The DX Chronicles (Book 1): Not Against Flesh and Blood

by Brian Cody

  “Yeah…” Turrisi groaned.

  “How did you…?” Erik stopped as Turrisi sighed.

  “I tased the night guard …” Turrisi mumbled.

  “Huh…” David muttered.

  “So anyway…finals”, Turrisi began with a grin, “how many finals do you guys have?”

  “Too many”, Bryen growled as he stared at the floor. The echo of the front door being unlocked and opened caused the group to turn to Shawn standing by the door with his duffle bag holding it open.

  “Who’s driving?” Shawn called down the hall.

  “I’m the only one with enough room, so, I guess”, David groaned.

  “Okay, hold on”, Erik replied as he opened Room 111. “I’ll meet you guys outside; I gotta find a way to sneak my ‘lamp’ out”, he whispered.

  ***

  “I just don’t know about that turn”, Shawn remarked as he hopped up the side steps to Building 1000, his body adorned in his black outfit and the red catcher’s armor over that, while he clasped his helmet in his right hand and held his cape in his left. “You’re going up a sharp incline”, he noted as he looked to David following him, and the remainder of the group turning from behind the building to rush up the steps. “There’s a small blind-spot because the road curves, and, plus, people are speeding when they come around said curve”, Shawn continued as he reached the top of the steps, walked a yard, and stopped in front of Apartment 1010.

  “Shawn, I promise you, it’s safe”, David replied as he stopped next to him in a hooded sweatshirt and basketball shorts, his winter gloves held under his left arm. “Trust me, I’ve taken worse turns before and turned out fine.”

  “I’m just sayin’, bud, it might be safer if you took another turn. I think there was one farther down”, Shawn replied.

  “Has anyone else noticed that there’re cameras in this hall?” Nate asked as the group congregated around the door. David and Shawn looked to Nate, who was standing on the edge of the group and glancing towards the ceiling. They turned, while Erik knocked, and they scanned that overhanging surface and the flickering light about ten feet ahead of them. To the left of the light was a camera angled to point at the stairwell they had ascended.

  “Yeah”, Bryen remarked as he scratched his head and leaned along the wall to the door’s left, “I saw it when we first came here; and I figured_”

  “All of the ones on this hall are rigged to be closed-circuit to my apartment.” The group looked back as the door was opened and Lamback stood, his apartment illuminated by the kitchen lights and the glow of the flat-screen television. “I keep the surrounding area under surveillance”, he replied as he stepped back and held the door open. “You know, security requirements and such.” The group piled through the doorway and congregated along the edge of the dining room, while Lamback glanced out of the door, down both ends of the hall, and stepped back to slam the entrance. “All right, I see you brought your tools of illegal trade”, he began as he locked the deadbolt and turned towards the kitchen. “Would anyone like coffee?” he asked as he stopped in front of his coffeemaker.

  “Yes”, Bryen replied.

  “No”, the rest of the group answered.

  “Okay”, Lamback continued as he fiddled with his coffeemaker.

  “Tell me you did it!” David began as he leaned over the counter.

  “Wait, did what?” Lamback asked as he thrust four rounded scoops into the coffeemaker and then slammed the lid.

  “You got them to let us go out on patrol!” David exclaimed.

  “Uh…” Lamback muttered as he activated the device and turned.

  “Come on; we brought our clothes and everything!” David replied as he tilted his head and grinned.

  “Uh, no”, Lamback replied as he walked to the hanging cabinet adjoining to the sink, opened it, and pulled out two white mugs. “You guys still don’t have clearance because the DOJ is trying to assess how necessary this team is. They’re also trying to assess how much you guys have been compromised with one of your immediate superiors having been ousted as a turncoat. Plus, we’re still trying to cover-up the last time you guys acted in public a few months back, along with the immense damage to the Poff Building, and the explosion at Sterling Blue’s home (which we’re blaming on a natural gas pocket).”

  “Oh, come on”, David replied. “Maybe something to let off a little steam before we’re engulfed by finals?”

  “Nope”, Lamback replied, the coffeemaker bellowing behind him and signaling him to turn. “One thing the Attorney General doesn’t need is more property damage and having to go outside of legal bounds to keep the causes of that damage hidden. Bryen, how many spoonfuls’ of sugar would you like?”

  “Four”, Bryen replied as he leaned against the dining room wall.

  “No, but seriously”, Lamback replied as he opened and reached into the cabinet above the coffeemaker.

  “Four”, Bryen repeated.

  “…If it’s any consolation, I have something close. It’s not patrol, but it’ll distract you for long enough”, Lamback continued as he poured into both mugs and opened the white jar to his sugar container.

  “Wait, really?” Erik asked as he stood along the living room.

  “Yeah”, Lamback replied, “living room”, he ordered as he nodded towards the television, with one mug of about two cups of coffee in either hand. The group shuffled into the open space and spread along the three couches. “As you all know, thanks to Erik’s efforts, Arthur Grant was beaten to a pulp and apprehended before he could systematically murder all of us”, he began as he walked to the couch on the right and lowered one cup to Bryen.

  “Okay, Erik!” David howled as he sat on the opposite end of that couch and pumped his right fist to Erik, who sat across from him with his box by his side.

  “Yes, Erik did a very good thing, and none of us are dead_”

  “I helped”, Turrisi interjected as he sat on the love seat perpendicular to David, with his duffle bag between his feet.

  “And Turrisi helped”, Lamback continued as he snatched the remote from the amassment of magazines and muted the flat-screen. “Arthur Grant, thanks to the suit he was wearing, survived his fall, and, thanks to the miracle of modern, medical technology, was able to make a partial recovery. His mind is intact, and his remaining arm and everything above his hips work. Therefore, the government deems him able to withstand a criminal trial.” Lamback sipped, but seized. “I think I got your coffee”, he noted to Bryen. “Want to trade?”

  “Already done”, Bryen replied as he showed his empty mug.

  “Dang it”, Lamback groaned. “Anyways, Grant wants a plea bargain.”

  “A plea bargain!?” Erik howled. “Aren’t they charging him as an accomplice to the bridge’s destruction? Aren’t they placing Sterling Blue’s death on his hands?”

  “Aiding and abetting an escaped convict, possession of illegal arms, attempted murder times three, conspiracy to commit first-degree murder?” Turrisi fired off as he lifted his arms. “And don’t forget high treason, which, alone, should guarantee that he gets the death penalty!”

  “He would”, Lamback began, “he should; everyone wants it; the president, the CIA, everyone aware of his entire case, and aware of the damage he could’ve caused, and the damage he had no remorse for causing—i.e. the George Wade Bridge. They all want him lethally injected as quickly and as quietly as possible, but they can’t.”

  “Why!?” David asked. “Capturing a mobster shouldn’t be enough of an excuse for him!”

  “It isn’t”, Lamback replied. “But he has leverage over us—and over the government.”

  “What kind of leverage?” Shawn asked as he sat beside Turrisi.

  “Information”, Lamback continued as he deactivated the television. “What you guys described to me, and what Arthur Grant exposited to Erik? There’s something alarming going on. Grant has information, and the government is running blind. What attacked you, David? If it was a machine, who built
it? One of the country’s enemies? Is there a nation or foreign power advanced enough to create something so devastating, and is this nation-or-power so bold as to send it into our borders to kill our operatives?

  “We don’t know where he got the suit from, either. It’s not like the design of the ones being tested by entities within our government that are so secretive that my naming them would be a felony. It’s more advanced than the most advanced technology said entities have access to and that they’re testing, and that proposition is frightening. Arthur Grant knows that, more than ever, our government is alarmed. They’ll do anything to gather the information he has, even turn a death sentence into thirty years in a minimum security prison, and perhaps give him all of the necessary luxuries to live like a king inside prison walls. He doesn’t deserve that, but, unless we can get answers, and my superiors end up turning to him for those answers, he’ll get it.”

  Lamback lifted the mug to his mouth, and, in several chugging swallows, downed the remainder of his coffee before shaking his head. “You might as well just drink sugar water”, he coughed. “Anyways, the CIA doesn’t want him to have the opportunity to toy with the government. I’ve been given orders to act outside of the legal bounds of law enforcement and break into his residence outside of Roanoke. They have reason to believe that he either has information stored there, or, it’ll lead to wherever he keeps his information. If I can get enough of it, it’ll keep the DOJ from having to comply with his demands, and, with that bargaining chip taken from him, we can get him to comply with our demands. They might take the death penalty off the table, but he will not be living like a king.”

  “Uh, wait”, Erik called. “You can’t do that alone. You’re good at hiding it, but I can tell by how you’re carrying yourself—you’re still not one-hundred percent. If there are any surprises, and you need to defend yourself, it’ll be difficult.”

  “True”, Lamback replied, “I shouldn’t even be drinking coffee right now, but I digress. The CIA said I could use whatever assets I have in my possession since I’m still recovering.”

  “So that means…?” Nate began as he sat beside Erik.

  “Not to dehumanize you guys, but, according to technical government standards, and since I’m y’alls’ handler, you’re considered my assets”—David leaned and clasped his hands—“The CIA was giving me permission without official sanctioning. Remember the whole ‘outside of the bounds of legal law enforcement’ I just mentioned? That applies to you six; for all intents and purposes, you’re being given a mission.”

  “Okay!” David yelped as he jumped and jabbed his fists, the force of his motions gusting towards Erik and Nate.

  “Buddy, you need to calm down”, Nate grunted as he swiped his curling hair.

  “Your mom needs to calm down!” David exclaimed as he pumped his fist. “You know what?” he spoke as he spun to Lamback. “We’ll head there right now and be back by curfew! We’ll have so much on him, that he’ll pee himself from embarrassment!”

  “I guess that’s a good goal…” Lamback replied as he stepped back, “but, if anything, try to be back by the start of final exams; the government’s not very good at bargaining over those, so, if you miss them, it’s your problem.”

  “All right, let’s do this!” David began as he spun to the group, “hey, since it’s our first, official, unofficial mission, I won’t charge you guys for gas!”

  “Well I certainly hope so”, Shawn began as he stood and cracked his neck, “if so, I would just fly to Roanoke.”

  “Ha, no”, Lamback interjected. “No flying. Also, since you’re on unofficial-official duty, you’ll have to suit up.”

  David’s smile diminished, and his shoulders dropped. He looked to Lamback, and the rest of the group turned, holding their breaths, while Lamback maintained his smirk. Seconds passed of no movements and no sounds, and neither party budged.

  “Ha”, Nate coughed. “No, but seriously”, he chuckled. David looked to him, and so too did the rest of the group, discerning Nate’s stream of thought, and then chuckling themselves.

  “No, but seriously”, Lamback replied, his eyes piercing as he crossed his arms.

  “So then…you’re serious?” David asked as he looked back.

  “Yes”, Lamback replied.

  “And…do we have to wear the helmets?” David asked.

  “Just take them for kicks and giggles”, Lamback sighed. “Don’t forget: you’re testing that stuff out. Five years from now, when the Special Forces go into some hostile situation while wearing the finalized versions of that gear, it’ll be because of your commitment that there won’t be any flaws or defects which result in their deaths.”

  “He just went there”, Nate muttered.

  “I guess if it’s for our troops…” Turrisi groaned while standing.

  “Works every time”, Lamback murmured as he walked to the thermostat and entered his code, with the doors to the hidden stairway swinging ajar. “You guys head down, and I’ll unlock it from here”, he explained as the remainder of the group stood. In one mass, they ambled towards that open door with items in hand.

  With David in the lead, they descended to the first floor, the lights activating the moment they landed, and the retracting wall in front of them sliding into the ceiling seconds after they all gathered in the living room. Another pair of white lights flashed within that corridor, illuminating the amassment of suits, boots, and helmets before them, and also revealing paper tags tied around the necks of the suits’ mannequins and labeling them with their names. David’s was the black one-piece uniform with forest-green stripes on the insides of the arms and down the outsides of the oblique muscles, the hips, and the legs. To David’s right, Erik found his name along the outfit marked with firebrick-red stripes; behind Erik and to his left, Turrisi stood in front of the uniform marked with midnight navy; to Turrisi’s left, Shawn stood before the black and white suit; behind Shawn, Bryen stood before the all-black suit; and, to Turrisi’s right, Nate stood before the outfit lined with yellow.

  “Huh”, Nate groaned as he tilted his head, crossed his arms, and glared at those brilliant marks.

  “How do you get these off?” David asked as he held his suit by its shoulders and jostled it.

  “There’s a zipper along the back”, Shawn replied as he stood adjoining to his suit’s left side, “it’s hidden under this small flap, and it’s really inconspicuous, but_”—he folded over the flap and clasped the handle to a black zipper almost an inch in width that sat at the neckline. He pulled, nudging it downward and finding himself having to apply near-superhuman force to slide it along the track. “It’s a doozy to open”, he finished as he lowered it to the end of the track, at the bottom of the rear. “And…I don’t know how to get them off the mannequins”, he remarked as he tried to pull the suit off, then tried to push the mannequin downward, but found the mannequin’s feet nailed to the floor, and the suit’s legs covering the mannequin unmoving.

  A craggy tear caused Shawn to wince and to spin to David who was lifting his mannequin, having torn the legs from the floor. David then spun the suit in his hands, unzipped it, flipped it over—causing the helmet to fall beside him—and tugged at the suit-legs to nudge them from the mannequin. “That works”, Shawn reasoned.

  Shawn did the same, ripping it by the legs and cracking the surrounding cement, and Erik followed with a similar maneuver, his action taking several seconds longer. “Can one of you guys get me?” Turrisi asked as he looked around.

  “I gotcha”, Shawn replied as he rested his suit along the wall, kicked his boots up to it, and stepped towards Turrisi. Alongside of them, Nate glared at the yellow lines. Nate then looked to Bryen squeezing his suit’s armpits and pushing upward as he gathered the energy to rip it from the floor. Twenty seconds passed before Bryen could rend his item free, his body tilting backwards from the loss of countering force, and the helmet shooting off. Bryen balanced himself and placed his suit along the outlining crates before bo
wing to rest his arms on his knees.

  “B-money, let’s trade”, Nate called.

  “What?” Bryen replied as he reared up.

  “Trade suits with me”, Nate replied.

  “Uh…” Bryen groaned as he glared at the stripes on Nate’s suit, the effulgence of those lines, and the apparent radiance they seemed to exude. “Nope”, he replied as he turned to his own suit.

  “Dang it”, Nate muttered before watching Shawn pull his suit from the mannequin. “Hey Shawn, I’ll trade you.”

  “Well, why do you want to trade?” Shawn asked as he placed his suit on the ground while unbuckling his catcher’s armor, as those plates, he realized, were too thick.

  “Well, why not?” Nate replied, “my suit’s black and yellow; the Pittsburgh Steelers’ colors are black and yellow. You’d be repping your football team.”

  Shawn stepped back as he finished untying the armored plates from his legs, and looked to Nate’s suit. He stared while rubbing the scruff on his chin and nodded. “Nah; it might not fit.”

  “Frick”, Nate growled.

  “Klinge!” David exclaimed as he removed his hoodie.

  “I said ‘frick’!” Nate yelped.

  “I said ‘your mom’!” David retorted as he lowered his suit to the floor, lifted his left leg, and inserted it. Sighing, Nate turned back, grabbed his suit by the arms, and, after about ten seconds, tore it from the ground. Across from him, Bryen maneuvered past Shawn and David with his bottle of color-remover as he stepped out of that room, looked to his left, and found the bathroom unlocked. Three minutes passed before he returned, his hair having taken on its white coloration and upright, curving stance, while his eyes, devoid of their contacts, glowed with their yellow hue.