by Jake Bible
“Oh my,” Valerie responded. “Have you determined precisely what scabs?”
“We believe it to be SensLo,” Stone answered. “That would explain the sudden violence. The girl probably thought she was in her favorite holocast, you know how these kids like the violence, and snapped. It goes to show the honest, homegrown dangers we face everyday.”
“I am sure our viewers would like to help, Mr. Stone,” Valerie offered. “What can they do if they spot this girl?”
“Thank you, Valerie.” Mr. Stone smiled. “As I have instructed the local authorities, if you see this young woman, Elizabeth Laughlin, please don’t approach her. Contact the LOMSD hotline and give her location. We wouldn’t want anyone else to get hurt.”
“Thank you, Mr. Stone.” Valerie turned to face the holocam. “That was Mr. Able Stone of the LOM Security Division. The LOMSD hotline contact info is available for your grasp. Just reach out with your catcher and it will be logged. I advise you do this now. It’s always better to be safe than sorry. This is-.”
Heather switched off the holocast. “Want to explain what that has to do with you? Who the fuck is Elizabeth Laughlin? An unregistered American? We don’t need that shit around us! Keeping us hidden has been hard enough!”
“Are you sure your aunt won’t mind me borrowing her clothes?” Beth asked as she walked into the kitchen. “She must keep in shape. These almost didn’t fit. Oh, um, hello.”
Heather looked from Beth to Melissa and back. “I really don’t have time for this, Mel! What the fuck is going on? And why is she wearing my favorite fucking jeans?!?”
Proximity alarms blared through the house and Heather grabbed both girls, shoving them into the hallway. “Damn!”
***
“Mr. Stone wants them alive!” a trooper called out to the dozen or so others ready to storm Heather and Melissa’s brownstone.
“Clear!” one yelled ducking away from the front door as it exploded inward in a mass of biochrome and resin.
***
“Fuck! They’re here!” Melissa and Heather yelled in unison as the house shook from simultaneous explosions in the front and back.
“We’ll talk on the go! Upstairs both of you!” Heather shouted, tossing each of the girls a satchel. “I’ll buy us some time! There’s the mag-skiff in the basement! Get in and go! If I don’t catch up to you in the alley in one minute you take off! Find Billy, he’ll get you to safety!”
Melissa turned on her aunt, fury in her eyes. “Billy? That fucking scabhead wouldn’t know safety if it fucked him in the ass!”
“NOT THE TIME, MEL!” Heather roared, shoving the girls further up the stairs. “GO!”
Heather watched the two girls run upstairs as four LOMSD troopers came at her through the smoke and debris. Before they even had to time to call out, Heather melted the BC doorknob of the closet, splitting it into four equal parts. She flung the changing metal towards the troopers. She didn’t even wait to see the results, confident the biochrome would do as she had told it to. It did and the troopers were dead before they hit the ground, their heads sliced open by micron thin blades.
Heather stalked towards the back of the house, gathering up BC from lamps, doorknobs, hinges as she went. “This is my house, motherfuckers!”
***
Beth screamed and clamped her hands over her ears as the sound of automatic rifle fire and ricochets boomed from below and shook the bathroom the girls had ducked into.
“Shut it, freak!” Melissa snapped, placing a hand against the tile of the shower. It instantly shimmered, then dissolved into a pool of biochrome. Melissa grabbed Beth and shoved her into the small room that was revealed. “In there now!”
Melissa stepped over the threshold, bent and put her hand to the pooled BC. Instantly the biochrome responded and the wall replaced itself, the illusion of a tiled shower again complete.
“Where are we?” Beth asked, blinking as a small halogen flickered to life. “How did you do that?”
“The BC is programmed to my family’s genetics,” Melissa replied. “I wish I could do more, but I only get to work that patch.” She knelt on the floor of the tiny room and placed her hand against a small square of BC. “And this patch.”
The surface rippled, and then gave way, sending them plummeting into the dark below.
***
The cries of the troopers echoed from the brownstone and out into the city street. Those troopers who hadn’t rushed the building paused, unsure whether to push forward or retreat, until the commanding officer started barking orders, berating them all for their cowardice.
***
The girls landed hard three stories below the bathroom, but safety netting kept them from serious injury. They sprinted a few hundred meters down a damp, musty tunnel, straight to a barely stable brick wall. Melissa tapped at a hidden security pad and the wall pulled away, revealing a small, compact mag-skiff tucked away inside.
“Do you even have your license?” Beth asked as she strapped into the passenger seat. Melissa started up the mag-drive and pulled it from the underground garage, a door sliding away to reveal a narrow alleyway beyond.
“Fuck a license!” Melissa laughed. “We’re not driving to the bloody market!” Melissa watched Beth for a moment. “You really don’t know what’s going on at all, huh?”
“No,” Beth said quietly. “I woke up this morning hating my life as usual, but never wanting any of this. I don’t want to be an American.”
“Oh, really? Could have fooled me, the way you always seem to have some great insight into our history or current place in today’s socio-political environment. Especially with BC.”
“Yeah,” Beth said. “I don’t know why. Stuff just comes to me. It’s like I’m not in control of my own life sometimes. Well, most of the time…”
The two girls cringed as the brownstone three hundred meters behind them erupted in a mass of flame.
“I get what you mean,” Melissa shouted, slamming down the accelerator.
“What about your aunt?” Beth asked.
Melissa looked in the rearview mirror and grinned. Reaching up she pulled open the small sunroof. “Oh, she can take care of herself.”
Beth looked behind her and her jaw dropped as she watched Heather sprint inhumanly fast towards the back of the skiff, then leap on top, twist and slide through the sunroof, landing in the back seat.
“Wow,” Beth said.
“You can applaud later,” Heather joked. “We have an appointment in Sin Circle.”
Melissa started to protest, but Heather held up her finger. “Uh-uh. I don’t want to fucking hear it. Billy may be a scabhead, but he’s got ways to get us out of London. That’s what we need right now.”
Melissa scrunched up her face in an angry pout and focused on the road.
“Sin Circle? Is that safe?’ Beth asked.
“Is she always this dense?” Heather asked, leaning back in her seat and popping open a protein drink she grabbed from one of the satchels.
“So far, yes,” Melissa responded, reaching back and snatching the drink from Heather and taking it for herself.
“Bitch,” Heather grinned, grabbing another and tossing it to Beth before opening her own.
***
Mr. Stone ignored the greetings from the LOMSD troopers and pushed into the living room of the small, dirty flat. A skinny, middle aged woman, obviously on speaking terms with cheap brandy, sat on the couch smoking a vapor stick and looking bored by all the commotion.
“Ms. Liecaster is not being very cooperative, Mr. Stone,” Reginald said, glancing around at the troopers.
“Everyone out,” Mr. Stone said quietly, but firmly, his eyes never leaving the woman’s face. Even with the low tone, all troopers turned and left the flat, the door clicking ominously behind them. “How long has she been fostered here?”
“I don’t know,” Ms. Liecaster said lazily. “Two or three months. Fuck if I care.”
Mr. Stone grinned and sat down next to
her. Moments went by and he said nothing. Ms. Liecaster finally looked over at him then Reginald and back to Mr. Stone. Lightning fast Mr. Stone’s elbow smashed into Ms. Liecaster’s nose, the crunch echoing off the mildewed walls of the flat.
“You broke my fucking nose!” she gurgled around the blood flowing down her throat.
Reginald reached out, pulled the woman from the couch and slammed her face into the stained carpet. He yanked back roughly on her hair and Mr. Stone, still seated, leaned down close.
“Do you fucking care now?” Mr. Stone asked.
“You broke my fucking nose!” Ms. Liecaster screamed again.
“Reginald, if you please.”
“My pleasure, Mr. Stone,” Reginald grinned, pushing the woman’s head away and grabbing her left arm by the wrist while placing his other hand on her shoulder.
“One last time, Ms. Liecaster,” Mr. Stone said, getting from the couch and kneeling close to her face. “Do you fucking care now?”
“Fuck you!” she spat.
Reginald twisted her wrist and pushed down hard with his other hand, separating her shoulder instantly. Ms. Liecaster screamed in agony.
“Okay! Okay! I fucking care!” she called out. “Please!”
Mr. Stone nodded and Reginald let go of Ms. Liecaster. The woman rolled onto her back and reached for her injured arm.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Mr. Stone said. “You don’t touch that arm until we are done talking or I have Reginald rip it all the way out of the socket.”
Reginald smiled. Ms. Liecaster froze.
Activating the holo disc, Reginald leaned down. “Do you know this boy?”
Ms. Liecaster watched the scene play out on the holo disc and Mr. Stone and Reginald could see the lies she was trying to formulate flitter across her face, but thought better of as her shoulder pulsed with pain. “Yeah, I seen him,” she gasped. “He come around here once. Always thought he was on the scabs the way he looked.”
“How so?” Mr. Stone asked.
“Didn’t seem to know where he was. A little out of it, like he didn’t know why he was here.”
“But Beth knew him from school?” Mr. Stone asked.
“I don’t know,” Ms. Liecaster said. “Beth never talked about him. Acted like she didn’t know who I was talking about after he left.”
“That all you know?” Mr. Stone asked.
“Yes, that’s all I know,” she responded, spitting blood onto the carpet. “You gonna call an ambulance for my shoulder?”
Mr. Stone looked at Reginald for confirmation. “She isn’t lying, Stone,” Reginald said. Mr. Stone nodded and Reginald raised his foot then stomped full force on Ms. Liecaster’s face. The woman grunted in pain and Reginald stomped one more time before she was still.
“Two stomper, Reggie?” Mr. Stone asked. “You losing your touch?”
“It’s been a long day, Mr. Stone,” Reginald apologized.
“That it has.”
The two men left the flat quickly.
“She fell,” Mr. Stone said to one of the troopers. “It was a bad fall. You’ll need a bag.”
The trooper nodded and entered the flat, as another ran up to Mr. Stone.
“Let me guess,” Mr. Stone said, raising his hand and cutting off the trooper before he could speak. “The girls got away again.”
“Yes, Mr. Stone,” the trooper said reluctantly. “They had help though, sir. Some Ghost blew up the place.”
“A Ghost?” Reginald asked.
“Please tell me you have holo,” Mr. Stone said menacingly.
The trooper nodded and activated a disc in his palm. Mr. Stone and Reginald watched as Heather systematically tore apart each trooper that came at her.
“She’s quite skilled,” Reginald remarked.
“Yes, Reggie, she is,” Mr. Stone responded. “I believe we need to head back to station and re-group. There’s more going on here than we know.”
Chapter Four
General Fitzroy tossed the dataplast report across the room and punched his desk again and again and again until the wood top began to crack.
“Feel better, sir?” Corporal Stephens asked. “I’m sure your desk had it coming.”
“Fuck off, Stephens.”
“Yes, sir.”
Fitzroy stood up and walked to the bay window overlooking the Suffolk American Military and Intelligence Complex. He watched American troops training in the staging field, newly called up rookies, just kids really, getting the hang of their Shock suits and weaponry. Veteran troopers milled about, offering them pointers, sparring, giving the rookies shit when needed. Fitzroy bent down and retrieved the report.
“Ghosts are one thing,” Fitzroy said. “We have plenty of those off the books. That’s the fucking point of Ghosts. But a Vessel? First I’ve heard of it.”
“Me too, sir,” Stephens responded. “You want me to get Colonel Masterson, sir? The report indicates he signed off on the project.”
“No, Corporal, that isn’t necessary.”
Stephens cocked his head for a moment, then nodded. “Sir, I have Prime Minister Lane on the com. Shall I put her through?”
“Been waiting for this call,” Fitzroy sighed. “Yeah, put her through.” He walked slowly back to his desk.
“Yes, sir. The PM is on channel 135.”
“Thank you, Corporal. Dismissed.”
The Corporal saluted, nodded, turned about face and left the office. General Fitzroy took a deep breath and activated his com. “Madame Prime Minister, I am glad you called. I’ve been going over the Gramercy report and-…”
“I called you General and I need you to listen,” Prime Minister Lane said, her voice harsh and abrupt. “I don’t know what you Americans are playing at, but an act of deceit like this will not be tolerated! You are to order all of your community embedded Family Combat Units back to your base and remain there until the King has had a chance to consult with Parliament and the League of Monarchies! Do not think this will go unpunished!”
The General played the words over in his head several times before responding. “I’m sorry, Madame Prime Minister, but I don’t have a good goddamn idea what you are talking about,” he said, pressing the summons button for Corporal Stephens. “I can assure you that I did not have knowledge of an unregistered American. In fact, I am beginning to think the LOMSD has their facts wrong and this entire—”
“Do not lecture me on who has their facts wrong and who doesn’t, General!” Prime Minister Lane shouted. “Until this matter is cleared up, I expect, and the King expects, full cooperation. There is an LOMSD team being dispatched to your base. They will be allowed access to any and all information they deem necessary to their investigation. Any resistance from you, General, could mean the revocation of your Sanctuary status by the King and the expulsion of all Americans from the United Kingdom! Am I clear?”
Corporal Stephens burst into the office, waving frantically.
“I understand, Prime Minister,” General Fitzroy answered through gritted teeth. He placed the com on mute. “What, Corporal?!?”
“Sir, I have reports of Family Combat Units being found executed in their homes!” Stephens exclaimed. “All Units had special data Techs among them, sir.”
The General activated his com once again. “I am sorry about that, Prime Minister, but new developments have come to light. Are you aware that several Family Units tasked with data Techs have been reported executed?”
There was silence on the other end for a moment. “I wasn’t aware of that, General. I am sorry for the losses.”
The General narrowed his eyes. “Sorry for the losses? Prime Minister Lane, I believe you are keeping something from me. Now, I will welcome the LOMSD investigators when they get here. And I will make sure they are assisted within reason.”
“General Fitzroy!” the Prime Minister shouted. “You will comply with my order or there will be serious, permanent consequences!”
The General laughed. “I agree with you the
re, Prime Minister, but I warn you not to start something you cannot finish. I certainly hope your office hasn’t had anything to do with the attacks on American FCUs. That would be unfortunate. Good day, Prime Minister.” He disconnected the com. “Now I want to speak to Colonel Masterson! Get his Ghost ass in here!”
***
Colonel Richard “Blue” Masterson watched the rookies struggle with the BC, their jack points still not used to full integration. The skin around the points was raw and pink and many of the rookies dropped their Shock suits before even getting the first point to connect.
“Come on you fucking wimps!” he shouted. “Everyone one of you is a disgrace to the American name! We invented biochrome! We invented jack points! We are born to do this! You think your poor mothers endured months of fetal genetic manipulation so you can act like bigger pussies than the ones you came out of? FUCK NO! Now fucking connect and blow some goddamn shit up!”
“But, sir, it hurts!” one of the rookies called out.
“Who fucking said that?” Blue screamed. “Which one of you wasted eggs had the mother fucking balls to say that?”
No one responded.
“That’s what I fucking thought! Yes, it’s going to fucking hurt! In fact, it’ll hurt every time you connect with your Shock suit. This is adaptable armor that responds to your genetic code and is controlled by drilling tiny, little fucking spikes into those bloody holes all over your body! Does any part of that process sound like it won’t fucking hurt? Now, the next mother fucking shitbag that complains will have a jack point inserted into their ass by me personally! Do you under-fucking-stand?”
“SIR, YES SIR!” the rookies yelled, doubling their efforts.
“Colonel Masterson?” Corporal Stephens’s voice called over his com. “General Fitzroy would like to see you ASAP.”
Masterson growled, then stared down each rookie until they couldn’t keep eye contact. “I’ll be right up,” he finally responded. “You fucking pussies better be suited up and already blasting shit to fucking kingdom come by the time I get back! If any one of you cannot hit a target at fifty yards then you all will fucking sleep in those things! Do you understand?”