Becoming Zodiak

by Craig Jones

  Lord Crabbe’s tough demeanor faltered and he wiped at his eyes. “When I first met with William Walsh, I did not wholly agree with his plan,” he said. “But with the number of crimes growing over the last few months, I did agree that a message had to be sent: losing Taurus did not make Zodiak weak.”

  Aquarius looked left and right around the table, and then he put his hand in the air.

  “Jose, you don’t have to ask permission to speak,” Crabbe said.

  “I just wanted to say that I think the message has worked,” Aquarius responded with a shrug. “Anyone else realize that we’ve not been called out since this circus began?”

  24

  After the rest of Zodiak left the briefing room, Lord Crabbe and Virgo sat alone. He could already see that just the verbal support of Aries had positively impacted upon her health.

  “Her words and the actions of Scorpio brought unity amongst them again,” Virgo explained. “We may be one member short, but our hearts beat as one.”

  “Just when we need them to,” Crabbe clarified. “This is your biggest fear become manifest, isn’t it?”

  “By the time the skin between our dimensions tore, The Darkness was winning. I was the last of the Twelve, the most powerful of my kind still alive.” The brightness in Virgo’s eyes had dulled. “My people, they had a duty to protect you from their mistakes, and I volunteered to come through, to hold the fissure closed. But I could not do that alone.”

  Crabbe allowed himself an embarrassed smile. “So you allied yourself with a disabled former politician. Noble, I’ll give you that, but with nothing below the knees? Surely you could have found yourself someone stronger?”

  “Physically, yes, but there is no one mentally stronger than you, my old friend,” Virgo said. “You’re morals and ethics are never to be doubted.”

  “Morals and ethics are what got me blown up!” And Crabbe remembered every second of it—that morning twelve years previous.

  He had been making a stand against the drug and alcohol culture of the United Kingdom, especially the illegal importation of narcotics. He had been warned off. He had, of course, publicly ignored the warnings, derided his enemies. And then he’d gotten into his car and turned the ignition. Nothing happened. He turned it again, and then he was flying through the air, his body screaming at him to put out the fire. When he’d landed in a crumpled heap, blood-soaked and battered, all he could think about was how much his feet hurt. But when he had looked, his feet were no longer there.

  “Yet, as soon as you were able, you were back in Parliament and you got the bill passed. You won.” Virgo tilted her head to one side. “But politics was never your true passion, for all of your want to make the world a better place.”

  “Inventing things…” he said, reminiscing. Or ‘tinkering,’ as Margaret called it. With the knowledge you brought and the skills I had, just look what we’ve achieved. With these ten children, we have removed crime from the streets and made you powerful enough to keep the fissure closed.”

  “I believe the time is near when you will have to wear your crab suit once more,” Virgo told him. “If the strength of what is coming is as I imagine, then we are going to need Cancer fighting with us.”

  Crabbe sighed and ran his fingers through his ginger hair. “I’m hardly a superhero, Virgo… And I hate that damned name! I can’t reconcile it with anything else except the thing that stole Margaret from me.”

  “That, my friend, is my one regret,” Virgo murmured. “The one life I was unable to save.”

  They sat in silence for a few minutes.

  “If The Darkness is probing at the fissure,” she began again, “looking for a way to come through to this dimension—anything that is able to come through may be stronger than we can handle until we are twelve again.”

  “I shall contact Walsh immediately and tell him we want to push ahead with the event as soon as possible.”

  “Please do.” The strength drawn from the younger members of Zodiak was beginning to ebb away from Virgo’s body. “I worry that time is not on our side.”

  “And what Aquarius said? How the level of crime here seems to have dropped off again?”

  “That makes me more fearful than ever,” she replied. “What if there is a link? I fear the possibility more than anything I have ever faced...in this world or my own.”

  25

  “The waiting is the worst part,” Jimmy said. He was sat in his room with Brian and Shane. All of them were wearing their ‘Team Jimmy Taurus’ tracksuits.

  Shane’s level of excitement was off the charts. “And this is only for the press conference! Just wait until—”

  “Shane.” Brian was starting to lose his patience. “We could’ve been waiting for a heck of a lot longer than this if Virgo wasn’t feeling better. Frankly, I think the whole thing could still get cancelled.”

  “No way, not now!” Shane said, exasperated.

  “Shane, just calm down,” Brian implored. “You saw what happened. There’s something going on that we just don’t understand.”

  “Do you want me to pull out?” Jimmy asked.

  “I don’t know,” Brian said. “I’m worried, but I also know that you’re ready—for anything. I think being in Zodiak is what you’re meant to do.”

  With a light rap on the door, William Walsh announced his arrival. “Jimmy, can I come in?”

  “Sure thing,” Jimmy called before he leapt up and opening the door. “How are you Mister Walsh?”

  “My, my,” said Walsh. “Even on a day like today, you have the manners to ask how other people are. Mister Mills? You’ve done a great job with your boys.”

  “Thank you,” Brian said, taking Walsh by the hand. “They’re pretty good. Most of the time.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I was telling Jimmy how I saw you fight once.”

  “I hope I won,” Brian said modestly.

  “Forty seven wins and one draw? I think the odds were in my favour. First round knockout.” Walsh’s teeth were as bright as headlights as he smiled at Brian. “I’m sorry. It’s not every day I get to meet someone like you.”

  “Please, you’re embarrassing me,” Brian replied. “We’re glad the competition is going ahead.”

  “Me too, me too,” Walsh said earnestly. “Let’s get to the press conference.” He glanced over Brian’s shoulder. “Jimmy? You’re not nervous, are you?”

  Jimmy bounced up on the balls of his feet. “No, but I’m excited.”

  “That’s good.” Walsh paused. “There is one slight issue.”

  He explained that Zodiak had requested that the old Taurus not be allowed to interview any of the potential new Tauruses. Walsh had agreed, as he didn’t want either party put under undue pressure. It also meant that Zodiak, already strung out with their footage being leaked, were able to relax.

  “That could have been really funny,” Shane muttered to his brother. “Between questions he would have been whispering, ‘I’m better than you,’ to put you off.”

  “Shane!” Jimmy and Brian shouted.

  They all rode the elevator down to the main entrance of the Dome where the press conference was being held, and as soon as they stepped out into the foyer, flashbulbs from cameras started popping all around them. Jimmy raised his hand up to cover his eyes.

  “No, just smile,” Walsh reminded him with a whisper.

  Jimmy slowly lowered his arm and grinned broadly. He attempted to take in the room with squinted eyes. Over a hundred people with cameras, notebooks and recorders faced the assembled members of Zodiak, all dressed in their familiar combat fatigues. Lord Crabbe and Virgo were at a table just in front of the other nine members of the team, and their table was flanked by smaller tables hosting the other competitors.

  As they were ushered through the mass of paparazzi, Jimmy took a moment to check out his opposition. Duane Bullock sat alone with an arrogant sneer painted across his face. He stared straight at Jimmy and yawned, as if Jimmy’s mere presence bor
ed him. Francois Bove sat with someone who Jimmy immediately guessed to be his father, as they both had the same large nose. Francois looked very uncomfortable and fidgeted relentlessly despite his father admonishing him and telling him to keep still. Varsha Steer smiled at Jimmy as he walked to his seat. She had dark hair and even darker eyes, and looked miniscule next to the other contestants. It looked to Jimmy like her mother had travelled with her from India. Last was Carl Horn. He was thin, but sinewy, and Jimmy knew better than to judge someone’s strength by their size. He, and grandmother beside him, had the brightest red hair Jimmy had ever seen.

  He was about to take his seat when Leo rushed over to him. He blushed crimson in an instant and tried his best to ignore Shane’s mocking laughter.

  “I just wanted to wish you luck,” she said, and hugged him before dashing back to her seat with her teammates.

  “Jimmy loves Leo, Jimmy loves Leo,” Shane taunted under his breath.

  “Shane,” Brian warned.

  The three of them sat down as Walsh took his place at the central table with Lord Crabbe and Virgo. Microphones were positioned in front of each of them, and it was William Walsh who spoke first.

  “Before we start this press conference formally, I want to state that we will not be answering any questions about the health of either Virgo or the previous Taurus, Martin Bull. As you can see, Virgo is here today and Martin will be part of the commentary team on WWW News each night—”

  “But what about—?” someone shouted from the back.

  A sudden stomping of feet and a scuffle drew Jimmy’s attention to Peter, Walsh’s head of security, as he wrestled a journalist from the room. Peter walked back in a few seconds later and casually adjusted his tie before raising a single thumb to Walsh.

  “I hope that gets our point across,” Walsh said blandly.

  The room settled down again and he continued.

  “Tomorrow sees the first event in the competition ‘Becoming Zodiak,’ where each of our five competitors will be vying for selection as Taurus. You have all had a chance to meet and interview our young athletes, so today we are going to discuss with you the rules of the competition. Lord Crabbe, would you?”

  “Thank you, William,” Crabbe said with a deferential nod. “The actual events will be kept secret until it is time for our competitors to take part. Only when the door opens onto the arena will they will see the challenge that awaits them, just like it is for Zodiak when we arrive on a crime scene, of course.”

  More cameras flashed and a gentle ripple of laughter echoed around the room.

  “The competitors will not see their opponents compete, and they will only find out the results of each event when they have all taken their turn. They will be called back before Zodiak and the audience, and whoever has been disqualified will be announced.”

  “Ah, but let’s not forget...” interrupted Walsh. “They can always watch the highlights show later!”

  “Yes, of course,” agreed Crabbe, albeit uncomfortably. He could feel Aries cringing in her seat behind him. “Today, we will give you the name of each event, but no more detail than that.”

  He paused and drew a piece of paper from his jacket pocket.

  “The first event, held tomorrow, is called ‘Bull’s Eye.’”

  “That’ll be shooting, I reckon,” Shane said into Jimmy’s ear. “No worries for you there. You’re the most accurate—”

  “Shh!” Brian hissed.

  “The second event, to be held in three days’ time, is ‘Bull Run,’ which will be followed two days later by ‘Bull Ring.’ And finally, a week from today and the day after ‘Bull Ring,’ we will have the final event, in which our last two competitors will look to take their place in Zodiak by being victorious in the Zodiak Arena.”

  William Walsh managed the ensuing questions like the media-savvy mogul he was, and after several minutes, the press were escorted from the room and each competitor and their entourage was directed towards a different elevator. As the doors slid open and Brian and Shane stepped in, William Walsh appeared at Jimmy’s side.

  “You’re doing very well, Jimmy,” he said, his attention focussed on his mobile phone.

  “But we’ve not started yet,” Jimmy replied, confused.

  “Oh, no, no,” Walsh explained. “Your fitness tests? Your training sessions? The press conference? They’ve all been televised and you are scoring well with the public. Jimmy, you’re the people’s favorite.”

  26

  Jimmy’s changing room shook with the noise of the crowd above him. The Dome was full of eighty thousand screaming, stamping, chanting fans. He was sure he’d heard his name being shouted on more than one occasion, but the noise was so intense that he couldn’t truly be sure of anything. His stomach churned. He thought he’d actually feel better if he was sick, but Brian had instructed him to use the nerves to his advantage.

  “It’s called the fight-or-flight response, when the body releases more adrenaline that you’re usually used to,” Brian had explained. “You know you are ready for this, so use it to your advantage. Fight to be part of Zodiak with everything you’ve got.”

  An hour before, Jimmy had been drawn to be the first to take part in ‘Bull’s Eye,’ and despite shushing Shane at the press conference, Brian agreed that it was likely to involve some sort of accuracy test.

  “This is perfect for you,” Shane had said, much calmer now that the event was so close to starting. “Remember all your paintball skills. You’re going to be great.”

  And then his family had left to take their place in the audience, high up in the Dome. He wouldn’t be allowed to see them until the results were announced.

  He paced back and forth his changing room, checking and double-checking that his lightweight body armor was comfortable and fitted tight. The helmet they had brought for him, similar to the one Scorpio wore on his motorcycle, sat on the floor by the door.

  Suddenly, the vibrations caused by the noise above ceased, and Jimmy was able to hear the announcer’s voice boom out.

  “Good evening… Good evening to the world from WWW News, live at the Dome in London. In just three minutes, we are going to see our first competitor begin his quest in ‘Becoming Zodiak.’ Ladies and gentlemen, let me hear your support for…Jimmy Taurus!”

  The responding clamor almost knocked Jimmy to the floor. His mouth dropped open and his eyes grew wide.

  “All that for me?” he exhaled, incredulous. He’d been told that someone would come and collect him to take him to the arena, so he picked up his helmet, ready to go just as the door buzzer was pressed.

  He opened the door, and William Walsh stood waiting with a proud look on his face.

  “Now you even look like a member of Zodiak,” he said.

  “Thanks, Mister Walsh.”

  “Come on, it’s time to go.” Walsh gesture him along and walked with Jimmy until they approached a large set of sliding metal doors. “The arena is just through there, Jimmy. Now listen, don’t worry about your speed, but be accurate and don’t get hit!”

  Jimmy glanced up at him in surprise. Get hit?

  “And when the counter hits zero, move straight away.”

  With that, Walsh turned around and walked off, leaving Jimmy to watch him go.

  “Come up to the door,” a man in overalls called out from beside the entrance. “Put your helmet on, please.”

  Once the helmet was in place, he handed Jimmy a sleek rifle that looked garishly futuristic—but Jimmy could immediately tell it wouldn’t fire lasers. He knew this type of gun; all it would be firing were paintballs. He grinned.

  “You’ll hear Paul Jordan announce your name. The door will open, you step through onto the red circle.” The man spat the instructions like paintballs being fired in rapid succession. “Do not leave the red circle until the countdown hits zero or you will be eliminated. Good luck, kid.”

  Jimmy stood in front of the doors and squared his shoulders. He checked the balance of the gun and felt co
mfortable with it. He tried to keep his attention on his own body, struggled to maintain an inner calm and keep his pulse down, but the chaotic noise from the other side of the door was hard to ignore.

  Suddenly, silence fell and Paul Jordan’s voice blasted out his name.

  “Please welcome…Jimmy Taurus!”

  The doors slid aside and Jimmy was engulfed in a blanket of noise. He glanced around the Dome as hundreds, thousands of flashes rained down on him. Blinded for a moment, he forgot all about the red circle until a voice called out from behind.

  “Get on the dot, kid.”

  Jimmy shuffled forwards and trained his attention on the arena itself. In the distance, some hundred metres across the floor, he could see the back and white checkerboard of a finish line. Between him and the line were over a dozen barriers, some big, some small, some with spyholes cut into them. Jimmy realized that he would have to work his way from barrier to barrier, probably while he was being shot at. But he couldn’t see by who, or how he was going to shoot back at them.

  That was when the countdown started. Paul Jordan and the crowd chanted along as the massive screen showed each decreasing number.

  “Five.”

  He looked left and right as the doors began to slide shut.

  “Four.”

  He looked up, down.

  “Three.”

  And then he saw them.

  “Two.”

  Targets, all over the arena. Some hard to see, some extremely obvious.

  “One.”

  The metal door slammed closed behind him and William Walsh’s advice leapt into his mind. When the counter hits zero, move straight away.

  “Zero.”

  Jimmy launched himself into a dive to his left, towards the nearest barrier, as the metal door he had been in front of an instant before was splattered with a rainbow of paint. He righted himself, took a position on one knee, and craned his head to peek over the barrier. He spotted three targets—black and white concentric rings hung from the roof—that he could take out from this position and promptly dispatched shots towards each. With each phut of his gun, the football sized targets became a mess of green paint. The crowd went wild. He ducked down again as his position came under fire, and movement from above caught his attention.