by P. S. Power
Mark looked at him for a second, and then was gone, searching for her, no doubt.
Tobin didn't wait long, not showering or even brushing his teeth, just slipping on shoes and running down the hall. He knocked on Prime and Charlot's door, which opened, the concerned parents inside, holding each other.
"We should check outside. Get people in the air. Clark can't fly." He could float a bit, but it was hard for him and he could only manage it for a few minutes. Bridget, if he had it right, couldn't fly while carrying him. That meant they'd either stolen a car, of had left on foot. The large golden man, who was already dressed in a nice suit, started out the door.
"That's a plan. I'll get up in the air now. Char, get with anyone else that's willing to help and we'll set up search parties?"
Tobin doubted it would be that easy, but when they got into the hallway Rachel was there, dressed in a deep red colored bodysuit and looking like she was Bridget's mother, not grandmother. A bit taller than the girl, but they were very similar in most ways. Even both having nearly red colored eyes. A red-brown, but it was distinctive.
She also apparently had very good hearing.
"Goblin, you're with me on the ground. We'll run a spiral pattern in opposite directions starting at the door. Look for any footprints that might be hers or any sign of either of them. Scott, go straight up. We need others that can fly..."
Tobin looked around for a phone, which had two held out to him, since everyone else had one, it seemed.
Charlot had Charles on speed dial however, which made it easier.
That meant, five-ten in the morning or not, they had fifty people out of bed and ready to hunt the girl and her fugitive adult boyfriend down. The general consensus was that Mr. Clarkson probably wouldn't survive it. Even the staff started to show up for the manhunt.
It didn't take long to do the first part, which had Bridget found by her own father easily, since she was just sitting outside the front gate by about half a mile. She came back on her own too, not being dragged or forced into it. She didn't look happy about the scene, especially when she saw all the people standing there, staring, but she didn't back away or look shy either. She looked bold in fact, and fairly marched in front of them all, stopping in front of Marcia.
"Don't you look at me that way. I know very well that you planned to kill him when he got out. I listen, you know. It's hard to hide things here." That was all she said, and there was a notable lack of denial from the Deputy Director.
In fact the woman smiled a bit.
"True. It was going to be an accident, but now we can just hunt him down. That sounds fair enough. Let's get on the road, flyers, I want full air coverage, we can put the Death Warrant on the wire and let the authorities know that Clark is fair game. Let's bring this bastard down." Her words were hard and sounded cold.
Tobin got it, but a fight started about a half a second later, with Marcia moving at a good speed toward the berm on his left. Not under her own power either. It was where they practiced using energy powers, which seemed to be the girl's idea, since she let loose with some of her own about then.
Bridget was wearing her brown uniform and Marcia was dressed in her normal white, so it was a real super hero battle. It wasn't really a fair fight, since Bridget was just too far outside of the other woman's weight class, power wise. The Deputy Director couldn't actually be hurt though, so while things got hot and heavy, it was a real fight that would probably end when they got bored or trashed the building enough to feel bad about it.
Brian walked over and looked at the others, most of whom were watching and not sure if they were supposed to jump in on one side or the other.
"Delaying tactic. A good one too. I think Bridgie is hoping to recreate the fight everyone had with Prime. Let's go and see if we can find Clark? I don't think we really need a Death Warrant. At least the psych people have all said he won't reoffend with any other underage girls. We can use the tracking chip?" Everyone sort of knew they had them, but a tired looking man from the front office, who had thinning light colored hair and glasses, and a sleep puffed face, sighed dramatically.
Then he held up a small plastic evidence bag.
"I don't think so. This is his. It looks like it was rather forcibly removed. If we want to find him, we're doing it the old fashioned way."
Tobin grinned.
"You mean dogs and pitchforks?" That was the old fashion way of lynching an Infected person after all. For some reason no one else thought it was funny.
Chapter six
The search around the area was both very well done and thorough... and completely futile. It was clear to everyone that Bridget had planned things well, and had a car waiting for Clark about a mile away. That and some cash. A lot of it, mainly stolen from her parents, since her own funds were monitored too closely for her to do things like that with them.
It wasn't about age, as much as her impulsiveness. Some of the Operatives weren't allowed control over their own money, since their first modes made that a real problem for them. Denis for instance, since he was so greedy it was felt that he'd have to spend it all, mainly on things he didn't need.
Karen was in a similar boat, since she'd give it all away if she had it.
Tobin on the other hand had been in full control of his own accounts since he was sixteen. He never spent much, since having things just meant that his little room would have been more crowded than it was. Now he had some space though. If it lasted. It was harder to take it away if he didn't have it however, which was a lesson that he'd learned first in the children's home. He was always the smallest, and while strong, he was so shy it was easy to get away with taking his things. Most of the time he hadn't even been able to complain about it to anyone, not back when he was a boy. Now he was able to do a little better, but his habits were set.
The fight kept going until everyone came back and started to go inside, at about one in the afternoon. It was kind of epic that way and both Bridget and Marcia looked ready to keep going, slamming each other to the ground, punching thunderously and kicking rather adroitly. It was both pretty and scary at the same time. No one moved to stop it, so finally, as the last of the people were headed in, Tobin did, moving to the edge of the battlefield and singing at the top of his lungs, letting the buzz that meant he was going to cause people to see things and stop doing whatever they did come into his voice. It was a physical property, he thought. A thing his vocal chords did, rather than a psychic power. At least it could be heard over the phone, so that made sense, didn't it?
They both just stood for a while, and finally Bridget sat. He kept it up until the song was finished, about three minutes after that. It was one of his, from the new album, called Nighttime. It was depressing, but people liked it anyway. When he let the last words out into the world the affect he was producing faded and Bridget stumbled back to her feet, nearly falling. Marcia couldn't move yet, which would have given his partner an edge for a little while, but he waved his hands over his head.
"You won. Clark has escaped and no one is looking for him anymore. You two have work to do, so let's get inside and get something to eat?"
That actually worked and Bridget didn't seem to be holding a grudge, for all that she'd been fighting with Marcia for about seven hours. When the dirt covered warrior woman finally came out of her stupor a few moments later, he repeated himself, which got her to grump at him.
Like that was fair?
"You let him get away?"
That got a dark chuckle, which came from the side, near the door and moved closer after a bit. It was Rachel.
"Let? Bridget planned this very well, Turner. He could be anywhere inside a seven hundred mile radius right now. More if he drove fast, which would be stupid of him. He could be nearly to Canada, or Mexico right now and we have no clue where he's headed. I agree with Tobin, let's get some food and try to work this out. Bridget..."
Tobin coughed.
"Don't blame her too much. Marcia admitted that she planned
to kill the man. Illegally. No one would have helped them, so she did it herself. What was she supposed to do?" Let the pervert die? Except to her mind he was her friend, not some adult man that had been having sex with a twelve year old girl, over and over again.
That got the woman with her tight body and short red hair to stop dead and make a face at him. Rachel's words weren't harsh though, for all that.
"I suppose there is a point there, from a certain perspective. Well, we can go over it all inside."
That meant he was able to clean up and go get something to eat himself. It was just a sandwich, since the restaurant was very full, and he was sat at the little bar near the front, the mean hostess still glaring at him for showing up it seemed. It really had to be that she didn't like the uglies, he figured, that or had taken personal offense to him. She was kind to everyone else that came at least.
Just as he was finishing his lunch, a hand clapped him on the shoulder from behind. He jumped and spun, trying to smile, figuring that it might be anyone from Team One, or even Kerry. It wasn't anyone he would have guessed, being Agent Lancaster. They'd met and even were on speaking terms, since the man traveled with the riot squad when they were needed.
Blinking he nodded.
"Do we need to go out on a mission?"
The man smiled, which was a bit cool and brushed a hand over his short cropped blond hair.
"Not at the moment. I was asked to bring you in for a word with the Director? It seems important." He didn't look upset, but Tobin made a face anyway.
"Do you all think that I helped Clark escape? I don't think I could, and wouldn't even if I had the ability to." They should know that, but he was, even if it was a new thing, Bridget's partner. It was his job to watch the girl and he'd failed at it totally.
The large and well muscled man gestured toward the door.
"Probably not. We can have that checked. Bridget did most of the work during the fireworks display last night. It was almost perfectly timed. If she'd run too it would have been a lot harder to catch either of them. Especially if she'd gone in a different direction. Lots of debriefing to do. For the time being I'm going to suggest that we handcuff her to someone. You're her partner, right? That should work. I'll set that up. It's that or lockup, and really, I think she'd run if we tried that. It's hard to hold a class seven in a cell if she doesn't want to be there." He didn't whisper the words, but his voice didn't carry and no one stared at him for saying that.
It wasn't really news to Tobin, since he'd figured it out, but he hadn't thought anyone else had yet. Marcia had held her own so well that most would have probably missed that the girl was all that special. That probably meant that Marcia wasn't a class four, didn't it? More like a six, he thought. That, or Bridget had been holding back a lot more than her first mode would probably allow for in a battle.
"Yah. I'd na..." He stopped and sat straighter then took a bit to gather his courage. "I'll do it. So, if this meeting isn't about that, then what? Is the Director kicking me off of Team One for being too..." He nearly said ugly, but then realized that might be a little harsh. It wasn't like he really knew the man in more than passing. "Um... too Team Two?"
That got the man to walk out, his voice soft enough that Tobin had to follow him to hear anything.
"I don't know. That seems likely, but I haven't heard many complaints about it yet. Not even from the hate crowd. If anything they seem to think it isn't an issue. That will change eventually, no doubt, but for now it doesn't seem a problem. Director Moore has never been that big on the idea of showing a more colorful face to the public, so it could be his plan. I suggest you ask him about it. This way?"
They went down the stairs, since it was only one flight, and they both needed the exercise it seemed. Then he was taken to the Director's office, a place that he'd never been before, leaving the mustard colored hallway behind. The man had a real wooden door with a brass name plate right on it, meaning he wasn't planning to leave any time soon. Daryl knocked, and then turned the handle, which wasn't very polite, but did get things done quickly. Inside the room was the man himself, along with Doctor Burrows and Christian Poures. They all looked at him and then Lancaster, but only he was gestured to a seat.
The man, who looked heavyset around the middle, but decently lean through the face and arms, his gray hair well groomed and his wire rimmed glasses on his face, smiled.
"Thank you, Daryl. Mr. Peterson... I have some rather... I don't know how to put this, I want to say startling, but perhaps merely unexpected? At any rate, I have some information for you." He sat and then steepled his fingers in front of him, waiting for a long time. Lancaster didn't leave, and no one else spoke at all.
"Am I being taken off of Team One? Put on Team Three?" He couldn't think of what else it might be, with Christian being there, until he realized that she was also producing and distributing his album, he lit up then, feeling hopeful. "Or, did I go gold?" He glanced at the nice looking woman, and actually got a smile in return.
"That isn't it... But yes. You're also in the number one position on the charts with 'Loneliness' and 'When I Dance' is at number seventeen. That's quite an accomplishment." She seemed a bit nervous, but that could be due to all the people. She didn't really want to be around them after all, if he had it right.
The Director cleared his throat, but then looked at first Poures and then the Doctor. The woman, who was in blue hospital scrubs, with white and black checked sneakers, and a long white lab coat started to speak, but nothing came out.
They all held that for a long time, until finally the Director cleared his throat and took a deep breath.
"Well, I guess I should explain. The other day you went to medical with Scott Chambers, and he requested a DNA test, to see if you were his son. Or at least I presume that was his actual intent, given his proclivities. That came back negative, as you were told on the scene." He paused then and took a sip of something from a cup near his right hand. It was heavy looking and rather plain, just being a soft blue, and having a line in it that made it seem like it would break, sooner or later.
He waited for a while, drawing things out. It was more than a bit annoying really.
"Dr. Burrows noticed something however, which given the nature of this place shouldn't surprise you too much when you hear it. After all, most of the high level Infected tend to cluster in groups, so it isn't that incredible to find that many of us are related, in one fashion or another. I think that this one was rather put into play by Devorah however." He blinked, but Tobin made a face.
"Okay? I know who you mean, I think. What did she do?"
That, finally got Chris to speak again, her voice very soft.
"She brokered a deal for my child to be put up for adoption, nearly twenty years ago. She found me, and I wasn't ready to be a mother, so I went along with it. I didn't take any money for it, I just let my baby go. It isn't that hard to hide things like that when you have enough resources, and I had no clue who she was, until earlier today when some papers were delivered to Kevin. She signed her own name to them. I..." She wasn't making eye contact at all, but had started crying.
Tobin was too sleep deprived to actually get it. Or not as something that people were claiming was real.
Burrows nodded.
"I double checked the records, and then did it three more times. She's definitely your biological mother. I don't know who the father is, but he seems to be Hispanic, if that helps narrow things down?" She was looking at the blonde woman, who was wearing a sweater with a string of pearls around her neck and a skirt with a little dog on it.
Chris glared back.
"Oh, thanks, let's tell him he's my child, and imply that I used to be a slut in the same breath? That's what every boy wants to hear about his mother, isn't it? I know who the father is. Ryan Castiaz. He was a major league baseball player back then." Then she looked at Tobin and shook her head. "I'm... really sorry. I should have never let you go. I didn't know that you were... I would have come t
o you if I'd known before this. I should have realized..."
That got everyone to go quiet again, and stare at him, as if he were going to jump up and yell, or throw himself into her arms? The one good thing, as far as he could tell was that she'd given up a regular human baby. It was his adoptive parents that had gotten rid of the Infected freak.
He did some math.
"Wait, I popped before you did?" That was rare.
She nodded.
"I did it about ten years ago, you seventeen. So yes. I know it's strange, but..."
Tobin just nodded. He might not be a biological scientist, but he knew that the Infection wasn't actually one, and that it pretty much did what it wanted. No one understood it and it might even defy understanding. That was the current thought on the matter. It had trends, but something about it caused the outbreaks to run in patterns that weren't purely logical. There were family groupings, but that didn't mean it was genetic. It showed up in isolated areas, which meant that it wasn't airborne in a normal fashion. No one had ever isolated a bacteria, fungi or virus for it either.
His guess was that it involved some kind of energy pattern that flowed through space and time, but that was just an idea that he'd picked up from a sci-fi novel once. It was about as good as anything however. Tobin looked at Christian Poures and thought for a bit, trying not to shrink into himself. She was rich, but that wouldn't do him a lot of good. You had to be able to go places for money like that to be valuable really. He had enough that way.
She was also Infected, and didn't treat him like he was a monster, so that part was probably about the best thing that could have happened. If she'd been a regular heiress, she probably would have gotten an injunction against him already, so that he didn't touch her furniture. Other than that, he didn't really know what he was supposed to think.
Most orphans liked to daydream about having rich or powerful parents. He'd always known that his had just panicked when he'd turned into a tiny goblin, and had given him up within the week. It used to make him sad to think about, but he'd even forgiven them for it eventually. It was so hard to be Infected, and would have ruined their lives too, if they'd kept him.