Project Northwoods

by Jonathan Charles Bruce

  Ariana smiled widely and walked around the couch, extending her hand. “Hi!” she offered in a too-friendly-hostess kind of way. “I’m Ariana Brown.” She bobbed her head back and forth sheepishly as Talia took her hand. “Tim’s girlfriend.”

  “Hi. I’m the vapid whore from channel thirty seven,” Talia said in a blander rendition of Ariana’s nice-girl routine.

  Ariana took her hand back, her smile growing even wider in embarrassment. “You heard that, huh?”

  “Every word,” Talia said, clearly enjoying Ariana squirming. What Ariana assumed to be Talia’s actual accent had returned.

  “Talia, welcome to my humble abode.” The room shifted to look at Tim. He was energetic and positively buoyant, a combination which served to make him particularly intolerable. “Can I get you something? Soda? Beer?”

  Ariana did a quick double-take at Tim’s sudden interest in their guests. “What happened to your shirt?” she asked.

  “It’s nine-thirty in the morning, Tim,” Arthur said.

  “Art, be a dear and get her a beer,” Tim ordered.

  “Tim, sit down,” Ariana said with a cold stare.

  He collapsed onto the couch. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’m James, for anyone that’s wondering.” Talia’s companion cracked a small smile. “But you can call me Flea.” The others looked at him. “Like the bug.” They continued to look. “I can jump really far.”

  “Thank you. That will be all, James,” Talia ordered.

  “What brings you to this side of town, Talia?” Arthur asked.

  Talia made her way toward the television. “Have you seen the news?”

  “TV’s been off all day,” Ariana said.

  “I was at work. Working. So I couldn’t see anything. Because work,” Tim offered.

  “I’m sure the lady doesn’t care,” Ariana muttered.

  With a flick, the television began to warm up. Talia reached for the remote and changed the channel when the picture finally appeared. “VWN has been forced off the air.” Sure enough, a ‘NO SIGNAL’ sign squatted angrily in the middle of the screen. “No test pattern or anything.”

  “But… why?” Ariana asked.

  “I got to the station earlier this morning. The Enforcers blockaded it and were dragging everyone out in cuffs.” James was leaning against the dining room table as he spoke, trying to look relaxed and failing at it.

  “I imagine that we’re the only two not in custody at the moment,” Talia continued. “But that’s just because James and I haven’t returned home since skipping out on work.”

  “You don’t think they know…” Arthur started, then trailed off. He nodded toward Tim.

  James perked up a bit. “Know what?”

  Talia shook her head. “I don’t think so. I think that what happened at the Guild that night remains solely in the heads of a few people. Most of whom aren’t speaking on account of being dead.”

  “You were at the Guild when Ranger was killed?” James asked. He stepped forward, totally aghast. “Why didn’t you say anything? What happened?”

  “You’re my assistant, James, not my nanny,” Talia noted sharply. James looked a little sheepish and backed down.

  Ariana turned back to Talia. “So why are you here?”

  “The station isn’t too far from the Tibetan Mob headquarters,” Talia said. “I saw one of their goons and remembered Timothy was their…” She cast an incredulous glance toward Tim. “What was it again?”

  Tim coughed, trying to buy time. “I don’t know…”

  “Local manager, I believe,” Arthur offered. Ariana choked back laughter, politely covering her mouth and turning away from her boyfriend’s dirty look.

  Talia’s eyes lit up with dark humor. “Oh, that’s right.”

  “Yes, thank you, secretary,” Tim hissed as he took a swing at Arthur. He was too far away to hit, but Arthur flinched backward to give himself more room between him and the ungainly swipe.

  Talia wrenched the conversation back. “Everyone was in the process of leaving. We went in through the roof access…”

  “I helped,” Flea offered.

  “And found our wayward manager’s home address.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Or rather, the goon we were looking for.”

  Tim snorted playfully. “Whatever. We’re a bunch of pacifists. We would have let you in the front door.”

  Arthur shook his head in annoyance. “Do you still have the USB drive?” he asked. Talia nodded and produced the fractured device. “May I look at it now?” He offered his hand. After a moment of contemplation, she set it in his hand. He retreated to his bedroom.

  “So, Talia…” Tim began the moment silence reigned.

  “Shut up, Tim,” Ariana said.

  “Alright,” Tim agreed, content to resume staring at his crush.

  Arthur returned with a computer in his hands, the USB drive sticking out of it. “You did not tell me there was a party,” a sing-song voice said softly.

  “It’s not a fun kind of party, Mollie,” Arthur explained.

  James tried to maneuver into a position to look at the screen. “Who is that on the other end?”

  Arthur looked up, then turned the screen around. “James, Talia, meet Mollie Von Neumann.”

  No one said a word. “Is my screen on?” Mollie asked.

  “Yes, Mollie,” Ariana answered.

  “What is it?” Talia asked.

  “She’s… erm…” Arthur couldn’t quite think of the words for it.

  “He built himself a friend,” Tim helped.

  “Thank you, Tim. There was no better way to put it,” Arthur said, a bit annoyed. “I built her as a way to get SVAC certification. She’s an intelligent, learning… um… virus.” Mollie didn’t like the term ‘Artificial Intelligence’ as she insisted it made her feel less human, a concept that Arthur never pointed out was actually fact.

  “Slick,” James said with a fair degree of awe. He leaned in closer to the screen “Is she sedentary?”

  Arthur smiled at both James’s interest and the use of the word ‘she’. “No, she moves like the Creeper Virus from the 1970s.”

  “Smart, makes it harder to find when she gets onto a network.” James straightened but didn’t take his eyes off of Mollie’s blue iris. “What kind of coding?”

  “Metamorphic,” came the answer, almost like it was expected.

  “I should have known. That way she can learn and hide from predators much faster,” James said, leaning in to the computer now. He waved. “Hi,” he said, smiling.

  “Hello,” Mollie responded, eliciting an airy laugh of excitement from James.

  “Boys! Conspiracy afoot! Focus!” Ariana yelled.

  “Thank you,” Talia said, devoid of legitimate appreciation.

  “Mollie, how long will it take to repair the files?” Arthur asked.

  The iris swirled. “Most of the data is long gone. But I can get something out of it.” A tiny diode on the USB drive flashed for a moment, then dimmed. “You can remove the drive, it has been copied.” Arthur obeyed and handed it back to Talia. “A text file has the least amount of corruption. It is printable.”

  “Hey, if that’s all we can get for now…” Arthur disappeared back into his bedroom.

  “Did you try to contact the Italian Mob?” Ariana asked Talia. The reporter turned to her. “I mean… if the guy who died was employed there…”

  Talia forced an insincere smile. “Yes, it was one of the first things I tried.” She stared Ariana right in the eyes. “Al Capone does not take interviews.”

  “Alright, sorry I asked,” Ariana muttered as she threw her hands in the air defensively. She moved to the dining room table and sat down. With dismissive hand wave toward the others, she began flipping through the paper again.

  Arthur returned with two sheets of printed material. “We’ve got a list of names.” He handed one of the papers to James. “And a whole lot of ASCII.”

  “The elder Capone is on here…” Jame
s looked at Arthur. “Do you recognize any of the others?”

  “None on here ring a bell,” Arthur muttered as he scanned down the page. “It would make sense if they’re villains… Italian Mob goons or otherwise.”

  “So we have a couple of names.” Tim puff out his cheeks before exhaling loudly. “Which means… what, exactly?”

  “That we wait for Mollie to give us a better lead,” Arthur said. “I guess it’s better than…”

  “Help wanted!” interrupted Ariana. She stood as she read off the newspaper. “Are you a talented, hardworking, fun-loving individual? Handy with a gun and a snazzy dresser?” With a devilish smile, she looked up from the paper and at Arthur. “Then apply for the Italian Mob today!” She shot a look at Talia, her smile fading into a self-congratulatory sneer. Ariana’s eyes went back to the paper. “Immediate interviews for those with a good degree of hard…” she trailed off over the final word. “… Hardworky…itude?” She cocked an eyebrow before lowering the paper and looking at the others.

  “Alright!” Tim clapped his hands together excitedly. “And we have something with her name on it!”

  “Not bad, eh?” Ariana said to no one in particular as she folded the paper. She pulled out her cell phone. “I’ll just give them a call and set up an appointment.” She dialed as she walked toward the privacy of her room.

  “And if nothing else, we can get Art a job!” Tim said as he leapt over the couch and stood next to Talia. He poked her arm gently. “Art doesn’t have a job,” he explained.

  “Thank you, Tim. That was implied.” Arthur returned to examining the sheet. Are these people targets?

  Ariana shut her phone triumphantly with a snap as she returned. “Well, I got us an interview.” With a wink at Tim, she added, “Told them I was with a temp agency and I had five super excited individuals who were real can-do candidates.” She looked at Talia and smirked. “Maybe I should be a reporter.”

  Talia smiled in annoyance. “We have nothing except a broken flash drive and two sheets of paper with names on them. I wouldn’t advise a career change yet.” She rolled her neck, a popping noise interjecting halfway through. “But it’s the best we have.”

  “Until Mollie hooks us up,” Arthur said, bringing his computer back in with one hand and hefting an empty backpack with the other. “How long do you think it’ll take, Mol?”

  “Long enough,” came the response.

  Arthur nodded and knelt on the floor. He folded the computer and slipped it inside the backpack before connecting the microphone and headphone jacks inside to their respective ports. He stood and hefted the pack onto his back before slipping the combination earpiece and microphone into place. “This way, she’ll let me know if she’s got something.”

  “And, hey, even if she doesn’t find anything, it’s not the end of the world.” Tim kicked the couch lightly. “This baby unfolds into a bed,” he said with a smile as he leaned against it. His eyes flitted from Talia to Ariana’s icy glare. He slapped the couch and stood upright. “Actually, I might be sleeping on that for a while.”

  “Tim. Shirt. Now,” Ariana snapped as she pushed her way to the door. She clapped her hands and motioned to the hallway. “C’mon people. No time to lose.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  PANOPTIC

  JULIA STARED OUT THE WINDOW of the jeep as it made its way through rough road, sickly branches slapping at the glass as it moved. The day was bright, clear, and hot, her partner responding to the general atmosphere by pumping the air conditioning at full blast. Despite the a/c, she was still sweating from her decision to wear the black variant of her costume. It still felt a little odd to add color back into her wardrobe considering the memorial service for her father had been yesterday.

  Thankfully, the car ride was mercifully quiet. Dylan “Claymore” York, her partner, could be quite respectful when he wasn’t talking incessantly about his workout routine or what his love life entailed. She was never sure if he was trying to impress her with his endlessly aggressive shallowness or if it was his attempt, no matter how inexpertly managed, to relate to her as a human being.

  “I really think Arbiter meant it when he said he was going to honor your father’s memory,” Claymore said, jarring her from her thoughts. She looked at him, annoyed that he interrupted the silence. He was wearing a black sleeveless tactical vest and a pair of black cargo pants, which, she suspected, might have been specially tailored. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of red shades that caught the sun as he alternated between looking at her and the road. “If anyone could do it, it’s him.” Julia didn’t feel like answering. She resumed gazing out the window. “It wouldn’t kill you to talk to me, you know,” he muttered petulantly.

  “I don’t feel like talking,” she said simply. She hadn’t felt like talking for days. Neither to the reporters when they asked her about her father, nor to the Enforcers she had suddenly found herself responsible for. Even when they managed to find Zombress, she couldn’t muster a single word. The battle had been pitched, for sure, but Zombress had made a mockery of the heroes involved. Fat lot of good controlling my bullets does when the bitch is a bullet sink, Julia thought with a snort. It took Claymore, Arbiter, and an elite squad of Enforcers led by their colonel to finally bring her down. In that entire time, Julia couldn’t utter a syllable.

  Even at the Heroes’ Guild, her boot on Zombress’s neck, she couldn’t speak. Even when the villain threw the hero off and the piercing tendrils of fear wormed into the girl’s brain, she couldn’t muster a sound. And even when the Queen of the Dead mouthed, ‘I didn’t kill your father,’ and stared at her with such intensity that it seemed true, Julia couldn’t even tell her how much she hated her.

  “I’m your partner, Gunslinger,” Claymore said, once more jostling her back to reality. The use of her hero name was jarring. She looked at him, hoping he saw just how tired she was. Did you not have parents? Did you not appreciate what had happened to me? Did you ever, in your entire, shallow life, lose a friend, family member, cat, dog, or turtle? Her train of thought derailed when he leaned over and put a hand on her leg. “I want you to be alright.” His eyes never left the road, so he didn’t notice that his touch was unwelcome and uncomfortable.

  Although she doubted he would care even if he had noticed.

  She yanked her leg away and stared straight out the windshield. Claymore gently braked as the SUV in front of them slowed, nearing what appeared to be a tiny red and white striped wooden gate in front of an entrance to a quarry. Two guards flanked the front vehicles and produced hand-held PDAs attached to a retinal scanner. They scanned the three occupants, then waved back at the large gatehouse. Shakily, the barrier lifted. The SUV drove under the still-rising barricade before appearing to descend below the horizon. Claymore eased up on the brake pedal and neared the Enforcers waving him forward.

  The window came down as the car ground to a halt. The guard, who Julia recognized as one of the Enforcers that had been under her temporary command, looked into the window. He smiled upon seeing Julia, a gesture she half-heartedly returned. She rolled down her own window as the other guard approached.

  “I don’t see why you have to do this,” Claymore said, removing his shades for the guard. The scanner flickered, and the handheld device blipped eagerly. Julia turned to her respective guard to be scanned.

  “Even the colonel needs to be scanned, sir. It’s just a precaution,” the Enforcer said, businesslike. Julia blinked away the scanner light’s visual remnants as her guard nodded at the result and waved to the gatehouse. “Nothing personal.”

  Claymore arched an eyebrow and rolled up both his windows. “Losers,” he muttered as he released the brake.

  The car moved under the gate and seemingly floated above the chasm that had pulled the first SUV downward. It was a disconcerting effect, watching a swath of what looked like steam distort their vehicle as they passed through the optical camouflage. To outside observers, it looked like they began a descent into the quar
ry proper. To their own eyes, the facade melted into nothing, giving way to a large courtyard penned in by ten foot high walls. Even the rickety wooden gate evaporated into a thick steel door which steadily closed them in.

  In the middle, a positively massive and mostly windowless building squatted in the sunlight. Massive really isn’t the word for it, Julia thought on the approach. If half of it was demolished, it may qualify for preposterously huge, but even that’s pushing it. The structure spread in four directions from the center of the yard, an angry ‘X’ carved into the landscape. Five towers, one in the middle, one at the end of each wing, overlooked the area. Julia was sure there were Enforcers within them, but any movement was obscured by angle and distance.

  The tallest tower was the central one, offering a full view of the entire area, possibly even parts of the surrounding countryside. The optical illusion shielding the area from the outside world was one-way, a perfect tactical advantage. From what she knew, every sector of the building had its own security, but it was all superseded by the central tower’s total access. Inside were all types of redundant equipment and controls, designed specifically to circumvent any possible security breach.

  The SUV ahead of them stopped in front of the entrance, and their jeep quickly followed suit. Claymore was the first to get out, the dusty courtyard a sudden, unwelcome atmosphere compared to the climate-controlled cabin. Julia exited the vehicle, coughing slightly at the swirling dirt. The movement jostled the sheathed Bowie Knife on her belt, secured just below the small of her back. She made sure that the binding keeping the blade in place still held before walking to the other parked vehicle. Arbiter clambered out of the car, followed by the colonel of the Enforcers and his subordinate.

  “Shall we wait for Archetype, High Consul?” the colonel asked with his gruff South African accent, pushing his shades further up the bridge of his nose.