“Yeah, I’ve seen your kind of help, Doc, don’t forget that. I’ve seen what you do, what you’re capable of. I’ve stood next to you on the front lines and watched you make grown-ass men piss their pants. I’ve watched you literally scare men to death. Don’t think this whole caring doctor routine is gonna wash with me!”
“You can lash out at me all you want, Royce.”
“Don’t call me that. Royce Langston is dead; he died a long time ago.”
“All you want, Royce,” she continued, ignoring him, “but maybe you should face this. Maybe it’s time to.”
She expected him to fight against that, but instead, and rather shockingly, Crimson merely sat down heavily on the bed.
“Don’t you think I know that?” he finally asked after staring at the floor for several long moments.
“You do?” she asked, genuinely surprised.
“I’m not crazy, Doc, contrary to popular opinion. I used to… well, I guess I used to watch her. Yeah, I know that sounds creepy, especially coming from me, but that’s what I did. I’d watch her and think about her. I’d picture conversations we’d have, thoughts we’d share. I’d have two-sided long talks with her in my mind, and yes, I know that probably sounds crazy.”
“No, not at all. It’s called projection, Royce. If anything, it shows that you have a desire to form such relationships with people. It shows that you wish to grow, to experience a bond with someone.”
Crimson seemed to consider the notion. “Jesus, maybe I am nuts. You want to hear the craziest thing, Doc? The most meaningful friendship I ever had was an imaginary one, and after she was killed… well, it kind of felt like someone had been taken from me. Nuts, huh?”
Any further discussion was suddenly halted as Jamie-Lyn came rushing into the room.
“Quick,” she panted. “You’ve got to see this. You’re not going to believe what those bastards are saying about us!”
----------
The television played on to a deathly silent, captive audience in the Queen’s Guard common room.
Jesus stood at the back of the group, his face set like thunder. CJ was stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his frame rigid. Jamie-Lyn, Doc and Crimson entered the room at a rush and were soon standing open-mouthed at the huge flat screen television that hung in the centre of the far wall.
On the screen sat Summer Sloan. For once, she was dressed conservatively in a smart navy suit with a high-necked, buttoned-up, crisp white blouse. Her hair and makeup were both minimal, which completed the serious newswoman look, a far cry from her usual flirty appearance designed to grab the key 15-34 demographic that the station was looking to attract.
The set was dressed to look like the programme was a serious news bulletin, but it was clear – or at least it should have been to anyone with half a brain cell – that from the start, this was an editorial piece: high on opinion and light on fact.
She was sat behind a desk with a graphics package running on a large screen behind her and a rolling tickertape beneath her that read ‘Are we safe from the Queen’s Guard?’
“What the hell is this?” Crimson demanded.
“This is what they’re saying happened,” Jamie-Lyn answered.
“Not exactly,” CJ mused. “They’re merely asking questions, or at least that is their stated position, a centre-of-line impartial discussion giving equal time to both sides of the argument.”
“You’re such a pompous idiot,” Crimson sneered.
On the screen, Summer Sloan was now joined by a smartly dressed elderly man in a tweed three-piece suit with a matching bow tie.
“Now, Professor Ivan,” Summer started, “you are a prominent scientist, are you not? A well-respected man in your field. I believe that you even worked with the now legendary, some would say infamous, Olaf Gustafson.”
“I did indeed have that particular honour.” The professor nodded. “But of course, that was rather a long time ago. I’m afraid that cognitive function can be somewhat dimmed over time when it comes to the accuracy of recall.”
“Blimey, he speaks like you, CJ.” Crimson laughed. “Maybe he’s a space lizard too.”
“Gustafson? Where do I know that name from?” Doc asked.
“Jesus mentioned it before. The guy was a scientist, Scandinavian he thinks, thought to be at the forefront of metahuman gene studies.”
“From what I know, he was pretty much ridiculed in the scientific community for his theories,” Jesus added without taking his eyes off the TV.
“Before Cosmic Jones changed everything,” Doc finished.
“Now these images…, that we here at ARK have exclusively obtained,” Summer added as she turned towards the camera.
The screen behind her showed still images of the smouldering wreckage of the Ryhill Care Home. The photographs were not particularly shocking for the watching group who had been at the scene, but as the images rolled through, one of them caught everyone’s eye: the one with the explosion itself, a purple explosion.
“But this one?” Summer asked, highlighting the image with the purple lightning. “Does this look to you like the signature energy source of the person known to us all as Cosmic Jones?”
“Well, of course I couldn’t possibly be sure without examining the evidence first hand,” the professor blustered.
“Come on now, Professor. You are an expert in this field. I mean, I don’t think we have long enough left in the programme for us to list all of your achievements and qualifications.” Summer smiled.
It was a smile that Jamie-Lyn recognised immediately, one that was sunny on the woman’s lips but never touched her eyes. She guessed that the professor wasn’t staying on script.
“Well…, I suppose initial… assessment…. would indicate that perhaps the two energy signatures are perhaps the same?” the professor offered awkwardly.
“Oh, I agree.” Summer nodded along eagerly. “Which of course raises the question: just why would the Queen’s Guard be lying to us, Professor?”
“I couldn’t possibly say.”
“Exactly, Professor. I don’t think that any of us know what they are up to. A gas explosion cover-up, unknown fatalities… just what exactly went on at the Ryhill Care Home?” Summer asked as she stared down the barrel of the camera lens, her face earnest. “We know that the entire building was levelled by Cosmic Jones. Experts agree.”
“That’s not what I said,” the professor stammered.
“Just what is the Queen’s Guard hiding? What secrets are they keeping from us? What dangers do they pose? An assassination squad with a mountain of blood and bodies on their hands – have they gone rogue?” Summer finished as the screen was filled with an image of the care home being blown apart by purple electricity.
“And here,” she added as the screen changed to show an image of a stretcher being carried out of the building with what appeared to be a body bag on it. “We can’t say that this is a dead body, but the image rather speaks for itself. Likewise, we cannot say that this is a result of Cosmic Jones, but we can’t say that it isn’t either.”
The common room fell silent in shock at the blunt accusation. CJ looked around nervously at the others.
“You can’t possibly think…,” he gasped.
“Relax, big man,” Jesus replied quickly. “No one would ever think that. Besides, your movements are always tracked.”
“He can teleport, remember,” Crimson threw in, looking to stir the pot with his usual grin.
“No one thinks that you had anything to do with it,” Jamie-Lyn jumped in. “Quit it, Crimson.”
“Hey, I’m only trying to help.” Crimson grinned as he raised his hands in mock surrender.
On the TV, Summer continued.
“Are the Queen’s Guard still working for the British Government? I mean, wasn’t the unit supposed to have been disbanded after Havencrest? When we come back, we shall be digging into that little operation a little deeper. Or are they working for themselves? Or are they worki
ng against us?”
The screen cut to a commercial break.
“What the hell is this Jesus?” Doc demanded.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re our fearless leader, are you not? I mean, what the actual hell?”
“Look…,” he started, and from his face, it was clear he didn’t exactly know where he was going. “I… I didn’t get any advance notice that this was happening.”
“How is that possible?” Jamie-Lyn asked, confused. “I mean, well back when your father was running things, the very notion that we could get blindsided like this was… well, it just wouldn’t happen.”
“Letting the old man down,” Crimson added, shaking his head theatrically.
“Look, I don’t know what’s happening, okay?” Jesus shouted, rattled. “Times have changed, understand? This isn’t my old man’s day. There isn’t the funding; we’re… we’re essentially a defunct unit.” He sighed.
“They’re coming for us,” Crimson said. “You all see that, right? This thing…” He pointed to the TV. “This is just the start. This is how it always starts – undermining, eroding public confidence, turning the tide of popular opinion; it’s psychological warfare 101. Take away an enemy’s base, take away their home, drive them underground, and then when you eliminate them, you do so with the public’s gratitude.”
His words cast a long shady silence and it was a few moments before anyone spoke again.
“SOUL,” Jamie-Lyn offered. “It has to be, right?”
“They aren’t that organised,” Jesus said, shaking his head. “They don’t have the structure.”
“Are you sure about that?” Doc enquired. “I mean, no offence, Jesus, but you don’t exactly have your finger on the pulse here, not anymore.”
“Here we go,” Crimson said as Summer returned on the screen.
She was joined by a new man now, someone who Jesus seemed to recognise.
“Who is he?” CJ asked, reading the look.
“Jameson,” Jesus replied. “He used to work for me, for the Guard. Low-level IT support.”
“Now joining me at this time is Michael Jameson,” Summer said, introducing the man sat next to her. “And Michael here used to be an agent with the Queen’s Guard.”
“That’s stretching it somewhat,” Jesus said with a frown.
“Who better to give an insight into the inner workings behind the scenes of a notoriously secretive organisation. Now, Michael, tell us a little bit about your time working behind the curtain.”
“Didn’t he have to sign some kind of non-disclosure agreement?” Jamie-Lyn asked Jesus.
“Of course, and I’m going to put him behind bars the second he discusses anything.”
“Thank you for having me,” Michael replied on screen. “Yes, I was an integral member of the Queen’s Guard for several years.”
“And you worked with Cosmic Jones?”
“Oh, of course, but we all called him CJ.” Michael laughed lightly.
“That’s enough,” Jesus growled under his breath as he snatched his phone from his pocket and started to jab in numbers as he stormed out of the room.
“Tell us a little bit about the unit,” Summer pressed. “Some of what they keep hidden from us.”
“Well, when I joined, I firmly believed in the cause. I believed then that the SOUL organisation represented a clear and present danger to the British public, that we were all in danger. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Summer, of course there were some extremists who manipulated their message, but they were not the only ones who were into manipulation.”
“You mean the Queen’s Guard?”
“The wider government, too.” Michael nodded.”
“That’s quite an accusation,” Summer said, feigning surprise.
“Well think about it. Think back to a time when we were all terrified. Just who exactly was fanning the flames? Just who benefitted from putting the country on a war footing?”
“People can’t be swallowing this bullshit, right?” Doc asked the group as she looked around.
“I don’t know. I mean, people do love a conspiracy story.” Jamie-Lyn shrugged.
On the screen, Summer and her guest continued to throw back and forth unfounded theories about government cover-ups and conspiracies with no one to challenge them.
“But if this is all they have, surely it’s not going to go anywhere?” Doc pondered.
“They’ve got more,” Crimson said quietly. “They always do.”
On the TV, they went to another commercial break just as Jesus stormed back in.
“BASTARDS!” he yelled as he clenched the phone tightly in his fist, fighting the urge to hurl it against the wall.
“Going well?” Crimson grinned.
“We’re being cut loose.” Jesus sighed heavily. “The bastards are running for the hills and leaving us behind.”
“Who is?” Jamie-Lyn said.
“Everyone,” Jesus replied with a guttural growl. “All of them. The shit is hitting the fan, and we’re all getting splashed with it.”
“Explain?” CJ asked, his voice still polite.
“Perhaps I can?” a new voice said from behind, and everyone spun in shock to see a man standing there.
Crimson moved first as he always did, more often than not without thinking. A blade was in his hand and then at the new man’s throat before anyone could say anything.
“Let him go,” CJ ordered, but Crimson paid him no mind.
“Bad place to break into,” Crimson said in an icy voice with a hint of eagerness.
“WAIT!” Doc yelled out as she touched her two fingers to her temple and her eyes crackled with purple electricity.
“I’d listen to the woman,” Link said, his voice strained but still under control even with a blade to his throat. “I come bearing gifts, ones that you really can’t afford to turn down.”
chapter 19
WE’RE THE BAD GUYS?
Cynthia Arrow sat alone in her private chapel. The dead village of Wolfbane had left behind remnants of its past occupants and now their ghosts echoed off the stone walls. Sometimes it was pleasant to have company.
She sat staring out at a blank wall from her knees, a position of servitude that she always maintained on such occasions. Pride had always been her own personal sin, her own cross to bear, if you will.
It was hard not to shine when God’s direct love shone through her, when his radiance lit up her soul and powered her forwards. It was, of course, always his plan and she was just a tool, but being the hand of God rose her above the mere mortals that she walked amongst and it was sometimes difficult to keep her feet on the ground.
The Wolfbane chapel had been flooded out with the rest of the village, and now it sat with corroded stone and rotted wood, a stinking corpse that sought to remind her of her place in God’s shadow.
She wished that her father was still here to see what she had become, for him to know that he had been right, that his vision had come true, that the mockers, the deniers, the unbelievers, the false prophets had all been struck down.
She knew that he was looking down on her from on high, and that gave her some comfort; besides, she would see him soon enough.
The years of planning were coming to a crescendo now, all of her work, all of her sacrifice, her plan – her Eden was nigh, and she would finally get to strike the final and fatal blow.
She had been kneeling now for almost three hours without moving. In truth, she would remain motionless for however long it would take to receive her instructions and she was on God’s clock now.
“Mother?” a voice called out gently from behind her in the chapel doorway. “Do you want to see?”
“I see everything, Number One,” Cynthia replied without opening her eyes or turning around. “God has shown me the path that we are taking and where it shall inevitably lead. The future is assured, my child. All roads lead to our salvation… ours, and the whole world’s.”
----------
L
ink rubbed his throat and found a thin trail of blood on his fingers. He was sitting on the sofa as the others stared at him hard.
“Not exactly putting out the welcome mat for visitors, are you?” he said, raising his eyebrows.
“I suggest that you speak your piece,” Jamie-Lyn said. “I’m not sure how long they can keep Crimson from cutting your throat.”
“How did you get in here?” Jesus demanded. “This is a top-level secret government facility.”
“Yeah, I think that you need a little updating. Maybe it was top-of-the-line back in your old man’s day, but now? Well, it’s pretty much obsolete. It was like breaking into a Greggs’.”
“And might I enquire as to who you are?” CJ asked, politely as always.
“You know, you look taller than you do on TV,” Link replied, looking the alien up and down with a quizzical expression.
“His name’s Quentin Link,” Doc answered for the man, her eyes losing the last of their purple sparkle as she recalled some of the information she’d gotten from reading him. “ Ex-military, now private black ops and wannabe Queen’s Guard applicant.”
“Do I even need to be here for this?” Link grinned.
“Why are you here?” Jesus demanded. “And please remember that I do still have the power to make you disappear. I might not have my father’s juice anymore, but I can handle digging a hole out in the woods for a burglar just fine.”
“I’m here to help.”
“So start helping,” Crimson growled as he stood holding a knife that he rotated in his hand threateningly.
“I take it that you’ve seen the news tonight?” Link enquired.
“Of course,” Jamie-Lyn replied.
“Well, it’s going to get worse. A lot worse.”
“Told you,” Crimson announced to the group.
“How?” Jamie-Lyn demanded.
“Your station is owned, like an awful lot of others, by Wilson Fontaine. There is a media blitz coming your way, both barrels.”
“Judging by what I’ve seen in recent days, I’d suggest it’s already here,” Jamie-Lyn replied.
“Trust me, it’s about to go nuclear. There’s been a groundswell lately, but social media is about to go wild with an exposé about Havencrest.”
Capes Page 26