by P. S. Power
Mark's television program was a start, as maligned as it was, and that Christmas special wouldn't hurt either. Holiday special. He had to keep that in mind or it probably wouldn't be allowed on the air. Past that the Infected didn't really have a voice at all. Some performers, like Tobin, but that was all.
Walking into his room he moved directly to the bathroom, noticing that Karen wasn't there at all in the dim glow that came when he opened the door and turned the light on. It didn't take long for him to realize all her things were gone too. He felt bad about it, but couldn't really expect much more from the situation. It had gotten to be too convoluted, too fast, and she probably felt really bad about everything. Or at least her part in it. Not that she should.
He did, and really, he hadn't had a choice about anything that he'd been doing for a while, had he? Oh, sure, in the day to day things, for instance he could have simply killed the people he had Death Warrants for, but the rest of it? The thing with Mary? He really did like her, but he'd almost been pushed into having sex with her. OK, it hadn't taken a lot of coaxing, sure, but that wasn't the point. If he hadn't, then Scott never would have been born. Everything he'd done in the past seemed to cause the future to become exactly what it had been when he left, even though he didn't know it at the time. It made sense, from a very practical point of view, but also meant that time travel wasn't as useful as all that. No use trying to kill Hitler as a kid or anything like that, because it already hadn't worked.
So that wasn't the way to make anything better, was it? Kind of a useless power then, from a certain perspective. Painful too.
He showered for about half an hour, just standing under the multiple sprays of warm water, the lights off, wondering if his life had any kind of freedom at all, or if he was just trapped by fate, like some kind of automaton? Maybe that's all anyone got. The simple illusion that what they did mattered. Except if that was the case, if he had no say in anything then what was the point? Why should anyone bother trying at all?
He didn't know, and finally decided that would have to be good enough for him, because he needed sleep and frankly, no matter how hard he thought about it his answers wouldn't change anything at all. Being him, Brian still had to do his best to try and stop what was coming. It wasn't going to be easy. He knew that.
Brian washed his armor, which had a thin coating of dust on it and fell asleep dressed only in a pair of running shorts, the blankets over him providing enough warmth, but the lack of another body in the bed bothering him just a little. It was a silly thing to even think about, because he hadn't been sleeping next to Karen for months.
That's what he was thinking about as he fell asleep. He didn't wake thinking that at all of course, the pounding on his door causing him to jump up, gun in hand, even though he'd gone to sleep with it on the night table to his right. Still blurry eyed he half expected to find any of a half dozen different people at the door, Mark or Marcia, maybe Penny, give the thing with her brother. Not Karen of course, or the Director. Not because they couldn't come to the door, but neither of them would pound like that. Denis might have, but that wasn't who was there. It turned out to be Doug.
Dressed in sweats and looking ready for a work out.
"Hey." Brian took the view in and nodded at him trying not to seem blurry.
"One sec, I'll get dressed and we can head to the gym." Then he closed the door in his friend's face, wondering if that was the plan or not.
It turned out that it was, after a fashion. When he got to the gym on fourteen there was already someone there, waiting for them. For him actually.
Karen stretched and waved at him happily when he walked in, Doug a few steps behind.
"This is the regular gym... Carl's is on the floor below this one. Karen!" He tried to sound excited about the whole thing, and actually was glad to see her since he'd been worried that she might have felt depressed or something. It was good to see she was fine, though a tiny bit of sadness might have been nice. If he were going to be a selfish jerk about it at least.
Brian grinned at the thought and made introductions again.
"Then, you two are on the same team, so it probably isn't needed. Is there a schedule?" He meant a running one, which Karen actually had for him, which would only take a few hours to finish for the day, then a couple hours of weight lifting, which was a bit more intense than it had been before, and combat practice in the afternoon. Doug stared at him, nearly scared it seemed, as if this was a big deal, but it was a much lighter program than he'd had before.
"Wow, this will even leave me with like... three free hours in the evening. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself." It came out right, sounding happy and playful, if a little forced. After all, he really did know. He'd be putting together a holiday special.
Karen finally managed a sad smile, but it wasn't too dark.
"I know... I finally have a chance to be with you and spend some real time and we aren't together anymore." It was as if she thought they'd had that talk already or something, which to Brian they hadn't but he understood her plan, after a fashion.
"Hey, don't worry, we were always better friends than lovers, right? We can still hang out."
Doug looked shocked at the news though and then glared a little angrily at Karen, as if deciding not to like her for hurting his friend. Brian knew that wasn't a real thing though, since the guy couldn't get angry. Still, trying to fake it to show support was nice of him. Just not needed in this case.
"I... it turns out I have a son. Um, it's a long story. You met him though, Scott?"
Doug laughed.
"He's what, twenty-five? You hit his mom when you were... zero years old?" Then he turned and stared at Karen as if thinking what he said might be rude. She shrugged, clearly having the whole story from one source or another.
"Thirty-five, I think, he just looks really young. Brian met his mother back in the past. It's very convoluted, but Christian told me that I should move back to the first floor. We're friends, but I swear she nearly hit me after the thing with Rob..." That got her to blush and look away.
Doug looked confused again.
Sighing Brian tried to make sense of it for him, but indicated they should all do it while jogging. He had a two mile warm up before the real workout anyway.
"Robert is the Team One leader. Really nice guy, very hard worker too, like a workaholic, but he and Karen slept together, which, by the way, was totally inside the rules of the relationship we had. Because she and I couldn't have sex. That's... well a long story, but nothing that anyone can do anything about. I'll explain later." He glanced at Doug, as if trying to make sure he got it, but the words were really to reassure Karen.
"But Karen's first mode is compassion, which means that doing things like that, if someone needs her, can really seem like a good idea at the time. That's also why, in general, if you see some guy hitting on her, you need to go and get in the way. At least until she has a chance to decide that you're being a douche about it and waves you off. I'm sure it will be in your team briefing or something."
They all jogged for a while in near silence, except for Doug's breathing. He didn't complain. It wasn't a very fast run, but there was a friendly quality to it all. At the two mile mark, almost exactly, he had to go and fight an Infected man at a post office, who apparently had waited in line far too long and was going to take it out on everyone waiting with him. He wasn't that strong or anything, but he could slip in space a bit, which made him really hard to control. He had a knife, but Brian just waited for him to get tired and took it from him after wrapping his arms up. Once he got the hold in place it was simple enough to stop him from doing anything. His own power kicked in to hold him in place, which hurt, but worked pretty well.
Then it was just a matter of throwing him into the smooth tile floor a few times, head first, making sure he never let go.
It only took a few minutes from start to finish and he didn't cool down, so he was able to start his sprints on time. A while later o
ther people started to come in too, most lifting weights like he was doing, but a good chunk jogging with Hobbs and Denis. Bridget was in that group, so he waved at her, hoping she wasn't still angry. Of course it hadn't been his butt that she'd parked in a wall, but that could change pretty quickly with her. Instantly in fact.
"Brian! How ya doin?" She made a quick dash over to him that was faster than he could have driven the same distance and half climbed him, giving him a hug around the neck.
"So, am I supposed to call you grandpa? Granddad Yi? Grand pappy? Goompa? That all sounds weird. Maybe I could still call you Brian? Just for a while, you know, work into things slowly?"
"I'm actually good with Brian. Now, have you made up with Rachel yet? It's a messed up situation, but really, it wasn't her fault, not all of it." It wasn't a given, since the girl could hold a grudge for a good long while. Like the one she had against Team Two and her former best friend, Lauren, for beating up her dad and mom after claiming they were all having sex. That had been set up by Braid though. No one had understood it at the time, but now he kind of did.
She couldn't easily get at him, so she'd gone after his family, even though he didn't know it at the time. After a few seconds he frowned, which got Bridget to hop down and back away a bit.
"Yes. I mean, I'm not going to beat her up again. You aren't mad at me over that are you? I know, I need to use my words and express myself in writing, not physically. I apologized though and it wasn't like she was really hurt. I doubt I could." That made sense though, for her to think that, he shook his head though.
"No, I was thinking of something else. I'm not angry." Or, more exactly he wasn't angry with her. Braid had gone after his family, before he'd even known that was the case, also his friends, and it was probably because of him. That couldn't be allowed at all.
He didn't have a clue what to do about it, but he decided to get one fast.
Before she could do it again.
Chapter nine
After he finished his work out, which didn't take nearly as long as he thought it would, Brian took a quick shower, got into his armor by habit and his normal work clothes. Those were black combat fatigues, running shoes... and a smile. The last part was even real enough, since he forced it to happen, trying not to be a total jerk. He'd have to shower again later, but he had a "date" before lunch.
It was eerie, but he knew it was coming, that he was going to be shifting out to fight, well before it happened. He could almost see the scene in front of him, where he'd be coming into the room, the person he was replacing being tied to a chair at the moment. It wasn't a fun situation and he didn't know how or why he had all the information, but he knew it was right, or at least pretty close to the case. The men in the room were black and they were speaking heavily accented English.
That and the fact that four of them were armed was all he knew. That, and that the boy being tortured couldn't have been more than twelve.
Dharma appeared with her arms crossed , faking a sigh.
"Damn, if you start doing this all the time I'm pretty much out of a job aren't I? What am I supposed to do now? Spend my days chatting with Chris? Do porn shows for your amusement?"
Brian shrugged as he walked to the back of the common room and got ready to run when he started to get close to leaving.
"Um, I think your job now is to make sure I don't screw up, just like it always was. That and make sure I don't turn into a whiny little bitch man." It was one of her favorite terms for him whenever he wanted to quit anything. It didn't make him feel better about himself, but that didn't mean she was wrong in saying it. Someone had to keep him honest, right? Who could do a better job?
Why, if it wasn't for her he'd have to make all that effort for himself.
Thinking that got her to smile, a large thing that actually showed some teeth, with the black lipstick and purple hair it looked a little deranged, but that was just her look. How she thought of herself. She could change it all with a thought, and did at least once a day. Just like a real girl. A living one.
"OK, I can do that. Not that you whine that much, at least you haven't been lately. Get ready. You have the arrangement in the room? That should make this easier... Run now."
The words were gentle and not panicked at all, and he did run as fast as he could, but at the last second he bent back in a very impractical fashion and grabbed the seat of the wooden chair the boy had been tied to. He wasn't held in place, and his motion and speed meant that when he snapped the thing forward it moved into the gloved man trying to hit him, really hard. He didn't stop running, not on purpose, bowling into the guy, a large man with dark skin and a military uniform in green and red. He had a little beret on that was red as well. It looked a bit funny, but he wasn't there to give fashion tips.
He used the man as a point of leverage, grabbing him with his hands and spinning in place to slam him into the man on the right. Then, almost calmly he removed the blade from inside his pocket, strapped to his right thigh. It was a pain to use, being paper thin, but so sharp it didn't take a lot of force to slash the man across the room over the eyes twice, once being on the backstroke. Then he dropped the blade and took the rifle from the blind man's hands, using it to shoot the fourth man, who was over to the right.
That cleared the room well enough for him to run, but he noticed there was someone standing to the side, tied to a pipe. It was a person he kind of recognized. They'd met once, after all. It took him a second to be sure of it, since he didn't look exactly the same, having been beaten a bit already it looked like. He was the Liberian Ambassador. Brian had even been talking about him a while back with Senator Roberts. No more than a few days ago in real time, but it had been months for him.
"Hold still." It was the work of a few seconds to retrieve his blade and cut the ropes binding the man's hands, slowing down to do it carefully, not wanting him to bleed to death.
The man didn't look that good, not compared to the last time they'd run into each other. Four of his teeth were missing when he spoke, his upper lip bleeding from the effort where the stress cracked it.
"My son?"
It was a common enough thing for someone to ask. He'd taken the kid's place, so his dad wanted to know what the heck had happened to him.
"Protected for now. We need to get you and him to safety. Are there other people here?" The answer was apparent, since the gunfire had alerted the others that something might just be wrong and several more flooded into the room.
This fight was a bit more intense than the last and he was shot half a dozen times, but luckily his armor kept him safe and relatively unharmed from the bullets. He had to fight standing in front of the Ambassador just in case a stray bullet went his way, because he was still in shock. Or Brian thought that was probably the case. Before he had the first few taken out however gunfire came from the Ambassador's position, hitting a man that had been trying to close from behind Brian somehow, having come from another door. One he hadn't noticed.
There were two more after that, ones that were killed by Washington, the Ambassador. William, Brian thought he recalled. It was hard to remember, since he'd been so tired when they'd met. When they moved out of the room it turned out to be some kind of office complex or something. One story high, but relatively unguarded, after they took out the first dozen men or so. It was funny how that worked. Kill a few people and suddenly places seemed to clear out pretty quickly.
In the front there was a single man that looked to have been hit a few times himself. It wasn't fresh or anything, but the bruising showed that it wasn't just from a little rough housing with the guys either. The man just sat at a desk, one made of banged up metal and cheap wood, that looked like it belong in a movie from the seventies. It was ugly, but fit the rest of the room pretty well.
The guy had a handgun in front of him, but wasn't holding it, his hands on the top of the flat surface. He didn't look at either of them. Brian froze for some reason, not killing him like he should have, and held up a hand
towards the Ambassador, to get him not to shoot.
"We're getting out of here. Are you coming, or staying?" It was just a strange thing to say, but the man rose and after a second grabbed the handgun, not speaking at all. He went to the door, going ahead of them without asking, and fired twice after sticking his head out, then waved for them to follow.
Outside the door it was a relatively modern scene, which Brian hadn't really expected. He thought of Liberia as a resource poor place, but it looked to have real potential, and like some of the people in this area were working hard towards that end. There were things growing everywhere and while the air was a little warm, it wasn't like being in a desert at all. The roads were all cared for and the buildings looked, if not new, at least like they were being maintained.
They ran then, a dying man on the ground to his right, also in a military uniform, one that looked a lot less colorful than the men inside. Probably not an officer then. Brian spotted a strange looking little car and moved them towards it. It had the keys in the ignition and everything, which was really helpful, since he couldn't hotwire it or anything. He let the Ambassador drive. He could leave at any time and he didn't totally trust the fellow helping them, since he had the same kind of uniform that the others had worn. The fancy kind with the little red cap.
"Where do I drive?" The older man, who was far from being old, started them moving instantly, just heading down a street at a quick pace.
Brian shrugged.
"I don't really know. Was that a small group or are you on the run from the military here?" It would be harder to get them out of the country, but he could make that happen if he had to, he thought. It would probably mean killing a lot of people, but he wasn't letting anyone beat a young boy to death if he could help it. Even if that meant dying himself. It didn't seem that special anymore, his feeling like that, but it was just as powerful as it had been the whole time he'd been Infected. That's what first modality meant after all.