by Chewy Walrus
Chicago, MCCA Procurement Division Headquarters, EPS branch:
Dr. Charles Walker sat pensively drumming the keys on his keyboard, looking at the DNA schematic before him. This is just too weird, he thought to himself as he continued. Pressing a key on a nearby recorder, he began his latest journal entry.
"EPS leader's log, supplemental entry. The new meta we picked up not two days ago is a conundrum, indeed... and that's putting things mildly. The first words out of his lips were 'Where am I?' When we refused to tell him, the young man then proceeded to cause the earth to shake, leading us to believe that his metagene allows for some telekinetic control over the Earth's tectonic plates. After sedating him, we were able to procure a DNA sample, which was much more complex than we had anticipated. It seems that his metagene is concentrated, making him what we believe to be not just an Alpha Class meta, but an Alpha Plus, possibly the most powerful metahuman known to man.
"What is more disturbing is that I.G.O.R. has been, as of yet, unable to ascertain any information of this... metahuman avatar. Genetic records have nothing on him. He has no identification or any way of us learning anything about him. It will be an incredibly difficult task getting information from him, as he will have to learn to gain our trust, which means that we will have to become trustworthy. An incredibly difficult task, considering our present situation. Once the meta comes out of his catatonia, I shall attempt to procure the information I need from him and introduce him to the rest of the team -- the Enhanced Procurement Sanction. The EPS."
Walker clicked off the recorder and went back to studying the DNA schematic. Damn, this guy's powerful, Walker thought to himself, rubbing his temples with the palms of his hands. We may need a back-up, just in case he's not... "willing" to ally himself with us.
"I.G.O.R., initiate search program," Walker called out, as a faceless head appeared on his monitor.
"Please specify the nature of your search," the emotionless voice of I.G.O.R. stated from the screen before him.
"Metahuman," Walker said, getting ready to narrow his search. "Criminal record." Walker paused for a moment, dwelling on the thoughts of the members of his current team. A sneer spread across his lips as the words escaped his lips. "Insane asylum inmate."
"Search initiated," came I.G.O.R.'s unquestioning reply. After little more than ten seconds, the mechanical voice resounded again. "Search completed. Displaying results."
"Excellent," Walker muttered, pressing a name on the screen to review for eventual procurement. "Now, what's the status on our latest procurement?"
"John Doe is an estimated four minutes from awakening. Would you like me to administer more sedative?"
"That's a negative, I.G.O.R. I want to talk to this kid. Have the rest of the team meet in briefing room Alpha. I want to arrange our first 'mission,' of sorts."
"Understood," I.G.O.R. said, his face disappearing from the screen.
Walker rose from his seat, making his way into the infirmary area of the elaborate bunker. As he walked, he passed by rows and rows of housing for his team members, a kitchenette, a recreational/game room, and briefing room Beta. Walking into the infirmary, Walker walked up next to the unconscious form of "John Doe," quickly setting up a force field, making it impossible for him to at least escape his confinement area.
As the man's eyes opened slowly, the dawning realization of where he was and who was staring at him became evident to Walker. Sitting up as hard as he could, the man's head was smacked against the coursing energy blocking him in, slamming his head firmly back onto the bed where he lay. His jaw clenched and muscles visibly tightened.
"Where. Am. I," he asked, repeating his earlier question, fully expecting an answer.
"You're safe," Walker said, staring the man directly in the eye. "That's what this place is... a 'safe house' of sorts."
"Really?" the man's expression softened a bit, but he still looked hardened.
"Yes," Walker said, nodding his head in assent. "However, in exchange for your safety, you are required to do some work for us."
"What sort of work?" he asked, eyes glaring like daggers at him.
"Covert government work," Walker answered honestly. "Our goal is to procure metahumans or metahuman DNA in order to better map and research the metahuman genome."
"Am I one of your 'procurements'?" the bitter young man asked.
"To be totally honest, yes. Yes, you were," Walker answered. "However, we were hoping that we could gain your assistance. Use your metahuman abilities to help us in our endeavor. In return, we will provide you with this safe haven."
The man appeared pensive for a brief period of time. He then propped his head up, being careful not to bump it again and whispered softly, "I agree."
"Excellent," Walker said, bringing down the force field surrounding the man's body. Extending his hand, Walker lifted the man from his bed, bringing him to his feet. "The name's Dr. Charles Walker."
The young man simply nodded, showing no interest in giving his own name. Walker simply shrugged, leading the man into briefing room Alpha. Around the table sat three people, all incredibly different, yet ironically the same. Each wore a one-piece jumpsuit, each a different color, with three letters emblazoned on their right shoulders: EPS, the Enhanced Procurement Sanction. Each had a criminal record, having committed various sundry crimes.
The first member at the table was a larger man, whose dress was totally white, which was, ironically, the color of his hair. He wore over his jumpsuit a tan vest, which complimented him rather nicely. On his head, he wore a wide-brimmed white hat, on his finger, a platinum ring, and in his mouth, a fine Cuban cigar. His name was William Tweed, and he was one of the most notorious crime bosses in Chicago.
Next to him sat a slender beauty, whose long blonde hair was wrapped sensuously around her head. She wore a pale green jumpsuit, which complimented her pale green eyes. Her long red fingernails tapped impatiently on the table as Walker walked in with the new arrival. However, the moment they walked in, her eyes widened, her mouth curled into a smile, and her tongue danced seductively across her lips. Her name was Vidalia Owens, and she was a Chicago prostitute charged with the murder of eleven of her male clients.
The final member of the group sat backward in his chair, so that its back faced the table. His jumpsuit was colored deep navy blue, in order to match the bandana around his head. He was undoubtedly the youngest individual in the EPS, obviously no more than seventeen. He had bizarre stubble growing on his upper lip in a failed attempt to look aged. A nine millimeter was strapped to his leg, the only weapon he'd insisted on keeping. His name was Andy Reynolds, and he had been tried as an adult for gang rape, assault with a deadly weapon, battery, drug dealing, and multiple other crimes.
Each one was a metahuman. Each one had been hand-picked, tested and trained by Walker himself to undergo this important mission. And now, with the added bonus of this new stranger, he had his ace in the hole. He was ready for what needed to happen next. Once his contact got back to him, it would be smooth sailing. He knew his EPS was ready, and he couldn't be happier.