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by Weaver, Nicole


  Jon stood by the window, staring out into the night. "He is a Villain Sam. He's going to prison; probably the new Supermax Prime they are building. I'm told he will be one of the first to be locked up. It's possible, if you cooperate with Kevin more, he could pull some strings to let you visit. He is a powerful man, especially to incarcerated Villains." I never thought about it before, but he was smiling. Why was he smiling at a time like that?

  "Jon, don't be cruel. Governor Brown was on the news yesterday saying visitors won't be allowed." Mildred didn't even look up. So cold, not like the warm and friendly woman she used to be.

  How did Eddie get arrested so fast after the new law passed? When Primes were still new? None of it felt right. Jon's leer flashed in front of her eyes. He was lying. I cried so hard when they told me, but neither of them cared. It was the first thing I talked to Kevin about, and he hadn't cared either.

  Jon's eyes bored into her, burning her heart to ashes. "He's gone Sam...and this is your home now."

  "No, no, my name is Samantha." His laughter followed her as she fled down the hall. Running back to her sanctuary. Her blue prison.

  She swung around the corner to land on the first step of the stairs and a magazine she'd left on the top step slipped out from under her foot.

  Up became down, the world spinning silently around her.

  Shooting agony exploded across her shoulders, then her head as it hit the floor, followed by the rest of her body. Streaks of light danced across her eyes. Blinking didn't help.

  Her skin, twitching and dancing in patches, burned like it was melting off. Then a blast of cold, circles of ice tracing their way through the layers of her flesh from the inside out. She lay there on the floor until her body cooled, and her breathing slowed, then burrowed out of the tangle of blankets.

  She'd fallen on the floor in her sleep again, but the fragmented memories were still fresh.

  Where are you, big brother? I miss you.

  Samantha wheezed shallowly as she staggered to her feet, the sting behind her eyes growing worse and alternating warm, then cold, until it ultimately settled on a colossal headache somewhere in between. I need some water.

  Eddie's voice lingered from the dream, repeating his last words over and over. He said he would come back for me.

  Carpet burns covered her hands and feet, probably a gift from her thrashing to the floor in her sleep. Ghosts of acupuncture's past, or what? Every inch of skin stung with thousands of little stabbing points of pain.

  She shuffled past the dim nightlight in the hallway, pausing when it went dark behind her. Samantha spun around, hands raised defensively, but it was only the bed sheet dragging behind her, still wrapped around one of her legs.

  The bathroom was an inky black hole. No nightlight, only a small window to the outside world, still dark at this hour. Metaphor of my life here, looks normal at first, but wow is it a dark pit when you get down to it.

  Using the sink in the dark, the cold water made the throbbing in her head worse. The icy wetness tightened her skin and stretched the tiny stings into agony. Again, the feeling of pulsing heat and stabbing cold battling behind her eyes.

  She flipped on the light and froze, staring at her hand on the switch. The exposed skin was stained crimson. Blood? She looked to the mirror with wide eyes.

  Her hair, her face, every visible part of her body, was red.

  Samantha fled down the hall. Am I a murder victim? I mean, I know Jon hates me, but I didn't think he'd go this far. Maybe my dead body is still in my room? She slowed at her half-open door. Hey, anyone up there watching out for me, can I please not find my own body here? That would be swell.

  She flicked the light on.

  The clean and bloodless comforter sat puddled on the floor next to the clean bed. So, I'm probably not dead. Maybe.

  Her white sheets stretched along the floor into the hall and bunched up around the broken nightlight. There was nothing on the doorknob to the bathroom, just her hands and arms, still bright red.

  Staring into the mirror, her own bloody eyes stared wildly back at her. The cornea, sclera, and even the dark in the center of her iris, were each bright scarlet. It was as if a blood vessel had burst inside both eyes, except her hair, and even her nails, held streaks of red that faded as she watched. Some of that is the same color as my dye, but I couldn't have spilled it in my sleep, it would be everywhere.

  She scratched at a stained cuticle.

  Nothing flaked off. "Sketchy," she whispered.

  She went deeper, digging in to peel off a sliver of skin, which stayed red. It faded as she watched, until it became a lighter red than the drop of blood that squeezed free of her finger.

  Samantha stared into the mirror for a long time. Maybe it's an aneurysm and everything is a normal color, but my brain is dying and sees it all in red.

  She found the dye she'd been thinking about as she fell asleep the night before. It was under the sink, exactly where she'd left it. The crimson streak through her hair matched the box perfectly, the exact color she'd been thinking about dying her hair when she fell asleep, though it had already faded to her natural brown at the edges. Good thing I wasn't thinking about how blue Christy is right now.

  The streaks on her hands and face were already nearly gone. The colored areas left nothing behind to show where they had been, except where she had torn her skin herself. The cold-nettles-in-flesh feeling took longer to fade, like her whole body had fallen asleep and was just waking up. Warm spikes from the headache slowed to a background hum, easily ignored.

  Holy monkeys, I'm a Prime. How did that happen? The unopened box slipped out of her hands and bounced off the counter, coming to rest on the bathroom rug.

  Her eyes took the longest to change back, fading from crimson to honey-brown over a period of about 10 minutes. Samantha concentrated on her hair turning red again, but nothing happened until she imagined a hundred honeybees pushing into her scalp to inject crimson into her hair.

  The cold immediately returned, twice as strong, crawling across her skin and twitching across her skull. In the mirror, scarlet tendrils spread slowly from the roots out until every single hair was bloody red. Ha, ha! I'm a Prime!

  Chapter 9

  Wednesday May 19th, 2010

  Detective Angela Miller shifted on her feet in an attempt to see what her boss was typing. He's been burning the midnight oil. I wonder why.

  Chief Jacob Bryant hunched over as he tapped away at his keyboard, his sweat stains swinging into view each time he reached out a hand to rummage among the takeout containers littering his desk. His trademark mustache flailed with every movement, long and black as it drooped past his chin.

  If asked, most officers in the Precinct would claim a direct correlation between the Chief's emotional balance and the bouncing of his mustache. Angela always suspected he encouraged the rumors so he could wiggle his mustache to freak out the rank and file.

  This morning it bounced constantly.

  Maybe there is something to the stories after all. Chief isn't looking so hot, and that sucker is about ready to jump off his face and run a lap. I doubt he asked me in this morning over discipline, my report was airtight this time, Eggers made sure of that. She watched him carefully, but he didn't look up from his engrossed pecking at the keyboard.

  "Uh, boss, can I sit down? You asked me in to see you this morning." Angela slipped a honey lozenge into her mouth. Safer to wait him out, but I have a busy day ahead of me.

  He jumped half an inch in the air, landed back in his seat, and slid a couple feet back to hit the wall. "Holy shit Miller, Knock next time."

  "I did, twice. You didn't even look up when I came in," she said. "So, what gives? You've been on edge the past few days and it's getting worse. The guys are starting to talk."

  Pushing himself back to his desk, he slid to a halt wearing a deep frown, facing her now. "My son is going away to visit family for a while. It's been eating me up that I can't be there with him." He inhaled deeply
and let it out slowly.

  "I'm sure Trevor will be fine, Boss." She smiled. "He's a nice kid, and quick on his feet."

  "I wasn't aware I'd told you about him." His mustache slowed its frantic bouncing. "That isn't why you are here. I have a special task for you and Eggers. I'd planned to give you both a bit longer to get used to the area, but I have most of my other detectives digging into the mess at the Institute."

  "I wouldn't worry, boss. Arbor City isn't that much different from Seattle. I'm ready." Isn't that interesting. The chief has a secret to keep about his boy and doesn't trust me enough to share it. Does he suspect a mole?

  The tips of his mustache twitched. "The Prime Crisis Agency is playing things close to the chest, but we had two young Primes disappear near the first of the month, immediately after we confirmed their status. Another one went missing last week. The PCA says it's runaways, or they disintegrated when they couldn't handle a bad Manifestation. Either of those is bad enough, but I am concerned someone is snatching them."

  "Boss, I'm ready, but that sounds like the kind of investigation that's going to step on some big toes. Are you sure you want a newly transferred Detective and her rookie partner to take this one?" Not to mention how disastrous it will be if the PCA takes an interest in me.

  "I don't care." His mustache shuddered. "Kids are missing and it won't go unanswered. I am half worried Ouroboros has finally come to Arbor City after their retreat from Seattle. It's even possible the Mob is making a power play, or those scientists out past Lucky Peak finally went off the deep end and started collecting specimens for their experiments."

  "Don't be silly boss," Detective Miller said. "Those science guys are just a bunch of harmless nutjobs with not enough PhD's and too much time on their hands. It would be a waste of resources."

  "They were smart enough to land a contract researching Nevernoon and Manifestations." He frowned. "Regardless, children are still missing, and I won't rule them out without an investigation."

  "Well, it isn't the Mob either." She sighed. "You know as well as I do, they haven't made a move in months, and most of their resources are tied up along the Washington Coast. Arbor City is their retirement town; they don't come here to pick fights. Besides, the analysts are saying that little incident a few months ago wrecked their finances. It can’t be Ouroboros either, they are about as subtle as a hand grenade and they don't do anything without—"

  She trailed off under the heat of his glare. Does he know more than he's saying?

  "I don't care who it is as long as we find out and stop them. Crazy cult, or the devil himself, it's all the same to me." His mustache launched into gymnastics as he bit off each word. "Children are missing; Primes are people too, and this will not stand. I can't control the PCA, but I can save those kids."

  He held eye contact, but the Detective didn't add anything further.

  The Chief continued, "I know you don't have children, but I do. No threat to the young people of this city will go unanswered, no matter who tells me to stand down. Especially with that little shit Tlaloc burning and murdering doctors. How long before he goes after a school? Or finds a way to yank Soulfire out of her funk and sends her to melt the Capital Building?"

  Miller shook her head. "Boss, I've seen the reports. The woman is terrifying, but she's also catatonic. She isn't going to run around kidnapping children when she can't even feed herself."

  "Stop arguing Detective. Kids these days have enough problems without getting burned, blasted, or stolen in the night."

  "That's a great PR speech, Chief, but you've seen my reports. Arbor City is quiet, clean, and you said it yourself, everyone is on the Tlaloc case. We are just too close to the Intermountain Prime Research Facility and Villains are scared witless of getting locked up. The only active Primes around town are the PCA agents themselves. Could this be one of their Black Ops units in action?"

  Red-faced, he pressed his hands flat on the table and leaned over his desk. "If it is, I want to know. Now, grab that lazy partner of yours. I want your A-game on every Prime activity in my city until we know what happened to those kids. I don't care how big or small, or who you suspect is behind it; I want your conclusions on my desk." He stabbed his finger in her face. "Have I made myself clear?"

  Eyes down, she nodded. "Yes Sir. Is that all Sir?"

  "No. I also want you checking reports for civilians acting unusually, especially children. The Feds tell me Manifestations are steadily increasing in our region, and no one knows why. The sooner we get eyes on a new Prime, the less likely we have to clean up the aftermath of a bad end. If it steps on anyone's toes, then they shouldn't have left their feet in my way." He went back to pecking at the keyboard.

  Dismissed.

  ****

  "No Ma'am. We are going to need more than just 'A Prime did it' to go on. Please walk me through what you believe happened." Detective Miller said. Despite her best efforts, a sigh slipped out.

  The taller blonde woman held herself up by one hand against her wrecked car, tugging the hem of her sparkly blue mini dress down with the other. "I told you already. A Prime took me over and drank a bottle of Tequila, then wrecked my pretty car. I don’ wanna tell you again."

  Detective Miller wrote quickly as the swaying woman continued.

  "I want you to instergate…investergate…find out who did this to me." She hiccupped. "They are prolly doing it to someone else right now!"

  "I see. Do you normally drink this early in the morning?" Detective Miller asked. She could smell the vodka on the woman's breath.

  The drunk woman giggled. "No sir, Ma'am. We were drinking all night." She blinked owlishly. "I mean, that Prime was making us drink all night. It was terrible." She slid down the side of her car, dropping to the asphalt, her dress bunched around her waist. "Can I get a ride home?"

  At least this one is wearing underwear.

  "You sure can." Detective Miller yelled over her shoulder. "Hey, Eggers, get over here, and give this nice lady a ride to where she needs to go." She winked at her partner as he moved around the cruiser to reach them.

  He blinked rapidly, slow to realize she was joking.

  Kid is too serious at all the wrong times. We have a friendly cop aesthetic to maintain. Rolling her eyes when he glanced down at the woman, she slipped a honey cough drop into her mouth. It quickly went to work, soothing her aching throat.

  Finally catching the joke, Detective Eggers, a young Hispanic officer with a suddenly friendly smile, helped the woman to her feet.

  Detective Miller helpfully smoothed her dress down for her. "Okay Ma'am, let’s get you in the car. I just need to put these on you real fast." The cuffs snapped shut before the woman had a chance to answer. "You don't mind, do you?"

  "Wait, hey, wait, I'm innocent, a Prime did it!" Protesting feebly, the blonde didn't resist as she was expertly maneuvered to the patrol car and stuffed into the back seat.

  "I'm sorry Ma'am, you are under arrest. Please remain calm." Stifling a chuckle, he shut the door before she could stick her feet out. "Third one this week. Apparently, people think we are a pair of idiots or something. I wonder how many would try this crap if they knew what we are?"

  "Probably more." Angela sighed. Not like I am worried about excessive force and illegal power citations with Eggers around. "Anyway, I need to get this scene tidied up before backup arrives. Go ahead and take her in."

  "Yes Ma'am. Do you want your dry cleaning done too?" He grinned wider.

  She eyed him up and down. Now he gets lippy, when it messes up how we look in front of the perps. "Don't push me, kid. I'm not above giving you the worst acid trip of your life." She closed in on him, staring up into his dark eyes. "Make sure you don't forget to fix her up right this time."

  Her tone, more than the words themselves, broke through his bravado. "I'm sorry Boss, it won't happen again."

  "That's right, it won't." She passed over her notebook. "Just match her up to this and we're golden. The chief is watching, and we don't n
eed another witness fucking up the official report."

  "You aren't going to let that go, are you? Its been what, two weeks? I am sorry, it wasn't my fault someone checked up on him later. You know the sooner I get to them the longer the memory graft lasts, but I still have to reinforce it for court if they decide to contest the charges." He grimaced at the neatly filled page. "This seems straightforward. I can manage it if you'll let me get to it."

  He circled the squad car without waiting for her response and dropped into the front seat.

  "That's what you said about the last one. We have an aesthetic to keep up, and it involves being the perfect cops. Need I remind you what the Chief will do to us if he finds out who, and what, we really are? Pay attention this time," she growled.

  Detective Eggers rolled up the window, ignoring her. His squealing tires drowned out the still-protesting woman in the back.

  Detective Miller sighed and snapped a few pictures of the bent sign and demolished front bumper. It's time to get him out of here. He's too green for infiltration work.

  ****

  Balancing her cell phone on her knee, Detective Miller kept an anxious eye on the row of squad cars behind her as she texted.

  Miller: It's a Prime fight, no one will question my holding them back, but Scorch better hurry or he is going to have a lot more than badges to deal with.

  GG: I don't care what your excuse is. Make sure he extracts Honeydew safely. I'm pissed, but I want her alive.

  Miller: Sir, about that. The Prime Crisis Agency took the bait and are deployed across town, not a threat. Team Starstuff did not, and they are unfortunately on their way.

  GG: Then you have less time than you'd hoped to extract our people.

  Miller: Yes sir.

  The radio broke the silence. "D21, calling D21, you do not have permission to engage. The bus is ground zero for a Prime fight. Stay put, keep civilians away from the corner of Cole and Brentwood, Code 3. Starstuff is on its way. ETA 13 minutes. Over."

 

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