A producer hands out the tokens to each of the Templars.
“Thank you,” Stitch says as she receives hers.
“Merci,” Port says.
“Optimal. I appreciate this,” Shot Caller states.
“Bahut shukriya shukriya. Thank you,” Karmic says.
Claire looks back at her camera. “That’s all the time that we have. Make sure you watch us tomorrow, and when you can’t watch, set your DVR. I’ll be rooting for my Demons who are looking very nice for this year’s champions.”
The patrons at Miss Ery’s cheer their support with Claire for the Demons. Carlos has Claire’s show on all the televisions while several regulars enjoy beer and bar food. Seated in the booth are Alex, Donald, Benji, and Reid.
“Pander much?” Alex says about the show as the credits roll.
“C’mon, Alex. I’m sitting right here,” Benji says.
“You know what I mean. That was pure propaganda. I’m not blaming Claire, but those Templars seem to take advantage of her.”
“Hey, it’s a two-way street,” Donald objects. “Claire gets a massive boost in the ratings every time one of them comes on her show. No offense, Benji.”
“None taken,” Benji says, then belches after taking a long swig of his stout.
“Only a two point four on that one,” Reid scores the burp.
“It isn’t a two-way street, though, not really,” Alex argues. “Claire can’t call for a meeting or press the tough issues. You saw her; she had to move on when things got tense. Journalists aren’t supposed to have to do that.”
“Fair enough, but that doesn’t make her their pawn either,” Benji declares.
“Who called her a pawn?” Alex asks. “When you deal with people like the Templars, none of us are pawns. We’re less than bystanders even. We’re the lint that’s casually brushed aside after falling onto the board.”
“Dark, Alex. That means you have to buy the next round,” Donald announces.
“I hear that shit,” Reid says.
Alex slides out of the bench to get another pitcher of beer.
“And no more of that dark shit Benji’s drinking!” Donald shouts after him.
Alex waves back at the table, acknowledging that the next round will have filtered beer.
Power exits a city bus with plastic bags filled with TV dinners. He briefly shields his face from the afternoon sun. With the support of a cane, he walks the two blocks from the bus stop to the rundown apartments that he now lives in. His rehabilitation may have been free, but his old apartment was filled with his cash. It wasn’t surprising when he found it ransacked after leaving Yama Heritage. It wasn’t like he had the money still coming in to continue to live like he used to.
He struggles to get up three flights of stairs to his apartment and fumbles in his pocket to get his keys. He also balances on his cane while trying to keep the plastic bags from tearing and spilling his food down the concrete steps.
The door opened, he walks through and throws his groceries onto the countertop next to his noisy refrigerator. He opens the freezer and begins forcing the individual meals into vacant space. The entire contents of the freezer are either blue cardboard dinner boxes or half gallon ice cream containers.
“What a quaint room, Mr. Wiener.”
Power freezes. That voice is one that he’s been happy to live without for over a year. He closes the freezer door and sees Julie sitting in what serves as his living room. Her face is not the attractive one he remembers. She has fresh wounds on her face from a fistfight.
“Looking good, Julie. What are you doing here?” Power asks. “You said we were through.”
“I meant it at the time. Truly, I did,” Julie says as she stands and slowly walks toward Power.
Power involuntarily steps backwards until he feels the silverware drawer digging into his back.
“What do you want?” Power asks.
“You seem to be getting around quite well now. Much improved since our last conversation.”
“No thanks to you.”
“Mr. Wiener, you’re now a stronger person for it. You went through the fire and came out alive. Who can ask for more?”
“I’m not playing your games, Julie. What do you want?”
“Have you felt different since we’ve last spoke?”
“Different? Sure. I can actually walk again. For a while I felt nothing because you and Yuri decided to drop a building on me.”
“That was nearly two years ago. Get over it.”
Power scoffs. He hates this woman with every fiber in his body, but knows he can’t get rid of her. He’ll have to play her game until she bores of tormenting him again.
“Plus, not what I meant,” Julie clarifies.
“Are you familiar with augmented people?”
“Don’t patronize me.”
“I’m sorry. You’re right. You may be a coward, but you aren’t stupid. What I meant was, are you familiar with how people activate their augmentations?”
“It’s like adrenaline or some shit.”
“Close. Scientists think augmentations typically activate in moments of extreme emotions. So yes, often that means from the adrenaline of a car accident, a roller coaster ride, or a skillful lover. In truth, this is more coincidental. Augmentations will passively protect the host. These moments of adrenaline are just the augmentation attempting to save the person.”
“What’s your point, Julie?”
“Have you undergone any extreme emotional events lately?”
Power laughs at Julie. “You think I’m a goddamn auggie? Bitch, please.”
Power chuckles a bit more. Julie just stares at him. She’s now within arm’s length of Power.
“Pity,” Julie says. “I didn’t want to have to do it this way.”
Power understands the threat immediately and throws a sloppy punch at Julie. He hears his cane slide along the countertop and hit the floor. He soon finds himself staring at it. Julie easily countered his attack and threw him to the floor onto his stomach. Before Power can roll over or do anything to defend himself, he feels a sharp pain in the middle of his back, then nothing.
Julie lifts her foot from Power. She sounds concerned as she speaks.
“Interesting. I thought your body would have protected you. Perhaps your damaged nerves are a bit slower to respond. Hopefully, that’s the case.” Julie seems confident as she speaks again. “It must be. I’m not sure how long it will take. I hope it wasn’t for naught. I’ll see you soon, Mr. Wiener.”
Power screams as he tries to make his legs obey. He hears the front door slam shut, then feels the impact of five frozen dinners falling off the counter one-by-one, hitting him in the head.
Power tries to reach inside his pocket to get to his cell phone, but can’t get his hands to slide under his body. His legs suddenly feel a thousand pounds heavier. He tries to crawl to his front door, but he can barely move himself in his weakened state. He resorts to screaming and hoping that a neighbor may actually care.
“Help! Help! Please help me!”
“So, this is Perth?” Port marvels.
“This is Perth,” Seal Pup confirms.
The two look from atop a tall building overlooking the Indian Ocean. The air is cool as the season transitions to winter.
“It’s beautiful watching the sun rise,” Port mentions.
“Agreed.”
“Why are we here, mentor?” Port asks.
“Why not? Just as good as any other place to patrol, and Perth has a lot of art.”
“Are we here to sightsee?”
“More like, save my romantic ass.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Mitch is pissed at me. It’s taking a lot of effort to get him to even acknowledge me, then I have to find excuses to leave and go to one of my two
jobs.”
“You need to spend more time with Mitch and less time in Perth.”
“Point taken, but at least here I can get him something nice. Mitch has a flair for art.”
“Really?”
“One comment about that being a stereotype and I’m gonna make you swim home.”
“You sound a bit defensive. Are you sure you aren’t the one thinking that way?”
“The point is, I figured we could look for trouble here, and if we happened to come across a nice painting or sculpture or something, so be it.”
“You’re gonna go shopping dressed like that?”
“Of course not. I’m gonna change once I find the perfect gift.”
“Correction. You’re gonna go browsing dressed like that?”
“There’s a reason I made sure you were my trainee.”
“I’m not going to steal for you!”
“I’m not asking you to, but you can send things back once you summon them, right?”
“You know I can.”
“Exactly. We scan for nice items and maybe peek our heads in when we’re cloaked. I tell you what to get and you teleport it. Then I can look at it, and you send it back. Once I find the perfect gift, I’ll quickly change out and go buy it. You watch my gear here and, Bob’s your uncle, Mitch loves me again.”
“Bob’s your uncle?”
“When in Rome.”
“Well, if you want to limit the possibility of prying eyes, we should get started before the stores open.”
“I knew you were the smart rookie.”
Seal Pup and Port fly around the city and look at the various facets of artistic expression. Port constantly teleports items to her hands and shows them to Seal Pup. Most result in a “thumbs down” rating. Eventually Seal Pup agrees to a piece of aboriginal art. The dot painting depicts a fight between a snake and a lizard.
“This is perfect,” Seal Pup announces.
Port looks it over. “So, are you the lizard or the snake?”
“The snake’s winning, so what do you think?”
“Lizard it is.”
“Like I said, the smart one. Let’s go. I can’t wait to get this to Mitch.”
“Are you forgetting something?”
“No?”
“We aren’t stealing!”
“Shit, sorry. Send it back and help me get out of my armor.”
The painting vanishes, and the two Templars move to the top of a closed business for his transformation back to Smith.
The siren wails on Donald’s ambulance as he weaves through the afternoon traffic in Colberton.
“Turn left on Marissa Avenue,” Alex informs.
“Marissa? Shit, we’re going to the ghetto?”
“We go where we’re needed.”
“I hate that nasty bitch. She lets anyone get all up in her.”
Donald swerves to make the designated turn.
“How much farther?” Donald asks.
“The Chester Apartments Complex. Room three two one two three apartment B.”
“Got it.”
Donald drives his ambulance and parks in front of the GPS indicated apartment. A small crowd of neighbors curiously watch the action, but refuse to get involved. The paramedics hear a man’s voice, hoarse from shouting.
“She lied!”
Donald and Alex quickly climb the stairs to the third floor and find the door to the man’s apartment unlocked.
“Hello?” Donald yells. “Sir, we’re paramedics. We’re coming in to help you, okay?”
“I’ll kill her!” the man yells. “That bitch lied!”
“Here we come, sir,” Donald says as he widens the door.
“She lied. That bitch lied. She lied.”
Donald and Alex find a male victim lying on the floor halfway between the kitchen and the front door. He looks somewhat familiar, but Donald can’t determine why.
“Sir, please don’t move,” Alex instructs. “Let us check you over and make sure everything is okay.”
“It’s not okay!” the man shouts. “That bitch lied, she said we were cool. She lied.”
“Sir, please stop moving. Alex, get his head.”
Alex places one hand on each side of the man’s face to keep him from damaging his spine further.
“Sir, we’re gonna put you on a backboard. It’s for your own good. Can you wiggle your toes?”
“She lied. The bitch. I’ll kill her!”
Donald uses a foam brace to replace Alex’s hands from around the man’s head. Next, he and Donald place the backboard on the floor next to the victim and open the straps.
“Sir, can you tell me your name?” Donald asks.
“Bitch, she lied! I’ll kill you, you stupid whore!”
“Alex, he’s in shock. Are you ready to roll him?”
“Tell me when,” Alex answers.
“Okay. You watch the head, I’ll get the hips.”
“On three?”
“Yeah, one . . . two . . . three.”
The two attempt to roll the man, but only Alex succeeds.
“Shit. Shit! Stop!” Donald yells.
“What the hell, man?” Alex complains as he repositions Power’s head to keep his neck in line.
“This guy’s heavy as shit,” Donald answers. “Something’s wrong.”
The man seems oblivious to the additional injury he may have just received. “Bitch. She lied.”
Donald pulls out some scissors from his aid bag and begins cutting the man’s jeans along the seams. He soon finds the reason for his problem.
“Alex, are you seeing this shit?”
Alex glances over at the exposed metal legs that Donald has revealed.
“What the hell?” Alex asks.
“Sir, what is your augmentation?” Donald asks.
The victim doesn’t answer.
“We’re not going to be able to move him. He’s a cyborg,” Donald states.
“I’ll call in for more support,” Alex says.
Alex confirms the foam brace is in place around the man’s head and calls back to dispatch for additional support.
“Sir, can you tell me about your augmentation? Can you change your legs back? We can’t help you if you don’t.”
The man finally seems to listen to Donald and regains some lucidity.
“I’m not an auggie,” he states.
“Sir, your legs are metal. Did you lose them in the war?”
“I haven’t lost my legs.”
“Sir, I think you’ve activated. Can you concentrate on making your legs normal?”
“More help is on the way,” Alex announces after his discussion with dispatch.
“Good. We’ve got him talking finally,” Donald informs Alex.
“Sir, can you change your legs back?” Alex repeats Donald’s question.
The man struggles against the brace to look at his exposed legs.
“Sir, please don’t try to move your neck,” Donald pleads.
The man ignores him. The lights above reflect off shiny metal beneath his pants.
“What the hell?” the man asks. “Do I look like that all over?”
“No, sir,” Alex answers. “Please calm down, and we’ll figure this out.”
The man thrashes about. His upper body moves, but his legs stay still.
“Sir, please stop,” Alex and Donald plead.
Both paramedics place their hands on the man to stop his movement, then move away. His body slowly turns metal all over. Circuits blink and servos whirl as the man transforms from cyborg to full robot in front of them. His face looks frozen in an emotionless metal likeness of his human form.
The man looks at his own hands with wonder.
“What the hell?”
&nbs
p; Donald and Alex back away.
“Sir, don’t do anything rash,” Donald says.
The man stands as if it wasn’t a problem. He takes a few practice steps and laughs at his situation.
“That clever bitch. She doesn’t even know what she just did to herself,” he says to himself.
“Sir, just sit back down, calmly, and we’ll help you,” Donald says.
The man looks at the paramedics with contempt. “Profiling bastards. Because I’m poor I can’t appreciate what you tried to do?”
Donald finally realizes who the man is. He’s a well-known thug named Power.
“We didn’t say that, sir,” Alex says.
Donald tugs on Alex’s shirt to try and get him to leave. He senses the danger the two are in.
“Get the hell out of my apartment,” Power demands.
“Sir, I think–”
Power lifts both arms, and to everyone’s surprise, the arms transform into spinning miniguns.”
“Shit!” Alex screams.
“I said, get the hell out!” Power states again.
Donald and Alex leave their medical supplies behind as both race out the front door.
Power laughs as they leave.
“I can get used to this shit.” He marvels as he turns his guns back to “normal” metal arms.
Benji stands behind a podium in his police uniform as he finishes the shift’s morning brief. The officers under his watch, including Karen and Maria, nod along. They’re seated at the folding tables before Benji.
“Any questions before we head out there?” Benji asks.
An officer in front of Karen raises his hand.
“Twileager,” Benji says.
“Yeah, Sarge, what are we supposed to do if the Demons actually pull it off tonight?” Twileager asks.
“We’ll wait and see on that. I like to think positive about this city. We’ve had enough riots; I don’t think our citizens will resort to one to celebrate.”
The assembled police officers laugh at the optimism.
“I hate to say it like this, but maybe we have to root against them if I’m wrong.”
Benji is instantly booed and has to dodge a foam cup or two. Thankfully they were already empty of the coffee they once held.
Sleepers and Scouts Page 15