by Chewy Walrus
EPS headquarters, Chicago:
Dr. Charles Walker had been slightly taken aback when Will Tweed had returned with the news of Vidalia Owens' death, but he had not let his shock (and, yes, even his slight remorse) show. A leader must be strong, even when his inner feelings wished him weak.
Charles had never loved Vidalia, this was true. However, he had been fooled into thinking he had, and that coercion on the part of Ms. Owens had, even still, led to a great deal of emotions as they later worked together. It had pained him, in the hidden part of him, when he commanded Vidalia to seduce Edulcore Cicciotto in order to keep him in the Sanction. It was as if he were willingly whoring out a part of himself.
Still, Walker had raised his head high, chalking up every compromising feeling to the empathic nature of Vidalia's power. He found himself doing it even still, despite the fact that Vidalia was now dead. A part of himself kept reminding him that she was dead and no longer had any sway over him, but he chose now to ignore it, refusing to believe that he had ever truly had feelings for her.
As this war of emotions took its toll on his mind, another realization pushed itself through: they had to dispose of the body.
The EPS was still, as it had always been, an undercover operation. Anything that could have exposed the team to whatever enemies might surround them would surely have been devastating to the life of the team. Cicciotto's allies could come looking for him. Dr. Zachary Knell could saunter back, a hunger in his soul for revenge against the three members of the group that had wronged him. The government could try to reclaim control. A group of disgruntled metahuman insurrectionists could declare war on the group that destroyed their dream.
This cannot be, Walker thought as he sat at his desk, staring past the three men who sat before him.
Dr. Walter Curie sat brooding, his chin resting defiantly on his right fist. Agent Turner's fingers were steepled before him as his eyes stayed fixed on Walker. William Tweed looked remorseful and sullen, but still he sat, awaiting his leader's orders.
"We now have two objectives, gentlemen," Walker said after a long silence, addressing the men before him. "We must end this insurrection before any more human lives are lost, and we must find a way to dispose of Ms. Owens' body. We cannot allow her to be found when the clean-up crew comes to collect."
"Two objectives?" Turner asked, arching his eyebrow. "Why not accomplish both at the same time?"
"Two birds with one stone," Curie chimed in stoically, staring off into the empty space next to his chair, yet wholly alert.
"It's possible," Walker surmised, stroking his chin. "Yes," he said, after a bit of thought. "Yes. I'd say that's a marvelous idea."
"How do we do it?" Tweed asked, looking up to Walker.
"What did you say was the purpose of that airplane at O'Hare?" Walker questioned, raising his eyebrow and pointing a finger at Tweed.
"To... uh... to transport metahumans across the globe..." Tweed answered slowly.
"So, we blow it up," Turner said, smiling.
"With all the metas and Vidalia inside," Curie mumbled, still staring off into space.
"Exactly," Walker said, grinning at Tweed.
"But, how?" the mob boss asked, his remorse not allowing him to think clearly.
"Leave that to me," Walker said, smiling. "All you need to do is smuggle Vidalia onto that plane while the metahuman renegades are boarding."
"That's it?" Tweed asked.
"That's it," Walker said, motioning for Tweed to carry out his order. "Have I.G.O.R. transport you there via doorway."
"All right," Tweed said, shrugging as he left the room.
As he left, Turner placed his forefinger to his head and held up his thumb like a gun and pantomimed shooting himself. "BAM!"
"What on earth was that for?" Walker asked, looking at the man, unimpressed.
"I know how you plan to detonate that plane," Turner said, still smiling. "Those little chips in our brains are self-destructive, aren't they?"
Walker raised his eyebrow, partially out of surprise and partially out of respect. "Quite astute, Agent Turner," Walker said, his lips curling into a lopsided grin. "But don't allow your knowledge to get the best of you."
Turner's expression changed from a broad smile to a knowing smirk and then to a blank expression. Shaking his head, he turned to Walker again. "Where's Cole?"
"I've sent Lochlan on a special mission," Walker said. "A bit of retrieval. Could take him an hour, could take him a month. All I know is, when he returns, I'll have another piece of the metagenetic puzzle in my possession."
"If you say so," Turner said, rolling his eyes.
"I'll commence work on Operation: Endgame, doctor," Curie said suddenly, rising from his seat and exiting the room.
"Why don't you... assist, Dr. Curie, Agent Turner?" Walker asked, smiling as he beckoned the ultimate agent to follow.
Turner, saying nothing, merely pulled his fedora down over his eyes, pulled his trenchcoat tightly around his body and walked out.
"Now," Walker said to himself, standing and smoothing the wrinkles in his bodysuit, "there is someone I'm just dying to meet."