by P. S. Power
"Trouble in Seattle? What kind?" She rolled her eyes, and then made a face at Bridget. "No, I mean combat class and what they're doing. Genders and names if you have it, so we can check our files." She looked around then, because they didn't even have a Playstation in the office. There was nothing more computer like either. Not yet. Even if they had one, it wouldn't have anything as advanced as files on it, not yet.
Saying that was probably habit, but it also made them sound a lot more on the ball than they really were. Any of the Agents would have known that however, which meant that Marcia Turner was talking to someone else. Who that was, Bridget hadn't bothered to listen to.
The voice on the other end of the line was tense, and sounded like a young man. If she were going to be polite and call a little boy a man. From what he was saying, she had to however.
"I tried to stop them, but I ended up with a broken arm. There's six of them... I guess, class three for four of them and one or two for the others. Strength, and speed, but one of them makes you see things. I could use some backup, if possible. If not... I'll have to go back in. They're working up to killing, I can tell. If they get into the rooms, it will be a bloodbath in here." Tense, but still eerily relaxed and calm, considering he was talking about going into another fight with a group of people that had already hurt him. Really, he sounded pretty damned badass, to tell the truth.
Marcia made a hard face.
"I understand. They're at your school? Monroe Elementary? We'll try to get someone there as soon as we can. Don't engage them again, unless you have to, to save someone's life. Evacuate the area if you can. Do you understand me, Timmy?"
"Yes. I'll try. Hurry, I... They're coming. I need to get out of here." Then the line broke with a click.
Marcia stared at the far wall, and shrugged.
"Fuck. I don't know what you caught of that, but Timmy there is just a kid. Not even Infected. There's a group of 'big kids' that have taken over his school. The classes are mainly in lockdown, but the doors aren't going to hold them for long. I'm going to get with the... Damn it, we have to get someone there now. We don't have anyone that can do it. What the hell are we supposed to do? That kid is going to end up dead because we aren't up to speed yet." Marcia rubbed her face, hard. Not that she'd feel it. That was just a habit, left over from when she'd been a real girl. Bridget didn't have things like that, since she'd been so young when she'd popped Infected. Her traits were all pretty well suited to who she'd always been.
There were no tears, but she gave Bridget, the only other person there, a strained look. Like it was all her fault. Which, after a fashion, it was.
If she had kept herself from being seen, and just done her job, then none of this would be happening now. No, it would just be a war going on, since no one would have been there to get things calmed down.
"Mary?" She might help them, to save kids. She hadn't whined the day before about helping out, had she?
"No joy, on that one. She took Brian and the Elcampayn kids to find that helpful alternate reality. They hadn't technically gone yet. They'll be at least a week. Maybe longer. What the hell are we going to do?"
There didn't seem to be an answer, but Bridget had an idea. It was a little risky, but doable, maybe. If she could get Christian Poures to notice her. That would take some skill, since she wasn't exactly a telepath herself. Not normally all that clear headed either, or calm, which meant that a certain super mind reader would most likely ignore her, when she wasn't spying in order to thwart her having a good time.
"We'll get Becky to go and see to it. She... Well, now that Brian is gone we may not be able to get to her at all, but she's a ghost, so if we can get her attention, maybe it will work?"
She was dead, that was true, but also linked to the mind of a powerful person that could project her into other people's heads. It wasn't exactly the same as having a physical person there, but she could talk to the kids that were being a problem. Slap them around a bit, if she tried really hard. Her super spirit powers had finally kicked in, Bridget knew, so she could move small objects and other cool things like that.
She sat down and closed her eyes, using all the skill that Hobbs had beaten into her over the last months, and then imagined Christian as hard as she could. It might be mental yelling, but it was probably needed just to keep from being blocked out. It took about fifteen minutes, but when she felt like she was close to being as deep as she was going to get, Bridget started in, trying to explain what was needed.
'Hello? Bridget?' The voice that came back wasn't one really, but it was clear and had a slight echo to it. The sound wasn't real or there, but still filled her entire being, it was so strong.
Bridget spoke out loud, trying to keep from making her own interior voice too loud. Christian hated that, or so she'd heard, over the years. Mainly from Karen.
"Hey, Becky?" She used that name, to identify who she was trying to get in touch with, without letting any bugs that had been put in place pick up on the fact that Chris Pours was still among the living. "We need someone to stop a school massacre. Monroe Elementary in Seattle. It looks like Proxy junior is there and going to fight the six Infected that are terrorizing them. Again. I hope this isn't too coded for you but we probably have listening devices in here by now. I just, we need someone there and promised Timmy that we'd help."
'I see. Becky says that she's in. I'll send her to you when this is resolved.' Then, just as fast as she'd come, the pretty heiress was gone from her head.
It was really the one saving grace of the woman, Bridget felt. She totally, and honestly, did not want to be in your head any longer than she had to be. It wasn't for moral reasons either, since the lady was nearly as big of a pervert as Bridget was. No, she just hated being near people that much. She was great at a distance however. Over e-mail she was practically a sweetheart, according to Penny. Nice, kind and generous to a fault. As long as you didn't make her be in the same room with you.
Opening her eyes to see Marcia looking at her skeptically, she smiled.
"She's going in. Becky promised to come by and see us, when she's done. If she can. There's only so much she can do though. I really wish we had television. I bet this is on the news."
Marcia looked at the front of the room, toward the door to the front area, which was closed for the moment. Not that a closed door meant privacy in their world, but it was about as close as anyone ever got at the IPB.
"I ordered that hooked up, but we'll have to wait for the military to leave, and let people back into the area. The local crews that do that work all live in Chester. If I heard correctly that should be today. No one really thinks that keeping people out will help anything. You should get with your friends from town and make certain they have what they need. Charity and... Studly, wasn't it?" There was teasing in those words, and Bridget had to agree.
"Will. Too bad his parents suck balls, isn't it? We should go and check on him though. I can drive a team over for that. Charity will want to go, too. Do you think I have time for all that? Not that I can do anything about Seattle from here, but..."
There was a soft grunt and a wave at the door. "Call them, first. We don't know if anything else is about to happen. We need to get fast transportation set up. I miss the supersonic jet already. Brian, too. Do you think Sinclair would be willing to stay on here for a bit? That bitchy girl too, with the healing power? I'm afraid if we let her go, someone else will try to pick her up. Healers have a habit of vanishing, especially if they're any good."
They all knew that one. Even the IPB didn't have any, or at least the old one hadn't. It was a fairly common ability, she thought, but the elite snapped them all up instantly when they could. It would be hard to protect Phoebe that way. Her power wasn't in the same power range as Elizabeth, but it was high enough level that they could use her. Anyone probably could, if they were sane and sweetened the deal with a soft bed, and plenty of cash.
"I don't know. Any word yet from Delaura? The one tailing Joe... the spy
king?"
"Yes, actually. She might have been a librarian her whole life, but the woman was built to be a secret agent. She's managed to keep in touch at regular intervals, and has been calling in with reports. Joe actually hasn't contacted anyone, except his boss. The telephone company one. We either scared the fear of God into him, or he's more of a pro than I thought. After all, we threatened to kidnap and export his higher ups. By refusing to get in touch with them, he's keeping them safe. I wish we had a good telepath that could pluck that information from him for us." There was no sense of a knowing look, or anything like that, just an offhand comment.
"Me too. The closest we have right now is Sinclair, I think, with her amazing Kreskin act. That worked pretty well, didn't it? 'I see... porn... lots of smut...' Like all guys his age aren't mainlining the stuff? Speaking of which we need to get some computers in here. I'm going into online withdrawal." Not for sex pictures, or even videos, in particular. It was just the flow of constant data that she missed.
"Another thing that's coming. As soon as we can get people in for it. When they come we'll want to shadow them the entire time to keep the telephone situation from happening again. I almost hate sending people away, but you have that one right. We need to diversify, and spread out so that we aren't as easy to hit. Really, we need to send some agents with them. We have four incoming. A lot of the men from the sub-stations are AWOL. The operatives that were out with them, too."
"Like they should be. It was part of the protocols. Who's coming? Burkes, I got that one from the phone call he made yesterday, but who else?"
"Damot, Clease and Lincoln. They're all from the Dallas office. So this is a promotion for them. Lucky guys, getting to work here, in the big office." She looked around again, since their state of the art compound was lacking in a few particulars. Like almost anything useful.
"I don't know them." The phone rang again just then, one of the four on the table, and it happened to be the one closest to her, so she picked it up.
"Bridget Chambers, IPB main office. How can I help you?" She'd been taught how to answer a phone professionally, and knew that her mother would have given her about a 'B' on that one. She should have said "how may I help you" she knew. Hopefully it wasn't her mom on the other end of the line.
The man that spoke had a rich, if slightly tentative voice. It was sort of familiar, meaning that she'd probably met him before.
"Um, this is Senator John Roberts. I was hoping I could connect with your new Director? I know that after your great loss... Karen Young was a friend of mine. Brian Yi, too. I... I'm so sorry. Bridget, I think we've met?" He didn't mention her parents, which was either cowardly or kind of him, depending on his reasoning. If it was about avoiding a girl meltdown, well, that was understandable. No one really wanted to put up with one of those, did they?
"We have, Senator. Ms. Turner is in, but we have an event taking place, in Seattle? A school being taken over by class threes. We were called in by one of the students. Timmy. He'd already engaged with them, but was injured. Broken arm, I think?" She looked at Marcia, who nodded. "So we sent in Dharma. She's the only one of us that can get there in time to help. We lost... everything. We can't even turn on the news channels to see what's going on."
"Oh? I can. One second here. Let's see if this has made the... There we go, Monroe Elementary. Oh... Okay, it looks like something is going on there. A boy... About twelve or so? He's... uh... fighting with a group of other kids. Given that one of them just flipped a car over, I guess those are the ones we were...." He stopped dead, and cleared his throat. "They all just fell down. Not the boy cradling his arm, but the other boys and girls. They look a bit old for elementary school. It seems that the local police are closing in? That... seems to be taking care of that. I guess your Operative got into place?"
There were sounds that came from the television on the other line, which Bridget didn't need explained. It was soft, being picked up at a distance. The police were shooting the already downed kids. Probably Timmy, too. They did that sometimes, because even when beaten the truth was that the police were afraid of people with superpowers. If they didn't see Becky there, they might just assume that Tim had knocked the others out.
Except that it wasn't that at all.
Roberts swore, but his voice wasn't upset, just excited, like he'd just seen the home team make a goal.
"Whoa! I...That kid, Tim? A man came out of the crowd and started to shoot at the police, he ran over and tackled him. I'm not sure how that worked, but they have the shooter. I don't think anyone was hit."
Bridget repeated it all, which got Marcia to take over the phone, since it was easier for Bridget to eavesdrop on the line than it was for her to get a slow second or third hand report.
It took a while for it to all unfold, but by the time the Senator was willing to get off the line so they could work, Becky was standing there, next to the table. She looked... good, really.
For someone that had died three years before.
The girl that Bridget saw was her old friend, but a little thinner through the body and shoulders. Her hair was a rust red, like Karen's was, and she was pale, with smooth skin that didn't have any freckles. Her skin was unlined, since she'd died at nineteen, and her mouth showed just a hint of lip coloring, so that she'd look professional. She was dressed up in an all black fighting suit, one that looked to be made of some kind of high tech fiber, but was heavy, like Swat armor. It had padding in it. Given that none of it was real, Bridget figured it was all about intimidation tactics. She'd dressed herself up in an illusion meant to scare bad kids straight.
"Becky! You made it. What happened?" Bridget knew that no cameras, if any were in place yet, would see the other girl. There were benefits to not being alive. For some people. The rest of them were just gone, as far as Bridget had heard. There might be an afterlife, but even Becky was kind of vague on what came next.
"It was pretty straight forward. Those kids thought that the IPB being gone meant that they could do whatever they wanted, and had the right first modes to figure that taking on a school full of little kids was a good plan. That kid, Timmy, had different ideas. Too bad Brian's out of town. He would have cried tears of pride seeing that. They beat him up, pretty good, but the little guy didn't give up. They were going for round three when I got Chris to just KO them all. We should get that kid a medal or something."
Bridget nodded.
"Maybe we should? That's not bad, standing his ground like that. It would look better if he'd won, but he got that shooter. That's pretty sweet, right?"
The ghost girl let her eyes glisten then smiled, sadly.
"He did. A grown man. Not Infected either. What's going on? I mean, we expected trouble, but this is insane. I thought the military would move in, and... Martial law... or something. This seems different. Braid, do you think?"
Giving the room a quick glance, Marcia nodded. She didn't speak however, but Bridget did, her mouth working on its own.
"We pretty much have to assume it's her behind it all, for now. That was strange, wasn't it? Timmy calling us like that, directly? Did he just have the IPB on speed dial, or what?"
Becky rolled her eyes then walked over to pat Bridget on the back. She felt real, but wasn't. Not exactly. Still, they were friends, so she returned the gesture.
"I know, it's crazy, but that's exactly what it was. He's a member of the Proxy Union. You know, Brian's wacked out group of cult like followers? They take an oath to fight to the death, to protect people. They all have the IPB numbers too. The main one at least. It was started by some Canadian guy. Tobias. That's all I know about it. If they're all that hard core, we should recruit them though. If nothing else you'd better give him a call, Bridget. That, or visit. The kid deserves something special."
Her instant reply was that she could blow him, because what twelve year old boy wouldn't think that was a good reward, but she held it in, meaning she was silent for a long time, before she was certain her mouth wouldn't be
tray her.
"I can at least get in touch. Thanks, Becks. We couldn't have done anything without you. I don't suppose you'd be willing to help out around here? We have a bit before the government gives us a new set of planes, and the new people are... raw. I literally got them all by getting them amnesty for their crimes. At least one of them is an actual criminal, too. Like, professionally. You'll like him, he's got lots of muscles, walks through walls, and has a shaved head. It looks totally badass. That plus being a bad boy means he's exactly your type, right?"
She giggled, which was the first time that Bridget could remember that ever happening. Being dead had really lightened Becky's mood a lot. Her first mode had been angst, or so the psych people had told them all. Bridget wasn't certain it had been that exactly, but close enough. She'd ended up stepping off a building, to end her own life. Dharma had been super strong and fast, but only a bit tougher than a regular person. So she'd impacted hard enough to stop the pain.
It made her sad to think about it, so she didn't, just giving the ghost of her oldest friend a hug.
"Please? I know that it's probably hard, now that you aren't attached to anyone, but it could save lives, and who knows, maybe help stop a war."
She held Bridget closely for a bit, then stood back, her unreal hands still on the slender shoulders.
"Right, because anyone listening can hear you, but not me. I'm in, though. Chris too. Oh, Bridgie, your parents send their love. They know you can't call, but visit soon, if possible. Katarine sent her love too. I think she likes you. You know, like a sister?" There was no playing to the words, but that was probably truthful enough.
The woman kept attacking her, since her hyper reflexes forced her too. But when Bridget was there, she didn't hurt anyone else by accident. It wouldn't shock anyone to find out that Katarine, the former Soviet Spetnaz Ultima soldier, actually liked having a tiny red-headed punching bag around. It was even possible that the lady didn't think of her that way, but rather as a friend. After all, when you kept stabbing someone and they didn't do much more than give you a hug, it was hard to really hate them.