Vigilance
Explorer
Jeremy waited impatiently as his driver opened the side door of the van and lowered him down on the chair lift. "About bloody time Marcus" he growled at the huge bald man. Marcus just smiled at him, impassive as always. The idea that *he* of all people would have to be driven anywhere by anyone. It was just too much for Jeremy. He was one of greatest Formula One drivers the world had ever seen. And then that drunk, driving with his lights out...
Out of the van at last, Jeremy shivered in the cool night air and adjusted the blanket over the stumps of his legs and looked dubiously at the abandoned warehouse. "He told us to meet him here? Are you sure you're reading that damn map right. This is Coffin's Corner for Christ's sake. Why I even trust you with simple tasks anymore is beyond me."
Marcus just watched him vent until he wound down. Jeremy hated that about the huge bald driver too. He was as impossible to move as a block of granite, physically or emotionally. Finally Marcus said, "This is the place Sir. The Senator said his aide would meet us here. Well, inside at any rate." Marcus smiled. He was always smiling at those stupid little dry turns of phrase of his.
"Well why don't we go inside then? Want me to get so cold they cut my fingers off too?"
Marcus just nodded impassively. "Of course sir. Let's get you inside and meet with the Senator's aide then."
Marcus had to carry the chair up the steps. Disgusting. He made it look so easy too. Almost like he was happy to help. "Haven't these people ever heard of the Disability Act? Of a ****ing ramp?"
"Sorry Jeremy Sir."
Inside the door at last, Jeremy let his eyes adjust to the darkness. He noticed that Marcus had opened his jacket for easy access to the Glock in his shoulder holster. From out of the shadows stepped a young woman in dark blue pantsuit. "Sorry about the lack of a ramp Mr. Stradling. Coffin's Corner isn't known for it's political correctness."
"Just tell me why I'm here."
The woman almost smiled. She might even have been pretty if she smiled. But she didn't smile, just inclined her head inquisitively. "Have you heard about the murders? The Countdown Killer?"
Jeremy snorted. "Sure. Some idiot who thinks the world is going to end at midnight two thousand. Killing every hour on the hour."
The woman nodded. "Essentially correct. Except there's more than one of them. And many of them are... gifted. The Senator has asked some people to help. And he wants you to work with them. To provide... reliable, secure transportation."
Jeremy scowled. He hated pity. And the Senator was one of those people who always had to fix everything. "Well, unless he can give me my legs back, I'm not going to be the one doing the driving. And Marcus is a lousy driver."
The woman actually did manage a smile this time. "Really. I heard that mister Warrick was in Excalibur, and that they trained their people rather well. At any rate, your ability to provide transportation is why we are here Mr. Stradling. I couldn't show you this in midtown."
The woman flicked a switch, and light flooded the old warehouse. In the center, under a spotlight, was a sleek black car like something out of a fifty's car nut's wet dream. Jeremy let out a quiet whistle and moved over to the vehicle. Inside, he saw the panel beside the wheel, a touchscreen, with small panels marked "Accelerate. Slow. Brake. Emergency Stop."
Jeremy listened as the woman talked. "You will not need legs to drive this Mr Stradling. And it's ability to change plates, and appear as any sort of wheeled vehicle will be most handy as we move forward."
Jeremy looked back at her over his shoulder, "We?".
The woman nodded, and her eyes were cold, like icewater. "Yes Mr. Stradling. My gift, my curse, is to know the future. I will help you and the others anticipate where the victims will be, and you will make sure we are there when the Apocalypse Cult strikes. The Senator can't help us openly, but he will help us. The police here are corrupt. And worse, one of them, we don't know who yet, are involved. We must stop them, there is no one else. We will be the New Coalition."
Out of the van at last, Jeremy shivered in the cool night air and adjusted the blanket over the stumps of his legs and looked dubiously at the abandoned warehouse. "He told us to meet him here? Are you sure you're reading that damn map right. This is Coffin's Corner for Christ's sake. Why I even trust you with simple tasks anymore is beyond me."
Marcus just watched him vent until he wound down. Jeremy hated that about the huge bald driver too. He was as impossible to move as a block of granite, physically or emotionally. Finally Marcus said, "This is the place Sir. The Senator said his aide would meet us here. Well, inside at any rate." Marcus smiled. He was always smiling at those stupid little dry turns of phrase of his.
"Well why don't we go inside then? Want me to get so cold they cut my fingers off too?"
Marcus just nodded impassively. "Of course sir. Let's get you inside and meet with the Senator's aide then."
Marcus had to carry the chair up the steps. Disgusting. He made it look so easy too. Almost like he was happy to help. "Haven't these people ever heard of the Disability Act? Of a ****ing ramp?"
"Sorry Jeremy Sir."
Inside the door at last, Jeremy let his eyes adjust to the darkness. He noticed that Marcus had opened his jacket for easy access to the Glock in his shoulder holster. From out of the shadows stepped a young woman in dark blue pantsuit. "Sorry about the lack of a ramp Mr. Stradling. Coffin's Corner isn't known for it's political correctness."
"Just tell me why I'm here."
The woman almost smiled. She might even have been pretty if she smiled. But she didn't smile, just inclined her head inquisitively. "Have you heard about the murders? The Countdown Killer?"
Jeremy snorted. "Sure. Some idiot who thinks the world is going to end at midnight two thousand. Killing every hour on the hour."
The woman nodded. "Essentially correct. Except there's more than one of them. And many of them are... gifted. The Senator has asked some people to help. And he wants you to work with them. To provide... reliable, secure transportation."
Jeremy scowled. He hated pity. And the Senator was one of those people who always had to fix everything. "Well, unless he can give me my legs back, I'm not going to be the one doing the driving. And Marcus is a lousy driver."
The woman actually did manage a smile this time. "Really. I heard that mister Warrick was in Excalibur, and that they trained their people rather well. At any rate, your ability to provide transportation is why we are here Mr. Stradling. I couldn't show you this in midtown."
The woman flicked a switch, and light flooded the old warehouse. In the center, under a spotlight, was a sleek black car like something out of a fifty's car nut's wet dream. Jeremy let out a quiet whistle and moved over to the vehicle. Inside, he saw the panel beside the wheel, a touchscreen, with small panels marked "Accelerate. Slow. Brake. Emergency Stop."
Jeremy listened as the woman talked. "You will not need legs to drive this Mr Stradling. And it's ability to change plates, and appear as any sort of wheeled vehicle will be most handy as we move forward."
Jeremy looked back at her over his shoulder, "We?".
The woman nodded, and her eyes were cold, like icewater. "Yes Mr. Stradling. My gift, my curse, is to know the future. I will help you and the others anticipate where the victims will be, and you will make sure we are there when the Apocalypse Cult strikes. The Senator can't help us openly, but he will help us. The police here are corrupt. And worse, one of them, we don't know who yet, are involved. We must stop them, there is no one else. We will be the New Coalition."