Project Northwoods

by Jonathan Charles Bruce

  “What is it Arthur?” she asked.

  Arthur held up his hand to silence her, something which she normally would have taken offense to but opted instead to heed. “I’m not blaming you, I’m saying there’s a mix-up…” There was a pause. “Boot it up, then. But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook.” He shook his head, and Talia realized he had gone white. “She fixed most of a video file.”

  “What’s going on Arthur?” she asked again.

  His eyes flitted to her, then back to the screen. “Nothing.”

  A video file opened up, choppy and full of unmistakable artifacting due to data corruption. The image coalesced into a night-vision shot from the back of an SUV. The details were out of focus, but it was clear the person was trying to remain hidden. The car jerked, then stopped. After a moment, the camera poked sneakily over the edge of the seat and the owner, determining the coast was clear, rolled over the back and into the rear seat. The video streamed together messily at this point, but the camera was outside now and switching between different visual modes, finally ending on a standard setting. A dark, dusty field stretched before the lens into the night, but it was still surprisingly well-lit. Carefully, the operator shuffled along the car, then brought the camera up around the side of the vehicle. Towering into the night was the structure from the plans, illuminated by searchlights and constant streams of sparks from welding torches. The video’s degradation picked up now, as the mix of light and darkness played havoc with the file. A man moved toward something on the other side of the SUV, presumably the driver. As the file pixilated in greater and greater chunks, a brief frame flickered in exquisite detail, too perfect to deny but all at once too horrible to accept. The video clicked off with an error message.

  Talia turned to Arthur, the man ghost-white and looking horribly sick. “There’s no way that’s who I think it is.” The words rolling off her tongue had no meaning, but she couldn’t find any other rationale for what she saw. She turned to Arthur, who could not seem to focus on anything other than the computer.

  “Mollie, take me back to those last frames. You know the ones.” The order was punctuated by a cracked voice. Mollie must have said something in protest. “Loop them,” Arthur demanded insistently.

  Tim and Ariana sat down in the seat across from them. “What up, Art? Your girlfriend nagging you again?” He pointed at the computer and winked at Talia, who did not see the gesture.

  James was now kneeling at the end of the table, head resting on his folded arms. “What did I miss?”

  After he didn’t respond, Ariana grew visibly worried. “Arthur? What’s wrong?” Her hand twitched in his direction, but otherwise she didn’t move. She turned to Talia. “Talia? What happened?”

  Arthur looked up at all of them, eyes red. He had apparently fought a battle against tearing up and won, but barely. He looked back at the computer, then swiveled it around to face the assembled. Tim and Ariana exchanged glances, betraying their prior knowledge of the schematics. Their eyes returned to the screen, drawn now to the looping image in the corner, drawn to the picture of the man in dark robes, staggering in a compressed video file.

  “He stole my design,” Arthur said, voice cracking again. “That son of a bitch Dark Saint stole my Fortress of Darkness.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CORROSION

  THEY TRIED TO TALK TO ARTHUR, but nothing sank in. The journey back to their apartment seemed a soundless blur. At least once, one of his companions yanked him away from traffic, an act which he couldn’t even bring himself to thank them for. Too many thoughts were fighting for dominance to focus on the path home: why did my father want the Fortress of Darkness? Was it merely him or all of the heroes? Why had they repurposed so much of it into cell blocks?

  He supposed that, on some level, it made sense. Neutral supermax prisons couldn’t contain some of the more dangerous villains out there, not to mention that anyone willing to go rogue clearly had little regard for the safety of others, Arthur’s own foray into stupidity notwithstanding. It would be the perfect way to keep people like Arbiter silent by showing that heroes had the means to incapacitate rogue elements while society rolled along without them. Maintain order and reason while having the perfect symbol of what can happen when… when…

  When someone like Zombress kills Desert Ranger.

  Damn it all.

  The hallway to his apartment seemed more ominous than normal, but he attributed that to his mood. He knew that all of his proposals and designs, with the exception of AMALIA, had been submitted to the Heroes’ Guild before making their way to the government. But to take the design, re-engineer it, then use it… he had never before heard of it being done by heroes, only the army and other branches of the armed forces. And then, only in exceptional cases.

  His brain wasn’t the least bit tired and insisted on reexamining the details over and over again. His body, however, was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to stretch on the bed and shut down forever. That urge was immediately canceled when he unlocked the door and entered the living room, only to find a woman in a black trench coat rifling through their refrigerator. The others filed in behind him and stared, dumbfounded.

  The interloper poked her head out from behind the door. Her strawberry blond hair was tied back, her eyes hidden behind a pair of red-tinted shades. “I was starting to get worried,” she said, her voice so professional Arthur immediately felt like he was being interrogated. She pulled out the empty milk jug and hip-checked the door closed. “You’re out of milk.” Underneath the trench coat, she wore a button-up white shirt and skinny black tie. Simple black pants completed the ensemble.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Ariana asked, moving to block the intruder in the kitchen. “You have no right…”

  The woman set the milk jug on the counter and gently pushed her way past Ariana. “Miss Brown, there’s nothing to worry about.” She continued toward the rest of the group, scanning the others before resting her gaze on Talia. “Miss Illyanovich. Shouldn’t you be in custody by now?”

  “You seem to have caught us off guard, ma’am,” Talia said, a note of antagonism in her voice. “It appears that you know us, but we don’t have the pleasure.”

  The woman smiled the well-practiced smile of polite insincerity. “I’m no one of consequence. But, for familiarity’s sake, I am Agent Diane Mast.” She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a badge. “I’m with the Bureau of Villains and Heroes.” She slipped the badge back into her pocket. “There. All better?”

  “How did you get in here?” Tim asked.

  “Mr. McFadden, leaving your door unlocked is practically an invitation to go poking through your things,” she said. Tim’s eyes went wide as Ariana looked at him, hands on her hips. “Classy shirt on the kitchen floor, by the way,” Mast remarked with a wry smile.

  “B… but it’s still not legal,” Tim stuttered.

  She smiled. “It is with a warrant.”

  “A warrant?” Arthur asked. “For what?”

  Agent Mast trained her gaze on Arthur. “Should I be looking for something?”

  Talia stepped forward, drawing the agent’s attention. “If you’re not here for a specific purpose, you need to leave.”

  With a light laugh, Mast threw her hands up and took a step back from Talia. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to arrest anyone. Just some questions.” Her hands dropped to her sides. Mast looked back at Arthur. “What can you tell me about metamorphic software, Mr. Lovelass?”

  Arthur’s pulse quickened as he became more aware of the conspicuous weight on his back. “I don’t know…”

  She cut him off with a quick wave. “Oh, don’t play coy. According to a file at the BVH, you tried to get licensing through a rather auspicious computer virus. One which Jack Cleese destroyed all remnants of for fear of a rather grim robot apocalypse.” Her smile faded and she became unreadable. “The answer, Mr. Lovelass?”

  “Well…” he began, trying to think of some way to phra
se the answer without being incriminated. “In its basic form, it kind of… adapts to its environment in an effort to evade anti-virus programs and install itself onto other computers.”

  She nodded in agreement. “What if I were to tell you that three copies of a relatively harmless virus were found in computer networks last Friday night? All sharing the same identifying characteristics and all showing a history of coming from New York City’s Heroes’ Guild.”

  Arthur swallowed. “Oh.”

  Mast arched her eyebrows. “Oh, indeed.”

  “So… what does it mean?” Arthur asked.

  “I was hoping you’d tell me,” she said, expectation hanging off the words. “Of all of us here, you’re the one with the know-how to make something like that.”

  He swallowed again, his mouth having gone dry. “But AMALIA was destroyed…”

  “Did I say it was your virus?” she said. If he could see behind the red shades, he was fairly sure her pupils would have narrowed to pinpoints.

  “No, ma’am.”

  A pause seemed to suffocate the room. “Can all of you vouch for your whereabouts on Friday night into Saturday morning?”

  “Tim was with me at my father’s house,” Ariana said almost automatically. Tim pointed to her and nodded in agreement.

  “Weston Marsh can verify I was at the Peppered Toad,” came Talia’s alibi.

  “I was… watching pay-per-view… alone…” James explained, thankful that he was taking up the rear of the group and, as such, unnoticed as he grew red.

  The Agent’s eyes didn’t shift from Arthur. “I’m amazed at how quick those responses were.”

  “Just thrilled to help the government, ma’am,” Ariana explained.

  “Right. I’ll remember that when tax season comes and no one wants to pay,” she said, slightly cocking her head toward Ariana. Mast resumed staring at Arthur. “So where were you?”

  Finally, he said, “I was at Dervish’s… he’s down the hall.” He pointed. “If you want, I can get him.”

  For a moment, it seemed like she would call his bluff, but her face finally broke into a smile. “No need.” She passed by Arthur, turning around to keep an eye on him as she did. “By the way, are you still with Kirsten?”

  The question was clearly to show her mastery over the details of his life. She may not have called his bluff, but she didn’t have to. “No,” he answered firmly. “She died. Hit by a truck. That I was driving.” He folded his arms indignantly. “Too bad she didn’t make it.”

  Agent Mast slid her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose to get a better look at Talia. Golden eyes gave her a once-over before being hidden behind the glasses again. “I see you’re stepping up, then.” Her head turned toward Arthur. “At least this one doesn’t look like a lobster.” She passed through the door frame, stopped, turned, and spread her arms out to the sides. The woman looked like a spider claiming the apartment as her web. “By the way… Talia… it is possible to passively track cell phones just by the fact that they’re on.” Another insincere smile crossed her lips. “You may want to think about that before you make any other… unplanned visits to the Heroes’ Guild.” She slapped the frame of the door, then vanished into the hall.

  James closed the door behind her as Talia reached into her pocket to retrieve her phone. “Shit,” she said, shutting it off. She casually tossed the device onto the kitchen counter.

  “What could she possibly know?” Tim asked. “She didn’t arrest you, Talia.”

  “Why did no one tell me that Kirsten looked like a lobster!” shouted Arthur in frustration. After everything blowing up in his face, it was nice to rage at something that wasn’t his fault.

  “There has to be something bigger going on,” Talia said, shoving her phone back into her pocket. “The BVH can’t officially get involved unless either side breaks established parameters.”

  “Which we totally did,” Arthur said.

  “But I didn’t,” Talia said. “I was invited.” She exhaled pensively. “This keeps getting stranger and stranger.”

  Arthur shook his head and took off his backpack. “She obviously can’t prove anything. Otherwise, we’d all be in the back of an armored SUV by now. Our link to what happened is tenuous at best.”

  “But what about the cell phone thing?” James asked. “That seems like pretty good evidence right there.”

  “Who’s to say it wasn’t stolen? Did she see my phone?” Talia asked rhetorically.

  “Can’t she just follow it right here, Talia?” Ariana said. Talia looked at Ariana, who produced an unconvincing smile. “Just saying.”

  “Look,” Arthur began, taking the computer out of the backpack, “you said she can’t get involved until there’s a breach of protocol, right? She’s just following up on leads. Right now, she suspects something’s wrong, and we’re her best hope to prove it.” Arthur looked at the group. “And we have nothing, just like everyone else.”

  He shoved the door to his room open with his foot. Setting the computer down, he plugged it in when he heard Talia speak in the living room. “So, what now? It’s not like James and I have a place to go.”

  “You’re an investigator, right? Dig up a place to stay,” Ariana snapped.

  “It would be a great idea to get a hotel room… oh, wait, there are people looking for me,” Talia retorted.

  “Since when is that our problem?” Ariana hissed. Arthur rolled his eyes and walked into the living room. James and Tim were watching as the two women were getting closer to each other.

  “Since your boyfriend and Arthur joined me in this mess,” Talia growled as she took another step closer.

  Arthur marched over to them and shoved his way between them. “Alright, knock it off!” he shouted.

  “Why’d you stop ‘em, Art?” Tim said with a lecherous smile. Talia and Ariana glared at him.

  “Talia and James can sleep here,” Arthur said. Ariana was about to interject when he whipped his head around to face her. “Talia in my room. James and I will sleep on the couch.”

  “But…” Ariana started.

  “And,” he said, pointedly, “we’ll all be one big, happy family, alright?”

  Ariana and Talia glared at each other. “Fine,” they growled in unison.

  Arthur couldn’t stand the growing tension in the apartment. Three people in that living space was bad enough, but five started to stretch the fabric of their tolerance for one another. Hours after the declaration of ceasefire, a minor television possession incident threatened to boil over into catastrophe. Rather than deal with it, he opted to go for a walk. Hopefully by the time he returned, cooler heads would have prevailed.

  Either that or he’d be cleaning blood off the walls for a while.

  He had no real destination in mind, so he inadvertently found himself in a convenience store owned by friendly neighborhood villain, Mr. Dadani. After shoving his way through the surprisingly crowded front, he made sure he had some money before slipping into the aisles. Most of the stuff was overpriced semi-foods, designed to cater to the tourist or unlucky person who didn’t have time to grocery shop properly. Nevertheless, Arthur grabbed a bag of chips he didn’t really want and turned toward the soda cooler. He found his preferred cola and slid it out of its tray. He popped the seal and took a sip, the sweetness reminding him of how thirsty he had allowed himself to become.

  With a second swallow, he turned around to the shockingly empty aisles. There were people, but no one was shopping. He turned back toward the entrance, where a group of his fellows had gathered around the register to stare at the television hanging from the ceiling. Arthur approached, watching as the female anchor in a pink suit read from a teleprompter.

  “… Just now joining us, the Super Heroes’ Guild of New York City has released a statement saying that the marginally popular 24 hour news network Villain World News will not be returning to the airwaves any time soon. The statement charges that the owner, Solomon ‘Producer’ Houston, was a vocal advocat
e of Zombress, the assassin of both Desert Ranger and Dark Saint, and has refused to cooperate regarding matters of security.” The image cut to Arbiter standing at a podium, his mouth moving as the anchor continued her lines. “Arbiter claims that the super villainess Talia Illyanovich, a reporter for VWN, has gone missing, and Producer has concealed her location. Illyanovich is wanted by the Heroes’ Guild for questioning after communications between her and Zombress, mere hours before the murder, were confirmed.” The picture shifted to one of actor Weston Marsh, wobbling out of a hotel and being set upon by reporters. “Weston Marsh, star of the upcoming film Dawn of the Silver Age, is also being sought for questioning after it became known he had contact with Illyanovich last Friday. Marsh, whose personal life has become rockier after his sister’s death, disappeared yesterday morning after being summoned by Arbiter to answer a few questions regarding what the hero describes as a conspiracy.”

  “Shit.”

  The word left his mouth, but it didn’t feel like he had summoned it in the first place. Arthur dropped his chips, but no one seemed to notice. The neck of the soda bottle dangled precariously between his index and middle fingers. He felt instantly nauseated.

  The image shifted from Arbiter back to the news anchor. She spun in her chair as an info-bar materialized on her left side. Inset was the title ‘Another Link?’ above a picture of a smiling pale woman with wavy blond hair. Beneath it was the name ‘Morgan “Aquaria” Severson’. “Further evidence of a villain-led plot stems from the recent discovery of a possible spy in the Heroes’ Guild. A woman by the name of Morgan Severson was confirmed to have been witness to the devastating blast that claimed three lives.” The anchor leaned in ominously. “The possible conspirator’s mother, the popular heroine Electronica, has not yet commented on this development. Others in the Heroes’ Guild, speaking anonymously, speculate that the girl acted as bait to lure Desert Ranger and Dark Saint into the trap.”