by Avatar, The Eurostar and GoozX
The EPS:
Edulcore Ciccioto had taken out the guards, making it a straight shot for John Doe to get down to the lowest levels of the containment block. He ran to the end of the hall where the ventilation shaft ended and pushed the button for the freight elevator. He looked over his right shoulder to see a security camera staring him in the face. He hoped I.G.O.R. had properly convinced all the security measures in the compound to transmit false data, or he would have more to deal with than he planned, and that would take extra time.
The elevator arrived, carrying two laughing guards with MP5 submachine guns. Their laughter was cut short as their arms swung the guns up to Doe's face and then back down to the floor. Doe stepped into the elevator, pressed the down button, and kicked the headless corpses aside.
"Hey, Johnny, what was the punchline to that one, huh?"
"The damn fool was in radio contact."
"Johnny? You there, man? ... Hey, I think we have a problem in Block E. Get some men down there. Johnny? Hey, Johnny, man, come in... If you're fooling around, the colonel will have your ass, dude."
Doe reached down and grabbed the radio. "Dude? What the hell do you think this is? A surf shop?"
"Johnny? Who the fuck is this, man? Put Johnny on now!"
"I thought that highly trained black ops guards would be more than nineteen years old, and that they would be more used to their comrades' heads being blown apart by a cranky meta who didn't get his nap last night."
"All right, fucker, you're dead, man. We know where you are, and you're dead."
"I was counting on you saying that."
Doe incinerated the radio. His plans had changed slightly, but only in terms of body count. This would take a bit more time. The elevator reached the end of its descent and opened into a dimly lit, cavernous stone room. In the center of the room was a large pit, sunken about twenty feet from the surrounding ring. At either end were elevators such as the one he rode, and three corridoors led off from the upper ledge around the pit.
This was the coliseum. This was where the metahumans were forced to come and fight each other in duels to the death for the amusement of greasy bastards in leather recliners who laughed at the plight of these poor demihumans while having sex with their mistresses.
Doe liked it.
These corridors would be where they kept the strongest of the strong, the champions of the pit. Doe went around the upper ledge to the hallway on the far side of the freight elevator. There had to be times when the spectators called for a battle royale. He needed only to find the proper switch to open all the cages in this hall. Searching the bank of controls, he finally found it in the upper right. Slamming his fist onto the button, he ran to the other corridor and did the same.
By the time the gladiators had run out to the pit area, the guards were pouring in from the third hallway. Doe stood in the center of the pit, waiting for them.
"Hello, everyone. I'm so glad you came to join us. To the metas on my right, this is your chance to defeat your oppressors in open combat. If you win, you'll be free. To the military personnel on my left, these metas want to kill you. If you win, you can live."
Doe jumped toward the ledge, propelling himself with a gust of wind, and when he landed, hurricane-force gales burst from the three corridors, sending all the would-be combatants crashing thirty feet to the pit floor. Growls and grunts came from the gladiators, while injured officers attempted to organize their men.
"Doe, this is Walker. You've strayed from the mission parameters."
"Nice observation, sir."
"Get back--"
Doe shut the radio off. The combat below him had already begun. Gunfire was mixed with screams and grunts. He walked to the edge, making sure that any stray bullets coming his way met with a wall of impossibly thick air. Holding his hands in front of him, he concentrated for a split-second then released. Electric napalm coursed through everyone in the pit, flaying tissue and melting bone. Steel fused to flesh, then both turned to ash. When it was done, Doe tossed his dart gun onto the mound of dust thirty feet below him.
"You all lose."
Making his way back up to the rendezvous point was uneventful. He met with Vidalia Owens and Ciccioto, then all three continued back to the extraction point, where a very unamused Walker was waiting.
"You! Doe, what do you think you were doing? You didn't get a single percent of your quota, and you strayed from mission guidelines. Explain yourself."
Doe grabbed a palm computer from Curie and scanned the list of those the nanites had infected.
"Appears to be a lot of children. Their advanced metabolisms should tell you all you need to know. I really don't think we needed any more. Besides, I think I did you a favor. You're now one step closer to being the only underground metahuman operation in the country."
"Listen here, Doe. I give you orders, and I expect them to be carried out. I can't be undermined by rogue operatives, or the EPS may no longer be a safe place. I can't have my men dishonoring me."
Doe's jaw clenched, and his eyes became hard as steel and sharp as knives. Walker motioned with his arm behind him.
"Turner, show Mr. Doe what I caught."
Turner brought forward a slight man whose head lolled to one side, but all present could detect the oily eyes and black blood from his dart wound.
"It seems this man has developed as a host for the Pathogen. I'm going to study him further, but I thought you would like to see my latest experiment. Isn't he wonderful, Doe?"
"You're just like my father, you bastard. No, on second thought, you couldn't hold a candle to my father. This place is a second-rate operation compared to the Lunar Circle. I dishonored you? What did you expect when you hired an assassin to lead your team? I kill people, and I could kill you."
Walker smiled and answered in a soft voice. "I give you what you want, a safe place, and you give me what I want, a metahuman with the power to play God. I said nothing about letting you lead a squad or even letting you see the light of day again, for that matter. Now shut up, Doe, or do I need Turner to set you straight?"
"Listen, you bumbling fool. I have a name. Since when have you needed Turner to enforce your will? Since when have I not been good enough? Why do you need this new one? Are none of us good enough?!"
"No. Perhaps you forget the reason for your existence, John Doe -- to procure enhanced humans for study and use. None of you will be good enough until you eradicate metahumans from the planet."
"Maybe I'll just start with you instead. And my name is Cole Lochlan, you bastard."
Cole advanced toward Walker, but Turner moved to intercept by sending an electric blast from his eyes. Cole brought his hand up, dissipating the charge, and then grabbed Turner around the eyes, squeezing his temples between his thumb and forefinger.
"Stay out of this, Turner."
Lochlan turned his head toward Walker, who looked surprised but not afraid. As he did so, Turner grabbed his arm and flung him around into the wall, cracking the stone. Cole used the falling debris as a weapon, blowing chunks of stone and mortar into Turner with gusts of wind. When he spun away from the wall, Turner caught him with a swift kick to the ribs. Cole rolled with the impact, coming to his knees about four yards away from the rushing Agent Turner. At the last second, he froze the air around him into a swirling field of icy knives. As Turner ran into this trap, Cole dived toward a momentarily stunned Walker and pressed a button on his belt. Turned doubled over in pain and began to bleed profusely from his mouth, ears, and nose. When the pain had stopped, he propped himself on all fours.
"Just like last time, using something from outside the field of play to win."
"I win any way necessary."
Walker smirked. "So do I."
He pressed a different button on his belt and was visibly upset when nothing happened. He began frantically pressing it, but to no avail. Cole stared at Walker when a realization dawned on him.
"Oh, this is where I fall down."
Lochlan made a mockery of falling to his knees and screaming in pain before doubling over in laughter instead. He stood up and unhooked the collar from his neck.
"How long...?"
"I figured this out after about the first night. And as there is no reason to continue the charade..." Cole threw the collar far behind him, where everyone heard it snap upon the stone.
"I admit I misjudged you... Cole, was it? You're more resourceful than imagined, and you were an assassin, you say? For something called the Lunar Circle?"
Cole ignored him. "Mr. Walker, sir. I know this is your operation, but in lieu of killing you now, I'll take your word of honor as a scientist. The EPS is yours, but the missions are mine. I'll be the warden of this little prison you have going. All decisions in the field will be made by me, and anyone not willing to agree to that can operate in other areas at your discretion." At this he shot glances to Turner and Ciccioto.
Walker folded his hands. "I don't believe that will be too much of a problem. Curie?"
Dr. Walter Curie pulled a rather large weapon from his lab coat and approached Lochlan from the back. He fired it at point blank range, and Cole crumpled to the ground.
Walker turned around. "Well, now that's over... boy had a decent idea though. I.G.O.R., activate doorway."
In his half-conscious state, Cole was just able to think, Damn, I should have taken that swim...
Edulcore Cicciotto:
When we materialize back at the headquarters, somewhere beneath Chicago, I think I have still the expression of amazement on my face that Doe (or should I say Cole?) has caused.
I couldn't have hoped for anything better to cover my innocent cheat, and also to have Vidalia grow even more close to me. What Doe has done should have evidently scared her, and she's been holding my hand since we departed from the Side-Show.
Anyway, what happened confirms my thoughts. Walker's team is ready to explode at any moment from now. Maybe not all is lost. The light of hope, which for me has been off for long, now is burning again, even if very dim. I must be ready. I'm sure I will hold my son. I don't know if it will be sooner, or later, tomorrow or a year from now.
But I will.
The metal walls reflect a distorted image of Vidalia Owens and Ciccioto, their hands locked together. Turner notices this out of the corner of his left eye. He laughs to himself for a moment, thinking, The hero really has no clue what he is getting into, before wiping a mix of dust and ash from his coat.
His palms are black, his arm bruised. But this fact does not upset him, not in the least.
He licks the side of his lip, cleaning off the dried blood, which was a gift from his quarrel with the man once known as Doe. The taste, as disgusting as it might be, makes Turner smile, as only he could.
Blood. Life. Reality.
Turner quickly descended a level into one of the many kitchens. The doors hit their stoppers with a thud as Turner rushed into the room. He pulled a drawer open, almost taking it off its hinges. He had found his goal, a sharp knife.
He threw his old fedora on a counter and removed his coat. He rolled up his left sleeve and tightly gripped the knife in his right hand.
Turner dug the knife into his arm and sliced across his shoulder, stopping before the muscle. He does the same in the opposite direction, creating an X that is slowly hidden under a layer of blood.
He grits his teeth at the pain. His eyes light up with life. For the first time in a long time, he has felt something, anything.