by Jacob Gowans
“Why does he keep saying that?” Anna asked.
Fabian itched his ear and cleared his throat. “That’s the goal we fixate them on, the H.A.M.M.E.R. subjects. We want them to believe that downstairs is happiness, achievement, a sense of victory and accomplishment. Whenever one of the students graduates H.A.M.M.E.R., we make a very big deal out of it to remind the others that success is attainable.”
“How many subjects are currently in each program?” Byron asked.
“One hundred and twelve in H.A.M.M.E.R. We don’t consider S.H.I.E.L.D. participants to be subjects. They are agents or agents-in-training.”
“Do they have field experience?” Anna asked.
“Limited. Shall we go down and have a look?” Fabian asked eagerly.
As they filed into the elevator, Anna rounded on Fabian. “You never answered the question about S.H.I.E.L.D. How many are there?”
Fabian cleared his throat again. “Isn’t all that information available to you?”
“It should be available to you at all times,” Byron answered, tapping his head with his tablet stylus. “You are the Program Director.”
“We have fifty-two participants in S.H.I.E.L.D.”
“What is the breakdown by anomaly?” Sammy asked.
For a moment Sammy thought he saw a hint of insolence on the director’s face before he responded. “Eighteen with Anomaly Eleven. Twelve with Anomaly Fourteen. And the rest are Anomaly Fifteen.”
“In the reports I read,” Kawai stated, “the anomalies call themselves by the NWG nicknames. Why is that?”
“Ah, yes.” A deep chuckle came from the director. “I was only a specialist here at the time when the first participants entered the S.H.I.E.L.D. level. The Program Director at the time was a high-ranking military defector from Quebec. He mentioned the names to the students. They came up with the idea for Psion Dark, Tensai Dark, and Ultra Dark. They thought themselves quite clever. We, the directors of the program, refer to them all as just ‘agents.’”
When the elevator doors opened, Sammy stepped out into a hallway of black paneling on the ceiling, walls, and floor with white highlights.
“Why such a dearth of color?” Kawai asked.
“Keeps them focused,” Fabian said. “This way please. The Dark agents are in the middle of an exercise right now. I think you’ll find witnessing it to be far more fascinating than reading about it in my reports.”
Fabian led the group to an observation room with a sprawling glass window above what reminded Sammy very much of the Arena back at Psion Beta headquarters, only far more deadly. The shirtless males wore black form-fitting swim trunks that did not reach halfway down their thighs, and the females’ shockingly revealing attire made Sammy want to look away in embarrassment. Fabian drank in the sight with his eyes, his eerie, lecherous grin returning as he cleared his throat multiple times.
“Who designed the uniforms?” Anna asked, not bothering to conceal the venom in her voice. “A thirteen-year-old boy?”
Fabian chuckled again. Something in his laugh told Sammy exactly who’d designed the uniforms and why. Worse, Fabian’s eyes followed the girls around the room, his lip curling and uncurling, his tongue occasionally flickering out to wet his lips. It made Sammy’s stomach roil. “Their bodies are indeed specimens, aren’t they?” Then he leaned close to Sammy and said, “If any of them catch your eye, I can arrange a more intimate introduction.”
Ignoring the desire to splatter Fabian’s brains all over the observation glass, Sammy turned his attention to their activities, mimicking the signs of lust Fabian displayed. In a low voice he asked, “Are the female agents trained in other activities as well? Perhaps things more … domestic?”
Fabian raised his eyebrows and leaned in even closer. “Trained quite well. I sample them, even take a personal hand in their education. And I find them all to be, in a word, exquisite.”
Sammy chuckled in a deep, primal growl. “I bet.” Then, in his normal voice, said, “Describe to me what is happening.”
“This is what we call the Tri-Skill Challenge. The three teams do not interact, but race to complete Anomaly-specific tasks. The Tensais must manage multiple problems at once, forcing them to delegate, interact socially, and cooperate. Tensais struggle with such social dilemmas. Currently they have to diffuse a bomb, program a device to remotely disable a security system, and design an underwater flotation craft using a select number of resources.”
Sammy watched the Tensais work together, or try to, pointing and screaming and one even pulling his own hair. It might have been silly if not under the present circumstances. His leg throbbed again as he thought of his own imprisonment and the things he was forced to experience.
“Most people we bring to the showroom enjoy the Psions,” the director stated. “They find their abilities astonishing. It reminds them of comic books … superheroes. The four of you seem unimpressed.”
Sammy didn’t like the edge in Fabian’s voice. He looked at the director, but found Judy staring and smiling at him with that same nervousness as before.
Byron spoke. “We’re well briefed. I admit it is fascinating, but nothing outside the realms of science. Now if those Zions start flying—”
“Psions,” Fabian corrected. “With an s sound.”
“My mistake,” Byron said, even managing to blush a little.
“The Psions’ exercises are quite lethal,” Judy added in a breathless tone, her smile a little too wide on her face. “Projectile attacks from multiple angles force them to use creativity and elevation to defend themselves. It coerces them to work as a single unit and protect one another. Then we add floor sections that move about randomly, some abstract sound bursts, and things can get tricky very quickly.”
Sammy wondered if this type of training worked better than what Byron had done at Beta headquarters. Then he noticed something odd. One of the Psions was bleeding.
“The holograms are harmless, aren’t they?” he asked.
“Oh, of course they’re not. Without the sense of danger, they don’t push themselves. Exercises become too routine. But the agents aren’t allowed to participate in these exercises until they’re deemed ready. The danger level gradually grows with their experience. The ones you are watching now are our most talented.”
Sammy’s attention turned to the Ultras. One of them caught his eye. A girl, no older than him, probably younger. Her dark hair and eyes seemed so familiar to him, though he knew he had never met her. “And the Anomaly Fifteens? What about them?”
“The Ultras’ challenge is vastly different,” Judy continued, her eyes lingering on Sammy in the same creepy way that Fabian watched the female agents. “Appearing and disappearing targets, vanishing floor tiles, and random assaults from deadly holograms. Keeps them on their toes, forces them to multitask, tests their accuracy in action. Ultras are the most vulnerable agents, but also the most deadly. Such a beautiful paradox.”
Sammy had seen enough, but he didn’t want to leave quite yet. He needed to know what it was about that Ultra drew him to her. As they walked around the S.H.I.E.L.D. area, Sammy waited until he got a chance to speak to Fabian in private, and said, “You mentioned you can arrange … informal visits with the agents.”
Fabian’s oily grin returned and he cleared his throat. “I can. Of course, if I arrange something I expect a favor in return.”
Sammy fixed him with an easy stare. “If it’s my evaluation you’re worried about, let me set your mind at ease. Do this for me and you’ll receive my highest praise in the reports. Each of us gets an itch scratched.”
“Good. Good. Which one caught your eye?”
“An Ultra. The younger girl.”
Fabian winked and tapped the side of his nose. “You are a devil, aren’t you? Not only is she a rising star in their ranks, but she’s well trained, I assure you. Are you staying in town tonight? If so, give me the address, and I’ll send her to you.”
Sammy made the arrangement. He’d never fel
t more like a steaming heap of filth than in that moment. Hours later, Sammy’s team left the underground facility for the day and waited on the curb for Jeffie to retrieve them. While waiting, Sammy informed his team of the deal he had made.
“That is disgusting,” Kawai said.
“Yes, but it gets us what we want much sooner than we hoped,” Commander Byron said. “Good work, Samuel.”
Kawai shook her head, a mask of revulsion on her face. “He kept undressing me with his eyes.”
“So what’s the plan?” Li asked. “Grab the girl as soon as she appears at the door and take her home?”
Sammy shook his head. “We have to make sure it’s not a trap.”
“How could it be a trap?” Li asked. “If they knew we were spies, we’d be dead. They had fifty opportunities to kill us.”
“Kill five spies, get five dead bodies. Track the spies to their hideout, get hundreds more. There was something off about those people … especially Judy. She was nervous. Beyond nervous. Almost paranoid.”
“Maybe the fact that they are all freaking psychos is what tripped your sensors,” Kawai suggested. “I can’t believe what I saw.”
“All the more reason to pull this off tonight,” Anna said. “Do this right and we won’t need to go back tomorrow and finish our evaluation.”
Jeffie pulled up to the curb in the SUV. As Sammy climbed in and removed his nose filters, he said, “Nothing would please me more.”
“How did it go?” Jeffie asked.
“Ask Sammy,” Li said with a grin.
“Why? What happened, Sammy?”
“Sammy has a hot date tonight.”
“Is it a date?” Anna asked. “More like a quick and dirty—”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Sammy said.
The team made preparations as soon as they reached the hotel. Since they’d planned on staying in Mexico City for two to three days for the evaluation, they had booked decent lodgings downtown. Commander Byron spoke with Sammy as they arranged the room in preparation for the Dark agent’s arrival. “She could attack you at any moment. Keep that in the back of your mind.”
It’s always in the front of my mind, Sammy thought.
“One thing I regret not doing in Beta training is teaching you how to fight against Ultras.”
“What do you mean?”
“Psions are excellent against Thirteens and Aegis, but Ultras? They have different strengths and weaknesses than Thirteens. Have you ever fought an Anomaly Fifteen?”
Sammy thought about that and shook his head. “I punched Toad once or twice on the way to Wichita. Does that count?”
“Be careful, Samuel.”
Room service had been ordered for two: a veal pasta, bread, mushrooms, asparagus, and wine. Sammy dimmed the lights and put on soft music, things Anna and Byron had instructed him to do. He wore a gray three-piece suit with a dark blue shirt, the collar unbuttoned. Kawai and Jeffie had dressed him, grinning as they did so.
“I’m glad you two think this is so funny,” Sammy moaned.
“Your first date.” Jeffie giggled. “And it’s a blind one.”
That was an interesting thought as Sammy reflected on it. He had never spent any money on Jeffie, never taken her out to eat, nor gone to the theater or a concert. He’d never taken anyone out before, despite all the times he’d hung out with Jeffie.
“Some day,” he told her, “when this is all over. We’re going to go out on a real date. Dinner and dancing. You can dance and I’ll dine.”
Jeffie kissed his nose. “I like the sound of that.”
“You look really good,” Kawai said. “Does Jeffie tell you every day how good looking you are?”
“I told him how hot he looked this morning,” Jeffie stated. “Now, Sammy, you’re not exactly the most suave guy in the universe. How do you plan on going about this?”
“What do you mean?”
Anna rolled her eyes. “What’s your angle?” she asked. “Judging from Director Pedophile’s behavior, these agents are used to being pimped out for favors.”
“That’s so messed up,” Jeffie said.
“We can’t worry about that right now,” Anna said. “Our top priority is for her to receive the anti-solution so she can’t be traced and doesn’t blow up when we take her back to Glasgow.”
“And me having a … suave personality will do what?”
“It’ll relax her,” Jeffie said.
“Get her to trust you,” Kawai added.
“All right, ladies,” Anna said, “shut up for a second so I can talk to Sammy. We’re dealing with a girl who’s been brainwashed, hyper-sexualized, and traumatized through her training.”
“So I need to remember I’m walking on eggshells,” Sammy said.
“No, I’m saying you’re walking over eggs that have been trampled, scrambled, fried, and turned into soup. You need to be on your toes, watch for signs of … anything. Improvise and still be delicate. And above all, she needs—”
“To get the anti-solution,” Sammy finished, checking to make sure the table was in the right place in relation to the chandelier hanging above him. “I know.”
“No,” Anna said as she handed him nose filters to put back in. “Well, yes, but she needs to feel safe. You need to talk softly and truthfully. Don’t be afraid to show your natural self. And certainly don’t try to pretend to be someone you aren’t.”
At ten minutes before the scheduled time, Anna whisked everyone out of the room. Jeffie gave Sammy a quick kiss. “Be safe. And … you know …”
“Don’t worry,” Sammy assured her. “I promise that I’ll keep my word.”
“Any questions?” Anna asked before she left. “Feeling all right?”
Sammy shrugged. “I’ll be fine. Just update me as soon as you know if she’s bugged or tagged.”
Five minutes later, the hotel staff brought the food. Steam rose off the covered dishes, the glasses were chilled, and once Sammy got the music playing, the ambience transformed into something serene and classy. He sat on his bed and clasped his hands, then got up and went onto the balcony. A light breeze brushed his face while the sounds of Mexico City floated up and promenaded around his ears. He stared down to the streets. Not a year ago, Sammy had gazed at the city lights of Orlando and wondered how different his life would be had he not been born with an anomaly. Now he didn’t care.
I’m in a hotel room pretending to be a john for a fifteen-year-old girl, which is somehow going to help end a war.
Almost right on cue, a knock came at the door. Sammy closed off the balcony and peered out his peephole. A girl stood outside wearing a single-strapped gold cocktail dress showing off ample thigh and cleavage. In her left hand was a small purse, as gold and sparkling as her dress. Her hair and makeup looked professionally done, and she stared into the peephole as though she could see Sammy through it.
Her eyes were brown with gold flakes, wide and inviting. He had to admit she was extremely pretty. But also somehow familiar.
Where have I seen you before? When he didn’t answer right away, she waited patiently rather than knocking again. Finally he unlatched the lock and opened the door.
“Hello,” he said, giving her his best smile.
She smiled back, part sweet and part sultry. Her eyes fixed on his in that same welcoming stare he’d seen through the peephole. “Hi, I’m Jane.” They shook hands. “It’s a pleasure. May I come in?” She spoke with just a touch of an accent. It was slight enough that he couldn’t place it, and her voice sounded much older than fifteen. There was a maturity to it that reminded Sammy of himself.
“May I?” he asked, pointing to her handbag.
Jane handed it over as if she’d been expecting the request. From his coat pocket, he produced a scanner, which he used on every item in her bag, including the bag itself. Once he was satisfied everything was clean, he stepped aside and let her pass. She stood several centimeters shorter than he, but walked with a grace and polish that made him think of
ballet dancers. He watched her eyes as she entered, how they scanned the entire room at once, noting, thinking, perhaps even planning.
Maybe she’s always like this. Maybe they train her to be paranoid.
No. There’s something more. She’s wary … on her guard.
Sammy offered her his arm as he walked her across the room. Her skin was soft and her grip firm. “Call me Jared,” he told her.
“Jared,” she said. “I like that name.”
“Are you hungry?”
“I am.” Her gaze traveled over the food. “Is all that for us?”
Sammy laughed. “I hope you brought an appetite.” He pulled her chair out, waited for her to sit, and then pushed the chair back in for her. It was placed directly underneath the chandelier where another, more powerful, scanner had been concealed. After she placed her napkin on her lap, he served her salad and offered her wine.
“I don’t drink,” she said. He saw a knowing glint in her eye that told him the choice had nothing to do with her age or morals, and everything to do with trust and wanting to keep her wits about her.
Sammy set the wine back in the ice. “Neither do I.”
They ate a few bites of salad in silence before Sammy spoke again, “So … do you prefer to talk—um—make conversation?”
Jane hid a smile behind her napkin, which she used to dab her lips. Again the thought struck Sammy how maturely she behaved. “Don’t be nervous. Tonight will be enjoyable for both of us.”
“I hope so.” Sammy knew in an instant he’d answered too quickly. “I just didn’t want to make you uncom—”
“First time with someone you just met?”
Sammy tried to pretend he was someone else, someone charming and witty. What would such a person say? No … Anna told you not to do that.
“First time with someone so beautiful,” he finally decided, and found the response surprisingly satisfactory.