by Captain Sammitch
1000 hours:
Phil was still waiting for Gabi, and there was no telling how long the wait might be. He finished packing his hanging garment bag and headed across the hallway toward the den.
"You weren't going to leave without saying goodbye, were you?"
Phil spun around.
"Fisher."
The FBI agent nodded. "That's me. I suppose my reputation precedes me."
Phil took a step back. "What do you want?"
Fisher held up his hands. "Look at me. No microphones, no hidden cameras, no guns. It's just me." He sat down on the sofa in the front room. "Incidentally, how did you find out who I was?"
Phil laughed. "That would be telling."
Fisher gave a noncommittal gesture. "Just curious. I've got no wiretaps, so I can't use anything you say in court."
"You're the FBI," Phil said. "Legal procedures aren't much more than a formality."
Fisher chuckled. "I guess not. I'm imagining you probably picked Flannery's brain for the answers, but I guess you want to keep your little secret."
Phil scowled at Fisher. "Where's your entourage? Where's your buddies toting their MP5s? Last night you tried to kill me, and now you're here for small talk? Don't waste my time. Slap the cuffs on and let's go, if you're gonna do this to me."
Fisher laughed again. "I'm not here on NYPD business. I'm not even here on FBI business. Well, not FBI proper."
Phil raised an eyebrow.
"I'm sure you've figured out from the news that the FBI has assembled a brand-new entity, the MAW - that's Metahuman Affairs Wing, of course. I've been volunteered to head up the MAW efforts, which at this stage are focused mainly on collecting information about known metahumans in the United States. Ultimately, however, the Wing's mission will be nothing less than the discovery and cataloguing of all the metahumans in the world."
Phil nodded. "I figured something like that wasn't too far off. I read the occasional comic book, you know."
Fisher smiled. "I'm sure you're wondering what all this has to do with you. Well, the rumor is that you've got some pretty extensive intelligence training, and unparalleled paramilitary tactics to boot. It certainly explains why you've given everyone the slip thus far."
Phil shrugged. "Agent Fisher, I'll tell you the honest truth. I'm a partial amnesiac. I don't remember who or even what I am. And that's a fact."
"I know."
Phil looked at him questioningly. "Really?"
Fisher nodded. "It's the only rational explanation for what you've been doing."
Phil nodded. "If you insist." He sat down in the armchair across from Fisher. "So let's cut to the chase. Where do I fit in with all this? And what does any of it have to do with the people hunting me down?"
"I figured you'd want the condensed version. Well, I'm on this case with decidedly mixed motives. The MAW sees you, Phil, as potentially the greatest asset to our efforts imaginable. Combining your innate abilities with your intelligence skills and our resources, you could be the ultimate operative, able to deal with almost any metahuman imaginable. You could help us locate, identify, catalog, and even recruit all types of metas to assist our efforts and help other government agencies accomplish their missions more efficiently."
Fisher got up and started pacing around. "Think about this, Phil. Imagine a Special Forces battalion of metahumans that could soften up enemy defenses in anticipation of an attack by our ground forces. It would all but eliminate casualties. Think about that. No mothers having to hear from the chaplains. No wives and children left with empty places at the table. And no collateral damage to the civilians of unfriendly nations. Now wouldn't that be wonderful?"
"I guess so," Phil admitted.
Fisher pointed at him. "You can make it happen."
Phil shifted in his seat. "Agent Fisher, that's gonna be kind of hard if everyone that could benefit from that is out to get me."
Fisher shook his head. "We don't want to take you down, Smith. I don't want to. Those Colombians you killed were the scum of the earth, and in my opinion you're doing everyone a favor."
"But the law is the law, whether I'm breaking it for a good reason or not," Phil insisted. "Nothing I do will make me any less of a lawbreaker. That's why I can't believe everyone will simply forget what I've done."
"It's more complicated than that," Fisher said.
"Is it?" Phil argued. "I guarantee that the NYPD will be hunting me down just as intently no matter what I decide to do for the MAW."
"They will," Fisher agreed, "but that's not a concern. Not if you're working for us." He leaned forward. "If you come with me now, and we go back to the MAW and get things rolling, then I can make it so that none of this ever happened."
"Really?"
"Really. Oh, we can tell people that the Unidentified Man turned himself in, and we can give the media the inside story about the untelevised, classified government trial that sent him to Federal prison. Nobody out there will see or hear anything more, and nobody will think anything more of it. But you'll never see the inside of a prison, and there won't be any trial." Fisher stood up. "But only if you take me up on my offer, and only if you do it now."
Phil looked at him. "How much time do I have?"
Fisher looked at the clock on the wall. "Meet me at the children's sculpture garden in Central Park at nine tonight. It's my only offer. And don't bother considering the alternative, because there is none."
Phil nodded. "I'll think about it."
Fisher headed for the door. "That would be a smart thing to do." He opened the door but stopped halfway through it. "You know, Phil," Fisher said, "this could be your only chance to find out who you really are. And isn't that your only real mission anyway?" He smiled. "Think about it."
The door closed behind him, and Special Agent Steve Fisher was gone, leaving Phil to ponder an entirely new set of options.
1030 hours
Phil was getting a bit worried. He paced back and forth in the living room, unsure of what to do.
What if Fisher was telling the truth?
It was certainly possible that Fisher might be more interested in MAW than in justice prevailing. And if that was the case, then couldn't he be trusted to get him out of this?
But then what would become of the Colombians and their hostages? Phil still hadn't made good on the promise he had made to himself. As long as the job wasn't done, he wasn't done. He could kill as many of the Colombians as he wanted, and as long as every remaining kidnapped child was still unaccounted for, Los Hermanos were still winning.
Could Phil take Fisher up on his offer without selling his own soul?
And what if Fisher was lying? Could Phil trust the leader of the manhunt that had all of New York chasing him down?
And what about Gabi???
Where was she???
"I'm back!" came a voice from Phil's bedroom. He rushed down the hall to find Gabi, unhurt and smiling, sitting on the edge of Phil's bed surrounded by a pile of luggage. She saw Phil's concerned expression. "What's wrong, baby?"
"I was worried about you," Phil replied. "What kept you?"
"Jumping from place to place takes a lot out of me," Gabi explained. "And I was already exhausted." She touched Phil's arm. "That was definitely your doing," she said with a wicked grin on her face.
Phil smiled and relaxed somewhat. "If you say so, sweetheart."
Gabi looked around at the luggage. "When you can teleport it all at once, you don't stop and think about how much you can carry." She kissed Phil on the cheek. "When are we leavin', honey?"
Phil frowned. "I... I don't know."
Gabi looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?"
Phil sat down on the bed. "He was here."
"Who?" Gabi sat down next to him.
"Special Agent Fisher of the FBI," Phil replied.
"I saw him on TV," Gabi said. "He's the one..."
"Responsible for heading up the manhunt," Phil finished for her.
"He was here? And he didn't try to arrest you?"
Phil shook his head. "The FBI is putting together a special division responsible for handling metahumans. Fisher wants me to help him build it. At least that's what he says."
Gabi gaped at him. "And you're thinking about taking him up on it?"
"What choice do I have?" Phil touched her face gently. "I'm tired of running. Sooner or later, they'll find me. And it won't be pretty."
"What do you mean?" Gabi asked, wide-eyed.
"I'm not going to prison, Gabi," Phil said. "Once they catch me, there's only one way I stop struggling, and that's when they put a bullet right here." He pointed to the side of his head. "That's why I don't want you there when it happens."
"So what are you going to do?" Gabi asked.
"I'm not sure," Phil said, "but I want you to know you can still get out of this."
Gabi ran her fingers through Phil's short, spiked hair. "I told you, honey," she said, "I'm not leaving you. Whatever happens to you happens to both of us."
"In that case," Phil said, "I'll be relying on your powers whatever happens. I'm going to see if Fisher has room for two metas in his unit. I'm meeting him in the park tonight as he asked, and we'll see how that goes over. You'll be waiting in the vehicle with our things, either way. If he says yes, I'll call you, and you'll come with me. If he says no, I'll get out of there any way I need to, and we head for the airport. Together." He kissed her cheek. "Because I'm not leaving you. Whatever happens, we stay together."
"You positive?" Gabi asked. "'Cause there's a manhunt going on out there that's bigger than my fat ass." She kissed Phil on the lips gently.
"But nowhere near as gorgeous," Phil replied, squeezing Gabi's ample backside playfully.
Gabi grinned. "You make a lousy killer with that big mushy heart of yours. I wonder if you got any strength left, tough guy." She pushed him down on the bed. "One way to find out."
Phil reached out with the last undistracted corner of his mind and telekinetically slammed the door shut.