by P. S. Power
Most of the prep work for that, thankfully, had been done the day before and they had three ready to go, just in case something happened. What they needed to do was show the baking of one and have an already finished version of the smaller cakes. It sounded like a lot of work to him, but the others just nodded, so he went with it. What did he know about television cooking shows after all? He hadn't even been watching T.V. for half a year and before that he'd preferred sit-coms. It was the way he hoped most real people grew up.
With a laugh track and moms and dads that always loved you at the end of each half hour. No torture either. What wasn't to like?
His part, it turned out, wouldn't be that hard. Just run around trying to find things for everyone, and washing the large bowls and pans while people yelled at him to hurry faster, since they were running out of time. That was the literal job description and came from Mark, who as a rule didn't scream, so Denis knew to take it seriously. Right, move as fast as he could. Denis got the general idea.
What all they did individually, he couldn't tell, being pretty busy himself. There was a carrot cake, one made of marbled chocolate and vanilla and the big blimps, which kept trying to fall apart the second Mark worked with them. This went on from about six in the morning to nearly three in the afternoon when a half dozen men and women showed up to do the actual show. They sauntered in, looking at the equipment and the people actually dressed for the show. He caught some looks too, even though he wouldn't have to be on screen at all.
If they had names they didn't care to share them, not with him at least. Mark had dressed him in a white baker's outfit, with an apron and a funny hat, but he was still the gopher, which, once it got found out, meant that everyone placed drink orders with him as if he were a waiter. For a moment, just a brief – tiny really – twenty-five second flash, Denis really considered making the bitchy woman that demanded coffee from him feel like her insides were on fire. Or, if he had to keep to the new, kinder and gentler plan, making her feel like she was about to lose her lunch or even other, messier things were about to happen. The idea made him smile after a bit.
Instead he got the coffee, but raised his eyebrows at Mark. The guy winced back a little, sympathetically. So it wasn't all him just being too harsh or making mountains out of mole hills? Good to know. In an odd way that made it easier for him to keep his cool. If Mark noticed she was a bit abrasive and demanding, she probably really was.
The bitchy woman was like that with everyone at least, even her own people. She was the Director of the show, so he cut her a little slack for the day. It was her first time here and it seemed like everything bugged her just a bit. Enough he almost wondered if she was secretly Infected. It passed to the others, three camera people, a lighting woman and a sound guy. It took a while to figure out, because they all played the reason for their nerves close to their chests.
Denis got it about twenty minutes after they arrived, when one of the camera guys called him over to ask if it would be possible to get some water. So far he was the only one that had really been polite about asking, adding in please and using a happy enough tone, so Denis actually hurried to make it happen. That took about ten minutes, since the staff at the restaurant bent over backwards to help people out and had a selection of expensive water to hand just in case anyone ever asked, both pre-chilled and room temperature, to suit all kinds of preferences. They made up two buckets, one with ice the other with cool water and had him back before anyone died of thirst.
“Hey, thanks man.” The guy had a large gut and a red t-shirt that said “I saw the Grateful Dead” on it. Taking a blue labeled water from the silver and green ice bucket he took a sip.
“Good. Clean... hey, um, doesn't it ever worry you working here? I mean with,” the guy dropped his deep voice low, so it wouldn't carry.
“All the Infected? What if they, I don't know, get mad and use their laser eyes or read your mind to find out that you're cheating on your girlfriend? Or what if that Proxy dude comes in and starts killing everyone? That has to freak you out, that guy's scary. I saw the unedited video of him fighting that serial killer, the Jackal? I mean, man... killing someone with your teeth... He has to be insane, doesn't he?” The man actually seemed frightened at least, so Denis cut him a little slack too. It took work though. At its heart it was just bigotry, if the quiet kind that masqueraded as fear. The stuff about Brian didn't make a lot of sense but he tried to play down the fact that he wasn't up to speed. Looking like he didn't know things everyone else did wouldn't help him seem trustworthy, would it?
“Really? Tell you the truth Proxy isn't that bad a guy. If he came in here he wouldn't even ask for a piece of cake without being invited. As for hurting you, well, his power makes him go and fight people that are trying to hurt or kill someone else. Don't do that and he's just a guy. He likes video games and science fiction, I think. Recently bailed me out of a jam. Nice guy like that.” That being all he'd gotten from the briefing originally Denis changed the subject.
“Now, a couple of the Team Two people can seem all intense, but for the most part everyone here is just like anyone else. Some are cool, like Mark there, the host of the show? He's completely nice all the time, a pacifist, I think. Really good guy. Kerry? She's on Team Two and as far as I can tell so far, is a complete sweetheart. Even Prime is OK once you get past him demanding to be on camera all the time. So you'll be his best friend... It's an ego thing, he pretty much can't help it. Point that camera at him and he'll be pretty happy though.” Just as he said that the man himself walked in wearing a nice blue suit tailored to show off his form, complete with ass hugging slacks. That was special, since they weren't normally designed to do that.
“And there he is now. Well, that kind of had to happen, didn't it? Don't worry though, he's not a dick or anything, just into himself. Just remember that it isn't really something he has control over and he's easy enough to manage.”
Denis made the rounds and got everyone something to drink, even Prime, and then sat back behind the cameras quietly, trying to not be noticed.
The show went really well, shot in about eighteen parts, all smooth and relaxed, with Warren acting as Mark's assistant and Kerry as the junior person of the team. That meant she just ran in and helped, bringing stuff on screen and explained quickly how the white and silver butter-cream frosting was made. When she started the first time her voice cracked and nearly choked in her throat with fear. Stage fright.
Denis could relate. It wasn't his idea of a good time either, being put on display like that. As a child in his world, attention, especially in public, had always been a bad thing. The second take was even worse as the bitchy woman in her green and black pant suit kind of yelled at her. Because, as everyone knew, screaming at an already nervous person always helped them feel better.
Denis focused slightly, filling Kerry with a sense of relaxed calm and confidence, then added just a bit of focus to the mix. It wasn't hard. The difficult part was keeping the whole thing low key enough that he didn't get his ass kicked for it later. If a telekinetic got pissed at him that could end poorly. After that she nailed it so well the Director clapped when she finished.
“That's what I want to see. Great take. More of that from now on?”
Kerry nodded and looked baffled, but pleased. She didn't stare at him though, so that would work out. Mark did though, giving him a skeptical look along with a small half smile. He obviously saw the connection. Denis tried to look innocent.
The whole thing took about four hours to shoot, because they were all new and had to try out a couple of different on air personas each and all the extra cakes were needed. Greedily Denis wanted to grab them before anyone else could have some, but laughed at the thought. He wasn't a little kid and he'd be allowed more cake than he could eat if he wanted it. There was plenty after all. The rest... All first mode crap. He tried to breathe through it and let the thought go. After about fifteen repetitions of that it almost worked even.
Prime struggled
with his own issues, keeping himself from being on the screen and at the center of attention had to be tough for the guy. He fidgeted behind the camera like a five year old waiting for ice cream. The large golden man did it though, hard or not.
When the wrap came the director informed them it was just the first wrap. Next they needed to show the cake at the Director's birthday party. Mark looked slightly panicked and jumped in place, his power having kicked in. Denis got the idea instantly, there was no real party, was there? All a ruse. All meant as IPB propaganda.
That just meant people could get their asses in here and fake a party, didn't it? The Director wanted the good press, so he could step up. They all could.
“That's your cue Prime.” Denis said softly, “we need all the key people for the Director's party as soon as possible. Can you make the calls? People will believe it if it comes from you...” He smiled and took a deep breath, trying not to spaz out and pick a fight with the bitch that decided they needed to do that part too, but couldn't be bothered to tell them ahead of time.
“Mark? Where would you like that set up? In here or... maybe in the restaurant? Here we have cameras and we can borrow some tables and chairs, right?” Denis made his voice servile, or tried to. It actually sounded a bit patronizing to his own ear. Mark didn't seem to care though, just looking grateful for the help.
It took running, which was in his new job description, and a good bit of help from the already busy people in the restaurant, but inside an hour a fairly real looking party had started, Charlot Chambers showed with her daughter, Bridget, a tiny girl that even three years later looked so little and young he kind of felt like going and kicking Clark's ass for sleeping with her.
Christian from Team Three, Sparks the Team Two leader and Brian Yi, who'd dressed all in black again. They didn't have streamers but the borrowed tables and place settings looked refined, five star all the way. That, and Rachel had shown up looking even hotter than the day before.
Really, Denis couldn't begrudge the old guy from grabbing a hold on that if he could. It just didn't make sense. Or at least it didn't until Prime saw her.
“Mom! Over here by us. We can all be on together as a family.” He actually sounded happy about it, shared limelight or not.
The hot looking girl he wanted to bang was Prime's mother? Dang... she either had him when she was five or the age she looked didn't have a lot to do with the age she was at all. Once they got side by side he could see that Bridget Chambers looked just like her, but about a half foot shorter and twelve. Well, that explained part of Christian's boot to his shin didn't it? Director Moore wasn't robbing the cradle, he was just really lucky. Chris had been saving him from looking like a fool, not protecting the Director's feelings.
Ah. That was new then.
The idea that the team leader would actually try to help him out was an odd one, but the woman looked at him and smiled knowingly.
They decided not to do any candles on the cake, since that might look a little too Hindenburg, which meant that Kerry was able to levitate the whole thing in as if it were actually able to float in the air on its own. It looked good. Amazing to tell the truth. Denis decided to ask them to do something similar for his own birthday. Only bigger and on fire. Much bigger.
Of course.
They sang happy birthday as it came in and landed directly in front of Director Moore, who applauded and smiled as if this really were his birthday. It seemed real enough for TV at least.
“Look at all the freaks trying to pretend they're real people and not monsters.” The number two cameraman said under his breath.
It got Denis' attention, because through the rest of the show the cameramen hadn't spoken at all while working. So it was odd. Then the thin dark haired man in the yellow and black flannel shirt pulled a solid black handgun that had been taped under part of the camera mounting, out of sight.
The bead he drew, aimed at the Director's head, had a nice clean line of sight. No one else had noticed yet, the cake still stealing the show. Not having time to plan anything too clever Denis went for the only feeling he knew that made it too hard to act easily. Numbness. Pure and perfect. If dropped on someone without warning they generally couldn't coordinate well enough to do anything for about a minute. At the same time he ran toward the man screaming like a little girl with Tourette's syndrome.
“Gun! Gun! Fucking gun! Fuck, fuck!” It came out high pitched and squeaky.
Four people got to the man before Denis could and the camera guy went down hard. It turned out to be a tie as to who made it first, Rachel and Bridget hitting at the same time, the older woman controlling the weapon nearly instantly. The moves were sharp and professional, even dressed in a black skirt and emerald green blouse. It really worked with her red hair. Like a sexy off duty cop, Denis thought, grinning.
Prime got there third and nearly took the man's head off with one of his energy blasts. Marcia was there before Proxy, but it was Brian who told Prime to stop, at least until they could get what information they could from the man. That came out calm. Dark though.
Oddly, the woman running the mobile cam kept filming the whole thing. Taping? They didn't use film or tape anymore, did they? Recording then, Denis decided a little abstractly.
Why would she be doing that? More to the point, why had she been recording the guy as he pulled the weapon in the first place, shouldn't she have been getting reaction shots from the other people at the table, since that had been the plan?
Set-up.
The words rang through his mind hard, so loudly that Christian glanced over at him, her face pale, then at the woman with the camera. After ten seconds she turned back to him and pointed, her hand barely going up, a one finger gesture toward the camera woman. Den got it. Take her down. Probably armed.
This time he tried for something special, that feeling he sometimes got when he woke but couldn't move for a bit. Sleep paralysis. If he could fool her enough... make her really feel it...
The woman went down, crumpling in place, not able to balance on her own feet anymore. Hey, Denis thought, excited, it worked. Didn't even have to torture her. Well, it would add to the arsenal if nothing else and he hadn't even hurt either of the people. No matter who they were.
So no one could even say he'd been a prick about it, there was a problem and it got taken care of peacefully. That had to be worth a smiley face in his record, right?
Christian scanned the room and indicated the sound guy too. What the fuck? Denis couldn't believe it, half the television crew? They had to know that they wouldn't get away, not from this room, in a building full of super-powered beings. That meant some kind of suicide thing and transmission of the events. Probably live online.
Crap.
The sound guy tried for his bag. No matter what it held, they couldn't let him get to it. Especially if it turned out to be a bomb. He dropped the guy with retching, one of the first things he'd learned to do on purpose, so his automatic fallback when things got tight. It worked to keep the man off the black sports bag at least, attention split he walked over and looked in. It was a crude device, a bomb, with only a manual detonator. Unless the rest was hidden.
“Bomb in the bag. It doesn't look active, but we should clear the room I think.” Running away would have worked for him, panic wouldn't though. He needed to stay focused to control the people on the ground.
Brian came and looked over too.
“Yep, that's a bomb all right. Let's get everyone away and get it out of the building. We just remodeled after all. Do we even have a bomb squad?” It was a valid question, since what kind of fuck-nut would sneak into the IPB headquarters with a bomb? That these folks hadn't been counting on getting out alive was clear now.
That kind of pissed Denis off. After all, he kind of liked Beardo the wonder cameraman, afraid of Infected or not. Either he was in on the whole thing which would suck, or the guy had been considered not worth enough for these others to worry about because they'd decided he didn't des
erve to live too. Either way, damn.
Marcia smiled, putting her body between the device and everyone else firmly, her white outfit looking “festive” thanks to a teal sash she wore with it, a soft cloth looking thing. Her hair was short and still a deep brown, which looked cute enough, but she'd looked just as good and a little more girlish before with it in long curls. Maybe it was a statement about something? Going to war footing, or maybe just not wanting to deal with long hair anymore? Denis didn't know.
She grinned as she spoke, turning the smile into something harder. Meaner.
“Clear the room and the hallway going out. This looks to only be on a manual detonator, but just in case it's timed or remote detonated lets hurry. Chris, as unpleasant as it is, could you read Mcbomby's mind here and find out if the thing's booby trapped too? Probably best to do that down the hall though...”
The cool looking blonde nodded stiffly and just walked out, waiting for the others to bring the new captives along. The rest of the show crew looked freaked, no one paying attention to them at all.
Denis sighed. Out of everyone in the whole room, he really shouldn't be the one trying to wrangle civilians, should he? He'd try for polite, he decided.
“Um, you, bitchy director woman?” He said, pointing at the slightly scared and shocky brunette. “We need to get your people out of here now. Let's move.”
Nope, he didn't manage polite at all. Darn. He nearly grinned, but that would have been rude. Ruder. The woman looked at him and nodded sharply, her voice harsh and freaked out sounding as she spoke.
“Fuck you errand boy. We need to get this recorded. Gary, get the walk-around cam going, Rene, you do sound. Get the backup system going. Hurry!” The others fumbled and scrambled with the gear, taking an extra thirty seconds while everyone else left the room except for Marcia, Prime and oddly, Brian. They just waited patiently.