by P. S. Power
It hit Brian then what it really was... he'd trusted these people. He probably shouldn't have, not after everything, but he did.
Then they tried to kill him.
At least twice as far as real attempts went. So that left him with... nothing. He had nothing, owned nothing, and no one cared for him past what he might be able to do for them. On the plus side, the only plus side in all this, he had nothing left to lose at all either.
Even his life was already gone.
Hours later a car passed him, coming from the direction of the base. Then a half dozen more, all driving fast. Planes took off from the base, but then just flew off into the distance, roaring away to the east. After about five minutes Brian heard some sonic booms, six of them in all. Not even looking for him, he pouted, then laughed at himself for it.
Of course they weren't. Why should they?
He wasn't important and from a numbers perspective, they didn't gain anything from him being there. The money they spent training him might save a few lives, but they wouldn't get credit for it as an agency, most likely at least. Everything he did was kind of isolated so far. And who knew? Maybe he could take what he learned and run with it? Then they could save money and still get the same overall effect.
Win-win for everyone then.
He found a sheltered spot under some trees off the right side of the road, pine or something like that, and sat on the ground, his back against one of the bigger ones. It felt rough against him and probably sticky. Brian didn't care. He hurt too much to really sleep, and without the drugs they'd been giving him, that probably wouldn't come for a few days, which would suck, but he'd live.
Some time, hours later, he woke from a doze, his body almost comfortable for a minute, his mind fuzzy and a warm tingle running through his body as he sat against the tree. He came to just in time to realize it felt familiar.
"Oh crap!" He surged to his feet, muscles almost refusing to obey, and found himself standing in the middle of a parking lot, next to a little girl that looked about four or so.
A huge being, matte black and armored, seven foot tall at least, stood pointing its right arm at Brian. A green nimbus of light surrounded the hand, looking deadly.
The man yelled, his voice booming loud enough and deep enough that for the second time that day Brian felt like he might wet himself. For the second or third time that day Brian felt glad he was slightly dehydrated.
"If you want them back, I want twenty million in non-sequential bills, no dye pack, and no tricks. I'll kill them, I'll kill the girl too. First, a little demonstration!" The green glow grew brighter, Brian pushed the little girl and yelled "run" at her, then turned, ducked as low as he could, his left shoulder screaming at him from the cut Beatdown had put there, and rushed the man in front of him, trying to buy time for the little girl to run away. He didn't know who he'd replaced, but he didn't think he could take this guy.
No fucking way.
At least the little girl might have a chance, if whoever surrounded them could save her, get her away, before this being killed them all.
Fire seared down his back as he hit, connecting to cold metal or something much like it, the beam of light tracing down to the ground where it made a huge booming sound after a few seconds, the Earth itself exploding behind him. Brian pushed the man to the ground, somehow, using all his strength to make it happen and a bit of lucky leverage. That worked, but he knew that nothing else he could do would have any effect. Still, Brian could try and hold him there, giving the girl little more time, praying she could get away.
The man threw him off easily, sending him flying about ten feet into a clumsy and painful roll. Once he was clear... lightning struck, a blue flash that hit the black-armored man, if it was a man, in the chest. A half second later a familiar brown and black giant, even bigger than the one on the ground, moved in hitting the form faster than Brian had thought possible.
Lauren struck so hard that he could feel the blows where he sat looking on in a daze. Each one making a thumping sensation in his chest. He rolled to his feet, pain screaming at him from his back now, trying to back away. He moved slowly, but was really trying for fast.
A man dressed in black, or dark blue, ran up to him screaming, pointing a rifle. In white across his chest, the word "police" stood out, making Brian... furious. He'd obviously just tried to fight the bad guy, whoever he was, even if it hadn't done much, got burned or whatever and this fucker wanted to attack him? Didn't the guy have any common sense at all?
The black clad man aimed a kick at him, black boot coming in slowly compared to what Marcia had made him work against over and over again. Brian used his knee to block, a simple brush to the outside at just over waist height, and rushed the man, grabbing the weapon and knocking him backwards a few steps. The police thug had body armor on, and a face shield, but the bottom of that had been left open, probably so that he could breathe. He could see that, breathing was important. In this case it was a weakness.
Brian reached under it and tried to rip the man's eyes out, clawing at his face weakly with his half crippled right hand.
He seized the rifle as the man screamed in pain, knowing he couldn't work the trigger or aim it yet, he used it like a club instead. More police tried to attack him then, but a blue flash struck the ground between where Brian stood and the officers.
"Freeze! Your man fucked up and attacked one of our operatives. If you attempt to attack him, you'll die. Lower your weapons and step the fuck back!" A voice, male, one he hadn't heard before, boomed over a loudspeaker. Just to make the point stick, a blue flash hit the ground again, followed by a car that someone threw between them.
A police car. With red and blue lights still flashing. Upright though, so it wobbled on its shocks making a distressed noise.
"Uh, Proxy? If you could stop hitting the police officer his friends would probably feel more inclined to help us." This voice he recognized. He wondered for a second who the hell "Proxy" was supposed to be, but got it easily enough.
Him.
Yeah, it made sense. He took people's places when they couldn't, or at least shouldn't, be there. That was pretty much the definition of a proxy all right.
Lancaster walked over and gently took the rifle from his hands. He'd been using the back end of it to hit the man in the head, the helmet really, but he'd managed to crack it finally, if he could just keep hitting hard enough it should eventually let the gooey center out. Police pinata. Candy, brain. Whatever.
The man seemed dazed, but still conscious. Brian kicked him in the side of the leg, the body armor not covering there. He yelled at the man to get up when he did it as a joke. The other police stiffened, but no one tried to come any closer to him.
"I get it, Brian, but we don't have time right now. I don't know if you're in the loop, but a few hours ago, four hours now, ten children were kidnapped, each is the child or grandchild of some government official or another. That doesn't matter. What matters is that they're planning on killing one per hour until their demands are met. This one was a gimme. I don't know if they planned for this guy to die or what, but... Anyway, you're taking the place of this little girl's nanny."
Lauren walked over, along with a fairly normal looking man, about forty years old or so, who put out his hand. Brian shook it, not having a clue who the guy might be. His clothing looked military, but had no rank or insignia on it. The fatigues were tan and brown, not a color pattern Brian had seen before, not that he'd know anyway, he realized. All he knew about the military he'd seen on TV.
"Charles. Team two leader. Thanks for the assist, I don't think we could have gotten the woman out in time otherwise, maybe not the kid either. Can you get to the others?" The man didn't mince words, and didn't pretend he meant something else.
Lancaster shrugged.
"Fuck... Really, Brian shouldn't have been able to come here at all. And should have left already with that burn on his back. I don't know. Brian, can you do it? Can you find those kids? We can get
help to you, maybe, but we don't have a single goddamn clue where they are. Wait. Just in case..." Lancaster turned and ran to a vehicle, everyone watched him, including the swat team members, though about half of them quickly returned to staring at Brian.
"You know... Proxy, that officer, he really was just doing what they teach them to do, find an unknown and subdue them if the situation's tense... I don't think it was personal or anything." Charles looked at him, his eyes a bright electric blue, literally glowing a bit while he spoke.
Brian nodded.
"I'm sure the police that beat me a few weeks ago and held me captive illegally were too. They can claim that it's procedure all they want, but that doesn't make it right. I didn't fight that time, but too many people are trying to kill me now. If they fucking touch me, they go down or I do. I don't have enough time left to spend it being beaten as I meekly try to explain myself anymore." Anger dripped from his own voice, making the man take a step back as if he expected Brian to attack him personally.
Agent Lancaster came back holding a small device, it looked cold and metal, solid, a disk about the size of a nickel, nearly as thick too. He handed it to Brian.
"I don't know if you can carry it when you go, but..." The agent stared at him hard.
"Can it work if I swallow it?" The thing looked huge to Brian, but so far nothing he'd carried in his hands had come with him when he went someplace. The other option... seemed like a bit too much right now. He really didn't want to take his sweats down with all these police around anyway. They might get ideas.
Nodding, Lancaster got him some coffee to wash it down with. It burned and seared its way down, but after three cups it seemed to work. It felt like it sat in his esophagus for a while, but that would do, he hoped.
He felt a tingle starting as Lauren walked over calling to him, "Brian! We we're all so worried about you. Did Itch hurt you when he tried to kill you? Are you back now?" She held out her hand to him. He placed his hand on hers briefly and shook his head.
"I'm going now, Lauren... I'm OK, well, singed and in pain, but alive. I don't know if I'm back or not, but I'll help find these kids if I can. If I live, or probably even if not, I'm about ten miles or so down the road from the base, by some trees, right side of the road." He left then, wondering if the woman he'd replaced would come back holding Lauren's hand. Sweet girl, but she looked like an insect robot, until you got to know her. Hopefully the woman wouldn't take seeing her the wrong way. Lauren had saved her life after all.
Back under the tree, his back screamed at him, burns pressing against the trunk, nearly making him go out from the pain. He fought it and waited. Nothing happened but pain. After a few minutes, he tried to talk to himself, explaining, feeling stupid, but not knowing what else to do, desperation growing. How did you convince your subconscious mind to do something?
"So, uh, self... Look, that thing... where I take someone else's place and then get beat up? Well, there's a bunch of little kids and maybe some other people that will probably die if I can't help them. I swallowed a tracking thing, which you know, no doubt. So if you can get me there, help should follow. I know I'm hurt, and pain sucks. I won't lie or try to fool you... this is probably it, the end, but nine kids? It's worth my life, right? I don't know if you can find them or not, but if you can, I need to go there now." Closing his eyes he realized that he held his breath. He forced himself to take a single, deep breath, trying to relax, then a second one.
Nothing happened.
Not at all.
Brian grew desperate, thinking about those kids, how they'd die and he could save them. Maybe he could at least, if he could just get to them. After half an hour he cried, his heart breaking for the final time. He really didn't have anything did he? Not even the ability to go where he had to be.
As he sobbed, the tingling started again. He climbed to his feet just in time.
A woman with stringy brown hair held a rifle, ready to shoot, finger tightening visibly on the trigger, she jumped back screaming when he showed up, fear in her eyes. He rushed her, feeling the young teen boy that she'd been about to kill. He managed to get his left hand into a fist of sorts before it hit her, his back searing him as he moved, the pain nearly dropping him. Brian ran down some creaky wooden stairs to the floor below, the door had a solid lock on it, and the windows had bars. The whole thing was a prison. The door needed to be unlocked before he could get out he realized after searching for a few seconds. Running back up the stairs, He grabbed the gun from the woman just as she came too. Something he should have done first he realized, kicking himself mentally.
"Keys to the door please?" He asked politely. When she handed them over he hit her with the back of the rifle, knocking her out again.
Outside he ran as well as he could, gasping in pain.
This wasn't it, he knew, obviously. He talked to himself again.
"Right, just find them. I'll get us through this, somehow..."
He felt himself buzz, his skin felt like it crawled with insects, then he stood in another place.
Three men stood, two with their pants undone, junk hanging out, the other holding a knife.
"Don't even fuck with me today." He walked forward and kicked the guy with the knife in the groin, wrestled the knife away, and started hacking at the men inexpertly, but well enough they all ran away. "Try this again and I'll be back for you! I'm everywhere bitches. You can't escape me! Fix yourselves or next time I'll kill you!" Brian screamed as they fled into the night.
He felt electricity come over him, it kind of hurt this time, his skin burned even in the places that weren't.
Ouch.
He stood in the dark, a snuffling in front of him, higher than his waist. He stabbed his fingers into the thing's eyes and kicked at it, poorly, making it yelp.
"Yargh!" He yelled at it, trying to sound aggressive enough to make it flee. It did, thank god, since he couldn't have even yelled again most likely.
Pain coursed over him then, ripping him from where he was to where the kids might be. Another attacker, but no kids. He dealt with it, hitting the man with a coffee table and making sure he wouldn't get up again. Ever. He didn't know why, but this time it was important the guy never get a second chance. Brian knew that, as surely as he'd ever known anything. It was as important as finding the kids even.
It happened three more times, each time the move hurt worse. Agony ripping through him again, almost making him black out each time. Brian hung on. He could do this. There wasn't any other choice. He wouldn't leave those kids to die. Not like how he'd failed her.
Barbara Dorn.
Then, in a painful instant, he found them. He had to stifle a sob as he figured it out.
Locked in a small room almost shoulder to shoulder, no light, but he could hear them. A crowd this large with this many kids had to be the right ones. Next to him a woman cried. He put a hand out and told her not to be afraid in a hoarse whisper.
"IPB... We have people coming for you right now. I don't know how long it will take, but when they get here, you all need to be ready to move, got it? If they find me in here - the bad guys - they'll... probably kill me. I don't know what that means for the person who's place I took, but I need to stay for as long as possible so that the IPB knows where to go, so try not to give me away." He smiled grimly, knowing that no one could see him. The woman next to him whimpered at first, then gasped. He had to remind her to stay quiet and to survive. They had to protect the kids, no matter what. Didn't they?
"God..." Was all she said.
He sat in the dark waiting for them to come, something he'd grown used to lately. Only this time he wasn't chained down. The bastards might kill him, but he wasn't gone yet. There was still a chance, if he could hang on long enough. These people could be saved. Pain still ripped at him, mainly from the burns on his back, but with burns pain meant no worse than second degree right? Unless he just couldn't feel the dead parts. Always possible. Still, if it didn't hurt, he didn't have to worry about it.
When the door opened, the man swore instantly, seeing him too easily.
Damn.
Either night vision goggles or an Infected with great night vision, either way, too much for him most likely. He ran toward the dim light, jumping a low form in front of him, a muzzle flash removing what little night vision he'd built up in this place, pain ripping through his left side, just below his rib cage. He kept moving. Dead was dead, it wouldn't matter how he got there, right?
Brian hit the man hard, his fingers making an odd popping sound as he struck, not able to make a fist any more, hands too banged up for it now. He took the man's weapon, a handgun he saw, a revolver, not a semi-auto. He didn't have any training with those, but then he doubted he could pull the trigger right now anyway. Another man rounded the corner and shot at him, missing, so he threw the revolver like a rock, it hit, but didn't take the man down, unfortunately. If he would have played sports as a kid, instead learning oboe, he might just have done a bit more damage now.
Three or four others came in with weapons, all trained on him. He looked at them for a second, and they stared back.
They didn't look odd or evil, they just looked... normal. Well, one of them looked a little drugged out, but other than that, they seemed like people you'd pass on the street and never do more than wave to. Of course, looks didn't mean much anymore.
Not to him.
Snarling, a feral, half-mad sound, he charged, ready to keep fighting even as he died, if he could manage it. A bullet pulled at him, but he kept going, it only grazed his right arm. In a little bit he wouldn't need that arm anymore anyway.
The room was dark, lit by a single bulb. The building had the look of a private home - one owned by seventy-year-olds at that. The decor seemed tasteful, Brian mused, as he ran, his mind speeding up as the end neared.