[Well, the bad news is that I got sick just as SP got well, plus there was other stuff going on, so we didn't get our regular session on Tuesday night. On the other hand, the good news is that he DID finally manage to come down on Wednesday for a five-hour orgy of gaming.
I think you won't be disappointed... I wasn't!]
[Note one tiny retcon - SP and I decided that Alex called in to work while Grace was working on Carlos. He's just too conscientious not to - and in fact, he was mortified that he was calling in late.]
[Finally, two little details to whet your appetite. I've entitled this session 'Making Omelets' - make of that what you will. It's also the first session in which SP has induced me to use up all my Hero Points before they recovered.
]
After hanging up on Garrity, Alex continued making phone calls. First he tried Maria, getting her machine. He left as explicit a message as he dared, then moved on to Harvey. Despite it being his off hours, he also was out. (His wife informed him that he was at the doctor for a complicated procedure and wouldn't be back until evening.) Getting through to the Doc and Lance, he tersely informed them of their danger; their responses were, as expected, gruff and gracious respectively. Sisters of Mercy reported that Juan was now "stable", but still in the ICU. Finally, he fired off an email to Mike telling him to disregard all messages from him and Carlos in the last twelve hours, discard all email drops, and set up a new one; also to take anything on the web that could tie him to his real name and address off immediately.
Hesitating, he then decided on a final call. Alex's heart fell when David didn't answer his cell, but he forced his voice to remain level as he left the message, "Things are heating up, son. I'm probably going into danger today. ... I love you."
When he went back out to join Grace, his first question was: "How long will Carlos sleep?" "Another four to six hours." "Good. ... I want to be here when he wakes." She nodded, but didn't reply. "How... will he be, when he does wake?" "Confused and disoriented." "And physically?" "Physically he's fine, except for being fatigued. That's one reason why I put him out for so long." Alex nodded. "Yes. He doesn't get enough sleep."
Grace sent him a rather hostile glare. "And why do you suppose that is!" Alex blinked. "His dreams interrupt his sleep so much..." "NO, Alex. Oh, I'm not saying the dreams aren't a factor. But the primary reason that boy doesn't sleep enough is that he's trying to please you!"
Alex stared at her open-mouthed. She continued at a high simmer, "You've got the constitution of a HORSE, Alex. He doesn't! He tries to keep up with you, not to let you down, and he just plain
can't. Are you telling me you haven't noticed the amount of caffeine he goes through in a day?" "What are you talking about?!" "He inhales Coke like it's going out of style. You haven't noticed all the cans? He's an addict!" "Grace, our schedules don't match! He must recycle them when I'm not there!" She considered that with the air of a judge weighing an extenuating factor. "Well, maybe so. Still, you could give him a break once in a while!"
Alex rested his face in one hand; the Shadow for his part shot Grace a look laden with daggers. Brokenly, he said, "What do you think I've been doing? When I take time off, it's for his sake, not mine!" Grace seemed a little startled, both by that information and by his reaction. "...Oh. Well, it's a step in the right direction. Still, you both could use a good deal more of it." When he didn't respond, she changed the subject. "Anyway... Shall we go?"
After spending a little while pulling himself together, Alex replied in subdued tones, "Not just yet. Give me a play-by-play of what happened to Carlos. I need to know how Johnson thinks." She nodded. "A few minutes after leaving you, he got a flash of danger, but there wasn't much he could do about it... Johnson blasted him and he fell unconscious." Alex cut in, "Did my blasting him later do him any further damage?" Kindly now, "No, Alex. The damage had already been done. ... Anyway, Johnson tried putting him in a dream world to manipulate him... a typical interrogation scene. Bright lights, dark room, uncomfortable chair, that kind of thing. However, Carlos kept seeing through it, so he gave up on that angle. In reality, he turned out to be sitting next to Johnson in one of those black cars, unable to move. Johnson gave up on subtlety and just wore him down until his shields broke." Alex winced, but said nothing. Grace continued, "Once he'd finished his work, he just drove Carlos most of the way back to the base, to save time. He was under orders to call Johnson from a non-secure phone with information about your plans against Legion."
"What bothers me is this, Grace - how did he KNOW to be waiting for Carlos? We know that he could track me, yes; so that explains why he was in the area. But I don't see how he could have been anticipating Carlos without getting the information either from me or from Legion." She considered that. "Possibly it was an opportunistic thing. He observed the whole thing mentally and when Carlos started jogging away he saw a chance." "Perhaps. And why that elaborate construct? What conceivable use was there in lobotomizing him? Does he get a sadistic charge out of that kind of thing, or is it just psychological warfare?" "I don't know, Alex. I don't have a clear enough picture of Johnson's mind."
"If he HAD been lobotomized, would that have erased all information about Johnson?" "Definitely!" "Perhaps that's it, then. Would... would he have ever recovered?" "It's hard to say, Alex. If it'd been you or me, certainly not - the construct turns the brain's own power against itself, and we're quite powerful. YOU might even have been bleeding out of the ears!" When he gave her an odd look, she said, "Yes, you're much stronger than me - you didn't know? You just don't have my skill; you didn't have the good fortune to grow up with a mother who knew what she was doing. Anyway, Carlos' mind is significantly weaker than ours that way, so it's possible that with good care he might have come around eventually." [OOC, SP informs me that with Grace's help Carlos would have made a full recovery, but it would have taken several weeks. And note that the whole campaign isn't even a game-week old!
]
Alex sighed. "Interesting that he was saved by my reluctance to probe him against his will." "Yes. You were more willing to blast him into unconsciousness than to do that." At his wince, Grace said seriously, "It's the right set of priorities, honestly. Forcible probing is much more of a violation." He returned a weary nod to that, and said, "Let's go. Shall we drive or take my cycle?" She giggled girlishly for no obvious reason and said, "The cycle, I suppose!" [My best speculation is the image: James Dean on a black Harley with his woman riding behind.
]
After they landed at the hospital the Shadow had heard the paramedics mention previously, Grace noted with vast amusement, "The engine doesn't rumble the way it's supposed to; you should have your friend do something about that." Alex gave her an odd look but did not respond as they entered the hospital. As agreed, he let Grace's invisibility lapse at an opportune moment so she could approach the Admissions desk. Of course the receptionist refused to give Grace any information, to which she responded with courteous understanding and a surreptitious telepathic scan.
There's a John and Jane Doe under guard in the ICU as of last night, she sent,
It's almost certainly them. Also there was a second John Doe who died of a gunshot wound to the chest. Alex took that hard, hard enough to let the Shadow take over, but didn't let it show outwardly. He vanished her again at a moment when nobody was looking, and they sought out the ICU.
It was a bit of a wait for someone to go through the doors; they'd missed the lunch hour. The Shadow waited with a patience born of many stakeouts, while Grace meditated. Once in, there was no trouble finding the room numbers Grace had gotten from the receptionist's mind. The windows were curtained. Grace asked,
How are we going to get in without the guards noticing? The Shadow shot her a surprised glance.
You can't sense minds through a wall? You can? Nice trick - don't be so surprised, I'm not the be-all and end-all of telepaths. Hmm. Well, if you get a fix on them through my mind, will that be good enough? Should be. You want me to do it, then? Yes. You're better at probing than I am.
With that he swept the two rooms with his mindsight in turn; at first latching onto the security guards before picking up the fainter traces of the unconscious patients. Feeding what he saw to Grace through their link, he could feel her get to work. Then,
OK, I think I've got everything I can. There's not a lot to work with, they're both catatonic.
Turning to go, they were soon able to carry on the conversation verbally again. "What did you get?" "Not a whole lot; their impressions of Legion are fragmentary." "What I mainly need to know is, was there a change in Legion's personality last night after the first set of deaths?" "Yes. It's not easy to characterize, but there was a definite change." "Hmm. So Matt's story has a certain credibility - though we don't dare believe all of it yet." "Yes... By the way, both of them will be psis of some sort when they wake up." Alex sighed. "That's not entirely surprising. One of the cops Legion worked on already is." "...I don't think we'll feel the need to mention that part to OmniMetal." "Definitely not!"
Once back at her place, Alex looked in on Carlos, who was still sleeping like a log. Grace touched his shoulder lightly. "Alex... I owe you an apology." Alex's face froze. "What for?" "I was much too harsh with you this morning. I was furious with Johnson... and honestly, upset with Carlos... and I took it out on you because you were available." He returned the stony question, "Did you say anything that was untrue?"
Grace sighed. "All the facts were true... but I put them together into an accusation that was very unfair." Alex did not acknowledge that, only stared off into space. Finally he said, "I do need a reality check on a related topic, Grace. An objective, outside assessment." "Of what?" His eyes found Carlos' face. "Have I been using him? Have I been letting the effectiveness he brings to my work blind me to his welfare?"
"I don't think so, Alex. He's been using himself on your behalf, and trying to hide it from you. I don't think he'd need to hide anything if you were willing to use him. At worst, you may simply have let some clues slip because you had so much else on your mind." Alex nodded, but did not speak. She went on, "I do think you both could use a rest. But honestly, I've thought that of you for
years now." "Even when he does sleep, Grace... he doesn't sleep well. The dreams eat him alive." She nodded. "I know." "Is there any way you can help him - get to the root of the problem?"
"Probably," Grace replied judiciously, "but I don't think he'll let me." "What do you mean?" "Think about it, Alex. He hasn't even met me yet! And already I know him far better than it's decent for a stranger to know anyone. To really do justice to the underlying problems might take a couple weeks, and can you see him - or anyone - reposing that much trust in me, sight unseen, for that long? I could force the issue, of course, but that'd just create a new trauma, which is hardly the point. To really heal someone, they have to want to cooperate with you."
Alex sighed and nodded. Then he said, "It's likely for the best if we both take a nap at this point." She nodded. "You're expecting a long night, eh?" "If all goes well." He went and sat with Carlos again, holding his hand. Grace let them be and sought her own bed.
A couple hours later, Carlos began to stir, awakening Alex from a light slumber. When he opened his eyes, Alex said with a quiet, fierce sincerity, "Welcome back, Mr. Castaneda." The boy smiled faintly at that, but said weakly, "Where am I?" "Grace's house. What's the last thing you remember?" Carlos furrowed his brows in almost-comic effort to remember. "I... finished my homework... and went to bed." "On Monday?" "...Yeah." "It's Wednesday afternoon now, Carlos. You've lost two days."
In that same groggy, weak voice, Carlos asked, "What... happened? What'd I do wrong?" That second question twisted Alex's guts, but he said firmly, "You didn't do anything wrong, Carlos. If there's any blame to be parcelled out, it's mine, not yours. You hear me? It's my fault, not yours." "What happened?" "I took you out in the field after Legion. We captured one of them. The bike wouldn't carry all three of us, so I sent you home on foot. OmniMetal snatched you." "How'd they do it? I must've done something wrong..."
Alex was about to reply when Grace came in and said firmly, "Carlos, it's time you got up and had something to eat." Carlos looked at her, bewildered, but said, "Yes ma'am," and started to struggle to his feet. Alex helped him up and supported him with an arm about his shoulders. At the young man's whispered question, he whispered back, "Yes, that's Grace. She's been helping you."
Once in the kitchen, Grace kept Carlos' mind occupied with small talk while Alex fixed a couple omelets. The boy's groggy, out-of-it responses worried and unnerved him, but he tried not to let it show... losing himself as ever in cracking eggs just so, whipping in the ingredients, tilting the pan just right to let the egg run under the cooked spots and turn golden. Once done, they were devoured with a reassuringly healthy appetite. "Thank you, sir. That's good... I'm hungrier than I thought." Alex squeezed his shoulder hard and said, "You'll notice the absence of one special ingredient... I figured you've been hitting the mushrooms too hard lately as it is." Carlos giggled a bit at that, and Alex started to relax.
After Carlos had made a much-needed trip to the bathroom, Grace put him back to bed. "I've tapped his sleep center again; I'm a big believer in the ability of the body and mind to heal themselves if given half a chance. The only problem is that it does badly depress REM sleep... but in his case that's as much a blessing as anything else, poor kid." Alex nodded wearily and quoted, "'Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care'... and I daresay his 'sleave' is a bit more 'ravelled' than most of late. Tell me, Grace... There's something I've been wondering."
"Yes?" "Do we have any allies against OmniMetal we can count on? That first night Legion turned up, I asked you to mobilize everyone you could... What, in fact, does that amount to?" Grace sighed. "I've had people on the lookout for Legion... but I hardly know anybody who has both power and the temperament and training of a warrior." "Not even the 'wise old master'?" "Oh, he's got the training all right, but I don't think he'll fight." "He's a pacifist?" "Not exactly. But it'd take a lot of convincing." "Anybody else?"
"I'm afraid we're it, Alex - and I'm no warrior myself. I mean, I know a girl who is the most powerful telekinetic I've ever heard of... she could probably cause a localized earthquake. But she faints at the sight of blood, and would have to ask her parents before doing anything. And I know a young man with the heart of a hero, but no experience in fighting, and only some fairly weak electrokinesis." Alex's ears almost visibly grew points. "
Electrokinesis, you say." "He's not very strong... what about it?" "He only needs to be strong enough to mess around with OmniMetal's junction box, Grace. All too many of their little tricks depend on the power grid." She blinked and thought about that, then grinned slightly. "Now see, this is why I keep you around." Alex took a bow.
"You know, Alex, you've proven remarkably good at gathering young men with interesting powers around yourself. Between David and Carlos and this Mike..." Alex replied defensively, "I hardly went looking for them!" "Well, true. You only sired David..." That got the immediate cold response, "I did NOT merely 'sire' David. I have
fathered him." "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that." "Accepted. ... Are you ready to tackle Matt?" "Ready as I'll ever be."
With that they flew back to the other house. Alex paused in front of the door to the meditation room. "Does this place belong to the 'wise old master'?" "No... why?" "Who else would need a meditation chamber like that?" "Well, me, for one; I've thought about putting one in myself. And you will too, once you learn how to meditate." At his questioning look, she said, "Oh, I admit I wouldn't need the locks on the door. But it certainly is a relief to shut out all the mental noise and let one's hair down."
They went in; Alex noticed this time how 'quiet' in fact it really was; oddly so. But he was soon distracted by Matt, who was plainly a nervous wreck. "Are you letting me out now?!" "Soon." "Good! I'm not enjoying solitary!" Grace interposed, "We've brought you some food, Matt. Let's eat, then we have some questions for you... and then we'll see about the rest." She set out some Brie and apples; Matt picked at it and complained that the Brie was too rich until finally she gave him some plainer cheese. "Can I go to the bathroom now?" he asked plaintively.
The Shadow was very dubious, but Grace took his hand and said "Of course," while sending through the physical contact,
Giving him a taste of freedom will make him all that much more eager to get out for good. Maybe so, but what will he tell Legion in the meantime? What can he say that'll do us any harm? Anything he knows about his location he must already have told them. He yielded to her judgment; the minute Matt stepped out of the door, his face relaxed and he looked at ease. Once he'd done his business and had been escorted back into the meditation room, though, he instantly became jittery again. "Okay! What do you want?!"
Alex put warm, soothing sincerity into his voice. "Matt, we need you to try to see things from our point of view. We saw you - Legion, I mean - up until about twenty-four hours ago as bent on world conquest... or at any rate conquest of LA." Matt broke in, "It doesn't work like that! We couldn't possibly handle more than about twenty minds - forty at the outside!" "So you say. Even so, though, with the
right twenty to forty minds, you could accomplish quite a bit." "Okay, okay, maybe we could. What about it?" "We'd really like to believe you when you say you've all had a change of heart, Matt. We really would. But under the circumstances we need proof. For all we know, you've just gotten better at tricking us and hiding your homicidal tendencies. After all, just last night you were kidnapping police officers!"
"Just tell me what you want!" "We want to probe you and see for ourselves what the truth is." "Fine, whatever, do it! But you won't get down to the group level - not while I'm in HERE." "That'll have to do for now. We'll see about what to do next afterward." "Groovy. Just get started, already!" Grace looked at Alex; he shrugged. She turned back to Matt and concentrated for a time. After a few minutes, she reached out and took Alex's hand again.
Why do you keep sending through touch like this? I've found that when I do, other people don't pick up on the vibes. Anyway... he's clean. He believes everything he's told us; if it's a lie, he's been thoroughly programmed with it. They pondered that for a few moments, while Matt looked ready to climb the walls.
Suddenly their reverie was interrupted by the doorbell. Alex and Grace looked at each other.
Are you expecting anyone? No. "Pardon us for a moment, Matt," Alex said, and the two of them left. The Shadow drew his gun, while Grace went to answer the door.
Abruptly she was blown backward with titanic force into the wall - but oddly, did not hit with a loud thump, more as if she'd stopped short just before impact somehow. She was choking slightly, however, clearly unable to speak. A woman in Red Shiv colors came in the door and fixed her eyes on the Shadow, her hand still raised in Grace's direction. "Drop it or we kill her!"
The Shadow was tempted to write Grace off as a casualty of war and start shooting, but Alex wouldn't let him - and it wasn't really good tactics anyway. Alex dropped the gun, and Legion let Grace slide to the floor in response. The five of them filed into the room: Three men and two women. Three of them (two of the men, and the telekinetic woman) were Hispanic and wore red gang colors; the other woman was Anglo and evidently an ex-junkie; there was also a moderately well-dressed black man. In unison they demanded, "Where is Matt?"
Defeated, Alex gestured to the metal door. The telekinetic woman unlatched the bolts from afar, and Matt came walking out. The six of them visibly relaxed when he did so. Matt told Alex with a strangely apologetic smugness, "You really shouldn't have let me out, you know. It let the others pinpoint my location." Then his face was wiped clean of expression as Legion all-but-palpably communed with each other.
The woman who appeared to be acting as the leader turned to Alex. "Several of us want to kill you, but Matt and another of us have argued against it. You can't even imagine what it was like for us, having one of us isolated like that... it was as if a knife were stuck in your shoulder, and you couldn't take it out." Alex retorted, "Am I supposed to apologize? You are the ones who were suborning cops only a few hours ago! And whatever else I may have done, I'm not the homicidal nut-job YOU were yesterday!"
The black man responded, "That is why we have decided not to kill you. We have only just recently managed, most fortunately, to throw off the lingering influence of Christophilous." In unison they agreed fervently, "Yes." The man resumed, "He is still with us, in a sense. But he is no longer the dominant factor." The woman in red picked up the thread then, "But if you continue trying to hunt us, we will kill you if we can. If we cannot, we will find and kill Carlos, your son, and Grace." Grace, looking pale, moved over to join Alex and took his hand.
"How do you know about my son!" One of the men (who matched Bob's description of 'Montalban') responded, "When you blasted us that first night, one of the emotions was fear. It was not a personal fear for yourself; it had a distinctly paternal flavor to it. We did not know for certain it referred to a son rather than a daughter, but that was the majority opinion." At Alex's expression, he continued, "Do not worry, we do not think anyone but us could read you that way. Our capabilities are... unique." The woman who hadn't yet spoken said, "And no, we haven't yet found him. Nor will we try further, unless you give us cause." ['Jumped the gun', did I, SP?
]
Matt said - it was clear that the Legion-mind was speaking through him - "We are leaving now. Do not attempt to follow us. We wish no further contact with you. As Matt has told you, we no longer seek to add anyone else to our unity; our stability is fragile enough as it is." Alex let the Shadow curve his lips into a predatory smile. "I have some information that might just change your mind." Legion paused in the act of trooping out. "We are listening."
"Someone in OmniMetal deliberately drove Christophilous mad, for no other end than creating you." They turned back toward him as a unit. "That interests us very much. While we cannot wholly regret our 'birth', it was a birth amidst blood and pain. We are not proud of the things Christophilous' madness drove us to do." "So are you willing to work with me to strike at OmniMetal?"
The man who hadn't yet spoken asked sharply, "Work with you? Or for you? It occurs to us that we have no particular reason to trust you. It is quite in character with what we have seen of you thus far to use us as cannon-fodder against OmniMetal, then pick up the pieces." "I have even less reason to trust you, if it comes to that. But OmniMetal is bigger than either of us, and needs to go down."
They considered that. One of them offered, "Very well. Tell us your son's full name as our insurance, and we will be satisfied." "Not a chance! And anyway, what are you offering in return?!" "It would seem we are at an impasse." Alex growled in frustration, "Fine! If a first gesture of trust has to be made, I'll make it! ... I'll open my shields and let you probe me, in certain specific areas. Then Grace will check to make sure you behaved yourself while you were in my mind." Legion pondered that, communing together, then Montalban said, "We agree. Shall we begin?" Grace said, "Hold on. I need to make a phone call first." Legion did not object.
She moved to the phone, dialed (carefully hiding the number), then said, "Hi, it's me. We've got a situation here. I'll be calling back within half an hour with either good news or bad news. If it's bad news, or if you don't hear from me, put the emergency plan we talked about into action." Then she moved back to Alex, taking his hand again - and giving it a surreptitious squeeze. "Ready."
Alex threw his shields down as far as he could - an exercise he rarely performed, and never before in a position of weakness. The Legion-mind plunged into his like a spear... rather than the echo-chamber of voices he'd experienced before, this was a single towering demand that filled his whole mind and compelled a truthful answer:
WHAT IS YOUR POSITION REGARDING US? If everything you have told me is true, then I no longer seek to hunt you down. I am willing to take you on your merits.
DO YOU PLAN TO EXPEND US AGAINST OMNIMETAL? No. I seek allies against OmniMetal.
The intolerable demand was gone as suddenly as it had arrived. Alex waited patiently while Grace probed him thoroughly, then relaxed when she announced with relief, "You're clean."
Alex told Legion, "I'm surprised you didn't want to know if I was telling the truth about your former members suiciding rather than being killed en masse by me." The black man said, "Irrelevant." Then he stepped forward and stated, "I, in a real sense,
am Legion. When Christophilous died, his role passed to me." He then stepped back again and the telekinetic interposed herself between him and Alex... but even so, Alex was touched despite himself. They had no obligation under our deal to show me their underbelly... and it hardly seems worth it to lie when they could have killed Grace and mind-screwed me to a fare-thee-well.
Legion continued (passing sentences and phrases to each other like a game of keep-away), "We mean no offense, but we did not wish to remain in contact with you any longer than absolutely necessary. We find your mind to be exceedingly disharmonious with ours; we would not find you to be a suitable addition to us at all." "I thought you weren't intending to add anyone new!" "That is true - at any rate, not until we have mastered the art of stable harmony and decided what we wish to do with ourselves, and quite probably not even then; the greater our number, the more difficult things are for us. But there are some people to whom we would say, 'No, thank you,' and others we would run away from screaming. You are among the latter."
Alex said sardonically, "I don't recall offering." Matt grinned and said, "Right - you don't see us running away screaming, do you?" "Is there some reason why you are standing around insulting me?" "We are simply trying to impress upon you that we do not wish further telepathic contact with you. Do not attempt to speak to us in that way without a very good reason." "Consider me duly impressed. Shall we get down to business?" "Indeed. What information do you have?"
Alex explained what he had found out about OmniMetal from the beginning, though saying little of his methods. Legion pondered. "We believe it most likely that the man who calls himself 'Johnson' is in fact Richard Jones, the vice president of R&D. If so, that would make 'Torrance' his assistant Jeffrey Thomas. Mr. Thomas formerly worked in military intelligence." "I definitely got the impression of military training from him." "Yes. That was one factor in our assessment. But primarily, Jones was Christophilous' superior in the chain of command." "How many vice presidents are there?" "Four." "Who is the president?" "August Barraca. For what it is worth, we consider it likely that much of the hierarchy, including the president, have been kept in the dark about the more dubious details of Jones' experiments." "We'll see. What
is the Overmind Project, anyway?" They replied, "You are looking at it - or at any rate, the part of it entrusted to OmniMetal. We do not know what may be going on elsewhere."
Then Legion announced, "We are hungry. Is there food here?" Grace gestured to the kitchen. "In there." They all filed in together, and a bizarrely domestic scene ensued, with Legion fixing sandwiches and other simple eatables in assembly-line fashion. They displayed a distinct preference for bland food. One of them explained to Grace and Alex, "One of the problems in having Matt isolated from us was that it threw our biorhythms off. We all tend to get hungry at the same time." Alex commented wryly, "That must cause some problems at the bathroom door later." Several of the Legion-members grimaced; Montalban said tactfully, "We find there's a line, yes. ... Fortunately our bodies digest food at slightly different rates, or we'd need six toilets in the same house."
They sat down to eat. Afterward, the central director bowed his head on his chest, and the others began to act more individual. During the conversation, they let several details about their roles slip; Alex suspected purposefully, to build trust. The woman in red was the "primary telekinetic focus", as well as the main tactical thinker of the group; apparently Legion had developed telekinesis spontaneously as their numbers had decreased - "though perhaps that is a coincidence, and it was growing gradually before - we do not know". Montalban was the "primary telepathic focus", and the Shadow's senses told him that the man was also something of a subprocessor; at any rate the telepathic vibes from him were more pronounced while the director was "resting", or whatever it was he was doing. Matt was the diplomat and people-person of the group - which, Alex sent wryly to Grace, explained a lot about Legion's winning personality.
When they were satisfied, they relaxed and the telekinetic asked, "What are your plans?" "I was thinking of feeding Torrance a load of misinformation for Johnson's benefit, then grabbing him when he got off work. I'm not sure how far into Johnson's plans he is; he might conceivably make a good ally on the inside." "We are not sure. We wonder if Johnson and Torrance have been playing a version of 'good cop, bad cop' with you - giving you two different personality styles to work with and see which one you seemed to prefer." "...Possible, yes. But if Torrance turns out not to be useful, at any rate reaming him will give us valuable information we don't yet have."
"True. Your plan has merit. Perhaps we should be the ones to do it. We believe we are better at telepathic probing than you are." "True, but if you do it, he'll never trust us and a possible opportunity will be lost. Let me do the talking, and maybe he'll be willing to come around." They considered that. "We agree. We can back you up if things go wrong." "Yes - I can cloak you all in invisibility if you are close enough to me." "...That is very interesting. What do you intend to tell Torrance?" "I'm still considering that. I'm afraid we destroyed the tracker on the box of screamers prematurely; they likely know that we know about it." [Alex was too stunned to think clearly last session - he went along with Grace's fearful reaction without thinking it through.]
Between the eight of them, they came up with a convincing story that took all the details into account. "Now we just have to wait for Torrance to come on duty. I don't want to talk to Johnson." "We agree. ... Pardon us, but there is something we must ask." "Yes?"
The six of them looked pointedly at the hand-holding going on between Alex and Grace. Matt, the diplomat, spoke. "We do not wish to pry about the nature of your relationship, but we need to know if there are dynamics we must be aware of in battle." Alex fought between annoyance and amusement at their misinterpretation; he said, "You needn't worry about that," just as Grace said, "I don't intend to be in any battles."
Matt then grinned and said in his own irreverent voice, "But the burning question is, is there hanky-panky going on?" Alex jerked his hand out of Grace's as if he'd received a shock, while Grace looked bemused. Meanwhile Matt was visibly seized hold of by the Legion-mind and the white woman said, "We hope you will forgive Matt. He uses humor as a defense mechanism." Alex growled, "He clearly has a lot to defend!" "Yes. ... He dreams of being a comedian." Alex recovered his wry sense of humor: "At least he'll always be guaranteed of five people in the audience clapping, I suppose." "We said he dreams of it. We did not say we had any intention of
letting him become a comedian. There is only so much humiliation we are prepared to take."
Matt was "released" then, and talk turned to less-charged matters. After a few minutes, Matt came over and sat next to Alex. "Hey man, I'm sorry. I, uh, didn't mean to offend you." Alex told him coldly, "My wife is dead, Matt." "Ouch! Me and my big mouth." Then his eyes went wide and he asked nervously, "Uh, we didn't do it, did we? She didn't die recently?" Alex stared at him. "No." "Whew!" Alex continued to stare at him, and Matt got out while the getting was good.
Five o'clock rolled around; they decided to wait another half-hour or so, so it wouldn't look like they'd simply been waiting for Johnson to leave. Then Alex spoke quietly into the commlink: "Panel on." A neutral voice responded, "Working." "Command mode. Voice test: 'Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their country.'" "Verified." Legion looked on with interest; Alex told them, "This is to ensure the call will be untraceable, as they'll expect. I'm afraid you won't be able to hear his half of the conversation." "We can enhance our hearing when we choose to; that is how we discovered Carlos' name. We will likely get most of it." "Hmm. Very well, I suppose... Panel, dial hotline," and he gave OmniMetal's number.
"OmniMetal Incorporated, how may I help you?" "This is Van Helsing for Mr. Torrance." "One moment." Torrance's voice, as neutral and business-like as ever, "Good evening, Van Helsing. We have not heard from you recently." "I've been occupied with Legion. I have had three encounters with them." "Go on." "They have been kidnapping police officers and trying to join them to their group." "That... is most unfortunate." "It is, but I do not think they have yet succeeded. I have foiled them twice." "Yes, our records show two screamer discharges yesterday, the first bigger than the second. Were they effective?" "Very." Alex went on to give a terse and mostly-truthful account of his tangles with Legion at the office building and the hotel while Torrance took notes and asked probing questions as ever.
"So, to sum up, you believe there were about six of them left after the second encounter?" "There were exactly six. I have not yet told you of our third meeting." "Please continue." "They mind-reamed an associate of mine, and left him with a very sophisticated construct in his mind that rendered him a vegetable when I tried to probe him. I am very upset about this. But I did not find out about it until after they had ambushed me in a location I had thought secure. Worse, they seem to have developed telekinesis. One of them snatched the box of screamers away from me from a distance before I could use one." "This is very bad." "Yes. ... I managed to shoot two of them, including the telekinetic, as I made my escape. I believe I am alive now only because the remaining four began fighting each other... but they have since rejoined and work in tandem once more."
"Let me see if I have this straight, Van Helsing. You are saying that the Legion mind fell apart, then managed to revive itself?" "That is correct." Torrance sighed; one of the few signs of emotion he'd heard from the man. "This is most serious. Are you in a safe location now?" "I believe so, yes. I would have called sooner, but I have been on the run." "Yes. I will pass your information on to my superiors immediately. Call again in half an hour, and I will inform you of what we can do." "I will."
Alex hung up. "That seemed to go down well enough." They chit-chatted a while; at half an hour on the dot he called back.
Torrance picked up immediately. "Thank you for being prompt, Van Helsing. I have managed to convince my superiors of the extreme gravity of the situation. Tell me, can you hold out in your current location for another twelve hours or so?" "I think so, yes." "If things get too hot, we are prepared to offer you space to stay here in our office building for a day or two. I am aware you do not find the location congenial, but the offer is there." Torrance's voice sounded almost friendly for once as he said that. "Thank you, but I believe I am safer staying put for now."
"At any rate," Torrance continued, "we expect to have a trained team of telepaths on location within twelve hours. They will have more screamers, and other equipment in addition." "How will I meet up with them?" "I am sorry, Van Helsing, but the matter is now out of your hands. Our people are the best. We appreciate the work you have done, but all you need do now is wait until things are resolved." "...I see. You are quite sure they are up to the task?" "I am afraid I am not authorized to tell you much about them. Suffice to say that we are confident in their abilities. Is there anything more to be said?" "Not at this time, though I will be very interested in coming developments." "I understand. Feel free to call this number, and we will tell you what we can." "I will do so." "Good night, then." Click.
Alex and Grace grilled Legion on Johnson, Torrance, and other matters for a while; Alex learned in particular that the OMI building had a set of emergency backup generators underground. Legion was also able to confirm the truth of those parts of the research Johnson had released that Christophilous had been privy to. Plans were laid; it was decided that the logistics of keeping Legion within invisibility range while the Shadow prowled about on his cycle were too problematic; instead, they, Grace, and Carlos would remove to a location not too remote from OMI, available as backup in case of need. (Grace suggested, with vast amusement, a house of ill repute known to her: "Who would think to look for Legion there?") Alex would remain in telepathic contact with Grace to coordinate plans.
The Shadow circled around the OmniMetal building restlessly; it didn't take him too long to locate Torrance's car, which Legion had described. He settled down into hours of patient waiting. Around midnight, Grace told him,
Carlos woke up; I've tapped his sleep center again, for the last time. Alex asked anxiously,
How is he? while the Shadow listened with alert curiosity.
More coherent this time around. He asked about you several times. Grace... Take care of him, will you? He did not bother to elaborate on the reasons and conditions behind his request; Grace understood.
Of course.
Finally, after a long wait, Torrance came walking out his car... but to the Shadow's dismay, he was accompanied by someone else. Someone who fit Legion's description of Jones/Johnson all too well... Well, hopefully Thomas/Torrance would drop him off somewhere. As the two approached, the dark avenger's trigger finger tightened on his gun when a beeping came from Jones' pocket... but he relaxed slightly when the man pulled out a pager, glanced at it, and said humorously, "No rest for the weary; I'll have to call in when I get home."
They got in the car; Johnson opened up a suitcase on his lap. The Shadow was just beginning to worry when he died a sudden and painful death; a horrible telepathic screech - like the screamers only a hundred times worse, Hell's version of the Last Trump - excised him from existence as Alex's mind reeled.
He retained sufficient presence of mind to peg a gas grenade neatly through Jones' window, but was dismayed to see Thomas emerge from the driver's side door wearing a gas mask... and carrying a disturbingly high-tech-looking gun. Alex did not hesitate to shoot; Thomas returned fire with crackling blue bolts of lightning. But Alex did not truly know fear, even with the Shadow gone, until Jones entered his mind.
Nice throw! Too bad for you there's a counter-agent to the gas. The man began relentlessly searching in Alex's mind for his name - and Alex realized with a cold start that his shields were gone as if they had never been.
Sometimes discretion is the only part of valor, he thought as he roared the bike away as fast as it would go, weaving around obstacles to try to shake Jones' line of sight. He cried out to Grace, but of course the connection was gone. Surely they can't have made me... normal... that easily! Surely it can't last! Jones told him smugly,
You won't have time to find out. He kicked at the man's presence futilely - or was it futilely? Yes, a tiny amount of his strength was returning. Not enough, though. Not nearly enough.
He spoke desperately into the commlink, still driving at maximum speed away from Jones. "Dial hotline..." He gave the panel the number of Grace's location while trying his best to shield it from Jones' attention. The phone was picked up instantly. "Hello?!" "Trouble. Jones and Thomas are onto me. They've hit me with some sort of super-screamer." Grace contained her reaction, and just said, "Right! We're on it." She hung up immediately, no doubt heading to a car with Legion.
Jones gave a triumphant cry:
Hey, Alex, nice to meetcha! Alex responded with a wordless cry of rage and hate, driving his mind into Jones' like a spear.
Whoof! Not ba- the man started to say when Alex managed to shut down the connection with vicious pleasure.
It was only a temporary respite, though - he could feel Jones' mind probing about, trying to find him again. He activated his still-returning invisibility and evaded as best he could. A tense battle of cat-and-mouse ensued; Jones would sweep his probe about systematically, sometimes passing over Alex's unseen form, sometimes lurching back to try to establish contact. He failed twice, then shouted
Gotcha! ... only to shout again in pain at Alex's strengthening mental thunderbolt. The connection lapsed, and Alex knew the man had to be on the brink of unconsciousness.
Even with the Shadow gone, Alex was not a man given to hesitation. He immediately wheeled the bike around and sped like an an arrow back toward OmniMetal's parking lot. Thomas was expecting him, and shot at him twice - from his motions it seemed apparent that the gun was seeing him on its own. (He would sweep it back and forth, then suddenly fire when it came to a halt.) His second shot connected obliquely with the bike, which sputtered a bit as blue sparks played here and there over its frame.
Alex returned fire, and Thomas took refuge under the car. That position made his own shooting angle difficult, but Alex's nearly impossible. Meanwhile, Alex could feel Jones starting to take mental stock of the situation, ranging tentatively outward from the car. With cold calculation no doubt born of the Shadow's habits, Alex saw immediately what he had to do: Setting the bike on a ramming course toward the passenger side of the car's roof, he leapt off it moments before impact.
There came a satisfyingly loud CRUNCH, but Alex was in no position to appreciate it properly. Laying there dazed on the ground, he could do nothing for several long moments but catalogue a series of bruises, contusions, aches, pains, and other grievances that his body quite resented. But grim necessity drove him to his feet as soon as he had collected his wits.
At that time he noticed Thomas likewise woozily getting to his feet on the other side of the car, and snapped off a shot without thinking twice. The man went down, hit in the arm. Alex sped around the car invisibly; Thomas was down on one knee, bringing his weapon up in one hand, a metal canister in his other. Alex placed his gun to the back of the man's head and said coldly, "Drop it or die."
Jeffrey Thomas said not a word, only clenched his hand on the canister, which emitted a beep. Alex cratered the man's head without compunction, then staggered back from the cloud of noxious gas pouring out of the canister. For a few moments he was back on the ground heaving; when he got back up, not much the worse for wear, he said quietly, "Not much of a trade, Torrance: The contents of my stomach for the contents of your skull." With that he went to the driver's side door to check on Jones; the passenger side was well and truly caved in.
The man looked at him, gasping painfully, his eyes bright. "Well... you've won. ... Both my lungs... are pierced." Alex felt no joy, only a vast weariness. "Why, Jones? Why all this?" The man whispered, "Overmind," almost as if invoking his god. Then, more strongly, he said, "It's... our only hope. Our projections say... that the human race... won't last another twenty years." "Bullsh*t! We've made it this far!" "I believe... the projections... They're for real." "Why?" "I read... the minds... of the people... who did them! ... They believe. ... Could they be wrong? ... Deceived? ... Possible. ... But you can't... doubt everything. ... Everything... I could verify... checked out."
"What about Christophilous? How does that square with selfless service to humanity?" Jones grimaced. "Had to be... a nut. We found... a sane man... just couldn't do it. ... And its gotta be done... Overmind Project... is the only way." "And Carlos? What justified such extreme measures?" "Breaking you... The only reason... We needed you... to pare Legion down... not kill it."
Alex sighed. "Jones... I have to know. Are they really dogs?" Jones made a sound halfway between a chuckle and a rattle. "All the things... you coulda asked... and you 'have to know'... that one! ... Yes, they're dogs... All the research... I gave you is real. ... We found... a telepathic dog. ... Just one... Vat-cloned it... made lots of 'em. ... Too bad... about the dog-lady... She didn't... like the clones. ... I don't blame her... She complained... to the wrong people, though. ... She died." At Alex's expression, Jones said, "No, Alex... not a pretty job. ... Gotta be done. ... Like the man said... can't make an omelet... without breaking eggs."
Alex said quietly, "Richard, if it's any comfort to that rancid little pustule you call a conscience, Carlos is going to be OK." With a weary sigh, Jones said, "Since I've lost... that's nice to know... I guess. ... If I'd won... it wouldn't'a mattered." "You filthy, amoral BASTARD!"
Jones gazed at him with luminous eyes only half-looking upon this world. Softly, he asked, "Tell me...
hero... what makes a man... a hero?" Alex spoke with total conviction: "What makes a man a hero is opposing bastards like you." Jones smiled oddly. Then he quoted quietly amidst many gasps:
"How much easier life would be! If only there were evil men out there, insidiously plotting evil deeds, and all we had to do was separate them out from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line between good and evil runs through every human heart, and who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?"
The words hit Alex like a hammer blow, tearing at his deepest fears and doubts, but he showed no outward sign of his struggle. Finally, he said, "I certainly haven't seen you destroy a piece of yours." Jones chuckled again, then said, "Thanks... for reminding me." He reached for his suitcase; Alex lunged to stop him, but was too late. The man hit a button, and a crackling sound came from within. "Now... you won't figure out... our little tricks." Alex sighed. "How did you know I was here, anyway?" "My pager... picks up... your bike somehow. ... Don't know how. ... Doesn't matter."
Alex shrugged off the trivia. "Who do you report to, Jones? Who's behind Project Overmind?" Jones smiled faintly. "That part... you don't get." "Oh, no," Alex said softly, "I beg to differ." His mind lanced into the dying man's without mercy. When Jones realized what he was doing, he deliberately wrenched himself against the metal impaling him and began to fade fast.
He did get a name before Richard Jones left this world: Spherlos. A Greek. Living somewhere on the Mediterranean. That was all.
Shortly afterward, Grace and Legion sped up in a car. Grace looked at him anxiously; Alex returned her gaze with infinite weariness and said quietly, "Film at eleven. It's over. This part, anyway." She nodded hesitantly.
Legion's telekinetic focus asked dispassionately, "Do you wish to recover your motorcycle?" "...Yes." She gestured, and with a grinding of metal the thing tore away and moved over to him, hovering there. Legion's unnamed male unit said, "We must leave at once. Is there anything more to do here?" "Yes. One moment." He pulled Jones' suitcase and pager out of the car, then recovered the gun from Thomas; possibly Garrity could do something with them. Then he played the green rays of Hal's little disintegrator over the car and Thomas' corpse until there was nothing left but bad memories.
"I should probably put this stuff somewhere safe - who knows if there's a tracker on it or not?" Grace suggested practically, "Put it at the top of a radio tower; it should be fine there for a couple days." "I doubt the bike still works..." He tried it; to his surprise, it did, if with the occasional hiccup. [SP rolled a natural 20 on its Damage save. The car, and Jones and Thomas, were of course not so lucky.]
Alex quickly explained what he'd learned. Legion conferred, then Matt told him in his Legion-voice, "We intend to leave Los Angeles at once. A screamer as powerful as the one you describe would destroy us; and we do not care for the sound of this team of telepaths that may be arriving - if Thomas did not lie about that." Alex nodded. "I'll give you a number you can contact me at if you need anything." Grace handed him pen and paper; he wrote down the number of Nightshade Enterprises and handed it to Matt. Matt passed it without even looking at it to Legion's central director; the black man glanced at it, committing it to memory, then handed it back.
With that the others sped away while Alex strapped Jones' suitcase to the bike. He was about to mount and fly off when he realized something was missing... His hat must have blown off when he jumped off the bike.
He found it lying on the ground several yards away from the former car - a little more dusty and battered than it had been. He looked at it with mixed feelings for a time, then picked it up and brushed it off. Placing it on his head, he whispered, "Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"
...the line between good and evil runs through every human heart...
"The Shadow knows."
[The quote is from 'The Gulag Archipelago' by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn. I came across it again in my reading about a month ago, and instantly knew that those words had the power, in the right circumstances, to break Alex like a dry twig. I let SP in on this, and he said he'd take it under advisement.]
[Fortunately or unfortunately, the circumstances weren't quite right. Still, I feel quite sure those words will haunt Alex for some time, and may even prove to be something of a time bomb, Johnson's Revenge.]
[Oh, and if you're wondering about the current state of Alex's mental health, all I can tell you is that I'm wondering as well.
Something very profound happened here. I can tell you that he is no longer on the brink of needing the nice young men in the clean white coats. More than this, deponent knoweth not - and is curious to find out.
I do think I can say that the last little bit at the end can have several different spins put on it, and that even Alex may not be sure just which one he intended.]
[But if I'd ever had any doubts about Alex's grit - as distinctly opposed to the Shadow's - let's just say that they have been thoroughly dispelled. I was almost shocked speechless when he decided to ram the car, but it was so perfectly the right thing to do that I had to do it.]
