The Infected (Book 9): Proxy: War Day

by P. S. Power

  The Infected: Proxy

  War Day

  P. S. Power

  Orange Cat Publishing

  2014

  Chapter one

  Brian felt the impact of the block. It shook his entire being, almost worse than if he'd hit a wall. He'd been trying to hit the strange armored man in the eye, but was going to miss anyway. The man, if the black and slightly shining form was male. That wasn't really the issue at the moment, since the being, whatever, whoever, he or she was, had been trying to rip a building down just before he'd gotten there. It wasn't a tiny building either.

  The thing was, when the blow that he'd been putting forth, splayed fingers toward what would hopefully turn out to be unshielded eyes, the thing dodged him easily, and threw an arm up in a block that showed skill in the movement. Along with superhuman strength, and even if the plating was only bone, enough armor to keep Brian from making too much of a difference if he hit it instead of the soft eyeball that had been his target.

  Even through his own nano armor, the move rocked him back, making his whole body go stiff under both the force of the move and the speed. Whoever this person was, he, or she, was wicked fast too.

  It took a lot of scrambling for Proxy, which was Brian's code name, to keep his feet. Honestly, he nearly fell down twice after that. Once from the initial impact, then again when his running shoes caught the ground enough to keep him from sliding. His whole body had been pushed so hard that it was shocking he hadn't gone airborne. Incredible to tell the truth. Pulling his knife, the carbon-nanotube thing his old friend Jeremy had made for him, he tried to move back in instantly. Sometimes even super fast people had a problem adjusting to the fact that someone was trying to kill them that hard. It wasn't a normal thing after all. What kind of jerk really tried to kill you like that, day to day?

  This creature, whatever it was, didn't seem too impressed. That was a bit strange, because the person just turned, his, or her, green eyes shielded by the slightly shiny back of their head. Luckily this person wasn't huge, too. That would make the whole thing even harder. Slashing as fast as he could, Brian tried to find a gap in the armor near the shoulder joint. It seemed to have a line there, but however it was constructed he couldn't get inside of it. Not even with a blade that was two hundred times sharper than a modern shaving razor. The only response was a tiny shrug, which made the knife slip out of his hand, and hit the ground, as the person he was fighting simply ignored him. Like he wasn't really there, or didn't matter.

  That wasn't a good sign. Most people at least gave him the time of day when he was trying to kill them. Okay, for some of them it was mainly just being polite, but they still did it. For some reason it just felt rude that this guy wasn't. Or gal. He didn't want to be the kind of person that would jump to conclusions based on armor. One of his best friends was a darling woman that looked like a walking tank practically. Most people assumed she was a man, because of that.

  For some reason, and he really didn't get why he'd do something so silly or suicidal, he walked around the black form, even as a large haymaker style blow was coming out, meant to rip apart the concrete of the building. The last few had worked pretty well, ripping lines in the side of the thing.

  For some reason it actually stopped.

  Then the thing spoke to him.

  "Excuse me. I need to take this building down. Please." The voice was male at least, so his first guess might be right. It was also very polite, really. Not harsh, or angry. Calm, to tell the truth.

  "Um... I can't let you do that. There are people inside, and they'll all die if you do that. I don't suppose that means much to you?" It normally didn't.

  After all, when Brian traded out with someone, they were about to die. The older lady that he'd taken the place of hadn't been being directly attacked, but the shrapnel, or whatever you called rock and concrete bits flying at bullet speeds, was about to kill her.

  There was a stillness from the thing for a second.

  "Really? I was told this building would be empty. It's supposed to be a lab. One that makes biological weapons for Braid. Have you heard of that? The alien woman that's trying to destroy us all? We really shouldn't let her win, if we can stop her."

  Brian... Blinked.

  "I... have heard about that. But my power is pretty good at finding innocent people that are about to die. If you take this place down, about ten people that shouldn't, will. How about I go in and look around first? That way, if I'm wrong we can still handle things your way?" That probably wasn't going to work. The man had seemed pretty reasonable so far, but that almost had to be a short term thing. No one as powerful as he was would be out doing a thing like this alone, not with a first mode that was as gentle and polite as this guy seemed to have. Someone else had to be in charge, or working with him.

  "I... Need to call that in? I work for the IPB. Is that all right with you? It won't take too long. I have a direct line." There was a tap on the side of his flat and featureless head. Only the green eyes showed at all, and they were right up to the front, so that there would be good peripheral vision. The problem there was that it meant there was no room for a nose underneath the thing.

  "Sure. That sounds good. Tell whoever is there that Brian wants to try something different? Who are you getting in touch with? Marcia? Director Turner, I mean?"

  That would make sense, if the man was actually one of the new people. There weren't a lot of them, but Bridget had managed to get fifteen or twenty new faces on her rebuilt team, after the rest of them had gone into hiding. It was a bit awkward at the moment, since the man would probably figure out that Proxy wasn't dead, but hopefully he'd be all right with that kind of thing. Enough to keep it out of the press. Just because he was new, that didn't mean he couldn't understand that someone had been planning to kill the IPB wholesale, not too long before.

  Not that avoiding the media was working so far. When someone was about to die, Brian had to go and take their place. He'd already tried doing that with a mask on, but the thing had refused to go with him when he teleported out. Even face make-up did the same thing. It was nearly like his power wanted him to be seen. That or just really didn't care what other plans he had. It wasn't the first time that he'd wondered if his power wasn't exactly his, somehow. Like it had a mind of its own.

  The armored form, who was only about his own size, five-ten or so, if a bit bulkier, shook his head.

  "No. I'm on with Wren right now. She runs the public face of things. The front desk? Let me see what she says?"

  That really seemed like a good plan, but Brian had no clue who that was. One of the new operatives, clearly. Not one that he'd ever met, however. That the front desk was fielding people on actual attack missions was new too. No one had mentioned it to him, at least.

  Suddenly, almost as if the man was speaking in a different voice, a young woman spoke to him. Her voice was lovely, almost as if she'd be a very fine singer.

  "Hello? Is there something I can do to help you?" There was a bit more of a nervous tone this time.

  He rasped out his answer, hoping she'd be able to hear him. It wasn't like he could see a microphone on the armored man in front of him.

  "Wren? You don't know me. I'm... Are you alone?" He really didn't want to tell the whole world that he was alive yet, but that was probably the fastest way to get this woman to help him. If she believed that it was true. He wouldn't have, if it were him. Everyone had been told he was dead.

  "Yes. Why?"

  "I need to speak to Marcia Turner. Her, or Bridget Chambers. Unless Doug Tibs is around?" That wouldn't do much, most likely, since you didn't just call up without saying who you were and ask to talk to one of the top three peopl
e in any large organization. Not over masked, armored destruction machine at any rate. Not that he'd ever heard about.

  There was a hesitation, then a soft sigh that he heard as clearly as if she'd been standing right there with him.

  "I think I saw Mr. Tibs around here somewhere. Can you hold for a moment? I mean is it safe? Dev'an is supposed to be on a mission, and that area might be dangerous." She sounded scared, which was nice, considering it seemed to be about her concern for his safety. That was one of two times it had ever happened when he'd taken someone's place so far. In over six hundred fights. Most of them to the death. Not that he was beating this man, if this portion where he used his words didn't work out for him. The only thing left was to run, in that case. Get the woman he was changing places with to safety. That was his real mission. The rest of it was simply what felt right.

  Except, if this really was a bio-lab, one working for Braid, their enemy, then they might have to sacrifice the innocent people inside anyway. Just to stop them from doing whatever they had planned. It probably wouldn't be something as simple as giving everyone Smallpox or Ebola. No, he was willing to bet it would be more violent and bloody than that.

  In fact, thinking about it, the idea suddenly became almost certain. A thing that meant it was really a lot worse than he would have guessed before. He wasn't the world's greatest psychic, but he could get a real sense for certain things, from time to time. This was one of them, it seemed.

  "So far we're fine, but I doubt that will last much longer. So, can I speak to someone? Those are the people there that I know."

  "Yes... Let me... Um, sorry about this." Then the girl, Wren yelled.

  "Tibs! Chambers! Turner! Emergency!" It was yelled, and not screamed, but her projection was great. Really impressive. Enough to make him take a step back and probably alert anyone in the building that had missed the explosive sounding punches against the side of the thing. Given that part was probably a lot like being in a really loud earthquake, Brian had to doubt many had missed it.

  The black form, Dev'an, didn't move, even when three security men came out the door, each of them armed with something that appeared to be large shotguns. The barrels were far too thick though. Oversized in a nearly comical way. Nearly the size of his wrist around, and they looked like the tubes were about four times at wide as what he was used to seeing pointed at him. That he honestly was used to that kind of thing was less than perfect, since it wasn't the way he wanted to live his life. Oh, he still wanted to help people, but for some reason that just didn't seem like enough anymore.

  Without waiting to find out what they were going to do, he dove to the side, into a roll, and picked his knife up. The blasts that came, two of them, were deafening. One of the men was knocked from his feet by the recoil, his slick bottomed shoes not up to the task. The other man rocked back too, but was either ready for the effect, or had better footwear.

  The first one yelled, and grabbed his shoulder in pain, as he sat on the concrete sidewalk in front of the building. It was clean looking and well cared for, but still couldn't be that comfortable to land on butt first. Concrete was hard, after all. He knew that one first hand.

  "Brian?" This sounded like Marcia now, which was handy, after a fashion.

  He called out, or tried to, the other man not bothering to even shift, though both of whatever had been fired had hit him dead on. The last of the uniformed men, who were wearing green and brown, wisely tried to point his weapon at Brian. Just before he rolled over and slashed the femoral artery in the standing man's right leg open. After that, since the others needed to reload, or grab a different weapon, Brian was able to kill them too. It took about ten seconds.

  Less than that, he knew. Closer to five.

  "Brian?"

  "Sorry Marcia. There was a bit of activity here. I think I have one of your new hires here? Destroying a bio-facility? Dev'an? He seems nice, but there are innocent people inside. Maybe hostages. I should go get them first, if I can?" He wanted to. Even if he had to die to do it.

  That was just how he felt all the time though, or at least how he was supposed to be feeling. Lately it just seemed like he was going through the motions, so he tried not to grimace when the voice of his friend spoke. Even though he knew what had to come.

  Also that she was right.

  That was a new thing for him. He could feel what was coming, part of the time. Even outside of fights now. It wasn't all the time and it wasn't perfect knowledge at each step, but he knew what the future held, a bit. And could tell when it was the direction he, or the people around him, had to go. Even if is sucked donkey chunks.

  "Brian? We know that. The people in there, they're either working for Braid, or infected with a disease that will cause regular people to go into a sudden and psychotic rage. Until they die. I don't like it, but we need to take that place out, and fast. You... shouldn't go in. I know that your first mode-"

  She knew. He did too. It ached, not being able to go in and save them. Even knowing that they weren't going to be saved that day now. It was so clear, but he hated it with every fiber of his being. He knew it was the correct path though. Even more strongly now, than a moment before.

  It nearly shook him, it was so powerful a feeling. No one there could be allowed to leave.

  "Right. I understand. I should get out of here then. I have a woman to protect. Um, your operative here isn't moving, is that right?"

  "How the fuck would I know? He's one of the new guys... Team Four. I'll go over that later when we bring him in. He should be with you, where you are." She didn't speak the words she really wanted him to understand out loud, so that meant she thought they might be overheard.

  Then, she was suspicious of nearly everything. That was her first mode, like his was self-sacrifice.

  "Got it. Um, I should hang up then, and let this guy get back to work. Out." That sounded official enough to him. Mission like, and everything.

  Also pretty bad assed, since he rasped everything in a gravely and dark voice. Like Nocturne did, in the movies. Except that he did it almost all the time now. For a while it had been due to all the damage, but then it had become habit, even after he'd been healed. Really, it was probably just him trying to act tough, at this point. All hard and scary sounding.

  Like that mattered in the slightest? No one in the world cared if he was intimidating, did they?

  He started to tingle as he heard words come from the flat face in front of him. Then he started to turn as the front door opened again, and a giant cat thing came out. He ran, hoping that the new guy from Team Four would be able to handle it. Brian knew he couldn't, having dealt with that kind of thing before. Sparing time to glance behind him, he saw that it wasn't just one of them, but a whole stream of the giant things coming out. Tan and tawny creatures, each nearly four feet high at the shoulder, pushing through what used to be a revolving door, not ten seconds before. Now there was just a hole.

  Brian just ran then, knowing that there was no way the poor guy could face that kind of thing. Even as strong and clearly dangerous as he was. Once he got about three blocks away, Brian glanced back again, to find that there were six of the things. Each facing a different person.

  Each of the creatures already losing. Two died in the moment, as Brian felt a strong tingle come over his entire body. He'd been running, nearly panicked, with the black carbon nanotube knife in his right hand, so slapped it to his chest. There was no rational way to explain it, but he knew that if it was too far away from the larger mass of his body it might just be left behind. The thing was probably worth about fifty thousand dollars though, so he didn't want to risk that. Plus, it was the only weapon they'd found that could travel with him, so far. Losing it would probably end up with him being dead.

  He found himself in the hallway of the new complex. It was actually a good bit bigger on each floor than the old place had been, though it only had four levels. The whole thing had a rustic log constructed look, even though it was a modern facility. O
ne of the floors was a vast gymnasium though, which was where he'd been just before he'd run into the polished wood hallway. Something like five minutes before.

  Not being a government agent anymore, he really didn't have to answer to anyone, and hadn't been hurt, so he headed back in, putting his knife away. He was in sweat pants and a t-shirt, rather than his old all black uniform, or IPB sweats and shirt. It was red on top and black on bottom. There was absolutely no reason for it, that had just been what he'd picked out that morning. Because he'd wanted to. Like a normal person going to work out for four hours. Which reminded him that he was only about halfway through that. Today it was a long, slow, three hour run, with an hour of weight lifting at the end.

  It was important to keep in shape. For a long time he'd been kind of lazy and fat, but that didn't fit in with his new lifestyle of constantly running off to fight people, did it?

  The track, which was just through the doors was ridiculous really. It was exactly one mile around. Indoors, and that large. More, they had two of them, side by side. One for the fast people, and one for the rest of them, who couldn't consistently hold a speed of over forty miles per hour. He was only going about six though, that day. It was a slow run, after all. His fast runs were about two miles an hour faster than that.

  As he started back around, Mark, from his old team, back when they'd been on a thing like that, moved in along side of him.

  "Brian. I noticed that you ran out. Everything okay?" The voice was mellow, and the man, who was about as slim as Proxy was, meaning pretty skinny, smiled a bit.

  It was the first time that Brian had seen the man exercise. Not that he hadn't done it before, but it had mainly been in the form of travel. Right now they were all supposed to be staying in. Except that he hadn't had a choice in the matter. It probably meant that he'd be the one to end up getting them all caught, didn't it? Sooner or later someone was going to see his face and report on him still being alive and well.