by P. S. Power
Denis wanted to throw a chair through the screen. That or pack it off to his own room. Neither happened, instead a hand touched his shoulder, half spinning, ready to fight, he saw that it was Karen. Right, compassion girl. She drew him into a hug. That would have been nicer a few hours before, still Denis took the comfort for a moment and tried to relax. Go Zen.
A shuddering breath or twelve later he sat back down.
Charlot Chambers looked at him closely, an evil smile just touching her lips, half a look of disgust, half joy. Pretty much her happy face.
“How long ago was all this?” She said, her eyes lighting a bit.
“Crap, um, seventeen years? Something like that. That's when I left.”
“Statute of limitations has run out then. At least for the things you know of right now. Alright, we can still use it to silence the man, if we act carefully. Possibly hurt Hooper through association as well.” That... seemed to make Chambers far more happy for some reason.
Nothing more got said then, because Marcia walked to the front and clicked the television off.
“The spin is this, the police came to try and free good “heroes” from the evil Infected and were taken down by Bridget. Acting alone. It sounds ridiculous, but the idea is to scare the average person into action against us all. Plus we can't argue that she didn't do it alone, because if she had there would be a pile of corpses instead of arrested terrorist. There's a rally being planned for three months from now, the “million clean march” if you can believe it, apparently they aren't concerned about sounding like morons as long as everyone knows they're not Infected. Before that a whole lot of crap will be coming our way. This has organization written all over it. In four days the first event is to take place in Chicago. A “peaceful rally to show concern over the Infected menace.” The city has granted a permit which means we need to be in place for it.”
Marcia looked at everyone silently for a few seconds, then shrugged.
“From there, two days later in Portland, Oregon though that's not confirmed yet, and three days after that in New Orleans, again, not confirmed. Others may pop up and the schedules may change. It's as if the protesters are setting something up on purpose, to throw us off, which shows a lot of organization separate groups shouldn't really have.” The new squad leader looked firmly at all her team.
“We have to travel carefully, so we leave in twenty-four hours. Unfortunately that means that we don't get time to train together more than once. This afternoon out back. Come dressed ready to work.”
Then instead of being dismissed they got to listen to Senator Hooper next, rubbing elbows with the “Reverend Darren Jones” as they spun a terrorist act into being all the fault of the evil Infected. It seemed weak to him, an argument that shouldn't have swayed even a bigot. Unfortunately life didn't work that way. When people already believed something, no matter how stupid it really was, anything that supported their argument always made more sense and carried greater weight than the truth.
On the good side, the full footage had been covered on most channels and they were being far more fair about the whole thing. There was to be a press conference later that day with the head of the DHS even. What would be said there no one knew. Probably a massive betrayal, with them being blamed somehow. Cock smoking government goobers trying to protect their jobs instead of the law.
The story split into two camps rapidly, the obvious bigots and the people who saw the whole thing as a terrorist attack on a government facility. The bigots were winning by the time they needed to go and practice. Denis didn't really want to do it, didn't want to go and just keep a crowd of actual bigots calm either. They would be just as well off sending in team two and killing the lot of them. At least it would make them feel better for a bit. Instead he found himself standing with Marcia in a “crowd” of “protesters” in back of the building. They'd dressed up for the parts they played too, obviously putting some effort into making the experience as real as possible for the defenders. In suits and badly fitted dresses, they waited. Even Level, the giant nine foot tall class five wrecking machine that looked like an armored insect man had a dress on. Well, a piece of fabric wrapped around to look like one.
Denis hadn't known that she was a girl. Kind of an “oh crap” situation really. Her brown and black form looked hard and manly, so he'd assumed. See where that gets you, he thought, a bit chagrined.
She held a sign that said, “The Infected want to seduce your children. Then eat them.” Next to her there stood a man in a nice suit and tie, the team one leader, who also had a sign, his said, “Do not suffer a witch to live. Infected monsters are witches.”
Most of them had something to make it more believable. One guy had a bullhorn and kept trying to get the others to chant with him.
“No voting rights for the Infected! They shouldn't get schooling or health care! They drain resources from good law abiding folk!”
The chants were horrible, but the guy tried. He had bushy red hair and a matching beard and looked to be dressed as a crazy street preacher. His sense of what made a good chant didn't match the costume though. Most homeless people seemed to rant pretty well in Denis' experience. As often as not it was all about self-defense, so a lot of street folk learned to act crazy even if they weren't. Crazy meant unpredictable and possibly loud and both of those things meant “don't mess with me” to criminals.
The plan was simple. Standing back, dressed as a regular guy, a working man, Denis calmed the crowd as best he could. Just a light version of what Lady Glory did without the obvious glow. If need be he could ramp it up and match her power levels of course. Maybe do even more, since his effect could be spread more easily to multiple people. Hers lasted longer though, people felt pretty good for a while after she hit them. They were both considered class fours, but that had always seemed a little off to him. Not that it mattered. Maybe they'd factored in her looks as a super-power too? Or her tumbling ability. That last one nearly made sense really. He'd seen her do it on TV.
She'd gotten gypped in the Olympics out of a gold.
Literally, a single Russian judge had knocked off two full points to sabotage her and that only left her a tenth of a point behind the nearest competitor, who was actually from Argentina. It had been a national scandal at the time. The other girl had tried to resign her acceptance of the medal at the ceremony in protest, but Karen hadn't let her. Even Denis had teared up a little when he saw it nearly a decade before. Lady Glory hadn't even existed then. Karen popped two years later as she trained for the next Olympics, which never happened, since Infected people weren't allowed to be in the games, even if their powers don't affect their performance.
If the crowd got too big or out of hand, then she'd open up on them too, her blue beam doing about what he did at the moment. Then Tobin would start singing, of all things, and that would throw most of them off. After that, if it didn't work, they ran. If anyone had to hurt the crowd, it couldn't be Infected government agents.
That's what the cops were for.
This crowd started harsh and fast, rushing the line of fake police played by some of the people that just worked at the base, mainly un-powered. They had body armor on and sticks as well as a few shields, clear plastic, meant to stop small arms fire and soda bottles, maybe a few rocks. Just like the real cops they hit the sides of their shields with black lacquered sticks, trying to stir the crowd to greater violence. The claim was that it was meant to get a crowd to respect their “authority” but it never seemed to really work that way, did it? Denis ramped up the juice a little, getting everyone to calm down a lot.
Then the crowd stopped all at once for about a minute, and started milling. The power level probably didn't match what a real crowd would need, because these people were just pretending to be insane bigots. It made a difference in how much effort would be needed by him.
A single gunshot broke them out of it and Level fell back, clutching her chest dramatically. The blast had come from the “police line”. Into
the already subdued crowd. Crap. As a plan it worked and they already knew at least some cops weren't going to be on their side. After the last day, maybe none.
LG hit them with her blast of blue as Denis increased the force of his own effect trying to subdue them again. It worked on these guys, causing them to freeze in awe for a bit. Then words and a simple tune lit the sky, the ground, everything. Goblin and his magic voice. The crowd started to wobble and shake, just standing and not moving at all. It was all Denis could do to withstand the effect, and he'd known it was coming.
It worked. Right until the fire hose got turned on them. Not the crowd, them. As he went down Denis caught a glimpse of Jason Monroe the team three trainer and the tall blond agent closing in on them with the stream of cold water moving in lockstep. He rolled a bit under the force and tried to keep his focus on the crowd. That, he'd been told, was his part. Stop the bigots from becoming violent, the rest was up to the others. Tobin and Argo' had to run, but Marcia moved in and hit both men controlling the spray pretty quickly. They went down hard too.
The robot from the bomb squad, which someone had “borrowed”, tried to overrun LG, she flipped out of its way easily, and returned to hitting the crowd as the “police” ran forward and started hitting people with their sticks. They didn't really hit, but it made Lady Glory aim at them instead of the “protesters”. That worked until a tiny girl ran up and tackled him.
“Down with the oppressors!” Bridget yelled as she took him to the ground with a decent thump.
Denis apparently was an oppressor now. That part didn't really fit the role, since she was on that part of the line. He was down at least.
“Ouch.” He muttered, right knee killing him. For a little thing she packed a wallop. Then she was fast enough to beat both Prime and Beatdown to the gunman the day before, wasn't she? Speed like that meant strength to go with it. She'd also done it in a dress. So had Rachel come to that.
In the end the crowd overran them and they didn't even get away.
After that it got worse.
They learned from their mistakes, that wasn't the problem. The other side learned too however and weren't above using special abilities to approximate regular attacks on the fly. Or throwing things. Or just cheating. So far just plastic soda bottles, mainly empty flew at them. He'd dodged the ones aimed for him, but poor Tobin had gotten hit in a concentrated barrage three times. That was probably even fair, since anti-Infected people would probably fear the small green and brown bald guy more than they did him. Especially since Tobin's normally black and green skin had changed colors under scrutiny from the crowd. He kept going until he sort of matched the color of the dirt and the scrubby plants left on the ground. It did nothing as camouflage, serving only to make him stand out even more. They were picking on him because of his distinctive appearance. Which would really be hard to disguise in the field.
On the fourth round, just as Proxy and Carl, the insane level fifteen trainer, drove cars at them, which Clark stopped by causing them to float into the air a few feet, then used as shields for LG and Goblin, Denis decided to give something new a shot. He made the whole lot of them fall down. Except Proxy, who struggled out of his car window a bit clumsily and the red-haired street guy who grinned at him and stumbled over gamely. He used his bullhorn as a bludgeon and “pretended” to beat Denis to the ground with it. Even faked the blows were enough to get him to fall to the ground for real, trying to avoid real seeming pain.
Then the man fought with Marcia, who was stronger and way faster than the guy seemed to be. Easily several times outside the guy's power class. If she hadn't been invulnerable she'd have probably died even in this mock practice session. As it was she ended up tangled in the man's “bum coat” dumped on the ground with her costume pants pulled around her knees to impede movement. The tan and patched coat covered enough for modesty, but that was about all. It certainly didn't protect her pride.
Right, Denis decided, don't pick a fight with the bum guy, good rhyming scheme or not.
The people on the ground started getting up then, he hit them again from the ground, but knew that to be a farce. If he'd really been beaten like that, he'd be unconscious at the very least. Maybe dead. Fuckola.
The whole day felt like a sign to him. One that said in big neon red letters, “don't fucking go”. Stay home and let the police handle their own riots. Except, of course, they were required to go by the new Hooper emergency bill set up.
At least sending him made more sense now. No one cared if he died and if it went fubar they could always just blame him. Screw that. If it came to that he'd blame one of the others. Possibly Clark. Sure, Denis was a dick, or had that reputation still at least, the last two days notwithstanding, but the tall funny looking telekinetic was a child molester.
Maybe not really, but close enough to blame him for everything if they had to. Really Denis needed to bring that up with Marcia sometime soon. Just in case.
The next morning, early, they were all out on the tarmac next to the main building at nine to be whisked off in luxury by a private jet. It belonged to the team three leader, Chris, who had more money than God and liked both Karen and Marcia at least. Heck, she was dating Mark, even though he was being held back in case a second riot broke out anywhere else while the rest of the team was busy in Chicago. He was the only single person they had that could both get to a riot anywhere in the U.S. and make it stop all on his own. Though three thousand people tied up instantly with duct tape wouldn't play well on the news really.
That's what Denis expected at least, what had always happened before when they went places. Instead, this time, it was a tiny commuter plane. Slick white with a single blue stripe down each side. One with propellers even. It could fit everyone, barely, in its worn looking brown fabric covered seats, that were padded, but just enough to remind Denis of seats in an old movie theater he used to go to when he was on the streets. They had two for the price of one dollar matinées on Wednesdays.
The chairs were small and the heavier people had to all sit on the right hand side so the plane wouldn't list due to the pilot's weight on the left.
Yeah, this felt safe and good, Denis thought, as he moved into his assigned seat. The luggage all got situated in the back by the pilot, a thirty-odd year old slightly Hispanic looking man with a deep tan and a brown aviator's jacket made of leather. It looked real at least. Expensive. Denis wanted one. Really, really badly for a few seconds.
It took will to breathe through it and fight for mental clarity. Oddly enough, this time it came to him pretty easily, and after about half a minute he didn't want it anymore. It was enough to make Denis blink and then freeze in place. He'd just... mastered his first mode? It was only once, sure, but... excitement flowed through him. It was a start. A real one. He smiled but didn't say anything. It wasn't like the greed would just go away. This gave him a chance though. Some hope.
Marcia grunted after they took off, looking around at everyone with a sigh. Today they were all in civvies, even her. She wore a dress in blue with a string of pearls and what looked like tan pumps. She didn't have on nylons, Denis didn't think, but her legs were flawless. Yum, he thought, wondering if she'd actually kill him for suggesting they share a room or if it would just be a beating that made him wish he'd died?
Karen wore jeans and a long sleeved shirt with the waist tucked in, buttoned up the front, it had a soft off-white look, pink nearly. He wore jeans too. That and some shirts had been provided for him. Today's was a light blue pullover sweater, since it had turned a little chill, as he'd learned a few days before after giving Marcia his baker's top. Smock? Something like that. Fall going into winter. At least the riot wouldn't be too hot.
Tobin had on a pair of kids overalls in blue jean material, with a wide straw hat and a green shirt on underneath. At his size it had to be hard to find good cloths. Especially if he didn't want a geranimal's logo on them. Across from him in the back Clark had dressed like an ex-hippie undertaker. Black suit with
a tie-dyed button up underneath. Looking at it Denis had to snort.
“Way to blend with the normals there Clark. Couldn't find a purple pimp suit to go with the shirt?” The words were sarcastic and biting. Crud. Holding up his hand as he turned around, he apologized.
“Sorry, not trying to be a dick. I just mean, well, a shirt like that might catch some attention, don't you think?” This time the words were a bit gentler and Marcia, who sat directly behind him nodded.
“Yeah. We need to do better people. Half of you look fine, and I can forgive Tobin, because he looks adorable, but from now on no tie-dye or neon colors in the field. Or Armani.”
The other person that looked out of place of course, was Jay. He'd dressed for a press conference, in a suit that probably had taken three tailors a month to make. With his looks and build it really stood out. The man had a thin, muscular form, and flawless skin. Everything had just lined up about perfectly for him that way.
Looking down the man grimaced a bit, “sorry Marsh. It's all I had. I'll get some more normal clothes as soon as possible.”
“Good. Probably not a big deal while we travel, I just don't want us looking conspicuous in the crowd when we're on duty. We need to find out what Hooperites wear and match them as well as possible. Maybe find some of our cousins to marry in order to really sell the whole thing? Half of what happened at practice yesterday had to do with the fact that everyone knew we were the targets and how to defeat us. We can't give that kind of edge to these people in real life. Under the radar is the key here.”
Karen shifted uneasily, “well, Lady Glory is a bit noticeable. I can hide before I do anything, but the second I start using my power...” Hands going up she giggled, which didn't sound like a happy thing at all.
“Me too.” Tobin said softly, staring at the back of Karen's head, nodding gently. “Exactly the same thing. The second I start using my power I'll turn into a world famous super-hero that everyone will recognize and love. Then they'll all be chanting my name and asking for autographs... It's really not fair, I should be allowed to have a private life too.” He sounded incredibly sincere when he said it.