striking the same note.

Oh you two are gonna make me hurl. Jance said.

They all laughed again.

Then give us some goddamn privacy you little twit. Ed said. In fact. Why don’t all of you f**k off for a bit would ya?

They all did, but a little reluctantly. Most of them had known the chemistry building up between the two, and wondered secretly how it would work. None were really willing to speculate, but all were hopeful.

Even Morgan, after he came to terms with the possible outcomes of having a relationship develop between two individuals within the group. After a few moments of concern, he decided that given the twos professionalism, their relationship wouldn’t affect their performance in a negative way. Besides, it was nice to see something a little lighter than sarcasm and ego traded amongst his troops. He was happy for them, even if the moment they shared was brief, and ended badly (which he doubted it would), he wished nothing but the best for them. Besides, feeling their connection through the Field and vicariously sharing their moment had been thrilling beyond anything he’d ever felt personally. Even with his long dead wife, whom he had loved dearly, but had courted cautiously and never really knew as closely as he knew Stella and Ed knew each other. And the strange beings that they’d all become, drinking the experiences of life fuller and deeper than any human could; Morgan believed that they would miss something truly beautiful if something didn’t develop between them.

All while their clocks ticked away. That was the only sadness. Everyone had a clock. And Ed’s would run out before Stella’s. He hated the thought of that, and realized that even though their tragedy would be fierce if they maintained something as intense as love, he would be dust long before either of them reached that end. And he couldn’t be there to comfort them.

Tsang was in his new battle suit, having been dressed by the machines before both Morgan and Jimmy ever entered the room to have theirs done.

He was now in his room, on his knees in meditation. He’d felt the emotion pass between his two friends.

He wept openly to the dark air. His black sword across his knees, catching the salty tears as they fell, lightly pinging on the deadly metal.

He missed his wife so much. Her calmness and presence stayed with him, no matter how many years passed. He loved her as deeply as the passion that filled the space between his two friends now, as they enjoyed each other’s presence in a room not twenty feet from his own.

He was a master at hiding his emotions. Physically and telepathically.

He hid them well now, as he let his anguish and despair rip his half dead heart from his chest, and impale it on the scalpel sharp images of his memories.

How he missed her. Her touch and her laugh.

So much. So much.

Michelle lay in a semi-conscious daze on her recovery bed. She was communicating with Legion, an act that almost always sent her out of body. In their discussions they’d had in the past she could never really see Legion, only hear his/her/their voice. This time she could, at least partially. She was excited to know that Legion was a beautiful falcon. It glowed a silvery golden sheen of light, like a liquid sunshine forming it’s wings and beak. It’s eyes were filled with wisdom and personality, conscience and grace. They looked like tiny silver mirrors set deep beneath the proud brow ridges. It flew, towards her and landed on her shoulder in this place between her body and soul. It stroked its beak against her cheek in and expression of friendship and care.

‘So what’s the plan?’ She asked.

‘No plan, only reaction.’ It said, it’s voice like the echoing of ten thousand voices. ‘Know the people you are with, they are here for you. And you are here for They.’ Legion was always tweaking the webs of her life, pointing her in new directions with subtle nudges here and there. Her youth had presented Legions force before her when she’d run away from her home at twelve. Her desperation for freedom and self preservation had opened some strange door in her destiny that led…sideways…right into Legions open wings. But where one runs for sanctuary, another will pursue. Just to chase, just to antagonize. She learned that when she met Leviathan.

‘What about Him?’ She asked, meaning her father. Legion wouldn’t always answer her questions when she posed them, not directly anyway. ‘How do I deal with him? He caused me so much pain when I was a kid. I don’t want to know him now. I wish they would just kill him.’

‘That would be catastrophic.’ Legion said. ‘He is becoming the vessel for leviathan. But your father will never wake. He must NOT be killed. Leviathan’s rage would be immense.’

‘So what? Just let him lay there like a weed in the house plants?’

‘For the moment.’ Legion answered.

‘What can you tell me, Legion?’ Michelle had found that over the years this seemed to be the best question to ask them. She knew that Legion wouldn’t lie to her, but what they left out of their conversations was usually just as damaging. But if she asked a general statement like that, Legion would point her in the right direction until something could be acted upon.

Legion was quiet for a moment, the hum of it’s conversation with itself like the static of a TV radio losing it’s channel. When it came back, the voice was kind and soft again.

‘I can tell you that you are where you need to be. And that I am where I need to be. Enjoy these hours, and don’t worry about what is to come. Each person that you meet here needs you, and you will help them all in some way or another.’ Legion was quiet again, this time the static sounded softer. ‘This place, and the people in it offer you the ability to manifest all destinies.’

‘But I’ll have to kill people. You know I don’t like that.’

‘Yes. But those people you kill will be so few compared to the thousands that you will save by being here.’

‘God.’ Michelle said, exasperation replacing her curiosity. ‘Legion… can you give me a hint? What is going to happen?’

The bird, brilliant and glowing with quizzical eyes looked at her and cocked it’s head to the side. It was laughing at her.

‘Nothing good.’ It said.

Michelle looked at the bird on her shoulder, carefully searching the magnificent shiny eyes. ‘Your not kidding me. Are you?’

‘No.’ It said. ‘I promised you some answers when the time came close. And I will give them to you.’ The golden falcon suddenly launched from her shoulder in an instant flurry of movement. ‘But for the moment, the time is further off than is necessary to address.’ Legion arched before her eyes, wings spread wide, delicate and powerful in the darkness of this place. God the bird was beautiful.

‘Oh God.’ Michelle said, suddenly nervous and excited. ‘God, I don’t know what to do. Really? Is it coming close? What do I do Legion? Please tell me.’

‘Be who you are. Be who you are to these people. They need you, as you need them.’ The falcon hovered in front of her, beating it’s wings perfectly to keep its body steady to look her in the eyes. It’s body was in graceful but quick motion, while it’s head remained still and it’s eyes fixed on hers.

‘How long?’ Michelle asked.

‘As long as it takes.’ It replied, and darted around her, and disappeared into the darkness, a golden trail like a shooting star followed the beautiful creature up and out of her sight.

Michelle awoke to the sounds of machines quietly beeping beside her bed. She was still in the same dark observation room, with her unconscious father beside her. She looked at him and an old anger filled her mind. His face was calm and slack, he’d lost weight since she’d seen him when she was a child and his hair was just starting to turn gray. She thought of how he used to look when he got angry. His eyes would take on a slate color, arrogant and vicious. His face used to haunt her dreams. She’d hoped she’d never have to see him again. But something in the back of her mind always knew that she would.

The bedspread was pulled up under his chin, and his arms were hidden. His chest rose and fell slow and rhythmic. She looked at him as if she’d never known the violence that he had been capable of and saw him through the eyes of ignorance. He was handsome, distinguished even. Like a CEO of a large corporation, or a District Attorney. Even with a week’s worth of facial hair he looked as if he’d just stepped out of a style salon. Great trait to have for a predator of lonely women and young girls.

When Michelle ran away, her mother had only been in the ground a week. He’d finally gone off the deep end and killed her, and was working up to killing Michelle. There were no other kids in the family thankfully, and no close relatives to miss her if she turned up dead. The detectives hadn’t spoken to her yet, the f****r wouldn’t allow it, stating that Michelle was still grieving heavily over the loss of her mother. She was, but she was more interested in getting away from the manipulative maniac than worrying about justice. She grieved her mother, but blamed her also. How could she have kept them with the son of a b***h for so long? How did she justify it? Her mother’s spirit had been broken so many times though... by the time of her death, she was little more than an unfeeling husk. A broken spirit is no fun to torture. Even when her father had turned his aggressions to Michelle, her mother wouldn’t react. When that happened he knew it was time to kill her. The mouse is no longer fun to play with when it quits running.

In the woods behind her New England home, with the enraged voice of her father echoing after her and mixing with the sounds of crunching twigs and leaves beneath her running feet, was when Michelle first heard the voice of Legion. It kept her calm, and told her the right places to hide to stay away from the wretched psycho.

But there he was.

Laying there. A demon from hell, waiting to awaken the nightmare of her past.

Bullshit. She thought. I gotta get the f**k out of this room, now!

Just then the door opened and the kind and sad looking doctor came in. He saw her awake and his face brightened a little.

“Hey there.” Dr. Marcus said.

“Hey there.” She responded.

“How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?” He asked.

“Uh. Yeah. My bones are still killing me. Does that ever go away?”

“In theory the pain is supposed to subside within a few months. But Morgan still complains of his bone ache, so I think our theory’s are a little off. Can I get you anything for the pain?”

“You know?” She said. “What I could use is a little fresh air, and to get my a*s off this bed. You know a place where a girl can go outside?”

Dr. Marcus’s face took on the look of regret. “I’m afraid that you can’t go outside just yet. Morgan’s out on mission right now, and we’d need to clear it with him first.”

Michelle’s head dropped, and she pouted.

“But…” Dr. Marcus said, keeping his tones low and secretive. “I happen to be heading to the roof for a glass of wine. I think I’d be willing to risk Morgan’s wrath if I could be joined by a pretty woman.”

Michelle’s face came up hopeful and beaming. “I’d love to.”

Dr. Marcus offered his arm for her to hold as she painfully stood up. She winced, and at once Dr. Marcus tried to convince her that standing was a bad idea, and that perhaps they should wait for her to recover more.

“No, Doc.” She said. “I have got to get up, or I’ll go nuts in this bed. I’ll deal with the ache, just get me out of this room please.”

His worried face lightened a little. “Ok.” He said.

Once she was standing, she felt a little better. She took tiny little shuffling steps towards the door that Dr. Marcus lead her to. He opened it, and her eyes were assaulted by a massive wave of pain as the light of a stairwell hammered into her skull like a spike of fire.

“Jesus!” She said. “My eyes are killing me!”

Dr. Marcus winced. “I’m sorry my dear.” He said. “I forgot about that.” He flipped off a light switch, and the stairwell went to a deep gray. She could see everything perfectly well, as if some ambient glow from a light at the top of the stairwell cast down.

“You’re going to have to guide me child.” He said.

“Why?” She asked.

“Because it’s pitch black in here. I can’t see anything.”

She looked over at his face and saw his old eyes wide and searching. She looked around, and could see everything in perfect clarity. “Whoa.” She said.

Dr. Marcus gave a grin and looking where he thought her eyes were which was actually just to the left and above. She could see a tiny amount of reflected light bouncing from the backs of his eyes, it gave him a strange almost possessed look, as he appeared to be grinning at the empty space behind her.

“You like it?” He asked.

“What?”

“The night vision. I’m blind as a bat right now, and it probably looks like early morning haze, or just past sundown to you.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. But is it always going to hurt like that when I see normal light?” She asked. So far she didn’t see the advantages of night vision if you were given blinding headaches whenever you looked in the light. Cats could see in the day, and the dark. They didn‘t seem to get migraines, why the hell couldn‘t they be like that?

“It’ll hurt for a little while. You might get migraines from time to time. But I have one of the techs working on some contacts that will help with the light sensitivity.” He said, as he shuffled his feet forward until he found the bottom concrete step with his big toe, and stepped up. They worked slowly around his night blindness and her pain, until they were about halfway up the staircase.

She continued to look around, blinking her eyes, and noticing the look of the place with the ambience of grayness. It was kind of creepy. Her imagination conjured up all sorts of strange images for her to think about while the two of them hobbled their way up the stairs. She could imagine a black eyed ghost, or even worse, the face of her insane father, poking their heads down at them from the flight above with a wide sneer plastered across their face. Eyes glowing and looking demonic. She assumed she’d get used to it when she didn’t feel so…infirm, but for now it was like being locked in a cellar and being able to see all the creepy crawlies that inched towards her naked toes, not just hear them scuttling around the dirt.

She needed time to adjust, and let her imagination calm down. She didn’t feel like the powerful creature that the scientists had originally told she would be. She needed to heal before she could comfortably face all the things in her mind that went bump in the night.

She needed to be patient.

They continued up the stairs, carefully and cautiously. When they reached the top, Michelle looked back down. She was surprised to see that they’d only come up about ten steps. But her hair was plastered to her forehead from the sweat of exertion and pain.

“You might want to squint your eyes dear.” Dr. Marcus said as he touched the crash bar that led to the roof.

“Ok.” Michelle said, and did what she was told.

The door opened up, a squeaky hinge shattering the silence in the stairwell. They stepped carefully into the vague lights of the city casting upward and past their dark rooftop. Michelle looked out past the ledge of the roof, and out towards the stretching city buildings. A few car horns blasted from far away, and even more distant a siren wailed in the night, testifying some strangers tragedy. They walked further out onto the cement rooftop, and she heard Dr. Marcus sigh beside her.

“What is it?” She asked.

He was quiet for a moment, then responded. “I’m sorry you are in so much pain.”

“It’s alright doc.” She said. “I volunteered for this, remember? I knew the first part was going to hurt.”

“Yes. I remember.” He looked out on the lights glittering in the atmosphere.

Michelle still had her eyes squinted a little, trying to block out as much of the painful light as she could. She was easing them further open though, because what she was seeing was amazing. The air seemed more dense somehow, and looking at the lights of the far off high rise buildings in the distant west, they rippled as if a heat wave baked off the city floor. All colors of light streamed through the air, striking a symphony of glittering windows and reflections. The streetlamps below cast a yellow glaze upward, as if the streets were bathed in yellow lava.

“Wow.” She said, allowing her eyes to open fully to the night sky.

“I wish I could see through your eyes.” Dr. Marcus said. “But I suppose that it’s beautiful enough to satisfy me.”

Michelle looked up at the sky. She gasped. For the first time in her city life, she saws great stretches of stars dotting the night sky. The milky way was a brilliant band of sparkling dust from horizon to horizon. Like silver dust thrown in the air and frozen to the floating sky. She started counting through constellations, like she’d done when she was a child in the New England woods.

She stood there, thin, dressed in a hospital gown, sweat plastering her hair to her face staring upward at heaven with her mouth open. She must look like an asylum patient having a communion with the almighty. A small gust of wind brought a shiver to her skin, every follicle of hair stood at stunned attention, and she felt every one.

“Oh my God!” She said, and rubbed her arms. The sound of skin on skin was very loud in her ears, like a snake traveling through dry leaves.

“How did you do this doc?” She asked.

“It’s a long story.” He said. “And a little more melodramatic than you might imagine.”

He had walked a few paces away from her when she’d been staring at the stars. He stood next to her again, holding a small crystal goblet in his hand filled with a deep red wine. Another tiny gust of wind brought the smell of it to her nose. It was sharp and earthy, smelling like the land that the grapes had been grown from, and the sweat from the people that worked with them.

“May I have a taste?” She asked.

“Yes, but only a sip.” He said. He handed her the glass, but kept his hand beneath it in case she dropped it.

The goblet clicked gently against her teeth, and the warm liquid bathed her tongue. The bitter sweet of a quality red wine flooded her mouth, and her senses picked up thousands of individual aspects that she’d never experienced before with a good wine. She thought she could even taste a hint of the barrel within which the wine had been stored and allowed to age.

She handed the goblet back to the Dr. Marcus. She thought tasting wine would have to take on a whole new study, if she ever had the opportunity…which she knew she wouldn’t.

They stayed on the roof for awhile, feeling the mild breeze flow across the rooftop and looking at the lights. They didn’t speak much, both seemed lost in some strange realm. Dr. Marcus’s within, Michelle’s without. But after awhile the pain became too great for Michelle to bear anymore, and she asked if they could go back inside. They eased their way down the stairs as carefully as when they’d come up. When they were finished, and Michelle lay back on her bed white faced and sweating with pain, Dr. Marcus administered a painkiller and she lay back against her pillow and eased into a deep meditative state. The throbbing of her bones seemed to pulse in time to her heartbeat, and just as Dr. Marcus had warned earlier, her head was racked with a massive migraine. The lights, already too bright, beat into her eyes like a jackhammer. But when she closed her eyes, the pain wasn’t made any better. But the pain reliever eased into her system, and she felt the ache ease away replaced by the feeling of being covered by a warm comfortable blanket. Dr. Marcus slid out of the room, as quiet as a shadow.

Michelle slid into a depth, like a small raft easing into the sea.

Seems like a nice guy. She said to herself, but hoping that Legion was there to comment.

Seems. Came the response from the graceful bird. It flew through her mind, a single presence composed of many. Seems broken. His life an afterthought to the purpose of his discovery. A living sacrifice, watching his dream perverted.

Now that’s a little dramatic. Michelle said. It can’t be all that bad can it?

It can. At least it is to him. Legion said. The bird, glittering and beautiful in the silence and darkness around her, it’s strong graceful wings propelling it’s body with lightening speed. Michelle would catch a flash of it, circling before her in the dark mists. He is living in mourning. Over his lost wife, and lost conscience.

Hmm. Michelle thought. What the hell am I supposed to do about that? She asked, hoping for some direction. The bird, screeched in a response that seemed to Michelle to sound like laughter.

Whatever your intuition tells you to. Legion responded, then flew from the world around Michelle, and left her to question the birds direction in silence.

But you are my intuition, aren’t you? Michelle asked, knowing that Legion was far away, and probably couldn’t hear her. Even if it could, it probably wouldn’t answer. For about the ten thousandth time since Michelle had met Legion, she questioned first her sanity, and then the purpose of having Legion around if it couldn’t offer her any more insight than the vague answers she received usually. After all, it was based on Legion’s direction that she join with the Short Timers in the first place. Now that Michelle was undergoing so much pain, she wondered if her symbiotic friend wasn’t totally butt busting bonkers from too much time flying in the dark, or just secretly hated her guts and enjoyed watching her in pain.

Michelle walked through the darkness in her mind, and then conjured one of her favorite meditations. Sitting atop a grassy slope, watching a sunset dip into the ocean. She could recreate every aspect of the vision, from the dew on the grass soaking into her clothes, to the light salty breeze that rippled across the landscape, to the sound of the waves breaking on the shore below her.

The water of the ocean stretched before her, like the promise of eternity. The sun, a bright orange-red ball slowly eased itself into the horizon. Drowning it’s light in seconds that turned to hours and then days and then weeks. Michelle played with the time in this place, reminding herself that time was nothing but a play toy to her here. The grass grew around her, trees sprang up before her, then died as the beach before her turned to desert. All of this happened at her command. All of this was an exercise, to try to remind herself that only perspective was immortal. No matter the thousands or millions of years that could pass, there would always be some point of view to someone or something somewhere. And with perspective, came choice. A choice, that more often than not, she chose not to choose. Most times, she just chose to watch.

Michelle believed that her days of watching would end soon. And the only way she could prepare herself, was to enjoy the watching a few more times. Ease into the ocean with the glowing sun one more million times, and extinguish the light of ten thousand millennia again, for the last time. As many times as she could forever again, as many times never again, letting the endless hourglass of her perspective enjoy it’s slow sands drain. The last grain, the infinite possibilities held within it, she would catch and hold onto forever. With the hope that she could find this place again.

Tsang, Morgan, and Jimmy stepped out into the night. Silent weapons drawn and ready to drink blood. Tsang was the object of coolness, despite the anger that roiled within him like the promise of a sharp burn to the hand submerged in boiling water. Morgan was more intense, his meeting with Dr. Clay had not gone well when he’d caught up to the arrogant scientist. His muscles twitched in anticipation of the fight ahead despite his ever present discipline. Jimmy, always ready for a good scrap, balanced the cold rage he felt from the two with a silent grin. He’d longed, for weeks now, to see what either man could do in true action, and to see how his skill could match theirs.

Their new suits were skin tight mesh, literally sprayed on. Designed for speed and durability, what they lacked in armor, they more than made up for with movement range.

How are these new suits going to stand up against the armor piercing rounds that Stella and Ed came up against earlier? Jimmy asked.

Their not. Morgan said. Don’t get shot.

Gotcha. Jimmy said.

They got into a nondescript black car, in the parking terrace beneath the complex. Tsang was at the wheel. He knew where they were going, some hangout for Yakuza in the inner part of the city.

We got a plan? Jimmy asked Morgan, as they pulled out into the darkened city.

Morgan was quiet for a moment before he answered. We go in through the back alley, quick and quiet. There’s a back room where a few big wigs like to meet up. They’ve been under the radar of the Syndicate because they haven’t been actively pursuing criminal activity. But we know they’ve been scouting the terrain. We know they’ve been associated with the Yakuza big wigs on the West Coast, and Hawaii. We’re going there to make a statement. Anyone left in the building dies.

Jimmy was a little taken back by this statement. Also a little impressed. Morgan was ruthless, but he tried to keep civilian casualties to a minimum.

What about bystanders? He asked.

There won’t be any. Tsang said. They are organizing to try to take over the crime vacuum left by Vincent’s death, and the shutdown of the Syndicate. They are the pawns sent out by my brother. They will be armed well, and trained well. But they are all juniors hoping to earn their way up his ranks. Some of them will be experienced, but have angered him in some way or another…some of them won’t have much pinky left to offer as sacrifice to Kazuma’s anger. He has sent them forward as bait, and scouts. We are going to take it, and slaughter every last man in the building.

Jimmy was quiet for a moment. Thinking over the possible ramifications to the move they were about to make. He couldn’t help but ask the question sitting on the front of his brain.

Is this wise? He asked, looking at the back of Tsang’s head.

Probably not. If we were worried about the big picture. But, we’re not. We are here to continue our negotiations with my brother, the same way that we will negotiate with him when he is here. He was given a peace offering, and has openly refused it. I expected this, as did Morgan. Ed was wounded by my brothers weapons. We’re here to make sure he knows what kind of game we’re playing.

Is this going to be a trap? Jimmy asked.

Absolutely. Morgan said. Like I said. Quick, quiet, and don’t get shot.

Ed and Stella were in the Field, tagging along with Morgan. How does it look Ed? Morgan asked, not hiding the question from the other men in the car.

Looks like a lot of fun. He replied. I count about thirty men, and fifteen women hanging out in the lower floor of the building. A couple of guards in the back, and five men at the entrance of the main room. But these are all the heavy hitters. There’s several people upstairs, but I don’t think they have anything to do with the people downstairs. They’re associated, but not deep.

It doesn’t matter. Tsang replied.

Fair enough. Ed said.

Is there a good way to get in Stella? Morgan asked. Hoping that Tsang wouldn’t take offence.

Are you kidding? She asked in response. The place is a dance club, there’s at least a dozen ways into the place without being detected by the guards. They think they’ve got their entrances covered, but they’re missing at least five points that can’t be monitored by standing guards.

What about electronic guards? Morgan asked.

I’ve got that taken care of. Ed said. And I’m not being overconfident. I’ve checked over the whole area for electronic signals, and I’ve looped most of them from here. Be careful around the others though. Ed sent them a mental projection of the layout of the building, and highlighted the places he’d debugged. These are probably the best entrance points. Stella and I looked them over several times, and are in agreement.

Morgan looked over at Tsang, who was studying the mental projection. He nodded once. Thank you both for your efforts. He said. Please, keep an eye on our backs as we’re in there. We are going to need to know when the reinforcements are alerted.

Will do Tsang. Stella said. I think there are people in the adjacent building that will be called on should the building come under attack and an alarm is raised.

I agree. Tsang said. They will most assuredly come running with guns drawn. I would ask you Stella, please, find us the quietest possible entrance to the lower areas.

Already working on it Tsang. She responded. I’ll have the best one in a few minutes.

Morgan was almost stunned by the way the two were working together, considering their strong personalities and fields of expertise. Morgan was beginning to question his ability to judge people, especially the people close to him.

The rest of the short trip was taken in silence. Each man developing their own thoughts, while the two outside the car, but within the minds of the men carried inside it worked tirelessly to assure the safety of their friends. Both Ed and Stella felt the pull of responsibility and regret, they both wanted to be in the car headed to the nightclub. They both wanted to redeem themselves for the f**k up from earlier in the evening. They both worked hard... and by the time Morgan, Tsang, and Jimmy reached the manhole cover that lead to the secret tunnel beneath the buildings interior, they were all confident of the plan they had thrown together so quickly.

Jance watched and listened in, double checking and cross referencing the information that Ed and Stella discovered in the Field. He was fascinated listening to these professional killers working together, in a harmony that defied all expectations. He felt a strong anticipation for the events about to unfold. He could imagine himself in it, watching the lights go out, and hearing the surprised yells of the people in the room. His heart rate climbed, his body temperature following closely. His muscles rippled beneath his skin, and his mouth went dry as powder. Ed, felt the young man’s anxiety and commented on it. Bringing him back to reality by stating that the lives of their friends depended upon him being calm and professional. Jance took a few deep breaths and calmed himself.

He went over the information he had as quickly as his mind would allow. Trying to be as prepared as possible. It was then that he noticed something strange, as he looked at the people outside the nightclub. They were all energy signatures, looking like magnets dropped on iridescent iron filings. The flux lines glowed and radiated outwards and then back in towards each individual. People talking to each other mixed their energies together, as their attention and conversation gave them common thought patterns.

Two individuals, standing outside the building seemed familiar.

Ed noticed them too.

Hold up Morgan. Jance said, just as the three Short Timers were about to enter the manhole two streets away.

What’s up?

Jance sent him the mental overlay, zooming in on the signature of the two individuals outside the building.

Is that who I think it is? Stella asked.

I think so. Ed replied.

Jimmy spoke up. So? Who is it?

Goddamn Wallace Fisher. Ed said. What the hell is he doing there?

There was a silence between all of them, as they waited for a response from Morgan.

Being a goddamn nuisance. He said.

So what’s the plan? Jance asked.

I don’t know. Probably nothing different. Tsang, Jimmy, and I are going to go underground. We’ll stand by until that nosey b*****d is gone. If he doesn’t go away, I’ll deal with him.

Deal with him how? Jance asked. A sudden anxiety flooding his system.

Morgan was quiet, observing him through the Field, observing the feel of him. Sometimes he forgot how young Jance was. It was important that the kid understand what they were about as a group, and that anyone in the way of their missions was an enemy.

How do you think? Morgan asked.

Are you thinking about killing him? Jance asked.

Morgan was quiet again. He was in a position that he didn’t want to be in, but had been prepared to handle if it came up.

Yes. Morgan responded. I am thinking about killing him.

Now it was Jance’s turn to be quiet. He was smart enough to understand his position, and know that a crisis of conscience could be deadly to him. And though he didn’t like the idea of killing cops, it wasn’t that which made him question Morgan’s desire to remove the detective as a threat.

Do you have a problem with that Jance? Ed asked him, a little sharpness in his mental voice. Ed’s anger was nothing more than a mirror of Morgan’s. Ed was just quicker at stating it.

Jance decided, very quickly that honesty was his best option.

Yes. He said, quickly and unapologetic. But, understand that my disagreement will not jeopardize my effectiveness during this mission, or any other in the future. Will you consider listening to my viewpoint on this?

Ed responded. No.

Jance could feel all the energetic attention on him from every side. They were all watching him.

Easy Ed. Morgan said. We have time, and I would like to hear what Jance has to say. So long as it doesn’t have to do with issues about killing cops.

Ed still felt pissed, but it wasn’t his show to run. Despite his status within the group, it wasn’t his place to answer for Morgan.

Jance sighed. My only argument Morgan, is this man’s abilities to track us down. We know he has strong talents, but we have no idea where they come from, or why someone that hasn’t been Short Timed has these talents. If I can make one suggestion through any of this, it would be to bring him back here, so we can study his abilities. Then if you felt like killing him, then by all means, go for it. But, I believe that I’m not the only one here who thinks it’s necessary to ’know my enemy.’.

That brought a heavy pause of surprise from many of the Short Timers whose attention was beamed in on him like refracted light from five separated magnifying glasses. He was getting a little crispy from all the attention, and could almost smell his skin smoking.

I’ll take it under advisement. Morgan said. The controlled anger in his voice was noticeable by everyone. But Jance felt, that the man was probably grinning beneath his mask. An evil sharp toothed grin, but a grin nonetheless.

But I’ll tell you now Jance, we came here to kill people. Not take hostages.

Understood. Jance said. He’d voiced his opinion, and now it was time to let it go, and get on with the night. He wondered privately if that was the real reason he didn’t want Morgan or anyone else killing the detective. He explored the feeling briefly, as carefully and quickly as he could. He couldn’t nail down any specifics, but he had a strong feeling that they should not kill Wallace Fisher. At least not yet.

Morgan. Stella said. The tone of her voice was a suggestion in and of itself. I’m with Jance on this one.

That got a few surprised blinks out them. Not the least of which was Jance. Ed, who was sitting right next to her in the room just down the hall from Jance looked at her with his jaw open.

Morgan took it in stride. Duly noted. Jance thought he detected a hint of bend in the hard man’s voice though, and wondered what Morgan would do. I’m not too worried about it though. Morgan said, suddenly switching gears.

What? Stella said. Just a second ago you were ready to go rip his head off.

Take a look. Was Morgan’s reply.

Through the Field, situated from a bird’s eye view, they could all see the energy signatures of five men slowly and carefully creeping up on Wallace and his partners position.

Looks like the Yakuza don’t like cops snooping around their night clubs. Jimmy said.

Looks like. Morgan said.

They all watched as the five spots of energy burst from their positions and quickly overtook the two men. They were both beaten in the head hard enough to cause unconsciousness, then dragged into one of the entrances of the night club. They were placed in a small room, on the lower floor, next to the room where all the bigwigs were hanging out.

This complicates a few things. Morgan said.

I don’t think so. Tsang said. In fact, it may work to our advantage. All the enforcers will probably come downstairs now, to take a peek at the cops. I’m certain there will probably be a meeting as they decide. When this happens, we move.

Fair enough. Morgan said. But let’s get closer. Morgan opened the manhole cover and gestured towards the dark hole in the earth. He looked at Jimmy.

Ladies first. He said.

Smartass. Jimmy said, and jumped down into the sewer pipe. Morgan and Tsang followed closely behind.

Wallace woke with a blinding headache. They’d hit him hard enough to rattle a tooth loose. He was bound hands to feet tight enough that he couldn’t feel his fingers, and the plastic ties they’d used burned into the skin on his wrists. He wiggled around until he could see the room he was in, and spotted Jason first.

Jason was bleeding from his nose and mouth and was still unconscious. Wallace could tell his partner's nose was broken from the crooked angle and the swelling that surrounded the bridge.

They were in a dark red room, that looked like someone’s f**k pad. It was nicely decorated, with ornate Japanese lamps hanging from the ceiling and walls, it was moody and graceful. There looked to be a closet over to one side of the room that was covered in mirrors. He could see himself in the reflection. Behind him was a large, heavily blanketed bed of white silk.

The room was soundproofed, but he could still hear the heavy bass beat through the floor and the walls coming from the dance floor above him.

Brilliant plan fish. He thought. Followed my nose right into a s**t storm this time.

He wondered if there was any way he was going to be able to get out of this fix alive, and being as honest with himself as he could, he doubted it. He looked over at the Jason, and felt a heavy stab of regret at having gotten the kid into such a mess. He hoped that these guys weren’t into torture the way that Vincent had been. No one could ever prove that he was into torture, but everybody knew. Especially Vincent’s enemies.

But the Yakuza were different. At least these ones were. They were quiet and low key, and even though they were associated and funded by the Japanese Yakuza crime syndicates on the west coast and Hawaii; these guys seemed to be trying to run legitimate businesses. It was based on that knowledge that Wallace had decided to come here in the first place. At the time he’d figured, ‘Why not? They’re not doing anything wrong. No reason for them to get nervous.’. That decision and line of thinking had been just plain old stupid. In the back of his mind though, he thought that his nose had led him here for some other reason than to chat with the Yakuza.

The door opened and a short, well dressed Japanese man came into the room looking arrogant and severe in a silver gray suit. The sounds of the dance club grew louder with his entrance. A heavy bass thump, accompanied by extremely high pitched voices singing and rapping in Japanese.

“Why are you here Detective Fisher?” His captor said in very good English. Wallace decided he looked like a very angry version of Jackie Chan... Maybe a little younger.

“I was just out with my friend here, we thought we’d come see if we could pick up some chicks. I wasn’t casing you guys or anything.” Wallace said.

“There is no reason for a homicide cop, and an organized crime cop to be hanging out here.” Jackie Chan told Wallace. “What are you snooping for?”

“Not you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I know that you are running legitimate businesses, and I wasn’t here to cause any trouble.” Wallace assumed that this guy was a lieutenant of an older big wig, who was probably standing in the other room, listening to the conversation. Wallace couldn’t see anyone else behind his questioner, but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t someone there.

“You’ve caused us no trouble.” Jackie said. “But you’ve caused yourself a great deal of trouble.” He reached down and grabbed Jason by one of the ears. The kid was still unconscious, but he groaned when his head lifted from the floor. Jackie Chan shot Jason in the forehead, and let his body drop back to the floor. The stink of gore and gunpowder hung in the air, and Jackie leaned in very close to Wallace and placed the hot barrel of the gun into his temple.

“Now tell me, why you are here?”

Wallace said nothing.

Jackie shot him in the shoulder. There was a brilliant flash of pain from the shot, then it went numb. He could barely hear his panicking heartbeat over the ringing in his ears.

“You have a great many body parts that I can shoot, Detective. Why are you here?”

Wallace continued to say nothing. He knew that saying anything would immediately be perceived as a lie. This guy was just getting his rocks off. It wouldn’t matter what Wallace said, he was a dead man.

The gun came down, and Wallace felt it go off against his leg. He thought he felt the bullet as it traveled through the meat of his thigh. He shut his eyes to the pain, and buried his teeth into his lip to keep from screaming. He glanced up at the ceiling, looking at the light now surrounded by a oozing halo of gunpowder smoke. He felt the warmth of his blood leaking out of the wound to his leg.

“F**k yourself.” He whispered, and looked back at his murdered young friend. I’m sorry Jason. He said to himself, and to the body of the kid who’d wound up paying for Wallace’s terrible mistake. He shut his eyes, not really caring what body part the little son of a b***h shot. But he suspected that the little f**k wouldn’t find him as much fun anymore, and just kill him.

“No detective. F**k you.”

Wallace felt the gun barrel pressed against his temple. Hard. Yep, he thought, Jackie is done with me. He waited for the shot to come.

Author's Note

Alright everyone... that's all I'm going to post for the time being. If anyone has the time and opportunity, I would love to get some reviews. All the episodes combined, this makes up about half of the book. If there are those who would like to read more, let me know, and we'll see if we can make that happen. Otherwise, I'm going to continue on... and hope beyond hope that one day we'll all be able to see the completed works on a shelf at your local book store, or perhaps in a digital version.

Cheers!