by The Eurostar and Chewy Walrus
Meanwhile, at the EPS headquarters in Chicago:
Edulcore Cicciotto:
"Don't go near the new guy, or you know what will happen!" said Walker. He can't use one of his collars on me, but he doesn't need it to keep me in chains. Every now and then, he comes to my compound holding my son and heavily rubbing his neck, with the most evil smile I ever saw on a man.
So even if there is no way this fortress can keep me imprisoned, I am a prisoner of my love for a little kid that happens to share my complete genetic imprint. My clone. Me, in a way. In reality, a baby so cute that I can't help but think of him as my SON.
These days, while going through an infinite series of tests and routines of training, I nearly never think about the friends I have left on the other side of the Atlantic, nor about Tempus of the Time Trust, who promised me happiness. My mind is set only over the way to free myself and the kid. But although I spend much of my free time wandering along this underground building in air form, completely undetectable even from the most sophisticated apparel of Walker -- because when I turn into hydrogen I am just that, like all the other hydrogen in the air -- well, in the months I have spent here, I have found no absolute way out.
Before my so-called death, it would have been easy. I could then turn intangible and make people in contact with me turn intangible as well. Those days, I could have taken my kid from his hands and simply run away to the surface and far, far away, where Walker would never find me.
Now this is not possible. I can turn into gas, but I can't make other people turn into gas.
So there is no way I can hold my son without being solid, and the instant I turn solid, my colleagues in the EPS are ready to stop me. Especially John Doe, the one who seems to have magic powers. I doubt he would be a match for M'xy, and surely he wouldn't have been for the old Naecken (for the new one, who knows?), but surely he seems created to fight me. He has powers that give him total control over nature, over the elements... exactly what I am now. There is no way I can leave this place alive.
So, my only goal for the moment is to be able to hold, for the first time, my son. I have never actually touched him.
I saw him for the first time in a photo in the hands of Dr. Quantos a lifetime ago in Mandelovia. Then for a moment in Thunder City at the TriVex Corporation in the hands of Knell, just moments before we leveled the building. And then here, in the hands of Walker that first time when I awoke after having tried to sneak inside the building undetected. How naive I was.
Since then, I have seen him many times, often nearly every day. Sometimes it is Walker who walks to my cell with the kid to reassert his power over me. Mostly it is I who turns into air and wind to travel to his place and watch him unseen.
Usually he is in custody of Vidalia. Vidalia Owens, the girl of the EPS team. A true femme fatale, with piercing green eyes that seem to read right inside your mind. And maybe she is really a telepath, I don't know. In truth, I don't know much of any member of the team, and sometimes I wonder how I am supposed to work alongside people I don't know. Secrets, distrust... how different this team is from the one I come from.
Anyway, I was talking about Vidalia. She is taking care of my child. She keeps him in her quarters, which looks like a greenhouse. She is a plant lover and dresses always in green.
To finally hold my baby, I came to the conclusion that I must work on her. For weeks I tried to talk to her, but she never even listened to me.
Some days ago, she arrived in a bad condition. It was her fight with the new guy, Stephen Richards, the one with the Japanese sword, the one I must not talk to, that left her in those conditions. Her defenses were not raised, and finally I could talk with the girl.
Basically, I didn't learn anything about her, her past, or her powers, but I was able to make first contact. We talked about plants and flowers. Well, I talked mostly about vegetables, the only kinds of plants I really know, but that amused her, somehow relieved her. She smiled, and then she laughed.
It's funny to think how the first time I saw the woman, back in the Zoo many months ago, I felt an instinctive dislike for her, while now I was feeling a strong attraction for her as the talk went on. Usually I am able to judge a person at first sight. This is the first time I have failed so miserably.
Just when I was going to get in touch with her, she had to leave, called by the voice of Walker coming from the communicator on her collar.
"Wait! Can I ask you a thing? Next time, would you bring me a seed of your favorite flower?" I said. She whispered a soft yes.
And now, many days later, she is here, in front of the open gate of my compound, with a very small seed in the middle of his open hand. "Here's the seed. Now, would you explain what...?"
"Shhh!" I whisper, putting my index finger in front of my closed mouth.
I take carefully the seed between my thumb and index, and put it in the middle of the other hand. Then I close the fingers over it, and change the hand into soft, brown earth. I pump water, nitrogen, phosphorus, magnesium, and many other minerals to the seed, raising the temperature and the humidity of the soil around the seed. And it, nurtured perfectly, germinates in a matter of seconds. Out of my fist come a little stem, with two minuscule leaves, but soon the stem grows, many other leaves appear, and finally a bud opens, petals stretch out, and the flower finally appears.
Vidalia marvels at the sight.
"It's for you," I say, handing her the plant. She takes it and runs away.
The flower was a daisy, a simple, yet beautiful daisy.
Steve Richards sat in a large room filled with tables and chairs. A small tray of food sat before him on the table, but Steve was not hungry. Picking at his food little by little, he begrudgingly brought a forkful of mashed potatoes to his mouth, gravy dripping slowly through the slots of the fork.
As Steve returned his fork to the tray, the door opened, and two men walked in. One Steve recognized immediately. He was the one who had taken his katana away. The other was not nearly as intimidating, but still seemed very smart, perhaps too smart for his own good.
"Ah, Mr. Richards, just the man I was looking for!" Dr. Charles Elias Walker said, smiling a lopsided, condescending smile. "How are you this fine day?"
"Been better," Richards muttered, picking at his food.
"Now, now, Mr. Richards, it's not polite to play with your food," Walker said, sliding into the seat across from Steve and motioning for his accomplice to do the same. Steve looked inquisitively at the balding man in orange taking a seat beside Walker.
"Ah, where are my manners?" Walker said playfully, slapping his forehead. "Allow me to introduce to you my esteemed colleague, former head of metagene research at the late TriVex Corporation in Thunder City, Dr. Walter Curie."
"Hey," Steve said, unenthusiastically raising his fork.
"Greetings," Curie said excitedly, a hungry gleam in his eye.
"Now, Mr. Richards, I just wanted to bring my colleague in to tell you how excited I am to bring you into our elite little cadre here. Dr. Curie would like to ask you a few... questions."
"Questions?" Steve asked, looking from Curie to Walker. "What kind of questions?"
"Consider it your entrance exam," Walker said smugly.
"Firstly," Curie began immediately, "how long have you had this... magnificent sword?"
"Number of years ago. After my dad died."
"Interesting," Curie said, jotting a little note on a small memo pad. "And where did he get it?"
"From a friend," Richards said with a shrug.
"I see," Curie said. "And how long have you had these... abilities?"
"Ever since I've had the sword," Steve said, taking another mouthful of mashed potatoes.
"Could you make your answers a bit more specific, Mr. Richards?" Curie said, putting his pad onto the table, visibly perturbed.
"No."
Curie's face became red as the man stood up suddenly and exited the room. Walker followed Curie out with his eyes, then redirected his gaze to Richards.
"That was brave, kid," Walker said, leaning in closer to Richards' face. "Tomorrow, three A.M., training room. I'll bring your sword. You bring yourself. Clear?"
"Crystal."
With that, Walker stood, exiting the room. Steve Richards was once again alone.